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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2817bd7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53735 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53735) diff --git a/old/53735-0.txt b/old/53735-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d0f62bd..0000000 --- a/old/53735-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8691 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Daring Twins, by L. Frank Baum - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Daring Twins - A Story for Young Folk - -Author: L. Frank Baum - -Illustrator: Pauline M. Batchelder - -Release Date: December 15, 2016 [EBook #53735] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DARING TWINS *** - - - - -Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, University of Colorado -Boulder and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -The Daring Twins - - - - -_Best Books for Young Folk_ - - -The Aunt Jane Series - -By EDITH VAN DYNE - - Aunt Jane’s Nieces - Aunt Jane’s Nieces Abroad - Aunt Jane’s Nieces at Millville - Aunt Jane’s Nieces at Work - Aunt Jane’s Nieces in Society - Aunt Jane’s Nieces and Uncle John - -“Aunt Jane’s Nieces” chronicles the real doings of real girls in a most -interesting manner. “Aunt Jane’s Nieces Abroad” tells of a delightfully -adventurous trip through Europe, and the third volume describes their -summer holiday on a farm “at Millville.” In the fourth story the -“Nieces” are shown at work in the political arena. The fifth volume -introduces the girls to society and the last story relates further -adventures of these fascinating girls. - -_Illustrated 12mos. Uniform cloth binding, stamped in colors, with -beautiful colored inlay._ - -_Price 60 cents each_ - - -Annabel - -By SUZANNE METCALF - -A bright, swiftly-moving story of a young girl just blossoming into -womanhood, and of a boy struggling for a start in life. - -_12mo. Dainty cloth binding, with inlaid design and six duotone -illustrations._ - -_Price 60 cents_ - - - - -[Illustration: “YOU’RE ELECTED LITTLE MOTHER.” (_See Page 104._)] - - - - -The Daring Twins - -A Story for Young Folk - - By - L. Frank Baum - - Author of The Oz Books, The Sea Fairies - and Other Tales - - [Illustration] - - Illustrated by Pauline M. Batchelder - - Publishers - The Reilly & Britton Co. - Chicago - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1911 - by - The Reilly & Britton Co. - - THE DARING TWINS - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I INTRODUCING THE DARINGS 9 - - II PHIL INTERVIEWS THE LAWYER 17 - - III BECKY GETS ACQUAINTED 32 - - IV PHŒBE’S SECRET 46 - - V A MATCH GAME 54 - - VI HUNTING A JOB 63 - - VII THE COMING OF COUSIN JUDITH 74 - - VIII THE “ARTICLES OF ADOPTION” 94 - - IX PHŒBE HAS AN ADVENTURE 109 - - X A DEPRESSING INTERVIEW 121 - - XI GETTING REGULATED 127 - - XII A BATTLE ROYAL 145 - - XIII PHIL MAKES A DISCOVERY 153 - - XIV THE FOLLY OF GRAN’PA ELIOT 166 - - XV SUE GETS A DIVORCE 173 - - XVI THE BOAT RACE 188 - - XVII IN THE TOILS 195 - - XVIII A SISTER’S LOVE 215 - - XIX THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR 232 - - XX ACCUSED 242 - - XXI SHIFTING THE BURDEN 251 - - XXII MARION’S GHOST STORY 261 - - XXIII TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR 276 - - XXIV TOBY CLARK’S HEROISM 290 - - XXV FATHER AND SON 298 - - XXVI THE WATERMARK 309 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “YOU’RE ELECTED ‘LITTLE MOTHER’” _Frontispiece_ - - SHE EAGERLY COUNTED THE GOLD 166 - - PHŒBE GLANCED AT HER CALMLY 245 - - “I HAVE A STORY TO RELATE,” SAID THE BANKER 302 - - - - -The Daring Twins - -CHAPTER I - -INTRODUCING THE DARINGS - - -“Now you-all stop dat a-foolin’ an’ eat yo’ brekfas’ like sens’ble -chill’ns,” said Aunt Hyacinth, coming in with a plate of smoking cakes. -“Ef yo’ don’, yo’ done be late fo’ school, shore ’nuff.” - -A ripple of laughter went around the group of five young Darings as a -scramble was made for the cakes. - -“I don’t b’lieve I’ll go to school to-day, Auntie,” said Sue, a demure -little miss at the lower end of the table. - -“Yes yo’ will, honey,” retorted the black mammy, in a voice she meant -to be severe. “Yo’ ’s goin’ to school, all of yo’, an’ I don’t ’tend -yous’ll be late, nuther.” - -“I’m not going, for one,” declared Don, his mouth too full to speak -properly. - -“Get some more cakes; will you, Aunt Hy?” requested Becky, in a -plaintive tone. “They snapped those up so quick I couldn’t harpoon a -single one.” - -The faithful old servant pattered back to the kitchen, slid more -cakes from the griddle to her plate, poured on fresh batter and came -pattering back again. - -“Yo’, now, Miss Sue; what’s dat I heah ’bout stayin’ home f’m school?” -she demanded, a frown wrinkling her ebony brow. - -“That’s it, Auntie; no school for me,” said Sue, grabbing a cake with -her fork before Phœbe could reach the plate. - -“But yo’ mus’, chile; yo’ ain’t sick. Yo’ _mus’_ go to school.” - -“Not to-day. I jus’ won’t, Auntie.” - -“Yes yo’ will, Miss Sue! yo’ ’ll go ef I has to lead yo’ dere by de ear -o’ you.” - -Even Phil joined the laughter now, and he said in his grave yet -pleasant way: - -“You’ll have to lead us all, then, Auntie, and there are more ears than -you have hands.” - -Aunt Hyacinth seemed bewildered. She looked around the table, from -one to another of the bright, laughing faces, and shook her head -reproachfully. - -Then Sue, having consumed the cake, leaned back in her chair, shook the -tangled brown curls from her face and slowly raised her long curling -lashes, until the mischievous eyes were unveiled and sent a challenge -to Auntie’s startled ones. - -“We’re misbehavin’ _drea_’fully; ain’t we? But a fact’s a fact, Auntie. -We’re none of us goin’ to school--so there, now!” - -“W’y, yo’--yo’--yo’--” - -Sue sprang upon her chair and threw both arms around old Hyacinth’s -neck, giving the black cheek a smacking kiss. - -“You big goose!” said she; “don’t you know it’s Sat’day? There _be_ n’t -no school.” - -“Wha’ ’s ’at?” cried Auntie, striving to cover her humiliation at being -caught in such a foolish error. “Is dat a proper speechifyin’ to say -dere ‘_be_ n’t no school’? Where’s yo’ grammeh, Miss Sue? Don’ let me -heah yo’ say ‘be n’t’ agin. Say, ‘dere _hain’t_ no school.’” - -Phœbe led the laughter this time; but, when it had subsided she said -to the indignant servant: - -“She certainly does use awfully bad grammar, Auntie, and you’re quite -right to correct her. But, I’m positive that something’s burning in the -kitchen.” - -Aunt Hyacinth made a dive for the door and let in a strong odor of -charred cakes as she passed through. - -Phœbe got up from her place and walked to the latticed window. -Something attracted her attention outside, for she gave a little -start. Phil joined her just then and slipped his arm around her slim -waist. They were twins, these two, and the eldest of the five Darings. - -“What is it, dear?” he asked. - -“The people are moving in, across the way,” she said, rather sadly. “I -didn’t know they were expected so soon.” - -There was a rush for the window, at this, but five heads were too many -for the space and the outlook was hindered by a mass of climbing ivy. -Don made for the porch, and the others followed him into the fresh -morning air. - -For a while they all gazed silently at the great mansion across the -way, set in the midst of an emerald lawn. Men were carrying trunks in -at the side entrance. Before the door stood a carriage from which a -woman, a man, a girl and a boy had alighted. They were gazing around -them with some curiosity, for the scene was all new to them. - -“Isn’t it funny,” whispered Becky, softly, “to think of other folks -living in our old home?” - -“It isn’t ours, now,” said Don, testily; “so, what’s the odds?” - -“It was sold last fall, soon after papa died,” remarked Phœbe, “and -this Mr. Randolph bought it. I suppose that’s him strutting across the -lawn--the stout gentleman with the cane.” - -“The grounds seem more of an attraction to them than the house,” -remarked Phil. - -“Yes, they’re fresh from the city,” answered his twin. “I’m rather -surprised they haven’t come to Riverdale before, to occupy their new -home.” - -“Our house was sold ’cause we were poor, wasn’t it?” asked Sue. - -“Yes, dear. We couldn’t afford to keep it, because poor papa left a -lot of debts that had to be paid. So we moved over here, to Gran’pa -Eliot’s.” - -“Don’t like this place,” observed Don, his hands thrust deep in his -pockets, as he stared across the street. “It isn’t half as fine or cosy -as our old home.” - -“It’s lucky for us that Gran’pa Eliot had a house,” returned Phil, -gravely. “And it’s lucky Mr. Ferguson induced him to let us live in it.” - -“Guess gran’pa couldn’t help himself, being paralyzed like he is,” said -Becky. - -“It’s the first thing he ever did for us, anyhow,” added Don, -grumblingly. “And he sticks to his room upstairs and won’t let us come -near him.” - -“Do you want to visit gran’pa?” asked Phœbe, turning to her younger -brother. - -“No.” - -“Then don’t complain, dear, if he doesn’t want you. He’s old and -helpless; and as for helping us, I’m afraid gran’pa is almost as -poor as we are,” she said, her eyes still regarding, with wistful -earnestness, the scene across the street. - -“Poor! Gran’pa Eliot poor, with this big house?” exclaimed Sue, -incredulously. - -“I think so; I’m sure it’s so,” answered Phœbe. “Old Miss Halliday -asked me to keep you all from picking the fruit in the garden, when it -ripens; because, she says gran’pa has to sell it to get enough money to -pay taxes and his living expenses. And she gathers all the eggs from -the chickens and sells them to Mr. Wyatt, the grocer. That must mean -gran’pa’s pretty poor, you know.” - -“Is old Miss Halliday any relation to us?” asked Don. - -“No; she was an old servant of grandmother’s, before she died--her -housekeeper, I believe; and afterward, when gran’pa became paralyzed, -she took care of him.” - -“She seems to run everything around this place as if she owned it,” -muttered the boy. - -“She’s a very faithful woman,” observed Phil; “and a very disagreeable -one. I don’t know what gran’pa would have done without her. She gets -his meals and waits on him night and day.” - -“Somehow,” said Becky, “I sort o’ hate her. She won’t let us into -any of the back rooms upstairs, though she and gran’pa can’t use all -of ’em; and she never comes near us unless she wants to jaw about -something we’ve done. I run a clothesline through the grass yesterday, -and tripped old Halliday up when she went to feed the chickens, and she -was as mad as anything.” - -“I think she doesn’t care much for young people,” admitted Phœbe; -“and as none of us cares for her it’s just as well that we should live -apart--even if we occupy the same house. After all, my dears, we should -be grateful for being allowed so much room in this comfortable old -shack. We had no other place to go after our own home was sold.” - -There was silence in the little group for a moment. Then Becky asked, -curiously: - -“Where do we get the money to live on? We have to pay our own grocery -bills, don’t we?” - -Phil started and looked upon his younger sister wonderingly, as if she -had suggested a new thought to him. Then he turned to Phœbe. - -“There must have been a little money left,” he said. “It never occurred -to me before. I must ask Mr. Ferguson about it.” - -Phœbe flushed a trifle, but looked down instead of meeting her -twin’s earnest gaze. - -“_I’ve_ thought of it, Phil,” she replied, softly. “Whatever was left -after paying papa’s debts must have been little enough, and can’t last -forever. And then--” - -Phil was regarding her with serious eyes. He glanced at the younger -ones and said quickly: - -“Never mind. We haven’t suffered from poverty so far, have we? And -we won’t. We’ve Daring blood in our veins, and that means we can -accomplish anything we set out to do.” - -Phœbe smiled and turned to reënter the house. - -“Saturday is my busy day,” she remarked brightly. “I suppose you’re -going to practice for the baseball match, Phil?” - -“Yes,” he said, “I promised the boys--” Then he stopped and shook his -head. “I don’t know yet what I’ll do, Phœbe,” he added. “Just now -I’ve an errand down town.” - -He caught up his cap, kissed his twin and strode down the walk to -the gate. Phœbe cautioned the younger ones not to raise a racket -under Gran’pa Eliot’s window, but to keep in the front yard if they -were going to play. Then she stole softly away to her own little room -upstairs and locked herself in so as not to be disturbed. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -PHIL INTERVIEWS THE LAWYER - - -Phil Daring walked toward the village with uneasy, nervous strides. -There was an anxious expression upon his usually placid face. - -“Queer,” he muttered to himself, “that I never thought to ask how we’re -able to live. It costs money to feed five hungry youngsters; and where -does it come from, I wonder?” - -The Eliot house was on the brow of a knoll and the street sloped -downward to the little village where the “business center” clustered -around the railway station. The river was just beyond, flowing sleepily -on its way to the gulf, and at Riverdale a long wooden bridge spanned -the murky water. It was a quiet, pretty little town, but had such a -limited population that every resident knew nearly everyone else who -lived there and kept fairly well posted on the private affairs of each -member of the community. - -Wallace Daring, the father of the twins, had been the big man of -Riverdale before he died a few months ago. He had come to the town -many years before, when he was a young man, and built the great beet -sugar factory that had made all the farmers around so prosperous, -growing crops to supply it. Mr. Daring must have made money from the -business, for he married Jonathan Eliot’s daughter and established a -cosy home where Phil and Phœbe, and Donald and Becky were born. -Afterward he erected a splendid mansion that was the wonder and -admiration of all Riverdale. But no one envied Wallace Daring his -success, for the kindly, energetic man was everybody’s friend and very -popular with his neighbors. - -Then began reverses. His well-beloved wife, the mother of his children, -was taken away from him and left him a lonely and changed man. He tried -to seek consolation in the society of his little ones; but in a brief -four years he himself met a sudden death in a railway wreck. Then, to -the amazement of all who knew him, it was discovered that his vast -fortune had been swept away and he was heavily in debt. - -Judge Ferguson, his lawyer, was made his executor by the court and -proceeded to settle the estate as advantageously as he could; but -the fine mansion had to be sold. The five orphaned children lived in -their old home, cared for by honest, faithful Aunt Hyacinth, until two -months before the time this story begins, when a man from the East -named Randolph bought the place and the Darings moved over to their -grandfather’s old-fashioned but roomy and comfortable house across the -way. - -Phil walked more slowly as he approached the business district. The -task he had set himself was an unpleasant one, but he felt that he must -face it courageously. - -The boy’s father had been so invariably indulgent that Phil, although -now sixteen years of age, had never been obliged to think of financial -matters in any way. He was full of life and healthful vitality, and his -one great ambition was to prepare himself for college. His father’s -sudden death stunned him for a time, but he picked up the trend of -his studies again, after a little, and applied himself to work harder -than ever. Vaguely he realized that he must make a name and a fortune -for himself after graduating from college; but so far he had not been -called upon to consider the resources of the family. Mr. Ferguson had -attended to the settlement of his father’s estate, of which the boy -knew nothing whatever, and Aunt Hyacinth had cared for the house, and -got the meals and sent her five charges to school each day in ample -season. The lives of the young Darings had scarcely been interrupted -as yet by the loss of their father; although with him vanished every -tangible means of support. A chance word this morning, however, had -caused Phil to realize for the first time the fact that they were -really poor and dependent; and he knew it was his duty, as the eldest -of the family to find out what their exact circumstances were. In -reality he was not the eldest, for his twin sister, Phœbe, was five -minutes his senior; but Phil was a boy, and in his estimation that more -than made up for the five minutes’ difference in age and established -him as the natural protector of Phœbe, as well as of the other -children. - -Down at “The Corners” the main residence street entered the one lying -parallel with the river, and around this junction the business center -of Riverdale was clustered, extending some two or more blocks either -way. The hotel was on one corner and Bennett’s general store on -another, while the opposite corners were occupied by the druggist and -the hardware store. Bennett’s was a brick structure and all the others -were frame, except Spaythe’s Bank, a block up the street. Between them -were rambling one story and two story wooden buildings, mostly old and -weather-beaten, devoted to those minor businesses that make up a town -and are required to supply the wants of the inhabitants, or of the -farmers who “came to town” to trade. - -Between the post office and the hardware store was a flight of stairs -leading to offices on the second floor. These stairs Phil ascended and -knocked at a door bearing a small painted sign, the letters of which -were almost effaced by time, with the words: “P. Ferguson; Lawyer.” - -No one answered the knock, so Phil opened the door and walked softly in. - -It was a bare looking room. A few maps and a print of Abraham Lincoln -hung upon the cracked and discolored plaster of the walls. At one side -was a shelf of sheep-covered law books; in the center stood a big, -square table; beyond that, facing the window, was an old-fashioned desk -at which sat a man engaged in writing. His back was toward Phil; but -from the tousled snow white locks and broad, spreading ears the boy -knew he stood in the presence of his father’s old friend and confidant, -Judge Ferguson. His title of “Judge” was derived from his having been -for some years a Justice of the Peace, and it was, therefore, more -complimentary than official. - -As Phil closed the door and stood hesitating, a voice said: “Sit down.” -The tone was quiet and evenly modulated, but it carried the effect of a -command. - -Phil sat down. There was a little room connected with the big office, -in which sat a tow-headed clerk copying paragraphs from a law book. -This boy glanced up and, seeing who his master’s visitor was, rose and -carefully closed the door between them. Mr. Ferguson continued writing. -He had no idea who had called upon him, for he did not turn around -until he had leisurely completed his task, when a deliberate whirl of -his revolving office chair brought him face to face with the boy. - -“Well, Phil?” said he, shooting from beneath the bushy overhanging -eyebrows a keen glance of inquiry. - -“I--I wanted to have a little talk with you, sir,” returned Phil, a bit -embarrassed. “Are you very busy?” - -“No. Fire ahead, my lad.” - -“It’s about our--our family affairs,” continued the visitor, haltingly. - -“What about them, Phil?” - -“Why, I know nothing as to how we stand, sir. No one has told me -anything and I’ve been too thoughtless to inquire. But, I ought to -know, Mr. Ferguson--oughtn’t I?” - -The judge nodded. - -“You ought, Phil. I’ve been going to speak of it, myself, but waited to -see if you wouldn’t come here of your own accord. You, or Phœbe. In -fact, I rather expected Phœbe.” - -“Why, sir?” - -“You’re not a very practical youth, Phil. They say you’re a student, -and are trying for honors at the high school graduation next month. -Also, you’re the pitcher of the baseball team, and stroke oar for the -river crew. These things occupy all your time, it seems, as well they -may.” - -Phil flushed red. There was an implied reproach in the old man’s words. - -“Now, Phœbe is different,” continued the lawyer, leaning back in -his chair with his elbows on the arms and joining the tips of his -fingers together--a characteristic attitude. “Phœbe has a shrewd -little head, full of worldly common sense and practical, if womanly, -ideas. I’d a notion Phœbe would come to me to make these necessary -inquiries.” - -Phil slowly rose. His face was now white with anger, yet his voice -scarcely trembled, as he said: - -“Then, I’ll let her come to you. Good morning, sir.” - -Mr. Ferguson nodded again. - -“Yes,” he remarked, without altering his position, “my judgment of you -was correct. You’ll be a man some day, Phil, and a good one; but, just -now, you’re merely a stubborn, unformed boy.” - -Phil paused with his hand on the knob of the door. To leave the office -at this juncture would be humiliating and unsatisfactory. His nature -was usually calm and repressed, and under excitement he had a way -of growing more quiet and thinking more clearly, which is exactly -the opposite of the usual formula with boys of his age. His strong -resentment at the frank speech of the old lawyer did not abate, but he -began to reason that a quarrel would be foolish, and if he intended to -satisfy the doubts that worried him he must ignore the slight cast upon -his character. - -He laid down his hat and resumed his chair. - -“After all, sir,” he said, “I’m the eldest boy and the head of the -family. It is my duty to find out how we stand in the world, and what -is necessary to be done to protect and care for my brother and sisters.” - -“True enough, my lad,” rejoined the lawyer, in a hearty tone. “I’ll -help you all I can, Phil, for your father’s sake.” - -“You administered the estate,” said the boy, “and you are still my -guardian, I believe.” - -“Yes. Your father left no will, and the court appointed me administrator -and guardian. I’ve done the best I could to untangle the snarl Wallace -Daring left his business in, and the affairs of the estate are now -closed and the administrator discharged.” - -“Was--was there anything left?” inquired Phil, anxiously. - -“Your father was a wonderful man, Phil,” resumed the lawyer, with calm -deliberation, “and no doubt he made a lot of money in his day. But he -had one fault as a financier--he was too conscientious. I knew Wallace -Daring intimately, from the time he came to this town twenty years ago, -and he never was guilty of a crooked or dishonest act.” - -Phil’s face brightened at this praise of his father and he straightened -up and returned the lawyer’s look with interest. - -“Then there was nothing disgraceful in his failure, sir?” - -“No hint of disgrace,” was the positive reply. “Daring made a fortune -from his sugar factory, and made it honestly. But three years ago all -the beet sugar industries of the country pooled their interests--formed -a trust, in other words--and invited your father to join them. He -refused, believing such a trust unjust and morally unlawful. They -threatened him, but still he held out, claiming this to be a free -country wherein every man has the right to conduct his business as he -pleases. I told him he was a fool; but I liked his sterling honesty. - -“The opposition determined to ruin him, and finally succeeded. Mind -you, Phil, I don’t say Wallace Daring wouldn’t have won the fight had -he lived, for he was in the right and had a host of friends to back -him up; but his accidental death left his affairs in chaos. I had hard -work, as administrator, to make the assets meet the indebtedness. By -selling the sugar factory to the trust at a big figure and disposing of -your old home quite advantageously, I managed to clear up the estate -and get my discharge from the courts. But the surplus, I confess, was -practically nothing.” - -Phil’s heart sank. He thought earnestly over this statement for a time. - -“We--we’re pretty poor, then, I take it, sir?” - -“Pretty poor, Phil. And it’s hard to be poor, after having enjoyed -plenty.” - -“I can’t see that there’s any college career ahead of me, Mr. -Ferguson,” said the boy, trying to keep back the tears that rushed -unbidden to his eyes. - -“Nor I, Phil. College is a fine thing for a young fellow, but under -some circumstances work is better.” - -“Why didn’t you tell me this before, then?” demanded the boy, -indignantly. - -“There was no use in discouraging you, or interrupting your work -at high school. I consider it is best for you to graduate there, -especially as that is liable to end your scholastic education. The -time is so near--less than three months--that to continue your studies -would make little difference in deciding your future, and the diploma -will be valuable to you.” - -No one but Phil will ever know what a terrible disappointment he now -faced. For years his ambition, fostered by his father, had been to -attend college. All his boyish dreams had centered around making a -record there. Phil was a student, but not one of the self-engrossed, -namby-pamby kind. He was an athlete as well as a scholar, and led his -high school class in all manly sports. At college he had determined -to excel, both as a student and an athlete, and never had he dreamed, -until now, that a college career would be denied him. - -It took him a few minutes to crowd this intense disappointment into -a far corner of his heart and resume the conversation. The lawyer -silently watched him, his keen gray eyes noting every expression that -flitted over the boy’s mobile features. Finally, Phil asked: - -“Would you mind telling me just how much money was left, Mr. Ferguson?” - -“The court costs in such cases are extremely high,” was the evasive -reply. The lawyer did not seem to wish to be explicit, yet Phil felt he -had the right to know. - -“And there were your own fees to come out of it,” he suggested. - -“My fees? I didn’t exact any, my lad. Your father was the best and -truest friend I ever had. I am glad I could do something to assist his -orphaned children. And, to be frank with you, Phil, I couldn’t have -squared the debts and collected legal fees at the same time, if I’d -wanted to.” - -“I see,” returned Phil, sadly. “You have been very kind, Mr. Ferguson, -and we are all grateful to you, I assure you. But will you please tell -me how we have managed to live for the past eight months, since there -was nothing left from father’s estate?” - -It was the lawyer’s turn to look embarrassed then. He rubbed his hooked -nose with one finger and ran the other hand through the thick mat of -white hair. - -“Wallace Daring’s children,” said he, “had trouble enough, poor things, -without my adding to it just then. I’ve a high respect for old black -Hyacinth, Phil. The faithful soul would die for any one of you, if -need be. She belongs to the Daring tribe, mind you; not to the Eliots. -Your father brought her here when he was first married, and I think -she nursed him when he was a baby, as she has all his children. So I -took Aunt Hyacinth into my confidence, and let her manage the household -finances. A month ago, when the final settlement of the estate was -made, I turned over to her all the surplus. That’s what you’ve been -living on, I suppose.” - -“How much was it?” asked the boy, bent on running down the fact. - -“Forty dollars.” - -“Forty dollars! For all our expenses! Why, that won’t last us till I -graduate--till I can work and earn more.” - -“Perhaps not,” agreed the attorney, drily. - -Phil stared at him. - -“What ought I to do, sir? Quit school at once?” - -“No. Don’t do that. Get your diploma. You’ll regret it in after life if -you don’t.” - -“But--there are five of us, sir. The youngsters are hearty eaters, you -know; and the girls must have clothes and things. Forty dollars! Why, -it must have all been spent long ago--and more.” - -Mr. Ferguson said nothing to this. He was watching Phil’s face again. - -“It’s all so--so--sudden, sir; and so unexpected. I--I--” he choked -down a sob and continued bravely: “I’m not able to think clearly yet.” - -“Take your time,” advised the lawyer. “There’s no rush. And don’t get -discouraged, Phil. Remember, you’re the head of the family. Remember, -there’s no earthly battle that can’t be won by a brave and steadfast -heart. Think it all over at your leisure, and consider what your father -might have done, had some whim of fortune placed him in your position. -Confide in Phœbe, if you like, but don’t worry the little ones. Keep -a stiff upper lip with your friends and playmates, and never let them -suspect you’re in trouble. The world looks with contempt on a fellow -who shows he’s downed. If he doesn’t show it, he _isn’t_ downed. Just -bear that in mind, Phil. And now run along, for I’ve a case to try in -half an hour, at the courthouse. If you need any help or advice, lad,” -he added, with gentle kindliness, “come to me. I was your father’s -friend, and I’m your legal guardian.” - -Phil went away staggering like a man in a dream. His brain seemed in a -whirl, and somehow he couldn’t control it and make it think logically. -As he reached the sidewalk Al Hayden and Eric Spaythe ran up to him. - -“We’ve been waiting for you, Phil,” said one. “Saw you go up to the -judge’s office.” - -“Let’s hurry over to the practice field,” suggested the other, eagerly. -“The rest of our nine is there by this time, and we’ve got to get in -trim for the match this afternoon.” - -Phil stared, first at one face and then the other, trying to -understand what they were talking about. - -“If we’re beaten by Exeter to-day,” continued Al, “we’ll lose the -series; but we won’t let ’em beat us, Phil. Their pitcher can’t hold a -candle to you, and we’ve got Eric for shortstop.” - -“How’s your arm, Phil?” demanded Eric. - -They had started down the street as they talked, and Phil walked with -them. Gradually, the mist began to fade from his mind and he came back -to the practical things of life. “If a fellow doesn’t show it, he -_isn’t_ downed,” the shrewd old lawyer had said, and Phil knew it was -true. - -“My arm?” he replied, with a return of his usual quiet, confident -manner; “it’s fit as anything, boys. We’ll beat Exeter to-day as sure -as my name’s Phil Daring.” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -BECKY GETS ACQUAINTED - - -Meantime Becky, Donald and Sue had maintained their interest in the new -neighbors, and partly concealed by the vines that covered the porch -were able to watch every movement across the way. - -“Isn’t it a shame,” said Don, “to have them walk into our old home that -father built, and use the pretty furniture that mother bought in the -city, and have all the good things that _we_ used to have?” - -“Wonder who’s got my room,” mused Sue. “If it’s that yellow haired girl -yonder, I could scratch her eyes out.” - -“She’s about my age,” asserted Becky, gazing hard at the fairylike form -of the new arrival. “I hope she’s ’spectable an’ decent, an’ won’t try -to be bossy.” - -“They’re from New York,” added Sue. “I jus’ hate New York folks.” - -“How do you know they’re from New York?” demanded Don. - -“Somebody said so. Oh, it was Lil Harrington; her father once knew ’em.” - -The elders had entered the house by this time, and the carriage and -baggage wagon had driven away. The girl and boy, about fourteen and -twelve years of age, were walking with mincing steps about the grounds, -examining the shrubbery and flowers and, as Don said, evidently “taking -stock” of their new possessions. - -“That fellow,” Don added, “is a snob. I can see that from here. He -wears a velvet suit, and it’s _braided_. Think of that, girls!” - -“Let’s go over and talk to ’em,” suggested Becky. “We can show ’em the -stables, an’ where we kept the rabbits an’ guinea pigs, an’ how to -climb the pear-tree.” - -“Not me!” exclaimed Don, scornfully. - -“We’ve got to know ’em sometime,” retorted his sister, “bein’ as we’re -next door neighbors. And it’s polite for us to make the first call.” - -“They’re usurpers,” declared Don. “What right had they to buy our old -house? They’ll get no politeness out o’ me, Beck, if they live here a -thousand years.” - -The boy and girl opposite came down the lawn and stood at the entrance -of the driveway, looking curiously down the wide village street, shaded -with its avenue of spreading trees. - -“Come on, Sue,” said Becky. “Don’t be cross to-day, anyhow. Let’s go -and talk to our neighbors.” - -But Sue drew back, shaking her curls, positively. - -“I don’t like ’em, Becky. They--they’re not our style, I’m ’fraid. You -can go--if you dare.” - -One thing Becky couldn’t do, was to “take a dare.” She was not really -anxious to make the pilgrimage alone, but having suggested it, she -turned a comical look upon the others and said: - -“All right. Here goes.” - -Don gave a snort of disdain and Sue laughed. It would be fun to watch -their reckless sister and see what she did. - -Becky Daring was not the beauty of the family, by any means. Her hair -was a glaring, painful red; her face long, thin and freckled; her nose -inclined to turn upward. But Becky’s hazel eyes were splendid and -sparkled so continuously with humor and mischief that they won for her -more smiles and friendly words than she really deserved. Auntie had -despaired long ago of trying to make Becky look neat and tidy, and at -fourteen she was growing so fast that she shot out of her gowns as if -by magic, and you could always see more of her slim legs and sunburned -wrists than was originally intended. She was not dainty, like little -Sue, nor calm and composed like beautiful Phœbe; but Becky enjoyed -life, nevertheless, and had a host of friends. - -One of her shoes became untied as she crossed the road to where the -Randolph children stood. She placed her foot on the stone coping at the -sidewalk and, as she fastened the knot, said with her slow Southern -drawl: - -“Good mawnin’. I s’pose you’re our new neighbors.” - -The boy and girl, standing side by side, looked at her solemnly. - -“Come to stay, I guess, haven’t you?” continued Becky, inspecting them -carefully at close range. - -“Come away, Doris,” said the boy, taking his sister’s hand. “It is some -common village child. I am sure mamma won’t care to have us know her.” - -Becky threw back her head with a merry laugh. - -“Don was right, you know,” she said, nodding. “He sized you up in a -jiffy, an’ from ’way over there, too,” indicating the porch from whence -she had come. - -“Who is Don, pray?” asked Doris, in quiet, ladylike tones; “and in what -way was he right?” - -“Don’s my brother,” was the reply; “an’ he jus’ gave one squint at -_your_ brother an’ said he was a snob.” - -“Me--a snob!” cried the boy, indignantly. - -“That’s what he said. Funny how he spotted you so quick, isn’t it?” - -“Come, Doris. It is an insult,” he said, his face growing red as he -tugged at Doris’ hand. - -“Wait a moment, Allerton; we must return good for evil. Evidently the -poor child does not know she has been rude,” remarked the girl, primly. - -Becky gave a gasp of astonishment. - -“Child!” she echoed. “I’m as old as you are, I’ll bet a cookie.” - -“In years, perhaps,” answered Doris. “But, permit me to state that -your brother was wrong. Having been bred in this simple, out of the -way village, he does not understand the difference between a gentleman -and a snob. Nor do you realize the rudeness of accosting strangers -without a proper introduction, repeating words designed to injure their -feelings. I am not blaming you for what you do not know, little girl; I -am merely trying to point out to you your error.” - -Becky sat plump down upon the sidewalk and stared until her great eyes -seemed likely to pop out of their sockets. Then, suddenly seeing the -humor of the situation, she smiled her sunny, amiable smile and hugging -her knees with both arms said: - -“I got it that time--right in the Adam’s apple, where it belonged. My -compliments to Miss Doris Randolph,” rising to drop a mock curtsy. -“I’ve mislaid my cardcase somewhere, but allow me to present Miss -Rebecca Daring, of Riverdale, who resides on the opposite corner. When -you return my call I hope you’ll find me out.” - -“Wait!” cried Doris, as Becky turned to fly. “Did you say Daring?” - -“I said Daring, my child,” with great condescension. - -“The Daring family that used to live here, in this place?” - -“The same Darings, little girl.” - -“Forgive me if I seemed supercilious,” said Doris, earnestly. “I--I -mistook you for a common waif of the village, you know. But mamma says -the Darings are an excellent family.” - -“Score one for mamma, then. She hit the bull’s-eye,” returned Becky, -lightly. But, the recognition of her social position was too flattering -to be ignored. - -Said Allerton, rather sourly: - -“Is that fellow who called me a snob a Daring, too?” - -“He is Donald Ellsworth Daring,” replied Becky, with pride. “But he may -have been wrong, you know. You’ll have a chance to prove it when we -know you better.” - -That gracious admission mollified the boy, somewhat. - -“You see,” continued Becky in a more genial tone, “I can’t stay dressed -up all the time, ’cause we’re slightly impecunious--which means shy -of money. If it hadn’t been for that we’d not have sold our house and -moved over to Gran’pa Eliot’s. In that case, you’d never have had the -pleasure of my acquaintance.” - -Doris looked across the street to the rambling old mansion half hid by -its trees and vines. In front were great fluted pillars that reached -beyond the second story, and supported a porch and an upper balcony. - -“You live in a much more beautiful house than the one papa has bought,” -she said, rather enviously. - -“What! that old shack?” cried Becky, amazed. - -“Yes. Mamma and I hunted all over this part of the state to find one -of those old Colonial homesteads; but none was for sale. So, we were -obliged to take this modern affair,” tossing a thumb over her shoulder. - -“Modern affair! By cracky, I should think it was,” retorted Miss -Daring, indignantly. “It cost a lot more money than Gran’pa Eliot’s -place ever did.” - -“Of course,” agreed Doris, with a slight smile. “The accident of -wealth will enable anyone to build a much more palatial house than -this. But only the accident of birth, it seems, enables one to occupy a -splendid old Southern homestead.” - -Becky regarded the speaker with wonder. - -“You’re from the No’th?” she inquired. - -“Yes. Our family is old, too; perhaps as aristocratic as that of your -Grandfather Eliot. We are from Boston.” - -“L-a-w--zee! I believe you are,” declared Becky. “I knew a Boston girl -once, who was even more proper an’ ridic’lous in her ways than you are; -but she died of a cold in the head, poor thing.” - -“A cold?” - -“Yes. Mortification set in, ’cause she couldn’t pronounce all the big -words proper, on account o’ the cold.” Noticing a resentful look creep -over Doris’ face, she hastened to add: “But that don’t count, you know. -What really s’prises me is that you think Gran’pa Eliot’s shack is -finer than our beautiful old home. I guess that as soon as Noah’s flood -faded away Gran’pa Eliot’s house was built, it’s so blamed old.” - -“Dear me!” said Doris, in seeming distress, “I wish you wouldn’t speak -disrespectfully of Bible history.” - -“What’s Bible history?” asked the astonished Becky. - -“The flood God sent to punish a wicked world.” - -“Oh, _that_;” with much relief. “I thought you were in earnest, at -first.” - -“My sister,” explained Allerton Randolph, with dignity, “is very -religiously inclined.” - -“Are you?” asked Becky, curiously. - -“Yes, dear. I am trying to live my daily life in conformance with the -highest religious principles. So it hurts me to hear sacred things -spoken of lightly.” - -Becky regarded this prim young lady with a sudden access of shyness. -She felt that a gulf had opened between them that never could be -bridged. Allerton, studying her face, saw the effect of his sister’s -announcement and said in his serious way: - -“Doris takes her religious ideas from our mother, who is interested -in charities and foreign missions. She has exhausted her strength and -undermined her health in this unselfish work, and that is why we have -come to the country to live. Neither father nor I have much religious -inclination.” - -“Oh, Allerton!” - -“It’s true, Doris. Father detests it with all his heart, and says our -mother has ruined his home for a lot of naked niggers in Africa; but -I’m more--more--” - -“Tolerant, I suppose you mean. But you must not convey a wrong -impression of our father to Miss Daring. He merely regrets our mother’s -excessive devotion to the cause. He does not hate religion, in the -abstract.” - -Becky had never been so astonished in her life. Here was a boy of -Don’s age and a girl of about her own years discussing religion with -the utmost gravity, and using such “nifty” language that it positively -shocked her. Again she realized that there could be nothing in common -between the youthful Randolphs and the tribe of Daring; but, she had -determined to be gracious to these strangers and so she stifled a sigh -of regret and said: - -“If you like, I’ll show you over the stables, and where we played -circus back of the harness room, and Phil’s rabbit warren, and how to -climb the pear-tree in the garden without breaking your neck, and--” - -“Thank you very much,” interrupted Doris; “but, we are not interested -in vulgar romps of that character; are we, Allerton?” - -“They--they sound rather interesting,” he submitted, eyeing Becky a -little wistfully. - -“Perhaps, for village children,” returned the girl, haughtily. “But -although we are now living in the country we should remember our -breeding and try to instill some of our native culture into these -primitive surroundings, rather than sink our refinement to the level of -the community.” - -“L-a-w--zee!” cried Becky, again. Then, in spite of her effort to be -“good” she laughed in Doris’ face, bobbing her frouzled red head up and -down as peal after peal of genuine merriment burst from her slim throat. - -Allerton frowned and Doris looked grieved and sad. Positively, this -country girl was laughing at their expense. - -“I--I can’t help it!” chuckled Becky, trying to control herself. -“It’s--it’s too good to keep. I must go an’ tell the kids before I--I -bust with it all! Bye-bye, Doris. See you again soon. ‘Or river,’ -Allerton! Guess I’ll call you Al. Come over an’ get acquainted.” - -She had backed away one step at a time, still bubbling with hysterical -laughter that she could not control, and at the final words turned and -dashed across the street like mad, her thin legs twinkling beneath her -short skirts. - -“Well,” said Don, as Becky threw herself down upon the porch and shook -with an abandon of glee; “tell us the joke, Beck. What’s happened?” - -“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” was all the reply. - -“Are they nice?” inquired Sue, squatting in a rustic chair and -swinging her legs, as she calmly surveyed her sister. - -“Nice? Sue, they’re the funniest kids you ever heard of,” gasped Becky, -her eagerness to talk stifling the spasms of merriment. “They ain’t New -Yorkers--not a bit--they’re Bostoners! Think of that. It would kill you -to hear ’em talk. They’re as full of culture as an egg is of meat; an’ -_langwidge!_--say, folks, it’s something awful.” - -“I guessed as much,” said Don, with a grin. “But, I’m glad they’re not -our kind. I wouldn’t care to go over to our old house and play with the -usurpers. Let’s shut ’em out, for good and all.” - -“Oh, they’ll shut us out, I s’pect,” remarked Becky, wiping her eyes on -her gingham sleeve. “You ought to have seen ’em stick up their noses at -me till they found out I was a Daring. Then they put on so many airs it -was disgust’n’.” - -“Seems to me,” said Sue, shaking away her troublesome curls and looking -thoughtfully at her sprawling, ungainly sister, “they’re ’zactly the -sort we ought to ’sociate with. If you could rub a little culture off’n -’em, dear, it wouldn’t hurt you a bit.” - -“Nor you, either, Sue,” laughed Don. “If you pronounced English that -way in Boston, they’d jail you.” - -“_Now_ who’s a snob, Don?” asked Sue, indignantly. “No one’s s’posed to -pernounce ev’ry measley letter the dicsh’naries chuck into a word, is -they?” - -“Oh, Sue!” said Becky; “your grammar is as bad as your pernunciation. -I mus’ look afteh your education, myself. Those Randolph kids are a -revelation to me; and, honest injun, I’m somewhat ashamed of myself. -We’re going wrong, all of us, since mother died,” with a sigh and a -catch in her voice, “an’ need to be jerked into line.” - -She said this in sober earnestness, remembering the sweet, gentle -mother who had labored so hard to keep her flock from straying, and -whose loss had permitted them to wander as their natural, untamed -instincts dictated. - -“Mother,” said Don in tender accents, “was a lady to her finger tips, -and wanted her girls and boys to grow up to be ladies and gentlemen. I -try to do as she’d like to have me, whenever I think of it; but, that -isn’t very often.” - -“You’re a cross-patch,” asserted Sue; “and I’ve heard teacher say that -you’re the worst scholar in the school. You don’t mind Phœbe any -more’n a fly minds sugar.” - -“Phœbe isn’t my boss,” retorted Don, resentfully. But, the next -moment his frown softened, and he added: “Anyhow, I try to be decent, -and that’s more than some of the family do.” - -“Meanin’ me?” asked Becky, defiantly. - -“You’re fourteen, and almost a woman; yet you act like a kindergarten -kid. I’ll leave it to anyone if I’m not more dignified ’n’ respectable -than you are; and I won’t be thirteen ’til next month.” - -“You’re old for your years, Don; and it’s lucky that you can find any -good in yourself, for nobody else can!” remarked Becky, complacently. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -PHŒBE’S SECRET - - -“Let’s get some pails and go to the woods for blackberries,” suggested -Sue, posing as peacemaker. “P’raps Auntie’ll make us a pie for dinner.” - -“Can’t,” said Don. “I promised old Miss Halliday I’d make her a chicken -coop. Another hen is hatching out and there’s no coop to put her in.” - -“All right, I’ll help you,” exclaimed Becky, jumping up. “You saw the -boards, Don, and I’ll hammer the nails.” - -“Can’t you saw?” - -“Not straight; but, I’m game to try it.” - -A rush was made for the back yard, and Don searched the shed for some -old boards to use in making the coop for the expected flock. When the -saw and hammer began to be heard Miss Halliday came down from Gran’pa -Eliot’s room and stood watching them, her finger on her lips to caution -them to be as quiet as possible. - -She was old and withered, lean and bent; but her small black eyes -still twinkled brightly. Miss Halliday seldom spoke to the Daring -children and had as little to do with them as possible. She was -virtually the autocrat of the establishment, for old Mr. Eliot was -paralyzed and almost speechless. It is true he could mumble a few -words at times, but no one seemed able to understand them, except his -constant nurse and attendant. - -Miss Halliday had been with the Eliots since she was a young woman. She -was Gran’ma Eliot’s maid, at first, then the housekeeper, and after -Mrs. Eliot’s death and her master’s paralytic stroke, the sole manager -of the establishment and a most devoted servant. In person she was -exceedingly neat, although she dressed very simply. She was noted in -Riverdale for her thrift and shrewd bargaining. They called her miserly -until it came to be generally understood that Mr. Eliot’s money was -gone; then the merchants respected her careful management of the old -man’s finances. - -Why Elaine Halliday stuck to her post, under such unpleasant -conditions, had puzzled more than one wise head in the village. Some -said that Jonathan Eliot had willed her the homestead in return for her -services; others, that the frugal stewardess was able to save more than -her wages from the reputed wreck of the Eliot fortunes, which had once -been considered of enormous extent. Only a very few credited her with -an unselfish devotion to her old master. - -After the death of his daughter, Mrs. Daring, and just before his -own paralytic stroke, Mr. Eliot had had a stormy interview with his -son-in-law, Wallace Daring; but, no one except Elaine Halliday knew -what it was about. Twenty-four hours later the irascible old man was -helpless, and when Phœbe hurried over to assist him he refused to -see her or any of his grandchildren. Mr. Daring, a kindly, warm-hearted -man, had been so strongly incensed against his father-in-law that -he held aloof in this crisis, knowing old Elaine would care for the -stricken man’s wants. All this seemed to indicate that the rupture -between the two men could never be healed. - -After the Daring children had been left orphans and reduced to poverty, -Judge Ferguson went to Miss Halliday and pleaded with her to intercede -with Jonathan Eliot to give the outcasts a home. The big house was then -closed except for a few rooms on the second floor, where the invalid -lay awaiting his final summons. There was more than enough room for the -Darings, without disturbing the invalid in the least. - -At first, the old woman declared such an arrangement impossible; but, -Mr. Ferguson would not be denied. He had been Mr. Eliot’s lawyer, and -was the guardian of the Darings. If anyone knew the inner history -of this peculiar family it was Peter Ferguson. For some reason Miss -Halliday had been forced to withdraw her objections; she even gained -the morose invalid’s consent to “turn his house into an orphan asylum,” -as she bitterly expressed it. The Darings were to be allowed the entire -lower floor and the two front bedrooms upstairs; but they were required -to pay their own expenses. Elaine declared that it was all she could do -to find money enough to feed Gran’pa Eliot his gruel and pay the taxes -on the place. - -A powerful antipathy, dating back many years, existed between Miss -Halliday and the Darings’ black servant, Aunt Hyacinth. During the -two months since the Darings had found refuge in the old house not a -word had been exchanged between them. But the black mammy, as much -the protector of the orphans as Miss Halliday was of their grandsire, -strove to avoid trouble and constantly cautioned her flock not to -“raise a racket an’ ’sturb poeh gran’pa.” As for the children, they -stood so much in awe of the invalid that they obeyed the injunction -with great care. - -It was not often that Miss Halliday asked the boys to assist her in -any way; but, occasionally Phil or Don would offer to do odd jobs about -the place when they were not in school. - -“It seems like helping to pay the rent,” said Phil, with a laugh, “and -as gran’pa quarreled with father I hate to be under obligations to him. -So, let’s do all we can to help old Miss Halliday. She has enough to -worry her, I’m sure.” - -That was why Don set about making the chicken coop this Saturday -morning, as he had promised to do, and why Becky and Sue were eager to -assist him. The saw was dull, and that made the sawing the hard part -of the work until Becky declared she could handle the tool much better -than her brother--even if she couldn’t manage to keep on the marked -line. He let her try, and then scolded her--and jeered her attempts. A -row started very promptly and a struggle began for the possession of -the saw, ending by Don’s snatching it away and drawing the jagged teeth -across the palm of Becky’s hand. She let go with a scream of pain and -the blood spurted forth in a manner to frighten them all. - -Don tried to tie his handkerchief over the wound, but with a wail of -anguish Becky turned and fled into the house and up the front stairway -to the door of Phœbe’s room, leaving a red trail behind her as she -went. - -“Quick, Phœbe--I’m murdered! Let me in before I die,” she shouted, -kicking at the door as she squeezed the wounded hand with the other. - -A key turned in the lock and the door flew open. - -Phœbe stared a moment at her sister’s white face and noted the -stream of blood. Then she drew Becky into the room without a word and -led her to the washbasin. She bathed the wound freely with cold water, -applied a healing lotion and bandaged the hand, neatly. It was a broad, -jagged cut, but not deep. Phœbe knew that it was not a serious -wound, but it would be very sore and lame for several days to come. - -Becky, trembling with nervousness and weak from fright and the sight of -blood, tottered to a lounge and sank down among the cushions. - -“How did it happen, dear?” Phœbe now asked. - -Becky related the incident with dramatic details until her eyes fell -upon a table drawn before the window and covered with papers, among -which rested an imposing looking machine. - -“Jumpin’ jooks, Phœbe!” she exclaimed; “it’s a typewriter. Where on -earth did it come from?” - -Phœbe flushed and for a moment looked distressed. - -“I rented it,” she replied. “It’s a great secret, Becky, and you must -promise not to tell anyone.” - -“Can you run it? Have you had lessons?” asked the younger girl, sitting -up in her eagerness and forgetting her affliction for a time. - -“I’ve taught myself,” said Phœbe. “It is not very hard to learn. At -first, you know, I made lots of mistakes; but, now I do very well. I’ve -had it almost six months, and every Saturday I typewrite all day.” - -“But why? What are you copying?” demanded Becky, going to the table and -looking down at the piles of manuscript. - -“It is a book of sermons that Doctor Huntley is preparing for a -publisher. He is too busy to do it himself, so he gave me the job. -I get ten cents a page, and I’ve copied nearly four hundred pages -already.” - -“My!” cried Becky; “what a lot of money! Whatever will you do with it, -dear?” - -Phœbe smiled a little sadly, but put her arm around her sister and -kissed her, affectionately. - -“That’s a part of my secret, dear, and you mustn’t ask me. You’ll not -mention the typewriter, Becky--nor anything I’ve told you? I don’t want -Phil or the children to know.” - -“Trust me!” returned Becky, delighted to share so important a secret -with her elder. Then, she remembered her sore hand and lay down upon -the couch again, while Phœbe, having once more locked the door, -resumed her work. - -It was dinner time when Don finished the chicken coop and helped Miss -Halliday to move the hen and her newly hatched brood into it. There had -been sundry quarrels between him and Sue, who accused him of “spilling -Becky’s heart’s blood,” but now the girl was so fascinated by the fuzzy -chicks that she was loth to leave them, when Auntie called her to the -midday meal. - -Phil came in, flushed with his exertions on the ball field, but -unusually glum and serious. He found no time for his proposed talk with -Phœbe then, for as soon as dinner was over he was obliged to put on -his baseball uniform and hurry to the ground, where the important match -game with the Exeter nine was to take place. - -“Any of you coming to the game?” he inquired. - -“We’re all coming,” declared Becky, who now posed as a heroine because -of her hurt. But, Phœbe shook her head and smiled. - -“I shall be too busy at home, Phil,” she said; “but the others may go.” - -He gave her a quick, curious look, but said nothing more. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A MATCH GAME - - -For a long time there had been great rivalry between the ball teams of -Riverdale and Exeter; the latter, a small town lying five miles inland, -where there was a boys’ preparatory school. This year each had won five -games out of a series of ten, and the extra game to be played to-day -was to decide the championship. The Riverdale high school captain, Al -Hayden, the druggist’s son, had picked his team with great care for -this important occasion, and Phil had been chosen pitcher. - -The ball grounds were just outside of the village, and not only were -the people of Riverdale there in large numbers, but the crowd was -augmented by farmers from the surrounding country who had come in -for their Saturday trading and took advantage of the opportunity to -see a good ball game. Several wagon loads of “fans” from Exeter also -rode over in the wake of the bus that carried their ball players, to -participate in the fun and excitement. - -All classes of people occupied the “bleachers.” Merchants, lawyers and -even two liberal minded ministers of the gospel were among them, while -Judge Ferguson strolled over as the game commenced, accompanied by his -pretty daughter, Janet, to see how Phil conducted himself. The Randolph -children were plebeian enough to attend; the manager of the mill was -there, and all the small Darings, except Phœbe, eagerly awaited the -contest. - -There was a stand where red lemonade was sold, and boys carried around -baskets of peanuts and popcorn to refresh the audience. Nearly every -high school in town had thought it her duty to be present, and their -bright ribbons and dresses added a picturesque element to the scene. - -Phil Daring appeared as composed as ever, when he entered the arena -with his comrades; but, never for a moment, since his interview with -Mr. Ferguson had his mind been free from grief, humiliation and bitter -disappointment. He nodded and smiled as the throng greeted him with -hearty cheers; yet all the time he was thinking to himself: “My days of -fun and freedom are nearly over now. I must give up college, for good -and all, and settle down somewhere to make a living and help support -the children. I don’t know what I can do, I’m sure, that will earn the -needed money. No one in Riverdale needs any help such as I can give, -and I’m not experienced enough to be of much service in a big city. It -will be a hard fight, with all the chances against me; but I’ve got to -undertake it and make a go of it.” - -These and similar thoughts flooded his mind to the exclusion of all -else. Mechanically, he tossed the ball in practice, and when time -was called he took his position in the pitcher’s box with scarcely a -realization of what he was doing. - -A sudden silence fell upon the throng as Phil pressed the new ball into -his palm, drew back with his well-known easy swing and sent the sphere -flying through the air. There followed a low murmur that sounded like -a groan as the ball flew wide and smashed against the back-stop. Some -of the Exeter people laughed. But Phil was unaware of either moans or -laughter. He was thinking of something else more important. Getting -the ball again, he made another toss and the batter caught it with a -full blow and sent it flying into the field for a two-bagger. Al Hayden -looked grave at this but said nothing. Phil was Riverdale’s crack -pitcher, as a rule; but, perhaps he hadn’t his hand in yet. - -As the game progressed, however, it was evident to all that Phil Daring -had “fallen down” and was pitching a miserable game. The Exeters -had six runs to the best of it at the end of the sixth inning and -the prospects for the Riverdale nine’s being able to even the score -were decidedly gloomy. Phil had been equally unsuccessful at the bat, -“fanning out” whenever his turn came. - -It was unwise to risk the winning of the game by allowing Daring to -play any longer. Al Hayden hurriedly consulted with his mates and then -called Phil aside. - -“I’m sorry, old man,” he said; “but, you don’t seem fit, to-day, and -we’re bound to lose unless we make a desperate effort. Take the bench, -and I’ll put Eric in to pitch--and Jed Hopkins in Eric’s place.” - -Phil gave a sudden start and drew his hand across his forehead, as -the full import of the words was understood. Retired? Retired and -discredited at this important juncture! Why, he never would be able to -hold up his head in Riverdale again, and all the honors he had formerly -won on the field would be wiped away by this disgrace. - -“What’s wrong with me, Al?” he asked, anxiously. - -“I don’t know, Phil; but something’s wrong. Look at that score--eight -to two!--and only three more innings to play. You are usually our -stand-by, old fellow; but, to-day you’re the only one of the nine who -hasn’t been up to scratch, and fighting to win. I’ve been watching you, -and you seem dazed, somehow. Have the Exeter fellows scared you?” - -“No,” was the reply. The score, now noticed for the first time, -positively startled him. Aroused from his dreams at last he begged Al -to try him for another inning. - -“Just one,” he pleaded. “Eric can’t pitch as well as I can, I’m sure, -and if I don’t make good you can pull me out any time.” - -Al hesitated, sighed, and then consented. He really despaired now of -winning the game and was so fond of Phil that he hated to humiliate him. - -But the conference had been noted by the discontented Riverdale -audience and people began to shout: “Take him out!” “Put Daring on the -shelf!” “Phil’s gone bad to-day!” and other similar remarks that made -Phil straighten up and walk to his station with an air of resolve. - -Groans and hoots greeted him, but he never wavered. The first batter to -face him, one of the crack Exeter players, struck out, and the crowd -ceased their jibes. The next man made a “pop-up” which Phil cleverly -caught, and a gentle murmur of applause, mostly from the women, -rewarded him. The third man also struck out, and then the crowd forgot -its grievance against the young pitcher and gave a hearty cheer. - -“Why didn’t he do that, before?” grumbled Judge Ferguson, who had been -greatly annoyed at Phil’s poor showing. - -“He hasn’t seemed himself, to-day,” replied Janet, with friendly -generosity. “It occurred to me that he had heard bad news, or perhaps -is not well. Really, papa, I’m not sure that Phil knew he was playing -ball, till just now.” - -The old lawyer nodded. He knew very well, now that Janet shrewdly -called his attention to it, what had doubtless depressed his young -friend, and occupied his mind. - -“He seems all right now,” he remarked with a sympathetic sigh. “That -last inning he played all by himself.” - -Indeed, Phil’s record of three “put-outs” unassisted, inspired his -fellows with renewed confidence in him. Al Hayden went to bat and made -a two-bagger. Toby Clark, Mr. Ferguson’s office clerk, got first base -on balls. The next batter struck out, but the one following stepped up -to the plate and pounded out a clean hit that filled the bases. It was -Phil’s turn now, and he realized the full importance of the crisis. -Usually a pitcher is not a very good batter; yet, until to-day Phil -had been considered an exception to this rule. So far in the game, -however, his bat had never once touched a ball. - -The spectators were thrilled by the excitement of the moment, but -expected young Daring to strike out and let the next man, a reliable -player, bring in some of the men on bases. - -But Phil’s face was set and determined. He had not yet redeemed -himself. Having well-nigh lost the game for his team by his poor -showing, it now behooved him to save the day if he could. No thought -now engaged his mind, but this; he was living in the present--not in -the future. With watchful eye he followed the approaching ball on its -course, and at the proper time struck shrewdly with might and main. - -High in the air rose the sphere, describing a perfect arch. With one -accord the spectators rose in their seats to watch the ball as it -sailed over the back fence, giving the batter a home run and bringing -in the three other men. - -When the mighty cheer that rent the air had subsided the score was six -to eight, instead of eight to two. - -In the eighth and ninth innings Phil pitched so well that no runs were -added by the Exeter team, while the Riverdales made one tally in each -inning and tied the score. - -The excitement was now intense. Each team formerly had five games to -its credit, and in the present decisive game each side had scored eight -runs. An extra inning must be played to determine the championship. - -The boys on both sides settled down to do their level best. Phil was -perfectly calm and confident. He struck out two and Al caught a long, -high fly that retired Exeter with a “goose-egg.” Then the Riverdale -team came to bat and the first two--poor Al one of them--went out in -short order. But when Phil again came to bat the opposing pitcher lost -his nerve, remembering that famous home run. The result was a long -drive that landed Daring on third, and the next batter, Jed Hopkins, -brought him home, winning the game and the series. - -The Riverdale crowd was in an ecstasy of delight and cheered until it -was hoarse. Phil’s wonderful playing during the final three innings had -fully redeemed him in the eyes of his friends and a dozen young fellows -leaped into the arena and hoisted him upon their shoulders, carrying -him from the field in triumph. Even the defeated Exeters good-naturedly -joined in the applause, while Becky and Sue sobbed with joy at the -honors being showered upon their big brother. - -“Wasn’t Phil splendid?” exclaimed Janet, as she followed her father -from the grand stand. - -The old lawyer nodded thoughtfully. - -“Yes,” said he, “the lad has a wonderful amount of reserve force, which -makes him a good uphill fighter. He reminded me of his father, during -that last rally. If Phil Daring has only half the pluck and backbone -that Wallace Daring possessed, I predict he’ll some day make his mark -in the world.” - -“Yet Mr. Daring died poor,” suggested Janet. - -“True, my dear; and that was because he died. Had he lived, it would -have been a different story.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -HUNTING A JOB - - -When Phil managed to shake off his enthusiastic friends and return to -his home, he found that Phœbe had gone out. Entering the kitchen -to ask Aunt Hyacinth where his sister was, he found the black mammy -preparing the supper. - -“Don’ know whar she am, Marse Phil, I’se shuah,” she said. “But Miss -Phœbe’s sartin to be back ’fo’ long.” - -Phil turned to go; then he paused, and after a moment’s thought -inquired: - -“Auntie, who pays our grocery bills?” - -“I do, chile,” she answered, giving him an odd look. - -“And where do you get the money?” he continued. - -Auntie was beating eggs for a custard. She pretended not to hear him. -Phil repeated the question. - -“Marse Ferg’son done gi’ me a lot,” said she, in a matter of course -way. - -“Forty dollars, I believe,” the boy rejoined, rather bitterly. - -“Mo’ ’n dat, honey; lots mo’.” - -“When?” - -“’Fore we shifted oveh to dis yeah house. Den he done guv me fohty -dollehs mo’, an’ said dat were all dere was left. But I guess it’ll do, -all right.” - -“Auntie,” said Phil, taking both her hands and looking her squarely in -the eyes, “tell me truly; is any of that last forty dollars left?” - -A look of genuine distress crossed her honest face. - -“No, honey,” she admitted, in a low voice. - -“Then, where does the money come from that we’re living on now?” - -“H--m. Miss Phœbe done guv it to me.” - -“Phœbe!” - -“Miss Phœbe; shuah.” - -“Where could Phœbe get any money?” he inquired, wonderingly. - -“Yo’ haf to ask heh, I guess, Marse Phil.” - -He reflected a moment. - -“Auntie, you’re keeping something from me; something I ought to know; -and it isn’t right to treat me so,” he declared. - -She made no reply to this. - -“Phœbe hasn’t any money; or, if she’s been trying to earn some, it -must be mighty little. See here: I’ll finish school next week, and then -I’m going to take care of the family myself, and look after things. -Don’t you know I’m the head of the Darings, Auntie, and entitled to -know all about our affairs? So tell me, where does all the money come -from to pay the grocer, and the butcher, and all the rest?” - -“Miss Phœbe done guv me some,” she persisted, half frightened at his -earnestness. - -“And the rest, Auntie?” - -She twisted her apron in her hands and cast an appealing glance into -his stern face. - -“Tell me, Auntie!” - -“Well, yo’ see, Marse Phil,” she began, slowly, “I’ve got a little -money what useter b’long to yo’ dead papa.” - -“My father!” - -“Dat’s a fac’, honey. Ol’ Marse allus done pay me mo’ wages’n I could -earn, nohow. I kep’ sayin’ I didn’ want no money; but he insis’, -chile; dat ol’ Marse Wallace insis’ I take all he guv me. Law sakes, I -don’ neveh need no money, Marse Phil. What ’n a world _I_ need money -fo’--now yo’ tell me, ef yo’ can! But I gotter take it, or make Marse -Wallace mad. So, I put it in de bank fo’ safe keepin’, an’ jus’ bided -mah time to git even. ’Twan’t mine, honey, shuah ’nuff; but I jes’ let -it stay in de bank fo’ ’mehgencies.” - -Phil’s face was a study. It grew red and white, stern and dismayed -by turns. It was not that he resented accepting assistance from Aunt -Hy; she seemed one of the family; but that the Darings should be so -miserably poor as to be dependent upon the services of their black -mammy for support was so shameful that he could scarcely bear the -thought. - -“I’m an able-bodied young man,” said he to Phœbe a little later, -when the girl had returned from her errand, “and, instead of wasting my -muscles and energies on athletic games, all these months, I should have -been at work for the family.” - -“You didn’t know, dear.” - -“I _ought_ to have known, Phœbe. That’s no excuse.” - -“I’m sure that everything has happened for the best, Phil,” she -replied, tenderly. “We’ve gone along, somehow, and I was anxious that -we should both be able to complete our high school course. It’s so near -the end, now, that we’d better stick it out.” - -“Do you know that Auntie has been spending her savings to buy food for -us?” - -“Yes; but she doesn’t need the money just now and we will pay her back -some time.” - -“She says that you have given her money, too.” - -“Just a trifle, Phil,” she replied, after a brief hesitation. - -“Where did it come from, Phœbe?” - -“I--I earned it.” - -“How?” - -She unclasped her hand and showed him a bright five-dollar gold piece. - -“That’s my last week’s wage--as an amateur typist. I’ve been copying -manuscript for Reverend Doctor Huntley.” - -Phil couldn’t help it; he gathered his twin into his arms and cried -like a baby, while Phœbe sobbed on his shoulder and was glad the -secret was out at last. There were not many secrets between these two. - -Finally, when they had quieted down and could smile into each other’s -eyes again, the girl explained how she had found the work and how the -kindly clergyman had secured a typewriter for her and been very patient -with her mistakes until she had thoroughly mastered it. - -“He said, to-day, that it was the neatest and most correct copying he -had ever seen,” she added, proudly. - -The discovery that Phœbe had been working while he played added fuel -to Phil’s remorse. He wanted to quit school at once and seek work, but -Phœbe argued long and patiently and at last prevailed upon him to -complete his course. It would only require a couple of weeks more to do -this, and meantime he could be inquiring for work in the village. - -“I’ll not be likely to find it, though,” he predicted. “Riverdale is a -dull place, and I’m afraid I’ll have to go to the city.” - -“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, for the twins had never been parted in their -lives, and she could not endure the thought. “I’m sure that some -position may be found here, and although the pay will not be as liberal -as in the city, your expenses will be much less. And, above all, we can -then remain together.” - -“I’ll see what can be done,” he promised, kissing her affectionately; -and then the younger ones came trooping in to end their conversation. - -For several days it seemed as if Phil’s prediction would be fulfilled. -No position was offered him, although the entire village was canvassed. -Many of the graduating class were sons of merchants, who intended -taking them into their stores. For that reason it was a bad time of the -year to seek for work. - -Phil went to Mr. Ferguson and asked if it would be right for him to -apply at the sugar factory for a job. He did not know his father’s -successor, a stern looking man who had been sent by the syndicate to -manage the plant, and who was a stranger to Riverdale. - -“I’ll see him myself, lad,” decided the lawyer. “I’ve met Mr. Atkins in -business ways, and believe I would have more influence with him than -you. Come and see me again to-morrow and I’ll report results.” - -After school the next day Phil kept the appointment, trying hard to -hope that Mr. Ferguson had succeeded. But the old lawyer shook his -head, gravely. - -“Nothing there for you, Phil,” he said. “Atkins claims it’s his dull -season, but I know better. No doubt the man could give you employment, -if he chose, but he doesn’t care to have a Daring in the office. An old -prejudice against your father for fighting the trust so long.” - -“You haven’t thought of any other opening, sir, have you?” - -“Not just yet. But, I’ll keep my eye open for you, Phil, and let you -know if anything offers. Keep your courage, lad. There’s something for -everybody in this world.” - -This bit of philosophy fell upon deaf ears. Phil was quite discouraged -as he went slowly down the stairs to the street. In the doorway he -paused, for Ned Thurber had halted before him. Ned was the clerk in -Spaythe’s Bank. - -“Congratulate me, Phil,” he said. “I’ve an offer to go to St. Louis, at -a big salary.” - -Phil shook his hand. - -“Are you going, Ned?” he asked eagerly. - -“Of course. I’ll be assistant teller in one of the biggest banks there.” - -“Who will take your place at Spaythe’s?” - -“I don’t know yet. Just got the offer this morning, you see; but I’ve -talked with Mr. Spaythe and promised him that I’d stay until he can get -someone to take my place. That won’t be easy, though--unless he imports -someone.” - -“Couldn’t I fill the place, Ned?” - -“You! I thought you were going to college.” - -“I--I’ve decided not to,” replied Phil. - -“But you’ve no experience in banking.” - -“No other young fellow in town has, for that matter.” - -“That’s true,” said the other, thoughtfully. - -“I’d like the job, Ned,” pleaded Phil. - -“In that case I’ll speak to the old man about you. I’ve an idea you -could fill Eric’s place, while Eric could climb to my position as head -bookkeeper. His father ought not to object to that, and I’m sure you -could do Eric’s work easily. Another thing is in your favor, Phil. The -Daring name is rather popular around here, especially with the farmers, -and that counts with a man like Spaythe. The more I think of it, the -more I believe we’ve hit the right combination. Trust me to help work -it out, for I want to get away as soon as possible.” - -Phil did not leave this unexpected chance wholly to Ned’s management, -however. He went back and told Judge Ferguson about it, and then he met -Eric, the banker’s only son and Phil’s friend. Eric was also employed -at the bank and he was astonished and delighted when Phil proposed -taking Eric’s place--thus advancing him to the more important post of -bookkeeper, to be vacated by Ned Thurber. - -“I’ll go and talk to father about it at once,” he said. - -That same day Mr. Spaythe was approached by no less than four people in -the interests of Phil Daring. First, came his son Eric, who told him -Phil was a prince of good fellows. Then Ned Thurber pointed out the -fact that the popularity of the Darings would add prestige to the bank. -Presently, Judge Ferguson walked in and vouched for Phil’s character -and ability, offering to stand sponsor for the boy, if he was given the -place. Finally, Phœbe Daring stole into the bank and timidly asked -to see Mr. Spaythe. - -He looked at her curiously as she entered his private room; a pretty -and modest young girl, he thought. - -“I met Mr. Thurber a little while ago, and he says that he is going -away to St. Louis,” she began. “So I thought I would come here and ask -if you won’t take brother Phil in his place. I’m Phœbe Daring, you -know.” - -Mr. Spaythe nodded. - -“I know. You’ve often been here with your father, in the old days. But -you’re growing fast now, Miss Phœbe.” - -“I need to grow, sir, for I must mother the other children. Of course -you know how poor we are. Father always banked here, I remember; so you -know, perhaps better than I do, our present circumstances.” - -“How old is Phil now?” - -“Sixteen, sir.” - -“H--m. That is rather young.” - -“But he is big for his age, Mr. Spaythe. He’s nearly six feet tall, and -as strong as anything.” - -“Do you think we bank by main strength, Miss Daring?” - -“Phil will graduate next week, at High. He hopes to be at the head of -his class.” - -Mr. Spaythe drummed thoughtfully on the desk with his fingers. - -“I’m going to consider your application, my dear,” he said, quite -genially for him. “Ask your brother to come and see me.” - -Phœbe hurried away, overjoyed at her success. She astonished Phil -that evening by saying that she had made an appointment for him to see -Mr. Spaythe. He tore up the little note that he had intended to mail -to the banker, then kissed his twin sister and thanked her for her -assistance. Only Mr. Spaythe knew whose influence had induced him to -consider giving the position to an inexperienced, untried youth, fresh -from high school. Perhaps, after all, it was the remembrance of his old -friendship for the elder Daring. - -Anyhow, Phil had a long interview with the old banker and came away -engaged to fill the vacancy made by Ned Thurber’s withdrawal. As soon -as school closed he was to begin work. - -There was great rejoicing among the Darings that evening. Aunt Hyacinth -made them one of her famous shortcakes for supper, to celebrate the -occasion, and Phil became a hero to his younger brother and sisters, -because he was about to step from youth to manhood and become a -breadwinner. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE COMING OF COUSIN JUDITH - - -Next morning while they were at breakfast, the doorbell rang and Auntie -answered it. A moment later a comely young woman entered the room, -gazed smilingly at the circle of young faces and advanced to kiss -Phœbe, as the eldest, first of all. - -“Don’t you remember me?” she asked. “I’m your Cousin Judith.” - -“Cousin Judith Eliot!” cried Phœbe, delightedly. And then there was -a rush to greet this newly found relative, all the Darings crowding -around her in a mob. - -“I thought you were still in Europe, Cousin Judith,” said Phil. “Have -you been long in America?” - -“Just four days,” she replied, throwing off her wrap and sitting down -in the place Aunt Hyacinth had prepared for her. “I hurried here as -soon after landing as possible.” - -“But what good fortune brought you to Riverdale?” inquired Phœbe, -looking with pleasure at the beautiful, refined face of the elder -woman and noting the daintiness of her attire--dainty and fresh, -although she was just out of a sleeping coach, after a long journey. - -Cousin Judith, although almost the only relative which the Darings -possessed, and familiar to them by name since their infancy, was -nevertheless almost a stranger to them all. She was their mother’s -cousin and, although much younger, had always been Mrs. Daring’s -closest and warmest friend. For years past, however, she had resided -in some small European town, studying art while she painted portraits -and copies of the Madonna on porcelain. She had never married; dimly, -Phœbe remembered hearing of some tragedy in Cousin Judith’s life -when her fiancé had died on the eve of their approaching marriage. She -was now but twenty-four; although, in the eyes of her young cousins, -she appeared very mature indeed. - -“I came here,” said Cousin Judith, smilingly, yet with a serious ring -in her sweet-toned voice, “at the call of duty. I wanted to come to -you the moment I heard of your dear father’s death, but it takes some -little time to break up an establishment even as modest as mine, when -it is in far-away Italy. But here I am, at last.” - -“Going to stay?” asked Sue, softly. - -“I think so. Is there any room for me, here?” - -“Plenty, Cousin Judith!” cried five voices. - -“Then, while I drink my coffee, tell me all the news about yourselves. -How is Gran’pa Eliot?--he’s my uncle, you know--and who takes care of -him?” - -Becky began the story, but talked so excitedly that she made a sad -jumble of it. Then Phil picked up the narrative, telling the simple -facts that Cousin Judith might be interested in, and Phœbe concluded -the recital. - -“I remember Elaine Halliday,” said the new arrival, musingly. “She -was Aunt Eliot’s maid when I was a young girl, and whenever I visited -here I used to fight with the woman continually. She had a rather sour -disposition, then.” - -“It’s worse now,” declared Becky. “She’s a reg’lar Tartar; and a--a--an -autocrat, and an anarchist and traitor, and--” - -“Afterward, she was housekeeper,” continued Judith. “I saw her more -seldom, then, but she ran the household in an able manner while Aunt -Eliot was so much of an invalid.” - -“She has been a faithful servant, I’m sure,” said Phœbe, “and if she -happens to be a bit cranky with us at times we ought to put up with it. -I don’t know what gran’pa would do without her. She’s the only one who -can understand him, and she attends to him and all his affairs--cooks -the things he can eat--feeds him with a spoon, and all that.” - -“Don’t you all live together, then?” asked Miss Eliot. - -“No,” replied Phœbe. “We’ve been given a certain part of the house, -and run our own establishment, while Miss Halliday runs her part. -We are ordered not to go near gran’pa’s rooms, or pick the fruit or -berries--or steal the hen’s eggs. If we behave, she will let us stay -here, rent free; but if we don’t mind her, or dare to intrude on -gran’pa, out we go, neck and crop.” - -Judith Eliot looked thoughtful. But she avoided carrying the -conversation farther in the presence of the younger children. There -was little time, indeed, to talk much with any of them, as they were -obliged to run off to school. It was Friday, fortunately, and to-morrow -would be a holiday, when they could “visit” to their hearts’ content. - -As they said good-by to their new cousin the drayman was carrying in -two big trunks and some portmanteaus. - -“By jooks! I’m glad she’s come,” cried Becky. “It almost seems like -having mother back. Don’t you think they look alike?” - -“She’s a dandy, all right,” commented Don. “I’m glad she’s going to -stay.” - -“Isn’t she _beau_tiful?” chimed in little Sue, tossing her curls -ecstatically. “And only to think she’s lived in Europe! Won’t she have -some nibsy stories to tell us, though?” - -Meantime, Cousin Judith was sitting face to face with Aunt Hyacinth in -the kitchen, and listening to the story that the old mammy was telling -of the trials and tribulations her poor children had suffered. - -First, there was the mother’s death. That was indeed a serious -misfortune, for Mrs. Daring had looked after her young flock with -tender care and taught them to adopt the manners of ladies and -gentlemen. After her death there was only the old black mammy to cope -with the situation. Mr. Daring proved a loving and devoted father to -his motherless ones, but he was too indulgent to correct their ways and -manners and the younger ones, especially, soon lapsed into the wild and -untamed ways of young savages. Mr. Daring realized this, and wrote an -account of his doubts and fears for their future to Judith, asking her -if she would not come back to America and make her future home with -them. - -The young woman refused the invitation at that time. She could not -leave her studies, or her work, without ruining all her plans. She -wrote him to get a governess to look after the accomplishments of the -children. Aunt Hyacinth would be sure to take care of their physical -requirements. And, having proffered this advice, she dismissed the -subject from her mind. - -Last fall, when news of Mr. Daring’s death and his bankruptcy reached -her, Judith had been much distressed. Duty called her to far away -Riverdale, to look after Mollie Eliot’s orphaned little ones. She wrote -to Lawyer Ferguson for particulars and he frankly informed her of the -unfortunate condition of the young Darings. So she “broke camp,” as -she said, and as soon as she could complete and deliver the miniatures -which she had contracted to paint for a wealthy Englishman, the -successful artist abandoned her brilliant career and departed, bag and -baggage, for America. - -“So they’re pretty wild, are they?” she asked Aunt Hy. - -“Wild ’s hawks, Miss Judy, I’s sorrerful to remahk. Marse Phil an’ Miss -Phœbe ain’t so bad, kase dey’s old ’nuff to ’member what ther pore -deah ma done tell ’em. But Miss Sue uses jus’ drea’fu’ grammer, an’ -she dat stubbo’n ’twould make a mule blush. Marse Don, he’s got a good -heart, but he can’t ’member jus’ whar it’s locationed, an’ he plagues -ever’body mos’ alarmin’. As fer dat flyaway Becky, ’tain’t jus’ no use -triflin’ wid her; she kain’t be brung up proper, nohow.” - -“Becky is at a difficult age, just now,” mused Judith, smiling at the -eloquent old servant. - -“All her ages done ben diff’cult, Miss Judy--shuah’s yo’ bohn. Miss -Becky don’ seem like a Daring a’ tall. She’s mo’ like dat Topsy in Unc’ -Tom’s Cab’n; ’cept’ she ain’t black.” - -Then came the subject of finances, wherein Aunt Hyacinth was able to -give definite and fairly lucid information. She had managed to feed -her flock so far, but the future contained an alarming menace unless -more money was forthcoming. When Aunt Hyacinth’s savings were gone, -starvation might stare the Darings in the face. It is true both Phil -and Phœbe planned to make some money, “but what’s dem helpless -chill’ns know ’bout de expensiveness of livin’?” inquired the old -mammy, hopelessly. - -Judith looked grave, but she was not greatly surprised. - -“Miss Phœbe’s ben workin’ right ’long, ev’ry minute she’s out ’n -school,” reported Auntie; “but it ain’t sech work as’ll last long. -An’ Marse Phil’s goin’ take a place in de bank, when he’s got his -schoolin’--’twere all decided no more’n yist’day. But ten dollahs a -week ain’t no great ’mount to fill all dem moufs. Lucky we don’ haf to -pay rent.” - -“I have always thought my uncle--their Grandfather Eliot--a rich man,” -remarked Judith, more to herself than to old Hyacinth. “In my girlhood -days he was said to be the largest property owner in the county.” - -“So he were, Miss Judy. Don’ I ’member when Marse Daring fus’ brung me -heah, how Misteh Jonat’n Eliot was de big rich man o’ Riverdale? But he -done sold off de hull estate, piece by piece, ’til nuthin’s lef’ but -dis yere ol’ house an’ de gahden.” - -“But what became of all the money he received for the land?” - -“Dunno, honey. Dat’s what Marse Wallace done fight wid him about, years -ago. He say ol’ Marse Eliot done sell his land an’ squander de money, -what oughter go to Miss Molly an’ her chiluns; an’ ol’ Marse Eliot done -tell him min’ his own business. Miss Molly were he on’y chile, an’ she -done fit wi’ de ol’ man, too; so we uns didn’t hev no truck wi’ dey -uns fer a long time. When Miss Molly died, Marse Wallace try to patch -up t’ings, but ol’ Marse Eliot got de stroke what mumbled him, an’ it -turned out he’s pore like Job’s turkey.” - -“How does he live, then?” asked Judith. - -“It don’ take much to feed his gruel to him, an’ ol’ Miss Halliday’s -dat pars’monius she don’ eat decent cookin’ herself. She sell de aigs -’n’ chickens, an’ de fruit an’ sich, an’ she bargains at de groc’ry fer -de cheapes’ stuff dey got. So dey somehow gits along--don’ ask me how, -honey.” - -“Well,” said Judith, rising with a sigh, “I see that I’m needed here, -in more ways than one. Where may I locate my room, Aunt Hyacinth?” - -This puzzled Mammy for a time. The old mansion had been built on a -queer plan. Upstairs there were four bedrooms in the front of the house -and four in the rear. Of these last the two at the back end overlooked -the mountains and the valleys and were the most pleasantly situated -of any in the house. Mr. Eliot had therefore chosen them for his own, -and now he sat in a chair all day looking out of a window over the -broad stretch of land he had always loved. It was a peaceful, quiet -scene. Behind the house the streets were merely green lanes, with a few -scattered habitations here and there. A little to the right, but in -plain sight of this second-floor window, stretched the old-fashioned -country graveyard--not yet sufficiently dignified to be called a -“cemetery”--and Mr. Eliot’s eyes might clearly see a white mausoleum, -which he had built years before, to contain his body when he had passed -from life. - -Everyone had thought this an eccentric thing for Jonathan Eliot to -do; some of the neighbors shuddered at the idea of a live, healthy -man preparing his own tomb. But there it was, scarcely a quarter of a -mile distant from his dwelling; and, as he now sat paralyzed before -the broad window, perhaps his glassy eyes rested more often upon that -ghostly tomb than upon the charming landscape of hill and dale, that -extended far into the distance toward Exeter. - -Opening from this room was a balcony with outside stairs leading to -the garden. Adjoining the two large rear rooms were a couple of small -chambers opening into a hallway. The hall originally ran to the front -of the house, but directly in the center of the passage had been placed -a stout door, separating the upper part of the house into two distinct -parts, each containing four chambers. Miss Halliday, in reserving the -four rear rooms, had fitted up one of the hall chambers as a kitchen -and retained the other for her own sleeping apartment. Of the two more -spacious rear rooms, one was old Mr. Eliot’s bedroom and the other his -living room. These four rooms satisfied all the requirements of the -paralytic and his nurse, and so the balance of the house was turned -over, somewhat grudgingly, to the orphaned Darings. - -But in this arrangement Elaine Halliday made one curious stipulation. -The two hall rooms were never to be used by the Darings, for any -purpose. They might occupy the front bedrooms, but under the plea that -the children might disturb their invalid grandfather, the hall rooms -must remain vacant. - -Phœbe had accordingly taken possession of one of the front chambers, -and Phil and Don shared the other. Downstairs the house had a big -parlor, or drawing-room--a ghostly, primly furnished apartment that -all the Darings abhorred--a large dining room with a side porch, an -ample hall with a spiral staircase, pantries and kitchen and two -small chambers opening out of the dining room. Becky and Sue together -occupied one of these little rooms, while the other, which had a door -into the kitchen and was little more than a “cubbyhole,” was Aunt -Hyacinth’s own room. - -Unless Judith Eliot took possession of one of the forbidden hall -bedrooms upstairs, there was really no place for her in all the big -house. When this was explained to her she promptly started to visit -her uncle and Miss Halliday. She mounted the outside stairway from the -garden and at the top was confronted by the thin-visaged guardian of -the place. - -“Go away!” said Miss Halliday, sternly. “Don’t you understand that no -one is allowed on these premises?” - -“I am Judith Eliot,” was the calm reply. “Don’t you remember me, -Elaine?” - -The stern face hardened still more. - -“What are you doing here, Judith Eliot?” demanded the woman. - -“Why, Elaine, if you will move aside and allow me to sit down I shall -be able to explain my presence. Do you expect me to stand on this -landing all day? How is my uncle?” - -“He can’t see you,” said old Elaine, firmly. “Go back, and I’ll come -and talk to you presently.” - -Judith had learned self restraint in her years of buffeting with the -big world, but never had she had such cause for indignation in all -her experience. The old woman’s insulting attitude and words and her -assumption of authority were not to be endured. With flashing eyes Miss -Eliot advanced and thrust the frail form from the doorway, entering the -room before old Elaine was well aware of her purpose. - -Before a broad window her uncle was propped up in his chair, staring -listlessly across the valley to the mountains beyond. She approached -him and said softly: - -“Uncle! Here is Judith come to see you.” - -There was no reply, no movement to indicate that he had even heard her. -She stooped to his ear and spoke louder. - -“Uncle! Uncle Eliot! I am Judith--your niece. I have come to see you, -Uncle! Do you not know me?” - -The withered, pallid countenance never changed. The expressionless gaze -was fixed as ever. He might have been a dummy of a man except for the -slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. - -Judith glanced around and found Miss Halliday standing near with a -sneering smile upon her face. - -“He’s mighty glad to see you, isn’t he?” she asked. - -The girl did not reply. It was quite evident that Gran’pa Eliot was -entirely helpless; that he was all unaware of her presence. She looked -at the old man attentively, thinking he was far more dead than alive. -His cheeks were hollow and sunken, his skin like ancient parchment. -The hands that lay extended upon his knees were withered and bony; the -wisp of white hair upon his head was carefully brushed; he wore a neat -dressing gown. Propped among his pillows he seemed to be as comfortable -as was possible for one in his condition. - -Letting her eyes roam around the room, Judith saw that it was neat and -well cared for. Elaine, always an excellent housekeeper, could not be -criticised for any undue laxness. - -Judith turned to her. - -“I did not realize he was so helpless,” she said. “Does he recognize no -one at all?” - -“Only one,” replied Elaine, grimly triumphant. “But strangers are -sure to make him nervous. He’ll have a bad time, after your foolish -intrusion. I can tell by his face that he knows something is wrong; -that he’s been disturbed. He don’t know you’re here, perhaps; but he -senses something different. I advise you to go before he is upset -entirely--a shock of this sort might kill him.” - -Judith looked at her uncle again. His dull, apathetic expression had -not altered a particle, so far as she could discover. The idea of -disturbing this half-dead man seemed absurd. Yet the old woman who -attended him constantly might be right, after all, and certainly there -was no prospect of being able to arouse him sufficiently to recognize -his niece. - -“Follow me, Elaine,” she commanded, with a trace of haughtiness due to -the servant’s defiant attitude. - -At the foot of the stairs stood an old garden bench. Judith seated -herself and waited until the old woman joined her. Then she said: - -“How long do you expect my uncle to live?” - -Elaine started to sit down beside her. - -“You may stand, if you please,” said Judith; and old Miss Halliday -stood, although her eyes had a resentful look in them at thus being -assigned to her true station. In the old days she had been considered -a privileged servant, it is true; yet, even then, she would not have -dared to seat herself in the presence of an Eliot. - -“I don’t know,” she returned. “He has been like this for three years. -He may live a dozen more--if I can manage to keep his body and soul -together.” - -“What do you mean by that?” - -“Why, there isn’t much to eat here, if you want the truth; and so it’s -lucky Mr. Eliot doesn’t require much food. The wine is the hardest -thing to get. It’s mighty expensive; but he must have it, Dr. Jenkins -says.” - -“Is the doctor attending him?” - -“Not now; we can’t pay the bills. But there’s nothing a doctor can do -more than I am doing myself.” - -“What has become of my uncle’s money, Elaine?” she asked, regarding the -woman attentively. - -Elaine flushed, but shook her head. - -“I don’t know,” she said. - -“He was never a spendthrift, nor a gambler,” continued Judith. “On the -contrary, I knew him as a wealthy man who was so penurious that he -guarded every expenditure with great care.” - -The woman made no reply. - -“What do you suppose became of the money?” Judith pointedly inquired. -“He sold off his property at fair prices. I’m sure that he didn’t -speculate. Then what has become of it?” - -“I only know,” said Elaine, “that when he was took with this stroke -there wasn’t a dollar to be found anywhere. He wasn’t a miser, for -I’ve ransacked every corner of this house. There wasn’t anything in -the bank, either, for I inquired there. I’ve looked over all of his -papers--with Judge Ferguson to help me--and Mr. Eliot hadn’t any -investments or stocks. His money was gone, somehow, and we don’t know -where because he can’t tell.” - -Judith thought it over. It was a perplexing thing, indeed. - -“Why do you stay here?” she asked. “You are not obligated to devote -your life to my bankrupt uncle--a helpless invalid who does not -appreciate your services.” - -Elaine hesitated, clasping her thin hands and looking down as if -endeavoring to find proper words in which to express herself. - -“I’m old, Miss Judith; too old to find work elsewhere. And I’m as poor -as Mr. Eliot is. All I can expect at my age is a home, and the work -is very little, now that the Darings have most of the house. Besides, -I’ve been with the Eliot family so long--forty odd years--that my place -seems here, now. I won’t say anything about duty, or my affection for -my old master. He was a hard man with others, I know; but I always -understood him better than anyone else, and he liked me. When he was -taken with paralysis, just after his daughter’s death, there was no one -in the world to care for him but me. Even Wallace Daring had quarreled -with Mr. Eliot and insulted him. Not a single neighbor offered any -assistance, or came near my stricken master. So I stayed.” - -It was a fair explanation, Judith considered, and betokened more heart -in the old woman than she had been credited with. - -“That reminds me, Elaine,” she said, turning the subject abruptly; “I -am going to live with the Darings hereafter, and take care of Cousin -Molly’s children. I must have one of those vacant rooms off the hall -which you have reserved.” - -A look of anger and fear swept over old Elaine’s face. - -“It won’t do, Miss Judith,” she said positively; “it won’t do at all. I -can’t have Mr. Eliot disturbed. I allowed the Darings to live here if -they’d promise to keep quiet, but--” - -“_You_ allowed!” interrupted Judith, meaningly. “Isn’t that rather -impertinent, Elaine?” - -“There’s no one to run your uncle’s affairs, but me,” she retorted, -unabashed. “I’ve got to protect him in his helpless condition, and I’m -going to do it, too!” - -“This is nonsense,” returned Judith impatiently. “Nothing that occurs -in that part of the house can disturb Uncle Eliot, as you very well -know. I shall occupy one of those rooms.” - -“I forbid it,” said the woman, her eyes cold and hard, her jaws set and -determined. - -“Has it ever occurred to you,” suggested Judith quietly, “that there -is such a thing as law, and that the law will take the conduct of my -uncle’s affairs out of your hands, if I appeal to it? If you really -wish a home in your old age, Elaine, you must give up your autocratic -ideas. The Darings are the natural inheritors of this homestead, and -you have no personal rights here except as a servant.” - -“I’m entitled to my wages, then,” snapped Elaine. “They haven’t been -paid for years.” - -Judith regarded her thoughtfully. In spite of the peculiar temperament -of this poor creature she was doubtless of inestimable worth to Mr. -Eliot at this juncture. No one else could or would care for the -helpless invalid, half so well. And there was little to advance -against that argument of unpaid wages. Perhaps, after all, it might be -better to compromise with Elaine Halliday. - -“I am willing to admit your responsible position here,” she said, -“provided you do not attempt to dictate too far. Live your life in your -own way, but do not attempt to interfere with us. I am now going to -establish myself in one of those hall rooms.” - -She rose. - -“Take the west room, then,” suggested Elaine, eagerly. “It’s bigger, -and the east room is cluttered with old furniture.” - -Judith walked away without reply, content with her victory but filled -with many perplexing thoughts. The interview had somewhat astonished -her. - -Elaine watched her go, and when Judith had turned the corner of the -house the old woman stamped her foot furiously. - -“Drat the law!” she muttered. “Ferguson swore he’d turn me out if I -didn’t let the Darings in, and now this girl threatens the law if -I won’t let her have that room. Law! What mischief-makers invented -the law, I’d like to know--to rob a poor woman and beat her out of -her just dues? But there’s two kinds of law in this world--the laws -others make, and the laws we make, ourselves. I guess the law of Elaine -Halliday will win out in the long run, because my law’s my secret, and -they’ve only got their own to go by.” - -With this somewhat ambiguous tirade she turned and slowly mounted the -stairs. Gran’pa Eliot sat exactly as he had before, staring vacantly -through the window. