PARADISE GARDEN

 _THE SATIRICAL NARRATIVE OF A GREAT EXPERIMENT_

 BY GEORGE GIBBS

 AUTHOR OF THE YELLOW DOVE, ETC. 

 _I have considered well his loss of time And how he cannot be a perfect man Not being tried and tutored in the world. _

 --TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 

 ILLUSTRATED BY WILLIAM A. HOTTINGER

 GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

 Printed in the United States of America

[Illustration: "'Love!' he sneered . .. 'I thought you'd say that. '"]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. THE GREAT EXPERIMENT

 II. JERRY

 III. JERRY GROWS

 IV. ENTER EVE

 V. THE MINX RETURNS

 VI. THE CABIN

 VII. JACK BALLARD TAKES CHARGE

 VIII. JERRY EMERGES

 IX. FOOT-WORK

 X. MARCIA

 XI. THE SIREN

 XII. INTRODUCING JIM ROBINSON

 XIII. UNA

 XIV. JERRY GOES INTO TRAINING

 XV. THE UNKNOWN UNMASKED

 XVI. THE FIGHT

 XVII. MARCIA RECANTS

 XVIII. TWO EMBASSIES

 XIX. THE PATH IN THE WOODS

 XX. REVOLT

 XXI. JERRY ASKS QUESTIONS

 XXII. THE CHIPMUNK

 XXIII. THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY

 XXIV. FEET OF CLAY

 XXV. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS

 XXVI. DRYAD AND SATYR

XXVII. REVELATIONS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"'Love!' he sneered . .. 'I thought you'd say that. '"

"In the evenings sometimes I read while Jerry whittled"

"This then was Jerry's house-party--!"

"'Have pity, Jerry, ' she whimpered"

PARADISE GARDEN

CHAPTER I

THE GREAT EXPERIMENT

It might be better if Jerry Benham wrote his own memoir, for no matterhow veracious, this history must be more or less colored by the pointof view of one irrevocably committed to an ideal, a point of viewwhich Jerry at least would insist was warped by scholarship and stodgyby habit. But Jerry, of course, would not write it and couldn't if hewould, for no man, unless lacking in sensibility, can write a trueautobiography, and least of all could Jerry do it. To commit him tosuch a task would be much like asking an artist to paint himself intohis own landscape. Jerry could have painted nothing but impressions ofexternals, leaving out perforce the portrait of himself which is theonly thing that matters. So I, Roger Canby, bookworm, pedagogue andstudent of philosophy, now recite the history of the Great Experimentand what came of it. 

It is said that Solomon and Job have best spoken of the misery of man, the former the most fortunate, the latter the most unfortunate ofcreatures. And yet it seems strange to me that John Benham, themillionaire, Jerry's father, cynic and misogynist, and Roger Canby, bookworm and pauper, should each have arrived, through differentmental processes, at the same ideal and philosophy of life. We bothdisliked women, not only disliked but feared and distrusted them, seeing in the changed social order a menace to the peace of the Stateand the home. The difference between us was merely one of condition;for while I kept my philosophy secret, being by nature reticent andunassertive, John Benham had both the means and the courage to put hisidealism into practice. 

Life seldom makes rapid adjustments to provide for its mistakes, andsurely only the happiest kind of accident could have thrown me intothe breach when old John Benham died, for I take little credit tomyself in saying that there are few persons who could have fitted soadmirably into a difficult situation. 

Curiously enough this happy accident had come from the most unexpectedsource. I had tried and failed at many things since leaving theUniversity. I had corrected proofs in a publishing office, I hadprepared backward youths for their exams, and after attempting life ina broker's office downtown, for which I was as little fitted as Ishould have been for the conquest of the Polar regions, I found myselfone fine morning down to my last few dollars, walking the streets withan imminent prospect of speedy starvation. The fact of death, as analternative to the apparently actual, did not disconcert me. Ishouldn't have minded dying in the least, were it not for the factthat I had hoped before that event to have expounded for modernconsumption certain theories of mine upon the dialectics of Hegel. Asmy money dwindled I was reduced to quite necessary economies, andwhile not what may be called a heavy eater, I am willing to admitthat there were times when I felt distinctly empty. Curiously enough, my philosophy did little to relieve me of that physical condition, foras someone has said, "Philosophy is a good horse in the stable, but anarrant jade on a journey. "

But it seems that the journeying of my jade was near its ending. Forupon this morning, fortune threw me into the way of a fellow who hadbeen in my class at the University, who was to be my _deus exmachina_. No two persons in the world could have been more dissimilarthan "Jack" Ballard and I, and yet, perhaps for that reason, there hadalways been a kind of affinity between us. He was one of thewealthiest men in my class and was now, as he gleefully informed me, busily engaged clipping coupons in his father's office, "with officehours from two to three some Thursdays. " Of course, that was his ideaof a joke, for it seems quite obvious that a person who gave so littletime to his business had better have kept no hours at all. He greetedme warmly and led me into his club, which happened to be near by, where over the lunch table he finally succeeded in eliciting the factthat I was down to my last dollar with prospects far from encouraging. 

"Good old Pope!" he cried, clapping me on the back. "Pope" was mypseudonym at the University, conferred in a jocular moment by Ballardhimself on account of a fancied resemblance to Urban the Eighth. "Justthe man! Wonder why I didn't think of you before!" And while Iwondered what he was coming at, "How would, you like to make a neatfive thousand a year?"

I laughed him off, not sure that this wasn't a sample of the Ballardhumor. 

"Anything, " I said, trying to smile, "short of murder--"

"Oh, I am not joking!" he went on with an encouraging flash ofseriousness. "Five thousand a year cool, and no expenses--livin' onthe fat of the land, with nothin' to do but--"

He broke off suddenly and grasped me by the arm. 

"Did you ever hear of old John Benham, the multi-millionaire?" heasked. I remarked that my acquaintance with millionaires, until thatmoment, had not been large. 

"Oh, of course, " he laughed, "if I had mentioned Xenophon, you'd havepricked up your ears like an old war horse. But John Benham, as a nameto conjure with, means nothing to you. You must know then that JohnBenham was for years the man of mystery of Wall Street. Queer oldbird! Friend of the governor's, or at least as much of a friend of thegovernor's as he ever was of anybody. Made a pot of money inrailroads. Millions! Of course, if you've never heard of Benham you'venever heard of the Wall. "

I hadn't. 

"Well, the Benham Wall in Greene County is one of the wonders of theage. It's nine feet high, built of solid masonry and encloses fivethousand acres of land. "

Figures meant nothing to me and I told him so. 

"The strange thing about it is that there's no mystery at all. The oldman had no secrets except in business and no past that anybody couldcare about. But he was a cold-blooded proposition. No man ever hadhis confidence, no woman ever had his affection except his wife, andwhen she died all that was human in him was centered on his son, thesole heir to twenty millions. Lucky little beggar. What?"

"I'm not so sure, " I put in slowly. 

"Now this is where you come in, " Ballard went on quickly. "It seemsthat inside his crusty shell old Benham was an idealist of sorts withqueer ideas about the raising of children. His will is a wonder. Hedirects his executors (the governor's one of six, you know) to bringup his boy inside that stone wall at Horsham Manor, with no knowledgeof the world except what can be gotten from an expurgated edition ofthe classics. He wants him brought to manhood as nearly as can bemade, a perfect specimen of the human male animal without one thoughtof sex. It's a weird experiment, but I don't see why it shouldn't beinteresting. "

"Interesting!" I muttered, trying to conceal my amazement and delight. 

"The executors must proceed at once. The boy is still under the careof a governess. On the twelfth of December he will be ten years ofage. The woman is to go and a man takes her place. I think I can putyou in. Will you take it?"

"I?" I said, a little bewildered. "What makes you think I'm qualifiedfor such an undertaking?"

"Because you were the best scholar in the class, and because you're ablessed philosopher with leanings toward altruism. A poor helplesslittle millionaire with no one to lean on must certainly excite yourpity. You're just the man for the job, I tell you. And if you saidyou'd do it, you'd put it over. "

"And if I couldn't put it over?" I laughed. "A growing youth isn't afifteen-pound shot or a football, Ballard. "

"You could if you wanted to. Five thousand a year isn't to be sneezedat. "

"I assure you that I've never felt less like sneezing in my life, but--"

"Think, man, " he urged, "all expenses paid, a fine house, horses, motors, the life of a country gentleman. In short, your own rooms, time to read yourself stodgy if you like, and a fine young cub tobuild in your own image. "

"Mine?" I gasped. 

He laughed. 

"Good Lord, Pope! You always did hate 'em, you know. "

"Hate? Who?"

"Women. "

I felt myself frowning. 

"Women! No, I do not love women and I have some reasons for believingthat women do not love me. I have never had any money and myparticular kind of pulchritude doesn't appeal to them. Hence theirindifference. Hence mine. Like begets like, Jack. "

He laughed. 

"I have reasons for believing the antipathy is deeper than that. "

I shrugged the matter off. It is one which I find little pleasure indiscussing. 

"You may draw whatever inference you please, " I finished dryly. 

He lighted a cigarette and inhaled it jubilantly. 

"Don't you see, " he said, "that it all goes to show that you'reprecisely the man the governor's looking for? What do you say?"

I hesitated, though every dictate of inclination urged. Here was anopportunity to put to the test a most important theory of the oldSocratic doctrine, that true knowledge is to be elicited from withinand is to be sought for in ideas and not in particulars of sense. Whata chance! A growing youth in seclusion. Such a magnificent seclusion!Where I could try him in my own alembic! Still I hesitated. Theimminence of such good fortune made me doubt my own efficiency. 

"Suppose I was the wrong man, " I quibbled for want of something betterto say. 

"The executors will have to take their chance on that, " he said, rising with the air of a man who has rounded out a discussion. "Come!Let's settle the thing. "

Ballard had always had a way with him, a way as foreign to my own asthe day from night. From my own point of view I had always held Jacklightly, and yet I had never disliked him--nor did I now--for therewas little doubt of his friendliness and sincerity. So I rose andfollowed him, my docility the philosophy of a full stomach plus thechance of testing the theory of probabilities; for to a man who forsix years had reckoned life by four walls of a room and a shelf ofbooks this was indeed an adventure. I was already meshed in the loomof destiny. He led me to a large automobile of an atrocious red colorwhich was standing at the curb, and in this we were presently hurledthrough the crowded middle city to the lower part of the town, which, it is unnecessary for me to say, I cordially detested, and brought upbefore a building, the entire lower floor of which was given over tothe opulent offices of Ballard, Wrenn and Halloway. 

Ballard the elder was tall like his son, but here the resemblanceceased, for while Ballard the younger was round of visage and jovial, the banker was thin of face and repressive. He had a long, accipitrinenose which imbedded itself in his bristling white mustache, and hespoke in crisp staccato notes as though each intonation and breathwere carefully measured by their monetary value. He paid out to me incash a half an hour, during which he questioned and I replied whileJack grinned in the background. And at the end of that period of timethe banker rose and dismissed me with much the air of one who hasperused a document and filed it in the predestined pigeonhole. I feltthat I had been rubber-stamped, docketed and passed into oblivion. What he actually said was:

"Thanks, I'll write. Good afternoon. "

The vision of the Great Experiment which had been flitting inrose-color before my eyes, was as dim as the outer corridor where Iwas suddenly aware of Jack Ballard's voice at my ear and his friendlyclutch upon my elbow. 

"You'll do, " he laughed. "I was positive of it. "

"I can't imagine how you reach that conclusion, " I put in rathertartly, still reminiscent of the rubber stamp. 

"Oh, " he said, his eye twinkling, "simplest thing in the world. Thegovernor's rather brief with those he doesn't like. "

"Brief! I feel as though I'd just emerged from a glacial douche. "

"Oh, he's nippy. But he never misses a trick, and he got your numberall O. K. "

As we reached the street I took his hand. 

"Thanks, Ballard, " I said warmly. "It's been fine of you, but I'msorry that I can't share your hopes. "

"Rot! The thing's as good as done. There's another executor or two tobe consulted, but they'll be glad enough to take the governor'sjudgment. You'll hear from him tomorrow. In the meanwhile, " and hethrust a paper into my hands, "read this. It's interesting. It's JohnBenham's brief for masculine purity with a few remarks (not taken fromHegel) upon the education and training of the child. "

We had reached the corner of the street when he stopped and took outhis watch. 

"Unfortunately this is the Thursday that I work, " he laughed, "andit's past two o'clock, so good-by. I'll stop in for you tomorrow, " andwith a flourish of the hand he left me. 

Still dubious as to the whole matter, which had left me ratherbewildered, when I reached my shabby room I took out the envelopewhich Ballard had handed me and read the curious paper that itcontained. 

As I began reading this remarkable document (neatly typed andevidently copied from the original in John Benham's own hand) Irecognized some of the marks of the Platonic philosophy and read withimmediate attention. Before I had gone very far it was quite clear tome that the pedagogue who took upon himself the rearing of the infantBenham, must himself be a creature of infinite wisdom and discretion. As far as these necessary qualifications were concerned, I saw noreason why I should refuse. The old man's obvious seriousness ofpurpose interested me. 

"It is my desire that my boy, Jeremiah, be taught simple religioustruths and then simple moral truths, learning thereby insensibly thelessons of good manners and good taste. In his reading of Homer andHesiod the tricks and treacheries of the gods are to be banished, theterrors of the world below to be dispelled, and the misbehavior of theHomeric heroes are to be censured. 

"If there is such a thing as original sin--and this I beg leave todoubt, having looked into the eyes of my boy and failed to find itthere--then teaching can eradicate it, especially teaching under suchconditions as those which I now impose. The person who will be chosenby my executors for the training of my boy will be first of all a manof the strictest probity. He will assume this task with a grave senseof his responsibility to me and to his Maker. If after a proper periodof time he does not discover in his own heart a sincere affection formy child, he will be honest enough to confess the truth, and bedischarged of the obligation. For it is clear that without love, suchan experiment is foredoomed to failure. To a man such as my mind haspictured, affection here will not be difficult, for nature has favoredJerry with gifts of mind and body. "

Everywhere in John Benham's instructions there were signs of a deepand corroding cynicism which no amount of worldly success had beenable to dispel. Everywhere could be discovered a hatred of modernsocial forms and a repugnance for the modern woman, against whom hewarns the prospective tutor in language which is as unmistakable asthe Benham Wall. It pleased me to find at least one wise man whoagreed with me in this particular. Until the age of twenty-one, womanwas to be taboo for Jerry Benham, not only her substance, but heressence. Like the mention of hell to ears polite, she was forbidden atHorsham Manor. No woman was to be permitted to come upon the estate inany capacity. The gardeners, grooms, gamekeepers, cooks, houseservants--all were to be men at good wages chosen for their discretionin this excellent conspiracy. The penalty for infraction of this ruleof silence was summary dismissal. 

I read the pages through until the end, and then sat for a long whilethinking, the wonderful possibilities of the plan taking a firmer holdupon me. The Perfect Man! And I, Roger Canby, should make him. 

CHAPTER II

JERRY

With Ballard the elder, to whom and to those plutocratic associates, as had been predicted, my antecedents and acquirements had provensatisfactory, I journeyed on the twelfth of December to Greene Countyin the Ballard limousine. A rigorous watch was kept upon the walls ofHorsham Manor, and in response to the ring of the chauffeur at thesolid wooden gates at the lodge, a small window opened and a redvisage appeared demanding credentials. Ballard put the inquisitor tosome pains, testing his efficiency, but finally produced his card andrevealed his identity, after which the gates flew open and we enteredthe forbidden ground. 

It was an idyllic spot, as I soon discovered, of fine rolling country, well wooded and watered, the road of macadam, rising slowly from theentrance gates, turning here and there through a succession of naturalparks, along the borders of a lake of considerable size, toward thehigher hills at the further end of the estate, among which, mycompanion told me, were built the Manor house and stables. Except forthe excellent road itself, no attempt had been made to use the art ofthe landscape gardener in the lower portion of the tract, which hadbeen left as nature had made it, venerable woodland, with awell-tangled undergrowth, where rabbits, squirrels and deer abounded, but as we neared the hills, which rose with considerable dignityagainst the pale, wintry sky, the signs of man's handiwork becameapparent. A hedge here, a path there, bordered with privet orrhododendron; a comfortable looking farmhouse, commodious barns andwell-fenced pastures, where we passed a few men who touched their capsand stared after us. 

"It's lucky you care nothing for women, Canby, " said Mr. Ballardcrisply; "this monastic idea may not bother you. "

"It doesn't in the least, Mr. Ballard, " I said dryly. "I shall survivethe ordeal with composure. "

He glanced at me, smiled and then went on. 

"Except for the presence of Miss Redwood, who goes today, the newregulation has been in force here for a month. The farmers andgamekeepers are all bachelors. We have an excellent steward, also abachelor. You and he will understand each other. In all things thatpertain to the boy he is under your orders. Questions of authoritywhere you differ are to be referred to me. "

"I understand. I am not difficult to get on with. "

My employer had described to me thoroughly but quite impersonally allthe conditions of his trust and mine, but had made no comments whichby the widest stretch of imagination could be construed into opinions. He gave me the impression then as he did later that he was carryingout strictly the letter of his instructions from the dead. He had aface graven into austere lines, which habit had schooled into perfectobedience to his will. He might have believed the experiment to whichhe was committed a colossal joke, and no sign of his opinion would bereflected in his facial expression, which was, save on unimportantmatters, absolutely unchanging. Nor did he seem to care what my ownthoughts might be in regard to the matter, though I had not refrainedfrom expressing my interest in the project. My character, myreputation for conscientiousness, my qualifications for the positionwere all that seemed to concern him. I was merely a piece ofmachinery, the wheels of which he was to set in motion, which wouldperform its allotted task to his satisfaction. 

The road soon reached an eminence from which Horsham Manor wasvisible, a fine Georgian house set handsomely enough in a cleft of thehills, before which were broad lawns that sloped to the south andterminated at the borders of a stream which meandered through a rockybed to the lake below. Wealth such as this had never awed me. JohnBenham with all his stores of dollars had been obliged to come at lastto a penurious philosopher to solve for his son the problem of lifethat had baffled the father. So intent was I upon the house which wasto be my home that I caught but a glimpse of the fine valley of meadowand wood which ended in the faint purplish hills, beyond whichsomewhere was the Hudson River. 

It was evident that our arrival had been telephoned from the lodge atthe gate, for as the machine drew up at the main doorway of the housea servant in livery appeared and opened the door. 

"Ah, Christopher, " said my companion. "Is Mr. Radford about?"

"Yes, sir. He'll be up in a minute, sir. "

"This is Mr. Canby, Christopher, Master Jeremiah's new tutor. "

"Yes, sir, you'll find Miss Redwood and Master Jerry in the library. "

We went up the steps while the aged butler (who had lived with JohnBenham) followed with the valises, and were ushered into the library, where my pupil and his governess awaited us. 

I am a little reluctant to admit at this time that my earliestimpression of the subject of these memoirs was disappointing. Perhapsthe dead man's encomiums had raised my hopes. Perhaps the barrierswhich hedged in this most exclusive of youngsters had increased hisimportance in my thoughts. What I saw was a boy of ten, well grown forhis years, who ambled forward rather sheepishly and gave me a moistand rather flabby hand to shake. 

He was painfully embarrassed. If I had been an ogre and Jerry theyouth allotted for his repast, he could not have shown more distress. He was distinctly nursery-bred and, of course, unused to visitors, buthe managed a smile, and I saw that he was making the best of a badjob. After the preliminaries of introduction, amid which Mr. Radford, the steward of the estate, appeared, I managed to get the boy aside. 

"I feel a good deal like the Minotaur, Jerry. Did you ever hear of theMinotaur?"

He hadn't, and so I told him the story. "But I'm not going to eat_you_, " I laughed. 

I had broken the ice, for a smile, a genuine joyous smile, brokeslowly and then flowed in generous ripples across his face. 

"You're different, aren't you?" he said presently, his brown eyes nowgravely appraising me. 

"How different, Jerry?" I asked. 

He hesitated a moment and then:

"I--I thought you'd come all in black with a lot of grammar booksunder your arms. "

"I don't use 'em, " I said. "I'm a boy, just like you, only I've gotlong trousers on. We're not going to bother about books for awhile. "

He still inspected me as though he wasn't quite sure it wasn't all amistake. And then again:

"Can you talk Latin?"

"Bless you, I'm afraid not. "

"Oh!" he sighed, though whether in relief or disappointment I couldn'tsay. 

"But you can do sums in your head and spell hippopotamus?"

"I might, " I laughed. "But I wouldn't if I didn't have to. "

"But _I'll_ have to, won't I?"

"Oh, some day. "

"I'm afraid _I_ never can, " he sighed again. 

I began to understand now. His mind was feminine and at least threeyears backward. There wasn't a mark of the boy of ten about him. But Iliked his eyes. They were wide and inquiring. It wouldn't be difficultto gain his confidence. 

"Are you sorry Miss Redwood is going?" I asked him. 

"Yes. She plays games. "

"I know some games, too--good ones. "

He brightened, but said nothing for a moment, though I saw himstealing a glance at me. Whatever the object of his inspection, Iseemed to have passed it creditably, for he said rather timidly:

"Would you like to see my bull pup?"

It was the first remark that sounded as though it came from the heartof a real boy. I had won the first line of entrenchments aroundJerry's reserve. When a boy asks you to see his bull pup he confersupon you at once the highest mark of his approval. 

I only repeat this ingenuous and unimportant conversation to show myfirst impression of what seemed to me then to be a rather commonplaceand colorless boy. I did not realize then how strong could be theeffect of such an environment. Miss Redwood, as I soon discovered, wasa timid, wilting individual, who had brought him successfully throughthe baby diseases and had taught him the elementary things, becausethat was what she was paid for, corrected his table manners and triedto make him the kind of boy that she would have preferred to beherself had nature fortunately not decided the matter otherwise, andchameleon-like, Jerry reflected her tepor, her supineness andfemininity. She recounted his virtues with pride, while I questionedher, hoping against hope to hear of some prank, the breaking ofwindow-panes, the burning of a haystack or the explosion of a giantcracker under the cook. But all to no purpose. 

So far as I could discover, he had never so much as pulled the tailof a cat. As old John Benham had said, of original sin he had none. 

But my conviction that the boy had good stuff in him was deepened onthe morrow, when, banishing books, I took him for a breather over hilland dale, through wood and underbrush, three miles out and three milesin. I told him stories as we walked and showed him how the Indianstrailed their game among the very hills over which we plodded. I toldhim that a fine strong body was the greatest thing in the world, apossession to work for and be proud of. His muscles were flabby, Iknew, but I put him a brisk pace and brought him in just before lunch, red of cheek, bright of eye, and splashed with mud from head to foot. I had learned one of the things I had set out to discover. He would dohis best at whatever task I set him. 

I have not said that he was a handsome boy, for youth is amorphous andthe promise of today is not always fulfilled by the morrow. Jerry'sfeatures were unformed at ten and, as has already been suggested, madeno distinct impression upon my mind. Whatever his early photographsmay show, at least they gave no sign of the remarkable beauty offeature and lineament which developed in his adolescence. Perhaps itwas that I was more interested in his mind and body and what I couldmake them than in his face, which, after all, was none of my concern. 

That I was committed to my undertaking from the very beginning willsoon be evident. Before three weeks had passed Jerry began to awakeand to develop an ego and a personality. If I had thought himunmagnetic at first, he quickly showed me my mistake. His imaginationresponded to the slightest mental touch, too quickly even for the workI had in mind for him. He would have pleased me better if he had beena little slower to catch the impulse of a new impression. But Iunderstood. He had been starved of the things which were a boy'snatural right and heritage, and he ate and drank eagerly of themasculine fare I provided. He had shed a few tears at Miss Redwood'sdeparture and I liked him for them, for they showed his loyalty, buthe had no more games of the nursery nor the mawkish sentimentalitythat I found upon the nursery shelves. I had other plans for Jerry. John Benham should have his wish. I would make Jerry as nearly thePerfect Man as mortal man could make God's handiwork. Spiritually heshould grow "from within, " directed by me, but guided by his own innerlight. Physically he should grow as every well-made boy should grow, sturdy in muscle and bone, straight of limb, deep of chest, sound ofmind and strong of heart. I would make Jerry a Greek. 

Perhaps these plans may seem strange coming from one who had almostgrown old before he had been young. But I had made sure that Jerryshould profit by my mistakes, growing slowly, built like the BenhamWall, of material that should endure the sophistries of the world andremain unbroken. 

I worked Jerry hard that first winter and spring, and his physicalcondition showed that I had no need to fear for his health. And whenthe autumn came I decided to bring him face to face with nature whenshe is most difficult. I was a good woodsman, having been born andbred in the northern part of the state, and until I went to theUniversity had spent a part of each year in the wilderness. We leftHorsham Manor one October day, traveling light, and made for thewoods. We were warmly clad, but packed no more than would be essentialfor existence. A rifle, a shotgun, an ax, and hunting knives were allthat we carried besides tea, flour, a side of bacon, the ammunitionand implements for cooking. By night we had built a rough shack andlaid our plans for a permanent cabin of spruce logs, which we proposedto erect before the snow flew. Game was abundant, and before our baconwas gone our larder was replenished. I had told Radford of our plansand the gamekeepers were instructed to give us a wide berth. Jerrylearned to shoot that year, not for fun, but for existence, for oneevening when we came in with an empty game bag we both went to ourblankets hungry. The cabin rose slowly, and the boy learned to do hisshare of work with the ax. He was naturally clever with his hands, andthere was no end to his eagerness. He was living in a new world, whereeach new day brought some new problem to solve, some difficulty to besurmounted. He had already put aside childish things and had enteredearly upon a man's heritage. There are persons who will say that Itook great risks in thus exposing Jerry while only in his eleventhyear, but I can answer by the results achieved. We lived in the woodsfrom the fifteenth of October until a few days before Christmas. During that time we had built a cabin, ten feet by twelve, with astone fireplace and a roof of clay; had laid a line of deadfalls, andrabbit snares; had made a pair of snowshoes and a number of vesselsof birch bark, and except for the tea and flour had beenself-supporting, items compensated for by the value of our labors. 

In that time we had two snows, one a severe one, but our cabin roofwas secure and we defied it. Jerry wanted to stay at the cabin allwinter, a wish that I might easily have shared, for the life in theopen and the companionship of the boy had put new marrow into my drybones. I had smuggled into camp three books, "Walden, " "Rolf in theWoods" and "Treasure Island, " one for Jerry's philosophy, one for hispractical existence and one for his imagination. In the eveningssometimes I read while Jerry whittled, and sometimes Jerry read whileI worked at the snowshoes or the vessels of birch bark. 

[Illustration: "In the evenings sometimes I read while Jerry whittled. "]

In those two months was formed the basis of Jerry's idea of life asseen through the philosophy of Roger Canby. We had many talks, andJerry asked many questions, but I answered them all, rejoicing in hisacuteness in following a line of thought to its conclusion, aprocedure which, as I afterward discovered, was to cause me anxiousmoments. "Walden" made him thoughtful, but he caught its purpose andunderstood its meaning. "Rolf in the Woods" made his eyes bright withthe purpose of achievement in woodcraft and a desire (which Isuppressed) to stalk and kill a deer. But "Treasure Island" touchedsome deeper chord in his nature than either of the other books haddone. He followed Jim and the Squire and John Silver in the_Hispaniola_ with glowing eyes. 

"But are there bad men like that now out in the world, Mr. Canby?" hebroke in excitedly. 

"There are bad men in the world, Jerry, " I replied coolly. 

"Like John Silver?"

"Not precisely. Silver's only a character. This didn't really happen, you know, Jerry. It's fiction. "

"Fiction!"

"A story, like Grimm's tales. "

"Oh!" His jaw dropped and he stared at me. "What a pity!"

I had wanted to stir in him a knowledge of evil and chose thepicturesque as being the least unpleasant. But he couldn't believethat old John Silver and the Squire and Benn Gunn hadn't been realpeople. The tale dwelt in his mind for days, but the final defeat ofthe mutineers seemed to satisfy him as to the intention of thenarrative. 

"If there are evil men in the world like those mutineers, Mr. Canby, it must be a pretty bad place to live in, " was the final comment, andI made no effort to undeceive him. 

CHAPTER III

JERRY GROWS

It is not my intention to dwell too long upon the first stages of mytutorship, which presented few difficulties not easily surmounted, butit is necessary in order to understand Jerry's character that I setdown a few facts which show certain phases of his development. Of hisphysical courage, at thirteen, I need only relate an incident of oneof our winter expeditions. We were hunting coons one night with thedogs, a collie and the bull pup, which now rejoiced in the name ofSkookums, already mentioned. The dogs treed their game three milesfrom the Manor house, and when we came up were running around thetree, whimpering and barking in a high state of excitement. The nightwas dark and the branches of the tree were thick, so we could seenothing, but Jerry clambered up, armed with a stout stick, anddisappeared into the gloom overhead. 

"Do you see him?" I called. 

"I see something, but it looks too big for a coon, " he returned. 

"What does it look like?"

"It looks more like a cat, with queer-looking ears. "

"You'd better come down then, Jerry, " I said quickly. 

"It looks like a lynx, " he called again, quite unperturbed. 

It was quite possible that he was right, for in this part of theCatskill country lynxes were still plentiful. 

"Then come down at once, " I shouted. "He may go for you. "

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. I have my hunting knife, " he saidcoolly. 

"Come down, do you hear?" I commanded. 

"Not until he does, " he replied with a laugh. 

I called again. Jerry didn't reply, for just then there was a suddenshaking of the dry leaves above me, the creaking of a bough and thesnarl of a wild animal, and the sound of a blow. 

"Jerry!" I cried. No reply, but the sound of the struggle overheadincreased, dreadful sounds of snarling and of scratching, but no soundof Jerry. Fearful of imminent tragedy, I climbed quickly, amid theuproar of the dogs, and, knife in hand, had got my feet an the lowerbranches, when a heavy weight shot by me and fell to the ground. ThankGod, not the boy!

"Jerry!" I cried again, clambering upward. 

"A-all r-right, Mr. Canby, " I heard. "You're safe, not hurt?"

"I'm all right, I think. Just--just scratched. "

By this time I had reached him. He was braced in the crotch of a limb, leaning against the tree trunk still holding his hunting knife. Hiscoat was wet and I guessed at rather than saw the pallor of his faceBelow were the sounds of the dogs worrying at the animal. 

"I--I guess they've finished him, " said Jerry coolly sheathing hisknife. 

"It's lucky he didn't finish _you_, " I muttered. "You're sure you'renot hurt?"

"Oh, no. "

"Can you get down alone?"

"Yes, of course. "

But I helped him down, nevertheless, and he reached the ground insafety, where I saw that his face at least had escaped damage. But thesleeve of his coat was torn to ribbons, and the blood was drippingfrom his finger ends. 

"Come, " I said, taking his arm, "we'll have to get you attended to. "And then severely: "You disobeyed me, Jerry. Why didn't you comedown?"

He hesitated a moment, smiling, and then: "I had no idea a lynx was solarge. "

"It's a miracle, " I said in wonder at his escape. "How did you hangon?"

"I saw him spring and braced myself in time, " he said simply, "andputting my elbow over my head, struck with my knife when he was onme--two, three, many times--until he let go. But I was glad, very gladwhen he fell. "

I drove the dogs away, lifted the dead beast over my shoulder and ledthe way to the dog cart, which we had left in the road half a mileoff, reaching the Manor house very bloody but happy. But the happiestof the lot of us, even including Skookums, the bull pup, was Jerryhimself at the sight under the lamplight of the formidable size of hisdead enemy. But I led Jerry at once upstairs, where I stripped him andtook account of his injuries. 

His left arm was bitten twice and his neck and shoulder badly torn, but he had not whimpered, nor did he now when I bathed and cauterizedhis wounds. Whatever pain he felt, he made no sign, and I knew that byinference my night-talks by the campfire had borne fruit. OldChristopher, the butler, to whom the Great Experiment was a mystery, hovered in the background with towels and lotions, timidlyreproachful, until Jerry laughed at him and sent him to bed, mutteringsomething about the queer goings on at Horsham Manor. 

This incident is related to show that Jerry had more courage than mostboys of his years. Part of it was inherent, of course, but most of itwas born of the habit, learned early, to be sure of himself in anyemergency. There was little doubt in my mind that there was some ofthe stuff in Jerry of which heroes are made. I thought so then, for Iwas proud of my handiwork. I did not know, alas! to what tests myphilosophy and John Benham's were to be subjected. All of which goesto show that in running counter to human nature the wisest plans, thegreatest sagacity, are as chaff before the winds of destiny. But tocontinue:

The following summer Jerry gave further proofs of his presence of mindin an accident of which I was the victim. For while trudging withJerry along a rocky hillside I stepped straight into the death trap ofa rattlesnake. He struck me below the knee, and we were a long wayfrom help. But the boy was equal to the emergency. Quite coolly hekilled the snake with a club. I fortunately kept my head and directedhim, though he knew just what to do. With his hunting knife he cut mytrouser leg away and double gashed my leg where the fangs had entered, then sucked the wound and spat out the poison until the blood hadceased to flow. Then he quickly made a tourniquet of his handkerchiefand fastened it just above the wound, and, making me comfortable, heran the whole distance to the house, bringing a motor car and help inless than an hour. There isn't the slightest doubt that Jerry saved mylife on this occasion just as the following winter I saved him fromdeath at the horns of a mad buck deer. 

You will not wonder therefore that the bond of affection and reliancewas strong between us. I gave Jerry of the best that was in me, and inreturn I can truly say that not once did he disappoint me. 

In addition to the woodlore that I taught him, I made him a good shotwith rifle and revolver. I had men from the city from time to time, the best of their class, who taught him boxing and fencing. I had agymnasium built with Mr. Ballard's consent, and a swimming pool, whichkept him busy after the lesson hour. At the age of fifteen Jerry wassix feet tall and weighed one hundred and sixty-five pounds, all boneand muscle. In the five years since I had been at Horsham Manor therehad not been a day when he was ill, and except for an occasionalaccident such as the adventure with the lynx, not one when I hadcalled in the services of a doctor. Physically at least I had so farsucceeded, for in this respect Jerry was perfection. 

As to his mind, perhaps my own ideals had made me too exacting. According to my carefully thought out plans, scholarship was to beJerry's buckler and defense against the old Adam. God forbid that Ishould have planned, as Jack Ballard would have had it, to build Jerryin my own image, for if scholarship had been my own refuge it had alsodone something to destroy my touch with human kind. It was the qualityof sympathy in Jerry which I had lacked, the love for and confidencein every human being with whom he came into contact which endeared himto every person on the place. From Radford to Christopher, throughoutthe house, stables and garage, down to the humblest hedge-trimmer, allloved Jerry and Jerry loved them all. He had that kind of nature. Hecouldn't help loving those about him any more than he could helpbreathing, and yet it must not be supposed that the boy was lacking indiscernment. Our failings, weaknesses and foibles were a constantsource of amusement to him, but his humor was without malice and hisjibes were friendly, and he ran the gamut of my own exposed nervepulps with such joyous consideration that I came to like theoperation. He loved me and I knew it. 

But nothing could make him love his Latin grammar. He worried througharithmetic and algebra and blarneyed his French and German tutors intomaking them believe he knew more than he did, but the purelyscientific aspects of learning did not interest him. It was only whenhe knew enough to read the great epics in the original that mypatience had its reward. The Iliad, the Odyssey, the Aeneid held himin thrall, and by some magic eliminated at a bound the purelymechanical difficulties which had fettered him. Hector, Achilles, Agamemnon, Ulysses--Jerry was each of these in turn, lacking only theopportunity to vanquish heroic foes or capture impregnable cities. 

I had not censored the Homeric gods, as Jerry's father had commanded, and my temerity led to difficulties. It began with Calypso and Ulyssesand did not even end when Dido was left alone upon the shores ofCarthage. 

"I don't understand it at all, " he said one day with a wrinkled brow, "how a man of the caliber of Ulysses could stay so long the prisonerof Calypso, a woman, when he wanted to go home. It's a pretty shabbybusiness for a hero and a demigod. A woman!" he sneered, "I'd like tosee any woman keep me sitting in a cave if I wanted to go anywhere!"

His braggadicio was the full-colored boyish reflection of the Canbypoint of view. I had merely shrugged woman out of existence. Now Jerrycastigated her. 

"What could she do?" he went on scornfully. "She couldn't shoot or runor fight. All she did was to lie around or strut about with a veilaround her head and a golden girdle (sensible costume!) and serve thehero with ambrosia and ruddy nectar. I've never eaten ambrosia, butI'm pretty sure it was some sweet, sticky stuff, like _her_. " There isno measure for the contempt of his accents. 

"She could swim, " I ventured timidly. 

"Swim! Even a fish can swim!"

I don't know why, but at this conversation, the first of Jerry'smaturer years in which the topic had been woman, I felt a slighttremor go over me. Jerry was too good to look at. I fancied that therewere many women who would have liked to see the flash of his eye atthat moment and to meet his challenge with their wily arts. In thepride of his masculine strength and capacity he scorned them as I hadtaught him. I had done my work well. Had I done it too well?'

"What are women anyway?" he stormed at me again. "For what good arethey? To wash linen and have white arms like Nausicaa? Who careswhether her arms were white or not? They're always weeping becausethey're loved or raging because they're not. Love! Always love! I loveyou and Christopher and Radford and Skookums, but I'm not alwayswhining about it. What's the use? Those things go without saying. They're simply what are in a fellow's heart, but he doesn't talk aboutthem. "

"Quite right. Jerry. Let's say no more about it. "

"I'm glad there are no women around here, but now that I come to thinkof it, I don't see why there shouldn't be. "

"Your father liked men servants best. He believed them to be moreefficient. "

"Oh, yes, of course, " and then, suddenly: "When I go out beyond thewall I'll have to see them and talk to them, won't I?"

"Not if you don't want to. "

"Well, I don't want to. "

He paused a second and then went on. "But I _am_ a little curiousabout them. Of course, they're silly and useless and flabby, but itseems queer that there are such a lot of 'em. If they're no good, whydon't they pass out of existence? That's the rule of life, you tellme, the survival of the fittest. If they're not fit they ought tohave died out long ago. "

"You can't keep them from being born, Jerry, " I laughed. 

"Well, " he said scornfully, "it ought to be prevented. "

I made a pretense of cutting the leaves of a book. He was going toofar. I temporized. 

"Ah, they're all right, Jerry, " I said with some magnificence, "ifthey do their duty. Some are much better than others. Now, MissRedwood, for instance, your governess. She was kind, willing andaffectionate. "

"Oh, yes, " he said, "she was all right, but she wasn't like a man. "

I had him safe again. Physical strength and courage at this time werehis fetish. But he was still thoughtful. 

"Sometimes I think, Roger" (he called me Roger now, for after all Iwas more like an elder brother than a father to him), "sometimes Ithink that things are too easy for me; that I ought to be out doing myshare in the work of the world. "

"Oh, that will come in time. If you think things are too easy, I mightmanage to make them a little harder. "

He laughed affectionately and clapped me on the shoulder. 

"Oh, no, you don't, old Dry-as-dust. Not books. That isn't what Imeant. I mean life, struggles against odds. I've just been wonderingwhat chance I'd have to get, along by myself, without a lot of peoplewaiting on me. "

"I've tried to show you, Jerry. You can go into the woods with a gunand an ax and exist in comfort. "

"Yes, but the world isn't all woods; and axes and guns aren't theonly weapons. "

"But the principle is the same. "

He flashed a bright glance at me. 

"Flynn told me yesterday that I could make good in the prize ring ifI'd let him take me in hand. "

(The deuce he had! Flynn would lose his engagement as a boxing teacherif he didn't heed my warnings better. )

"The prize ring is not what you're being trained for, my youngfriend, " I said with some asperity. 

"What then?" he asked. 

"First of all I hope I'm training you to be a gentleman. And thatmeans--"

"Can't a boxer be a gentleman?" he broke in quickly. 

"He might be, I suppose, but he usually isn't. " He was forcing me intoan attitude of priggishness which I regretted. 

"Then why, " he persisted, "are you having me taught to box?"

"Chiefly to make your muscles hard, to inure you to pain, to teach youself-reliance. "

"But I oughtn't to learn to box then, if it's going to keep me frombeing a gentleman. What is a gentleman, Roger?"

I tried to think of a succinct generalization and failed, falling backinstinctively upon safe ground. 

"Christ was a gentleman, Jerry, " I said quietly. 

"Yes, " he assented soberly, "Christ. I would like to be like Christ, but I couldn't be meek, Roger, and I like to box and shoot--"

"He was a man, Jerry, the most courageous the world has ever known. He was even not afraid to die for an ideal. He was meek, but He wasnot afraid to drive the money changers from the temple. "

"Yes, that was good. He was strong and gentle, too. He was wonderful. "

I have merely suggested this part of the conversation to show thefeeling of reverence and awe with which the boy regarded the Savior. The life of Christ had caught his imagination and its lessons had sunkdeeply into his spirit, touching chords of gentleness that I had neverotherwise been able to reach. His religion had begun with Miss Redwoodand he had clung to it instinctively as he had clung to the vaguememory of his mother. No word of mine and no teaching was to destroyso precious a heritage. He was not goody-goody about it. No boy whodid and said and thought the things that Jerry did could be accused ofprudery or sentimentalism. But in his quieter moods I knew that hethought deeply of sacred things. 

But this conversation with Jerry had warned me that the time wasapproaching when the boy would want to think for himself. Already inour nature-talks some of his questions had embarrassed me. He had seenbirds hatched from their eggs and had marveled at it. The mammals andtheir young had mystified him and he had not been able to understandit. I had reverted to the process of development of the embryo of theseed into a perfect plant. I had waxed scientific, he had grownbewildered. We had reached our _impasse_. In the end we hadcompromised. Unable to comprehend, Jerry had ascribed the propagationof the species to a miracle of God. And since that was the precisetruth I had been content to let the matter rest there. 

But there was another problem that our conversation had suggested: thechoice of a vocation. The proposition of the misguided Flynn had mademe aware of the fact that I was already letting my charge drift towardthe maws of the great unknown which began just beyond the Wall withouta plan of life save that he should be a "gentleman. " It occurred to mewith alarming suddenness that the term "gentleman" was that frequentlyapplied to persons who had no occupation or visible means of support. Nowhere in John Benham's instructions was there mention of any planfor a vocation. Obviously if the old man had intended Jerry for abusiness career he would have said so, and the omission of any exactinstructions convinced me that such an idea was furthest from JohnBenham's thoughts. It remained for me to decide the matter in the bestway that I could, for determined I was that Jerry, merely because ofthe possession of much worldly goods, should not be that bane ofhumanity and of nations, an idler. 

At about this period Mr. Ballard the elder came down to Horsham Manoron one of his visits of inspection and inquiry. He brought up thesubject of his own accord. 

"What do you think, Canby, what have you planned about Jerry'sfuture?"

I told him that my only ambition, so far, had been to make of Jerry agentleman and a scholar. 

"Yes, of course, " he nodded. "That's what you are here for. But beyondthat?"

"Nothing, " I replied. "I am following my instructions from Mr. Benham. They go no further than that. "

He frowned into the fire. 

"That's all very well as far as it goes, but it doesn't go far enough. Jerry is now eighteen. Do you realize that in three years he comesinto possession of five million dollars, an income of over two hundredthousand a year; and that in seven years, at twenty-five, theexecutors must relinquish the entire estate?"

I had not thought of the imminence of this disaster. 

"I was not aware, Mr. Ballard, " I said. "At the present moment Jerrydoesn't know a dollar from a nickel. "

He opened his eyes wide and examined me as though he feared he had notheard correctly or as though it were blasphemy, heresy that I wasuttering. 

"You mean that he doesn't know the value and uses of money?"

"So far as I am aware, " I replied coolly, "he has never seen a pieceof money in his life. "

"All wrong, all wrong, Canby. This won't do at all. He had hisarithmetic, percentage and so forth?"

"Yes. But money doesn't interest him. Can you see any reason why itshould?"

Again the frown and level gaze. 

"And what had you planned for him?" he asked. He did not intend to besatirical perhaps. He was merely worldly. 

"I thought when the time came he might be permitted to choose avocation for himself. In the meanwhile--"

"A vocation!" he snapped. "Isn't the controlling interest in atranscontinental line of railroad vocation enough? To say nothing ofcoal, copper and iron mines, a steel mill or two and a fleet ofsteamers?"

He overpowered me for the moment. I had not thought of Jerry as beingall these things. To me he was merely Jerry. But I struggled upwardthrough the miasma of oppressive millions and met the issue squarely. 

"There is nothing in John Benham's advice which directs any vocationalinstruction, " I said staunchly. "I was to bring the boy to the age ofmanhood without realization of sin. "

"A dream, Canby. Utopian, impossible!"

"It has not proved so, " I replied, nettled. "I am merely followinginstructions, Mr. Benham's instructions through you to me. The dreamis very real to Jerry. "

Mr. Ballard gazed into the fire and smiled. 

"The executors are permitted some license in this matter. We areentirely satisfied with your work. We have no desire to modify in theslightest degree the purely moral character of your instruction orindeed to change his mode of life. Indeed, I think we all agree thatyou are carrying out with rare judgment the spirit if not the actualletter of John Benham's wishes. Jerry is a wonderful boy. But in ouropinion the time has come when his mind should be slowly shaped tograsp the essentials of the great career that awaits him. "

"I can be of no assistance to you, Mr. Ballard, " I said dryly. 

"We think the time has arrived, " he went on, passing over my remark asthough it hadn't been uttered, "for Jerry to have some instructionfrom one versed in the theory, if not the practice, of business. Itis our purpose to engage a professor from a school of finance of oneof the universities to work with Jerry for a part of each summer. "

I did not dare to speak for fear of saying something I might regret. Thus far he was within his rights, I knew, but had he proposed to takeJerry into the cafes of Broadway that night, he couldn't have done myplans for the boy a greater hurt. He was proposing nothing less thanan assault upon my barriers of idealism. He was going to take thesentient thing that was Jerry and make of him an adding machine. Wouldhe? Could he? I found courage in a smile. 

"Of course, if that is your desire, " I managed at last, "I havenothing to say except that if you had asked my opinion I should haveadvised against it. "

"I'm sorry, Canby, " he finished, "but the matter has already beentaken out of your hands. "

Youth fortunately is the age of the most lasting impressions. Dr. Carmichael, of the Hobart School of Finance of Manhattan University, came and went, but he made no appreciable ripple in the placid surfaceof Jerry's philosophy. He cast stone after stone into the lovely poolof Jerry's thoughts, which broke the colorful reflections into smallerimages, but did not change them. And when he was gone the pool was asbefore he came. Jerry listened politely as he did to all his mastersand learned like a parrot what was required of him, but made no secretof his missing interest and enthusiasm. I watched furtively, encouraging Jerry, as my duty was, to do his tasks as they were setbefore him. But I knew then what I had suspected before, that theywould never make a bond-broker of Jerry. I had but to say a word, togive but a sign and bring about an overt rebellion. But I was too wiseto do that. I merely watched the widening circles in the pool and sawthem lost in the border of dreamland. 

Jerry learned, of course, the difference between a mortgage and aninsurance policy; he knew the meaning of economics, the theory ofsupply and demand, and gained a general knowledge which I couldn'thave given him of the general laws of barter and trade. But hefollowed Carmichael listlessly. What did he care for bonds andreceiverships when the happy woods were at his elbow, the wild-flowersbeckoning, his bird neighbors calling? Where I had appealed to Jerrythrough his imagination, Carmichael used only the formulæ of matterand fact. There was but one way in which he could have succeeded, andthat was through the picture of the stupendous agencies of which Jerrywas to be the master: the fast-flying steamers, the monster engines ontheir miles of rails, the glowing furnaces, the sweating figures inthe heat and grime of smoke and steam, the energy, the inarticulatepower, the majesty of labor which bridged oceans, felled mountains andmade animate the sullen rock. All this I saw, as one day Jerry shouldsee it. But I did not speak. The time was not yet. Jerry'sunderstanding of these things would come, but not until I had preparedhim for them. 

CHAPTER IV

ENTER EVE

This memoir is not so much the history of a boy or of a man as of anexperiment. Therefore I will not longer delay in bringing Jerry to thepoint where my philosophy and John Benham's was to be put to the test. I have tried to indicate in as few phrases as possible Jerry Benham'sessential characteristics, the moral attributes that were his and theshapeliness and strength of his body. I have never set great value onmere physical beauty, which too often reacts unpleasantly upon thecharacter of its owner. But looks meant nothing to Jerry and he was asunconscious of his striking beauty as the scarlet poppy that nods inthe meadow. 

At the age of twenty, to which point this narrative has arrived, JerryBenham was six feet two inches in height and weighed, stripped, onehundred and eighty-two pounds. His hair was brown, his eyes gray andhis features those of the Hermes of Praxiteles. His skin, naturallyfair, was tanned by exposure to a ruddy brown, and his body, exceptfor the few white scars upon his shoulder, relics of his encounterwith the lynx, was without blemish. He was always in training, and hismuscles were long and closely knit. I can hardly believe that therewas a man on the Olympian fields of ancient Greece who could havebeen prettier to see than Jerry when he sparred with Flynn. He was asagile as a cat, never off his balance or his guard, and slipped in andout, circling and striking with a speed that was surprising in one ofhis height and weight. "Foot-work, " Flynn called it, and there weretimes, I think, when the hard-breathing Irishman was glad enough atthe call of "time. "

Flynn's own reply when I reproved him for the nonsense he had put intoJerry's head about the prize ring will show how Jerry stood in theeyes of one of the best athletes of his day. "He's a wonder, MistherCanby. Sure, ye can't blame me f'r wantin' to thry him against good'uns. He ain't awake yet, sor, an' he's too good-nachured. Holypow'rs! If the b'ye ever cud be injuced to get mad-like, he'd lick hisweight in woild-cats--so he w'ud. "

There were times, as you may imagine, when I felt much likeFrankenstein in awe of the creature I had created. But Jerryfortunately couldn't be "injuced to get mad-like. " If things didn'thappen to please him, he frowned and set his jaws until his mood hadpassed and he could speak his mind in calmness. His temper, like hiswill, was under perfect control. And yet I knew that the orderly habitof his mind was the result of growth in a sheltered environment andthat even I, carefully as I had trained him, had not gauged his depthsor known the secret of the lees which had never been disturbed. 

At the age of twenty, then, Jerry had the body of a man, the brain ofa scholar and the heart of a child. Less than a year remained beforethe time appointed when he must go forth into the world. Both of usapproached that day with regret. For my part I should have beenwilling to stay on with Jerry at Horsham Manor indefinitely, andJerry, whatever curiosity he may have felt as to his future, gave nosign of impatience. I knew that he felt that perhaps the years to comemight make a difference in our relations by the way he referred to thegood years we had passed together and the small tokens of hisaffection which meant much from one not greatly demonstrative byhabit. As Jerry had grown toward manhood he did much serious readingin books of my selection (the Benham library having been long sinceexpurgated), and I had been working steadily on my Dialectics. We didour out-of-door work as usual, but there were times when I was busy, and then Jerry would whistle to the dogs and go off for his afternoonbreather alone. There had never been a pledge exacted of him to keepwithin the wall, but he knew his father's wish, and the thought ofventuring out alone had never entered his mind. Perhaps you will saythat it was the one thing Jerry would want to do, being the thing thatwas forbidden him, but you would not understand as I did the wayJerry's mind worked. If as a boy Jerry had been impeccable in the wayof matters of duty, he was no less so now. He had been trained to dowhat was right and now did it instinctively, not because it was hisduty, but because it was the only thing that occurred to him. 

And so, upon a certain day in June while I was reading in my study, Jerry went out with a rod and fly-book bound for the silent pools ofSweetwater, where the big trout lurked. My book, I remember, was the"Dialogues of Hylas and Philonous upon the Reality and Perfection ofHuman Understanding, " and before Jerry had been long gone from thehouse I was completely absorbed in what Fraser in his preface calls"the gem of British metaphysical literature. " But had I known what wasto happen to Jerry on that sunny afternoon, or conceived of thedialogue in which he was to take a part, I should have regretted theintellectual attraction of Berkeley's fine volume which had been thecause of my refusal to accompany the boy. 

I find that I must reconstruct the incident as well as I can from myrecollection of the facts as related by Jerry in the course of severalconversations, each of which I am forced to admit amplified somewhatthe one which had preceded it. 

It seems that instead of making for the stream at its nearest point tothe eastward, Jerry had cast into the woods above the gorge and workedupstream into the mountains. His luck had been fair, and by the timehe neared the point where the Sweetwater disappeared beneath the wallhis creel was half full. He clambered over a large rock to a higherlevel and found himself looking at a stranger, sitting on a fallentree, fastening a butterfly net. He did not discover that the strangerwas a girl until she stood up and he saw that she wore skirts, shortskirts, showing neat leather gaiters. She eyed him coolly and neitherof them spoke for a long moment, the girl probably because she waswaiting for him to speak first, Jerry because (as he described it) ofsheer surprise at the trespass and of curiosity as to itsaccomplishment. Then the girl smiled at Jerry. 

"Hello!" she said at last. 

Jerry advanced a few steps, frowning. 

"I suppose you know, " he said quickly, "that you're trespassing. "

She glanced up at him, rather brazenly I fancy, and grinned. 

"Oh, really!" Her eyes appraised him and Jerry, I am sure, felt rathertaken aback. 

"Yes, " he went on severely, "you're trespassing. We don't allow anyfemales in here. "

Her reply was a laugh which irritated Jerry exceedingly. 

"Well, I'm here, " she said; "what are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it?" Jerry advanced two or three paces and stood lookingdown at her. In our first conversation he told me that she seemedabsurdly small, quite too insignificant to be so impudent. In oursecond conversation I elicited the fact that he thought her skinsmooth; in our third that her lips were much redder than mine. 

When he got near her he paused, for she hadn't moved away as he hadexpected her to and only looked up at him and laughed. 

"Yes, _do_ about it, " she repeated. 

"You--you know I could--could throw you over the wall with one hand, "he stammered. 

"Perhaps, but you wouldn't. "

"Why not?'

"Because you're a gentleman. "

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes. Or if you aren't you ought to be. "

He frowned at that, a little puzzled. 

"Where do you come from?" he asked. 

"I can't see how that can possibly be any business of yours. "

"H-m. How did you get in here?"

"I followed my nose. How did you?"

"I--I--I belong here. "

"It's an asylum, isn't it?" she asked quite coolly. 

"N--no. " Jerry missed the irony. "Not at all. I live here. It's myplace. You--you're the first woman that ever got in here, and I can'timagine how you did it. I--I don't want to be impolite, but I'm afraidyou'll have to go at once. "

The sound of her laughter was most disconcerting. Jerry had no lack ofa sense of humor and yet there was nothing that he could see to laughat. 

"That's very amusing, " she said. "A moment ago you were going to throwme over the wall and now you're afraid you're impolite. "

Jerry found himself smiling in spite of himself. 

"I--I don't suppose I really meant that, " he muttered. 

"What? Throwing me over the wall or being polite?"

He looked rather bewildered, I think, at the inanity of herconversation. Jerry wasn't much given to small talk. 

"I'm sorry you don't think I'm polite. I--I'm not used to talking towomen. They're too fussy about trifles. What does it matter--"

"I don't call throwing a female visitor over a wall a trifle, " shebroke in. "And it isn't quite hospitable. Now is it?"

Jerry rubbed his head and regarded her seriously. 

"Now that you mention it, I don't suppose it is. But nobody asked you. You just came. Didn't you see the trespass signs?"

"Oh, yes, they're all about, " she said carelessly, as she picked upher tin specimen-box and turned away. "I didn't mean to stay. Ifollowed a butterfly. He came in the iron railings, where the streamgoes through the wall. I crawled under where the iron is bent. Ifyou're afraid of women you'd better have it fixed. "

"Afraid!" It was one word that Jerry detested. "Afraid! That's funny. Do you think I'm afraid of _you_?"

