[Illustration: "SHE WISHED ME TO SUGGEST SOMETHING FOR HER TO DO" [Seepage 56]]

"CHARGE IT"

OR

KEEPING UP WITH HARRY

A story of fashionable extravagance and of thesuccessful efforts to restrain it madeby The Honorable Socrates Potterthe genial friend of Lizzie

BY

IRVING BACHELLER

ILLUSTRATED

HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK AND LONDON

MCMXII

Books by

IRVING BACHELLER

 Charge It. Ill'd. 12mo net $1. 00 Keeping Up With Lizzie. Ill'd. Post 8vo net 1. 00 Eben Holden. Ill'd. Post 8vo 1. 50 Edition de Luxe 2. 00 Eben Holden's Last Day A-Fishing. 16mo . 50 Dri and I. Ill'd. Post 8vo 1. 50 Darrell of the Blessed Isles. Ill'd. Post 8vo 1. 50 Vergilius. Post 8vo 1. 35 Silas Strong. Post 8vo 1. 50 The Hand-Made Gentleman. Post 8vo 1. 50 In Various Moods. Poems. Post 8vo net 1. 00

HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1912. BY HARPER & BROTHERS

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1912

K-M

TO MY DEAR FRIEND

LEDYARD PARK HALE

ANOTHER HONEST LAWYER

CONTENTS

 CHAP. PAGE I. In Which Harry Swiftly Passes from One Stage of His Career to Another 1 II. Which Begins the Story of the Bishop's Head 11 III. Which Is the Story of the Pimpled Queen and the Black Spot 33 IV. In Which Socrates Encounters "New Thought" and Psychological Hair 45 V. In Which Socrates Discusses the Over-Production of Talk 55 VI. In Which Betsey Commits an Indiscretion 69 VII. In Which Socrates Attacks the Worst Doers and Best Sellers 75 VIII. In Which Socrates Attacks the Helmet and the Battle-Ax 84 IX. In Which Socrates Increases the Supply of Splendor 91 X. In Which Socrates Breaks the Drag and Tandem Monopoly in Pointview 99 XI. In Which Sundry People Make Great Discoveries 106 XII. In Which Harry Is Forced to Abandon Swamp Fiction and Like Follies and to Study the Geography and Natives of a Land Unknown to Our Heiristocracy 118 XIII. In Which the Minister Gets Into Love and Trouble 127 XIV. In Which Socrates Discovers a New Folly 139 XV. In Which Harry Returns to Pointview and Goes to Work 148 XVI. Which Presents an Incident in Our Campaign Against New New England 171 XVII. Which Presents a Decisive Incident in Our Campaign Against Old New England 176

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "SHE WISHED ME TO SUGGEST SOMETHING FOR HER TO DO" Frontispiece "WHAT DIDN'T THEY SAY? THEY FLEW AT ME LIKE WILDCATS. " 60 "'IT'S THE VAN ALSTYNE CREST, ' I SAID. 'IT'S A PROOF OF RESPECTABILITY. '" 86 "RADIANT IN SILK, LACE, DIAMONDS, PEARLS, AND RUBIES" 94 "HARRY'S PET COLLIE HAD COME UP TO THE BACK DOOR WITH A HUMAN SKULL IN HIS MOUTH" 148 "HE LOOKED LIKE A MAN WITH A WOODEN LEG" 188

FOREWORD

It may interest, if it does not comfort, the reader to know thatthis little story is built upon facts. The ride of Harry, thehundred-dollar pimple, the psychological hair, the downfall of Roger, all happened, while the Bishop's Head is one of the possessions of aNew England family. 

 I. B. 

"CHARGE IT"

I

IN WHICH HARRY SWIFTLY PASSES FROM ONE STAGE OF HIS CAREER TO ANOTHER

"Harry and I were waiting for his motor-car, " said the HonorableSocrates Potter. "He couldn't stand and wait--that would belosing time--so we kept busy. Went into the stores and boughtthings--violets, candy, golf-balls, tennis-shoes, new gloves, andneckties. Harry didn't need 'em, but he couldn't waste any timeand--

"'There's the car!'

"In each store Harry had used the magic words, 'Charge it, ' and passedon. 

"We were going over to Chesterville to settle with the contractor whohad built his father's house. We had an hour and four minutes in whichto do it all, and then--the 6. 03 express for New York. Harry had toget it to be in time for a bridge party. 

"We climbed in. Harry grabbed the wheel. The gas-lever purred, thegears clicked, the car jumped into motion and rushed, screeching, upthe hill ahead of us, shot between a trolley-car and a wagon, swungaround a noisy runabout, scared a team into the siding, and spedaway. 

"The town behind us! Country-houses on either side! A bulldog in thenear perspective! He set himself, made a rush at us, as if trying tograb a wheel off the car, and the wheel got him. We flushed a lot ofchickens. The air seemed to be full of them. Harry waved an apology tothe farmer, as if to say:

"'Never mind, sir, I'm in a hurry now. Take my number and chargeit. '

"'He struck a fowl, and, turning, I saw a whirl of feathers in the airbehind us and the farmer's fist waving above the dust. 

"Harry would have paid for the dog and the fowl in money but not intime--not even in a second of time! Harry had an engagement for abridge party and must catch the 6. 03 express. 

"A man on a bicycle followed by a big greyhound was just ahead. Wescreeched. The man went into the ditch and took a header. Thegreyhound didn't have time to turn out then. He bent to the oars untilhe had gained lead enough to save himself with a sidelong jump intothe buttercups. 

"'Charge it!'

"The needle on the speedometer wavered from fifty to fifty-five, thenstruck at sixty, held a second there, and passed it. Gnats and flieshit my face and stung like flying shot. The top of the road went up ina swirl of dust behind us. I hung on, with my life in my tremblinghands. We zipped past teams and motor-cars. 

"We filled every eye with dust and every ear with screeches and everyheart with a swift pang of terror. 

"'Charge it!'

"A rider with a frightened horse raced on ahead of us to the nextcorner. We sped across the track into Chesterville and--

"'Hold up! There's the office ahead. '

"The levers move, down goes the brake, and we're there. 

"'Eleven miles in fourteen minutes!' Harry exclaims, as I spring outand hurry to the door. It was really sixteen minutes, but I alwaysallow Harry a slight discount. 

"'Not in!' I shout, in a second. 

"'Not in--heart of Allah!--where is he?'