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE “ARTICLES OF ADOPTION” - - -Judith Eliot had been accustomed to act upon her judgment; and to act -quickly, and with decision. Aunt Hyacinth was half frightened when -the young lady returned and said that Elaine had attempted to bar her -out of the vacant rooms, but she was going to occupy one of them, -nevertheless. The black mammy was a Daring servant, having followed her -nursling Wallace when he married and set up housekeeping at Riverdale. -She had nursed, in turn, each of the Daring children and, therefore, -was devoted to them and their interests. But Auntie could never -understand the favored servant of the Eliots, and through all the years -she had known Elaine had seldom exchanged a word with the white woman. -Why a housekeeper should be called “Miss” Halliday and allowed to -assume airs of superiority was far beyond old Hyacinth’s comprehension. -But the fact impressed her with a sense of awe of Elaine which time had -never dissipated. - -Since the Darings had come to this house to live the two serving women -had held aloof from one another as before, and the aggressive, dominant -attitude of Miss Halliday held Auntie in sure subjection to her will. -She never doubted that Elaine had the power to turn her precious flock -out in the cold world, if she chose, and therefore took great care not -to annoy her in any way. - -It was not clear to her, at this juncture, whether she ought to applaud -or deplore Miss Judith’s defiance of the hitherto supreme power of “ol’ -Miss Hall’day,” but she willingly followed the energetic young lady up -the spiral staircase to show her the vacant rooms. - -The east room was sunny and bright, but poorly furnished. In one corner -stood several decrepit and damaged chairs, a few old pictures and -some bundles of matting. A door, closed and locked, communicated with -the room back of it--the room Miss Halliday herself occupied. Aunt -Hyacinth, in a whisper, called Judith’s attention to this door. - -Perhaps that accounted for the desire of the old woman that Miss Eliot -take the west room, which was not nearly so pleasantly situated; but -the young lady promptly decided that the east room suited her best. -She was accustomed to doing things for herself, and with Auntie’s help -dragged the cast-off chairs and other lumber into the west room and -made a selection of the best furniture from the two. - -Also, she robbed the stately parlor downstairs of a comfortable rocker -and the hall of a small stand. When the east room had been swept, -dusted and cleaned, it appeared to be quite livable, although Aunt Hy -shook her head gravely and declared that it was not nearly as good as -the front rooms. In fact, she confided to Judith that the east room -“wasn’t fit fo’ ’spectible comp’ny.” - -“When Phil and Don come home to lunch,” said Judith, “I’ll get them to -help me up with the trunks and bags, and then I’ll unpack and settle.” - -At noontime, however, when the children came home from school, Phœbe -vetoed the entire carefully planned arrangement. Cousin Judith mustn’t -be tucked into that cheerless east room on any account, but should have -Phœbe’s own pretty room at the front, with its balcony overlooking -the village and the river. - -“I’m seldom in my room,” said the girl, “while you, Cousin Judith, will -often shut yourself up to paint or write. So, I’ll move into the east -room in a jiffy, and rid up the front room so you can take possession.” - -Miss Eliot protested against this change, but Phœbe had a will -of her own and moreover, was right in her argument. Everyone -energetically assisted in transferring Phœbe’s “traps” across the -hall, and before school time arrived Cousin Judith’s baggage had all -been carried to the big front room and deposited there. - -That afternoon Phœbe “settled” her new quarters in five minutes’ -time, for she was not very particular about appearances and had the -true Southern disposition to leave any article wherever it happened -to be. Order was not one of her characteristics, but Phœbe always -claimed she could find anything she wanted, just as quickly as those -who put them properly away. - -Cousin Judith, although an artist, had an inherent aversion to -disorder. She wanted her surroundings to look pretty at all times, and -a tasteful arrangement of her possessions meant a place for everything -and everything in its place. Phœbe was astonished when she came -home that afternoon at the transformation effected in her old room. A -hundred pretty knickknacks and articles of virtu, brought from foreign -parts, had been arranged most effectively. Some choice prints from -Paris and Dresden were on the walls; a small bust of Psyche in pure -Carrara stood on the mantel. Judith’s well-worn easel was inscribed on -every inch of its wooden surface with autographs of more or less famous -artists and litterateurs who had visited her studio. - -With all this the place looked as cosy and homelike as it was -attractive, and thereafter the greatest joy of a Daring, big or little, -was to pass an hour in Cousin Judith’s room. - -Phœbe’s sleep in the east hall room was as sound and peaceful -that night, as it had been before she moved from her more commodious -quarters. She glanced more than once at the connecting door, as she -undressed, but no sound came from old Miss Halliday’s room on the -other side. There was a transom over the door, but probably the glass -had long since been broken or removed, for a thin board now covered -it, tacked to the frame from Phœbe’s side. There was no ready -communication to be had between the two sides of the house, and as far -as Phœbe was concerned she was well pleased that this was so. - -That Saturday was a great day for the Darings. - -“We’re going to have a good long talk together,” announced Cousin -Judith at breakfast. “Just as soon as I get my room in order and -Phœbe makes your beds we will get together in the parlor and begin -to get acquainted.” - -“Oh, not the parlor, please,” protested Don. “It’s so gloomy there.” - -“The pahlah will spoil all our fun,” added Sue. - -“Then you must come to my own room,” decided Cousin Judith. - -Becky went out on the porch while the preparations were pending and saw -the Randolph children, faultlessly attired, standing hand in hand just -across the street. - -“Hello, Becky!” shouted Allerton. “Come on over.” - -Doris turned to him reprovingly. Then she raised her voice to Becky and -said: - -“My brother wishes to invite you to join us.” - -“Can’t go you,” returned Becky, carelessly. “My Cousin Judith’s come, -an’ we’re goin’ to have some chin music.” - -“May I inquire what sort of an entertainment you refer to?” asked -Doris, coming a little nearer. - -“You may,” said Becky, graciously. - -Doris waited, still holding her brother’s hand. To Becky it seemed -absurd that such a big boy and girl should act so much like infants. -So far, her acquaintance with the Randolphs had only interested her -because she could “guy them” unmercifully, without their discovering it. - -Allerton’s patience was not equal to that of his demure sister. - -“Please tell us,” he pleaded. - -“If you had a good chance, Al, you’d soon blossom into a boy--quite a -decent boy,” remarked Becky, reflectively. “The trouble is, you’ll -never get a chance in that stuck-up crowd you train with. Why don’t you -run away and be a man?” - -“I am scarcely old enough, I fear,” he sighed. - -“Then be a bootblack, or a chimney sweep, or a robber, -or--or--_any_thing!” - -“Oh, Rebecca!” wailed Doris, greatly shocked. “How sadly the lightness -of your mind is reflected in your words!” - -“By cracky, you’ve got _me_ going,” returned Becky, despondently. “What -does it, Doris; religion, or Boston kindergartens?” - -“You have not yet told us what ‘chin music’ means,” suggested Allerton, -with much interest. “It is a new term to us.” - -“It means a confab, that’s all.” - -“You must pardon our ignorance,” Doris observed, in her most proper -manner. “Our vocabulary, you know, is limited to authorized words; yet -with you the English language seems to have been amplified, and the -grammatical construction of many sentences altered. Is it an idiom -peculiar to this section of the country, or have you authority for the -use of such unusual expressions?” - -Somehow, Becky felt distinctly abashed. She might laugh at the proper -speech of Doris Randolph and regard it in the light of a good joke; -but, after all, she experienced a humiliating sense of her own -crudeness and lack of refinement whenever the new neighbors engaged her -in conversation. - -Of course she resented this feeling, which intruded itself, unasked. -The Darings were as good as the Randolphs, any day, she mentally -declared, knowing all the time the thought was an admission of -inferiority. Becky had had careful training once upon a time, and -her dead mother’s injunction never to forget her personal dignity, -nor give to others an opportunity to disparage it, was not wholly -forgotten by the girl. She well knew that she had cultivated the slang -of the streets and their rabble because some of her village associates -considered it amusing and had encouraged her by their laughter. So, -although the reproaches of the carefully trained Randolph children were -only implied, through their complete ignorance of such phrases, the -girl felt them nevertheless, and this made her bitter and more reckless -than ever. - -Fortunately, Phœbe called to her just then and with a shout of “So -long, bully Bostoners!” she ran in to attend the gathering in Cousin -Judith’s room. - -Now it chanced that Miss Eliot had overheard, through her open window, -the conversation exchanged across the street by Becky and her -neighbors, and her sweet face flushed painfully while she listened. -That a daughter of gentle, refined Molly Eliot should exhibit -coarseness and vulgarity amazed and annoyed her. More than once during -the brief day since her arrival she had winced at the rude sallies of -Becky and Don, and even little Sue had sometimes offended her sensitive -ears. - -“There are many difficulties to be surmounted and plenty of hard work -ahead of me, I fear,” she thought, with a sigh of regret. “But my duty -to these waifs is plain, and I must pray for strength and wisdom to -accomplish it.” - -Then she turned and showed a smiling face as the Darings trooped in, an -eager group. Many were their exclamations of pleasure as they examined -Cousin Judith’s “pretty things,” and even Becky was so thoroughly -delighted and turned her clear hazel eyes so adoringly upon her cousin -that her recent rudeness was almost condoned. - -Judith began with a relation of her own history, including many -incidents of her life abroad and the hard struggle she had faced to win -recognition as an artist. Then she told them of the deep affection that -had always existed between her and “Cousin Molly,” the mother of the -absorbed audience. She had been deeply pained at Molly’s death, and -when, three years later, Molly’s children lost their father--their only -natural protector--Judith had remembered that she was their nearest -relative, next to Gran’pa Eliot, and it seemed her duty to go to them -and help them to face the world and become the noble men and women -their dear mother so fondly wished them to be. - -The Darings were duly impressed and affected. Sue and Phœbe sobbed -a little, and Phil wiped his eyes more than once. Donald was not so -emotional but looked grave and thoughtful, while Becky’s face was white -and set as she realized how little credit she had thus far reflected on -the sweet, gentle mother who had been prematurely taken from them. - -“What I wish,” said Judith, wistfully, “is to become a second mother -to dear Molly’s children; to do for them what I think Molly would have -done, had she lived. But I cannot acquire such a proud position, my -dears, without your full and free consent. You must talk this over -among yourselves and decide if you are willing to adopt me.” - -Phœbe wrapped her arms around the speaker and kissed her cheek, -while tears trembled on her dark lashes. - -“Oh, Cousin Judith!” she said; “we’re so happy, and so grateful!” - -Becky knelt at Judith’s feet and buried her head in her lap. Sue came -like a dainty fairy to find a refuge in Judith’s embrace. - -“I’d like another mamma--awful well!” she whispered; “and I couldn’t -find a lovelier one than you, Cousin Judith.” - -“You’ve given up a good deal for us,” Phil remarked in a husky voice, -“and I’m afraid we’re not worth it, at all. But the--the youngsters -need some sort of a mother, Cousin, and Phœbe and I need some one -to advise us and help us in our times of trouble and worry. So we--we -haven’t the courage to refuse your generous offer.” - -“It won’t need a vote,” asserted Don, scowling darkly to keep from -crying. “You’re elected unanimous, Little Mother; an’ that settles it.” - -Judith smiled and kissed them all in turn, big and little. Then she -said, very seriously: - -“This alliance, my dears, means a good deal to all of us, and must not -be undertaken lightly. We must have a fair and square agreement, on -both sides, setting forth and defining what we have undertaken.” - -They were very attentive, at this. - -“First,” she continued, “I want to tell you that I am going to love -each one of you, dearly, and I want you to promise you will try to love -me in return.” - -“Why, we do already!” exclaimed Sue, and Judith felt that she answered -for all. - -“The duty of a mother,” she explained, “is not only to love her -children, but to train them properly. She must correct their faults, -direct their amusements, attend to their deportment, laugh when they -are glad and grieve over their sorrows. And they, in turn, must be -content to be guided by her larger experience in life and willing to -obey her in everything.” - -“Of course,” said Becky, nodding. “We’ll agree to all that, Cousin -Judith.” - -“I long to have you grow up to be admired and respected by all you -meet, as your father and mother were. Do you realize how proud a thing -it is to be a Daring? You bear an honored name, my dears--a name that -has always stood for nobility, truth, generosity and culture. You must -guard that name, jealously, so as not only to reflect credit upon your -parentage, but to win for yourselves the approval of the world.” - -The awed silence that greeted this speech was broken by Donald. Perhaps -he was really more affected than any of the others; I think his very -soul was stirred by a desire to be a credit to his name and to -himself. But he said bluntly and with a mischievous grin: - -“You girls needn’t worry. You’ll change your names some day--if you’re -lucky!” - -It relieved the tense situation and they all laughed, including Judith. -But she meant the lesson to be impressive and not easily forgotten, so -she hailed a suggestion from Becky, which was perhaps intended to be as -flippant as Donald’s remark. - -“Let’s draw up an agreement, and all sign it,” cried the girl. -“Phœbe has a typewriter, and we won’t need any lawyer.” - -“A good idea,” said Miss Eliot. “Phœbe and I will go to her room and -draw up the Articles of Adoption.” - -This was done, and the others waited restlessly enough for a full -hour for them to return, although Phil took occasion to point out how -fortunate they all were to secure a friend and protector in this, their -hour of greatest need. - -After all, the Articles of Adoption proved quite simple and brief, -although they had taken so long to prepare. Most of the paper was -devoted to Cousin Judith’s agreement to love and watch over the five -Darings, to correct their errors, promote their happiness and fill the -place of a real mother to them, so far as she was able. The Darings, -for their part, merely agreed to obey her as they would have done -their natural parents. But at the last was a little clause that was -destined to prove very important--more important than it then seemed. -It stipulated that if any of the signers revolted from the letter or -spirit of the agreement, or in other words broke the contract, the -culprit should submit the case to any two of the others he or she might -select; and, if they decided the offender was wrong, then he or she -must either accept proper punishment, or become divorced from these -Articles of Adoption. - -The Darings signed the papers with enthusiastic glee; Phœbe first, -because she was five minutes older than her twin; then Phil and Becky, -and Don and Sue. Two copies had been made, one for Phœbe to keep and -one for Cousin Judith; and to make it appear more legal and binding, -Aunt Hyacinth was called in as a witness and made an inky impression of -her thumb on both documents by way of signature. - -By this time dinner was ready, for the Darings ate their heartiest meal -in the middle of the day, in good Southern fashion. - -While they dined, Cousin Judith said she would devote the afternoon to -long private talks with each of her adopted children. She wanted them -to tell her all about themselves, their hopes and trials and longings, -and then she would be able to help them, individually, to better -advantage. - -Sue was closeted with the Little Mother first, because she was the -youngest and most impatient. She emerged from Cousin Judith’s room -bright-eyed and smiling, and then Don went in. One by one they had -heart to heart talks with their newly adopted counsellor, the sessions -of Phil and Phœbe being much the longest because they were older and -had more to explain. When the conferences finally ended, Judith had -gleaned much valuable information concerning the Daring household, and -was prepared to assume her new duties with proper intelligence. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -PHŒBE HAS AN ADVENTURE - - -Perhaps no one was so greatly relieved by the advent of Cousin Judith -as Phœbe Daring. The girl had keenly felt her responsibilities -during the troubled months since her father’s death, and her days and -nights had been filled with anxieties. Now, however, she could cast all -worry to the winds, for the new head of the household, albeit gentle of -demeanor, low voiced and cheery, had nevertheless a reserve force and -power of command that inspired confidence, being in sharp contrast to -Phœbe’s own inexperience and lack of self reliance. - -Aunt Hyacinth also felt relief. She had not worried much, at any time; -it wasn’t her way. But Phœbe’s girlish responsibilities were as -nothing compared to those of the black mammy whose tenderly reared -brood seemed, in these adverse times, to have become neglected and -forsaken by all the world. She hailed Miss Eliot’s coming with joy and -unfeigned gratitude, and when she understood that “Miss Judy,” as she -called her in the old days, was to take charge of the household, she -felt a great weight lifted from her brave old shoulders. - -“I knows dem chill’ns ben runnin’ wild, Miss Judy,” she said earnestly, -“but I ain’t got de eddication, ner de arg’mentation to keep ’em toein’ -de chalk mark. It needs mo’ brains ner Aunt Hy’cinth’s got.” - -One night, when Phœbe had been asleep for some time, she was -roused by a peculiar sound in the next room--the room back of her -own--occupied by old Miss Halliday. It was a faint but persistent -sound, as of something sliding softly over a wooden surface, and now -and then it was accompanied by the crooning voice of the housekeeper. -She did not speak, at these times, but droned a long, sighing -“m-m-m-m-m” that denoted both ecstasy and intense excitement. The -sounds were all subdued and stealthy, but in the dead of night they -were clearly heard by the girl, who became half frightened, wondering -if old Elaine had gone mad. - -While she lay in her bed listening, a sudden silence fell, followed -by several gentle thumps which she could not explain. Then a chair -was pushed back; Miss Halliday pattered softly across the floor--and -perfect silence ensued. - -Phœbe lay a long time afterward listening for a recurrence of the -mysterious sounds, but they did not mature and presently the girl fell -asleep again. - -Next morning the recollection of the occurrence was rather dim in her -mind. She remembered her midnight fears and considered them rather -soberly while dressing; but afterward, when she saw Miss Halliday -feeding her chickens and looking after the garden in her accustomed -manner, alert, composed and engrossed in her work, Phœbe dismissed -any idea of the old woman’s being insane and soon forgot all about the -incident. - -This was commencement week, and Phil and Phœbe both graduated. The -twins were not on a par as far as scholarship was concerned, for the -girl barely passed her examinations. Phil was at the head of his class, -as he had hoped to be, but he was obliged to share that honor with one -other. Janet Ferguson had pressed him hard for first place all the -term, and at last she stood equal to Phil in all classes. With manly -generosity he was the first to congratulate her, for he liked Janet. -She was a modest, quiet girl who had a smile and a pleasant word for -everyone. - -Old Judge Ferguson was mightily pleased. He slapped Phil on the back -and said approvingly: “If you can keep step with my Janet, Phil, you’ve -something to be proud of, I assure you.” - -Phil _was_ proud, and so was Phœbe. She had not expected honors, -herself, but that her twin should do so well was certainly a source of -pride to her. She fairly reveled in her brother’s reflected glory. - -Cousin Judith gave Phil a scarf pin from Paris and Phœbe an oriental -bracelet of unique design. Nor did she forget the daughter of her old -friend Judge Ferguson, for Janet received from her, as a graduation -gift, a silver brooch brought from Venice. - -That evening was a joyous one in the Daring household. The younger -children realized that a long vacation was ahead of them. Phœbe was -now at liberty to begin life in earnest, and Phil was about to take his -place in Spaythe’s Bank. Aunt Hy, well knowing this to be a festive -occasion, prepared an elaborate supper, and afterward they all gathered -in an end of the big parlor, which Judith’s deft hand had by this time -rendered more cosy, and spent the evening listening to their Little -Mother’s fascinating stories of Italian life. - -It was late when they retired for the night, and Phœbe was tired. -She was soon in bed, but the day’s excitement was yet upon her and she -could not readily compose herself to sleep. Thoughts of the future and -her ambitious plans for it obtruded themselves persistently, and she -was wide-eyed when the ormolu clock, in Cousin Judith’s room opposite, -chimed the hour of midnight. - -Soon after her ear caught another sound--the gentle, stealthy -sliding--sliding--sliding of some hard substance across a table-top. It -came from Miss Halliday’s room, and was exactly the same sound she had -heard several nights before. - -Presently the old woman began her droning again: “M-m-m-m-m!”--a croon -of the most beatific joy and exaltation. She evidently desired to -suppress the murmur, for fear of being overheard, so that at first it -barely reached Phœbe’s listening ears. But now and then her ecstasy -led her to forget caution and raise the croon to a higher key. - -It was all so uncanny, so strange and inexplicable, that the girl -was more startled than she had been before. Yet she did not feel so -alarmed, this time, as she was curious. - -Softly throwing back the coverlet she tiptoed to the connecting door -and crouched down to look through the keyhole. Only blackness rewarded -the attempt. Then she placed her ear to the panel, but found she could -not hear much more distinctly than when lying in bed. Shivering a -little in the night air Phœbe was about to retreat when suddenly the -thumps began, and between them Elaine spoke. - -“Mine!” she said, muttered low but quite distinct. Then came a thump. -“Mine!” she repeated. Another thump. “Mine!” she said, again; and so -the word and the thump followed each other several times. Afterward, a -brief silence and shuffle of the woman’s feet across the room. Then, as -before, all sounds ceased. - -Phœbe went back to bed thoughtful and perplexed. Surely there was -some mystery about this queer performance. She remembered how unwilling -Miss Halliday had been to have any of the Darings occupy the hall -bedrooms, and it seemed there must be some connection between this -reluctance and the strange sounds she had twice heard. - -For some indefinite reason which she could not have explained Phœbe -said nothing about these experiences, either to the Little Mother or -to her brothers or sisters. The girl was inclined, at times, to dream -wonderful daydreams when those about her thought her absorbed in humble -occupations. Looking upon the world with clear, calm eyes, Phœbe -found it essentially practical and commonplace, and accepted it as she -found it, striving to do her duty at all times. But the fascinating -dreams would not be denied, and one of her secret pleasures was to -allow them full play in her mind when her hands were engaged in some -unimportant matter. She never confided them even to her beloved twin; -they were sacred to herself alone, and any exposure of them would have -shamed her terribly. - -They were healthy dreams, if inherently romantic and unreal. There was -nothing morbid about Phœbe, although it must be admitted she had -some queer characteristics that might be called faults. Cousin Judith -thought she was more like her mother than any of the other children, -yet her shrewd eyes marked the girl’s frequent abstraction and knew her -thoughts were often far away from her material surroundings. - -Phœbe scented a mystery. That old Miss Halliday possessed some -secret which she dreaded to have revealed was quite evident to her, -judging from what she had overheard. It would be difficult to explain -to others, those peculiar sounds. Perhaps, she would be laughed at if -she attempted it. She resolved, therefore, to keep her own counsel and -watch Elaine carefully. If she discovered the secret it would then be -time enough to make it known; meantime, she could enjoy the suggestion -of a mystery without interference. - -Practical, everyday life is apt to dispel visionary dreams. Phœbe -leaned from her window the next morning and watched Cousin Judith -bargaining with Miss Halliday for a dozen of fresh eggs. - -“The Randolphs, across the road, pay me twenty cents a dozen,” said -Elaine, gruffly. “You can buy eggs from the grocer for eighteen. -There’s no need to waste your money on me.” - -“Do the Randolphs take all you have?” asked Judith. - -“Yes; and cry for more.” - -“Then I will not urge you,” replied Miss Eliot, “although I would be -willing to pay you twenty cents, myself. I know your eggs are quite -fresh, which is not always the case with those obtained from the -grocer.” - -“I don’t want your money,” observed the woman, in a disagreeable tone. -“I won’t touch your money. Mr. Eliot allows you house room out of -charity, but he desires no communication, of any sort, between the two -families.” - -“How do you know that?” inquired Judith, looking at the old servant, -steadily. - -“He has told me so.” - -“You know very well that he is incapable of speech.” - -“Do I? That shows your ignorance, Judith Eliot. Your uncle can speak -when he wants to, and speak to some purpose. His mind isn’t paralyzed, -I assure you, and he is competent to direct his own affairs.” - -“I cannot believe it,” persisted Judith. - -The woman looked at her defiantly. - -“Call in the law, if you want to,” she said; “I’d be glad to have you -do it. Mr. Eliot can prove his mental condition in court, and his right -to manage his own property. But if you put him to that trouble he’ll -turn out the whole tribe of you, as sure as my name’s Elaine Halliday!” - -Judith turned away without further remark. The shrewdness of the woman -astonished and perplexed her. Possibly old Elaine was right, and could, -if she chose, induce Uncle Eliot to speak. Otherwise she would scarcely -have dared to thus defy all interference with her autocratic whims. It -was also possible that the paralytic old man was so completely under -Elaine’s influence that he would readily follow her suggestions. - -Jonathan Eliot had always been a hard, stubborn man, even to his -sweet, beautiful daughter Molly. As Judith remembered him, sitting -stolidly in his chair that morning when she had forced herself upon his -presence, he appeared a living mummy, lost to all recognition of his -surroundings. Yet, if Elaine could arouse him at will, and his mind -retained its natural poise, there was really danger that he might turn -the Darings out of their refuge. Judith would not employ the law; she -dared not; but she resolved to consult Judge Ferguson. - -Acting upon this determination she at once put on her hat and started -for the lawyer’s office. - -Phœbe, seeing Miss Halliday busy in the hen-house, left her window -and turned to examine the mysterious connecting door between her room -and that of the housekeeper. In broad daylight it did not appear -especially interesting. It was a heavy, old-fashioned door with a big -keyhole in the lock. But when Phœbe stooped down she discovered a -thick cloth had been placed on the opposite side, which effectually -prevented her from examining the next room. She pushed a long hat-pin -through the hole but failed to dislodge the cloth. - -Next, she turned her attention to the transom above the door. It had -once been made to swing open, but was now tightly nailed shut. Over the -glass had been nailed a thin board, which fully covered it; but it was -nailed to Phœbe’s side of the transom and the girl at once decided -that here might be a way to discover what those mysterious midnight -sounds meant. - -She went into Phil’s room and searched in his tool chest for some -instrument with which to remove the board from the transom. Just then -Cousin Judith passed out of the front gate on her way down town, and -Phœbe was all alone in the upper part of the house--except, of -course, gran’pa, who could not interfere. - -She selected a chisel and a hammer, and returned to her room. She drew -her stand before the door and by means of a chair mounted to its top. -From this elevation her head almost reached the ceiling, and she was -able to work comfortably. Quickly prying the nails from the board with -the chisel, Phœbe removed it and found a pane of clear glass behind. -It was dingy with dust; but by rubbing clear one corner she found -herself looking into Elaine’s room. - -It was much like her own room, yet even more poorly furnished. A big, -broad oaken table stood in the center--a heavily constructed affair -that seemed out of place in a bedchamber. It was bare of even a cloth. -A small dresser stood at one side; a bed was in the opposite corner; -two stiff chairs and a rag carpet completed the furniture of the room, -which denoted extreme neatness and cleanliness. Really, there was -nothing here pertaining to the mysterious or unusual. - -But Phœbe was not satisfied. Those sliding sounds, the old woman’s -ecstatic murmurings, must be explained. After a moment’s thought, the -girl climbed down from the table and with the chisel managed to cut a -square corner out of the thin board. Then she replaced it as it had -been before, putting one nail loosely into the corner she had removed, -so that while the board over the transom appeared to be intact and -undisturbed she could easily slide the corner from its place and so -obtain a “peephole.” - -Observing her work critically from the floor she decided no one would -ever notice that the board had been tampered with. So she returned the -tools to Phil’s chest, rearranged her room, and with the complacent -idea that she had accomplished a clever feat awaited the moment when -she might make an important discovery. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A DEPRESSING INTERVIEW - - -Judith found Mr. Ferguson alone in his office. With an air of much -pride she produced the Articles of Adoption and asked him to read the -document. - -“Don’t pick flaws in its legality, please,” she said with twinkling -eyes. - -The lawyer read the agreement through very soberly. Then he reached out -both his hands and took those of Judith in their firm clasp. - -“My dear, you are a noble woman,” he said. “I am almost as grateful to -you as if the Darings were my own children. They need a mother, Judith, -and the poor things couldn’t have fallen into greater luck than being -adopted by you.” - -She was a little embarrassed by this praise. - -“Tell me what you know about Uncle Jonathan,” she asked, to change the -subject. - -He gave her an amused glance from beneath his bushy eyebrows. - -“Of course the old man would interest you,” he replied. “Curious -situation, isn’t it, Judith? Have you seen him?” - -“Yes; for a moment.” - -“It’s a wonder his grim guardian allowed it.” - -“I forced myself into his room, in spite of Elaine.” - -“Did you? And found your uncle deaf, dumb and blind, I suppose.” - -“Yes,” she returned. “Is he always like that?” - -“Always. Unless Elaine Halliday chooses to waken him. Then he comes to -life.” - -“I did not believe it possible!” - -“Nor I,” agreed the lawyer, “until I had experience with the fact. -You’ve no idea, Judith, what a time I had to obtain a refuge for the -Darings in that household. Elaine stubbornly refused to admit them, -claiming that Mr. Eliot was oblivious to all the world and she had -received positive instructions never to permit a Daring to enter the -house while he lived. I told her frankly that in such a case it was my -duty to apply to the law and have a legal guardian appointed to look -after her master and his property. This threat alone prevailed upon -her. She decided to grant me an interview, and in some way I cannot -understand, she whispered into the old man’s ear until he quickened to -life far enough to speak. The words were not very distinct and were -slowly muttered, for his tongue is partially paralyzed; but I found -his intellect was as keen as ever. I explained the unhappy situation -of his grandchildren and asked him to help them. He told me he hadn’t -a penny to give them, that his money was gone and his fortunes -practically ruined.” - -“Do you believe that?” asked Judith. - -“Yes; I think it is true, my dear. I told him that I did not ask for -money for the Darings; I only demanded a shelter for them in his big, -unoccupied house; and, although Elaine tried to induce him not to -consent, the old fellow silenced her and told me the Darings might -occupy all the house, except the four rooms reserved for his own use -and that of his servant. So I won the battle, after all.” - -Judith considered this thoughtfully. - -“What became of his money?” she asked. - -“Years ago,” replied Mr. Ferguson, slowly, “I was employed as Jonathan -Eliot’s trusted advisor. That was when he owned a large estate and -commanded ample means. He was not a generous man, in those days, but -grudged every necessary expenditure his family made. After his wife’s -death and Molly’s marriage, he came to me one day and said that all his -money had been swept away in an unlucky speculation, and he would no -longer be able to employ me. He refused to answer any questions as to -the manner of his loss. Mr. Spaythe told me, about that time, that Mr. -Eliot had drawn all his money from the bank, taking it in gold coin. -Your uncle discharged all the servants except Elaine, shut up most of -the house, and offered his estate for sale. He lived quite frugally, I -learned, and was doubtless very poor. Bit by bit he sold off the lands, -until only the house and its garden remained. There is no mortgage on -the place, however. Wallace Daring offered to assist his father-in-law, -but Eliot irritably refused. They quarrelled soon afterward, as you -perhaps know.” - -“But I don’t quite understand,” said Judith. “Even if he lost all his -ready money, the land must have brought a large sum. What became of -that?” - -“It squared his debts, I suppose. The old man confided his affairs -to no one. He was suspicious of even his own daughter. Then suddenly -he became paralyzed, and I went to see if I could be of any help to -my old client. Elaine told me she had searched everywhere, without -finding a dollar. Until then I had harbored the thought that your -uncle had become a miser, for his nature inclined that way; so I -examined the house myself, looking high and low in every possible place -for any secreted cash or securities, or even for papers that would -explain what had become of his money, or account for his impoverished -condition. But there was nothing of the sort to be discovered. I am -thoroughly satisfied that Jonathan Eliot is as poor as he claims to be.” - -Judith sighed. - -“The house and lot must be worth considerable,” she said, hesitatingly. - -“It might bring a fair price if offered for sale,” said he, “but it -would not be advisable to dispose of the place until the Darings grow -to maturity. Before that time arrives it is probable old Jonathan -Eliot will have passed away and be laid in that ridiculous big white -mausoleum he once constructed. Then his grandchildren will inherit the -property. While he lives, moreover, we could not sell the place if we -desired to, unless we managed to prove Mr. Eliot mentally deficient.” - -“Isn’t he?” - -“No; not in the eye of the law. Elaine can arouse him whenever she -pleases. Indeed, we must consider it fortunate, Judith, that this -strange woman is content to care for him. I am sure she makes him as -comfortable as is possible.” - -“That is true,” admitted the girl. - -“By the way,” said the lawyer, “how are you going to manage about -money?” - -“I have, as you know, an income of fifty dollars a month,” she -replied. “With this, added to what Phil earns, we shall be rich. I have -also saved, from the sales of my pictures, about two hundred dollars, -a part of which I am going to expend at once for new clothing for the -children. The poor things need it badly, for Sue, Donald and Becky are -growing rapidly and have scarcely a decent garment to put on.” - -“You’re a fairy godmother, Judith,” he observed, regarding her with -evident approval. “I feel easier about the Darings now; but there’s a -fight ahead, my dear, for all of you. Don’t fail to come to me if you -need advice or assistance, for I’m the legal guardian of the young -brood, remember, and I’m willing to do my duty by them.” - -Judith went away feeling much depressed in spirit. The lawyer’s -explanation had been so clear that it destroyed all her suspicions -of both Elaine and her paralyzed uncle. The matter proved to be very -simple, after all, and contained no element of mystery. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -GETTING REGULATED - - -Monday morning Phil went to work at the bank. As Riverdale was a small -town, Spaythe’s Bank might be expected to be a small institution, but -it was more important than the size of the town really warranted. The -beet sugar factory drew many farmers to Riverdale, who deposited the -money received for their beets with Mr. Spaythe. The factory itself -had large deposits in the bank and the town merchants did a thriving -business. Aside from this there were many prosperous plantations and -wealthy country gentlemen in the neighborhood, all of which contributed -to the importance and prosperity of Spaythe’s Bank. - -Three assistants, or clerks, were employed, and Mr. Spaythe directed -them in person. The cashier and paying teller was an elderly, quiet man -named Boothe. Eric Spaythe told Phil that Boothe was a mere machine, -and had not a single thought or idea beyond his duties at the bank. Ned -Thurber had held the position of head bookkeeper, but on his withdrawal -Eric was promoted to that important position and Phil became his -assistant. - -Eric was Mr. Spaythe’s only child and it was the banker’s earnest -hope that the boy would, one day, succeed him. As is often the case, -however, father and son were totally unlike in disposition and -character, and those who knew them best were disposed to doubt Eric’s -ability to step into his father’s shoes. He was a jolly, pleasure -loving young fellow, now in his twentieth year, and Phil liked him and -had always found him to be a congenial companion. Short and stout, -with a round pink face and merry blue eyes, Eric Spaythe was a general -favorite at Riverdale, especially with the women and girls. His one -defect seemed to be that he was wholly irresponsible, and never -serious. At school he had proved a bad scholar, although the boy was -bright enough in other ways, and two years ago his father had taken him -from High and placed him in the bank to learn the business. - -The most important point of difference between Eric and his father -was that the young man was a natural spendthrift, whereas Mr. Spaythe -had always been frugal with his money. We may well suppose that -this characteristic of Eric was a thorn in the banker’s flesh; but -he realized that the boy was young and so did not despair of being -able to instill in him a knowledge of the importance of husbanding -his means. For this reason he allowed Eric a very small salary, and -wondered how the boy could purchase so many fine clothes and articles -of fashionable attire with so little money. The tradesmen knew, of -course, but considered the banker’s son well entitled to credit. - -Phil was accorded a kindly reception at the bank. Mr. Boothe turned -his expressionless eyes full upon the new clerk and shook his hand -automatically. Eric was delighted to have his old friend associated -with him, and elated, as well, by his own promotion to be head -bookkeeper. Mr. Spaythe, keenly interested in the important changes -in his force of employees, left his private office to overlook the -counting room and satisfy himself that the boys understood their -duties. Eric protested that he was quite competent to fill Ned -Thurber’s place, having been his assistant for the past two years; -and, indeed, the banker’s son seemed adequately able in business ways, -if he could be induced to keep his mind on his work. After inspecting -his entries now and then Mr. Spaythe seemed satisfied with his son’s -ability and turned his attention to Phil, who really needed a guiding -hand. His extra course in bookkeeping at the high school now stood -him in good stead, and he was intelligent enough to quickly grasp his -instructions. - -“If at any time you are in doubt, Eric will post you,” said the -banker; but for several days he made it a point to frequently -examine the ledgers and assure himself that the work was progressing -satisfactorily. Afterward, so well did both Eric and Phil accomplish -their tasks, that Mr. Spaythe left them much to their own devices and -kept himself shut up in his private office, as formerly. - -The mechanical cashier was not an especially companionable man. Mr. -Boothe began each day with a “good morning” to his fellow employees and -ended it with a brief “good night.” During the day he said nothing, -unless required to answer the questions of the bank’s customers. His -accounts were always absolutely accurate, and Mr. Spaythe knew he was -justified in relying implicitly upon his cashier to do his duty. - -That was a happy Saturday afternoon for Phil when he brought home his -first week’s wages and deposited the new ten dollar gold-piece in -Cousin Judith’s hand. - -“That will help some, won’t it?” he inquired, anxiously. - -“It will help a great deal,” was the reply. - -About this time Marion Randolph came home from college for the long -vacation. She was the eldest daughter of the house, and about the same -age as Phil and Phœbe. Judith, looking from her window, saw Marion -on the lawn the morning after her arrival and noted her slender, -angular form, her delicate, refined face and well-bred poise. She at -once decided Marion would be a valuable acquaintance for Phœbe, and -decided to bring the two girls together. - -“Let us call on the Randolphs this afternoon,” she suggested to -Phœbe. “Since they are recent arrivals at Riverdale it is really -our duty to call upon them formally. They are likely to prove pleasant -acquaintances.” - -“I’ve really nothing fit to wear, Cousin Judith,” replied the girl. - -The Little Mother examined Phœbe’s wardrobe and selected a simple, -white gown. It needed mending in places, but Judith caught up the -rents with her deft needle and added some pretty ribbons of her own to -the costume. A season of dressmaking had already begun in the house, -but Sue and Becky were most in need of respectable raiment, and so -Phœbe’s turn had not yet arrived. - -When, late in the afternoon, Miss Eliot and Phœbe Daring set out to -make their call, there was nothing that the most critical could find -fault with in their personal appearance. Phœbe had the reputation of -being “the prettiest girl in Riverdale,” and seemed justly entitled to -it that day, while Cousin Judith’s sweet face was sure to win approval -anywhere. - -Mrs. Randolph and her daughter Marion received their neighbors very -graciously. The former was a languid, weary looking woman who had -secluded herself in this little village in order to escape the demands -of society and organized charities, which had nearly reduced her to a -state of nervous prostration. Marion was an intelligent, active girl, -with none of her younger sister’s assumption of airs and graces. She -seemed to Phœbe to be perfectly frank and natural in her ways, -possessing ideas that were healthy, broad and progressive. During the -interview, Marion developed a liking for Phœbe that pleased Miss -Eliot greatly. - -“Come and see me,” said Phœbe, shyly, when about to depart. “We are -such near neighbors that you can run in at any time.” - -“I will, indeed,” was the ready promise, and Marion kept it faithfully. - -Thereafter, there was seldom a day when the two girls were not -together. Marion came most frequently to see Phœbe, for there was a -certain air of conventional stiffness about the great house that both -the girls felt and objected to. Sometimes, Doris came with her sister, -and was turned over to the tender mercies of mischievous Becky, who -teased her visitor in a shameful manner. Usually Doris was all unaware -that she was being ridiculed for her primness and stilted expressions, -but Cousin Judith was quick to comprehend the situation and took Becky -to task for her impoliteness. With all her graceless ways the child -was warm-hearted and easily influenced, for good as well as for evil, -and she promised the Little Mother to treat Doris nicely and avoid -offending her ears by using slangy expressions. Becky intended to keep -her word thus given, but at times lapsed irrepressibly into the old -ways, so that she was a source of constant anxiety to Judith. - -Since Phœbe had chosen to make a friend of Marion, her twin was -bound to follow her lead. Phil found the college girl a delightful -comrade. He did not care much for girls, as a rule, excepting of course -his own sisters, but Marion proved as frank and as keenly intelligent -as any boy. She knew all about modern athletics, although too frail of -physique to indulge in such sports herself. Likewise she had a fairly -practical knowledge of business methods, politics, public institutions -and reform movements, and talked well and interestingly upon all -subjects of the day. Aspiring to become a poet, she read bits of -original verse to her new friends which they considered so remarkable -that it was a marvel to them she was not already famous. - -“There is only one thing lacking about Marion,” Phil confided to his -twin; “she lacks any sense of humor. Seems to me she can’t appreciate -anything funny, at all. The only things she laughs at are the mistakes -of other people. Isn’t it queer, when she’s so bright in all other -ways?” - -“I think,” returned Phœbe, musingly, “that is a characteristic -of all the Randolphs. Doris and Allerton are the same way, and I’ve -wondered if Mrs. Randolph was ever in her life amused enough to laugh -aloud.” - -“Marion is good company, though,” added Phil, “and I like her.” - -“She’s splendid!” agreed Phœbe; “and her poetry reminds me so much -of Mrs. Browning.” - -“Me too,” he said, laughing. “I never can understand a word of it.” - -Others called on Marion and she soon became a popular favorite in the -village. Especially, was she attracted to Janet Ferguson, and as Janet -was a warm friend of the Darings, this made it pleasant for all the -young people. When the famous lawn party was given at the Randolph -residence the occasion was one long remembered, for no such elaborate -entertainment was ever before known in Riverdale. - -The festivity was designed to celebrate Marion’s birthday, as well as -to introduce her socially to the young folks of the town. - -“Of course it cannot be very exclusive,” observed her mother, when the -invitation list was being prepared; “otherwise you would have but a -mere handful.” - -“I do not wish to be exclusive here,” returned Marion, gravely. “My -desire is to study character and human nature, to assist me in my -literary work. One cannot write of humanity without knowing something -of the rank and file, you see; and there are many respectable, if -humble, families in Riverdale.” - -Mrs. Randolph scanned the list critically. - -“Is it possible that you intend to ask the entire family of Darings?” -she inquired. - -“Yes, dear. I am inviting Rebecca and Donald for Doris and Allerton, -you see, and I cannot well leave out that little fairy elf, Sue. So -they must all come.” - -“Do you know, Marion, those Darings--the younger ones, I refer to--are -very ill-bred children?” - -“Their manners are not strictly conventional, I believe.” - -“And their language is that of the slums.” - -“But they have had no mother to guide them, poor things,” explained -Marion. “At times they are very winning and companionable, and I am -sure they will behave nicely at my lawn fête.” - -“Very well, dear,” sighed the lady; “invite them if you wish to. This -was once their home, you remember. After all, it would not be quite -right to exclude the Darings from your little affair.” - -It may have seemed a “little affair” in the eyes of the blasé society -woman, but it was not so to the people of Riverdale, by any means. A -brass band of fifteen pieces came from the city by the noon train, and -their uniforms were so gorgeous as to create tremendous excitement. -Tents had been erected upon the lawn and a force of extra servants -employed to prepare and serve the refreshments. The ample grounds were -crossed in every direction by strings of unique Japanese lanterns, and -in the early evening there was to be dancing to the music of the band. - -It was but natural that every young person in town who had received an -invitation was filled with joyful anticipation. “From five until nine,” -the cards read, and it was hard work for Cousin Judith to control the -younger Darings until the hour arrived. Sue insisted upon being dressed -directly after dinner, and when arrayed in her new muslin with the -cherry ribbons she found such difficulty in keeping still that Judith -was fearful Sue would ruin the frock before five o’clock. Rebecca had -a new gown, too, and Donald a new suit of clothes. When, finally, -the children observed several arrivals at the reception tent on the -lawn opposite, which they had carefully watched all afternoon from -the dining room window, Miss Eliot felt that she could restrain their -impatience no longer and away they trooped across the road. - -Marion had asked Phœbe and Janet to assist her to receive, for she -did not know personally all whom she had invited, while the other girls -were of course familiar with every young person in the village. There -were no “regrets” that day, you may be sure, for the unusual occasion -could not well be disregarded. Eric Spaythe came early, in an elaborate -costume fresh from the tailor, and he paid especial attention to Marion -whenever her duties left her disengaged. Al Hayden, Toby Clarke, Jed -Hopkins and, in fact, every eligible youth in the village, assembled -in bashful groups and looked nervously at the bevies of girls and upon -their bewildering surroundings. In order to help Marion, Phil tried to -“break the ice,” as he said, by bringing the boys and girls together, -and when the band struck up a spirited twostep it relieved the strain -to a wonderful degree. - -Mrs. Randolph kept out of sight, indulgently viewing the scene from a -window. Mr. Randolph had not appeared in Riverdale since he brought -his family there and settled them in their new home. He was a busy man, -with many extensive financial interests, and could not be away from -Boston for very long at a time. - -Donald, Becky and Sue had promptly joined Doris and Allerton, and as -they were a little younger than the majority of Marion’s guests they -formed a group of their own. - -“It distresses me,” said Doris, plaintively, “to realize how many poor -people are suffering, while we revel at this fête; and I cannot help -thinking how many deserving families might be relieved from want by -means of the money we are squandering to-day upon useless luxuries.” - -“Aw, cut it out!” cried Becky, indignantly. “Do you want to spoil all -our fun?” - -“My sister is religiously inclined,” observed Allerton; “yet there is a -place for everything, and this is not a funeral.” - -“Oh, Allerton--how shocking!” exclaimed the girl. - -“I don’t believe,” said Don, “you Randolphs would have spent a penny on -the poor if you hadn’t given this party; so what’s the odds?” - -It suddenly occurred to Becky that this wasn’t a proper topic of -conversation under the circumstances, and might lead to a quarrel; so -she turned the subject by asking: - -“What’s in that red-and-white striped tent?” - -“Lemonade and ices,” said Allerton. “Will you have some?” - -“Sure thing!” was the reply, and away they went, to be served by a maid -in a white cap and apron. - -“Doesn’t it cost us anything?” inquired Sue, who found the lemonade -extremely good. - -“Course not,” returned Becky, helping herself again from the big bowl -when the maid was not looking. “But if Doris had her way they’d collect -a nickel a glass for charity,--the kind of charity that doesn’t help -the poor a bit.” - -“Let us go to the long tent, over there,” said Allerton, with eager -patronage. “I’ll show you the big birthday cake and the tables all laid -with favors and things. If we go in the back way no one will see us.” - -Doris was not sure they were doing right to peep at the tables in -advance, but as none of the others hesitated to follow her brother she -decided to trail along after them. - -It was, indeed, a pretty sight, and the Darings were awe-struck. - -“When do we feed?” asked Don, hungrily. - -“The collation is at half past six, I believe.” - -“The what?” - -“The collation.” - -“Can’t you speak United States?” asked Don, indignantly; “or are you -trying to poke fun at me?” - -“If you are too ignorant to understand simple language,” retorted -Allerton angrily, “you become an object of derision.” - -Don glared at him. - -“Take that back, you mollycoddle!” he cried, “or I’ll punch your head.” - -“Better not,” warned Becky, composedly. “It isn’t polite at a party.” - -“Take back your own words!” shouted Allerton, white with rage. “I’m no -mollycoddle, and I’ll fight you now, or any time.” - -But Doris, startled and dismayed at this disgraceful scene, put her -hand on her brother’s arm and drew him away. - -“Come, Allerton,” she said, with such dignity as she could command. -“You forget yourself.” - -“I won’t forget him, if he does,” promised Don. - -“Don’t,” answered Allerton, moving away but still furious; “I’ll settle -this with you some other time, when you are not my sister’s guest.” - -Becky laughed and followed Doris, but outside the tent Allerton broke -away from the group and went to nurse his grievances alone. Don was -trying to think of a way to apologize to Doris when the girl gave him -such a look of mingled scorn and reproach that he turned away, thrust -his hands in his pockets and walked across the lawn whistling softly to -himself. - -“Never mind,” said Becky, with cheerfulness, “they’ll get over it in a -minute. It isn’t any of our bread-and-cheese, anyhow.” - -The incident, however, had disturbed gentle Doris greatly, and she was -so silent and reserved that Becky and Sue soon left her to her own -devices and set out to amuse themselves in any manner that might offer. - -The band played stirring marches and gavottes. Laughter and merriment -were everywhere. All stiffness among the guests seemed to have -disappeared, for there were games of archery, lawn ten-pins, quoits and -various other devices for the amusement of those assembled. Some of -the girls had their fortunes told in the tent of a gypsy, while others -watched a big paper balloon that was being sent up. - -It was nearly seven o’clock when Marion gathered her guests in the -banquet tent, and nearly all had found their places and were seated -when in rushed Sue Daring, her white gown streaming all down the front -with a sticky pink compound, and gasping with horror and despair she -flew to her sister Phœbe, who stared in amazement. - -“Keep off, Sue--keep off! Good gracious, what has happened to you?” -Phœbe asked. - -“I w-w-was helping myself to some l-l-l-lemonade, when the b-bowl -tipped over an’ ducked me,” was the wailing reply, while Phœbe held -her sister at arms’ length to protect her own dress. - -There was a shout of laughter, at this, and poor Sue broke down and -began to cry. - -“I’ll take her home,” whispered Phœbe to Marion. - -“Come straight back, then,” pleaded the hostess; “and have Sue come, -too, as soon as she has changed her gown. There has been no harm done, -except to the poor thing’s own clothing.” - -“Yes, there has,” sobbed Sue. “I b-b-broke the bowl!” - -Phœbe led her away, and soon Judith was exclaiming at the child’s -dreadful plight. It was useless to think of her rejoining the party, -however, for there was not another dress in her limited wardrobe that -was proper for the occasion. - -“Run back, dear,” said Cousin Judith to Phœbe; “your pleasure must -not be spoiled, and I’ll look after Sue and comfort her.” - -That was not so easy, for Sue’s disappointment was very poignant -indeed. She knew it was her own fault, but that did not comfort her -for missing the supper and the dance. However, Judith assisted her -to exchange her sticky costume for a common gingham, and to wash -all traces of the deluge of lemonade from her face and hands. Then -she sat in the Little Mother’s window and listened to the shouts of -laughter and the music of the band and gazed at the myriad of twinkling -lanterns--and was more miserable than she had ever been before in all -her life. - -Phœbe had soon rejoined the company and was now participating in -the fun. Sue’s accident had rather tended to increase the jollity -than otherwise, and was soon forgotten. There were pretty favors for -each guest, and as a finale to the delicious supper they all ate some -of Marion’s birthday cake and wished her many happy returns of the -day. Eric made a little speech which was witty enough to set them all -laughing, and Marion thanked the company very modestly for their kind -expressions of good will. - -Donald sat opposite Allerton at the feast, and the two glared at one -another viciously, to Becky’s secret delight. - -“Al’s getting to be quite decent,” she whispered to her brother. “I -wouldn’t be s’prised if he’d really fight.” - -After the banquet came the dancing, and when the guests left the tent -to indulge in this amusement they found themselves in a veritable -fairyland. For the lanterns had all been lighted while they feasted, -and the scene was beautiful beyond anything they had ever before -witnessed. - -The cards had said: “until nine,” but it was quite ten o’clock when -the Darings returned home, eager and excited, and breathlessly recited -their experiences to their smiling Little Mother. Sue had insisted on -sitting up to hear all about the affair, and the glowing reports made -her more miserable than ever. - -“Did you have a good time, Don?” she asked, wistfully. - -“Oh, so-so,” he replied. “It was a pretty fair show after I got rid of -the mollycoddle.” - -“That’s the biggest word Don knows,” laughed Becky; but neither she nor -Sue betrayed the boy’s quarrel with Allerton. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A BATTLE ROYAL - - -That night was another wakeful one for Phœbe. She had thoroughly -enjoyed the lawn fête, but it left her too nervous for peaceful slumber -until her pulses had calmed down and she was enabled to regain her -accustomed composure. She went to bed, but not to sleep, and after the -house became quiet she lay thinking over the incidents of the evening. - -Gradually peace came to her. She was really tired, and the somnolent -thrall of midnight was making her drowsy when she was roused by the -movements of old Elaine in the next room. - -It had been nearly a week since she had removed the board over the -transom and prepared her peephole, but during that time the housekeeper -had remained quiet, or at least Phœbe had not heard her. To-night -the stealthy sounds began again, and after listening a few moments the -girl softly arose, drew the table to a position before the door and -mounted upon it. - -She tried to be quiet, but probably she made some sound in these -preparations, for scarcely had she slid the corner of the board away, -to look into the next room, when the light which faintly illumined it -was suddenly extinguished. - -Phœbe stood motionless, waiting. Elaine, doubtless alarmed, did not -stir for a long time. The old woman may have scented danger without -realizing in what manner it threatened her, but her caution was -excessive. At last, Phœbe heard her breathe a low sigh and then -patter softly across the room to her bed and lie down. - -The seance was over for to-night, without doubt. Exercising great care, -the girl noiselessly descended from her perch and, tiptoeing to bed, -composed herself to slumber. - -Next morning, in considering the night’s occurrence, she decided to -leave the table where it stood--before the door--and to place a chair -beside it so she could mount noiselessly at any moment. It was several -days, however, before Elaine recovered from her fright or suspicions, -and during that time no unusual sounds came from her room. - -It rained the morning after Marion’s party, and Phœbe was curious -to know if all the pretty lanterns had been wetted and destroyed. But, -on looking across at the lawn she discovered that every trace of last -night’s festivities had been removed by the servants. Tents, lanterns, -band stand, all had been taken away as soon as the guests had departed, -and the Randolph grounds were as trim and orderly as before. - -The children resented the rain, for it kept all of them except Phil, -who was at work, cooped up in the house until after dinner. Judith -found time, during the dreary forenoon, to tell them some stories and -to talk over with them once again the adventures of the lawn fête, -which still occupied their minds. - -When, at last, the rain ceased and the bright July sun came out of the -clouds, they greeted it with genuine relief and joyously scattered in -all directions. - -Don, deserted by Becky, who had to go to Miss Gray’s for her music -lesson, walked out to the street and found Allerton promenading up and -down the opposite sidewalk, his head bowed and his hands clasped behind -his back--as an old man might have strutted. The sight awakened Don’s -slumbering wrath and he called out: - -“Hello, mollycoddle! What are you up to?” - -Allerton straightened up and glanced across the street. - -“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “Are you ready for your thrashing?” - -“Yes. I dare you to come over here,” responded Don, promptly. - -“If you want your punishment, come and get it!” - -“You’re afraid,” sneered Don. - -“It isn’t that,” replied Allerton. “I haven’t my gloves here, and I -dislike to soil my hands.” - -Don glared at his neighbor’s spick and span apparel, and the sight of -the “dandy” made him still more combative. Allerton was the biggest and -strongest, perhaps; but he was nearly a year younger than Don, who had -no thought of his own disadvantage. In that mood he would willingly -have fought a giant. - -“I dare you to come half way,” he challenged, and as the other boy -hesitated, Don advanced along the muddy crossing at the corner until he -was at about the middle of it. It was an old board crosswalk, and just -beyond where Don stood it was so low that the thin mud of the street -had spread a layer over it. - -This it was that caused Allerton to hesitate. He had a natural regard -for his polished shoes and carefully brushed clothes and, while fully -as eager for the fray as Donald, he would have preferred a more -suitable place to fight. - -The taunts of young Daring, however, were not to be endured. It was -really necessary to teach impolite Donald a lesson he would remember. -So Allerton attempted the crossing. - -When he came to the muddy section he halted. - -“Come on, then!” he exclaimed. - -“This is half way,” said Don. “Come on yourself.” - -“You back down, do you?” - -“No, I don’t back down. You’re the coward, Al.” - -“Coward!” - -“That’s what I said.” - -It was too great an insult for Allerton to brook. With doubled fists he -advanced upon the eager, slender boy awaiting him. Don staggered under -a heavy blow received full upon the chin, and then his own fist shot -out and struck Allerton’s chest. - -To his amazement it was “a knockdown.” Young Randolph’s feet slipped on -the slimy crossing and he fell backward full length in the soft mud of -the road. - -With a roar of rage and chagrin he scrambled to his feet, and Don -planted another blow that sent him to the mud again. It was not a hard -blow, by any means. It seemed as though a mere touch was sufficient, -for Allerton’s feet were now so covered with mud that he could scarcely -stand upon them. A push from Don sufficed to upset him, and observing -the ease of the operation Don repeated his blow each time that Allerton -arose, laughing gleefully at the result of his own prowess. In the -heat of the encounter, however, he neglected to keep his own footing -on the cleaner and safer portion of the boards, so that in one of -Allerton’s falls his arm struck Don and sent him likewise sprawling in -the sticky mud. - -They sat up and looked at each other in bewilderment. Allerton had -never been so astonished in his life as at his present misadventure, -and now, as he saw one side of Don’s head plastered with mud, which -filled an ear and an eye, he burst into a hearty laugh. - -Don scraped the mud out of his eye, blinked at his antagonist, and -laughed too. - -“Guess honors are about even, Al,” he said. “I’ve had enough. Have you?” - -“Plenty,” declared Allerton, making an effort to rise from the puddle. -Don managed to find his feet after a severe struggle. - -“My, but you’re a sight!” he exclaimed. - -“So are you,” replied Allerton, cheerfully. “We both ought to be -ashamed of ourselves.” - -“I--I’m afraid Cousin Judith will scold.” - -“Well, I’m certain to catch it, all right. So long, Don.” - -“So long, Al. Let’s go down town, after we’ve dressed.” - -“All right.” - -Thus the fight resulted in amity; but Don was dreadfully humiliated -when he had to face the Little Mother in all that mess. He took off -his shoes on the porch and humbly made his way up stairs to knock at -Judith’s door. - -“I--I’ve fallen down in the mud,” he called to her. “May I put on my -best suit?” - -Miss Eliot had been a witness of the entire scrimmage from her window, -and had even overheard the words that had preceded and provoked the -fight. She had decided not to interfere, but now she answered in a -frigid voice through the closed door: - -“No, Donald. I cannot have your best suit ruined.” - -“But what shall I do, Cousin Judith?” - -“You must go to bed until the mud on your clothes dries and they can be -properly cleaned.” - -Donald stood silently in the hall, his face flushed red with -humiliation. He waited a long while for Cousin Judith to speak again, -but she remained silent. At last he crept away to his own room, removed -the disreputable garments and examined them dolefully. Coat, trousers, -shirt, stockings--all were alike plastered with thick layers of fresh -mud. It would take them a long time to dry, he feared. - -With a sinking heart he put on his pajamas, having first washed himself -clean, and then sat down to consider his dismal fate. - -“It was a pretty good fight,” he mused; “but fighting don’t seem -to pay, somehow. I wish I had let Al alone. He isn’t so much of a -mollycoddle, after all.” - -Finally, he thought of Aunt Hyacinth, and resolving to appeal to that -faithful friend he crept down into the kitchen and begged her to help -him. Aunty looked the clothes over in dismay, saying: - -“’Tain’t no use, Marse Don. Dat ’ar mud won’t dry ’fore mawnin’, nohow. -I’ll do mah bes’, honey; but I neveh seen sich a mess in all mah bohn -days!” - -With this verdict Don was forced to be content. He had a notion to -appeal to Cousin Judith again, but could not muster the courage. So he -got a book, lay down upon his bed and passed the rest of the afternoon -in abject misery. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -PHIL MAKES A DISCOVERY - - -Eric came to the bank a little late on the morning following the party, -but as soon as he had joined Phil at the high desk which they used in -common he began to sing the praises of Marion Randolph. - -“She isn’t a raving beauty, Phil,” he said, “and until now I’ve -always hated the sight of any girl that wears glasses; but Marion’s a -crackerjack in some ways. She’s got a wad of money, for one thing--or -her old man has, and that’s just the same.” - -“I suppose Mr. Randolph is a very wealthy man,” remarked Phil, who -disliked to discuss Marion with his friend. - -“Wealthy!” cried Eric; “why, Randolph’s the head of the big Boston bond -syndicate. He’s one of the slickest financiers in this country. Look -here, Phil,” turning to a page in the ledger; “just notice this entry. -When Mr. Randolph came here with the family, he deposited in our bank -ten thousand in cold cash. He and Mrs. Randolph may both check against -the account, but you see she’s only drawn a little over a thousand -dollars, so far. That’s the sort of a customer we like, and if Mr. -Randolph can let ten thousand lie idle in a country bank he must have -scads of money.” - -Then Eric discussed the elaborate entertainment of yesterday and dwelt -perpetually upon the money the Randolphs must be possessed of, until -Phil was thoroughly annoyed. - -“What does it matter, Eric?” he said. “Money can’t buy everything, in -this world.” - -“What can’t it buy?” demanded Eric, astonished. - -“It can’t buy happiness, or health, or--” - -“That’s rubbish, Phil. Give a fellow plenty of money and he’s bound -to be happy; he can’t help it. And as for health, money gets the best -and most skillful doctors and surgeons in the land, and they’ll cure a -rich man where a poor man will die. There isn’t anything, old man, that -money won’t do.” - -“Then you ought to be satisfied, Eric. Your father is the richest man -in Riverdale, except perhaps Mr. Randolph, and you are his only child.” - -“Oh, it’ll come to me in time, I guess,” returned Eric, carelessly; -“but just now the gov’nor holds me in pretty tight lines. How in -blazes can he expect a young fellow to live on my salary? Why, it’s -preposterous!” - -Phil did not reply to this. It was none of his business. - -In some ways this association with Eric was not of the most pleasant -description. The two boys had grown up together in the village and had -always been friends in a way; but now that Phil was thrown more closely -into Eric’s companionship he discovered many traits in his nature that -did not seem wholly admirable. - -The older boy was a persistent cigarette smoker, and laughed at Phil -for refusing to imitate him. - -“I’ve tried it,” said Phil, quietly, “but I don’t like the things. To -me there’s no fun in smoking.” - -After office hours Eric often pleaded with Phil to go to the hotel -and play pool with him. Mr. Daring had always had a pool and billiard -table in a large room in the attic of his house, and he had taught all -his children to play. None of them, however, cared especially for the -amusement, and his father’s wisdom was evident when Phil now revolted -from a game at the hotel. - -“I’m not a good player, Eric,” he said, “and I can’t imagine anyone -loafing in that grimy, smoky room just to play a game of pool. What’s -the fun in it?” - -Mr. Spaythe strongly objected to billiards and pool. He had even -reproved Wallace Daring, at times, for having a table in his house. -Eric had been sternly forbidden to play, and for that reason those -stealthy games at the hotel possessed for the young man the attraction -of forbidden fruit. - -“Fun!” he retorted; “why, there’s lots of fun in pool. We play for the -drinks, you know, and I can beat nearly every fellow in the village. -When the farmers’ sons come in, they’re dead easy; there are always -some of them around the hotel, and they’re proud to play with me -because I’m the banker’s son.” - -“Then play with them,” advised Phil. “I don’t drink, as you know, and -I’d be poor company for you.” - -Eric shook his head sadly. - -“You’ll never amount to much in the world, Phil, with those namby-pamby -ideas of yours.” - -“I don’t consider them namby-pamby ideas, Eric; I simply don’t care for -the things you do.” - -“The good die young.” - -“Oh, I’m not so good as to be in any danger,” laughed Phil. “I imagine -I’m pretty full of faults, Eric, and you mustn’t quarrel with me -because my faults are not the same as your own.” - -After a time young Spaythe refrained from urging Phil to join in his -amusements; but he seemed not to be offended and proved genial enough -as they worked together at the bank. The two young men occupied a -large room at the rear of the neat, one-story brick building. They -worked perched upon high stools at a big double desk, where the books -were spread out. Behind them was the grim, austere safe which was the -repository of so much specie that Phil’s brain sometimes whirled at -sight of the heaps of gold and bank notes. Mr. Spaythe’s private office -was in front, and beside it was the brass-railed coop where Mr. Boothe -sat all day dispensing or receiving money according to the requirements -of the customers. - -The cashier could not overhear their conversation, if the boys spoke -moderately low, and he paid no attention to them, anyway, and seldom -even glanced toward them. - -“I’ve invited Marion to the boat race,” said Eric one day, soon after -the party. “Are you going to pull stroke for our crew, Phil?” - -“I suppose so.” - -“Do your best, then, old man. I’m going to bet heavily on our crew.” - -“I wouldn’t, Eric.” - -“Why not?” - -“The least little accident decides a boat race.” - -“I’ll risk it. We’ve defeated Bayport two years running, and we’re due -for a third victory. As a matter of fact, I’m just forced to tie to -this race, Phil, and win some necessary money. I owe about everybody -in the town, and some of them are getting impatient to see the color of -my money.” - -Phil knew this was true, and did not care to reply. After working -silently for a time he said: - -“Eric, didn’t Samuel P. Martin deposit $380 yesterday?” - -“No. It was $280.” - -“Where’s the slip?” - -“Put away, somewhere.” - -“But, I’m sure it was three-eighty. I heard him say he wanted four -hundred for his team, and threw off twenty dollars in order to make the -deal.” - -Eric looked a little annoyed. - -“I entered two-eighty on the books, didn’t I?” he asked, scowling. - -“Yes; that’s what surprised me.” - -“Well, then the entry must be correct.” - -“I’ll ask Mr. Boothe.” - -“Let him alone. It’s my affair.” - -Phil said no more, but was still puzzled. When he came back to the bank -after dinner he saw that Eric had laid a deposit slip on his desk. It -showed that Samuel P. Martin had deposited $280 in Spaythe’s Bank. Phil -thought the ink appeared to be quite fresh. - -“You see I was right, after all,” observed Eric, glancing at Phil -a little anxiously. “After you left I hunted up the deposit slip. -Old Martin may have sold his team for three-eighty, but he only put -two-eighty in the bank.” - -A few days later Phil had occasion to ask: - -“Where is the check for two hundred, drawn by Mrs. Randolph?” - -“When did she draw it?” inquired Eric. - -“This morning, according to the entry. And just now she has presented -another check for fifty. I’ve just taken it from Mr. Boothe’s spindle.” - -“Probably she didn’t get enough the first time,” remarked Eric, lazily -puffing his cigarette, for his father was away from the office just -then and he could stealthily indulge in his pet vice. - -“I must have that check to file--the one for two hundred--and it isn’t -here,” persisted Phil, who had no intention of neglecting any part of -his duty. - -Eric stared at him, a moment. - -“Hand me that bunch of canceled checks,” he said; “I’ll find it.” - -Phil passed the bundle across the desk, and while Eric slowly turned -over the paid checks and seemed to examine them carefully the other -bent his eyes upon the books and continued his work. After a time, the -banker’s son handed back the checks. - -“There it is, Phil. I’ve placed it on top.” - -Yes, there it was, sure enough, although Phil was positive it had not -been in the lot before. He did not refer to the subject again, but went -on with his task, feeling miserable and dispirited at the thoughts that -intruded themselves upon his mind. - -Eric left early that afternoon, when Phil took occasion to carefully -compare the two checks issued by Mrs. Randolph. That for two hundred -was not numbered and seemed to have been very hastily written. - -There was a dull ache in young Daring’s heart as he put away the books -and papers and prepared to go home. An odd suspicion had forced itself -upon him--a suspicion so cruel and deplorable that the boy reproached -himself for harboring it for even a moment. - -That evening he had a long talk with Phœbe, his only confidant. -After relating to his twin the circumstances of Martin’s deposit and -Mrs. Randolph’s curious check he said: - -“I know I am wrong to be mistrustful, for Eric is Mr. Spaythe’s only -son, and would not, of course, attempt to rob his father. But when -Martin pushed his money over the counter to Mr. Boothe he said in a -loud voice: ‘There’s three hundred and eighty dollars more toward my -savings’; so, in spite of that deposit slip, I am almost sure he -banked the entire amount.” - -“Can Eric get into the safe, where the money is kept?” asked Phœbe, -after some thought. - -“Of course. He has to put away the books, and often we are not through -with our work upon them until after Mr. Boothe has gone. They both have -the combination of the safe and the keys to the bank. Naturally, I have -not been entrusted with either, as yet.” - -Phœbe took time to consider this. - -“I suppose,” she finally said, “it would be quite possible for Eric to -take a hundred dollars from the safe and then make the entry of Mr. -Martin’s deposit a hundred dollars less than it actually was.” - -“Yes.” - -“Then no one would suspect what Eric had done.” - -“Why, the books would not show the theft, of course; but in time Mr. -Martin will be sure to discover that he has not been credited with that -hundred dollars, and that will lead to an investigation. It’s the same -way with Mrs. Randolph’s check,” added Phil, regretfully. “She has a -large amount on deposit, and may not discover for a long time that her -account is two hundred dollars short.” - -“Are you sure she did not sign that check?” asked Phœbe. - -“No; I cannot be positive. Mrs. Randolph is in the habit of drawing -money from the bank but once a week. She writes neatly and numbers all -her checks. To-day I found an entry that Eric had made in the book -showing she had drawn two hundred, and the check itself, which should -have been among those Mr. Boothe had cashed and turned over to me, was -missing. Almost immediately came in the usual check for fifty, made out -in Mrs. Randolph’s neat and careful way. Naturally, I was puzzled. When -Eric finally found the two hundred dollar check, it was not like Mrs. -Randolph’s checks at all, although the handwriting was similar.” - -“Have you noticed any other suspicions things?” the girl inquired. - -“Several,” replied Phil, after a brief hesitation. “But, I’ve never -even dared to suspect Eric before. I hope I’m wrong; indeed, I _must_ -be wrong!” - -They were walking along a country lane in the twilight. Phil’s arm was -around his twin’s waist; the scent of new mown hay came to them from -the neighboring fields. - -“I do not think you are justified in accusing Eric to his father,” -said Phœbe, musingly. “It will be better to keep your suspicions to -yourself.” - -“That is my idea. I’m not hired as a detective; I’m merely a -bookkeeper.” - -“Still,” she said, “you owe a certain loyalty to Mr. Spaythe. If an -employee discovers the bank being robbed it is his duty to speak; -unless--” - -“Unless the robber is the banker’s own son,” added Phil; “in which case -it would be a kindness to keep the knowledge from him.” - -Phœbe sighed. - -“Eric has a good heart,” she observed, “and I’m sure he’d never think -of taking money from anyone but his father. He isn’t robbing the -customers of the bank by these acts, you know.” - -“That is true, for the false entries are certain to be discovered, when -the bank will be obliged to make good the deficiencies. Eric realizes -this, I suppose. He has been very extravagant lately, and his father -keeps him on a very small salary. So, it seems to me, he has been -tempted to take what doesn’t belong to him.” - -“I’m awfully sorry,” said the girl. “It’s a dreadful thing, Phil, any -way you look at it. But I do not think it is your place to interfere. -Fate will take care of the problem, and Eric’s final downfall is -certain.” - -“Would you advise me to have a private talk with him, and tell him what -I know?” asked Phil. - -“What’s the use? He cannot put back the money he has taken. Better let -the thing run its course, Phil, and keep out of it yourself in every -way.” - -“I will,” said Phil, with decision. - -But Eric was not long in discovering a change in Phil’s attitude -toward him. The young man did not mean to alter his manner toward his -old friend, but their former congenial relations were rather abruptly -broken off, much to Eric’s surprise. Then the latter became suspicious, -and while he spoke to his colleague as cheerfully as of old, Phil -frequently caught Eric watching him with a sly, searching glance that -had a trace of fear in it. This mistrust gradually wore away when the -banker’s son found he had not been betrayed, or even questioned. If -Phil found any entries in the books that did not look exactly right -to him, he passed them over and said nothing. This served to restore -Eric’s confidence in him, and the two boys continued to work together -in perfect harmony. - -Phœbe was very miserable over Phil’s discovery of Eric’s -irregularities. It was the first time any disgraceful or criminal act -had been brought close to her knowledge, and she became nervous for -fear her twin might, in some way, become implicated in the terrible -affair. The girl was sorry for Eric, and grieved over him with all her -kindly heart. It seemed so sad that a bright young fellow with such -splendid prospects should go wrong and foolishly ruin all his future -life. She knew Mr. Spaythe well enough to believe he would cast off -Eric without mercy when he learned the fact that his son was a thief. -For this reason she sincerely hoped the banker would never make the -discovery. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE FOLLY OF GRAN’PA ELIOT - - -That night Phœbe was again aroused by the peculiar sliding noise -in the next room. She had been awaiting it for so long that she was -alert to the slightest sound Elaine made, and now she lost no time -in silently mounting upon the table and opening the peephole she had -prepared. Her own room was shrouded in gloom, but the housekeeper had -placed a lighted candle upon her table, before which she was seated in -her white nightrobe. - -When Phœbe first observed her, old Elaine was tying the mouth of a -stout canvas bag that was full of some irregular, lumpy material. Then -she drew another bag toward her--there were several standing upon the -broad table--and unfastened the cord that bound it while it was lying -upon its side. At once a shower of gold burst forth, and with her long -bony fingers the woman slid each piece of money across the table, at -the same time eagerly counting it in the low, mumbling tone Phœbe -had so often heard but could not before explain. - -[Illustration: SHE EAGERLY COUNTED THE GOLD.] - -From her perch of observation the girl counted them with her. There -were exactly two hundred and fifty twenty-dollar gold pieces in the -bag--a sum amounting to five thousand dollars. - -Elaine cautiously replaced the hoard and firmly secured the mouth -of the sack. Another bag was opened. It contained smaller coins, -ten-dollar pieces, and there were three hundred of them. - -The woman did not hurry, although her every movement denoted fervent -excitement. Bending over the table, she slowly slid piece after piece -from one pile to another until all had been counted. The sacks were old -and soiled. How many times, Phœbe wondered, had their contents been -counted and gloated over? Five separate sacks old Elaine unfastened, -counted, and tied up again, and all were filled with yellow gold. Then -she twined her arms around the bulging bags and began kissing them -ecstatically. “Mine!” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Mine--mine!” Then -she reached down and raised a trap in the floor, disclosing a cavity -between the joists into which she lowered a sack. It was a familiar -“thump” to Phœbe’s ears, the puzzling mystery of which was now -explained. With each sack she deposited she repeated: “Mine!” in so -weird a tone that it sent the chills coursing down the back of the -startled and amazed girl. - -Now Elaine replaced the trap, drew the rag carpet over it and stood -upright. She cast an undecided glance around and walked to the -old-fashioned mantel that stood against the opposite wall. It was made -of some dark wood, and had been quite cleverly carved. Nearly every bed -chamber in the house had a similar mantel and fireplace. - -Elaine put her hand to one corner and the entire woodwork swung outward -on hinges, showing a deep cavity which was lined with narrow shelves. -Except as the woman herself obstructed the view, Phœbe could clearly -see the whole of this secret cupboard, which had been ingeniously built -into the chimney. The shelves were covered with stacks of silver coins -and thick packages of bills. The silver Elaine merely glanced at, but -the packets of paper money she piled into her loose robe, gathered into -a sack, and carried it to the table, where she proceeded methodically -to count it. The eagerness she had displayed while counting the gold -was now lacking in her manner. She was intent enough upon her task, and -handled each bill with loving care; but only the hard yellow gold had -seemed to enrapture her. - -Phœbe’s limbs were getting numb and her knees knocked together -tremblingly; but she stuck obstinately to her post of observation until -Elaine had finished her self imposed task and replaced the money. This -accomplished, the woman swung the mantel into place and with a leer of -cunning and contentment still lingering upon her wrinkled features blew -out her candle and went to bed. - -Phœbe closed the slide and managed to climb down and creep into her -own bed, without making a noise. Then she lay shivering with nervous -chills, induced by the astonishing discovery she had made. - -There was no sleep for the girl that night. At first, a supreme -bewilderment prevented her from thinking clearly; but, after a time, -she grew more composed and began to marshall her thoughts into some -sort of order. - -It was not Elaine’s money, this secret hoard; that was certain. -Therefore it must belong to Gran’pa Eliot. Phœbe remembered that -always while he was in health and able to be around he had personally -occupied these rooms--the one Elaine now slept in, and the big front -room opening out of it, where he now sat propped up in helpless -oblivion of all earthly treasure. - -There was no longer any doubt that Gran’pa Eliot had long been a miser -and cunningly secreted his wealth. He had caused the trap to be made -in the floor and the cupboard built behind the mantel. With years the -passion for saving had grown upon him, and after his wife’s death and -his daughter’s marriage he gave free rein to his hobby and converted -all his land into ready money. To avoid suspicion he had spread the -report of his financial failure and claimed he was reduced to poverty. - -So much Phœbe had no difficulty in comprehending. In what way the -old housekeeper had discovered her master’s secret was not clear, but -Elaine’s resolve not to desert Mr. Eliot was obviously due to her -knowledge of his vast hoard. When he became paralyzed and helpless -she realized that the fortune, unsuspected by all others, was now -safely within her own grasp. Phœbe decided, shuddering the while, -that the woman was a greater slave to that secret hoard than ever her -grandfather had been. - -When daybreak came the girl arose and quietly dressed herself. Then -she softly slipped out of the house and started for a walk through the -valley, hoping the morning air would cool her throbbing brain. Here, -amid a silence scarcely broken by the low mooing of the cows and the -crowing of the distant cocks, she began to doubt the evidence of her -own senses. It was all so wonderful and unreal that she could barely -admit the truth of it; and yet--and yet--. Often before she had heard -the sound of the gold being slid across the table: so often, indeed, -that she well knew her eyes had not deceived her when, at last, they -revealed to her the explanation of the puzzling sounds. - -And now the question arose, what should she do? How should she act, -now that she had discovered this terrible secret? The knowledge of -her grandfather’s wealth in no way elated her; rather did she feel -scorn and resentment at his despicable weakness. It hurt her to think -that her mother’s father could be guilty of such folly and pitiful -sordidness. It was too soon for her to reflect that this money might -easily affect the fortunes of her brothers and sisters and herself; -all she thought of was the shame of the thing, that her grandfather -could become a miser and gloat in secret over the dross of gold and -silver--and soiled bank notes. What an abominable, inhuman passion it -was--a passion shared by old Elaine Halliday, a creature Phœbe had -always despised intuitively. - -During an hour’s brisk walk she became sorry that her curiosity had led -her to discover this horrid secret. But she resolved to keep her own -counsel and tell no one what she had seen. Even Phil must be spared -this humiliation, for the poor boy had quite enough to worry him -already. - -Phœbe returned to the house with glowing cheeks and bright eyes, in -spite of her sleepless night and mental perturbation. She greeted the -family cheerfully and took her seat at the breakfast table with her -native composure fully regained. - -“When is the boat race, Phil?” asked Miss Eliot. - -“A week from Saturday,” he said. “I’ve got to practice with the boys -every evening, from now on. I wanted them to let me out, this year, but -they foolishly insist on my pulling stroke.” - -“Why foolishly?” inquired Becky. - -“Because, I’m working for a living, now, and can’t devote much time to -getting into condition. Those Bayport fellows are out every day, and -mean to win if they can.” - -“I must see that boat race,” said Cousin Judith. “Boating has always -been one of my favorite sports. I hope you’ll do well, Phil; but, of -course, you can’t neglect business for pleasure.