"Yes, " she replied, eyeing him critically. "I rather think you are. "

"Well, I--I'm not. It would take more than a woman to make _me_afraid. "

Something in the turn of the phrase and tone of voice made her turnand examine him with a new interest. 

"You're a queer boy, " she said. 

"How--queer?" he muttered. 

"You look and act as though you'd never seen a girl before. "

If he had known women better he wouldn't have believed that she meantwhat she said. As it was, her wizardry astounded him. 

"How can you tell that?"

She was now regarding him wide-eyed in amazement. 

"It's true, then?" she gasped. 

"Yes, it's true. You're the first girl that I remember having seen. But what difference does that make? Why should I be afraid of you?You couldn't hurt a flea. You can talk pretty well, but talk neverkilled anybody. "

She seemed stricken suddenly dumb and regarded him with an air whichto anyone but Jerry would have shown her as discomfited as he. 

"Do you mean that you've lived all your life a prisoner inside thiswall and never seen a woman?" she asked incredulously. 

"That depends upon what you mean by prisoner, " said Jerry. "If havingeverything you want, doing everything you want is being a prisoner, Isuppose that's what I am. "

"Extraordinary! And you've had no curiosity to go out--to see theworld?"

"No. I'm going soon, but I don't care about it. There isn't anythingout there half as good as what I've got. "

"How do you know if you haven't been there?"

"Oh, I know. I've heard. I read a great deal. "

Jerry told me (in our second conversation) that he wondered why hestill stood there talking to her. He supposed it was because hethought he had been impolite enough. But she made no move to go. 

"What have you heard?" she asked again. "I suppose you thought that agirl had horns and a tail. "

Unconsciously his gaze wandered down over her slim figure. Then heburst into a sudden fit of laughter. 

"You're funny, " he said. 

"Not half as funny as I would be if I had them. "

"You might have a tail twisted under your dress for all I know. Whatdo girls wear skirts for?"

"To keep them warm. Why do you wear trousers?"

"Trousers aren't silly. Skirts are. "

"That depends on who's in them. "

He was forced to admit the logic of that. Skirts might be silly, butshe wasn't. She interested him, this strange creature that talkedback, not in the least like Miss Redwood. The jade! Jerry did not knowtheir tricks as I did. She was reading him, I haven't a doubt, like anopen book. It was a pity. I hadn't yet prepared Jerry for thisencounter. The girl had moved two or three paces away when she pausedagain. 

"What's your name?" she asked suddenly. 

"Jerry. "

"That's a nice name. I think it's like you. "

"How--like me?"

"Oh, I don't know--boyish and rather jolly, in spite of beingJeremiah. It _is_ Jeremiah, isn't it?"

He nodded. 

"I was sure of it. It was Jeremiah who wanted to throw me over thewall, but it was Jerry who didn't. Which are you really? If you'reJerry I'm not afraid of you in the least. But if you're Jeremiah, Imust go at once. "

He smiled at her. 

"Oh, that's all right. You needn't hurry. I wouldn't hurt you. Youseem to be a very sprightly sort of a creature. You laugh as thoughyou really meant it. What's your name? I've told you mine. "

"Una. "

"H-m. That means 'first'. "

"But not the last. There are five others--all girls. "

"Girls! What a pity!"

She must have glanced around at him quickly, with that bird-likepertness I discovered later. He was declaring war, himselfdefenseless, and was not even aware of it. 

"You're not flattering. A pity! Why?"

"It's too bad if you had to be born why some of you couldn't have beenboys. You'd have been a fine sort of a boy, I think. "

"Would I really?" she said. "A better sort of a boy than I am a girl?"

He shrugged his shoulders, oblivious of the bait for flattery. 

"How should I know what sort of a girl you are? You seem sensibleenough and you're not easily frightened. You know, I--I rather likeyou. "

"Really!"

He missed the smile and note of antagonism and went on quickly:

"You're fond of the woods, aren't you? Do you know the birds? Theylike this place. And butterflies--I'd like to show you my collection. "

"Oh, you collect?"

"Of course--specimens of all kinds. Birds, eggs, nests, lepidoptera--I've got a museum down at the Manor. Next year you'llhave to come and see it. "

"Next year!"

"Yes. You see--" Jerry's pause must have been that of embarrassment. Ithink he realized that he had been going it rather rapidly. I didn'thear this part of the dialogue until our third conversation. "Well, you see, I'm not supposed to see any--any females until I'mtwenty-one. Not that I've ever wanted to, you know, but it seemsrather foolish that I can't ask you down, if you'd like to come. "

Can you visualize a very modern young woman during this ingenuousrevelation? Jerry said that close, cool inspection of her slate-blueeyes (he had, you see, also identified their color) ratherdisconcerted him. 

"I'm sure I should be delighted to come, " she said with a gravitywhich to anyone but Jerry would have made her an object of suspicion. 

Jerry shook his head. 

"But I--I'm afraid it wouldn't do. I've never given my word, but it'san understanding--"

"With whom?"

"With Roger. He's my tutor, you know. "

"Oh, I see. And Roger objects to--er--females?"

"Oh, yes, and so do I. They're so useless--most of them. You don'tmind my saying so, do you?"

"Oh, not at all, " she replied, though I'm sure her lips must have beentwitching. 

"Of course, you're different. You're really very like a boy. And Idon't doubt you're very capable. "

"How--capable?"

"You look as if you could do things--I mean useful things. "

At this she sank on a rock and buried her face in her hands, quiveringfrom head to foot. Jerry thought that she was crying. 

"What's the--?"

She threw out her arms, leaned back against a tree, her longsuppressed merriment bubbling forth unrestrained. 

"Oh, you'll be the death of me, " she laughed, the tears running downher cheeks. "I can't stand being bottled up another minute. I can't. "

Jerry was offended. 

"I don't see what there is to laugh at, " he said with some dignity. 

"You don't--that's just it, you don't, and that's what's so funny. "

And she laughed again. 

"What's funny?" he asked. 

"You--!"

"I'm not half as funny as _you_ are, but I don't laugh at you. "

"Y--you w-would if you didn't p-pity me so much, " she gasped betweengiggles. 

"I don't pity you at all. And I think you're extremely foolish tolaugh so much at nothing. "

"Even when I'm laughing at y-you?"

She had taken out her handkerchief and now composed herself withdifficulty while Jerry's ruffled dignity in silence preened at itsfeathers. She watched him furtively, I'm sure, between dabs with herhandkerchief and at last stopped laughing, got up and offered him herhand. 

"I've made you angry, " she said. "I'm sorry. "

He found that he had taken her hand and was looking at it. The wordshe used in describing it were these: "It was small, soft and warm, Roger, and seemed alive with vitality, but it was timid, too, like ayoung thrush just fallen from its nest. " So far as I could discover, he didn't seem to know what to do with her hand, and before he decidedanything she had withdrawn it abruptly and was turning away. 

"I'm going now, " she said calmly. "But I've enjoyed being here, awfully. It was very nice of you not to--to throw me over the wall. "

"I wouldn't have, really, " he protested. 

"But you might have had me arrested, which would have been worse. " Sheopened her tin box. "It's your butterfly, of course. You can have it, if you like. "

"Oh, I wouldn't take it for anything. Besides, that's no good. "

"No good?"

"No, common. I've got loads of 'em. "

Her nose wrinkled and then she smiled. 

"Oh, well, I'll keep it as a souvenir of our acquaintance. Good-by, Jerry. " She smiled. 

"Good-by, Una. I'm sorry--" he paused. 

"For what?"

"If I was cross--"

"But you weren't. I shouldn't have laughed. "

"I think I like you better when you laugh than when--when you're'bottled up'. "

"But I mustn't laugh at _you_. I didn't mean to. I just--couldn'thelp. You've forgiven me, haven't you?"

"Of course. "

She had taken up her hat and now walked away upstream. Jerry followed. 

"Will you really come next year?" he asked. "I--I should like to showyou my specimens. "

"Next year! Next year is a long way off. You know, I don't belonghere. I'm only visiting. "

"Oh!"

She clambered down into the bed of the stream toward the iron railing. Two of the bars, as he could now see, were bent inward at the bottom. 

When she reached the railing she turned and flashed a smile up at him. 

"You'd better tell Roger about the broken fence. "

"Why?"

She thrust her net and tin box through the bars and then slippedquickly through the opening. 

"Why?" he repeated. 

She stood upright and laughed. 

"I might come in again. "

Jerry, I think, must have stood looking down at her wistfully. Icannot believe that the psychology of sex made any matter here. Youthmerely responded wordlessly to youth. Had she been a boy it would havebeen the same. But the girl was clever. 

"I think I will, " she said gayly. "It looks very pretty from outhere. "

"I--I can't invite you, " said Jerry. "I should like to, but I--Ican't. "

"I could come without being invited, " she laughed. 

"But you wouldn't, would you?"

"I might. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, " he laughed. 

"Then I don't see what harm it would do. I'm coming. "

No reply. 

"I'm coming tomorrow. "

No reply. This was really stoical of Jerry. 

"And Jerry--" she called. 

"Yes, Una--"

"I think you're--you're _sweet_. "

There was a rustle among the leaves and she was gone. 

Thus did the serpent enter our garden. 

CHAPTER V

THE MINX RETURNS

That afternoon when Jerry returned to the Manor he gave me asuperficial account of the adventure--so superficial and told withsuch carelessness that I was not really alarmed. The secondconversation in the evening after dinner aroused my curiosity but notmy suspicion. I was not in the habit of mistrusting Jerry. Theintrusion of the stranger was an accident, not likely to occur again. It was only after our discussion had taken many turns and curiouslyenough had always come back to the pert intruder that I realized thatJerry's interest had really been aroused. Late at night over ourevening reading the boy made the comments upon the visitor'sappearance, her voice and the texture of her skin. He had been quitefree in his opinions, favorable and unfavorable alike, and it was thisvery frankness which had disarmed me. The incident, as far as Jerry'sstory went, ended when the visitor crawled under the railing. I am notsure what motive was in his mind, but the events which followed lendstrong color to the presumption that Jerry believed the girl when shesaid that she was coming back and that at the very time he wasspeaking to me he intended to meet her when she came. 

I had decided to treat the incident lightly, trusting to thewell-ordered habits of Jerry's life and the number of his dailyinterests to put the visitor out of his mind. I did not even warn him, as I should have done had I realized the imminence of danger or thenecessity of keeping to the letter as well as the spirit of JohnBenham's definite instruction, for this I thought might lay unduestress upon the matter. And in the course of the morning, nothingfurther having been said, I was lulled into a sense of security. 

In the afternoon Bishop Berkeley's book called me again and it was notuntil late that I realized that the boy had been gone from the housefor four hours. His rod, creel and fly-book were missing from theiraccustomed places but even then I suspected nothing. It was not untilthe approach of the dinner hour when, Jerry not having returned, Ibegan to think of yesterday's visitor. 

After waiting dinner for awhile, I dined alone, expecting every minuteto hear the sound of his step in the hall or his cheery greeting butthere was no sign of him and I guessed the truth. The minx had come inagain and Jerry was with her. 

The events which followed were the first that cast the slightestshadow over our friendship, a shadow which was not to pass, for, fromthe day when Eve entered our garden, Jerry was changed. It wasn't thathe loved me any the less or I him. It was merely that his attitudetoward life and toward my point of view had shifted. He had begun todoubt my infallibility. 

It was this indefinable difference in our relations which delayedJerry's confession, and not until some days later did he tell me howit all happened. He didn't think she would really come back, he said, and I chose at the time not to doubt him, but the fact was that hemade his way directly upstream after leaving the house, and catchingno fish, sat down on a rock near the iron grille. That the girlreturned was not Jerry's fault, he said, because he didn't ask her to. But the fact that he was there awaiting her when she arrived showsthat the wish was the father to the thought with Jerry. He had beensitting there alone fifteen or twenty minutes "listening for birdcalls, " as he explained it and had already identified twenty distinctnotes when he heard the twenty-first. 

It was human. "Hello, Jerry, " it said. 

It came from the iron railing, behind which the female Una wasstanding, grinning at him. He got up and walked toward her. 

"Hello!" he returned. 

"You didn't think I'd come, did you, Jerry?" she asked, though how shecould have arrived at that conclusion with the boy sitting therewaiting for her is more than I can imagine. 

"No, I didn't, " he replied, already learning to prevaricate with calmassurance. "Are you coming in?"

"I will if you ask me to. "

"I can't do that, " he laughed. "You know the rules. But I don't seewhat I could do to stop you. "

"_Please_ invite me, Jerry. "

"No, I won't invite you. But I won't put you out if you come. "

"_Please!_"

"Why do you insist?"

"Because--I think you ought to, you know. Just to make me feelcomfortable. "

"You seemed very comfortable yesterday. "

"I think you're horrid. "

"Horrid! Because I won't break my promise?"

"But you've made no promise. "

"It's understood. See here. I'll turn my back and walk away. If youcome in it's not my fault. "

"You needn't bother. I'm not coming. " She turned and made as though togo. 

"Una, " he called. "_Please. _ Come in. "

She reappeared miraculously, her vanity appeased by Jerry's downfall, bobbed through the bent irons, and rose smiling decorously as Eve musthave smiled when she watched Adam first bite the apple. 

"Thanks, " she laughed, clambering up the rocks. "It's awfully nice ofyou. I knew you would. I couldn't have come else. "

"It doesn't really make much difference, I suppose, " said Jerrydubiously. 

"What doesn't?"

"Whether I ask you or whether you just come. "

"I wouldn't have come if you hadn't. "

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I was just passing this way and I saw you sitting here. Ihadn't the slightest intention of coming in. Of course, when you_invited_ me, that made things different. "

He laughed and motioned to a rock upon which she sank. 

"Tell me, " he said, "how you happen to be up here in the mountainsalone. You don't belong around here. You didn't know about the wall, or about me, did you?"

"Of course not; not yesterday. But I do now. I asked last night. "

"Who did you ask?"

"The people I'm staying with. "

"And what did they tell you?"

"They weren't very polite. It doesn't do to ignore one's neighbors. They said you were a freak. "

"What's a freak?"

"Something strange, unnatural. "

"And do you think I'm strange or unnatural?" he asked soberly. 

She looked at him and laughed. 

"Unnatural! If nature is unnatural. "

"What else do they say?" Jerry asked after a thoughtful pause. 

"That your precious Roger is a dealer in magic and spells; that you'vealready learned flying on a broomstick and practice it on nights whenthe moon is full; that you're hideously ugly; that you're wonderfullybeautiful; that you live in a tree; that you sleep in a coffin; thatyou're digging for gold; that you've found the recipe for diamonds;that you've--"

"Now you're making fun of me, " he laughed as she paused for lack ofbreath. 

"I'm not. If there's anything that you are or aren't that I haven'theard, I can't imagine what it is. In other words, Jerry, you're themystery of the county. Aren't you glad?"

"Glad? Of course not. It's all such utter rot. "

"Of course. But doesn't it make you _feel_ mysterious?"

"Not a bit. "

"Doesn't it ever occur to you how important a person you are?"

"How--important?"

"To begin with, of course, you're fabulously wealthy. You knew that, didn't you?"

"Oh, I suppose I've got some money, but I don't let it worry me. "

"Do you know how much?"

"No, I haven't the slightest idea. "

"Not that you've got millions--_millions_!"

"If my millions are as impalpable as my broomstick they won't hurt memuch, " he laughed. And then soberly: "Say, Una, you seem to know a lotmore about me than I know about myself. "

"I think I do, " she returned. "For instance, of course, you couldn'tguess that half the match-making mammas of the county are alreadysetting their caps for you. "

He looked bewildered at that, I'm sure. 

"Do you know, " he said, "that I haven't the slightest idea what you'retalking about. "

"Of course, " she laughed. "I forgot. They want to marry you to theirdaughters. "

"Marry! Me! You're joking. "

I think he must have seemed really alarmed. 

"I'm not. The fat, the small, the lean and the tall. They're all afteryou. The moment you poke your nose outside the gate next year, they'reall going to pounce on you and try to carry you off. "

"But I can't marry them all, " he said aghast. "Besides I don't wantto marry anybody. And I'm not going to. "

She couldn't restrain herself now and burst into wild peals ofmerriment, while Jerry watched her, uncertain whether to be angry oramused. At last he decided to smile. 

"You seem to have a lot of fun with me, Una, don't you?"

"I don't mean to. But the picture of you trying to escape theengulfing flood of mammas is too much. I've got to laugh, Jerry. Ican't help it. "

"Laugh, then. I don't think it's so funny, though. "

"But it is. Because I'm sure you'd be too polite to refuse them--anyof them. "

"Polite! I won't be polite. Just because I'm nice to you isn't anysign. I--I'll send 'em all packing. You'll see. "

"Oh, you're brave enough now, but wait--wait!" She bent over, claspingher knees, still shaking with merriment. 

"Why, Jerry, you couldn't be impolite to a woman any more than youcould _fly_. You'd do just whatever she said. "

"I wouldn't. They're idiots, the lot of 'em. What's the use? What dogirls want to get married for, anyway?"

She glanced up at him quickly. Then at the glimpse she had of Jerry'ssober profile her wide gaze dulled and then sought the earth beforeher. It was true then what she believed of him. A child--this gorgeouscreature that shaved its face!

"I suppose it's because they--they haven't anything else to do, " shestammered. 

"There's plenty for every woman to do without marrying, or there oughtto be. They can work like men, or clean their houses, or raise theirchildren. "

At this point the girl was seized with a sudden fit of coughing andher face was purple. 

"What's the matter?"

"I--I just swallowed the wrong way, " she gasped. 

"Here, I'll pat you on the back. All right now?"

"Y-yes, better, thanks. " But she held her fingers before her eyes andstill struggled for breath. In a moment when she raised her head, there were traces of a smile, but she was quite composed. 

"Then you--you don't believe in marriage as an institution?" she askedwith some hesitation. 

"No. I can't see the use of it. We're all animals like the wild folk, the beasts of the field, the birds. They get along all right. "

"Birds mate, don't they?" she put in. 

"Oh, yes, but they don't need a minister to mate 'em. They just hopabout together a bit and then start their nest. It's simple as rollingoff a log. "

"That's what humans do, as you say; they just hop about a bit and thenget married. "

"But marriage doesn't make 'em any happier, does it? I'm sure Iwouldn't want to be tied down to one woman as long as I lived. SupposeI changed my mind or suppose she did. "

"You wouldn't change your mind if you loved a woman. "

"Love!" he sneered. "There you go. I thought you'd say that. "

"You don't believe in love, then?" she asked. 

"It seems to me that there's a lot of sentimental rubbish writtenabout it. What's the use of talking so much about a thing that's asplain as the nose on your face? Love means loyalty, friendship, honorand everything that's fine, but when the classic poets begin writingreams of rot about it, it's time--it's time somebody was sensible. "

"Poor Jerry, " she laughed. "I'm so sorry for you. "

"Why?"

"Because when you fall, you're going to fall so very hard. "

"How--fall?"

"Fall in love. You will, some day. Everybody does. It's as sure asdeath or taxes. "

"Everybody! _You_ haven't, have you?"

"Oh, dear, no. Not yet. But I suppose I shall some day. "

Jerry regarded her in silence for a moment. 

"I didn't think you were a bit slushy. "

"I'm _not_ slushy, " indignantly. "I _hate_ slushy people. Where didyou get that word?"

"Roger. He hates 'em too. "

"Your Roger doesn't like women, does he?"

"No. He's very wise, Roger is. But sometimes I think he's prejudiced. I'd like you to know Roger, I really would. "

She gazed straight before her for a moment deliberating and then:

"I hope you don't mind if I say so, but I think your Roger must be agood deal of a fossil. "

"A fossil. Now see here, Una--I can't have you talking about Rogerlike that. "

"He is. I'm sure of it. All theorists are. "

"He's not. He's the broadest fellow you ever knew. "

"Nobody's broad who ignores the existence of woman, " she returnedhotly. "It's sinful--that sort of philosophy. It's against nature. We're here--millions of us, working as hard as men do, earning our ownway in the world, active, live intelligences, writing books, nursingin hospitals, cleaning the plague-spots out of the cities, influencingin a thousand ways the uplift of that coarser brute man and besidesall this practicing a thousand acts of self-abnegation in the home. Keeping man's house, cooking his food, bearing his ch--"

She stopped abruptly and bit her lip. 

"Bearing his--what?" asked Jerry. 

"Burdens, " she blurted out. "Burdens--all sorts of burdens, " shefinished weakly. 

"I suppose there _are_ things that women can do, " said Jerry after amoment. "Of course, I don't know much about it. But--"

"Well, it's time you did, " she broke in again. "It may be beautifulhere--inside these walls--an unbroken idyl of peace and contentment, but it isn't life. It's just existence, that's all. If I were a man, I'd want to do a man's work in the world. I wouldn't want to miss anhour of it, childhood, boyhood or manhood. I'd want to meet mytemptations and conquer them. It's selfish, the way you live, unreal, cowardly. "

"See here, Una--"

"I mean it. You've got me started and I can't help it. If I sayanything that hurts, you'll have to put me out. But I'm going to tellyou what I think. "

"You're rather bewildering. But I'm not a coward. I don't want you tosay that. If you were a man, I'd give you a thrashing, " he saidquietly. 

Their glances must have flashed fire. Jerry's face was red, I'm sure, and his fingers were twitching to get hold of something, but the girldidn't flinch. Jerry told me afterward that he found his angersoftening strangely as he looked at her and in a moment they were bothsmiling. The girl spoke first. 

"I've gone too far, Jerry. Forgive me. "

"Of course, " he said awkwardly. "I suppose you've got a right to youropinions. But it isn't very pleasant to be told that one's life is afailure. "

"I didn't say that, " she put in quickly. "You haven't failed, ofcourse. You've missed something, but you've gained something too. " Herwords trailed slowly again and her gaze sought the deep woods. "Yes, "she repeated softly and thoughtfully, "I'm very sure you've gainedsomething. "

"What have I gained?"

There was a long pause before she replied. 

"Simplicity, " she said carefully. "Life, after all, nowadays, is sovery complex, " she sighed. 

But when he questioned as to what she meant, she waved him off. "No, I've said enough. I didn't intend to. Don't let's talk any more aboutwhat I think. Let's talk about what _you_ think, what you read, whatyou do. People say you live in the woods most of the time--do you?Where? How?"

"In a cabin. We built it. Would you like to see it? It's not far. I'llmake you a cup of tea. "

As the reader will perceive, in these two conversations, lastingperhaps two hours, this slip of a girl, in mere idle curiosity, hadtouched with her silly chatter the vital, the vulnerable points ofJerry's philosophy of life. Fate had not been fair to me or with him. Less than a year; remained of Jerry's period of probation. In Decemberthe boy was to go out into the world. And through an unfortunateaccident due to a broken iron, a chaos of half-baked ideas had comepouring through the breach. If I said that my labors of ten years hadbeen useless or that the fruition of John Benham's ideals for his sonwere still in doubt I should be putting the matter too strongly, but Ihave no hesitancy in confessing that the appearance of the girl had atleast put them in jeopardy. She had turned his mind into a directionwhich I had carefully avoided. He must think now and ask questionsthat I could not be ready to answer. By this time it must be wellunderstood that I have no love for women, but I will do this girl thecredit of saying that in a general way she saw fit to respect Jerry'sartlessness. I think that the sex instinct, so ready with itsantagonisms, its insinuations, its alternate attacks and defenses, wasatrophied as in the presence of a phenomenon. She was modern enough, God knows, but she had some delicacy at least and was impotent beforethe splendor of Jerry's innocence. 

What they said on the way to the cabin must have been unimportant. Isuppose Jerry told her about his routine at the Manor and something ofwhat I had taught him of woodcraft, but I think that she was veryreticent in speaking of herself. No doubt her unceremonious visit toour domain and the unusual intimacy of their conversation had made itseem necessary to her to preserve her incognito, or perhaps it wascoquetry, which no woman, however placed, is quite without. As far asI have been able to learn, they were as two children, the girl's mindas well as her actions, in spite of her sophistication, reflecting theartlessness of her companion. The damage that she had done, as I wasafterwards to discover, was mainly by the force of suggestion. Sheassumed the absurd premises of modernity, drew her own preposterousconclusions and Jerry drank them in, absorbed them as he did allinformation, like a sponge. 

CHAPTER VI

THE CABIN

Having decided upon a course of action, I lost no time in settingforth, following the Sweetwater to the wall and then, not findingJerry, making as though by instinct for the cabin. Perhaps I may bepardoned for approaching the place with cautious footsteps. I wasjustified, I think, by the anxiety of the moment and the fear of adamage that might be irreparable. I am sure that the somber shade ofold John Benham guided me upon my way and made light my footsteps as Icrept through the bushes and peered through the window of the cabin. 

There upon the floor, before the hearth, in which some fagots wereburning, sat Jerry and the minx, as thick as thieves, oblivious of thefall of night, wrapped in their own conversation and in themselves. Iam willing to admit that the girl was pretty, though from the glimpsesI had of it, her profile gave no suggestion of the classical ideals ofbeauty, for her nose made a short line far from regular and her hair, though carelessly dressed, was worn, in some absurd modern fashionwith which I was unfamiliar. And yet in a general way I may say thatthere seemed to be no doubt as to her comeliness. She was quite smalland crouched as she was upon the floor before the fire she even seemedchildish--quite too unimportant a creature to have made such ahullabaloo in this small world of ours. 

Nevertheless I felt justified in keeping silence and even in listeningto their conversation. 

"You didn't mean it, " I heard Jerry ask, "about all those girls'mothers, did you?"

She laughed. 

"Of course I did. You're a catch, you know. "

"You mean, they want to catch _me_? Nonsense. I don't believe you. "

"It's true. You're too rich to escape. "

"If that's the way marriage is made I don't think much of it. "

"It isn't always like that. " She smiled. "People aren't all as rich asyou are. "

"It's queer, " he said after a pause. "I've never thought of myself asbeing different from other people. If money makes one man moredesirable than another then money sets false standards of judgment. The people here I like for what they are, not for what they have. That's all wrong somehow, Una. It makes me think crooked. "

"I suppose I'm talking too much. You don't have to believe what Isay, " she said slowly. 

"But I want to know and I want you to talk. You've stirred somethingdeep in me. You somehow make me think I've been looking at everythingsideways without being able to walk around it. Roger knows what he'sabout, of course, and I suppose he has reasons of his own, but I'm anot a child any longer. And if he does not care to tell me the wholetruth, I've got to find out things for myself from somebody else. "And then, turning upon her suddenly: "You aren't lying to me, areyou?"

"Do you think I would?" she asked. 

"No, I don't. But I thought you might say queer things, just as ajoke. "

She shook her head. "No, " she said calmly. "I laughed a little atfirst, because I didn't understand, but I'm quite serious now. "

"You said Roger was a fossil. I know what a fossil is. That wasn'tkind. "

"But it's true, " she repeated warmly. "He might keep things from you, but he has no right to misrepresent women. "

"_Are_ women as fine as men?" he asked. 

She looked around at him. 

"Why shouldn't they be? I think they're finer. Your Roger wouldn'tagree with me. I've told you the kind of things they do--that mencan't and won't do. You may believe me or not as you choose. Some dayyou'll find out. "

"But I want to find out now. I want to find out everything. "

She smiled into the fire. 

"That's a great deal, isn't it?" she said. 

He went on soberly:

"You see, I don't want you to think I'm an idiot and I don't want youto think Roger is narrow-minded. If you only knew him--"

"I'm sure he has a long nose, sandy hair, grayish? watery eyes andspectacles. "

"There. I knew you hadn't a notion of him. He's nothing like that. "

"Well, what _is_ he like?"

"Why, I've never thought. But he isn't like that. He has a beautifulmind. I think that is what matters more than anything. What do lookscount for? I would rather think fine thoughts than be the handsomestperson in the world. "

He might have been the handsomest person in the world but he wouldn'thave been aware of it. Through the window I saw the girl search hisbent head quickly and then peer into the fire smiling. But Jerry didnot know what she was thinking about and went on slowly:

"You've said some things that make me believe I ought to know moreabout women and their work. I didn't know that they ever did the sortof things you tell me of. It's strange I don't know, but I've alwaysbeen pretty busy in here and I've never really thought much aboutthem. What did you mean by 'the plague-spots of the cities'?" heasked. "Surely there can be no such a disease as the plague in amodern city when science has made such progress. "

She smiled. 

"Moral plague-spots, Jerry, civic sores. " She paused. 

"I don't understand. "

"You will in time. The world isn't all as beautiful as you think itis. There are men and women with diseased minds, diseased bodies thatno medicine can cure. There are hospitals and homes for them, butthere never seems to be enough money or skill or civic righteousnessto make such people well. "

"How do you know all this?" he asked in wonder. 

"I've always been interested in social problems. I can't abide beingidle. "

"Social problems! And do you mean that you go among these diseasedpeople and try to make them well?"

She nodded. 

"I begin to understand, " he said slowly, "why you said you thought Iwasn't doing my work in the world. It's true. I've been sheltered fromevil. Things have been made easy for me. And you"--he burst forthadmiringly--"I think you're very wonderful. Perhaps some day I canhelp. You'll let me help, won't you?"

"Oh, would you, Jerry?" she cried. 

"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't. I shall be twenty-one inDecember. I can do what I please. The executors want to make me abusiness man--to go to board meetings and help run some companies mymoney is in. But I don't want to. Finance makes my head tired. I'vebeen working at it some. Seems like awful rubbish to me. They want meto make a lot more money. I suppose I've got enough to get along on. Idon't want any more than I've got. I'd much rather do somethinguseful. "

She laughed. 

"Useful! I'm afraid your executors have different ideals of utility. "

Jerry sighed. 

"Of course, I've got to go through with the thing for awhile. ButI--I'd rather give you my money to cure the plague spots. "

"Not all of it, Jerry, " she cried, "but would you, some of it? Just avery little?"

"Of course--as much as you like. You can do a lot more with it than Ican. "

In my hiding place, I didn't know whether to be alarmed or amused. Shehad done well. Jerry was already giving her his twenty millions. Shewas a capital missionary. It seemed about time I made my entrance, soI coughed, then walked through the door and faced them. 

"I beg pardon for intruding, " I said dryly, "but the fact is that it'salmost if not quite bedtime. "

They got to their feet in some haste, Jerry red as a turkey-cock, thegirl, I think, a little pale. 

"Is it--_is_ it Roger?" stammered Jerry. "I hadn't the slightestnotion--" And from his appearance I could readily believe him. "Is itdinner--bedtime? Why, of course, it _must_ be. " He shuffled his feetawkwardly and looked from me to the girl. "This is--Una, Roger. We'vebeen talking. "

"So I should suppose, " I remarked, aware of the cool and rathercontemptuous glances that the young lady was sending in my direction. "It's too bad that I interrupted. I hope that Miss--er--"

"Smith, " sniffed the girl. 

"Quite so. I hope that Miss Smith will forgive me. We are a littleunused to visitors and of course--"

"I'm going at once, " she said, moving a step or two, but seeing that Istood in the door, hesitated. 

"I don't want you to go yet, please, " said Jerry, recovering hiscoolness amazingly. "I want you and Roger to know each other. I'vebeen telling her all about us, Roger. She's awfully interested. Shejust happened in, you know. It's all been very agreeable. "

"I don't doubt it in the least, " I remarked. "Of course, you havesettled all the affairs of the nations between you. "

"Oh, not quite that, " laughed Jerry uneasily. "But we did have a talk, didn't we, Una?"

"I'm sure I--I hadn't the slightest idea how late it was, " said thegirl stiffly, fingering at her hair. 

"Time passes so quickly when one is amused or interested, " I said. 

"I was thinking, Roger, how nice it would be if Una would come todinner at the Manor. "

"Oh, no, thanks--not now. I must be going. "

"Couldn't you? I'll show you my specimens. Then we could send you onin the machine afterwards. "

"No--no, thanks. "

"Doubtless the friends of Miss--er--Miss Smith will be worried abouther. "

She shot a malevolent glance at me. 

"Not at all. I'm accustomed to doing exactly as I please. "

"But I couldn't think of letting you go through the forest alone. It'sfully half a mile beyond the wall to the highroad. "

"Thanks, but I won't bother you at all. If you'll let me pass--"

But Jerry had caught her by the arm. 

"Roger's right, " he said quickly. "I didn't think. Of course you can'tgo alone. I--"

"If you'll leave it to me, Jerry, I'll see that the lady reaches thehighroad in safety. I would suggest that you go at once to the house. I will join you later. "

"But--"

"Will you do as I ask?"

Our glances met in a level gaze. There was a moment of rebellion inJerry's, but it flickered out. 

"I think I know best, Jerry, " I said quietly. 

"Yes, but I don't want her to think--"

"Please don't worry about me, " said the girl. "I'm accustomed tolooking out for myself. " She brushed by me quickly and before I couldrestrain her, was merged into the shadows of the trees. But Jerry wasafter her in a hurry while I followed. 

"Please go with Roger, " I heard Jerry say when I came up. 

"I don't need a _keeper_!" she flared at him. 

"Una!"

"Go, Jerry, " I said again. 

He paused but the girl went on, so I followed quickly, and wisely, itseemed, for she wandered blindly and would have been lost in a moment. 

"If you'll follow me, " I ventured, "you will find the way out muchmore quickly. Otherwise you will probably scratch your face. "

I'm sure by the sound of her feet in the dry leaves and her hurriedbreathing behind me that she would have liked to scratch _my_ face. But she didn't. I think she realized for the first time that withoutmy guidance she would probably spend the rest of the night in thewoods. 

"I'm sorry to have been obliged to be so unceremonious, " I said atlast over my shoulder. No reply. But I wasn't in the least daunted. Ihad made up my mind that she shouldn't venture in again. 

"It's rather lucky you weren't seen by any of the gamekeepers. Youmight have spent the night in the lockup. "

Still no reply. 

"You see, the trespass rules here are very strictly enforced. It's toobad you didn't know about them. They've been in force for ten years. This is the first time, I think, that a woman has been inside thewall. "

"I--I'm a stranger, " she gasped. "I'm only visiting here. "

"Of course, that explains it. I couldn't imagine your having venturedin otherwise. "

We had come to an opening where the trail was wider and I slowed mypace so that in a moment she walked beside me. She forged ahead atonce, but I kept my place. 

"Since you're interested in sociological questions, Miss--er--Smith, perhaps--"

"You listened?" she asked scornfully. 

"I did, " grimly. "I listened for at least ten minutes. "

"I'm sure you're quite welcome, " she gasped. 

"Since you're interested in sociological questions, " I repeated, "perhaps you may be interested in educational ones. "

"I'm not. "

"That's not consistent, for sociological problems can hardly be solvedwithout the aid of--"

"Oh!" Her pent-up temper exploded. "I didn't come in here to--tolisten to a dissertation on--" Rage choked her and she couldn't go on. 

"I should be very much interested to learn what you _did_ come infor. "

"You're a beast!" she flashed at me. 

"Come now, you don't mean that. As a matter of fact, I'm merely amild-mannered person of studious instincts hired to carry out a mostvaluable experiment in comparative psychology. "

"I have no interest in your experiments. "

"Or the object of them?" I put in quickly. She found that difficult toanswer. 

"You must admit that my inquiry is natural, " I went on suavely. "SinceJerry has just promised to give you his entire fortune, it seems to meonly fair that his executors--"

"Will you be silent?" she cried, stopping suddenly. "It seems that I'mat your mercy. You will at least have the decency to let me go inpeace. "

She broke away, running aimlessly. I followed rapidly, my consciencehurting, but my purpose relentless. 

"This way, " I said coolly. "You've left the trail. "

"I don't care, " she gasped. "Leave me. "

"I can't do that. You see, I promised Jerry. But I will lead the wayif you like. The stream is not far. "

I set out again and I heard her trudging behind me. If she had stuckme in the back with a hatpin, I shouldn't have been surprised. But shewas more tractable now. 

"How are you getting on?" I asked as I neared the Sweetwater. But shewouldn't reply. Her sentiments toward me, I am sure, were too deep forwords. 

"Where did you come in?" I asked again. 

"The iron railing--at the stream, " she mumbled. 

"Oh! It must be repaired at once. "

"You needn't bother, " she said scornfully, "so far as I am concerned. "

"That's very kind of you. Ah, here we are. "

We went carefully over the rocks and in a short while the dim bulk ofthe wall rose before us. I descended, preceding her, found the openingand went through it. 

"You're not going any further with me, " she commanded in a suppressedtone. "I forbid it. "

I rose on the other side of the grille and dusted my knees. 

"I should be sorry to disobey your commands, " I said firmly, "but thedangers of the woods at night--"

"Oh! How I abominate you!"

"Really? I am sorry. "

But she followed me through the aperture and I led the way down apath, which seemed fairly well worn, alongside the wall. 

"Of course, your real name isn't Smith, " I began again in a moment. And then after waiting in vain for a reply: "Are you staying with theLaidlaws? The Carews? The Van Wycks then? You won't tell me? Oh, verywell, I'll inquire. "

My threat brought her to her senses. 

"You wouldn't do that!" she said in an agonized tone, catching me bythe arm. 

"I'm quite capable of it, " I replied, stopping beside her. 

"I--I beg of you not to do that. "

"_Am_ I a beast?" I smiled. 

"No, no--not a beast. I'm sorry. "

"Why do you wish to remain unknown?"

"I--I had no business coming. No one knows. It was mere--mere femininecuriosity. " She turned away, "Does _that_ satisfy you?" she cried. 

"I think it does, " I said more gently. "And you'll not return?"

"No--no, never. "

"Good. I ask no questions. You stay out. It's a bargain. "

She led the way now silently, and I hurried after her, a little sorryfor my own part in the matter, but still jealous for our violatedsanctuary. She had force, this girl, and not a little courage. Modernshe was, if you like, but very spirited and human. When we reached thehighroad I paused. 

"If you wish, I will go on with you. "

"Our paths separate here. "

I offered her my hand. 

"Forgive me, " I said gently. "I am only doing my duty. "

But she turned quickly and in a moment was running down the road wherethe night soon swallowed her. 

Women are queer animals. She might at least have given me her hand. 

CHAPTER VII

JACK BALLARD TAKES CHARGE

On my way back to the Manor house I thought deeply of a way to makethe best of the situation. That Jerry was a philosopher seemed for themoment to be a matter of little importance, for the portion of hisconversation in the cabin which I had overheard was an indictment bothof my teaching and my integrity. His eyes, thanks to the gabble ofthis mischievous visitor, were now open. He would want to knoweverything and I found myself placed in the position of being obligedto choose between a frankness which would be hazardous and a deceptionwhich would be intolerable. The time had suddenly come for generousrevelations. I had labored all these years to bring Jerry to manhood, armed with righteousness and a sound philosophy, equipment enoughaccording to my reading of his character and the meaning of life, tomake him impervious to all sophistry and all sin. The conversationthat I had overheard did nothing to weaken my faith in the GreatExperiment which in my heart I felt already to be an unqualifiedsuccess, but it notified me of the fact which had almost escaped me, that Jerry was no longer a boy but a man in years as well as body andintelligence and that his desire for worldly knowledge was not to bethwarted. 

And yet the prospect seemed far from pleasing to me. It was thebeginning of the end of our Utopia. Upon the threshold of the worldJerry was eager for that which I had scorned. Our paths wouldseparate. The old relation would be no more. 

I went home slowly and I think some sign of my weariness andperplexity must have been marked upon my features as I entered thehall where Jerry with sober countenance awaited me. There was nothingfor it but to talk the thing out. I did not upbraid him nor he me. Weunderstood each other too well for that. 

Then followed the flood of eager questions from a mind topsy-turvy. Ianswered him slowly, deliberately, and gave him in some detail hisfather's thesis on education, explaining how and why I happened to bein sympathy with it and pointing out by the results attained thewisdom of our plans. 

"Results!" he cried. "What results? In what respect is my educationbetter than another man's? I know my Latin, and my Greek, my French, my German. I'm a good history scholar, and what you've taught me ofphilosophy, --the inside of books--all of it. But life, Roger, --you'vestarved me--starved me! If I were a babe in arms I couldn't knowless--"

"You'll know life in time, Jerry, see it through a finer prism. "

"I want to see it as it is, in the raw, not beautiful when it is notbeautiful. I want the truth--all the truth, Roger, the rough and theugly where it _is_ rough and ugly. You say you've made me a man, taught me to think fine thoughts, given me a good mind and a strongbody, but all the while you were sheltering me, saving me--from what?What good are my mind and body if they aren't strong enough to be putto the test of life and survive it?"

He was much agitated. 

"I have no fear to put you to any test--today, tomorrow, " I saidquietly. 

"Then put me to it--out there. " With a wave of his arm he cried: "Imust see for myself, think for myself. "

"You shall, Jerry, soon. Will you be patient a little while longer?"

He controlled himself with an effort and bent forward in his chair, bringing his head down into his hands. 

"It's hard. I feel like a coward, a coward--not taking my share--"

"Ah, " I said suddenly, "_she_ called you that?"

"Yes. If she had been a man I should have thrashed her. But in amoment I knew that she had spoken the truth. "

"But Jerry, a coward is one who is afraid. How could you be afraid ofsomething you didn't know about?"

"But I know now. She told me very little, Roger, but I've guessed therest. "

He went on in this vein for awhile and at last grew calmer. And theresult of it all was a promise on my part to answer more frankly allhis questions, to subscribe to two newspapers and some magazines, andto begin on the morrow a course of reading which would prepare the wayfor his contact with the world. He seemed satisfied and at last wentto bed with his old cheery "Good night, Dry-as-dust. "

After all, I had gotten out of it well enough. Only a few monthsremained for him within the wall and with the exception of thenewspapers, my plans for him were really little changed. I may as wellconfess at once that my delay in broadening his point of view wasselfish. I had made such a beautiful thing that I was as proud of itas any painter of his masterpiece. Until the present moment I had beentrue to my own ideals. What was to follow must be a concession toconvention. 

But I entered frankly enough into the new scheme of things and setJerry a course in modern fiction in books carefully chosen and beforethe summer was gone and the autumn far advanced Jerry had read atleast a shelf-full of volumes. He went through them avidly and askedfew questions. Love between the sexes he now accepted as a matter ofcourse, but he hadn't the slightest conception of what it meant andtold me so. He had passed the morbid age between boyhood and manhood, his head in the air, his gaze upon the stars, and what he read now didnot trouble him. 

And as the months flew by without the expected revelation, I breathedmore freely. His heart was so clean that the suggestion of forbiddenthings made no impression upon it. He already accepted suffering, sin, disease, as part of the lot of a too complex society, but he made fewcomments upon his reading and these were perfunctory. He was so freefrom guile that I actually believe he could have been given access toany library without fear of contamination. 

In November Jack Ballard arrived for a visit of a few days andannounced that his father had bought a house in New York which was tobe ready for occupancy after Jerry's birthday. As Jack is to occupy aprominent place in these pages, I may as well announce at once that atthis time he had reached the age of thirty-five, had kept most of hishair, was slightly inclined to corpulency, and wore gay cravats whichmatched his handkerchiefs, shirts and socks, the "sartorial symphony, "as he described it. He still kept office hours from two to three onThursdays and refused all efforts on the part of his father to makehim take life other than as a colossal joke. He had not married, though I do not doubt that there were many who would have nabbed himquickly enough. 

In his previous visits to Horsham Manor Jack had, at no little cost, repressed his speech into accord with my teachings, and Jerry was veryfond of him. They fished, swam and sparred by day, and in the eveningsJack told stories of hunting in foreign countries to which Jerrylistened wide-eyed. 

But now, it seemed, his visit had a purport. There was just asuggestion of swagger in Jack's manner at the dinner table where, toJerry's surprise, he wore a jacket and a fluted shirt. 

At the boy's comment, Jack inhaled deeply of his cigarette (anotheroperation which Jerry always regarded with a certain awe) and statedthe object of his visit, which was nothing less than that ofsartorially equipping Jerry for the fray. 

"To be well-dressed, my boy, " he said gayly, "is to show the finishingtouch of a perfect culture. Without well-fitting garments no man iscomplete. I am going to clothe you, Jerry, from the skin out. That'smy privilege. I shall be the framemaker for Roger's _magnum opus_. And not over my dead body shall you wear after December twelfth atartan-cravat. " (Jerry fingered at the gay bit of ribbon at his neck. )"If you will remember, our friend Ruskin said that the man who wears atartan-cravat will most surely be damned. "

As you will observe. Jack Ballard exactly defined sophistication, rootand branch. But his sophistries were always colorful and ornamentaland of course Jerry laughed. 

"I'll take your word for it, Uncle Jack, " he said. "But you know Irather like color. "

"Of course, in a rainbow, my boy. But in a cravat--no! The cravat isthe chevron of gentility. You shall see. Symphonies in browns andgray-greens! I'll make you a heart-breaker. "

"Why do you put such rubbish in his head, Ballard?" I said testily. 

"Because he's got quite enough essential matter there already, " helaughed. "For ten years you've been packing him with facts. I have afeeling that if one only shook Jerry a little, he would disgorge themall--dates of battles, maxims, memorabilia of all sorts, aheterogeneous mess. He's full to the brim, I tell you, and ready toexplode. Suppose he did! How would you like to be hit in the midriffby an apothegm of Cicero, or be hamstrung by the subjunctivepluperfect of an irregular French verb?"

Jerry was laughing immoderately, though I admit such blackfacepleasantry appealed little to my sense of humor. But I found myselfsmiling. "Surely you don't expect to avert this catastrophe byproviding Jerry with a new cravat?" I urged. 

"That is precisely what I _do_ expect, " he said. "You've had yourfling at him, Pope. I'm going to have mine. Tomorrow a tailor willarrive, also a haberdasher and a bootmaker. Jerry will be measuredfrom top to toe. The mountain is coming to Mahomet. "

"Let's be sure no mouse is born, " I said dryly. 

"Six feet two of country mouse, " he roared. "Oh, Pope, don't youworry. We'll show you a thing or two, won't we, Jerry?"

The tailor, the haberdasher and the bootmaker came, saw and measured, while Jack sat in the background, with a sheaf of plates of men'sclothing in his lap, and gave directions. Jerry must have felt a greatdeal like a fool during the operation for I'm sure he looked one. ButBallard had his way and not until night did he leave us to peace andour own devices. 

The time for the boy's emergence approached, alas, too quickly. Achange had come over the spirit of Jerry's dreams. I saw that he waseager to go. It seemed that he already stood on tiptoe peering forth, eager, straining at his leash. And since he was no longer content atHorsham Manor, I reasoned, with regret, that the sooner he went thebetter. I had done all I could for him. His destiny was now in the lapof the gods. 

Everything had been carefully arranged. The Ballards, elder andyounger, were to take him to the new house in town where Christopherwould look after him. At first Jerry would not listen to thearrangement. I had for so long been his guide and philosopher I mustcontinue his friend. He wanted me with him in New York. But to this Idemurred. Much as I disliked the thought of separation, I had made upmy mind that he must go alone, cut adrift from all moral support. Ihad wished to go away, for having saved practically all my salary forten years I was now independent, but at Jerry's insistent pleading wecompromised. For the present I would stay on at the Manor and finishmy book. 

Jerry's birthday dinner was an impressive affair. With the twoBallards came the five solemn co-executors of John Benham's will--Mr. Stewardson, Mr. Da Costa, Mr. Wrenn, Mr. Walsenberg and Mr. Duhring. And these, with Jerry, Radford, Flynn, the boxer, and myself made upthe company. Jerry had insisted on having Flynn and no amount ofurging could dissuade him. Flynn was his friend, he said, more hisfriend than Mr. Wrenn, Mr. Duhring or indeed any of the others whom hebarely knew by sight. And so Flynn came. 

The elders were solemn and significant, Jerry, at the head of thetable, wearing for the first time his new finery (under the hypnotism, as he confessed in a whisper, of the vast expanse of whiteshirt-front), trying to look as though he were enjoying himself. Radford and I were mere onlookers. Flynn was acutely miserable. Had itnot been for Jack Ballard I fear the conversation would havedegenerated into a discussion of the merits and possibilities ofJerry's many "companies. " But every time that that danger threatenedthe irrepressible Jack demolished it with an anecdote. He wasn't goingto have Jerry's bud nipped so early, as his own had been, by the frostof finance. By the time we had reached the roast, and the champagne, the plutocrats seemed to realize that the occasion was a birthdayparty and not a board meeting. 

Over the port there were speeches, toasts by the plutocrats, one byone, to the newly risen Railroad King, while Jerry grasped the arms ofhis chair, a ballet dancer's smile on his lips, trying to look happy. But when Jack got up he laughed genuinely. 

"Gentlemen, I've known our host of this evening almost since he wasborn. I have watched with solicitude the rearing of this infant. I amhis fairy godfather. I got Canby. Thanks to my wisdom, Jerry has nowsafely emerged from the baby diseases, and confronts the world in aboiled shirt. He has kindly consented, I think, against the advice ofhis tutor, to permit me to put the finishing touches on his education. 

"Jerry has already been proposed at three excellent clubs, to two ofwhich he has been elected today. I have warned him against theinsidious cocktail and the deadly cigarette" (here Jack puffed at onevigorously) "and have advised him that ladies were designed by theirMaker for purely ornamental purposes. I am not sure that he has takenmy word for it and will probably propose to verify my statementaccording to his reading of aesthetics. I wish him all success in thepurely scientific side of his investigations. 

"As to his career, gentlemen, I warn you that he will choose it forhimself. If you don't believe me, I will ask you carefully to examinethe breadth and squareness of his chin. In proposing Jerry Benham'shealth, a superfluous proceeding at the best, I don't think I can payhim a higher tribute than in saying that in addition to being both ascholar and a gentleman, he is also the best heavyweight boxer I haveever seen, in the ring or out of it, and that anyone who expects tomake him do anything he does not want to do, will be a subject forcommiseration--or the coroner. Gentlemen, Jerry Benham!"

Having discharged this bombshell into the ranks of the plutocrats, Jack sat down. Of course, everybody laughed, and while they werelaughing Flynn awkwardly got up, perspiring profusely, first shootinghis cuffs and then fingering at his neckband. "Misther Ballard'sright, gents. He's right. I don't know much about books, but ifMasther Jerry's as good at edjication as he is wid his fists, then allI've got to say is that he's _some_ perfessor. I've been workin' widhim on an' off these four year an' all I'd loike to say to you, gents, is just this: Don't crowd him, _don't crowd him_, gents, because he'sgot an uppercut like a ton o' coal. "

Flynn sat down amid applause and Jerry rose, flushing happily. I thinkwhat Flynn had said pleased him more than all that had preceded it. 

"My friends, " he said quietly, "I am glad to see you here and hopethat I may prove worthy of your good opinions. I'm grateful to you andMr. Ballard, Mr. Stewardson, Mr. Da Costa, Mr. Walsenberg, Mr. Wrennand Mr. Duhring for all that you've done for me in here, but I wantyou all to know that it's to Roger Canby that I owe my greatest debt, to Roger Canby, my tutor, brother, mother, father, --friend. "

They wanted me to speak. I could not. But Jerry understood. 

In the library after dinner I overheard part of a conversationbetween Ballard the elder and Mr. Duhring. 

"What's all this rubbish of Jack's, Harry, about Jerry having a squarechin. Do you think he'll be difficult to manage?"

Henry Ballard smiled. 

"Jack can't resist his little joke. I'm afraid I've spoiled that boyoutrageously. "

"Yes, I rather think you have, " said the other dryly. 

CHAPTER VIII

JERRY EMERGES

In hearing from Jack Ballard's own lips the story of Jerry Benham'sfirst appearance in Broadway I was forcibly reminded of the openingcantos of the Divine Comedy where Dante follows the shade of Virgilinto the abyss of hell. I had not let Jerry know of my presence in NewYork, for I believed that he would have wanted me with him and did notcare to be placed in a position to refuse him. Indeed I can give noreason for my visit except the very plausible one that, my work goingbadly, I felt the need of a change. Jack was much amused at my suddenappearance one morning at his apartments, but welcomed me warmlyenough, giving the pledge of secrecy I demanded. 

"Oh, it's been perfectly ripping, " he said, when we were seated, fairly bubbling over with delectable reminiscences. "He's like anewly-hatched chicken, all fluffy and clean, a little batty-eyed andgroggy but intensely curious about everything. "

"Has he asked any questions?"

"Millions of 'em, like balls from a Roman candle. He shoots 'em atevery angle and some of 'em hit. "

"You've taken him about?" I asked. 

"Yes, but he doesn't exactly comprehend the meaning and purposes ofhis clubs. I took him in one of them, the most select, on severalafternoons. The same fellows were always sitting around a windowlooking out, others, older ones, were asleep in armchairs. I didn'toffer him anything to drink and we sat there, watching the chaps inthe window and listening to their talk. The conversation was notbrilliant. "

"'Do these gentlemen do this all the time?' asked Jerry softly. 

"'Yes, almost all the time. '

"'Don't they ever get tired of looking out of the window?'

"'They don't seem to. It's restful to watch other people working. '

"'But don't they _do_ anything else?'

"'Not much. They're rich. '

"'And the others, the old gentlemen asleep in the chairs, are theyrich too?'

"'Yes, rich too, but tired. '

"'Tired of being rich?'

"'Perhaps. '

"'I see. '

"He was quiet for a long while and then: 'What a horrible waste ofopportunity!'

"I thought this was the psychological moment to put in my brief forthe governor. 

"'It certainly is. Luckily you've got a career waiting for you. '

"'But if riches only lead to this, Uncle Jack, I'm pretty sure I'dmuch rather be poor. '

"'There isn't much chance of your getting _that_ wish, ' I laughed. 

"'Well, I could give my money away, ' he said. I looked at himquickly, for his tone was very earnest. 

"'That won't do, my boy. Indiscriminate giving may be very injurious. '

"'I can't understand that. '

"A few nights later a beggar touched his arm as he passed. The mansaid he was hungry and looked it. Jerry gave him his pocketbook. Thefellow glanced at the pocketbook and then at Jerry as though hethought the boy was crazy and bolted without a word. Jerry watched himout of sight. 'Might at least have said "Thank you, "' he murmured. Hedidn't speak of giving away money for awhile. 

"A night or two later he had an experience of another sort. It wasafter the theater, the least noxious play I could discover on thebills. Two women met us in a dark cross street. I saw Jerry stop andstare at one of them. That was unusual. I urged him to go on but hestopped and listened. 

"'In an awful hurry, ain't you, dearie?' one of the girls asked. 

"'Why, no, not at all, ' says Jerry, politely taking off his hat. Andthen as her appellation struck him: 'I think you must have mistaken mefor someone else. '

"The girl was a little puzzled. 

"'Aw, yer stringin' me, ' she said. 

"'Stringing?' asked Jerry. 

"'Cut it out. You know what I mean well enough'. Come along, ' and shemoved a pace away. 

"Jerry followed. 'I'd be glad to come if I can be of any assistance. '

"'Assistance, ' laughed the girl. 

"'Did you hear that, Geraldine?'

"And with that they both burst into roars of laughter. 

"Jerry's ignorance of things made him keenly sensitive to ridicule. 

"'I think you're very impolite, ' he said with dignity. 

"'Aw, go chase yourself, ' said Geraldine and vanished into the shadowswith her companion. 

"That interview took a lot of explaining. In fact, all the way toJerry's house the mystery of the girls' behavior hung like a cloudover him. 'Do you know, Jack, ' he said as we were parting, 'I thinkthat girl was mad--quite mad. '"

"Couldn't you have prevented that meeting?" I asked. 