"'At the Wilton job on the point. '

"'We'll go get him. '

"'You go; I'll wait here. '

"Away he rushes--I thank God for the brief respite. This high powerencourages great familiarity with the higher powers. But the Creator'sname is used here in no light or profane spirit, let me say. In eachcase it is only a brief prayer or, rather, the beginning of a prayerwhich one has not time to finish. It is cut short by a new adventure. 

"I say to myself that I shall not ride back with Harry. No, life isstill dear to me. I will take the trolley. And yet--what thrilling, Jove-like, superhuman deviltry it was! I light a cigar and sit down. Harry and Wilton arrive. Fifteen minutes gone!

"I get down to business. 

"Harry says: 'Please cut it short. '

"I could have saved five hundred dollars if I had had time to presentour side of the case with proper deliberation. But Harry keepsshouting:

"'Do cut it short. I _must_ get there--don't you know?'

"Wilton must have his pay, too--he needs every cent of it to-morrow. 

"'You go on. I'll stay here and settle this matter and go home by thetrolley. '

"'Let's stick together, ' my young friend entreats. 'Please hurry itthrough and come on with me. I need you. '

"Harry must have company. His time is wasted unless he has aspectator--an audience--a witness--a historian. Without that, all hishair-breadth escapes would be thrown away. His stories would hang by athread. 

"'We've only twenty-one minutes, ' he calls. 

"I say to myself: 'Damn the man whose money is like water and whosetime is more precious than the last hour of Mahomet. ' Well, of course, there was plenty of money, but the supply of time was limited. Towaste a second was to lose an opportunity for self-indulgence. 

"I draw a check and take a hurried receipt and jump in. 

"Away we go. 'Look out!'

"The brakes grind, and we rise in the air a little as a small boycrosses our bows. We just missed him--thank God!

"'Don't be reckless, old man--go a bit slower. '

"'It's all right. We've a clear road now. '

"What a wind in our faces! There's the track ahead. 

"'_Look out! The train! God Almighty!_'

"I spoke too late. We were almost up to the rails when I saw it. Wecouldn't stop. Cleared the track in time. Felt the wind of the enginein my back hair, and then my scalp moved. Just ahead was a light buggyin the middle of the road and a bull, frightened by the cars, galloping beside it. 

"In the excitement Harry hadn't time to blow, and the roar of thetrain had covered our noise. The bull turned into the ditch andspeeded up. We swerved between bull and buggy and grazed the side ofthe latter. 

"I jumped and landed on the bull, and that saved me. It's the firsttime that I ever knocked a bull down. He got to his feet swiftlybeside me, bellowed, and took the fence. He was a fat, well-fed bullwith a big, round, soft side on him. I never knew that a bull was somellow. My feet sank deep, and he gave way, and I hit him again withanother part of my person. I didn't mean it, and felt for him, although it is likely that his feelings needed no further help fromme. Of course I bounded off him at last and the earth hit me a hardupper-cut, but the bull had been a highly successful shock absorber. In a second or so I was able to get up and look around. The buggy hadgone over, and the horse was on his hind legs trying to climb out ofthe dust-cloud. 

"Harry stopped his car and began to back up. 

"'That'll do for me, ' I said. 'I don't sit in your padded cell anylonger. '

"I had lived a whole three-volume novel in the last forty minutes. ThePanama Canal had been finished and England had become a republic. Itwas too much. 

"We found two men--one at the head of the frightened horse, the otherlying beside the wrecked buggy with a broken leg. 

"And Harry had an engagement to play bridge!

"I took the horse's head. The well man pulled a stake off the fenceand chased Harry around the motor-car. He didn't intend to 'chargeit. ' Wanted cash down. I got hold of his arm and succeeded in calminghim. 

"Harry apologized and assured them that he was willing to pay thedamage. We picked up the injured man and took him to his home. On theway Harry explained that they should keep track of all expenses and:

"'Charge it. '

"In a few minutes Harry roared off in the direction of Pointview toget a doctor and the 6. 03 express. 

"'It might be a little late, ' he said, as he left us. 

"The next day Harry was arrested as a public enemy for criminalcarelessness. He had injured three men on the highways of Connecticut, to say nothing of dogs and poultry. Almost everybody had somethingcharged against Harry. He was highly unpopular, but a good fellow atheart. 

"I got the judge to release him on his promise to abandon motoring forthree years. 

"Thus he rushed out of the motor-car stage of his career into that ofthe drag and tandem. 

"He had had more narrow escapes and suffered greater perils than RobRoy. 

"Yes, bulls are a good thing--a comparatively soft thing. I recommendthem to every motorist who may have to look for a place to land. Don'tever throw yourself on the real estate of New England. It can hitharder than you can. "

II

WHICH BEGINS THE STORY OF THE BISHOP'S HEAD

"Harry is the most modern character in my little museum, " said theHonorable Socrates Potter, as I sat with him in his cozy office. "Iwas really introduced to Harry by the Bishop of St. Clare, who died in1712. I didn't know his heart until the Bishop made us acquainted. Strange! Well, that depends on the point of view. You see, the Bishopwas acquired and imported as an ancestor by one of the best families, and that's how I happened to meet him. They would have got William theConqueror--of England and Fifth Avenue--if he hadn't been wellhidden. 

"I am inclined to converse long and loudly on the reconstruction ofPointview. Of course I shall talk too much, but I am a licensed liar, and the number of my machine is 4227643720, so if I smash a dog hereand there, make a note of the number and charge it. I'm going fast andshall not have time to stop for apologies. 

"In Pointview even Time has quickened his pace. Last year is ancienthistory. Lizzie has been succeeded by Miss Elizabeth, who needs amaid, a chauffeur, a footman, and a house-party to maintain herspirits. Harry and his drag have taken the place of Dan and hisrunabout. 

"The enemy has arrived in force. We are surrounded by country-housesand city abdomens of appalling size and arrogance. Mansions crown theslopes and line the water-front. The dialect of the lazy Yankee andhis industrious hens are heard no more in the hills of Pointview. Where the hoe and the sickle were stirred by the fear of hunger, thegolf-club and the tennis-racket are moved by the fear of fat. Thesweat of toil is now the perspiration of exercise. The chatter ofsociety has succeeded that of the goose and the polliwog. Land hasgone up. Rocks have become real estate even while they belonged toChristian Scientists. Ledges, smitten by the modern Moses, have gusheda stream of gold. Once the land supported its owner. Now wealthsupports land and landlord and the fullness thereof. The Fifth Avenuefarmer has begun to raise his own vegetables at a dollar apiece and acrop of criminals second to none. In his hands farming becomesagriculture and the farm a swarming nest of parasites. 