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -SUE GETS A DIVORCE - - -After breakfast Sue wandered out and found Doris upon the lawn. The -youngest of the Darings was now nearly twelve years old and had -associated so constantly with her elders that she considered herself -quite “grown up” and in no way inferior to Doris Randolph, who, having -an advantage in years, assumed toward Sue the airs of a young lady. - -Since she had tipped over the punch bowl and taken a lemonade bath a -good deal of fun had been poked at poor Sue, which she deeply resented. -It was bad enough to have lost all the joy of the party, without being -twitted afterward about her misfortune. - -Doris was surely too sedate and practical minded to wish to tease Sue, -so her greeting was wholly innocent when she said: - -“Good morning. Is that the lemonade dress which you are wearing?” - -“No,” retorted Sue, flushing; “is that the hypocrite’s dress which you -are wearing, Miss Religion?” - -Doris was provoked, and with good reason, for she was sincere enough -in her religious sentiments. Also, she was still worldly minded to the -extent of becoming angry. After a cold, stony look at Sue, she said: - -“I have submitted to the insolence of you Darings long enough, and -hereafter I forbid you to address me, for I shall not recognize you as -an acquaintance.” - -At this instant Cousin Judith appeared upon the scene and hearing -Doris’ speech stopped short in surprise. - -“Why, what is the trouble, my dears?” she asked. - -“This child, madam,” returned Doris, stiffly, “is still a barbarian, -and unfit to associate with civilized beings.” - -“I called her a hypocrite,” flashed Sue, defiantly; “and she is one.” - -Miss Eliot was shocked. - -“I am surprised, Sue dear; surprised and grieved. You have treated -Doris very badly, and I want you to apologize to her for your rudeness.” - -“I won’t!” said Sue, stamping her foot. “I’ll _die_ rather than beg -pardon of Miss Nancy Hypocrite!” - -Judith looked at her in amazement. - -“Go into the house, my dear,” she said, rather sternly; “I’ll join you -there presently.” - -Sue raised her long lashes and swept one rebellious look at the Little -Mother. Doris’ face had a slight sneer upon it, and the angry child -noted it. Turning squarely about she ignored Cousin Judith’s command -and marched down the street toward the village. - -Doris gave a little laugh. - -“A pleasant mannered young lady, I must say, Miss Eliot,” she tittered. -“But, I assure you I meant what I said. I shall never speak to her -again, unless she apologizes.” - -“An apology is your due, I think,” Miss Eliot said soberly, and then -without further remark she continued on her way to the Randolph house -to see Marion, with whom she had an engagement. - -At noon Sue did not return to dinner. She had called upon Nannette -Bennett, who was about her own age, and driven with her to a farm out -on the Exeter road. - -“Can you stay here to dinner?” asked Nannette. - -“Of course,” replied Sue, readily. “There’s no one at home who has the -right to give me orders.” - -Nannette did not understand this strange speech, but let it pass -without remark. The two girls spent all day at the farm, although I -am not sure Sue was enjoying herself for a single moment. She did not -reach home until the family was seated at the supper table. - -Phil had inquired anxiously for his sister, and Judith quietly -explained that Sue had called Doris bad names and refused to apologize. - -“When I asked her to return to the house, where I hoped to be able to -reason with her,” she added, “Sue refused to obey my request and walked -down the street instead. I do not know where she is, now.” - -Phil was worried, and even Don looked grave. - -“I had intended to practice this evening with the boat crew,” said the -elder brother, “but I think I ought to hunt for Sue instead. She has -been bad and rebellious, I know; but she’s our little sister, just the -same, and I’m afraid something has happened to her.” - -Cousin Judith made no reply and the meal was progressing in gloomy -silence when Sue walked in, threw down her hat and quietly took her -seat at the table. She did not look at the Little Mother, nor at anyone -else directly, but helped herself to food and with an assumption of -composure began to eat. - -No one spoke. The others had glanced inquiringly at Cousin Judith, -whose face was pale and unrelenting. She did not ask Sue where she had -been, nor chide her for disobedience; but she passed the plate of cold -meat to her and asked Auntie to bring in Miss Sue’s chocolate. - -This condition of affairs was so unusual with the Darings that they -were uncertain how to act. Even Becky looked askance at her small -sister, as if she were some strange, untamed animal, and Don told -himself this escapade deserved a worse punishment than fighting in the -mud. He had “taken his own medicine” with frank courage, knowing he -deserved the Little Mother’s rebuke and telling her he was truly sorry -he had hurt her feelings. But here was little Sue developing a spirit -of defiance hitherto unknown in the Daring family circle. Phil was hurt -and Phœbe distressed, but both voluntarily left the matter in Miss -Eliot’s hands for adjustment. - -After supper Cousin Judith said to the culprit in a kindly tone: “Come -to my room, Sue. I wish to have a little talk with you.” - -“I’ve nothing to talk about,” replied Sue, sullenly. - -Phil went away to his practice on the river and Sue followed her -sisters out upon the porch. Cousin Judith, perhaps hoping the girl -would change her mind, had gone directly to her room. - -“You’re acting like a little fool, Sue,” observed Becky. “I’m surprised -at you.” - -Sue colored, but did not reply. Presently she went to her room and shut -herself in until bedtime. - -At breakfast next morning Cousin Judith said, addressing all the five -Darings, impartially: - -“Our contract, the Articles of Adoption, states that if any one of -you proves rebellious to my authority the rebel is to be tried by a -committee of two, and must abide by the committee’s decision. Is it not -so?” - -“That’s a fact, Little Mother,” replied Phil, seriously. - -“In the case we have now to consider, Sue has disobeyed me more than -once,” continued Miss Eliot. “I, therefore charge her with rebellion, -and it becomes proper for her to select two of you to try her case. If -I am found to be wrong I will ask her pardon and try to make amends. -If she is wrong she must ask my pardon and submit to any penalty I may -impose.” - -Sue paled and then flushed. She cast a furtive glance around the table -and then said, in a hard, unyielding tone: - -“I’m willing. I choose Phœbe and Don.” - -“Very well,” returned Cousin Judith. “The trial shall take place at -once.” - -None of them saw anything humorous in the situation. As a rule the -Darings were merry hearted boys and girls, full of fun and good -spirits; but, these Articles of Adoption were regarded by them all as -sacred. Each realized to an extent what a blessing the Little Mother -had already been to them, and was determined to uphold her authority. -For her coming had virtually revolutionized the household and given -them a happy home and a sympathetic, generous friend. - -Sue, however, marched into the parlor with her stubborn spirit -unconquered by any feeling of gratitude, and Phœbe and Donald -gravely followed her. - -“Tell us the beginning of the trouble, dear,” urged the elder sister. - -Sue related her conversation with Doris. - -“I’ve put up with her slurs ’n’ sarcasms long enough,” she said. “If -she’s so blessed religious as she tries to make out, why does she pick -on me ev’ry minute? I’m glad I called her a hypocrite, an’ I won’t take -it back--not for a second!” - -“Perhaps she did not mean to offend you by speaking of the ‘lemonade -dress’,” suggested Phœbe. “I’ve always found her a good-hearted girl -and quite ladylike.” - -“That’s what I object to,” was the answer. “I won’t stand for her -ladylike airs, Phœbe, an’ that’s all there is to it.” - -“Sometimes our judgment proves to be wrong,” said Phœbe. “Anyhow, -Cousin Judith knows best.” - -“There’s another thing that makes me mad,” cried Sue. “Cousin Judith -takes Doris’ part against me. Isn’t she supposed to stand up for her -own adopted children?” - -“Not when they’re wrong, sis,” said Don stoutly. - -“Who’s to say whether they’re wrong or not?” Sue demanded. - -“She is, of course. She’s older, and knows more.” - -“Cousin Judith,” added Phœbe, “tries to be always right and just. -She thought you were impudent to Doris, who is our neighbor and has -been kind to us all, and so she asked you to apologize.” - -“I _won’t_ apologize to that stuck-up thing--anyhow, not till she -apologizes for speaking of my lemonade dress.” - -“Now, that’s the real question before the board,” asserted Don. “You’re -under trial, Sue, and if we decide you’re in the wrong, and you don’t -apologize to Doris and do as Cousin Judith says, you’ll be divorced -from our Articles of Adoption.” - -Sue was white and frightened, but she held her ground. - -“All right,” she said. “It’s up to you. I don’t want any adoption by -anyone who won’t stand by me in a fight. And I’ll never--_never_--beg -Doris’ pardon!” - -They tried to argue with her, and explained the disgrace of being -divorced and having no Little Mother. The divorce would separate her -not only from association with Cousin Judith, but from that of her -brothers and sisters, who would all hold strictly to the letter of the -agreement they had signed. - -Sue listened to it all and remained obstinate. - -“It’s for you to say whether I’m right or wrong,” she avowed at the -last, “and if I’m divorced I don’t care a rap. I won’t stand for any -adoption that makes me apologize to a silly fool like Doris Randolph.” - -Donald and Phœbe withdrew from the conference and talked it over -between themselves. They decided that Sue, having defied Cousin -Judith’s authority and broken the signed agreement, must submit to the -penalty of divorce. - -Phœbe drew up the paper and made an imposing looking copy on her -typewriter. It read as follows: - -“Whereas Sue Daring signed, under date of June 14th, 1908, a document -known as the ARTICLES OF ADOPTION, whereby she promised and -covenanted to support and acknowledge the authority of MISS JUDITH -ELIOT and to Adopt her as a Mother, and Whereas the said Sue -Daring has broken that covenant and agreement and refuses longer to -abide by it, THEREFORE the undersigned, chosen by her as a -Committee to decide her case, hereby declares the said Sue Daring has -been guilty of a violation of the terms of the said signed agreement -and is therefore released from all its pledges and DIVORCED -from any further participation in its benefits. Signed this 12th day of -July, 1908. - - PHŒBE DARING, - DONALD DARING, - _Committee_.” - -This paper was made out in duplicate and a copy given to Sue and one to -Cousin Judith. Sue promptly tore up her paper and scattered the pieces -over the hall floor. Then she left the house and went away to play with -some of her girl friends. - -Cousin Judith asked the others not to taunt or reproach the girl, but -to treat her as pleasantly and cordially as before. After supper that -evening, they all strolled down to the river to watch the boat crew -practice; but Sue was not asked to accompany them. On their return Don -told the divorced one of the jolly time they had had, and how Cousin -Judith bought them each an ice cream soda at the drug store; but Sue -made no reply. When she went to bed she did not, like the others, go -to the Little Mother for a good night kiss. In her room she noticed -that the covers of her bed had not been turned down, as usual, or her -night robe laid out. Becky’s bed, across the room, had been remembered -with loving care by Judith, but Sue was no longer her adopted daughter. - -This little lack of attention sent the first real pang to the girl’s -heart. Silently, she got down her gown from the closet and turned back -the covers of her own bed. In the morning she was about to call to -Cousin Judith to ask what dress to put on, but remembered in time that -she must now choose for herself. - -The dressmaker still came to the house every day to sew busily for the -needy family. Judith was paying for all the new things with her own -money, which she had saved from the sale of her pictures, and therefore -Sue was not surprised when her pretty pink challis was laid aside and -put into a drawer unfinished, while a gown of Becky’s was brought out -and given the dressmaker to work upon. Sue told herself she must expect -such things to happen under the new order of things; only--only she -_would_ have liked that pink dress; it was so soft and pretty. - -The divorced one made no complaint, however she might feel the -difference between her position and that of her brothers and sisters. -Sue was old enough to understand that she must pay the penalty for -her rebellion, and if at times she repented her stubbornness it was in -secret and no word of regret passed her lips. Judith spoke to her with -uniform kindliness and so did the other members of the family; yet Sue -realized she was an outcast, and no longer entitled to a place in the -inner circle. - -This ostracism was more acutely defined when the Little Mother one -morning called her flock into her room for a conference. Sue stayed -away, being an outsider, and listened to the merry laughter that at -times penetrated the closed doors and saluted her ears. Undoubtedly -it was a trial to the younger girl to be debarred from such good -fellowship, and as she sat in her lonely corner she sadly recalled the -jolly times she had once had in Cousin Judith’s pleasant room. - -“So you’s a orfin ag’in, is yo’?” remarked Aunt Hyacinth, coming upon -her as Sue sat nursing her gloomy thoughts. “Ain’t yo’ got no sense -a’tall, Miss Sue, to go a-flyin’ in de face o’ Prov’dence dis a-way?” - -“You mind your own business, Aunt Hy.” - -“Dat’s what I’m doin’, honey. Mah bus’ness is to see you all happy, an’ -here yo’ goes an’ makes yo’se’f a outcast an’ a orfin, when yo’ had a -good Li’l Motheh to tek care o’ yo’. Ain’ dere no way to divohce dat -divohce, an’ git back in de sunshine ag’in’?” - -Sue sulked and did not reply. That suggestion of getting back into the -fold again had already occurred to her, but the Articles of Adoption -had made no provision for such a thing. Much of the child’s stubborn -mood had vanished by this time, but there seemed no way of retreat -open. She began to wonder if she must pass all her life an “outcast an’ -a orfin,” as Aunty had tersely described it. - -Judith, who had a shrewd idea of what was passing in the girl’s mind, -was content to let matters take their course. Often she longed to take -Sue in her arms and comfort her, but dared not. Judith Eliot was only -a young girl herself, loving and tender hearted, but she was rarely -sagacious in her understanding of human nature and believed that Sue’s -divorce would tend to benefit all her charges, and finally strengthen -her own position. One gains experience not only personally, but from -the experiences of others, and it was noticeable that both Becky and -Don had been unusually meek and circumspect since Sue’s rebellion. - -Becky, indeed, did a queer thing. Going to the Little Mother privately -she said in her earnest way: - -“I’d like to get halter-broke, Cousin Judith, and I wish you’d help me. -Whenever I buck the rules of propriety and cease to be a lady, you just -step on my corns an’ yell ‘time.’ I know I’m awful slangy sometimes, -but by jooks I’ll cure myself of the habit if I bu’st a surcingle!” - -Judith smiled and kissed her. - -“I wonder where you pick up such expressions,” she said. “But I assure -you, Becky dear, it won’t be at all difficult to cultivate a choicer -language, if you make the attempt. Pay attention to the conversation of -Phœbe and Marion, and listen to your Little Mother’s mode of speech. -I assure you there is nothing either winning or clever in the use of -slang phrases. A street gamin is able to employ them as readily as you -do, yet may never aspire to refined speech. To cast your lot with the -ignorant and uncultured, rather than with those of your own class, is -to abandon the advantages of birth and refined associations.” - -“I used to think it was smart,” admitted Becky, gloomily; “but now -I see I was off my base and shinning up the wrong tree. But I’ll be -careful, after this, Cousin Judith; see if I’m not. And I hope you’ll -call me down if I forget I’m a lady and talk like a female she.” - -It was well-nigh impossible to cure herself of vulgar expressions -all at once; but Becky sincerely tried to improve, and met with a -measure of success. Judith never reproached her if at times she lapsed -unwittingly into slang, for Becky was quick to realize her fault and a -sudden flush of shame would often suffuse her face before the unseemly -words were well out of her mouth. - -Don and Allerton had now become fast friends, being together much of -the time. Don, as well as Becky, had softened perceptibly since the -advent of Cousin Judith, and having acquired a hearty respect for -Allerton, who had proved no “mollycoddle,” the boys became congenial -associates. - -The coming boat race had by this time begun to excite the good people -of Riverdale and was a general topic of conversation among the -villagers. Nearly every town on the river bank had a boat crew, and a -sharp rivalry had for some years been maintained between Bayport, nine -miles away, and Riverdale. For many seasons Bayport had won the prize, -being practically invincible, but for the last two years fortune had -deserted them and their crew lost to Riverdale. Bayport was naturally -eager to regain its lost prestige, and its adversary was equally -anxious to retain the honors so hardily won. Therefore, an exciting -race was in prospect. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE BOAT RACE - - -Phil had pulled an oar with the winning crew the year before, and -was to be stroke oar this year, a position requiring nice judgment -as well as consummate skill. Although he had now been working at the -bank for more than three weeks, the young fellow was in prime physical -condition, and the week’s practice with the crew renewed the hopes of -the ardent admirers of the Riverdale boys. - -Eric came down nearly every evening to see them pull the scull over -the smooth stretch of water above the bridge, and he told Phil several -times that he had “laid some pretty stiff wagers” on his crew. - -Young Daring did not approve of this, and frankly said so. - -“We’ve three new men in our eight,” he said, “and the Bayport crew -is almost entirely new blood. No one can judge our respective merits -till we get together, and while I hope we shall win I would not risk a -dollar on such a doubtful chance.” - -Eric was unconvinced, and merely laughed at him; yet Phil felt that he -had done his duty and said all that was required. Thereafter he held -his peace. - -The race was held at Bayport this year, which was in that crew’s favor, -although Phil and most of his eight were nearly as familiar with the -Bayport course as with their own. When Saturday arrived there was a -general exodus from Riverdale to the scene of the race. - -Judith had engaged a three-seated wagon to convey the Darings and -herself. With all the talk about the race not a word had been said -to Sue about her going to Bayport with them. Silently the “outcast” -listened to the plans for the excursion, believing she was destined to -remain at home. She had a great longing to go, for such diversions were -few in their quiet lives, but by her own act she had withdrawn from the -inner circle and with stolid resolve she determined none should guess -her disappointment or remorse. - -There was an early dinner this Saturday noon, and when the wagon drew -up at the door and the Darings were hurrying to get their hats and -wraps, Cousin Judith said to Sue, who sat soberly in a corner: - -“Won’t you go with us, dear? There is plenty of room.” - -Sue gave a gasp of amazement. - -“But, I--I’m out of it, you know, Cousin Judith. I--I’m not one of your -children,” she stammered. - -“Come as my guest, then. Do you suppose I have ceased to love you, -Sue? I’m not your Little Mother any more--more’s the pity--but I shall -always remain your affectionate Cousin Judith. It would please me to -have you come with us to-day, and enjoy yourself.” - -Sue’s eyes were sparkling. Without a word, except a murmured “thank -you, Cousin Judith!” she rushed for her hat and joined the others in -the wagon. - -It was a great day for the Darings and proved a delightful outing, -although alas, the Riverdale crew went down to defeat. - -An accident caused it, of course; otherwise, the race was surely -Riverdale’s. - -Phil led his crew over the course with masterful generalship, starting -with slow, steady strokes, without regard for the lead of Bayport, -and then gradually increasing the count until near the end Riverdale -overtook their opponents and shot irresistibly into the lead. They -were two boat lengths ahead and still gaining when one of the new men -“caught a crab” and threw the entire crew into confusion. The scull -swung half around and before headway could be recovered Bayport passed -them and won the race. - -Riverdale people had been lustily cheering when they saw their boat -surely forging to the front and a certain winner, as they thought; but -now a groan of dismay went up that was drowned by the cheers of the -exultant Bayporters. - -Phœbe was nearly ready to cry, while Becky and Don were savage with -grief. - -“Never mind, my dears,” said Cousin Judith, cheerfully. “There is no -dishonor in such a defeat and Phil certainly did his part splendidly.” - -That was the general verdict, and Riverdale spectators crowded around -Phil and congratulated him on the fine showing he had made. - -In a shiny top-buggy Eric Spaythe had sat beside Marion Randolph, at -a point overlooking the entire river. He had proved very agreeable -company up to the finish of the race, laughing and joking in his cheery -way and assuring Marion time and again that Riverdale was sure to win. -At the final catastrophe he seemed overcome by horror. His eyes bulged; -his lips trembled; he fell silent and moody. - -“Come; let’s get home!” he suddenly exclaimed, and without awaiting -reply he whipped up the nag and dashed away at a break-neck speed that -made everyone who saw him wonder what was the matter. Marion, greatly -annoyed by this churlish proceeding on the part of her escort, refused -to make any comment. Eric scarcely spoke a pleasant word to her all -the way back to Riverdale. However, as they drove up the street to her -house he suddenly seemed to remember that he had acted like a boor and -said apologetically: - -“Don’t think me rude, please. My whole heart was set on Riverdale -winning that race, and I guess my disappointment made me forget myself. -You won’t bear any grudge against me, will you?” he continued, a little -anxiously. - -“Most certainly not,” answered Marion coldly. “I thank you for the -courtesy shown me--before you forgot yourself.” - -Then she hurried into the house, leaving Eric staring agape and -wondering if he had made a fool of himself and lost more than his bets -on the race. - -Cousin Judith did not hurry her brood home, for it was still early. -She carried the Darings to a cool little restaurant where they feasted -on ice cream and cakes to their hearts’ content and soon forgot the -humiliation of their brother’s defeat. - -Judith placed little Sue by her side and saw she was as liberally -served as the others. The girl was unusually silent, however, and once -Miss Eliot noticed that her dark eyes were flooded with tears. - -On her way home Sue laid her head on the Little Mother’s lap and began -to sob, gently at first but with increasing bitterness, while her -brothers and sisters regarded her with unfeigned amazement. - -Judith stroked the soft hair and let the burst of grief exhaust itself. - -“You--you’ve been so kind to me,” whispered Sue, raising her -tear-stained face to look appealingly into the gentle countenance above -her, “that I--I--I’m _drea_’fully ’shamed of myself! Don’t you s’pose -you--could--adopt me again?” - -“I think so,” said the Little Mother gravely. - -The clouds cleared then and Sue was presently smiling again. As soon as -they reached home she marched directly over to the Randolph mansion and -found Doris. When she returned she said shyly, in the presence of the -entire family: - -“I’ve ’pologized to Doris an’ told her she isn’t a hypocrite; and -I’m sorry--drea’fully sorry--I disobeyed Cousin Judith and acted so -naughty.” - -“Good for you, Puss!” cried Phil, who had just come in. “Why, this -consoles me for the loss of the race!” - -Sue beamed with pleasure and Judith gathered the girl in her arms and -kissed her. - -“I call you all to witness,” she said, “that this is the child of my -adoption. We won’t need to sign papers this time, because you will all -know that Sue and I belong to each other hereafter and can never be -divorced. Is it not so, my dear?” - -“Yes, indeed, Little Mother!” replied Sue, smiling happily. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -IN THE TOILS - - -When Eric and Phil met at their desks on Monday morning the banker’s -son was “savage as a meat-ax.” He scowled and muttered over his work -and slammed the big books here and there as if he owed them a grudge. - -Phil paid no attention to this exhibition of temper, which he believed -due to the failure of Riverdale to win the boat race. He knew that Eric -had been betting heavily with his cronies and the Bayport people, and -since the young man was already deeply in debt these added losses might -affect him, seriously. So Phil devoted himself quietly to work and let -Eric rave. - -Gradually the young fellow quieted down. He was in no mood for work -that day, and paid little attention to the books. But he smoked so many -cigarettes, one after another, that the air was blue, and Mr. Boothe -left his coop long enough to request Eric to desist from choking him -with the offensive fumes. - -“I am not well,” added the cashier; “so I ask you to be considerate.” - -Eric tossed his cigarette away and Mr. Boothe returned to his coop. - -“Phil,” said Eric, abruptly, “do you know where I can borrow some -money?” - -“Perhaps your father will let you have it,” was the reply. - -“The gov’nor! Never. He’d haul me over the coals if he knew I was hard -up on my princely salary of eighteen a week.” - -Phil made no comment. Said Eric, after a period of thought: - -“I’m told the loan-sharks in St. Louis will advance a fellow money on -his prospects. I wonder if they’d help me out of this hole. I’m the -only son of a well-to-do banker, and will inherit a respectable lump of -money, some day. Do you suppose they’d help me, Phil?” - -“I don’t know, Eric. Such money lenders would be sure to demand a heavy -interest.” - -“That’s all right. It’s worth something to get my fist on the money -when I want it.” - -“What is it for?” asked Daring. “Why do you need this money?” - -“To pay some of those infernal debts.” - -“How much better off will you be afterward, Eric? Wouldn’t you contract -more debts right away?” - -“That’s _my_ business,” growled the other. “Don’t you begin preaching -to me, Phil Daring, for I won’t stand for it,” he added, glaring -angrily at his fellow clerk. - -Phil said no more, but he was sad and ill at ease. Eric was no longer -the genial, winning fellow of former days. Since he had begun to spend -money so recklessly and to run into debt, his character and disposition -seemed to have altered for the worse. The thing Phil dreaded more than -anything else was another raid on the bank money, with more of those -audacious false records to cover up the defalcations. He was helpless -to interfere, but none the less was he sincerely sorry for both Eric -and his father, knowing that exposure was bound to follow sooner or -later. - -Singularly enough, Mr. Spaythe seemed blind to his son’s reckless -extravagance. A thoughtful man, intent upon the intricate details -of his banking business and absorbed in loans, notes and discounts, -interests and important matters of a like character, the banker seemed -not to notice Eric’s elaborate costumes or the fact that he passed much -of his spare time in association with the fast set of the village, -whose rendezvous was the hotel bar. On the contrary, Mr. Spaythe seemed -contented with the thought that his son and heir was connected with his -business and apparently doing his work faithfully and well. - -On Wednesday Mr. Boothe was suffering from a bad headache when he came -to work. It soon became so much worse that Phil had to assist him to -reach his home--a little cottage not far away--where the cashier lived -with a maiden sister. - -When Phil came back he went into the private office and reported the -matter to Mr. Spaythe. The banker at once telephoned Dr. Jenkins to -attend Mr. Boothe, and then in person took his cashier’s place in the -teller’s “cage.” - -Next day Mr. Boothe was still too ill to appear at the bank. Dr. -Jenkins said it would be lucky if he managed to break up the fever, -but in any event his patient could not resume his duties before the -following Monday morning. - -While his father was taking the cashier’s place Eric was silent and -attentive to his work. But, Mr. Spaythe could ill afford to devote -his entire time to the counting room, so he often called his son to -assist in cashing checks and receiving deposits. Eric attended to these -details so intelligently that on Friday Mr. Spaythe gave him complete -charge of that important department, thus gaining for himself the -liberty of devoting his attention to other pressing matters that had -accumulated on his own desk. - -That same afternoon, when the banker stepped into the counting room to -secure a memorandum, Eric said to him: - -“Wouldn’t it be a good idea, sir, to give Phil the combination of the -safe? We’re behind with the books, and he’ll have to come down nights -and catch up with the work--at least until Boothe gets back into -harness.” - -“Yes,” said Mr. Spaythe; “you may give Daring the combination. Here is -an extra key to the side door, also.” Then, he turned to his youthful -clerk and nodded kindly. “I’m sorry to force this extra work upon you, -Phil, but Mr. Boothe’s illness leaves us very short-handed, and you may -expect compensation for your extra hours.” - -Phil was not only annoyed at this, but positively frightened. He had -surprised a curious look upon Eric’s face when he asked his father to -give Phil the secret combination of the safe. In a small establishment -like Spaythe’s Bank both the books and the supply of currency were -kept in the one big safe. At this juncture, when many uncomfortable -suspicions were rife in his brain, Phil much preferred not to have such -responsibility thrust upon him. - -“I’d rather not know the combination, sir,” he ventured to say, knowing -he appeared confused and embarrassed. - -Mr. Spaythe was plainly surprised and gave him a hard look. - -“Why not!” he asked. - -“It is a--a--great responsibility, sir,” the young man explained. - -“Nonsense, Daring. I trust you, fully. As fully as I do Eric or Mr. -Boothe.” - -“Can’t I make up the work on the books some other way--during the noon -hour?” - -“You’re silly, Phil,” declared Eric, sharply. “Better come down here -quietly after supper and do the work in an easy and proper way. It -isn’t likely to last but a night or two.” - -“I think Mr. Boothe will be able to resume his duties by Monday -morning,” added Mr. Spaythe; and then, as if the matter was settled, he -walked into his room. - -Phil resumed his work with an uneasy sense of impending misfortune. -After banking hours Eric made up the teller’s account of receipts and -disbursements and gave Phil a copy that he might enter the items on the -books in detail. Then he counted the cash and put it away in the safe, -explaining to his unwilling colleague the way to work the combination. -After this Eric departed, leaving Phil alone in the bank, where he -worked steadily until time for supper. - -When he went home he confided to Phœbe this new complication that -had arisen. - -“I’m almost certain that Eric has some desperate scheme in his head,” -said he. “He needs money badly to pay his gambling debts, and I’m -afraid he will try to get it in such a way as to implicate me and -divert suspicion from himself.” - -“Why do you imagine that?” inquired his twin. - -“Because he was so anxious that I should know the combination and have -a key to the bank. What ought I to do, dear?” - -“Your simple duty,” said Phœbe positively. “Why, Phil, no harm can -possibly come to an honest fellow who does his duty! Don’t worry about -Eric and his deeds. He could not injure you if he tried, and really, I -don’t believe he will try. Eric has a kindly heart, and his main fault -is that he has become a bit wild and reckless.” - -“He’s changed a good deal lately, Phœbe,” was the quiet answer. - -Phil promptly returned to the bank, let himself in by the side door, -opened the safe and took out the books. For two hours he worked under -the glare of the electric light, before his task was finished. No -one came near to interrupt him. As he slid the big books into the -compartment of the safe reserved for them he glanced at the neat piles -of bills and bags of gold and an involuntary shiver of fear swept over -him. - -Saturday morning the bank was very busy. Eric sat in Mr. Boothe’s cage -and waited upon the customers in a very business-like manner. He was -so quick and accurate in handling the money, with a pleasant word for -each one who approached his wicket, that when Mr. Spaythe came in now -and then to see that everything was progressing properly the boy won -his father’s gratified praise. - -At one o’clock they closed the doors, as was usual on Saturdays, and it -did not take Eric long to arrange his cash, pile it away in the safe -and turn his statement of the day’s transactions over to Phil. - -“What, through already?” asked his father, coming in at that moment. - -“Yes, sir. Here’s the balance sheet you asked for, all made out -correctly. I’m in a bit of a hurry, as I’ve arranged to go to St. Louis -for over Sunday.” - -Mr. Spaythe frowned. - -“I did not know of this plan,” he said curtly. “Why are you making the -trip, Eric?” - -“To visit Ned Thurber. He has invited me to stay with him, so it will -only cost me railroad fares. I’ll be back in time for work on Monday, -sir,” he added carelessly. - -Mr. Spaythe stood regarding his son silently for a moment. He reflected -that the boy had behaved admirably these past few days, filling Mr. -Boothe’s place quite effectively. The banker was also engaged with -other matters that required his immediate attention. So he said: - -“Very well. Go, if you wish to.” - -Eric accompanied his father into the private office, merely bestowing -upon Phil a nod of farewell. It was rather mean of him to take a -vacation and throw all the work of bookkeeping upon young Daring, but -Eric was not noted for his consideration to others. - -Pausing before his father’s desk he said in a hesitating way: - -“I suppose it’s all right to leave Phil in charge of the cash?” - -Mr. Spaythe turned upon him, sharply. - -“Why not?” he said. “The Darings are honest enough. I would have -trusted his father with every penny I owned, at any time.” - -“Oh, I suppose Phil’s safe,” returned Eric, carelessly. “But he’s a new -clerk, and there’s a lot of currency on hand to carry over Sunday. So -the thought struck me--” - -He paused, for his father was paying no attention to what he said. -Instead, his practiced eye was shrewdly scanning the balance sheet. It -told the amount of cash on hand in bills, gold and silver, and recorded -all checks, drafts and notes deposited during the day. Finding the -tally correct Mr. Spaythe laid down the paper and turned again to his -son. - -“I’ll trust Phil,” he said. - -Eric went away, smiling to himself. “Just what I wanted,” he muttered. -“The gov’nor will remember this conversation afterward.” - -Passing down the street he told every acquaintance he met that he was -off for St. Louis by the four o’clock train. At the station he made his -journey known to the group of loungers and shouted a rather boisterous -good-by when the train drew in and he boarded it. He even waved his hat -from the back platform until he had passed out of sight. Among those -who thus watched Eric’s departure was Donald Daring, who announced the -fact at supper that Eric Spaythe had gone to St. Louis by the four -o’clock train. - -“Must you work at those dreadful books to-night, Phil?” asked Phœbe. - -“Only for an hour or so, dear. I put in such steady work this afternoon -that a little more will get things in shape.” - -“I’ll go down with you, then, and keep you company,” she announced. - -As they walked along the street together in the cool of early evening -Phil was very thoughtful. Finally, he said to the girl: - -“I don’t believe Eric has gone to St. Louis, Phœbe.” - -“Why, he must have gone!” she exclaimed. “Don saw him on board the -train.” - -“I know; but in spite of that I’ve a queer feeling--a sort of -suspicion--that he’s playing us a trick.” - -“Have you, Phil? But why?” - -“I can’t explain it. You see, since Boothe has been away Eric has been -free to do as he pleased. He’s in desperate need of money, just now; -but, although I’ve been on the watch, not a single crooked transaction -have I been able to discover--except one.” - -“What was that?” - -“I found on his desk yesterday a scrap of paper with my name scribbled -over it in many styles of handwriting. Anyone seeing it would have -thought I had been trying to create a lot of different signatures. -I tore the paper in two, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the waste -basket. But, afterward, I decided the thing ought to be burnt, and -searched for the scraps. They weren’t among the other papers, for I -went through the entire contents of the basket. Some one had taken -them, and it could be no one but Eric.” - -Phœbe looked grave at this. - -“What does it mean, Phil?” - -“I’ve tried to think. I know of two or three forged deposit slips, -aside from that one of Mr. Martin’s. Then there was the forged check of -Mrs. Randolph--I’m positive it was forged. These things are sure to be -discovered some day, and then the charge of forgery and embezzlement -will lie between Eric and me.” - -“Oh, Phil!” - -“As Eric is Mr. Spaythe’s own son it will be easy for him to accuse me. -If I tell Mr. Spaythe what I know he will ask why I didn’t report it -at the time. I’m in a net, Phœbe, and Eric knows it. If he can save -himself at my expense, he won’t hesitate.” - -“I see!” she cried, clasping her hands tightly. “Isn’t it dreadful, -Phil?” - -“That is why I now suspect that Eric is up to mischief. It surprised -me that he told his father so bluntly he was going to St. Louis. It -would be better policy for him to keep quiet about the trip; but he -risked Mr. Spaythe’s anger with unusual boldness. And he took pains to -advertise his going to the whole town--even to let people see him ride -away in the train.” - -“What could be his object?” inquired Phœbe, much perplexed. - -“To be able to prove an alibi, I imagine.” - -The twins walked on in silence for a time and were just passing the -railway station when Phil had an idea. - -“Come in with me,” he whispered, and followed by Phœbe he walked -calmly up to the agent’s window. The man was not busy, as no trains -were due at this time. - -“Hello, Wakefield,” called Phil, genially. - -“Hello, Phil. Good evening, Miss Daring,” responded the agent, -recognizing them. - -“I came in to pay for Eric’s ticket to St. Louis. He happened to be -short of currency, but said you’d let him have the ticket, and I could -drop in and settle for it to-night.” - -Wakefield seemed surprised. - -“Mr. Spaythe didn’t buy a through ticket,” he explained. “He only took -one to Canton. Said he’d buy his ticket and sleeper from there on. I -remember thinking that was a queer way to do. If he was short of money, -Eric knew I’d help him out.” - -Phœbe trembled as she pressed Phil’s arm. - -“Why, it’s all right, then, Wakefield,” said Daring, calmly. “Probably -he changed his mind, and in that case I don’t owe you anything.” - -“Not a cent. Good night, Phil. Good night, Miss Daring.” - -“Good night,” they answered and walked away. - -“You see, I was right,” said the boy, when they were on the street -again. “Canton is only ten miles away, and Eric plans to leave the -train there and come back.” - -“When?” - -“Some time to-night. He means to rob the safe and get away with the -money. That will implicate me, you see, as I’m the only one except Mr. -Spaythe and Boothe that knows the combination--and the cashier is sick -in bed.” - -“Oh, Phil! I’m sure your suspicion is too horrible to be true.” - -“Why, it’s so simple that it _must_ be true. Under the circumstances it -is the natural thing for Eric to do. He isn’t so very clever, although -perhaps he thinks he has laid a deep plot to ruin me. The queer thing -about it is that it’s liable to succeed.” - -They had reached the bank now. Phil opened the side door and ushered -Phœbe into the large back room where he did his work. He turned on -the electric lights, pulled down the shades to all the windows and then -opened the safe and got out the books. Phœbe, perched upon Eric’s -vacant stool, watched him thoughtfully. Her face was pale as wax and -she had nervous, trembling fits that she could not control. - -“I’m glad I am with you,” said she, presently. “If you are accused, I -can swear you did not touch the money.” - -Phil bent over and kissed her, but made no reply. Putting all his mind -upon the books he methodically pursued his work for an hour or so, -until all the entries had been made and his task finished. Then he -closed the ledgers with a sigh of relief, put them away, and locked the -safe. - -“Who knows,” he said, turning to Phœbe with a wan smile, “but -that this is the last bit of work I shall do for Spaythe’s Bank? If -my suspicions are correct, on Monday morning the safe will be found -to have been robbed, and then I must face accusations and probable -disgrace.” - -By this time the girl had recovered most of her composure. She was -still pale, but had been busily thinking during that tedious hour, -trying to find some way to save her twin brother. - -“Do you know exactly how much cash is in that safe now?” she asked. - -“Of course, Phœbe. It is all entered upon the books, in black and -white, and Mr. Spaythe has a copy of the amounts, besides.” - -She looked carefully around the room. At the very back of the building, -facing the safe, was one window which opened upon an unused yard at the -rear. The window was just then covered with a thick shade. Phœbe -took the desk shears, walked deliberately to this window, and punched -two small holes in the shade. - -“What on earth are you doing?” asked her brother, in amazement. - -“Phil, we’re going to play we’re detectives, you and I. Go outside, and -around to this window, and find out if you can see the safe through the -holes I have made. If not, I must make them larger.” - -Phil obeyed, still puzzled as to her meaning. When he returned to her, -he reported that the holes were about on a level with his eyes, when he -stood in the back yard, and that the safe was plainly visible through -the tiny openings if one stood with an eye close to the windowpane. - -“Very well,” said she, nodding with satisfaction. “What time is it now?” - -“Nearly ten.” - -“We shall have a long wait, but we mustn’t mind that. Let us go, now.” - -Phil waited until she reached the door; then he put out the lights and -joined her. As they passed out he locked the door and put the key away -in his pocket. - -“What now?” he asked. - -“Let us take a walk up the street, for a block or two,” she replied, -in a whisper; and he followed her obediently. Although it was Saturday -night, this part of the town was practically deserted. There was a -light in the laundry office across the way and a girl stood in the -door of a candy shop and nodded to the twins vacantly. Half a block -up the street was the printing office, but the lights in it went out -before they reached it, and Mr. Fellows, the editor, gave the Darings a -pleasant “Good night!” as they passed by while he was locking the door. - -Phœbe crossed over into the next street, which was merely a lane, -and turning about began to retrace her steps. Phil clung to her arm -and let her lead him. Here there was no light to guide them save the -dim glow of the stars. The moon would not be up for some hours yet. -They had to feel their way carefully for a time, but ere long they had -reached a position in the rear of the bank and entered the unused yard. -From a pile of boxes dumped behind a neighboring grocery Phil brought -two to serve as seats, for now he guessed Phœbe’s purpose and fully -approved the venturesome undertaking. - -They sat in silence for a time, their backs against the brick wall of -the bank. - -“How will Eric get back from Canton?” the girl inquired, musingly. - -“I don’t know. He might drive over, and return the same way. Let me -see; there’s another train to St. Louis that passes here at one-thirty. -It doesn’t stop at Riverdale, but it does at Canton.” - -“That’s it!” she exclaimed, eagerly. “That’s his plan, Phil, I’m sure. -Eric will get a livery horse at Canton, drive over here, and return in -time to catch the one-thirty flyer for St. Louis. It will be due at -Canton at about two o’clock, won’t it?” - -“Sooner than that. The flyer will make the ten miles in fifteen -minutes, easily.” - -“But it will take Eric an hour and a half to drive it, in the night. -That means he must get here, do what he has to do, and leave by twelve -o’clock--or soon after. Why, we won’t have long to wait, after all.” - -“Not if we are figuring right, Phœbe. After all, this is only -guesswork on our part.” - -“I’m sure we are right, Phil. As you say, the natural thing for one -in Eric’s position to do is just what we expect he will do. Let us -be patient, and we will soon know the truth. If nothing happens by -half-past twelve, then we may go home and go to bed.” - -“And rest in peace,” he added, with a light laugh that was not -mirthful. “I hope that will be our fate.” - -“So do I, Phil--with all my heart.” - -It was a tedious wait, however, for they were keyed up to a high pitch -of excitement and the minutes seemed to drag with teazing languidness. -But suddenly, as they talked together in soft whispers, Phœbe -glanced around toward the window and then seized Phil’s arm in a -warning grasp. The back room of the bank was lighted. - -The girl put her eye to one peephole and the boy looked through the -other. They saw Eric standing in the room and glancing about him with -fearful, yet keenly observant eyes. The inspection seemed to satisfy -him, for after tying his handkerchief over the one electric light -globe which he had ventured to turn on, in order to dim the strength -of its rays, he went straight to the safe and began to fumble with the -combination. A few moments later the heavy door swung open. - -Again Eric glanced around, but could not know that two intent eyes were -regarding his slightest movement. He hastily turned over the packets of -bills until he found the one he desired, which he thrust into an inner -pocket. Then he took a canvas sack, filled with gold, and this filled -his coat pocket completely and had to be crowded in. The next moment he -closed the door and set the lock. - -It was all done so quickly that Phœbe found she had held her breath -during the entire scene. While she panted with excitement and her heart -fluttered wildly, Eric removed his handkerchief from the globe and -turned off the light. - -They both listened eagerly now, but so stealthy were the young man’s -movements that no further sound reached their ears. He must have -effected his escape from the bank a long time before the twins ventured -to stir. - -“Phœbe,” said Phil bitterly, “it is evident that I’ve stolen a stack -of bills and a bag of gold. The fact can easily be proven against me, -anyhow.” - -“Not yet,” returned the girl, in a firm, decided tone. “Come with me, -Phil.” - -She began to make her way around the building to the side door. - -“What are you going to do?” he asked. - -“I’m going to block Eric’s wicked conspiracy and save you,” she -replied. “Open that door, and let us go in.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -A SISTER’S LOVE - - -Phil looked up and down the dark, deserted street. Eric had made off so -quietly that not a footfall had been heard. But no one was abroad to -see him, however much noise he might have made. - -The back room of Spaythe’s Bank was witnessing a succession of curious -scenes this eventful night. Phil had opened the safe again and was -counting the money. It was a long count, and must needs be accurate; -but Phœbe, now cool as ice, helped him in her methodical way and it -was not necessary to inspect more of the currency than the packets of -bank notes and the gold. - -“Whew!” whistled Phil, when the final figures had been made. “Eric -wasn’t at all bashful, was he? He grabbed more than three thousand -dollars!” - -“Three thousand, three hundred and ninety,” repeated Phœbe, jotting -down the exact amount on a slip of paper. “All right, Phil; that is -what we wanted to know. Now, put this dreadful stuff away.” - -He complied. There was a queer feeling in the young fellow’s chest, -as if iron fingers were gripping his heart. His worst fears had been -realized and he had become the innocent victim of his former friend’s -diabolical scheming. - -As the Daring twins walked home together through the still night, arm -in arm, they exchanged few words. Phil reflected that his business -career was practically ruined. Here in Riverdale, his old home, he -would be scorned and reviled as a common thief, and wherever he might -go in the big outside world his disgrace would be sure to follow him. -And what of Eric Spaythe, the false friend who had planned his downfall -and would profit by it? With means to pay his debts, and so prevent his -father’s knowledge of his past extravagance, Eric would doubtless be -more cautious in the future. In time he might become the proprietor of -the bank he had to-night so cleverly robbed. As for the false entries -on the books, made to cover the minor thefts that had preceded this -coup, all evidence would point conclusively to Phil Daring as the -culprit. That poor and struggling youth was to become the scapegoat to -shield Eric Spaythe, the rich banker’s son. - -Phil groaned in spirit, but believed himself to be absolutely helpless. - -Phœbe, on the contrary, had recovered her cheerfulness, and as she -kissed her twin good night in the hall she whispered: - -“Forget about Eric, dear. There’s nothing to worry about, so try to get -some sleep. Now that we know the truth, and just what to expect, it -will be easy to save you from this contemptible plot.” - -Phil clasped the girl close in his arms. It was good to feel that -Phœbe, the one person he loved most in all the world, knew his -innocence and believed in him. He must be brave and face the future -calmly, for her sweet sake. - -In his room he looked at his watch. Two o’clock. By this time Eric was -well on his way to St. Louis. Phil sighed, went to bed, and having a -clear conscience was presently sound asleep. - -Phœbe pleaded a headache next morning and did not go to church with -the others. Phil, solemn eyed and with careworn features, accompanied -Cousin Judith and the children and did his best to keep his thoughts on -the sermon. - -From her window Phœbe endeavored to watch the movements of old -Miss Halliday, but found the woman keeping close to the room in which -Gran’pa Eliot was confined. Perhaps she was engaged in her morning’s -work, but strangely enough the chickens had been neglected and were -plainly calling for food and water. - -In order to ease the nervous strain of waiting Phœbe moved softly -around the rooms occupied by the Darings and removed all the keys she -found in the locks. Having carried these to her room she began trying -them in the lock of the door that connected old Elaine’s chamber with -her own. She moved carefully and silently, but to her despair none -of the keys would fit. A second time she tried them, with no better -success. While engaged in replacing the borrowed keys she happened to -think of a big bunch of old keys hanging in the closet of the room -occupied by Sue and Becky. She readily found this bunch, and with -it hurried back to her chamber. One by one the keys were tried and -gradually her heart sank as they proved to be too large or too small. -There were now but three left on the bunch and she was crouching on her -knees before the door when suddenly she heard Elaine enter the other -room. - -To her astonishment the woman was sobbing and muttering in the same -breath, and seemed to be laboring under great excitement. - -“It can’t be!” Phœbe heard her say again and again. “It can’t be. -No, no, no!--it can’t be.” - -Up and down she paced, and finally the girl heard her throw herself -upon the bed and give way to a violent outburst of sobbing. - -Phœbe dared not move. Her limbs were cramped and numb, but she sat -crouching beside the door until gradually Miss Halliday became more -quiet and rose from the bed. - -“One thing is certain,” muttered the woman in a firmer tone. “No one -shall know!” - -Again she paced the floor, by degrees recovering her wonted composure. -The sobs and mutterings ceased. At last she left the room, and Phœbe -breathed freely once more. Then the girl glanced at the bunch of keys -she held. With those three that still remained untried lay her sole -chance of saving Phil’s honor. - -The first was rusty and too big for the lock. The second turned easily, -and with a sharp click the bolt flew back. Then Phœbe dropped her -head in her hands and began to cry. The transition from despair to joy -had been so sharp that it unnerved her; but now she was free to carry -out her plans. - -Wiping the tears from her eyes she sighed deeply and rose to her feet. -On turning the handle of the door, very softly, she found that it -would open with perfect freedom. She put her head within the room a -moment--just long enough to note that Elaine had left it in perfect -order--and then she closed the door again. - -Would it be wiser to act at once, or to wait? - -Her own anxiety and excitement had, until now, prevented her from -appreciating the evident fact that something unusual had occurred in -the other part of the house which the old woman regarded as serious. -The housekeeper was not prone to give way to violent outbursts of -grief. “It can’t be!” she had exclaimed. What couldn’t be? “No one -shall know!” Elaine had cried. What could have happened that must be -kept a secret? The girl’s first thought was that in some way Elaine had -been robbed of the treasure, and Phœbe’s heart stood still as she -contemplated that awful suggestion. But perhaps it was some personal -matter not connected with Gran’pa Eliot’s hidden hoard. - -Going to her window she watched in vain for the housekeeper to appear -in the garden; then, unable to restrain her impatience, she ran -downstairs and around the corner until she came to the lane at the -back. Pausing beside the big maple she looked around at the house and -from her position saw Gran’pa Eliot propped up in his chair before the -window, his lusterless eyes fixedly regarding the landscape spread out -before him. - -The window of the next room, where he slept, was open, too. Phœbe -could see the housekeeper making the bed and straightening the -furniture. - -Presently, Elaine came to the window and stood motionless, staring -across the fields as if in deep thought. Phœbe shrank back into the -shade of the maple. - -Now the woman left the window, emerged from the door at the head of the -outside stairs, and quietly descended to the yard. Phœbe quitted her -post at once and fairly flew back to the house, never pausing until she -had regained her own room. Breathless from her run, she paused to peer -from the window. Elaine was mixing food for her chickens. - -In a moment Phœbe was in the forbidden room. She went straight to -the mantel and tried to pull it outward, as she had seen Elaine do; -but it refused to move. With a growing fear at her heart she examined -closely the framework and finally noticed that one part of the carving -was discolored more deeply than the rest, as if with constant handling. -Pressing hard against this place, Phœbe desperately dragged the -mantel toward her, and this time it swung free of the wall and -disclosed the secret cupboard. - -Elaine had not been robbed. There were the neat piles of money, just as -she had seen them from her peephole. - -Phœbe hesitated a moment. She wanted a certain sum in bills, and -another in gold, but it would be dangerous to count the money there. -So she took several packets of bills and ran with them to her room. -Returning quickly, she pushed the mantel into place and proceeded to -pull up a section of the rag carpet. A small iron ring enabled her -to lift the trap, and a moment later she had carried a sack of gold -through the connecting doorway and dumped it upon her bed. - -A swift look through the window showed that Elaine was preparing -to ascend the stairs again; so Phœbe ran into the housekeeper’s -chamber, let down the trap and rearranged the carpet. Then she softly -retreated and closed the door after her. - -She breathed more freely now, but her task was not yet accomplished and -the family might return from church at any moment. - -Opening the packets of bills she began carefully counting them. The -first lot proved of small denominations and totalled so insignificant a -sum that the girl was panic-stricken for fear there would not be enough -paper money for her purpose. But the next packet proved to be all -fifties and one-hundreds, and less than half its bulk sufficed to make -up the amount of bills that Eric had abstracted from the safe. - -She counted out the gold next, and as this sack chanced to contain only -pieces of twenty dollars each there was much more than she required. At -the bank, while Phil was discovering the extent of Eric’s theft--when -the vague idea of saving him first began to dawn in her mind--Phœbe -had seen a pile of canvas bags, used to contain gold, lying upon a -shelf. One of these she had quietly abstracted, for on it was printed -in black letters: “Spaythe’s Bank of Riverdale.” It was a similarly -marked sack which Eric had taken, and now the girl brought out the bag, -placed the proper amount of gold in it, and neatly tied it up. Then she -made a package containing both the gold and the bills and after winding -it securely with cord placed it in a drawer of her bureau. - -This much being accomplished she breathed easier; but it was necessary -to replace the surplus gold and bills in the hiding places from whence -she had taken it. She felt no hesitation in employing a portion of -Gran’pa Eliot’s hoarded wealth to save her brother from an unjust -accusation. It seemed to her quite a proper thing to do, for the -family honor was at stake. Gran’pa could never use the money, and his -granddaughter was defiant of old Elaine’s self imposed watch upon -the treasure. Yet Phœbe would not touch a penny more than stern -necessity compelled her to. - -Her heart bounded and then stopped beating as the housekeeper was heard -to enter the next room and renew her nervous pacing up and down--up and -down. Elaine was not likely to discover her loss, just yet; only at -dead of night was she accustomed to pander to her miserly instincts by -counting over the money. So Phœbe took courage. - -A long time the girl sat silently awaiting an opportunity to restore -the balance of the treasure. Meantime, she wondered again what had come -over the usually methodical, self-possessed housekeeper to make her act -in so queer a manner. No doubt some important event had occurred in her -life; but what could it be? - -A chorus of merry voices announced the return of Cousin Judith with -her brothers and sisters. She hesitated, half expecting Elaine would -now leave her room, but the woman wholly disregarded the Darings and -continued her monotonous pacing. So Phœbe concealed the money under -her pillows and noiselessly quitting the room went down to meet the -family. - -The sense of triumph now experienced by the girl made her regard Phil’s -gloomy looks with complacency, if not with cheerfulness. She bustled -about, helping Auntie to set the table for dinner and listening to the -chatter of the children, and all the time the warm glow in her heart -was reflected in her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks. - -Phil looked at his sister astonished and somewhat reproachful. Her -glad laughter and flippant remarks made him feel that his twin was -forgetting the terrible fate that menaced him. Over the boy’s devoted -head hung a veritable Sword of Damocles, and it was destined to fall -as soon as the bank was opened Monday morning. Yet here was Phœbe, -merry and eager, joking with Becky and Don as she flitted through the -rooms, and seemingly as unconscious of trouble as a dancing sunbeam. - -Judith, a little surprised at the girl’s high spirits, kissed her -affectionately as she came in to dinner. She thought Phœbe had -never looked more lovely than she did to-day. Phil remarked that fact, -too. “The Belle of Riverdale,” as she was often called, was really a -beautiful girl; yet, those who knew Phœbe best recognized the fact -that her chief charm lay not in her fascinating smile, her dainty -complexion, nor her magnificent eyes, but in the kindly, sympathetic -heart that had never yet failed to respond to the demands of friendship. - -After dinner they were all seated on the front lawn in the shade of the -big oaks, when Phœbe noticed old Elaine standing motionless in the -back yard, grimly watching the group. The girl seized the opportunity -to run to her room, grab the money from beneath her pillows and replace -the bills in the cupboard back of the mantel and the remainder of -the gold beneath the trap in the floor. She acted with breathless -haste, not knowing how much time would be allowed her; but she soon -found there was no need of hurry. Returning to the lawn she saw that -Cousin Judith had gone to the housekeeper and was engaging Elaine in -conversation. - -“My uncle is better, you say?” asked Miss Eliot. - -“I did not say that,” retorted the woman. “I merely stated that he -suffers no pain.” - -“Is his mind still befogged, as when I last saw him?” continued Judith. - -“His mind has never been befogged,” said Elaine, with unnecessary -anger. “You will find he is clear-headed enough to defend himself from -annoyances, if intruded upon.” - -Judith sighed. This creature was absolutely impossible to conciliate. -She turned away without further remark and preferred not to see the -half sneering, half triumphant leer on Elaine’s pinched features. -Phœbe put her arms around the Little Mother and said: - -“Never mind, dear. She’s old and unreasonable; but she takes good care -of gran’pa, so we needn’t mind her uncivil ways.” - -“Koots! I’m half afraid of her,” remarked Becky, making a face at the -thin figure of the housekeeper. - -“I’m not,” declared Phœbe, laughing at the recollection of her late -audacity. “Miss Halliday is nothing more than a favored servant, who -has forgotten her proper place. There’s nothing fearsome about her, I’m -sure.” - -Toward evening the girl’s high spirits began to falter and she wandered -about the house in an uneasy mood. Perhaps Phil’s dismal looks--for he -could not force his countenance to seem pleasant while his heart was -breaking--had something to do with his twin’s growing depression. Even -Sue accused Phœbe of being cross when she sent her small sister to -bed somewhat earlier than usual. - -When all the household had retired except the twins and Judith, they -sat on the porch conversing until Miss Eliot noticed for the first -time an air of restraint that was unusual. Fearing she might herself -be responsible for this she pleaded some letters to be written as an -excuse to go to her room, and bade them good night. - -“Cheer up, dear,” said Phœbe, when their cousin had gone in. “Didn’t -I promise to save you?” - -“Yes; but you can’t do that, little sister. No one can save me.” - -“There is one way,” announced the girl, decidedly. - -Phil sat thinking. - -“Yes,” he said; “if Eric would confess, that would end it all. Do you -imagine he will?” - -“No, indeed.” - -“Nor I. I have thought of everything; but the snare is too strong to be -broken.” - -Phœbe did not reply at once. She sat looking out into the night, -lost in thought. Presently she roused herself and whispered: - -“Phil, will you take a little walk with me?” - -“I don’t mind. I’m not liable to sleep much to-night, so there’s little -use in going to bed.” - -“Wait for me a moment,” she said. - -Phil waited. She soon returned with a bulky newspaper packet partly -concealed beneath her cloak. - -Together they strolled down the street toward the town. It was after -ten o’clock, and on Sunday evening Riverdale was like a deserted -village. - -“We’re getting to be regular night owls, aren’t we?” asked Phœbe, -with a nervous tremor in her voice. - -“Yes, indeed. But why are we prowling around town to-night? Wouldn’t it -be more pleasant to walk in the lanes?” - -“We’re going to the bank,” said the girl. - -Phil stopped short to look at her, but the overhanging branches of a -tree hid her face. With a sigh he walked on, deciding to let her have -her way. But he could think of no good reason for this absurd whim. - -When they reached the bank Phœbe said: - -“We will go in, Phil. Unlock the door.” - -Mechanically he obeyed. Dully be wondered what she was going to do. But -it did not matter, and he would soon know. - -“Now,” continued the girl, when they were inside, “open the safe.” - -“Why, Phœbe!” he gasped, glancing at her fearfully. “You’re not -going to--” - -“No; I’m not going to rob Mr. Spaythe. Open the safe, Phil--quick!” - -He leaned over and set the combination. Then slowly the heavy door -swung open. - -Phœbe breathed a sigh of relief. Hastily unwrapping her bundle she -placed a bag of gold on one shelf and a thick packet of bank bills on -another--in just the places from whence Eric had abstracted the money -the night before. - -“All right, dear; you may lock the safe now.” - -Phil was bewildered. His eyes roamed from his sister’s smiling face to -the safe, and back again. - -“Wha--what have you done?” he stammered. - -“I’ve restored the missing cash. Lock the safe, Phil, before it’s -robbed again.” - -“Phœbe!” - -“Don’t look so wild, dear. Can’t you understand you are saved--that -there will be no exposure of a theft to-morrow morning? Lock the safe, -and let us go home.” - -He could not realize it, even yet. Still dazed and wondering he locked -the safe and followed Phœbe into the street. They were halfway home -before he asked: - -“Where did you find Eric?” - -“I haven’t seen Eric,” she replied. - -“Then where did the money come from?” - -“It’s my secret, Phil; you mustn’t ask.” - -“But I must know, Phœbe. Why, it’s--it’s amazing!” - -“Seems so, doesn’t it?” - -“It’s impossible! Three thousand--” - -“--Three hundred and ninety dollars,” she interrupted, with a laugh. -“It’s all there, dear; all back in the safe.” - -“It’s a fortune! Where did you get it?” he persisted. - -“Now, Phil, I’ve forbidden you to ask questions, and I mean it,” she -declared, very seriously. “It is a secret which I can’t reveal. Not -now, anyway.” - -“Did Cousin Judith--” - -“It’s no use, dear; I won’t tell.” - -He strode along in silence, wondering if it were really true. They were -dreadfully poor, he knew, and Cousin Judith’s money was tied up in an -annuity. Where could Phœbe obtain three thousand, three hundred and -ninety dollars in currency?--and on Sunday, too! Suddenly a thought -caused him to start. - -“You haven’t borrowed it of the Randolphs?” he demanded in a horrified -tone. - -The suggestion made Phœbe laugh again. - -“Guess away!” she said, lightly. - -“We would never be able to repay such a loan--not for years and years, -if at all,” he said miserably. - -“That need not worry you,” she observed. “Why don’t you give it up, -Phil? Be content until the time comes when I can tell you everything. -It’s the best way. Can’t you trust me--Phœbe--your twin?” - -He caught her in his arms and kissed her tenderly, while the first -sense of freedom he had experienced since the robbery swept over him. - -“Trust you? Of course I can, my darling!” he said. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR - - -Phil had a restless night; but he slept a little, nevertheless. His -chief source of worry had been removed by his sister’s mysterious -action, yet the wonderment of it all remained, carrying with it an -intense excitement whenever he thought of the probable outcome of this -strange adventure. - -On Monday morning he was up bright and early, anxiously awaiting the -time to go to work. Phœbe, looking at him with wistful eyes, kissed -her brother good-by and said: - -“Good luck, Phil. Whatever happens, remember that I, and all who love -you, will stand by you to the end.” - -But nothing exceptional happened at the bank. - -Mr. Boothe, looking a little more pale and worn than usual, arrived at -the same time Phil did, and while he was carrying the cash from the -safe to his cage, preparatory to counting it, Eric sauntered in and -took his seat at the desk. - -He gave his fellow clerk a brief nod and looked curiously at Mr. -Boothe. Said Phil, attempting to be cordial: - -“Back from St. Louis already, Eric?” - -“Yes.” - -“How did you find Ned Thurber?” - -“Oh, Ned’s all right.” - -“When did you get home?” - -“Six, this morning.” - -Usually talkative, Eric seemed determined to be chary of speech on this -occasion; but perhaps he was absorbed in watching Boothe count the -money, for he never took his eyes off the cashier. - -In his usual careful, painstaking manner, Boothe first counted the -checks, drafts, and other notes of exchange, checking them off on the -tally sheet beside him. Then he began on the currency. As packet after -packet of the bank bills was counted and laid aside Eric grew nervous -and his breath came in short gasps. He pretended to be bending over his -books, but Phil saw the exhibition of nervous fear and was not without -a share of excitement himself. - -Check! - -Eric grew pale and then red. He was astounded. Mr. Boothe rapidly -counted the gold contained in the four sacks--positively, there were -four, Eric noted with dismay, and there should have been but three. He -saw the cashier pick up his pencil, glance at the tally sheet and check -the amount as correct. - -Eric swayed and almost fell from his stool. Great beads of perspiration -stood upon his brow. - -“Everything seems to check up all right,” called the cashier from his -cage, speaking in a calm voice. “You’ve kept things pretty straight, -Eric.” - -“Good; very good!” cried a deep voice, and the two clerks were for the -first time aware that Mr. Spaythe stood in the open door of his office -watching the scene. - -“Seems as if you could almost get on without me, sir,” said the -cashier, apologetically. - -“No,” answered the banker, “your absence caused us all a lot of extra -work and worry--especially Phil.” He came around to young Daring’s -side, put on his glasses and began a calm but thorough examination -of the ledgers. “Feeling better this morning, Mr. Boothe?” he asked, -without looking at the man. - -“Quite myself again, sir.” - -Phil stood aside, for it was evident Mr. Spaythe wished to carefully -compare the books. Daring had been obliged to make entries in both his -own set and Eric’s during the past few days; but there was little to -criticise, he felt, and he welcomed the examination. - -Meantime Eric sat as if turned to stone, pale and red by turns, the -perspiration oozing from every pore. His eyes, as they fell upon -his father, were full of terror; when he looked at Phil it was with -suspicion and fear combined. For a moment’s thought had convinced Eric -that his theft had been discovered. How, or in what way, he had not the -faintest idea. Until now, he had confidently believed he had covered -up every trace of the crime with supreme cleverness. Yet in his brief -absence someone had detected the robbery and replaced the money in the -safe so that Mr. Boothe would find the bank’s accounts correct. - -There was only one person able to do this--his father. For it was not -to be supposed for an instant that Phil Daring, or any of his friends, -could raise so large a sum without recourse to the bank itself. - -Then came the thought that if Mr. Spaythe was aware of his son’s -embezzlement, someone had betrayed Eric to him. The traitor could be -none other than Phil Daring, the one he had naturally expected would be -accused of the crime. - -Hardly knowing which way to turn or what to do or say, reading -condemnation in every face and fearing exposure at any moment, Eric -Spaythe was indeed in a pitiable plight. Why was his father inspecting -the books so carefully? It could not be that he mistrusted Phil. Was -he then looking for those former defalcations of which his son had -been guilty? Eric had intended to accuse Phil of those things, when the -logical time came. Perhaps Phil knew that, and had saved himself by -denouncing Eric. - -There was nothing to be learned from Daring’s face. It was grave and -serene, as if he had the situation well in hand. Mr. Spaythe seemed -stern and vigilant, his practised eye running up and down the entries, -observing every item with intelligent care. Boothe was imperturbable as -ever and paid no attention to the group in the back room. - -Eric writhed on his stool and kept silent. He was fully prepared for -the impending denunciation and intended to deny everything and stick to -the lie to the last. But no denunciation came. - -Mr. Spaythe finished his examination and then turned to Phil with a -satisfied nod. - -“Daring,” said he, “you have done well--very well indeed, considering -your brief experience. I believe you are destined to prove of -considerable future value to this bank, and hereafter your salary will -be fifteen dollars a week.” - -Without a word or a look toward his son he reëntered his office and -closed the door. He was still angry with Eric for foolishly making that -long and expensive trip to St. Louis for a day’s stay, and moreover he -resented the unkind insinuations his son had made about young Daring’s -honesty. But Eric attributed his father’s displeasure to entirely -different causes. - -Phil resumed his work, paying no attention to his companion. Eric -waited for a while for him to speak, and then grew savage. - -“Think you’ve caught me at it, I suppose?” he growled, with reckless -disregard of the fact that he had betrayed himself. The restoration of -the money was evidence enough that the cat was out of the bag. - -“You are caught, Eric,” was the quiet answer. “There is no need for me -to assure you of that.” - -Eric glared. - -“Where’s the proof?” he demanded, uneasily. - -Phil looked up with a smile. - -“Has it never occurred to you that money may be marked, and also a -record kept of the numbers of bank notes?” - -“Oh, that was it, was it?” returned the other, plainly discomfited by -the suggestion, which had been hazarded merely to tease him. “Then -you’ve been trying to trap me for a long time, it seems. Grateful -return for my getting you the job here, isn’t it?” - -“I haven’t trapped you at all, Eric. The fault is your own from -beginning to end,” said Phil, seriously. - -Eric walked to the window and stood looking out. He was trying to -understand why his father had not frankly accused him of stealing the -money. The banker’s reticence was vastly more terrifying to the boy -than prompt exposure and denunciation would have been. Perhaps he had -hesitated to let the world know that his only son was a thief. Yes; -that must be the explanation. Therefore, Eric was destined to receive -his scourging in the private office, and he experienced a distinct -sense of relief at this thought, for he could stand any paternal -tongue-lashing if his disgrace was but kept from the knowledge of his -fellows. Eric’s disgrace would mean to an extent his father’s disgrace. -Come to think of it, he had no great cause to worry, in any event. His -protection lay in his father’s regard for his own good name. - -Following this clue, Eric decided that Phil Daring’s raise of -salary was merely a bribe not to expose the secret. But the -culprit’s momentary satisfaction in this solution of the problem -was promptly dampened when he remembered another of Mr. Spaythe’s -characteristics--to let no fault go unpunished. He well knew his -father’s stern nature, and shuddered a little as he wondered what -punishment would be decreed for so grave an offense. - -“What’s the program, Phil?” he inquired, coming back to the desk. - -“I don’t know.” - -“Not in the gov’nor’s confidence, eh?” - -“Not entirely, I imagine.” - -Eric stared at him thoughtfully. Strangely enough, Daring had not -reproached him or gloated over his downfall. Daring had always been a -very decent fellow. Perhaps he would prove a friend, even yet. Eric’s -attitude changed from one of defiance to that of entreaty. - -“We’ve always been pretty good chums, Phil,” he said, in a hesitating -tone. “Tell me what to do, there’s a good fellow.” - -Phil reflected. - -“You might help yourself in one way,” he suggested. - -“What is it?” - -“Have you any of that money left?” - -Eric nodded, trying to read the other’s solemn face. - -“Then I advise you to fix up those little irregularities in the books.” - -“What irregularities?” - -“That check of Mrs. Randolph’s, for instance. It will be sent to her -the first of the month, and she will claim it’s a forgery. Then, -there’s that deposit of Martin’s, and several other little things. It -would be policy for you to straighten out those tangles at once, Eric, -before you are made to do it.” - -Eric pondered a while, then drew a sheet of paper toward him and began -to figure. He seemed pleased with the results and at once set to work -to correct the books. It took him until noon to finish his task, for he -had undertaken a delicate matter, and some transactions were difficult -to cover up or gloss over. - -While Mr. Boothe was at dinner Eric took occasion to make the cash -straight, in such a way that it would not arouse the cashier’s -suspicion. Phil took no part in the matter and let Eric make -restitution in his own way. - -“I’ve made good, Phil,” the young culprit whispered, eagerly. “Every -customer’s account is now as square as a die, as far as I know, and -I’ve charged my own account with some of the withdrawals and credited -it with the money I’ve just turned over to the bank.” - -“I’m glad of that,” said Phil, greatly relieved. But he spoke coldly, -for he knew the banker’s son had acted only from fear, and not because -it was the right thing to do. Involuntarily, however, Eric had saved -Phil Daring from the possibility of being accused of those dangerous -defalcations. - -During the afternoon Eric glanced continually at the door of his -father’s office, expecting any moment a summons into that stern -presence. The strain upon his nerves was terrible, and Phil knew that -he was already beginning to suffer punishment. At one time Eric asked -anxiously: - -“What ought I to do with the rest of the money, Phil?” - -“I don’t know,” was the reply; for Phil thought of Phœbe and her -secret and was unable to advise Eric because he had no idea where the -money had come from that his sister had put in the safe. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -ACCUSED - - -Phœbe had been watching impatiently for her brother’s return and -ran to meet him. He told her of the scene at the bank--of Eric’s -astonishment and terror, and how Mr. Spaythe had raised Phil’s salary -quite materially. Then he related the manner in which he had worked -upon the culprit’s fears and induced him to apply a part of the stolen -money to replacing his former embezzlements, thus saving Phil from the -possibilities of future complications. - -Tears stood in Phœbe’s eyes as she murmured: “I’m so glad. Oh, I’m -so glad!” - -“But the greatest mystery is not yet cleared up,” said her brother. -“I’m as much as ever in the dark concerning your own share in this -puzzling affair. Phœbe, where did that money come from?” - -She shook her head, smiling through her tears, and accompanied him -to dinner. But afterward, when Phil had gone back to work, the girl -sat in her room facing the consequences of her act. Conscience -stirred at last and gained control of her and its vivid accusations -made her cringe. Her dearly beloved brother, her twin, had been saved -from impending disgrace, but in saving him Phœbe had herself been -guilty of a theft equal to that of Eric Spaythe. She had robbed her -grandfather in exactly the same way that he had robbed his father, and -if Eric had earned such bitter condemnation, Phœbe could not expect -to escape censure. True, their motives were different. Eric stole for -selfish reasons; Phœbe, to save her twin from unmerited obloquy. - -Searching her heart with candid inquiry, she wondered if she were -really guilty of a crime. Civil laws might condemn her, but would not -the great moral laws of humanity uphold her for what she had done? - -“I’m not wicked, I know,” she told herself, positively. “I have wronged -no one by my act. There is more than enough of Gran’pa Eliot’s hoard -remaining to last him during his brief lifetime. And what better use -could a share of that idle money be put to than saving his grandson -from humiliation and shame?” - -But, Phœbe’s obdurate conscience was not to be appeased by such -sophistry as this. “What right had you to take that money?--what right -had you?” the small voice constantly asked, and at last she grew -distressed by the vague, yet persistent fear that she had done an evil -deed that good might come of it. Was that a sufficient excuse? she -asked herself, and feared it was not. - -“But, I’d do it again!” she declared, pressing her lips firmly together -as she thought of Phil. “I’d do it again this moment, if it were -necessary.” - -While the girl thus fought with an accusing conscience she heard -Elaine come into her room. At once the spirit of antagonism toward -this dragon, who guarded Gran’pa Eliot’s treasure, hardened her into a -belief that she was fully justified in what she had done. - -Drawing her darning basket toward her she began mending some of the -family stockings, and from her seat by the window listened to the -sounds made by the old housekeeper, as she moved about in the next room. - -Suddenly there was a sharp cry, followed by a fall. Phœbe was -startled for a moment. Then she realized it was not Elaine who had -fallen, but that the trap door in the floor had been carelessly dropped -into place. Her heart beat a little faster then, but she kept her seat -and even attempted to thread a needle. Her alert ears heard Elaine run -to the mantel. There was a long pause; then a wailing cry of distress. - -[Illustration: PHŒBE GLANCED AT HER CALMLY.] - -Phœbe smiled grimly and went on with her work. The discovery had -come a little sooner than she had expected. What curious whim could -have urged Elaine to examine the treasure now, in the middle of the -afternoon? She had never done this before, reflected Phœbe. - -In the adjoining room a dead silence prevailed. “She’s counting,” mused -the girl. “She’s trying to find out how much is gone, and who took it. -Perhaps she’ll lay it to ghosts. Anyhow, she won’t have the slightest -idea that I know her secret.” - -Then something happened that gave her a shock. Without warning the -handle of the connecting door turned and the next moment Elaine stood -on the threshold confronting her. - -The woman’s face was dark and contorted with rage. She clasped and -unclasped her talon-like fingers spasmodically, as if longing to take -the girl by the throat and strangle her then and there. - -Phœbe glanced at her, frowned, and calmly bit off her thread of -darning cotton. - -“What are you doing in this room, Miss Halliday?” she asked, not even a -tremor in her voice. - -For a moment Elaine was daunted. Then she recovered, and advancing a -pace toward Phœbe cried in tones of concentrated fury: - -“I want my money!” - -“Do I owe you anything?” was the stern demand. - -The woman’s glaring eyes were fixed upon Phœbe’s upturned face, -trying to read her inmost thoughts. The girl dropped her lashes a bit, -examining her work, and a slight flush stole into her cheeks in spite -of her efforts to appear composed. In a flash the woman detected these -signs, and her confidence was instantly restored. - -“You can’t fool me, Phœbe Daring!” she exclaimed harshly. “You -unlocked that door--the door I had forbidden you to open.” - -“Miss Halliday! you forget yourself. My grandfather’s servant has no -right to dictate in this house,” said the girl, haughtily. - -Elaine gave a short laugh, full of venom and disdain. - -“Servant, eh?” she retorted. “And whose house do you suppose this is?” - -The challenge roused Phoebe to anger and swept away the last vestige of -her composure. - -“It belongs to Jonathan Eliot, my grandfather; and everything in -it--money and all--belongs to him!” she asserted with pride. “As for -you, Elaine Halliday, we have submitted to your insufferable insolence -long enough--but only because you understood gran’pa, and were good to -him, were you allowed to remain. Your temper and your airs have become -unbearable, however, and we will at once secure another servant to take -your place.” - -The housekeeper stared at her as if she could not believe the evidence -of her own ears. Then she laughed--a hard, cackling laugh that was -horrible to hear. - -“I’ll not be turned out, my girl,” she said scornfully; “but you -Darings will get out of here, neck and crop, or I’ll call in the law to -help me.” - -“The law, Elaine?” - -“Yes; the law! This house is mine. It does not belong to Jonathan -Eliot. And all its contents are mine, deeded to me in black and white -as the reward of my faithful services. The money you have stolen, thief -that you are, is mine, too, and unless you return every penny of it -you’ll go to jail, Phœbe Daring.” - -It was Phœbe’s turn to stare. Could the woman be speaking the truth? - -“Where is the proof of your statement?” she asked. - -Without a word Elaine turned and reëntered her room. A few minutes -later she came back with a paper--a dreadful, legal-looking -document--which she unfolded and held before Phœbe’s face for her to -read, grasping it tightly the while and prepared to snatch it away if -the girl made any movement to secure it. - -Phœbe, frightened and horrified, made an effort to read the writing. -It was not very distinct, but seemed to state in legal jargon that -Jonathan Eliot, being of sound mind and owing no person a debt of any -sort, did of his own free will and accord give and transfer to Elaine -Halliday all his worldly possessions, including his residence in -Riverdale and all its contents of whatsoever kind or description, in -return for faithful service rendered him and duly acknowledged. - -“Have you read it?” asked the woman, hoarsely. - -“I--I think so!” gasped Phœbe. - -“Look at the signature.” - -Phœbe looked. The paper was signed “Jonathan Eliot” in a crabbed, -stiff hand. She could not tell whether it was her grandfather’s writing -or not; she was not familiar with it. But, the dreadful truth was -forced upon her at last, and Elaine’s scornful assurance was fully -explained. She owned the house; she owned that secret hoard. Phœbe -had not stolen from her grandfather, as she had supposed, but from -Elaine Halliday! - -The old woman noted her blanched cheeks and smiled with ruthless joy. -Carefully refolding the paper she said: - -“I’ve been robbed, and by you. There’s no use denying it, for I’ve got -proof in that unlocked door. But I don’t care to send you to prison. -I’d rather get my money back.” - -“I haven’t it,” murmured Phœbe, staring fearfully into the other’s -pitiless face. - -Elaine scowled and shrugged her shoulders. - -“That’s all nonsense, girl! Give it up,” she advised. - -“I can’t; I haven’t it.” - -“You’re lying. You took the money yesterday. You can’t have spent it -already. Give it up!” - -Phœbe was silent. She sat staring helplessly at her tormentor. - -“A liar and a thief! You’ll spend your life in prison for this, -Phœbe Daring, unless you come to your senses and return my money.” - -Phœbe answered not a word. There was nothing to be said. Elaine -waited impatiently. Don was calling loudly for Phœbe from some of -the lower rooms. Perhaps he would come here in a few minutes. - -“See here,” said the housekeeper, suddenly, “I’ll give you till -to-morrow--at noon--to bring me that money. Unless I get it--every -penny, mind you--I’ll send the constable for you and have you arrested -and jailed.” - -With this threat she walked into her own room, closing and securing the -door after her. Phœbe sat in a stupor. Her mind refused to dwell -upon this amazing discovery. She was glad Don had ceased calling to her -and vaguely wondered what he had wanted. The stockings must be darned; -but really there was no hurry about it; they would not be needed for a -day or two. - -A sharp blow upon the door startled her out of this rambling reverie. -Elaine was driving nails. Viciously she pounded them into the door with -her hammer, utterly regardless of the certainty of disturbing Gran’pa -Eliot. She intended to assure herself that Phœbe would be unable to -get at the hidden treasure again. - -And now the full horror of the situation burst upon the girl’s mental -vision, making her cringe and wince as if in bodily pain. Jail! Jail -for helping Phil! Well, it was far better that she should suffer than -her twin--a boy whose honor was all in all to him. She would try to be -brave and pay the penalty for Phil’s salvation unflinchingly. - -For a while the poor girl sat cowering in the depths of despair. What -could she do? where could she turn for help? Then a sudden thought came -to her like an inspiration. Judge Ferguson had once made her promise -to come to him if she was in any trouble. Of course. Judge Ferguson -was her father’s old friend. She would see him at once, and perhaps he -would be able to advise her in this grave emergency. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -SHIFTING THE BURDEN - - -Watching her opportunity Phœbe slipped out of the house unseen and -hastened down town to Lawyer Ferguson’s office. The old man was just -putting on his hat to go out when the girl’s anxious, pleading face -confronted him. - -“Are you busy, sir?” she asked, with hesitation. - -“Very, my dear. I’m due at an important meeting within five minutes.” - -Phœbe’s face fell. - -“Anything wrong?” inquired the lawyer in a kindly tone. Phœbe was -one of his favorites. - -“Oh, a great deal is wrong, sir!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “I’m in -great distress, and I’ve--I’ve come to you--for help.” - -Judge Ferguson hung his hat on the peg again and went to the door of an -inner room. - -“Toby!” he called. - -“Yes, sir.” - -Toby Clark appeared: a frowsy-headed, much freckled youth who served as -the lawyer’s clerk. He nodded to Phœbe and looked inquiringly at his -master. - -“Go to Mr. Wells at the insurance office and tell him I cannot attend -the meeting to-day. Have it postponed until to-morrow,” said the judge. - -“Yes, sir.” - -“And, Toby, when you return stand guard over the private room and see -that I’m not disturbed.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -The youth vanished instantly and with a courteous gesture Mr. Ferguson -motioned Phœbe to enter his sanctum. Evidently, he had shrewdly read -her face and knew that something very unusual had happened to his ward. - -“Now, then, explain yourself, my dear,” he said when they were seated. - -Phœbe looked earnestly into the kind old face. - -“I want to make a full confession of everything,” she began. “I want -you to understand me, and--and know just as much as I do.” - -“That is a wise resolve, when you are dealing with a lawyer,” he -responded, smiling at her anxious look. - -So she first told him of how she had discovered old Miss Halliday -counting the secret hoard, and of her reasons for keeping the knowledge -to herself. Next, she related Phil’s experiences at the bank, his -suspicions of Eric and the midnight adventure when together the twins -watched the banker’s son robbing the safe. All the details of Eric’s -plan to implicate Phil had been carefully treasured in the girl’s -memory, and she now related them simply, but convincingly, to the -lawyer. - -It was more difficult to confess the rest, but Phœbe did not falter -nor spare herself. A way to save Phil had been suggested to her by -the discovery of her grandfather’s hoarded money--for she naturally -supposed it was his. Her description of the manner in which she had -secured exactly the same amount Eric had taken was dramatic enough -to hold her listener spellbound, and he even smiled when she related -Eric’s confusion at finding the money restored, and how he had eagerly -made restitution of the minor sums he had embezzled by “fixing” the -books. - -Perhaps Judge Ferguson had never been so astonished and startled in -all his long experience as he was by Phœbe’s story. The thing that -really amazed him was Jonathan Eliot’s secret store of money. He had -not been without suspicion that the old man had grown miserly, but -so cleverly had the treasure been concealed that when Mr. Ferguson -searched the house--under the cunning guidance of Elaine, of course--he -had found nothing at all to justify that suspicion. - -When, in conclusion, Phœbe told of her late interview with the old -housekeeper and recited as well as she could remember the terms of the -deed of gift from Mr. Eliot to Elaine Halliday, Judge Ferguson became -visibly excited. - -“Was it really your grandfather’s signature?” he inquired. - -“I cannot say, sir, for I have seldom seen his signature,” she replied. - -“Were the names of any witnesses affixed to the document?” - -“I did not notice any.” - -“H-m. What then?” - -“Then she threatened to put me in prison unless I returned the money, -and of course I cannot do that,” said Phœbe, plaintively. “She has -given me until to-morrow noon, and then I must go to jail.” - -The lawyer sat for some time staring at a penholder which he tried to -balance upon his middle finger. He was very intent upon this matter -until a long-drawn sigh from Phœbe aroused him. Then he leaned back -in his chair, thrust his hands deep in his pockets and bobbed his head -at her reassuringly. - -“We’ll not let you go to jail, Phœbe,” he asserted, in a tone that -carried conviction. - -“But I--I’ve stolen her money!” she moaned. - -“I don’t believe it. I know Jonathan Eliot. And I’ve known other misers -before him. Not one of them would ever give up a dollar of their -beloved accumulation as long as a spark of life remained in their -bodies--your grandfather, least of all. And to his housekeeper! Why -should he resign it to her, I’d like to know?” - -“She seems to have a powerful influence over him,” remarked Phœbe, -thoughtfully. “She alone is able to communicate with him now, or make -him understand. She alone cares for him while he is helpless as a baby, -and he depends upon her promise to see that his body is finally laid -in the queer tomb he once built. Perhaps she obliged him to give her -everything, by threatening to leave him to die alone.” - -“Don’t believe a word of it, my dear!” exclaimed the lawyer, pounding -his fist on the table for emphasis. “If Jonathan Eliot is clear-headed -enough to dictate that deed of gift, or to sign it, he is still shrewd -enough not to part with his money. Deeds of gift executed under -compulsion are illegal, too. But I believe this paper to be nothing -more than a rank forgery.” - -Phœbe stared at him with wide open eyes. - -“You do, sir?” - -“I certainly do. Elaine is bluffing, and the bluff might succeed if she -had only a girl like you to deal with. You were quite right to come to -me, Phœbe. I’ll agree to settle this controversy with Elaine.” - -“How?” she asked, feeling much encouraged by his confident tone. - -“H-m. I cannot say, as yet. I must have time to think. Why, it’s five -o’clock,” looking at his watch. “Sit still! Don’t be in a hurry. Let’s -figure a little; let’s--figure.” - -He was balancing the penholder again. Phœbe watched him with dreamy -curiosity. It was a distinct relief to shift the burden to other -shoulders. - -After a while she said softly: - -“Do you think I’ve been so--so _very_ wicked, Judge?” - -Slowly he rose from his chair, came over to her and kissed her cheek. - -“_Very_ wicked, Phœbe. All good, true women may be just as wicked, -to help those they love. God bless ’em!” - -He turned away to face an old print of Abraham Lincoln that hung on the -wall, and seemed to study it intently. - -“How is your grandfather’s health, lately?” he abruptly inquired. - -“I saw him through the window yesterday. He seemed the same as usual.” - -“A live carcass. An active mind in a dead body. If Elaine can rouse -that mind, can communicate with him, others may do the same.” - -He seemed to be speaking to himself. Phœbe sat quietly and did not -interrupt his thoughts. - -“So you counted the gold with Elaine. Are you sure of the sums you -mentioned? Could you see clearly through that peephole?” - -“I may have made a mistake, of course,” she answered. “But I am almost -sure I counted right.” - -“You took three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars?” - -“Yes, sir. Fifteen hundred in gold and eighteen hundred and ninety, in -bills.” - -“H-m. H--m--! We must return that money, Phœbe.” - -“Return it! Why, how can I, Judge?” - -“You can’t, my dear; but I can. Let’s see. She has given you until -to-morrow noon--All right.” - -Phœbe drew a long breath. - -“Meet me here at ten o’clock in the morning,” he added. - -“Very well, sir.” - -She started to rise, but he motioned her to retain her seat. - -“Can you give up your room for to-night, Phœbe--perhaps for a couple -of nights?” - -“Why, I think so,” she said, astonished. “Perhaps I can sleep with -Cousin Judith; but--” - -“We’re going to play a little game, Phœbe; but, in order to win we -must keep our secret. Tell no one at home the story you have told me. -Keep away from Elaine for to-night. Perhaps you’d better come over to -our house and stay with Janet--Yes; do that. It will lull suspicion.” - -“Are you intending to use my room, yourself?” inquired Phœbe. - -“No. I want to put a detective there. I’m almost sure there will be -something to see through that peephole to-night.” - -“A detective!” - -“A private detective; meaning Toby Clark.” - -Phœbe stared at him. She had never imagined Toby could be a -detective. - -“And now,” continued the lawyer, briskly, “it’s all settled, cut and -dried. You may go home to supper without a single worry. I’ll send -Janet after you with an invitation to spend the night at our house, and -Toby will take your place at home. You’ve given me proof that you’re -not a bad conspirator, Phœbe, so I depend upon your wit to get Toby -into your room unobserved.” - -“I’ll try, sir,” she said. - -“Don’t fret, my dear. We’ve got everything planned, now, and you have -nothing further to fear from this strange complication.” - -She could not quite understand how that might be. Whatever plans Judge -Ferguson had evolved he kept closely guarded in his own bosom. But -Phœbe knew she might trust him, and carried away with her a much -lighter heart than the one she had brought to the lawyer’s office. - -When she had gone Mr. Ferguson called Toby Clark into his private room -and talked with the young man long and earnestly. - -Toby was considered one of the Riverdale “characters.” He had been -born in a shanty on the bank of the river, where his father had been a -fisherman and his mother had helped to eke out their simple livelihood -by washing for the ladies in the village. Both had died when Toby was -a small boy, and for a time he did odd jobs for the storekeepers and -managed in some way to keep body and soul together. He was a little -fellow, even now, when he was nineteen years old. His unruly hair was a -mop of tow color, and his form was not very sightly because his hands -and feet seemed overgrown. Out of his whimsical, freckled face peered -a pair of small, twinkling eyes, so good-humored in their expression -that the boy was a general favorite. But he never had much to say for -himself, although he was a keen observer and listened intently to the -conversation of others. - -Some years ago Judge Ferguson had taken Toby Clark into his employ, -recognizing a shrewd wit and exceptional intelligence hidden beneath -his unprepossessing exterior. At first, the boy went to school and -took care of the judge’s furnace in winter, and his lawn and flower -beds in summer. Then he was taken into the office, where he was now -studying law. No one had really understood Toby except the old lawyer, -and the youth was grateful and wholly devoted to his patron. - -In this interview the judge told Toby exactly what he was expected -to do after Phœbe had secretly introduced him into the Daring -household. The entire situation was explained to him with such -clearness that the amateur detective had no difficulty in understanding -what was required of him. - -He asked no questions, but nodded his head to show that he comprehended -the situation. - -“Above all,” was the final injunction, “do not lose sight of Miss -Halliday. Stick to her like a burr, whatever happens; but do not let -her know you are watching her. Is it all clear to you, Toby?