"I didn't try. Besides, Jerry is a persistent chap. When I asked himwhy he stopped, he said it was because the girl looked like somebodyhe was hunting for. "

"Who? I can't imagine. "

"He said her name was Una Smith. "

"Oh, yes. The minx who slipped into Horsham Manor. I told you abouther. But her name isn't Smith. "

"Jerry has been looking for her. " He laughed. "He thought at first, hesaid, he'd see her on the street, but was surprised to find the cityso large. He was a little disappointed. But I think he's forgotten. There's safety in numbers. "

"Then he doesn't know anything yet?"

"Bless your heart! I'd no more think of teaching Jerry filth than Iwould my own sister. But by the Lord Harry, he's an inquisitive cuss. He's learning that life isn't all beer and skittles, has felt theskinny talons of poverty on his elbow and has heard a truck-driverswear in the approved New York manner. That in itself was a liberaleducation. The worst of it was that the chap happened to be swearingat Jerry. "

He chuckled at the memory. 

"What happened?" I asked. 

"Jerry jumped over the wheel, caught the man by the collar of his coatand threw him into the street. He was a big 'un too. "

Ballard lingered provokingly in the narrative, which was interestingme greatly. 

"And then?" I asked. 

"The fellow rose, covered with slime, looking vicious. 

"'What did you mean taking God's name in vain?' says Jerry sternly. 

"'I'll show you, you--'

"He came in with a rush, grimy fists flying. Jerry feinted just once, side-stepped and caught him prettily on the point of the jaw. The blowwas beautifully timed, and the fellow dropped like a log. "

"And then?"

"A crowd was gathering and so we ducked--I slipped Jerry into a hotelentrance near by and out we went by another way. " Ballard paused inthe act of lighting a cigarette. "You see, he's already giving battleto society. A walk abroad with Jerry is an adventure which may end inmetaphysics or the jail. But it won't do, Roger, tilting at wind-millslike that. He can't make New York like Horsham Manor--at least not allat once. "

"He'd try that if he could, " I laughed. 

"It will be a slow business, I'm afraid. New York is quite contentedto be exactly what she is. And the women!" He emitted a tenuouswhistle. And then, "I don't suppose it ever occurred to you, Pope, that all these years you've been sheltering the Apollo Belvedere. "

"He _is_ good looking. Thank God he doesn't know it. "

"He will in time. It's really a shame the way the women stare at himon the street. He's never through blushing when he isn't askingquestions. 

"'What do those women look at me for?' he asks. 'Nothing queer aboutme, is there?'

"'Oh, no, ' I reply. 'They look at everybody like that. It's acharacteristic of the sex, curiosity. You don't mind, do you?'

"'Oh, I suppose not. I rather like it when the pretty ones do. How redtheir cheeks are and their lips! It must be much more healthful in thecity than I had supposed. '"

"Rouge?" I asked. 

"Yes, of course. Even the flappers do it. It takes good eyesight totell 'em from the dowagers nowadays. "

"And Jerry doesn't know the difference?"

"I think he's beginning to. A few days ago I met an old girl I know, Mrs. Warrington, walking with Marcia Van Wyck; you know, the heiress, who has the big place up near Horsham Manor--father, mother both dead. Spoiled all her life. Lives with a companion, you know, --poorrelation. They stopped us--mere curiosity--not to talk to _me_, blessyour heart, but to see Jerry. It seems they'd heard we'd turned himloose, and guessed who my companion was. We talked awhile and Marciaasked us to call. When they went off. Jerry turned to me in a stagewhisper:

"'Jack, that lady has paint on her face. '

"'Woman, not lady, ' said I. 'This is Fifth Avenue. The ladies of NewYork are only to be found on Broadway and the Bowery, '

"He looked bewildered but his other discovery interested him the most. 

"'But I say she had paint on her face, ' he repeated. 

"'How could you tell?' I asked innocently. 

"'It was streaky. I saw it. '

"'Possibly. But it isn't polite to notice such things. '

"He was silent a moment. And then: 'I think the other, the girl, MissVan Wyck, is very beautiful. I think I should like to call on her, Jack. '

"So you see, Pope, he's looking up. Marcia _is_ pretty. She has beenout three seasons but she takes good care of herself. I've never likedher much myself--a little too studied, you know, and quiteultra-modern. "

"You think Jerry was impressed?" I asked. There may have been a deepernote of interest in my query than I intended, for Jack burst intolaughter. 

"There you go. Your one chick is a duckling now, Pope, old boy. You'llhave to let him swim if he wants to. The water's deep there, too--verydeep. Marcia knows her way about. "

"It would be a pity if she made a fool of him, " I ventured. 

He only smiled. 

"It would, of course. Perhaps she will. But Jerry's got to cut his eyeteeth. And he might as well cut 'em on Marcia as anybody else. Butthere's no danger of her marrying him for his money. She's almost ifnot quite as rich as he is. Half the young bloods in town are afterher. It's rather flattering to Jerry. She gave me the impressionyesterday of rather liking him. "

"Oh, you called?"

"It was something of a command. When a girl rolls her eyes the way shedid at Jerry and says that he must come to see her, there's nothingfor him but to go. Besides, they're neighbors up in the country, youknow. I went with him. I had an idea what we were in for, but Jerrydidn't, naturally. She expected us and the butler led the way past thedrawing-room into the lady's particular sanctorum, a smallish room ina wing of the house all hung in black damask, with black velvet rugsand ebony chairs. Marcia's blonde, you know, and gets her effectsdaringly. I must admit that she looked dazzling, like a bit of Meissenor Sevres in an ormolu cabinet. She was lolling on a black divansmoking a cigarette and put out her slim fingers languidly. That's herpose--condescension mixed with sudden spasms of intense interest. Sheextended her fingers to be kissed--she had learned that nonsense inEurope somewhere--and so I kissed 'em. They were dry, cool, verybeautifully tinted, with the nails long and highly polished and hadthe odor, very faintly, of jasmine. Jerry kissed 'em too, lookingextremely foolish. "

"He would, " I growled. "The hussy!"

Ballard shook with laughter. 

"Oh, that's rather rough, Pope. She's merely the product of a highlysensitized _milieu_. Because I don't like girls of that stamp doesn'targue her unlikable. I've never heard a word against her except thatshe has much attention from men. And with her money and looks that'snatural enough. "

"What happened?" I put in shortly. 

"Oh, she was very languid at first and a little formal, thawingeffectively as she drew Jerry out. You see she had a little theadvantage in knowing his history. 

"'I'm very flattered that you should have come so soon, ' she said, comprehending us both in her level gaze. 'Will you smoke, Mr. Benham?No? You haven't succumbed yet to all of the amiable weaknesses ofhuman nature. They're very mild. _Do_ change your mind. There! I knewyou would, '

"Jerry fingered the thing and lighted it as though it might have beenthe match of a blunderbuss. 

"'I've been wondering for a great many years, Mr. Benham, what youcould be like, ' she went on in a tone which is more nearly describedas a purr than anything else. 'You know, our places up in UlsterCounty are almost adjoining. At times I've been tempted to scale yourwall. It looked so very attractive from outside. But they told me youkept a private banshee, trained to visit those you didn't like. Youdon't, do you?'

"Jerry laughed. 'The nearest thing I've got to a banshee is my dogSkookums. But he's blind in one eye and his teeth are gone, and he'stoo lazy even to wag his tail. Besides I don't see why I should sethim on _you_!

"She laughed, showing a row of rather small but even teeth. 

"'They say you don't like girls. Tell me it isn't so, Mr. Ballard'--she appealed to me. 

"I saw the way the wind was blowing but I chose to humor her. 

"'I am sure he adores the very ground you walk on, ' I said politely, 'especially when you look like a figure on an Etruscan amphora. '

"She smiled slowly. 'You _can_ say nice things, can't you, Mr. Ballard? But that doesn't quite exculpate Mr. Benham. '

"'I'm sure, ' said Jerry very gravely, 'that you're the most beautifulcreature I've ever seen!'

"Her fishing prospered. Her eyelashes lowered so that we both couldsee how long they were and when she raised them again and looked atJerry her eyes were opened wide. 

"'That is the greatest compliment I've ever received in my life, ' shesaid evenly. 'I hope you mean it, Mr. Benham. '

"'I shouldn't have said it if I didn't think so, ' said Jerry quickly. 

"Something in the positive way he spoke pleased her again for shesmiled bewitchingly, effacing me completely. I think we're going to bevery good friends, ' she said, moving up on the divan a little nearerto him. 'Of course, it takes more than the aesthetic appeal to bringtwo sensible people together, ' she murmured. 'It is not the eye whichmust catch the reflection, but the mind. You've thought a gooddeal--and studied? Men are so vapid nowadays. ' She sighed. 'I hopesome day you will think I'm clever enough for you to talk to me aboutthings. '

"She was playing up to him, you see, I think that Jerry is the mostextraordinary male animal that has ambled into her vision this winter. 

"'I'd be glad to. Of course you're different from anything I ever sawbefore, ' said Jerry. 'I've always thought of nature as the mostbeautiful thing in the world. Now I seem to be just as sure that artis. '

"That rather took her aback, but she didn't turn a hair. 

"'You think all this--superfluous?'

"'Not superfluous, perhaps. Merely artificial. '

"'Am I artificial?'

"'Yes, ' bluntly! 'I don't understand it at all. But it's singularlyeffective. It's like night with only one star visible--'

"'The more visible, ' I put in, 'for being Venus. '

"She looked at me slantways. 'I'm sorry you said that, Mr. Ballard. Venus is not my goddess. Diana--'

"'The Huntress, ' I broke in again. 

"'Pallas Athene, the guardian and guide of heroes, ' she counteredneatly. 

"'I'm glad you don't like Venus, Miss Van Wyck, ' put in Jerry quickly. 'She made a lot of trouble, just because she was pretty. Diana--she_was_ the right sort, no sentimental rot for her. '

"'Of course. Sentiment _is_ rot and so sloppy. '

"Jerry laughed ingenuously. 'That's a good word, ' he said. 'ImagineDiana being sloppy. '

"'Women aren't nearly as sentimental as they used to be. As a woman'sweapon hysteria has gone to the dust heap. Women are learningindependence. You believe in women thinking for themselves, don'tyou?'

"'Of course, ' said Jerry. 'But they don't, do they?'

"'_I_ do. It's one of my gospels to be self-sufficient. Don't youbelieve me?'

"'I'd like to, you're so lovely to look at. I'd like to think you wereperfect in everything. '

"He refreshed her. Her artificialities one by one were falling awayfrom her like discarded garments. And yet I was not sure that itwasn't artifice that was discarding them. She was very clever. I mighthave guessed it, had I noticed earlier the volumes by Freud andStrindberg on the little ebony side table. "

Ballard paused a moment to light a fresh cigarette. 

"Bah!" I muttered contemptuously. 

He looked over at me thoughtfully. "You may sneer, Pope, my boy, " hecommented. "But this sort of thing has come to stay. The infants areimbibing it with their bottles--self-expression, self-analysis and allthat. "

"But this girl is dangerous, " I remarked. 

"I imagine she is, " he said calmly. "At any rate, she's going to proveor disprove your precious hypothesis. "

"I'm not afraid for Jerry, " I growled. "No chameleon will change _his_color. What else did she say?"

"She was very much pleased at Jerry's compliment. 

"'Someone has taught you to be very polite, ' she said with a smile. 

"'Polite?' asked Jerry. 'Merely because I was hoping you weren'tflabby?'

"'Well, I'm not flabby, ' she smiled indulgently. 'I hate flabbypeople. '

"'I don't see any reason why a woman should be different from a man, 'Jerry went on. 'Men don't cry, why should women? I've always thoughtthe Greeks were right. To me there's only one sin the world and that'sweakness. '

"You'll pardon me, Pope, if I say that he sounded very much like you, "he laughed. "He had the preaching tone, the assertiveness. It was mostamusing. Imagine the paradox, this babe, an ascetic and thisworldling, a sybarite, meeting upon a common ground! For I reallybelieve she was sincere about her self-sufficiency. Whatever hertastes, she's no weakling. "

"But she's trivial, a smatterer, a decadent--"

"And handsome, " laughed Ballard. "Don't forget that. "

"Mere looks will never ensnare Jerry. "

"I hope not, but she'll teach him a thing or two before she's throughwith him. "

I was silent for some moments, and then: "What else do you know ofthis girl?" I asked. 

"Nothing. I've painted you the picture as well as I could. Theconversation that followed was unimportant. Her remarks became guardedand later descended to the mere commonplace. "

"She _is_ dangerous, " I said. 

"I've warned Jerry. He laughed at me. "

"When was this call?" I asked. 

"The day before yesterday. "

"And where is Jerry today?"

"I have a notion that he is spending the afternoon with Miss MarciaVan Wyck, " he said with a smile. 

CHAPTER IX

FOOT-WORK

I should very much like to have been present while Jerry made some ofhis visits to the house of the girl Marcia in order to have heard withmy own ears what she said to Jerry in those first few weeks of theiracquaintance. Some of it, a very little, I did learn from Jerry'sletters to me, but much more from Jack Ballard, who visited the ladyupon his own account and supplied the missing links in my informationas to the growing friendship. But the nature of Jerry's feelingstoward her I can only surmise by my knowledge of the character of theboy himself through which I tried to peer as with my own eyes, at thepersonality of this extraordinary female. That she was more thanordinarily clever there was no reason to doubt; that she wasattractive to the better class of young men in her own set was beyonddispute; that she was thoroughly unscrupulous as to the means by whichshe attained her ends (whatever they were) seemed more than probable. Perhaps she did not differ greatly from other young female persons inher own walk of life, but I would have been better pleased if Jerry'seducation in the ways of the world could have proceeded a little moreslowly. It seemed to me as I compared them, that the girl Una, who hadcalled herself Smith, brazen as she was, would have been a much sanercompanion. I could not believe, of course, that either of them couldsway Jerry definitely from the path of right thinking, but I realizedthat the eleven years during which Jerry had been all mine were but ashort period of time when compared to the years that lay before him. From the description I had of her, the Van Wyck girl was not at allthe kind of female that I thought Jerry would like. She was an exotic, and was redolent, I am sure, of faint sweet odors which would perplexJerry, who had known nothing but the smell of the forest balsams. Shewas effete and oriental, Jerry clean and western. 

But, of course, I had not met the girl and my opinion of her was basedupon the merest guesses as to her habits and character. She seemed tobe, according to Ballard, essentially feminine (whatever he meant bythat) and in spite of her protestations to Jerry as to herself-sufficiency and soundness, to have a faculty for ingratiatingherself into the fullest confidence of the young men who came into hernet. 

In looking over the above, it occurs to me that I may be accused ofprejudice against or unfairness to this girl of whom I really knew solittle, for if I do not tell the truth, this work has no value. Butupon consideration I have decided to let my opinions stand, leaving myown personal point of view to weigh as little or as much as it may inthe mind of my reader. To say that I was jealous of Jerry's attentionsto any young woman would be as far from the truth as to say that I wasnot jealous for his happiness. But as several weeks went by and Jerrydid not appear at the Manor, his notes meanwhile becoming more andmore fragmentary, I found a conviction slowly growing in my mind thatmy importance in Jerry's scheme of things was diminishing with thedays. One afternoon just before the dinner hour I was reading Hemingeand Condell's remarkable preface to the "Instauratio Magna" of Bacon, which advances the theory that the state of knowledge is not greatlyadvancing and that a way must be opened for the human understandingentirely different from any known. In the midst of my studies Jerryrushed in, flushed with his long drive in the open air, and threw hisgreat arms around my neck, almost smothering me. 

"Good old Dry-as-dust! Thought I'd surprise you. Glad to see me?Anything to eat? By George! You're as yellow as a kite's foot. Beenreading yourself into a mummy, haven't you?"

It was good to see him. He seemed to bring the whole of outdoors inwith him. 

I took him by the shoulders and held him off from me, laughing in purehappiness. 

"Well. What are you looking at? Expect to see my spots all changed?"

"I think you've actually grown. "

"In four weeks? Rubbish! I think I've contracted. If there's anythingto make a fellow feel small it's rubbing elbows with four millionpeople. Good old Roger! Seems as if I'd been away for a lifetime. Thenagain it seems as if I'd never been away at all, as if New York wasall a dream. Well, here I am, like Shadrach, past the fiery furnaceand not even scorched. It's a queer place--New York--full of queerpeople, living on shelves, like the preserves in a pantry. Greatthough! I'm getting to understand 'em a little, though they don'tunderstand me. I suppose I'm queer to them. Funny, isn't it? 'Oldfashioned, ' a fellow called me the other day. I didn't know whether tohit him or take him by the hand. I think he meant it as a compliment. I had been polite, that's all. Most people don't understand you whenyou say, 'Thank you' or 'Excuse me. ' They just stare, and then dashon. I used to wonder where they were all going and why they wererushing. I don't now. I rush like the rest of 'em, even when I've gotnothing to do of a morning but to buy a new cravat. By Jove, I'mrattling on. Is dinner ready?"

It was. We dined on Horsham Manor's simple fare, but Jerry ate it asthough he had never been away. And when dinner was over we adjournedto the library and talked far into the night. I observed for onething, that he was now smoking cigarettes with perfect facility. Imade no comment, but could not help recalling the fact that it was inthis, too, that Eve had tempted and Adam fallen. He ran on at a greatrate, but said little of the girl Marcia, or indeed of any women. Ithink he hadn't been able to forget my attitude toward them, and inthe light of his new contacts considered himself vastly superior to mein experience of the world. But the mere fact that he now avoidedmention of the Van Wyck girl advised me that his thoughts of her wereof a sort which he thought I could not possibly comprehend. 

He told of some of the things already mentioned, with humor and somebewilderment. He had made it a habit to go and walk the streets forawhile every day when he could mingle with the crowds and try and gettheir point of view. He hadn't gotten very far yet, but he waslearning. He knew the different parts of the city and chose for hiswalks the East side by preference. He had seen filth and squalor onone avenue and on the next one elegance and wealth. The contrasts wereamazing. 

"Something's wrong, Roger, " he said again and again. "Something'swrong. It doesn't seem fair somehow. I'm sure the people on one streetcan't all be deserving and those on another all undeserving. The FifthAvenue lot, the ones I associate with in the clubs, are all very wellin their way, but they seem to waste a lot of time. They don't produceanything, they're not helping to keep the world together. The realworkers are elsewhere. I've seen 'em, talked to some of 'em. They'vegot vitality that the other chaps haven't. Flynn's friends are_great_. I've been sparring with 'em--some pretty good ones, too. "

"How did you manage?"

"All right. You know, Flynn always said I gave promise of being apretty good boxer, so I've been working a little in the afternoon athis gymnasium. I had to, Roger, to keep in shape. There are all sortsof chaps there, mostly professionals. You know he's training this newmiddleweight, Carty, for a fight next March. I didn't like to put onthe gloves with any of 'em, but Flynn insisted. "

Jerry paused and I saw a smile growing slowly at the corners of hislips. I knew that smile. Jerry wore it the day Skookums disobeyedorders and had the encounter with the skunk. 

"You had a good go of it?" I asked. 

He nodded. 

"You see, there was a big Jew named Sagorski, 'Battling' Sagorskithey call him, hanging around the place. He's a 'White Hope. ' He'sbeen sparring partner of one of the champions and he thinks a gooddeal of himself. Flynn doesn't like him a great deal--some disputeabout a debt, I believe. I was sparring with Flynn, Sagorski watching. 

"I heard someone make a remark and then Sagorski's voice sneering. Flynn dropped his hands and turned. 

"'Ye always c'ud talk, Sagorski, ' said he. 'But talk's cheap. I'llmatch the bye again ye six rounds, fer points, double or quits, thesame bein' the small amount that's been hangin' betune us the littlematter of a year. '

"Sagorski was up in a moment, smiling rather disdainfully. 'Yer on, 'he growled. 

"They fixed us up, seconds, timekeepers and all, and we went at it. Hewas a good one and strong but slow, Roger. You know, Flynn's lighterthan I am, but lightning fast. Sagorski gave me more time, but he hada good left and an awful wallop with his right. Flynn had warned me tolook out for that right and I did. The first round was slow. Each ofus was feeling the other out. I landed a few and got one in the ribs. The second round went faster. I avoided him by ducking andside-stepping, but he kept boring in, still smiling disagreeably. Ididn't like that smile. He wanted to knock me out, I think, for hemade several vicious swings that might have settled me, but I got awayfrom them and kept him moving. 

"'Wot's this, sonny?' he sneered at last, 'a foot race?'

"But he didn't make me mad--not then. I kept hitting him freely, nothard, you know, but piling up points nicely for Flynn. He couldn'treally reach me at all and was getting madder and madder. It wasfunny. I think I must have let up a little then, for I think it was inthe fourth round he got in past my guard and swung a hard right on mynose. The blow staggered me and I nearly went down. Anyway, Roger, itmade me angry. It seemed a part of that ugly smile. I saw red for amoment and then I went for him with everything I had, straight-arms, swings, uppercuts--everything. I think I must have been in bettershape than he was, for by the time the round was ended he was groggy. 

"When we came up for the next I heard Flynn whispering at my ear, 'Finish him, Masther Jerry. If you don't, he'll put ye out. '

"I didn't need that warning. I sparred carefully for a minute, feelingout what he had left. He swung at me hard, just grazing my ear. Then Iwent after him again, feinted into an opening and caught him flush onthe point of the chin. "

He paused for breath. "I didn't want to, you know, Roger, but Flynnwas so insistent--and, of course, having started--"

"'You bored in, that th' opposed might beware of thee, '" Iparaphrased. 

He laughed. 

"Yes, I bored in. There was nothing else to do. Flynn didn't say much, but he was pleased as punch. It took ten minutes to bring the fellowaround. I was bending over Sagorski, wetting his face, and as helooked up at me I told him I was awfully sorry. What do you think hesaid?

"'Aw, you go to hell!' Impolite beggar, wasn't he?"

"You have been at least catholic in the choice of companions, " Iremarked, with a smile, recalling Flynn's prediction about Jerry'sweight in wild cats. 

"Oh, yes. All sorts of people. I think on the whole I understand thepoorer classes best. They do swear, I find, horribly at times, butthey don't intend harm by it. I doubt if they really know what itmeans. 'Hell' is merely an expletive like 'Oh' or 'By Jove' with uschaps. Funny, isn't it?"

"That truck-driver didn't think so, " I said. 

"That was my first week. I know a lot more now. I've felt sorry abouthim. "

"You needn't, " I laughed. 

And after a pause:

"And down town, Jerry, " I inquired. "How are things going there?"

His expression grew grave at once. 

"Oh, I've been going to the office pretty regularly, but it's slowwork. I don't understand why, but I don't seem to get on at all. "

"That's too bad, " I said slowly. "You must get on, old man. "

"Yes, I know, but it comes hard. It seems that I'm frightfully rich. In fact, nobody seems to know how rich I am. I've got millions andmillions, twenty--thirty perhaps. So much that it staggers me. It'slike the idea of infinity or perpetuity. I can't grasp it at all. It'spiling up in new investments, just piling up and nothing can stop it. "

"You don't want to stop it, do you?"

"But if it was only doing some good--When I see the misery allabout--"

"Wait a bit. You're putting the cart before the horse, my boy. There'sno sin in being rich, in piling it up, as you say, if you're not doinganybody any harm. Have you ever thought of the thousands who work foryou, of the lands, the railroads, the steamships, the mills, allcarrying and producing--producing, Jerry, helping people to live, towork? Isn't it something to have a share in building up your country?"

"But not the lion's share. It's so impersonal, Roger. My companies maybe helping, but I'm not. I want to help people myself. "

"That's just what I'm getting at. The more money you make, the morepeople you can help, " I laughed. "It's simplicity itself. "

"In theory, yes. But I see where it's leading me. If I go on makingmoney, where will I find the time to give it away? It seems to be apassion with these men getting more--always more. I don't want to getlike Ballard or Stewardson. And I _won't!"_

He snapped his jaws together and strode with long steps the length ofthe room. 

"I _won't_, Roger, " he repeated. "And I've told 'em so. "

I remained silent for a moment, gazing at the portrait of John Benhamon the wall opposite me. He had a jaw like Jerry's, not so well turnedand the lips were thinner, a hard man, a merciless man in business, aman of mystery and hidden impulses. The boy was keen enough, I knew, when it came to a question of right and wrong. There was some ancienthistory for Jerry to learn. Did Jerry already suspect the kind of manhis father had been?

"You're sure that you're right?" I asked quietly. 

"Positive. It's all very well to talk about those my money helps, butit harms, too. If anything gets in the way of Ballard's interests ormine, he crushes 'em like egg-shells. My father--"

Jerry hesitated, repeated the word and then paced the floor silentlyfor a moment. I thought it wise to remain silent. 

"Oh, I know what it all means to those men. Power! Always! More power!And I don't want it if it's going to make me the kind of man thatHenry Ballard is, blind to beauty, deaf to the voice of compassion, apiece of machinery, as coldly scientific in his charities as he is inthe--"

"But that's necessary, Jerry, " I broke in. "A man of Henry Ballard'swealth must plan to put his money where it will do the most good--"

"Or where it will magnify the name of Henry Ballard, " he said quickly. "Oh, I don't know much yet, but I'm pretty sure that kind of thingisn't what Christ meant. "

He threw out his arms in a wide gesture. "Roger, I've talked to someof these poor people. There's something wrong with these charityorganizations. They're too cold. They patronize too much. They don'tget under the skin. "

"You haven't wasted a great deal of time, " I remarked when he paused. 

He smiled. "Well, you know, I couldn't sit in a club window and watchthe buses go by. "

"Have you declared these revolutionary sentiments to your executors?"I asked after awhile. 

He threw himself in an armchair and sighed. 

"I suppose I ought to say that Mr. Ballard has been very patient withme. He was. I told him that I didn't want any more money, that I hadenough. I think I rather startled him, for he looked at me for a longwhile over the half-moons in his glasses before he spoke. 

"'I don't think you realize the seriousness (he wanted to say enormitybut didn't) of your point of view. There's no standing still in thisworld, ' he said. 'If you don't go ahead, you're going to go back. That's all very well for you personally if you choose to remain idle, but it won't do where great financial interests are involved. I wantto try to make you understand that a going concern moves of its ownmomentum. But it's so heavy that once you stop it, it won't go again. The thought of abandoning your career is in itself hazardous. I hopeyou will not repeat the sentiments you have expressed to me elsewhere. If the street heard what you have just said there would be a fall inyour securities which might be disastrous. '

"'But other people would benefit, wouldn't they?' I asked. 

"He glared at me, speechless, Roger, and got very red in the face. 'And this, ' he stammered at last, 'is the fine result of your Utopia. Ideals! Dreams! My God! If your father could hear you--he'd rise inhis grave!'

"I'm just what he made me, ' I said coolly. 

"He stared at me again as though he hadn't heard what I had said. 

"'Do you mean that you're going to abandon this career we've made foryou, the most wonderful that could be given mortal man?' he asked, though his tone was not pleasant. 

"I did owe him a lot, you see. He's true to his own ideals, thoughthey're not mine. And I was very uncomfortable. 

"'I hope you won't think me ungrateful, Mr. Ballard, ' I said as calmlyas I could. 'In some ways you've been very like a father to me. I wantyou to understand that I appreciate all that you and the otherco-executors have done for me. I've been very happy. But I want you toknow, if you don't know it already, that I'm very stupid aboutbusiness. It bewilders me. I'll try as hard as I can to please you andwill do my best at it, but you can understand that that won't be verymuch when my heart isn't in it. I don't want to see the Benhamsecurities fall, because that would hurt you, too. I'll keep silentfor awhile and do just what you want me to do. But I don't want anymore money. The responsibility, the weight of it, oppresses me. I'mtoo simple, if you like, but I don't think I'll change. '

"'And what, ' he asked slowly when I stopped, 'what do you propose todo with all this money we've kept together for you?'

"His voice was low, but his face was purple and he snapped his wordsoff short as if their utterance hurt him. 

"'With your permission, sir, ' I said quietly, 'I expect to give agreat deal of it away. '

"Roger, he couldn't speak for rage. He glared at me again and then, jamming his hat on his head, stalked stiffly out. Oh, I've made amess of things, I suppose, " he sighed, "but I can't help it. I'm sickof the whole miserable business. "

I made no comment. I had foreseen this interview, but it had come muchsooner than I had expected. I felt that I had known Jerry's mind andwhat he would do eventually, but it was rather startling that he hadcome to so momentous a decision and had expressed it so vigorously atthe very outset of his career. It was curious, too, as I rememberedthings that had gone before, how nearly his resolution coincided withthe one boyishly confessed to the female, Una Smith, in the cabin inthe woods last summer. At the time, I recalled, the matter had made nogreat impression upon me. I had not believed that Jerry could realizewhat he was promising. But here he was reiterating the promise at thevery seats of the mighty. 

The subject was too vast a one for me to grasp at once. I wanted tothink about it. Besides, he didn't ask my advice. I don't think hereally wanted it. I looked at Jerry's chin. It _was_ square. For allhis sophistries, Jack Ballard was no mean judge of human nature. 

CHAPTER X

MARCIA

Jerry came down to the breakfast table attired in tweeds of a ratherviolent pattern, knickerbockers and spats. He wore a plaid shirt withturnover cuffs, a gay scarf and a handkerchief just showing a neattriangle of the same color at his upper coat pocket. Thishandkerchief, he informed me airily, was his "show-er. " He kept the"blow-er" in his trousers. At all events, he was much pleased when Itold him that the symphony was complete. 

"The linen, _allegro_, the cravat, _adagio con amore_, thesuit--there's too much of the _scherzo_ in the suit, my boy. "

"_Con amore?_" he asked, looking up from his oatmeal. 

"Yes, " I said calmly, for not until this moment had I guessed thetruth. "_Con amore_, " I repeated. "I could hardly have hoped, if MissMarcia Van Wyck had not come to the neighborhood, that you would havedone me the honor of a visit. "

It was a random shot, but it struck home, for he reddened ever soslightly. 

"How did you know? Who--who told you?" he stammered awkwardly. 

"I think it must have been the cravat, " I laughed. 

"It _was_ a good guess, " he said rather sheepishly (I suppose becausehe hadn't said anything to me about her). 

"She was tired of town. She's opening Briar Hills for a week or so. Awfully nice girl, Roger. You've got to meet her right away. "

"I shall be delighted, " I remarked. 

"She knows all about you. Oh, she's clever. You'll like her. Readspretty deep sort of stuff and can talk about anything. "

"An intellectual attraction!" I commented. "Very interesting, and ofcourse rare. "

"Very. We don't agree, you know, on a lot of things. She's way beyondme in the modern philosophies. She's an artist, too--understands colorand its uses and all that sort of thing. She's very fine, Roger, andgood. Fond of nature. She wants to see my specimens. I'm going to haveher over soon. We could have a little dinner, couldn't we? She has acompanion, Miss Gore, sort of a poor relation. She's not very pretty, and doesn't like men, but she's cheerful when she's expected to be. You sha'n't care, shall you?"

"Yes, I shall care, " I growled, "but I'll do it if you don't mind mynot dressing. I haven't a black suit to my name. "

"Oh, that doesn't matter. Very informal, you know. "

The motor was already buzzing in the driveway and he wasted littletime over his eggs. 

"Fix it for tomorrow night, will you, Roger?" he flung at me from thedoorway as he slipped into his great coat. "Nothing elaborate, youknow; just a sound soup, entrée, roast, salad and dessert. And forwines, the simplest, say sherry, champagne and perhaps some port. "

"Shall you be back to luncheon?" I inquired. 

"No; dinner, perhaps. G'by!" And he was down the steps and in themachine, which went roaring down the drive, cut-out wide, making thefair winter morning hideous with sound. I stood in the doorwaywatching, until only a cloud of blue vapor where the road went throughinto the trees remained to mark the exit of the Perfect Man. 

I turned indoors with a sigh, habit directing me to the door of thestudy, where I paused, reminded of Jerry's final admonitions. Dinner--"nothing elaborate, " with an entrée, salad, and wines to begot for two women, Jerry's beautiful decadent who loved nature andornithology, and the "not very pretty" poor relation who didn't likemen but could be "cheerful when she was expected to be. " Damn hercheerfulness! It was inconsiderate of Jerry to set me to squiringmiddle-aged dames while he spooned with his Freudian miracle in theconservatory. Strindberg indeed! Schnitzler, too, in all probability!While I invented mid-Victorian platitudes for the prosaic, "not verypretty" Miss Gore--Bore! Bore--Gore! Bah!

I gave the necessary orders and went in to my work. I merely sat andstared at the half-written sheet of foolscap on the desk, unable toconcentrate my thoughts. I am a most moderate man, a philosopher, Ihope, and yet today I felt possessed, it seemed, of an insensatedesire to burst forth into profanity--a fine attitude of mind for acontemplative morning! My whole world was turned suddenly upside down. 

But out of chaos cosmos returned. I had given up the thought of work, but at last found satisfaction in a quiet analysis of Jerry'snarration of the night before. What did one female or two or a dozenmatter if Jerry was fundamentally sound? Sophistry might shake, blandishment bend, sex-affinity blight, but Jerry would stand like anoak, its young leaves among the stars, its roots deep in mother earth. Marcia Van Wyck, her black damask boudoirs, her tinted finger tips, her Freud, Strindberg and all the rest of her modern trash--therewould come a day when Jerry would laugh at them!

I think I must have dozed in my chair, for I seemed to hear voices, and, opening my eyes, beheld Jerry in my Soorway, a laughing group inthe hall behind him. 

"'Even the worthy Homer sometimes nods, '" he was quoting gayly. "Wakeup, Roger. Visitors!"

I started to my feet in much embarrassment. "Miss Van Wyck, MissGore--Mr. Canby, " said Jerry, and I found myself bowing to a veryhandsome young person, dressed in an outdoor suit of a vivid, cherrycolor. I had no time to study her carefully at the moment, but tookthe hand she thrust forward and muttered something. 

"I feel very guilty, " she was saying. "It's all my fault, Mr. Canby. I've been simply wild for years to see what was inside the wall. "

"I hope it will not disappoint you, " I said urbanely. 

"It's very wonderful. I don't wonder Jerry never wanted to leave. Ishouldn't have gone--ever. A wall around one's own particularParadise! Could anything be more rapturous?"

("Jerry!" They were progressing. )

The tone was thin, gentle and studiously sweet, and her face, I amforced to admit, was comely. Its contour was oval, slightly accentedat the cheek bones, and its skin was white and very smooth. Her lipswere sensitive and scarlet, like an open wound. Her eyes, relics, likethe cheek bones, of a distant Slav progenitor, were set very slightlyat an angle and were very dark, of what color I couldn't at the momentdecide, but I was sure that their expression was remarkable. They werecool, appraising, omniscient and took me in with a casual politenesswhich neglected nothing that might have been significant. I am not oneof those who find mystery and enigma in women's reticences, which aretoo often merely the evasions of ignorance or duplicity. But I admitthat this girl Marcia puzzled me. Her characteristics clashed--cooleyes with sensual lips, clear voice with languid gestures, apagan--that was how she impressed me then, a pagan chained byconvention. 

As I had foreseen, when she and Jerry went off to the Museum, I wasleft to the poor relation. She was tall, had a Roman nose, black hair, folded straight over her ears, and wore glasses. When I approached shewas examining a volume on the library table, a small volume, a thinstudy of modern women that I had picked up at a book store in town. Miss Gore smiled as she put the volume down, essaying, I suppose, thatair of cheerfulness of which Jerry had boasted. 

"'Modern Woman, '" she said in a slow and rather deep voice, and thenturning calmly, "I was led to, understand, Mr. Canby, that you weren'tinterested in trifles. "

"I'm not, " I replied, "but I can't deny their existence. "

"You can. Here at Horsham Manor. "

"_Could_, Miss Gore, " I corrected. "The Golden Age has passed. "

I didn't feel like being polite. Nothing is so maddening to me ascheerfulness in others when I have suddenly been awakened. Her smilefaded at once. "

"I didn't come of my own volition, " she said icily. "And I will notbother you if you want to go to sleep again. "

"Oh, thanks, " I replied. "It doesn't matter. "

She had turned her back on me and walked to the window. 

"Would you like to see the English Garden?" I asked, suddenly aware ofmy inhospitality. 

"Yes, if you'll permit me to visit it alone. "

That wasn't to be thought of. After all she was only obeying orders. Ifollowed her out of doors, hastening to join her. 

"I owe you an apology. I'm not much used to the society of women. Theyannoy me exceedingly. "

She looked around at me quizzically, very much amused. 

"You consider that an apology?" she asked. 

"I intended it to be one, " I replied. "I have been rude. I hope you'llforgive me. "

"You _are_ a philosopher, I see, " she said with a smile. "I am sorryto annoy you. "

"Y--you don't, I think. You seem to be a sensible sort of a person. "

She smiled again most cheerfully. 

"Don't bother, Mr. Canby. We're well met. I'm not fond of meaninglesspersonalities--or the authors of them. "

She really was a proper sort of a person. Her conversation had nofrills or fal-lals, and she wasn't afraid to say what she thought. Presently we began speaking the same language. We talked of thecountry, the wonderful weather and of Jerry, to whom it seemed she hadtaken a fancy. 

"You've created something, Mr. Canby--a rare thing in this age--" shelooked off into the distance, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But hecan't remain as he is. "

"Why not?" I asked quickly. "Knowledge of evil isn't impurity. "

"It will permeate him. "

"No. He will repel it. "

She smiled knowingly. 

"Impossible. Society is rotten. It will tolerate him, then resent him, and finally, " she made a wide gesture, "engulf!"

"I'm not afraid, " I said staunchly. 

"You should be. He's in danger--" She stopped suddenly. "I mean--" Shepaused again, and then said evenly, "It seems a pity to me, that'sall. "

"What's a pity?"

"That all your teaching must end in failure. "

"H-m! You haven't a very high opinion of your fellows. "

"No, men are weak. "

"Jerry isn't weak. "

"He's human--too human. "

"One can be human and still be a philosopher--"

"No. "

"But he knows the good from the bad. "

"Oh, does he? And if the bad is masquerading? It is always. You thinkhe would recognize it?"

She was speaking in riddles, and yet it seemed to me with a purpose. 

"What do you mean, Miss Gore?"

"Merely that such innocence as his is dangerous. "

It was an unusual sort of a conversation to be engaged in with a womanI had known but twenty minutes. I think she felt it, too. There wassome restraint in her manner, but I realized that her interest inJerry was driving her, if against her better judgment, with a definitedesign that would not balk at trifles. 

"You seem to know a great deal about Jerry, " I said at last. "Who hastold you?"

"My eyes are tolerably good, Mr. Canby, my ears excellent. "

I would have questioned further, but Jerry and the Van Wyck girl atthis moment came out on the terrace. Jerry was laughing. 

"Caught in the act, " he cried, as they came down to join us. "There'shope for you yet, Roger. "

Marcia came and thrust her arm through Miss Gore's. "Isn't itwonderful to be the first woman in the Garden of Paradise?"

Miss Gore nodded carelessly. 

The girl was so radiant in her air of possession that I couldn't helpspeaking. 

"But you're not, " I said. 

Marcia's narrow eyes regarded me coolly and then looked at Jerryinquiringly, and when she spoke her voice was almost too sweet. 

"Please don't rob us of our poor little halos, Mr. Canby, " she said. "Do you mean that there have been other women, girls--in here before?"

I can't imagine why Jerry hadn't told her that. She seemed to knowabout everything else. "Yes, one. "

"Jerry!" reproachfully. "And you said I was the first girl you'd everreally known!"

He smiled, though he was quite pink around the ears. 

"You are really. Er--she didn't count. "

"I shall die of chagrin. Her name, Mr. Canby, " she appealed. 

I hesitated. But Jerry, still red, blurted out:

"Una Smith. But Roger says that couldn't have been her name. "

"But why shouldn't it be her name? She had nothing to be ashamedabout, had she?"

"Of course not. She just slipped in through a broken grille. She was astranger around here--I just happened to meet her and--er--we had atalk. "

The boy seemed to be quite ill at ease. What did he already owe thisgirl Marcia that such an innocent confession made him uncomfortable?

"Una--Una--Smith, " the girl was repeating. "This is really beginningto be fearfully interesting. Una, " she turned quickly, her eyeswidening. In the bright sunlight they seemed very light in color, adark gray shot with little flecks of yellow. "Of course, " sheexclaimed. And then, "When was this--er--intrusion, Jerry? Last July?"

"I think so. "

It was Jerry's turn to be surprised. 

"She was brown-haired, smallish, with blue eyes? Quite pretty?"

Jerry nodded. 

"Wore leather gaiters and carried a butterfly net?"

"You know her, Marcia?" he broke in. 

"Of course. Jerry, I'm really surprised--also a trifledisillusioned--"

They moved off down the path toward the lake, Jerry talking earnestly. I watched them for a moment in silence, wondering what crisis I hadprecipitated in Jerry's affairs. 

Beside me I heard the deep voice of Miss Gore. 

"You see? He's already madly infatuated with her. "

"Yes, yes, " I replied, still watching them. "And she?"

Miss Gore shrugged her thin shoulders. 

"I don't know. She won't marry him. I doubt if she will ever marry. "

"Thank God for that, " I said feelingly. She looked up at me quickly. 

"You don't like Marcia?" she asked. 

"No. " I realized that I had gone too far, but I stood firm to my guns. 

I was surprised that she didn't resent my frankness. Instead of beingangry she merely smiled. 

"Mr. Canby, it is difficult for many of us who live in the world torealize the effect of luxury and over-refinement upon society! We livetoo close to it. Mr. Benham is an anachronism. I would have given muchif he had not become interested in Marcia. She is not for him nor hefor her. But I think it is his mind that attracts her--"

"Rubbish!" I broke in. "Has he no face, no body?"

She smiled at my impetuousness. Strangely enough, we were both toointerested to resent mere forms of intercourse. 

"It's true. She has a good mind, but badly trained. His innocencefascinates, tantalizes her. I've watched them--heard them. She toyswith it, testing it in a hundred ways. It's like nothing she has everknown before. But she isn't the kind you think she is. I doubt even ifJerry has kissed her. To Marcia men are merely so much material forexperimentation. She has a reputation for heartlessness. I'm not surethat she isn't heartless. It's a great pity. She's very young, butshe's already devoured with hypercriticism. She's cynical, aphilanderer. You can't tamper with a passion the way Marcia has donewithout doing it an injury. You see, I'm speaking frankly. I don'tquite understand why, but I'm not sorry. "

I bowed my head in appreciation of her confidence. This woman improvedupon acquaintance. 

"You care for her, " I said soberly. "I should have been more guarded. "

"Yes, I care for her. She has many virtues. She gets along with womenand I can understand her attraction for men. But she has confessed tome that men both attract and repel her. Sex-antagonism, I think themoderns call it--a desire to tease, to attract, to excite, to destroy. She uses every art to play her game. It is her life. If any manconquered her she would be miserable. A strange creature, you willsay, but--"

"Strange, unnatural, horrible!"

She smiled at my sober tone. 

"And yet she is acting within her rights. She asks nothing that is notfreely given. "

"Women are curiously tolerant of moral imperfections in those theycare for. Your Marcia is dangerous. I shall warn Jerry. "

But she shook her dark head sagely. 

"It will do no good. You will fail. "

We walked slowly toward the house and I tried to make her understandthat I was grateful for her interest. She was not pretty, but, as Ihad discovered, had some beauties of the mind which made her physicalattractions a matter of small importance. 

As we neared the terrace, a thought came to me and I paused. 

"You know who the girl Una is?" I asked. 

"Yes, " she nodded, "but her name isn't Smith. "

"I was aware of that. Would you mind telling me who and what she is?"

She remained thoughtful a moment, fingering the stem of a plant. 

"I don't see why I shouldn't. Her name is Habberton, Una Habberton. She was visiting the Laidlaws here last summer. Her family, a motherand a lot of girls, live in the old house down in Washington Square. They're fairly well off, but Una has gone in for social work--spendsalmost all of her time at it--slumming. I don't know much about her, but I think she must be pretty fine to give up all her socialopportunities for that. "

I smiled. 

"She may have another idea of social opportunity, " I said. 

"Yes--you're quite right. I used the wrong words. One is notaccustomed in Marcia's set to find that sort of thing an opportunity. "

"Miss Van Wyck knows her?" I asked. 

"Yes. Marcia is on a committee that provides money for this particularcharity. They know each other. She came over to Briar Hills one nightwith Phil Laidlaw. Marcia saw her several times in our fields with herbutterfly net. You see, her name is unusual. Marcia guessed the rest. "

"Thanks, " I said. "I hope you've forgiven me for my churlishness. Ishould like to know you better if you'll let me. "

She turned her head toward me with a motherly smile. 

"I don't care for the society of men, " she said amusedly. "They annoyme exceedingly. "

CHAPTER XI

THE SIREN

Something went wrong with Jerry's afternoon, for not long after lunchI heard his machine in the driveway. But I didn't go out to meet him. I knew that if there was anything he wanted to say to me he would cometo the study door. But I heard him pass and go upstairs. I hadn't beenable to do any work at my book since yesterday morning, and theprospect of going on with it seemed to be vanishing with the hours. 

The astounding frankness of Miss Gore had set me thinking. As may beinferred, I did not understand women in the least and hadn't cared to, for their ways had not been my ways, nor mine theirs. But the woman'srevelations as to the character of her cousin had confirmed me in thebelief that Jerry had gotten beyond his depth. I think I understoodher motives in telling me. I was Jerry's guardian and friend. If MissGore was Marcia's cousin she was also her paid companion, hercreature, bound less by the ties of kinship than those of convention. I suppose it was Jerry's helplessness that must have appealed to themother in her, his youth, innocence and genuineness. Perhaps she wasweary treading the mazes of deception and intrigue with which the girlMarcia surrounded herself. Jerry wasn't fair game. All that was goodin her had revolted at the maiming of a helpless animal. 

For such, I am sure, Jerry already was. How much or how little theunconscious growth in the boy of the sexual impulse had to do with hissudden subjugation by the girl it was impossible for me to estimate. For if the impulse was newly born, it was born in innocence. This Iknew from the nature of his comments on his experiences in the city. Knowledge of all sorts he was acquiring, but, like Adam, of the fruitof the tree he had not tasted. And yet, even I, stoic though I was, had been sensible of the animal in the girl. Her voice, her gestures, her gait, all proclaimed her. Miss Gore had spoken of a psychicattraction. Bah! There is but one kind of affinity of a woman of thissort for a beautiful animal like Jerry!

It was bewildering for me to discover how deeply I was becominginvolved in Jerry's personal affairs. With the appointed day I hadturned him adrift to work out in his future career, alone and unaided, my theory of life and his own salvation. And yet here, at the firstsign of danger, I found myself flying to his defense as Jack Ballardwould have it, like a hen that had hatched out a duckling. I reasonedwith myself sternly that I feared nothing for Jerry. He would emergefrom such an experience greater, stronger, purer even, and yet, inspite of my confidence, I found myself planning, devising somethingthat would open the boy's eyes before damage was done. I wassolicitous for Jerry, but there were other considerations. Jerrywasn't like other men. He had been taught to reason carefully fromcause to effect. He would not understand intrigue, of course, ordouble dealing. They would bewilder him and he would put them aside, believing what he was told and acting upon it blindly. For instance, if this girl told him she cared for him, he would believe it andexpect her to prove it, not in accordance with her notions of theobligation created, but in accordance with his own. There lay thedifficulty, for he was all ideals, and she, as I suspected, had none. There would be damage done, spiritual damage to Jerry, but what mighthappen to Marcia? Jerry was innocent, but he was no fool, and with allhis gentleness he wasn't one to be imposed upon. Flynn had understoodhim. He was polite and very gentle, but Sagorski, the White Hope, knewwhat he was when aroused. I wondered if Marcia Van Wyck with all hercleverness might miss this intuition. 

Dinner time found the boy quiet and preoccupied. If he hadn't beenJerry I should have said he was sullen. That he was not himself wascertain. It was not until he had lighted his cigarette after dinnerthat he was sure enough of himself to speak. 

"What made you talk of Una to Marcia, Roger?" he asked quietly. 

"I didn't, " I said coolly. "_You_ did, Jerry. And if I had, I can'tsee what it matters. "

"It does a little, I think. You see, Marcia knows who she is. Una gavea false name. She wouldn't care to have people know she had come inhere alone. "

This was a reason, but of course not the real one. It wasn't likeJerry to mask his purposes in this fashion. I laughed at him. 

"If you'll remember, Jerry, I mentioned no names. "

"But why mention the incident at all?"

"Because to tell the truth, " I said frankly, "I thought Miss MarciaVan Wyck entirely too self-satisfied. "

He opened his eyes wide and stared at me. "Oh!" he said. 

And then after the pause:

"You don't like Marcia?"

"No, " I replied flatly, "I don't. "

He paced the length of the room, while I sat by a lamp andostentatiously opened the evening paper. 

"I hope you realize, " he said presently, with a dignity that wouldhave been ridiculous if it hadn't been pathetic, "that Miss Van Wyckis a very good friend of mine. "

"Is she?" I asked quietly. 

"Yes--I'm very fond of her. "

"Are you?" still quietly. 

"Yes. " He walked the floor jerkily, made a false start or so and thenbrought up before me with an air of decision. "I--I'm sorry you don'tlike her, Roger. I--I should be truly grieved if I--I thought youmeant it. For I intend some day to ask her to be my--my--wife. "

It was as bad as that? I dropped pretense and the newspaper, foldingmy arms and regarding him steadily. 

"Isn't this decision--er--rather sudden?" I asked evenly. 

"I've loved her from the first moment I saw her, " he exclaimed. "Sheis everything, everything that a woman should be. Amiable, charitable, beautiful, talented, intellectual. " He paused and threw out his armswith an appealing gesture. "I can't understand why you don't see it, Roger, why you can't see her as I see her. "

I was beginning to realize that the situation was one to be handledwith discretion. He was in a frame of mind where active oppositionwould only add fuel to his flame. 

"I'm sorry that I've grown to be so critical, Jerry. You forget thatI've never much cared for the sex. "

It seemed that this was just the reply to restore him to partialsanity, for his face broke in a smile. 

"I forgot, old Dry-as-dust. You don't like 'em--don't like any of 'em. That's different. But you _will_ like Marcia. You _shall_. Why, Roger, she's an angel. You couldn't help liking her. "

I smiled feebly. My acquaintance with decadent angels had beenlimited. I turned the subject adroitly. 

"Have you discovered who Una is?" I asked. 

"No. Marcia wouldn't tell me. She only laughed at me, but I reallywanted to know. She _was_ a nice girl, Roger, and I'd hate to have hershown in a false light. Not that Marcia would do that, of course, butgirls are queer. I think she really resented our acquaintance. I can'timagine why. "

"Nor I, " I said shortly. "She doesn't _own_ you, does she?"

He looked up at me with a blank expression. 

"No, I suppose not, " he said slowly. 

I followed up my advantage swiftly. 

"It's rather curious, Jerry, this attraction Miss Van Wyck has foryou. A moment ago you were chivalrous enough in your hope that Una'sidentity would not be discovered. Was this chivalry genuine? Were yousorry on Una's account or on your own? I really want to know. Youliked Una, Jerry. Didn't you?"

"Yes, but--"

"She seemed a very interesting, a fine, even a noble creature. Thethought of a girl doing the sort of things she was doing made youreproach yourself for your idleness--your cowardice, I think youcalled it. Now what I'd like to discover is whether you've quiteforgotten the impression she made--the ideal she left in your mind?"

"Of course not. My ideals are still the same. I've tried to tell youthat I'm going to put them into practice, " he muttered. 

"You've forgotten the impression made by Una herself; what reason haveyou for believing that you won't forget the ideals also?"

"There's no danger of that. She merely opened my eyes. Anyone elsecould have done the same thing. "

"Ah! Has Miss Van Wyck done so?"

"Yes. She's very charitable. But she doesn't make a business of itlike Una. She has so many interests and then--" He paused. I waited. 

"Roger, " he went on in a moment, "I thought Una wonderful. I still do. But Marcia's different. Una was a chance visitor. Marcia is afriend--an old friend. She's like no other woman in the world. Youwill understand her better some day. "

"Perhaps, " I said thoughtfully. After that Jerry would say no more. Perhaps he thought he had already said too much, for presently he tookhimself off to bed. At the foot of the stairs he paused. 

"By the way, Roger, we'll be five instead of four for dinnertomorrow. "

"Who now?"

"A friend of Marcia's, Channing Lloyd, a chap from town. He came uptoday. "

That admission cost Jerry something, and it explained many things, forI had heard of Channing Lloyd. 

"Ah, very well, " I said carelessly and shook out my paper. 

"Good-night, Roger. "

"Good-night, Jerry. "

The boy was changed. It may not seem a serious thing to you, myprecocious reader, who number your flirtations among the trivialaffairs of life. Calf love, you will say, is not a matter worthbothering one's brains about. You will class that ailment perhaps withthe whooping cough and the measles and sneer it out of existence. ButI would remind you that Jerry's mind and character were quite mature. I had schooled them myself and I know. If Jerry had fallen in lovewith Marcia Van Wyck who proposed to play at her game of"pitch-farthing" with so fine a soul as Jerry's, the thing wasserious, serious for both of them. His attitude toward the girl in hisconversation tonight reminded me that affairs had already progressed along way. She had come to Briar Hills, flattering Jerry, of course, that they could be alone, intriguing meanwhile with Channing Lloyd, awild fellow, according to Jack Ballard, who at thirty could haveunprofitably shared his omniscience with the devil. A fine foil forJerry!

At dinner, the following night, we made a curious party. Marcia VanWyck, radiant in pale green, with her admirers one at either hand;Channing Lloyd, dark, massive, well-groomed, with a narrow smile andan air of complete domination of the table; Jerry at the other side, rolling bread-pills and forcing humor rather awkwardly; Miss Gore, solemn in black satin--all of them elegant and correct in eveningclothes, while I in my rather shabby serge sat awkwardly trying tohide the shininess of my elbows. From my position at one end of thetable I had an excellent opportunity to study the company. I saw inLloyd, I think, the attraction for Marcia. His looks, his topics, hisappetites were animal and gross. He drank continuously, smoked afterhis salad, and monopolized the guest of the evening to the completeexclusion of the others. Fragments of their talk reached me, of whichI understood a little--Greek to Jerry. Miss Gore sat calmly through itall, leading Jerry into the conversation at propitious moments and outof it when it threatened incomprehension. 

There is a kind of charity of the dinner table and ballroom finer, Ithink, than the mere kindness of giving, finer because it requiresdiscretion, nobler because it requires self-elimination. The more Isaw of Miss Gore the more deeply was I impressed by her many amiablequalities. She had an ear for Jerry, but aware of my completeelimination by the rowdy upon my left, found time to relieve theawkwardness of my situation and contribute something to the pleasureof what for me would otherwise have been a very unenjoyable repast. 

But when dinner was over, to my great surprise, I found myself alonewith the girl Marcia. I have no very distinct notion of the means bywhich she accomplished this feat, remembering only hazily that we allambled over to the conservatory, where a particular variety of orchidseemed to interest the girl. And there we were, I explaining and shelistening, the others off somewhere near the entrance to thegymnasium, where I heard Lloyd's voice in bored monotone. I was quitesure in a moment that she hadn't managed to get me there to talkorchids, and I felt a vague sense of discomfort at her nearness. Ihave given the impression that her eyes were cold. As I looked intothem I saw that I had been mistaken. In the dim light they seemedillumined at their greater depth by a hidden fire. She fixed her gazeupon my face and moved ever so slightly toward me. You may think itstrange after what I have written when I say that at this moment Ifelt a doubt rising in me as to whether or not I might have done thisgirl an injustice, for her smile was frank, her air gracious, her tonefriendly. 