"We are in the midst of a new migration from the cities back to theland, and all are happy save the philosophers. It is a remote reactionof former migrations to the mines and the oil-fields. The descendantsof these very pioneers now seek to exchange a part of their gold forthe ancient sod in which are the roots of their family trees anddelusions. 

"With these rich men came Henry Delance, who grew up with me here andwent to Pittsburg in his early twenties and made a fortune in the coaland iron business. His grandfather was old Nick Delance, a blacksmith;and his father owned a farm on the hills and made a bare living forhimself and a large family. They had been simple, hard-working, honestpeople. I helped Henry to buy the old place, and, as we stood togetheron the hilltop, he said to me:

"'I often think of the old days that were full of hard labor. What awoman my mother was! Did all the work of the house and raised sevenboys and two girls, and every one of them has had some success in theworld--except me. One built a big railroad, one was governor of aState, one a member of Congress, one a noted physician, two have mademillions, and both of the girls married well. Now, my boy has hadevery advantage--'

"'But poverty, ' I suggested. 

"'But poverty, ' he repeated, 'and I'm unable to give him that. It'sprobably the one thing that would make a man of him, and I wouldn'twonder if he succeeded in achieving it. '

"'A rather large undertaking, ' I said. 

"'Yes, but he's well qualified, ' Henry answered, with a smile. 

"'What's the matter with your boy?' I asked. 

"'So busy with tomfoolery--no time for anything else. I've had so muchto do that I've rather neglected Harry, and now he's too much for me. He knows that he's got me beat on education, but that's only thebeginning of what he knows. Good fellow, you understand, but he'syoung and thinks me old-fashioned. I wish you'd help me to make a manof him. '

"'What can I do?'

"'Get him interested in some kind of work. He doesn't like mybusiness. He hates Wall Street, and, knowing it as I do, how can Iblame the boy? He doesn't take to the law--'

"'And, knowing it as I do, how can _I_ blame him?' I interrupted. 

"'But, somehow, he hasn't the spring in his bow that I had--theget-up-and-get--the disposition to move all hell if necessary. '

"'You can't expect it, ' I said. 'His mainspring is broken. '

"'What would you call his mainspring?' he asked. 

"'The desire to win money and its power. Mind you, I wouldn't callthat a high motive, but in a young man it's a kind of a mainspringthat sets him a-going and keeps the works busy until he can get bettermotive power. In Harry it's broken. '

"'You're right--it was busted long ago, ' said Henry Delance. 

"'Some one has got to contrive a new mainspring for the sons ofmillionaires--they're so plenty these days. '

"'There's the desire to be respectable, ' he suggested. 

"'But it is not nearly so universal as the love of money. If it werepossible to have millionaire carpenters and shoemakers there'd be morehope! But I'll try to invent a mainspring for Harry. If he doesn'tmarry some fool woman there's a chance for the boy--a good chance. Tell me all about him. '

"In his own way, which amused me a little, the old man sketched thecharacter of his son, or rather confessed it. 

"'A kind of Alexander the Great, ' he said. 'We shall have to becareful or lose our heads. Surfeited with power, you know. When hewants anything he goes to a store and says, "Charge it. " That hasruined him. He's no scale of values in his mind. '

"He told me, then, with some evidence of alarm, that Harry had becomeinterested in a fool woman, older than he, noted for her beauty andequestrian skill--by name Mrs. Revere-Chalmers, of a well-knownSouthern family. I knew the woman--divorced from a rich old gentlemanof great generosity, who had taken all the blame for her sake. But Ihappened to know that the circumstances on her side were notcreditable. The truth, however, had been well concealed. 

"In her youth Frances Revere had two beautiful parents. In fact, theywere all that any girl could desire--obedient and respectful to theiryoungers. She was always kind to them and kept them looking neatly andhelped them in their lessons and brought them up in the fear ofTiffany and the hope of future happiness. They played most of thetime, but never chased each other in and out of the bedrooms or madeany noise about the house when she lay sleeping in the forenoon. Theirsense of chivalry would not have permitted it. When she arose shecalled them to her and patted their heads and said: 'What dear parentsI have!' It might be thought that the fair Frances led an aimless andidle life. Not so. The young lady was very busy and never forgot heraim. She was preparing herself to be a marryer of men and the leadingmarryer in the proud city of her birth. Every member of the householdbecame her assistant in this noble industry. Many storekeepers hadunconsciously joined her staff and 'charged it' until they were weary. All her papa's money had been invested in the business, and he beganto borrow for a rainy day. Then there came a long spell of wetweather. At last something had to be done. Frances began to use hertalents. No prince or noble duke had come for her, so she married anold man worth ten million dollars and sent her parents to an orphanasylum with a fair allowance of spending-money. They are her onlyheirs, and now, at thirty, but with ample capital, she has set upagain in the marrying business. 

"She lives in a big country-house, and has a lot of cats and dogs thatare shampooed every day. Her life is pretty much devoted to theregulation of hair. Her own requires the exclusive attention of ahired girl. Its tint, luster, and general effect show excellent tasteand close application. Considering its area, her scalp is the mostremarkable field of industry in Connecticut. Has herself made into akind of life-sized portrait every day and carefully framed and lightedand hung. It is a beautiful portrait, but it is not a portrait ofher. 

"Her life is arduous. I have some reason to think that it wearies her. She rings for the masseuse at 10. 30 A. M. And breakfasts in bed attwelve o'clock. Soon after that the chiropodist and the manicure andthe hair-dresser begin to saw wood; then the grooms and secondfootmen. At two o'clock she goes out to pat the head of theten-thousand-dollar bull and give some sugar to the horses, all ofwhom have been prepared for this ordeal by bathing and massage. 

"It's great to be able to pat the head of a ten-thousand-dollar bull. It's a pretty vanity. All the Fifth Avenue farmers indulge in it. Someslap them on the back and some poke them in the ribs with the point ofa parasol, but the correct thing is to pat them on the head and say:Dear old Romeo!