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Then run along, and be prepared to meet Phœbe at the house when -Janet calls for her.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -MARION’S GHOST STORY - - -When Janet Ferguson arrived at the Eliot homestead that evening she was -greeted by enthusiastic shouts from the younger Darings, with whom she -was a great favorite. They surrounded her in a group before she could -reach the house, while Phil came across the lawn to meet her and shake -hands cordially. - -Phœbe, glancing sharply around, saw Toby Clark leaning against a -column of the dining room porch, where he was half hidden by the vines. - -“Come!” she whispered, and led the way into the house. Halfway up the -stairs she paused to look back, not hearing his footsteps; but he was -so close behind that he startled her and soon she had ushered him into -her own little room. - -“Lock the door behind you,” said she, “and pay no attention if anyone -knocks or tries to get in.” - -Toby merely nodded as he shut himself in. Phœbe hurried down to join -Janet, carrying a little handbag that contained the things she needed -for the night. - -“Why, Phœbe! where are you going?” asked Sue, seeing the bag. - -“To stay with Janet. Where is Cousin Judith?” - -“Over at the Randolphs.” - -“Then let us go that way,” said Phœbe to Janet. “I must tell her my -plans, for otherwise the Little Mother might worry.” Passing close to -Phil she whispered: “Is everything all right?” - -“Everything is right so far,” he replied. “But how is it with you, and -why are you going away to-night?” - -“Just for a little excitement,” she laughed. - -“You seem nervous and excited, now,” said her brother, looking at her -closely. “Anything new turned up to annoy you, Phœbe?” - -“I’m quite contented to-night, Phil, dear.” And then she ran away -before he could question her, further. - -They met Cousin Judith just leaving the Randolph’s house, and Marion -was with her. Miss Eliot at once approved Phœbe’s plan to stay with -Janet for the night. She thought the girl had seemed unnerved and ill -at ease lately and believed the change of environment would do her good. - -When Judith had bade them good night and started across the street to -rejoin her flock, Marion said: - -“I’ll walk with you a little way, if you don’t mind. It’s such a lovely -evening, and I’ve a mystery to disclose, besides.” - -“A mystery--oh, Marion!” exclaimed Janet. - -“Why are you so astonished?” asked Marion, as the three girls locked -arms and sauntered up the street. - -“Because I cannot imagine a mystery connected with such a very -practical person as yourself,” returned Janet. - -“Tell us what it is,” urged Phœbe, “for then it will remain a -mystery no longer.” - -“Oh, yes it will,” declared Marion, rather soberly. “I’ve no solution -to offer. All I can do is tell you what I saw, and allow you to solve -the mystery yourselves.” - -“What did you see, then?” inquired Janet, curiously. - -“A ghost.” - -“A ghost! Why, Marion!” - -“Of course, my dears, there is no such thing as a ghost, although, -as I say, I saw it plainly. Otherwise I should have called it an -‘apparition’ instead of a ‘mystery’.” - -“To be sure.” - -“But if I saw a ghost, and ghosts are impossible, then I am in touch -with a mystery,” she continued. “Do you follow my logic, girls?” - -Janet gave a careless laugh. - -“I thought at first you were in earnest,” she said. - -But Phœbe had lived in romance during the past few days and no -element of mystery now seemed absurd to her. Indeed, she began to feel -slightly uneasy, without knowing why. - -“Where did you see your ghost, Marion?” she asked. - -“In its proper place--the graveyard.” - -“Oh!” said Janet and Phœbe together, for their companion had spoken -seriously and with a slight shudder. Moreover, the graveyard was at -that moment a short block to their left, and twilight had already -fallen. Beneath the rows of maples and chestnuts that lined the road -the shadows were quite deep. - -“I am troubled with insomnia,” explained Marion. “The doctors say I -have studied too hard and my nerves are affected. At any rate I am very -wakeful, and sometimes do not go to bed until two or three o’clock in -the morning, knowing I could not sleep if I tried. Last evening I was -especially restless. It was a beautiful starlit night, so after the -family had all retired I slipped out of doors and started for a walk -through the lanes. I have often done this before, since I came here, -and it is not unusual for me to visit the old graveyard; not because I -am morbid, but for the reason that it seems so restful and quiet there.” - -“Naturally, dear,” murmured Janet. - -“Last night my walk took me that way. I passed through the turnstile -and wandered among the graves to the far end. It must have been long -after midnight, but I had not a particle of fear, believe me, girls. I -was not even thinking of such preposterous things as ghosts. - -“By and by I retraced my steps and sat down on a fallen slab of stone -to indulge in reverie. From my position I faced that ugly square -mausoleum Phœbe’s grandfather once built. There is an iron grating -around it, you remember, and a marble door to the tomb itself, with -bronze hinges and a bronze catch. By the way, isn’t that tomb supposed -to be vacant?” - -“Yes,” answered Phœbe, strangely excited. “Gran’ma Eliot and my -father and mother occupy graves just beside it, for gran’pa built the -big tomb just for himself.” - -“Not a very generous thing to do,” added Janet; “but Mr. Eliot has -always been a queer man, and done queer things.” - -“Well,” continued Marion, “I sat facing the tomb, as I said, when -slowly and without sound the marble door opened and a ghostly figure -emerged. I won’t assert it was a spirit from the other world, nor will -I claim it was some person dressed in a sheet; but I am positive it was -no vision of my imagination. So let us call it the Ghostly Mystery.” - -“Was it a man or a woman?” asked Phœbe, breathlessly. - -“It failed to disclose its sex, my dear. The door seemed to swing shut -behind it; but the ghostly one was obliged to put out an arm to raise -the latch of the iron gate. It passed through and I heard the click of -the latch as it again fell into place. Then the apparition--” - -“The Ghostly Mystery, Marion!” - -“Oh, yes; the Ghostly Mystery glided out of sight while I sat -listlessly wondering what it could be. I was not frightened, but I -failed to act promptly; so, when I arose to follow it, the thing or -person--or whatever it was--had disappeared for good and all.” - -The three strolled on in silence for a while. Then Phœbe asked: - -“What time was it?” - -“Perhaps one o’clock. It was nearly two when I got home; but I had -walked quite a way before I decided to enter the house.” - -“And have you no idea who it might be?” questioned Janet, who had now -grown thoughtful. - -“Not the slightest.” - -“I wish I had seen it,” said Phœbe, softly. - -“Oh, do you like ghosts? Well, then, I’ll take you with me on my next -midnight ramble,” laughed Marion. - -“Why not go to-night?” suggested Janet. “Phœbe is going to stay -with me, and you may come too, Marion. Our house is even nearer to the -graveyard than your own, and at dead of night we’ll all steal out and -waylay his ghostship. What do you say?” - -“I am willing,” declared Marion. “Are you sure you will not be -frightened?” - -“I may be,” admitted Janet, honestly; “but I’m willing to risk it.” - -“So am I!” echoed Phœbe, eagerly. - -“Then it is decided,” said Marion. “I frankly acknowledge, girls, that -while we are living in an eminently practical and scientific age, these -romantic adventures still prove fascinating. Let us hope we shall -discover the ghost, and that the apparition will be of a quality to -thrill our stagnant blood.” - -“Must you go home first?” inquired Janet. - -“Not if you’ll lend me a night robe. No one at home pays any attention -to my wanderings, so I shall not be missed.” - -They soon arrived at Judge Ferguson’s comfortable residence, which -was a little beyond the outskirts of the village and delightfully -situated on a slight eminence. Mrs. Ferguson, an alert, pleasant-faced -little woman, welcomed the girls cordially and they passed the evening -chatting together and discussing recent events in which all were -alike interested. Phœbe was a bit distrait, for she could not help -wondering what was happening in her room at home, where Toby Clark was -keeping watch over the movements of old Elaine; but no one appeared to -notice her abstraction. - -Later in the evening the judge came in, and smiled cheerily upon the -three young girls. - -“You’ve quite a house-party to-night, Janet,” he said. “I wish you -might keep this bevy with you for a month.” - -Neither by glance nor word did he remind Phœbe of their conversation -of the afternoon, and when they prepared to go upstairs he kissed all -three impartially. - -“What, to bed already?” he cried. “But run along and get your beauty -sleep. Why should you wish to sit up with an old fossil like me?” - -“Who has deserted us nearly the whole evening,” pouted Janet. - -“True; I am to blame,” he admitted. “But a lawyer is never his own -master, and to-night business kept me in the town.” - -Phœbe thought she knew what had occupied him, but said nothing. - -In their rooms the girls sat and discussed their plans, waiting for the -judge and Mrs. Ferguson to get to bed and for the arrival of the hour -when they might venture forth. It was demure little Janet who suggested -they all wear sheets on their midnight stroll. - -“We can carry them over our arms until we get to the graveyard,” she -said, “and then wrap ourselves in the white folds. If the ghost appears -we’ll show him that others are able to play the same trick.” - -“But we might frighten him,” laughed Marion. - -“Whoever is playing ghost must be trying to frighten others,” returned -Janet; “for, as you say, actual really-truly ghosts do not exist. I -think it would be fun to turn the tables on the impostor.” - -“Perhaps so. What do you think, Phœbe?” - -“It may be a good idea,” she said, rather reluctantly, for somehow -she regarded this matter far more seriously than did the others. The -ghost was using her grandfather’s tomb for its headquarters, according -to Marion’s report, and that gave Phœbe a personal interest in the -affair. - -At last the clock warned them it was nearly twelve o’clock; so they -gathered up the sheets Janet had provided and stole noiselessly from -the house. The graveyard was only a short distance away and they -reached it about midnight, taking their position in a dark corner near -the Eliot mausoleum. They assisted one another to drape the sheets -effectually and then sat down upon the ground, huddled close together, -to await the advent of the ghost. - -“Perhaps it won’t come to-night,” whispered Janet, with a suspicion of -hopefulness in her voice. - -“True; we must be prepared for that disappointment,” replied Marion, -soberly. - -“Do you feel at all creepy, girls?” asked Phœbe, who caught herself -indulging in nervous shivers at times, despite the fact that the night -was warm and sultry. - -“For my part,” said Marion, “I have no silly fears when in a graveyard. -I find the place serenely restful, and therefore enjoy it.” - -“I wouldn’t care to be here alone,” admitted Janet; “but, as we’re all -together I--I don’t--think I shall mind it--even if the Ghostly Mystery -materializes.” - -It was a long wait, and the three girls beguiled it at times by -whispering together, more through desire to hear the sound of their own -voices than because they had anything important to say. One o’clock -arrived at last. Marion could read the face of her watch under the -starlight. Another half hour dragged wearily away. - -“I fear we shall encounter no adventure to-night,” Marion was saying, -when Phœbe seized her arm and drew her back into the shadow. - -“Hush!” she murmured, and pointed an arm toward the turnstile. - -Two hearts, at least, were beating very fast now, for the long-expected -ghost was at last in sight, gliding silently past the turnstile. Well, -not exactly “gliding,” they decided, watching intently. It was not a -very healthy looking ghost, and to their astonishment was entering -the graveyard with shuffling, uneven steps. Of course it should have -suddenly appeared from some tomb, as every well regulated ghost is -supposed to do. - -“The Mystery seems rather clumsy, Marion,” said Janet in an excited -whisper. - -“Isn’t it carrying something?” asked Phœbe. - -“Yes; a weight of some sort in each hand,” was Marion’s composed reply. -“The weights are as white as the ghost itself. Queer; isn’t it, girls?” - -Glancing neither to right nor left the apparition slowly made its way -into the graveyard and advanced to the big square mausoleum erected -as the future abiding place of Jonathan Eliot. The white-robed figure -seemed bent and feeble. - -“Come!” said Marion; “let us surround it and play ghost ourselves.” - -She glided swiftly out into the starlight, wrapping her sheet closely -about her, and gained a position behind the tomb. Phœbe and Janet -followed, spurred on by Marion’s fearless action. One passed to the -right and the other to the left. - -Singularly enough, the bent figure did not observe their presence until -the tomb was nearly reached, when Marion circled around the railing and -confronted the mysterious visitant. At the same time Janet and Phœbe -advanced and all three slowly raised their white-draped arms above -their heads. - -“Woo-oo-oo!” wailed Marion. - -With a shriek that pierced the night air far and wide the ghost -staggered backward and toppled to the ground, lying still as death. - -Startled though she was, Phœbe sprang forward and peered into the -upturned face. - -“Why--it’s Elaine!” she cried aloud. - -“Yes,” said a quiet voice beside her. “And you’ve raised the very -mischief by this mad prank, Phœbe Daring.” - -It was Toby Clark, who gazed down at the still figure and wagged his -tow head, mournfully. - -“Is she dead, Toby?” asked Janet, in a hushed, frightened tone. - -“I think not. Probably, she’s fainted.” - -“And what was she carrying?” inquired Marion, seeming unmoved by the -tragic occurrence. - -Phœbe knew; they were two canvas bags of gold; but she said nothing. - -“See here,” cried Toby abruptly, “it’s possible you crazy females have -not spoiled the game, after all. Make tracks--will you, girls?--get -away, out of sight; run home, so she won’t see you when she comes to.” - -“But--I don’t understand,” began Janet, timidly. - -“You’re not supposed to,” retorted Toby, more gruffly than he had ever -spoken to her before. - -“Toby is right, girls--I know he is right. Come--_please_ come!” -pleaded Phœbe, anxiously. - -Thoroughly bewildered, Janet and Marion suffered her to lead them away, -and when they had passed the turnstile and were out of sight Toby -retreated and hid behind a gravestone. - -Elaine did not recover at once, for her terror had been great and her -faint was proportionately deep and lasting. But finally, when Toby was -about to steal out again and see if she were dead, the old woman moved -uneasily and moaned. A little later she sat up, placing her hands to -her head. Then she seemed to remember the cause of her fright, for she -cast fearful glances around her. - -Apparently reassured, she presently tried to rise, and after several -attempts regained her feet. The bags of gold still lay where she had -dropped them and after another suspicious look around the graveyard -she stooped and picked them up. - -For several moments the woman stood motionless in that silent city of -the dead, pondering on the forms she had seen and trying to decide -whether her imagination had played her a trick, or she had really -beheld the spirits of those gone before. The fact that she had not been -robbed led her to dismiss any idea that the forms were mortal. Whatever -the explanation might be, she reflected that she was now alone and had -a purpose to accomplish. - -She carried her load to the iron grating, unlocked the gate and passed -through. The marble door of the mausoleum worked with a secret spring. -Toby’s sharp eyes carefully marked the manner in which she released -this spring and permitted the heavy marble block to swing noiselessly -outward. - -Elaine only lingered long enough to place the bags of gold inside. Then -she closed the door of the tomb, let herself out at the iron gate and -after one more shrewd inspection of the silent place made her way out -of the graveyard and took the path that led back to her home. - -Far behind her Toby followed like a shadow. - -In half an hour she returned to the vault again, laden as before. For -an old woman, and one who had just received a nervous shock, Elaine -Halliday showed remarkable vitality. Her body appeared frail and weak, -but an indomitable spirit urged it to perform its tasks. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR - - -When Judge Ferguson arrived at his office the next morning he found -Toby Clark awaiting him. - -“What! You’ve not let Miss Halliday escape?” he exclaimed. - -“Miss Phœbe is watching her,” returned Toby. “I felt it was -important for me to come here to report.” - -“Very well; sit down and tell me what you have to say.” - -“Early last evening,” began the youth, “I heard the woman in her room. -I watched her through the peephole Miss Daring had prepared. She was -gathering all the money from the hiding places. The bills and small -change she made into packages; the gold she left in the bags. Then she -went into another room--the room occupied by Mr. Eliot--and returned -with an armful of papers.” - -“What sort of papers?” inquired the lawyer. - -“They looked like legal documents, bonds, deeds and such things, sir. -All were neatly folded and tied in packages.” - -“Ah! I wonder where they could have been hidden.” - -“No telling, sir. They’ve been mighty clever, haven’t they? Well, sir, -she made those papers into two separate parcels. Then she wrapped -herself in a sheet which she took from her bed, hid the parcels under -it, and left the house.” - -“She took only the papers?” - -“Only the papers that time, sir. I tried to follow her, but the only -way I could get out of the house without noise was through the window. -I tied some sheets and blankets together and let myself down that way; -but I was too late. The woman had disappeared, and I could not tell in -what direction.” - -“Too bad, Toby.” - -“But I knew she would return, for there was the money to be lugged -away. So I hid by a hedge and waited till she came back. She went into -the house by the outside stair and soon brought out two bags of gold, -one in each hand. This time, I followed her. She went to the graveyard, -and I knew why she had draped herself in the sheet.” - -“Why?” - -“So, if anyone chanced to see her there, they would take her for -a ghost. Some one did see her there--three girls, also dressed in -sheets--your daughter, Phœbe Daring and Marion Randolph.” - -“Well, I declare!” ejaculated the lawyer. - -Toby told of the incident in the graveyard, and how Miss Halliday had -afterward made still another trip with the balance of the money. - -“Did she put it all into the vault?” asked the judge. - -“Yes, sir; and so I suppose she put the papers there, too. But I cannot -be positive of that.” - -“But--good gracious, Toby!--what possessed the woman to hide all that -plunder in a vault?” - -“She is quite clever, sir. The other hiding place had been discovered -by Phœbe; some of the money had been taken; it was best to hide it -elsewhere. Who would ever think of searching a graveyard for it?” - -“You’re right, Toby. But what happened afterward?” - -“Very little, sir. Miss Halliday went to bed and slept soundly, for I -heard her snore.” - -“You climbed in at the window again?” - -“Yes, sir; and had some sleep myself.” - -“What a wonderful woman Elaine is!” - -“I can’t help admiring her, sir.” - -“And what about Mr. Eliot, Toby?” - -“While waiting for the woman, when she escaped me the first time, I -stole up the stairs and looked in. Mr. Eliot was sitting quietly in his -chair, in the dark.” - -“She left him there all night!” cried the judge, horrified. - -“It seems so, sir.” - -“That is cruelty. Even his helpless body must tire with remaining in -one position so long. Usually Elaine has taken better care of him than -that,” said Mr. Ferguson, indignantly. - -“She was much excited last night; and the poor man can’t complain, you -know,” returned Toby, with a shrug. - -“What did Miss Halliday do this morning?” asked the lawyer, after a -moment’s thought. - -“She rose early and got her breakfast. I heard her walking around the -front rooms, putting them in order and waiting on Mr. Eliot. She seemed -quite composed this morning, and that may be due to the thought that -her money is now safe from discovery. When Miss Phœbe came home from -your house, Miss Halliday met her and handed her this note.” - -Judge Ferguson took the paper. On it were scrawled the words: “At -twelve o’clock I will keep my word.” - -“Miss Phœbe is very anxious, sir,” continued Toby. “So I thought it -best to come to you and report.” - -The lawyer looked at his clerk, reflectively. Old Miss Halliday’s -persistent threat to prosecute Phœbe impressed him strongly. For, -had she not been able to prove her right to this secret hoard, the -woman would never dare to expose the affair to public notice. Mr. -Ferguson was quite positive that no such paper as Elaine had displayed -to Phœbe would hold good in a court of law; but the woman might -have other proofs that she was entitled to the property she claimed. -In any event the judge did not wish to be forced to act hastily in so -important a matter. Time was necessary. - -Half an hour later he entered Mr. Spaythe’s private office at the bank -and said: - -“Spaythe, I want to borrow three thousand, three hundred and ninety -dollars--and I want the money now.” - -Mr. Spaythe gave a perceptible start, passed his hand over his -forehead, and cast a perplexed and annoyed glance at the lawyer. - -“May I have it?” demanded the judge. - -Eric had entered in time to hear this demand, and the sum mentioned -sent his face white and made his knees knock together. In his hand -was a paper he had intended asking his father to indorse, but it was -all forgotten as the boy stared blankly at Judge Ferguson. Did the -lawyer know? Then how many others knew? Eric had not yet recovered -from his fright, and his great fear was of his father’s anger. Why -had Mr. Spaythe said nothing to his son about the stolen money, and -what punishment was he planning? The son of the strict, inflexible -banker well knew the fault would not be forgiven nor condoned, and the -uncertainty of his position was becoming unbearable. - -“Certainly you may have the money, Judge,” was Mr. Spaythe’s slow -reply. “For how long do you require the loan?” - -“Perhaps only for a few days.” - -“Then I’ll give you my personal check, and make no other record of the -transaction.” - -As he drew his check book toward him Eric slipped back into the bank -and resumed his stool. He was trembling as with an ague. - -Presently Mr. Ferguson came to the window and asked Mr. Boothe to give -him currency for the check. He spoke loudly enough for both Eric and -Phil to overhear him. - -“How will you have it, sir?” asked the cashier. - -“Fifteen hundred in gold and eighteen hundred and ninety in bills.” - -Eric nearly fell off his stool, and Phil looked up with a start. The -effect upon the two boys was entirely different, however, for Daring -had nothing to fear. So Phœbe’s secret was out, thought Phil, and -Judge Ferguson was the person who had given her the money. But, in -that case, why was the judge now asking for a similar sum, and in the -same sort of money? The mystery was certainly beyond Phil Daring’s -ability to solve. He gravely continued his work, feeling certain that -everything would come right in the end. It hurt him, though, to feel he -was not in his twin’s confidence. - -Mr. Ferguson took his money and departed. When he reached his office he -said to Toby Clark: - -“Go back to the Eliot house and send Phœbe to me. You must remain to -watch Miss Halliday, but you can do that from the lane, or from some -other point of vantage. I don’t much care what the woman does while -she is at home, but if she attempts to leave the place be prepared to -follow her.” - -“All right, sir.” - -Phœbe came for the money and found it ready for her, tied in a neat -parcel. - -“Don’t answer any questions during your interview with Elaine,” he -advised. “And take care to ask none. Above all, don’t let her suspect -you were playing ghost in the graveyard last night.” - -Phœbe promised and went home again. At twelve o’clock she carried -the package around to the rear stairs, which she was about to mount -when Elaine appeared in the doorway above her. - -“Stay where you are!” was the harsh command. - -The girl resented the words and the tone, so with determination she -mounted the stairs. Elaine barred her way. - -“You must count the money and give me a receipt,” said Phœbe. - -“I’ll count it; but you’ll get no receipt, for you gave none, you -miserable little thief!” snarled the woman, rudely snatching the parcel. - -“Then, I’ll wait here until you count it.” - -“No you won’t. Go down--instantly! And if the money is not all here, to -jail you go.” - -“I think I’ll see my grandfather,” asserted the girl, more to annoy -Elaine than because she wished to visit the helpless old man. - -For answer Miss Halliday slammed the door in her face and locked it. -Phœbe slowly retreated and descended to the yard. There the thought -occurred to her that she might watch Elaine through the rear windows, -for she was curious to see how she acted when she found the money all -restored. So she slipped away into the lane, which being slightly -elevated enabled her to peer into the second story windows. There she -bumped against Toby Clark, who was standing half hidden by a clump of -bushes. - -“Oh! You here?” she exclaimed. - -“Yes. Anything up?” he inquired. - -“I’ve just given Elaine the money, and she impudently locked me out. So -I thought I’d come here and watch the windows.” - -“That’s what I’ve been doing. Stand back here in the shade, Miss -Daring, so you won’t be seen. That’s it. Now look at that window. What -do you see?” - -“Only gran’pa sitting in his chair.” - -“Oh. Is that your grandfather!” - -“Of course,” said Phœbe. “He sits there all day long, looking over -the country. Once, you know, he owned all the land as far as he can now -see.” - -“And does he sit there all night, too?” - -“No, indeed; Elaine puts him to bed at night.” - -“Last night,” said Toby, reflectively, “she left him in his chair, -instead of putting him to bed. I saw him. The room was dark, but he was -so close to the window that the stars showed his form distinctly.” - -“Then Elaine is neglecting poor gran’pa!” cried Phœbe, indignantly. -“And he is so dependent on her kindness, too!” - -Toby gave a low, apologetic cough. - -“Your eyes are good, Miss Daring?” - -“Yes,” she replied. - -“Then look again, and carefully. Is that indeed your grandfather--is it -really Mr. Eliot in the chair?” - -Phœbe was surprised at the question, but she looked carefully. - -“Of course. I’ve seen him sitting that way every day, for months past.” - -“Can you see his face?” - -“Not very well, from here. It is muffled up in his dressing gown, you -know, so he won’t take cold.” - -“It’s pretty warm to-day,” observed the lawyer’s clerk. - -“But Gran’pa Eliot is paralyzed, and his blood doesn’t circulate -freely. He is always well wrapped up, whatever the weather.” - -Toby whistled softly and looked down at the ground, where he was -digging up the earth with the toe of his shoe. - -“It must be dinner time,” said Phœbe, suddenly remembering the fact. -“Phil will be coming home and I must go in.” - -“Will you be very busy this afternoon, Miss Daring?” - -“I think not. Why?” - -“Can you come here for a half hour or so?” - -“Yes, Toby, if I can be of any service.” - -“I think you can. This is a queer affair, isn’t it?” - -“It’s very queer, Toby.” - -“Then I shall expect you,” he said with a sudden change of tone. - -Phœbe went in, thinking the while how odd this boy was. She wondered -casually why Judge Ferguson had placed so much confidence in him. There -was still a good deal of mystery about this affair and Phœbe did -not yet know what the lawyer intended to do to checkmate old Elaine. -However, she was content to trust her father’s friend, and greatly -relieved to be able to return that dreadful money to the covetous woman. - -After dinner she walked with Phil to the gate. Said he: - -“Have you anything to tell me?” - -“Not yet, Phil,” she answered softly. “Try to be patient, for all is -well, I’m sure, and we’re going to be very happy when these troubled -days are over.” - -He said no more, but bent and kissed her and went on his way. - -After accomplishing a few household duties and bandaging a cut on -Becky’s arm--it seemed the girl was always hurting herself--and helping -Don find his cap, which he always mislaid when he came in, Phœbe -remembered her promise to Toby Clark and slipped away unobserved to his -station in the lane. - -She found the little clerk staring fixedly at the window where Gran’pa -Eliot sat. He gave a start as the girl approached, and then his -freckled face lit up with a smile. - -“I want you to watch Miss Halliday for me, for half an hour,” he said. - -“Where is she?” - -“Somewhere in those upper rooms. She has just passed the window to -the left. But, although I’ve watched her for hours, she has never once -stopped at your grandfather’s side to do anything for him.” - -“Poor gran’pa!” - -“Now, listen, Miss Phœbe. The judge told me not to lose sight of -that woman. If she tries to leave the house I am to follow her. But I -want to get away, for just a little while, and I’d like you to watch in -my place.” - -“But, what shall I do if she goes away?” - -“Follow her, and I’ll find you both. But she won’t leave the house -to-day, I’m sure.” - -“Very well; I’ll do the best I can, Toby.” - -He nodded and walked away, going straight to the graveyard. When he -reached there he climbed nimbly over the high iron rail, at the risk of -breaking a limb, and faced the Eliot mausoleum. Pressing the spring, as -he had seen Elaine do, he opened the marble door and passed into the -tomb. - -A few moments later he came out with a pale, startled face and closed -the door. A while he stood lost in reverie; then he clambered over the -railing again and went to relieve Phœbe. - -“Thank you, Miss Daring,” he said quietly. “You may go, now. Anything -to report?” - -“Why, a minute ago Elaine came to the window where gran’pa sits, and -after staring out, as if she suspected I was watching her, she turned -and shook up gran’pa’s pillows, and moved his chair back a little. So -you see we were wrong, and she is not really neglecting him.” - -Toby chuckled. - -“She’s a slick one, is Miss Halliday!” he murmured. “But I’ll keep an -eye on her now.” - -“Aren’t you hungry?” asked Phœbe, remembering he had been on duty -since the evening before. - -He shook his head. - -“Brought some bread and cheese with me, Miss Daring. Good-by.” - -“Good-by, Toby.” - -The afternoon passed slowly for Phœbe. She was still wrought up over -the exciting events of the past few days and felt that she was almost -as much in the dark concerning Judge Ferguson’s intentions as was -Phil. She tried to copy some manuscript on her typewriter, for she had -been neglecting the work lately, but somehow the girl had conceived an -undefined horror of her room. So she went to sit with Cousin Judith, -while she finished darning her stockings. - -“Phœbe, dear,” said Miss Eliot, “there’s something mysterious going -on in this house.” - -“Is there?” asked Phœbe, with downcast eyes. - -“I think so. Phil has not been himself, lately. I’m sure he is worrying -dreadfully over something. Is anything wrong at the bank?” - -“No, Cousin Judith. Phil is all right. He’s doing splendid work, as you -may know from the fact that Mr. Spaythe has raised his salary.” - -“But the boy is unhappy, nevertheless,” persisted the Little Mother, -musingly. - -Phœbe sighed. She knew it was true. - -“As for you, my dear,” continued Judith, “you are a mere bundle of -nerves lately, and start and grow pale if anyone speaks to you. What -has happened, Phœbe?” - -The girl darned industriously for a time. Then she said earnestly: - -“You trust me, Cousin Judith, do you not?” - -“You know I do, Phœbe.” - -“Then please do not question me to-day. I don’t want to mislead you, -or deceive you, and Judge Ferguson has asked me not to confide in -anyone--not even you.” - -“Judge Ferguson!” exclaimed Judith, relieved. “Is it his secret, then?” - -“Just now it is,” answered Phœbe. “But there is nothing to worry -about, dear. That’s what I told Phil, just after dinner.” - -Miss Eliot was really puzzled, but she felt it would be unkind to press -Phœbe further. - -“Becky, Don and Sue know nothing of the matter, at least,” she -observed, after a moment’s reflection. - -“No, indeed,” said Phœbe. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -TOBY CLARK’S HEROISM - - -Late that night Toby Clark heard a man pacing slowly up and down the -street, passing the Eliot house each time. Peering through the shadows -the boy thought he recognized the straight, erect figure. Creeping -close to a hedge that bordered the highway he whispered: - -“Mr. Ferguson!” - -“Yes, Toby. I’ve been looking for you,” replied the judge in a low -voice, as he paused beside the hedge. - -“Something’s going to happen to-night, sir.” - -“So I suspected. What is it?” - -“Miss Halliday’s getting ready to flit, sir.” - -“Are you sure?” - -“She’s been packing up for the last hour, sir.” - -“And intends to leave poor Mr. Eliot alone! How dreadful!” - -“Would you mind going for Sam Parsons, Mr. Ferguson?” - -The lawyer gave a start. Parsons was the village constable. - -“Parsons! Dear me; do you think he’s needed, Toby?” - -“Better have everything ship-shape, sir.” - -The judge reflected. Had he a right to arrest Elaine? She was merely -a servant, after all, and it was not a felony to throw up such a -position. But, there was the money--that secret hoard which she had -claimed as her own and hidden away in the tomb. She had claimed to own -the property, as well, yet was voluntarily preparing to leave it--a -circumstance which led the shrewd lawyer to suspect that she knew her -claim to be illegal. Had she, then, any better right to the money, the -bonds and papers? Judge Ferguson decided he would get the constable. - -“There is no time to be lost, sir,” suggested Toby Clark, uneasily. - -“I’ll meet you here shortly. Sam doesn’t live far away, and he’ll be at -home now; probably in bed and asleep.” - -“I’d like you to hurry, if you please. And if I’m not here when you -return, come to the graveyard.” - -“The graveyard!” - -“She’ll want to put away the money that Miss Phœbe gave her to-day, -you know.” - -“Of course, Toby. I’ll hurry.” - -He turned and walked swiftly away, while the clerk went back to his -post of observation. A candle was burning in one of the upper rooms and -it dimly lighted the form of Jonathan Eliot, seated beside his favorite -window. Now and then Miss Halliday passed one of the windows. She had -on a shawl and bonnet. - -The judge was prompt. He encountered the constable just coming home -from town, and immediately dragged him away, explaining the case as -they walked. - -Sam Parsons was a man of few words and he knew Judge Ferguson. He asked -no questions, understanding he was merely to arrest old Miss Halliday -if she tried to get away. The judge knew the reason for this action, -and that was all that was necessary, for the time being. - -Toby met them and posted them beside the path Elaine must take to get -to the tomb. From their cover they gazed curiously at the muffled form -of old Jonathan Eliot; but the examination was brief, for suddenly the -light went out. - -“She’s coming!” whispered Toby. “I’ll follow her first, and then you -must follow me at a safe distance.” - -“Why not arrest her now?” asked the lawyer. - -“Oh, no--not now, sir!” protested Toby in an eager voice. “Wait, sir; -wait.” - -He could say no more, for they discerned Elaine’s angular form coming -down the stairway. In one hand she carried an old-fashioned satchel. -Under the other arm was the package of money which Phœbe had -returned to her. - -Pausing at the foot of the stairs the woman cast penetrating glances in -every direction. Then, evidently reassured, she stealthily traversed -the back yard and passed through the gate into the lane. It was quite -dark under the shadow of the trees, and Elaine had no suspicion that -three silent watchers stood almost within arm’s reach as she hurried -along the well-known path. Presently Toby Clark glided away in her -wake, and before his dim form became wholly invisible the constable and -the lawyer started after him. - -Thus the extraordinary procession advanced to the very borders of the -graveyard. Once or twice Toby halted suddenly, and the others perforce -followed suit; but that was only when Elaine paused to shift her -luggage from one hand to the other; then they all resumed the silent -march. - -When she unlocked the gate of the iron grating surrounding the tomb she -did not wait to fasten it behind her; so, as soon as she had entered -the mausoleum Toby slipped inside the railing and signaled the others -to follow him. The three being now within the enclosure, the young man -closed the gate and turned the key in the lock just as Elaine again -appeared. - -The starlight rendered the three forms clearly visible. - -The woman gave a low cry and rushed to the grating, which she shook -with impotent rage. Then, turning to confront her captors, she -exclaimed: - -“Who are you? How dare you come here?” - -“A graveyard is not private property,” said the judge. - -“Mr. Ferguson!” - -“Yes, Miss Halliday. Let me return your question: why are you here?” - -She glanced at the door of the mausoleum, which she had left ajar -in her first panic at being discovered. Then her eyes fell upon the -satchel she had left beside the gate. These people had surprised her, -but she reflected that they could know nothing of her secret, or of -her present purpose. All she needed was to gain time. Before any could -prevent her she sprang to the marble door and forced it shut. It closed -with a sharp click as the spring bolt shot into place. The secret of -opening it had been known only to Jonathan Eliot and herself. - -Toby gave a little laugh, and the lawyer roused himself and said -sternly: - -“I am awaiting your explanation, Miss Halliday.” - -“Well, I guess you’ll wait for it awhile,” she retorted, a note of -triumph in her voice. “You’ve no right to detain me here, Judge -Ferguson. Open that gate, and let me go!” - -“I fear, madam, you have broken the law, and we must therefore arrest -you,” said the lawyer. - -“I’d like to see you do it!” she cried, but she drew in her breath -sharply and pressed one hand to her heart. - -“You will be gratified, Miss Halliday. Officer, do your duty.” - -As the constable advanced she shrank back against the iron gate. - -“No, no!” she said. “Don’t arrest me. I’ve done nothing to be arrested -for. Come to the house in the morning and I’ll explain everything.” - -The lawyer hesitated. - -“You may go to the house, if you wish; but Mr. Parsons will go with -you, and guard the place until morning,” he said. - -Toby Clark was pulling his sleeve. - -“One moment, sir, before you decide,” he pleaded. - -“What is it, Toby?” - -“Come with me, please.” - -The boy went to the door of the mausoleum, touched the secret spring, -and the marble block swung out. Elaine gave a cry that was half a sob -and pressed her hands to her heart again. - -“Come in, please--all of you, if you will,” said the clerk. - -Parsons and Mr. Ferguson followed him into the black interior of the -tomb. The air was close and bore a peculiar, sickening odor. - -“One moment,” said Toby. - -He struck a match, holding it shielded between his hands until it -flared up and lighted the confined space. On a marble slab in the -center of the tomb lay a dead body. - -“Good God!” cried the judge, recoiling; “it’s Jonathan Eliot!” - -An echoing cry came from Toby. Dropping the match he made a bound -for the door just as the heavy slab was swinging into place, urged -by Elaine’s most desperate efforts. There was no way to open it from -the inside, and the danger was imminent. In an instant the young man -had thrust his foot into the crack that was now barely large enough -to receive it, while Elaine, crowding the weight of her body against -the marble, crushed and mangled the heroic boy’s flesh in a last vain -effort to entomb her three captors and condemn them to a horrible death. - -The next instant the burly form of Sam Parsons thrust back the door. -Then he wrapped his arms around the struggling woman and caught her in -a firm clasp. Judge Ferguson, trembling with horror, raised Toby from -the ground, where he had fallen and lay writhing and moaning with the -pain of his maimed and wounded foot. - -Snap--snap! went the handcuffs that encircled Elaine’s wrists, while -she fought, scratching and biting, to resist capture. - -“I’ll carry Toby down to the doctor’s, sir,” said the constable. “You -can march ahead with that tigress. There’s no danger, Judge; she can’t -escape us now, and we’ll soon land her in jail.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -FATHER AND SON - - -The Darings slept soundly that night, all unaware of the tragic events -taking place in their neighborhood. However, the adventure was not -yet ended for Judge Ferguson, even when the Halliday woman had been -securely locked up and the doctor had dressed Toby’s mangled foot and -he had been put to bed. - -“Sam,” said the lawyer, “I have work to do, and you must help me.” - -“Count on me, Judge,” was the ready reply. “I don’t mind an all-night -job once in a while, though I wouldn’t care for it as a steady diet. -What’s next?” - -They awakened the undertaker, Davis, the next thing, and after the -lawyer had told him the story he at once hitched up a team to drive -to the tomb for Mr. Eliot’s body. As the undertaker was also the -liveryman, Mr. Ferguson obtained a single horse, harnessed to a roomy -box-buggy, in which he and Sam Parsons followed the other rig. Arriving -at the graveyard they held back while Davis took charge of the remains -and loaded the body into the wagon, and not till he had driven away did -the constable and the lawyer venture into the mausoleum, the door of -which they had propped open to avoid the danger of being entombed alive. - -The buggy was fairly loaded when all the treasure and the papers had -been placed in it, and then they drove to the lawyer’s office, where -they deposited the precious freight and Parsons watched beside it until -morning. - -Mr. Ferguson, meantime, got a couple of hours’ sleep; but he was back -at the office by daybreak, and while waiting for the bank to open -sent Sam to get his breakfast, while he himself began a systematic -examination of the papers he had seized. - -It did not take him long to discover that Jonathan Eliot had been -a wealthy, if miserly, man. The government bonds and cash alone -constituted a fortune, but aside from these were many mortgages and -investments that drew a high rate of interest. There was no paper -purporting to be a will; no letters of administration or any indication -that the old man had transferred his holdings to Elaine Halliday, or -to any other person. The deed of gift which Phœbe had seen was -doubtless secreted upon the person of the housekeeper. - -While the judge was thus absorbed in the papers the day advanced -and Spaythe’s Bank was opened for business. Phil, arriving at his -usual time, found Mr. Spaythe already in his office and the door -communicating with the countingroom wide open. - -Moreover, the banker seemed laboring under unusual excitement. He would -walk the floor of his office with nervous strides, then seat himself in -the chair by his desk, and a few moments later resume his pacing. At -times he glanced into the room where Phil was at work, or toward the -cage where the cashier was busy. Eric had not yet arrived. - -Presently in came Judge Ferguson, accompanied by Sam Parsons, and both -were loaded down with gold and bank notes. - -“Good morning, Spaythe,” called the judge, nodding genially. “I want -to make an important deposit, to be credited to the Estate of Jonathan -Eliot.” - -“Eliot!” exclaimed the banker. “Is the old man dead, then?” - -“Very dead, Spaythe; and he’s left a lot of money. Here, Boothe, count -it--and count it carefully, my man--for this is the biggest deposit -your bank has ever received.” - -Phil had overheard this, and came forward with a pale and troubled -face. - -“Is it true, sir?” he asked, half frightened. - -“Yes, Phil; it’s true.” - -“When did my grandfather die?” - -“Two or three days ago, I think. But we only discovered his body last -night, lying in that tomb he built, where Elaine Halliday had carried -him after propping up a dummy in the window to make us all believe he -was still alive.” - -Then they all went into the private office, where Mr. Ferguson related -the night’s occurrences to Mr. Spaythe and Phil Daring, the constable -being present to confirm the story. - -“Had it not been for the bravery of Toby Clark,” concluded the judge, -“we might all three have been buried alive in that hideous tomb. No one -could have come to our assistance, for no one knew where we had gone.” - -“The woman must be crazy,” asserted the banker. - -“Perhaps; but she’s clever enough in some ways,” sighed the lawyer, -“and may cause us a lot of trouble yet. That’s why I have deposited -this money to the credit of the Eliot Estate. No one can touch it now -until the courts decide to whom it belongs. And, by the way, Spaythe, -that three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars I borrowed from -you is among the lot!” - -During this conversation Eric had entered the bank, and seeing the -interested group gathered in his father’s office came to the open door -just as the judge again mentioned the fatal sum that he had stolen -from the safe. His face instantly went white with terror, and he was -creeping away when Mr. Spaythe sprang up, seized his son’s arm and drew -him into the office. - -“Gentlemen,” said the banker, turning to the others, “I too have a -story to relate, and I beg you to seat yourselves and listen.” - -“May I go, sir?” asked Phil in a troubled tone. - -“No, Daring; you must remain; for what I have to say concerns you -closely. Sit down.” - -Phil sat down. Judge Ferguson glanced from Phil to Eric, who stood -with hanging head; then to Mr. Spaythe, whose countenance was cold and -severe and bore the marks of a secret sorrow. The constable, accustomed -to strange scenes, remained impassive and silent. - -“On Saturday night,” began Mr. Spaythe, in a hard, resolute tone, “this -bank was robbed of three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars, in -gold and currency.” - -Eric staggered and caught at the corner of the desk for support. Phil -grew pale, for he was astonished at the banker’s knowledge. Mr. Ferguson -knew the fact already, having listened to Phœbe’s confession, so he -merely glanced at the father and son in a thoughtful way and refrained -from comment. - -[Illustration: “I’VE A STORY TO RELATE,” SAID THE BANKER.] - -“My son had warned me,” continued the banker, speaking bitterly, “that -Phil Daring would not be liable to withstand the temptation of stealing -money, once he was alone in the bank and knew the combination of the -safe. At first I scorned the idea; then, for my own satisfaction, I -decided to watch. Here in my door is a sliding panel, through which I -am able to observe, when I so desire, everything that goes on in the -back room. On Saturday night I came here, letting myself in at the -private entrance to this room, and found Phil Daring working on the -books while his twin sister sat beside him. From their conversation -I discovered that they knew the bank was about to be robbed. They -arranged to watch the robbery unobserved, and I decided to do likewise. -At midnight a man entered the bank, opened the safe and took away -three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars. That man,” he added, -pointing a merciless finger toward the culprit, “was my own son.” - -No one spoke. Eric tried to answer, but a sob choked him. He had raised -his head now and was reading his father’s face with a fascinated and -horror-stricken gaze. - -“From the conversation of the two Darings,” went on Mr. Spaythe, “I -learned that Eric had so plotted that Phil was to be accused of the -crime--and of other peculations that preceded it. The girl promised to -save her brother, and I was curious to know how she would do it. To my -amazement they brought the money to the bank on Sunday evening, and I -saw them replace it in the safe--every penny that Eric had taken. The -act was so astonishing, so wholly unexpected and inexplicable, that -there seemed but one possible solution: that the Darings had in some -way forced Eric to give up the stolen money. So I kept silent, waiting -for an explanation, or for some further development; for if Eric had -been shown the folly and wickedness of his crime it might be better for -him not to know that I had discovered it. I may have been weak in this; -but, gentlemen, he is my son.” - -The banker paused, pressed his lips firmly together, and after a time -resumed his statement. - -“Further developments occurred, indeed, but they served to undeceive -me, and to add to my perplexity. Eric restored to the bank several -hundred dollars which he had formerly embezzled; he also paid his debts -around town, amounting to several hundred dollars more; I have a list -of them. Therefore, he could not have returned to the Darings the money -he took from the safe on Saturday night--and he had no other money.” - -Eric drew a long and tremulous sigh. Then he sank into a chair and -buried his face in his hands. The tale was all new to him, and he found -the truth vastly different from what he had imagined. Also, despair had -seized him in its pitiless grasp, and as his eye by chance fell upon -the constable he shuddered. His father’s intentions were clear to him -now. - -“Another surprising circumstance,” said Mr. Spaythe, ignoring Eric’s -dejected attitude, “was Judge Ferguson’s demand upon me for the exact -sum Eric had stolen--the exact sum Phœbe Daring had restored to -the safe. Therefore, I have asked you to listen to me that you may -understand I am entitled to some explanation. My son’s crime is known -to the Darings and to Mr. Ferguson, as well as to myself; I, only, am -in the dark concerning the events which followed it.” - -“Those events I can explain in a few words, sir,” said the judge, -his kindly voice showing how deeply he was grieved for his old -friend. “Phœbe Daring had discovered her grandfather’s hoard, -which Miss Halliday had secreted in her own room. To save her brother -from unjust accusation the girl took the sum required to make good -Eric’s--eh--eh--withdrawal. Miss Halliday claimed this money was given -her by Jonathan Eliot, by a deed of gift, and threatened Phœbe -with jail unless she returned the entire sum. It was my purpose just -then to lull old Elaine’s suspicions; so I borrowed the money from -you, Mr. Spaythe, that Phœbe might return it to her grandfather’s -housekeeper. So you see that after all the various conspiracies, -Spaythe’s Bank is still short that identical sum of three thousand, -three hundred and ninety dollars.” - -“Not the bank, sir,” said the other harshly, “but my personal account -is short that sum. You are relieved of all obligation to return it, -Judge Ferguson.” - -The lawyer bowed. - -“In that case,” said he, somewhat embarrassed, “perhaps you will permit -us now to withdraw.” - -The banker sat silent a moment, his stern face pallid and thoughtful. -Then he turned to Phil. - -“Mr. Daring,” he said, “I owe to you and to your brave sister my -thanks for your discretion and consideration of me in the conduct of -this unfortunate affair. Eric owes you a still greater debt. You have -behaved as a man, sir; I wish to God you had been my son instead of -that cowering criminal seated before me. Will you add a little to my -obligation--will you do me another favor?” - -“If I may, sir,” said Phil, flushed and miserable despite this praise. - -“Tell me what punishment to inflict upon this--thief.” - -Phil straightened up and looked squarely into the banker’s eyes. He had -longed for this question; the opportunity was now his. - -“Sir,” he replied, “I know Eric; I have known him for years. His fault -lay in his extravagant tastes, which forced him into debt because his -father would not give him as much money as he thought he needed. The -debts drove him to crime, and for his crime he has already suffered -such punishment as all your proposed severity could not inflict upon -him. I know Eric--tender-hearted, generous and kind--not bad, sir, in -spite of this offense he was so weak as to commit. If you will forgive -him, Mr. Spaythe, if you will love him and take him to your heart -again, I promise that never in the future will you have cause to regret -it. Eric will be honest and true from this day forward. But if, on the -other hand, you now cast him off, you will ruin his life and your own; -for a boy condemned by his own father can hope for no mercy from the -world. He is your only son, Mr. Spaythe; forgive him.” - -During this impassioned speech, which came straight from the young -fellow’s heart, the banker sat staring at him with dull, expressionless -eyes. Eric had raised his head to gaze at Phil wonderingly. Then he -turned to his father a pleading look that might have melted his anger -had he seen it; but Mr. Spaythe still stared at Phil Daring, as if -dazed by the boy’s frankness. - -Mr. Ferguson slowly rose and laid an arm across the banker’s shoulder. -The gesture was strangely caressing, as between one man and another. - -“Phil is right, Duncan,” he said softly. “The boy is your son, and you -can make a man of him, if you will.” - -Slowly the banker’s head drooped until it rested upon his arms, -outstretched upon the flat desk before him. For a time he remained -motionless, while those who watched and waited scarce dared to breathe. - -Then Mr. Spaythe looked up, and the sternness had left his face. - -“Eric,” he said, “you are forgiven.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE WATERMARK - - -Phœbe found the chickens had not been fed, and they were making a -plaintive outcry for attention. She went to the stair and called to -Elaine, but there was no reply. - -Slowly ascending to the upper floor she pushed open the door and -called again. Then something about her grandfather’s awkward position -attracted her attention. She crept forward to peer into his face; then -started back with a cry of dismay. Her grandfather was not there. A -pillow and a bolster supported the dressing gown and head-shawl which -had so cleverly deceived her. - -Hurrying down she met Phil and Judge Ferguson coming up the walk. They -told her to get Cousin Judith, and when the four were assembled in the -quaint old parlor the girls heard the extraordinary story of Elaine’s -arrest and Eric’s forgiveness. - -Miss Halliday made a desperate fight for Jonathan Eliot’s money. Judge -Ferguson was not the only lawyer in Riverdale. Among the others was -a little, fat, bald-headed man named Abner Kellogg, whom the court -allowed to defend the woman. - -Kellogg was shrewd, and Elaine promised him a big fee if he won; so he -challenged Mr. Ferguson to prove that the deed of gift was a forgery -and had not been signed by the deceased miser. - -This was a difficult thing to do. The signature was very much like Mr. -Eliot’s; so like it that the experts would not state positively that -he had not affixed it to the deed. Moreover, Elaine’s contention that -she had received no regular wages for years; that she had been the only -close friend and confidant of the old man, and that he had promised -her his money and property, when he died, as a return for her faithful -service, was all so plausible that it greatly strengthened her claim. - -She testified before the court that Jonathan Eliot had executed this -deed of gift just before he was stricken with paralysis. - -“He would not give me the paper then,” she explained in a logical, -composed way, “but kept it in an iron box in his secret cupboard. He -told me that when he died I could take the paper, and it would prove my -claim. So I did take it, and showed it to Phœbe Daring, and she gave -me back the money she had stolen from me.” - -When asked why she had concealed the fact of Mr. Eliot’s death for -three days and hidden his body and the money in the tomb, she replied -that she was afraid of the Darings and their lawyer, Judge Ferguson. -The Darings had stolen from her and the judge had threatened her with -the law. She was a simple, inexperienced old woman, she added, unable -to oppose such bitter and powerful enemies, who had always treated -her unjustly. She feared that when they knew of Mr. Eliot’s death -they would take away her money--as indeed they had done--and so she -had tried to keep the matter secret until she could get far away from -Riverdale. She had intended to let the Darings have the house, although -it was clearly her own. The place had grown distasteful to her, and the -money would enable her to live comfortably in some other part of the -country. - -She flatly denied her attempt to entomb Mr. Ferguson, the constable and -Toby Clark, which had been frustrated by the boy sacrificing his foot -for their lives, and they refrained from pressing this charge against -her. Toby’s foot was healing, but he would be a cripple as long as he -lived. - -Taken all together, Elaine’s position was far more strong than Mr. -Ferguson had anticipated. By permission of the court he examined the -deed of gift closely, afterward complaining that the paper seemed too -new to have been written upon three years ago. It was a heavy, thick -sheet, resembling parchment, and on it the judge discovered a watermark -consisting of the letters “A.R.” - -Lawyer Kellogg, who defended Elaine, replied that paper kept away from -light and air, as this had been, would remain white and look new for -years, and therefore Mr. Ferguson’s contention was ridiculous. The -court agreed with Mr. Kellogg in this, and poor Mr. Ferguson was at his -wits’ end to find some reasonable flaw in the document. - -The case had been on trial for a week, and had been adjourned over -Sunday. The Darings and Cousin Judith, who had at first been elated -at the prospect of inheriting Gran’pa Eliot’s wealth, had by degrees -fallen into a state of hopeless despondency. - -After his Sunday dinner Judge Ferguson came over for a talk with his -clients, and although his intention was to cheer them, his own face was -too serious to be very assuring. - -“I am morally certain that woman is deceiving us,” he said; “but I must -confess my fear that we shall be unable to prove the deed a forgery.” - -“Never mind, sir,” replied Phil, smiling at Phœbe to give her -courage; “we’ve managed to get along so far without gran’pa’s money, -and I guess we can stand it hereafter.” - -“That isn’t the point,” suggested Judith. “The money is rightfully -yours, and you are entitled to it. Why, the fortune left by my uncle is -nearly a hundred thousand dollars, counting the money and securities -alone. Surely Elaine Halliday cannot claim her services to be worth all -that!” - -“Not justly, my dear,” answered the judge; “but the law will not -look at it from that point of view, and here is a point of law to be -considered. If the deed is allowed to stand we cannot prevent Elaine -from getting every penny, and the house to boot. If it is a forgery, -and so proved, she is not entitled to a dollar beyond her wages as -housekeeper. Even that would be forfeited by her deception.” - -“Suppose,” said Phœbe, “we compromise, and agree to give her all the -money if she will let us have the house. Wouldn’t that be better than -getting nothing at all?” - -“I fear it is too late to compromise,” said the judge, shaking his head -regretfully. “At first we might have made such an arrangement, but now -that pettifogger Kellogg will insist on her getting everything. Elaine -has wisely left her defence entirely in Kellogg’s hands.” - -“Isn’t he a rascal?” asked Cousin Judith. - -“I would not accuse him of rascality,” was the reply. “No; Kellogg is -not a bad man, nor a bad lawyer; he is doing his duty by his client, -that is all.” - -Just then Becky came rushing across the lawn, screaming and laughing. -She was closely followed by Don and Allerton Randolph, who tried to -head her off. Becky was clutching and waving a paper, and she ran up to -Cousin Judith, who sat beside the judge, and thrust the paper into her -hand, crying: - -“Don’t let ’em have it, Little Mother--promise you won’t!” - -“But what is it?” asked Judith, glancing at the paper and then smiling. - -“Allerton drew it, just for us,” said Donald, flushed and angry, -“and Becky grabbed it and ran away. Make her give it back, Cousin -Judith--Allerton doesn’t want anyone to see it.” - -“But it is quite clever,” replied Judith, still smiling. “I did not -know you were so good an artist, Allerton.” - -“I am not very clever, Miss Eliot,” replied Allerton, in his sedate -way. “Mother thinks I am artistic, and encourages me to draw; but -she does not like me to make cartoons, such as this, for she says it -degrades my talent.” - -“H-m. Let’s see the cartoon,” said the judge. - -“May I show it to Mr. Ferguson, Allerton?” - -The boy hesitated. - -“If you wish to, Miss Eliot,” he said. - -The judge took the paper, put on his glasses, and after a glance -laughed heartily. It was a caricature of old Miss Halliday, executed -with considerable humor and skill, considering the artist’s youth. - -Suddenly the judge gave a start and the paper trembled in his hands. - -“Bless my soul!” he cried, holding it to the light. “What’s this?” - -“That?” said Allerton, leaning forward. “Oh, that is the watermark of -my initials, ‘A.R.’ The drawing paper was especially made for me, as a -Christmas present.” - -A silence fell upon the little group. Mr. Ferguson, Phœbe, Phil and -Cousin Judith eyed one another by turns, and in every eye gleamed the -certainty that Jonathan Eliot’s fortune was saved to the Darings. - -“When did you receive such a fine present, Allerton?” asked Phil, his -voice trembling in spite of his efforts to control it. - -“At the last holiday season,” answered the boy readily. - -The old lawyer turned a delighted face to the eager group. - -“Your grandfather has been paralyzed three years!” he exclaimed. - -“Tell me,” said Phœbe to Allerton, “did you ever give Miss Halliday -any of your paper?” - -He took time to think; then his face brightened and he replied: - -“Only one sheet. She begged me for it one day when she brought the -eggs.” - -“And when was that, my lad?” inquired Mr. Ferguson. - -“A month ago, perhaps.” - - * * * * * - -Mr. Kellogg threw up Elaine’s case in disgust, and would have nothing -more to do with it. When the deed of gift was proven a forgery and old -Miss Halliday was told she must go to prison unless she confessed, she -finally broke down and admitted the truth. Being aware of the fact that -no one save herself knew of her master’s hoarded treasure, she planned -to get it for herself. After practising his handwriting for months she -became so expert that the deed she finally executed deceived even the -experts. Had it not been for the telltale watermark upon the paper she -would have easily won. - -The unscrupulous woman took her defeat with dogged indifference, -still protesting that her wages were in arrears and that she was -entitled to several hundred dollars for back pay. This, by advice of -Judge Ferguson, was given her. The Darings refrained from prosecuting -the poor creature, and she was allowed to take her wages and leave -Riverdale forever. - -No one in the little village seemed sorry to see her go. - - - - -In Preparation - - “Phœbe Daring: Conspirator” - by L. 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The -spelling of Phoebe in the List of Illustrations and caption facing -page 244, and on pages 130 and 317, has been changed to Phœbe. Other -changes have been made as follows: - - Page 30 - make it think, logically _changed to_ - make it think logically - - Page 44 - more’n a fly minds sugar. _changed to_ - more’n a fly minds sugar.” - - Page 54 - the buss that carried their ball players _changed to_ - the bus that carried their ball players - - Page 97 - to leave any article where-ever _changed to_ - to leave any article wherever - - Page 191 - final catastrophy he seemed overcome _changed to_ - final catastrophe he seemed overcome - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Daring Twins, by L. 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Frank Baum - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - body {margin: 0 10%;} - .chapter, .section {page-break-before: always;} - h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} - h2 {font-size: 1.6em; line-height: 2em;} - p {margin-top: 1em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 1em; text-indent: 1em;} - .p110 {font-size: 1.1em;} - .p120 {font-size: 1.2em;} - .p130 {font-size: 1.3em;} - .p140 {font-size: 1.4em;} - .p160 {font-size: 1.6em;} - .p180 {font-size: 1.8em;} - em {font-style: italic;} - - /* General */ - .p140 {font-size: 1.4em;} - .noi {text-indent: 0;} - .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - .mt3 {margin-top: 3em;} - .mb3 {margin-bottom: 3em;} - .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} - .underline {text-decoration: underline;} - .word-spacing {word-spacing: 2em;} - - /* Table */ - table {margin: auto; border-collapse: collapse;} - th {font-size: .8em;} - td {padding: .2em;} - .tdl {text-align: left;} - .tdr {text-align: right; padding-right: 1em;} - .tdr2 {text-align: right; padding-left: 1em;} - - /* Book list container */ - .book-list-container {max-width: 30em; margin: auto;} - .box {border: 1px solid #000;} - ul.roman {list-style-type: upper-roman;} - .pl2 {padding-left: 2em;} - - /* Block center */ - .block-center-container {text-align: center; margin: 0;} - .block-center {display: inline-block; width: 20em; text-align: left;} - .block-center2 {display: inline-block; width: 26em; text-align: left;} - - /* Horizontal rules */ - hr {width: 60%; margin: 2em 20%; clear: both;} - hr.divider {width: 65%; margin: 4em 17.5%;} - hr.divider2 {width: 45%; margin: 4em 27.5%;} - - /* Page numbers */ - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 2%; text-indent: 0em; - text-align: right; font-size: x-small; - font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; - color: #999; border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid; - background-color: inherit; padding: .01em .4em;} - - /* Images */ - img {max-width: 100%; width: 100%; height: auto;} - .figcenter {clear: both; margin: 2em auto; text-align: center; max-width: 100%;} - .width500 {width: 500px;} - .width400 {width: 400px;} - .caption {margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; line-height: 1.5em;} - - /* Notes */ - ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 1px dotted #dcdcdc;} - .tn {width: 60%; margin: 2em 20%; background: #dcdcdc; padding: .5em 1em;} - ul {list-style: square;} - ul.nobullet {list-style: none; text-align: left;} - li {margin-bottom: .5em;} - ul.books {list-style: none; margin-left: 0; padding-left: 0em; text-indent: -2em;} - - @media handheld { - body {margin: .5em; padding: 0; width: 98%;} - p {margin-top: .1em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .1em; text-indent: 1em;} - hr.divider, hr.divider2 {border-width: 0; margin: 0;} - img {max-width: 100%; width: auto; height: auto;} - table {width: 96%; margin: 0 2%;} - .tn {width: 80%; margin: 0 10%; background: #dcdcdc; padding: 1em;} - a {color: inherit; text-decoration: inherit;} - .hidehand {display: none; visibility: hidden;} - h2 {font-size: 1.6em; line-height: 2em;} - } - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Daring Twins, by L. Frank Baum - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Daring Twins - A Story for Young Folk - -Author: L. Frank Baum - -Illustrator: Pauline M. Batchelder - -Release Date: December 15, 2016 [EBook #53735] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DARING TWINS *** - - - - -Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, University of Colorado -Boulder and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<hr class="divider" /> -<h1>The Daring Twins</h1> -<hr class="divider2" /> - -<div class="hidehand"> -<div class="figcenter width500"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="763" alt="Cover" /> -</div></div> - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -</div> -<div class="book-list-container"> -<p class="center p140 underline"><i>Best Books for Young Folk</i></p> - -<p class="center p160">The Aunt Jane Series</p> - -<p class="center">By EDITH VAN DYNE</p> - -<div class="block-center-container"> -<div class="block-center"> -<ul class="books"> -<li>Aunt Jane’s Nieces</li> -<li>Aunt Jane’s Nieces Abroad</li> -<li>Aunt Jane’s Nieces at Millville</li> -<li>Aunt Jane’s Nieces at Work</li> -<li>Aunt Jane’s Nieces in Society</li> -<li>Aunt Jane’s Nieces and Uncle John</li> -</ul> -</div></div> - -<p>“Aunt Jane’s Nieces” chronicles the real doings of real girls in a most -interesting manner. “Aunt Jane’s Nieces Abroad” tells of a delightfully -adventurous trip through Europe, and the third volume describes their -summer holiday on a farm “at Millville.” In the fourth story the -“Nieces” are shown at work in the political arena. The fifth volume -introduces the girls to society and the last story relates further -adventures of these fascinating girls.</p> - -<p><i>Illustrated 12mos. Uniform cloth binding, stamped in colors, with -beautiful colored inlay.</i></p> - -<p class="center p120"><i>Price 60 cents each</i></p> - - -<p class="center p160">Annabel</p> - -<p class="center">By SUZANNE METCALF</p> - -<p>A bright, swiftly-moving story of a young girl just blossoming into -womanhood, and of a boy struggling for a start in life.</p> - -<p><i>12mo. Dainty cloth binding, with inlaid design and six duotone -illustrations.</i></p> - -<p class="center p120"><i>Price 60 cents</i></p> -</div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> -<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="400" height="586" alt="Frontispiece" /> -<div class="caption smcap">“You’re Elected Little Mother.”<br /> -(<i>See Page <a href="#frontis">104</a>.</i>)</div> -</div> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<p class="center p180">The Daring Twins</p> - -<p class="center p130">A Story for Young Folk</p> - -<p class="center">By</p> - -<p class="center p120">L. Frank Baum</p> - -<p class="center">Author of The Oz Books, The Sea Fairies<br /> -and Other Tales</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/title.jpg" width="200" height="105" alt="Title page" /> -</div> - -<p class="center p110">Illustrated by Pauline M. Batchelder</p> - -<p class="center p130">Publishers<br /> -The Reilly & Britton Co.<br /> -Chicago</p> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider2" /> -<p class="center mb3">COPYRIGHT, 1911<br /> -by<br /> -The Reilly & Britton Co.</p> - -<p class="center mt3">THE DARING TWINS</p> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<h2><a name="contents" id="contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table summary="Contents"> -<tr> -<th class="tdr">CHAPTER</th> -<th> </th> -<th class="tdr2">PAGE</th> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">I</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Introducing the Darings</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">9</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">II</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Phil Interviews the Lawyer</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">17</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">III</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Becky Gets Acquainted</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">32</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Phœbe’s Secret</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">46</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">V</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">A Match Game</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">54</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Hunting a Job</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">63</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">The Coming of Cousin Judith</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">74</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">The “Articles of Adoption”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">94</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Phœbe Has an Adventure</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">109</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">X</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">A Depressing Interview</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">121</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Getting Regulated</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">127</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">A Battle Royal</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">145</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Phil Makes a Discovery</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiii">153</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">The Folly of Gran’pa Eliot</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiv">166</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Sue Gets a Divorce</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xv">173</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">The Boat Race</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvi">188</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">In the Toils</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvii">195</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">A Sister’s Love</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xviii">215</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">The Way of the Transgressor</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xix">232</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XX</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Accused</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xx">242</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Shifting the Burden</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxi">251</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Marion’s Ghost Story</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxii">261</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXIII</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Two and Two Make Four</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxiii">276</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXIV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Toby Clark’s Heroism</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxiv">290</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXV</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">Father and Son</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxv">298</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XXVI</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">The Watermark</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xxvi">309</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider2" /> -<h2><a name="illustrations" id="illustrations"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - -<table summary="Illustrations"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcap">“You’re elected ‘Little Mother’”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcap">She eagerly counted the gold</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#she">166</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcap"><a name="Phoebe1" id="Phoebe1"></a><ins title="Original has 'Phoebe'">Phœbe</ins> glanced at her calmly</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#glanced">245</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcap">“I have a story to relate,” said the banker</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#have">302</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> -<p class="center p180">The Daring Twins</p> -</div> - -<h2><a name="i" id="i"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> -<small>INTRODUCING THE DARINGS</small></h2> - -<p>“Now you-all stop dat a-foolin’ an’ eat yo’ brekfas’ like sens’ble -chill’ns,” said Aunt Hyacinth, coming in with a plate of smoking cakes. -“Ef yo’ don’, yo’ done be late fo’ school, shore ’nuff.”</p> - -<p>A ripple of laughter went around the group of five young Darings as a -scramble was made for the cakes.</p> - -<p>“I don’t b’lieve I’ll go to school to-day, Auntie,” said Sue, a demure -little miss at the lower end of the table.</p> - -<p>“Yes yo’ will, honey,” retorted the black mammy, in a voice she meant -to be severe. “Yo’ ’s goin’ to school, all of yo’, an’ I don’t ’tend -yous’ll be late, nuther.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not going, for one,” declared Don, his mouth too full to speak -properly.</p> - -<p>“Get some more cakes; will you, Aunt Hy?” requested Becky, in a -plaintive tone. “They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> snapped those up so quick I couldn’t harpoon a -single one.”</p> - -<p>The faithful old servant pattered back to the kitchen, slid more -cakes from the griddle to her plate, poured on fresh batter and came -pattering back again.</p> - -<p>“Yo’, now, Miss Sue; what’s dat I heah ’bout stayin’ home f’m school?” -she demanded, a frown wrinkling her ebony brow.</p> - -<p>“That’s it, Auntie; no school for me,” said Sue, grabbing a cake with -her fork before Phœbe could reach the plate.</p> - -<p>“But yo’ mus’, chile; yo’ ain’t sick. Yo’ <em>mus’</em> go to school.”</p> - -<p>“Not to-day. I jus’ won’t, Auntie.”</p> - -<p>“Yes yo’ will, Miss Sue! yo’ ’ll go ef I has to lead yo’ dere by de ear -o’ you.”</p> - -<p>Even Phil joined the laughter now, and he said in his grave yet -pleasant way:</p> - -<p>“You’ll have to lead us all, then, Auntie, and there are more ears than -you have hands.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Hyacinth seemed bewildered. She looked around the table, from -one to another of the bright, laughing faces, and shook her head -reproachfully.</p> - -<p>Then Sue, having consumed the cake, leaned back in her chair, shook the -tangled brown curls from her face and slowly raised her long curling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> -lashes, until the mischievous eyes were unveiled and sent a challenge -to Auntie’s startled ones.</p> - -<p>“We’re misbehavin’ <em>drea</em>’fully; ain’t we? But a fact’s a fact, Auntie. -We’re none of us goin’ to school—so there, now!”</p> - -<p>“W’y, yo’—yo’—yo’—”</p> - -<p>Sue sprang upon her chair and threw both arms around old Hyacinth’s -neck, giving the black cheek a smacking kiss.</p> - -<p>“You big goose!” said she; “don’t you know it’s Sat’day? There <em>be</em> n’t -no school.”</p> - -<p>“Wha’ ’s ’at?” cried Auntie, striving to cover her humiliation at being -caught in such a foolish error. “Is dat a proper speechifyin’ to say -dere ‘<em>be</em> n’t no school’? Where’s yo’ grammeh, Miss Sue? Don’ let me -heah yo’ say ‘be n’t’ agin. Say, ‘dere <em>hain’t</em> no school.’”</p> - -<p>Phœbe led the laughter this time; but, when it had subsided she said -to the indignant servant:</p> - -<p>“She certainly does use awfully bad grammar, Auntie, and you’re quite -right to correct her. But, I’m positive that something’s burning in the -kitchen.”</p> - -<p>Aunt Hyacinth made a dive for the door and let in a strong odor of -charred cakes as she passed through.</p> - -<p>Phœbe got up from her place and walked to the latticed window. -Something attracted her attention<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> outside, for she gave a little -start. Phil joined her just then and slipped his arm around her slim -waist. They were twins, these two, and the eldest of the five Darings.</p> - -<p>“What is it, dear?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“The people are moving in, across the way,” she said, rather sadly. “I -didn’t know they were expected so soon.”</p> - -<p>There was a rush for the window, at this, but five heads were too many -for the space and the outlook was hindered by a mass of climbing ivy. -Don made for the porch, and the others followed him into the fresh -morning air.</p> - -<p>For a while they all gazed silently at the great mansion across the -way, set in the midst of an emerald lawn. Men were carrying trunks in -at the side entrance. Before the door stood a carriage from which a -woman, a man, a girl and a boy had alighted. They were gazing around -them with some curiosity, for the scene was all new to them.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it funny,” whispered Becky, softly, “to think of other folks -living in our old home?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t ours, now,” said Don, testily; “so, what’s the odds?”</p> - -<p>“It was sold last fall, soon after papa died,” remarked Phœbe, “and -this Mr. Randolph bought it. I suppose that’s him strutting across the -lawn—the stout gentleman with the cane.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> -“The grounds seem more of an attraction to them than the house,” -remarked Phil.</p> - -<p>“Yes, they’re fresh from the city,” answered his twin. “I’m rather -surprised they haven’t come to Riverdale before, to occupy their new -home.”</p> - -<p>“Our house was sold ’cause we were poor, wasn’t it?” asked Sue.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear. We couldn’t afford to keep it, because poor papa left a -lot of debts that had to be paid. So we moved over here, to Gran’pa -Eliot’s.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t like this place,” observed Don, his hands thrust deep in his -pockets, as he stared across the street. “It isn’t half as fine or cosy -as our old home.”</p> - -<p>“It’s lucky for us that Gran’pa Eliot had a house,” returned Phil, -gravely. “And it’s lucky Mr. Ferguson induced him to let us live in it.”</p> - -<p>“Guess gran’pa couldn’t help himself, being paralyzed like he is,” said -Becky.</p> - -<p>“It’s the first thing he ever did for us, anyhow,” added Don, -grumblingly. “And he sticks to his room upstairs and won’t let us come -near him.”</p> - -<p>“Do you want to visit gran’pa?” asked Phœbe, turning to her younger -brother.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> -“Then don’t complain, dear, if he doesn’t want you. He’s old and -helpless; and as for helping us, I’m afraid gran’pa is almost as -poor as we are,” she said, her eyes still regarding, with wistful -earnestness, the scene across the street.</p> - -<p>“Poor! Gran’pa Eliot poor, with this big house?” exclaimed Sue, -incredulously.</p> - -<p>“I think so; I’m sure it’s so,” answered Phœbe. “Old Miss Halliday -asked me to keep you all from picking the fruit in the garden, when it -ripens; because, she says gran’pa has to sell it to get enough money to -pay taxes and his living expenses. And she gathers all the eggs from -the chickens and sells them to Mr. Wyatt, the grocer. That must mean -gran’pa’s pretty poor, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Is old Miss Halliday any relation to us?” asked Don.</p> - -<p>“No; she was an old servant of grandmother’s, before she died—her -housekeeper, I believe; and afterward, when gran’pa became paralyzed, -she took care of him.”</p> - -<p>“She seems to run everything around this place as if she owned it,” -muttered the boy.</p> - -<p>“She’s a very faithful woman,” observed Phil; “and a very disagreeable -one. I don’t know what gran’pa would have done without her. She gets -his meals and waits on him night and day.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> -“Somehow,” said Becky, “I sort o’ hate her. She won’t let us into -any of the back rooms upstairs, though she and gran’pa can’t use all -of ’em; and she never comes near us unless she wants to jaw about -something we’ve done. I run a clothesline through the grass yesterday, -and tripped old Halliday up when she went to feed the chickens, and she -was as mad as anything.”</p> - -<p>“I think she doesn’t care much for young people,” admitted Phœbe; -“and as none of us cares for her it’s just as well that we should live -apart—even if we occupy the same house. After all, my dears, we should -be grateful for being allowed so much room in this comfortable old -shack. We had no other place to go after our own home was sold.”</p> - -<p>There was silence in the little group for a moment. Then Becky asked, -curiously:</p> - -<p>“Where do we get the money to live on? We have to pay our own grocery -bills, don’t we?”</p> - -<p>Phil started and looked upon his younger sister wonderingly, as if she -had suggested a new thought to him. Then he turned to Phœbe.</p> - -<p>“There must have been a little money left,” he said. “It never occurred -to me before. I must ask Mr. Ferguson about it.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe flushed a trifle, but looked down instead of meeting her -twin’s earnest gaze.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> -“<em>I’ve</em> thought of it, Phil,” she replied, softly. “Whatever was left -after paying papa’s debts must have been little enough, and can’t last -forever. And then—”</p> - -<p>Phil was regarding her with serious eyes. He glanced at the younger -ones and said quickly:</p> - -<p>“Never mind. We haven’t suffered from poverty so far, have we? And -we won’t. We’ve Daring blood in our veins, and that means we can -accomplish anything we set out to do.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe smiled and turned to reënter the house.</p> - -<p>“Saturday is my busy day,” she remarked brightly. “I suppose you’re -going to practice for the baseball match, Phil?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, “I promised the boys—” Then he stopped and shook his -head. “I don’t know yet what I’ll do, Phœbe,” he added. “Just now -I’ve an errand down town.”</p> - -<p>He caught up his cap, kissed his twin and strode down the walk to -the gate. Phœbe cautioned the younger ones not to raise a racket -under Gran’pa Eliot’s window, but to keep in the front yard if they -were going to play. Then she stole softly away to her own little room -upstairs and locked herself in so as not to be disturbed.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ii" id="ii"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> -<small>PHIL INTERVIEWS THE LAWYER</small></h2> - - -<p>Phil Daring walked toward the village with uneasy, nervous strides. -There was an anxious expression upon his usually placid face.</p> - -<p>“Queer,” he muttered to himself, “that I never thought to ask how we’re -able to live. It costs money to feed five hungry youngsters; and where -does it come from, I wonder?”</p> - -<p>The Eliot house was on the brow of a knoll and the street sloped -downward to the little village where the “business center” clustered -around the railway station. The river was just beyond, flowing sleepily -on its way to the gulf, and at Riverdale a long wooden bridge spanned -the murky water. It was a quiet, pretty little town, but had such a -limited population that every resident knew nearly everyone else who -lived there and kept fairly well posted on the private affairs of each -member of the community.</p> - -<p>Wallace Daring, the father of the twins, had been the big man of -Riverdale before he died a few months ago. He had come to the town -many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> years before, when he was a young man, and built the great beet -sugar factory that had made all the farmers around so prosperous, -growing crops to supply it. Mr. Daring must have made money from the -business, for he married Jonathan Eliot’s daughter and established a -cosy home where Phil and Phœbe, and Donald and Becky were born. -Afterward he erected a splendid mansion that was the wonder and -admiration of all Riverdale. But no one envied Wallace Daring his -success, for the kindly, energetic man was everybody’s friend and very -popular with his neighbors.</p> - -<p>Then began reverses. His well-beloved wife, the mother of his children, -was taken away from him and left him a lonely and changed man. He tried -to seek consolation in the society of his little ones; but in a brief -four years he himself met a sudden death in a railway wreck. Then, to -the amazement of all who knew him, it was discovered that his vast -fortune had been swept away and he was heavily in debt.</p> - -<p>Judge Ferguson, his lawyer, was made his executor by the court and -proceeded to settle the estate as advantageously as he could; but -the fine mansion had to be sold. The five orphaned children lived in -their old home, cared for by honest, faithful Aunt Hyacinth, until two -months before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> the time this story begins, when a man from the East -named Randolph bought the place and the Darings moved over to their -grandfather’s old-fashioned but roomy and comfortable house across the -way.</p> - -<p>Phil walked more slowly as he approached the business district. The -task he had set himself was an unpleasant one, but he felt that he must -face it courageously.</p> - -<p>The boy’s father had been so invariably indulgent that Phil, although -now sixteen years of age, had never been obliged to think of financial -matters in any way. He was full of life and healthful vitality, and his -one great ambition was to prepare himself for college. His father’s -sudden death stunned him for a time, but he picked up the trend of -his studies again, after a little, and applied himself to work harder -than ever. Vaguely he realized that he must make a name and a fortune -for himself after graduating from college; but so far he had not been -called upon to consider the resources of the family. Mr. Ferguson had -attended to the settlement of his father’s estate, of which the boy -knew nothing whatever, and Aunt Hyacinth had cared for the house, and -got the meals and sent her five charges to school each day in ample -season. The lives of the young Darings had scarcely been interrupted -as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> yet by the loss of their father; although with him vanished every -tangible means of support. A chance word this morning, however, had -caused Phil to realize for the first time the fact that they were -really poor and dependent; and he knew it was his duty, as the eldest -of the family to find out what their exact circumstances were. In -reality he was not the eldest, for his twin sister, Phœbe, was five -minutes his senior; but Phil was a boy, and in his estimation that more -than made up for the five minutes’ difference in age and established -him as the natural protector of Phœbe, as well as of the other -children.</p> - -<p>Down at “The Corners” the main residence street entered the one lying -parallel with the river, and around this junction the business center -of Riverdale was clustered, extending some two or more blocks either -way. The hotel was on one corner and Bennett’s general store on -another, while the opposite corners were occupied by the druggist and -the hardware store. Bennett’s was a brick structure and all the others -were frame, except Spaythe’s Bank, a block up the street. Between them -were rambling one story and two story wooden buildings, mostly old and -weather-beaten, devoted to those minor businesses that make up a town -and are required to supply the wants of the inhabitants, or of the -farmers who “came to town” to trade.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> -Between the post office and the hardware store was a flight of stairs -leading to offices on the second floor. These stairs Phil ascended and -knocked at a door bearing a small painted sign, the letters of which -were almost effaced by time, with the words: “P. Ferguson; Lawyer.”</p> - -<p>No one answered the knock, so Phil opened the door and walked softly in.