"Oh, Mr. Canby, " she said in her even voice, "I've wanted to tell youwhat a wonderful thing it is that you have created--to thank you forJerry. He's a gift, Mr. Canby, refreshing like the rain to thirstyflowers. You can't know what meeting a man like Jerry means to a womanlike me. I don't think you possibly can. "

"What does it mean to you?" I asked. 

"It means a new point of view on life, a thing scarce enough in thisday when all existence is either sordid or vicious. I had reached aSlough of Despond, Mr. Canby, weary of the attainable, not strongenough or clever enough or courageous enough to defy criticism andobey the small voice that urged. I was sick with self-analysis, filled to the brim with modern philosophies--"

"I understand, " I broke in with a smile, which seemed to come in spiteof me. "There's no medicine for that. "

"Yes, Jerry. I--I think he's cured me--or at least Pm well on the roadto recovery. Nobody could be mind-sick long with Jerry lettingdaylight in. "

"Daylight, yes. You found it startling?"

"A little, at first. I felt the way I look sometimes at dawn afterdancing all night, my tinsel tarnished, my color faded. All my effectsare planned for artificial light, you see. "

Her frankness disarmed me. 

"I'm thanking you for Jerry, " she went on, "but I can't help knowingthat Jerry is what you've made him; that his ideals, his simplicity, his purity are yours also. "

If she had baited her hook with flattery there was no sign ofpremeditation in the gentleness of her accents or in the friendly lookshe gave me. Could it be possible that this was the person in whom Ihad seen such a menace to Jerry's happiness?

"I have merely taught Jerry to be honest, Miss Van Wyck, " I replied. "I ask no credit of him or of you. "

"But if it pleases me to give it to you, " she said softly, "you surelycan't object. "

"No, but I don't ask laurels I don't deserve. Jerry is--merelyhimself. "

"Plus, Mr. Roger Canby--purist and pedagogue, " she laughed. "No, youcan't get out of it. Jerry reflects you; I think I actually recognizeinflections of the voice. You ought to be very glad to have laid sostrong an impress on so fine a thing. "

Just then I heard the raucous laugh of Channing Lloyd from thedistant lawn, which reminded me with a startling suddenness that thisslender creature who spoke softly of ideals and purity could choose aman like this fellow for an intimate. I noticed, too, the delicateodor which rose from her corsage of which Jack Ballard had spoken, something subtle and unfamiliar. 

I straightened and looked out through the open window, steeling myselfagainst her. 

"I am glad you think him fine, " I said dryly. "No doubt he comparesvery favorably with other young men of your acquaintance. "

"You mean Mr. Lloyd, of course, " she said quickly. 

I was silent, avoiding her gaze and her perfume. 

"I'm afraid you don't understand me, Mr. Canby, " she said softly. "I'msorry. Any friend of Jerry's ought to be a friend of mine. "

"I should like to be, of course, but--"

I paused. This woman, against my will, was making me lie to her. 

"But what--? Am I so--so unpleasant to you? What have I done to earnyour displeasure?"

"Nothing, " I stammered. "Nothing. "

"Is it that you fear the contamination of the kind of culture I'vebeen bred and born in? Or the effect of my familiarity with doctrineswith which you're not in sympathy?"

Was she mocking? Her voice was still gentle, but I had a notion thatinside of her she was laughing. It was as though, having failed to winme, she was beginning to unmask. I peered into her face. It wasguileless and wore the appealing expression of a reproachful child. 

"You do not understand, " I said. "I fear nothing for Jerry. He isstrong enough to stand alone. I hope you know just how strong he is, that's all. "

She was a little puzzled--and interested. 

"I hope I do; but I wish you would explain. "

I turned toward her quickly. 

"I mean this. You and he are very different. He cares for you, ofcourse. It was to be expected, because you're everything that he isnot. Whatever you are, Jerry will be serious. And you can't bind thecharacters of two strong people together without mutilating one or theother, or perhaps both. Jerry will believe everything you tell him andcontinue to believe it unless you deceive him. He's ingenuous, but Ihope you won't underestimate him. "

She fingered the leaves of a rose, but her eyes under their lids werelooking elsewhere. 

"How should I deceive him, Mr. Canby?" she asked, her voice stillunchanging. 

"Perhaps I put it too baldly. But I'm not in the habit; of mincingwords. Jerry is no plaything. I'll give you an instance of how much inearnest he is. " And then briefly, but with some sense of the color ofthe thing, I gave her a description of Jerry's bout with Sagorski. Shelistened without looking at me, while her slender fingers caressed therose leaf, but beneath their lids I saw; her eyes flashing. When I hadfinished I turned to her with a smile. 

"That's the kind of man that Jerry is--harmless, docile and mostagreeable, but let him be aroused--"

I paused, letting the paralipsis finish my suggestion. 

She was silent a moment, finally turning to me with a laugh that ranga little discordantly against the softness of her speech. 

"Jerry wouldn't beat _me_, would he, Mr. Canby?"

"I'm sure I haven't the least means of knowing, " I replied. 

"You are merely warning me, I see. Thanks. But I'm afraid you give mecredit for greater hardihood than I possess. On the whole I think I'mflattered. "

She snipped a bud and put it to her lips as though to conceal a smile, and then passed me slowly. 

"Come, Mr. Canby, " she said. "I think it's time we joined the others. "

It was. The night was cool, but I was perspiring profusely. 

CHAPTER XII

INTRODUCING JIM ROBINSON

Of course, I had made an enemy of the girl and to no purpose. I hadfelt her physical attraction, and I knew that only by putting myselfbeyond its pale could I be true to my own convictions as to hervenality. She was the kind of woman to whom any man, even such a oneas I, is fish for her net. A girl may whet her appetite by coquetryand deprave it by flirtation, setting at last such a value upon herskill at seduction that she counts that day lost in which some malecreature is not brought into subjection to her wiles. As I thoughtover the conversation later in the privacy of my bedroom I began torealize that instead of good I had only done harm. For a warning, sucha futile one as I had given would only inflame a girl like Marcia, andthe suggestion of danger was just the fillip her jaded tastesrequired. 

It was not long before I had a confirmation of my mistake in judgment. A week passed, a week of alternate joys and depressions for Jerry, during which he spoke little to me of the girl. The night after thedinner at the Manor he had upbraided me for telling Marcia the storyof his bout with Sagorski. He had not cared to tell her of that event, he said, because he thought it too brutal for the ears of a girl ofher delicate and sensitive nature. The next night he spoke of itagain, but this time without reserve. It seemed that Marcia was verymuch interested in his feats of physical strength and hoped that Jerrywould permit her to watch him when he sparred. Of course, he didn'tsee why she shouldn't watch him when he sparred if she was reallyinterested in that sort of thing, but it was curious how he hadmisjudged her tastes; she seemed so ethereal, so devoted to thegentler things of life, that he had not thought it possible she couldcare for the rugged art he loved, which at times, as I knew, vergedupon the brutal. I mentioned with a smile that there remained in allof us, women as well as men, some relics of the age of stone. 

"Of course, " he assented cheerfully, "I knew she wasn't namby-pamby. It's rather nice of her, I think, to take so much interest. "

A few days after that Jerry left me and I knew that Briar Hills wasclosed again. 

The events which were to follow came upon me with startlingunexpectedness. Scarcely two weeks had passed since Jerry's departureand I had hardly settled back into my routine at the Manor, where Iwas trying again to take up the lost threads of my work, when amessage came over the wire from Jack Ballard asking me to come down toNew York to visit him for a few days. I inferred from what he saidthat he wanted to see me about Jerry, and, of course, I lost no timein getting to the city and to his apartment, where I found him beforehis mirror, tying his cravat. 

"Pope, my boy, I knew you'd come. Just itching for an excuse anyway, weren't you? But you needn't look so alarmed. Jerry's all right. Hehasn't even run off; with a chorus lady or founded a home fornon-swearing truckmen. "

"Well what _has_ he done?" I asked. 

"Not much--merely engaged to become one of the principals in a prizefight in Madison Square Garden. "

"Jerry! I can't believe you. "

"It's quite true. Sit down, my boy. Have you break-fasted yet?"

"Hours ago at the Manor. "

"Just reproach! But the early worm gets caught by the bird, you know. I never get up--"

"Tell me, " I broke in impatiently, "where you heard this extravaganttomfoolery?"

"From the extravagant tomfool himself. Jerry told me yesterday. I'mafraid there's no doubt about the matter. The articles of agreementare signed, the money, five thousand a side, is in the hands of thestakeholder--one Mike Finnegan, a friend of Flynn's, who keeps asaloon upon the Bowery. "

"Preposterous! It hasn't come out, the newspapers--"

"They're full enough of it as it is. Jerry's opponent is a veryprominent pug--an aspirant for the heavyweight title, no less a onethan Jack Clancy, otherwise known as 'The Terrible Sailor, Champion ofthe Navy. '"

"But your father--the public--! It will ruin Jerry--ruin him--"

"Wait a bit. Fortunately Jerry's anonymity has been carefully kept. AtFlynn's gymnasium he's called Jim Robinson, and it's as Jim Robinson, Flynn's wonderful unknown, that he will make his public appearance. "

"But a name is a slender thread to hang Jerry's whole reputation on. He'll be recognized, of course. This thing can't go on. It must bestopped at once, " I cried. 

"Exactly, " said Ballard coolly over his coffee cup. "But how?"

"An appeal to the boy's reason. He must be insane to do such a thing. It's Flynn who's put him up to this. "

"I think not. If I understand Jerry correctly, he urged Flynn to makethe match. He's quite keen about it. "

I paced the floor in some bewilderment, trying to think of a reasonfor Jerry's strange behavior, but curiously enough the real one didnot come to me. 

"I can't imagine how such an ambition could have got into his head, " Imuttered. 

Ballard struck a match for his cigarette and smiled. 

"The nice balance of Jerry's cosmos between the purely physical andthe merely mental has been disturbed--that's all. Liberty has becomelicense and has gone into his muscles. What shall we do about it?Flatly, I don't know. That's what I asked you down to discuss. "

I took a turn or two up and down the room. 

"Your father--the executors--know nothing of this?"

"Phew! I should say not!"

"They could stop it, I suppose. "

"I'm not so sure, " he said quietly. "If the boy has made up his mind. "

I sank in a chair, trying to think. 

"The executors mustn't know. Jack. We'll keep the thing quiet. We'vegot to appeal to Jerry. "

"That's precisely the conclusion I've reached myself. I've asked himto come this morning. He may be in at any moment. "

I looked out of the window thoughtfully toward the distant Jerseyshore. 

"This isn't like Jerry. He's a fine athlete and a good sportsman--forthe fun he gets out of the thing. But he has too good a mind not to beabove the personal vulgarity of such an exhibition as this. His finerinstincts, his natural modesty, his lack of vanity--everything that weknow of the boy contradicts the notion of a personal incentive forthis wild plan. Does he know what he's doing--what it means--thepublicity--?"

"He thinks he's dodging that. Nobody knows him in New York except afew fellows at the clubs, he says. "

"But has he no consideration for _us_--for _me_?" I cried. 

"Apparently his friends haven't entered into his calculations. "

"I repeat, it isn't like him, Jack. Somebody has put this idea intohis head. "

I stopped so abruptly that Ballard regarded me curiously. 

"Somebody--who?"

I paced the floor with long strides, my fingers twitching to get thatpretty devil by the throat. I knew now--it had come in a flash oflight--Marcia. Jerry listened now to no one but Marcia; but I couldn'ttell Jack. 

"Somebody--somebody at Flynn's, " I muttered. 

He regarded me curiously. 

"But the boy is immune to flattery. There isn't a vain bone in hisbody. I confess he puzzles me. But I think you'll find he's quitestubborn about it. "

"Stubborn, yes, but--"

My remark was cut short by a ring of the bell, immediately answered byBallard's man, and Jerry entered. He was, I think, attired in one ofJack's "Symphonies, " wore a blossom in his buttonhole, swung a stickjauntily, and altogether radiated health and good humor, greeting usboth in high spirits. 

"Well, fairy godfathers, what's my gift today?" he laughed. "A goldengoose, a magic ring, or a beautiful Cinderella hidden behind thecurtain?" and he poked at the portiere playfully. "But you have theappearance of conspirators. Is it only a lecture?"

"I've just been telling Roger, " Jack began gravely, "about your fightwith Clancy, Jerry. "

I saw the boy's jaw muscles clamp, but he replied very quietly. 

"Yes, Uncle Jack. He objects, I suppose. "

"Not object, " I said quickly. "It's the wrong word, Jerry. You're yourown master, of course. We were just wondering whether you hadn'tundervalued our friendship in not asking our advice before making yourplans. "

Jerry followed a pattern in the rug with the point of his stick. 

"I wish you hadn't put it just that way, Roger. "

"I don't know how else to put it. That's the fact, isn't it, Jerry?"

"No. I don't undervalue your friendship. You know that, Roger, youtoo. Uncle Jack. I suppose I should have said something about it. ButI--I just sort of drifted into it. I think walloping Sagorski spoiledme--made me rather keen to have a try at somebody who had licked him. Clancy's almost, if not quite, the best in his class. I'll get wellthrashed, I guess, but it's going to be a lot of fun trying--and ifnobody knows who I am, I can't see what harm it does. "

I couldn't tell what there was in his tone and manner that made methink he was playing a part not his own. I was not yet used to Jerryout in the world, but as compared with the Jerry of Horsham Manor, hedidn't ring true. 

"You can't keep people from knowing, Jerry, " I said. "Your picturewill be on every sporting page in the United States. "

"Oh, we've fixed that with a photographer. Flynn had a picture of acousin of his who is dead--young chap--looked something like me. They're faking the thing. "

The boy was getting a new code of morals as well as a new vocabulary. 

"You can't hide a lie, Jerry. "

"I'm not harming anybody, " he muttered. 

"Nobody but yourself, " I said sternly. 

"I don't see that, " he growled, clasping his great fists over hisknees. 

"It's the truth. You'll harm yourself irrevocably. The thing will comeout somehow. Jim Robinson isn't Jerry Benham. He's the New York andSouth Western Railroad Company, the Seaboard Transportation Line, theUnited Oil Company--"

"I'd get Clancy's goat in the first round if he thought I was allthat, wouldn't I?" Jerry grinned sheepishly, while Jack Ballard foughtback a smile. 

"If you won't consider your own interests, what you must consider isthat you've no right to jeopardize the property interests of those whohave put their money and their faith behind these enterprises whichyou control. You're already in a responsible position. You're makingyourself a mountebank, a laughing-stock. No one will ever trust you ina position of responsibility again. "

"I'm sorry, Roger, if you think things are as bad as that, " said Jerrycoolly. "I don't. And besides, I'm too far in this thing to back outnow. "

There was no shaking his resolution. We pleaded with him, argued, cajoled, ridiculed, but all to no purpose. Jack painted a picture ofthe crowd in the Garden, the cat-calls, the jeers, imitated theintroduction of past and present champions, and Jerry winced a little, but was not moved. Finding all else unavailing, I fell back upon ourfriendship, recalling all Jerry's old ideals and mine. He softened alittle, but merely repeated:

"I can't back out now, Roger. They'll think me a quitter. I'd like toplease you in everything, but I can't, Roger, I can't. "

Jack Ballard was so incensed at this obstinacy that he swore at theboy, flung out of the room and disappeared. 

With a sober expression Jerry watched him go out and then rose andwalked slowly to the window. I looked at him in silence. I knew hismanner. Confession was on the tip of his tongue, and yet he would notspeak. But I waited patiently. Finally the silence became oppressive, and he swung around at me petulantly. 

"I can't see what's the use of making such a lot of fuss over thething, " he muttered. "It seems as though because I have a lot of moneyI've got to be fettered to it hand and foot. I'm not going to be aslave to a desk. I've warned you of that. You wanted me to be a greatathlete, Roger, and now when I'm putting my skill to the test yourebel. "

"An athlete--but a gentleman. There are some things a gentlemandoesn't do. "

"A gentleman, " he sneered. "I hear of a lot of things a gentleman mustnot do. Perhaps I don't know what the word means. In New York agentleman can get drunk at dances, swear, treat people impolitely, andas long as he comes of a good family or has money back of him nobodyquestions him. So long as I treat people decently and do no one anyharm I'm willing to take my chances with God Almighty. With SailorClancy fighting is a business. With me it's a sport. He hasn't hadmany good matches. I've given him a chance to make five thousanddollars and gate receipts. Who am I hurting? Surely not Clancy. NotFlynn. His gym is so full of people we've had to get special trainingquarters. I've hired a lot of people to look after me, rubbers, assistants--why, old Sagorski worships the very ground I walk on. Whoam I hurting?" he urged again. 

"Yourself, " I persisted sternly. 

He laughed up at the ceiling. 

"Good old Roger! You haven't much opinion of my moral fiber, afterall, have you? My poor old morals! They'd all be shot to shreds bynow if you had your way. I don't drink, steal, cheat, lie--"

I rose, shrugging my shoulders, and walked past him. 

"I'll say no more except that I hope you know I think you're a fool. "

"I do, Roger, " he laughed. "You've indicated it clearly. "

At the fireplace I turned, laying my trap for him skillfully. 

"You've told Marcia?" I asked carelessly. 

"Yes, " he said. "You see, Marcia--" he bit his lip, reddened and cameto a full stop, searching my face with a quick glance, but he found meelaborately removing a speck of lint from my coat sleeve. 

"Yes, Jerry. Marcia--?" I encouraged innocently. 

For a fraction of a minute he paused and then went on, blurting thewhole thing in his old boyish way. 

"You see, Marcia's very broad-gauge, Roger. She's really very muchinterested in the whole thing. It was a good deal of a surprise to me. It began when she heard about my bout with Sagorski. She was awfullykeen about my gym work--you remember--at the Manor that night. Shethought every man ought to develop his body to its fullest capability. I had Flynn out one night at Briar Hills. I didn't tell you aboutthat--thought you mightn't understand--and we sparred six fast rounds. She kept the time and thought it was great. It was like going to avaudeville show, she said, only a thousand times more exciting. Shetried to make Lloyd do a turn, but he wouldn't, though I'd have likedto have mussed him up a bit. Well, one thing led to another and wehad a lot of talks about education--you know, the Greek idea. Itseemed that my work with you was just in line with her wholephilosophy of life. " (God bless his innocence--_her_ philosophy and_mine_!) "The whole scheme of modern life was lopsided, she said, allthe upper classes going to brains and no body and all the lowerclasses all to body and no brains. Conflict in the end was inevitable. The unnatural way of living was weakening the fiber of the governingpowers the people of which intermarried and brought into the worldchildren of weak muscular tissue. She doesn't believe in marriageunless both the man and the woman have passed rigid physical tests asto their fitness. "

"What tests?" I asked interestedly. 

"Oh, I don't know. A woman who bears a child ought surely to have thestrength to do it. You and I have never talked much about thesethings, Roger, and the miracle of birth, like the miracle of death, must always be an enigma to us. But I think she's right, and I toldher that if she was ever going to have any children she ought to havea gym built both at Briar Hills and in town for herself and begingetting in shape for it right away. "

"And what did she say to that?" I asked trying to keep countenance. 

"Oh, she laughed and said that she wasn't thinking of having anychildren just yet. "

This, then, was the type of after-dinner conversation that took placebetween them. I began more clearly to understand the fascination thatJerry had for her--to understand, too, her growing delight in thesplendid, vital, innocent animal that she had chained to her chariotwheel. 

"Go on, Jerry, " I said in a moment. "She wants you to typify the newrace--"

"Exactly. To spread the gospel of physical strength among my ownkind--to prove that mind, other things being more or less equal, isgreater than matter. "

"I see, " I said thoughtfully. "Then it _was_ Marcia's idea, wasn'tit?"

He hesitated a moment before replying. 

"Oh, yes, I suppose so. But I've been pretty keen about it from thebeginning. You must admit that it's interesting in theory. "

"The superbeast versus the superman, " I commented. "Your mind is madeup then--irrevocably?"

"Yes. "

I had not known Jerry all these years for nothing. I shrugged myshoulders and sank into my chair again. "Then, of course, there'snothing for it but to try to keep the thing out of the papers. "

He took up his hat and stick gayly. "Oh, they'll never guess in theworld. When I go down to Flynn's I get into an old suit Christophergot for me down on Seventh Avenue--a hand-me-down, and when Marciagoes she wears--"

"Ah--Marcia goes--?"

"Oh, yes, sometimes in the afternoons. She wears the worst-lookingthings--her maid got 'em somewhere. She watches me work. They call hermy 'steady. ' It's great sport. She's having more fun than she ever hadbefore in her life, she says. I'd like you to run down thisafternoon. You know the place. It will liven up your dry bones. Comealong, will you?"

"Perhaps, " I said helplessly, looking out of the window. 

CHAPTER XIII

UNA

Jerry's destiny was indeed in the lap of the gods. Whatever may havebeen my hope, during his visit to the Manor, of opening his eyes, Inow confessed myself utterly at a loss. He was dipping life up by theladle-full and yet curiously enough thus far had missed the vital, thesignificant fact of existence. I supposed that it was because thehistory of his early years was known to but few and that the men withwhom he came into contact, nice enough fellows at the clubs, friendsof Jack Ballard, had taken his worldliness for granted. He had missedthe filthy story perhaps, or if he had heard it, had ignored its pointand turned away to topics he understood. Business, too, had taken someof his time and Marcia had taken more. The clubs, I had inferred, hadnot greatly interested him. Flynn, his other crony, was noscandal-monger and the habits of the years at Horsham Manor wouldstill be strong with him at the gymnasium. As I have said before, Jerry hadn't the kind of a mind to absorb what did not interest him. 

It must be obvious, however, that I was greatly concerned over Jerry'sventure into pugilism. I tried to view the Great Experiment as from agreat distance, as across a space of time looking forward to the hourwhen Jerry would emerge scatheless from all his tests both materialand spiritual. But Jerry's personality, his thoughts, hissensibilities bulked too large. There was no room for a perspective. To all intents and purposes I myself was Jerry, thinking his thoughts, tasting his enthusiasms and his regrets. But I think if he had marrieda street wench or engaged in a conspiracy to blow up the Capitol atWashington I could scarcely have been more perturbed for him than Iwas at finding how strong was the influence that this girl Marciaexercised upon his actions. His fondness for her was the only flaw Ihad ever discovered in Jerry's nature. He could speak of herspirituality as he pleased, but there was another attraction here. Ihad felt the allure of her personality, a magnetism less mental thanphysical. Physical, of course, and because incomprehensible to Jerrythe more marvelous. I had looked upon the boy as a perfect humananimal, forgetting that he was only an animal after all. Marcia, thewoman without a heart, whose game was the hearts of others! Bah! Nowoman without a heart could hold Jerry. If passion danced to him inthe mask of a purer thing, Jerry's honesty would strip off thedisguise in time. The danger was not now, but then, and even thenperhaps more hers than his. 

I waited long for Jack Ballard, but he did not return and so I wentout into the streets and walked rapidly for exercise down town in thegeneral direction of Flynn's Gymnasium over on the East Side, where Iproposed to meet Jerry later in the afternoon. I had kept no record ofthe time and when my appetite advised me that it was the luncheonhour, I looked at my watch. It was two o'clock. I sauntered into across street, finding at last a quiet place where I could eat andthink in peace. "Dry-as-dust!" I was. Twelve years ago I had railed atthe modern woman and learned my lesson from her. But now--! The yearshad swept madly past my sanctuary, license running riot. Sin stalkedopenly. The eyes of the women one met upon the streets were hard withknowledge. Nothing was sacred--nothing hidden from young or old. Andmen and women of wealth and tradition--I will not call them society, which is far too big a word for so small a thing--men and women bornto lead and mold public thought and conduct, showed the way to avoluptuousness which rivaled tottering Rome. 

And this was the world into which my sinless man had been liberated!

I smiled to myself a little bitterly. It was unfortunate that out ofall the women in New York, Jerry should have fallen in love with thefirst hypocrite that had come his way, a follower of strange gods, cold, calculating, too selfish even to be sinful! Eheu! She wasgetting on my nerves. Analysis--always analysis! I could not let herbe. She obsessed me as she had obsessed Jerry--a slender wisp of athing that I could have broken in my fingers and would still, I think, unless reason returned. 

I paid my bill and would have risen, but just at that moment throughthe door beside my table entered, to my bewilderment, Jerry himselfand a girl. I was so amazed at seeing him in this place that I made nosound or motion and watched the pair pass without seeing me and take atable beyond a small palm tree just beside me, and when they wereseated my amazement grew again, for I saw that his companion was thegirl Una--Una Habberton who had called herself Smith. Theirappearance at this moment together found me at a loss to know what todo. To get up and join them would interfere with a tête-à-tête which, whatever its planning, I deemed most fortunate; to get up and leavethe room without being observed would have been impossible, for Jerryfaced the door. So I sat debating the matter, watching the face of thegirl and listening to the conversation, aware for a second time that Iwas playing the part of eavesdropper upon these two and now withoutjustification. And yet no qualm of conscience troubled me. Brazen shemay have seemed at Horsham Manor, but here in New York in her sobersuit and hat she seemed to have lost something of her raffishdemeanor, and there was a wholesomeness about her, a frankness in hersmile, which was distinctly refreshing. 

It was not until several days later that I heard from Jerry how theyhad happened to meet. It seems that after leaving Ballard's apartmentJerry had gone home, attired himself in his old suit and made his wayto meet Flynn, with whom he had an appointment to go down toFinnegan's saloon to attend to some final details of his match withClancy. This business finished, the party came out upon the street, Jerry, Flynn, Finnegan (in his shirt sleeves) and Clancy's manager, Terry Riley. In the midst of a brogue of farewells Jerry fairly bumpedinto the girl. He took off his hat and apologized, finding himselflooking with surprise straight into Una's face. She started back andwould have gone on, but Jerry caught her by the arm. 

"Una!" he said. "Don't you know me?"

"Yes, Jerry. Of course, but it seems so strange to see you--here--"She paused. "To see you down here--in the Bowery. "

"It is, isn't it?" he stammered. "But I--I'll explain in a minute--ifyou'll let me walk with you. "

She looked him over with a sober air, her gaze passing for a momentover his soft hat pulled down over the eyes, his rough clothing, thecigarette in his fingers (he hadn't really begun rigid training yet), and then shrugged. 

"Of course, I can have no objection, " she said coolly. 

Jerry threw the cigarette away. 

"I suppose you think it's very curious to see me down here atFinnegan's, " Jerry repeated. 

No reply. 

"I've been there on--er--a matter of business--with--with Flynn. He'smy athletic instructor, you know. It's a sort of secret. I--I'msupposed to belong up town. "

"Oh, _are_ you?" Still, I think, the cool, indifferent tone. 

"You know I--I'm awfully glad to see you. I've been hunting for youever since I came out of the--the asylum--you know. "

It must have pleased her that Jerry should have remembered her phrase. 

"Really!" her tone melting a little. "It's pleasant tobe--remembered. "

She turned and again searched him slowly with her gaze, smiling alittle. 

"How long have you been in New York?"

"Oh, ages--almost two months. "

"And in that time, " she said quizzically, "the Faun has learned thehabit of saloons and cigarettes. You've progressed, haven't you?"

"Oh, I say, Una. That's not quite fair. I don't make a habit ofsaloons, and a cigarette once in a while doesn't hurt a fellow if hiswind and heart are good. "

"And _are_ your wind and heart good?" she asked with her puzzlingsmile. 

"Now you're making fun of me. You always did though, didn't you? Youknow it's awfully fine to hear you talk like that. Makes it seem as ifwe'd just met by the big rock on the Sweetwater. You remember, don'tyou?"

"Yes, I remember, " she replied. 

He eyed her sober little profile curiously. She seemed strangelydemure. 

"I don't think you're very glad to see me, " he said. "I thoughtperhaps you would be. There were so many things that we began to talkabout and didn't finish. I've thought about them a good deal. I reallywant to talk to you about them again. Couldn't we--er--go somewhereand--Have you had lunch yet? Can't we find a place to get a cup oftea?"

She turned toward him and their eyes met. When her gaze turned awayfrom him she was smiling. 

"Yes. I'd like a cup of tea, " she said after a moment of deliberation. 

He didn't very well know this part of the city, but he remembered arestaurant he had once gone to with Flynn, the very one, it seems, where I had taken refuge. And there they were, looking at each otheracross the table, the girl, as Jerry expressed it, a little demure, alittle quizzical, possibly a little upon the defensive, but friendlyenough. If she hadn't been friendly, he argued, most properly, shewouldn't have come with him. 

"I can't seem to think it's really you, " Jerry began after he hadgiven his order. "You're different somehow--soberer and a littlepale. "

"Am I?"

"Yes, I can't think just how I expected you to look in New York. Ofcourse, you wouldn't wear leather gaiters, or carry a butterfly net. There aren't any butterflies in the Bowery, are there?"

"No--no butterflies. " She paused a moment. "Only moths with singedwings. "

She examined him furtively, but he was frankly puzzled. 

"Moths--! I don't think I understand. "

"Yes--moths--I--I spend a good deal of my time at the Blank StreetMission. "

"And what is that?"

She gazed for a moment at him wide-eyed. 

"A home--a refuge, " she went on haltingly, "for--for women in trouble. They're the moths--bewildered by the lights of the town--they--theysinge their wings and then we try to help them. "

"It's great of you, Una. "

"And what do you do with _your_ time?" she broke in quickly. "Whomhave you met? Is the riddle of existence easier for you in New Yorkthan at Horsham Manor?"

"No, " he blurted out. "I don't understand it at all. I'm always makingthe most absurd mistakes. I'm fearfully stupid. Do you ever use rouge, Una?"

The suddenness of the question took her aback, but in a second shewas smiling in spite of herself. 

"No, I don't, Jerry. But lots of girls do. It's the fashion. "

"I know, but do you approve of it?"

"It's very effective if not overdone, " she evaded. 

"But do you approve of it?" he insisted. 

"There's no harm in it, is there? I'd wear it if I wanted to. "

"But you don't want to. "

"No. Why do you want to know?"

But he didn't seem to hear her question. 

"Do you drink cocktails? Or smoke cigarettes?"

"No. I don't like cocktails. Besides they're not served at theMission. We think they might create false notions of the purposes ofthe organization. "

He didn't laugh. 

"But surely you smoke cigarettes!"

"No, I don't smoke. I don't like cigarettes. "

"But if you liked them, _would_ you smoke?" he questioned eagerly. 

"What a funny boy you are! What difference does it make what I do ordon't do?"

"Would you smoke, if you liked to?" he still insisted. 

She was very much amused. 

"How can I tell what I'd do if I liked to when I don't like to?"

"Do you approve of them then--for women, I mean?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just because I'd like to know what you think of such things--becauseyou seem to me to be so calm, so sane in your point of view. Youalways impressed me that way--from the very first, even when you weremaking fun of me. "

"Why do you think I'm sane?" she asked amusedly. 

"Because there's no nonsense about you. There are a lot of things I'dlike to talk to you about--things I don't quite understand--if you'donly let me see you. "

"You're seeing me now, aren't you?"

"Yes. But I can't talk about them all--at once. "

"You've made a pretty good start, I should say. "

Jerry laughed. "I have, haven't I? That's the way I always do when I'mwith you. "

"Always?" she inquired, raising her brows with a show of dignity. "Doyou realize that I have only met you once--twice before in mylife--and then _most_ informally?"

"I feel as if I'd known you always. "

"But you haven't. And I'm beginning to think I don't know you at all. "

"But you do, better than anybody almost. It was awfully good of you tocome here with me today--after my meeting you the way I did. I oughtto apologize. Girls don't like to go with fellows when they come outof saloons, but I wasn't drinking, you know. "

"Oh, weren't you?"

"No, " he said hastily. And then to cover a possible misconception ofhis meaning, "But of course I _would_ drink, if I wanted to. I don'tsee any difference between having a drink at Finnegan's and having itin a club uptown. "

She regarded him for a moment in silence and then, "You do belong to some of the clubs, then?"

"Oh, yes. The Cosmos, the Butterfly and several others--" He broke offwith a laugh. "You see, I'm supposed to be something of a swell"--

"You don't look much of a swell today, " she said with a glance at hisclothes. "And Finnegan's, though exclusive for the Bowery, is hardlywhat might be called smart. I _am_ curious, Jerry. Curiosity is one ofmy besetting sins--otherwise I'd never have gotten inside your wall. I've been wondering what on earth you could have been doing inFinnegan's saloon. "

Jerry sipped at his tea and was silent. The girl's eyes stillquestioned good-humoredly and then, still smiling, looked away. ButJerry would not speak. A coward she had once called him. Was it thathe feared her sober judgment of this wild plan of his? Did he seesomething hazardous in the conservatism of her calm slate-blue eyesthat would put his new mode of thought, his new habit of mind to testswhich they might not survive?

"I--I said it was on business of Flynn's, " he evaded at last. "He's avery good friend of mine. It wouldn't interest you in the least, youknow, " he finished lamely. 

"Possibly not, " she said calmly. "I hope you'll forgive myimpertinence. "

He felt the change in her tone and was up in arms at once. "Don't talkin that way, Una. I'd let you know if there was any possible use. " Hepaused and then decidedly, "But there isn't, you see. Won't you takemy word for it?"

She laughed at his serious demeanor. 

"You know I _am_ a curious creature, unduly so about this. But you_do_ seem a little like the Caliph in the Arabian Nights, or PrinceFlorizel in London. You aren't a second-story man, are you? Or amember of a suicide club?"

He gazed at her in perplexity and then laughed. "You're just as realas ever, aren't you?"

"Real! I should hope so. But _you_ aren't. The first time I see you, you're a woodland philosopher, living on berries and preaching in thewilderness; the second time, you're merely a caged enthusiast withouta mission; the third time you're Haroun al Raschid, smoking cigarettesat Finnegan's. I wonder what you're going to be next. "

He felt the light sting of irony, but her humor disarmed him. 

"I'm not going to be anything else, " he said slowly. "And I'm not anenthusiast without a mission. I may have been then, but I'm not now. You don't just understand. I'm pretty busy in a way, learning theropes, business, social and all the rest of them, but I'm not idle. I'm learning something all the time, Una, and I'm going to try tohelp--I can, too. "

"Do you really mean that?" she asked incredulously when he paused. 

"Yes, I mean it. I want to try to help right away, if you'll let me. See here, Una--" He leaned across the table in a sudden burst ofenthusiasm. "I don't want you to think that I've ever said anything Idon't mean. I said up there at Horsham Manor that I wanted to help youin your work, and I'm going to prove it to you that whatever yourdoubts of me I haven't changed my purposes. You didn't believe mewhen I said I'd been hunting for you. You don't have to, if you don'twant to, but you'll have to believe me now when I tell you that I wantto set aside a fund for you to use--to administer yourself. Oh, youneedn't be surprised. I've got more money than I know what to do with. It's rotting in a bank--piling up. I don't want it. I don't need it, and I want you to take some of it right away and put it where it willdo the most good. You've got to take it--you've got to, if only toprove that you don't believe me insincere. I'm going to start givingmoney now and if you don't help me I'll have to ask somebody else. I'drather have you do it, personally, than work through some big charityorganization, that would spend seven or eight dollars, in overheadcharges, before they could distribute one. That kind of charity is allvery well and does fine work, I suppose, but I want to feel that I'mhelping personally--directly. I'll want to pitch in down here some dayand do what I can myself. You've got to do it, Una--let me give yousome money to start with right away, won't you?"

He paused breathless awaiting her reply. Her face was turned toward meduring the whole of Jerry's rather long speech and I watched the playof emotion upon her features. She had been prepared, I suppose, fromthe appearance of Jerry's companions at Finnegan's, to find herwoodland idyl shattered, and she followed Jerry word by word throughhis boyish outburst, incredulously at first, then earnestly and theneagerly. She had an unusually expressive countenance and thetransition I observed was the more illuminating in the light of myprevious knowledge of their acquaintance. Jerry was enthroned again, panoplied in virtues. 

"You almost take my breath way, " she said at last. "It's verybewildering, " she smiled. "But are you sure you're--" she paused. "Imean, isn't there someone else to be consulted?"

"No, " he cried, I think a little triumphantly. "No one, I'm my ownmaster. I can do as I please. How much do you want, Una? Would fivethousand help? Five thousand right away? And then five thousand morethe first of each month?"

She started back in her chair and gazed at him in an expression ofmingled incredulity and dismay. 

"Five thou--!"

"And five thousand a month, " Jerry repeated firmly. 

"You can't mean--"

"I do. See here. I'll show you. "

He felt in his pockets, I suppose for his check-book, --but could notfind it. Naturally! It evidently wasn't a habit of the pugilistRobinson to carry about in his hand-me-down suit a check-book carryinga bank balance of forty or fifty thousand dollars. He was rather putout at not finding it and felt that she must still consider hismagnificent offer somewhat doubtfully. 

"Well, I'll send it to you tomorrow. You'll see if I don't. "

The boy was uppermost in him now and I saw the gay flash of her eyewhich recognized it--the enthusiast of Horsham Manor who wanted tohelp cure the "plague spots. "

"I knew it, " she laughed at him. "I knew you'd be somebody else if Ionly waited long enough. Now you're Prester John and Don Quixoterolled into one. You propose by the simple process of financing theoperation to turn our slums into Happy Valleys, our missions intogardens of resurrection. It's a very beautiful purpose, Jerry, quiteworthy of your colorful imagination, but the modern philanthropistdoesn't wed his Danae with a shower of gold. He's discovered that it'svery likely to turn her head. "

"But if it's wisely given--" he put in peevishly. 

"Oh, wisely! That's just the point. "

"It ought not to be so difficult. "

She smiled at him soberly. 

"Charity isn't merely giving money, Jerry, " she said. "Money sometimesdoes more harm than good. "

"I can't see that. "

"It's quite true. We try to keep people from being dependent. What youpropose is a kind of philanthropic chaos. If I used your money asfreely as you would like, it wouldn't be long before half the peoplein my district would be living on you--giving nothing--no effort, nowork, no self-respect in return. You don't mind if I say so, but thatsort of thing isn't charity, Jerry. It's merely sentimental tomfoolerywhich might by accident do some good, but would certainly do muchharm. "

Jerry's eyes opened wide as he listened. She was frank enough, but Icouldn't help admitting to myself that she was quite wise. Jerry wasdiscovering that it wasn't so easy to help as he had supposed. Whatever he may have thought of her theories of social science, hemade no comment upon them. 

"Then you won't let me help you?" he asked quite meekly, for Jerry. 

"Oh, no, " she smiled coolly. "I didn't say that. I was merely tryingto show you what the difficulties are. We're very glad to getvoluntary contributions when we're sure just what we can do with them. I know of several cases now--"

"Yes, " eagerly. "Whatever you need--"

"But five thousand--"

"Couldn't you use it?" eagerly. 

She paused and then smiled brightly across the table at him. 

"I'll try to, Jerry. "

"And the five thousand a month?" he urged. "Oh, you don't know, Una. It isn't a third of my income even now and later I've got more--somuch that I'm sick thinking of it. You've got to use it, somehow. Ifyou can't help the women, use it on the men, or the children--"

"We might add a day nursery--" she murmured thoughtfully. 

"Yes, that's it--a day nursery--wonderful thing--a day nursery. Addtwo of 'em. You must. You've got to plan; and if your organizationisn't big enough to handle it, you must get the right people to helpyou. "

He reached across the table, upsetting a teacup, and seized her handsin both of his. "Oh, you will, Una, won't you?"

She withdrew her hands gently and looked at him, on her lips a queerlittle crooked smile. 

"What are you now? The philosopher, the enthusiast or the Caliph?You're very insistent, aren't you? I think you must be the Caliph--orthe Grand Cham!"

"Then you agree?" he cried. 

"I'll try, " she said quietly. 

Jerry gave a great gasp. "By Jove, " he said with a boyish laugh. "Ican't tell you what a relief it is to get this off my mind. I know Iought to be down here helping, but I--I can't just now. UncleJack--that's Ballard Junior--says I've got a place in the world tokeep up and a lot of rubbish about--"

"That's very right and proper--of course, " she said, gathering up hergloves. 

He noted the motion. 

"Oh, don't go yet, Una. There are a lot of things I'd like to askyou. "

"I think I will have to go. "

"But you'll let me see you and talk to you about things, won't you?"

"Of course, I'll have to make an accounting of your money--"

"Oh, yes--the check. You'll get it tomorrow. "

"But, Jerry--"

"Your address, please, " he insisted with a stern and business-likeair. 

The moment was propitious. They would certainly see me when they gotup, so when their heads were bent together over the slip of paper thewaiter brought, I quietly rose and, braving detection, went out of thedoor. 

CHAPTER XIV

JERRY GOES INTO TRAINING

Outside the restaurant I changed my plans. I decided not to go toFlynn's that afternoon, for I wanted Jerry to understand how little Iwas in sympathy with his prize fight. And after the first day he nolonger insisted on my going with him. But he came to Ballard'sapartment and we had several talks in which, after one final andfruitless effort to dissuade him from his fight, I gave up and wetalked of other things. 

It was not necessary for me to tell Jerry that I had overheard hisinterview with Una Habberton. And when he spoke of the incident, Iencouraged him to talk until I learned just how much--and howlittle--the meeting meant to him. The impression, the rather uniqueimpression she had first made upon the clean, fair surface of hismind, remained indelibly printed: the first female creature he hadseen and talked with, a youthful being, like himself, with whom hecould talk as he talked with me, without care or restraint, --acreature of ideals, humor, and a fine feeling for human companionshipwhich she did not hesitate to share; a friend like Skookums or me, butof an infinitely finer grain, with a gentler voice, a smoother skinand softer eyes, better to look at; in short, more agreeable, moresurprising, more sympathetic, more appealing. This chance meeting, Ithink, merely confirmed the previous impression, reasserting an earlyconception of femininity with which the charms of Marcia Van Wyckcould have nothing in common. He must have compared them, but withdifferent standards of comparison, for each in Jerry's mind was _suigeneris_. The glamour of Marcia, her perfumes, her artistry, the lureof her voice and eyes, her absorbing abstractions and suddenenthusiasms--how could Una's quaint transitions compare with such asthese? And yet I am sure that he judged Una Habberton not unfavorablyin Marcia's reflected glamour, for he spoke of the character in herhands (thinking of Marcia's rosy nails) and the radiancy of her smile(thinking of Marcia's red lips). And whatever he may have thought ofher personal pulchritude or the quiet magnetism of her friendliness, there was no room in his mind just now for the merely spiritual. IfUna had a place in his heart, it was where the ebb and flow werequiet, not in the mid-stream of hot blood. But Jerry kept his word. His check for Una's day nursery went forward on the day followingtheir meeting and Jerry found time in the intervals between Marcia, business and the gymnasium to call upon Una and talk over in a generalway the great project in which their interest was involved. I heardlittle of these few meetings, for after a short visit with Ballard, during which we discussed Jerry's plans in despair, I went back to theManor to resume my much neglected work. 

It was now March. I missed Jerry as I knew I should miss him always atthis season when it had been our custom to fare forth in search ofwoodland adventure and the early signs of spring. I wondered if Jerryin the city could be feeling the call of the wanderlust as I did. Imanaged to work a few hours of each day, but my habit of concentrationseemed to fail me, and my thoughts kept recurring unpleasantly to theruin Jerry was courting both for his reputation and his spirit. Cleanas he was, he couldn't play too long with pitch and not be defiled. Iheard one day that Briar Hills had just been opened and I pricked upmy ears. Aha! It couldn't be long now before the bird would comehoming. 

The notice of this home-coming reached me in the form of a wire. 

"Will arrive with party tomorrow. Have six bedrooms prepared forguests. Will explain when I see you. "

Six bedrooms! A house party--in the very midst of his training! Icouldn't understand. A fine hope surged in me. A house party--guests!Could it be that something had happened to change his plans? Had hegiven up his bout with Clancy? I could hardly restrain my impatienceand tried to get Jack Ballard on the telephone. He had left town. Itwas very curious; for somewhere in me vague misgivings stirred. Whatif--!

The morrow brought the painful solution of my uncertainties. Fortoward four o'clock of the afternoon there was a roaring ofautomobiles in the drive which brought me to the study window, fromwhich vantage point I saw Jerry dismounting from the car in front withthree other men, Flynn, Christopher and a large colored man, whilefrom the other car, a hired machine, by the look of it, four otherfigures descended--all unloading suit-cases upon the terrace steps--amotley crowd in flannel shirts and sweaters, with cropped heads, thicknecks and red hands, all talking loudly and staring up at the towersof the house as though they expected them to fall on them. This thenwas Jerry's house-party--! Thugs, cut-throats, apaches--his pugilistfriends from Flynn's!

[Illustration: "This then was Jerry's house-party--!"]

Jerry hurried along the terrace and met me at the hall door, where heburst into unseemly laughter. I suppose at the expression of dismaywhich must have been written upon my countenance. He seized me by bothhands and led me indoors. 

"There wasn't any use wiring you the truth, Roger. I didn't want tomake you unhappy any sooner than I had to. Are you upset?"

"Nothing can ever upset me again, " I said with dignity. "It's yourhouse. I can move out. "

"But you won't, Roger, " he clapped an arm around my shoulders andwalked me into the study. "We're not going to bother you. But we justhad to get away from town for some road work--and it's devilishconspicuous anywhere near the city, people watching, reporters and allthat sort of thing. "

He turned, for the dismayed servants had come out and stood in a rowin the hall aghast at the appearance of the visitors who stoodawkwardly shifting their feet in the main doorway, their suit-casesand bundles in their arms, awaiting directions. 

"Take those things upstairs--show 'em, Christopher, " says Jerry. "Youshow 'em to their rooms, Poole. And when you're washed up, Flynn, comedown here again. "

Over his shoulder I watched the hulking devils go past in sheepishsingle file with furtive glances at me. When they had passed out ofsight, Jerry explained rapidly. 

"You see, Roger, we had to do it. There was no other way. I neededsome running badly and there wasn't a chance for it--without the wholething coming out in the papers. "

I smiled ironically. "And you think you've chosen a way to avoid publicityby bringing these"--I restrained myself with difficulty--"these_gentlemen_ here? Don't you know that every paper in New Yorkwill have a man here writing the thing up?"

"No, they won't. They can't get in. I stopped at the Lodge as I cameby and gave my orders. "

"But they'll know that Jim Robinson and Jerry Benham are the same. "

Jerry winked an eye and laid a finger along his nose. 

"No, they won't, old Dry-as-dust, for the very simple reason that heisn't. "

"I don't understand. "

"Well, you see, I'm Jim Robinson and _you_ are Jerry Benham. "

"I!" I gasped. 

"Precisely. You are Jerry Benham, patron of the manly art--Mæcenas, friend and backer of Robinson aforesaid, whom you've invited toHorsham Manor to complete his training. "

"Preposterous! These--these bruisers" (I let go now) "think I'm_you_?"

"No, dear Roger, not I, who am Robinson, but Jerry Benham, multi-millionaire and king of good fellows. Flynn knows the truth, ofcourse, but he's shut as tight as a clam. He won't talk, for his owninterests are involved. "

"You expect me to play the part of good fellow, " I broke out when Ihad sufficiently recovered from the shock of his information. "Youexpect me to entertain this motley aggregation of assorted criminalsas Jerry Benham! Well, I won't, and that's flat. "

"Now, Roger, don't be unreasonable, " he said with a cajoling smile. "They're a pretty decent lot, really. Sagorski--the big chap with thefuzzy hair, he's not half bad when you know him; and Carty, the onewith the cauliflower ear, his fight comes off inside of a week. We'rehelping him out, too, you see--good food, clean air--bully fellow--alittle too finely drawn just now and a bit irritable--"

"I see. A bit irritable--so am I--"

"And then, " he went on, "the other big fellow is Tim O'Halloran, mychopping block, has a nasty left--and is a demon for punishment. Thelittle fellow is Kid Spatola, an Italian, one of my handlers, thebootblack champion. Oh, they're a fine lot, Roger--You'll get to like'em. Nothing like being thrown with chaps a lot to know what they'relike--inside of 'em, I mean. "

"Quite true, " I remarked with desperate calmness. "And who, if I mayask, is the colored gentleman in the yellow sweater?"

"Oh!" said Jerry pleasantly. "That's Danny Monroe, my rubber. He's thebest masseur outside of Sweden, knows all the tricks; wait until yousee him rubbing me down. "

"I shall try to possess my soul in patience until then, " I said. "Haveyou designated which of the spare rooms these gentlemen are tooccupy?"

"Ah, don't be stodgy, Roger, " he said. "They'll all be in the wing. They won't bother you. I'm counting on you to help. Just try, won'tyou? It will only be for about three weeks. "

I gasped and sank into the nearest chair. Three weeks in which thisgang of hoodlums must be fed, looked after and entertained. I washelpless. Radford, the superintendent, had gone for a lengthy visit torelatives in California. 

"I hope you have their criminal records--also a private detective towatch the silver, " I murmured weakly. 

"No, I haven't, " Jerry retorted. "I'm not afraid of any of them. It'srather narrow, Roger, to think, just because a chap goes into pugilismas a business, that he isn't straight. You've taught me that one manis as good as another and now you're--you're crawling. That's whatyou're doing--crawling. "

I was indeed, crawling, groveling. I strove upward, but remainedprostrate. 

"How could you do such a thing, Jerry?" I remonstrated feebly. 

He patted me on the back--much, I think, as he would have pattedSkookums in encouragement. 

"Oh, be a good sport, Roger. You _can_ be when you want to, you know. We won't bother you. We'll be in the gym or on the road most of theday, and in bed at nine sharp. "

"What do you--want me to do?" I stammered at last. 

"Why nothing, " he said, his face brightening. "Just to be Jerry Benhamfor awhile. It isn't such a lot to ask, is it? Just make believeyou're pleased as punch to have 'em around--come and watch me work"(he had the jargon at his tongue's tip) "and show some interest inthe proceedings. You _are_ interested, Roger. "

"I'm not. "

"You don't want to see me licked, do you?"

I sighed. The affair was out of my hands. 

"What shall you want to eat?" I asked meekly. 

"Oh, beefsteak, lots of it--and other things. Flynn will tell you. " Hefolded his arms and gazed down at me contentedly. "Thanks, old man, "he said gratefully. "I knew you would. It's fine of you. I won'tforget it. "

"Nor will I, " I said. Jerry only laughed. D--n the boy. It was ranktyranny. 

Flynn and Sagorski were already down the stairs. I eyed themmalevolently, but rose and went to the kitchen to give the necessaryorders. There I found the force of servants in executive session andmy appearance was the signal for immediate notice from the entire lot. I hadn't foreseen this difficulty which immediately assumed theproportions of a calamity. They stated their objections, which maywell be imagined, most respectfully but in no uncertain terms. Theycould have endured Mr. Flynn, Mr. Carty and Mr. Sagorski, but theybalked at Mr. Danny Monroe. I had balked at him, too, but I didn'ttell them so. The upstairs maids (we had chambermaids now) absolutelyrefused to consider any of my arguments in rebuttal and were alreadypinning on their hats, when Jerry, who had gotten wind of the mutinyfrom Christopher (poor Christopher!), came running and plantinghimself in their very midst, demolished their objections with a laughand an offer of double wages. They smiled at a joke he made, weakened, finally unpinned their hats and took up their aprons. I have never inmy experience seen such an example of the blandishment of wealth. 

Peace restored and the orders given, which included a pledge ofsecrecy as to Jerry's real identity and mine, I made my way to thegymnasium with Jerry in a valiant effort to "be a good sport" and toappear as "pleased as punch" at the invasion of my sanctuary byJerry's Huns. Carty and Flynn were having a fast "go" of it on thefloor, with Monroe, the Swedish negro, keeping time, while from beyondcame sounds of howling where "Kid" Spatola and Tim O'Halloran weresporting like healthy grampuses in Jerry's--my--marble pool. Jerrymade the introductions gayly and O'Halloran splashed a greeting, whileSpatola eyed my rusty black serge critically (Spatola was the BeauBrummel of the party as I discovered later) nodded, and then did aback flip-flap from the diving board. 

But unwelcome as they were to me, they were not nearly so unpleasantin a state of nature as they had been in their clothing, for whenconsidered as sentient beings they left much to be desired; as healthyhuman animals, I had to admit that they were a success, and havingconceded the fact that they were animals and Horsham Manor was for thepresent a zoo, the rest was merely a matter of mental adjustment. Iplayed my part of host, I fear, with a bad grace, but as manners heldno high place in their code of being, my deficiencies passedunnoticed. 

Was this triumph of matter over mind nature's cynical reply to myyears of care and study in bringing Jerry to perfect manhood? Had Ierred in giving importance to the growth and development of Jerry'sbody? Or was it, as Jack Ballard had said, merely that the niceadjustment of mind and matter had been suddenly disarranged? How farwas this muscular orgy to carry him? And where would it end? AfterMadison Square Garden--what?

Dinner found me no nearer a solution and I sighed as my glance passedthe length of the table, along the row of villainous faces to whereopposite me Jim Robinson grinned cheerfully over his plate. It wasquite wonderful to see these Vandals eat--beefsteak, bread, vegetables, eggs, milk--everything put before them vanished as if bymagic, while Poole and Christopher with set and scornful faces hurriedto the pantry, bearing in their empty dishes the mute evidence of thegastronomic miracles that were being performed beneath their veryeyes. For my part I confess that I was so fascinated in watching theway in which Sagorski used his knife and fork and the dexterous mannerin which he dispatched his food in spite of such a handicap that I atenothing. They talked in mono-syllables and grunts for the most part, and when really conversing used language which I found it mostdifficult to understand. Their dinner finished, they rose, stretchingand eructating in true Rabelaisian fashion. 

"A stroll in the Park, byes, now. And then--the feathers, " said Flynn, passing the chewing gum. 

"A fine lot, ain't they, Mr. Benham?" said Jerry to me as they filedout. 

"Extraordinary, " I replied, with a fictitious smile, "mostextraordinary. "

He grinned at me and followed them. 

It was not until the next day in the hour between road and gym workthat I managed to get Flynn aside. He had thus far succeeded inavoiding me, but I caught him by the arm as he was passing, draggedhim into my study and shut the door. 

"See here, Flynn, " I said with some warmth, "it's not my affair tointerfere with any of Mr. Benham's plans. He's his own master now andcan do what he pleases, but you and I have always been good enoughfriends, and I should like to know just how much or how little you'vehad to do with getting the boy into this match at the Garden--"

He looked at me quizzically for a moment and then grinned. 

"Ye've got a right to ask me that, Mr. Canby. An' I'll give ye a fairanswer. I had nothin' to do wid it, sor--honor bright--" He paused andgrinned again. "Mind ye, I'm not sayin' I'm sorry he's doin' it, for Iwon't lie to ye. I'd like to see him lick Sailor Clancy an' I'm doin'my best to help him to it. But for havin' a hand in puttin' MastherJerry up to the game ye can count me out. 'Twas Masther Jerry himself, sor. He got it into his head someway an' there was no gettin' rid ofit. I made the match for the bye because he wanted it--an' that's afact--nothin' else. "

He looked me in the eye and I knew that he told the truth. 

"What chance has Jerry of winning, Flynn?" I asked. 

"Ah, there ye've got me, sor. Jerry's a rare one, he is, andplucky--and quick as any man of his weight in the wor-rld--but Clancyis a good 'un, too--young, strong as a bull an' expayrienced. Foughtsteady for three years, an' winning, sor. He'll have theconfidence--but Masther Jerry is a wonder. He'll have a chanct, sor, more than an even chanct, I'd say, if he don't waste nothin'. "

"Waste nothing?"

"He's got to land, sor--every time and waste no whiffs on nothin'. "

"I see. "

Flynn was eyeing the door impatiently. He was a busy man and had notime to answer foolish questions. 

"There's no chance of getting out of it?" I asked. 

"None, sor. He couldn't quit now. Ye wouldn't want him to, would you, sor?" he finished in a reproachful tone, which just missed beingdisagreeable. 