"After a turn in the saddle Mrs. Revere-Chalmers led society untilmidnight. With her a new spirit had arrived in the ancient strongholdof the Yankee. 

"I began to learn things about Harry--a big, blond, handsome youth whohad traveled much. He had been to school in New York, London, Florence, and Paris, and had graduated from Harvard. For a time hecalled it Hahvud, but passed that trouble without serious injury andput it behind him. In the European stage of his career he had beenattacked by lions, griffins, and battle-axes and had lost some of hisred blood. There he had acquired a full line of Fifth Avenue dialectand conversation with trills and grace notes from France and Italy. Hehad been slowly recovering from that trouble for a year or so when Imet him. Now and then a good, strong, native idiom burst out in hisconversation. 

"Harry was a man without a country, having never had a fair chance toacquire one. He had touched many high and low places--from the top ofthe Eiffel Tower to the lowest depths of the underworld. Also, he knewthe best hotels in Europe and eastern America, and the Duke ofSutherland and the Lord Mayor of London, and Jack Johnson, thepugilist. Harry knew only the upper and lower ends of life. 

"He was an extremist. Also, he was a prolific and generous liar. Helied not to deceive, but to entertain. There was a kind of noblecharity in his lying. He would gladly perjure his soul to speed anhour for any good friend. His was the fictional imagination largelyexercised in the cause of human happiness. Now and then he became thehero of his own lies, but he was generally willing to divide thehonors. His friends knew not when to believe him, and he oftendeceived them when he was telling the truth. 

"Early in April, Henry Delance came to me and said: 'Soc, you've beenworking hard for years, and you need a rest. Let's get aboard the nextsteamer and spend a fortnight in England. '

"I had little taste for foreign travel, but Betsey urged me to go, andI went with Henry and his wife, their daughter Ruth and the boy Harry, and sundry maids and valets. We had been a week in London, when Henryand the Mrs. Came into my room one day, aglow with excitement. Mrs. Delance was first to address me. 

"'Mr. Potter, congratulate us, ' said she. 'We find that Henry is alineal descendant of William the Conqueror. '

"'Henry, it is possible that William could prove an alibi, or maybeyou could, ' I suggested. 

"'I'd make an effort, ' said he, with a trace of embarrassment, 'but mywife thinks that we had better plead guilty and let it go. That kindof thing doesn't interest me so much as it does her. '

"'After all, ' I answered, by way of consolation, 'if you think it'slike to do you any harm, it doesn't need to get out. I shall respectyour confidence. '

"'Too late!' his wife exclaimed. 'The facts have been cabled toAmerica. '

"I was writing letters in my room, next day, when Harry interrupted mewith a hurried entrance. He locked the door inside, and in a kind ofplayful silence drew from under his rain-coat, and deposited on mytable, a human skull. 

"'The Bishop of St. Clare, ' he whispered, in that curious dialectwhich I shall not try to imitate. 

"'He isn't looking very well, ' I said, not knowing what he meant. 

"'This is the Bishop's head--the Bishop of St. Clare, ' Harry whisperedagain. 'He was one of our ancestors--by Jove!'

"'Is that all that was the matter with him?' I asked. 

"'No; his epitaph says that he died of a fever in 1712. '

"'How did you get hold of his head?' I asked. 'Win it in a raffle?'

"'I bribed the old verger in the crypt of St. Mary's. Offered him twosovereigns to lift the stone lid and let me look in. He said hecouldn't do that, but discreetly withdrew when I put the money in hishand. It was up to me, don't you know, and here is the Bishop'shead. '

"'Going to have him photographed in a group of the family?' I asked. 

"'No, but you see Materna paid two pounds for a chunk off a tombstone, and I thought I would give her a souvenir worth having, ' said he, andblushed for the first time since our interview had begun. 'This isunique. '

"'And you didn't think the Bishop would miss it?' I suggested. 

"'Not seriously, ' he answered. 'I guess it's a fool thing to havedone, but I thought that I could have some fun with the Bishop's head. Mother is going to round up all the Delances at Christmas for a bigdinner--uncles, aunts, and cousins, you know--a celebration of ourgenealogical discoveries with a great family tree in the center of thetable. The history of the Delances will be read, and I thought that Iwould spring a surprise--tell them that I had invited our oldancestor, Sir Robert Delance, Bishop of St. Clare; that, contrary tomy hope, he had accepted, and that I would presently introduce him. Indue time I would produce the head and read from his life and writings, which I bought in a London book-stall. Finally, I thought that I wouldhave him tell how he happened to be present. Don't you think he wouldmake a hit?'

"'He would surely make a hit--a resounding hit, ' I said, 'but not as aproof of respectability. Even if the Bishop is your ancestor, you haveno good title to his bones. I presume that every visitor to the oldchurch puts his name and address in a register?'

"'Yes. '

"'Well, suppose the theft is discovered and the verger gives you away. All the money you've got wouldn't keep you out of prison. '

"Harry began to turn pale. He was a good fellow, but this genealogicalfrenzy had turned his head, and his head was not as old as theBishop's. It was unduly young. 

"'Assume that you get home with your prize, the Bishop's head would bethe worst enemy that his descendants ever had. It would always accuseyou and grin at your follies. And would you dare proclaim the truthover in Pointview that you really have the skull of the Bishop of St. Clare?'

"The boy was scared. He had suddenly discovered an important fact. Itwas the north pole of his education. 

"'By Jove! I'm an ass, ' he said. 'What shall I do with it?'

"'Say nothing of the thing to anybody, not even to your father, andget rid of it. '

"'That's what I'll do, ' he said, as he wrapped the skull in a piece ofnewspaper, hid it under his coat, and left me. 

"We sailed next afternoon, and that evening, when Harry and I satalone in a corner of the deck, I asked him what he had done with theBishop's head. 

"'Tried to get rid of it, but couldn't, ' he said. 'My consciencesmote me, and I took the old bone back to St. Mary's. Going to domy duty like a man, you see, but it wouldn't work. New verger on thejob! I weakened. Then I put it in a box and had it addressed to afictitious man in Bristol, and sent my valet to get it off byexpress. It went on, and was returned for a better address. You see, my valet--officious ass!--had left his address at the express office. How _gauche_ of him! While we were lying at the dock a messengercame to my state-room with the Bishop's head. I had to take it andpay five shillings and a sixpence for the privilege. '

"'The old Bishop seems to be quite attached to his new relative, ' Isaid. 