</p> - -<p>It was a bare looking room. A few maps and a print of Abraham Lincoln -hung upon the cracked and discolored plaster of the walls. At one side -was a shelf of sheep-covered law books; in the center stood a big, -square table; beyond that, facing the window, was an old-fashioned desk -at which sat a man engaged in writing. His back was toward Phil; but -from the tousled snow white locks and broad, spreading ears the boy -knew he stood in the presence of his father’s old friend and confidant, -Judge Ferguson. His title of “Judge” was derived from his having been -for some years a Justice of the Peace, and it was, therefore, more -complimentary than official.</p> - -<p>As Phil closed the door and stood hesitating, a voice said: “Sit down.” -The tone was quiet and evenly modulated, but it carried the effect of a -command.</p> - -<p>Phil sat down. There was a little room connected with the big office, -in which sat a tow-headed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> clerk copying paragraphs from a law book. -This boy glanced up and, seeing who his master’s visitor was, rose and -carefully closed the door between them. Mr. Ferguson continued writing. -He had no idea who had called upon him, for he did not turn around -until he had leisurely completed his task, when a deliberate whirl of -his revolving office chair brought him face to face with the boy.</p> - -<p>“Well, Phil?” said he, shooting from beneath the bushy overhanging -eyebrows a keen glance of inquiry.</p> - -<p>“I—I wanted to have a little talk with you, sir,” returned Phil, a bit -embarrassed. “Are you very busy?”</p> - -<p>“No. Fire ahead, my lad.”</p> - -<p>“It’s about our—our family affairs,” continued the visitor, haltingly.</p> - -<p>“What about them, Phil?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I know nothing as to how we stand, sir. No one has told me -anything and I’ve been too thoughtless to inquire. But, I ought to -know, Mr. Ferguson—oughtn’t I?”</p> - -<p>The judge nodded.</p> - -<p>“You ought, Phil. I’ve been going to speak of it, myself, but waited to -see if you wouldn’t come here of your own accord. You, or Phœbe. In -fact, I rather expected Phœbe.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> -“Why, sir?”</p> - -<p>“You’re not a very practical youth, Phil. They say you’re a student, -and are trying for honors at the high school graduation next month. -Also, you’re the pitcher of the baseball team, and stroke oar for the -river crew. These things occupy all your time, it seems, as well they -may.”</p> - -<p>Phil flushed red. There was an implied reproach in the old man’s words.</p> - -<p>“Now, Phœbe is different,” continued the lawyer, leaning back in -his chair with his elbows on the arms and joining the tips of his -fingers together—a characteristic attitude. “Phœbe has a shrewd -little head, full of worldly common sense and practical, if womanly, -ideas. I’d a notion Phœbe would come to me to make these necessary -inquiries.”</p> - -<p>Phil slowly rose. His face was now white with anger, yet his voice -scarcely trembled, as he said:</p> - -<p>“Then, I’ll let her come to you. Good morning, sir.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Ferguson nodded again.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he remarked, without altering his position, “my judgment of you -was correct. You’ll be a man some day, Phil, and a good one; but, just -now, you’re merely a stubborn, unformed boy.”</p> - -<p>Phil paused with his hand on the knob of the door. To leave the office -at this juncture would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> be humiliating and unsatisfactory. His nature -was usually calm and repressed, and under excitement he had a way -of growing more quiet and thinking more clearly, which is exactly -the opposite of the usual formula with boys of his age. His strong -resentment at the frank speech of the old lawyer did not abate, but he -began to reason that a quarrel would be foolish, and if he intended to -satisfy the doubts that worried him he must ignore the slight cast upon -his character.</p> - -<p>He laid down his hat and resumed his chair.</p> - -<p>“After all, sir,” he said, “I’m the eldest boy and the head of the -family. It is my duty to find out how we stand in the world, and what -is necessary to be done to protect and care for my brother and sisters.”</p> - -<p>“True enough, my lad,” rejoined the lawyer, in a hearty tone. “I’ll -help you all I can, Phil, for your father’s sake.”</p> - -<p>“You administered the estate,” said the boy, “and you are still my -guardian, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Your father left no will, and the court appointed me -administrator and guardian. I’ve done the best I could to untangle -the snarl Wallace Daring left his business in, and the affairs of the -estate are now closed and the administrator discharged.”</p> - -<p>“Was—was there anything left?” inquired Phil, anxiously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> -“Your father was a wonderful man, Phil,” resumed the lawyer, with calm -deliberation, “and no doubt he made a lot of money in his day. But he -had one fault as a financier—he was too conscientious. I knew Wallace -Daring intimately, from the time he came to this town twenty years ago, -and he never was guilty of a crooked or dishonest act.”</p> - -<p>Phil’s face brightened at this praise of his father and he straightened -up and returned the lawyer’s look with interest.</p> - -<p>“Then there was nothing disgraceful in his failure, sir?”</p> - -<p>“No hint of disgrace,” was the positive reply. “Daring made a fortune -from his sugar factory, and made it honestly. But three years ago all -the beet sugar industries of the country pooled their interests—formed -a trust, in other words—and invited your father to join them. He -refused, believing such a trust unjust and morally unlawful. They -threatened him, but still he held out, claiming this to be a free -country wherein every man has the right to conduct his business as he -pleases. I told him he was a fool; but I liked his sterling honesty.</p> - -<p>“The opposition determined to ruin him, and finally succeeded. Mind -you, Phil, I don’t say Wallace Daring wouldn’t have won the fight had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> -he lived, for he was in the right and had a host of friends to back -him up; but his accidental death left his affairs in chaos. I had hard -work, as administrator, to make the assets meet the indebtedness. By -selling the sugar factory to the trust at a big figure and disposing of -your old home quite advantageously, I managed to clear up the estate -and get my discharge from the courts. But the surplus, I confess, was -practically nothing.”</p> - -<p>Phil’s heart sank. He thought earnestly over this statement for a time.</p> - -<p>“We—we’re pretty poor, then, I take it, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty poor, Phil. And it’s hard to be poor, after having enjoyed -plenty.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t see that there’s any college career ahead of me, Mr. -Ferguson,” said the boy, trying to keep back the tears that rushed -unbidden to his eyes.</p> - -<p>“Nor I, Phil. College is a fine thing for a young fellow, but under -some circumstances work is better.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you tell me this before, then?” demanded the boy, -indignantly.</p> - -<p>“There was no use in discouraging you, or interrupting your work -at high school. I consider it is best for you to graduate there, -especially as that is liable to end your scholastic education. The time -is so near—less than three months—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> to continue your studies -would make little difference in deciding your future, and the diploma -will be valuable to you.”</p> - -<p>No one but Phil will ever know what a terrible disappointment he now -faced. For years his ambition, fostered by his father, had been to -attend college. All his boyish dreams had centered around making a -record there. Phil was a student, but not one of the self-engrossed, -namby-pamby kind. He was an athlete as well as a scholar, and led his -high school class in all manly sports. At college he had determined -to excel, both as a student and an athlete, and never had he dreamed, -until now, that a college career would be denied him.</p> - -<p>It took him a few minutes to crowd this intense disappointment into -a far corner of his heart and resume the conversation. The lawyer -silently watched him, his keen gray eyes noting every expression that -flitted over the boy’s mobile features. Finally, Phil asked:</p> - -<p>“Would you mind telling me just how much money was left, Mr. Ferguson?”</p> - -<p>“The court costs in such cases are extremely high,” was the evasive -reply. The lawyer did not seem to wish to be explicit, yet Phil felt he -had the right to know.</p> - -<p>“And there were your own fees to come out of it,” he suggested.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> -“My fees? I didn’t exact any, my lad. Your father was the best and -truest friend I ever had. I am glad I could do something to assist his -orphaned children. And, to be frank with you, Phil, I couldn’t have -squared the debts and collected legal fees at the same time, if I’d -wanted to.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” returned Phil, sadly. “You have been very kind, Mr. Ferguson, -and we are all grateful to you, I assure you. But will you please tell -me how we have managed to live for the past eight months, since there -was nothing left from father’s estate?”</p> - -<p>It was the lawyer’s turn to look embarrassed then. He rubbed his hooked -nose with one finger and ran the other hand through the thick mat of -white hair.</p> - -<p>“Wallace Daring’s children,” said he, “had trouble enough, poor things, -without my adding to it just then. I’ve a high respect for old black -Hyacinth, Phil. The faithful soul would die for any one of you, if -need be. She belongs to the Daring tribe, mind you; not to the Eliots. -Your father brought her here when he was first married, and I think -she nursed him when he was a baby, as she has all his children. So I -took Aunt Hyacinth into my confidence, and let her manage the household -finances. A month ago, when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> final settlement of the estate was -made, I turned over to her all the surplus. That’s what you’ve been -living on, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“How much was it?” asked the boy, bent on running down the fact.</p> - -<p>“Forty dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Forty dollars! For all our expenses! Why, that won’t last us till I -graduate—till I can work and earn more.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps not,” agreed the attorney, drily.</p> - -<p>Phil stared at him.</p> - -<p>“What ought I to do, sir? Quit school at once?”</p> - -<p>“No. Don’t do that. Get your diploma. You’ll regret it in after life if -you don’t.”</p> - -<p>“But—there are five of us, sir. The youngsters are hearty eaters, you -know; and the girls must have clothes and things. Forty dollars! Why, -it must have all been spent long ago—and more.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Ferguson said nothing to this. He was watching Phil’s face again.</p> - -<p>“It’s all so—so—sudden, sir; and so unexpected. I—I—” he choked -down a sob and continued bravely: “I’m not able to think clearly yet.”</p> - -<p>“Take your time,” advised the lawyer. “There’s no rush. And don’t get -discouraged, Phil. Remember, you’re the head of the family.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> Remember, -there’s no earthly battle that can’t be won by a brave and steadfast -heart. Think it all over at your leisure, and consider what your father -might have done, had some whim of fortune placed him in your position. -Confide in Phœbe, if you like, but don’t worry the little ones. Keep -a stiff upper lip with your friends and playmates, and never let them -suspect you’re in trouble. The world looks with contempt on a fellow -who shows he’s downed. If he doesn’t show it, he <em>isn’t</em> downed. Just -bear that in mind, Phil. And now run along, for I’ve a case to try in -half an hour, at the courthouse. If you need any help or advice, lad,” -he added, with gentle kindliness, “come to me. I was your father’s -friend, and I’m your legal guardian.”</p> - -<p>Phil went away staggering like a man in a dream. His brain seemed in a -whirl, and somehow he couldn’t control it and make it -<a name="logically" id="logically"></a><ins title="Original has 'think, logically'">think logically</ins>. -As he reached the sidewalk Al Hayden and Eric Spaythe ran up to him.</p> - -<p>“We’ve been waiting for you, Phil,” said one. “Saw you go up to the -judge’s office.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s hurry over to the practice field,” suggested the other, eagerly. -“The rest of our nine is there by this time, and we’ve got to get in -trim for the match this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>Phil stared, first at one face and then the other,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> trying to -understand what they were talking about.</p> - -<p>“If we’re beaten by Exeter to-day,” continued Al, “we’ll lose the -series; but we won’t let ’em beat us, Phil. Their pitcher can’t hold a -candle to you, and we’ve got Eric for shortstop.”</p> - -<p>“How’s your arm, Phil?” demanded Eric.</p> - -<p>They had started down the street as they talked, and Phil walked with -them. Gradually, the mist began to fade from his mind and he came back -to the practical things of life. “If a fellow doesn’t show it, he -<em>isn’t</em> downed,” the shrewd old lawyer had said, and Phil knew it was -true.</p> - -<p>“My arm?” he replied, with a return of his usual quiet, confident -manner; “it’s fit as anything, boys. We’ll beat Exeter to-day as sure -as my name’s Phil Daring.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="iii" id="iii"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> -<small>BECKY GETS ACQUAINTED</small></h2> - - -<p>Meantime Becky, Donald and Sue had maintained their interest in the new -neighbors, and partly concealed by the vines that covered the porch -were able to watch every movement across the way.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it a shame,” said Don, “to have them walk into our old home that -father built, and use the pretty furniture that mother bought in the -city, and have all the good things that <em>we</em> used to have?”</p> - -<p>“Wonder who’s got my room,” mused Sue. “If it’s that yellow haired girl -yonder, I could scratch her eyes out.”</p> - -<p>“She’s about my age,” asserted Becky, gazing hard at the fairylike form -of the new arrival. “I hope she’s ’spectable an’ decent, an’ won’t try -to be bossy.”</p> - -<p>“They’re from New York,” added Sue. “I jus’ hate New York folks.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know they’re from New York?” demanded Don.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> -“Somebody said so. Oh, it was Lil Harrington; her father once knew ’em.”</p> - -<p>The elders had entered the house by this time, and the carriage and -baggage wagon had driven away. The girl and boy, about fourteen and -twelve years of age, were walking with mincing steps about the grounds, -examining the shrubbery and flowers and, as Don said, evidently “taking -stock” of their new possessions.</p> - -<p>“That fellow,” Don added, “is a snob. I can see that from here. He -wears a velvet suit, and it’s <em>braided</em>. Think of that, girls!”</p> - -<p>“Let’s go over and talk to ’em,” suggested Becky. “We can show ’em the -stables, an’ where we kept the rabbits an’ guinea pigs, an’ how to -climb the pear-tree.”</p> - -<p>“Not me!” exclaimed Don, scornfully.</p> - -<p>“We’ve got to know ’em sometime,” retorted his sister, “bein’ as we’re -next door neighbors. And it’s polite for us to make the first call.”</p> - -<p>“They’re usurpers,” declared Don. “What right had they to buy our old -house? They’ll get no politeness out o’ me, Beck, if they live here a -thousand years.”</p> - -<p>The boy and girl opposite came down the lawn and stood at the entrance -of the driveway, looking curiously down the wide village street, shaded -with its avenue of spreading trees.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> -“Come on, Sue,” said Becky. “Don’t be cross to-day, anyhow. Let’s go -and talk to our neighbors.”</p> - -<p>But Sue drew back, shaking her curls, positively.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like ’em, Becky. They—they’re not our style, I’m ’fraid. You -can go—if you dare.”</p> - -<p>One thing Becky couldn’t do, was to “take a dare.” She was not really -anxious to make the pilgrimage alone, but having suggested it, she -turned a comical look upon the others and said:</p> - -<p>“All right. Here goes.”</p> - -<p>Don gave a snort of disdain and Sue laughed. It would be fun to watch -their reckless sister and see what she did.</p> - -<p>Becky Daring was not the beauty of the family, by any means. Her hair -was a glaring, painful red; her face long, thin and freckled; her nose -inclined to turn upward. But Becky’s hazel eyes were splendid and -sparkled so continuously with humor and mischief that they won for her -more smiles and friendly words than she really deserved. Auntie had -despaired long ago of trying to make Becky look neat and tidy, and at -fourteen she was growing so fast that she shot out of her gowns as if -by magic, and you could always see more of her slim legs and sunburned -wrists than was originally intended. She was not dainty, like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> little -Sue, nor calm and composed like beautiful Phœbe; but Becky enjoyed -life, nevertheless, and had a host of friends.</p> - -<p>One of her shoes became untied as she crossed the road to where the -Randolph children stood. She placed her foot on the stone coping at the -sidewalk and, as she fastened the knot, said with her slow Southern -drawl:</p> - -<p>“Good mawnin’. I s’pose you’re our new neighbors.”</p> - -<p>The boy and girl, standing side by side, looked at her solemnly.</p> - -<p>“Come to stay, I guess, haven’t you?” continued Becky, inspecting them -carefully at close range.</p> - -<p>“Come away, Doris,” said the boy, taking his sister’s hand. “It is some -common village child. I am sure mamma won’t care to have us know her.”</p> - -<p>Becky threw back her head with a merry laugh.</p> - -<p>“Don was right, you know,” she said, nodding. “He sized you up in a -jiffy, an’ from ’way over there, too,” indicating the porch from whence -she had come.</p> - -<p>“Who is Don, pray?” asked Doris, in quiet, ladylike tones; “and in what -way was he right?”</p> - -<p>“Don’s my brother,” was the reply; “an’ he jus’ gave one squint at -<em>your</em> brother an’ said he was a snob.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> -“Me—a snob!” cried the boy, indignantly.</p> - -<p>“That’s what he said. Funny how he spotted you so quick, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Come, Doris. It is an insult,” he said, his face growing red as he -tugged at Doris’ hand.</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment, Allerton; we must return good for evil. Evidently the -poor child does not know she has been rude,” remarked the girl, primly.</p> - -<p>Becky gave a gasp of astonishment.</p> - -<p>“Child!” she echoed. “I’m as old as you are, I’ll bet a cookie.”</p> - -<p>“In years, perhaps,” answered Doris. “But, permit me to state that -your brother was wrong. Having been bred in this simple, out of the -way village, he does not understand the difference between a gentleman -and a snob. Nor do you realize the rudeness of accosting strangers -without a proper introduction, repeating words designed to injure their -feelings. I am not blaming you for what you do not know, little girl; I -am merely trying to point out to you your error.”</p> - -<p>Becky sat plump down upon the sidewalk and stared until her great eyes -seemed likely to pop out of their sockets. Then, suddenly seeing the -humor of the situation, she smiled her sunny, amiable smile and hugging -her knees with both arms said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> -“I got it that time—right in the Adam’s apple, where it belonged. My -compliments to Miss Doris Randolph,” rising to drop a mock curtsy. -“I’ve mislaid my cardcase somewhere, but allow me to present Miss -Rebecca Daring, of Riverdale, who resides on the opposite corner. When -you return my call I hope you’ll find me out.”</p> - -<p>“Wait!” cried Doris, as Becky turned to fly. “Did you say Daring?”</p> - -<p>“I said Daring, my child,” with great condescension.</p> - -<p>“The Daring family that used to live here, in this place?”</p> - -<p>“The same Darings, little girl.”</p> - -<p>“Forgive me if I seemed supercilious,” said Doris, earnestly. “I—I -mistook you for a common waif of the village, you know. But mamma says -the Darings are an excellent family.”</p> - -<p>“Score one for mamma, then. She hit the bull’s-eye,” returned Becky, -lightly. But, the recognition of her social position was too flattering -to be ignored.</p> - -<p>Said Allerton, rather sourly:</p> - -<p>“Is that fellow who called me a snob a Daring, too?”</p> - -<p>“He is Donald Ellsworth Daring,” replied Becky, with pride. “But he may -have been wrong, you know. You’ll have a chance to prove it when we -know you better.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> -That gracious admission mollified the boy, somewhat.</p> - -<p>“You see,” continued Becky in a more genial tone, “I can’t stay dressed -up all the time, ’cause we’re slightly impecunious—which means shy -of money. If it hadn’t been for that we’d not have sold our house and -moved over to Gran’pa Eliot’s. In that case, you’d never have had the -pleasure of my acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>Doris looked across the street to the rambling old mansion half hid by -its trees and vines. In front were great fluted pillars that reached -beyond the second story, and supported a porch and an upper balcony.</p> - -<p>“You live in a much more beautiful house than the one papa has bought,” -she said, rather enviously.</p> - -<p>“What! that old shack?” cried Becky, amazed.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Mamma and I hunted all over this part of the state to find one -of those old Colonial homesteads; but none was for sale. So, we were -obliged to take this modern affair,” tossing a thumb over her shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Modern affair! By cracky, I should think it was,” retorted Miss -Daring, indignantly. “It cost a lot more money than Gran’pa Eliot’s -place ever did.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” agreed Doris, with a slight smile.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> “The accident of -wealth will enable anyone to build a much more palatial house than -this. But only the accident of birth, it seems, enables one to occupy a -splendid old Southern homestead.”</p> - -<p>Becky regarded the speaker with wonder.</p> - -<p>“You’re from the No’th?” she inquired.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Our family is old, too; perhaps as aristocratic as that of your -Grandfather Eliot. We are from Boston.”</p> - -<p>“L-a-w—zee! I believe you are,” declared Becky. “I knew a Boston girl -once, who was even more proper an’ ridic’lous in her ways than you are; -but she died of a cold in the head, poor thing.”</p> - -<p>“A cold?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Mortification set in, ’cause she couldn’t pronounce all the big -words proper, on account o’ the cold.” Noticing a resentful look creep -over Doris’ face, she hastened to add: “But that don’t count, you know. -What really s’prises me is that you think Gran’pa Eliot’s shack is -finer than our beautiful old home. I guess that as soon as Noah’s flood -faded away Gran’pa Eliot’s house was built, it’s so blamed old.”</p> - -<p>“Dear me!” said Doris, in seeming distress, “I wish you wouldn’t speak -disrespectfully of Bible history.”</p> - -<p>“What’s Bible history?” asked the astonished Becky.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> -“The flood God sent to punish a wicked world.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, <em>that</em>;” with much relief. “I thought you were in earnest, at -first.”</p> - -<p>“My sister,” explained Allerton Randolph, with dignity, “is very -religiously inclined.”</p> - -<p>“Are you?” asked Becky, curiously.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear. I am trying to live my daily life in conformance with the -highest religious principles. So it hurts me to hear sacred things -spoken of lightly.”</p> - -<p>Becky regarded this prim young lady with a sudden access of shyness. -She felt that a gulf had opened between them that never could be -bridged. Allerton, studying her face, saw the effect of his sister’s -announcement and said in his serious way:</p> - -<p>“Doris takes her religious ideas from our mother, who is interested -in charities and foreign missions. She has exhausted her strength and -undermined her health in this unselfish work, and that is why we have -come to the country to live. Neither father nor I have much religious -inclination.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Allerton!”</p> - -<p>“It’s true, Doris. Father detests it with all his heart, and says our -mother has ruined his home for a lot of naked niggers in Africa; but -I’m more—more—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> -“Tolerant, I suppose you mean. But you must not convey a wrong -impression of our father to Miss Daring. He merely regrets our mother’s -excessive devotion to the cause. He does not hate religion, in the -abstract.”</p> - -<p>Becky had never been so astonished in her life. Here was a boy of -Don’s age and a girl of about her own years discussing religion with -the utmost gravity, and using such “nifty” language that it positively -shocked her. Again she realized that there could be nothing in common -between the youthful Randolphs and the tribe of Daring; but, she had -determined to be gracious to these strangers and so she stifled a sigh -of regret and said:</p> - -<p>“If you like, I’ll show you over the stables, and where we played -circus back of the harness room, and Phil’s rabbit warren, and how to -climb the pear-tree in the garden without breaking your neck, and—”</p> - -<p>“Thank you very much,” interrupted Doris; “but, we are not interested -in vulgar romps of that character; are we, Allerton?”</p> - -<p>“They—they sound rather interesting,” he submitted, eyeing Becky a -little wistfully.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps, for village children,” returned the girl, haughtily. “But -although we are now living in the country we should remember our -breeding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> and try to instill some of our native culture into these -primitive surroundings, rather than sink our refinement to the level of -the community.”</p> - -<p>“L-a-w—zee!” cried Becky, again. Then, in spite of her effort to be -“good” she laughed in Doris’ face, bobbing her frouzled red head up and -down as peal after peal of genuine merriment burst from her slim throat.</p> - -<p>Allerton frowned and Doris looked grieved and sad. Positively, this -country girl was laughing at their expense.</p> - -<p>“I—I can’t help it!” chuckled Becky, trying to control herself. -“It’s—it’s too good to keep. I must go an’ tell the kids before I—I -bust with it all! Bye-bye, Doris. See you again soon. ‘Or river,’ -Allerton! Guess I’ll call you Al. Come over an’ get acquainted.”</p> - -<p>She had backed away one step at a time, still bubbling with hysterical -laughter that she could not control, and at the final words turned and -dashed across the street like mad, her thin legs twinkling beneath her -short skirts.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Don, as Becky threw herself down upon the porch and shook -with an abandon of glee; “tell us the joke, Beck. What’s happened?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” was all the reply.</p> - -<p>“Are they nice?” inquired Sue, squatting in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> rustic chair and -swinging her legs, as she calmly surveyed her sister.</p> - -<p>“Nice? Sue, they’re the funniest kids you ever heard of,” gasped Becky, -her eagerness to talk stifling the spasms of merriment. “They ain’t New -Yorkers—not a bit—they’re Bostoners! Think of that. It would kill you -to hear ’em talk. They’re as full of culture as an egg is of meat; an’ -<em>langwidge!</em>—say, folks, it’s something awful.”</p> - -<p>“I guessed as much,” said Don, with a grin. “But, I’m glad they’re not -our kind. I wouldn’t care to go over to our old house and play with the -usurpers. Let’s shut ’em out, for good and all.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they’ll shut us out, I s’pect,” remarked Becky, wiping her eyes on -her gingham sleeve. “You ought to have seen ’em stick up their noses at -me till they found out I was a Daring. Then they put on so many airs it -was disgust’n’.”</p> - -<p>“Seems to me,” said Sue, shaking away her troublesome curls and looking -thoughtfully at her sprawling, ungainly sister, “they’re ’zactly the -sort we ought to ’sociate with. If you could rub a little culture off’n -’em, dear, it wouldn’t hurt you a bit.”</p> - -<p>“Nor you, either, Sue,” laughed Don. “If you pronounced English that -way in Boston, they’d jail you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> -“<em>Now</em> who’s a snob, Don?” asked Sue, indignantly. “No one’s s’posed to -pernounce ev’ry measley letter the dicsh’naries chuck into a word, is -they?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Sue!” said Becky; “your grammar is as bad as your pernunciation. -I mus’ look afteh your education, myself. Those Randolph kids are a -revelation to me; and, honest injun, I’m somewhat ashamed of myself. -We’re going wrong, all of us, since mother died,” with a sigh and a -catch in her voice, “an’ need to be jerked into line.”</p> - -<p>She said this in sober earnestness, remembering the sweet, gentle -mother who had labored so hard to keep her flock from straying, and -whose loss had permitted them to wander as their natural, untamed -instincts dictated.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” said Don in tender accents, “was a lady to her finger tips, -and wanted her girls and boys to grow up to be ladies and gentlemen. I -try to do as she’d like to have me, whenever I think of it; but, that -isn’t very often.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a cross-patch,” asserted Sue; “and I’ve heard teacher say that -you’re the worst scholar in the school. You don’t mind Phœbe any -more’n a fly minds <a name="quote" id="quote"></a><ins title="Original omits quote">sugar.”</ins></p> - -<p>“Phœbe isn’t my boss,” retorted Don, resentfully. But, the next -moment his frown softened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> and he added: “Anyhow, I try to be decent, -and that’s more than some of the family do.”</p> - -<p>“Meanin’ me?” asked Becky, defiantly.</p> - -<p>“You’re fourteen, and almost a woman; yet you act like a kindergarten -kid. I’ll leave it to anyone if I’m not more dignified ’n’ respectable -than you are; and I won’t be thirteen ’til next month.”</p> - -<p>“You’re old for your years, Don; and it’s lucky that you can find any -good in yourself, for nobody else can!” remarked Becky, complacently.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="iv" id="iv"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> -<small>PHŒBE’S SECRET</small></h2> - - -<p>“Let’s get some pails and go to the woods for blackberries,” suggested -Sue, posing as peacemaker. “P’raps Auntie’ll make us a pie for dinner.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t,” said Don. “I promised old Miss Halliday I’d make her a chicken -coop. Another hen is hatching out and there’s no coop to put her in.”</p> - -<p>“All right, I’ll help you,” exclaimed Becky, jumping up. “You saw the -boards, Don, and I’ll hammer the nails.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you saw?”</p> - -<p>“Not straight; but, I’m game to try it.”</p> - -<p>A rush was made for the back yard, and Don searched the shed for some -old boards to use in making the coop for the expected flock. When the -saw and hammer began to be heard Miss Halliday came down from Gran’pa -Eliot’s room and stood watching them, her finger on her lips to caution -them to be as quiet as possible.</p> - -<p>She was old and withered, lean and bent; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> her small black eyes -still twinkled brightly. Miss Halliday seldom spoke to the Daring -children and had as little to do with them as possible. She was -virtually the autocrat of the establishment, for old Mr. Eliot was -paralyzed and almost speechless. It is true he could mumble a few -words at times, but no one seemed able to understand them, except his -constant nurse and attendant.</p> - -<p>Miss Halliday had been with the Eliots since she was a young woman. She -was Gran’ma Eliot’s maid, at first, then the housekeeper, and after -Mrs. Eliot’s death and her master’s paralytic stroke, the sole manager -of the establishment and a most devoted servant. In person she was -exceedingly neat, although she dressed very simply. She was noted in -Riverdale for her thrift and shrewd bargaining. They called her miserly -until it came to be generally understood that Mr. Eliot’s money was -gone; then the merchants respected her careful management of the old -man’s finances.</p> - -<p>Why Elaine Halliday stuck to her post, under such unpleasant -conditions, had puzzled more than one wise head in the village. Some -said that Jonathan Eliot had willed her the homestead in return for her -services; others, that the frugal stewardess was able to save more than -her wages<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> from the reputed wreck of the Eliot fortunes, which had once -been considered of enormous extent. Only a very few credited her with -an unselfish devotion to her old master.</p> - -<p>After the death of his daughter, Mrs. Daring, and just before his -own paralytic stroke, Mr. Eliot had had a stormy interview with his -son-in-law, Wallace Daring; but, no one except Elaine Halliday knew -what it was about. Twenty-four hours later the irascible old man was -helpless, and when Phœbe hurried over to assist him he refused to -see her or any of his grandchildren. Mr. Daring, a kindly, warm-hearted -man, had been so strongly incensed against his father-in-law that -he held aloof in this crisis, knowing old Elaine would care for the -stricken man’s wants. All this seemed to indicate that the rupture -between the two men could never be healed.</p> - -<p>After the Daring children had been left orphans and reduced to poverty, -Judge Ferguson went to Miss Halliday and pleaded with her to intercede -with Jonathan Eliot to give the outcasts a home. The big house was then -closed except for a few rooms on the second floor, where the invalid -lay awaiting his final summons. There was more than enough room for the -Darings, without disturbing the invalid in the least.</p> - -<p>At first, the old woman declared such an arrangement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> impossible; but, -Mr. Ferguson would not be denied. He had been Mr. Eliot’s lawyer, and -was the guardian of the Darings. If anyone knew the inner history -of this peculiar family it was Peter Ferguson. For some reason Miss -Halliday had been forced to withdraw her objections; she even gained -the morose invalid’s consent to “turn his house into an orphan asylum,” -as she bitterly expressed it. The Darings were to be allowed the entire -lower floor and the two front bedrooms upstairs; but they were required -to pay their own expenses. Elaine declared that it was all she could do -to find money enough to feed Gran’pa Eliot his gruel and pay the taxes -on the place.</p> - -<p>A powerful antipathy, dating back many years, existed between Miss -Halliday and the Darings’ black servant, Aunt Hyacinth. During the -two months since the Darings had found refuge in the old house not a -word had been exchanged between them. But the black mammy, as much -the protector of the orphans as Miss Halliday was of their grandsire, -strove to avoid trouble and constantly cautioned her flock not to -“raise a racket an’ ’sturb poeh gran’pa.” As for the children, they -stood so much in awe of the invalid that they obeyed the injunction -with great care.</p> - -<p>It was not often that Miss Halliday asked the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> boys to assist her in -any way; but, occasionally Phil or Don would offer to do odd jobs about -the place when they were not in school.</p> - -<p>“It seems like helping to pay the rent,” said Phil, with a laugh, “and -as gran’pa quarreled with father I hate to be under obligations to him. -So, let’s do all we can to help old Miss Halliday. She has enough to -worry her, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>That was why Don set about making the chicken coop this Saturday -morning, as he had promised to do, and why Becky and Sue were eager to -assist him. The saw was dull, and that made the sawing the hard part -of the work until Becky declared she could handle the tool much better -than her brother—even if she couldn’t manage to keep on the marked -line. He let her try, and then scolded her—and jeered her attempts. A -row started very promptly and a struggle began for the possession of -the saw, ending by Don’s snatching it away and drawing the jagged teeth -across the palm of Becky’s hand. She let go with a scream of pain and -the blood spurted forth in a manner to frighten them all.</p> - -<p>Don tried to tie his handkerchief over the wound, but with a wail of -anguish Becky turned and fled into the house and up the front stairway -to the door of Phœbe’s room, leaving a red trail behind her as she -went.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> -“Quick, Phœbe—I’m murdered! Let me in before I die,” she shouted, -kicking at the door as she squeezed the wounded hand with the other.</p> - -<p>A key turned in the lock and the door flew open.</p> - -<p>Phœbe stared a moment at her sister’s white face and noted the -stream of blood. Then she drew Becky into the room without a word and -led her to the washbasin. She bathed the wound freely with cold water, -applied a healing lotion and bandaged the hand, neatly. It was a broad, -jagged cut, but not deep. Phœbe knew that it was not a serious -wound, but it would be very sore and lame for several days to come.</p> - -<p>Becky, trembling with nervousness and weak from fright and the sight of -blood, tottered to a lounge and sank down among the cushions.</p> - -<p>“How did it happen, dear?” Phœbe now asked.</p> - -<p>Becky related the incident with dramatic details until her eyes fell -upon a table drawn before the window and covered with papers, among -which rested an imposing looking machine.</p> - -<p>“Jumpin’ jooks, Phœbe!” she exclaimed; “it’s a typewriter. Where on -earth did it come from?”</p> - -<p>Phœbe flushed and for a moment looked distressed.</p> - -<p>“I rented it,” she replied. “It’s a great secret, Becky, and you must -promise not to tell anyone.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> -“Can you run it? Have you had lessons?” asked the younger girl, sitting -up in her eagerness and forgetting her affliction for a time.</p> - -<p>“I’ve taught myself,” said Phœbe. “It is not very hard to learn. At -first, you know, I made lots of mistakes; but, now I do very well. I’ve -had it almost six months, and every Saturday I typewrite all day.”</p> - -<p>“But why? What are you copying?” demanded Becky, going to the table and -looking down at the piles of manuscript.</p> - -<p>“It is a book of sermons that Doctor Huntley is preparing for a -publisher. He is too busy to do it himself, so he gave me the job. -I get ten cents a page, and I’ve copied nearly four hundred pages -already.”</p> - -<p>“My!” cried Becky; “what a lot of money! Whatever will you do with it, -dear?”</p> - -<p>Phœbe smiled a little sadly, but put her arm around her sister and -kissed her, affectionately.</p> - -<p>“That’s a part of my secret, dear, and you mustn’t ask me. You’ll not -mention the typewriter, Becky—nor anything I’ve told you? I don’t want -Phil or the children to know.”</p> - -<p>“Trust me!” returned Becky, delighted to share so important a secret -with her elder. Then, she remembered her sore hand and lay down upon -the couch again, while Phœbe, having once more locked the door, -resumed her work.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> -It was dinner time when Don finished the chicken coop and helped Miss -Halliday to move the hen and her newly hatched brood into it. There had -been sundry quarrels between him and Sue, who accused him of “spilling -Becky’s heart’s blood,” but now the girl was so fascinated by the fuzzy -chicks that she was loth to leave them, when Auntie called her to the -midday meal.</p> - -<p>Phil came in, flushed with his exertions on the ball field, but -unusually glum and serious. He found no time for his proposed talk with -Phœbe then, for as soon as dinner was over he was obliged to put on -his baseball uniform and hurry to the ground, where the important match -game with the Exeter nine was to take place.</p> - -<p>“Any of you coming to the game?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“We’re all coming,” declared Becky, who now posed as a heroine because -of her hurt. But, Phœbe shook her head and smiled.</p> - -<p>“I shall be too busy at home, Phil,” she said; “but the others may go.”</p> - -<p>He gave her a quick, curious look, but said nothing more.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="v" id="v"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> -<small>A MATCH GAME</small></h2> - - -<p>For a long time there had been great rivalry between the ball teams of -Riverdale and Exeter; the latter, a small town lying five miles inland, -where there was a boys’ preparatory school. This year each had won five -games out of a series of ten, and the extra game to be played to-day -was to decide the championship. The Riverdale high school captain, Al -Hayden, the druggist’s son, had picked his team with great care for -this important occasion, and Phil had been chosen pitcher.</p> - -<p>The ball grounds were just outside of the village, and not only were -the people of Riverdale there in large numbers, but the crowd was -augmented by farmers from the surrounding country who had come in -for their Saturday trading and took advantage of the opportunity to -see a good ball game. Several wagon loads of “fans” from Exeter also -rode over in the wake of the -<a name="bus" id="bus"></a><ins title="Original has 'buss'">bus</ins> -that carried their ball players, to -participate in the fun and excitement.</p> - -<p>All classes of people occupied the “bleachers.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> Merchants, lawyers and -even two liberal minded ministers of the gospel were among them, while -Judge Ferguson strolled over as the game commenced, accompanied by his -pretty daughter, Janet, to see how Phil conducted himself. The Randolph -children were plebeian enough to attend; the manager of the mill was -there, and all the small Darings, except Phœbe, eagerly awaited the -contest.</p> - -<p>There was a stand where red lemonade was sold, and boys carried around -baskets of peanuts and popcorn to refresh the audience. Nearly every -high school in town had thought it her duty to be present, and their -bright ribbons and dresses added a picturesque element to the scene.</p> - -<p>Phil Daring appeared as composed as ever, when he entered the arena -with his comrades; but, never for a moment, since his interview with -Mr. Ferguson had his mind been free from grief, humiliation and bitter -disappointment. He nodded and smiled as the throng greeted him with -hearty cheers; yet all the time he was thinking to himself: “My days of -fun and freedom are nearly over now. I must give up college, for good -and all, and settle down somewhere to make a living and help support -the children. I don’t know what I can do, I’m sure, that will earn the -needed money. No one in Riverdale needs any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> help such as I can give, -and I’m not experienced enough to be of much service in a big city. It -will be a hard fight, with all the chances against me; but I’ve got to -undertake it and make a go of it.”</p> - -<p>These and similar thoughts flooded his mind to the exclusion of all -else. Mechanically, he tossed the ball in practice, and when time -was called he took his position in the pitcher’s box with scarcely a -realization of what he was doing.</p> - -<p>A sudden silence fell upon the throng as Phil pressed the new ball into -his palm, drew back with his well-known easy swing and sent the sphere -flying through the air. There followed a low murmur that sounded like -a groan as the ball flew wide and smashed against the back-stop. Some -of the Exeter people laughed. But Phil was unaware of either moans or -laughter. He was thinking of something else more important. Getting -the ball again, he made another toss and the batter caught it with a -full blow and sent it flying into the field for a two-bagger. Al Hayden -looked grave at this but said nothing. Phil was Riverdale’s crack -pitcher, as a rule; but, perhaps he hadn’t his hand in yet.</p> - -<p>As the game progressed, however, it was evident to all that Phil Daring -had “fallen down” and was pitching a miserable game. The Exeters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> -had six runs to the best of it at the end of the sixth inning and -the prospects for the Riverdale nine’s being able to even the score -were decidedly gloomy. Phil had been equally unsuccessful at the bat, -“fanning out” whenever his turn came.</p> - -<p>It was unwise to risk the winning of the game by allowing Daring to -play any longer. Al Hayden hurriedly consulted with his mates and then -called Phil aside.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, old man,” he said; “but, you don’t seem fit, to-day, and -we’re bound to lose unless we make a desperate effort. Take the bench, -and I’ll put Eric in to pitch—and Jed Hopkins in Eric’s place.”</p> - -<p>Phil gave a sudden start and drew his hand across his forehead, as -the full import of the words was understood. Retired? Retired and -discredited at this important juncture! Why, he never would be able to -hold up his head in Riverdale again, and all the honors he had formerly -won on the field would be wiped away by this disgrace.</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong with me, Al?” he asked, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, Phil; but something’s wrong. Look at that score—eight -to two!—and only three more innings to play. You are usually our -stand-by, old fellow; but, to-day you’re the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> one of the nine who -hasn’t been up to scratch, and fighting to win. I’ve been watching you, -and you seem dazed, somehow. Have the Exeter fellows scared you?”</p> - -<p>“No,” was the reply. The score, now noticed for the first time, -positively startled him. Aroused from his dreams at last he begged Al -to try him for another inning.</p> - -<p>“Just one,” he pleaded. “Eric can’t pitch as well as I can, I’m sure, -and if I don’t make good you can pull me out any time.”</p> - -<p>Al hesitated, sighed, and then consented. He really despaired now of -winning the game and was so fond of Phil that he hated to humiliate him.</p> - -<p>But the conference had been noted by the discontented Riverdale -audience and people began to shout: “Take him out!” “Put Daring on the -shelf!” “Phil’s gone bad to-day!” and other similar remarks that made -Phil straighten up and walk to his station with an air of resolve.</p> - -<p>Groans and hoots greeted him, but he never wavered. The first batter to -face him, one of the crack Exeter players, struck out, and the crowd -ceased their jibes. The next man made a “pop-up” which Phil cleverly -caught, and a gentle murmur of applause, mostly from the women, -rewarded him. The third man also struck out, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> then the crowd forgot -its grievance against the young pitcher and gave a hearty cheer.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t he do that, before?” grumbled Judge Ferguson, who had been -greatly annoyed at Phil’s poor showing.</p> - -<p>“He hasn’t seemed himself, to-day,” replied Janet, with friendly -generosity. “It occurred to me that he had heard bad news, or perhaps -is not well. Really, papa, I’m not sure that Phil knew he was playing -ball, till just now.”</p> - -<p>The old lawyer nodded. He knew very well, now that Janet shrewdly -called his attention to it, what had doubtless depressed his young -friend, and occupied his mind.</p> - -<p>“He seems all right now,” he remarked with a sympathetic sigh. “That -last inning he played all by himself.”</p> - -<p>Indeed, Phil’s record of three “put-outs” unassisted, inspired his -fellows with renewed confidence in him. Al Hayden went to bat and made -a two-bagger. Toby Clark, Mr. Ferguson’s office clerk, got first base -on balls. The next batter struck out, but the one following stepped up -to the plate and pounded out a clean hit that filled the bases. It was -Phil’s turn now, and he realized the full importance of the crisis. -Usually a pitcher is not a very good batter; yet, until to-day Phil -had been considered an exception to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> this rule. So far in the game, -however, his bat had never once touched a ball.</p> - -<p>The spectators were thrilled by the excitement of the moment, but -expected young Daring to strike out and let the next man, a reliable -player, bring in some of the men on bases.</p> - -<p>But Phil’s face was set and determined. He had not yet redeemed -himself. Having well-nigh lost the game for his team by his poor -showing, it now behooved him to save the day if he could. No thought -now engaged his mind, but this; he was living in the present—not in -the future. With watchful eye he followed the approaching ball on its -course, and at the proper time struck shrewdly with might and main.</p> - -<p>High in the air rose the sphere, describing a perfect arch. With one -accord the spectators rose in their seats to watch the ball as it -sailed over the back fence, giving the batter a home run and bringing -in the three other men.</p> - -<p>When the mighty cheer that rent the air had subsided the score was six -to eight, instead of eight to two.</p> - -<p>In the eighth and ninth innings Phil pitched so well that no runs were -added by the Exeter team, while the Riverdales made one tally in each -inning and tied the score.</p> - -<p>The excitement was now intense. Each team<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> formerly had five games to -its credit, and in the present decisive game each side had scored eight -runs. An extra inning must be played to determine the championship.</p> - -<p>The boys on both sides settled down to do their level best. Phil was -perfectly calm and confident. He struck out two and Al caught a long, -high fly that retired Exeter with a “goose-egg.” Then the Riverdale -team came to bat and the first two—poor Al one of them—went out in -short order. But when Phil again came to bat the opposing pitcher lost -his nerve, remembering that famous home run. The result was a long -drive that landed Daring on third, and the next batter, Jed Hopkins, -brought him home, winning the game and the series.</p> - -<p>The Riverdale crowd was in an ecstasy of delight and cheered until it -was hoarse. Phil’s wonderful playing during the final three innings had -fully redeemed him in the eyes of his friends and a dozen young fellows -leaped into the arena and hoisted him upon their shoulders, carrying -him from the field in triumph. Even the defeated Exeters good-naturedly -joined in the applause, while Becky and Sue sobbed with joy at the -honors being showered upon their big brother.</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t Phil splendid?” exclaimed Janet, as she followed her father -from the grand stand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> -The old lawyer nodded thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said he, “the lad has a wonderful amount of reserve force, which -makes him a good uphill fighter. He reminded me of his father, during -that last rally. If Phil Daring has only half the pluck and backbone -that Wallace Daring possessed, I predict he’ll some day make his mark -in the world.”</p> - -<p>“Yet Mr. Daring died poor,” suggested Janet.</p> - -<p>“True, my dear; and that was because he died. Had he lived, it would -have been a different story.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="vi" id="vi"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> -<small>HUNTING A JOB</small></h2> - - -<p>When Phil managed to shake off his enthusiastic friends and return to -his home, he found that Phœbe had gone out. Entering the kitchen -to ask Aunt Hyacinth where his sister was, he found the black mammy -preparing the supper.</p> - -<p>“Don’ know whar she am, Marse Phil, I’se shuah,” she said. “But Miss -Phœbe’s sartin to be back ’fo’ long.”</p> - -<p>Phil turned to go; then he paused, and after a moment’s thought -inquired:</p> - -<p>“Auntie, who pays our grocery bills?”</p> - -<p>“I do, chile,” she answered, giving him an odd look.</p> - -<p>“And where do you get the money?” he continued.</p> - -<p>Auntie was beating eggs for a custard. She pretended not to hear him. -Phil repeated the question.</p> - -<p>“Marse Ferg’son done gi’ me a lot,” said she, in a matter of course -way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> -“Forty dollars, I believe,” the boy rejoined, rather bitterly.</p> - -<p>“Mo’ ’n dat, honey; lots mo’.”</p> - -<p>“When?”</p> - -<p>“’Fore we shifted oveh to dis yeah house. Den he done guv me fohty -dollehs mo’, an’ said dat were all dere was left. But I guess it’ll do, -all right.”</p> - -<p>“Auntie,” said Phil, taking both her hands and looking her squarely in -the eyes, “tell me truly; is any of that last forty dollars left?”</p> - -<p>A look of genuine distress crossed her honest face.</p> - -<p>“No, honey,” she admitted, in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“Then, where does the money come from that we’re living on now?”</p> - -<p>“H—m. Miss Phœbe done guv it to me.”</p> - -<p>“Phœbe!”</p> - -<p>“Miss Phœbe; shuah.”</p> - -<p>“Where could Phœbe get any money?” he inquired, wonderingly.</p> - -<p>“Yo’ haf to ask heh, I guess, Marse Phil.”</p> - -<p>He reflected a moment.</p> - -<p>“Auntie, you’re keeping something from me; something I ought to know; -and it isn’t right to treat me so,” he declared.</p> - -<p>She made no reply to this.</p> - -<p>“Phœbe hasn’t any money; or, if she’s been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> trying to earn some, it -must be mighty little. See here: I’ll finish school next week, and then -I’m going to take care of the family myself, and look after things. -Don’t you know I’m the head of the Darings, Auntie, and entitled to -know all about our affairs? So tell me, where does all the money come -from to pay the grocer, and the butcher, and all the rest?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Phœbe done guv me some,” she persisted, half frightened at his -earnestness.</p> - -<p>“And the rest, Auntie?”</p> - -<p>She twisted her apron in her hands and cast an appealing glance into -his stern face.</p> - -<p>“Tell me, Auntie!”</p> - -<p>“Well, yo’ see, Marse Phil,” she began, slowly, “I’ve got a little -money what useter b’long to yo’ dead papa.”</p> - -<p>“My father!”</p> - -<p>“Dat’s a fac’, honey. Ol’ Marse allus done pay me mo’ wages’n I could -earn, nohow. I kep’ sayin’ I didn’ want no money; but he insis’, -chile; dat ol’ Marse Wallace insis’ I take all he guv me. Law sakes, I -don’ neveh need no money, Marse Phil. What ’n a world <em>I</em> need money -fo’—now yo’ tell me, ef yo’ can! But I gotter take it, or make Marse -Wallace mad. So, I put it in de bank fo’ safe keepin’, an’ jus’ bided -mah time to git even. ’Twan’t mine, honey, shuah ’nuff; but I jes’ let -it stay in de bank fo’ ’mehgencies.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> -Phil’s face was a study. It grew red and white, stern and dismayed -by turns. It was not that he resented accepting assistance from Aunt -Hy; she seemed one of the family; but that the Darings should be so -miserably poor as to be dependent upon the services of their black -mammy for support was so shameful that he could scarcely bear the -thought.</p> - -<p>“I’m an able-bodied young man,” said he to Phœbe a little later, -when the girl had returned from her errand, “and, instead of wasting my -muscles and energies on athletic games, all these months, I should have -been at work for the family.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t know, dear.”</p> - -<p>“I <em>ought</em> to have known, Phœbe. That’s no excuse.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure that everything has happened for the best, Phil,” she -replied, tenderly. “We’ve gone along, somehow, and I was anxious that -we should both be able to complete our high school course. It’s so near -the end, now, that we’d better stick it out.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know that Auntie has been spending her savings to buy food for -us?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but she doesn’t need the money just now and we will pay her back -some time.”</p> - -<p>“She says that you have given her money, too.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> -“Just a trifle, Phil,” she replied, after a brief hesitation.</p> - -<p>“Where did it come from, Phœbe?”</p> - -<p>“I—I earned it.”</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>She unclasped her hand and showed him a bright five-dollar gold piece.</p> - -<p>“That’s my last week’s wage—as an amateur typist. I’ve been copying -manuscript for Reverend Doctor Huntley.”</p> - -<p>Phil couldn’t help it; he gathered his twin into his arms and cried -like a baby, while Phœbe sobbed on his shoulder and was glad the -secret was out at last. There were not many secrets between these two.</p> - -<p>Finally, when they had quieted down and could smile into each other’s -eyes again, the girl explained how she had found the work and how the -kindly clergyman had secured a typewriter for her and been very patient -with her mistakes until she had thoroughly mastered it.</p> - -<p>“He said, to-day, that it was the neatest and most correct copying he -had ever seen,” she added, proudly.</p> - -<p>The discovery that Phœbe had been working while he played added fuel -to Phil’s remorse. He wanted to quit school at once and seek work, but -Phœbe argued long and patiently and at last prevailed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> upon him to -complete his course. It would only require a couple of weeks more to do -this, and meantime he could be inquiring for work in the village.</p> - -<p>“I’ll not be likely to find it, though,” he predicted. “Riverdale is a -dull place, and I’m afraid I’ll have to go to the city.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, for the twins had never been parted in their -lives, and she could not endure the thought. “I’m sure that some -position may be found here, and although the pay will not be as liberal -as in the city, your expenses will be much less. And, above all, we can -then remain together.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll see what can be done,” he promised, kissing her affectionately; -and then the younger ones came trooping in to end their conversation.</p> - -<p>For several days it seemed as if Phil’s prediction would be fulfilled. -No position was offered him, although the entire village was canvassed. -Many of the graduating class were sons of merchants, who intended -taking them into their stores. For that reason it was a bad time of the -year to seek for work.</p> - -<p>Phil went to Mr. Ferguson and asked if it would be right for him to -apply at the sugar factory for a job. He did not know his father’s -successor, a stern looking man who had been sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span> by the syndicate to -manage the plant, and who was a stranger to Riverdale.</p> - -<p>“I’ll see him myself, lad,” decided the lawyer. “I’ve met Mr. Atkins in -business ways, and believe I would have more influence with him than -you. Come and see me again to-morrow and I’ll report results.”</p> - -<p>After school the next day Phil kept the appointment, trying hard to -hope that Mr. Ferguson had succeeded. But the old lawyer shook his -head, gravely.</p> - -<p>“Nothing there for you, Phil,” he said. “Atkins claims it’s his dull -season, but I know better. No doubt the man could give you employment, -if he chose, but he doesn’t care to have a Daring in the office. An old -prejudice against your father for fighting the trust so long.”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t thought of any other opening, sir, have you?”</p> - -<p>“Not just yet. But, I’ll keep my eye open for you, Phil, and let you -know if anything offers. Keep your courage, lad. There’s something for -everybody in this world.”</p> - -<p>This bit of philosophy fell upon deaf ears. Phil was quite discouraged -as he went slowly down the stairs to the street. In the doorway he -paused, for Ned Thurber had halted before him. Ned was the clerk in -Spaythe’s Bank.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> -“Congratulate me, Phil,” he said. “I’ve an offer to go to St. Louis, at -a big salary.”</p> - -<p>Phil shook his hand.</p> - -<p>“Are you going, Ned?” he asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Of course. I’ll be assistant teller in one of the biggest banks there.”</p> - -<p>“Who will take your place at Spaythe’s?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know yet. Just got the offer this morning, you see; but I’ve -talked with Mr. Spaythe and promised him that I’d stay until he can get -someone to take my place. That won’t be easy, though—unless he imports -someone.”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t I fill the place, Ned?”</p> - -<p>“You! I thought you were going to college.”</p> - -<p>“I—I’ve decided not to,” replied Phil.</p> - -<p>“But you’ve no experience in banking.”</p> - -<p>“No other young fellow in town has, for that matter.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true,” said the other, thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“I’d like the job, Ned,” pleaded Phil.</p> - -<p>“In that case I’ll speak to the old man about you. I’ve an idea you -could fill Eric’s place, while Eric could climb to my position as head -bookkeeper. His father ought not to object to that, and I’m sure you -could do Eric’s work easily. Another thing is in your favor, Phil. The -Daring name is rather popular around here, especially with the farmers, -and that counts with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> a man like Spaythe. The more I think of it, the -more I believe we’ve hit the right combination. Trust me to help work -it out, for I want to get away as soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>Phil did not leave this unexpected chance wholly to Ned’s management, -however. He went back and told Judge Ferguson about it, and then he met -Eric, the banker’s only son and Phil’s friend. Eric was also employed -at the bank and he was astonished and delighted when Phil proposed -taking Eric’s place—thus advancing him to the more important post of -bookkeeper, to be vacated by Ned Thurber.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go and talk to father about it at once,” he said.</p> - -<p>That same day Mr. Spaythe was approached by no less than four people in -the interests of Phil Daring. First, came his son Eric, who told him -Phil was a prince of good fellows. Then Ned Thurber pointed out the -fact that the popularity of the Darings would add prestige to the bank. -Presently, Judge Ferguson walked in and vouched for Phil’s character -and ability, offering to stand sponsor for the boy, if he was given the -place. Finally, Phœbe Daring stole into the bank and timidly asked -to see Mr. Spaythe.</p> - -<p>He looked at her curiously as she entered his private room; a pretty -and modest young girl, he thought.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span> -“I met Mr. Thurber a little while ago, and he says that he is going -away to St. Louis,” she began. “So I thought I would come here and ask -if you won’t take brother Phil in his place. I’m Phœbe Daring, you -know.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe nodded.</p> - -<p>“I know. You’ve often been here with your father, in the old days. But -you’re growing fast now, Miss Phœbe.”</p> - -<p>“I need to grow, sir, for I must mother the other children. Of course -you know how poor we are. Father always banked here, I remember; so you -know, perhaps better than I do, our present circumstances.”</p> - -<p>“How old is Phil now?”</p> - -<p>“Sixteen, sir.”</p> - -<p>“H—m. That is rather young.”</p> - -<p>“But he is big for his age, Mr. Spaythe. He’s nearly six feet tall, and -as strong as anything.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think we bank by main strength, Miss Daring?”</p> - -<p>“Phil will graduate next week, at High. He hopes to be at the head of -his class.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe drummed thoughtfully on the desk with his fingers.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to consider your application, my dear,” he said, quite -genially for him. “Ask your brother to come and see me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> -Phœbe hurried away, overjoyed at her success. She astonished Phil -that evening by saying that she had made an appointment for him to see -Mr. Spaythe. He tore up the little note that he had intended to mail -to the banker, then kissed his twin sister and thanked her for her -assistance. Only Mr. Spaythe knew whose influence had induced him to -consider giving the position to an inexperienced, untried youth, fresh -from high school. Perhaps, after all, it was the remembrance of his old -friendship for the elder Daring.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, Phil had a long interview with the old banker and came away -engaged to fill the vacancy made by Ned Thurber’s withdrawal. As soon -as school closed he was to begin work.</p> - -<p>There was great rejoicing among the Darings that evening. Aunt Hyacinth -made them one of her famous shortcakes for supper, to celebrate the -occasion, and Phil became a hero to his younger brother and sisters, -because he was about to step from youth to manhood and become a -breadwinner.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="vii" id="vii"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> -<small>THE COMING OF COUSIN JUDITH</small></h2> - - -<p>Next morning while they were at breakfast, the doorbell rang and Auntie -answered it. A moment later a comely young woman entered the room, -gazed smilingly at the circle of young faces and advanced to kiss -Phœbe, as the eldest, first of all.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you remember me?” she asked. “I’m your Cousin Judith.”</p> - -<p>“Cousin Judith Eliot!” cried Phœbe, delightedly. And then there was -a rush to greet this newly found relative, all the Darings crowding -around her in a mob.</p> - -<p>“I thought you were still in Europe, Cousin Judith,” said Phil. “Have -you been long in America?”</p> - -<p>“Just four days,” she replied, throwing off her wrap and sitting down -in the place Aunt Hyacinth had prepared for her. “I hurried here as -soon after landing as possible.”</p> - -<p>“But what good fortune brought you to Riverdale?” inquired Phœbe, -looking with pleasure at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> the beautiful, refined face of the elder -woman and noting the daintiness of her attire—dainty and fresh, -although she was just out of a sleeping coach, after a long journey.</p> - -<p>Cousin Judith, although almost the only relative which the Darings -possessed, and familiar to them by name since their infancy, was -nevertheless almost a stranger to them all. She was their mother’s -cousin and, although much younger, had always been Mrs. Daring’s -closest and warmest friend. For years past, however, she had resided -in some small European town, studying art while she painted portraits -and copies of the Madonna on porcelain. She had never married; dimly, -Phœbe remembered hearing of some tragedy in Cousin Judith’s life -when her fiancé had died on the eve of their approaching marriage. She -was now but twenty-four; although, in the eyes of her young cousins, -she appeared very mature indeed.</p> - -<p>“I came here,” said Cousin Judith, smilingly, yet with a serious ring -in her sweet-toned voice, “at the call of duty. I wanted to come to -you the moment I heard of your dear father’s death, but it takes some -little time to break up an establishment even as modest as mine, when -it is in far-away Italy. But here I am, at last.”</p> - -<p>“Going to stay?” asked Sue, softly.</p> - -<p>“I think so. Is there any room for me, here?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> -“Plenty, Cousin Judith!” cried five voices.</p> - -<p>“Then, while I drink my coffee, tell me all the news about yourselves. -How is Gran’pa Eliot?—he’s my uncle, you know—and who takes care of -him?”</p> - -<p>Becky began the story, but talked so excitedly that she made a sad -jumble of it. Then Phil picked up the narrative, telling the simple -facts that Cousin Judith might be interested in, and Phœbe concluded -the recital.</p> - -<p>“I remember Elaine Halliday,” said the new arrival, musingly. “She -was Aunt Eliot’s maid when I was a young girl, and whenever I visited -here I used to fight with the woman continually. She had a rather sour -disposition, then.”</p> - -<p>“It’s worse now,” declared Becky. “She’s a reg’lar Tartar; and a—a—an -autocrat, and an anarchist and traitor, and—”</p> - -<p>“Afterward, she was housekeeper,” continued Judith. “I saw her more -seldom, then, but she ran the household in an able manner while Aunt -Eliot was so much of an invalid.”</p> - -<p>“She has been a faithful servant, I’m sure,” said Phœbe, “and if she -happens to be a bit cranky with us at times we ought to put up with it. -I don’t know what gran’pa would do without her. She’s the only one who -can understand him, and she attends to him and all his affairs—cooks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> -the things he can eat—feeds him with a spoon, and all that.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you all live together, then?” asked Miss Eliot.</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Phœbe. “We’ve been given a certain part of the house, -and run our own establishment, while Miss Halliday runs her part. -We are ordered not to go near gran’pa’s rooms, or pick the fruit or -berries—or steal the hen’s eggs. If we behave, she will let us stay -here, rent free; but if we don’t mind her, or dare to intrude on -gran’pa, out we go, neck and crop.”</p> - -<p>Judith Eliot looked thoughtful. But she avoided carrying the -conversation farther in the presence of the younger children. There -was little time, indeed, to talk much with any of them, as they were -obliged to run off to school. It was Friday, fortunately, and to-morrow -would be a holiday, when they could “visit” to their hearts’ content.</p> - -<p>As they said good-by to their new cousin the drayman was carrying in -two big trunks and some portmanteaus.</p> - -<p>“By jooks! I’m glad she’s come,” cried Becky. “It almost seems like -having mother back. Don’t you think they look alike?”</p> - -<p>“She’s a dandy, all right,” commented Don. “I’m glad she’s going to -stay.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> -“Isn’t she <em>beau</em>tiful?” chimed in little Sue, tossing her curls -ecstatically. “And only to think she’s lived in Europe! Won’t she have -some nibsy stories to tell us, though?”</p> - -<p>Meantime, Cousin Judith was sitting face to face with Aunt Hyacinth in -the kitchen, and listening to the story that the old mammy was telling -of the trials and tribulations her poor children had suffered.</p> - -<p>First, there was the mother’s death. That was indeed a serious -misfortune, for Mrs. Daring had looked after her young flock with -tender care and taught them to adopt the manners of ladies and -gentlemen. After her death there was only the old black mammy to cope -with the situation. Mr. Daring proved a loving and devoted father to -his motherless ones, but he was too indulgent to correct their ways and -manners and the younger ones, especially, soon lapsed into the wild and -untamed ways of young savages. Mr. Daring realized this, and wrote an -account of his doubts and fears for their future to Judith, asking her -if she would not come back to America and make her future home with -them.</p> - -<p>The young woman refused the invitation at that time. She could not -leave her studies, or her work, without ruining all her plans. She -wrote him to get a governess to look after the accomplishments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> of the -children. Aunt Hyacinth would be sure to take care of their physical -requirements. And, having proffered this advice, she dismissed the -subject from her mind.</p> - -<p>Last fall, when news of Mr. Daring’s death and his bankruptcy reached -her, Judith had been much distressed. Duty called her to far away -Riverdale, to look after Mollie Eliot’s orphaned little ones. She wrote -to Lawyer Ferguson for particulars and he frankly informed her of the -unfortunate condition of the young Darings. So she “broke camp,” as -she said, and as soon as she could complete and deliver the miniatures -which she had contracted to paint for a wealthy Englishman, the -successful artist abandoned her brilliant career and departed, bag and -baggage, for America.</p> - -<p>“So they’re pretty wild, are they?” she asked Aunt Hy.</p> - -<p>“Wild ’s hawks, Miss Judy, I’s sorrerful to remahk. Marse Phil an’ Miss -Phœbe ain’t so bad, kase dey’s old ’nuff to ’member what ther pore -deah ma done tell ’em. But Miss Sue uses jus’ drea’fu’ grammer, an’ -she dat stubbo’n ’twould make a mule blush. Marse Don, he’s got a good -heart, but he can’t ’member jus’ whar it’s locationed, an’ he plagues -ever’body mos’ alarmin’. As fer dat flyaway Becky, ’tain’t jus’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> no use -triflin’ wid her; she kain’t be brung up proper, nohow.”</p> - -<p>“Becky is at a difficult age, just now,” mused Judith, smiling at the -eloquent old servant.</p> - -<p>“All her ages done ben diff’cult, Miss Judy—shuah’s yo’ bohn. Miss -Becky don’ seem like a Daring a’ tall. She’s mo’ like dat Topsy in Unc’ -Tom’s Cab’n; ’cept’ she ain’t black.”</p> - -<p>Then came the subject of finances, wherein Aunt Hyacinth was able to -give definite and fairly lucid information. She had managed to feed -her flock so far, but the future contained an alarming menace unless -more money was forthcoming. When Aunt Hyacinth’s savings were gone, -starvation might stare the Darings in the face. It is true both Phil -and Phœbe planned to make some money, “but what’s dem helpless -chill’ns know ’bout de expensiveness of livin’?” inquired the old -mammy, hopelessly.</p> - -<p>Judith looked grave, but she was not greatly surprised.</p> - -<p>“Miss Phœbe’s ben workin’ right ’long, ev’ry minute she’s out ’n -school,” reported Auntie; “but it ain’t sech work as’ll last long. -An’ Marse Phil’s goin’ take a place in de bank, when he’s got his -schoolin’—’twere all decided no more’n yist’day. But ten dollahs a -week ain’t no great ’mount to fill all dem moufs. Lucky we don’ haf to -pay rent.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> -“I have always thought my uncle—their Grandfather Eliot—a rich man,” -remarked Judith, more to herself than to old Hyacinth. “In my girlhood -days he was said to be the largest property owner in the county.”</p> - -<p>“So he were, Miss Judy. Don’ I ’member when Marse Daring fus’ brung me -heah, how Misteh Jonat’n Eliot was de big rich man o’ Riverdale? But he -done sold off de hull estate, piece by piece, ’til nuthin’s lef’ but -dis yere ol’ house an’ de gahden.”</p> - -<p>“But what became of all the money he received for the land?”</p> - -<p>“Dunno, honey. Dat’s what Marse Wallace done fight wid him about, years -ago. He say ol’ Marse Eliot done sell his land an’ squander de money, -what oughter go to Miss Molly an’ her chiluns; an’ ol’ Marse Eliot done -tell him min’ his own business. Miss Molly were he on’y chile, an’ she -done fit wi’ de ol’ man, too; so we uns didn’t hev no truck wi’ dey -uns fer a long time. When Miss Molly died, Marse Wallace try to patch -up t’ings, but ol’ Marse Eliot got de stroke what mumbled him, an’ it -turned out he’s pore like Job’s turkey.”</p> - -<p>“How does he live, then?” asked Judith.</p> - -<p>“It don’ take much to feed his gruel to him, an’ ol’ Miss Halliday’s -dat pars’monius she don’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> eat decent cookin’ herself. She sell de aigs -’n’ chickens, an’ de fruit an’ sich, an’ she bargains at de groc’ry fer -de cheapes’ stuff dey got. So dey somehow gits along—don’ ask me how, -honey.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Judith, rising with a sigh, “I see that I’m needed here, -in more ways than one. Where may I locate my room, Aunt Hyacinth?”</p> - -<p>This puzzled Mammy for a time. The old mansion had been built on a -queer plan. Upstairs there were four bedrooms in the front of the house -and four in the rear. Of these last the two at the back end overlooked -the mountains and the valleys and were the most pleasantly situated -of any in the house. Mr. Eliot had therefore chosen them for his own, -and now he sat in a chair all day looking out of a window over the -broad stretch of land he had always loved. It was a peaceful, quiet -scene. Behind the house the streets were merely green lanes, with a few -scattered habitations here and there. A little to the right, but in -plain sight of this second-floor window, stretched the old-fashioned -country graveyard—not yet sufficiently dignified to be called a -“cemetery”—and Mr. Eliot’s eyes might clearly see a white mausoleum, -which he had built years before, to contain his body when he had passed -from life.</p> - -<p>Everyone had thought this an eccentric thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> for Jonathan Eliot to -do; some of the neighbors shuddered at the idea of a live, healthy -man preparing his own tomb. But there it was, scarcely a quarter of a -mile distant from his dwelling; and, as he now sat paralyzed before -the broad window, perhaps his glassy eyes rested more often upon that -ghostly tomb than upon the charming landscape of hill and dale, that -extended far into the distance toward Exeter.</p> - -<p>Opening from this room was a balcony with outside stairs leading to -the garden. Adjoining the two large rear rooms were a couple of small -chambers opening into a hallway. The hall originally ran to the front -of the house, but directly in the center of the passage had been placed -a stout door, separating the upper part of the house into two distinct -parts, each containing four chambers. Miss Halliday, in reserving the -four rear rooms, had fitted up one of the hall chambers as a kitchen -and retained the other for her own sleeping apartment. Of the two more -spacious rear rooms, one was old Mr. Eliot’s bedroom and the other his -living room. These four rooms satisfied all the requirements of the -paralytic and his nurse, and so the balance of the house was turned -over, somewhat grudgingly, to the orphaned Darings.</p> - -<p>But in this arrangement Elaine Halliday made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span> one curious stipulation. -The two hall rooms were never to be used by the Darings, for any -purpose. They might occupy the front bedrooms, but under the plea that -the children might disturb their invalid grandfather, the hall rooms -must remain vacant.</p> - -<p>Phœbe had accordingly taken possession of one of the front chambers, -and Phil and Don shared the other. Downstairs the house had a big -parlor, or drawing-room—a ghostly, primly furnished apartment that -all the Darings abhorred—a large dining room with a side porch, an -ample hall with a spiral staircase, pantries and kitchen and two -small chambers opening out of the dining room. Becky and Sue together -occupied one of these little rooms, while the other, which had a door -into the kitchen and was little more than a “cubbyhole,” was Aunt -Hyacinth’s own room.</p> - -<p>Unless Judith Eliot took possession of one of the forbidden hall -bedrooms upstairs, there was really no place for her in all the big -house. When this was explained to her she promptly started to visit -her uncle and Miss Halliday. She mounted the outside stairway from the -garden and at the top was confronted by the thin-visaged guardian of -the place.</p> - -<p>“Go away!” said Miss Halliday, sternly. “Don’t you understand that no -one is allowed on these premises?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> -“I am Judith Eliot,” was the calm reply. “Don’t you remember me, -Elaine?”</p> - -<p>The stern face hardened still more.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here, Judith Eliot?” demanded the woman.</p> - -<p>“Why, Elaine, if you will move aside and allow me to sit down I shall -be able to explain my presence. Do you expect me to stand on this -landing all day? How is my uncle?”</p> - -<p>“He can’t see you,” said old Elaine, firmly. “Go back, and I’ll come -and talk to you presently.”</p> - -<p>Judith had learned self restraint in her years of buffeting with the -big world, but never had she had such cause for indignation in all -her experience. The old woman’s insulting attitude and words and her -assumption of authority were not to be endured. With flashing eyes Miss -Eliot advanced and thrust the frail form from the doorway, entering the -room before old Elaine was well aware of her purpose.</p> - -<p>Before a broad window her uncle was propped up in his chair, staring -listlessly across the valley to the mountains beyond. She approached -him and said softly:</p> - -<p>“Uncle! Here is Judith come to see you.”</p> - -<p>There was no reply, no movement to indicate that he had even heard her. -She stooped to his ear and spoke louder.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> -“Uncle! Uncle Eliot! I am Judith—your niece. I have come to see you, -Uncle! Do you not know me?”</p> - -<p>The withered, pallid countenance never changed. The expressionless gaze -was fixed as ever. He might have been a dummy of a man except for the -slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.</p> - -<p>Judith glanced around and found Miss Halliday standing near with a -sneering smile upon her face.</p> - -<p>“He’s mighty glad to see you, isn’t he?” she asked.</p> - -<p>The girl did not reply. It was quite evident that Gran’pa Eliot was -entirely helpless; that he was all unaware of her presence. She looked -at the old man attentively, thinking he was far more dead than alive. -His cheeks were hollow and sunken, his skin like ancient parchment. -The hands that lay extended upon his knees were withered and bony; the -wisp of white hair upon his head was carefully brushed; he wore a neat -dressing gown. Propped among his pillows he seemed to be as comfortable -as was possible for one in his condition.</p> - -<p>Letting her eyes roam around the room, Judith saw that it was neat and -well cared for. Elaine, always an excellent housekeeper, could not be -criticised for any undue laxness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> -Judith turned to her.</p> - -<p>“I did not realize he was so helpless,” she said. “Does he recognize no -one at all?”</p> - -<p>“Only one,” replied Elaine, grimly triumphant. “But strangers are -sure to make him nervous. He’ll have a bad time, after your foolish -intrusion. I can tell by his face that he knows something is wrong; -that he’s been disturbed. He don’t know you’re here, perhaps; but he -senses something different. I advise you to go before he is upset -entirely—a shock of this sort might kill him.”</p> - -<p>Judith looked at her uncle again. His dull, apathetic expression had -not altered a particle, so far as she could discover. The idea of -disturbing this half-dead man seemed absurd. Yet the old woman who -attended him constantly might be right, after all, and certainly there -was no prospect of being able to arouse him sufficiently to recognize -his niece.</p> - -<p>“Follow me, Elaine,” she commanded, with a trace of haughtiness due to -the servant’s defiant attitude.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the stairs stood an old garden bench. Judith seated -herself and waited until the old woman joined her. Then she said:</p> - -<p>“How long do you expect my uncle to live?”</p> - -<p>Elaine started to sit down beside her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> -“You may stand, if you please,” said Judith; and old Miss Halliday -stood, although her eyes had a resentful look in them at thus being -assigned to her true station. In the old days she had been considered -a privileged servant, it is true; yet, even then, she would not have -dared to seat herself in the presence of an Eliot.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” she returned. “He has been like this for three years. -He may live a dozen more—if I can manage to keep his body and soul -together.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by that?”</p> - -<p>“Why, there isn’t much to eat here, if you want the truth; and so it’s -lucky Mr. Eliot doesn’t require much food. The wine is the hardest -thing to get. It’s mighty expensive; but he must have it, Dr. Jenkins -says.”</p> - -<p>“Is the doctor attending him?”</p> - -<p>“Not now; we can’t pay the bills. But there’s nothing a doctor can do -more than I am doing myself.”</p> - -<p>“What has become of my uncle’s money, Elaine?” she asked, regarding the -woman attentively.</p> - -<p>Elaine flushed, but shook her head.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” she said.</p> - -<p>“He was never a spendthrift, nor a gambler,” continued Judith. “On the -contrary, I knew him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> as a wealthy man who was so penurious that he -guarded every expenditure with great care.”</p> - -<p>The woman made no reply.</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose became of the money?” Judith pointedly inquired. -“He sold off his property at fair prices. I’m sure that he didn’t -speculate. Then what has become of it?”</p> - -<p>“I only know,” said Elaine, “that when he was took with this stroke -there wasn’t a dollar to be found anywhere. He wasn’t a miser, for -I’ve ransacked every corner of this house. There wasn’t anything in -the bank, either, for I inquired there. I’ve looked over all of his -papers—with Judge Ferguson to help me—and Mr. Eliot hadn’t any -investments or stocks. His money was gone, somehow, and we don’t know -where because he can’t tell.”</p> - -<p>Judith thought it over. It was a perplexing thing, indeed.</p> - -<p>“Why do you stay here?” she asked. “You are not obligated to devote -your life to my bankrupt uncle—a helpless invalid who does not -appreciate your services.”</p> - -<p>Elaine hesitated, clasping her thin hands and looking down as if -endeavoring to find proper words in which to express herself.</p> - -<p>“I’m old, Miss Judith; too old to find work elsewhere. And I’m as poor -as Mr. Eliot is. All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> I can expect at my age is a home, and the work -is very little, now that the Darings have most of the house. Besides, -I’ve been with the Eliot family so long—forty odd years—that my place -seems here, now. I won’t say anything about duty, or my affection for -my old master. He was a hard man with others, I know; but I always -understood him better than anyone else, and he liked me. When he was -taken with paralysis, just after his daughter’s death, there was no one -in the world to care for him but me. Even Wallace Daring had quarreled -with Mr. Eliot and insulted him. Not a single neighbor offered any -assistance, or came near my stricken master. So I stayed.”</p> - -<p>It was a fair explanation, Judith considered, and betokened more heart -in the old woman than she had been credited with.</p> - -<p>“That reminds me, Elaine,” she said, turning the subject abruptly; “I -am going to live with the Darings hereafter, and take care of Cousin -Molly’s children. I must have one of those vacant rooms off the hall -which you have reserved.”</p> - -<p>A look of anger and fear swept over old Elaine’s face.</p> - -<p>“It won’t do, Miss Judith,” she said positively; “it won’t do at all. I -can’t have Mr. Eliot disturbed. I allowed the Darings to live here if -they’d promise to keep quiet, but—”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> -“<em>You</em> allowed!” interrupted Judith, meaningly. “Isn’t that rather -impertinent, Elaine?”</p> - -<p>“There’s no one to run your uncle’s affairs, but me,” she retorted, -unabashed. “I’ve got to protect him in his helpless condition, and I’m -going to do it, too!”</p> - -<p>“This is nonsense,” returned Judith impatiently. “Nothing that occurs -in that part of the house can disturb Uncle Eliot, as you very well -know. I shall occupy one of those rooms.”</p> - -<p>“I forbid it,” said the woman, her eyes cold and hard, her jaws set and -determined.</p> - -<p>“Has it ever occurred to you,” suggested Judith quietly, “that there -is such a thing as law, and that the law will take the conduct of my -uncle’s affairs out of your hands, if I appeal to it? If you really -wish a home in your old age, Elaine, you must give up your autocratic -ideas. The Darings are the natural inheritors of this homestead, and -you have no personal rights here except as a servant.”</p> - -<p>“I’m entitled to my wages, then,” snapped Elaine. “They haven’t been -paid for years.”</p> - -<p>Judith regarded her thoughtfully. In spite of the peculiar temperament -of this poor creature she was doubtless of inestimable worth to Mr. -Eliot at this juncture. No one else could or would care for the -helpless invalid, half so well.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> And there was little to advance -against that argument of unpaid wages. Perhaps, after all, it might be -better to compromise with Elaine Halliday.</p> - -<p>“I am willing to admit your responsible position here,” she said, -“provided you do not attempt to dictate too far. Live your life in your -own way, but do not attempt to interfere with us. I am now going to -establish myself in one of those hall rooms.”</p> - -<p>She rose.</p> - -<p>“Take the west room, then,” suggested Elaine, eagerly. “It’s bigger, -and the east room is cluttered with old furniture.”</p> - -<p>Judith walked away without reply, content with her victory but filled -with many perplexing thoughts. The interview had somewhat astonished -her.</p> - -<p>Elaine watched her go, and when Judith had turned the corner of the -house the old woman stamped her foot furiously.</p> - -<p>“Drat the law!” she muttered. “Ferguson swore he’d turn me out if I -didn’t let the Darings in, and now this girl threatens the law if -I won’t let her have that room. Law! What mischief-makers invented -the law, I’d like to know—to rob a poor woman and beat her out of -her just dues? But there’s two kinds of law in this world—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> laws -others make, and the laws we make, ourselves. I guess the law of Elaine -Halliday will win out in the long run, because my law’s my secret, and -they’ve only got their own to go by.”</p> - -<p>With this somewhat ambiguous tirade she turned and slowly mounted the -stairs. Gran’pa Eliot sat exactly as he had before, staring vacantly -through the window.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="viii" id="viii"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<small>THE “ARTICLES OF ADOPTION”</small></h2> - - -<p>Judith Eliot had been accustomed to act upon her judgment; and to act -quickly, and with decision. Aunt Hyacinth was half frightened when -the young lady returned and said that Elaine had attempted to bar her -out of the vacant rooms, but she was going to occupy one of them, -nevertheless. The black mammy was a Daring servant, having followed her -nursling Wallace when he married and set up housekeeping at Riverdale. -She had nursed, in turn, each of the Daring children and, therefore, -was devoted to them and their interests. But Auntie could never -understand the favored servant of the Eliots, and through all the years -she had known Elaine had seldom exchanged a word with the white woman. -Why a housekeeper should be called “Miss” Halliday and allowed to -assume airs of superiority was far beyond old Hyacinth’s comprehension. -But the fact impressed her with a sense of awe of Elaine which time had -never dissipated.</p> - -<p>Since the Darings had come to this house to live<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> the two serving women -had held aloof from one another as before, and the aggressive, dominant -attitude of Miss Halliday held Auntie in sure subjection to her will. -She never doubted that Elaine had the power to turn her precious flock -out in the cold world, if she chose, and therefore took great care not -to annoy her in any way.</p> - -<p>It was not clear to her, at this juncture, whether she ought to applaud -or deplore Miss Judith’s defiance of the hitherto supreme power of “ol’ -Miss Hall’day,” but she willingly followed the energetic young lady up -the spiral staircase to show her the vacant rooms.</p> - -<p>The east room was sunny and bright, but poorly furnished. In one corner -stood several decrepit and damaged chairs, a few old pictures and -some bundles of matting. A door, closed and locked, communicated with -the room back of it—the room Miss Halliday herself occupied. Aunt -Hyacinth, in a whisper, called Judith’s attention to this door.</p> - -<p>Perhaps that accounted for the desire of the old woman that Miss Eliot -take the west room, which was not nearly so pleasantly situated; but -the young lady promptly decided that the east room suited her best. -She was accustomed to doing things for herself, and with Auntie’s help -dragged the cast-off chairs and other lumber into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> the west room and -made a selection of the best furniture from the two.</p> - -<p>Also, she robbed the stately parlor downstairs of a comfortable rocker -and the hall of a small stand. When the east room had been swept, -dusted and cleaned, it appeared to be quite livable, although Aunt Hy -shook her head gravely and declared that it was not nearly as good as -the front rooms. In fact, she confided to Judith that the east room -“wasn’t fit fo’ ’spectible comp’ny.”</p> - -<p>“When Phil and Don come home to lunch,” said Judith, “I’ll get them to -help me up with the trunks and bags, and then I’ll unpack and settle.”</p> - -<p>At noontime, however, when the children came home from school, Phœbe -vetoed the entire carefully planned arrangement. Cousin Judith mustn’t -be tucked into that cheerless east room on any account, but should have -Phœbe’s own pretty room at the front, with its balcony overlooking -the village and the river.</p> - -<p>“I’m seldom in my room,” said the girl, “while you, Cousin Judith, will -often shut yourself up to paint or write. So, I’ll move into the east -room in a jiffy, and rid up the front room so you can take possession.”</p> - -<p>Miss Eliot protested against this change, but Phœbe had a will -of her own and moreover, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> right in her argument. Everyone -energetically assisted in transferring Phœbe’s “traps” across the -hall, and before school time arrived Cousin Judith’s baggage had all -been carried to the big front room and deposited there.</p> - -<p>That afternoon Phœbe “settled” her new quarters in five minutes’ -time, for she was not very particular about appearances and had the -true Southern disposition to leave any article <a name="wherever" id="wherever"></a><ins -title="Orignal has 'whereever'">wherever</ins> it -happened to be. Order was not one of her characteristics, but Phœbe -always claimed she could find anything she wanted, just as quickly as -those who put them properly away.