I opened the door and he lost no time in getting to the gymnasium. 

That next afternoon in the midst of the work out, I had anothersurprise, for a wagon arrived from the station and in it were MarciaVan Wyck and Miss Gore, the latter dragged against her will to play apart she little cared for. I happened to meet them in the hall, where, since none of the pugilists were present, Marcia put aside subterfuge, nodded coolly and asked for Jerry. She wore the badly fitting suit hermaid had procured for her and chewed gum incessantly. I lookedanxiously at Miss Gore, but it seems that even her martyrdom stoppedat that. I led the way to the gymnasium where Jerry and the irritableCarty were resting between rounds. The girl nodded to Jerry, who wavedhis glove, and took one of the chairs by the ring-side, the obedientMiss Gore next her. 

"What round?" she asked masticating leisurely. 

"Third, " said Flynn with his gaze on his watch, "Time!"

And they went at it hammer and tongs. From my chair beside Miss Gore Iwatched the girl. Her hands were clasped over her knees as she leanedforward, her eyes glowing, watching the swift motions of the two menas they moved backward and forward. Miss Gore wore the fixed smile ofthe perpetually bored. She watched Jerry and Carty exchanging theirblows, with a sphinxlike air as though inspecting half-naked mendancing around each other was her usual afternoon's employment. Shewas admirable, accepting her lot in life with a philosophy which hadin it something of the stoic. Only when Carty landed on Jerry's lipand the blood showed did she wince. 

"You--approve of this?" she whispered, then to me. 

"No. I'm helpless, " I returned. 

"You know?"

"Yes. It's madness. She made him do--"

"Sh--" she warned, for the round had ended, and Marcia turned towardher. But I knew that she understood. 

"You're a good sport, Mr. Benham, " said Marcia to me, assuming herrole with an air of enjoyment, "havin' the boys up here to train. Jim's comin' fast, ain't he?"

I nodded uncomfortably. 

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "You might of sent your honk-honk tothe train for us though. Cost us a dollar from the station. What d'yethink of that? Don't like the ladies, do you, Mr. Benham?" shelaughed. 

"I'll be glad to send you back, " I said quickly enough. 

"Oh, there ain't a doubt of that, I'm sure. Nice house you'vegot--gym an' all. You might ask us to stay awhile. Won't you, Mr. Benham?"

She was very much amused at the awkwardness of the situation. 

"I'm afraid I haven't any more room, " I replied stiffly. How I hatedthat girl! The sight of blood had inflamed me. I believe I could havethrottled her where she sat, but fortunately Flynn called "Time" andthe bout went on. 

It was to be war between us two from this moment. I knew what shemeant. She had accepted my challenge and was defying me. Since I hadnot been able to dissuade Jerry from his fight, she was sure of herpower. He was her creature now, to do with as she chose, I watched herfurtively during the next round. She was silent, her gaze fixed uponJerry, her eyes gleaming. There was something morbid in her suppressedexcitement--something strange and unnatural in the fascination of herattention. She chewed gum constantly and was utterly absorbed, driven, it seemed to me, by some inner fire which she made no effort tocontrol. She was primitive, savage. When Jerry's blows landed, herlips parted and she breathed hard. I think at this moment he was theonly man for her, her mate in savagery, the finest human beast in theworld. When the round ended I moved away. I had seen enough. 

Later, while the men were being rubbed down, Miss Gore, leaving Marciawith Flynn, came out to me on the terrace, where I had gone alone fora breath of clean air. I was utterly absorbed in my misery and I didnot hear her step. Her deep voice just at my ear startled me. 

"Well, Mr. Canby, " she said softly. "Your dream-castle totters. "

I glanced up at her quickly, but she still smiled. 

"It has fallen, " I groaned. 

"No--not yet, " still cheerfully. She paused a moment, and, leaning herelbows on the balustrade, looked out down the valley. 

"All will be well, " she said at last slowly. 

Our glances met. "I have that presentiment, " she added. 

"Based on what?" I said bitterly. "A man who can inspire such apassion as this is no more than a beast--"

"Or no less than a man, " she muttered quickly. "You forget that Jerryis what you've made him--"

"Not this--the body the servant--not the mind--"

"The mind will survive, " she put in evenly. "It must. The whole thingis hypnotic. He will pass out of it soon. "

"And she--?"

She shrugged lightly. "I don't know. I've never seen her like thisbefore. I think if Jerry were to seize her by force and carry her awaytoday--now--she couldn't resist him. "

"Ah--!"

"But he won't. He treats her as though she were a flower, caresses herwith his eyes, touches her petals timidly--"

"Bah! I could crush her--"

She smiled indulgently. 

"She is a strange creature. Love is an enigma to her. That's why shefollows this mad whim for Jerry--she doesn't mistake it for love, sheknows too much--but it's a fair imitation. "

"It is morbid, unhealthy. "

"Perhaps, but like other diseases, will pass. "

"Leaving Jerry sick?"

"He will recover. "

A calm fell upon me. Was she right after all? What reason had I tolose faith in Jerry when this woman, almost a stranger to me, believedin him? I turned and laid my hands quietly over hers. 

"Thanks, " I stammered. "You're very kind. " And then realizing thesilly impulsiveness of my action, straightened for fear that she mightmisunderstand. Without moving from her position, she turned her headand smiled at me quizzically. If her eyes hadn't been kind I wouldhave thought she was laughing at me. 

CHAPTER XV

THE UNKNOWN UNMASKED

The three weeks of training passed quickly and Carty had won hisfight, a favorable augury for the camp of Flynn. Jerry worked hard, too hard it almost seemed for flesh and blood to endure, but he seemedtireless. He had lost weight, of course, and his face was haggard anddrawn, but he ate and slept well and though a little irritable attimes, seemed cheerful enough. Marcia came frequently, always withMiss Gore, and the word was passed around that Jim Robinson's"chicken" was staying in the village. I think Jerry's wooingprospered. There were no Channing Lloyds at Briar Hills now. To allappearances the girl was with him heart and soul and when Jerry restedon the terrace in a reclining chair wrapped in blankets, Marcia satbeside him, talking in subdued tones. Sometimes I heard their voicesraised, but whatever their differences they were not such as to causea breach between them. They were hardly ever entirely alone and forpurposes of endearment the terrace was not the most secluded spot thatcould have been found. Flynn's word was law and his eye constantlywatchful. If he had been paid to make Jerry win this fight, he wasgoing to earn his money, he said, and anyone who interfered with thetraining would be put out and kept out of the grounds. Whatever herown wishes, the girl recognized Flynn's authority, and came and wentat fixed times which could not interfere with the rigid rules. Jerryrose at five and took to the road with Flynn on horseback and eitherO'Halloran or Sagorski afoot. When he came in he had his shower, rubdown and then breakfast. After a rest, Flynn boxed four or fiverounds with him, after which came rope jumping, and exercises with themachines to strengthen his arms and wrists. In this way the morningpassed and after the midday meal came the real work-out of the daywith his training-partners, where real blows were exchanged and bloodoften flowed. Jerry had improved immeasurably. Even I, tyro as I was, could see that his encounters with these professionals had rubbed offall signs of the amateur. He had always been a good judge of distance, Flynn had said, but he had been schooled recently to make everymovement count--to "waste nothing. " In spite of myself, the excitementof the game was getting into my blood. If for the while Jerry was tobe a beast, why should he not be the best beast of them all? Storiescame to us from the camp of the Terrible Sailor, who was training downon the Jersey shore. He was "coming" fast, they said, and was strongand confident. The newspapers followed him carefully and sent theirreporters to Horsham Manor, one of whom, denied entrance at the Lodge, climbed over the wall and even reached the gymnasium where Jerry wasboxing with O'Halloran, to be put out at my orders (as JeremiahBenham) before he got a fact for his pains. The result of this ofcourse was an account full of misstatements about the millionaireJeremiah Benham and his protégé which brought a protest in the mailsfrom Ballard the elder who, fortunately for Jerry, hadn't gotten atthe truth of the matter. 

Once or twice I had been on the point of going to Ballard's office andmaking a clean breast of Jerry's plans, hoping that Clancy might bebought off and the match canceled. But I could not bring myself, evennow, to the point of betraying the boy. I am not a fatalist byprofession or philosophy, but Miss Gore had made me pause and I hadresolved to see the thing through, trying to believe as she believedthat Jerry could only be toughened to the usages of life by the rigorof circumstance. And so I was silent. 

On the morning of the great event I found myself, instead of properlycensorious, intensely eager for the night to come. Jerry had beenbrought secretly to town the day before in a closed machine and wasresting under the care of Flynn at Jerry's own house uptown. It was atJerry's request that Jack Ballard and I stayed away from him, and sothe day passed slowly enough in speculations as to the possibility ofovertraining and as to Jerry's ability to stand punishment. Of hispluck there was no question between us. Both of us had had too manyproofs of it to doubt, but there was always the chance of the unluckyblow early in the battle which might mean defeat where victory seemedthe only thing possible. I believed that Jerry would win. I think thatI actually believed him to be invulnerable. I knew that Flynn wasconfident, and that Sagorski, Spatola and O'Halloran had put theirmoney on him. Of course he would win. There was no man in the worldwho could stand up against Jerry when he meant to do a thing. No oneknew better than I what victory meant to Jerry. Money, championshiplaurels--of course they were nothing. However much or little Marcia'stheories as to the superman meant to Jerry, he was committed toher--and she, I suspected, to him. His laurels were in the touch ofher rosy fingers, the flash of her dark eyes, the gleam of her smallwhite teeth when she smiled. Those were his reward, all that he hadworked for--all that he prized. She expected him to win. He couldn'tlose. 

The day passed slowly. I visited the gymnasium with Jack. Flynn wasstill with Jerry, but confidence reigned. There was a story going therounds of the press that Clancy had gone stale, that he had strained atendon, that he had broken a finger, that his mother had just died. 

"Buncombe!" said Jack, who knew the game. "They want to worry the oddsdown a bit. He's fit as a fiddle. You can be sure of that. "

The early afternoon papers contained the first hint that Jim Robinsonwas not what he was supposed to be. A heading on the sporting pagecaught my eyes. I have kept it among my papers and give it verbatim. 

 PUGILIST SOCIETY MAN JIM ROBINSON, THE HEAVY WEIGHT, A MASQUERADER. 

I read the type below hurriedly:

A story is going the rounds that Jim Robinson, the heavyweight, whogoes against Sailor Clancy in the principal event at the Gardentonight, is not Robinson at all, but a well-known society man andmillionaire. From the hour when this match was made in May last therehas been a mystery attached to the personality of this fighter neverbefore heard of in Fistiana in New York. Flynn, his backer andtrainer, could not be found to deny or affirm the rumor, and hissparring partners at Flynn's Gymnasium, of course, denied it, butevery circumstance, including the size of the purse, now believed tobe five thousand dollars, would indicate that Flynn's Unknown, unlessa well-known Westerner in disguise, is a man of more than usualability--or else a millionaire sport, bent on enriching thehard-fisted sailor, who thinks he sees a chance of picking up someeasy money besides his share of the gate. Whoever Jim Robinson is, wewelcome him cordially. 

But we also warn him that New York is tired of ring fakes and thatnothing but a good mill will justify the prices asked. 

I showed the thing to Ballard, who read it through eagerly, his lipsemitting a thin whistle. 

"Ph-ew! They're getting 'warm, ' Pope. Somebody's leaked. "

"But who--?"

"May be the management--to draw the crowd. " And then, looking at thefront page, "That's only the twelve o'clock edition. Perhaps--"

He paused and rang the bell (we were at his rooms again), instructinghis man to go out on the street and buy copies of the latest editionsof all the afternoon papers. 

"It would be the deuce if they followed that up. "

He walked to and fro while we waited impatiently. And in a short whileour worst fears were realized, for when the papers came we saw thedreadful facts in scare heads on the first page of the yellowest ofthem. I give the item here:

 JEREMIAH BENHAM--PRIZE FIGHTER. MULTI-MILLIONAIRE SEEKS LAURELS IN RING. FLYNN'S MYSTERIOUS UNKNOWN REVEALED IN PERSON OF MILLIONAIRE SPORTSMAN. 

Jack Ballard swore softly, but I read on over his shoulder, breathlessly:

 The latest mystery of the prize ring has been revealed by a reporter of the _Despatch_, who proves here conclusively that the so-called Jim Robinson, matched to fight Sailor Clancy in the big event at the Garden tonight, is no less a person than Jeremiah Benham, son of the late John Benham, Railroad and Steamship King. Last month it will be recalled that this paper sent a reporter up to Horsham Manor, the magnificent Benham estate in Greene County, where the so-called Jim Robinson was finishing his training at the invitation of Mr. Benham, who was supposed to take a warm sportsman's interest in the ring. Horsham Manor, one of the wonders of the State, is surrounded, as is well known, by a wall of solid masonry, and much secrecy was observed in the training of the so-called Robinson, all visitors being denied admittance at the lodge gates. The reporter, however, managed to gain admittance and reached Mr. Benham's gymnasium, a palatial affair, fully equipped with all the latest paraphernalia, where the so-called Robinson was boxing with one of his partners. But a person who represented himself to be Mr. Benham immediately gave orders to have the reporter shown out of the grounds. 

 The life of the younger Benham has been shrouded in mystery, but this morning after some difficulty the reporter succeeded in finding the photographer who made the picture of Robinson printed herewith, who at last confessed that it was faked. Further investigation among members of an uptown club revealed the fact that Jeremiah Benham has just passed his twenty-first year and could therefore not be the slender, rather crusty, sandy-haired gentleman impersonating the owner of Horsham Manor, who was at least thirty-five. 

"Slender--rather crusty!" muttered Ballard. "You! D--n the fellow!"

 In order to verify the suspicion [I read on], the _Despatch_ reporter went to the office of the New York and Southwestern Railroad and obtained without difficulty from several sources a description of the person of Mr. Benham, which coincides in all particulars with the so-called Jim Robinson, whom the reporter saw at work at Horsham Manor. 

 There is no Jim Robinson, except in name. The opponent of Sailor Clancy in tonight's fight is no less a person than young Jerry Benham, multi-millionaire and sportsman. It is a matter of regret, since Mr. Benham chose, for personal reasons, to hide his identity under another name, that the _Despatch_ could not keep the matter secret, but the _Despatch_ is in the business of supplying news to its patrons, news not presented in other journals, and so important an item as this, of course, could not be suppressed. 

The murder was out. We searched the other papers. Nothing. 

"A beat!" muttered Jack. "I'd like to show the fellow what a beatingis. "

Jack Ballard was merely angry. I was bewildered into a state ofhelplessness. What should we do? What _could_ we do? The damage wasdone. Telling Jerry wouldn't help matters and might unnerve him. Wedisconnected the telephone and dined at the apartment, making apretense of eating, nervously awaiting the hour when we should go tothe Garden. We had reached the coffee, of which we were much in need, when there was a ring at the bell and Ballard Senior came into theroom, a copy of the _Despatch_ in his hand. 

"Have you seen this?" he snapped. 

"We have, " said Jack with an assumption of calmness. 

"It's a lie?"

"No. It's the truth. "

The old man raged the length of the room and turned. 

"Do you mean that you've let this thing go on without trying to stopit--without letting me know--"

"We did try to stop it. There was no use in letting you know. Jerry'smind was made up. "

"Jerry! The fool is ruining himself--and us. The thing must bestopped--at once. "

Jack smiled coolly. "I don't see how you're going to do that. "

The father stamped the length of the room again. "I'll show you. Whereis Clancy?"

"I don't know. You'll find him at Madison Square Garden about ten. "

"But where is he now?" he snapped. 

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. "

"Well, you must come with me. I've got to find him. "

"What are you going to do?"

"Buy him off. This match can't take place. "

"Do you mean that?" asked Jack with a smile. 

"Did you ever know me to waste words?--Come!"

However lenient Henry Ballard had been to his son, at that moment theparental word was law, and Jack obeyed, taking up his hat and gloves, and laying a pink ticket on the table. 

"Yours, Pope. I'll see you later. "

And they went out hastily, the old man from beginning to end havingignored me completely. I sank in a chair, my gaze shifting from theticket to the brandy bottle and cigarettes. I wanted to dosomething--I didn't know what. I hadn't drunk or smoked for twelveyears, but that' night I did both. The brandy steadied, the cigarettequieted my nerves. I sat there alone over the half-cleared dinnertable, resolutely impelling calmness. The ticket stared at me, asymbol of Jerry's destiny. .. . My thought shifted curiously to theplacid Miss Gore. Whatever Fate had in store for Jerry, this phase ofhis life would pass as she had said, the mind would survive. Somethingtold me that tonight would mark a turning point in Jerry's career--howor what I could not know, but for the first time I realized how deeplyI was committed to Jerry's plans. I wanted the bout to take place. Iwanted to see it--win or lose I was committed to it and to Jerry. 

It had grown dark outside. I rose, slowly putting the ticket in mypocket, and went out. The night was sultry. It would be hot there inthe ring--but it would be hot for both of them. Muscle for muscle andtissue for tissue, Jerry could stand what another could. I glanced atmy watch. It was now nine. The preliminary bouts would be beginning, but I had no interest in these. I walked down town, purposely delayingmy steps, but found my footsteps hurrying in spite of me, and it wasonly half after nine when I entered the building. 

I remembered a six-day bicycle race that I had witnessed there yearsago, but I was not prepared for the sight of the crowd that hadgathered under the enormous roof. The match had been well advertisedand the article in the _Despatch_ must have lent an added spice to theattraction. The heated air was already a blue fog of tobacco smoke, through which beyond the glare of the ring, tiny spots of light flaredand disappeared like glow-worms--where in the gallery the smokerslighted their tobacco. As I entered I scanned the crowd. Eager, stupidor brutal faces, the washed and the unwashed, the gloved and theungloved, cheek by jowl, all talking, smoking, cheering, jeering orwaiting calmly for the expected thrill. They had paid their money tosee blood, and as I found my seat I realized the inevitableness ofJerry's appearance. He could not disappoint these people now. 

My seat was in a box, in the second row of boxes, the first row beingjust back of the press seats which were along the sides of the ring. In this vast crowd I would be lost to Jerry and I was thankful not tobe directly under the ring where the sight of my anxious face mighthave diverted him. A bout was in progress now, of six rounds, betweentwo lightweights, a rapid affair which drew to a conclusion none tooquickly for me. The final bout was to take place at ten, but I knewfrom the long intervals between these preliminaries that the hourwould be much later. I thought for a moment of going out and walkingthe streets for awhile, but realized that I should be even moreunhappy there than here; so I sat quietly absorbing the scene, listening to the conversation of my neighbors in the next box, whoseemed to have their money on the sailor. One of their commentsaroused my ire. 

"What's this goldfish their feedin' to the sea lion? Say, that storyain't straight about young Benham bein' Robinson?"

"Sure thing. Clancy will eat him alive--_eat him alive_, " the manrepeated, slowly and with unction. 

I glanced at the speaker. Squat, stout, heavy jowled--with a neckthat pushed over the back of his collar--a follower of the ring, smug, assertive, confident. A prophet? I was not ready to admit that. 

After the third bout three women and three men, following an usher, passed along the aisle just in front of me. I recognized her instantlyin spite of the dark suit, large hat and heavy veil, for her walkbetrayed her. One of the women was Marcia Van Wyck. Followed by thegaze of the men nearest them, they went to a box in the second tierjust around the corner of the ring where I could see the girldistinctly. The other women of the party or the men I did notrecognize, but Marcia attracted the attention of my neighbors. 

"Some dame, that, " said one of them admiringly. "Know her, Charlie?"

"Naw, " replied the stout man. "Swells, I reckon, friends of thegoldfish. "

As the bout on the boards proceeded and the attention of those nearesther was diverted, the girl settled into her seat and coolly removedher veil, watching the fight calmly, now and then exchanging a wordwith her companions. She _was_ beautiful, distinguished looking, butin this moment of restraint, cold and unfeeling almost to the point ofcruelty. She looked across the space that separated us, caught my gazeand held it, challenging, defying--with no other sign ofrecognition--and presently looked away. 

The preliminaries ended, there was a rustle and stir of expectation. Men were rushing back and forth from the dressing rooms to the ringand whispering to the master of ceremonies between his introductionsof various pugilists in a great variety of street clothes, who claimedthe right to challenge the winner of the night's heavyweight event. Ihad heard many of their names during the past three weeks at theManor, and knowing something of the customs of the ring, was notsurprised to see Tim O'Halloran and Sagorski. It was a little freeadvertising which meant much to these gentlemen and cost little. O'Halloran grinned toothlessly, at the plaudits that greeted his name, shuffled his feet awkwardly and bobbed down. Sagorski was not sopopular, but the crowd received him good-naturedly enough, and amidcries of "Clancy" and "Bring on the Sailor" the Jew ungracefullyretired. 

I glanced at the girl; she was smiling up into the faces of these menas at old acquaintances. If there was any regret in her--any revulsionat the vulgarity of this scene into which she had plunged JerryBenham--she gave no sign of it. It seemed to me that she was in herelement; as though in this adventure, the most unusual she had perhapsever attempted, she had found the very acme, the climax of herexperience. 

When the introductions were finished, the hubbub began anew. Had HenryBallard succeeded in buying Clancy off? I hoped and I feared it. Mencame from the dressing-rooms and whispered in the ear of the announcerwho sent them back hurriedly. The crowd was becoming impatient. Therewere no more pugilists to introduce and the man in the ring walked toand fro mopping his perspiring brow. At last when the sounds from thecrowd became one muffled roar, he clambered down through the ropes andwent himself to the dressing-rooms, returning in a while with thereferee of the match whom he presented. The new referee looked at hiswatch and announced that there was a slight delay and begged the crowdto be patient a few moments longer. 

But when the moments were no longer few and there were no signs fromthe dressing-room doors the people in the rear seats rose howling in abody. There were cries of "Fake" and "Give us our money" and the manin the ring, Diamond Joe Gannon, held up his hands in vain forsilence. For awhile it looked as though there would be a riot. HadBallard Senior succeeded?

Suddenly the howling was hushed and merged into shouts of acclaim. "Good boy, Kid! Here he comes, " and, rising with the others, I sawcoming down the aisle from the dressing-rooms "Kid" Spatola, thebootblack champion. He carried a bucket, sponges and towels and aftera word with the clamorous reporters clambered up into the ring, followed by a colored man, in whom I recognized Danny Monroe, theSwedish negro. He wore suspenders over his undershirt and carriedseveral bottles which he placed in the corner of the ring beside thebucket. The eyes of the crowd were focused upon the door from whichSpatola had emerged. I saw two figures come out, one grim and silentwho made his way toward the street doors, the other who came quicklydown the aisle--Ballard Senior and Jack. The latter questioned anusher and was shown directly to my box, by his prominence investingboth himself and me with immediate publicity. I felt the gaze of ourneighbors upon us, but Jack seated himself coolly and lighted acigarette. 

"What happened?" I questioned in a whisper. 

"They're going to fight, " he returned. 

"Your father--?"

He smiled a little. "Mad as a hornet. Jerry blocked the game. "

"How--?"

"Dad offered Clancy five thousand and his share of the gate money toquit. "

"Clancy refused?"

"He was very white about it. He sent the message over to Jerry. "

"And Jerry?"

"The boy doubled any amount dad offered if Clancy would go on. Clancystands to win fifteen thousand. Dad quit. I told him Jerry had made uphis mind. He realizes it now. "

"Fifteen thousand! Clancy will work for it. "

Jack smiled grimly. "I think Jerry wants him to. "

The boy was mad--clean mad. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE FIGHT

But the madness of the moment had gotten into my blood and Jack's. Thefight was going to take place. We were glad of it. We felt themagnetism of the crowd, the pulse of its excitement, and, as impatientas those around us, eagerly awaited developments. The seconds andtrainers had hardly clambered into Clancy's corner when Clancyhimself, followed by Terry Riley, appeared and leaped into the ring. The crowd roared approval and he bowed right and left, waving hishands and nodding to acquaintances whom he recognized at thering-side. He wore a pale blue dressing-gown and though broad ofshoulder seemed not even so tall as Sagorski, but he had a bullet headwhich at the cerebellum joined his thick neck, without indentation, ina straight line and his arms reached almost to his knees--gorilla of aman--a superbrute. I caught a glimpse of Marcia watching him intently, and tried to read her thoughts. She examined him with the criticalgaze which she might have given a hackney at a horse show. 

Jerry's appearance with Flynn a moment later was the signal foranother outburst from the crowd--not so long a greeting nor soprolonged a one as that which had greeted Clancy, but warm enough tomake the boy feel that he was not without friends in the house. Hisface was a little pale but he smiled cheerfully enough when hereached the ring. He shook hands with Gannon, whom he had met atFinnegan's, and then, with a show of real enjoyment, withClancy--conversing with a composure that left nothing to be desired. 

The crowd, like Jack and me, was comparing them. Jerry's six feet twotopped the sailor by more than two inches, though I believe the latterwould have a few pounds of extra weight. 

"Big rascal, ain't he?" the sportsman in the adjoining box commented. 

"Yep, " grunted the stolid one. "But too leggy. Clancy'll eat himalive--_eat him alive_, " he repeated with more unction than before. 

"Maybe, " said the other, "but I want to be shown. There was anotherleggy feller--the freckled one. "

"Fitz--but Fitz was a _fighter_. "

"Well, I like his looks--good-lookin' feller, ain't he?"

"Aw! This ain't no beauty parlor. He's got a glass jaw, I'll bet. 'S agoldfish, I tell you. The sea lion will eat him alive--_eat himalive_!"

I don't know why the reiteration of this phrase of the fat manirritated me, but it did exceedingly, and I turned around and glaredat him, a sharp retort on the tip of my tongue. Ballard's fingersclosed on my arm and I was silent. But the fat man's glances and minehad met and held each other. 

"What's the matter, perfessor?" he asked testily. "Friend of yours, eh? Oh, well--no harm done. But if you'd like to back your judgmentwith a little something--say fifty--"

But I had already turned my back on the fellow. 

In the ring the men had thrown aside their dressing-gowns and theopposing seconds were examining the bandages upon their hands. Clancywore bright green trunks, which if his name had failed would havebetrayed his lineage, and his great chest and arms were covered withdesigns in tattoo. Jerry wore dark trunks. And as his wonderful armsand torso were exposed to view, a murmur of approval went over theaudience. In spite of his training in the open his skin was still verywhite beside the bronzed figure of his adversary, but the musclesrippled smoothly and strongly under the fair skin--and bulked large atthigh and forearm as he moved his limbs. It was not the strong man'sfigure nor yet, like Clancy's, the stocky, thickly built structure ofthe professional fighter's, yet it was so solid, so admirably compactthat his great height was unnoticeable. I could see from theexpressions upon the faces of those about me and the calls from theseats behind us, that Jerry's appearance had already gained therespect of the crowd, some members of which were already hailing himby his first name. "Good boy, Jerry, " they cried, or "All right, oldboy. You've got the goods--but look out for his right. "

Even the stout person beside me was silent and I heard nothing moreabout the goldfish. Fortunately for him, and for me, I suspect, forhad he repeated his phrase, I might have brained him with a chair. 

The preliminary conferences at an end, the principals took theircorners, fresh ones not used in the preliminaries, Jerry luckily withhis back toward the box in which the Van Wyck girl was sitting. Iftheir glances had met, I did not notice. For all that I knew. Jerrymight have been unaware that she was in the house. He did not lookaround in a search for her and seemed totally absorbed in hisinstructions from Flynn, who stood outside the ropes just behind himwhispering continuously in his ear, Jerry nodding from time to timeand glancing across the ring to Clancy's corner, where the superbeastwas sprawled, his long arms extended upon the ropes. Spatola and theblack Swede were seeing to Jerry's gloves and looking over everydetail of the corner with careful eyes. 

The referee called the two men to the center of the ring and gave themsome final instructions, to which they nodded assent, and they hadhardly returned to their corners when the gong clanged, stools andparaphernalia were whipped out of the ring, the seconds and trainerscrouched outside and the fight was on. As the men came together thedisparity in their sizes became less marked for, while Clancy was theshorter, he made up by his huge bulk what he lacked in height. He wasa dangerous man, but there was no timidity in Jerry's eyes and he cameforward sparring carefully, gliding backward and forward feeling outthe other man's length and speed. Clancy's left grazed Jerry's ear andthe boy countered lightly. His color was rising now and his eyes weresparkling. It was good, it was a game he loved. The moment of stagefright had passed. He had forgotten the crowd. His foot-work was fastand made Clancy seem almost sluggish by comparison. That was thedanger. Would he waste himself too early? Ten rounds! Not too long forJerry, if the other didn't land dangerously and more often than he. Clancy played for the head, and caught the boy fairly on the jaw, butgot a blow in the ribs that made him grunt. Jerry did most of theleading, ducking a vicious swing of Clancy's right, that made theSailor look foolish, and brought a roar of delight from the crowd. Clancy grinned cheerfully and came on, stabbing with his long left armat Jerry's head, but getting only his trouble for his pains. At theclose of the round the honors were even, and both were smiling intheir corners. 

"He's got the science, " said the optimist next door, "a pretty pieceo' work--very pretty. "

"Just you wait, Petey, " said the stout man, while behind us anIrishman shouted, "Get them green tights workin', Clancy. "

The second round was clearly Jerry's. Even the stout man admitted it. Clancy's famous crouching pose met with mishap early in the round, forJerry by fine judgment twice evaded the advancing left arm andstraightened Clancy with terrific upper cuts, the kind that Flynn hadsaid were like tons of coal. At the end of the round Clancy realized, I think, that his opponent was well worth considering seriously, forwhen he came to the center of the ring again, his face washed clean, he wore a solemn expression curious and respectful, but villainouslydetermined. He began boring in, as the phrase is, leading constantlyand taking what came. He hit Jerry hard, always when the boy was goingaway, however, and caught some well-judged ones in return. He swung ahard right which caught Jerry napping and sent him against the ropes, but before he could follow up the advantage the boy had slipped out ofdanger. They exchanged blows here, toe to toe, and the crowd howledwith delight. Here was a mere boxer who wasn't afraid to take what hegave. In the exchange Jerry profited, for Clancy, lunging with hisright and missing, fell into a clinch where Jerry gave his ribs afearful beating. At the end of the round both were breathing hard, butthe crowd was cheering, Jerry. 

I find myself slipping into the phraseology of the sporting page, andlittle wonder when for weeks the boxer's terms were the only phrases Ihad heard. I hope I will not be blamed for dwelling with too great aparticularity upon this affair, which, whatever its merits as a testof strength and skill, was nothing less than a contest in brutality. 

During the minute of time Monroe and Spatola rubbed Jerry vigorouslyand when the gong clanged, though still breathing hard, Jerry wasready for Clancy's rush. He had been prepared for this by Flynn, whoknew the fighter's methods. For before the seconds were well out ofthe ring Clancy had crossed toward Jerry's corner, planning by sheerbulk and viciousness to sap some of Jerry's strength. But Jerryavoided the rush, stinging Clancy's stomach with a terrific blow as hegot out of danger. With the whole of the ring back of him he stood upand shifting suddenly got inside of Clancy's guard with his right onthe jaw, which, catching the Sailor off his balance, sent him to theropes, where he sank to the floor. He took a count of six leisurelyand was up again smiling and fighting hard. Jerry's lip was cut inthis exchange, but at least during this round Clancy rushed no more. They were both landing freely now, Jerry apparently willing to takehis share of punishment in order to make a good showing. I heard JackBallard muttering at my ear. This was a mistake; I wondered if Flynnknew it. With his skill, Jerry could have kept away and cut the man toribbons. But he was no slacker; this was no boxing tournament, asJerry afterwards explained, but a fight, which meant pugnacity as wellas skill. 

But the crowd appreciated his efforts. They were ring followers andknew "science" when they saw it, but more than skill they loved "sand"and more than "sand, " aggressiveness. With the beginning of theseventh round the honors had all been with Jerry. He had scored thefirst blood and the first knock-down and Clancy's rushes had provedunavailing. The professional's lip was swollen, one eye was nearlyclosed, and his ribs were crimson from the terrible beating Jerry hadgiven them. Though his face was not so badly punished as Clancy's, Jerry had not gotten off unscathed. He was grim, determined, and cutsat the lip and eyes made him no handsomer than he should have been. But he was breathing more easily than Clancy, and, though he had lostmuch of his speed, he still seemed able to avoid his opponent at willand to hold him off with his straight left arm. Six rounds in whichscience had been more than a match for all Clancy's bull strength andring experience! That in itself was something of an achievement, butJerry was still further to show his strength, for in this seventhround Clancy went to the floor twice, the first time by a clean blowto the jaw through a beautiful opening that Jerry planneddeliberately, feinting for the body, bringing a lead which Jerryhalf-ducked and then side stepped, throwing all the weight of his bodyinto a blow with his right, timed and aimed with beautiful precision. 

The crowd were on their feet, silent. They thought that the end hadcome, for at the call of _three_ Clancy had not moved, Flynn andSpatola were already above the level of the ring clinging to the ropesand Jerry stood breathing heavily, his arms at his sides watching theprostrate man. At the count of _six_ Clancy was on one elbow, _eight_found him on his knees struggling to his feet. He swayed a little, butrose and fell into a clinch which saved him. The referee tore the menapart and Jerry at once assumed the aggressive, making the wearyClancy move warily. But one of Jerry's left-hand blows caught himagain, and he went half through the ropes. 

It was here that Jerry earned the wild applause of the crowd by an actof magnanimity that was nothing less than Quixotic. But it was likeJerry. He wanted to take no unfair advantages. He bent forward, lifting the upper rope, and helped Clancy into the ring. There theround ended in a roar of cheering that did my heart and Jack's good tohear. 

But the thing was foolhardy. The man was not done yet, as Jerry was tofind out in a moment. I saw Flynn frowning and protesting in Jerry'sear, for the boy had been set for a knockout and the bout in allprobability would have been ended. Jerry listened, his arms stretchedout along the ropes, smiling up at the glaring electric lights. He wasbreathing convulsively and Spatola swung his towel furiously, fanningthe heavy air into the boy's gasping lungs. He had had all theadvantage so far and with good generalship could still win on pointsif he fought his own battle and not Clancy's. But would he? I knewwhat Flynn was saying to him, what he was warning him against. I hadheard the warning often in the bouts at the Manor. Failing in scienceand skill Clancy would "slug" (Flynn's word, not mine), trusting tothe prodigious length of his arms, taking the punishment that came tohim, biding his time and the possible lucky blow which would turn thetide in his favor. 

I glanced at Clancy's corner. There was anxiety there. I think duringthe seventh round, Clancy had seen his fifteen thousand goinga-glimmering and Riley was no less emphatic than Flynn. There were butthree more rounds--three rounds in which the Sailor could regain hislost ground and the heavyweight laurels that seemed to be slippingfrom him. 

When the gong clanged, it was immediately to be seen that Clancy'swhole plan of battle had changed. From some hidden sources in thatgreat hulk of a body he drew new forces of energy. You will see thesame thing in any wild beast of the jungle, a hidden reserve ofnervous power and viciousness, most dangerous apparently when nearestextinction. He was ugly--his jowls shot forward, his brow lowering, his long arms shooting like pistons--a jungle beast at bay. Jerrystopped his progress again--again--with straight thrusts anduppercuts, but the man only covered up, crouched lower, and came onagain. Once he caught Jerry in the stomach and I saw the boy wincewith pain; again he reached Jerry's head, a terrific blow which wouldhave sent him to the floor had Jerry not been moving away. And all thewhile Jerry's blows were landing, cutting the man, blinding him, butstill he came on. Was there no limit to the amount of punishment thathe could endure? Jerry's blows were not the leads of a boxer, butfighting blows, and Clancy's face and body would bear testimony totheir strength for many a day, but he always came on for more--asuperbeast that as long as breath came and blood flowed, was untamedand unconquerable. Jerry was tiring now and throwing discretion to thewinds was trying for a knockout. Two swings he missed by mere wildnessand weariness of eye, and Flynn's voice rose above the wild clamor ofthe of the crowd. "Keep him off, Jerry--keep him off!" But Jerry didnot hear or did not choose to hear, for he no longer avoided Clancy'sblows or his advances, standing his ground and slugging wildly asClancy was doing. Jack Ballard saw the danger and sprang to his feetseconding Flynn's advice, but he could not be heard above the roar ofthe crowd. It was a wild moment. A chance blow by either man would endthe battle then. I was no longer Roger Canby, ex-tutor andphilosopher, but a mad mother-beast whose cub was fighting for itslife. "Keep him off, Jerry, " I yelled hoarsely again and again, butthe boy still stood, his toe to Clancy's, fighting wildly. Three timesthey fell into clinches from sheer exhaustion to be pried apart by thereferee, only to go at each other again. This was no test of skill, but of brutality and chance. I think that Jerry was mad--brute mad, for, though Clancy's blows were now reaching him, he didn't seem to beaware of them. His face was distorted with rage--animal rage. When thegong clanged at the end of this round, the eighth, they still foughteven when Gannon thrust his bulk between them. 

The crowd sank back into their seats gasping. It was a long whilesince New York had seen a fight such as this. 

"What d' I tell you, Charlie?" whispered the optimist next to mehoarsely. 

"By--, he's good an' no mistake, " confessed the fat man. 

"He's got the Sailor goin'. "

Jack Ballard and I were in an agony of apprehension, watching thefaces of the excited men in Jerry's corner, who were trying to warnhim before it was too late. But we could see that Jerry was stubborn, for when Flynn pleaded with him he shook his head. Spatola and thenegro massaged him furiously, adding their anxious pleas to Flynn's, but Jerry would not listen. He was taking the foul air in huge gasps, his eyes closed, fighting for recuperation. 

When the ninth round opened the men were both groggy and stumbled tothe center of the ring like two blind men groping for each other, swinging wildly and moving slowly. Each was intent upon a knockout. Twice each swung and missed rights, avoiding the blows by remnants oftheir craft and cleverness. Twice they stumbled into clinches and weretorn apart by the pitiless Gannon. In the in-fighting (a technicalterm) Jerry I think must have been struck--I did not see the blow, butit must have been a terrific one--for his knees sagged and his handsdropped to his sides while his mouth gaped open painfully. At thecries from his corner Clancy drove a vicious blow, but Jerry weaklymanaged to avoid it. But he couldn't raise his arms. Jerry was hurt, grievously hurt. In a moment they were raised again, but he could notseem to see his mark and his swings were wild. In agony I rose, my armin Ballard's, ready for the worst. Clancy straightened, tried tocollect what remained of his scattered wits and strength, poisedhimself and with a terrible blow, struck Jerry at the point of hischin. 

He went down with a crash, his head striking the floor, and remainedmotionless. Over him, one hand restraining Clancy, Gannon counted. Jerry's figure writhed upon the floor, twisting upon its headstruggling to rise and then relaxed. The fight was over. 

A curious hush had fallen over the great hall. Here and there Clancy'sfriends were shouting in glee, but the great mass of the crowd, thosewhom Jerry had won by his skill and pluck, seemed bewildered. The endhad come too suddenly for them to realize what had happened and how ithad happened. The match was his. He had won it. It had only been aquestion of rounds. And then, "Chance blow in the solar-plexus, "someone was saying. 

It is curious how many and how lasting are the impressions that can becrowded into a second of time. I clambered out of the box with JackBallard toward the ring, fearful of the blow to Jerry's head upon theboards, and as I pushed my way through the bewildered crowd, I caughtjust a glimpse of Marcia Van Wyck's party. They were all standing upin their box, looking toward the ring. A man beside her made a remarkat the girl's ear. I saw her turn and flash a bright glance up at himand had a glimpse of her small white teeth. She was laughing. This isjust an impression of a momentary glimpse, but it means much. In thissituation is the psychology of the real Marcia. Jerry, her man-god, her brute-god, lay prone at her feet a quivering mass of bruisedflesh, beaten and broken mind and body, and she could smile. 

Tingling with rage at this incident, which I thanked God Jerry hadnot seen, I fought my way behind Jack to the aisle to thedressing-room, whither willing hands had carried the boy. All aroundus we heard the encomiums of the crowd. 

"Luck, " one said, "mere luck. "

"It's all in the game. But Benham's the better man. "

"Lucky for Clancy that Jerry mixed it. Could 'a cut the Sailor topieces. "

"Some fight--what?"

"The best in years. The boy's a wonder. "

All this from hardened followers of the ring. The door to thedressing-room was jammed and a force of policemen was keeping back thepeople. Our anxious queries were passed along to the doorway. 

"He's coming around all right, " said the sergeant. "Now move alongthere, gents. No admittance here. "

But Jack and I awaited our chance and when Sagorski poked his head outof the door he saw us and the sergeant let us through. 

It was a very crestfallen group that greeted us. Flynn and the negro, Monroe, were working over Jerry, who lay on a cot-bed near the window. He had recovered consciousness and even as we entered he raised hishead wearily and looked around. His face was battered and bruised, andhis smile as he greeted us partook of the character of his injuries. But he was whole and I hoped not badly hurt. Youth and strength, thebest of medicines, were already reviving him. 

"Well, Roger, " he muttered dully, "I'm licked. "

"Luck, " I said laconically. Jack Ballard had clasped his bigcongested hand, "Proud of you, Jerry, old boy! You ought to have won. Why the Devil did you let him coax you into close quarters?"

"I thought--I could stand--what he could, " grunted Jerry. 

"Not the lucky blow. He had it. If you'd stood him off--"

"I came here to fight--" said Jerry sinking back on his mattresswearily. 

I think his mind was beginning to work slowly around to the realmeaning of his defeat, not the mere failure of his science and skill, but the failure of his body and mind as against the mind and body of atrained brute, whom he had set his heart on conquering. I knew as noone else there knew what the victory meant to him, and the memory ofthe brief glimpse I had had of the Van Wyck girl's face when he lay inthe ring inflamed me anew. I know not what--some vestige of my thoughtreached him, for he drew me toward him and when I bent my head hewhispered in my ear, "Marcia--was there?"

I nodded. 

"She stayed--saw--?"

"Yes. "

He made no sound, and submitted silently to the ministrations of histrainers. 

Flynn was philosophical. 

"The fortunes of war, Misther Canby. 'T'was a gran' fight, as fine amill as you'll see in a loife time--wid the best man losin'--'S ashame, sor; but Masther Jerry w'u'd have his way--bad cess to 'm. Youcan't swap swipes wid a gorilla, sor. It ain't done. "

"He beat me fairly, " said Jerry sitting up. 

"Who? Clancy? I'll match you agin him tomorrow, Masther Jerry, " and hegrinned cheerfully, "if ye'll but take advice. "

"Advice!" sighed Jerry. "You were right Flynn--I--I was wrong. "

"I wudden't mind if it wasn't for thinkin' of that fifteen thousand. "

"I think he earned it, " laughed Jack. 

Jerry sat up on the edge of the bed and stared around, one eye onlyvisible. The other was concealed behind a piece of raw meat that Flynnwas holding over it. 

"You lost something, Flynn?" he asked. 

"A trifle, sor. "

"And the Kid and Tim?"

"_And_ Rozy and Dan--all of us a bit, sor. But it don't matther. "

"Well, " he said with a laugh. "I'll make it up to you, all of you, d'you hear? And I'm very much obliged for your confidence. "

It didn't need this munificence on Jerry's part to win the affectionof these bruisers, but they were none the less cheerful on account ofit. As Jim Robinson he had won their esteem, and all the evening theyhad stood a little in awe of Jerry Benham, but before they left himthat night he gave them a good handshake all around and invited themto his house on the morrow. Between the crowd of us we got him intostreet clothes and a closed automobile in which Jack and I went withhim to his house uptown. 

CHAPTER XVII

MARCIA RECANTS

Thanks to the formidable size of Jerry's training partners, we hadmanaged to avoid the reporters at the Garden, and when we reachedJerry's house we gave instructions to the butler to admit no one andanswer no questions. Christopher, now Jerry's valet, we took upstairswith us and got the boy ready for bed. As the telephone bell beganringing with queries from the morning newspapers, I disconnected thewire and we were left in peace. A warm bath and a drink of brandy didwonders both for Jerry's appearance and his spirits, and at last wegot him to bed. But he could not sleep, and so we sat at his bedsideand talked to him until far into the night, Jerry propped up on hispillows, his bad eye comically decorated with a part of his morning'ssteak. 

By dint of persuasion and a promise to stay all night at last we gotthe boy to sleep and went to bed. I think Jack was rather glad to bebeyond the reach of the parental ire, and my own wish was to be nearJerry now, to help him on the morrow to readjust his mind to hisdisappointment, and do what other service I could to save him from theresults of his folly. 

The morning papers brought the evidences of it in vivid scare headsupon their first pages and detailed accounts of the whole affair, written by their best men, who gave Jerry, I am glad to say, thecredit that was his due, calling him "the new star in pugilisticcircles, " "the coming heavyweight champion, " and the yellowest ofthem, the one that had unmasked Jim Robinson the afternoon before, came out with an offer to back Jerry Benham for five thousand dollarsagainst Jack Clancy or any other heavyweight except the Champion. Jerry read the articles in silence, a queer smile upon his face and atlast shoved the papers aside. 

"Nice of those chaps, very, considering the way I've treated 'em, butit's no go. I've finished. "

Jack had ventured out to brave the storm and I sat quietly, scarcelydaring to hope that I had heard correctly. 

"I'm done, Roger, " he repeated. "No more fights for me. I stakedeverything on science and head-work. I failed. He got me--somewherethat hurt like the devil--and I saw red. I don't remember much afterthat except that I was as much of a brute as he was. I failed, Roger, failed miserably. The fellow that can't hold his temper has nobusiness in the ring. "

His voice was heavy, like his manner, weary, disappointed, and as hethrew off his dressing gown I saw that his left arm was hideouslydiscolored from wrist to shoulder. 

"Does it hurt?" I asked. 

"What? Oh, my arm. No. But I'm sore inside of me Roger, my mind Imean. To do a thing like that, and fail--that's what hurts. Because Ihadn't will enough--"

"You're in earnest, then, " I asked, "about not fighting again?"

"Yes. I'm through--for good. " And then boyishly, "But I didn't quit, Roger, did I?"

"I think any unprejudiced observer will admit that you didn't quit, " Isaid. "Clancy, I'm sure, knows better than anybody. "

"Good old Clancy. He _was_ a sight--but he squared things. I saw thatknockout coming, but I couldn't move for the life of me. My armswouldn't come up. By George--that _was_ a wallop! Oh well, " he sighed, "the better man won. I'm satisfied. "

I helped him into his clothes and we went down to breakfast. Heexamined his letters quickly and put them aside with an air ofdisappointment, and then asked if there had been any telephone calls, seeming much put out when I told him my reasons for disconnecting theinstrument. 

"Oh, it doesn't matter--Beastly nuisance, those reporters--" He lookedover at me and grinned sheepishly. "Nice morning reading for Ballard, Senior! It _was_ a rotten trick to play on him, though. He didn'tdeserve all this. I wouldn't wonder if he didn't speak to me now. Ideserve that, I think. He cost me ten thousand cold. I'm in disgrace. I'll never be able to square myself--never. "

When he got up from the breakfast table he caught a glimpse of hisface in a mirror. "I _am_ a sight. The lip is going down nicely, butthe eye! Looks like an overripe tomato against a wall. Pretty sort ofa phiz to go calling on a lady with. "

"You're going visiting?"

"Yes, Marcia and I are going up to the country together. You'll haveto go along. "

"Thanks, " I said, "but I've some matters to attend to here. "

"I say, Roger, " he went on quickly examining himself anew in themirror; "I've got to get hold of Flynn. There's a chap in the Bowerywho makes a business of painting eyes. " And he went off to thetelephone where I heard him making the arrangement. 

With Jerry restored to partial sanity my duty at the town house wasended. Reporters still came to the door, but were turned away, and, seeing that I could be of no further use, I made my adieux and took myway downtown. 

If no man is a hero to his valet, surely no boy can be a hero to histutor, and I may as well admit that glorious as Jerry's defeat hadbeen, I had ceased to reckon him among the perfect creations of thisworld. Nowhere, I think, have I hailed Jerry as a hero. I have notmeant to place him upon a pedestal. At the Manor, before he came toNew York, he did no wrong, because the things that were good werepleasant to him and because original sin--_Eheu!_ I was beginning towonder! Original sin! John Benham had ignored its existence and I hadthought him wise. What was original sin? And if its origin was notwithin, where did it originate and how? If the boy had already beeninoculated with the germ of sin, was he conscious of it? And did heyield to it voluntarily or unconsciously or both? And if unconsciousof sin, was he morally responsible for its commission? These and manyother vexed theological questions flitted anxiously through my mindand brought me to a careful scrutiny of Jerry's acts as I knew them. To engage in a prize fight, whatever the prize, whether money ormerely the love of woman, if a venial, was not a mortal sin. To besure, anger was a mortal sin and Jerry had yielded to it. Suchfighting as Jerry had done, was not and could not by dint of argumentbecome a part of any philosophy that I had taught him. He had sinned. He would sin again. As Miss Gore had said, my dream castle wastottering--it _had_ tottered and was falling. Jerry, my Perfect Man, at the first contact with the world felt the contagion of its innatedepravity and corruption. The more I thought of Jerry's character, hisingenuous belief in the good of all things, the more it seemed to methat it was only a question of the strength of Jerry's spiritualhealth to resist the ravages of spiritual disease. You see, already Ihad thrown my philosophy to the winds. For where I had once plannedthat Jerry should go through fire unscorched, it was now merely becomea question of the amount of his scorching. 

I bade Jack good-by, after hearing of the bad quarter-hour he hadspent with Ballard, Senior, downtown, and made my way to my train forHorsham Manor in no very happy frame of mind. Had I known what newphase of Jerry's character was soon to be revealed to me, God knows Ishould have been still more unhappy. Jerry was not at the Manor when Iarrived there. For some reasons best known to Marcia Van Wyck andhimself it had been decided to stay for awhile longer in town, and itwas not until over a month later that Jerry arrived bag and baggage inhis machine with Christopher. He greeted me cheerfully enough, but Iwas not quite satisfied with his appearance. The marks of his fightwith Clancy had almost, if not quite, disappeared, and while he hadtaken on much of his normal weight, he had little color and his eyeswere dull. He smoked cigarettes constantly, lighting one from another, and on the afternoon and evening of the day of his arrival, satmoodily frowning at vacancy, or walked aimlessly about, his mindobviously upon some troublesome or perplexing matter. I could notbelieve that Clancy's victory had cast this shadow upon his spirit, but I asked no questions. He ordered wine for dinner, a thing he hadnever done before at the Manor, save on a few occasions when we hadhad guests, and drank freely of both sherry and champagne, finishingafter his coffee with some neat brandy, which he tossed off with anair of familiarity that gave me something of a shock. He invited me tojoin him and when I refused seemed to find amusement in twitting meabout my abstemious habits. 

"Come along now, just a nip of brandy, Roger. 'Twill make your bloodflow a bit faster. No? Why not, old Dry-as-dust? Conscientiousscruples? A dram is as good as three scruples. Come along, just ataste. "

"Brandy was made for old dotards and young idiots. I'm neither. "

"Oh, very well, here's luck!" and he drank again, setting the glassdown and drawing a deep breath of satisfaction. And then with a laugh. "An idiot! I suppose I am. Good thing to be an idiot, Roger. Nothingexpected of you. Nobody disappointed. "

"You're talking nonsense, " I said sternly. 

"Nonsense! I differ from you there, old top, " he laughed. "The truephilosophy of life is the one that brings the greatest happiness. Self-expression is my motto, wherever it leads you. I fight, I play, Ismoke, I drink because those are the things my particular egorequires. "

"Ah! You're happy?"

"'Happiness, ' old Dry-as-dust, as our good friend Rasselas puts it, 'is but a myth. ' I have ceased listening with credulity to thewhispers of fancy or pursuing with eagerness the phantoms of hope. They're not for me. To live in the thick of life and take my knockoutsor give them--Reality! I'm up against it at last, --real people, realthoughts, real trials, real problems--I want them all. I'm going todrink deep, deep. "

He reached for the brandy bottle again, but I whisked it away androse. 

"You're a d----d jackass, " I said, storming down at where he sat frommy indignant five feet eight. 

His brow lowered and his jaw shot forward unpleasantly. "A jackass, " Irepeated firmly, still holding the neck of the brandy bottle. 

He glared at me a moment longer, then he slowly sank back into hischair, his features relaxing, and burst into a laugh. 

"Roger, you improve upon acquaintance. All these years you'veconcealed from me a nice judgment in the use of profanity. A d----djackass! Hardly Hegelian, but neat, Roger, and most beautifullyappropriate. A jackass, I am. Also as you have remarked, an idiot. Yousee, there's no argument. I admit the soft impeachment. But I won'tdrink again just now; so set the brandy bottle down like a goodfellow and we will talk as one gentleman to another. "

I saw that I had brought him for the moment to his senses, and obeyed, sitting resolutely silent with folded arms, waiting for him to go on. He took a pipe from his pocket rather sheepishly, then filled andlighted it. 

"You _are_ a good sort, Roger, " he said at last, with an embarrassmentthat contrasted strangely with the bombast of a moment ago. "I--I'mglad you did that. I think you're about the only person in the worldI'd have taken it from. But I haven't drunk much. I couldn't get to bemuch of a drunkard in three weeks, could I?" He smiled his boyishsmile and disarmed me. 

"But why drink at all?" I asked quietly. 

"Oh, I don't know. It's such an easy way to be jolly. Everybody doesit. You can't seem to go anywhere without somebody sticking a glassunder your nose. It's part of the social formula. There's no harm init, in reason. "

"Jerry, " I said sternly. "You've begun wrong. I don't know whetherit's my fault or not, but you seem to be hopelessly twisted in yourview of life. You're floundering. Of course it's none of my business. I've done what I was paid to do, and you've got to work things out inyour own way. If you want to drink yourself maudlin, that's yourprivilege. I can move out, but while I'm here in this house I'm notgoing to sit idly by while you make a fool of yourself. "

He puffed on his pipe a moment in silence, eyeing the table leg. 

"I _am_ a fool, " he said soberly at last. And then after a pause, "Idon't know what the trouble has been exactly, unless I've takenpeople too literally; and that's your fault, Roger. White with you wasalways white and black was black. You taught me to say what I thoughtand to believe that other people said what they thought. That was amistake. "

"You forget, " I said, "that I wasn't brought here to teach youworldliness. But you can't say that I didn't warn you against it. "

He had gotten up and now paced the room with long strides. 

"Futile, Roger! Absolutely futile. In my heart even then, I think, Ibelieved you narrow. You see, I'm frank. A few months in the worldhasn't changed my opinion. But I do want to think straight. " And thenwith a sigh as he paused alongside of me, "It's very perplexingsometimes. "

I knew what he was thinking about and whom, but he would not speak. 

"You have thought me narrow, Jerry, because I laid my life and yoursalong pleasant byways and ignored the beaten track. I've never toldyou why the world had grown distasteful to me. I think you ought toknow. It may be worth something to you. The old story, always new--agirl, pretty, insincere. I was just out of the University, with a goodeducation, some prospects, but no money. We became engaged. She wasgoing to wait for me until I got a good professorship. But she didn't. In less than a year, without even the formality of breaking theengagement, she suddenly married a man who had money, a manufacturerof gas engines in Taunton, Massachusetts. I won't go into the details. They're rather sickening from this distance. But I thought you mightlike to know why I've never particularly cared to trust women. "

"I supposed, " he said, thoughtfully, "it might have been somethinglike that. Women _are_ queer. You think you know them, and then--" Hepaused, confession hovering on his lips, but some delicacy restrainedhim. 

"Women, Jerry, are the flavoring of society; I regret that I have apoor digestion for sauces. I hope yours will be better. "

He laughed. "Poor Roger; was she _very_ pretty?"