"'Yes, but when the deck is deserted, by and by, I'm going to drop himoverboard. '

"And that is what he did--dropped it, solemnly, from the ship's sideat dinnertime, and I witnessed the proceeding. 

"The adventure had one result that was rather curious and unexpected. It brought Harry close to me and established our relations to eachother. That they admitted me to his confidence as a friend andcounselor of the utmost frankness was on the whole exceedinglyfortunate. From that time he began to trust me and to distrusthimself. 

"So it happened that I was really introduced to Harry by the Bishop ofSt. Clare, who died in 1712, and those credentials gave me a standingwhich I could not otherwise have enjoyed. 

"Coming home, I limbered up my imagination and outlied Harry. 

"I was forced to invent that cheerful, handy liar the late Dr. GodfreyVogeldam Guph, Professor of the Romance Languages in the University ofBrague and the intimate friend of any great man you may be pleased tomention. With his help I have laid low even the most authoritative, learned, and precise liars in the State of Connecticut. I do it byquoting from his memoirs. 

"Harry's specialty were lies of adventure in court and palace, and, asDr. Guph had known all the crowned heads, he became an ever-presenthelp in time of trouble. 

"Every lie of Harry's I outdid with another of ampler proportions. Heput on a little more steam, but I kept abreast or a length ahead ofhim. By and by he broke down and begged for quarter. 

"'On my word as a gentleman, ' said he, 'that last story I told wastrue. It really happened, don't you know?'

"'Well, Harry, if you will only notify me when you propose to tell thetruth, I shall be glad to take your word for it, ' was my answer. 

"'And keep Dr. Guph chained, ' said he. 

"'Exactly, and give you like warning when I have a lie ready tolaunch. '

"'That's a fair treaty, ' he agreed. 

"'And a good idea, ' I said. 'As a liar of long experience I have foundit best to notify all comers what to expect of me when I see a usefullie in the offing. That has enabled me to give my fancy full playwithout impairing my reputation. My noblest faculties have had ampleexercise while my word has remained at par. '

"We made an agreement along that line, and Harry ceased to be a liar, and became a story-teller of much humor and ingenuity. "

III

WHICH IS THE STORY OF THE PIMPLED QUEEN AND THE BLACK SPOT

"Well, on our return, Mrs. Delance had a helmet and a battle-ax, withsundry accessories, emblazoned on her letter-heads and the doors ofher limousine. Here was another case of charge it, but this time itwas charged against her slender capital of good sense. Mrs. Delancewas a stout lady of the Dreadnought type. Harry settled down in thehome of his father and began to study the 'middle clahsses' with adrag and tandem and garments for every kind of leisure. The girls wentto ride with him, and naturally began to smarten their dress andaccents and to change their estimates. His 'aristocratic' friends andmanners were much in their company and ever in their dreams. 

"Of course, all that began to react on the young men: if that was thekind of thing the girls liked, they must try to be in it. Slowly butsurely a Pointview aristocracy began its line of cleavage and aprocess of integration. Crests appeared on the letter-heads andlimousine doors of the newly rich. In a month or so people of brainand substance degenerated into a condition of hardened shamelessidiocy. 

"Some of our best citizens went abroad, each to find his place amongthe descendants of William the Conqueror. Suddenly I discovered thatthe clerk in my office was ashamed to be seen on the street with apackage in his hands. 

"Our young men began to long for wealth and leisure. They grewimpatient of the old process of thrift and industry. It was too slow. Many of them opened accounts in Wall Street. 

"Young Roger Daniels had some luck there and began to advertise thefact with a small steam-yacht and a cruise. We were going as hard asever to keep up, but on higher levels of aspiration. The girls wereengaged in a strenuous contest for the prize of Harry's favor, withthat handsome young _divorcée_ well in the lead. 

"Roger and his party were about to return from their cruise, and Harrywas to give them a ball at the Yacht Club. 

"The day before the ball our best known physician came to see Mrs. Potter, who was ill, and cheered us up with a story. The Doctor wasyoung, attractive, and able. He had threatened every appendix inPointview, and had a lot of inside information about our men andwomen--especially the latter. He looked weary. 

"'Yesterday was a little hard on me, ' he said. 'It began at four inthe morning with a confinement case and ended at one A. M. There weretwo operations at the hospital, a steady stream at the office, and atwenty-mile ride over the hills. Got back in the evening pretty wellworn out. Tumbled into bed at two minutes of eleven, and was asleepbefore the clock struck. The 'phone-bell at my bedside awoke me. I letit go on for a minute. Hadn't energy enough to get up. It rang andrang. Out I tumbled. 

"'Hello!' I said. 

"'A voice answered. "I am Mrs. So-and-So's butler, " it said. "Shewishes to see you as soon as you can get here. It's very urgent. "

"'"What's the matter?"

"'"Don't know, sir, but it is serious. "

"'"All right, " I said. 

"'My chauffeur was off for the night, so I 'phoned to the stable andgot Patrick and told him to hitch up the black mare at once, dressed, and took everything that I was likely to need in an emergency, gotinto the wagon, and hurried away in the darkness. After all, Ithought, it is something to have one's skill so much in request by therich and the powerful. It was a long ride with one horse-power, but wegot there. 

"'Many windows of the great house were aglow. The first butler met mein the hall and took me to my lady's chamber--an immense room finishedin the style of the First Empire. She was half reclining and playingsolitaire as she smoked a cigarette on a divan that occupied a daisoverhung with rare tapestries on a side of the room. The effect of thewhole thing was queenly--_à la_ Récamier. She greeted me wearily andwithout rising. 

"'"Sit down, " said she, and I did so. 

"'She turned to a good-looking maid who timidly stood near the divan. 

"'"My dear little woman, you weary me--please go, " she said. 

"'The maid went. 

"'"Dawctah, " the lady said to me, "I have a nahsty little pimple onmy right cheek, and I really cahn't go to the ball, you know, unlessit is cuahed. Won't you kindly--ah--see what can be done?"

"'"A pimple! God prosper it!" I said to myself. "Has the great M. D. Become a P. D. --a mere doctor of pimples?"

"'I inspected the pimple--a very slight affair. 

"'"Why, if I were you, I'd just cover the pimple with a little squareof court-plaster, " I said. "It would become you. "

"'"What a pretty idea! That's just what I will do, " she exclaimed. 