</p> - -<p>Cousin Judith, although an artist, had an inherent aversion to -disorder. She wanted her surroundings to look pretty at all times, and -a tasteful arrangement of her possessions meant a place for everything -and everything in its place. Phœbe was astonished when she came -home that afternoon at the transformation effected in her old room. A -hundred pretty knickknacks and articles of virtu, brought from foreign -parts, had been arranged most effectively. Some choice prints from -Paris and Dresden were on the walls; a small bust of Psyche in pure -Carrara stood on the mantel. Judith’s well-worn easel was inscribed on -every inch of its wooden surface with autographs of more or less famous -artists and litterateurs who had visited her studio.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> -With all this the place looked as cosy and homelike as it was -attractive, and thereafter the greatest joy of a Daring, big or little, -was to pass an hour in Cousin Judith’s room.</p> - -<p>Phœbe’s sleep in the east hall room was as sound and peaceful -that night, as it had been before she moved from her more commodious -quarters. She glanced more than once at the connecting door, as she -undressed, but no sound came from old Miss Halliday’s room on the -other side. There was a transom over the door, but probably the glass -had long since been broken or removed, for a thin board now covered -it, tacked to the frame from Phœbe’s side. There was no ready -communication to be had between the two sides of the house, and as far -as Phœbe was concerned she was well pleased that this was so.</p> - -<p>That Saturday was a great day for the Darings.</p> - -<p>“We’re going to have a good long talk together,” announced Cousin -Judith at breakfast. “Just as soon as I get my room in order and -Phœbe makes your beds we will get together in the parlor and begin -to get acquainted.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, not the parlor, please,” protested Don. “It’s so gloomy there.”</p> - -<p>“The pahlah will spoil all our fun,” added Sue.</p> - -<p>“Then you must come to my own room,” decided Cousin Judith.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> -Becky went out on the porch while the preparations were pending and saw -the Randolph children, faultlessly attired, standing hand in hand just -across the street.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Becky!” shouted Allerton. “Come on over.”</p> - -<p>Doris turned to him reprovingly. Then she raised her voice to Becky and -said:</p> - -<p>“My brother wishes to invite you to join us.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t go you,” returned Becky, carelessly. “My Cousin Judith’s come, -an’ we’re goin’ to have some chin music.”</p> - -<p>“May I inquire what sort of an entertainment you refer to?” asked -Doris, coming a little nearer.</p> - -<p>“You may,” said Becky, graciously.</p> - -<p>Doris waited, still holding her brother’s hand. To Becky it seemed -absurd that such a big boy and girl should act so much like infants. -So far, her acquaintance with the Randolphs had only interested her -because she could “guy them” unmercifully, without their discovering it.</p> - -<p>Allerton’s patience was not equal to that of his demure sister.</p> - -<p>“Please tell us,” he pleaded.</p> - -<p>“If you had a good chance, Al, you’d soon blossom into a boy—quite a -decent boy,” remarked Becky, reflectively. “The trouble is, you’ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> -never get a chance in that stuck-up crowd you train with. Why don’t you -run away and be a man?”</p> - -<p>“I am scarcely old enough, I fear,” he sighed.</p> - -<p>“Then be a bootblack, or a chimney sweep, or a robber, -or—or—<em>any</em>thing!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Rebecca!” wailed Doris, greatly shocked. “How sadly the lightness -of your mind is reflected in your words!”</p> - -<p>“By cracky, you’ve got <em>me</em> going,” returned Becky, despondently. “What -does it, Doris; religion, or Boston kindergartens?”</p> - -<p>“You have not yet told us what ‘chin music’ means,” suggested Allerton, -with much interest. “It is a new term to us.”</p> - -<p>“It means a confab, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“You must pardon our ignorance,” Doris observed, in her most proper -manner. “Our vocabulary, you know, is limited to authorized words; yet -with you the English language seems to have been amplified, and the -grammatical construction of many sentences altered. Is it an idiom -peculiar to this section of the country, or have you authority for the -use of such unusual expressions?”</p> - -<p>Somehow, Becky felt distinctly abashed. She might laugh at the proper -speech of Doris Randolph and regard it in the light of a good joke;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> -but, after all, she experienced a humiliating sense of her own -crudeness and lack of refinement whenever the new neighbors engaged her -in conversation.</p> - -<p>Of course she resented this feeling, which intruded itself, unasked. -The Darings were as good as the Randolphs, any day, she mentally -declared, knowing all the time the thought was an admission of -inferiority. Becky had had careful training once upon a time, and -her dead mother’s injunction never to forget her personal dignity, -nor give to others an opportunity to disparage it, was not wholly -forgotten by the girl. She well knew that she had cultivated the slang -of the streets and their rabble because some of her village associates -considered it amusing and had encouraged her by their laughter. So, -although the reproaches of the carefully trained Randolph children were -only implied, through their complete ignorance of such phrases, the -girl felt them nevertheless, and this made her bitter and more reckless -than ever.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, Phœbe called to her just then and with a shout of “So -long, bully Bostoners!” she ran in to attend the gathering in Cousin -Judith’s room.</p> - -<p>Now it chanced that Miss Eliot had overheard, through her open window, -the conversation exchanged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> across the street by Becky and her -neighbors, and her sweet face flushed painfully while she listened. -That a daughter of gentle, refined Molly Eliot should exhibit -coarseness and vulgarity amazed and annoyed her. More than once during -the brief day since her arrival she had winced at the rude sallies of -Becky and Don, and even little Sue had sometimes offended her sensitive -ears.</p> - -<p>“There are many difficulties to be surmounted and plenty of hard work -ahead of me, I fear,” she thought, with a sigh of regret. “But my duty -to these waifs is plain, and I must pray for strength and wisdom to -accomplish it.”</p> - -<p>Then she turned and showed a smiling face as the Darings trooped in, an -eager group. Many were their exclamations of pleasure as they examined -Cousin Judith’s “pretty things,” and even Becky was so thoroughly -delighted and turned her clear hazel eyes so adoringly upon her cousin -that her recent rudeness was almost condoned.</p> - -<p>Judith began with a relation of her own history, including many -incidents of her life abroad and the hard struggle she had faced to win -recognition as an artist. Then she told them of the deep affection that -had always existed between her and “Cousin Molly,” the mother of the -absorbed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> audience. She had been deeply pained at Molly’s death, and -when, three years later, Molly’s children lost their father—their only -natural protector—Judith had remembered that she was their nearest -relative, next to Gran’pa Eliot, and it seemed her duty to go to them -and help them to face the world and become the noble men and women -their dear mother so fondly wished them to be.</p> - -<p>The Darings were duly impressed and affected. Sue and Phœbe sobbed -a little, and Phil wiped his eyes more than once. Donald was not so -emotional but looked grave and thoughtful, while Becky’s face was white -and set as she realized how little credit she had thus far reflected on -the sweet, gentle mother who had been prematurely taken from them.</p> - -<p>“What I wish,” said Judith, wistfully, “is to become a second mother -to dear Molly’s children; to do for them what I think Molly would have -done, had she lived. But I cannot acquire such a proud position, my -dears, without your full and free consent. You must talk this over -among yourselves and decide if you are willing to adopt me.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe wrapped her arms around the speaker and kissed her cheek, -while tears trembled on her dark lashes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> -“Oh, Cousin Judith!” she said; “we’re so happy, and so grateful!”</p> - -<p>Becky knelt at Judith’s feet and buried her head in her lap. Sue came -like a dainty fairy to find a refuge in Judith’s embrace.</p> - -<p>“I’d like another mamma—awful well!” she whispered; “and I couldn’t -find a lovelier one than you, Cousin Judith.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve given up a good deal for us,” Phil remarked in a husky voice, -“and I’m afraid we’re not worth it, at all. But the—the youngsters -need some sort of a mother, Cousin, and Phœbe and I need some one -to advise us and help us in our times of trouble and worry. So we—we -haven’t the courage to refuse your generous offer.”</p> - -<p>“It won’t need a vote,” asserted Don, scowling darkly to keep from -crying. “<a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>You’re elected unanimous, Little Mother; an’ that settles it.”</p> - -<p>Judith smiled and kissed them all in turn, big and little. Then she -said, very seriously:</p> - -<p>“This alliance, my dears, means a good deal to all of us, and must not -be undertaken lightly. We must have a fair and square agreement, on -both sides, setting forth and defining what we have undertaken.”</p> - -<p>They were very attentive, at this.</p> - -<p>“First,” she continued, “I want to tell you that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> I am going to love -each one of you, dearly, and I want you to promise you will try to love -me in return.”</p> - -<p>“Why, we do already!” exclaimed Sue, and Judith felt that she answered -for all.</p> - -<p>“The duty of a mother,” she explained, “is not only to love her -children, but to train them properly. She must correct their faults, -direct their amusements, attend to their deportment, laugh when they -are glad and grieve over their sorrows. And they, in turn, must be -content to be guided by her larger experience in life and willing to -obey her in everything.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Becky, nodding. “We’ll agree to all that, Cousin -Judith.”</p> - -<p>“I long to have you grow up to be admired and respected by all you -meet, as your father and mother were. Do you realize how proud a thing -it is to be a Daring? You bear an honored name, my dears—a name that -has always stood for nobility, truth, generosity and culture. You must -guard that name, jealously, so as not only to reflect credit upon your -parentage, but to win for yourselves the approval of the world.”</p> - -<p>The awed silence that greeted this speech was broken by Donald. Perhaps -he was really more affected than any of the others; I think his very -soul was stirred by a desire to be a credit to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> name and to -himself. But he said bluntly and with a mischievous grin:</p> - -<p>“You girls needn’t worry. You’ll change your names some day—if you’re -lucky!”</p> - -<p>It relieved the tense situation and they all laughed, including Judith. -But she meant the lesson to be impressive and not easily forgotten, so -she hailed a suggestion from Becky, which was perhaps intended to be as -flippant as Donald’s remark.</p> - -<p>“Let’s draw up an agreement, and all sign it,” cried the girl. -“Phœbe has a typewriter, and we won’t need any lawyer.”</p> - -<p>“A good idea,” said Miss Eliot. “Phœbe and I will go to her room and -draw up the Articles of Adoption.”</p> - -<p>This was done, and the others waited restlessly enough for a full -hour for them to return, although Phil took occasion to point out how -fortunate they all were to secure a friend and protector in this, their -hour of greatest need.</p> - -<p>After all, the Articles of Adoption proved quite simple and brief, -although they had taken so long to prepare. Most of the paper was -devoted to Cousin Judith’s agreement to love and watch over the five -Darings, to correct their errors, promote their happiness and fill the -place of a real mother to them, so far as she was able. The Darings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> -for their part, merely agreed to obey her as they would have done -their natural parents. But at the last was a little clause that was -destined to prove very important—more important than it then seemed. -It stipulated that if any of the signers revolted from the letter or -spirit of the agreement, or in other words broke the contract, the -culprit should submit the case to any two of the others he or she might -select; and, if they decided the offender was wrong, then he or she -must either accept proper punishment, or become divorced from these -Articles of Adoption.</p> - -<p>The Darings signed the papers with enthusiastic glee; Phœbe first, -because she was five minutes older than her twin; then Phil and Becky, -and Don and Sue. Two copies had been made, one for Phœbe to keep and -one for Cousin Judith; and to make it appear more legal and binding, -Aunt Hyacinth was called in as a witness and made an inky impression of -her thumb on both documents by way of signature.</p> - -<p>By this time dinner was ready, for the Darings ate their heartiest meal -in the middle of the day, in good Southern fashion.</p> - -<p>While they dined, Cousin Judith said she would devote the afternoon to -long private talks with each of her adopted children. She wanted them -to tell her all about themselves, their hopes and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> trials and longings, -and then she would be able to help them, individually, to better -advantage.</p> - -<p>Sue was closeted with the Little Mother first, because she was the -youngest and most impatient. She emerged from Cousin Judith’s room -bright-eyed and smiling, and then Don went in. One by one they had -heart to heart talks with their newly adopted counsellor, the sessions -of Phil and Phœbe being much the longest because they were older and -had more to explain. When the conferences finally ended, Judith had -gleaned much valuable information concerning the Daring household, and -was prepared to assume her new duties with proper intelligence.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ix" id="ix"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> -<small>PHŒBE HAS AN ADVENTURE</small></h2> - - -<p>Perhaps no one was so greatly relieved by the advent of Cousin Judith -as Phœbe Daring. The girl had keenly felt her responsibilities -during the troubled months since her father’s death, and her days and -nights had been filled with anxieties. Now, however, she could cast all -worry to the winds, for the new head of the household, albeit gentle of -demeanor, low voiced and cheery, had nevertheless a reserve force and -power of command that inspired confidence, being in sharp contrast to -Phœbe’s own inexperience and lack of self reliance.</p> - -<p>Aunt Hyacinth also felt relief. She had not worried much, at any time; -it wasn’t her way. But Phœbe’s girlish responsibilities were as -nothing compared to those of the black mammy whose tenderly reared -brood seemed, in these adverse times, to have become neglected and -forsaken by all the world. She hailed Miss Eliot’s coming with joy and -unfeigned gratitude, and when she understood that “Miss Judy,” as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> -called her in the old days, was to take charge of the household, she -felt a great weight lifted from her brave old shoulders.</p> - -<p>“I knows dem chill’ns ben runnin’ wild, Miss Judy,” she said earnestly, -“but I ain’t got de eddication, ner de arg’mentation to keep ’em toein’ -de chalk mark. It needs mo’ brains ner Aunt Hy’cinth’s got.”</p> - -<p>One night, when Phœbe had been asleep for some time, she was -roused by a peculiar sound in the next room—the room back of her -own—occupied by old Miss Halliday. It was a faint but persistent -sound, as of something sliding softly over a wooden surface, and now -and then it was accompanied by the crooning voice of the housekeeper. -She did not speak, at these times, but droned a long, sighing -“m-m-m-m-m” that denoted both ecstasy and intense excitement. The -sounds were all subdued and stealthy, but in the dead of night they -were clearly heard by the girl, who became half frightened, wondering -if old Elaine had gone mad.</p> - -<p>While she lay in her bed listening, a sudden silence fell, followed -by several gentle thumps which she could not explain. Then a chair -was pushed back; Miss Halliday pattered softly across the floor—and -perfect silence ensued.</p> - -<p>Phœbe lay a long time afterward listening for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> a recurrence of the -mysterious sounds, but they did not mature and presently the girl fell -asleep again.</p> - -<p>Next morning the recollection of the occurrence was rather dim in her -mind. She remembered her midnight fears and considered them rather -soberly while dressing; but afterward, when she saw Miss Halliday -feeding her chickens and looking after the garden in her accustomed -manner, alert, composed and engrossed in her work, Phœbe dismissed -any idea of the old woman’s being insane and soon forgot all about the -incident.</p> - -<p>This was commencement week, and Phil and Phœbe both graduated. The -twins were not on a par as far as scholarship was concerned, for the -girl barely passed her examinations. Phil was at the head of his class, -as he had hoped to be, but he was obliged to share that honor with one -other. Janet Ferguson had pressed him hard for first place all the -term, and at last she stood equal to Phil in all classes. With manly -generosity he was the first to congratulate her, for he liked Janet. -She was a modest, quiet girl who had a smile and a pleasant word for -everyone.</p> - -<p>Old Judge Ferguson was mightily pleased. He slapped Phil on the back -and said approvingly: “If you can keep step with my Janet, Phil, you’ve -something to be proud of, I assure you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> -Phil <em>was</em> proud, and so was Phœbe. She had not expected honors, -herself, but that her twin should do so well was certainly a source of -pride to her. She fairly reveled in her brother’s reflected glory.</p> - -<p>Cousin Judith gave Phil a scarf pin from Paris and Phœbe an oriental -bracelet of unique design. Nor did she forget the daughter of her old -friend Judge Ferguson, for Janet received from her, as a graduation -gift, a silver brooch brought from Venice.</p> - -<p>That evening was a joyous one in the Daring household. The younger -children realized that a long vacation was ahead of them. Phœbe was -now at liberty to begin life in earnest, and Phil was about to take his -place in Spaythe’s Bank. Aunt Hy, well knowing this to be a festive -occasion, prepared an elaborate supper, and afterward they all gathered -in an end of the big parlor, which Judith’s deft hand had by this time -rendered more cosy, and spent the evening listening to their Little -Mother’s fascinating stories of Italian life.</p> - -<p>It was late when they retired for the night, and Phœbe was tired. -She was soon in bed, but the day’s excitement was yet upon her and she -could not readily compose herself to sleep. Thoughts of the future and -her ambitious plans for it obtruded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> themselves persistently, and she -was wide-eyed when the ormolu clock, in Cousin Judith’s room opposite, -chimed the hour of midnight.</p> - -<p>Soon after her ear caught another sound—the gentle, stealthy -sliding—sliding—sliding of some hard substance across a table-top. It -came from Miss Halliday’s room, and was exactly the same sound she had -heard several nights before.</p> - -<p>Presently the old woman began her droning again: “M-m-m-m-m!”—a croon -of the most beatific joy and exaltation. She evidently desired to -suppress the murmur, for fear of being overheard, so that at first it -barely reached Phœbe’s listening ears. But now and then her ecstasy -led her to forget caution and raise the croon to a higher key.</p> - -<p>It was all so uncanny, so strange and inexplicable, that the girl -was more startled than she had been before. Yet she did not feel so -alarmed, this time, as she was curious.</p> - -<p>Softly throwing back the coverlet she tiptoed to the connecting door -and crouched down to look through the keyhole. Only blackness rewarded -the attempt. Then she placed her ear to the panel, but found she could -not hear much more distinctly than when lying in bed. Shivering a -little in the night air Phœbe was about to retreat when suddenly the -thumps began, and between them Elaine spoke.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> -“Mine!” she said, muttered low but quite distinct. Then came a thump. -“Mine!” she repeated. Another thump. “Mine!” she said, again; and so -the word and the thump followed each other several times. Afterward, a -brief silence and shuffle of the woman’s feet across the room. Then, as -before, all sounds ceased.</p> - -<p>Phœbe went back to bed thoughtful and perplexed. Surely there was -some mystery about this queer performance. She remembered how unwilling -Miss Halliday had been to have any of the Darings occupy the hall -bedrooms, and it seemed there must be some connection between this -reluctance and the strange sounds she had twice heard.</p> - -<p>For some indefinite reason which she could not have explained Phœbe -said nothing about these experiences, either to the Little Mother or -to her brothers or sisters. The girl was inclined, at times, to dream -wonderful daydreams when those about her thought her absorbed in humble -occupations. Looking upon the world with clear, calm eyes, Phœbe -found it essentially practical and commonplace, and accepted it as she -found it, striving to do her duty at all times. But the fascinating -dreams would not be denied, and one of her secret pleasures was to -allow them full play in her mind when her hands were engaged in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> some -unimportant matter. She never confided them even to her beloved twin; -they were sacred to herself alone, and any exposure of them would have -shamed her terribly.</p> - -<p>They were healthy dreams, if inherently romantic and unreal. There was -nothing morbid about Phœbe, although it must be admitted she had -some queer characteristics that might be called faults. Cousin Judith -thought she was more like her mother than any of the other children, -yet her shrewd eyes marked the girl’s frequent abstraction and knew her -thoughts were often far away from her material surroundings.</p> - -<p>Phœbe scented a mystery. That old Miss Halliday possessed some -secret which she dreaded to have revealed was quite evident to her, -judging from what she had overheard. It would be difficult to explain -to others, those peculiar sounds. Perhaps, she would be laughed at if -she attempted it. She resolved, therefore, to keep her own counsel and -watch Elaine carefully. If she discovered the secret it would then be -time enough to make it known; meantime, she could enjoy the suggestion -of a mystery without interference.</p> - -<p>Practical, everyday life is apt to dispel visionary dreams. Phœbe -leaned from her window the next morning and watched Cousin Judith -bargaining with Miss Halliday for a dozen of fresh eggs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> -“The Randolphs, across the road, pay me twenty cents a dozen,” said -Elaine, gruffly. “You can buy eggs from the grocer for eighteen. -There’s no need to waste your money on me.”</p> - -<p>“Do the Randolphs take all you have?” asked Judith.</p> - -<p>“Yes; and cry for more.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will not urge you,” replied Miss Eliot, “although I would be -willing to pay you twenty cents, myself. I know your eggs are quite -fresh, which is not always the case with those obtained from the -grocer.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want your money,” observed the woman, in a disagreeable tone. -“I won’t touch your money. Mr. Eliot allows you house room out of -charity, but he desires no communication, of any sort, between the two -families.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know that?” inquired Judith, looking at the old servant, -steadily.</p> - -<p>“He has told me so.”</p> - -<p>“You know very well that he is incapable of speech.”</p> - -<p>“Do I? That shows your ignorance, Judith Eliot. Your uncle can speak -when he wants to, and speak to some purpose. His mind isn’t paralyzed, -I assure you, and he is competent to direct his own affairs.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot believe it,” persisted Judith.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> -The woman looked at her defiantly.</p> - -<p>“Call in the law, if you want to,” she said; “I’d be glad to have you -do it. Mr. Eliot can prove his mental condition in court, and his right -to manage his own property. But if you put him to that trouble he’ll -turn out the whole tribe of you, as sure as my name’s Elaine Halliday!”</p> - -<p>Judith turned away without further remark. The shrewdness of the woman -astonished and perplexed her. Possibly old Elaine was right, and could, -if she chose, induce Uncle Eliot to speak. Otherwise she would scarcely -have dared to thus defy all interference with her autocratic whims. It -was also possible that the paralytic old man was so completely under -Elaine’s influence that he would readily follow her suggestions.</p> - -<p>Jonathan Eliot had always been a hard, stubborn man, even to his -sweet, beautiful daughter Molly. As Judith remembered him, sitting -stolidly in his chair that morning when she had forced herself upon his -presence, he appeared a living mummy, lost to all recognition of his -surroundings. Yet, if Elaine could arouse him at will, and his mind -retained its natural poise, there was really danger that he might turn -the Darings out of their refuge. Judith would not employ the law; she -dared not; but she resolved to consult Judge Ferguson.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> -Acting upon this determination she at once put on her hat and started -for the lawyer’s office.</p> - -<p>Phœbe, seeing Miss Halliday busy in the hen-house, left her window -and turned to examine the mysterious connecting door between her room -and that of the housekeeper. In broad daylight it did not appear -especially interesting. It was a heavy, old-fashioned door with a big -keyhole in the lock. But when Phœbe stooped down she discovered a -thick cloth had been placed on the opposite side, which effectually -prevented her from examining the next room. She pushed a long hat-pin -through the hole but failed to dislodge the cloth.</p> - -<p>Next, she turned her attention to the transom above the door. It had -once been made to swing open, but was now tightly nailed shut. Over the -glass had been nailed a thin board, which fully covered it; but it was -nailed to Phœbe’s side of the transom and the girl at once decided -that here might be a way to discover what those mysterious midnight -sounds meant.</p> - -<p>She went into Phil’s room and searched in his tool chest for some -instrument with which to remove the board from the transom. Just then -Cousin Judith passed out of the front gate on her way down town, and -Phœbe was all alone in the upper part of the house—except, of -course, gran’pa, who could not interfere.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> -She selected a chisel and a hammer, and returned to her room. She drew -her stand before the door and by means of a chair mounted to its top. -From this elevation her head almost reached the ceiling, and she was -able to work comfortably. Quickly prying the nails from the board with -the chisel, Phœbe removed it and found a pane of clear glass behind. -It was dingy with dust; but by rubbing clear one corner she found -herself looking into Elaine’s room.</p> - -<p>It was much like her own room, yet even more poorly furnished. A big, -broad oaken table stood in the center—a heavily constructed affair -that seemed out of place in a bedchamber. It was bare of even a cloth. -A small dresser stood at one side; a bed was in the opposite corner; -two stiff chairs and a rag carpet completed the furniture of the room, -which denoted extreme neatness and cleanliness. Really, there was -nothing here pertaining to the mysterious or unusual.</p> - -<p>But Phœbe was not satisfied. Those sliding sounds, the old woman’s -ecstatic murmurings, must be explained. After a moment’s thought, the -girl climbed down from the table and with the chisel managed to cut a -square corner out of the thin board. Then she replaced it as it had -been before, putting one nail loosely into the corner she had removed, -so that while the board over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> transom appeared to be intact and -undisturbed she could easily slide the corner from its place and so -obtain a “peephole.”</p> - -<p>Observing her work critically from the floor she decided no one would -ever notice that the board had been tampered with. So she returned the -tools to Phil’s chest, rearranged her room, and with the complacent -idea that she had accomplished a clever feat awaited the moment when -she might make an important discovery.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="x" id="x"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> -<small>A DEPRESSING INTERVIEW</small></h2> - - -<p>Judith found Mr. Ferguson alone in his office. With an air of much -pride she produced the Articles of Adoption and asked him to read the -document.</p> - -<p>“Don’t pick flaws in its legality, please,” she said with twinkling -eyes.</p> - -<p>The lawyer read the agreement through very soberly. Then he reached out -both his hands and took those of Judith in their firm clasp.</p> - -<p>“My dear, you are a noble woman,” he said. “I am almost as grateful to -you as if the Darings were my own children. They need a mother, Judith, -and the poor things couldn’t have fallen into greater luck than being -adopted by you.”</p> - -<p>She was a little embarrassed by this praise.</p> - -<p>“Tell me what you know about Uncle Jonathan,” she asked, to change the -subject.</p> - -<p>He gave her an amused glance from beneath his bushy eyebrows.</p> - -<p>“Of course the old man would interest you,” he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> replied. “Curious -situation, isn’t it, Judith? Have you seen him?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; for a moment.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a wonder his grim guardian allowed it.”</p> - -<p>“I forced myself into his room, in spite of Elaine.”</p> - -<p>“Did you? And found your uncle deaf, dumb and blind, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she returned. “Is he always like that?”</p> - -<p>“Always. Unless Elaine Halliday chooses to waken him. Then he comes to -life.”</p> - -<p>“I did not believe it possible!”</p> - -<p>“Nor I,” agreed the lawyer, “until I had experience with the fact. -You’ve no idea, Judith, what a time I had to obtain a refuge for the -Darings in that household. Elaine stubbornly refused to admit them, -claiming that Mr. Eliot was oblivious to all the world and she had -received positive instructions never to permit a Daring to enter the -house while he lived. I told her frankly that in such a case it was my -duty to apply to the law and have a legal guardian appointed to look -after her master and his property. This threat alone prevailed upon -her. She decided to grant me an interview, and in some way I cannot -understand, she whispered into the old man’s ear until he quickened to -life far enough to speak. The words were not very distinct and were -slowly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> muttered, for his tongue is partially paralyzed; but I found -his intellect was as keen as ever. I explained the unhappy situation -of his grandchildren and asked him to help them. He told me he hadn’t -a penny to give them, that his money was gone and his fortunes -practically ruined.”</p> - -<p>“Do you believe that?” asked Judith.</p> - -<p>“Yes; I think it is true, my dear. I told him that I did not ask for -money for the Darings; I only demanded a shelter for them in his big, -unoccupied house; and, although Elaine tried to induce him not to -consent, the old fellow silenced her and told me the Darings might -occupy all the house, except the four rooms reserved for his own use -and that of his servant. So I won the battle, after all.”</p> - -<p>Judith considered this thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“What became of his money?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Years ago,” replied Mr. Ferguson, slowly, “I was employed as Jonathan -Eliot’s trusted advisor. That was when he owned a large estate and -commanded ample means. He was not a generous man, in those days, but -grudged every necessary expenditure his family made. After his wife’s -death and Molly’s marriage, he came to me one day and said that all his -money had been swept away in an unlucky speculation, and he would no -longer be able to employ me. He refused to answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> any questions as to -the manner of his loss. Mr. Spaythe told me, about that time, that Mr. -Eliot had drawn all his money from the bank, taking it in gold coin. -Your uncle discharged all the servants except Elaine, shut up most of -the house, and offered his estate for sale. He lived quite frugally, I -learned, and was doubtless very poor. Bit by bit he sold off the lands, -until only the house and its garden remained. There is no mortgage on -the place, however. Wallace Daring offered to assist his father-in-law, -but Eliot irritably refused. They quarrelled soon afterward, as you -perhaps know.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t quite understand,” said Judith. “Even if he lost all his -ready money, the land must have brought a large sum. What became of -that?”</p> - -<p>“It squared his debts, I suppose. The old man confided his affairs -to no one. He was suspicious of even his own daughter. Then suddenly -he became paralyzed, and I went to see if I could be of any help to -my old client. Elaine told me she had searched everywhere, without -finding a dollar. Until then I had harbored the thought that your -uncle had become a miser, for his nature inclined that way; so I -examined the house myself, looking high and low in every possible place -for any secreted cash or securities, or even for papers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> that would -explain what had become of his money, or account for his impoverished -condition. But there was nothing of the sort to be discovered. I am -thoroughly satisfied that Jonathan Eliot is as poor as he claims to be.”</p> - -<p>Judith sighed.</p> - -<p>“The house and lot must be worth considerable,” she said, hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>“It might bring a fair price if offered for sale,” said he, “but it -would not be advisable to dispose of the place until the Darings grow -to maturity. Before that time arrives it is probable old Jonathan -Eliot will have passed away and be laid in that ridiculous big white -mausoleum he once constructed. Then his grandchildren will inherit the -property. While he lives, moreover, we could not sell the place if we -desired to, unless we managed to prove Mr. Eliot mentally deficient.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“No; not in the eye of the law. Elaine can arouse him whenever she -pleases. Indeed, we must consider it fortunate, Judith, that this -strange woman is content to care for him. I am sure she makes him as -comfortable as is possible.”</p> - -<p>“That is true,” admitted the girl.</p> - -<p>“By the way,” said the lawyer, “how are you going to manage about -money?”</p> - -<p>“I have, as you know, an income of fifty dollars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> a month,” she -replied. “With this, added to what Phil earns, we shall be rich. I have -also saved, from the sales of my pictures, about two hundred dollars, -a part of which I am going to expend at once for new clothing for the -children. The poor things need it badly, for Sue, Donald and Becky are -growing rapidly and have scarcely a decent garment to put on.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a fairy godmother, Judith,” he observed, regarding her with -evident approval. “I feel easier about the Darings now; but there’s a -fight ahead, my dear, for all of you. Don’t fail to come to me if you -need advice or assistance, for I’m the legal guardian of the young -brood, remember, and I’m willing to do my duty by them.”</p> - -<p>Judith went away feeling much depressed in spirit. The lawyer’s -explanation had been so clear that it destroyed all her suspicions -of both Elaine and her paralyzed uncle. The matter proved to be very -simple, after all, and contained no element of mystery.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xi" id="xi"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> -<small>GETTING REGULATED</small></h2> - - -<p>Monday morning Phil went to work at the bank. As Riverdale was a small -town, Spaythe’s Bank might be expected to be a small institution, but -it was more important than the size of the town really warranted. The -beet sugar factory drew many farmers to Riverdale, who deposited the -money received for their beets with Mr. Spaythe. The factory itself -had large deposits in the bank and the town merchants did a thriving -business. Aside from this there were many prosperous plantations and -wealthy country gentlemen in the neighborhood, all of which contributed -to the importance and prosperity of Spaythe’s Bank.</p> - -<p>Three assistants, or clerks, were employed, and Mr. Spaythe directed -them in person. The cashier and paying teller was an elderly, quiet man -named Boothe. Eric Spaythe told Phil that Boothe was a mere machine, -and had not a single thought or idea beyond his duties at the bank. Ned -Thurber had held the position of head bookkeeper, but on his withdrawal -Eric was promoted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> to that important position and Phil became his -assistant.</p> - -<p>Eric was Mr. Spaythe’s only child and it was the banker’s earnest -hope that the boy would, one day, succeed him. As is often the case, -however, father and son were totally unlike in disposition and -character, and those who knew them best were disposed to doubt Eric’s -ability to step into his father’s shoes. He was a jolly, pleasure -loving young fellow, now in his twentieth year, and Phil liked him and -had always found him to be a congenial companion. Short and stout, -with a round pink face and merry blue eyes, Eric Spaythe was a general -favorite at Riverdale, especially with the women and girls. His one -defect seemed to be that he was wholly irresponsible, and never -serious. At school he had proved a bad scholar, although the boy was -bright enough in other ways, and two years ago his father had taken him -from High and placed him in the bank to learn the business.</p> - -<p>The most important point of difference between Eric and his father -was that the young man was a natural spendthrift, whereas Mr. Spaythe -had always been frugal with his money. We may well suppose that -this characteristic of Eric was a thorn in the banker’s flesh; but -he realized that the boy was young and so did not despair of being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> -able to instill in him a knowledge of the importance of husbanding -his means. For this reason he allowed Eric a very small salary, and -wondered how the boy could purchase so many fine clothes and articles -of fashionable attire with so little money. The tradesmen knew, of -course, but considered the banker’s son well entitled to credit.</p> - -<p>Phil was accorded a kindly reception at the bank. Mr. Boothe turned -his expressionless eyes full upon the new clerk and shook his hand -automatically. Eric was delighted to have his old friend associated -with him, and elated, as well, by his own promotion to be head -bookkeeper. Mr. Spaythe, keenly interested in the important changes -in his force of employees, left his private office to overlook the -counting room and satisfy himself that the boys understood their -duties. Eric protested that he was quite competent to fill Ned -Thurber’s place, having been his assistant for the past two years; -and, indeed, the banker’s son seemed adequately able in business ways, -if he could be induced to keep his mind on his work. After inspecting -his entries now and then Mr. Spaythe seemed satisfied with his son’s -ability and turned his attention to Phil, who really needed a guiding -hand. His extra course in bookkeeping at the high school now stood -him in good stead, and he was intelligent enough to quickly grasp his -instructions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> -“If at any time you are in doubt, Eric will post you,” said the -banker; but for several days he made it a point to frequently -examine the ledgers and assure himself that the work was progressing -satisfactorily. Afterward, so well did both Eric and Phil accomplish -their tasks, that Mr. Spaythe left them much to their own devices and -kept himself shut up in his private office, as formerly.</p> - -<p>The mechanical cashier was not an especially companionable man. Mr. -Boothe began each day with a “good morning” to his fellow employees and -ended it with a brief “good night.” During the day he said nothing, -unless required to answer the questions of the bank’s customers. His -accounts were always absolutely accurate, and Mr. Spaythe knew he was -justified in relying implicitly upon his cashier to do his duty.</p> - -<p>That was a happy Saturday afternoon for Phil when he brought home his -first week’s wages and deposited the new ten dollar gold-piece in -Cousin Judith’s hand.</p> - -<p>“That will help some, won’t it?” he inquired, anxiously.</p> - -<p>“It will help a great deal,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>About this time Marion Randolph came home from college for the long -vacation. She was the eldest daughter of the house, and about the -same age as Phil and <a name="Phoebe2" id="Phoebe2"></a><ins title="Original has 'Phoebe'">Phœbe</ins>. Judith, looking from her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span> -window, saw Marion on the lawn the morning after her arrival and noted -her slender, angular form, her delicate, refined face and well-bred -poise. She at once decided Marion would be a valuable acquaintance for -Phœbe, and decided to bring the two girls together.</p> - -<p>“Let us call on the Randolphs this afternoon,” she suggested to -Phœbe. “Since they are recent arrivals at Riverdale it is really -our duty to call upon them formally. They are likely to prove pleasant -acquaintances.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve really nothing fit to wear, Cousin Judith,” replied the girl.</p> - -<p>The Little Mother examined Phœbe’s wardrobe and selected a simple, -white gown. It needed mending in places, but Judith caught up the -rents with her deft needle and added some pretty ribbons of her own to -the costume. A season of dressmaking had already begun in the house, -but Sue and Becky were most in need of respectable raiment, and so -Phœbe’s turn had not yet arrived.</p> - -<p>When, late in the afternoon, Miss Eliot and Phœbe Daring set out to -make their call, there was nothing that the most critical could find -fault with in their personal appearance. Phœbe had the reputation of -being “the prettiest girl in Riverdale,” and seemed justly entitled to -it that day, while Cousin Judith’s sweet face was sure to win approval -anywhere.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> -Mrs. Randolph and her daughter Marion received their neighbors very -graciously. The former was a languid, weary looking woman who had -secluded herself in this little village in order to escape the demands -of society and organized charities, which had nearly reduced her to a -state of nervous prostration. Marion was an intelligent, active girl, -with none of her younger sister’s assumption of airs and graces. She -seemed to Phœbe to be perfectly frank and natural in her ways, -possessing ideas that were healthy, broad and progressive. During the -interview, Marion developed a liking for Phœbe that pleased Miss -Eliot greatly.</p> - -<p>“Come and see me,” said Phœbe, shyly, when about to depart. “We are -such near neighbors that you can run in at any time.”</p> - -<p>“I will, indeed,” was the ready promise, and Marion kept it faithfully.</p> - -<p>Thereafter, there was seldom a day when the two girls were not -together. Marion came most frequently to see Phœbe, for there was a -certain air of conventional stiffness about the great house that both -the girls felt and objected to. Sometimes, Doris came with her sister, -and was turned over to the tender mercies of mischievous Becky, who -teased her visitor in a shameful manner. Usually Doris was all unaware -that she was being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> ridiculed for her primness and stilted expressions, -but Cousin Judith was quick to comprehend the situation and took Becky -to task for her impoliteness. With all her graceless ways the child -was warm-hearted and easily influenced, for good as well as for evil, -and she promised the Little Mother to treat Doris nicely and avoid -offending her ears by using slangy expressions. Becky intended to keep -her word thus given, but at times lapsed irrepressibly into the old -ways, so that she was a source of constant anxiety to Judith.</p> - -<p>Since Phœbe had chosen to make a friend of Marion, her twin was -bound to follow her lead. Phil found the college girl a delightful -comrade. He did not care much for girls, as a rule, excepting of course -his own sisters, but Marion proved as frank and as keenly intelligent -as any boy. She knew all about modern athletics, although too frail of -physique to indulge in such sports herself. Likewise she had a fairly -practical knowledge of business methods, politics, public institutions -and reform movements, and talked well and interestingly upon all -subjects of the day. Aspiring to become a poet, she read bits of -original verse to her new friends which they considered so remarkable -that it was a marvel to them she was not already famous.</p> - -<p>“There is only one thing lacking about Marion,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> Phil confided to his -twin; “she lacks any sense of humor. Seems to me she can’t appreciate -anything funny, at all. The only things she laughs at are the mistakes -of other people. Isn’t it queer, when she’s so bright in all other -ways?”</p> - -<p>“I think,” returned Phœbe, musingly, “that is a characteristic -of all the Randolphs. Doris and Allerton are the same way, and I’ve -wondered if Mrs. Randolph was ever in her life amused enough to laugh -aloud.”</p> - -<p>“Marion is good company, though,” added Phil, “and I like her.”</p> - -<p>“She’s splendid!” agreed Phœbe; “and her poetry reminds me so much -of Mrs. Browning.”</p> - -<p>“Me too,” he said, laughing. “I never can understand a word of it.”</p> - -<p>Others called on Marion and she soon became a popular favorite in the -village. Especially, was she attracted to Janet Ferguson, and as Janet -was a warm friend of the Darings, this made it pleasant for all the -young people. When the famous lawn party was given at the Randolph -residence the occasion was one long remembered, for no such elaborate -entertainment was ever before known in Riverdale.</p> - -<p>The festivity was designed to celebrate Marion’s birthday, as well as -to introduce her socially to the young folks of the town.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> -“Of course it cannot be very exclusive,” observed her mother, when the -invitation list was being prepared; “otherwise you would have but a -mere handful.”</p> - -<p>“I do not wish to be exclusive here,” returned Marion, gravely. “My -desire is to study character and human nature, to assist me in my -literary work. One cannot write of humanity without knowing something -of the rank and file, you see; and there are many respectable, if -humble, families in Riverdale.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Randolph scanned the list critically.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible that you intend to ask the entire family of Darings?” -she inquired.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear. I am inviting Rebecca and Donald for Doris and Allerton, -you see, and I cannot well leave out that little fairy elf, Sue. So -they must all come.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know, Marion, those Darings—the younger ones, I refer to—are -very ill-bred children?”</p> - -<p>“Their manners are not strictly conventional, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“And their language is that of the slums.”</p> - -<p>“But they have had no mother to guide them, poor things,” explained -Marion. “At times they are very winning and companionable, and I am -sure they will behave nicely at my lawn fête.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> -“Very well, dear,” sighed the lady; “invite them if you wish to. This -was once their home, you remember. After all, it would not be quite -right to exclude the Darings from your little affair.”</p> - -<p>It may have seemed a “little affair” in the eyes of the blasé society -woman, but it was not so to the people of Riverdale, by any means. A -brass band of fifteen pieces came from the city by the noon train, and -their uniforms were so gorgeous as to create tremendous excitement. -Tents had been erected upon the lawn and a force of extra servants -employed to prepare and serve the refreshments. The ample grounds were -crossed in every direction by strings of unique Japanese lanterns, and -in the early evening there was to be dancing to the music of the band.</p> - -<p>It was but natural that every young person in town who had received an -invitation was filled with joyful anticipation. “From five until nine,” -the cards read, and it was hard work for Cousin Judith to control the -younger Darings until the hour arrived. Sue insisted upon being dressed -directly after dinner, and when arrayed in her new muslin with the -cherry ribbons she found such difficulty in keeping still that Judith -was fearful Sue would ruin the frock before five o’clock. Rebecca had -a new gown, too, and Donald a new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> suit of clothes. When, finally, -the children observed several arrivals at the reception tent on the -lawn opposite, which they had carefully watched all afternoon from -the dining room window, Miss Eliot felt that she could restrain their -impatience no longer and away they trooped across the road.</p> - -<p>Marion had asked Phœbe and Janet to assist her to receive, for she -did not know personally all whom she had invited, while the other girls -were of course familiar with every young person in the village. There -were no “regrets” that day, you may be sure, for the unusual occasion -could not well be disregarded. Eric Spaythe came early, in an elaborate -costume fresh from the tailor, and he paid especial attention to Marion -whenever her duties left her disengaged. Al Hayden, Toby Clarke, Jed -Hopkins and, in fact, every eligible youth in the village, assembled -in bashful groups and looked nervously at the bevies of girls and upon -their bewildering surroundings. In order to help Marion, Phil tried to -“break the ice,” as he said, by bringing the boys and girls together, -and when the band struck up a spirited twostep it relieved the strain -to a wonderful degree.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Randolph kept out of sight, indulgently viewing the scene from a -window. Mr. Randolph had not appeared in Riverdale since he brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> -his family there and settled them in their new home. He was a busy man, -with many extensive financial interests, and could not be away from -Boston for very long at a time.</p> - -<p>Donald, Becky and Sue had promptly joined Doris and Allerton, and as -they were a little younger than the majority of Marion’s guests they -formed a group of their own.</p> - -<p>“It distresses me,” said Doris, plaintively, “to realize how many poor -people are suffering, while we revel at this fête; and I cannot help -thinking how many deserving families might be relieved from want by -means of the money we are squandering to-day upon useless luxuries.”</p> - -<p>“Aw, cut it out!” cried Becky, indignantly. “Do you want to spoil all -our fun?”</p> - -<p>“My sister is religiously inclined,” observed Allerton; “yet there is a -place for everything, and this is not a funeral.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Allerton—how shocking!” exclaimed the girl.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe,” said Don, “you Randolphs would have spent a penny on -the poor if you hadn’t given this party; so what’s the odds?”</p> - -<p>It suddenly occurred to Becky that this wasn’t a proper topic of -conversation under the circumstances, and might lead to a quarrel; so -she turned the subject by asking:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> -“What’s in that red-and-white striped tent?”</p> - -<p>“Lemonade and ices,” said Allerton. “Will you have some?”</p> - -<p>“Sure thing!” was the reply, and away they went, to be served by a maid -in a white cap and apron.</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t it cost us anything?” inquired Sue, who found the lemonade -extremely good.</p> - -<p>“Course not,” returned Becky, helping herself again from the big bowl -when the maid was not looking. “But if Doris had her way they’d collect -a nickel a glass for charity,—the kind of charity that doesn’t help -the poor a bit.”</p> - -<p>“Let us go to the long tent, over there,” said Allerton, with eager -patronage. “I’ll show you the big birthday cake and the tables all laid -with favors and things. If we go in the back way no one will see us.”</p> - -<p>Doris was not sure they were doing right to peep at the tables in -advance, but as none of the others hesitated to follow her brother she -decided to trail along after them.</p> - -<p>It was, indeed, a pretty sight, and the Darings were awe-struck.</p> - -<p>“When do we feed?” asked Don, hungrily.</p> - -<p>“The collation is at half past six, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“The what?”</p> - -<p>“The collation.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> -“Can’t you speak United States?” asked Don, indignantly; “or are you -trying to poke fun at me?”</p> - -<p>“If you are too ignorant to understand simple language,” retorted -Allerton angrily, “you become an object of derision.”</p> - -<p>Don glared at him.</p> - -<p>“Take that back, you mollycoddle!” he cried, “or I’ll punch your head.”</p> - -<p>“Better not,” warned Becky, composedly. “It isn’t polite at a party.”</p> - -<p>“Take back your own words!” shouted Allerton, white with rage. “I’m no -mollycoddle, and I’ll fight you now, or any time.”</p> - -<p>But Doris, startled and dismayed at this disgraceful scene, put her -hand on her brother’s arm and drew him away.</p> - -<p>“Come, Allerton,” she said, with such dignity as she could command. -“You forget yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t forget him, if he does,” promised Don.</p> - -<p>“Don’t,” answered Allerton, moving away but still furious; “I’ll settle -this with you some other time, when you are not my sister’s guest.”</p> - -<p>Becky laughed and followed Doris, but outside the tent Allerton broke -away from the group and went to nurse his grievances alone. Don was -trying to think of a way to apologize to Doris when the girl gave him -such a look of mingled scorn and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> reproach that he turned away, thrust -his hands in his pockets and walked across the lawn whistling softly to -himself.</p> - -<p>“Never mind,” said Becky, with cheerfulness, “they’ll get over it in a -minute. It isn’t any of our bread-and-cheese, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>The incident, however, had disturbed gentle Doris greatly, and she was -so silent and reserved that Becky and Sue soon left her to her own -devices and set out to amuse themselves in any manner that might offer.</p> - -<p>The band played stirring marches and gavottes. Laughter and merriment -were everywhere. All stiffness among the guests seemed to have -disappeared, for there were games of archery, lawn ten-pins, quoits and -various other devices for the amusement of those assembled. Some of -the girls had their fortunes told in the tent of a gypsy, while others -watched a big paper balloon that was being sent up.</p> - -<p>It was nearly seven o’clock when Marion gathered her guests in the -banquet tent, and nearly all had found their places and were seated -when in rushed Sue Daring, her white gown streaming all down the front -with a sticky pink compound, and gasping with horror and despair she -flew to her sister Phœbe, who stared in amazement.</p> - -<p>“Keep off, Sue—keep off! Good gracious, what has happened to you?” -Phœbe asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> -“I w-w-was helping myself to some l-l-l-lemonade, when the b-bowl -tipped over an’ ducked me,” was the wailing reply, while Phœbe held -her sister at arms’ length to protect her own dress.</p> - -<p>There was a shout of laughter, at this, and poor Sue broke down and -began to cry.</p> - -<p>“I’ll take her home,” whispered Phœbe to Marion.</p> - -<p>“Come straight back, then,” pleaded the hostess; “and have Sue come, -too, as soon as she has changed her gown. There has been no harm done, -except to the poor thing’s own clothing.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there has,” sobbed Sue. “I b-b-broke the bowl!”</p> - -<p>Phœbe led her away, and soon Judith was exclaiming at the child’s -dreadful plight. It was useless to think of her rejoining the party, -however, for there was not another dress in her limited wardrobe that -was proper for the occasion.</p> - -<p>“Run back, dear,” said Cousin Judith to Phœbe; “your pleasure must -not be spoiled, and I’ll look after Sue and comfort her.”</p> - -<p>That was not so easy, for Sue’s disappointment was very poignant -indeed. She knew it was her own fault, but that did not comfort her -for missing the supper and the dance. However, Judith assisted her -to exchange her sticky costume for a common gingham, and to wash -all traces of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> deluge of lemonade from her face and hands. Then -she sat in the Little Mother’s window and listened to the shouts of -laughter and the music of the band and gazed at the myriad of twinkling -lanterns—and was more miserable than she had ever been before in all -her life.</p> - -<p>Phœbe had soon rejoined the company and was now participating in -the fun. Sue’s accident had rather tended to increase the jollity -than otherwise, and was soon forgotten. There were pretty favors for -each guest, and as a finale to the delicious supper they all ate some -of Marion’s birthday cake and wished her many happy returns of the -day. Eric made a little speech which was witty enough to set them all -laughing, and Marion thanked the company very modestly for their kind -expressions of good will.</p> - -<p>Donald sat opposite Allerton at the feast, and the two glared at one -another viciously, to Becky’s secret delight.</p> - -<p>“Al’s getting to be quite decent,” she whispered to her brother. “I -wouldn’t be s’prised if he’d really fight.”</p> - -<p>After the banquet came the dancing, and when the guests left the tent -to indulge in this amusement they found themselves in a veritable -fairyland. For the lanterns had all been lighted while they feasted, -and the scene was beautiful beyond anything they had ever before -witnessed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> -The cards had said: “until nine,” but it was quite ten o’clock when -the Darings returned home, eager and excited, and breathlessly recited -their experiences to their smiling Little Mother. Sue had insisted on -sitting up to hear all about the affair, and the glowing reports made -her more miserable than ever.</p> - -<p>“Did you have a good time, Don?” she asked, wistfully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, so-so,” he replied. “It was a pretty fair show after I got rid of -the mollycoddle.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the biggest word Don knows,” laughed Becky; but neither she nor -Sue betrayed the boy’s quarrel with Allerton.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xii" id="xii"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> -<small>A BATTLE ROYAL</small></h2> - - -<p>That night was another wakeful one for Phœbe. She had thoroughly -enjoyed the lawn fête, but it left her too nervous for peaceful slumber -until her pulses had calmed down and she was enabled to regain her -accustomed composure. She went to bed, but not to sleep, and after the -house became quiet she lay thinking over the incidents of the evening.</p> - -<p>Gradually peace came to her. She was really tired, and the somnolent -thrall of midnight was making her drowsy when she was roused by the -movements of old Elaine in the next room.</p> - -<p>It had been nearly a week since she had removed the board over the -transom and prepared her peephole, but during that time the housekeeper -had remained quiet, or at least Phœbe had not heard her. To-night -the stealthy sounds began again, and after listening a few moments the -girl softly arose, drew the table to a position before the door and -mounted upon it.</p> - -<p>She tried to be quiet, but probably she made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> some sound in these -preparations, for scarcely had she slid the corner of the board away, -to look into the next room, when the light which faintly illumined it -was suddenly extinguished.</p> - -<p>Phœbe stood motionless, waiting. Elaine, doubtless alarmed, did not -stir for a long time. The old woman may have scented danger without -realizing in what manner it threatened her, but her caution was -excessive. At last, Phœbe heard her breathe a low sigh and then -patter softly across the room to her bed and lie down.</p> - -<p>The seance was over for to-night, without doubt. Exercising great care, -the girl noiselessly descended from her perch and, tiptoeing to bed, -composed herself to slumber.</p> - -<p>Next morning, in considering the night’s occurrence, she decided to -leave the table where it stood—before the door—and to place a chair -beside it so she could mount noiselessly at any moment. It was several -days, however, before Elaine recovered from her fright or suspicions, -and during that time no unusual sounds came from her room.</p> - -<p>It rained the morning after Marion’s party, and Phœbe was curious -to know if all the pretty lanterns had been wetted and destroyed. But, -on looking across at the lawn she discovered that every trace of last -night’s festivities had been removed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> by the servants. Tents, lanterns, -band stand, all had been taken away as soon as the guests had departed, -and the Randolph grounds were as trim and orderly as before.</p> - -<p>The children resented the rain, for it kept all of them except Phil, -who was at work, cooped up in the house until after dinner. Judith -found time, during the dreary forenoon, to tell them some stories and -to talk over with them once again the adventures of the lawn fête, -which still occupied their minds.</p> - -<p>When, at last, the rain ceased and the bright July sun came out of the -clouds, they greeted it with genuine relief and joyously scattered in -all directions.</p> - -<p>Don, deserted by Becky, who had to go to Miss Gray’s for her music -lesson, walked out to the street and found Allerton promenading up and -down the opposite sidewalk, his head bowed and his hands clasped behind -his back—as an old man might have strutted. The sight awakened Don’s -slumbering wrath and he called out:</p> - -<p>“Hello, mollycoddle! What are you up to?”</p> - -<p>Allerton straightened up and glanced across the street.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “Are you ready for your thrashing?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I dare you to come over here,” responded Don, promptly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> -“If you want your punishment, come and get it!”</p> - -<p>“You’re afraid,” sneered Don.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that,” replied Allerton. “I haven’t my gloves here, and I -dislike to soil my hands.”</p> - -<p>Don glared at his neighbor’s spick and span apparel, and the sight of -the “dandy” made him still more combative. Allerton was the biggest and -strongest, perhaps; but he was nearly a year younger than Don, who had -no thought of his own disadvantage. In that mood he would willingly -have fought a giant.</p> - -<p>“I dare you to come half way,” he challenged, and as the other boy -hesitated, Don advanced along the muddy crossing at the corner until he -was at about the middle of it. It was an old board crosswalk, and just -beyond where Don stood it was so low that the thin mud of the street -had spread a layer over it.</p> - -<p>This it was that caused Allerton to hesitate. He had a natural regard -for his polished shoes and carefully brushed clothes and, while fully -as eager for the fray as Donald, he would have preferred a more -suitable place to fight.</p> - -<p>The taunts of young Daring, however, were not to be endured. It was -really necessary to teach impolite Donald a lesson he would remember. -So Allerton attempted the crossing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> -When he came to the muddy section he halted.</p> - -<p>“Come on, then!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“This is half way,” said Don. “Come on yourself.”</p> - -<p>“You back down, do you?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t back down. You’re the coward, Al.”</p> - -<p>“Coward!”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I said.”</p> - -<p>It was too great an insult for Allerton to brook. With doubled fists he -advanced upon the eager, slender boy awaiting him. Don staggered under -a heavy blow received full upon the chin, and then his own fist shot -out and struck Allerton’s chest.</p> - -<p>To his amazement it was “a knockdown.” Young Randolph’s feet slipped on -the slimy crossing and he fell backward full length in the soft mud of -the road.</p> - -<p>With a roar of rage and chagrin he scrambled to his feet, and Don -planted another blow that sent him to the mud again. It was not a hard -blow, by any means. It seemed as though a mere touch was sufficient, -for Allerton’s feet were now so covered with mud that he could scarcely -stand upon them. A push from Don sufficed to upset him, and observing -the ease of the operation Don repeated his blow each time that Allerton -arose, laughing gleefully at the result of his own prowess.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> In the -heat of the encounter, however, he neglected to keep his own footing -on the cleaner and safer portion of the boards, so that in one of -Allerton’s falls his arm struck Don and sent him likewise sprawling in -the sticky mud.</p> - -<p>They sat up and looked at each other in bewilderment. Allerton had -never been so astonished in his life as at his present misadventure, -and now, as he saw one side of Don’s head plastered with mud, which -filled an ear and an eye, he burst into a hearty laugh.</p> - -<p>Don scraped the mud out of his eye, blinked at his antagonist, and -laughed too.</p> - -<p>“Guess honors are about even, Al,” he said. “I’ve had enough. Have you?”</p> - -<p>“Plenty,” declared Allerton, making an effort to rise from the puddle. -Don managed to find his feet after a severe struggle.</p> - -<p>“My, but you’re a sight!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“So are you,” replied Allerton, cheerfully. “We both ought to be -ashamed of ourselves.”</p> - -<p>“I—I’m afraid Cousin Judith will scold.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m certain to catch it, all right. So long, Don.”</p> - -<p>“So long, Al. Let’s go down town, after we’ve dressed.”</p> - -<p>“All right.”</p> - -<p>Thus the fight resulted in amity; but Don was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> dreadfully humiliated -when he had to face the Little Mother in all that mess. He took off -his shoes on the porch and humbly made his way up stairs to knock at -Judith’s door.</p> - -<p>“I—I’ve fallen down in the mud,” he called to her. “May I put on my -best suit?”</p> - -<p>Miss Eliot had been a witness of the entire scrimmage from her window, -and had even overheard the words that had preceded and provoked the -fight. She had decided not to interfere, but now she answered in a -frigid voice through the closed door:</p> - -<p>“No, Donald. I cannot have your best suit ruined.”</p> - -<p>“But what shall I do, Cousin Judith?”</p> - -<p>“You must go to bed until the mud on your clothes dries and they can be -properly cleaned.”</p> - -<p>Donald stood silently in the hall, his face flushed red with -humiliation. He waited a long while for Cousin Judith to speak again, -but she remained silent. At last he crept away to his own room, removed -the disreputable garments and examined them dolefully. Coat, trousers, -shirt, stockings—all were alike plastered with thick layers of fresh -mud. It would take them a long time to dry, he feared.</p> - -<p>With a sinking heart he put on his pajamas, having first washed himself -clean, and then sat down to consider his dismal fate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> -“It was a pretty good fight,” he mused; “but fighting don’t seem -to pay, somehow. I wish I had let Al alone. He isn’t so much of a -mollycoddle, after all.”</p> - -<p>Finally, he thought of Aunt Hyacinth, and resolving to appeal to that -faithful friend he crept down into the kitchen and begged her to help -him. Aunty looked the clothes over in dismay, saying:</p> - -<p>“’Tain’t no use, Marse Don. Dat ’ar mud won’t dry ’fore mawnin’, nohow. -I’ll do mah bes’, honey; but I neveh seen sich a mess in all mah bohn -days!”</p> - -<p>With this verdict Don was forced to be content. He had a notion to -appeal to Cousin Judith again, but could not muster the courage. So he -got a book, lay down upon his bed and passed the rest of the afternoon -in abject misery.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xiii" id="xiii"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> -<small>PHIL MAKES A DISCOVERY</small></h2> - - -<p>Eric came to the bank a little late on the morning following the party, -but as soon as he had joined Phil at the high desk which they used in -common he began to sing the praises of Marion Randolph.</p> - -<p>“She isn’t a raving beauty, Phil,” he said, “and until now I’ve -always hated the sight of any girl that wears glasses; but Marion’s a -crackerjack in some ways. She’s got a wad of money, for one thing—or -her old man has, and that’s just the same.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose Mr. Randolph is a very wealthy man,” remarked Phil, who -disliked to discuss Marion with his friend.</p> - -<p>“Wealthy!” cried Eric; “why, Randolph’s the head of the big Boston bond -syndicate. He’s one of the slickest financiers in this country. Look -here, Phil,” turning to a page in the ledger; “just notice this entry. -When Mr. Randolph came here with the family, he deposited in our bank -ten thousand in cold cash. He and Mrs. Randolph may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> both check against -the account, but you see she’s only drawn a little over a thousand -dollars, so far. That’s the sort of a customer we like, and if Mr. -Randolph can let ten thousand lie idle in a country bank he must have -scads of money.”</p> - -<p>Then Eric discussed the elaborate entertainment of yesterday and dwelt -perpetually upon the money the Randolphs must be possessed of, until -Phil was thoroughly annoyed.</p> - -<p>“What does it matter, Eric?” he said. “Money can’t buy everything, in -this world.”</p> - -<p>“What can’t it buy?” demanded Eric, astonished.</p> - -<p>“It can’t buy happiness, or health, or—”</p> - -<p>“That’s rubbish, Phil. Give a fellow plenty of money and he’s bound -to be happy; he can’t help it. And as for health, money gets the best -and most skillful doctors and surgeons in the land, and they’ll cure a -rich man where a poor man will die. There isn’t anything, old man, that -money won’t do.”</p> - -<p>“Then you ought to be satisfied, Eric. Your father is the richest man -in Riverdale, except perhaps Mr. Randolph, and you are his only child.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’ll come to me in time, I guess,” returned Eric, carelessly; -“but just now the gov’nor holds me in pretty tight lines. How in -blazes can he expect a young fellow to live on my salary? Why, it’s -preposterous!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> -Phil did not reply to this. It was none of his business.</p> - -<p>In some ways this association with Eric was not of the most pleasant -description. The two boys had grown up together in the village and had -always been friends in a way; but now that Phil was thrown more closely -into Eric’s companionship he discovered many traits in his nature that -did not seem wholly admirable.</p> - -<p>The older boy was a persistent cigarette smoker, and laughed at Phil -for refusing to imitate him.</p> - -<p>“I’ve tried it,” said Phil, quietly, “but I don’t like the things. To -me there’s no fun in smoking.”</p> - -<p>After office hours Eric often pleaded with Phil to go to the hotel -and play pool with him. Mr. Daring had always had a pool and billiard -table in a large room in the attic of his house, and he had taught all -his children to play. None of them, however, cared especially for the -amusement, and his father’s wisdom was evident when Phil now revolted -from a game at the hotel.</p> - -<p>“I’m not a good player, Eric,” he said, “and I can’t imagine anyone -loafing in that grimy, smoky room just to play a game of pool. What’s -the fun in it?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe strongly objected to billiards and pool. He had even -reproved Wallace Daring, at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> times, for having a table in his house. -Eric had been sternly forbidden to play, and for that reason those -stealthy games at the hotel possessed for the young man the attraction -of forbidden fruit.</p> - -<p>“Fun!” he retorted; “why, there’s lots of fun in pool. We play for the -drinks, you know, and I can beat nearly every fellow in the village. -When the farmers’ sons come in, they’re dead easy; there are always -some of them around the hotel, and they’re proud to play with me -because I’m the banker’s son.”</p> - -<p>“Then play with them,” advised Phil. “I don’t drink, as you know, and -I’d be poor company for you.”</p> - -<p>Eric shook his head sadly.</p> - -<p>“You’ll never amount to much in the world, Phil, with those namby-pamby -ideas of yours.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t consider them namby-pamby ideas, Eric; I simply don’t care for -the things you do.”</p> - -<p>“The good die young.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m not so good as to be in any danger,” laughed Phil. “I imagine -I’m pretty full of faults, Eric, and you mustn’t quarrel with me -because my faults are not the same as your own.”</p> - -<p>After a time young Spaythe refrained from urging Phil to join in his -amusements; but he seemed not to be offended and proved genial enough -as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> they worked together at the bank. The two young men occupied a -large room at the rear of the neat, one-story brick building. They -worked perched upon high stools at a big double desk, where the books -were spread out. Behind them was the grim, austere safe which was the -repository of so much specie that Phil’s brain sometimes whirled at -sight of the heaps of gold and bank notes. Mr. Spaythe’s private office -was in front, and beside it was the brass-railed coop where Mr. Boothe -sat all day dispensing or receiving money according to the requirements -of the customers.</p> - -<p>The cashier could not overhear their conversation, if the boys spoke -moderately low, and he paid no attention to them, anyway, and seldom -even glanced toward them.</p> - -<p>“I’ve invited Marion to the boat race,” said Eric one day, soon after -the party. “Are you going to pull stroke for our crew, Phil?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so.”</p> - -<p>“Do your best, then, old man. I’m going to bet heavily on our crew.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t, Eric.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“The least little accident decides a boat race.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll risk it. We’ve defeated Bayport two years running, and we’re due -for a third victory. As a matter of fact, I’m just forced to tie to -this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> race, Phil, and win some necessary money. I owe about everybody -in the town, and some of them are getting impatient to see the color of -my money.”</p> - -<p>Phil knew this was true, and did not care to reply. After working -silently for a time he said:</p> - -<p>“Eric, didn’t Samuel P. Martin deposit $380 yesterday?”</p> - -<p>“No. It was $280.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s the slip?”</p> - -<p>“Put away, somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“But, I’m sure it was three-eighty. I heard him say he wanted four -hundred for his team, and threw off twenty dollars in order to make the -deal.”</p> - -<p>Eric looked a little annoyed.</p> - -<p>“I entered two-eighty on the books, didn’t I?” he asked, scowling.</p> - -<p>“Yes; that’s what surprised me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then the entry must be correct.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll ask Mr. Boothe.”</p> - -<p>“Let him alone. It’s my affair.”</p> - -<p>Phil said no more, but was still puzzled. When he came back to the bank -after dinner he saw that Eric had laid a deposit slip on his desk. It -showed that Samuel P. Martin had deposited $280 in Spaythe’s Bank. Phil -thought the ink appeared to be quite fresh.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> -“You see I was right, after all,” observed Eric, glancing at Phil -a little anxiously. “After you left I hunted up the deposit slip. -Old Martin may have sold his team for three-eighty, but he only put -two-eighty in the bank.”</p> - -<p>A few days later Phil had occasion to ask:</p> - -<p>“Where is the check for two hundred, drawn by Mrs. Randolph?”</p> - -<p>“When did she draw it?” inquired Eric.</p> - -<p>“This morning, according to the entry. And just now she has presented -another check for fifty. I’ve just taken it from Mr. Boothe’s spindle.”</p> - -<p>“Probably she didn’t get enough the first time,” remarked Eric, lazily -puffing his cigarette, for his father was away from the office just -then and he could stealthily indulge in his pet vice.</p> - -<p>“I must have that check to file—the one for two hundred—and it isn’t -here,” persisted Phil, who had no intention of neglecting any part of -his duty.</p> - -<p>Eric stared at him, a moment.</p> - -<p>“Hand me that bunch of canceled checks,” he said; “I’ll find it.”</p> - -<p>Phil passed the bundle across the desk, and while Eric slowly turned -over the paid checks and seemed to examine them carefully the other -bent his eyes upon the books and continued his work. After a time, the -banker’s son handed back the checks.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> -“There it is, Phil. I’ve placed it on top.”</p> - -<p>Yes, there it was, sure enough, although Phil was positive it had not -been in the lot before. He did not refer to the subject again, but went -on with his task, feeling miserable and dispirited at the thoughts that -intruded themselves upon his mind.</p> - -<p>Eric left early that afternoon, when Phil took occasion to carefully -compare the two checks issued by Mrs. Randolph. That for two hundred -was not numbered and seemed to have been very hastily written.</p> - -<p>There was a dull ache in young Daring’s heart as he put away the books -and papers and prepared to go home. An odd suspicion had forced itself -upon him—a suspicion so cruel and deplorable that the boy reproached -himself for harboring it for even a moment.</p> - -<p>That evening he had a long talk with Phœbe, his only confidant. -After relating to his twin the circumstances of Martin’s deposit and -Mrs. Randolph’s curious check he said:</p> - -<p>“I know I am wrong to be mistrustful, for Eric is Mr. Spaythe’s only -son, and would not, of course, attempt to rob his father. But when -Martin pushed his money over the counter to Mr. Boothe he said in a -loud voice: ‘There’s three hundred and eighty dollars more toward my -savings’;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> so, in spite of that deposit slip, I am almost sure he -banked the entire amount.”</p> - -<p>“Can Eric get into the safe, where the money is kept?” asked Phœbe, -after some thought.</p> - -<p>“Of course. He has to put away the books, and often we are not through -with our work upon them until after Mr. Boothe has gone. They both have -the combination of the safe and the keys to the bank. Naturally, I have -not been entrusted with either, as yet.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe took time to consider this.</p> - -<p>“I suppose,” she finally said, “it would be quite possible for Eric to -take a hundred dollars from the safe and then make the entry of Mr. -Martin’s deposit a hundred dollars less than it actually was.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Then no one would suspect what Eric had done.”</p> - -<p>“Why, the books would not show the theft, of course; but in time Mr. -Martin will be sure to discover that he has not been credited with that -hundred dollars, and that will lead to an investigation. It’s the same -way with Mrs. Randolph’s check,” added Phil, regretfully. “She has a -large amount on deposit, and may not discover for a long time that her -account is two hundred dollars short.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> -“Are you sure she did not sign that check?” asked Phœbe.</p> - -<p>“No; I cannot be positive. Mrs. Randolph is in the habit of drawing -money from the bank but once a week. She writes neatly and numbers all -her checks. To-day I found an entry that Eric had made in the book -showing she had drawn two hundred, and the check itself, which should -have been among those Mr. Boothe had cashed and turned over to me, was -missing. Almost immediately came in the usual check for fifty, made out -in Mrs. Randolph’s neat and careful way. Naturally, I was puzzled. When -Eric finally found the two hundred dollar check, it was not like Mrs. -Randolph’s checks at all, although the handwriting was similar.”</p> - -<p>“Have you noticed any other suspicions things?” the girl inquired.</p> - -<p>“Several,” replied Phil, after a brief hesitation. “But, I’ve never -even dared to suspect Eric before. I hope I’m wrong; indeed, I <em>must</em> -be wrong!”</p> - -<p>They were walking along a country lane in the twilight. Phil’s arm was -around his twin’s waist; the scent of new mown hay came to them from -the neighboring fields.</p> - -<p>“I do not think you are justified in accusing Eric to his father,” -said Phœbe, musingly. “It will be better to keep your suspicions to -yourself.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> -“That is my idea. I’m not hired as a detective; I’m merely a -bookkeeper.”</p> - -<p>“Still,” she said, “you owe a certain loyalty to Mr. Spaythe. If an -employee discovers the bank being robbed it is his duty to speak; -unless—”</p> - -<p>“Unless the robber is the banker’s own son,” added Phil; “in which case -it would be a kindness to keep the knowledge from him.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe sighed.</p> - -<p>“Eric has a good heart,” she observed, “and I’m sure he’d never think -of taking money from anyone but his father. He isn’t robbing the -customers of the bank by these acts, you know.”</p> - -<p>“That is true, for the false entries are certain to be discovered, when -the bank will be obliged to make good the deficiencies. Eric realizes -this, I suppose. He has been very extravagant lately, and his father -keeps him on a very small salary. So, it seems to me, he has been -tempted to take what doesn’t belong to him.”</p> - -<p>“I’m awfully sorry,” said the girl. “It’s a dreadful thing, Phil, any -way you look at it. But I do not think it is your place to interfere. -Fate will take care of the problem, and Eric’s final downfall is -certain.”</p> - -<p>“Would you advise me to have a private talk with him, and tell him what -I know?” asked Phil.</p> - -<p>“What’s the use? He cannot put back the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> money he has taken. Better let -the thing run its course, Phil, and keep out of it yourself in every -way.”</p> - -<p>“I will,” said Phil, with decision.</p> - -<p>But Eric was not long in discovering a change in Phil’s attitude -toward him. The young man did not mean to alter his manner toward his -old friend, but their former congenial relations were rather abruptly -broken off, much to Eric’s surprise. Then the latter became suspicious, -and while he spoke to his colleague as cheerfully as of old, Phil -frequently caught Eric watching him with a sly, searching glance that -had a trace of fear in it. This mistrust gradually wore away when the -banker’s son found he had not been betrayed, or even questioned. If -Phil found any entries in the books that did not look exactly right -to him, he passed them over and said nothing. This served to restore -Eric’s confidence in him, and the two boys continued to work together -in perfect harmony.</p> - -<p>Phœbe was very miserable over Phil’s discovery of Eric’s -irregularities. It was the first time any disgraceful or criminal act -had been brought close to her knowledge, and she became nervous for -fear her twin might, in some way, become implicated in the terrible -affair. The girl was sorry for Eric, and grieved over him with all her -kindly heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> It seemed so sad that a bright young fellow with such -splendid prospects should go wrong and foolishly ruin all his future -life. She knew Mr. Spaythe well enough to believe he would cast off -Eric without mercy when he learned the fact that his son was a thief. -For this reason she sincerely hoped the banker would never make the -discovery.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xiv" id="xiv"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> -<small>THE FOLLY OF GRAN’PA ELIOT</small></h2> - - -<p>That night Phœbe was again aroused by the peculiar sliding noise -in the next room. She had been awaiting it for so long that she was -alert to the slightest sound Elaine made, and now she lost no time -in silently mounting upon the table and opening the peephole she had -prepared. Her own room was shrouded in gloom, but the housekeeper had -placed a lighted candle upon her table, before which she was seated in -her white nightrobe.</p> - -<p>When Phœbe first observed her, old Elaine was tying the mouth of a -stout canvas bag that was full of some irregular, lumpy material. Then -she drew another bag toward her—there were several standing upon the -broad table—and unfastened the cord that bound it while it was lying -upon its side. At once a shower of gold burst forth, and with her long -bony fingers the woman slid each piece of money across the table, at -the same time eagerly counting it in the low, mumbling tone Phœbe -had so often heard but could not before explain.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<a name="she" id="she"></a> -<img src="images/i_169.jpg" width="400" height="567" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">She Eagerly Counted the Gold.</span></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> -From her perch of observation the girl counted them with her. There -were exactly two hundred and fifty twenty-dollar gold pieces in the -bag—a sum amounting to five thousand dollars.</p> - -<p>Elaine cautiously replaced the hoard and firmly secured the mouth -of the sack. Another bag was opened. It contained smaller coins, -ten-dollar pieces, and there were three hundred of them.</p> - -<p>The woman did not hurry, although her every movement denoted fervent -excitement. Bending over the table, she slowly slid piece after piece -from one pile to another until all had been counted. The sacks were old -and soiled. How many times, Phœbe wondered, had their contents been -counted and gloated over? Five separate sacks old Elaine unfastened, -counted, and tied up again, and all were filled with yellow gold. Then -she twined her arms around the bulging bags and began kissing them -ecstatically. “Mine!” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Mine—mine!” Then -she reached down and raised a trap in the floor, disclosing a cavity -between the joists into which she lowered a sack. It was a familiar -“thump” to Phœbe’s ears, the puzzling mystery of which was now -explained. With each sack she deposited she repeated: “Mine!” in so -weird a tone that it sent the chills coursing down the back of the -startled and amazed girl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> -Now Elaine replaced the trap, drew the rag carpet over it and stood -upright. She cast an undecided glance around and walked to the -old-fashioned mantel that stood against the opposite wall. It was made -of some dark wood, and had been quite cleverly carved. Nearly every bed -chamber in the house had a similar mantel and fireplace.</p> - -<p>Elaine put her hand to one corner and the entire woodwork swung outward -on hinges, showing a deep cavity which was lined with narrow shelves. -Except as the woman herself obstructed the view, Phœbe could clearly -see the whole of this secret cupboard, which had been ingeniously built -into the chimney. The shelves were covered with stacks of silver coins -and thick packages of bills. The silver Elaine merely glanced at, but -the packets of paper money she piled into her loose robe, gathered into -a sack, and carried it to the table, where she proceeded methodically -to count it. The eagerness she had displayed while counting the gold -was now lacking in her manner. She was intent enough upon her task, and -handled each bill with loving care; but only the hard yellow gold had -seemed to enrapture her.</p> - -<p>Phœbe’s limbs were getting numb and her knees knocked together -tremblingly; but she stuck obstinately to her post of observation until -Elaine had finished her self imposed task and replaced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> the money. This -accomplished, the woman swung the mantel into place and with a leer of -cunning and contentment still lingering upon her wrinkled features blew -out her candle and went to bed.</p> - -<p>Phœbe closed the slide and managed to climb down and creep into her -own bed, without making a noise. Then she lay shivering with nervous -chills, induced by the astonishing discovery she had made.</p> - -<p>There was no sleep for the girl that night. At first, a supreme -bewilderment prevented her from thinking clearly; but, after a time, -she grew more composed and began to marshall her thoughts into some -sort of order.</p> - -<p>It was not Elaine’s money, this secret hoard; that was certain. -Therefore it must belong to Gran’pa Eliot. Phœbe remembered that -always while he was in health and able to be around he had personally -occupied these rooms—the one Elaine now slept in, and the big front -room opening out of it, where he now sat propped up in helpless -oblivion of all earthly treasure.</p> - -<p>There was no longer any doubt that Gran’pa Eliot had long been a miser -and cunningly secreted his wealth. He had caused the trap to be made -in the floor and the cupboard built behind the mantel. With years the -passion for saving had grown upon him, and after his wife’s death and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> -his daughter’s marriage he gave free rein to his hobby and converted -all his land into ready money. To avoid suspicion he had spread the -report of his financial failure and claimed he was reduced to poverty.</p> - -<p>So much Phœbe had no difficulty in comprehending. In what way the -old housekeeper had discovered her master’s secret was not clear, but -Elaine’s resolve not to desert Mr. Eliot was obviously due to her -knowledge of his vast hoard. When he became paralyzed and helpless -she realized that the fortune, unsuspected by all others, was now -safely within her own grasp. Phœbe decided, shuddering the while, -that the woman was a greater slave to that secret hoard than ever her -grandfather had been.</p> - -<p>When daybreak came the girl arose and quietly dressed herself. Then -she softly slipped out of the house and started for a walk through the -valley, hoping the morning air would cool her throbbing brain. Here, -amid a silence scarcely broken by the low mooing of the cows and the -crowing of the distant cocks, she began to doubt the evidence of her -own senses. It was all so wonderful and unreal that she could barely -admit the truth of it; and yet—and yet—. Often before she had heard -the sound of the gold being slid across the table: so often, indeed, -that she well knew her eyes had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> not deceived her when, at last, they -revealed to her the explanation of the puzzling sounds.</p> - -<p>And now the question arose, what should she do? How should she act, -now that she had discovered this terrible secret? The knowledge of -her grandfather’s wealth in no way elated her; rather did she feel -scorn and resentment at his despicable weakness. It hurt her to think -that her mother’s father could be guilty of such folly and pitiful -sordidness. It was too soon for her to reflect that this money might -easily affect the fortunes of her brothers and sisters and herself; -all she thought of was the shame of the thing, that her grandfather -could become a miser and gloat in secret over the dross of gold and -silver—and soiled bank notes. What an abominable, inhuman passion it -was—a passion shared by old Elaine Halliday, a creature Phœbe had -always despised intuitively.</p> - -<p>During an hour’s brisk walk she became sorry that her curiosity had led -her to discover this horrid secret. But she resolved to keep her own -counsel and tell no one what she had seen. Even Phil must be spared -this humiliation, for the poor boy had quite enough to worry him -already.</p> - -<p>Phœbe returned to the house with glowing cheeks and bright eyes, in -spite of her sleepless night and mental perturbation. She greeted the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> -family cheerfully and took her seat at the breakfast table with her -native composure fully regained.</p> - -<p>“When is the boat race, Phil?” asked Miss Eliot.</p> - -<p>“A week from Saturday,” he said. “I’ve got to practice with the boys -every evening, from now on. I wanted them to let me out, this year, but -they foolishly insist on my pulling stroke.”</p> - -<p>“Why foolishly?” inquired Becky.</p> - -<p>“Because, I’m working for a living, now, and can’t devote much time to -getting into condition. Those Bayport fellows are out every day, and -mean to win if they can.”</p> - -<p>“I must see that boat race,” said Cousin Judith. “Boating has always -been one of my favorite sports. I hope you’ll do well, Phil; but, of -course, you can’t neglect business for pleasure.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xv" id="xv"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> -<small>SUE GETS A DIVORCE</small></h2> - - -<p>After breakfast Sue wandered out and found Doris upon the lawn. The -youngest of the Darings was now nearly twelve years old and had -associated so constantly with her elders that she considered herself -quite “grown up” and in no way inferior to Doris Randolph, who, having -an advantage in years, assumed toward Sue the airs of a young lady.