"I can't remember. Probably. Calf love seldom considers anythingelse--prettiness! Yes she was pretty. "

"How old were you?"

"Older than you Jerry--and wiser. "

He was silent. Once I thought he was about to speak, but he refrained, and when he deftly turned the topic, I knew that any chance I mighthave had to help him had passed. I understood, of course, and I couldnot help respecting his delicacy. Jerry was in for some hard knocks, Ifeared, harder ones than Clancy had given him. 

He went to bed presently and I sat by the lamp alternately reading andthinking of Jerry, comparing him with myself in that long-distantromance of my own. They were not unlike, these two women, prettylittle self-worshipers, born to deceit and chicanery, with clevertalents for concealing their ignorance, hiding the emptiness of theirhearts with pretty tricks of coquetry. But Marcia was the moredangerous, a clean body and an unclean mind. A half-virgin! I wouldhave given much to know what had recently passed between Marcia andJerry. If there was any way to bring about a disillusionment--

As though in answer to my enigma, at this moment Christopher came downfrom Jerry's room on his way below stairs. I stopped him and takinghim into my study closed the door. 

"You're very fond of Master Jerry, Christopher?" I asked. 

"Oh, yes, sir, Mr. Canby. "

"So am I, Christopher. I think you know that, don't you?"

"Why, yes, sir. You've been a father to 'im, sir. Nobody knows thatbetter than me, sir. "

"We'd both go through fire and water for him, wouldn't we, Christopher?"

"Oh, yes, sir; an' if you please, sir, what with these prize fightersat the Manor an' all, I rather think we 'ave, sir. "

I smiled. 

"A bad business, but over for good, I think, Christopher. But thereare other things, worse in a way--"

I paused, scrutinizing the man's homely, impassive face. 

"Did Master Jerry do much drinking before he went into training, Christopher?"

"A little, what any gentleman would, out in the world, sir. "

"You've noticed it since the fight?"

He hesitated. Loyalty was bred in his bone. 

"Yes, sir. "

"You know, Christopher, that I've spent my life trying to make Jerry afine man?"

"You 'ave, sir. It's a pity--the--the drink. But it can't 'ave muchof a 'old on 'im yet, sir. "

"Then you _have_ noticed?"

"Yes, sir. "

"When did he begin?"

He paused a moment. 

"I think it was the day after the fight, that very night, to behexact, sir. "

"I see. The night after the fight. He spent the evening out and whenhe came home, was he intoxicated?"

"Not then, no, sir. But 'e'd been drinkin', just mildly lit--in amanner o' speakin' sir, not drunk, but gay and kind o' sarcastic-like;not like Master Jerry 'imself, sir. "

"Had he been with some other gentlemen during the evening?"

"No, sir. 'E 'ad been callin' on a lady, but stopped at 'is club onthe way around--"

"What lady?"

"I--I--"

"You may speak freely, Christopher. Miss Van Wyck?"

"I--I think so, sir. They 'ad an appointment. "

"I see. And did he drink again that night?"

"A few brandies--yes, sir. Ye see, sir, it got to himquick-like--breakin' training so suddent. "

"I understand. And you put him to bed. "

"Yes, sir, in a manner o' speakin' I did, sir. "

"When did you notice his drinking again?"

"Not for some days, sir. "

"And what then?"

"The same thing happened again, sir. "

"I see. " I paced the floor silently, my inclination to questionfurther struggling against my sense of the fitness of things. Was notChristopher, after all, a friend as well as a servant, a well-triedfriend of Jerry's clan? "Did you connect the fact of Master Jerry'sdrinking with his visits to the lady I have mentioned, Christopher?" Iasked in a moment. 

He paused a moment scratching his head in perplexity, and then blurtedforth without reserve. 

"I'm glad you've spoken, Mr. Canby. I'm not given to talkin' overMaster Jerry's private affairs, sir, but it's all in the family, like, though I wouldn't 'ave Master Jerry know--"

"Master Jerry will not know. "

"Well, Mr. Canby, if you'd ask my hopinion, sir, I'd say that thisyoung lady--sayin' no names, sir--is doin' no good to Master Jerry. She's always got 'im fussed, sir, an' irritable. 'E's not like'imself--not like 'imself at all, sir. Why, Mr. Canby, I'm not thekind as listens behind keyholes, sir, but one night last week when shecomes to the 'ouse in New York to visit 'im--"

"Ah, she came to the house?"

"Yes, sir, alone, sir, at night; a most unproper thing for a nice girlto do, sir, if I must say it, Mr. Canby. I couldn't 'elp 'earin' inthe next room, or seein' for the matter of that. Master Jerry is outof 'is 'ead about 'er, an' no mistake, sir. I could 'ear 'is voicesoft-like an she indifferent, leadin' 'im on, a-playin' with 'im, sir. Seemed to me like she was sweet an' mad-like by turns. She's a strangeone, Mr. Canby, an' if the matter goes no further I'd like to say, sir, that I've no fancy for such doin's in a lady. "

"Nor I, Christopher. You heard what she said?"

"I couldn't 'elp, some of it. 'Twas about the fight, sir. 'But youlost, ' says she again and again when 'e speaks to 'er soft-like. 'Youlost. You let that ugly gorilla'--them's 'er words, sir, speakin' o'Clancy--'you let that gorilla beat you, you, my fightin' god. ' Iremember the words, sir, 'er hexact words, sir, she said them againand again. Queer talk for a drawin' room, Mr. Canby, in a lady'smouth, an' Master Jerry talkin' low all the time and tellin' her heloved 'er--not darin' even to touch 'er 'and, sir, an' lookin' at herpleadin' like; 'im with his soft eyes, 'im with 'is great strength an'manhood, like a child before 'er, not even touchin' 'er, sir, with 'ertemptin' and tantalizing. " He broke off with a shrug. "'Tis a queerworld, sir, where them that calls themselves ladies comes a visitin'gentlemen alone at night, an' goes away clean with a laugh on theirlips. A gentleman Master 'Jerry is, sir, too good for the likes o'her. " The man paused and looked toward the door with a startled air. "I 'ave no business sayin' what's in my mind, even to you, Mr. Canby. You'll not tell 'im, sir?"

"No. I'm glad you've spoken. You've said nothing of this--to anyone?"

"I'd cut my tongue out first, sir, " he muttered, wagging his head. 

I led the way to the door and opened it. 

"I like her no better than you, Christopher. Something must bedone--something--It's too bad--"

"Good night, sir, " he said. 

"Good night, Christopher. "

CHAPTER XVIII

TWO EMBASSIES

There was something particularly brutal to me in hearing this estimateof Marcia Van Wyck's visit to Jerry through the lips of a servant. Andyet I felt no remorse at encouraging the confession. Good Christopherwas not brilliant, and only the most obvious of things impressed him, but he had seen, and like me, had judged. And his judgment was evenmore damning than mine, for Christopher was an amicable person, whododdered along, accepting life as it came, too weary for enmities, ortoo well trained to show them. It must have been at the cost of asevere wrench to his habits and traditions that he had dared to speakso freely. Good old Christopher! Ten years of the monastic life hadnarrowed your vision and mine, but they had made that visionsingularly clear. 

During that night in my hours of wakefulness before sleep came, Istudied Jerry's infatuation from every angle. I feared for him. Themoment of awakening was approaching, and then? Whatever the hiddenweaknesses in his moral fiber, thus suddenly subjected to strain, hewas not one to be lightly dealt with by man or woman. He was gentle, soft, if you please, childlike with those he loved, but there wasdangerous mettle in him not to be tampered with by trickery or guile. Christopher had shown me with his uncompromising bluntness what I hadmerely suspected; the girl loved danger and saw it in Jerry's eyes, fascinated by the imminence of peril that lurked in his innocence. Astrange passion, calculating, cold, abnormal. And Jerry loved thisgirl--adored her, as though she were a sacred vessel, a fragile thing, that would break in his fingers! I began to hope that he would breakher (and to fear it), crush her and discover her emptiness. 

The morrow brought a resolve to visit Briar Hills. Except for theafternoons when Jerry fished, he went there daily. He was delighted atmy wish to accompany him. We drove over in the motor in the flush ofthe afternoon, Jerry blithe again, I silent, wondering at theinexhaustible springs of youth, forgetting that it was merely May andJerry on his way to the woman he loved. 

The house was full of guests for the week-end, but Marcia Van Wyck, with an air of hospitality that quite took me aback, welcomed mewarmly, confessed herself much honored by this mark of my attentionand took me to see her garden. Oh, she was clever. Spring flowers, youth, grace, the sweetness of the warm, scented paths, her symbolicwhite frock to set the scene for innocence. But I understood her now. Two could play at her game. 

"It was wonderful of you to come, Mr. Canby, " she purred. "So kind, soneighborly. "

"It's really a great pleasure, I'm sure, " I said with a show ofgallantry. "A lovely spot! Blossoms. I wondered where you got them foryour cheeks. "

She flashed a quick glance at me, wholly humorous. 

"For that speech, you shall have a bud for your lapel. " And sheplucked and fastened it, her face very close to mine. She gave me amoment of intense discomfort which was only half embarrassment. Shehad planned well. She was a part of the purity and sweetness of thislovely summer garden. Guile and she were miles asunder. 

"Thanks, " I muttered, smelling the blossom with some ostentation. 

"Then we're going to be friends?" she queried archly. 

"I'm not aware that we were ever anything else, " I replied easily. 

"Come now, Mr. Canby. You know we haven't always understood eachother. I'm sure each of us has been frightfully jealous of the other. Isn't it so?"

"Jealous! I? Of you, Miss Van Wyck?"

"Don't let's misunderstand again. I'm frightfully cheerful thisafternoon. It mightn't happen again for weeks. I couldn't quarrel withfate itself. You did want Jerry to carry your doctrines out into theworld with him, didn't you?"

"I'm not aware--"

"And I discovered him far too stodgy to endure. It wasn't so much thatyour philosophy and mine differed as the difference they made inJerry. And so we clashed. I won. "

I was silent. 

"Didn't I, Mr. Canby?" she persisted, in her gentlest tone. 

"Jerry is out of my hands, Miss Van Wyck, " I managed coolly. 

"And in mine?"

"Yes, in yours, " after a pause. 

She laughed softly. 

"What do you suppose I'm going to do with him?"

The glamour of youth in a garden, her rare humor and the cloudlessday--I had managed well so far, but she pressed me hard. Jerry was nochattel to be bandied carelessly. I felt my body stiffening. 

"Jerry is very sweet, Mr. Canby, " she went on with that softness ofvoice that I had grown to understand. "He does anything, everythingthat I ask him to. It really is a great responsibility. Human judgmentis so fallible, especially a woman's. Suppose I asked him to become anihilist or President, or even both. "

D--- the vixen. She was making game of me. But I struggled to hold mytemper, taking her literally. 

"Nihilism? Political or moral, Miss Van Wyck? To one of your means, the first would be inconvenient; to one of your affections, the otherdangerous. "

She flashed a narrow glance at me. "_Touchée. _ I like the thrust fromcover, but I can parry. Suppose that I said that I would relinquishJerry. "

"I'm not sure that you can, " I replied coolly. 

Our glances met again. She knew that I read her. 

"Nothing is impossible to intelligence. I could send him awaytomorrow, today--"

"But he would come back. "

"You frighten me, " she said, shuddering prettily. 

"That is precisely what I wish to do, " I went on stolidly. 

"Threats!"

I shrugged. "You underestimate him, that's all. "

"Perhaps. You know, Mr. Canby, that you improve vastly onacquaintance. If you were younger--" She paused and looked at meslantwise. 

"Ingenuous, handsome, a fighting god--!"

I could have bitten out my tongue the moment I had spoken the words, and the dark look she shot at me as she flashed around gave a measureof her latent deviltry. 

"Jerry told you that!" she said in tones half-suppressed. 

"No. "

"He did. "

"No. But I know. I haven't watched for a month for nothing. I'm not achild, Miss Van Wyck. "

"What are you?" she taunted. 

"A prophet. Jerry is no woman's plaything. Let him be. You don't knowhim as I do. I warn you. "

She suddenly went into a fit of laughter, meant to ruffle my dignity. 

"Off with my head! If you knew how much you remind me of the _Queen_in 'Alice in Wonderland'!"

"I'm sorry you won't take me seriously. "

"I can't, " she laughed again. "You're too absurd to be tragic. "

"Perhaps we had better be going toward the house, " I remarked. 

She moved slowly along, her back eloquent of disdain. But she pausedfor a moment to let me join her. 

"You see? I've tried. You won't be friendly. "

"My advice is friendly--"

"I never follow advice. We're enemies. It is written. "

I shrugged. Impolite I may have been, but there was no use mincingmatters. My preposterous embassy had failed. As we neared the houseshe left me on the lawn and turned to where Jerry and the others weremoving toward the tennis courts. 

"You'll find Miss Gore upon the veranda, " she smiled over her shoulderwith careless gayety. She was extraordinary. But I'm sure that neverbefore had I hated the girl as at that moment. Thoughtfully I made myway to the veranda and Miss Gore. 

"Well, " she said cheerfully as I sank into a chair, "you are friendsagain?"

"No. "

"It's really too bad. I think you take life too seriously, Mr. Canby. "

"Perhaps. " I remained silent. She worked at her embroidery frame for amoment as though to attune herself to my mood and then:

"Briar Hills can't hope for a visit which hasn't an ulterior purpose. What is it?"

As usual she wasted no words and smiled benignly, a comfortablemotherly smile at once quizzical and forgiving. 

"I _did_ want to see you, " I put in awkwardly. "It has been a longtime--"

"I'll spare you the necessity for explanations. You're here to tell methat Jerry is drinking and to find out why. Isn't that so?"

I could only stare at her in wonder at her intuitions, and made someremark which she chose to disregard. 

"As I predicted, the disease is passing, " she said quietly, "but it'sleaving Marcia first. Three weeks ago Jerry was a god to Marcia. Lastweek she showed signs of disenchantment. This week she is plainlybored. "

"I guessed as much. But why?"

She shrugged her shoulders expressively, but having gone so far I wasnot there to waste words. 

"I know. Her idol fell in Madison Square Garden, a bone-and-muscleidol, Miss Gore. "

She remained silent, examining her embroidery with a critical eye. 

"You know that that is true, " I asserted. 

"Idols are as easily made as shattered for Marcia. She may adore himagain next week. "

"I hope not. It would be a pity. "

"I agree with you, " she said quietly. "It would be a pity. "

I said nothing for a moment, watching her slim fingers weaving to andfro. 

"I have just warned her, " I said. 

The fingers moved slowly, then stopped and lowered the embroideryframe to her lap. Her wide gaze was full upon me. 

"You--what?"

"I warned her. "

"Against what?"

"Against Jerry. "

She straightened and a sound came from her throat. 

"You--"

She gave a short laugh. "You'll pardon me, Mr. Canby, but I was on thepoint of calling you a fool. "

"I warned her, " I muttered. "Jerry isn't like other men. She's playingwith fire. "

"And don't you know that that is the very worst thing you could havedone, for Jerry--for her?"

"I hadn't meant to do exactly that. She angered me. "

"She would. Her idea of existence isn't yours. And if you don't mindmy saying so, I think you're wasting your time on the possible chanceof making Jerry appear ridiculous to her, to us all. Your guardianshipis hardly flattering to his intelligence or his character. You can'thelp matters. Whatever the crisis, it is bound to come, the sooner thebetter for Jerry and for her. My good man, can't you _see_?"

I had realized my futility already, and it was not pleasant to have itshown me through another's eyes. Nor did I relish her calling me her"good man, " but curiously enough when she had finished I made noreply. And so I sat meekly, Miss Gore resuming her embroidery. 

"It is a pity that he cares for no other girls. There's MargaretLaidlaw, pretty, attractive, feminine, and Sarah Carew, handsome, sportive, masculine. One would think he'd find a choice between themand they both like him. But no, he has eyes in his head for Marciaonly. A moment ago when he was talking to them, his gaze was on theflower-garden. Has he never cared for any other women? Who was thegirl who got inside the wall last year, Mr. Canby?"

Una! I had forgotten her. But I shook my head. 

"I meddle no more, Miss Gore. I've learned a lesson. Jerry must workout his own salvation. "

"It's merely a suggestion. Think it over. "

After awhile I rose, pleading the need of exercise and begging her tomake my excuses to Marcia, I set out for the Manor. But instead oftaking the longer road to the lodge gate, when I reached the wall Iturned to the left into the footpath along which I had come that nightwith the girl Una, reaching the Sweetwater and crawling under thebroken grille to the rocks where she and Jerry had met. I sat forawhile on the brink of the stream, watching the tangling reflectionsin the tiny current. Una! Somehow the place reminded me of UnaHabberton, a sanctuary for quiet thoughts; the pools below me, hereyes reflecting the clear heavens; the intonation of the rill, hervoice; the cheerful birdnotes, her joy of life; the dignity of thetall trees, her sanity. Less than a year ago I had turned her out ofthis garden, fearing for the boy the first woman he had seen, and tomy ascetic mind because a woman, a minx. I eyed the broken grilleregretfully and then suddenly rose and started hurriedly toward theManor, the new thought drumming in my mind. 

A fool's mission? Perhaps, and yet I resolved to take it. I put somethings into a bag and, telling Christopher that Jerry wasn't to expectme home that night, I caught an evening train to the city. 

It was not difficult to reach her by telephone, for I found her at thehouse in Washington Square. She did not recall my voice or my name, and only when I said that I had been Jerry Benham's tutor, did sheremember. It was a personal matter, I explained, having to do with Mr. Benham, and at that she consented to see me. I left the telephonebooth at the hotel perspiring freely, aware for the first time of theawkwardness and delicacy of my undertaking. But I dined and changedinto my blue serge suit, one that I had bought upon the occasion of mylast visit to town, and at half past eight presented myself in theHabberton drawing-room. In the moments before she appeared, I sat illat ease, my eyes taking in every detail of the well-ordered room, thecool gray walls, the family portraits, the old-fashioned ornamentsupon table and mantel, aware, in spite of myself, that I was warm atthe collar, impatient for the interview to begin, yet fearful for it. 

I was watching the folding doors at the end of the room when shestartled me by appearing silently almost at my elbow. The lights weredim, but I could see that her face wore no smile of greeting and as Irose she did not offer me her hand. 

"Mr. Canby, " she said politely, indicating a chair, "won't you sitdown?"

"Er--thanks, " I said. My throat was dry. I hoped she would not make ittoo difficult for me. Meanwhile I saw her eyeing me narrowly as thoughthe possibility had just occurred to her that I might have come to askfor money. She waited a moment for me to speak, but I found itdifficult to begin. 

"Mr. Benham sent you to me?" she asked at last very coolly. 

"Er--not exactly, " I stammered. "Mr. Benham did not send me, butI--I'm here in his interest. "

"Yes?"

The rising inflection on the monosyllable could hardly have beencalled encouraging. 

"The circumstance of our first meeting, " I ventured again with anassumption of ease that I was far from feeling--"its duration was sobrief that I feared you wouldn't remember me. "

Her neck stiffened ever so slightly. 

"You surely did not come here, " she said icily, "merely to discuss thecircumstances of our first meeting. "

"N--no, not at all, at least, not altogether, Miss Habberton. But I--Icouldn't help hoping--" here I tried to smile--a ghastly one atbest--"I couldn't help hoping that you had managed to forgive me forperforming a very unpleasant duty. "

"If you will please come as quickly as possible to the object of yourvisit--"

"I--I will. If you'll be a little patient with me. "

She averted her head, but said nothing. 

"I think you know, Miss Habberton, that I've given the last elevenyears of my life to Jerry. He has been like a younger brother to meand I have done what I could to develop him physically, mentally, morally, to successful manhood. I had hoped under ideal conditions toproduce--"

"I fail to see, Mr. Canby--"

"Please bear with me a moment longer. I think you may have realizedlast year what Jerry was. You saw him then, a creature with the bodyand intelligence of a man and the heart of a child. He was what I hadmade him. From my point of view he was flawless, as nearly perfect asyou will find a man in this--"

"Without temptations, " she put in quickly, the first encouraging signof her interest. 

"I had built my hopes as I had built his body and mind and character, sure that contact with the world would only refine and strengthenhim. "

She shook her head. "You do not know the world as I do. It was adream. I could have told you so then, last summer. "

"You--you have seen the papers--the accounts of--?"

"I don't see how I could very well help seeing them, " she saidsmiling. "He began his battle with the world bravely at least. "

"My only hope is that you haven't misjudged him in that affair. Allhis life he has cared for boxing--"

"I can't see what difference my judgment of him can make one way orthe other. He has done much, is doing much for the people I'minterested in. Of course, you know of that. But as to his privatelife--that is something with which, of course, I can have no concern. "

"I am sorry to hear you say that. I thought perhaps that as afriend--"

"Mr. Benham understands my interest in him, I think, " she paused andaverted her head, one small foot tapping the floor impatiently. "Icannot see where this conversation is leading us. I beg that you willbe explicit. "

"I was counting on your interest, for he values your good opinion moreI think than that of anyone in the world. "

Her foot ceased tapping and she bent forward, one elbow on her knee, her head lowered thoughtfully. 

"What do you want, Mr. Canby?" she asked abruptly. 

"Your help. "

"Mine!"

"Yes, your help. Jerry needs it--"

"He did not ask--?"

"No. I haven't consulted Jerry--"

"Then I--"

"Please listen. If Jerry's future means anything to you, you will dowhat you can. Jerry has--has gotten into bad company--he is slipping, Miss Habberton--slipping down. I don't know whose the fault is, hisfather's for his idealism, or mine for my selfish delight in theexperiment of his education, but Jerry is failing us. You see, I'mtelling you all. I have given up. A dream, you have called it. It wasa dream; but I can't see him fail without an effort to help him. Whena man centers all his hopes in life on one ambition, its failure istragic. You see I'm humble. It has cost me something to come to you. Ihope you understand what it means. "

My appeal had reached her, for I think she realized how seldom such aperson as I could be moved to emotion. 

"But I--how can I help?" she asked. 

"Will you listen and not think me visionary? Jerry cares for you. Tohim you have made a different appeal from that of any other woman inthe world. You were the first. You stirred him. You may not be aware. In his mind you stand for everything that is clean and noble. In hisheart, I know--I have not studied Jerry all these years fornothing--he has a shrine there--for you, Miss Habberton. You willalways be Una, the first. I hope you will forgive me and believe me. It is necessary that you should. "

She smiled at me gently. 

"You are very much in earnest, Mr. Canby. I can forgive much to oneof your sincerity. But doesn't it seem to you a curious conversation?"

"I had hoped you cared enough--"

"And if I did, do you think anything would give you the right to cometo me without Mr. Benham's permission and speak of--"

"You must let me finish, " I demanded. "You are kind, charitable. Trying to save people from themselves is your life work. I merelybring you a soul to save, a friend in danger. Can you refuse, refusehim? Jerry is drinking. It has not been for long, but he is introuble. He has gotten beyond his depth--a woman--Oh, don'tmisunderstand me! It is mental, a strange attraction, weird, Jerrydoesn't understand at all. He's bewitched, but she is slowlybrutalizing him, his mind I mean. Don't you understand?"

"Yes, I think so, " she muttered. "It is not a new situation. But I--nofriend, man or girl, could avail in a case like that. " She paused amoment clasping and unclasping her hands. I waited. 

"Who is this--this woman?" she blurted out at last. 

I hesitated. 

"A lady. You--you put me at a disadvantage. "

"What is her name?" she insisted. 

"Marcia Van Wyck, " I muttered. 

"Marcia! Surely--" She stopped. A look of bewilderment came over herface, ending with a frown of perplexity. 

"No, " she murmured. "He wouldn't understand Marcia. I--" And then witha gasp, "And you want _me_ to interfere? Mr. Canby, I--"

"Just a moment, please. I ask nothing that you cannot do. I havethought of a plan. We are alone at the Manor. I ask you to meet Jerryas you met him there last summer along by the Sweetwater. I am goingto arrange to have him fish up the stream on Saturday afternoon. Willyou come, Miss Habberton, come to the wall and meet him there insidethe broken grille? I know his mind. It is curiously affected by factsof association. It is the only thing. I have--"

The words died on my lips as she rose, her slim figure straight in itssudden dignity, and I knew that I had failed. 

"Your proposal is preposterous, Mr. Canby, " she said coolly, movingtoward the door. 

"You refuse?"

"Of course. I am sorry if Mr. Benham has failed, is failing hisfriends, but the thing that you suggest is impossible. " She put outher hand in token of dismissal. 

"And you won't reconsider? Let me come to see you tomorrow, the nextday. Is it so much that I ask?"

"Good night, Mr. Canby. "

"You do not care enough?"

"Good night. "

I bowed over her fingers silently. 

Then I took up my hat. There was nothing left to do. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE PATH IN THE WOOD

Had I not been obsessed with the desire at all costs to divert theunhappy tide of Jerry's infatuation, I must have known that no girlsuch as Una Habberton could lend herself as accessory to a plan likemine. I had had evidence enough that she cared for Jerry in a tender, almost a motherly way, and while I had been unsuccessful in mymission, I now saw no reason to change my opinion. Indeed, in my hotelroom that night, the more I thought of the interview the moreconvinced I was that whatever modesty deterred her, it was the veryfact of her caring so much that made the thing impossible to her. Herair of indifference, carefully assumed, had not hidden the rapid riseand fall of her breast at the confession of my fears. The inquietudeof her manner, the curiosity which had permitted me to finish mystory, were proof convincing that her interests in Jerry were morethan ordinarily involved, and the more I thought of her attitude themore I wondered at my own temerity. 

A brazen minx I had once thought her, but tonight in her plain whitefrock and sober conventional surroundings she seemed to show somethingof the quiet poise of a nurse or a nun. She seemed to exemplify thethought that the ideal woman is both wood-nymph and madonna. Bycontrast to the Nietzschian intriguer I had left that morning atBriar Hills, she was a paragon of all virtues. Nietzsche! Thephilosopher of the sty! Freud, his runt!

When, the following morning, I found Jack Ballard in his apartment ateleven (as usual fastening his cravat) I told him of the unfortunateend to my ventures, but he only laughed at me. 

"My dear Pope, " he said, "you are suffering from a severe attack ofpaternomania. If you don't mind my saying so, you're making aprodigious ass of yourself and of Jerry. If I were the boy, I'd packyou out bag and baggage. Imagine it! Put yourself in his place. Would_you_ like any meddling in your little affairs of gallantry?" And helaughed aloud at his joke. I scowled at him, but passed the absurdremark in dignified silence. 

"If it _were_ an affair of gallantry!" I said at last, "I couldforgive him that, and her. But this--it's mere milk and water and hethinks it's the nectar of the gods. The pity of it!"

"A pity, yes. But who is responsible? Not Jerry, surely. He's whatyou've made him, " Jack paused expressively. "Does he--?" he began andpaused. I read his meaning. 

"No, " I said. 

"Um! Knowledge will come like a thunderclap to Jerry. Then--look out!"

I agreed with him. 

"But Jerry's amatory ventures are none of your business, Pope, " hewent on. "Let the boy go the limit. He has got to do it. It won't hurthim. I told you that Marcia would help him cut his eye-teeth. She'sdoing it in approved modern fashion, without instruments or gas. He'll recover. Let 'em alone. I'll tell you what to do. Just put yourprecious dialectics in cold storage awhile--they'll keep; nobody'llthaw 'em out unless you do--and take a trip to 'Frisco. "

"Frisco or not, I meddle no more. "

"Frankenstein!" he laughed again. "The monster is getting away fromyou. "

"If you're going to be facetious--"

"There are times when nothing else is possible. This is one of 'em. Brace up, old boy. All's lost but hope and that's going soon. You gohome and take a pill. You're yellow. Perhaps I'll come up for theweek-end for Marcia's party, you know, --if you'll promise to have thebeds well-aired. I'm sure they're reminiscent of Jerry's pugs. Going?Oh, very well. Love to Jerry. And remember, old top, that a man is asheaven made him and sometimes a great deal worse. "

This was the comforting reflection I took with me to the train thatafternoon. But I was now resigned. I had done what I could and failed. The only thing left, it seemed, was to reconcile myself to thesituation, seek a friendship with Marcia and await the _débâcle_. 

I made, of course, no mention of the object of my visit to New Yorkand Jerry gave me no confidences. He went to town Tuesday andWednesday, returned tired and sullen. And the next night after a longperiod alone in the study in which I had managed at last to get mymind on my work, I found Jerry in the dining-room quite drunk with thebrandy bottle beside him. He was ugly and disposed to be quarrelsome, but I got him to bed at last, suffering myself no graver damage than abruised biceps where his great fingers had grasped me. Jack Ballard'sremark about Frankenstein was no joke. That night a monster Jerry was;from the bottom of my heart I pitied him. 

I argued with Jerry in the morning, pleaded with him and threatened toleave the Manor, but he was so contrite, so earnest in his promises ofreformation that I couldn't find it in my heart to go. I proposed atrip to Europe, but he refused. 

"Not now, Roger, " he demurred. "I've got to stay here now. Just stickaround with me for awhile, won't you, old chap?"

"Will you stop drinking?" I asked. 

"Brandy?"

"Everything. "

"H--m. You're the devil of a martinet. "

"Will you?"

It was the supreme test of what remained of my influence over him. Hishead ached, I'm sure, for he looked a wreck. I watched his faceanxiously. He went to the table, took a cigarette from the box andlighted it deliberately. Then turning, faced me with a smile, andoffered his hand. 

"Yes, " he said. "Old Dry-as-dust, I will. "

"A promise? You've never broken one, Jerry. "

"A promise, Roger. I--I think I'm getting a little glimmering ofsense. A promise. I'll keep it. "

"Thank God, for that, " I said, in so fervent a tone that the boysmiled at me. 

"Good old Roger! You're a brick, " he said. "Friendship, after all, isthe greatest thing in the world. " He turned his head and walked tothe window and looked out, assuming an air of unconcern which I knewhid some deep-seated emotion. I, too, was silent. It was a fine momentfor us both. 

He turned into the room after awhile with an air of gayety. 

"We're going to have a party, Roger. "

"Ah, when?"

"Marcia's giving a dance tomorrow night, people from all over, andI'll have a few of 'em here in the afternoon--for tea out at thecabin. Sort of a picnic. Some of 'em are bringing rods to try theearly fishing. Rather jolly, eh? I'll tell Poole and Christopher--"

I confessed myself much pleased with this arrangement and thanked mystars that Una had refused me. It was the day I had wanted her. Indeed, since Jerry's promise, life at the Manor had suddenly taken adifferent complexion. A new hope was born in me. Jerry would keep thatpromise. I was sure of it. 

I will come as rapidly as possible to the extraordinary happenings ofthat Saturday afternoon, which as much as any other event in thisentire history, portrays the mutability of the feminine mind. I hadgone out to the cabin to see that everything was in order, and Jerrywas to follow later, while a few of the men fished up stream, Marciaand some of her guests driving in motors to the upper gate, cuttingacross to the cabin through the woods. Christopher had cleared thecabin and he and Poole had brought the eatables and set a table. Thetwo days that had passed since Jerry had given me his promise had beencheerful ones for the boy. I had not seen Miss Gore, but for aught Iknew Marcia Van Wyck might have been adoring Jerry again. I did notcare what her mood was. All would come right, for Jerry had given me apromise and he would not break it. The arrangements within the cabinhaving been completed, I went outside and wandered a short way downthe path toward the stream, sat on a rock and became at once engagedin my favorite woodland game of counting birdcalls. Thrushes androbins, warblers, sparrows, finches, all engaged in the employmentthat Jerry had described as "hopping around a bit, " or chirping, calling, singing until the air was melodious with sound. The birdman'ssurprise, a new note differing from the others, a loud clear gurglingsong, brought me to my feet and I went on down the path listening. Itwas different from the note of a wren which it resembled, that of aLincoln sparrow, I was sure, a rarity at the Manor, only one specimenof which Jerry possessed. But midway in my pursuit of the elusive birdI saw movement in the path in front of me and I caught a glimpse ofleather leggins and a skirt. In a moment all thought of my Lincolnsparrow was gone from my head. At first I thought the visitor one ofJerry's guests, but as she approached, butterfly net in hand, I sawthat it was Una Habberton. So great was my surprise at seeing her thatI stood, mouth open, stupidly staring. But she was laughing at me. 

"You're a nice one, " she was saying. "Here I am a trespasser throughthe grille and not a soul to greet me. "

"You came, " I muttered inanely. 

"Obviously; since here I am. It's Saturday, isn't it?"

"Yes. But--" I paused. 

"But what?"

"You said you wouldn't come. "

"Oh, " she laughed. "I merely changed my mind--my privilege, you know. I was a trifle stale. I thought it would do me good. But you don'tseem in the least glad to see me. "

I was--delighted. Joy was one of the things that made me dumb. 

"I was just trying to realize--er--Won't you sit down? On a rock, Imean. Jerry's somewhere about. He'll be along in a minute. "

The possible effect on Una of Jerry's guests, who also might be alongin a minute, was just beginning to bewilder me. 

"He's fishing?"

"He was to meet me at the cabin. He'll be along presently. It will bea wonderful surprise. Suppose we hadn't been out here at all?"

"I was prepared to go all the way to the house. Nice of me, wasn't it?You know I promised Jerry some day I'd come to see his collection. "

"He'll be delighted--Ho! There's his whistle now. " I sounded thefamiliar call on my fingers and moved toward the cabin, but shestopped me. 

"You're not to leave me, Mr. Canby, or I'll go. "

"Why?"

"A chance meeting would have been different. This is premeditation. Don't leave me. Do you hear!"

I nodded and when Jerry came in sight I called him. He appeared in thepath, a basket of wine in one hand, a fishing rod in the other. 

"Hello, Roger, " he shouted and then paused, setting the basket down. 

"I didn't know--"

"A surprise, Jerry!"

"Why, it's Una!" he cried. "Una! What on earth--?"

"I was butterflying, and wandered through. " She laughed. "I told youto have that railing mended. "

"The necessity for that is past, " he laughed gayly. "Oh, it's jollygood to see you. "

He took her by both hands and held her off from him examining herdelightedly. 

"It seems like yesterday. I'm not sure it isn't yesterday that youbroke in and I was going to throw you over the wall. Imagine it! You!You're just the same--so different from the sober little mouse ofBlank Street. I believe you have on the very same clothes, the samegaiters--"

"Naturally. Do you think I'm a millionaire?"

Three was a crowd. I would have given my right hand to havetransported the cabin and all the gay people expected there to theends of the earth. In a moment the woods would be full of them. I wasat a loss what to do, for when they came the bird would take flight, but Jerry seemed to have forgotten everything but the girl before him. It was a real enthusiasm and happiness that he showed, the first inweeks. 

"So you expected to slip in and out without being caught, did you?"Jerry was saying. "Pretty sort of a friend, you are! You might atleast have let a fellow know you were going to be in this part of theworld; where are you staying?"

"I don't see how that's the slightest concern of yours, " she saiddemurely. 

"The same old Una!" cried Jerry delightedly. "Always making game of afellow. Do sit down again and let's have a chat. It seems ages sinceI've seen you. How's the day nursery coming on? Did you get the lastcheck? I meant to stop in and see the plans. I couldn't, though, " hefrowned a little. "Something turned up. Business, you know. "

"Jerry _is_ busy, " I put in mischievously, as I sat down beside them. "He worked Tuesday and Wednesday this week. "

"Aren't you afraid of injuring your health, Jerry?" she asked sweetly. "I hope you're not working _too_ hard. "

He frowned and then burst into laughter. 

"Roger's a chump. He sits staring at a sheet of foolscap all day andthinks he's working. I do work, though. I'm reorganizing a railroad, "he finished proudly. 

"How splendid! I'm sure it needs it. Railroads are the mostdisorganized and disorganizing--"

"And I'm engaged in a freight war with a rival steamship company. It'sperfectly bully. I've got 'em backed off the map. We're carrying stufffor almost nothing and they're howling for help. " He had taken out hispipe and was lighting it. "I'm going to buy 'em out, " he finished. "But you don't want to hear about _me_. What are--"

"I do. Of course"--and she exchanged a quick glance with me. "Ofcourse, I see a little about you in the papers--your interest inathletics--"

"Oh, I say, Una, " he cried, flushing a dark red. "It's not fair to--"

"I'm fearfully interested, " she persisted calmly. "You know it'sactually gotten me into the habit of the sporting page. 'Walloping'Houligan and 'Scotty' Smith, the Harlem knock-out artist, are nolonger empty names for me. They're real people with jabs and things. "

"It's not kind of you--"

"I've been waiting breathlessly for your next encounter. I hope it'swith 'Scotty. ' It would be so much more of an achievement to win froma real knock-out artist--"

"Stop it, Una, " he cried painfully. "I forbid you--"

"Do you mean, " she asked innocently, "that you don't like todiscuss--"

"I--I'd rather talk of something else, " he stammered. "I've stoppedboxing. "

"Why?" wide-eyed. "The newspapers were wild about you. It _was_ afluke, wasn't it--Clancy 'getting' you in the ninth?"

"No, " he muttered sullenly, "he whipped me fairly. "

"Really. I'm awfully sorry. When one sets one's heart upon a thing--"

"Will you be quiet, Una?" he cried impetuously. "I won't have youtalking this way, of these things. I--I was jollied into the thing. Imean, " with a glance at me, "I never thought of the consequences. It--it was only a lark. I'm out of it, for good. "

"Oh!" she said in a subdued tone, her gaze upon a distant tree-trunk. "It's too bad. "

Whatever she meant by that cryptic remark, Jerry looked mostuncomfortable. Her irony had cut him to the quick, and her humor hadflayed his quivering sensibilities. That he took it without angerargued much for the quality of the esteem in which he held her. Another person, even I, in similar circumstances, would have courteddemolition. Secretly, I was delighted. She had struck just the rightnote. He still writhed inwardly, but he made no effort at unconcern. Ithink he was perfectly willing that she should be a witness of hisself-abasement. 

"I was an idiot, Una, a conceited, silly fool. I deserve everythingyou say. I think it makes me a little happier to hear you say it, because if you weren't my friend you'd have kept quiet. "

"I haven't said anything, " she remarked urbanely. "And of course it'snone of my affair. "

"But it _is_, " he was insisting. 

I had risen, for along the path some people were coming. Jerry andUna, their backs being turned, were so absorbed in their conversationthat they did not hear the rustle of footsteps, but when I rose theyglanced at me and saw my face. I would have liked to have spiritedthem away, but it was too late. I made out the visitors now, Marcia, Phil Laidlaw, Sarah Carew and Channing Lloyd. I saw a change come inJerry's face, as though a gray cloud had passed over it. Una startedup, butterfly-net in hand, and glanced from one to the other of us, aquestion in her eyes, her face a trifle set. 

"Oh, here you are, " Marcia's soft voice was saying. "It seemed agesgetting here. "

Jerry took charge of the situation with a discretion that did thesituation credit. 

"Marcia, you know Miss Habberton--Miss Van Wyck. "

"Of course, " they both echoed coolly. Marcia examining Unaimpertinently, Una cheerfully indifferent. 

"Miss Habberton and I were after butterflies, " said Jerry, "but shehas promised to stop for tea. "

"I really ought to be going, Jerry, " said Una. 

"But you can't, you know, after promising, " said Jerry with a smile. 

The introductions made, the party moved on toward the cabin, MissHabberton and I bringing up the rear. 

"I could kill you for this, " she whispered to me and the glance shegave me half-accomplished her wish. 

"It isn't my fault, " I protested. "I didn't know they were cominguntil yesterday--and you know you said--"

"Well, you ought to have warned me. I've no patience with you--none. "

"But, my dear child--"

"I feel like a fool--and it's your fault. "

"But how could I--?"

"You _ought_ to have known. "

Women I knew were not reasonable beings, but I expected better thingsthan this of Una. I followed meekly, aware of my insufficiency. I feltsorry if Una was uncomfortable, but I had seen enough of her to knowthat she was quite able to cope with any situation in which she mightbe placed. Marcia with Jerry had gone on ahead and I saw that, whilethe girl was talking up at him, Jerry walked with his head very erect. The situation was not clear to Marcia. I will give her the credit ofsaying that she had a sense of divination which was little short ofthe miraculous. It must have puzzled her to find Una here if, as Isuspected. Jerry made her the confidante of all his plans, present andfuture--Una Habberton, the girl who had ventured alone within thewall, the account of whose visit had once caused a misunderstandingbetween them. The thought of Una's visit I think must have always beena thorn in Marcia's side, for Jerry's strongest hold on Marcia'simagination was nurtured by the thought that she, Marcia, was thefirst, the only woman that Jerry had ever really known. And here washer forgotten and lightly esteemed predecessor sporting with Jerry inthe shade!

In the cabin we made a gay party. Una, I am sure, in spite of hercheerful pretense with Phil Laidlaw, had a woman's intuition ofMarcia's antagonism. Jerry joined and chatted in Una's group for amoment, but I could see that he had lost something of his buoyancy. Iwatched Marcia keenly. Though absorbed apparently in the pouring ofthe tea, a self-appointed prerogative which she had assumed withsomething of an air--(meant, I am sure, for Una)--her narrowly veiledeyes lost no detail of any happening in Una's group, and her ears, Iam sure, no detail of its conversation. Subtle glances, stolen orportentous, shot between them, and Jerry, poor lad, wandered from oneto the other like some great ship becalmed in a tropic sea aware of animpending tempest, yet powerless to prevent its approach. 

Una Habberton, I would like to say, had recovered her composureamazingly. Phil Laidlaw was an old acquaintance whom she very muchliked and in a while they were chatting gayly, exchangingreminiscences with such a rare degree of concord and amusement that itseemed to matter little to either of them who else was in the room. But Una, I think, in spite of this abstraction, missed nothing ofMarcia's slightest glances. She said nothing more of going. It seemedalmost as though, war having tacitly been declared, she was on hermettle for the test whatever it was to be. I had not misjudged her. She knew Marcia Van Wyck, and what she did not know she suspected, andby the light of that knowledge (and that suspicion) had a little ofcontempt for her. 

CHAPTER XX

REVOLT

I sat in my corner sipping tea. Being merely a man, middle-aged andsomething of a misogynist into the bargain, I was aware that as anactive, useful force in this situation, I was a negligible quality. But it is interesting to record my impressions of the engagement. Itbegan actively, I believe, when Marcia called Jerry from Una's groupand appeared to appropriate him. Jerry looked ill at ease and from theglances he cast in the direction of Channing Lloyd, and the sullen wayin which he spoke to Marcia, I think that all was not well with thisill-sorted pair. 

I think that Channing Lloyd had for some time been a bone ofcontention between them and it required little imagination on my partto decide that his presence here today at Marcia's request had brokensome agreement between them. Mere surmise, of course, but interesting. Marcia was stubborn and showed her defiance of Jerry's wishes byretaliation at Una's expense. But by this time other people who hadcome in from the fishing had joined Una's group by the window wherethe intruder seemed to be oblivious of Marcia and quite in herelement. Indeed for the moment Marcia was out of it and herconversation with Jerry having apparently reached an _impasse_, sherose, leaving the tea-table to Christopher's ministrations andadvanced valiantly to the attack. 

Una promptly made room for her on the window sill, a wise bit ofgeneralship which forced the enemy at once into polite subterfuge. 

"It's _so_ nice to see you, Una dear. How did you manage to escapefrom all your tiresome work at the Mission?"

"I could do it very nicely this week-end, " said Una cheerfully. "Whyhaven't you been to any of the committee meetings?"

"It has been _so_ warm. And of course while _you_ are in charge we allknow that everything _must_ be going right. "

"It's kind of you to say so. You know, wonderful things have beenhappening at the Mission. We're building a day nursery on the nextblock to help the working women. Jerry has been awfully kind. Ofcourse you knew about it. "

"Yes, of course, " said Marcia, not turning a hair. 

She lied. I knew that Jerry had kept the matter secret even fromMarcia. I figured that the revelation must have been something of ashock to one of her intriguing nature, but she covered her grievanceskillfully. 

"Jerry is very generous, " she said sweetly. "Do tell me about it. "

Here Jerry blundered in rather sheepishly. "Oh, I say, Una, that's asecret, you know. "

"Oh, is it?" said Una innocently. "I can't see why. Marcia knows. Everybody ought to. It was such a splendid thing to do. "

"Jerry is so modest, " said Marcia. 

"The plans are simply adorable, " Una went on quickly. "You know, Jerry, we simply had to have that open-air school on the roof. Youknow, you didn't object--"

"N--no--of course, " said Jerry, shifting his feet. 

"And the ward for nursing babies--we _did_ put those windows in thewest wall. You know we were a little uncertain about that. "

"So we were, " echoed Jerry dismally. 

This was merely the preliminary skirmish with Una's outposts holdingtheir positions close to the enemy's lines. But Marcia was not to bedaunted. She opened fire immediately. 

"It's simply _dear_ of you, Una, to take so much interest in the work. I'm sure Jerry must have frightful difficulties in managing to spendhis income. But to have his _oldest friend_ to help him must relievehim of a tremendous burden of responsibility. "

The outposts withdrew to the main line of skirmirshers and thereopened fire again, from cover. 

"It isn't so much a matter of friendship as of real interest in theneeds of the community, you know. Anyone else would do quite as wellas I; for instance, you, Marcia. "

"But you see, " Marcia countered coolly, "I haven't known Jerry_nearly_ so long as you have. "

"Haven't you?"

"I don't think so. Have I, Jerry?"

Jerry evaded the issue with some skill. 

"Friendships aren't reckoned in terms of time, " he put in with a shortlaugh. "If they were I'd be the most solitary person under the sun. "

Marcia merely smiled, saying nothing, and when she joined the talk ofanother group I saw Una's gaze following her curiously. 

She seemed to be able to understand Marcia little better than I did. But in a moment from my seat in the corner just beside them I saw Unalook about the room and give a little gasp of pleasure. 

"This cabin! Do you remember, Jerry?" she said quietly. "You gave me acup of tea here and we decided just what you and I were going to dowith the wicked world?"

"Oh, don't I? And you told me all about the plague spots?"

"Yes. " She gazed out of the window. "You were interesting that day, Jerry. "

"Was! I like that. "

"So elephantine in your seriousness--"

"Elephantine! Oh, I say--"

"But you _were_ nice. I don't think I've ever liked you so much asthen. I think you're really much more interesting when you'reelephantine. It was quite glorious the way you were planning to gogalumphing over all vice and wickedness. "

He shook his head soberly. 

"I haven't made good, Una. "

"Oh, there's still time. The jungle is still there, but it's anawfully big jungle, Jerry, bigger than you thought. "

"Yes--bigger and swampier, " he said slowly. 

"I think if I could see more of you, Una, I might be better. "

"I don't know that I've ever denied you the house, " she laughed. 

"I--I'm coming soon. But I want you to see my place here--the house, I mean. Couldn't you come with your mother and--and sisters and spenda few days up here?"

"Perhaps it would be time enough for me to answer that question whenmother does. I--I _am_ busy, you know. "

"Please! And we can have one of our good old chats. "

"Yes, " and then mischievously, "but you'd better ask Marcia first, don't you think?"

His gaze fell and he reddened. 

"I--I don't quite see what Marcia's got to do with it, " he muttered. 

"Oh, _don't_ you?"

"No. "

She smiled and then with a really serious air:

"Well, I do. I'm sorry I intruded, Jerry. I wouldn't have come for theworld if I had known--"

"What nonsense you do talk. Promise me you'll come, Una. "

"Ask Marcia first. "

He laughed uneasily. "What a tease you are!"

"You ought to be very much flattered. "

"How?"

"To be worth teasing. "

Here they moved slightly away, turning their backs toward me andunfortunately I could hear no more. And so I sat listening to thegroup around Marcia, who was again enthroned at the tea-table. 

I had not met the men, but they were of the usual man-about-town type, "Marcia's ex-es" somebody, I think the mannish Carew girl, amusinglycalled them. Among them Arthur Colton, married only a year, whoalready boasted that he was living "the simple double life. " Besidesthe Laidlaws there were the Walsenberg woman, twice a grass widow andstill hopeful, and the Da Costa debutante who looked as though butterwouldn't melt in her mouth, giggled constantly and said things whichshe fondly hoped to be devilish, but which were only absurd. This wasthe girl, I think, whom Jerry had described as having only fiveadjectives, all of which she used every minute. Channing Lloyd, aglass of champagne at his elbow, laughed gruffly and filled the roomwith tobacco smoke. I listened. Small talk, banalities, bits of narrowglimpses of narrow pursuits. I had to admit that Marcia quitedominated this circle, and I understood why. Shallow as she was, shewas the only one with the possible exception of Phil Laidlaw who gaveany evidence of having done any thinking at all. I might have known asI listened that her conversation had a purpose. 

"I claim that obedience to the will of man, " Marcia was saying, "hasrobbed woman of all initiative, all incentive to achievement, allcreative faculty, and that only by renouncing man and all his workswill she ever be his equal. "

"Why don't you renounce 'em then, Marcia?" roared Lloyd, amidlaughter. 

"I know at least one that I could renounce, ' said Marcia, smiling asshe lighted a cigarette. 

"Me? You couldn't, " he returned. "You've tried, you know, but you'vegot to admit that I'm positively in'spensible to you. "

"Do be quiet, Chan. You're idiotic. I'm quite serious. "

"You're always serious, but you never mean what you say. "

"Oh, don't I?"

"No, " he grunted over his glass. 

She glanced at him for a moment and their eyes met, hers fallingfirst. Then she turned away. I think that the man's attraction for herwas nothing less than his sheer bestiality. 

"I believe in a splendid unconventional morality, " she went on, musingwith half-closed eyes over the ash of her cigarette. "After awhile youmen will understand what it means. "

"Not I, " said Lloyd, who was drinking more than he needed. "If you saythat immorality is conventional I'll agree with you, my dear, butmorality--" and he drank some champagne, "morality! what rot!"

The others laughed, I'll admit, more at, than with him. But theconversation was sickening enough. I saw Jerry and Una shake hands andcome forward and Marcia immediately turned toward them. The end of thebattle was not yet, for as Una nodded in the general direction of thegroup in passing, Marcia spoke her name. 

"Ah, Una dear. You're going?"

"I must, " with a glance at her wrist watch. "It's getting late. "

"What a pity. I wanted to talk to you--about the Mission. "

"I'd like to, but--"

"We've just been discussing a theme that I know you're really vitallyinterested in. "

"I?" I could see by the sudden lift of her brows that Una was now onher guard. 

"Yes. You believe in women working, in woman's independence, in theNew-Thought idea of unconventional morality, don't you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean. "

"Simply that women are or should be perfectly capable of looking outfor themselves, as much so as men?"

"That depends a great deal upon the woman, I should say, " replied Una, smiling tolerantly. 

"I was just about to put a hypothetical question. Do you mindlistening? A young girl, for instance, pretty, romantic, a trifleventuresome, weary of the banalities of existence, leaves all thetiresome cares of the city and with the wanderlust upon her goesfaring forth in search of adventure. A purely hypothetical case, but atypical one. As she wanders through the woods, she comes upon a highstone wall, something like this one of Jerry's, and suddenly remembersthat within this wall there lives a young man, beautiful beyond thedreams of the gods. I have said that she is romantic, alsoventuresome--"

"Her address, please, " muttered Lloyd quickly. 

"Do be quiet, Chan--" Marcia went on. "Venturesome, modern, moral--"

"It can't be done, " muttered the brute again. 

"Chan, do be serious. Curiosity overwhelms the girl. Nobody is about. So, putting her fears behind her, she climbs the wall and enters. "

The daring impertinence of this recital had stricken Jerry suddenlydumb, but the veins at his temples were swelling with the hot bloodthat had risen to his face. Una, after a moment of uncertainty, becamestrangely composed. 

"It is a beautiful spot. No one is in sight, " Marcia went on amusedly. "The girl ventures further, and finds the beautiful young man catchingtrout. She talks to him. I think he is amused at her temerity, alsoperhaps a little flattered at her marks of confidence--"

"Marcia!" It was Jerry's voice, deep, booming, and I had hardlyrecognized it. But there was a note in it that caused a hush to fallover the room. The girl looked up as though puzzled. 

"You interrupt, Jerry--"

"Neither Una nor I are interested in what you're saying, " he criedhoarsely, while the rest of the company stared at him. 

"_I_ am, Jerry, " said Una's voice very coolly. Except for Marcia, perhaps, she was the least ruffled person in the room. "I want verymuch to hear the rest of the story, " she added. "It haspossibilities. "

Marcia laughed. 

"Possibilities, yes. There isn't much left to tell except that thegirl spent the afternoon and the evening in the cabin with thebeautiful young man and then went over the wall the way she came. Nowwhat I wanted to know, Una dear, is whether you think that morality, conventional or unconventional, can stand a test like that. "

Una was silent for a moment and then her words came slowly, ratherwistfully. 

"Was she a friend of yours?" she asked. 

"Oh, yes, a friend. "

"And did you know her for any length of time to be honorable, upright, decent?"

"Oh, yes, quite so. "

Una paused another moment and when she spoke her voice wascrystal-clear. 

"Then all I would like to say is that the mind that can conceive ofevil in such a piece of innocent imprudence is unclean, beyond words!Is that all that you wanted to know?"

Marcia leaned back in her chair holding her breath for a moment andthen broke into a peal of laughter. 

"There! You see. I knew you would agree with me. "

The people in the room looked from one to the other, aware of a hiddenmeaning in the situation. Channing Lloyd had paused in the act ofpouring out another glass of wine and stood blinking heavily. The onlysound was a nervous titter from the Da Costa girl. Una looked aroundfrom face to face as though seeking those of her friends and thenspoke fearlessly. 

"You may not know what this hypothetical question means or itsanswer?" she said with a smile. "I will tell you. I was that girl. Jerry Benham, the man. The place was here. I am accustomed to goingwhere and with whom I please. " She tossed her small head proudly, "Those who can see evil where evil doesn't exist are welcome to theiropinions. As for my friends--"

Here a chorus of protest went up, from the treble of the Da Costa girlto Laidlaw's deep bass. 

"Una--you silly child--of course no one thinks--"

"As for my friends, " she repeated, her voice slightly raised, "I willchoose them by this token. "

I had not misjudged her. Her scorn of Marcia was ineffable, and Ithink the girl at the tea-urn had a sense of being at a disadvantage, for the idea of Una's frank admission had never entered Marcia'spretty intriguing head. She was hoist with her own petard and coveredher confusion by a light laugh which was most unconvincing. 

"Of course, Una, I didn't mean--"

But the rest of her sentence was lost in the sudden disintegration ofthe party into groups, some of which followed Una to the door. Jerryhad regained his senses and strode out after her. "

"I'm going with you, Una, " I heard him say. 

"It isn't necessary. I can find the way. Good-by, everybody. No, thanks, Phil. "

But Jerry went on with her and I broke through the sympathetic crowdat the doorway and followed. Like Jerry, I too had been stunned, butunlike Jerry, in the reaction I was finding a secret delight in Una'ssplendid mastery of the situation. The pair were already far inadvance of me, Una hurrying sedately, Jerry, his hands deep in hispockets, striding like a furious young god beside her, earnestlytalking. It was not until they heard the sound of my hurryingfootsteps that they stopped and turned. 

"I can't let you go, Miss Habberton, " I said breathlessly, "withoutletting you know how contrite I am at a slip of the tongue which--"

"It doesn't matter in the least, Mr. Canby. I have nothing to regret. "And then, with her crooked little smile, "But you might have omittedthe details. "

"I--I--" I stammered. 

"It was I--I who told--" Jerry blurted out. "I am to blame. Whyshouldn't I tell? Was there anything to be ashamed of? For you? Forme?"

"No, Jerry. The surest proof of it is that I'm not angry withyou--with either of you. But I must be going. "

"I'm going with you, " said Jerry quickly. 