"'"Please charge it, Dawctah, " she said, wearily, as she resumed hersolitaire. 

"'I charged a hundred dollars, but nothing could pay me for thehumiliation I suffered. Going home, I pounded the mare shamefully. '

"'You charged a good price, ' I said. 

"'Yes; but it's like pulling teeth to get any money out of her. Onehas to earn it twice. Worth a million, and hangs everybody up. Somehave to sue. '

"'Does nothing to-day that can be done to-morrow, ' I said. 

"'True, ' said he; 'she don't look after her business, and thinks thatevery one is trying to cheat her. '

"'Same old story, ' was my remark. I was her husband's lawyer. 'Well, dear, how much do you suppose McCrory's bill is for the last month?'he would ask her. She would look thoughtful and say: 'Oh, aboutfifteen hundred dollars. ' 'My dear, ' he would go on, 'it is tenthousand six hundred and forty-three dollars and twenty-four cents. ''Oh, that's impossible, ' she would answer. 'There's some mistake aboutit. I'll never O. K. Such a bill. It's an outrage!' But the bill wasalways right. 

"'I didn't suppose you would know the lady--I haven't mentioned hername, ' said the Doctor. 

"'I know her, but don't worry--I shall not betray your confidence. Iknew her husband. It wore him out looking after the charge-itdepartment. Now she's trying to get Harry Delance for his job. '

"'She's badly in need of a clerk, ' said the Doctor, 'and I hope shegets one. He could look after the pimples as well as I can. '

"Many were getting ready for the ball, but this lady was the only oneI knew of who had spent a hundred dollars for facial improvement. Harry, however, was about to spend a thousand dollars for theimprovement of his conscience. It was one of the necessary expensesand it came about in this way:

"The day of the ball had arrived. Harry came to see me about noon. Hesaid that he had been busy all the morning with preparations for theball, but--

"He showed me a telegram. It was from Roger Daniels, and it said:

"'The recent slump in the market has put me in hell's hole. Pleasewire one thousand dollars to Bridgeport, where I am hung up. If youdo, I shall give you good collateral and eternal gratitude. If youdon't, we shall have to miss the ball. Please remember that I amwaiting at the other end of the wire like a hungry cat at amouse-hole. '

"Harry looked worried. The ball must come off, and, without Roger, itwould be like Hamlet minus the melancholy Dane. It was a specialcompliment to Roger. 

"'What do you advise me to do?' he asked. 

"'Pay it. '

"'It will probably be a dead loss. '

"'Probably, but it's plainly up to you. He's got in trouble keepingyour pace. To tell the honest truth, you're responsible for it, andthe public will charge it to your account. You must pay the bill orsuffer moral bankruptcy. '

"Harry was taken by surprise. 

"'But I can pay for _my_ folly, ' he said. 

"'Yes; but when it becomes another man's folly it's stolen property, and as much yours as ever. The goods have your mark on 'em, and, byand by, they're dumped at your door. They may be damaged by dirt andvermin, but you've got to take 'em. 

"'After all, Harry, why should a young man whose education has costa hundred thousand dollars, if a cent, be giving up his life tofolly? You're too smart to spend the most of your time lookingbeautiful--trying to excite the admiration of women and the envyof men. That might do in some of the old countries where thepeople are as dumb as cattle and are capable only of the emotion ofawe and need professional gentlemen to excite it, and to feed upontheir substance. Here the people have their moments of weakness, butmostly they are pretty level-headed. They judge men by what they do, not by what they look like. The professional gentleman is first anobject of curiosity and then an object of scorn. He's not for us. Young man, I knew your father and your grandfather. I like you andwant you to know that I am speaking kindly, but you ought to go towork. '

"'Mr. Potter, he said, 'upon my word, sir, I'm going to work one ofthese days--at something--I don't know what. '

"'The sooner the better, ' I said. 'Work is the thing that makesmen--nothing else. In Pointview everybody used to work. Now here aresome facts for your genealogy that you haven't discovered. Yourgrandfather and grandmother raised a family of nine children and neverhad a servant--think of that. Your grandmother made clothes for thefamily and did all the work of the house. She was a doctor, a nurse, ateacher, a spinner, a weaver, a knitter, a sewer, a cook, awasherwoman, a gentle and tender mother. Now we are beginning to rotwith idleness. 

"'Let me tell you a story of a modern lady of Pointview. '

"Then I told him of the Doctor's call on the pimpled queen atmidnight, and added:

"'Think of that! Think of the fathomless depths of vanity andselfishness that lie under that pimple. It's a monument more sublimethan the Matterhorn. Think of the poor fellow that has to marry thathuman millstone, and be the clerk of her charge-it department. '

"'I can think of no worse luck, really, ' said he. 'I wonder who itis!'

"'Doctors never give names, ' I said. 'But you might look for thelittle black square of court-plaster. "

"'By Jove!' he exclaimed. 'I shall look with interest. '

"The ball came off, and Roger got there, and so did the lady and thesquare of black court-plaster; and that night Harry began a new stagein his career. 

"After all, Harry was no dunce, but he was not yet convinced. "

IV

IN WHICH SOCRATES ENCOUNTERS "NEW THOUGHT" AND PSYCHOLOGICAL HAIR

"When people have little to do they go back to childishness. They longfor novelty--new playthings, new adventures, new sensations, newfriends. So our upper classes are utterly restless. Every old pleasureis a slough of despond. The ladies have tried jewels, laces, crests, titled husbands, divorces, gambling, cocktails, cigarettes, and otherbranches of exhilaration. They have passed through the slums ofliterature and of the East Side of Gotham. The gentlemen have shownthem the way and smiled with amusement and gone on to greatertriumphs. To these people every old idea is 'bromide. ' It bores them. They scoff at men 'who take themselves seriously. ' In a word, Mosesand the Prophets are so much 'dope. ' And they are excellent people whoreally want to make the world better, but the childish craze fornovelty is upon them. Mrs. Revere-Chalmers was one of this kind. Harrycame to me next day at my house and said:

"'By Jove! you know, it was my friend Mrs. R. -C. Who wore the blacksquare. But she is really a charming woman--not at all a bad sort. Iwant you to know her better. She made me promise to bring you overto-morrow afternoon if you would come. '

"We went. It was a 'new-thought' tea--a deep, brain-racking, forefinger-on-the-brow function. You could see the thoughts of theladies and sometimes hear them as a 'professor' with long hair andsmiles of fathomless inspiration wrapped himself in obscurity andcalled unto them out of the depths. He was all depth. They gazed athis soulful eyes and plunged into deep thought, catching at straws, and he returned to New York by the next train and probably madeanother payment, on account, to his landlady. Tea and conversationfollowed his departure. 