</p> - -<p>Since she had tipped over the punch bowl and taken a lemonade bath a -good deal of fun had been poked at poor Sue, which she deeply resented. -It was bad enough to have lost all the joy of the party, without being -twitted afterward about her misfortune.</p> - -<p>Doris was surely too sedate and practical minded to wish to tease Sue, -so her greeting was wholly innocent when she said:</p> - -<p>“Good morning. Is that the lemonade dress which you are wearing?”</p> - -<p>“No,” retorted Sue, flushing; “is that the hypocrite’s dress which you -are wearing, Miss Religion?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> -Doris was provoked, and with good reason, for she was sincere enough -in her religious sentiments. Also, she was still worldly minded to the -extent of becoming angry. After a cold, stony look at Sue, she said:</p> - -<p>“I have submitted to the insolence of you Darings long enough, and -hereafter I forbid you to address me, for I shall not recognize you as -an acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>At this instant Cousin Judith appeared upon the scene and hearing -Doris’ speech stopped short in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Why, what is the trouble, my dears?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“This child, madam,” returned Doris, stiffly, “is still a barbarian, -and unfit to associate with civilized beings.”</p> - -<p>“I called her a hypocrite,” flashed Sue, defiantly; “and she is one.”</p> - -<p>Miss Eliot was shocked.</p> - -<p>“I am surprised, Sue dear; surprised and grieved. You have treated -Doris very badly, and I want you to apologize to her for your rudeness.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t!” said Sue, stamping her foot. “I’ll <em>die</em> rather than beg -pardon of Miss Nancy Hypocrite!”</p> - -<p>Judith looked at her in amazement.</p> - -<p>“Go into the house, my dear,” she said, rather sternly; “I’ll join you -there presently.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> -Sue raised her long lashes and swept one rebellious look at the Little -Mother. Doris’ face had a slight sneer upon it, and the angry child -noted it. Turning squarely about she ignored Cousin Judith’s command -and marched down the street toward the village.</p> - -<p>Doris gave a little laugh.</p> - -<p>“A pleasant mannered young lady, I must say, Miss Eliot,” she tittered. -“But, I assure you I meant what I said. I shall never speak to her -again, unless she apologizes.”</p> - -<p>“An apology is your due, I think,” Miss Eliot said soberly, and then -without further remark she continued on her way to the Randolph house -to see Marion, with whom she had an engagement.</p> - -<p>At noon Sue did not return to dinner. She had called upon Nannette -Bennett, who was about her own age, and driven with her to a farm out -on the Exeter road.</p> - -<p>“Can you stay here to dinner?” asked Nannette.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” replied Sue, readily. “There’s no one at home who has the -right to give me orders.”</p> - -<p>Nannette did not understand this strange speech, but let it pass -without remark. The two girls spent all day at the farm, although I -am not sure Sue was enjoying herself for a single moment. She did not -reach home until the family was seated at the supper table.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> -Phil had inquired anxiously for his sister, and Judith quietly -explained that Sue had called Doris bad names and refused to apologize.</p> - -<p>“When I asked her to return to the house, where I hoped to be able to -reason with her,” she added, “Sue refused to obey my request and walked -down the street instead. I do not know where she is, now.”</p> - -<p>Phil was worried, and even Don looked grave.</p> - -<p>“I had intended to practice this evening with the boat crew,” said the -elder brother, “but I think I ought to hunt for Sue instead. She has -been bad and rebellious, I know; but she’s our little sister, just the -same, and I’m afraid something has happened to her.”</p> - -<p>Cousin Judith made no reply and the meal was progressing in gloomy -silence when Sue walked in, threw down her hat and quietly took her -seat at the table. She did not look at the Little Mother, nor at anyone -else directly, but helped herself to food and with an assumption of -composure began to eat.</p> - -<p>No one spoke. The others had glanced inquiringly at Cousin Judith, -whose face was pale and unrelenting. She did not ask Sue where she had -been, nor chide her for disobedience; but she passed the plate of cold -meat to her and asked Auntie to bring in Miss Sue’s chocolate.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> -This condition of affairs was so unusual with the Darings that they -were uncertain how to act. Even Becky looked askance at her small -sister, as if she were some strange, untamed animal, and Don told -himself this escapade deserved a worse punishment than fighting in the -mud. He had “taken his own medicine” with frank courage, knowing he -deserved the Little Mother’s rebuke and telling her he was truly sorry -he had hurt her feelings. But here was little Sue developing a spirit -of defiance hitherto unknown in the Daring family circle. Phil was hurt -and Phœbe distressed, but both voluntarily left the matter in Miss -Eliot’s hands for adjustment.</p> - -<p>After supper Cousin Judith said to the culprit in a kindly tone: “Come -to my room, Sue. I wish to have a little talk with you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve nothing to talk about,” replied Sue, sullenly.</p> - -<p>Phil went away to his practice on the river and Sue followed her -sisters out upon the porch. Cousin Judith, perhaps hoping the girl -would change her mind, had gone directly to her room.</p> - -<p>“You’re acting like a little fool, Sue,” observed Becky. “I’m surprised -at you.”</p> - -<p>Sue colored, but did not reply. Presently she went to her room and shut -herself in until bedtime.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> -At breakfast next morning Cousin Judith said, addressing all the five -Darings, impartially:</p> - -<p>“Our contract, the Articles of Adoption, states that if any one of -you proves rebellious to my authority the rebel is to be tried by a -committee of two, and must abide by the committee’s decision. Is it not -so?”</p> - -<p>“That’s a fact, Little Mother,” replied Phil, seriously.</p> - -<p>“In the case we have now to consider, Sue has disobeyed me more than -once,” continued Miss Eliot. “I, therefore charge her with rebellion, -and it becomes proper for her to select two of you to try her case. If -I am found to be wrong I will ask her pardon and try to make amends. -If she is wrong she must ask my pardon and submit to any penalty I may -impose.”</p> - -<p>Sue paled and then flushed. She cast a furtive glance around the table -and then said, in a hard, unyielding tone:</p> - -<p>“I’m willing. I choose Phœbe and Don.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” returned Cousin Judith. “The trial shall take place at -once.”</p> - -<p>None of them saw anything humorous in the situation. As a rule the -Darings were merry hearted boys and girls, full of fun and good -spirits; but, these Articles of Adoption were regarded by them all as -sacred. Each realized to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> an extent what a blessing the Little Mother -had already been to them, and was determined to uphold her authority. -For her coming had virtually revolutionized the household and given -them a happy home and a sympathetic, generous friend.</p> - -<p>Sue, however, marched into the parlor with her stubborn spirit -unconquered by any feeling of gratitude, and Phœbe and Donald -gravely followed her.</p> - -<p>“Tell us the beginning of the trouble, dear,” urged the elder sister.</p> - -<p>Sue related her conversation with Doris.</p> - -<p>“I’ve put up with her slurs ’n’ sarcasms long enough,” she said. “If -she’s so blessed religious as she tries to make out, why does she pick -on me ev’ry minute? I’m glad I called her a hypocrite, an’ I won’t take -it back—not for a second!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps she did not mean to offend you by speaking of the ‘lemonade -dress’,” suggested Phœbe. “I’ve always found her a good-hearted girl -and quite ladylike.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I object to,” was the answer. “I won’t stand for her -ladylike airs, Phœbe, an’ that’s all there is to it.”</p> - -<p>“Sometimes our judgment proves to be wrong,” said Phœbe. “Anyhow, -Cousin Judith knows best.”</p> - -<p>“There’s another thing that makes me mad,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> cried Sue. “Cousin Judith -takes Doris’ part against me. Isn’t she supposed to stand up for her -own adopted children?”</p> - -<p>“Not when they’re wrong, sis,” said Don stoutly.</p> - -<p>“Who’s to say whether they’re wrong or not?” Sue demanded.</p> - -<p>“She is, of course. She’s older, and knows more.”</p> - -<p>“Cousin Judith,” added Phœbe, “tries to be always right and just. -She thought you were impudent to Doris, who is our neighbor and has -been kind to us all, and so she asked you to apologize.”</p> - -<p>“I <em>won’t</em> apologize to that stuck-up thing—anyhow, not till she -apologizes for speaking of my lemonade dress.”</p> - -<p>“Now, that’s the real question before the board,” asserted Don. “You’re -under trial, Sue, and if we decide you’re in the wrong, and you don’t -apologize to Doris and do as Cousin Judith says, you’ll be divorced -from our Articles of Adoption.”</p> - -<p>Sue was white and frightened, but she held her ground.</p> - -<p>“All right,” she said. “It’s up to you. I don’t want any adoption by -anyone who won’t stand by me in a fight. And I’ll never—<em>never</em>—beg -Doris’ pardon!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> -They tried to argue with her, and explained the disgrace of being -divorced and having no Little Mother. The divorce would separate her -not only from association with Cousin Judith, but from that of her -brothers and sisters, who would all hold strictly to the letter of the -agreement they had signed.</p> - -<p>Sue listened to it all and remained obstinate.</p> - -<p>“It’s for you to say whether I’m right or wrong,” she avowed at the -last, “and if I’m divorced I don’t care a rap. I won’t stand for any -adoption that makes me apologize to a silly fool like Doris Randolph.”</p> - -<p>Donald and Phœbe withdrew from the conference and talked it over -between themselves. They decided that Sue, having defied Cousin -Judith’s authority and broken the signed agreement, must submit to the -penalty of divorce.</p> - -<p>Phœbe drew up the paper and made an imposing looking copy on her -typewriter. It read as follows:</p> - -<p>“Whereas Sue Daring signed, under date of June 14th, 1908, a document -known as the <span class="smcap">Articles of Adoption</span>, whereby she promised and -covenanted to support and acknowledge the authority of <span class="smcap">Miss Judith -Eliot</span> and to Adopt her as a Mother, and Whereas the said Sue -Daring has broken that covenant and agreement and refuses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> longer to -abide by it, <span class="smcap">Therefore</span> the undersigned, chosen by her as a -Committee to decide her case, hereby declares the said Sue Daring has -been guilty of a violation of the terms of the said signed agreement -and is therefore released from all its pledges and <span class="smcap">Divorced</span> -from any further participation in its benefits. Signed this 12th day of -July, 1908.</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Phœbe Daring</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Donald Daring</span>,<br /> -<em>Committee</em>.”</p> - -<p>This paper was made out in duplicate and a copy given to Sue and one to -Cousin Judith. Sue promptly tore up her paper and scattered the pieces -over the hall floor. Then she left the house and went away to play with -some of her girl friends.</p> - -<p>Cousin Judith asked the others not to taunt or reproach the girl, but -to treat her as pleasantly and cordially as before. After supper that -evening, they all strolled down to the river to watch the boat crew -practice; but Sue was not asked to accompany them. On their return Don -told the divorced one of the jolly time they had had, and how Cousin -Judith bought them each an ice cream soda at the drug store; but Sue -made no reply. When she went to bed she did not, like the others,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> go -to the Little Mother for a good night kiss. In her room she noticed -that the covers of her bed had not been turned down, as usual, or her -night robe laid out. Becky’s bed, across the room, had been remembered -with loving care by Judith, but Sue was no longer her adopted daughter.</p> - -<p>This little lack of attention sent the first real pang to the girl’s -heart. Silently, she got down her gown from the closet and turned back -the covers of her own bed. In the morning she was about to call to -Cousin Judith to ask what dress to put on, but remembered in time that -she must now choose for herself.</p> - -<p>The dressmaker still came to the house every day to sew busily for the -needy family. Judith was paying for all the new things with her own -money, which she had saved from the sale of her pictures, and therefore -Sue was not surprised when her pretty pink challis was laid aside and -put into a drawer unfinished, while a gown of Becky’s was brought out -and given the dressmaker to work upon. Sue told herself she must expect -such things to happen under the new order of things; only—only she -<i>would</i> have liked that pink dress; it was so soft and pretty.</p> - -<p>The divorced one made no complaint, however she might feel the -difference between her position and that of her brothers and sisters. -Sue was old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> enough to understand that she must pay the penalty for -her rebellion, and if at times she repented her stubbornness it was in -secret and no word of regret passed her lips. Judith spoke to her with -uniform kindliness and so did the other members of the family; yet Sue -realized she was an outcast, and no longer entitled to a place in the -inner circle.</p> - -<p>This ostracism was more acutely defined when the Little Mother one -morning called her flock into her room for a conference. Sue stayed -away, being an outsider, and listened to the merry laughter that at -times penetrated the closed doors and saluted her ears. Undoubtedly -it was a trial to the younger girl to be debarred from such good -fellowship, and as she sat in her lonely corner she sadly recalled the -jolly times she had once had in Cousin Judith’s pleasant room.</p> - -<p>“So you’s a orfin ag’in, is yo’?” remarked Aunt Hyacinth, coming upon -her as Sue sat nursing her gloomy thoughts. “Ain’t yo’ got no sense -a’tall, Miss Sue, to go a-flyin’ in de face o’ Prov’dence dis a-way?”</p> - -<p>“You mind your own business, Aunt Hy.”</p> - -<p>“Dat’s what I’m doin’, honey. Mah bus’ness is to see you all happy, an’ -here yo’ goes an’ makes yo’se’f a outcast an’ a orfin, when yo’ had a -good Li’l Motheh to tek care o’ yo’. Ain’ dere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> no way to divohce dat -divohce, an’ git back in de sunshine ag’in’?”</p> - -<p>Sue sulked and did not reply. That suggestion of getting back into the -fold again had already occurred to her, but the Articles of Adoption -had made no provision for such a thing. Much of the child’s stubborn -mood had vanished by this time, but there seemed no way of retreat -open. She began to wonder if she must pass all her life an “outcast an’ -a orfin,” as Aunty had tersely described it.</p> - -<p>Judith, who had a shrewd idea of what was passing in the girl’s mind, -was content to let matters take their course. Often she longed to take -Sue in her arms and comfort her, but dared not. Judith Eliot was only -a young girl herself, loving and tender hearted, but she was rarely -sagacious in her understanding of human nature and believed that Sue’s -divorce would tend to benefit all her charges, and finally strengthen -her own position. One gains experience not only personally, but from -the experiences of others, and it was noticeable that both Becky and -Don had been unusually meek and circumspect since Sue’s rebellion.</p> - -<p>Becky, indeed, did a queer thing. Going to the Little Mother privately -she said in her earnest way:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> -“I’d like to get halter-broke, Cousin Judith, and I wish you’d help me. -Whenever I buck the rules of propriety and cease to be a lady, you just -step on my corns an’ yell ‘time.’ I know I’m awful slangy sometimes, -but by jooks I’ll cure myself of the habit if I bu’st a surcingle!”</p> - -<p>Judith smiled and kissed her.</p> - -<p>“I wonder where you pick up such expressions,” she said. “But I assure -you, Becky dear, it won’t be at all difficult to cultivate a choicer -language, if you make the attempt. Pay attention to the conversation of -Phœbe and Marion, and listen to your Little Mother’s mode of speech. -I assure you there is nothing either winning or clever in the use of -slang phrases. A street gamin is able to employ them as readily as you -do, yet may never aspire to refined speech. To cast your lot with the -ignorant and uncultured, rather than with those of your own class, is -to abandon the advantages of birth and refined associations.”</p> - -<p>“I used to think it was smart,” admitted Becky, gloomily; “but now -I see I was off my base and shinning up the wrong tree. But I’ll be -careful, after this, Cousin Judith; see if I’m not. And I hope you’ll -call me down if I forget I’m a lady and talk like a female she.”</p> - -<p>It was well-nigh impossible to cure herself of vulgar expressions -all at once; but Becky sincerely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> tried to improve, and met with a -measure of success. Judith never reproached her if at times she lapsed -unwittingly into slang, for Becky was quick to realize her fault and a -sudden flush of shame would often suffuse her face before the unseemly -words were well out of her mouth.</p> - -<p>Don and Allerton had now become fast friends, being together much of -the time. Don, as well as Becky, had softened perceptibly since the -advent of Cousin Judith, and having acquired a hearty respect for -Allerton, who had proved no “mollycoddle,” the boys became congenial -associates.</p> - -<p>The coming boat race had by this time begun to excite the good people -of Riverdale and was a general topic of conversation among the -villagers. Nearly every town on the river bank had a boat crew, and a -sharp rivalry had for some years been maintained between Bayport, nine -miles away, and Riverdale. For many seasons Bayport had won the prize, -being practically invincible, but for the last two years fortune had -deserted them and their crew lost to Riverdale. Bayport was naturally -eager to regain its lost prestige, and its adversary was equally -anxious to retain the honors so hardily won. Therefore, an exciting -race was in prospect.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xvi" id="xvi"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> -<small>THE BOAT RACE</small></h2> - - -<p>Phil had pulled an oar with the winning crew the year before, and -was to be stroke oar this year, a position requiring nice judgment -as well as consummate skill. Although he had now been working at the -bank for more than three weeks, the young fellow was in prime physical -condition, and the week’s practice with the crew renewed the hopes of -the ardent admirers of the Riverdale boys.</p> - -<p>Eric came down nearly every evening to see them pull the scull over -the smooth stretch of water above the bridge, and he told Phil several -times that he had “laid some pretty stiff wagers” on his crew.</p> - -<p>Young Daring did not approve of this, and frankly said so.</p> - -<p>“We’ve three new men in our eight,” he said, “and the Bayport crew -is almost entirely new blood. No one can judge our respective merits -till we get together, and while I hope we shall win I would not risk a -dollar on such a doubtful chance.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> -Eric was unconvinced, and merely laughed at him; yet Phil felt that he -had done his duty and said all that was required. Thereafter he held -his peace.</p> - -<p>The race was held at Bayport this year, which was in that crew’s favor, -although Phil and most of his eight were nearly as familiar with the -Bayport course as with their own. When Saturday arrived there was a -general exodus from Riverdale to the scene of the race.</p> - -<p>Judith had engaged a three-seated wagon to convey the Darings and -herself. With all the talk about the race not a word had been said -to Sue about her going to Bayport with them. Silently the “outcast” -listened to the plans for the excursion, believing she was destined to -remain at home. She had a great longing to go, for such diversions were -few in their quiet lives, but by her own act she had withdrawn from the -inner circle and with stolid resolve she determined none should guess -her disappointment or remorse.</p> - -<p>There was an early dinner this Saturday noon, and when the wagon drew -up at the door and the Darings were hurrying to get their hats and -wraps, Cousin Judith said to Sue, who sat soberly in a corner:</p> - -<p>“Won’t you go with us, dear? There is plenty of room.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> -Sue gave a gasp of amazement.</p> - -<p>“But, I—I’m out of it, you know, Cousin Judith. I—I’m not one of your -children,” she stammered.</p> - -<p>“Come as my guest, then. Do you suppose I have ceased to love you, -Sue? I’m not your Little Mother any more—more’s the pity—but I shall -always remain your affectionate Cousin Judith. It would please me to -have you come with us to-day, and enjoy yourself.”</p> - -<p>Sue’s eyes were sparkling. Without a word, except a murmured “thank -you, Cousin Judith!” she rushed for her hat and joined the others in -the wagon.</p> - -<p>It was a great day for the Darings and proved a delightful outing, -although alas, the Riverdale crew went down to defeat.</p> - -<p>An accident caused it, of course; otherwise, the race was surely -Riverdale’s.</p> - -<p>Phil led his crew over the course with masterful generalship, starting -with slow, steady strokes, without regard for the lead of Bayport, -and then gradually increasing the count until near the end Riverdale -overtook their opponents and shot irresistibly into the lead. They -were two boat lengths ahead and still gaining when one of the new men -“caught a crab” and threw the entire crew into confusion. The scull -swung half around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> and before headway could be recovered Bayport passed -them and won the race.</p> - -<p>Riverdale people had been lustily cheering when they saw their boat -surely forging to the front and a certain winner, as they thought; but -now a groan of dismay went up that was drowned by the cheers of the -exultant Bayporters.</p> - -<p>Phœbe was nearly ready to cry, while Becky and Don were savage with -grief.</p> - -<p>“Never mind, my dears,” said Cousin Judith, cheerfully. “There is no -dishonor in such a defeat and Phil certainly did his part splendidly.”</p> - -<p>That was the general verdict, and Riverdale spectators crowded around -Phil and congratulated him on the fine showing he had made.</p> - -<p>In a shiny top-buggy Eric Spaythe had sat beside Marion Randolph, at -a point overlooking the entire river. He had proved very agreeable -company up to the finish of the race, laughing and joking in his cheery -way and assuring Marion time and again that Riverdale was sure to win. -At the final <a name="catastrophe" id="catastrophe"></a><ins title="Original has 'catastrophy'">catastrophe</ins> he seemed overcome by horror. -His eyes bulged; his lips trembled; he fell silent and moody.</p> - -<p>“Come; let’s get home!” he suddenly exclaimed, and without awaiting -reply he whipped up the nag and dashed away at a break-neck speed that -made everyone who saw him wonder what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> was the matter. Marion, greatly -annoyed by this churlish proceeding on the part of her escort, refused -to make any comment. Eric scarcely spoke a pleasant word to her all -the way back to Riverdale. However, as they drove up the street to her -house he suddenly seemed to remember that he had acted like a boor and -said apologetically:</p> - -<p>“Don’t think me rude, please. My whole heart was set on Riverdale -winning that race, and I guess my disappointment made me forget myself. -You won’t bear any grudge against me, will you?” he continued, a little -anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Most certainly not,” answered Marion coldly. “I thank you for the -courtesy shown me—before you forgot yourself.”</p> - -<p>Then she hurried into the house, leaving Eric staring agape and -wondering if he had made a fool of himself and lost more than his bets -on the race.</p> - -<p>Cousin Judith did not hurry her brood home, for it was still early. -She carried the Darings to a cool little restaurant where they feasted -on ice cream and cakes to their hearts’ content and soon forgot the -humiliation of their brother’s defeat.</p> - -<p>Judith placed little Sue by her side and saw she was as liberally -served as the others. The girl was unusually silent, however, and once -Miss Eliot noticed that her dark eyes were flooded with tears.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> -On her way home Sue laid her head on the Little Mother’s lap and began -to sob, gently at first but with increasing bitterness, while her -brothers and sisters regarded her with unfeigned amazement.</p> - -<p>Judith stroked the soft hair and let the burst of grief exhaust itself.</p> - -<p>“You—you’ve been so kind to me,” whispered Sue, raising her -tear-stained face to look appealingly into the gentle countenance above -her, “that I—I—I’m <em>drea</em>’fully ’shamed of myself! Don’t you s’pose -you—could—adopt me again?”</p> - -<p>“I think so,” said the Little Mother gravely.</p> - -<p>The clouds cleared then and Sue was presently smiling again. As soon as -they reached home she marched directly over to the Randolph mansion and -found Doris. When she returned she said shyly, in the presence of the -entire family:</p> - -<p>“I’ve ’pologized to Doris an’ told her she isn’t a hypocrite; and -I’m sorry—drea’fully sorry—I disobeyed Cousin Judith and acted so -naughty.”</p> - -<p>“Good for you, Puss!” cried Phil, who had just come in. “Why, this -consoles me for the loss of the race!”</p> - -<p>Sue beamed with pleasure and Judith gathered the girl in her arms and -kissed her.</p> - -<p>“I call you all to witness,” she said, “that this is the child of my -adoption. We won’t need to sign<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> papers this time, because you will all -know that Sue and I belong to each other hereafter and can never be -divorced. Is it not so, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed, Little Mother!” replied Sue, smiling happily.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xvii" id="xvii"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> -<small>IN THE TOILS</small></h2> - - -<p>When Eric and Phil met at their desks on Monday morning the banker’s -son was “savage as a meat-ax.” He scowled and muttered over his work -and slammed the big books here and there as if he owed them a grudge.</p> - -<p>Phil paid no attention to this exhibition of temper, which he believed -due to the failure of Riverdale to win the boat race. He knew that Eric -had been betting heavily with his cronies and the Bayport people, and -since the young man was already deeply in debt these added losses might -affect him, seriously. So Phil devoted himself quietly to work and let -Eric rave.</p> - -<p>Gradually the young fellow quieted down. He was in no mood for work -that day, and paid little attention to the books. But he smoked so many -cigarettes, one after another, that the air was blue, and Mr. Boothe -left his coop long enough to request Eric to desist from choking him -with the offensive fumes.</p> - -<p>“I am not well,” added the cashier; “so I ask you to be considerate.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> -Eric tossed his cigarette away and Mr. Boothe returned to his coop.</p> - -<p>“Phil,” said Eric, abruptly, “do you know where I can borrow some -money?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps your father will let you have it,” was the reply.</p> - -<p>“The gov’nor! Never. He’d haul me over the coals if he knew I was hard -up on my princely salary of eighteen a week.”</p> - -<p>Phil made no comment. Said Eric, after a period of thought:</p> - -<p>“I’m told the loan-sharks in St. Louis will advance a fellow money on -his prospects. I wonder if they’d help me out of this hole. I’m the -only son of a well-to-do banker, and will inherit a respectable lump of -money, some day. Do you suppose they’d help me, Phil?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, Eric. Such money lenders would be sure to demand a heavy -interest.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. It’s worth something to get my fist on the money -when I want it.”</p> - -<p>“What is it for?” asked Daring. “Why do you need this money?”</p> - -<p>“To pay some of those infernal debts.”</p> - -<p>“How much better off will you be afterward, Eric? Wouldn’t you contract -more debts right away?”</p> - -<p>“That’s <em>my</em> business,” growled the other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> “Don’t you begin preaching -to me, Phil Daring, for I won’t stand for it,” he added, glaring -angrily at his fellow clerk.</p> - -<p>Phil said no more, but he was sad and ill at ease. Eric was no longer -the genial, winning fellow of former days. Since he had begun to spend -money so recklessly and to run into debt, his character and disposition -seemed to have altered for the worse. The thing Phil dreaded more than -anything else was another raid on the bank money, with more of those -audacious false records to cover up the defalcations. He was helpless -to interfere, but none the less was he sincerely sorry for both Eric -and his father, knowing that exposure was bound to follow sooner or -later.</p> - -<p>Singularly enough, Mr. Spaythe seemed blind to his son’s reckless -extravagance. A thoughtful man, intent upon the intricate details -of his banking business and absorbed in loans, notes and discounts, -interests and important matters of a like character, the banker seemed -not to notice Eric’s elaborate costumes or the fact that he passed much -of his spare time in association with the fast set of the village, -whose rendezvous was the hotel bar. On the contrary, Mr. Spaythe seemed -contented with the thought that his son and heir was connected with his -business and apparently doing his work faithfully and well.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> -On Wednesday Mr. Boothe was suffering from a bad headache when he came -to work. It soon became so much worse that Phil had to assist him to -reach his home—a little cottage not far away—where the cashier lived -with a maiden sister.</p> - -<p>When Phil came back he went into the private office and reported the -matter to Mr. Spaythe. The banker at once telephoned Dr. Jenkins to -attend Mr. Boothe, and then in person took his cashier’s place in the -teller’s “cage.”</p> - -<p>Next day Mr. Boothe was still too ill to appear at the bank. Dr. -Jenkins said it would be lucky if he managed to break up the fever, -but in any event his patient could not resume his duties before the -following Monday morning.</p> - -<p>While his father was taking the cashier’s place Eric was silent and -attentive to his work. But, Mr. Spaythe could ill afford to devote -his entire time to the counting room, so he often called his son to -assist in cashing checks and receiving deposits. Eric attended to these -details so intelligently that on Friday Mr. Spaythe gave him complete -charge of that important department, thus gaining for himself the -liberty of devoting his attention to other pressing matters that had -accumulated on his own desk.</p> - -<p>That same afternoon, when the banker stepped into the counting room to -secure a memorandum, Eric said to him:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> -“Wouldn’t it be a good idea, sir, to give Phil the combination of the -safe? We’re behind with the books, and he’ll have to come down nights -and catch up with the work—at least until Boothe gets back into -harness.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Spaythe; “you may give Daring the combination. Here is -an extra key to the side door, also.” Then, he turned to his youthful -clerk and nodded kindly. “I’m sorry to force this extra work upon you, -Phil, but Mr. Boothe’s illness leaves us very short-handed, and you may -expect compensation for your extra hours.”</p> - -<p>Phil was not only annoyed at this, but positively frightened. He had -surprised a curious look upon Eric’s face when he asked his father to -give Phil the secret combination of the safe. In a small establishment -like Spaythe’s Bank both the books and the supply of currency were -kept in the one big safe. At this juncture, when many uncomfortable -suspicions were rife in his brain, Phil much preferred not to have such -responsibility thrust upon him.</p> - -<p>“I’d rather not know the combination, sir,” he ventured to say, knowing -he appeared confused and embarrassed.</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe was plainly surprised and gave him a hard look.</p> - -<p>“Why not!” he asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> -“It is a—a—great responsibility, sir,” the young man explained.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, Daring. I trust you, fully. As fully as I do Eric or Mr. -Boothe.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t I make up the work on the books some other way—during the noon -hour?”</p> - -<p>“You’re silly, Phil,” declared Eric, sharply. “Better come down here -quietly after supper and do the work in an easy and proper way. It -isn’t likely to last but a night or two.”</p> - -<p>“I think Mr. Boothe will be able to resume his duties by Monday -morning,” added Mr. Spaythe; and then, as if the matter was settled, he -walked into his room.</p> - -<p>Phil resumed his work with an uneasy sense of impending misfortune. -After banking hours Eric made up the teller’s account of receipts and -disbursements and gave Phil a copy that he might enter the items on the -books in detail. Then he counted the cash and put it away in the safe, -explaining to his unwilling colleague the way to work the combination. -After this Eric departed, leaving Phil alone in the bank, where he -worked steadily until time for supper.</p> - -<p>When he went home he confided to Phœbe this new complication that -had arisen.</p> - -<p>“I’m almost certain that Eric has some desperate scheme in his head,” -said he. “He needs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> money badly to pay his gambling debts, and I’m -afraid he will try to get it in such a way as to implicate me and -divert suspicion from himself.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you imagine that?” inquired his twin.</p> - -<p>“Because he was so anxious that I should know the combination and have -a key to the bank. What ought I to do, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Your simple duty,” said Phœbe positively. “Why, Phil, no harm can -possibly come to an honest fellow who does his duty! Don’t worry about -Eric and his deeds. He could not injure you if he tried, and really, I -don’t believe he will try. Eric has a kindly heart, and his main fault -is that he has become a bit wild and reckless.”</p> - -<p>“He’s changed a good deal lately, Phœbe,” was the quiet answer.</p> - -<p>Phil promptly returned to the bank, let himself in by the side door, -opened the safe and took out the books. For two hours he worked under -the glare of the electric light, before his task was finished. No -one came near to interrupt him. As he slid the big books into the -compartment of the safe reserved for them he glanced at the neat piles -of bills and bags of gold and an involuntary shiver of fear swept over -him.</p> - -<p>Saturday morning the bank was very busy. Eric sat in Mr. Boothe’s cage -and waited upon the customers in a very business-like manner. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span> was -so quick and accurate in handling the money, with a pleasant word for -each one who approached his wicket, that when Mr. Spaythe came in now -and then to see that everything was progressing properly the boy won -his father’s gratified praise.</p> - -<p>At one o’clock they closed the doors, as was usual on Saturdays, and it -did not take Eric long to arrange his cash, pile it away in the safe -and turn his statement of the day’s transactions over to Phil.</p> - -<p>“What, through already?” asked his father, coming in at that moment.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Here’s the balance sheet you asked for, all made out -correctly. I’m in a bit of a hurry, as I’ve arranged to go to St. Louis -for over Sunday.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe frowned.</p> - -<p>“I did not know of this plan,” he said curtly. “Why are you making the -trip, Eric?”</p> - -<p>“To visit Ned Thurber. He has invited me to stay with him, so it will -only cost me railroad fares. I’ll be back in time for work on Monday, -sir,” he added carelessly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe stood regarding his son silently for a moment. He reflected -that the boy had behaved admirably these past few days, filling Mr. -Boothe’s place quite effectively. The banker was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> also engaged with -other matters that required his immediate attention. So he said:</p> - -<p>“Very well. Go, if you wish to.”</p> - -<p>Eric accompanied his father into the private office, merely bestowing -upon Phil a nod of farewell. It was rather mean of him to take a -vacation and throw all the work of bookkeeping upon young Daring, but -Eric was not noted for his consideration to others.</p> - -<p>Pausing before his father’s desk he said in a hesitating way:</p> - -<p>“I suppose it’s all right to leave Phil in charge of the cash?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe turned upon him, sharply.</p> - -<p>“Why not?” he said. “The Darings are honest enough. I would have -trusted his father with every penny I owned, at any time.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I suppose Phil’s safe,” returned Eric, carelessly. “But he’s a new -clerk, and there’s a lot of currency on hand to carry over Sunday. So -the thought struck me—”</p> - -<p>He paused, for his father was paying no attention to what he said. -Instead, his practiced eye was shrewdly scanning the balance sheet. It -told the amount of cash on hand in bills, gold and silver, and recorded -all checks, drafts and notes deposited during the day. Finding the -tally correct Mr. Spaythe laid down the paper and turned again to his -son.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> -“I’ll trust Phil,” he said.</p> - -<p>Eric went away, smiling to himself. “Just what I wanted,” he muttered. -“The gov’nor will remember this conversation afterward.”</p> - -<p>Passing down the street he told every acquaintance he met that he was -off for St. Louis by the four o’clock train. At the station he made his -journey known to the group of loungers and shouted a rather boisterous -good-by when the train drew in and he boarded it. He even waved his hat -from the back platform until he had passed out of sight. Among those -who thus watched Eric’s departure was Donald Daring, who announced the -fact at supper that Eric Spaythe had gone to St. Louis by the four -o’clock train.</p> - -<p>“Must you work at those dreadful books to-night, Phil?” asked Phœbe.</p> - -<p>“Only for an hour or so, dear. I put in such steady work this afternoon -that a little more will get things in shape.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go down with you, then, and keep you company,” she announced.</p> - -<p>As they walked along the street together in the cool of early evening -Phil was very thoughtful. Finally, he said to the girl:</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe Eric has gone to St. Louis, Phœbe.”</p> - -<p>“Why, he must have gone!” she exclaimed. “Don saw him on board the -train.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> -“I know; but in spite of that I’ve a queer feeling—a sort of -suspicion—that he’s playing us a trick.”</p> - -<p>“Have you, Phil? But why?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t explain it. You see, since Boothe has been away Eric has been -free to do as he pleased. He’s in desperate need of money, just now; -but, although I’ve been on the watch, not a single crooked transaction -have I been able to discover—except one.”</p> - -<p>“What was that?”</p> - -<p>“I found on his desk yesterday a scrap of paper with my name scribbled -over it in many styles of handwriting. Anyone seeing it would have -thought I had been trying to create a lot of different signatures. -I tore the paper in two, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the waste -basket. But, afterward, I decided the thing ought to be burnt, and -searched for the scraps. They weren’t among the other papers, for I -went through the entire contents of the basket. Some one had taken -them, and it could be no one but Eric.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe looked grave at this.</p> - -<p>“What does it mean, Phil?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve tried to think. I know of two or three forged deposit slips, -aside from that one of Mr. Martin’s. Then there was the forged check of -Mrs. Randolph—I’m positive it was forged.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> These things are sure to be -discovered some day, and then the charge of forgery and embezzlement -will lie between Eric and me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Phil!”</p> - -<p>“As Eric is Mr. Spaythe’s own son it will be easy for him to accuse me. -If I tell Mr. Spaythe what I know he will ask why I didn’t report it -at the time. I’m in a net, Phœbe, and Eric knows it. If he can save -himself at my expense, he won’t hesitate.”</p> - -<p>“I see!” she cried, clasping her hands tightly. “Isn’t it dreadful, -Phil?”</p> - -<p>“That is why I now suspect that Eric is up to mischief. It surprised -me that he told his father so bluntly he was going to St. Louis. It -would be better policy for him to keep quiet about the trip; but he -risked Mr. Spaythe’s anger with unusual boldness. And he took pains to -advertise his going to the whole town—even to let people see him ride -away in the train.”</p> - -<p>“What could be his object?” inquired Phœbe, much perplexed.</p> - -<p>“To be able to prove an alibi, I imagine.”</p> - -<p>The twins walked on in silence for a time and were just passing the -railway station when Phil had an idea.</p> - -<p>“Come in with me,” he whispered, and followed by Phœbe he walked -calmly up to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> agent’s window. The man was not busy, as no trains -were due at this time.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Wakefield,” called Phil, genially.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Phil. Good evening, Miss Daring,” responded the agent, -recognizing them.</p> - -<p>“I came in to pay for Eric’s ticket to St. Louis. He happened to be -short of currency, but said you’d let him have the ticket, and I could -drop in and settle for it to-night.”</p> - -<p>Wakefield seemed surprised.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Spaythe didn’t buy a through ticket,” he explained. “He only took -one to Canton. Said he’d buy his ticket and sleeper from there on. I -remember thinking that was a queer way to do. If he was short of money, -Eric knew I’d help him out.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe trembled as she pressed Phil’s arm.</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s all right, then, Wakefield,” said Daring, calmly. “Probably -he changed his mind, and in that case I don’t owe you anything.”</p> - -<p>“Not a cent. Good night, Phil. Good night, Miss Daring.”</p> - -<p>“Good night,” they answered and walked away.</p> - -<p>“You see, I was right,” said the boy, when they were on the street -again. “Canton is only ten miles away, and Eric plans to leave the -train there and come back.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> -“When?”</p> - -<p>“Some time to-night. He means to rob the safe and get away with the -money. That will implicate me, you see, as I’m the only one except Mr. -Spaythe and Boothe that knows the combination—and the cashier is sick -in bed.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Phil! I’m sure your suspicion is too horrible to be true.”</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s so simple that it <em>must</em> be true. Under the circumstances it -is the natural thing for Eric to do. He isn’t so very clever, although -perhaps he thinks he has laid a deep plot to ruin me. The queer thing -about it is that it’s liable to succeed.”</p> - -<p>They had reached the bank now. Phil opened the side door and ushered -Phœbe into the large back room where he did his work. He turned on -the electric lights, pulled down the shades to all the windows and then -opened the safe and got out the books. Phœbe, perched upon Eric’s -vacant stool, watched him thoughtfully. Her face was pale as wax and -she had nervous, trembling fits that she could not control.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad I am with you,” said she, presently. “If you are accused, I -can swear you did not touch the money.”</p> - -<p>Phil bent over and kissed her, but made no reply. Putting all his mind -upon the books he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> methodically pursued his work for an hour or so, -until all the entries had been made and his task finished. Then he -closed the ledgers with a sigh of relief, put them away, and locked the -safe.</p> - -<p>“Who knows,” he said, turning to Phœbe with a wan smile, “but -that this is the last bit of work I shall do for Spaythe’s Bank? If -my suspicions are correct, on Monday morning the safe will be found -to have been robbed, and then I must face accusations and probable -disgrace.”</p> - -<p>By this time the girl had recovered most of her composure. She was -still pale, but had been busily thinking during that tedious hour, -trying to find some way to save her twin brother.</p> - -<p>“Do you know exactly how much cash is in that safe now?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Of course, Phœbe. It is all entered upon the books, in black and -white, and Mr. Spaythe has a copy of the amounts, besides.”</p> - -<p>She looked carefully around the room. At the very back of the building, -facing the safe, was one window which opened upon an unused yard at the -rear. The window was just then covered with a thick shade. Phœbe -took the desk shears, walked deliberately to this window, and punched -two small holes in the shade.</p> - -<p>“What on earth are you doing?” asked her brother, in amazement.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> -“Phil, we’re going to play we’re detectives, you and I. Go outside, and -around to this window, and find out if you can see the safe through the -holes I have made. If not, I must make them larger.”</p> - -<p>Phil obeyed, still puzzled as to her meaning. When he returned to her, -he reported that the holes were about on a level with his eyes, when he -stood in the back yard, and that the safe was plainly visible through -the tiny openings if one stood with an eye close to the windowpane.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said she, nodding with satisfaction. “What time is it now?”</p> - -<p>“Nearly ten.”</p> - -<p>“We shall have a long wait, but we mustn’t mind that. Let us go, now.”</p> - -<p>Phil waited until she reached the door; then he put out the lights and -joined her. As they passed out he locked the door and put the key away -in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“What now?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Let us take a walk up the street, for a block or two,” she replied, -in a whisper; and he followed her obediently. Although it was Saturday -night, this part of the town was practically deserted. There was a -light in the laundry office across the way and a girl stood in the -door of a candy shop and nodded to the twins vacantly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> Half a block -up the street was the printing office, but the lights in it went out -before they reached it, and Mr. Fellows, the editor, gave the Darings a -pleasant “Good night!” as they passed by while he was locking the door.</p> - -<p>Phœbe crossed over into the next street, which was merely a lane, -and turning about began to retrace her steps. Phil clung to her arm -and let her lead him. Here there was no light to guide them save the -dim glow of the stars. The moon would not be up for some hours yet. -They had to feel their way carefully for a time, but ere long they had -reached a position in the rear of the bank and entered the unused yard. -From a pile of boxes dumped behind a neighboring grocery Phil brought -two to serve as seats, for now he guessed Phœbe’s purpose and fully -approved the venturesome undertaking.</p> - -<p>They sat in silence for a time, their backs against the brick wall of -the bank.</p> - -<p>“How will Eric get back from Canton?” the girl inquired, musingly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. He might drive over, and return the same way. Let me -see; there’s another train to St. Louis that passes here at one-thirty. -It doesn’t stop at Riverdale, but it does at Canton.”</p> - -<p>“That’s it!” she exclaimed, eagerly. “That’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> his plan, Phil, I’m sure. -Eric will get a livery horse at Canton, drive over here, and return in -time to catch the one-thirty flyer for St. Louis. It will be due at -Canton at about two o’clock, won’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Sooner than that. The flyer will make the ten miles in fifteen -minutes, easily.”</p> - -<p>“But it will take Eric an hour and a half to drive it, in the night. -That means he must get here, do what he has to do, and leave by twelve -o’clock—or soon after. Why, we won’t have long to wait, after all.”</p> - -<p>“Not if we are figuring right, Phœbe. After all, this is only -guesswork on our part.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure we are right, Phil. As you say, the natural thing for one -in Eric’s position to do is just what we expect he will do. Let us -be patient, and we will soon know the truth. If nothing happens by -half-past twelve, then we may go home and go to bed.”</p> - -<p>“And rest in peace,” he added, with a light laugh that was not -mirthful. “I hope that will be our fate.”</p> - -<p>“So do I, Phil—with all my heart.”</p> - -<p>It was a tedious wait, however, for they were keyed up to a high pitch -of excitement and the minutes seemed to drag with teazing languidness. -But suddenly, as they talked together in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> soft whispers, Phœbe -glanced around toward the window and then seized Phil’s arm in a -warning grasp. The back room of the bank was lighted.</p> - -<p>The girl put her eye to one peephole and the boy looked through the -other. They saw Eric standing in the room and glancing about him with -fearful, yet keenly observant eyes. The inspection seemed to satisfy -him, for after tying his handkerchief over the one electric light -globe which he had ventured to turn on, in order to dim the strength -of its rays, he went straight to the safe and began to fumble with the -combination. A few moments later the heavy door swung open.</p> - -<p>Again Eric glanced around, but could not know that two intent eyes were -regarding his slightest movement. He hastily turned over the packets of -bills until he found the one he desired, which he thrust into an inner -pocket. Then he took a canvas sack, filled with gold, and this filled -his coat pocket completely and had to be crowded in. The next moment he -closed the door and set the lock.</p> - -<p>It was all done so quickly that Phœbe found she had held her breath -during the entire scene. While she panted with excitement and her heart -fluttered wildly, Eric removed his handkerchief from the globe and -turned off the light.</p> - -<p>They both listened eagerly now, but so stealthy were the young man’s -movements that no further<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> sound reached their ears. He must have -effected his escape from the bank a long time before the twins ventured -to stir.</p> - -<p>“Phœbe,” said Phil bitterly, “it is evident that I’ve stolen a stack -of bills and a bag of gold. The fact can easily be proven against me, -anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“Not yet,” returned the girl, in a firm, decided tone. “Come with me, -Phil.”</p> - -<p>She began to make her way around the building to the side door.</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I’m going to block Eric’s wicked conspiracy and save you,” she -replied. “Open that door, and let us go in.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xviii" id="xviii"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> -<small>A SISTER’S LOVE</small></h2> - - -<p>Phil looked up and down the dark, deserted street. Eric had made off so -quietly that not a footfall had been heard. But no one was abroad to -see him, however much noise he might have made.</p> - -<p>The back room of Spaythe’s Bank was witnessing a succession of curious -scenes this eventful night. Phil had opened the safe again and was -counting the money. It was a long count, and must needs be accurate; -but Phœbe, now cool as ice, helped him in her methodical way and it -was not necessary to inspect more of the currency than the packets of -bank notes and the gold.</p> - -<p>“Whew!” whistled Phil, when the final figures had been made. “Eric -wasn’t at all bashful, was he? He grabbed more than three thousand -dollars!”</p> - -<p>“Three thousand, three hundred and ninety,” repeated Phœbe, jotting -down the exact amount on a slip of paper. “All right, Phil; that is -what we wanted to know. Now, put this dreadful stuff away.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> -He complied. There was a queer feeling in the young fellow’s chest, -as if iron fingers were gripping his heart. His worst fears had been -realized and he had become the innocent victim of his former friend’s -diabolical scheming.</p> - -<p>As the Daring twins walked home together through the still night, arm -in arm, they exchanged few words. Phil reflected that his business -career was practically ruined. Here in Riverdale, his old home, he -would be scorned and reviled as a common thief, and wherever he might -go in the big outside world his disgrace would be sure to follow him. -And what of Eric Spaythe, the false friend who had planned his downfall -and would profit by it? With means to pay his debts, and so prevent his -father’s knowledge of his past extravagance, Eric would doubtless be -more cautious in the future. In time he might become the proprietor of -the bank he had to-night so cleverly robbed. As for the false entries -on the books, made to cover the minor thefts that had preceded this -coup, all evidence would point conclusively to Phil Daring as the -culprit. That poor and struggling youth was to become the scapegoat to -shield Eric Spaythe, the rich banker’s son.</p> - -<p>Phil groaned in spirit, but believed himself to be absolutely helpless.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> -Phœbe, on the contrary, had recovered her cheerfulness, and as she -kissed her twin good night in the hall she whispered:</p> - -<p>“Forget about Eric, dear. There’s nothing to worry about, so try to get -some sleep. Now that we know the truth, and just what to expect, it -will be easy to save you from this contemptible plot.”</p> - -<p>Phil clasped the girl close in his arms. It was good to feel that -Phœbe, the one person he loved most in all the world, knew his -innocence and believed in him. He must be brave and face the future -calmly, for her sweet sake.</p> - -<p>In his room he looked at his watch. Two o’clock. By this time Eric was -well on his way to St. Louis. Phil sighed, went to bed, and having a -clear conscience was presently sound asleep.</p> - -<p>Phœbe pleaded a headache next morning and did not go to church with -the others. Phil, solemn eyed and with careworn features, accompanied -Cousin Judith and the children and did his best to keep his thoughts on -the sermon.</p> - -<p>From her window Phœbe endeavored to watch the movements of old -Miss Halliday, but found the woman keeping close to the room in which -Gran’pa Eliot was confined. Perhaps she was engaged in her morning’s -work, but strangely enough the chickens had been neglected and were -plainly calling for food and water.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">218</a></span> -In order to ease the nervous strain of waiting Phœbe moved softly -around the rooms occupied by the Darings and removed all the keys she -found in the locks. Having carried these to her room she began trying -them in the lock of the door that connected old Elaine’s chamber with -her own. She moved carefully and silently, but to her despair none -of the keys would fit. A second time she tried them, with no better -success. While engaged in replacing the borrowed keys she happened to -think of a big bunch of old keys hanging in the closet of the room -occupied by Sue and Becky. She readily found this bunch, and with -it hurried back to her chamber. One by one the keys were tried and -gradually her heart sank as they proved to be too large or too small. -There were now but three left on the bunch and she was crouching on her -knees before the door when suddenly she heard Elaine enter the other -room.</p> - -<p>To her astonishment the woman was sobbing and muttering in the same -breath, and seemed to be laboring under great excitement.</p> - -<p>“It can’t be!” Phœbe heard her say again and again. “It can’t be. -No, no, no!—it can’t be.”</p> - -<p>Up and down she paced, and finally the girl heard her throw herself -upon the bed and give way to a violent outburst of sobbing.</p> - -<p>Phœbe dared not move. Her limbs were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">219</a></span> cramped and numb, but she sat -crouching beside the door until gradually Miss Halliday became more -quiet and rose from the bed.</p> - -<p>“One thing is certain,” muttered the woman in a firmer tone. “No one -shall know!”</p> - -<p>Again she paced the floor, by degrees recovering her wonted composure. -The sobs and mutterings ceased. At last she left the room, and Phœbe -breathed freely once more. Then the girl glanced at the bunch of keys -she held. With those three that still remained untried lay her sole -chance of saving Phil’s honor.</p> - -<p>The first was rusty and too big for the lock. The second turned easily, -and with a sharp click the bolt flew back. Then Phœbe dropped her -head in her hands and began to cry. The transition from despair to joy -had been so sharp that it unnerved her; but now she was free to carry -out her plans.</p> - -<p>Wiping the tears from her eyes she sighed deeply and rose to her feet. -On turning the handle of the door, very softly, she found that it -would open with perfect freedom. She put her head within the room a -moment—just long enough to note that Elaine had left it in perfect -order—and then she closed the door again.</p> - -<p>Would it be wiser to act at once, or to wait?</p> - -<p>Her own anxiety and excitement had, until now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">220</a></span> prevented her from -appreciating the evident fact that something unusual had occurred in -the other part of the house which the old woman regarded as serious. -The housekeeper was not prone to give way to violent outbursts of -grief. “It can’t be!” she had exclaimed. What couldn’t be? “No one -shall know!” Elaine had cried. What could have happened that must be -kept a secret? The girl’s first thought was that in some way Elaine had -been robbed of the treasure, and Phœbe’s heart stood still as she -contemplated that awful suggestion. But perhaps it was some personal -matter not connected with Gran’pa Eliot’s hidden hoard.</p> - -<p>Going to her window she watched in vain for the housekeeper to appear -in the garden; then, unable to restrain her impatience, she ran -downstairs and around the corner until she came to the lane at the -back. Pausing beside the big maple she looked around at the house and -from her position saw Gran’pa Eliot propped up in his chair before the -window, his lusterless eyes fixedly regarding the landscape spread out -before him.</p> - -<p>The window of the next room, where he slept, was open, too. Phœbe -could see the housekeeper making the bed and straightening the -furniture.</p> - -<p>Presently, Elaine came to the window and stood motionless, staring -across the fields as if in deep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">221</a></span> thought. Phœbe shrank back into the -shade of the maple.</p> - -<p>Now the woman left the window, emerged from the door at the head of the -outside stairs, and quietly descended to the yard. Phœbe quitted her -post at once and fairly flew back to the house, never pausing until she -had regained her own room. Breathless from her run, she paused to peer -from the window. Elaine was mixing food for her chickens.</p> - -<p>In a moment Phœbe was in the forbidden room. She went straight to -the mantel and tried to pull it outward, as she had seen Elaine do; -but it refused to move. With a growing fear at her heart she examined -closely the framework and finally noticed that one part of the carving -was discolored more deeply than the rest, as if with constant handling. -Pressing hard against this place, Phœbe desperately dragged the -mantel toward her, and this time it swung free of the wall and -disclosed the secret cupboard.</p> - -<p>Elaine had not been robbed. There were the neat piles of money, just as -she had seen them from her peephole.</p> - -<p>Phœbe hesitated a moment. She wanted a certain sum in bills, and -another in gold, but it would be dangerous to count the money there. -So she took several packets of bills and ran with them to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">222</a></span> her room. -Returning quickly, she pushed the mantel into place and proceeded to -pull up a section of the rag carpet. A small iron ring enabled her -to lift the trap, and a moment later she had carried a sack of gold -through the connecting doorway and dumped it upon her bed.</p> - -<p>A swift look through the window showed that Elaine was preparing -to ascend the stairs again; so Phœbe ran into the housekeeper’s -chamber, let down the trap and rearranged the carpet. Then she softly -retreated and closed the door after her.</p> - -<p>She breathed more freely now, but her task was not yet accomplished and -the family might return from church at any moment.</p> - -<p>Opening the packets of bills she began carefully counting them. The -first lot proved of small denominations and totalled so insignificant a -sum that the girl was panic-stricken for fear there would not be enough -paper money for her purpose. But the next packet proved to be all -fifties and one-hundreds, and less than half its bulk sufficed to make -up the amount of bills that Eric had abstracted from the safe.</p> - -<p>She counted out the gold next, and as this sack chanced to contain only -pieces of twenty dollars each there was much more than she required. At -the bank, while Phil was discovering the extent of Eric’s theft—when -the vague idea of saving him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">223</a></span> first began to dawn in her mind—Phœbe -had seen a pile of canvas bags, used to contain gold, lying upon a -shelf. One of these she had quietly abstracted, for on it was printed -in black letters: “Spaythe’s Bank of Riverdale.” It was a similarly -marked sack which Eric had taken, and now the girl brought out the bag, -placed the proper amount of gold in it, and neatly tied it up. Then she -made a package containing both the gold and the bills and after winding -it securely with cord placed it in a drawer of her bureau.</p> - -<p>This much being accomplished she breathed easier; but it was necessary -to replace the surplus gold and bills in the hiding places from whence -she had taken it. She felt no hesitation in employing a portion of -Gran’pa Eliot’s hoarded wealth to save her brother from an unjust -accusation. It seemed to her quite a proper thing to do, for the -family honor was at stake. Gran’pa could never use the money, and his -granddaughter was defiant of old Elaine’s self imposed watch upon -the treasure. Yet Phœbe would not touch a penny more than stern -necessity compelled her to.</p> - -<p>Her heart bounded and then stopped beating as the housekeeper was heard -to enter the next room and renew her nervous pacing up and down—up and -down. Elaine was not likely to discover her loss, just yet; only at -dead of night was she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">224</a></span> accustomed to pander to her miserly instincts by -counting over the money. So Phœbe took courage.</p> - -<p>A long time the girl sat silently awaiting an opportunity to restore -the balance of the treasure. Meantime, she wondered again what had come -over the usually methodical, self-possessed housekeeper to make her act -in so queer a manner. No doubt some important event had occurred in her -life; but what could it be?</p> - -<p>A chorus of merry voices announced the return of Cousin Judith with -her brothers and sisters. She hesitated, half expecting Elaine would -now leave her room, but the woman wholly disregarded the Darings and -continued her monotonous pacing. So Phœbe concealed the money under -her pillows and noiselessly quitting the room went down to meet the -family.</p> - -<p>The sense of triumph now experienced by the girl made her regard Phil’s -gloomy looks with complacency, if not with cheerfulness. She bustled -about, helping Auntie to set the table for dinner and listening to the -chatter of the children, and all the time the warm glow in her heart -was reflected in her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks.</p> - -<p>Phil looked at his sister astonished and somewhat reproachful. Her -glad laughter and flippant remarks made him feel that his twin was -forgetting the terrible fate that menaced him. Over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">225</a></span> boy’s devoted -head hung a veritable Sword of Damocles, and it was destined to fall -as soon as the bank was opened Monday morning. Yet here was Phœbe, -merry and eager, joking with Becky and Don as she flitted through the -rooms, and seemingly as unconscious of trouble as a dancing sunbeam.</p> - -<p>Judith, a little surprised at the girl’s high spirits, kissed her -affectionately as she came in to dinner. She thought Phœbe had -never looked more lovely than she did to-day. Phil remarked that fact, -too. “The Belle of Riverdale,” as she was often called, was really a -beautiful girl; yet, those who knew Phœbe best recognized the fact -that her chief charm lay not in her fascinating smile, her dainty -complexion, nor her magnificent eyes, but in the kindly, sympathetic -heart that had never yet failed to respond to the demands of friendship.</p> - -<p>After dinner they were all seated on the front lawn in the shade of the -big oaks, when Phœbe noticed old Elaine standing motionless in the -back yard, grimly watching the group. The girl seized the opportunity -to run to her room, grab the money from beneath her pillows and replace -the bills in the cupboard back of the mantel and the remainder of -the gold beneath the trap in the floor. She acted with breathless -haste, not knowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">226</a></span> how much time would be allowed her; but she soon -found there was no need of hurry. Returning to the lawn she saw that -Cousin Judith had gone to the housekeeper and was engaging Elaine in -conversation.</p> - -<p>“My uncle is better, you say?” asked Miss Eliot.</p> - -<p>“I did not say that,” retorted the woman. “I merely stated that he -suffers no pain.”</p> - -<p>“Is his mind still befogged, as when I last saw him?” continued Judith.</p> - -<p>“His mind has never been befogged,” said Elaine, with unnecessary -anger. “You will find he is clear-headed enough to defend himself from -annoyances, if intruded upon.”</p> - -<p>Judith sighed. This creature was absolutely impossible to conciliate. -She turned away without further remark and preferred not to see the -half sneering, half triumphant leer on Elaine’s pinched features. -Phœbe put her arms around the Little Mother and said:</p> - -<p>“Never mind, dear. She’s old and unreasonable; but she takes good care -of gran’pa, so we needn’t mind her uncivil ways.”</p> - -<p>“Koots! I’m half afraid of her,” remarked Becky, making a face at the -thin figure of the housekeeper.</p> - -<p>“I’m not,” declared Phœbe, laughing at the recollection of her late -audacity. “Miss Halliday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">227</a></span> is nothing more than a favored servant, who -has forgotten her proper place. There’s nothing fearsome about her, I’m -sure.”</p> - -<p>Toward evening the girl’s high spirits began to falter and she wandered -about the house in an uneasy mood. Perhaps Phil’s dismal looks—for he -could not force his countenance to seem pleasant while his heart was -breaking—had something to do with his twin’s growing depression. Even -Sue accused Phœbe of being cross when she sent her small sister to -bed somewhat earlier than usual.</p> - -<p>When all the household had retired except the twins and Judith, they -sat on the porch conversing until Miss Eliot noticed for the first -time an air of restraint that was unusual. Fearing she might herself -be responsible for this she pleaded some letters to be written as an -excuse to go to her room, and bade them good night.</p> - -<p>“Cheer up, dear,” said Phœbe, when their cousin had gone in. “Didn’t -I promise to save you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; but you can’t do that, little sister. No one can save me.”</p> - -<p>“There is one way,” announced the girl, decidedly.</p> - -<p>Phil sat thinking.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said; “if Eric would confess, that would end it all. Do you -imagine he will?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">228</a></span> -“No, indeed.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I. I have thought of everything; but the snare is too strong to be -broken.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe did not reply at once. She sat looking out into the night, -lost in thought. Presently she roused herself and whispered:</p> - -<p>“Phil, will you take a little walk with me?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t mind. I’m not liable to sleep much to-night, so there’s little -use in going to bed.”</p> - -<p>“Wait for me a moment,” she said.</p> - -<p>Phil waited. She soon returned with a bulky newspaper packet partly -concealed beneath her cloak.</p> - -<p>Together they strolled down the street toward the town. It was after -ten o’clock, and on Sunday evening Riverdale was like a deserted -village.</p> - -<p>“We’re getting to be regular night owls, aren’t we?” asked Phœbe, -with a nervous tremor in her voice.</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed. But why are we prowling around town to-night? Wouldn’t it -be more pleasant to walk in the lanes?”</p> - -<p>“We’re going to the bank,” said the girl.</p> - -<p>Phil stopped short to look at her, but the overhanging branches of a -tree hid her face. With a sigh he walked on, deciding to let her have -her way. But he could think of no good reason for this absurd whim.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">229</a></span> -When they reached the bank Phœbe said:</p> - -<p>“We will go in, Phil. Unlock the door.”</p> - -<p>Mechanically he obeyed. Dully be wondered what she was going to do. But -it did not matter, and he would soon know.</p> - -<p>“Now,” continued the girl, when they were inside, “open the safe.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Phœbe!” he gasped, glancing at her fearfully. “You’re not -going to—”</p> - -<p>“No; I’m not going to rob Mr. Spaythe. Open the safe, Phil—quick!”</p> - -<p>He leaned over and set the combination. Then slowly the heavy door -swung open.</p> - -<p>Phœbe breathed a sigh of relief. Hastily unwrapping her bundle she -placed a bag of gold on one shelf and a thick packet of bank bills on -another—in just the places from whence Eric had abstracted the money -the night before.</p> - -<p>“All right, dear; you may lock the safe now.”</p> - -<p>Phil was bewildered. His eyes roamed from his sister’s smiling face to -the safe, and back again.</p> - -<p>“Wha—what have you done?” he stammered.</p> - -<p>“I’ve restored the missing cash. Lock the safe, Phil, before it’s -robbed again.”</p> - -<p>“Phœbe!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t look so wild, dear. Can’t you understand you are saved—that -there will be no exposure of a theft to-morrow morning? Lock the safe, -and let us go home.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">230</a></span> -He could not realize it, even yet. Still dazed and wondering he locked -the safe and followed Phœbe into the street. They were halfway home -before he asked:</p> - -<p>“Where did you find Eric?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen Eric,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“Then where did the money come from?”</p> - -<p>“It’s my secret, Phil; you mustn’t ask.”</p> - -<p>“But I must know, Phœbe. Why, it’s—it’s amazing!”</p> - -<p>“Seems so, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It’s impossible! Three thousand—”</p> - -<p>“—Three hundred and ninety dollars,” she interrupted, with a laugh. -“It’s all there, dear; all back in the safe.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a fortune! Where did you get it?” he persisted.</p> - -<p>“Now, Phil, I’ve forbidden you to ask questions, and I mean it,” she -declared, very seriously. “It is a secret which I can’t reveal. Not -now, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“Did Cousin Judith—”</p> - -<p>“It’s no use, dear; I won’t tell.”</p> - -<p>He strode along in silence, wondering if it were really true. They were -dreadfully poor, he knew, and Cousin Judith’s money was tied up in an -annuity. Where could Phœbe obtain three thousand, three hundred and -ninety dollars in currency?—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">231</a></span> on Sunday, too! Suddenly a thought -caused him to start.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t borrowed it of the Randolphs?” he demanded in a horrified -tone.</p> - -<p>The suggestion made Phœbe laugh again.</p> - -<p>“Guess away!” she said, lightly.</p> - -<p>“We would never be able to repay such a loan—not for years and years, -if at all,” he said miserably.</p> - -<p>“That need not worry you,” she observed. “Why don’t you give it up, -Phil? Be content until the time comes when I can tell you everything. -It’s the best way. Can’t you trust me—Phœbe—your twin?”</p> - -<p>He caught her in his arms and kissed her tenderly, while the first -sense of freedom he had experienced since the robbery swept over him.</p> - -<p>“Trust you? Of course I can, my darling!” he said.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">232</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xix" id="xix"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /> -<small>THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR</small></h2> - - -<p>Phil had a restless night; but he slept a little, nevertheless. His -chief source of worry had been removed by his sister’s mysterious -action, yet the wonderment of it all remained, carrying with it an -intense excitement whenever he thought of the probable outcome of this -strange adventure.</p> - -<p>On Monday morning he was up bright and early, anxiously awaiting the -time to go to work. Phœbe, looking at him with wistful eyes, kissed -her brother good-by and said:</p> - -<p>“Good luck, Phil. Whatever happens, remember that I, and all who love -you, will stand by you to the end.”</p> - -<p>But nothing exceptional happened at the bank.</p> - -<p>Mr. Boothe, looking a little more pale and worn than usual, arrived at -the same time Phil did, and while he was carrying the cash from the -safe to his cage, preparatory to counting it, Eric sauntered in and -took his seat at the desk.</p> - -<p>He gave his fellow clerk a brief nod and looked curiously at Mr. -Boothe. Said Phil, attempting to be cordial:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">233</a></span> -“Back from St. Louis already, Eric?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“How did you find Ned Thurber?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Ned’s all right.”</p> - -<p>“When did you get home?”</p> - -<p>“Six, this morning.”</p> - -<p>Usually talkative, Eric seemed determined to be chary of speech on this -occasion; but perhaps he was absorbed in watching Boothe count the -money, for he never took his eyes off the cashier.</p> - -<p>In his usual careful, painstaking manner, Boothe first counted the -checks, drafts, and other notes of exchange, checking them off on the -tally sheet beside him. Then he began on the currency. As packet after -packet of the bank bills was counted and laid aside Eric grew nervous -and his breath came in short gasps. He pretended to be bending over his -books, but Phil saw the exhibition of nervous fear and was not without -a share of excitement himself.</p> - -<p>Check!</p> - -<p>Eric grew pale and then red. He was astounded. Mr. Boothe rapidly -counted the gold contained in the four sacks—positively, there were -four, Eric noted with dismay, and there should have been but three. He -saw the cashier pick up his pencil, glance at the tally sheet and check -the amount as correct.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">234</a></span> -Eric swayed and almost fell from his stool. Great beads of perspiration -stood upon his brow.</p> - -<p>“Everything seems to check up all right,” called the cashier from his -cage, speaking in a calm voice. “You’ve kept things pretty straight, -Eric.”</p> - -<p>“Good; very good!” cried a deep voice, and the two clerks were for the -first time aware that Mr. Spaythe stood in the open door of his office -watching the scene.</p> - -<p>“Seems as if you could almost get on without me, sir,” said the -cashier, apologetically.</p> - -<p>“No,” answered the banker, “your absence caused us all a lot of extra -work and worry—especially Phil.” He came around to young Daring’s -side, put on his glasses and began a calm but thorough examination -of the ledgers. “Feeling better this morning, Mr. Boothe?” he asked, -without looking at the man.</p> - -<p>“Quite myself again, sir.”</p> - -<p>Phil stood aside, for it was evident Mr. Spaythe wished to carefully -compare the books. Daring had been obliged to make entries in both his -own set and Eric’s during the past few days; but there was little to -criticise, he felt, and he welcomed the examination.</p> - -<p>Meantime Eric sat as if turned to stone, pale and red by turns, the -perspiration oozing from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">235</a></span> every pore. His eyes, as they fell upon -his father, were full of terror; when he looked at Phil it was with -suspicion and fear combined. For a moment’s thought had convinced Eric -that his theft had been discovered. How, or in what way, he had not the -faintest idea. Until now, he had confidently believed he had covered -up every trace of the crime with supreme cleverness. Yet in his brief -absence someone had detected the robbery and replaced the money in the -safe so that Mr. Boothe would find the bank’s accounts correct.</p> - -<p>There was only one person able to do this—his father. For it was not -to be supposed for an instant that Phil Daring, or any of his friends, -could raise so large a sum without recourse to the bank itself.</p> - -<p>Then came the thought that if Mr. Spaythe was aware of his son’s -embezzlement, someone had betrayed Eric to him. The traitor could be -none other than Phil Daring, the one he had naturally expected would be -accused of the crime.</p> - -<p>Hardly knowing which way to turn or what to do or say, reading -condemnation in every face and fearing exposure at any moment, Eric -Spaythe was indeed in a pitiable plight. Why was his father inspecting -the books so carefully? It could not be that he mistrusted Phil. Was -he then looking for those former defalcations of which his son<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">236</a></span> had -been guilty? Eric had intended to accuse Phil of those things, when the -logical time came. Perhaps Phil knew that, and had saved himself by -denouncing Eric.</p> - -<p>There was nothing to be learned from Daring’s face. It was grave and -serene, as if he had the situation well in hand. Mr. Spaythe seemed -stern and vigilant, his practised eye running up and down the entries, -observing every item with intelligent care. Boothe was imperturbable as -ever and paid no attention to the group in the back room.</p> - -<p>Eric writhed on his stool and kept silent. He was fully prepared for -the impending denunciation and intended to deny everything and stick to -the lie to the last. But no denunciation came.</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe finished his examination and then turned to Phil with a -satisfied nod.</p> - -<p>“Daring,” said he, “you have done well—very well indeed, considering -your brief experience. I believe you are destined to prove of -considerable future value to this bank, and hereafter your salary will -be fifteen dollars a week.”</p> - -<p>Without a word or a look toward his son he reëntered his office and -closed the door. He was still angry with Eric for foolishly making that -long and expensive trip to St. Louis for a day’s stay, and moreover he -resented the unkind insinuations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">237</a></span> his son had made about young Daring’s -honesty. But Eric attributed his father’s displeasure to entirely -different causes.</p> - -<p>Phil resumed his work, paying no attention to his companion. Eric -waited for a while for him to speak, and then grew savage.</p> - -<p>“Think you’ve caught me at it, I suppose?” he growled, with reckless -disregard of the fact that he had betrayed himself. The restoration of -the money was evidence enough that the cat was out of the bag.</p> - -<p>“You are caught, Eric,” was the quiet answer. “There is no need for me -to assure you of that.”</p> - -<p>Eric glared.</p> - -<p>“Where’s the proof?” he demanded, uneasily.</p> - -<p>Phil looked up with a smile.</p> - -<p>“Has it never occurred to you that money may be marked, and also a -record kept of the numbers of bank notes?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that was it, was it?” returned the other, plainly discomfited by -the suggestion, which had been hazarded merely to tease him. “Then -you’ve been trying to trap me for a long time, it seems. Grateful -return for my getting you the job here, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t trapped you at all, Eric. The fault is your own from -beginning to end,” said Phil, seriously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">238</a></span> -Eric walked to the window and stood looking out. He was trying to -understand why his father had not frankly accused him of stealing the -money. The banker’s reticence was vastly more terrifying to the boy -than prompt exposure and denunciation would have been. Perhaps he had -hesitated to let the world know that his only son was a thief. Yes; -that must be the explanation. Therefore, Eric was destined to receive -his scourging in the private office, and he experienced a distinct -sense of relief at this thought, for he could stand any paternal -tongue-lashing if his disgrace was but kept from the knowledge of his -fellows. Eric’s disgrace would mean to an extent his father’s disgrace. -Come to think of it, he had no great cause to worry, in any event. His -protection lay in his father’s regard for his own good name.</p> - -<p>Following this clue, Eric decided that Phil Daring’s raise of -salary was merely a bribe not to expose the secret. But the -culprit’s momentary satisfaction in this solution of the problem -was promptly dampened when he remembered another of Mr. Spaythe’s -characteristics—to let no fault go unpunished. He well knew his -father’s stern nature, and shuddered a little as he wondered what -punishment would be decreed for so grave an offense.</p> - -<p>“What’s the program, Phil?” he inquired, coming back to the desk.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">239</a></span> -“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Not in the gov’nor’s confidence, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Not entirely, I imagine.”</p> - -<p>Eric stared at him thoughtfully. Strangely enough, Daring had not -reproached him or gloated over his downfall. Daring had always been a -very decent fellow. Perhaps he would prove a friend, even yet. Eric’s -attitude changed from one of defiance to that of entreaty.</p> - -<p>“We’ve always been pretty good chums, Phil,” he said, in a hesitating -tone. “Tell me what to do, there’s a good fellow.”</p> - -<p>Phil reflected.</p> - -<p>“You might help yourself in one way,” he suggested.</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“Have you any of that money left?”</p> - -<p>Eric nodded, trying to read the other’s solemn face.</p> - -<p>“Then I advise you to fix up those little irregularities in the books.”</p> - -<p>“What irregularities?”</p> - -<p>“That check of Mrs. Randolph’s, for instance. It will be sent to her -the first of the month, and she will claim it’s a forgery. Then, -there’s that deposit of Martin’s, and several other little things. It -would be policy for you to straighten out those tangles at once, Eric, -before you are made to do it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">240</a></span> -Eric pondered a while, then drew a sheet of paper toward him and began -to figure. He seemed pleased with the results and at once set to work -to correct the books. It took him until noon to finish his task, for he -had undertaken a delicate matter, and some transactions were difficult -to cover up or gloss over.</p> - -<p>While Mr. Boothe was at dinner Eric took occasion to make the cash -straight, in such a way that it would not arouse the cashier’s -suspicion. Phil took no part in the matter and let Eric make -restitution in his own way.</p> - -<p>“I’ve made good, Phil,” the young culprit whispered, eagerly. “Every -customer’s account is now as square as a die, as far as I know, and -I’ve charged my own account with some of the withdrawals and credited -it with the money I’ve just turned over to the bank.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad of that,” said Phil, greatly relieved. But he spoke coldly, -for he knew the banker’s son had acted only from fear, and not because -it was the right thing to do. Involuntarily, however, Eric had saved -Phil Daring from the possibility of being accused of those dangerous -defalcations.</p> - -<p>During the afternoon Eric glanced continually at the door of his -father’s office, expecting any moment a summons into that stern -presence. The strain upon his nerves was terrible, and Phil knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">241</a></span> that -he was already beginning to suffer punishment. At one time Eric asked -anxiously:</p> - -<p>“What ought I to do with the rest of the money, Phil?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” was the reply; for Phil thought of Phœbe and her -secret and was unable to advise Eric because he had no idea where the -money had come from that his sister had put in the safe.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">242</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xx" id="xx"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /> -<small>ACCUSED</small></h2> - - -<p>Phœbe had been watching impatiently for her brother’s return and -ran to meet him. He told her of the scene at the bank—of Eric’s -astonishment and terror, and how Mr. Spaythe had raised Phil’s salary -quite materially. Then he related the manner in which he had worked -upon the culprit’s fears and induced him to apply a part of the stolen -money to replacing his former embezzlements, thus saving Phil from the -possibilities of future complications.</p> - -<p>Tears stood in Phœbe’s eyes as she murmured: “I’m so glad. Oh, I’m -so glad!”</p> - -<p>“But the greatest mystery is not yet cleared up,” said her brother. -“I’m as much as ever in the dark concerning your own share in this -puzzling affair. Phœbe, where did that money come from?”</p> - -<p>She shook her head, smiling through her tears, and accompanied him -to dinner. But afterward, when Phil had gone back to work, the girl -sat in her room facing the consequences of her act. Conscience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">243</a></span> -stirred at last and gained control of her and its vivid accusations -made her cringe. Her dearly beloved brother, her twin, had been saved -from impending disgrace, but in saving him Phœbe had herself been -guilty of a theft equal to that of Eric Spaythe. She had robbed her -grandfather in exactly the same way that he had robbed his father, and -if Eric had earned such bitter condemnation, Phœbe could not expect -to escape censure. True, their motives were different. Eric stole for -selfish reasons; Phœbe, to save her twin from unmerited obloquy.</p> - -<p>Searching her heart with candid inquiry, she wondered if she were -really guilty of a crime. Civil laws might condemn her, but would not -the great moral laws of humanity uphold her for what she had done?</p> - -<p>“I’m not wicked, I know,” she told herself, positively. “I have wronged -no one by my act. There is more than enough of Gran’pa Eliot’s hoard -remaining to last him during his brief lifetime. And what better use -could a share of that idle money be put to than saving his grandson -from humiliation and shame?”</p> - -<p>But, Phœbe’s obdurate conscience was not to be appeased by such -sophistry as this. “What right had you to take that money?—what right -had you?” the small voice constantly asked, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">244</a></span> at last she grew -distressed by the vague, yet persistent fear that she had done an evil -deed that good might come of it. Was that a sufficient excuse? she -asked herself, and feared it was not.</p> - -<p>“But, I’d do it again!” she declared, pressing her lips firmly together -as she thought of Phil. “I’d do it again this moment, if it were -necessary.”</p> - -<p>While the girl thus fought with an accusing conscience she heard -Elaine come into her room. At once the spirit of antagonism toward -this dragon, who guarded Gran’pa Eliot’s treasure, hardened her into a -belief that she was fully justified in what she had done.</p> - -<p>Drawing her darning basket toward her she began mending some of the -family stockings, and from her seat by the window listened to the -sounds made by the old housekeeper, as she moved about in the next room.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was a sharp cry, followed by a fall. Phœbe was -startled for a moment. Then she realized it was not Elaine who had -fallen, but that the trap door in the floor had been carelessly dropped -into place. Her heart beat a little faster then, but she kept her seat -and even attempted to thread a needle. Her alert ears heard Elaine run -to the mantel. There was a long pause; then a wailing cry of distress.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<a name="glanced" id="glanced"></a> -<img src="images/i_249.jpg" width="400" height="564" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><span class="smcap"><a name="Phoebe3" id="Phoebe3"></a><ins title="Original has 'Phoebe'">Phœbe</ins> Glanced at Her Calmly.</span></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">245</a></span> -Phœbe smiled grimly and went on with her work. The discovery had -come a little sooner than she had expected. What curious whim could -have urged Elaine to examine the treasure now, in the middle of the -afternoon? She had never done this before, reflected Phœbe.</p> - -<p>In the adjoining room a dead silence prevailed. “She’s counting,” mused -the girl. “She’s trying to find out how much is gone, and who took it. -Perhaps she’ll lay it to ghosts. Anyhow, she won’t have the slightest -idea that I know her secret.”</p> - -<p>Then something happened that gave her a shock. Without warning the -handle of the connecting door turned and the next moment Elaine stood -on the threshold confronting her.</p> - -<p>The woman’s face was dark and contorted with rage. She clasped and -unclasped her talon-like fingers spasmodically, as if longing to take -the girl by the throat and strangle her then and there.</p> - -<p>Phœbe glanced at her, frowned, and calmly bit off her thread of -darning cotton.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing in this room, Miss Halliday?” she asked, not even a -tremor in her voice.</p> - -<p>For a moment Elaine was daunted. Then she recovered, and advancing a -pace toward Phœbe cried in tones of concentrated fury:</p> - -<p>“I want my money!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">246</a></span> -“Do I owe you anything?” was the stern demand.</p> - -<p>The woman’s glaring eyes were fixed upon Phœbe’s upturned face, -trying to read her inmost thoughts. The girl dropped her lashes a bit, -examining her work, and a slight flush stole into her cheeks in spite -of her efforts to appear composed. In a flash the woman detected these -signs, and her confidence was instantly restored.</p> - -<p>“You can’t fool me, Phœbe Daring!” she exclaimed harshly. “You -unlocked that door—the door I had forbidden you to open.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Halliday! you forget yourself. My grandfather’s servant has no -right to dictate in this house,” said the girl, haughtily.</p> - -<p>Elaine gave a short laugh, full of venom and disdain.</p> - -<p>“Servant, eh?” she retorted. “And whose house do you suppose this is?”</p> - -<p>The challenge roused Phoebe to anger and swept away the last vestige of -her composure.</p> - -<p>“It belongs to Jonathan Eliot, my grandfather; and everything in -it—money and all—belongs to him!” she asserted with pride. “As for -you, Elaine Halliday, we have submitted to your insufferable insolence -long enough—but only because you understood gran’pa, and were good to -him, were you allowed to remain. Your temper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">247</a></span> and your airs have become -unbearable, however, and we will at once secure another servant to take -your place.”</p> - -<p>The housekeeper stared at her as if she could not believe the evidence -of her own ears. Then she laughed—a hard, cackling laugh that was -horrible to hear.</p> - -<p>“I’ll not be turned out, my girl,” she said scornfully; “but you -Darings will get out of here, neck and crop, or I’ll call in the law to -help me.”</p> - -<p>“The law, Elaine?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; the law! This house is mine. It does not belong to Jonathan -Eliot. And all its contents are mine, deeded to me in black and white -as the reward of my faithful services. The money you have stolen, thief -that you are, is mine, too, and unless you return every penny of it -you’ll go to jail, Phœbe Daring.”</p> - -<p>It was Phœbe’s turn to stare. Could the woman be speaking the truth?</p> - -<p>“Where is the proof of your statement?” she asked.