"No. "

"Let him, Miss Habberton, " I put in. 

"I had better go alone. "

"I forbid it, " said Jerry. "The machine is at the upper gate. I'lldrive you. Come. "

She hesitated. Our glances met. I think she must have seen theeagerness in my face, the friendliness, the admiration. She read toothe revolt in Jerry's eyes, the dawning of something like reason andof his grave sense of the injustice that had been done to her. Hepleaded almost piteously--as though her acquiescence were the onlysign he could have of her forgiveness. 

"Very well, " she said at last, "to the station, then. "

"No, " said Jerry firmly, "to town. I'm going to drive you to town. We've got to have a talk. We've got to--to clear this thing up. "

She hesitated again and I think she felt the need of companionship atthat moment. 

"But your guests--"

"Oh, I'll be here, " I said. "They'll be going soon. Jerry can be backin time for the party. "

"I'm not going to that party, " Jerry muttered savagely. 

He meant it. I bade them good-by--watched them until they passed outof sight and hearing, and then sank on a nearby rock, and hugged myknees in quiet ecstasy. 

CHAPTER XXI

JERRY ASKS QUESTIONS

Fortunately for me, neither Jack Ballard nor the expected overflowfrom the Van Wyck house-party came to disturb the serenity of mythoughts, Jack being suddenly called to Newport, the guests havingbeen taken in elsewhere. So I sat up alone for Jerry until late andfinally went to bed, happily conscious that my embassy, impossible asit had seemed, had borne fruit after all. Jerry did not go to MarciaVan Wyck's party, and his evening clothes remained where Christopherhad laid them out, on the bed in his room. I gave myself an addedpleasure in slumber that night by going in and looking at them beforeI sought my own room. I cannot remember a night when I have slept moresoundly and I rose refreshed and intensely eager to hear how thingshad gone with Jerry and the dear lady whom I had once so inaptlydubbed "the minx. " At the breakfast table Poole informed me that Jerryhad returned late to the Manor and was sleeping. It was good. Theglimmerings of reason that had appeared in the boy during the last fewdays had been encouraging, and his open revolt against the enchantresshad made me hopeful that her dominion over him was not so complete asit had appeared. Viewed from any angle, the conduct of the Van Wyckgirl was reprehensible, and admitted of no excuse. She had overshotthe mark and had done her target no harm. However warm her friendshipwith those of her guests who were at the cabin, the comments I hadheard convinced me that Jerry and I were not alone in ourcondemnation. The attack seemed to savor of a lack of finesse, surprising in a person of her cleverness, for had her bias not been sogreat she should have known that as a gentleman, Jerry must resent sopalpable and designing an insult to a guest at Horsham Manor. Herimpudence still astounded me. Did she think herself so sure of Jerrythat she chose purposely to try him? Or had the point been reached intheir amatory relations where she was quite indifferent as to whatJerry might do?

Smoothly as my plan had worked and happily (or unhappily) as Marcia'spique and ill-humor had fitted into it, I could not believe thatJerry's revolt had ended matters. Even if the boy had been willing toend them (a thing of which I was not at all sure), Marcia Van Wyck wasnot the kind of girl to retire on this ungraceful climax, and Jerry'sabsence from her house on so important an occasion was nothing lessthan a notice to those present that he and Marcia were no longer onterms. I had had a sense of the girl's taste for conquest, and themore I thought of her the surer I was that Jerry's championship of UnaHabberton would revive whatever remained of the lingering sparks ofMarcia's passion. 

Jerry joined me in the study later in the morning and sat for awhilereading the newspapers. He was silent, almost morose, and at last gotup and walked about the place. I feared for a moment that he had goneto the garage with the intention of getting into his machine, andthis I knew meant nothing less than a ride posthaste, to Briar Hills. But he came back presently in a more cheerful mood and after luncheonsuggested fishing, a proposal that I instantly fell in with. And so Ifollowed him up stream, my own humor being merely to carry the net, watch him whip the pools and pray that his luck might be good, for afull creel meant good humor and good humor, perhaps confidences. 

Fortune favored. By the time we had gotten up the gorge, Jerry was inhigh spirits, for luck had crowned his skill and at least a dozen fishlay stiffening in the basket, and when we reached the iron grilleJerry emitted a deep sigh of satisfaction, drew out his pipe and sankon a rock to smoke it. I lay back beside him, my hat over my eyes. Nothing stimulates confidences so much as indifference. Jerry glancedat me once or twice, but I made no sign and after awhile he begantalking. Whenever he paused I put in a grunt which encouraged him togo on. That is how I happened to hear about Jerry's ride home with UnaHabberton. 

It seems that when they got into the machine Una was very quiet andanswered his questions only in mono-syllables, but Jerry was patientand all idea of Marcia's party being out of his head, he drove slowlyso that he would not reach the city until everything was clear andfriendly between them again. Her profile was very sober and demure, hesaid. He wasn't quite sure for a long time whether she was going toburst into anger, tears, or to laugh. Jerry must have looked sober tooand for awhile it couldn't have been a very cheerful ride, but at lastthe boy saw Una looking at him slantwise and when he turned towardher she burst into the merriest kind of a laugh. 

"Oh, Jerry, is it home you're driving me to, or just a funeral?"

He gasped in relief at her sudden change of mood. "I was justwaiting, " he said quietly. "I didn't want to intrude, Una. "

"But you _do_ look _so_ like the undertaker's assistant, " she smiled. "You have no right to be glum. I have. I'm the corpse. A corpse_might_ laugh in sheer relief when the lid was screwed down andeverything comfortable. "

"Una! I don't see anything so funny--"

"My reputation! A trifling thing, " she said coolly, "still, I valueit. "

"_Your_ reputation! That's absurd--nothing could hurt _you_. I don'tunderstand. "

"I can't quite see yet how it all came out, " she went on thoughtfully, "how Marcia knew that I had been inside the wall. Why, Jerry, unlessshe learned it recently, since I saw you in New York--" she paused. 

"No, " protested Jerry uncomfortably. "It was last summer--"

"But I had no name to you then--I was merely Una--"

"And I blurted it out, Una, the only name I knew, never thinking thatyou and Marcia were acquaintances. "

"Oh, I see, " and she smiled a little. "If my name had been plain Janeor even Mary, my reputation would have been safe. "

"What rubbish, Una! Can't a fellow and a girl have a chat without--"

"Yes, but the girl mustn't get through eight-foot walls. "

"I don't see what difference that makes. " She must have given him aswift glance here. But she laughed again. "You evidently don'trealize, Jerry, that monasteries are supposed to be taboo for younggirls. "

"Yes, but you didn't know about it being a monastery, " he saidseriously. 

"Of course, or I shouldn't have dared. But that makes no difference toMarcia. I was there. You told her. Don't you know, Jerry, that itisn't good form to tell _everything_ you know?"

"She guessed it, " he muttered. "It's such a lot of talk aboutnothing. " I think Jerry was getting a little warm now. "Suppose you_were_ in there, whose affair is it but yours and mine?"

"Everybody's, " she shrugged. "Everybody's business! That ought to beinscribed on the tombstone of every dead reputation. _Hic jacet_ UnaHabberton. Nice girl, but she _would_ visit monasteries. "

But nothing was humorous to Jerry's mood just then. 

"I can't have you talking like that, Una, " he said in a suppressedtone. "It's very painful to me. I can't imagine why anyone should tryto injure you. They couldn't, you know. You're above all that sort ofthing. It's too trivial--"

"Oh, is it? You'll see. All New York will have the story intwenty-four hours. Pretty sort of a tale to get to the Mission! TheMission! If those people heard! Imagine the embroideries! I couldnever lift my head down there again. "

"Let the world go hang. Have you anything to be ashamed of, Una?"

"No. "

"Nor I. Very well. "

The seriousness that Una attached to the affair, while it bewildered, also inflamed him. "I wish it had been a man who had talked to you theway Marcia did. "

Una turned toward him soberly. 

"What would you do to him, Jerry?"

He smiled grimly. "I think I'd kill him, " he said softly. 

I think Jerry's tone must have comforted her, for he said that afterthat Una grew quieter. 

"The world is very intolerant of idyls, Jerry. "

They had reached a road which overlooked the river. Long, cool shadowsbrushed their faces as they rushed on from orchard to meadow, allredolent of sweet odors. 

"Why?"

"Because they're a reproach. "

"Friendship is no idyl, Una, with us. It's more like reality, isn'tit?"

"I hope so. "

"Don't you believe it?"

"Yes, I think I do. "

He smiled at her gayly. 

"I'm sure of it. I'm always myself with you, Una. I seem to want youto know all the things I'm thinking about. That's the surestindication, isn't it? And I want to know what you're thinking about. Ifeel as though I'd given you too many additional burdens down town, that you may tire this summer. "

"Oh, you needn't worry. I'm quite strong. "

"I want you to lay out some definite work that I can do, not merelygiving money, but myself, my own strength and energy. " He laughed. "You know I'm really thinking of asking you to establish a mission formen only, with _me_ as the first patient. It does seem to straightenme out somehow, just being with you--keeps me from thinking crooked. "

"_Do_ you think crooked, Jerry?"

"Yes, often. Things bother me. Then I'm like a child. You've no ideaof the vast abyss of my ignorance. "

"But you _mustn't_ think crooked. I won't have it. "

"I can't help it, sometimes. People aren't always what you expect 'emto be. I ought to understand better by this time, but I don't. "

"People aren't like books, Jerry. You're sure of books. But withpeople, you can turn the same page again and again and the printing isdifferent every time. "

"People _do_ change, don't they?"

"Yes, and the pages are rather smudgy here and there, but you'll learnto read them some day. The office will help you, Jerry, becausebusiness people _have_ to think straight or be repudiated. You oughtto go to the office every day and work--work whether you like it ornot. You've got too much money. It's dangerous. You're like a coltjust out in the pasture, all hocks and skittishness. Work is the onlything for that. It may be tiresome but you've got to stick at it if itkills you. "

"I suppose you're right, " he muttered. 

"Jerry, " she went on rapidly, and I think with a twinkle of mischiefin her eye, "all of us have streaks of other people in us. I have, lots of 'em. Sometimes I wonder which part of me is other people andwhich is me. I think you've even got more different kinds of people inyou than I have. Students, philosophers, woodsmen, prize fighters--"

"Una!"

"I must. Everything, almost everything you've been and done I likeexcept--"

"Oh, don't Una--"

"I've got to. You wanted to clear things up between us. That's one ofthe things we've got to clear up. I don't understand the psychology ofthe prize ring and I'm not sure that I'd care to understand it. I knowthat you are strong in body. You should be glad of that, but not soglad as to be vain of it. One doesn't boast of the gifts of the gods. One merely accepts them, thankfully--"

"I was a fool--"

"Say rather, merely an animated biped, an instinct on legs. Is _that_a thing to be proud of--for a man who knows what real ideals are?"

"Don't--"

"Did you discuss Shakespeare and the musical glasses with 'Kid'Spatola?"

"Please!"

"Or the incorporeal nature of the soul with Battling Sagorski?"

"Una!" Her irony was biting him like acid. 

"Or did Sagorski make you an accessory before the fact of his nexthousebreaking expedition?"

"Una, that isn't fair. Sagorski is--"

"He's a second-story man, Jerry, with a beautiful record. Shall I giveit to you?"

"Er--no, thanks, " gasped Jerry breathlessly. "I can't believe--"

"You missed nothing at the house?"

She waited for his reply. 

"I'm not sure _who_ took them--"

"But you _did_ miss--?"

"Yes, spoons, forks and things--" He broke off exasperated. "Oh, Una, it's cruel of you?"

"No, kind. Sagorski is a smudgy page, Jerry. I happened to have seenit in the records. And there's a woman at the Mission--"

It was Una's turn to pause in sudden solemnity. 

"A woman. His wife?" asked Jerry. 

"No, just a woman. "

"He had treated her badly?"

"Her soul, " she replied slowly, "is dead. Her body doesn't matter. "

She must have been thankful for the silence that followed? for thelook of bewilderment, piteous, I think, it must now have seemed toUna, was in his face again. And before he could question further shehad turned the topic. 

A little later, I think, personalities began again. 

"You're always helping people, Una, always helping, " he said slowly. "Does it make you happy?"

"Yes, if I _can_ help. "

"And you want to help me? I wonder if I'm worth it. "

"Yes, I wouldn't bother if you weren't. "

"And how do you know I'm worth it?"

"It's my business to know, " she said. 

Jerry sent the car spinning joyously down a fine stretch of straightempty road. And then when he had reduced the car to a slower pace, "You know, Una, " he laughed, "you do take charge of a fellow, don'tyou?"

"You need 'mothering', " she smiled. 

"Or sistering. I wish I had a sister like you. Fellows ought to havesisters, anyway. People ought to be born in pairs, male and female. "

She laughed and then with sudden seriousness:

"But people ought to stand on their feet. All the 'sistering' in theworld won't help a lame man to walk. "

"I'm not so awfully lame, am I?"

"No. Just limpy. But don't try to run yet, Jerry. "

"Oh, I say--"

"Just keep your eyes open. You'll see. " And then quietly, "You knowPhil Laidlaw, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, fine chap. "

"I think it wouldn't harm you to know Phil better. He isn't brilliant, but he's steady, sure, reliable. And he _stands on his feet_, Jerry, on both of them. "

Jerry's comment to me in telling this part of the conversation wasamusing. "Phil Laidlaw _is_ a good fellow and all that, " he muttered, "but hang it all, Roger, you can't stomach having another man'svirtues thrust down your throat!"

My own comment may be interesting. 

"I don't wonder that she cares for him, " I said. "A good match, Ishould say. "

"H--m, " replied Jerry. "I can't seem to think of Una married toanybody. She's so much occupied--"

"But she _will_ be married some day, my boy. Charity begins at home. "

She had used her woman's weapons loyally, at least. I think hercomments on Laidlaw must have made Jerry silent for awhile and he toldme little of the conversation that followed. But they must have"cleared up" all the things that stood between them. I think thesubsequent conversation must have been largely pleasant and personal, for Jerry spoke of the wonderful weather and how Una admired the viewthey had of the great river from Hoboken with the lights of the towersof Manhattan, like the sparks of some mighty fire, hanging midway inthe air. 

I was silent when he had concluded. Evidently he wanted me to saysomething, for he looked at me once or twice as he was refilling hispipe. But I was thinking deeply. 

"She's a wonder, " he said after awhile. "You know the committee ofladies that's supposed to manage things down town have all gone away, leaving the whole responsibility to Una--the plans, specifications, business arrangements and all. "

"As Marcia suggested, " I replied, "they're sure that matters are ingood hands. "

"Yes, she's so sane. That's it. You know when we got to town I tookdinner with the family down in Washington Square. Jolly lot of girls, like stair-steps, from eight to eighteen, but not a bit like Una, Roger, and the mother, placid, serene, intelligent with a dignity thatseems to go with the house and neighborhood--a dear old lady, not soterribly old, either, and astonishingly well informed--Fine old house, refreshing, cool, mellow with age and decent associations; none ofyour Louis Quinze business there. I always wondered where Una got herpoise. Now I know. "

"Had you never called there before?" I asked when he paused to lighthis pipe. 

"No, I always went to her office in the Mission and had her in adifferent setting, a bare room, desk, filing-cases, placards on thewall, scrupulously neat and business-like, but uncompromising, Roger, and severe. The house makes a better frame for her somehow--"

I knew what he meant, for I had seen her in it, but of course wassilent. 

"She's doing a tremendous work down town. She _is_ the Mission. Thesuperintendent and nurses idolize her. I was questioning her motherabout it. Una has a way with her. The women that come there have to behandled carefully, it seems. I'm afraid they're a bad lot, though Unawon't talk about 'em. She says I wouldn't understand. I suppose Iwouldn't. I've never learned much about women yet, Roger. Funny, too. They seem so easy to understand, and yet they're not. It's the menthat bring the women down--ruin them, but I can't see why it couldn'tjust as well be the other way about. Men are weak, too; why are themen always blamed? That's what I want to know, and what does it allmean? I suppose I'm awfully ignorant. Things go in one ear and out theother without making any impression. I lack something. It's the wayI'm made. I've missed something, of the meaning of life, I suppose, because I've lived it all with so few people, you, Una, UncleJack--Flynn and the boys--"

"And Marcia, " I put in suggestively. 

He ignored my remark. 

"Most chaps I've met seem to take so much of my knowledge for granted. The boys at Flynn's puzzled me, their strange phrases, hinting athidden vices, but I wasn't going to question _them_. It's up to you, Roger. I want to know. What is this threat to Una's reputation whenMarcia tells of our meeting here alone?"

As I remained resolutely silent, Jerry got up and paced with longstrides up and down before me. 

"Why shouldn't she and I meet here alone if we want to? And why theseabsurd restrictions surrounding the life of girls? I've accepted them, as I accept my morning coffee, because they're there. But what do theymean? I know that a girl is more delicate than a boy, a being to besheltered and cared for; that seems natural. I accept that. But itgoes too far. Una does what she pleases. Why shouldn't she? What isthe meaning of unconventional morality? And why unconventional? Ismorality so vague a term that there can be any sort of doubt as to itsreal meaning? And is Una any the less moral because she chooses to beunconventional? Una! I'd stake my life on her morality and innaterefinement. No girl sacrifices her youth in the interests of othersless fortunate than herself without being fine clear through. Thenwhat did Marcia mean? And what could Una mean when she said herreputation was in danger? The very thought of my having harmed her, even by imputation, in the minds of others makes me desperatelyunhappy. And what, what on earth could Marcia suspect of me or of Unato place us both in so false a light? What could Marcia mean inspeaking in that way about Una's visit here when she herself came--"He bit the word off abruptly and came to a stop. Some instinct--somebaser instinct that Marcia was a part of, made frankness impossible. Icould have finished his sentence for him but I didn't. Instead, Irose suddenly to a sitting posture, my tongue loosened. 

"Bah!" I muttered. "The spleen of a jealous woman; it stopsnowhere--at nothing!"

"But what was there in the story, " he persisted, "to cause so muchtension? I felt it in the air, Roger. It was in the looks of thoseabout me, in Una's face. She was troubled. I had to speak. "

"You did well, Jerry. You had to speak--to defend her--"

"Against what?"

"The results of her own imprudence, " I said slowly, feeling my waywith difficulty. "Una's visits here and at the cabin were not what arecalled conventional. "

"Conventional! Perhaps not. But where does the question of moralitycome in?" he went on boring straight at the mark. 

"It doesn't, " I remarked calmly. "It seems to me that Una's reply wasquite clear upon that point. "

He frowned. "Yes, but she said that Marcia's mind wasn't clean, orthat's what she meant. That's a terrible thing to say and Unashouldn't have said it. She shouldn't have, Roger. "

"She had to defend herself, " I muttered. "That's the privilege of thepoorest beast of the woods. "

"Yes, " he said slowly, "but it has upset me, given me a new view ofthings, of women, of life. What is this terrible thing that threatensthem, that they fear and court at the hands of men? They act it intheir advances and sudden defenses. I've learned that much--EvenUna--Why, Roger, there's something that they're more jealous of thanthey are of life itself. Reputation! That's what Una called it. Una--who's giving up her life to try to make people better! If a girllike Una has to defend herself, then the world is a rotten place andMarcia--"

"And Marcia--"

He walked up and down again muttering. 

"She has gone too far, Roger--too far. " He paused before me. 

"But you haven't answered my questions, " he said flatly. 

"You've hardly given me time, " I said with a smile. 

To be truthful, I did not propose to answer them. Aside from a curiousshyness born of our long and innocent intimacy which made franknessnow seem a violation of the precedent of years, I found that thedesire was born in me, born anew with Jerry's awakening consciousness, to stand by my guns, and await the results of his lessons from theworld. He must solve the riddle of the Great Experiment alone. 

"You haven't answered my questions, Roger, " he insisted. 

I was unjointing Jerry's rod with scrupulous care. 

"I'm not going to, " I said quietly. 

"You--?" He examined me with a curious expression. "Who else should Igo to if not to you?"

I paused a long moment, during which he scraped at the moss with thetoe of his boot. 

"My dear Jerry, " I said. "I am more than convinced since the period ofyour probation has passed that my mission at Horsham Manor is ended. Iwas brought here to bring you to manhood with the things that wererequisite as well for the body as the soul. I thought I had acquittedmyself with tolerable success in obeying the desires of your deadfather. But once freed from my influence you took the bit in yourteeth and ran the race in your own way. I gave you advice but youwouldn't take it. If you had listened then, I could have helped younow. But you didn't listen. And if I were to warn you, to answer yourquestions, you wouldn't heed me now. Experience is the great teacher. Seek it. I'm through. "

He reddened and took a turn up and down. 

"Do you mean that?"

"I do. I meddle with your personal affairs no longer. If I did Ishould begin at once--" I paused, for an attack on Marcia Van Wyck wastrembling at the top of my tongue. "But there--you see we should onlyquarrel. I don't like your friends. We couldn't agree--"

"You like Una. "

"Yes, unqualifiedly. She is one in a million. "

"Well, we're agreed on that at least, " he said smiling. 

There was another silence in which Jerry puffed on his unlighted pipe. 

"You know I've invited Una and her mother up here this week and what'sbetter still, they're coming. "

This was excellent news. To me it meant that Una thought the boy worthsaving from himself and now proposed to carry the war into the enemy'scountry. 

"I'm delighted, " I said briefly. 

"So am I, " he returned thoughtfully. He scraped his pipe, filled itslowly and when it was lighted again, settled down comfortably. 

"I think Una has wakened me, Roger. The force of her example istremendous, her life, her way of thinking of things, her cheerfulness, hopefulness about everybody. I can't make out why Marcia should attackher so unjustly. It wasn't fair. "

"It was _cattish_. "

"I don't like your saying that, " he put in quickly. 

"I'm sorry. Can you imagine Una doing a similar thing?"

"No, " he admitted, "but Una has been brought up differently. "

Another silence. In spite of the recrudescence of Una we were ondangerous ground. But hope had given me temerity. In another moment hewas back to the earlier questions. 

"I see no reason why you shouldn't answer me, Roger. I've got to knowwhat all this trouble means. If Una has been imprudent I want to knowwhy, still more so, if she is to suffer as a consequence of it. IfMarcia's insinuations are cruel I've got to understand what theymean. "

"You may take my word for their cruelty, " I said dryly and stoppedwith compressed lips. He clasped his hands over his knees and lookeddown into the pool before us. 

"Do you think you're quite fair with me, Roger? I give you myconfidences and you refuse--"

"Half-confidences, Jerry. My usefulness to you is ended. If you wouldspeak, I could perhaps help you, solve some of your problems, answeryour questions. But--"

I paused, throwing out my hands in a helpless gesture. 

"What more do you want?" he asked. 

I took the bull by the horns. I had wanted to for weeks. 

"Freely, unreservedly, the nature of your relations with Marcia VanWyck--"

He rose suddenly, his face flushing darkly and took up his rod andcreel. 

"If you don't mind my saying so, " he muttered, "that is none of youraffair. "

I rose, though his reproach stung me bitterly. 

"Confidences and advice are inseparable, " I said coldly. 

"You hate Marcia, " he mumbled. 

"I do. "

"Why?"

"Because she's unsound, unsafe, im--"

"Be careful!" he cried. 

I shrugged but was silent, I think, from the fear of Jerry's fistswhich were clenching his rod and creel ominously. 

"She's the woman I love, " he declared with pathetic drama. 

I braved the fists and laughed. 

"Tush!" I said. 

He was furious. For a moment I thought he was going to strike me. Hadhe done so I should have been ended there and then, and thisinteresting history brought to an untimely conclusion on the very eveof its most interesting disclosures. 

But he thought better of it and with a shaking forefinger pointedtoward the path downstream. "Go, Roger, " he said in a trembling voice, "please go. "

CHAPTER XXII

THE CHIPMUNK

I obeyed. There was nothing left for me to do. Our afternoon had endedin disaster, but I was not sorry. I had thought from all Jerry hadtold me that he was beginning to awaken, to rouse himself and tearasunder the web of enchantment that this girl Marcia had woven abouthim. I had meant to help him lift the veil to let him see her as shewas, a beautiful, selfish little sensualist with a silken voice and anempty heart. But the time was not yet. I sighed, lamenting my failurebut not regretting my temerity. If he would not waken at least I hadthe satisfaction of knowing it was not because I had not tried to wakehim. 

I made my way down over the rocks, casting a glance over my shouldertoward Jerry as I descended. He was following slowly, his hands behindhim, his head down, the pipe hanging bowl downward in his teeth. Therewas anger in his appearance but there was something of reflection, too. Down on a lower level where the going was easier I paused, deliberating whether I shouldn't put my pride in my pocket and bravingrebuffs, wait for him. I had half decided to choose this ignominiouscourse when in the path ahead of me at some distance away I espied afigure walking toward me. I was deep in the shadow and the person, afemale, had not espied me, but I could see her quite clearly in thesunlight. There was no mistaking her curious gait. It was Marcia VanWyck, come at pains which must convince of her contrition, to makepeace with Jerry. 

I looked again to be sure that my eyes had not deceived me and thenjumped into the underbrush beside the path and hid myself under aprojection of nearby rock. I disliked the girl intensely and hated thesight of her, and this must, I suppose, account for the sudden impulsewhich led to my undignified retreat. Had I known in advance of theunfortunate situation in which it would have placed me, I should havefaced her boldly or have fled miles away from that spot, to be foreverassociated in my mind with the one really discreditable experience ofmy career. I have always been, I think, an honorable man and such apaltry sin as eavesdropping had always been beneath me, save on theone occasion when my duty as Jerry's guardian prompted me to listenfor a few moments at the cabin window last year when Una and Jerrywere settling between them the affairs of the world. That was apardonable transgression, this, a different affair, for Jerry was nowreleased from my guardianship, a grown man ostensibly capable ofmanaging his own affairs, which, as he had some moments before takenpains to inform me, were none of mine. 

But as luck would have it, the girl walking upstream and Jerry walkingdown, they met in the path just beside the rock behind which I was souncomfortably reclining and scarcely daring to breathe. I could notsee their faces as they came together, but I heard their voices quiteDistinctly. 

"Marcia!" said Jerry, it seemed a trifle harshly. "What are you doinghere?"

With my vision obstructed, the soft tones of her voice seemed to takean added significance. 

"I came, " she purred, "because, Jerry, I couldn't stay away. "

And then, after a pause, her voice even more silken, "You don't seemvery glad to see me. "

"I--I--your appearance surprised me. "

"But now that the surprise is over--_are_ you glad to see me?" sheasked. 

A pause and then I heard him mutter. 

"I didn't suppose that--after yesterday _you_ would want to see _me_. "

"Yesterday, " she sighed, "twenty-four hours--an age! The surest proofthat I wanted to see you is that I'm here, that I ran away from ahouse full of people, just to tell you--"

"Is Channing Lloyd still there?" he broke in harshly. 

"Yes, Jerry, he is. But doesn't it mean anything to you that I lefthim, to come to you?"

"You broke your promise--to give him up--"

"Why, Jerry, I _had_ to invite him to my dance. It would have been aslight. "

"But you promised. He's a--"

"But I've known him for ages, Jerry. I can't be impolite. "

"He's not polite to you, to me, or anybody. I told you I wanted you togive him up. "

"You're fearfully exacting, " she said, modulating her voice softly. 

"He's a cad. I can't understand your inviting him. His very look isan insult, his touch a desecration. I don't like the way he paws you. "

"Of course, he--he means nothing by it, " she said soothingly. "It'sonly his way. "

"But I don't like his way and I don't like him. I've told you so agood many times. "

"You make it very difficult for me. It would have been insulting notto have asked him. We've been very good friends until you came. "

"It's a pity I came, then. You've got to choose between us. I've toldyou that before. "

"Why, Jerry, I _have_ chosen, " she said, her voice softeningsuspiciously. "How could I ever think of anybody else now that I haveyou? It's so _absurd_ of you to be jealous of Chan. He's not like you, of course, and his manner is a little rough, but he really isn't_nearly_ so terrible a person as you think he is. " She sighed. "But ifyou insist, I suppose I shall have to give him up. "

"Is it painful to you?" he muttered. 

She laughed. "You silly boy, of course not. I _will_ give him up. There! Does that settle that matter?"

"I thought it was settled before. "

"It was--but--" She paused. 

"I don't see how you could want to be with a man I don't like--"

"I don't care for him, Jerry, really I don't. Won't you believe me?"

"I'll believe you when you give him up. "

She sighed again, her voice breaking effectively. 

"Oh, dear! Do you want me to give up _all_ my friends? And is itquite fair?"

"I haven't asked you to give up any of your friends, but Lloyd--"

Well, I've given him up, Jerry. I'll send him home tonight. Don'tlet's think of him any more. I can't stand having anything comebetween us again. I can't, Jerry. It makes me so unhappy. I've beenwretched since yesterday about Una. That's why I came. I wanted you toknow how sorry I am that I spoke to Una the way I did. "

"Are you, Marcia?" His voice had softened suddenly and from theshuffling of his feet I think he took a pace toward her. 

"Yes, Jerry dear, contrite. I simply couldn't let another hour passwithout coming to ask your forgiveness. "

He was weakening. Perhaps his arm was around her. I don't know, buthis silence was ominous. 

"I have been _so_ miserable, " she murmured. "My conscience hastroubled me _terribly_. Oh, I can't tell you how I have suffered. Allthe evening I thought you would come. I waited for you; I went out onthe terrace a hundred times, watching for the lights of your car; butyou didn't come, you didn't come, Jerry, and I knew how terribly I hadoffended you. "

I couldn't see her but I'm sure she was wringing her pretty whitehands. Jerry must have been deeply moved for his voice was shaky. 

"It didn't matter about me, but a visitor, a guest at Horsham Manor, Marcia, a friend--!"

"A friend, yes. Oh, I've been so unhappy about it all--so _miserably_wretched. "

Her voice broke and she seemed upon the point of tears. 

"Why did you, Marcia? Why did you?" he repeated. 

"I--I--" She appeared to break down and weep and Jerry's voice took ona tone of distress. 

"Don't, Marcia, please!"

"I--I'm trying not to--but--" and she wept anew. 

"Come, " said Jerry's voice. "Sit here a moment. I'm sure it can all beexplained. It makes me very unhappy to see you so miserable. "

They moved nearer and she sat upon the very rock beneath which I layamong the mouldy leaves; so near that I could have reached out andtouched the girl's silken ankle with my fingers. Jerry, I think, stillstood. 

"I don't want to--to make you unhappy, " she said in a moment. "And itwas all my fault, but I just couldn't--couldn't stand it, Jerry. "

"Stand what?"

A pause and then in muffled tones. 

"Don't you know? Don't you really understand?"

"No. I--"

"I was mad, " she whispered, "mad with jealousy of Una. She was yourfirst love, your first--"

"Marcia! You mustn't. It's absurd. "

"No, no, " she protested. "I know. Ever since I first learned that shehad--had been in here with you, I--I haven't been able to get her outof mind--I may have appeared to, but I'm not one who forgets thingseasily; and to meet her at the cabin, the very place where I thought Ishould--should have you all to myself--it was too much. Jerry. Icouldn't stand it. Something--something in me rebelled. I grew coldall over and hard against all the world, even you. "

"But this was foolish of you. Una, a friend. Surely there was no harmin my seeing her here?"

"It was foolish, " there was a slight change in the intonation of hervoice here, "but I know the world so much better than you, Jerry. Girls are so designing, so--so untrustworthy. "

"You don't know Una if you say that, " said Jerry loyally. 

"Perhaps I don't. I don't wish to think badly of anyone you call afriend but Una is so--er--so independent--so accustomed to moving withqueer people--" She paused a moment again to give her insinuationweight. "I don't know, " she sighed. "I thought all sorts of horriblethings about you. "

"Horrible! How? Why?"

"Oh, Jerry. Think for a moment. It was natural in me, wasn't it? If Ihadn't been jealous of you I couldn't have loved you very much, couldI?"

"But horrible thoughts! I don't understand. You might think that therewas something between Una and me if you chose to be suspicious, but tothink unpleasant things of her, I can't see--"

"You're making it very difficult for me--you're so strange, " shemurmured. "Isn't it something that I've lowered my pride to the earthin coming here to you? That I've given up Chan? That I'm pleading toyou for forgiveness?"

"It is, of course. I do forgive you, " he murmured

"Oh, Jerry, if you knew how I had longed to hear you say that--if youknew!"

All this while Jerry had been standing beside her in the path whilethe girl sat on the rock. I could tell this from the sounds of theirvoices. In spite of her accents of endearment, notes which she playedwith the deftest touch, I could understand that Master Jerry was stilla little upon his dignity. 

"I do forgive you, " he repeated, "but I don't just know what yourinsinuations meant, Marcia. "

"Insinuations! Oh, Jerry!"

"Well, what were they? You didn't accuse Una of anything, or me. Butyou meant something--something unpleasant. Una was very muchdisturbed--"

"Oh, she was?" No self-control could have concealed the tiny note ofexultation. 

"Yes, disturbed and angry. What did you mean, Marcia?"

There was an effective pause. What grimaces she was making for hisbenefit I'm sure I can't imagine, but I hope they were worthy of hertalents. 

"Poor, dear Jerry!" she sighed. "You're so innocent. I sometimeswonder whether you're really as innocent as you seem. "

"I'm innocent of wronging Una, " he said with some spirit. 

She couldn't restrain a short laugh at the ingenuousness of the remarkand its tone. 

"There are ways and ways of wronging girls, Jerry, " she said slowly. Icouldn't see her face, of course, but I knew that her eyes must havebeen searching him sidelong under their lashes with peculiar avidity. "Of course, I don't _say_ that there was anything wrong, but you'lladmit that Una's hunting you out the way she did was _most_imprudent. "

"No, I don't admit it, " said Jerry. "If Una was imprudent, so are you, _here_, today. "

"Jerry!" The girl started up, one of her tall French heels withinreach of my fingers. If her heel had been her vulnerable spot I musthave struck it at once, like a viper. 

Jerry apparently stood his ground, for the image of Una must havestill been fresh in his memory. 

"What is the difference, Marcia?" he asked calmly. "Will you tell me?Do you think I could hurt _you_?"

She sank upon the rock again, her tone almost too plaintive. 

"You're hurting me now, Jerry--terribly. "

"I can't see--"

"That you can't see any difference, between my being here--and Una's. "

His voice fell a little. 

"Of course, there's a difference. Una is a friend and you--whyMarcia--" and he came near her, "of course there's all the differencein the world in _that_ way. You're the girl I--I love. "

"Jerry!" she whispered. 

I was miserable. It was nauseating. Fate was surely unkind to me. 

"But I want to be just, " he went on clearly. "And I want you to bejust. I surely couldn't harm Una any more than I could you. "

"Oh, Jerry; I'm sure you kissed her. "

"No. Why should I?"

"Because, I thought she might have asked you to. "

"She didn't. I suppose it hadn't occurred to her. I'm not much atkissing, Marcia. It's rather meaningless if you don't love a person, isn't it? Kissing ought to be a kind of sacrament. It's a symbol. Itmust mean something. At least that's the way it seems to me. The girlone loves, Marcia, you--"

He was very close to her now and I think his arms encircled her, for Iheard her whisper "Kiss me, Jerry! Kiss me!"

I must have deserved this punishment. Aside from the unhappy nature ofmy feelings, I was suffering severe bodily discomfort from some smallobject, a stone, I think, pressed against my ribs. I moved slightlyand there was a resounding crackle of broken twigs. The silken footbeside me started suddenly. 

"What was that?" whispered the girl. 

"Oh, " said Jerry, "merely a squirrel or--or a chipmunk. " And then moreconvincingly, "Yes, I think it was a chipmunk. "

I held my breath in an agony of apprehension, expecting each second tobe hauled out of my retreat by Jerry's muscular hand on my collar, andit was therefore with a feeling of manifest relief that I heard theirconversation resumed. 

"I'm so glad you think a kiss is a sacrament, " she murmured. "Itshould be--shouldn't it?--a pledge, " and then, "But that was _such_ alight one, Jerry--"

He kissed her again. There was a long silence--long. She had won. 

"Oh, Jerry, " she sighed at last, "it is _so_ sweet. You have neverkissed me like that before. Why, what is the matter?"

Jerry, it seemed, had risen suddenly. "I--I mustn't, Marcia. Imustn't. It is sweet--but--but terrible. I can't tell you--"

"Terrible, Jerry?"

"Yes, I can't explain. It's a kind of profanation--your sanctity. Idon't know. It makes me deliriously happy and--horribly miserable. "

"But I am yours, Jerry, yours, do you understand? And if I like you tokiss me--"

"I mustn't, Marcia, not here. "

He was very much disturbed. "Marcia!" he said in a suppressed tone ashe came quickly to her again. "Was _that_ what you meant--was _that_why you asked me if I'd kissed Una?"

"I merely wanted--"

"I didn't, " he broke in impetuously. "No, no, I didn't. Why, Marcia, it wouldn't have been possible--we were merely friends. Don't thinkI've ever kissed Una, and don't ever believe she would let me. Shewouldn't. She's not in love with me. She wouldn't let me, if I wantedto. "

"And you don't want to?"

"No, no. I never think about her in that way. I can't. She's differentfrom you. You allure me. It's subtle. I can't explain. I want to takeyou in my arms and yet I don't dare, for fear that I may crush you. Imight, Marcia. I'm afraid. Just now, the thought of my strengthfrightened me. Don't let me kiss you like that again, Marcia. "

"I'm not afraid, " I heard her whisper. "Kiss me again, Jerry. "

But he didn't. Apparently he still stood before her at a distance, fearsome of he knew not what. 

"Jerry!" she murmured again, in a little tone of petulance. 

"Marcia, we--we should be going on, " he muttered. 

"Ah, Jerry, not yet, " she sighed. "Isn't it wonderful that there's noquarrel between us? Just you and I, Jerry, here, alone, like the firstman and woman--alone in the world. There's no man in it but you, nowoman but me, we're mated, Jerry, like the birds. Don't you hear themsinging? The woods are alive with songs of love. And you, Jerry, youstand there staring at me with those great, timid eyes of yours. Whydo you stare at me so? Are you frightened? I think that I am strongerthan you. It is love that makes me strong. Come to me, Jerry. Kiss me, again. "

"Marcia!" he gasped. And then another silence. 

"I mustn't. "

"I love you, Jerry. "

"Will you marry me? Tomorrow!"

"Marriage, Jerry? Yes, some day--"

"Tomorrow--!"

"Aren't you satisfied--with this? The wonder of it. "

"But I have no right. I can't explain. It's desecration!"

"A sacrament!" she said. 

"A sacrament!"

"You said so. "

"Not this, Marcia. A sacrament should be gentle. I want to be gentlein my thoughts of you. But I can't, not now. I could strangle you ifyou let another man do this, and kill--"

"I love you--when you talk like that. Strangle me if you like, killme, I'm yours--"

I think that to Marcia, this was the greatest moment of her strangepassion. Fear was its dominant motive, Jerry's innocence itsinspiration. If he had crushed the breath from her body, I think shewould have died rapturously. But Jerry, it seems, tore himself fromher and moved some distance away, I think, his head bent into thehollow of his arm, torn between his emotions. I would have given allthat I possessed on earth to have caught a glimpse of her face at thatmoment. Flushed with victory of course--but passion--Bah! I couldn'tbelieve her capable of it. If she had been wholly animal I might haveforgiven her everything. But the impression had grown in me with theminutes that all this like everything else she did was false--falsepenitence, false contrition, false tears, false love and now falsepassion. She was a mere shell, a beautiful shell in which one hearsthe faint murmurs of sweet music, echoes of sounds which might havebeen but were not. These were the sounds that Jerry heard, echoes ofsome earlier incarnation in which spiritual beauty had been hisfetich. And now, he stood apart, broken, miserable. 

"Jerry, " I heard her call again softly, "I am not afraid. "

That was it. I understood now. What she loved was fear. But Jerrywould not come back. I heard his voice faintly. 

"We must go, Marcia. "

"Why?"

"I have learned; we have no right here--alone, you and I. It'swhat--what you accused Una of. "

"But you and I--Jerry! Am I not different from Una? I have rights. Shehas none. I've given them to you, and you to me. "

"You will marry me, soon?"

"Not if you're going to be so--so--er--inhospitable. "

He came forward quickly. 

"You know I don't mean that. Would you have me less considerate ofyour reputation, your peace of mind, than I am of Una's? I want you tounderstand how deeply I respect you--that I want to treat you withtenderness, with delicacy, with gentle devotion. "

I heard her sigh. I'm sure if Jerry's back had been turned she musthave yawned. She rose and I heard her slow footsteps join his. 

"How you disappoint me!" I heard her murmur and then more faintly:"How terribly you disappoint me! To analyze one's feelings! To thinkof conventions! Now! What _are_ you?"

"Marcia!"

I heard their voices fading into the distance and peered forth. Theywere walking slowly down the path, away from me. I stirred cautiously, straightened my stiffened legs, rose painfully, and then carefullymade my way farther into the forest, through which I plunged headlong, eager to escape the sight of that accursed rock and its harrowingsounds. I had not been far wrong in my estimate of her and of Jerry. Iwould to God he had strangled her. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY

Una and her mother did not come to Horsham Manor during the followingweek, and it was early in June before Jerry ordered the rooms to beprepared for them. Jack Ballard, too, having at last found Newportirksome, promised to make up the house-party. 

It did not seem to me that Jerry was especially overjoyed at theprospect of these guests. During the week or more that followed hisencounter with Marcia in the woods, he had reverted to his formerhabits of strolling aimlessly about when he wasn't at Briar Hills orin town, at times cheerful enough; at others obstinately morose. Buthe did not drink. Whatever the differences between us, he evidentlythought seriously enough of his word to me to make that promise worthkeeping. I know he believed me to be meddlesome and with good reason(if he had known all), but he would not let me leave the Manor. I wasa habit with him, a bad habit if you like, but it seemed a necessaryone. Nevertheless in spite of the apparently pleasant nature of ourrelations, there was a coolness between us. Much as he loved me, and Iwas still sure that Marcia had made no real change in that affection, there was a new reserve in his manner, meant, I think, to show me thatI had gone too far and that his affair with Marcia was not to be thesubject of further discussion between us. 

Had he known how thankful I was for that! I knew all that I wanted toknow of Marcia Van Wyck and of their curious relations. Andunfortunate as my ambush had seemed, demeaning to my honor and painfulto my conscience, I had begun to look upon my venture beneath thatinfernal rock as a kind of mixed blessing. At least I knew!

Of Una, Jerry said much in terms of real friendship and undisguisedadmiration--of his visits to her in town and the progress of her work, a frankness which, alas! was the surest token of his infatuationelsewhere. And yet I could not believe that the boy was any morecertain of the real nature of his feeling for Marcia than he had beena month ago. He was still bewildered, hypnotized, obsessed, his joyousdays too joyous, his gloomy ones too hopeless. Like a green log, heburned with much crackling or sullenly simmered. But the fire wasstill there. Nothing had happened that would put it out, not even Una. 

As the hour of the visit of the Habbertons approached, I found myselfa prey to some misgivings. It was not difficult for me to imagine thatthe frank nature of Jerry's visits to Una might have given the girl afalse notion of the state of Jerry's mind, for it was like the boy tohave told her of Marcia's mellifluous contrition which, as I knew, wasno more genuine than any other of her carefully planned emotionalcrises. I did not know what Marcia thought of Una's approaching visitor whether Jerry had even told her of it, but I had no fancy to seeUna Habberton again placed in a false position. A visit to Miss Goremade one morning when Jerry was in town at the office showed me thateven if Marcia knew of Una's approaching visit, she had not told MissGore of it and also revealed the unpleasant fact of Channing Lloyd'spresence in the neighborhood, a guest of the Carews and at the verymoment of my visit a companion of Marcia in a daylong drive up to BigWestkill Mountain. This was the way she was keeping her promise togive Lloyd up! What a little liar she was!

Of course, having learned wisdom, I said nothing to Miss Gore, butpassed a very profitable morning in her society after which sheinvited me to stay for lunch. I can assure you that after Jerry's glumlooks, Miss Gore's amiable conversation and warm hospitality were balmto my wounded spirit. I had no desire to discuss her intangiblerelative or she, I presume, the unfortunate Jerry, both of us havingwashed our hands of the entire affair. She was a prudent person, MissGore, and though full of the milk of human kindness, not disposed towaste it where it would do no good. I left with the promise to callupon her another morning and read to her a paper I had written for aphilosophical magazine upon the "The Identical Character of Thoughtand Being. "

Jack Ballard arrived upon the morning of the appointed day in his ownmachine, and since Jerry and his other guests were not expected untilevening, we had a long afternoon of it together. We took a trampacross the country, and while Jack listened with great interest to mydisclosures, I poured out my heart to him, omitting nothing, not even, to salve my self-esteem, my unfortunate experience in eavesdropping. I don't really know why I should have expected his sympathy, but heonly laughed, laughed so much and so long that the tears ran down hischeeks and he had to sit down. 

"Oh, Pope--a chipmunk! He might at least have allowed you the dignityof a bear or a mountain lion!"

"There are no mountain lions in these parts, " I said with somedignity. 

"Or a duck-billed platypus. Oh, I say, Pope, it's too rich. I can'thelp picturing it. Did they coo? Oh, Lord!"

"It was nauseating!" I retorted in accents so genuine that he laughedagain. 

"It's no laughing matter, I tell you, Jack, " I said. "The boy iscompletely bewitched. He thinks he adores her. He doesn't. I know. "

And bit by bit, while his expression grew interested, I told him allthat I had heard. 

"It's animal, purely animal, " I concluded. "And he doesn't know it. "

"By George! He's awakening, you think?"

"I'm sure of it. She's leading him on, for the mere sport of thething. It has been going on for four months now, almost every day. He's pretty desperate. She won't marry him. She doesn't love him. Sheloves nobody--but herself. "

"What will be the end of the matter?" he asked. 

I shrugged. 

"She'll throw him over when she debases him. "

"Debase--!"

"Yes, " I said wildly. "I tell you he thinks her an angel, Can't yousee? A man doesn't learn that sort of thing--_her_ sort of thing--fromthe woman he loves. It's like hearing impurity from the lips of one'sGod! And you ask me if she's debasing him! Why, Jack, he's all idealsstill. The world has taught him something, but he still holds fast tohis childish faith in everyone. "

"Bless him! He does. " And then, "What can I do, Pope?"

"Nothing. I'm waiting. But I don't like his temper. It's dangerous. Ithink he's beginning to suspect her sincerity and when he finds outthat she's still playing false with Channing Lloyd--then look out!"

"You're going to tell him?"

"No, he'll discover it. She's quite brazen. "

He was silent for a while. 

"Pope, you surprise me, " he muttered at last. "The modern girls, Igive them up. There's a name for this sort, perverted coquettes, '_teasers. '_ The man of the world abominates them, they're beneathcontempt; but Jerry--No, " he remarked with a shake of the head, "hewouldn't understand that. "

"And when he does?"

"H--m!"

His manner added no encouragement. 

"It would serve her jolly well right, " he muttered cryptically in amoment. 

"What?" I asked. 

I think he understood Jerry now as well as I did. 

"Violence, " he blurted out. 

"Ah! Then I'm not a fool. You agree with me. "

"I'm glad I'm not in Lloyd's shoes, that's all. "

We resumed our walk, turning back toward the Manor, and I told him ofhow matters stood with Jerry and Una. He had not met her, but he knewher history and was, I think, willing to accept her upon her facevalue. 

"But you can't match mere affection with that sort of witchcraft!" hesaid. "It's like trying to treat the hydrophobia with eau de Cologne. It can't be done, my boy. Your device does credit to your heart if notto your intelligence. She may come in a pretty bottle which exudescomforting odors but she's not for him. "

"You'll be pleasant to her, Jack? She's fond of Jerry, not in lovewith him, you know, but fond. And doesn't want to see him made a foolof any more than I do. "

I owed Una this. Whatever I thought of her feelings toward Jerry, evenJack had no right to be aware of them. 

"Pleasant!" he grinned. "Just you watch. I'll be her Fidus Achates. That's my specialty. Pretty, you say?" He kissed the tip of hisfingers and gestured lightly toward the heavens. "I'm your man. Well, rather. I'll make Jerry want to pound my head. And if he neglects herfor Marcia, I'll pound his. "

Una and her mother were having tea with Jerry on the terrace when wereached the Manor. Mrs. Habberton was, as Jerry had described her, "adear old lady" with calm eyes and level brows, "astonishingly wellinformed" and immensely proud of her pretty daughter. She was notassertive and while I knew nothing of Mr. Habberton, she somehowconveyed the impression that if there was anything in Mendel's theoryof the working of heredity she and her six daughters went a long waytoward exemplifying it. There was a genuineness about the pair whichwas distinctly refreshing to Jack's jaded tastes in fashionablefeminine fripperies and he fell into the conversation as smoothly as afinger into a well-fitting glove. Una made no secret of her delight atbeing at the Manor and her enthusiasm as we wandered over the placebrought more than one smile into Jerry's tired face. I know that heenjoyed her being there, but there was a weight upon him which hemasked with a dignity that might have deceived others but not Una orme. 

"You've been buying too many steamship companies this week. Jerry. I'msure of it. You're 'sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought. ' It'stoo bad you have a conscience. It must be fearfully inconvenient. " Andthen as we came to the swimming pool, "Isn't it huge? And all ofmarble! You're the most luxurious creature. I was just wondering--"She paused. 

"Wondering what--?"

"How many Blank Street families I could clean in it without evenchanging the water. "

He laughed. "Build one. I'll pay for it. "

"It would be _great_ for the boys and men, wouldn't it? But, then--"she sighed. "We haven't got our club yet. "

He laughed again. 

"But you're going to have it, you know, when the day nursery is done. "

"Oh, are we?"

"Of course, that's settled. "

We had reached the gymnasium. 

"And this is where you--?" A pleading look from Jerry made her pause. "And do you pull all these ropes? What fun! I believe you could havefifty boys in here at once all playing and not one of them in theother's way. "

We couldn't help smiling. In spite of herself, she was thinking interms of her beloved Blank Street. 

"You'll have to forgive me, Jerry, if I'm covetous. That's mybesetting sin. But it _is_ a fine place--so spacious. And it _would_make such an adorable laundry!"

"You shall have one, " said Jerry. 

The girl laughed. 

"No. I won't dare to wish any more. The purse of Fortunatus broughthim into evil ways. It must be terrible, Jerry, not to be able to wantsomething. "

"But I do want many things. "

"Yes. I suppose we all do that, " she said, quickly finishing thediscussion, but I think she had noticed the sudden drop in Jerry'svoice. 

From there we went to the museum to look over the specimens, and in amoment Una and Jerry were deep in a butterfly talk. There Jack and Ileft them, taking Mrs. Habberton into the main hall, where I rang forone of the maids who showed her to her room. 

"Well, " I asked of Jack. "What do you think of her?"

"What I think is of course a matter of no importance to Jerry. Butsince you ask, I don't mind telling you that I love her todistraction. Where are the boy's eyes? His ears? And all the rest ofhis receptive organs? If I were ten years younger--" and he patted his_embonpoint_ regretfully, "I'd ask something of her charity, somethingimmediate and practical. She should found the John K. Ballard Home, Pope, a want of mine for many years. But, alas! She has eyes only forJerry. "

"Do you really think so?" I asked. 

"Yes, I do. And he's not worth bothering about. He ought to be shot, offhand. "

"I entirely agree with you, " I smiled. 

Dinner that night was gay and most informal. Jack was at his best andgave us in inimitable satire a description of a luncheon at Newport inhonor of a prize chow dog attended by all the high-bred pups ofBellview Avenue, including Jack's own bull terrier Scotty, which in aninadvertent moment devoured the small Pekingese of Jack's nearestneighbor, a dereliction of social observance which caused the completeand permanent social ostracism of Scotty--and Jack. 

"How terrible!" said Una. 

"It was, really, but it was a kind of poetic canine justice, you know. The Pekingese just stared at Scotty and stared without wagging histail. Very impolite, not wagging your tail at a luncheon. Scotty grewembarrassed and angry and then--just took him at a gulp. It was theeasiest way out. "

"Or _in_, " I suggested. 

"Scotty is naturally polite. He never _could_ abide a tail thatwouldn't wag. "

"Nor can I, " said Una with a laugh. "Dogs' tails _must_ be meant towag, or what are they there for? I wish people had tails and then youcould tell whether they were pleasant or not. "

"Some of 'em have, " said Jack. "Hoofs too--and horns. "

"I don't believe that, " she laughed. 

Jerry took no animated part in the conversation except when we spokeof Una's work. Then he waxed eloquent until Una stopped him. Mrs. Habberton, I think, watched Jerry a little dubiously as though therewas something about him that she couldn't understand. Some feminineinstinct was waking. But Una's cheerfulness and interest in all thingswas unabated. We three men smoked--I, too, for I had lately fallenfrom grace--with the ladies' permission in the drawing-room where Unaplayed upon the piano and sang. I don't think that Jerry had knownabout her music for he had said nothing of it to me, and when hervoice began softly:

 "Oh doux printemps d'autrefois"--

Massenet's "Elegie, " as I afterwards learned--a hush fell over theroom and we three men sat staring at the sweet upturned profile, asher lovely throat gave forth the tender sad refrain:

 "Oh doux printemps d'autrefois, vertes saisons ou Vous avez fui pour toujours Je ne vois plus le ciel bleu Je n'entends plus les chants joyeux des oiseaux En emportant mon bonheur, O bien aimé tu t'en es allé Et c'est en vain que revient le printemps. "

She sang on to the end and long after she had finished we still satsilent, immovable as though fearful to break the spell that was uponus. Jerry was near me and I had caught a glimpse of his face when shebegan. He glanced toward her, moved slightly forward in his chair andthen sat motionless, the puzzled lines in his face relaxing like thoseof a person passing into sleep. When the last long-drawn sigh diedaway and merged into the drowsy murmur of the night outside, Jerry'svoice broke almost harshly upon the silence. 

"I didn't know you could sing like that, " he said. "It's wonderful, but so--so hopeless. "

"Something more cheerful, dear, 'Der Schmetterling, '" put in hermother. 

She sang again, this time lightly, joyously, and we re ponded to hermood like harp-strings all in accord. The room, awakened to melodyafter the long years of silence, seemed transformed by Una's splendidgift, a fine, clear soprano, not big nor yet thin or reedy, butrounded, full-bodied and deep with feeling. Jerry was smiling now, theshadow seemed to have lifted. 

"That's your song. It must have been written for you, " he cried. "You_are_ the butterfly girl when you sing like that. "

"_Bis!_" cried Jack, clapping his hands. 

She was very obliging and sang again and again. I was silent and quitecontent. The shadow did not fall upon Jerry again that night. I wasalmost ready to believe he had forgotten that such a person as MarciaVan Wyck lived in the world. Who could have resisted the gentle appealof Una's purity, friendliness and charm? Not I. Nor Jack. He followedthe mood of her songs like a huge chameleon, silent when she sang ofsadness, tender when she sang of love, and joyous with her joy. 

When she got up from the piano he rose. 

"I wonder why I can find so few evenings like this, " he sighed. 

"It's so fearfully old-fashioned, Victorian, to be simple nowadays, "she laughed. 

"That's it, " he cried. "The terror of your modern hostess, simplicity. You can't go out to dine unless some madwoman drags you away from yourcoffee to the auction table, where other madmen and madwomen scowl atyou all the evening over their cards. Or else they dance. Dance!Dance! Hop! Skip! Not like joyous gamboling lambs but with set faces, as though there was nothing else in the world but the martyrdom oftheir feet. Mad! All mad! Please don't tell me that you dance, MissHabberton. "

"I do, " she laughed, "and I love it. "

"Youth!" Jack sighed and relapsed into silence. 