"I had observed that Mrs. Revere-Chalmers had undergone a singularchange of aspect, but failed to locate the point of difference until asister had said to her in a tone of honeyed deviltry:

"'My dear, you are growing younger--quite surely younger, and yourhair is so lovely and so--different! You know what I mean--it has theluster of youth, and the shade is adorable without a trace of gray init. '

"This last phrase was the point of the dagger, and Mrs. Chalmers feltit. Sure enough, her hair had changed its hue, and was undeniablyfuller and younger. 

"Then our hostess gave out a confession which has made some historyand is fully qualified to make more. It is a curious fact that one whois abnormal enough to commit a crime is apt to have poor caution. 

"'I have been taking lessons of the Professor, and have produced thishair by concentration, ' said she. 'It is a creation of the new thoughtand so wonderful I could almost forgive one for not believing me. '

"'A gem of thought--a hair poem!' I could not help exclaiming. 'Did itcome all at once, in a flood of inspiration, or hair by hair?'

"'All at once, ' she answered. 

"I charged it and went on as if nothing great had happened. 

"'Considered as a work of the imagination, it is wonderful, and shouldrank with the best of Shakespeare's, ' I assured her. 'But it willsubject you to unsuspected perils, for your footstool will be theshrine of the hairless and you shall see the top of every bald headin America. '

"Another lady sprang to her assistance by telling how she hadextracted a pearl necklace from an unwilling husband who had said thathe couldn't afford it, by concentration. The new thought had fetchedhim. 

"The noble unselfishness with which they had used this miraculous giftof the spirit appealed to Harry and to me. 

"In that brilliant company was a slim woman of the armored cruisertype, who had come to Betsey one day and said:

"'You're spoiling your husband. You make too much of him. You don'tseem to know how to manage a husband, and the husbands of Pointvieware being ruined by your example. They expect too much of us. We womenhave got to stand together. Don't you read the _Female Gazette_?'

"'No--I have been waiting till I could get a rubber-plant and otheraccessories, ' said Betsey. 

"'Well, it may not be _en règle_, but it is full of good sense, ' saidthe lady. 'I've brought an article with me that I wish you wouldread. '

"She left the article, and its title was 'How to Manage a Husband. ' Itaverred that too much petting, too much indulgence, made a man selfishand conceited; that affection should be administered with scientificreserve. Men should be taught to wait on themselves, and all that. 

"They called on me for remarks, and I said:

"'I am glad to have become acquainted with the power of concentration. I propose that we all quit work and begin to concentrate. Matter isonly a creation of spirit. Let us exercise our several sovereignspirits and try to turn out a better line of matter. Let us have fewerrocks and stones and more comforts. Sweat and toil are a greatmistake. Let us turn Delance's Hill into plum-pudding and the stonesthereof into caramels and its pond into tomato-soup. Why not? Theyhave no reality, no substance. They are nothing but thoughts--and ourthoughts, at that--and why shouldn't we change 'em? But somehow wecan't fetch it. According to the Professor, we have got into the habitof thinking in terms of rock, soil, and water, and we can't get overit. There are some few of us who stand for better things; but themajority keep thinking in the old rut, and we can't sway them. TheProfessor says that all we need is to get together and agree and thenconcentrate. But agreement doesn't seem to be necessary. You know thatthere was a time when everybody, after much concentration, agreed thatthe world was flat--everybody but one man. Now the world was stubborn. It wouldn't give up. It hung on to its roundness, and let the peoplethink what they pleased. They tried to flatten it with countless tonsof concentration, but it held its shape. The one man had his wayabout it. So don't be discouraged by an adverse majority on thisplum-pudding project. One lady has shown us a sample of concentratedhair, and it looks good to me. Why all this striving, all this troubleabout the problems of life and death, when the straight, broad way ofconcentration is open to us? Why shouldn't we have concentrated breadand meat and shoes and socks and silks. 

"'Now the subject of concentration is by no means new. It has been asuccess for centuries. The late Dr. Guph tells in his memoirs of asingular race of people known as the Flub Dubs who once dwelt on thelost isle of Atlantis. They were the greatest concentrators that everlived. Every one thought that he was the greatest man in the world, and thought it so hard and so persistently that it came true--in away. Naturally they aimed high, and every man thought himself therightful king, and a strife arose over the crown, so that no onecould wear it and many were slain in a great tussle. And when theywere resting from their struggles one rose and said: "Kings of therealm, you are as the dust under my feet. I scorn you. A few minutesago I decided to reverse my concentrator and aim at a higher goal. Itwas easy of attainment. I have suddenly become the biggest fool onthis island and the humblest of all men. "

"'The announcement was greeted with great applause, and within threeminutes his popularity had so enhanced that they put him on thethrone. Such was the power of truth. And all confessed and joined hisparty, and he was known as the wisest king of the Flub Dubs. 

"'The moral that Dr. Guph adduces is this: You cannot make figs out ofthistles, and unregulated concentration leads to trouble. '

"Harry and I started for home in a deep silence. 

"'Hell!' I exclaimed, presently. 

"'And that reminds me that I feel like the king of the Flub Dubs, 'said Harry. 

"'Which indicates that you are likely to decline the office, ' Iremarked. 

"'It's serious business--this matter of finding a wife, ' he declared. 

"'What's the matter with Marie Benson?' I asked. 'There's a real womanand the best-looking girl in Connecticut. '

"'Charming girl!' he exclaimed. 'But, dear boy! she talks too much. '

"'That is a fault that could be remedied; and, after all, it's a kindof generosity. It's the very opposite of concentration. '

"'Ah--if she would only reform!' he said. 

"'Leave that to me, ' I answered, as he dropped me at my door. "

V

IN WHICH SOCRATES DISCUSSES THE OVER-PRODUCTION OF TALK

"Marie was my ward, and as pretty a girl as ever led a bulldog or atea box of chocolates at a sitting. She was a charming fish-hook, baitedwith beauty and wealth and culture and remarkable innocence. She haddangled about on mama's rod and line for a year or so, but the fishwouldn't bite. For that reason I grabbed the rod from the old lady andput on a bait of silence and a sinker, and moved to deep water andbegan to do business. 