</p> - -<p>Without a word Elaine turned and reëntered her room. A few minutes -later she came back with a paper—a dreadful, legal-looking -document—which she unfolded and held before Phœbe’s face for her to -read, grasping it tightly the while and prepared to snatch it away if -the girl made any movement to secure it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">248</a></span> -Phœbe, frightened and horrified, made an effort to read the writing. -It was not very distinct, but seemed to state in legal jargon that -Jonathan Eliot, being of sound mind and owing no person a debt of any -sort, did of his own free will and accord give and transfer to Elaine -Halliday all his worldly possessions, including his residence in -Riverdale and all its contents of whatsoever kind or description, in -return for faithful service rendered him and duly acknowledged.</p> - -<p>“Have you read it?” asked the woman, hoarsely.</p> - -<p>“I—I think so!” gasped Phœbe.</p> - -<p>“Look at the signature.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe looked. The paper was signed “Jonathan Eliot” in a crabbed, -stiff hand. She could not tell whether it was her grandfather’s writing -or not; she was not familiar with it. But, the dreadful truth was -forced upon her at last, and Elaine’s scornful assurance was fully -explained. She owned the house; she owned that secret hoard. Phœbe -had not stolen from her grandfather, as she had supposed, but from -Elaine Halliday!</p> - -<p>The old woman noted her blanched cheeks and smiled with ruthless joy. -Carefully refolding the paper she said:</p> - -<p>“I’ve been robbed, and by you. There’s no use denying it, for I’ve got -proof in that unlocked door. But I don’t care to send you to prison. -I’d rather get my money back.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">249</a></span> -“I haven’t it,” murmured Phœbe, staring fearfully into the other’s -pitiless face.</p> - -<p>Elaine scowled and shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>“That’s all nonsense, girl! Give it up,” she advised.</p> - -<p>“I can’t; I haven’t it.”</p> - -<p>“You’re lying. You took the money yesterday. You can’t have spent it -already. Give it up!”</p> - -<p>Phœbe was silent. She sat staring helplessly at her tormentor.</p> - -<p>“A liar and a thief! You’ll spend your life in prison for this, -Phœbe Daring, unless you come to your senses and return my money.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe answered not a word. There was nothing to be said. Elaine -waited impatiently. Don was calling loudly for Phœbe from some of -the lower rooms. Perhaps he would come here in a few minutes.</p> - -<p>“See here,” said the housekeeper, suddenly, “I’ll give you till -to-morrow—at noon—to bring me that money. Unless I get it—every -penny, mind you—I’ll send the constable for you and have you arrested -and jailed.”</p> - -<p>With this threat she walked into her own room, closing and securing the -door after her. Phœbe sat in a stupor. Her mind refused to dwell -upon this amazing discovery. She was glad Don had ceased calling to her -and vaguely wondered what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">250</a></span> he had wanted. The stockings must be darned; -but really there was no hurry about it; they would not be needed for a -day or two.</p> - -<p>A sharp blow upon the door startled her out of this rambling reverie. -Elaine was driving nails. Viciously she pounded them into the door with -her hammer, utterly regardless of the certainty of disturbing Gran’pa -Eliot. She intended to assure herself that Phœbe would be unable to -get at the hidden treasure again.</p> - -<p>And now the full horror of the situation burst upon the girl’s mental -vision, making her cringe and wince as if in bodily pain. Jail! Jail -for helping Phil! Well, it was far better that she should suffer than -her twin—a boy whose honor was all in all to him. She would try to be -brave and pay the penalty for Phil’s salvation unflinchingly.</p> - -<p>For a while the poor girl sat cowering in the depths of despair. What -could she do? where could she turn for help? Then a sudden thought came -to her like an inspiration. Judge Ferguson had once made her promise -to come to him if she was in any trouble. Of course. Judge Ferguson -was her father’s old friend. She would see him at once, and perhaps he -would be able to advise her in this grave emergency.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">251</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxi" id="xxi"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /> -<small>SHIFTING THE BURDEN</small></h2> - - -<p>Watching her opportunity Phœbe slipped out of the house unseen and -hastened down town to Lawyer Ferguson’s office. The old man was just -putting on his hat to go out when the girl’s anxious, pleading face -confronted him.</p> - -<p>“Are you busy, sir?” she asked, with hesitation.</p> - -<p>“Very, my dear. I’m due at an important meeting within five minutes.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe’s face fell.</p> - -<p>“Anything wrong?” inquired the lawyer in a kindly tone. Phœbe was -one of his favorites.</p> - -<p>“Oh, a great deal is wrong, sir!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “I’m in -great distress, and I’ve—I’ve come to you—for help.”</p> - -<p>Judge Ferguson hung his hat on the peg again and went to the door of an -inner room.</p> - -<p>“Toby!” he called.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>Toby Clark appeared: a frowsy-headed, much freckled youth who served as -the lawyer’s clerk. He nodded to Phœbe and looked inquiringly at his -master.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">252</a></span> -“Go to Mr. Wells at the insurance office and tell him I cannot attend -the meeting to-day. Have it postponed until to-morrow,” said the judge.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“And, Toby, when you return stand guard over the private room and see -that I’m not disturbed.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>The youth vanished instantly and with a courteous gesture Mr. Ferguson -motioned Phœbe to enter his sanctum. Evidently, he had shrewdly read -her face and knew that something very unusual had happened to his ward.</p> - -<p>“Now, then, explain yourself, my dear,” he said when they were seated.</p> - -<p>Phœbe looked earnestly into the kind old face.</p> - -<p>“I want to make a full confession of everything,” she began. “I want -you to understand me, and—and know just as much as I do.”</p> - -<p>“That is a wise resolve, when you are dealing with a lawyer,” he -responded, smiling at her anxious look.</p> - -<p>So she first told him of how she had discovered old Miss Halliday -counting the secret hoard, and of her reasons for keeping the knowledge -to herself. Next, she related Phil’s experiences at the bank, his -suspicions of Eric and the midnight adventure when together the twins -watched the banker’s son robbing the safe. All the details of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">253</a></span> Eric’s -plan to implicate Phil had been carefully treasured in the girl’s -memory, and she now related them simply, but convincingly, to the -lawyer.</p> - -<p>It was more difficult to confess the rest, but Phœbe did not falter -nor spare herself. A way to save Phil had been suggested to her by -the discovery of her grandfather’s hoarded money—for she naturally -supposed it was his. Her description of the manner in which she had -secured exactly the same amount Eric had taken was dramatic enough -to hold her listener spellbound, and he even smiled when she related -Eric’s confusion at finding the money restored, and how he had eagerly -made restitution of the minor sums he had embezzled by “fixing” the -books.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Judge Ferguson had never been so astonished and startled in -all his long experience as he was by Phœbe’s story. The thing that -really amazed him was Jonathan Eliot’s secret store of money. He had -not been without suspicion that the old man had grown miserly, but -so cleverly had the treasure been concealed that when Mr. Ferguson -searched the house—under the cunning guidance of Elaine, of course—he -had found nothing at all to justify that suspicion.</p> - -<p>When, in conclusion, Phœbe told of her late interview with the old -housekeeper and recited as well as she could remember the terms of the -deed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">254</a></span> of gift from Mr. Eliot to Elaine Halliday, Judge Ferguson became -visibly excited.</p> - -<p>“Was it really your grandfather’s signature?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“I cannot say, sir, for I have seldom seen his signature,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“Were the names of any witnesses affixed to the document?”</p> - -<p>“I did not notice any.”</p> - -<p>“H-m. What then?”</p> - -<p>“Then she threatened to put me in prison unless I returned the money, -and of course I cannot do that,” said Phœbe, plaintively. “She has -given me until to-morrow noon, and then I must go to jail.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer sat for some time staring at a penholder which he tried to -balance upon his middle finger. He was very intent upon this matter -until a long-drawn sigh from Phœbe aroused him. Then he leaned back -in his chair, thrust his hands deep in his pockets and bobbed his head -at her reassuringly.</p> - -<p>“We’ll not let you go to jail, Phœbe,” he asserted, in a tone that -carried conviction.</p> - -<p>“But I—I’ve stolen her money!” she moaned.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe it. I know Jonathan Eliot. And I’ve known other misers -before him. Not one of them would ever give up a dollar of their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">255</a></span> -beloved accumulation as long as a spark of life remained in their -bodies—your grandfather, least of all. And to his housekeeper! Why -should he resign it to her, I’d like to know?”</p> - -<p>“She seems to have a powerful influence over him,” remarked Phœbe, -thoughtfully. “She alone is able to communicate with him now, or make -him understand. She alone cares for him while he is helpless as a baby, -and he depends upon her promise to see that his body is finally laid -in the queer tomb he once built. Perhaps she obliged him to give her -everything, by threatening to leave him to die alone.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t believe a word of it, my dear!” exclaimed the lawyer, pounding -his fist on the table for emphasis. “If Jonathan Eliot is clear-headed -enough to dictate that deed of gift, or to sign it, he is still shrewd -enough not to part with his money. Deeds of gift executed under -compulsion are illegal, too. But I believe this paper to be nothing -more than a rank forgery.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe stared at him with wide open eyes.</p> - -<p>“You do, sir?”</p> - -<p>“I certainly do. Elaine is bluffing, and the bluff might succeed if she -had only a girl like you to deal with. You were quite right to come to -me, Phœbe. I’ll agree to settle this controversy with Elaine.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">256</a></span> -“How?” she asked, feeling much encouraged by his confident tone.</p> - -<p>“H-m. I cannot say, as yet. I must have time to think. Why, it’s five -o’clock,” looking at his watch. “Sit still! Don’t be in a hurry. Let’s -figure a little; let’s—figure.”</p> - -<p>He was balancing the penholder again. Phœbe watched him with dreamy -curiosity. It was a distinct relief to shift the burden to other -shoulders.</p> - -<p>After a while she said softly:</p> - -<p>“Do you think I’ve been so—so <em>very</em> wicked, Judge?”</p> - -<p>Slowly he rose from his chair, came over to her and kissed her cheek.</p> - -<p>“<em>Very</em> wicked, Phœbe. All good, true women may be just as wicked, -to help those they love. God bless ’em!”</p> - -<p>He turned away to face an old print of Abraham Lincoln that hung on the -wall, and seemed to study it intently.</p> - -<p>“How is your grandfather’s health, lately?” he abruptly inquired.</p> - -<p>“I saw him through the window yesterday. He seemed the same as usual.”</p> - -<p>“A live carcass. An active mind in a dead body. If Elaine can rouse -that mind, can communicate with him, others may do the same.”</p> - -<p>He seemed to be speaking to himself. Phœbe sat quietly and did not -interrupt his thoughts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">257</a></span> -“So you counted the gold with Elaine. Are you sure of the sums you -mentioned? Could you see clearly through that peephole?”</p> - -<p>“I may have made a mistake, of course,” she answered. “But I am almost -sure I counted right.”</p> - -<p>“You took three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Fifteen hundred in gold and eighteen hundred and ninety, in -bills.”</p> - -<p>“H-m. H—m—! We must return that money, Phœbe.”</p> - -<p>“Return it! Why, how can I, Judge?”</p> - -<p>“You can’t, my dear; but I can. Let’s see. She has given you until -to-morrow noon—All right.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe drew a long breath.</p> - -<p>“Meet me here at ten o’clock in the morning,” he added.</p> - -<p>“Very well, sir.”</p> - -<p>She started to rise, but he motioned her to retain her seat.</p> - -<p>“Can you give up your room for to-night, Phœbe—perhaps for a couple -of nights?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I think so,” she said, astonished. “Perhaps I can sleep with -Cousin Judith; but—”</p> - -<p>“We’re going to play a little game, Phœbe; but, in order to win we -must keep our secret. Tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">258</a></span> no one at home the story you have told me. -Keep away from Elaine for to-night. Perhaps you’d better come over to -our house and stay with Janet—Yes; do that. It will lull suspicion.”</p> - -<p>“Are you intending to use my room, yourself?” inquired Phœbe.</p> - -<p>“No. I want to put a detective there. I’m almost sure there will be -something to see through that peephole to-night.”</p> - -<p>“A detective!”</p> - -<p>“A private detective; meaning Toby Clark.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe stared at him. She had never imagined Toby could be a -detective.</p> - -<p>“And now,” continued the lawyer, briskly, “it’s all settled, cut and -dried. You may go home to supper without a single worry. I’ll send -Janet after you with an invitation to spend the night at our house, and -Toby will take your place at home. You’ve given me proof that you’re -not a bad conspirator, Phœbe, so I depend upon your wit to get Toby -into your room unobserved.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try, sir,” she said.</p> - -<p>“Don’t fret, my dear. We’ve got everything planned, now, and you have -nothing further to fear from this strange complication.”</p> - -<p>She could not quite understand how that might be. Whatever plans Judge -Ferguson had evolved he kept closely guarded in his own bosom. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">259</a></span> -Phœbe knew she might trust him, and carried away with her a much -lighter heart than the one she had brought to the lawyer’s office.</p> - -<p>When she had gone Mr. Ferguson called Toby Clark into his private room -and talked with the young man long and earnestly.</p> - -<p>Toby was considered one of the Riverdale “characters.” He had been -born in a shanty on the bank of the river, where his father had been a -fisherman and his mother had helped to eke out their simple livelihood -by washing for the ladies in the village. Both had died when Toby was -a small boy, and for a time he did odd jobs for the storekeepers and -managed in some way to keep body and soul together. He was a little -fellow, even now, when he was nineteen years old. His unruly hair was a -mop of tow color, and his form was not very sightly because his hands -and feet seemed overgrown. Out of his whimsical, freckled face peered -a pair of small, twinkling eyes, so good-humored in their expression -that the boy was a general favorite. But he never had much to say for -himself, although he was a keen observer and listened intently to the -conversation of others.</p> - -<p>Some years ago Judge Ferguson had taken Toby Clark into his employ, -recognizing a shrewd wit and exceptional intelligence hidden beneath -his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">260</a></span> unprepossessing exterior. At first, the boy went to school and -took care of the judge’s furnace in winter, and his lawn and flower -beds in summer. Then he was taken into the office, where he was now -studying law. No one had really understood Toby except the old lawyer, -and the youth was grateful and wholly devoted to his patron.</p> - -<p>In this interview the judge told Toby exactly what he was expected -to do after Phœbe had secretly introduced him into the Daring -household. The entire situation was explained to him with such -clearness that the amateur detective had no difficulty in understanding -what was required of him.</p> - -<p>He asked no questions, but nodded his head to show that he comprehended -the situation.</p> - -<p>“Above all,” was the final injunction, “do not lose sight of Miss -Halliday. Stick to her like a burr, whatever happens; but do not let -her know you are watching her. Is it all clear to you, Toby?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Then run along, and be prepared to meet Phœbe at the house when -Janet calls for her.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">261</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxii" id="xxii"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /> -<small>MARION’S GHOST STORY</small></h2> - - -<p>When Janet Ferguson arrived at the Eliot homestead that evening she was -greeted by enthusiastic shouts from the younger Darings, with whom she -was a great favorite. They surrounded her in a group before she could -reach the house, while Phil came across the lawn to meet her and shake -hands cordially.</p> - -<p>Phœbe, glancing sharply around, saw Toby Clark leaning against a -column of the dining room porch, where he was half hidden by the vines.</p> - -<p>“Come!” she whispered, and led the way into the house. Halfway up the -stairs she paused to look back, not hearing his footsteps; but he was -so close behind that he startled her and soon she had ushered him into -her own little room.</p> - -<p>“Lock the door behind you,” said she, “and pay no attention if anyone -knocks or tries to get in.”</p> - -<p>Toby merely nodded as he shut himself in. Phœbe hurried down to join -Janet, carrying a little handbag that contained the things she needed -for the night.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">262</a></span> -“Why, Phœbe! where are you going?” asked Sue, seeing the bag.</p> - -<p>“To stay with Janet. Where is Cousin Judith?”</p> - -<p>“Over at the Randolphs.”</p> - -<p>“Then let us go that way,” said Phœbe to Janet. “I must tell her my -plans, for otherwise the Little Mother might worry.” Passing close to -Phil she whispered: “Is everything all right?”</p> - -<p>“Everything is right so far,” he replied. “But how is it with you, and -why are you going away to-night?”</p> - -<p>“Just for a little excitement,” she laughed.</p> - -<p>“You seem nervous and excited, now,” said her brother, looking at her -closely. “Anything new turned up to annoy you, Phœbe?”</p> - -<p>“I’m quite contented to-night, Phil, dear.” And then she ran away -before he could question her, further.</p> - -<p>They met Cousin Judith just leaving the Randolph’s house, and Marion -was with her. Miss Eliot at once approved Phœbe’s plan to stay with -Janet for the night. She thought the girl had seemed unnerved and ill -at ease lately and believed the change of environment would do her good.</p> - -<p>When Judith had bade them good night and started across the street to -rejoin her flock, Marion said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">263</a></span> -“I’ll walk with you a little way, if you don’t mind. It’s such a lovely -evening, and I’ve a mystery to disclose, besides.”</p> - -<p>“A mystery—oh, Marion!” exclaimed Janet.</p> - -<p>“Why are you so astonished?” asked Marion, as the three girls locked -arms and sauntered up the street.</p> - -<p>“Because I cannot imagine a mystery connected with such a very -practical person as yourself,” returned Janet.</p> - -<p>“Tell us what it is,” urged Phœbe, “for then it will remain a -mystery no longer.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes it will,” declared Marion, rather soberly. “I’ve no solution -to offer. All I can do is tell you what I saw, and allow you to solve -the mystery yourselves.”</p> - -<p>“What did you see, then?” inquired Janet, curiously.</p> - -<p>“A ghost.”</p> - -<p>“A ghost! Why, Marion!”</p> - -<p>“Of course, my dears, there is no such thing as a ghost, although, -as I say, I saw it plainly. Otherwise I should have called it an -‘apparition’ instead of a ‘mystery’.”</p> - -<p>“To be sure.”</p> - -<p>“But if I saw a ghost, and ghosts are impossible, then I am in touch -with a mystery,” she continued. “Do you follow my logic, girls?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">264</a></span> -Janet gave a careless laugh.</p> - -<p>“I thought at first you were in earnest,” she said.</p> - -<p>But Phœbe had lived in romance during the past few days and no -element of mystery now seemed absurd to her. Indeed, she began to feel -slightly uneasy, without knowing why.</p> - -<p>“Where did you see your ghost, Marion?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“In its proper place—the graveyard.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Janet and Phœbe together, for their companion had spoken -seriously and with a slight shudder. Moreover, the graveyard was at -that moment a short block to their left, and twilight had already -fallen. Beneath the rows of maples and chestnuts that lined the road -the shadows were quite deep.</p> - -<p>“I am troubled with insomnia,” explained Marion. “The doctors say I -have studied too hard and my nerves are affected. At any rate I am very -wakeful, and sometimes do not go to bed until two or three o’clock in -the morning, knowing I could not sleep if I tried. Last evening I was -especially restless. It was a beautiful starlit night, so after the -family had all retired I slipped out of doors and started for a walk -through the lanes. I have often done this before, since I came here, -and it is not unusual for me to visit the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">265</a></span> graveyard; not because I -am morbid, but for the reason that it seems so restful and quiet there.”</p> - -<p>“Naturally, dear,” murmured Janet.</p> - -<p>“Last night my walk took me that way. I passed through the turnstile -and wandered among the graves to the far end. It must have been long -after midnight, but I had not a particle of fear, believe me, girls. I -was not even thinking of such preposterous things as ghosts.</p> - -<p>“By and by I retraced my steps and sat down on a fallen slab of stone -to indulge in reverie. From my position I faced that ugly square -mausoleum Phœbe’s grandfather once built. There is an iron grating -around it, you remember, and a marble door to the tomb itself, with -bronze hinges and a bronze catch. By the way, isn’t that tomb supposed -to be vacant?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered Phœbe, strangely excited. “Gran’ma Eliot and my -father and mother occupy graves just beside it, for gran’pa built the -big tomb just for himself.”</p> - -<p>“Not a very generous thing to do,” added Janet; “but Mr. Eliot has -always been a queer man, and done queer things.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” continued Marion, “I sat facing the tomb, as I said, when -slowly and without sound the marble door opened and a ghostly figure -emerged. I won’t assert it was a spirit from the other world,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">266</a></span> nor will -I claim it was some person dressed in a sheet; but I am positive it was -no vision of my imagination. So let us call it the Ghostly Mystery.”</p> - -<p>“Was it a man or a woman?” asked Phœbe, breathlessly.</p> - -<p>“It failed to disclose its sex, my dear. The door seemed to swing shut -behind it; but the ghostly one was obliged to put out an arm to raise -the latch of the iron gate. It passed through and I heard the click of -the latch as it again fell into place. Then the apparition—”</p> - -<p>“The Ghostly Mystery, Marion!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; the Ghostly Mystery glided out of sight while I sat -listlessly wondering what it could be. I was not frightened, but I -failed to act promptly; so, when I arose to follow it, the thing or -person—or whatever it was—had disappeared for good and all.”</p> - -<p>The three strolled on in silence for a while. Then Phœbe asked:</p> - -<p>“What time was it?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps one o’clock. It was nearly two when I got home; but I had -walked quite a way before I decided to enter the house.”</p> - -<p>“And have you no idea who it might be?” questioned Janet, who had now -grown thoughtful.</p> - -<p>“Not the slightest.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">267</a></span> -“I wish I had seen it,” said Phœbe, softly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you like ghosts? Well, then, I’ll take you with me on my next -midnight ramble,” laughed Marion.</p> - -<p>“Why not go to-night?” suggested Janet. “Phœbe is going to stay -with me, and you may come too, Marion. Our house is even nearer to the -graveyard than your own, and at dead of night we’ll all steal out and -waylay his ghostship. What do you say?”</p> - -<p>“I am willing,” declared Marion. “Are you sure you will not be -frightened?”</p> - -<p>“I may be,” admitted Janet, honestly; “but I’m willing to risk it.”</p> - -<p>“So am I!” echoed Phœbe, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Then it is decided,” said Marion. “I frankly acknowledge, girls, that -while we are living in an eminently practical and scientific age, these -romantic adventures still prove fascinating. Let us hope we shall -discover the ghost, and that the apparition will be of a quality to -thrill our stagnant blood.”</p> - -<p>“Must you go home first?” inquired Janet.</p> - -<p>“Not if you’ll lend me a night robe. No one at home pays any attention -to my wanderings, so I shall not be missed.”</p> - -<p>They soon arrived at Judge Ferguson’s comfortable residence, which -was a little beyond the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">268</a></span> outskirts of the village and delightfully -situated on a slight eminence. Mrs. Ferguson, an alert, pleasant-faced -little woman, welcomed the girls cordially and they passed the evening -chatting together and discussing recent events in which all were -alike interested. Phœbe was a bit distrait, for she could not help -wondering what was happening in her room at home, where Toby Clark was -keeping watch over the movements of old Elaine; but no one appeared to -notice her abstraction.</p> - -<p>Later in the evening the judge came in, and smiled cheerily upon the -three young girls.</p> - -<p>“You’ve quite a house-party to-night, Janet,” he said. “I wish you -might keep this bevy with you for a month.”</p> - -<p>Neither by glance nor word did he remind Phœbe of their conversation -of the afternoon, and when they prepared to go upstairs he kissed all -three impartially.</p> - -<p>“What, to bed already?” he cried. “But run along and get your beauty -sleep. Why should you wish to sit up with an old fossil like me?”</p> - -<p>“Who has deserted us nearly the whole evening,” pouted Janet.</p> - -<p>“True; I am to blame,” he admitted. “But a lawyer is never his own -master, and to-night business kept me in the town.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">269</a></span> -Phœbe thought she knew what had occupied him, but said nothing.</p> - -<p>In their rooms the girls sat and discussed their plans, waiting for the -judge and Mrs. Ferguson to get to bed and for the arrival of the hour -when they might venture forth. It was demure little Janet who suggested -they all wear sheets on their midnight stroll.</p> - -<p>“We can carry them over our arms until we get to the graveyard,” she -said, “and then wrap ourselves in the white folds. If the ghost appears -we’ll show him that others are able to play the same trick.”</p> - -<p>“But we might frighten him,” laughed Marion.</p> - -<p>“Whoever is playing ghost must be trying to frighten others,” returned -Janet; “for, as you say, actual really-truly ghosts do not exist. I -think it would be fun to turn the tables on the impostor.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps so. What do you think, Phœbe?”</p> - -<p>“It may be a good idea,” she said, rather reluctantly, for somehow -she regarded this matter far more seriously than did the others. The -ghost was using her grandfather’s tomb for its headquarters, according -to Marion’s report, and that gave Phœbe a personal interest in the -affair.</p> - -<p>At last the clock warned them it was nearly twelve o’clock; so they -gathered up the sheets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">270</a></span> Janet had provided and stole noiselessly from -the house. The graveyard was only a short distance away and they -reached it about midnight, taking their position in a dark corner near -the Eliot mausoleum. They assisted one another to drape the sheets -effectually and then sat down upon the ground, huddled close together, -to await the advent of the ghost.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it won’t come to-night,” whispered Janet, with a suspicion of -hopefulness in her voice.</p> - -<p>“True; we must be prepared for that disappointment,” replied Marion, -soberly.</p> - -<p>“Do you feel at all creepy, girls?” asked Phœbe, who caught herself -indulging in nervous shivers at times, despite the fact that the night -was warm and sultry.</p> - -<p>“For my part,” said Marion, “I have no silly fears when in a graveyard. -I find the place serenely restful, and therefore enjoy it.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t care to be here alone,” admitted Janet; “but, as we’re all -together I—I don’t—think I shall mind it—even if the Ghostly Mystery -materializes.”</p> - -<p>It was a long wait, and the three girls beguiled it at times by -whispering together, more through desire to hear the sound of their own -voices than because they had anything important to say. One o’clock -arrived at last. Marion could read the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">271</a></span> face of her watch under the -starlight. Another half hour dragged wearily away.</p> - -<p>“I fear we shall encounter no adventure to-night,” Marion was saying, -when Phœbe seized her arm and drew her back into the shadow.</p> - -<p>“Hush!” she murmured, and pointed an arm toward the turnstile.</p> - -<p>Two hearts, at least, were beating very fast now, for the long-expected -ghost was at last in sight, gliding silently past the turnstile. Well, -not exactly “gliding,” they decided, watching intently. It was not a -very healthy looking ghost, and to their astonishment was entering -the graveyard with shuffling, uneven steps. Of course it should have -suddenly appeared from some tomb, as every well regulated ghost is -supposed to do.</p> - -<p>“The Mystery seems rather clumsy, Marion,” said Janet in an excited -whisper.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it carrying something?” asked Phœbe.</p> - -<p>“Yes; a weight of some sort in each hand,” was Marion’s composed reply. -“The weights are as white as the ghost itself. Queer; isn’t it, girls?”</p> - -<p>Glancing neither to right nor left the apparition slowly made its way -into the graveyard and advanced to the big square mausoleum erected -as the future abiding place of Jonathan Eliot. The white-robed figure -seemed bent and feeble.</p> - -<p>“Come!” said Marion; “let us surround it and play ghost ourselves.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">272</a></span> -She glided swiftly out into the starlight, wrapping her sheet closely -about her, and gained a position behind the tomb. Phœbe and Janet -followed, spurred on by Marion’s fearless action. One passed to the -right and the other to the left.</p> - -<p>Singularly enough, the bent figure did not observe their presence until -the tomb was nearly reached, when Marion circled around the railing and -confronted the mysterious visitant. At the same time Janet and Phœbe -advanced and all three slowly raised their white-draped arms above -their heads.</p> - -<p>“Woo-oo-oo!” wailed Marion.</p> - -<p>With a shriek that pierced the night air far and wide the ghost -staggered backward and toppled to the ground, lying still as death.</p> - -<p>Startled though she was, Phœbe sprang forward and peered into the -upturned face.</p> - -<p>“Why—it’s Elaine!” she cried aloud.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said a quiet voice beside her. “And you’ve raised the very -mischief by this mad prank, Phœbe Daring.”</p> - -<p>It was Toby Clark, who gazed down at the still figure and wagged his -tow head, mournfully.</p> - -<p>“Is she dead, Toby?” asked Janet, in a hushed, frightened tone.</p> - -<p>“I think not. Probably, she’s fainted.”</p> - -<p>“And what was she carrying?” inquired Marion, seeming unmoved by the -tragic occurrence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">273</a></span> -Phœbe knew; they were two canvas bags of gold; but she said nothing.</p> - -<p>“See here,” cried Toby abruptly, “it’s possible you crazy females have -not spoiled the game, after all. Make tracks—will you, girls?—get -away, out of sight; run home, so she won’t see you when she comes to.”</p> - -<p>“But—I don’t understand,” began Janet, timidly.</p> - -<p>“You’re not supposed to,” retorted Toby, more gruffly than he had ever -spoken to her before.</p> - -<p>“Toby is right, girls—I know he is right. Come—<em>please</em> come!” -pleaded Phœbe, anxiously.</p> - -<p>Thoroughly bewildered, Janet and Marion suffered her to lead them away, -and when they had passed the turnstile and were out of sight Toby -retreated and hid behind a gravestone.</p> - -<p>Elaine did not recover at once, for her terror had been great and her -faint was proportionately deep and lasting. But finally, when Toby was -about to steal out again and see if she were dead, the old woman moved -uneasily and moaned. A little later she sat up, placing her hands to -her head. Then she seemed to remember the cause of her fright, for she -cast fearful glances around her.</p> - -<p>Apparently reassured, she presently tried to rise, and after several -attempts regained her feet. The bags of gold still lay where she had -dropped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">274</a></span> them and after another suspicious look around the graveyard -she stooped and picked them up.</p> - -<p>For several moments the woman stood motionless in that silent city of -the dead, pondering on the forms she had seen and trying to decide -whether her imagination had played her a trick, or she had really -beheld the spirits of those gone before. The fact that she had not been -robbed led her to dismiss any idea that the forms were mortal. Whatever -the explanation might be, she reflected that she was now alone and had -a purpose to accomplish.</p> - -<p>She carried her load to the iron grating, unlocked the gate and passed -through. The marble door of the mausoleum worked with a secret spring. -Toby’s sharp eyes carefully marked the manner in which she released -this spring and permitted the heavy marble block to swing noiselessly -outward.</p> - -<p>Elaine only lingered long enough to place the bags of gold inside. Then -she closed the door of the tomb, let herself out at the iron gate and -after one more shrewd inspection of the silent place made her way out -of the graveyard and took the path that led back to her home.</p> - -<p>Far behind her Toby followed like a shadow.</p> - -<p>In half an hour she returned to the vault again, laden as before. For -an old woman, and one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">275</a></span> had just received a nervous shock, Elaine -Halliday showed remarkable vitality. Her body appeared frail and weak, -but an indomitable spirit urged it to perform its tasks.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">276</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxiii" id="xxiii"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> -<small>TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR</small></h2> - - -<p>When Judge Ferguson arrived at his office the next morning he found -Toby Clark awaiting him.</p> - -<p>“What! You’ve not let Miss Halliday escape?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Miss Phœbe is watching her,” returned Toby. “I felt it was -important for me to come here to report.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; sit down and tell me what you have to say.”</p> - -<p>“Early last evening,” began the youth, “I heard the woman in her room. -I watched her through the peephole Miss Daring had prepared. She was -gathering all the money from the hiding places. The bills and small -change she made into packages; the gold she left in the bags. Then she -went into another room—the room occupied by Mr. Eliot—and returned -with an armful of papers.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of papers?” inquired the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“They looked like legal documents, bonds, deeds and such things, sir. -All were neatly folded and tied in packages.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">277</a></span> -“Ah! I wonder where they could have been hidden.”</p> - -<p>“No telling, sir. They’ve been mighty clever, haven’t they? Well, sir, -she made those papers into two separate parcels. Then she wrapped -herself in a sheet which she took from her bed, hid the parcels under -it, and left the house.”</p> - -<p>“She took only the papers?”</p> - -<p>“Only the papers that time, sir. I tried to follow her, but the only -way I could get out of the house without noise was through the window. -I tied some sheets and blankets together and let myself down that way; -but I was too late. The woman had disappeared, and I could not tell in -what direction.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad, Toby.”</p> - -<p>“But I knew she would return, for there was the money to be lugged -away. So I hid by a hedge and waited till she came back. She went into -the house by the outside stair and soon brought out two bags of gold, -one in each hand. This time, I followed her. She went to the graveyard, -and I knew why she had draped herself in the sheet.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“So, if anyone chanced to see her there, they would take her for -a ghost. Some one did see her there—three girls, also dressed in -sheets—your daughter, Phœbe Daring and Marion Randolph.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I declare!” ejaculated the lawyer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">278</a></span> -Toby told of the incident in the graveyard, and how Miss Halliday had -afterward made still another trip with the balance of the money.</p> - -<p>“Did she put it all into the vault?” asked the judge.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; and so I suppose she put the papers there, too. But I cannot -be positive of that.”</p> - -<p>“But—good gracious, Toby!—what possessed the woman to hide all that -plunder in a vault?”</p> - -<p>“She is quite clever, sir. The other hiding place had been discovered -by Phœbe; some of the money had been taken; it was best to hide it -elsewhere. Who would ever think of searching a graveyard for it?”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, Toby. But what happened afterward?”</p> - -<p>“Very little, sir. Miss Halliday went to bed and slept soundly, for I -heard her snore.”</p> - -<p>“You climbed in at the window again?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; and had some sleep myself.”</p> - -<p>“What a wonderful woman Elaine is!”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help admiring her, sir.”</p> - -<p>“And what about Mr. Eliot, Toby?”</p> - -<p>“While waiting for the woman, when she escaped me the first time, I -stole up the stairs and looked in. Mr. Eliot was sitting quietly in his -chair, in the dark.”</p> - -<p>“She left him there all night!” cried the judge, horrified.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">279</a></span> -“It seems so, sir.”</p> - -<p>“That is cruelty. Even his helpless body must tire with remaining in -one position so long. Usually Elaine has taken better care of him than -that,” said Mr. Ferguson, indignantly.</p> - -<p>“She was much excited last night; and the poor man can’t complain, you -know,” returned Toby, with a shrug.</p> - -<p>“What did Miss Halliday do this morning?” asked the lawyer, after a -moment’s thought.</p> - -<p>“She rose early and got her breakfast. I heard her walking around the -front rooms, putting them in order and waiting on Mr. Eliot. She seemed -quite composed this morning, and that may be due to the thought that -her money is now safe from discovery. When Miss Phœbe came home from -your house, Miss Halliday met her and handed her this note.”</p> - -<p>Judge Ferguson took the paper. On it were scrawled the words: “At -twelve o’clock I will keep my word.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Phœbe is very anxious, sir,” continued Toby. “So I thought it -best to come to you and report.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer looked at his clerk, reflectively. Old Miss Halliday’s -persistent threat to prosecute Phœbe impressed him strongly. For, -had she not been able to prove her right to this secret hoard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">280</a></span> the -woman would never dare to expose the affair to public notice. Mr. -Ferguson was quite positive that no such paper as Elaine had displayed -to Phœbe would hold good in a court of law; but the woman might -have other proofs that she was entitled to the property she claimed. -In any event the judge did not wish to be forced to act hastily in so -important a matter. Time was necessary.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later he entered Mr. Spaythe’s private office at the bank -and said:</p> - -<p>“Spaythe, I want to borrow three thousand, three hundred and ninety -dollars—and I want the money now.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spaythe gave a perceptible start, passed his hand over his -forehead, and cast a perplexed and annoyed glance at the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“May I have it?” demanded the judge.</p> - -<p>Eric had entered in time to hear this demand, and the sum mentioned -sent his face white and made his knees knock together. In his hand -was a paper he had intended asking his father to indorse, but it was -all forgotten as the boy stared blankly at Judge Ferguson. Did the -lawyer know? Then how many others knew? Eric had not yet recovered -from his fright, and his great fear was of his father’s anger. Why -had Mr. Spaythe said nothing to his son about the stolen money, and -what punishment was he planning? The son of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">281</a></span> strict, inflexible -banker well knew the fault would not be forgiven nor condoned, and the -uncertainty of his position was becoming unbearable.</p> - -<p>“Certainly you may have the money, Judge,” was Mr. Spaythe’s slow -reply. “For how long do you require the loan?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps only for a few days.”</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll give you my personal check, and make no other record of the -transaction.”</p> - -<p>As he drew his check book toward him Eric slipped back into the bank -and resumed his stool. He was trembling as with an ague.</p> - -<p>Presently Mr. Ferguson came to the window and asked Mr. Boothe to give -him currency for the check. He spoke loudly enough for both Eric and -Phil to overhear him.</p> - -<p>“How will you have it, sir?” asked the cashier.</p> - -<p>“Fifteen hundred in gold and eighteen hundred and ninety in bills.”</p> - -<p>Eric nearly fell off his stool, and Phil looked up with a start. The -effect upon the two boys was entirely different, however, for Daring -had nothing to fear. So Phœbe’s secret was out, thought Phil, and -Judge Ferguson was the person who had given her the money. But, in -that case, why was the judge now asking for a similar sum, and in the -same sort of money? The mystery was certainly beyond Phil Daring’s -ability to solve. He gravely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">282</a></span> continued his work, feeling certain that -everything would come right in the end. It hurt him, though, to feel he -was not in his twin’s confidence.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ferguson took his money and departed. When he reached his office he -said to Toby Clark:</p> - -<p>“Go back to the Eliot house and send Phœbe to me. You must remain to -watch Miss Halliday, but you can do that from the lane, or from some -other point of vantage. I don’t much care what the woman does while -she is at home, but if she attempts to leave the place be prepared to -follow her.”</p> - -<p>“All right, sir.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe came for the money and found it ready for her, tied in a neat -parcel.</p> - -<p>“Don’t answer any questions during your interview with Elaine,” he -advised. “And take care to ask none. Above all, don’t let her suspect -you were playing ghost in the graveyard last night.”</p> - -<p>Phœbe promised and went home again. At twelve o’clock she carried -the package around to the rear stairs, which she was about to mount -when Elaine appeared in the doorway above her.</p> - -<p>“Stay where you are!” was the harsh command.</p> - -<p>The girl resented the words and the tone, so with determination she -mounted the stairs. Elaine barred her way.</p> - -<p>“You must count the money and give me a receipt,” said Phœbe.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">283</a></span> -“I’ll count it; but you’ll get no receipt, for you gave none, you -miserable little thief!” snarled the woman, rudely snatching the parcel.</p> - -<p>“Then, I’ll wait here until you count it.”</p> - -<p>“No you won’t. Go down—instantly! And if the money is not all here, to -jail you go.”</p> - -<p>“I think I’ll see my grandfather,” asserted the girl, more to annoy -Elaine than because she wished to visit the helpless old man.</p> - -<p>For answer Miss Halliday slammed the door in her face and locked it. -Phœbe slowly retreated and descended to the yard. There the thought -occurred to her that she might watch Elaine through the rear windows, -for she was curious to see how she acted when she found the money all -restored. So she slipped away into the lane, which being slightly -elevated enabled her to peer into the second story windows. There she -bumped against Toby Clark, who was standing half hidden by a clump of -bushes.</p> - -<p>“Oh! You here?” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Anything up?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“I’ve just given Elaine the money, and she impudently locked me out. So -I thought I’d come here and watch the windows.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I’ve been doing. Stand back here in the shade, Miss -Daring, so you won’t be seen. That’s it. Now look at that window. What -do you see?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">284</a></span> -“Only gran’pa sitting in his chair.”</p> - -<p>“Oh. Is that your grandfather!”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Phœbe. “He sits there all day long, looking over -the country. Once, you know, he owned all the land as far as he can now -see.”</p> - -<p>“And does he sit there all night, too?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed; Elaine puts him to bed at night.”</p> - -<p>“Last night,” said Toby, reflectively, “she left him in his chair, -instead of putting him to bed. I saw him. The room was dark, but he was -so close to the window that the stars showed his form distinctly.”</p> - -<p>“Then Elaine is neglecting poor gran’pa!” cried Phœbe, indignantly. -“And he is so dependent on her kindness, too!”</p> - -<p>Toby gave a low, apologetic cough.</p> - -<p>“Your eyes are good, Miss Daring?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she replied.</p> - -<p>“Then look again, and carefully. Is that indeed your grandfather—is it -really Mr. Eliot in the chair?”</p> - -<p>Phœbe was surprised at the question, but she looked carefully.</p> - -<p>“Of course. I’ve seen him sitting that way every day, for months past.”</p> - -<p>“Can you see his face?”</p> - -<p>“Not very well, from here. It is muffled up in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">285</a></span> his dressing gown, you -know, so he won’t take cold.”</p> - -<p>“It’s pretty warm to-day,” observed the lawyer’s clerk.</p> - -<p>“But Gran’pa Eliot is paralyzed, and his blood doesn’t circulate -freely. He is always well wrapped up, whatever the weather.”</p> - -<p>Toby whistled softly and looked down at the ground, where he was -digging up the earth with the toe of his shoe.</p> - -<p>“It must be dinner time,” said Phœbe, suddenly remembering the fact. -“Phil will be coming home and I must go in.”</p> - -<p>“Will you be very busy this afternoon, Miss Daring?”</p> - -<p>“I think not. Why?”</p> - -<p>“Can you come here for a half hour or so?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Toby, if I can be of any service.”</p> - -<p>“I think you can. This is a queer affair, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It’s very queer, Toby.”</p> - -<p>“Then I shall expect you,” he said with a sudden change of tone.</p> - -<p>Phœbe went in, thinking the while how odd this boy was. She wondered -casually why Judge Ferguson had placed so much confidence in him. There -was still a good deal of mystery about this affair and Phœbe did -not yet know what the lawyer intended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">286</a></span> to do to checkmate old Elaine. -However, she was content to trust her father’s friend, and greatly -relieved to be able to return that dreadful money to the covetous woman.</p> - -<p>After dinner she walked with Phil to the gate. Said he:</p> - -<p>“Have you anything to tell me?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet, Phil,” she answered softly. “Try to be patient, for all is -well, I’m sure, and we’re going to be very happy when these troubled -days are over.”</p> - -<p>He said no more, but bent and kissed her and went on his way.</p> - -<p>After accomplishing a few household duties and bandaging a cut on -Becky’s arm—it seemed the girl was always hurting herself—and helping -Don find his cap, which he always mislaid when he came in, Phœbe -remembered her promise to Toby Clark and slipped away unobserved to his -station in the lane.</p> - -<p>She found the little clerk staring fixedly at the window where Gran’pa -Eliot sat. He gave a start as the girl approached, and then his -freckled face lit up with a smile.</p> - -<p>“I want you to watch Miss Halliday for me, for half an hour,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Where is she?”</p> - -<p>“Somewhere in those upper rooms. She has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">287</a></span> just passed the window to -the left. But, although I’ve watched her for hours, she has never once -stopped at your grandfather’s side to do anything for him.”</p> - -<p>“Poor gran’pa!”</p> - -<p>“Now, listen, Miss Phœbe. The judge told me not to lose sight of -that woman. If she tries to leave the house I am to follow her. But I -want to get away, for just a little while, and I’d like you to watch in -my place.”</p> - -<p>“But, what shall I do if she goes away?”</p> - -<p>“Follow her, and I’ll find you both. But she won’t leave the house -to-day, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>“Very well; I’ll do the best I can, Toby.”</p> - -<p>He nodded and walked away, going straight to the graveyard. When he -reached there he climbed nimbly over the high iron rail, at the risk of -breaking a limb, and faced the Eliot mausoleum. Pressing the spring, as -he had seen Elaine do, he opened the marble door and passed into the -tomb.</p> - -<p>A few moments later he came out with a pale, startled face and closed -the door. A while he stood lost in reverie; then he clambered over the -railing again and went to relieve Phœbe.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Miss Daring,” he said quietly. “You may go, now. Anything -to report?”</p> - -<p>“Why, a minute ago Elaine came to the window where gran’pa sits, and -after staring out, as if she suspected I was watching her, she turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">288</a></span> -and shook up gran’pa’s pillows, and moved his chair back a little. So -you see we were wrong, and she is not really neglecting him.”</p> - -<p>Toby chuckled.</p> - -<p>“She’s a slick one, is Miss Halliday!” he murmured. “But I’ll keep an -eye on her now.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you hungry?” asked Phœbe, remembering he had been on duty -since the evening before.</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Brought some bread and cheese with me, Miss Daring. Good-by.”</p> - -<p>“Good-by, Toby.”</p> - -<p>The afternoon passed slowly for Phœbe. She was still wrought up over -the exciting events of the past few days and felt that she was almost -as much in the dark concerning Judge Ferguson’s intentions as was -Phil. She tried to copy some manuscript on her typewriter, for she had -been neglecting the work lately, but somehow the girl had conceived an -undefined horror of her room. So she went to sit with Cousin Judith, -while she finished darning her stockings.</p> - -<p>“Phœbe, dear,” said Miss Eliot, “there’s something mysterious going -on in this house.”</p> - -<p>“Is there?” asked Phœbe, with downcast eyes.</p> - -<p>“I think so. Phil has not been himself, lately. I’m sure he is worrying -dreadfully over something. Is anything wrong at the bank?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">289</a></span> -“No, Cousin Judith. Phil is all right. He’s doing splendid work, as you -may know from the fact that Mr. Spaythe has raised his salary.”</p> - -<p>“But the boy is unhappy, nevertheless,” persisted the Little Mother, -musingly.</p> - -<p>Phœbe sighed. She knew it was true.</p> - -<p>“As for you, my dear,” continued Judith, “you are a mere bundle of -nerves lately, and start and grow pale if anyone speaks to you. What -has happened, Phœbe?”</p> - -<p>The girl darned industriously for a time. Then she said earnestly:</p> - -<p>“You trust me, Cousin Judith, do you not?”</p> - -<p>“You know I do, Phœbe.”</p> - -<p>“Then please do not question me to-day. I don’t want to mislead you, -or deceive you, and Judge Ferguson has asked me not to confide in -anyone—not even you.”</p> - -<p>“Judge Ferguson!” exclaimed Judith, relieved. “Is it his secret, then?”</p> - -<p>“Just now it is,” answered Phœbe. “But there is nothing to worry -about, dear. That’s what I told Phil, just after dinner.”</p> - -<p>Miss Eliot was really puzzled, but she felt it would be unkind to press -Phœbe further.</p> - -<p>“Becky, Don and Sue know nothing of the matter, at least,” she -observed, after a moment’s reflection.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” said Phœbe.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">290</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxiv" id="xxiv"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> -<small>TOBY CLARK’S HEROISM</small></h2> - - -<p>Late that night Toby Clark heard a man pacing slowly up and down the -street, passing the Eliot house each time. Peering through the shadows -the boy thought he recognized the straight, erect figure. Creeping -close to a hedge that bordered the highway he whispered:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Ferguson!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Toby. I’ve been looking for you,” replied the judge in a low -voice, as he paused beside the hedge.</p> - -<p>“Something’s going to happen to-night, sir.”</p> - -<p>“So I suspected. What is it?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Halliday’s getting ready to flit, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Are you sure?”</p> - -<p>“She’s been packing up for the last hour, sir.”</p> - -<p>“And intends to leave poor Mr. Eliot alone! How dreadful!”</p> - -<p>“Would you mind going for Sam Parsons, Mr. Ferguson?”</p> - -<p>The lawyer gave a start. Parsons was the village constable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">291</a></span> -“Parsons! Dear me; do you think he’s needed, Toby?”</p> - -<p>“Better have everything ship-shape, sir.”</p> - -<p>The judge reflected. Had he a right to arrest Elaine? She was merely -a servant, after all, and it was not a felony to throw up such a -position. But, there was the money—that secret hoard which she had -claimed as her own and hidden away in the tomb. She had claimed to own -the property, as well, yet was voluntarily preparing to leave it—a -circumstance which led the shrewd lawyer to suspect that she knew her -claim to be illegal. Had she, then, any better right to the money, the -bonds and papers? Judge Ferguson decided he would get the constable.</p> - -<p>“There is no time to be lost, sir,” suggested Toby Clark, uneasily.</p> - -<p>“I’ll meet you here shortly. Sam doesn’t live far away, and he’ll be at -home now; probably in bed and asleep.”</p> - -<p>“I’d like you to hurry, if you please. And if I’m not here when you -return, come to the graveyard.”</p> - -<p>“The graveyard!”</p> - -<p>“She’ll want to put away the money that Miss Phœbe gave her to-day, -you know.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, Toby. I’ll hurry.”</p> - -<p>He turned and walked swiftly away, while the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">292</a></span> clerk went back to his -post of observation. A candle was burning in one of the upper rooms and -it dimly lighted the form of Jonathan Eliot, seated beside his favorite -window. Now and then Miss Halliday passed one of the windows. She had -on a shawl and bonnet.</p> - -<p>The judge was prompt. He encountered the constable just coming home -from town, and immediately dragged him away, explaining the case as -they walked.</p> - -<p>Sam Parsons was a man of few words and he knew Judge Ferguson. He asked -no questions, understanding he was merely to arrest old Miss Halliday -if she tried to get away. The judge knew the reason for this action, -and that was all that was necessary, for the time being.</p> - -<p>Toby met them and posted them beside the path Elaine must take to get -to the tomb. From their cover they gazed curiously at the muffled form -of old Jonathan Eliot; but the examination was brief, for suddenly the -light went out.</p> - -<p>“She’s coming!” whispered Toby. “I’ll follow her first, and then you -must follow me at a safe distance.”</p> - -<p>“Why not arrest her now?” asked the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no—not now, sir!” protested Toby in an eager voice. “Wait, sir; -wait.”</p> - -<p>He could say no more, for they discerned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">293</a></span> Elaine’s angular form coming -down the stairway. In one hand she carried an old-fashioned satchel. -Under the other arm was the package of money which Phœbe had -returned to her.</p> - -<p>Pausing at the foot of the stairs the woman cast penetrating glances in -every direction. Then, evidently reassured, she stealthily traversed -the back yard and passed through the gate into the lane. It was quite -dark under the shadow of the trees, and Elaine had no suspicion that -three silent watchers stood almost within arm’s reach as she hurried -along the well-known path. Presently Toby Clark glided away in her -wake, and before his dim form became wholly invisible the constable and -the lawyer started after him.</p> - -<p>Thus the extraordinary procession advanced to the very borders of the -graveyard. Once or twice Toby halted suddenly, and the others perforce -followed suit; but that was only when Elaine paused to shift her -luggage from one hand to the other; then they all resumed the silent -march.</p> - -<p>When she unlocked the gate of the iron grating surrounding the tomb she -did not wait to fasten it behind her; so, as soon as she had entered -the mausoleum Toby slipped inside the railing and signaled the others -to follow him. The three being now within the enclosure, the young man -closed the gate and turned the key in the lock just as Elaine again -appeared.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">294</a></span> -The starlight rendered the three forms clearly visible.</p> - -<p>The woman gave a low cry and rushed to the grating, which she shook -with impotent rage. Then, turning to confront her captors, she -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Who are you? How dare you come here?”</p> - -<p>“A graveyard is not private property,” said the judge.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Ferguson!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss Halliday. Let me return your question: why are you here?”</p> - -<p>She glanced at the door of the mausoleum, which she had left ajar -in her first panic at being discovered. Then her eyes fell upon the -satchel she had left beside the gate. These people had surprised her, -but she reflected that they could know nothing of her secret, or of -her present purpose. All she needed was to gain time. Before any could -prevent her she sprang to the marble door and forced it shut. It closed -with a sharp click as the spring bolt shot into place. The secret of -opening it had been known only to Jonathan Eliot and herself.</p> - -<p>Toby gave a little laugh, and the lawyer roused himself and said -sternly:</p> - -<p>“I am awaiting your explanation, Miss Halliday.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">295</a></span> -“Well, I guess you’ll wait for it awhile,” she retorted, a note of -triumph in her voice. “You’ve no right to detain me here, Judge -Ferguson. Open that gate, and let me go!”</p> - -<p>“I fear, madam, you have broken the law, and we must therefore arrest -you,” said the lawyer.</p> - -<p>“I’d like to see you do it!” she cried, but she drew in her breath -sharply and pressed one hand to her heart.</p> - -<p>“You will be gratified, Miss Halliday. Officer, do your duty.”</p> - -<p>As the constable advanced she shrank back against the iron gate.</p> - -<p>“No, no!” she said. “Don’t arrest me. I’ve done nothing to be arrested -for. Come to the house in the morning and I’ll explain everything.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer hesitated.</p> - -<p>“You may go to the house, if you wish; but Mr. Parsons will go with -you, and guard the place until morning,” he said.</p> - -<p>Toby Clark was pulling his sleeve.</p> - -<p>“One moment, sir, before you decide,” he pleaded.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Toby?”</p> - -<p>“Come with me, please.”</p> - -<p>The boy went to the door of the mausoleum, touched the secret spring, -and the marble block<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">296</a></span> swung out. Elaine gave a cry that was half a sob -and pressed her hands to her heart again.</p> - -<p>“Come in, please—all of you, if you will,” said the clerk.</p> - -<p>Parsons and Mr. Ferguson followed him into the black interior of the -tomb. The air was close and bore a peculiar, sickening odor.</p> - -<p>“One moment,” said Toby.</p> - -<p>He struck a match, holding it shielded between his hands until it -flared up and lighted the confined space. On a marble slab in the -center of the tomb lay a dead body.</p> - -<p>“Good God!” cried the judge, recoiling; “it’s Jonathan Eliot!”</p> - -<p>An echoing cry came from Toby. Dropping the match he made a bound -for the door just as the heavy slab was swinging into place, urged -by Elaine’s most desperate efforts. There was no way to open it from -the inside, and the danger was imminent. In an instant the young man -had thrust his foot into the crack that was now barely large enough -to receive it, while Elaine, crowding the weight of her body against -the marble, crushed and mangled the heroic boy’s flesh in a last vain -effort to entomb her three captors and condemn them to a horrible death.</p> - -<p>The next instant the burly form of Sam Parsons thrust back the door. -Then he wrapped his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">297</a></span> arms around the struggling woman and caught her in -a firm clasp. Judge Ferguson, trembling with horror, raised Toby from -the ground, where he had fallen and lay writhing and moaning with the -pain of his maimed and wounded foot.</p> - -<p>Snap—snap! went the handcuffs that encircled Elaine’s wrists, while -she fought, scratching and biting, to resist capture.</p> - -<p>“I’ll carry Toby down to the doctor’s, sir,” said the constable. “You -can march ahead with that tigress. There’s no danger, Judge; she can’t -escape us now, and we’ll soon land her in jail.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">298</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxv" id="xxv"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /> -<small>FATHER AND SON</small></h2> - - -<p>The Darings slept soundly that night, all unaware of the tragic events -taking place in their neighborhood. However, the adventure was not -yet ended for Judge Ferguson, even when the Halliday woman had been -securely locked up and the doctor had dressed Toby’s mangled foot and -he had been put to bed.</p> - -<p>“Sam,” said the lawyer, “I have work to do, and you must help me.”</p> - -<p>“Count on me, Judge,” was the ready reply. “I don’t mind an all-night -job once in a while, though I wouldn’t care for it as a steady diet. -What’s next?”</p> - -<p>They awakened the undertaker, Davis, the next thing, and after the -lawyer had told him the story he at once hitched up a team to drive -to the tomb for Mr. Eliot’s body. As the undertaker was also the -liveryman, Mr. Ferguson obtained a single horse, harnessed to a roomy -box-buggy, in which he and Sam Parsons followed the other rig. Arriving -at the graveyard they held back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">299</a></span> while Davis took charge of the remains -and loaded the body into the wagon, and not till he had driven away did -the constable and the lawyer venture into the mausoleum, the door of -which they had propped open to avoid the danger of being entombed alive.</p> - -<p>The buggy was fairly loaded when all the treasure and the papers had -been placed in it, and then they drove to the lawyer’s office, where -they deposited the precious freight and Parsons watched beside it until -morning.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ferguson, meantime, got a couple of hours’ sleep; but he was back -at the office by daybreak, and while waiting for the bank to open -sent Sam to get his breakfast, while he himself began a systematic -examination of the papers he had seized.</p> - -<p>It did not take him long to discover that Jonathan Eliot had been -a wealthy, if miserly, man. The government bonds and cash alone -constituted a fortune, but aside from these were many mortgages and -investments that drew a high rate of interest. There was no paper -purporting to be a will; no letters of administration or any indication -that the old man had transferred his holdings to Elaine Halliday, or -to any other person. The deed of gift which Phœbe had seen was -doubtless secreted upon the person of the housekeeper.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">300</a></span> -While the judge was thus absorbed in the papers the day advanced -and Spaythe’s Bank was opened for business. Phil, arriving at his -usual time, found Mr. Spaythe already in his office and the door -communicating with the countingroom wide open.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the banker seemed laboring under unusual excitement. He would -walk the floor of his office with nervous strides, then seat himself in -the chair by his desk, and a few moments later resume his pacing. At -times he glanced into the room where Phil was at work, or toward the -cage where the cashier was busy. Eric had not yet arrived.</p> - -<p>Presently in came Judge Ferguson, accompanied by Sam Parsons, and both -were loaded down with gold and bank notes.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, Spaythe,” called the judge, nodding genially. “I want -to make an important deposit, to be credited to the Estate of Jonathan -Eliot.”</p> - -<p>“Eliot!” exclaimed the banker. “Is the old man dead, then?”</p> - -<p>“Very dead, Spaythe; and he’s left a lot of money. Here, Boothe, count -it—and count it carefully, my man—for this is the biggest deposit -your bank has ever received.”</p> - -<p>Phil had overheard this, and came forward with a pale and troubled -face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">301</a></span> -“Is it true, sir?” he asked, half frightened.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Phil; it’s true.”</p> - -<p>“When did my grandfather die?”</p> - -<p>“Two or three days ago, I think. But we only discovered his body last -night, lying in that tomb he built, where Elaine Halliday had carried -him after propping up a dummy in the window to make us all believe he -was still alive.”</p> - -<p>Then they all went into the private office, where Mr. Ferguson related -the night’s occurrences to Mr. Spaythe and Phil Daring, the constable -being present to confirm the story.</p> - -<p>“Had it not been for the bravery of Toby Clark,” concluded the judge, -“we might all three have been buried alive in that hideous tomb. No one -could have come to our assistance, for no one knew where we had gone.”</p> - -<p>“The woman must be crazy,” asserted the banker.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps; but she’s clever enough in some ways,” sighed the lawyer, -“and may cause us a lot of trouble yet. That’s why I have deposited -this money to the credit of the Eliot Estate. No one can touch it now -until the courts decide to whom it belongs. And, by the way, Spaythe, -that three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars I borrowed from -you is among the lot!”</p> - -<p>During this conversation Eric had entered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">302</a></span> bank, and seeing the -interested group gathered in his father’s office came to the open door -just as the judge again mentioned the fatal sum that he had stolen -from the safe. His face instantly went white with terror, and he was -creeping away when Mr. Spaythe sprang up, seized his son’s arm and drew -him into the office.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen,” said the banker, turning to the others, “I too have a -story to relate, and I beg you to seat yourselves and listen.”</p> - -<p>“May I go, sir?” asked Phil in a troubled tone.</p> - -<p>“No, Daring; you must remain; for what I have to say concerns you -closely. Sit down.”</p> - -<p>Phil sat down. Judge Ferguson glanced from Phil to Eric, who stood -with hanging head; then to Mr. Spaythe, whose countenance was cold and -severe and bore the marks of a secret sorrow. The constable, accustomed -to strange scenes, remained impassive and silent.</p> - -<p>“On Saturday night,” began Mr. Spaythe, in a hard, resolute tone, “this -bank was robbed of three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars, in -gold and currency.”</p> - -<p>Eric staggered and caught at the corner of the desk for support. -Phil grew pale, for he was astonished at the banker’s knowledge. -Mr. Ferguson knew the fact already, having listened to Phœbe’s -confession, so he merely glanced at the father and son in a thoughtful -way and refrained from comment.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width400"> -<a name="have" id="have"></a> -<img src="images/i_309.jpg" width="400" height="598" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">“I’ve a Story to Relate,” Said the Banker.</span></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">303</a></span> -“My son had warned me,” continued the banker, speaking bitterly, “that -Phil Daring would not be liable to withstand the temptation of stealing -money, once he was alone in the bank and knew the combination of the -safe. At first I scorned the idea; then, for my own satisfaction, I -decided to watch. Here in my door is a sliding panel, through which I -am able to observe, when I so desire, everything that goes on in the -back room. On Saturday night I came here, letting myself in at the -private entrance to this room, and found Phil Daring working on the -books while his twin sister sat beside him. From their conversation -I discovered that they knew the bank was about to be robbed. They -arranged to watch the robbery unobserved, and I decided to do likewise. -At midnight a man entered the bank, opened the safe and took away -three thousand, three hundred and ninety dollars. That man,” he added, -pointing a merciless finger toward the culprit, “was my own son.”</p> - -<p>No one spoke. Eric tried to answer, but a sob choked him. He had raised -his head now and was reading his father’s face with a fascinated and -horror-stricken gaze.</p> - -<p>“From the conversation of the two Darings,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">304</a></span> went on Mr. Spaythe, “I -learned that Eric had so plotted that Phil was to be accused of the -crime—and of other peculations that preceded it. The girl promised to -save her brother, and I was curious to know how she would do it. To my -amazement they brought the money to the bank on Sunday evening, and I -saw them replace it in the safe—every penny that Eric had taken. The -act was so astonishing, so wholly unexpected and inexplicable, that -there seemed but one possible solution: that the Darings had in some -way forced Eric to give up the stolen money. So I kept silent, waiting -for an explanation, or for some further development; for if Eric had -been shown the folly and wickedness of his crime it might be better for -him not to know that I had discovered it. I may have been weak in this; -but, gentlemen, he is my son.”</p> - -<p>The banker paused, pressed his lips firmly together, and after a time -resumed his statement.</p> - -<p>“Further developments occurred, indeed, but they served to undeceive -me, and to add to my perplexity. Eric restored to the bank several -hundred dollars which he had formerly embezzled; he also paid his debts -around town, amounting to several hundred dollars more; I have a list -of them. Therefore, he could not have returned to the Darings the money -he took from the safe on Saturday night—and he had no other money.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">305</a></span> -Eric drew a long and tremulous sigh. Then he sank into a chair and -buried his face in his hands. The tale was all new to him, and he found -the truth vastly different from what he had imagined. Also, despair had -seized him in its pitiless grasp, and as his eye by chance fell upon -the constable he shuddered. His father’s intentions were clear to him -now.</p> - -<p>“Another surprising circumstance,” said Mr. Spaythe, ignoring Eric’s -dejected attitude, “was Judge Ferguson’s demand upon me for the exact -sum Eric had stolen—the exact sum Phœbe Daring had restored to -the safe. Therefore, I have asked you to listen to me that you may -understand I am entitled to some explanation. My son’s crime is known -to the Darings and to Mr. Ferguson, as well as to myself; I, only, am -in the dark concerning the events which followed it.”</p> - -<p>“Those events I can explain in a few words, sir,” said the judge, -his kindly voice showing how deeply he was grieved for his old -friend. “Phœbe Daring had discovered her grandfather’s hoard, -which Miss Halliday had secreted in her own room. To save her brother -from unjust accusation the girl took the sum required to make good -Eric’s—eh—eh—withdrawal. Miss Halliday claimed this money was given -her by Jonathan Eliot, by a deed of gift, and threatened Phœbe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">306</a></span> -with jail unless she returned the entire sum. It was my purpose just -then to lull old Elaine’s suspicions; so I borrowed the money from -you, Mr. Spaythe, that Phœbe might return it to her grandfather’s -housekeeper. So you see that after all the various conspiracies, -Spaythe’s Bank is still short that identical sum of three thousand, -three hundred and ninety dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Not the bank, sir,” said the other harshly, “but my personal account -is short that sum. You are relieved of all obligation to return it, -Judge Ferguson.”</p> - -<p>The lawyer bowed.</p> - -<p>“In that case,” said he, somewhat embarrassed, “perhaps you will permit -us now to withdraw.”</p> - -<p>The banker sat silent a moment, his stern face pallid and thoughtful. -Then he turned to Phil.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Daring,” he said, “I owe to you and to your brave sister my -thanks for your discretion and consideration of me in the conduct of -this unfortunate affair. Eric owes you a still greater debt. You have -behaved as a man, sir; I wish to God you had been my son instead of -that cowering criminal seated before me. Will you add a little to my -obligation—will you do me another favor?”</p> - -<p>“If I may, sir,” said Phil, flushed and miserable despite this praise.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">307</a></span> -“Tell me what punishment to inflict upon this—thief.”</p> - -<p>Phil straightened up and looked squarely into the banker’s eyes. He had -longed for this question; the opportunity was now his.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” he replied, “I know Eric; I have known him for years. His fault -lay in his extravagant tastes, which forced him into debt because his -father would not give him as much money as he thought he needed. The -debts drove him to crime, and for his crime he has already suffered -such punishment as all your proposed severity could not inflict upon -him. I know Eric—tender-hearted, generous and kind—not bad, sir, in -spite of this offense he was so weak as to commit. If you will forgive -him, Mr. Spaythe, if you will love him and take him to your heart -again, I promise that never in the future will you have cause to regret -it. Eric will be honest and true from this day forward. But if, on the -other hand, you now cast him off, you will ruin his life and your own; -for a boy condemned by his own father can hope for no mercy from the -world. He is your only son, Mr. Spaythe; forgive him.”</p> - -<p>During this impassioned speech, which came straight from the young -fellow’s heart, the banker sat staring at him with dull, expressionless -eyes. Eric had raised his head to gaze at Phil wonderingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">308</a></span> Then he -turned to his father a pleading look that might have melted his anger -had he seen it; but Mr. Spaythe still stared at Phil Daring, as if -dazed by the boy’s frankness.</p> - -<p>Mr. Ferguson slowly rose and laid an arm across the banker’s shoulder. -The gesture was strangely caressing, as between one man and another.</p> - -<p>“Phil is right, Duncan,” he said softly. “The boy is your son, and you -can make a man of him, if you will.”</p> - -<p>Slowly the banker’s head drooped until it rested upon his arms, -outstretched upon the flat desk before him. For a time he remained -motionless, while those who watched and waited scarce dared to breathe.</p> - -<p>Then Mr. Spaythe looked up, and the sternness had left his face.</p> - -<p>“Eric,” he said, “you are forgiven.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">309</a></span> -</div> - -<h2><a name="xxvi" id="xxvi"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> -<small>THE WATERMARK</small></h2> - - -<p>Phœbe found the chickens had not been fed, and they were making a -plaintive outcry for attention. She went to the stair and called to -Elaine, but there was no reply.</p> - -<p>Slowly ascending to the upper floor she pushed open the door and -called again. Then something about her grandfather’s awkward position -attracted her attention. She crept forward to peer into his face; then -started back with a cry of dismay. Her grandfather was not there. A -pillow and a bolster supported the dressing gown and head-shawl which -had so cleverly deceived her.</p> - -<p>Hurrying down she met Phil and Judge Ferguson coming up the walk. They -told her to get Cousin Judith, and when the four were assembled in the -quaint old parlor the girls heard the extraordinary story of Elaine’s -arrest and Eric’s forgiveness.</p> - -<p>Miss Halliday made a desperate fight for Jonathan Eliot’s money. Judge -Ferguson was not the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">310</a></span> only lawyer in Riverdale. Among the others was -a little, fat, bald-headed man named Abner Kellogg, whom the court -allowed to defend the woman.</p> - -<p>Kellogg was shrewd, and Elaine promised him a big fee if he won; so he -challenged Mr. Ferguson to prove that the deed of gift was a forgery -and had not been signed by the deceased miser.</p> - -<p>This was a difficult thing to do. The signature was very much like Mr. -Eliot’s; so like it that the experts would not state positively that -he had not affixed it to the deed. Moreover, Elaine’s contention that -she had received no regular wages for years; that she had been the only -close friend and confidant of the old man, and that he had promised -her his money and property, when he died, as a return for her faithful -service, was all so plausible that it greatly strengthened her claim.</p> - -<p>She testified before the court that Jonathan Eliot had executed this -deed of gift just before he was stricken with paralysis.</p> - -<p>“He would not give me the paper then,” she explained in a logical, -composed way, “but kept it in an iron box in his secret cupboard. He -told me that when he died I could take the paper, and it would prove my -claim. So I did take it, and showed it to Phœbe Daring, and she gave -me back the money she had stolen from me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">311</a></span> -When asked why she had concealed the fact of Mr. Eliot’s death for -three days and hidden his body and the money in the tomb, she replied -that she was afraid of the Darings and their lawyer, Judge Ferguson. -The Darings had stolen from her and the judge had threatened her with -the law. She was a simple, inexperienced old woman, she added, unable -to oppose such bitter and powerful enemies, who had always treated -her unjustly. She feared that when they knew of Mr. Eliot’s death -they would take away her money—as indeed they had done—and so she -had tried to keep the matter secret until she could get far away from -Riverdale. She had intended to let the Darings have the house, although -it was clearly her own. The place had grown distasteful to her, and the -money would enable her to live comfortably in some other part of the -country.</p> - -<p>She flatly denied her attempt to entomb Mr. Ferguson, the constable and -Toby Clark, which had been frustrated by the boy sacrificing his foot -for their lives, and they refrained from pressing this charge against -her. Toby’s foot was healing, but he would be a cripple as long as he -lived.</p> - -<p>Taken all together, Elaine’s position was far more strong than Mr. -Ferguson had anticipated. By permission of the court he examined the -deed of gift closely, afterward complaining that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">312</a></span> paper seemed too -new to have been written upon three years ago. It was a heavy, thick -sheet, resembling parchment, and on it the judge discovered a watermark -consisting of the letters “A.R.”</p> - -<p>Lawyer Kellogg, who defended Elaine, replied that paper kept away from -light and air, as this had been, would remain white and look new for -years, and therefore Mr. Ferguson’s contention was ridiculous. The -court agreed with Mr. Kellogg in this, and poor Mr. Ferguson was at his -wits’ end to find some reasonable flaw in the document.</p> - -<p>The case had been on trial for a week, and had been adjourned over -Sunday. The Darings and Cousin Judith, who had at first been elated -at the prospect of inheriting Gran’pa Eliot’s wealth, had by degrees -fallen into a state of hopeless despondency.</p> - -<p>After his Sunday dinner Judge Ferguson came over for a talk with his -clients, and although his intention was to cheer them, his own face was -too serious to be very assuring.</p> - -<p>“I am morally certain that woman is deceiving us,” he said; “but I must -confess my fear that we shall be unable to prove the deed a forgery.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, sir,” replied Phil, smiling at Phœbe to give her -courage; “we’ve managed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">313</a></span> get along so far without gran’pa’s money, -and I guess we can stand it hereafter.”</p> - -<p>“That isn’t the point,” suggested Judith. “The money is rightfully -yours, and you are entitled to it. Why, the fortune left by my uncle is -nearly a hundred thousand dollars, counting the money and securities -alone. Surely Elaine Halliday cannot claim her services to be worth all -that!”</p> - -<p>“Not justly, my dear,” answered the judge; “but the law will not -look at it from that point of view, and here is a point of law to be -considered. If the deed is allowed to stand we cannot prevent Elaine -from getting every penny, and the house to boot. If it is a forgery, -and so proved, she is not entitled to a dollar beyond her wages as -housekeeper. Even that would be forfeited by her deception.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose,” said Phœbe, “we compromise, and agree to give her all the -money if she will let us have the house. Wouldn’t that be better than -getting nothing at all?”</p> - -<p>“I fear it is too late to compromise,” said the judge, shaking his head -regretfully. “At first we might have made such an arrangement, but now -that pettifogger Kellogg will insist on her getting everything. Elaine -has wisely left her defence entirely in Kellogg’s hands.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">314</a></span> -“Isn’t he a rascal?” asked Cousin Judith.</p> - -<p>“I would not accuse him of rascality,” was the reply. “No; Kellogg is -not a bad man, nor a bad lawyer; he is doing his duty by his client, -that is all.”</p> - -<p>Just then Becky came rushing across the lawn, screaming and laughing. -She was closely followed by Don and Allerton Randolph, who tried to -head her off. Becky was clutching and waving a paper, and she ran up to -Cousin Judith, who sat beside the judge, and thrust the paper into her -hand, crying:</p> - -<p>“Don’t let ’em have it, Little Mother—promise you won’t!”</p> - -<p>“But what is it?” asked Judith, glancing at the paper and then smiling.</p> - -<p>“Allerton drew it, just for us,” said Donald, flushed and angry, -“and Becky grabbed it and ran away. Make her give it back, Cousin -Judith—Allerton doesn’t want anyone to see it.”</p> - -<p>“But it is quite clever,” replied Judith, still smiling. “I did not -know you were so good an artist, Allerton.”</p> - -<p>“I am not very clever, Miss Eliot,” replied Allerton, in his sedate -way. “Mother thinks I am artistic, and encourages me to draw; but -she does not like me to make cartoons, such as this, for she says it -degrades my talent.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">315</a></span> -“H-m. Let’s see the cartoon,” said the judge.</p> - -<p>“May I show it to Mr. Ferguson, Allerton?”</p> - -<p>The boy hesitated.</p> - -<p>“If you wish to, Miss Eliot,” he said.</p> - -<p>The judge took the paper, put on his glasses, and after a glance -laughed heartily. It was a caricature of old Miss Halliday, executed -with considerable humor and skill, considering the artist’s youth.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the judge gave a start and the paper trembled in his hands.</p> - -<p>“Bless my soul!” he cried, holding it to the light. “What’s this?”</p> - -<p>“That?” said Allerton, leaning forward. “Oh, that is the watermark of -my initials, ‘A.R.’ The drawing paper was especially made for me, as a -Christmas present.”</p> - -<p>A silence fell upon the little group. Mr. Ferguson, Phœbe, Phil and -Cousin Judith eyed one another by turns, and in every eye gleamed the -certainty that Jonathan Eliot’s fortune was saved to the Darings.</p> - -<p>“When did you receive such a fine present, Allerton?” asked Phil, his -voice trembling in spite of his efforts to control it.</p> - -<p>“At the last holiday season,” answered the boy readily.</p> - -<p>The old lawyer turned a delighted face to the eager group.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">316</a></span> -“Your grandfather has been paralyzed three years!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Tell me,” said Phœbe to Allerton, “did you ever give Miss Halliday -any of your paper?”</p> - -<p>He took time to think; then his face brightened and he replied:</p> - -<p>“Only one sheet. She begged me for it one day when she brought the -eggs.”</p> - -<p>“And when was that, my lad?” inquired Mr. Ferguson.</p> - -<p>“A month ago, perhaps.”</p> - -<p class="center word-spacing">* * *</p> - -<p>Mr. Kellogg threw up Elaine’s case in disgust, and would have nothing -more to do with it. When the deed of gift was proven a forgery and old -Miss Halliday was told she must go to prison unless she confessed, she -finally broke down and admitted the truth. Being aware of the fact that -no one save herself knew of her master’s hoarded treasure, she planned -to get it for herself. After practising his handwriting for months she -became so expert that the deed she finally executed deceived even the -experts. Had it not been for the telltale watermark upon the paper she -would have easily won.</p> - -<p>The unscrupulous woman took her defeat with dogged indifference, -still protesting that her wages were in arrears and that she was -entitled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">317</a></span> to several hundred dollars for back pay. This, by advice of -Judge Ferguson, was given her. The Darings refrained from prosecuting -the poor creature, and she was allowed to take her wages and leave -Riverdale forever.</p> - -<p>No one in the little village seemed sorry to see her go.</p> - - -<div class="section mt3"> -<div class="book-list-container box"> -<p class="center p140">In Preparation<br /> -“<a name="Phoebe4" id="Phoebe4"></a><ins title="Original has 'Phoebe'">Phœbe</ins> Daring: Conspirator”<br /> -by L. Frank Baum</p> -</div></div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -</div> -<div class="book-list-container"> -<p class="center p140 underline"><i>Good Books for Boys</i></p> - -<p class="center p160">The Boy Fortune Hunters Series</p> - -<p class="center">By FLOYD AKERS</p> - -<div class="block-center-container"> -<div class="block-center"> -<ul class="books"> -<li>The Boy Fortune Hunters in Alaska</li> -<li>The Boy Fortune Hunters in Panama</li> -<li>The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt</li> -<li>The Boy Fortune Hunters in China</li> -<li>The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan</li> -<li>The Boy Fortune Hunters in the South Seas</li> -</ul> -</div></div> - -<p>Mr. Akers, in these new books, has at a single bound taken front rank -as a writer for boys. The stories are full of adventure, yet clean, -bright and up-to-date. The first volume tells of the exciting scenes -in the early days of the Alaskan gold fields. The next book takes -“The Boy Fortune Hunters” to the “Canal Zone,” and the third story is -filled with stirring incidents in a trip through Egypt. The fourth book -relates exciting adventures in the Flowery Kingdom, and the fifth and -sixth stories detail further adventures in Yucatan and among the South -Sea Islands.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Illustrated <span class="word-spacing">12mos. Uniform</span> -cloth binding, stamped in three <span class="word-spacing">colors. Stunning</span> -colored wrapper.</i></p> - -<p class="center p120">Price 60 cents each</p> -</div> - - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider2" /> -</div> -<div class="book-list-container"> -<p class="center p160">The Aeroplane Boys Series</p> - -<p class="center">By ASHTON LAMAR</p> - -<div class="block-center-container"> -<div class="block-center2"> -<ul class="roman"> -<li>IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps.</li> - -<li>THE STOLEN AEROPLANE<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> How Bud Wilson Made Good.</li> - -<li>THE AEROPLANE EXPRESS<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> The Boy Aeronaut’s Grit.</li> - -<li>THE BOY AERONAUTS’ CLUB<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> Flying For Fun.</li> - -<li>A CRUISE IN THE SKY<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> The Legend of the Great Pink Pearl.</li> - -<li>BATTLING THE BIG HORN<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> The Aeroplane In the Rockies.</li> -</ul> -</div></div> - -<p class="center p120">OTHER TITLES TO FOLLOW</p> - -<p class="noi">These stories are the newest and most up-to-date. All aeroplane details -are correct. Fully illustrated. Colored frontispiece. Cloth, 12mos.</p> - -<p class="center p120">Price, 60 cents each.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider2" /> -</div> -<div class="book-list-container"> -<p class="center p160">The Airship Boys Series</p> - -<p class="center">By H. L. SAYLER</p> - -<div class="block-center-container"> -<div class="block-center2"> -<ul class="roman"> -<li>THE AIRSHIP BOYS<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> The Quest of the Aztec Treasure.</li> - -<li>THE AIRSHIP BOYS ADRIFT<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> Saved by an Aeroplane.</li> - -<li>THE AIRSHIP BOYS DUE NORTH<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> By Balloon to the Pole.</li> - -<li>THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN THE BARREN LANDS<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> The Secret of the White Eskimos.</li> - -<li>THE AIRSHIP BOYS IN FINANCE<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> The Flight of the Flying Cow.</li> - -<li>THE AIRSHIP BOYS’ OCEAN FLYER<br /> -<span class="pl2">Or,</span> New York to London In Twelve Hours.</li> -</ul> -</div></div> - -<p>These thrilling stories deal with the wonderful new science of aerial -navigation. Every boy will be interested and instructed by reading -them. Illustrated. Cloth binding. <b>Price, $1.00 each.</b></p> - -<p>The above books are sold everywhere or will be sent postpaid on receipt -of price by the</p> - -<p class="center p120"><span class="word-spacing">Publishers The</span> -Reilly & Britton <span class="word-spacing">Co. Chicago</span></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Complete catalog sent, postpaid on request</i></p> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider" /> -</div> -<div class="tn"> -<p class="center p110">Transcriber’s Note:</p> - -<p class="noi">Spaced contractions in the original publication have been joined. The -spelling of Phoebe in the <a href="#Phoebe1">List of Illustrations</a> and <a href="#Phoebe3">caption</a> facing -page 244, and on pages <a href="#Phoebe2">130</a> -and <a href="#Phoebe4">317</a>, has been changed to Phœbe. Other changes -have been made as follows:</p> - -<ul class="nobullet"> -<li><ul><li>Page 30<br /> -make it think, logically <i>changed to</i><br /> -make it <a href="#logically">think logically</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 44<br /> -more’n a fly minds sugar. <i>changed to</i><br /> -more’n a fly minds <a href="#quote">sugar.”</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 54<br /> -the buss that carried their ball players <i>changed to</i><br /> -the <a href="#bus">bus</a> that carried their ball players</li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 97<br /> -to leave any article where-ever <i>changed to</i><br /> -to leave any article <a href="#wherever">wherever</a></li></ul></li> - -<li><ul><li>Page 191<br /> -final catastrophy he seemed overcome <i>changed to</i><br /> -final <a href="#catastrophe">catastrophe</a> he seemed overcome</li></ul></li> -</ul> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Daring Twins, by L. 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