The evening passed in general conversation, interesting conversationwhich the world, it seems, has come to think is almost a lost art, notthe least interesting part of which was Una's contribution on some ofthe lighter aspects of Blank Street. And I couldn't help comparingagain the philosophy of this girl, the philosophy of helpfulness, withthe bestial selfishness of the point of view of the so-calledFreudians who, as I have been credibly informed, only live to glutthemselves with the filth of their own baser instincts. Self-elimination as against self-expression, or since we arebrute-born, merely self-animalization! Una Habberton's philosophy andMarcia Van Wyck's! Any but a blind man could run and read, or if needbe, read and run. 

Mrs. Habberton was tired and went up early, her daughter accompanyingher. I saw Jerry eyeing the girl rather wistfully at the foot of thestair. I think he was pleading with her to come down again but sheonly smiled at him brightly and I heard her say, "Tomorrow, Jerry. "

"Shall we fish?"

"That will be fine. "

"Just you and I?"

"If you think, " and she laughed with careless gayety, "if you thinkMarcia won't object. "

"Oh, I say--" But his jaw fell and he frowned a little. 

"Good-night, Jerry, dear, " she flung at him from the curve of thelanding. 

"Good-night, Una, " he called. 

The telephone bell rang the next morning before the breakfast hour andJerry was called to it. I was in my study and the door was open. Icouldn't help hearing. Marcia Van Wyck was on the wire. I couldn'thear her voice but Jerry's replies were illuminating. 

"I couldn't, " I heard him say, "I had guests to dinner. "

Fortunately neither Una nor her mother was down. 

"I didn't tell you, " he replied to her question. "It was--er--rathersudden. Miss Habberton and her mother. They're staying here for a fewdays. How are you--? Oh, I don't see why you--What difference doesthat make--? Won't you come over this afternoon? Please. Why not--?I'm awfully anxious to see you. Why, I couldn't, Marcia, not just nowand besides--What--?"

Apparently she had rung off. He tried to get her number and when hegot it came away from the instrument suddenly, for the girl hadevidently refused to talk to him. 

At the breakfast table, to which the ladies but not Jack Ballarddescended, he was very quiet. I pitied him, but led the conversationinto easy paths in which after a while he joined us. I saw Unaglancing at him curiously, but no personal comment passed and when wewent out on the shaded terrace to look down toward the lake, over theshimmering summer landscape, Una took a deep breath and then gave along sigh of delight. 

"Isn't it wonderful just to live on a day like this?" And then with alaugh, "Jerry, you simply _must_ give us Horsham Manor as a fresh airfarm. "

He smiled slowly. 

"It would do nicely, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, yes, splendidly. Five thousand acres! That would be an acreapiece for every man, woman and child in the whole district. We wouldbuild mills by the lake, factories along the road and tenements ingroups on the hills over there. It _might_ spoil the landscape, but itwould be so--er--so satisfying. "

"And you'd want _me_ to pay the bills, " he laughed. 

"Oh, yes. Of course. What are bills _for_ unless to be paid?"

"Help yourself, " he smiled. "Will you have the deeds made out today orwait until next week?"

"I suppose I _might_ wait until tomorrow. "

"Oh, thanks. And, for the present, we'll go fishing. "

"I'll be ready in a moment. " And she went upstairs for her hat andgloves. 

Already he yielded again to the spell of her comradeship and humor. And a moment later I saw them set off toward the Sweetwater, Unaglowing with quiet delight, Jerry slowly showing the infection of herhappiness. 

The nature of Una's conversation with Jerry during that morning offishing and in the days that followed must always remain a secret tome. I know that when they returned Jerry was in a cheerful mood andput through an afternoon of tennis with Jack, while Una and her motherknitted in the shade. She was wholesome, that girl, and no one couldbe with her long without feeling the impress of her personality. But Iwas not happy. Marcia hung like a millstone around my neck. I knewthat it was at the risk of a considerable sacrifice of pride that Unahad decided to come with her mother and make this visit. The world andher own frequent contact with women of the baser sort had sharpenedher wits and instincts amazingly. I am sure that she was just as wellaware of the nature of Jerry's infatuation as though Jerry had told ithimself. If Una cared for him as deeply as I had had the temerity tosuppose, then her position was difficult--painful and thankless. Butwhatever her own wish to help him, I am sure that the nature of thedesire was unselfish. After events prove that. All that Una saw in thesituation of Jerry and Marcia was a friend who needed helping, who wasworth helping from the snare of an utterly worldly and heartlesswoman. I am sure that her knowledge of the world must have made hertask seem hopeless and it must have taken some courage to pit her owncharm in the lists against one of Marcia's known quality. But if shewas unhappy, no sign of it reached my eyes. Only her mother, whosometimes raised her eyes and calmly regarded her daughter, had aninkling of what was in Una's heart. 

Jerry went no more to the telephone. I kept an eye on it and I know. And when his car went out, Una or Jack went with him. Three dayspassed with no telephone calls from Briar Hills. When Jerry's guestswere with him, the duties of hospitality seemed sacred to him and heleft nothing undone for their comfort or entertainment. At night Unasang to us, and Jerry was himself, but during most of the day he movedmechanically, only speaking to Jack or me when directly addressed. 

"Acts like a sleepwalker, " said Jack to me. "It's hypnotic, sheermoon-madness!"

Only Una had the power to draw him out of himself. He always had asmile for her and a friendly word, but I knew that _she_ knew that shehad failed. Jerry was possessed of a devil, a she-devil, that none ofthe familiar friendly gods could cast out. 

The end came soon and with a startling suddenness. We were out drivingin Jack's motor one morning before lunch, Jack at the wheel, with Unabeside him, Jerry and I in the rear seat, when in passing along aquiet road not far from Briar Hills, we saw at some distance ahead ofus and going our way, a red runabout, containing a man and a girl. Jack was running the car very slowly, as the road was none too good, and we ran close up behind the pair before they were aware of us. Isaw Jerry lean forward in his seat, peering with the strange set lookI had recently seen so often in his eyes. I followed his gaze and, asI looked, the man in the red car put his arm around the girl's neckand she raised her chin and they kissed. All of us saw it. Jackchuckled and blew his horn violently. The pair drew apart suddenly andthe man tried quickly to get away, but Jack with a laugh had alreadyput on the power and we passed them before they could get up speed. The girl hid her face but the man was Channing Lloyd. 

Jerry had recognized them. I saw him start up in his seat, turningaround, but I caught at his wrist and held him. He was deathly pale, ugly, dangerous. But he made no further move. During the ride home hesat as though frozen fast into his seat with no word for me or for ourcompanions, who had not turned or spoken to us. I think that Jacksuspected and Una knew and feared to look at Jerry's face. By the timewe reached the house Jerry had managed to control himself. Thedangerous look upon his face was succeeded by a glacial calm, whichlasted through luncheon, of which he ate nothing. Jack did his best tobring an atmosphere of unconcern but failed and we got up from thetable aware of impending trouble. Then Jerry disappeared. 

CHAPTER XXIV

FEET OF CLAY

It is with some reluctance that I begin these chapters dealing withthe most terrible event in Jerry's life, and for that matter the mostterrible experience in my own, for as the reader of this history mustnow be aware, Jerry's life was mine. I had made him, molded him forgood or ill according to my own definite plan, by the results of whichI had professed myself willing to stand whatever came. Had I knownwhat these results were to be, it would have been better if I had castmyself into the sea than have come to Horsham Manor as Jerry'spreceptor, the sponsor for old Benham's theory. But human wisdom isfallible, true virtue a dream. Dust we are and to dust return, groveling meanwhile as best we may, amid the wreck of our illusions. It costs me something to admit the failure of the Great Experiment, its horrible and tragic failure! To lose a hand, an eye, a limb, to bewithered by disease, one can replace, repair, renew; but an ideal, asystem of philosophy, ingrained into one's very life! It is this thatscars and withers the soul. 

I must go on, for, after all, it is not my soul that matters, butJerry's. It was quite an hour after Jerry disappeared before I beganto suspect that he had gone to Briar Hills. The last I had seen of himwas when he was on his way up the stair to his own room. But when Isought him there a short while afterward, I could not find him, norwas he anywhere in the house. I questioned the servants, telephonedthe garage. All the machines, including Jerry's own roadster, were inthe building. I went out to question the gardeners and found a man whohad seen Jerry awhile before, entering the path into the woods behindthe house. Mr. Benham was hatless, the fellow said, and walkedrapidly, his head bent. Even then I did not suspect where he wasgoing. I thought that he had merely gone to "walk it off, " a phrase wehad for our own cure for the doldrums. But as the moments passed andhe did not return, I took Jack into confidence, and expressed the fearthat he had gone to Briar Hills for a reckoning with Marcia and Lloyd. 

A worried look came into Jack's face, but he shrugged his shoulders. 

"Let him. It's time. We can't do anything. "

"We might try. "

"What?"

"Go there before damage is done, bring him home. "

"And make ourselves ridiculous. "

"Oh, that--! I don't care. "

"Well, _I_ do. You've got to let this problem work itself out, Pope. It's gone too far. He's on the brink of disillusionment. Let it come, no matter how or what. "

"But violence--!"

"Let it come. Better a violence which may cure than this quiet madnessthat is eating his soul away. "

"But Lloyd! Jerry's strength! He might kill the brute. "

"Don't fear. If the man would fight Jerry might do him damage. Buthe'll run, Pope. You can't kill a bounder. The breed is resilient. "

"I'm afraid. "

"You needn't be. This is the turning point of his affair. "

"Perhaps. But in which way will it turn?"

"Wait. "

I was helpless. Against my own judgment I did as he bade. We waited. We sat upon the terrace for awhile with the ladies, Jack readingaloud. Una made no comment upon Jerry's absence and gave no sign ofher prescience of anything unusual, except the frequent turning of herhead toward the house or toward the paths within the range of hervision, as though she hoped every moment that Jerry might appear. Theshadows lengthened. Jack challenged the girl to a game of tennis andeven offered to play in the double court against us both, but neitherof us was willing. I think she knew where Jerry had gone and, like me, was frightened. It was a miserable afternoon. As the dinner hourapproached the ladies retired to dress and I gave a sigh of relief. Inmy anxious state of mind the burden of entertaining them had weighedheavily upon me. It had occurred to me that Una's mother might havethought it strange that Jerry should have left them so suddenlywithout excuses, for he owed them an explanation at least. I thinksome inkling of an unusual situation had entered Mrs. Habberton'smind, for when dinner was nearly over and her host had not appeared, she made a vague remark about a letter that had come in the morningwhich might oblige her to curtail her visit, a tactful anticipationof any situation which might make their stay impossible. The eveningdragged hopelessly and the ladies retired early, while at the foot ofthe stair I made some fatuous remark about Jerry's possibly havingbeen summoned to town. The "good-nights" were said with an excess ofcheerfulness on Una's part and my own which did nothing to concealfrom either of us the real nature of our anxiety. 

Jack and I smoked in the library, discussing every phase of thesituation. The coming of night without a word or a sign from the boyhad made us both a prey to the liveliest fears. Something had happenedto Jerry--What? He had been wild, determined. I could not forget hislook. It was the same expression I had seen at Madison Square Gardenwhen he had made his insensate effort to knock Clancy out--a narrowglitter of the eyes, brute-keen and directed by a mind made crafty bydesperation. Weary of surmises, at last we relapsed into silence, trying to read. Jack at last dozed over his book and, unable longer toremain seated, I got up, went outside and walked around the houseagain and again. The garage tempted me. Jerry's machine was inside. Unknown to Jack I would go myself to Briar Hills and see Miss Gore. She would know. 

There was a light in the window. I turned the knob and entered. As Idid so someone stooping rose and faced me. It was Jerry, a terriblefigure, his clothes torn and covered with dirt, his hair matted andhanging over his eyes, which gleamed somberly out of dark circles. Hehad a wrench in his hand. For a moment in my timidity and uncertaintyI thought him mad and about to strike me with it. But he made no movetoward me and only hung his head like a whipped dog. 

"_You_, Roger?"

"What has happened. Jerry?"

"Nothing. Don't ask. "

"But Jack and I have been sitting up for you. We've been worried. "

"I know. But it couldn't be helped. Just don't ask me anything, Roger. "

I was glad enough to have him safe and apparently quite sane. I don'tknow why I should have considered his sanity at that moment ofpeculiar importance unless because my own mind had been all theafternoon and evening so colored with the impression of his lastappearance. I had become so used to the sense of strain, of tension inhis condition of mind, that the quiet, rather submissive tone of hisvoice affected me strangely. It seemed almost as if the disease waspassing, that his fever was abated. 

"I won't ask you anything, if you don't like, but I think you'd bettercome to the house and get a hot bath and to bed. "

He remained silent for a long moment. 

"I'm not going to the house, Roger. I'm going--"

He paused again. 

"Going! Where?" I asked. 

"I don't know just yet. Away from here, from New York--at once. "

"But I can't let you go without--"

He held up his hand and I paused. 

"Don't talk, Roger, " he said quickly. "Don't question and don't talk. It won't do any good. I had hoped I shouldn't see you. I waswaiting--waiting until the lights went out. "

"But I couldn't. "

"Please!" he said quietly, and then went on. 

"I was going to get some things and go during the night. Now you'llhave to help me. Tell Christopher to pack a bag--just a clean suit andlinen--and bring it here--And--and that's all. " He held out his handwith a sober smile. "Good-by, Roger, " he finished. 

"But I can't let you go like this. "

"You've got to. Don't worry. I'm all right. I'm not going to make afool of myself--or--or drink or anything. I've got to be alone--to dosome thinking. I'll write you. Good-by. "

"But Una! What shall I say?"

"Una!" He turned away and bent his head. "My God!" he said and thenrepeated the words below his breath, almost like a prayer, and then, turning, with a wild gesture, "Tell her anything, Roger. Say I'm allright but I can't see her. Say I had a telegram--called West on aRailroad matter--anything. Now go. "

He caught me by the hand with a crushing grip while he pushed metoward the door. 

"You will not--?"

"I'm all right, quite. Don't fear for me. I'll come back--soon. Nowgo, old chap. I'll wait for Christopher here. Hurry, please. "

He spoke kindly but sharply. I could see that argument was of noavail. His mind was made up and with Jerry that was final. Whateverhad happened--and from his appearance I suspected a soul-wrenchingstruggle--he was at least for the present physically safe and entirelysane. But it was with serious misgivings that I slipped past thesomnolent Jack and upstairs to Jerry's room, where I found Christopherand together we packed a bag, descending by the back stairs, where Itook the bag from Christopher's hand and sent him to bed. 

In a moment I was in the garage with Jerry. 

"Oh, _you_--!" he frowned. 

"Let me go with you at least as far as town, " I pleaded. 

"No, " gruffly. "No one. " He threw the bag into the car and clamberedquickly in. 

"Here, your cap, " I said, handing it to him. Our fingers met. Hegrasped mine until they pained me. 

"Forgive me, Roger. I don't mean to be unkind. You're too good to me. "

"Jerry, you fool!" I cried, my eyes wet. 

He had started the machine and when I opened the door he moved slowlyout. 

"Good-by, old Dry-as-dust, " he called with a wave of the hand and arather sinister smile. 

"For God's sake no drink, Jerry!" I whispered tensely. 

"I promise, " he said solemnly. "Good-by!"

And while I watched, he swept noiselessly around the drive and wassoon lost in the blur of the trees below. 

I walked slowly toward the terrace in the shadow of the trees, deep inbewilderment. What should I say to Una? Half unconsciously I glancedup at her window, the corner one over the terrace. Something whitestirred and I thought I heard a sound, a faint sound, and then astrangling hush. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE MYSTERY DEEPENS

But all other considerations were as nothing beside the mystery ofJerry's manner and appearance, and his sudden flight filled me withthe gravest fears. What had he done at Briar Hills, what horriblething? Could it be that the boy had--? I shrank in dismay from theterrible thought that came into my mind. I went hurriedly into thehouse and without ceremony waked the sleeping Jack. He aroused himselfwith difficulty but when I told him what had happened he came quicklyto life. 

"You--you're sure you're not mistaken?" he asked, still bewildered. 

"Haven't I told you that I saw the boy with my own eyes, thatsomething dreadful has happened today at Briar Hills and that he'sflying from the results of it? Come, Jack. We must go there at once. "

"By all means, " he said, springing up with an air of decision. "Mycar, " and then as we started for the garage, "you don't mean to saythat you believe the boy has--?"

The terrible words would not come. The mere thought of mentioning themfrightened him as they had done me. 

"How can I tell?" I said irritably. 

"God knows, " he muttered miserably. "Violence--but not--not that. "

"Hurry, " I muttered. "Hurry. "

In a moment we were in the car, rushing through the night toward thelower gate. Briar Hills was not more than four miles from the Manor asthe crow flies, but fully twelve by the lower road. Jack wasted notime and we sped along the empty driveways of the estate at a furiouspace. The cool damp air of the lowlands refreshed and stimulated usand we were now keenly alert and thinking hard. The lodge gates werekept open now and we went roaring through them and out into thecountry roads where the going was not so good. Neither of us had daredto repeat our former questions which were still uppermost in ourminds. The topic was prohibitive and until we knew something silencewere better. 

It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes, twenty-five at themost, before we reached the gates of the Van Wyck place, though itseemed an age to me. Then at my suggestion Jack slowed down and wewent up the drive as quietly as possible. I don't know what weexpected to see when we got there, but the sight of the house withlights burning in the windows here and there did something to reassureus. After debating a plan of action we drove boldly up to the houseand got out. The front door upon the veranda was wide open but therewas no sound within or without. Jack was for dashing in at once andsearching the premises but I took him by the arm. 

"Wait, " I said, "listen. "

Somewhere within I thought I made out the sound of footsteps. "Atleast someone is about. Where's the bell? We'll ring. "

I found it and though the hour was late a maid answered. She came tothe door timidly, uncertainly, as though a little frightened. 

"This is Mr. Canby, " I explained. "I would like to see Miss Gore, please. "

"I don't know, sir, " she paused and then: "Wait a moment. I'll see--"and went upstairs. 

We had been prepared for a wait but Miss Gore appeared almostimmediately. She came down calmly, and asked us into the drawing-room. 

"I was expecting you, " she said with great deliberateness, "andwondered if you'd come. "

"Then something--something _has_ happened, " I broke in hurriedly. 

"I don't know what, exactly, " she said. "I can't understand. I'vethought several things--"

"Is Channing Lloyd here?" I asked excitedly. 

"No. He was here to luncheon and went out with Marcia, but he didn'tcome back--to the house, I mean. "

"But you know that he has been seen--since?"

I asked the question in terror and trembling. 

"Oh, yes, " she said. "One of the gardeners saw him and--"

"And Marcia?" I questioned again. 

She pointed upward, where we were conscious again of the steadilymoving footsteps. 

"She's upstairs in her room. "

I think the gasps of relief that came from each of us at this welcomenews must have given Miss Gore the true measure of our anxiety, for athin smile broke on her lips. 

"Thank God, " I said feelingly. "Then they're safe. What has happened, Miss Gore? Can you tell me? Jerry has gone, fled from Horsham Manor. We feared--the worst. "

"I don't know what has happened, Mr. Canby, " she admitted. "But it'svery strange. I will tell you what I know. Marcia and Mr. Lloyd wentout together after luncheon, not in a motor but afoot. I was in thegarden in the afternoon cutting roses for the dinner table when I sawa figure skulking near the hedge which leads to the main drive. Iwasn't frightened at all, for Dominick, the man who attends to therose garden, was nearby, but the man's actions were queer and I sentthe gardener to inquire. He went and I followed, curiously. Dominickcut across behind the hedges and came out on the lawn quite near theman, who walked with his body slightly inclined and one arm upraisedand bent across his face, his hand holding a red handkerchief. I couldmake out his figure now. I remembered the suit of shepherd's plaidthat Channing Lloyd had been wearing. There is no doubt of hisidentity, for Dominick confirmed me. It was Mr. Lloyd. "

"But what was he bending over for?" I asked. 

"I can't imagine. When Dominick spoke to him, he merely cursed the manand went on. "

"Curious, " said Jack thoughtfully. 

"Isn't it? I can't make it out at all. "

"And Marcia?" I asked. 

"She came back much later. I didn't see her for she rushed into herroom and locked the door. She's there now. I've tried to get to her. But she won't let me in, won't even answer me. Listen, " and shepointed upward. "She's been doing that for hours. I've taken her food. She won't eat or reply. Nothing except, 'Go, ' or 'Go away. ' I'm at mywit's ends. I seem to be sure, Mr. Canby, that Jerry--"

"Yes, " I put in. "You're right, Jerry--was here. Something hashappened. "

"But what?" she asked. 

"He saw them together in the red motor. "

"Kissing, " put in Jack rather brutally. 

"Ah, " she said composedly. And then, "Ah, yes, I see, but why Lloyd'scurious behavior and Jerry's flight?"

"It's very mysterious. "

"Yes, very. " Here she rose as with a sudden sense of responsibilityand brought the interview to an end. I think she read farther than Idid. "At all events we know that they are all alive, " she said with asmile. "Perhaps no great damage is done after all. "

It seemed as though she were trying to deceive herself or us, but wemade no comment, presently taking our departure. 

It was not until many months later that I learned what had happened onthat dreadful day. Jack Ballard and the Habbertons left Horsham Manorthe following afternoon and it was many weeks before I saw Una in NewYork, for some instinct had restrained me; not until some time after Ihad Jerry's first letter, just a few lines written from somewhere inManitoba, merely telling me that he was in good health and asking menot to worry. But brief as it was, this message cheered meinexpressibly. 

I could not bring myself to go to Briar Hills again, but managed ameeting with Miss Gore, who told me that Marcia was in a more thanusually fiendish temper most of the time--quite unbearable, in fact. She was going away to Bar Harbor, she thought, and the certainty ofMiss Gore's tenure of office depended much upon Marcia's treatment ofher. They had quarreled. To be a poor relation was one thing, to be amartyr another. 

She couldn't understand Marcia's humor, moody and irascible by turns, and once when Miss Gore had mentioned Jerry's name she flew into atowering rage and threw a hair brush through a mirror--a handsomemirror she particularly liked. 

Jerry's affair with Marcia was ended. There could be no possible doubtabout that. Further than this Miss Gore knew nothing. It was enough. Iwas content, so content that in my commiseration I held her handunduly long and she asked me what I was going to do with it, and notknowing I dropped it suddenly and made my exit I fear ratherawkwardly. What could I have done with it? A fine woman that, butcryptic. 

It was June when Jerry left, not until midwinter that he returned toHorsham Manor. He was very much changed, older-looking, lessassertive, quieter, deeper-toned, more thoughtful. It was as thoughthe physical Jerry that I knew had been subjected to some searchingtest which had eliminated all superfluities, refined the good metal inhim, solidified, unified him. And the physical was symbolic of thespiritual change. I knew that since that night in July the world hadtried him in its alembic with its severest tests and that he hademerged safely. He was not joyous but he seemed content. Life was nolonger a game. It was a study. Bitter as experience had been, it hadmade him. Perfect he might not be but sound, sane, wholesome. Jerryhad grown to be a man!

But Jerry and I were to have new moments of _rapprochement_. As thedays of his stay at the Manor went on, our personal relations grewcloser. He spoke of his letters to Una and of hers to him, but hisremarks about her were almost impersonal. It seemed as though somedelicacy restrained him, some newly discovered embarrassment whichmade the thought of seeing her impossible and so he did not go to payhis respects to her. Indeed, he was content just to stay at the Manorwith me. It seemed that the bond between us, the old brotherly bondthat had existed before Jerry had gone forth into the world, had beenrenewed. I would have given my life for him and I think he understood. He was still much worried and talked of doing penance. Poor lad! Asthough he were not doing penance every moment of his days! I know thathe wanted to talk, to tell me what had happened, to ask my advice, tohave my judgment of him and of her. But something restrained him, perhaps the memory of the girl he had thought Marcia to be, thatsublimated being, in whose veins flowed only the ichor of the gods, the goddess with the feet of clay. I told him that she had been at BarHarbor with Channing Lloyd and that Miss Gore had told me that the twowere much together in town. 

"Oh, yes, " he said slowly, "I know. They're even reported engaged. Perhaps they are. "

There was a long silence. We were sitting in the library late onenight, a month at least after he had returned, reading and talking byturns. 

"She wasn't worthy of you. Jerry, " I remarked. 

"No, that's not true, " he said, a hand shading his eyes from thelamplight. "It would be a poor creature that wouldn't be worthy ofsuch a beast as I. But she tried me, Roger, terribly. "

"She tempted you purposely. It was a game. I saw it. But you, poorblind Jerry--"

"Yes, blind and worse than blind, deaf to the appeals of myfriends--you and--and Una, who saw where I did not. Marcia hadpromised to marry me, Roger, to be my wife. Do you understand whatsuch a promise meant to me then? All ideals and clean thoughts. Iworshiped her, did not even dare to touch her--until--Oh, I kissedher, Roger. She taught me--many things, little things, innocent theyseemed in themselves at the time, but dangerous to my body and to mysoul. I knew nothing. I was like a new-born babe. My God! Roger--ifonly you had told me! If you had told me--"

"I couldn't then, Jerry, " I said softly. "It would have been too late. You wouldn't have believed--"

"No, " he muttered, "you're right. I wouldn't have believed anythingagainst her at the time or found a real meaning in the truth. Shecould have done no wrong. Then I saw her kissing that fellow--youremember? I think the change came in me then, my vision. I seemed tosee things differently without knowing why. Rage possessed me, animalrage. I saw red. I wanted to kill. "

He rose and paced the length of the room with great strides. 

"I mustn't, Roger. I can't say more. It's impossible. "

I was silent. A reaction had come. 

CHAPTER XXVI

DRYAD AND SATYR

Little by little the story came from him. Perhaps I urged him but Ithink the larger impelling motive to speak was his conscience whichdrove him on to confession. He needed another mind, another heart, tohelp him bear his burden. And the years had taught him that thesecrets of his lips were mine. I could be as silent, when I chose, asa mummy. He had not named me old Dry-as-dust for nothing. 

It seems that when Jerry left us at the Manor that afternoon and tookto the woods he had no very clear notion of what he was going to do. All that he knew was that he could not bear the sight or touch orhearing of his fellow beings, least of all of those of us who werekind to him. In fact, he had no very clear notion of anything, for hisbrain was whirling with terrible grinding, reiterating blows likemachinery that is out of order. What thoughts he had were chaotic, mere fragments of incidents, and conversations jumbled and mostlyirrelevant. But the vision of the figures in the automobile dominatedall. I am sure that he was mentally unsound and that his actions wereinstinctive. He walked furiously, because walk he must, becauseviolent physical exercise had always been his panacea, and because thevery act of locomotion was an achievement of some sort. After awhilehe found himself running swiftly along the paths that led to theSweetwater, and then following the stream through the gorge in thehills, leaping over the rocks until he reached the wall and the brokengrille. There he paused for a moment and tried to reason with himself. But he found that he could not think and that his legs still urged himon. They were bent on carrying him to Briar Hills, he knew that muchnow, and that he had no power to stop them. The violence of hisexercise, he said, had cleared the chaos from his brain and only thevision of the red automobile remained, Marcia's roadster. He knew itwell. Had he not driven it? There was no mistake. It crossed hisdisordered brain that red for a machine was a frightful color, apainful color it seemed to him, and he wondered why he hadn't thoughtthat before. Red, blood color, the color that seemed to be in his eyesat that very moment. All the trees were tinged with it, the rocks, even the pools in the brook, around the edges especially--and they hadalways seemed so cool, so very cool. 

He leaped down the rocks and before he realized it had crawled underthe broken railing and was in the forest beyond. He did not run nowbut walked quickly and with the utmost care over fallen tree-trunksand rocks, avoiding the paths and seeking the deep woods, still movingever nearer to his goal. He made a wide detour around the Laidlaws'place and went half a mile out of his way to avoid the sight of somefarmers working in an open field. As he neared Marcia's land he grewmore crafty, even crawling upon his hands and knees across a clearingwhere there was little cover. He had no notion as yet of what he wasgoing to do when he got there except that he hoped to find the girland Lloyd together. 

He saw the house at last and the garden, from a distance. The househad a red roof. Red again! It glared horribly in the afternoonsunlight. He turned his head so that he might not look at it and movedstealthily around a stone wall toward the woods beyond thegarden--Marcia's woods, pine woods they were, their floor carpetedwith brown needles where he and she had used to go and walk of anafternoon to the rocks by Sweetwater Spring, the source of the stream, they said, which Jerry had named the "blushful Hippocrene, " thefountain of the Muses who met there to do Marcia, their goddess, honor. 

Marcia, _his_ goddess. And Chan Lloyd! _Would_ they be there? He hopedso. The whole success of his venture seemed to depend upon seeing themtogether. It was her favorite spot. She had led Jerry to believe thatthe crevice among the rocks by the spring, a natural throne sculpturedby nature, was his, his only, and that he was her king. That hadalways seemed a very beautiful thought to Jerry. She used to sit athis feet, her arms upon his knees, look up at him and tell him of hisdominion over her and all the world; her "fighting-god" he had oncebeen, and then again her Pan, and she a dryad or an oread. 

Jerry crept nearer, stealthily. He had learned the craft of the woodsyears ago, and made no sound. He stalked that grove with the keennessof a deerslayer, moving around through the undergrowth until he wasquite near the rocks. He could hear no voices as yet, but somethingtold him that they must be there. It was a very secluded spot; itwould have been a pity to have had to go on to the house where MissGore and the servants would hear and see. He crawled on his hands andknees, approaching slowly and with some pains. He still heard nosound, but at last reached a ridge of rock within a few feet of thespring and heard voices, lowered, guilty voices they seemed to him. Hepeered cautiously over. They were there, side by side on the rockyledge. 

Jerry told me that at this moment he seemed suddenly to grow strangelycalm. The noises in his head had ceased and he felt a curious sense ofquiet exaltation. He couldn't explain this. I think it was a purelymental reaction after many months of spiritual coma. He got to hisfeet and even before they heard the sounds of his footsteps he stoodbefore them. 

They must have been very much alarmed at Jerry's appearance for, afterdashing hotfoot through the underbrush and crawling among the rocks, his clothing must have been disarranged and his hair dirty anddisordered. The expression of his face, too, in spite of his boastedcalm, could hardly have been pleasant to contemplate, for I had had aglimpse of it that morning in the motor and I am sure that for an houror more he had been mad--quite mad. He said that they sprang apartsuddenly and that Lloyd rose with a swaggering air and faced him. Butit seemed that the current of Jerry's thought was diverted by Marcia, who had started up and then sank back upon the rock, addressing him inher softest tones. 

"Why, Jerry!" she cried. "How you startled me!"

It was the first time, Jerry said, that the caressing tones of thegirl's voice had made no impression upon him. In two strides he wasalongside of her, within arm's reach of both of them. He lookeddangerous, I think, for Lloyd edged off a little. Marcia kept her gazefixed upon his face and what she read there was hardly reassuring. 

"Jerry!" she cried again. "What does this mean? Your clothes are torn;your face scratched. Has--has something happened to you?"

The question was unfortunate, for it loosened Jerry's thick tongue. 

"Yes. Something's happened, " he muttered, moving a hand across hisbrows as though to clear his thoughts. And then:

"I've waked up, that's all, " he growled. 

"Waked! I don't understand, " her voice still gentle, appealing, incredulous. 

"Yes, awake. You're false as hell. "

"Oh, " she started back at that and the venturesome Lloyd took a paceforward. 

"I say, Benham, I--" He got no further, for Jerry without even lookingat him, swept his left arm around, the gesture of a giant bothered bya troublesome insect. But it caught the fellow full in the chest, andsent him reeling backward. Jerry's business just now was with MarciaVan Wyck. 

"You understand what I mean, " he went on quickly. "You've played falsewith me. You've always played false. I saw you there this morningkissing this man, the way you kissed me, the way you kiss others forall that I know. "

"You're mad. You insult me. " She rose, pale and trembling, but facinghim hardily. 

"No, I'm not mad. Nothing that I can say can insult you. "

"Chan!" She appealed. 

It was a fatal mistake, for at the word Lloyd came forward again, benton making some show of resistance. Jerry turned on him with a snarl, for the fellow had foolishly put up his hands. A few blows passed andthen--Jerry told what happened rather apologetically--"It was a pity, Roger. It wasn't altogether his fault, but he _is_ a bounder. My fiststruck his face, seemed to smear it, literally, all into a blot ofred. It wasn't like hitting a man in the ring, it was like--likepoking a bag full of dirty linen. The whole fabric seemed to give way. He toppled back, turned a complete somersault and collapsed. "

I made no comment. I already knew that Lloyd hadn't been killed. Thegirl Marcia seemed stricken dumb for a moment and found her voice onlywhen Jerry turned toward her again. 

"Jerry, " she cried. "It is horrible. You're a brute--beast--"

Jerry only pointed at the prostrate figure slowly struggling to itsknees. 

"Go and kiss him, " he cried. "Go. Kiss him now. He's on his knees toyou, waiting for you. "

While they watched, Lloyd got to his feet, turned one look of terrorin Jerry's direction and then fled blindly into the woods, like onepossessed of a devil. 

Jerry laughed. It couldn't have been very pretty laughter, for thegirl covered her face with her hands and shrank away from him. 

"How _could_ you?" she stammered. "How _could_ you?"

"You were mine. He wanted you. "

"Jerry--I--. It's all a mistake. You thought you saw us. I haven'tkissed--"

"You lie, " he came a pace toward her. "I saw you. I'm not a fool--notany longer. "

Her gaze met his and fell. There was something in his expression, something of the primitive that tore away all subterfuge. 

But she was not without courage. 

"And if I did kiss him--what then?" she asked defiantly. "I'll kiss asI please. "

"_Will_ you?" He caught at her wrist but she eluded him. 

"Yes, I will. What right have you to tell me what I shall do or notdo? I'll choose my friends as I please and kiss them as I please, Chanor anyone!"

She had not gauged his temper. Perhaps she hadn't read the meaning inhis eyes. Perhaps she thought that she could elude him or that thefact that she was on her own land gave her a fancied sense ofsecurity. 

"You'll not, " he cried. 

"I will. What right have you to question me? You can amuse yourselfwith Una. "

"Stop!" he thundered. 

But she had found her spirit and her confidence in her ability to winhim to gentleness by one means or another was returning to her. Shewas bold now but prepared to melt if the need required it. 

"I will not stop, " she cried. "You and Una. What right have you tocriticize me for what you yourself--"

She stopped abruptly, for he caught her by the arm and held her. Jerrysaid that even yet he was timid of her delicacy--fearful of the thingshe had thought her to be. But he still held her, though she struggledto get away from him. 

"Let me go, Jerry. You're hurting me. Please let me go. "

She felt the first touch of his imperviousness when he refused torelease her and chose to change her tone. 

"Please let me go, Jerry, " she pleaded softly. "Do you think you aretreating me kindly, after all--all that is between us? I don't carefor Chan--I don't, Jerry. Let me go. "

In his eyes she read the new judgment. 

"Then you're worse than I supposed, " he muttered. 

"Worse! Oh, Jerry. Don't look so--so coldly. It hurts me terribly. Imust go. I can't stand your looking at me in that way. "

She tried to move away, I think she had every intention of taking toher heels if Jerry had only given her the chance. But he wouldn't. Heheld her and kept her close beside him. He was hurting her wristcruelly. 

"Let me go, " she cried, struggling anew. 

Her resistance aroused him again. The animal fury of battle had notdied out of his eyes. He did not know what he intended to do withher--had no plan, no purpose, he said. What plan or purpose could hehave had unless murder? And even in his madness I'm sure that thatnever occurred to him. But his blood was hot and his anger andbitterness overwhelming. His fear of her delicacy diminished with herstruggles, for her resistance inflamed him. He did not know, nor didshe just then, that the animal instinct to conquer was what she hadtaught him, and that the turgid stream of his blood was finding newstrength and unreason, a strange new impetus in every struggle. Shesaw her danger and was powerless to prevent it. She looked over hershoulder helplessly in the direction in which Chan Lloyd had vanishedand saw no help from there. Jerry's great strength had never seemed soterrible as now. He caught her by the shoulders and held her, shookher, I think, a little, as one would shake a child, while she stillstruggled in his grasp. In a moment his grasp loosened a little, thentightened again, for the contact of his fingers with her warm skin wasawaking the demon in him, the dormant devil she had put there. 

"Oh, you're hurting me so, Jerry--so terribly. "

But he did not even hear her voice. His eyes were speaking to hers, holding them with a deathly fascination. If fear was her passion shewas drinking it now to the full--fear and the sense of the ruthlesspower and dominion in this madman of her own creation. Her handsclasped his shoulders. 

"Jerry!" she screamed. "Don't look at me like that. Your eyes burnme. "

"Into your soul--I will burn it--blot it out. "

"Jerry, forgive me, " she sobbed. "I love you. "

"You lie. "

"I love you. Forgive me!"

"No. You lie!"

Her arms went around his neck. And he crushed her to him, all thelength of them in contact. She struggled faintly but her lips soughthis in a despairing hope of pity. She found the lips, but no pity. Thebreath was almost gone from her body. She struggled, fighting hard, breathing his name in little panting sobs. She too was mad now, asmuch of an animal as Jerry, her blood coursing furiously. Her terrorof herself must have been greater even than her terror of him, for shewas quivering--shaken by the terrible gusts of his passion. 

Suddenly she felt herself released, thrust from him. His fingersbruised the tender flesh of her shoulders but his eyes bruised hermore. 

"Jerry!"

His hands had caught the two sides of the flimsy shirt-waist at thebreast and torn it aside, off her shoulders, off her arms. 

"Have pity, Jerry, " she whimpered. 

[Illustration: "'Have pity, Jerry, ' she whimpered. "]

"Pity, yes, " he laughed wildly. "Kiss me. You want to be kissed. I'llkill you with kissing. Death like this--such a death--!"

She struggled more furiously, struck, kissed and struck again. ButJerry's madness triumphed--her own. 

 * * * * *

At this point Jerry hid his face in his hands, trembling violently. 

"I was out of my head, Roger. Tell me that I was, for the love of God. I must have been. It was horrible. I did not know. I can scarcelyremember now. Death would have been better--for her, for me--thanthat. My God! If only you had told me, something. I could have goneaway, I think--before--But to have knowledge come like that, engulfing, flooding, drowning with its terrible bitterness. AndMarcia--" He raised his head piteously, "I asked her to marry me, Roger--at once. But she only looked at me with strange eyes. 

"'Marriage!' she said, 'My God!' It was almost as though I had uttereda sacrilege. 

"I pleaded with her gently, but she shook me off. A fearful change hadcome over her. She drew away and looked at me with alien eyes. 

"'Marriage!' she repeated. '_You!_'

"'Marry me tomorrow, Marcia--'

"She thrust her naked arms in front of her, their tatters flying, therags of her honor. 

"'Oh, God! How I loathe you!'

"'Marcia!'

"'Go away from me. Go!'

"She put her arm before her eyes as though to shut out the sight ofme. 

"'For God's sake, go, ' she repeated, with words that cut like knives. 'Leave me alone, alone. '

"'I must see you--tomorrow. '

"She turned on me furiously. 

"'No, no, no, ' she screamed, 'not tomorrow--or ever. It would kill meto see you. Kill me. Go away--never comeback. Do you hear? Never!Never!'

"She was in a harrowing condition now, mad where I was quite sane. There was nothing left for me to do. I turned as in a daze into thewoods and wandered around as though only half-awake, stupidly tryingto plan. At last I went back to the spring. Marcia had gone--gone outof my life--

"That's all, Roger. I wrote to her from New York, from Manitoba, from the ranch in Colorado, repeating my offer of marriage, but shehas never answered me. You know the rest--" a slow and rather bittersmile crossed his features. "She goes about--with Lloyd--and others. She is gay. Her picture is in the papers and magazines--athunt-meets--bazaars. She has forgotten--and I--No, I can never forget. She will dwell with me all the days I live. I can't forget orforgive--myself. Why, Roger, the Mission--the place that I'm givingmoney to support--to keep those women. You understand--I know now. _She_ might be one of them and I--I would have brought her there. "

I had been stricken dumb by the fearful revelation of Jerry's sin. Iwas silent, thinking of new words of comfort for him and formyself--for I was not innocent--but they would not come, and Jerryrose and walked the length of the room. "I've got to get away from itall again--somewhere. I can't stay here. Everything brings it allback. I'm going away. "

"Going, Jerry? Where?"

"I don't know. I've made a kind of plan. But I mustn't tell. I don'twant you to know or anyone. But I've got to leave here. " He smiled alittle as he saw the anxious look in my eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I'mgoing to be all right, I don't drink, you know. "

I think he was really a little proud of that admission. 

"Are you sure, Jerry, " I asked after awhile, "that you care nothingfor Marcia?"

He took a turn up and down the room before he replied. And then, quitecalmly:

"It's curious, Roger. She has gone out of my life. Gone like--like aburned candle. I do not love her, nor ever could again, and yet Iwould marry her tomorrow if she would have me. I wrote her againyesterday, and I'm going to try to see her in New York. But I'll fail. My face would always be a reproach to her. I know. She is likethat--bitter. I don't know that I can blame her. "

It was long past midnight. Jerry went to bed. But I sat oblivious ofthe passing hours, wide awake, somber, my gaze fixed upon the squareof the window which turned from moonlight to dark and then at lastshimmered with the dusk of the dawn. 

CHAPTER XXVII

REVELATIONS

It was at Jerry's request that I stayed on at Horsham Manor, workingas I could upon my book, and now I think with a new knowledge of themeaning of life as I had learned it through Jerry's failure. Idiscovered comfort in the words of St. Paul, and prayed that out ofspiritual death the seed of a new life might germinate. Jerry had toldme nothing on leaving the Manor of his plans or purposes, and I madeno move to seek him out, aware of a new confidence growing in me thatwherever Jerry was, whatever he was doing, no new harm would come tohim. He had found himself at last. 

Upon the occasion of my infrequent visits to the city I did myself thehonor of calling at the house in Washington Square, where I made theacquaintance of a fair majority of the feminine Habberton family, enjoying long chats with Una in which the bonds of our friendship werestill more firmly cemented. She told me much of her work and of coursewe spoke of Jerry, but if she had any news of him she gave no sign ofit, and I always left the house no wiser as to his occupation orwhereabouts than when I had entered it. But in the early days of thefollowing autumn something in her manner, I cannot tell what, perhapsthe very quality of her content, advised me that she was in some sortof communication with Jerry and that she was no longer borrowingtrouble in his behalf. As I made my way back to the Manor in the trainnext day, I found the conviction growing in my mind that Jerry must besomewhere in New York. Una's orbit had not changed. Could it be thatJerry's was adapting itself to hers? Jack Ballard had told me thatJerry had not been seen at the office and that Ballard, Senior, hadwashed his hands of him in despair, but had agreed to have largeamounts deposited at stated intervals in the bank. Of course thisproved nothing, for Jerry might have been using his bank for aforwarding address, but the little I knew fitted surprisingly wellwith my own guesses as to Jerry's destiny. Perhaps the wish was fatherto the thought. At any rate, I returned to the Manor and resumed mywork with a singularly tranquil mind, aware for the first time inmonths of a quiet exhilaration which made the mere fact of existence adelight. Perhaps after all I--my philosophy--Jerry--were still to bevindicated!

It was not until the following summer that I learned the truth. Anitem in the evening paper caught my eye. It told of the wonderfulboys' club that was being erected in Blank Street, by an unknownphilanthropist. The building was six stories in height, covering halfa block, and was to contain a large gymnasium, a marble swimming pool, an auditorium, school-rooms, drill hall for the Boy Scoutorganization, clubrooms, billiard and pool tables, and sleepingquarters for a small army. The story was written in the form of aninterview with the representative of the philanthropist, a Mr. John V. Gillespie, who was seeing personally to every detail of the planningand construction. The boys' club had already been in existence for ayear, occupying hired quarters, also under the supervision and controlof the aforesaid Gillespie, who, it seemed, had the destinies of theyoung males of the district in which the building was situated, already in the hollow of his hand. The unknown philanthropist wasJerry, of course. I read between the lines, the marble pool which Unahad envied us, the gymnasium, with "ropes to pull. " Jerry and Una hadfrequently discussed the further needs of the district and theprospective boys' club, I knew, was one of her hobbies and his. 

As may be imagined not many hours elapsed before I made a pilgrimageto the city and visited the wonderful new structure, already underroof, which was to house the heirs of Jerry's munificence. It was oftruly splendid proportions and already gave roughly the shape of itsdifferent rooms, which in point of dimensions left nothing to bedesired. The operation would, I should think, make short work of amillion dollars and, with its endowment, two million perhaps! Jerrywas beginning well. 

I inquired of the superintendent for Mr. Gillespie and was informedthat that gentleman could probably be found at the temporary buildingin the adjoining street. Thither, therefore, I went, sure that afterso great a lapse of time Jerry must pardon my interest and intrusion. I was not surprised to discover that Mr. John V. Gillespie was no lessa person than Jerry himself, who was at the moment of my arrivalbusily engaged with a Scoutmaster, helping to teach the setting-upexercises. I slipped into the room unobtrusively, a place at the rearof the building--a dance hall it had once been, as I afterwardslearned--and patched the youngsters going through their drill. Jerrywalked around among them, with a word here, a touch on a shoulderthere, while the boys struggled manfully for perfection. Jerry was sointerested that he would not have seen me had I not risen as he passedmy way and offered my hand. 

"Roger! By George!"

He clapped his arms around me at once and gave me a bear hug. 

"Good old Dry-as-dust!" he cried, "I was wondering how soon you'd findme out. "

"You're not angry?"

"Bless your heart! I've been thinking of writing you about everything, but I wanted to wait until things were a little further along. "

"But Jerry--"

"Mum's the word, " he whispered. "That's not my name down here. "

"Yes, I know, " I smiled. "I've seen it in the papers. "

"Oh! You saw that? And guessed?" he grinned. Then gave some word tothe Scoutmaster and led me to his office--a small room beside theentrance at the front of the building--and closed the door. In thisbetter light I had the opportunity to examine him at my leisure whilehe talked. He was a little thinner in face and body, but not spare orlean. There were no shadows in his eyes, which were finely lighted byhis new enthusiasm. The new fire had burned out the old. He wassplendid with happiness. 

"Oh! You've no idea of the fun I'm getting out of the thing, Roger. It's simply great! These boys are fine to work with. They only need achance. I've got several hundred of 'em lined up already, allnationalities ready for the melting-pot--Jews, Italians, Irish, allreligions. I've got the families lined up, too, been to see 'em allpersonally. Rough lot, some of 'em--and dirty! Why, Roger, I neverknew there was so much filth in all the world. I'm starting to cleanup the boys, inside and out, getting them jobs and keeping the idleones off the streets. Oh! It's going to take time, but we're going toget there in the end. You've seen the new building? Isn't it a corker?I haven't been idle, have I?"

"But how on earth, " I asked, "have you managed to preserve youranonymity?"

"Oh, I keep pretty dark. I don't go uptown at all. I made a visit onenight to Ballard Senior and made a clean breast of things and at lasthe gave in. You see he had given me up as an office possibility. Inthree years, you know, I'll come in--to all the money. In themeanwhile we've fixed things up to provide for our immediate needsdown here. "

"_Ours?_" I queried with a smile. He colored ever so slightly but wenton unperturbed. 

"Yes, you know Una's helping me. I couldn't have done a thing withoutUna. Her experience in dealing with these people has been simplyinvaluable. I thought--" he stopped to laugh--"I thought that all Ihad to do was just to spend the money and everything would work outall right. I made a lot of mistakes with these families at first, dida lot of harm in a way, offending the proud ones, spoiling the weakones and all that, but I've learned a lot since I've been down here. We've devised a plan--a scientific one. It's really beautiful how itworks. We're going to make these boys all self-supporting and give'em an education at the same time: manual training, industrial art andscience and all the rest of it. Here! you must go over the buildingwith me. I've got just half an hour. "

He snatched up his cap and we went around the corner, going over thebuilding from cellar to roof, Jerry explaining breathlessly and Ilistening, wondering whether to be most astonished at theextraordinary change in his mode of thought or at the initiative whichcould have planned and executed so great a project. He spoke of Unaconstantly, "Una wanted this, " or "Una suggested that, " or "We had anawful row over the location of this thing, but Una was right. " Andthen as an afterthought, "But then, she almost always is. "

He wanted to give her all the credit, you see, and I think she musthave deserved a great deal, but I saw in the newborn Jerry enough toconvince me of his strength, intelligence and force. All hispersonality--and I had long known that he had one--had been pouredinto this fine practical work which at every turn bore the impress ofa man's force, plus a woman's intelligence. 

To the god from the machine (for as such, in spite of many ungodlikeillusions, I still continued to regard myself) it seemed to me thatall was going beautifully toward the consummation of my heart'sfondest desire. And it was not until the following evening, when Jerryat last managed to find a chance to have a long talk with me, that Ilearned the truth. 

It was a hot night in June. We had climbed to the roof of the newbuilding for a breath of air, forsaking Jerry's small bedroom in thetemporary quarters of the club where we had both been perspiringprofusely. We sat upon the parapet smoking and talking of Jerry'splans and, since Una and the plans seemed to be a part of each other, of Una. 

"I see her constantly, Roger, " he said joyously. "We have regularmeetings three times a week, sometimes at the Mission--and sometimesat the club, and when there isn't enough daytime--up in WashingtonSquare. She has a wonderful mind for detail--carries everything in herhead--figures, everything. "

"And you're happy?" I asked. 

"Need you ask?" he laughed. "I've never known what life was before. It's great just to live and see things, good, useful things grow underyour very eyes, so personal when you've planned 'em yourself. "

"And Una?"

"Oh, she's happy too. But then she's always happy, always was. It'sher nature. I sometimes think she works a little too hard for herstrength, but she never complains. " He paused and looked down the sidestreet to where the East River gleamed palely in the dusk night. "Youknow, Roger, I sometimes wish that she _would_ complain. She just goesalong, quietly planning--doing, without any fuss, accomplishing thingswhere I fume and fret and get angry. She puts me to shame. She's awonder--an angel, Roger. " He smiled. "And yet she's human enough, always poking fun at a fellow, you know. I'm no match for her; I neverwas or will be. " He grew quiet and neither of us spoke for a longwhile. We felt the life of the City stirring under us, but overheadwere the stars, the same stars that hung above the peace of HorshamManor, where in the old days we had dreamed our dreams. 

"You care for her?" I ventured softly at last. 

He did not speak at once. His gaze was afar. 

"Care for her?" he murmured after awhile, "God help me! I love herwith all the best of me, Roger. I always have loved her. It's sostrange to me now that I never knew it before--so strange andpitiful--now when it is too late. "

"Too late, boy?" I said with a smile. "Life for you, for you both, isjust beginning. "

"No, Roger; I would give everything in the world to be able to go toher and ask her to marry me. But I can't--" his voice sank and broke, "after _that_. I'm a beast--unclean. "

He rose and took a pace away from me. "We mustn't speak ofthat--again. It makes me think of what I owe to--the other. "

"You owe her nothing. She has refused you. She doesn't care. Her wholelife avows it. She has forgotten. Why shouldn't you?"

"I can't forget. And I can't look in Una's eyes, Roger. They're soclear, so trusting; she believes in me--utterly. It's a mockery, tohave her near me so much and not be able to tell her--"

"Tell her!" I broke in as he paused, "Waste no time. Tell her that youlove her. Don't be a fool. She loves you. She always has. I know it. "

He turned quickly, caught me by the shoulders and peered closely intomy face. "You think so, Roger? Do you?" he said. 

"I'm sure of it; from the very first. "

Slowly his hands relaxed and he turned away. "No--I--can't. I wouldhave to tell her all. I owe her that. She would despise me. "

"You might at least give her that opportunity, " I suggested dryly. 

"No, " he said softly. "I wouldn't dare. It would make a terribledifference between us. I couldn't. "

And then his hand grasping my arm as he pushed me toward the stairway, "Never speak of this again, Roger--do you hear? Never. " I nodded andsaid no more, for he had set me to thinking deeply, and I walked allthe way uptown to my hotel turning the matter over in my mind, arriving, before sleep came, at a decision. 

In the morning at half-past seven I dared to call Una upon thetelephone. I knew her habits and she answered at once, agreeing togive me an hour before she went down town. When I reached theHabberton house she was ready for the street, and when I told her thatI had something of importance to talk about, led the way over into thesquare where we found a deserted bench in a shady spot. It was ajoyous morning of flickering sunlight and a pleasant commotion ofhurrying people and moving traffic was all about us, in the midst ofwhich we seemed unusually isolated. As I have related, there was awarm friendship between us. The girl knew that her mission at theManor during Jerry's darkest hour had been an open book to me, but thefact that I knew that she had failed in it had made for no loss ofpride. She knew too, I am sure, that I was aware of the real nature ofher feelings for Jerry, but my own interest in and affection for themboth had given me privileges in her friendship possessed not even byJerry himself. 

I wasted no words, though I chose to be careful in my use of them. With some deliberation, born of the difficulties of this secondembassy, I told her all that I knew of Jerry's affair with Marcia VanWyck, beginning with the parts of it which she knew, and leading byslow degrees to the moment when Jerry had abandoned his guests at theManor and gone on his madman's quest of vengeance through the woods. Irecalled to her the state of his mind, the indubitable evidences ofhis innocence, and then told of Jerry's meeting with Marcia and Lloydby the spring in the pine wood. She sat, leaning slightly forward, hergaze on the sunlit arch, her finely-drawn profile clearly outlinedagainst the shadows of the bushes, saying nothing, listening as thoughto a twice-told tale. I could not tell all, but something in hercalmness advised me that she had already guessed. There was knowledgein her eyes, not the hard knowledge one sees in the eyes of the womenof the streets, but knowledge tempered with pity; wisdom tempered withcharity for all sin, even for Jerry's. She did not speak for a longwhile and by this token I think she wished me to take herunderstanding for granted. 

"Mr. Canby, " she said at last softly. "I know something of the world, more, I think, in a way than you do, and the more I learn, the less Iam inclined to judge. But of all the women in the world with whom Icome in contact, the most dangerous, the most difficult to help, isthe hypocrite. When a woman is weak one can pity. When she is defiantone can even admire, but the hypocrite is beyond the pale. She willfawn while her heart is untouched, she will assent while her mind iseluding you. And the worst hypocrite is the one who wears the mask ofdecency over a filthy mind. She is diseased, a moral leper--at largeto contaminate. Jerry was helpless from the first. Oh, the pity ofit!"

"It was my fault; mine is the blame, " I muttered hoarsely. 

"No, " she said, gently putting her hand over mine. "I would not haveyou relinquish your idyl even now. Jerry is translated, but he is notchanged. It is curious--you will think it strange--but I cannot findit in my heart to judge him. He has suffered much. Perhaps, God knows, a man cannot grow to his full stature except through knowledge ofevil! Jerry has grown. He is a man--a man!"

Her eyes sparkled softly and my spirits rose. 

"You care for him, Una? You can forgive him?"

"I--I care for him, " she murmured. "You know I have, always. "

"Can you forgive him?" I repeated. She remained silent and her gazewhich sought the distant buildings was troubled. But I had gone toofar to pause now. 

"He worships you, Una, " I blurted out. "He has told me. But he cannotspeak. He is unclean, he says. Have pity on him, Una. Forgive him, forgive him--"

She turned toward me, her slate-blue eyes brimming with moisture. Andthen with one of those sudden transitions that were her greatestmystery and charm, she rose and with a quick touch of her fingers tomine, left me swiftly and in a moment was gone. 

I stood a moment bewildered. Then I fingered in my pocket for MissGore's new address. That remarkable woman would discern what Una'sconduct meant. Queer creatures, women! But interesting, strangelyinteresting. .. .