"Marie had a failing, for which, I am sorry to say, she was in no waydistinguished. She talked too much, as Harry had said. There are toomany American women who talk too much. Marie's mother used to talkabout six-thirds of the time. You had to hear it, and then you had toget over it. She had a way of spiking the shoes of Time so that everyhour felt like a month while it was running over you. You ought tohave seen her climb the family tree or the sturdy old chestnut of herown experience and shake down the fruit! Marie had one more tree inher orchard. She had added the spreading peach of a liberal educationto the deadly upas of Benson genealogy and the sturdy old chestnut ofmama's experience. The _vox Bensonorum_ was as familiar as theCongregational bell. The supply of it exceeded the demand, and afterevery one was loaded and ready to cast off, the barrels came rollingdown the chute. 

"The next time I saw Marie she was a bit cast down. She wished me tosuggest something for her to do. Said she wanted a mission--a chanceto do some good in the world. Thought she'd enjoy being a nurse. Ifelt sorry for the girl, and suddenly I saw the flicker of a brilliantthought. 

"'Marie, ' I said, 'as a member of The Society of Useful Women you areunder a serious obligation, and you have taste for missionary work. Well, what's the matter with beginning on Nancy Doolittle? You owe hera duty and ought to have the courage--nay, the kindness--to performit. Nancy talks too much. '

"'Well, I should say so, ' said Marie. 'Nancy is a scourge--I haveoften thought of it. '

"'She's downright wasteful, ' I went on. 'She fills every hour withinformation, and then throws on some more. It keeps coming. Your seamsopen, and then it's every hand to the pumps! Dora Perkins and RebeccaFord are just as extravagant. They toss out gems of thought andchunks of knowledge as if they were as common as caramels. 

"'You should go to these girls and kindly but firmly remind them ofthis fault. Tell them that too much conversation has created more oldmaids and grass and parlor widows than any other cause. Give them alittle lecture on the old law of supply and demand. Show them that itapplies to conversation as well as to cabbages--that if one's talk istoo plentiful, it becomes very cheap. Suggest that if Methuselah hadlived until now and witnessed all the adventures of the human race, hecouldn't afford to waste his knowledge. If he talked only half thetime nobody would believe him. They'd think he was crazy, and they'dknow why, in past ages, everybody had died but him, and they'd wonderhow he had managed to survive the invention of gunpowder. These girlshave overestimated the value of good-will. Their securities are notwell secured. There are millions of watered stock in theirtreasuries, and it isn't worth five cents on the dollar. Marie, youcan have a lot of fun. I almost envy you. 

"'Tell these girls that the remedy is simple. They must be careful toregulate the supply to the demand. They could easily raise the priceabove par by denying now and then that they have any conversation inthe treasury. '

"Marie promised to undertake this important work, and I knew that inconnection with it she would also get some valuable advice. 

"You see, this tendency to extravagant display has sunk in very deep. Our young people really do know a lot, and they want others to knowthat they know it. They are plumed with culture, and it has become acharge instead of a credit. 

"Well, things began to mend. Betsey and I went to dine with theBensons one evening, and Marie was as quiet as a lamb. She answeredmodestly when we spoke to her. She told no stories; her jeweled crownof culture was not in sight; she listened with notable success, anddelighted us with well-managed and illuminating silence. Neither shenor her mother nor Mrs. Bryson ventured to interrupt the talk of anoted professor who dined with us. Marie was charming. 

"After dinner she led me into the library, where we sat downtogether. 

"She seemed a little embarrassed, and presently said, with a laugh, 'Ihad a talk with those girls, as you suggested. '

"'What did they say?' I asked. 

"'What didn't they say?' she exclaimed. 'They flew at me likewildcats. They tore me to pieces--said I was the most dreaded talkerin Pointview, that I had talked a steady stream ever since I was born, that nobody had a chance to get in a word with me, that I had made allthe boys sick who ever came to see me. What do you think of that?'

[Illustration: "WHAT DIDN'T THEY SAY? THEY FLEW AT ME LIKE WILDCATS. "]

"'It's a gross exaggeration!' I said. 

"'Well, I thought it over, and made up my mind they were right, ' shewent on. 'We kissed and made up and organized the Listeners' Circle, and mama and Mrs. Bryson and Mrs. Doolittle have joined. Our purposeis to regulate our talk supply very strictly to the demand. '

"'It's a grand idea!' I exclaimed. 'The Ladies' Talk and InformationTrust! Why, it will soon control the entire product of Pointview, andcan fix the price. Marie, it's only a matter of time when theconversation of you girls is going to be in the nature of a luxury andas much desired as diamonds. It won't be long before some young fellowwill offer his life for one word from you. '

"'Oh, _I'm_ hopeless! Nobody cares for me--not a soul!' said Marie. 

"'Wait and give 'em a chance, ' I answered. 

"'Do you think it's true that I've been such a pestilence?' sheasked, as her fingers toyed with the upholstery. 'You know you've beena kind of father to me, and I want you to tell me frankly if I'vereally made the boys sick. '

"'Why, my dear child, if I were a young man I'd be kneeling at yourfeet, ' I said; and no wonder, for they were a beautiful pair of feet, and none ever supported a nobler girl. Then I went on: 'Marie, yourtalk is charming. The demand continues. I feel honored by yourconfidence. Please go on. '

"'I believe I've been foolish without knowing it, ' she said, her smilebeautiful with its sadness. 

"'My dear child, if there were no folly in the world it would be astupid place, and I for one should want to move, ' I said. 'Some neverdiscover their own follies, and they _are_ hopeless. You are as wiseas you are dear. It's in your power to do a lot of good. Think whatyou've already accomplished. I wish you would continue to help usdiscourage foolish display in America. 

"'Are there any more chestnuts in the fire?' she asked, with a laugh. 'Not that I'm afraid. I suppose the fire is good for me. '

"'Marie, I love your fingers too well to burn them unduly, ' I said. 'By the way, I expect that Harry Delance will be wanting to marry yousoon. '

"'Harry!' she exclaimed. 'I talked him to death--and out of thenotion--long ago, and I'm not sorry. He isn't my kind. '

"'Harry's a good fellow, ' I insisted. 

"'But he's so dreadfully nice--such a hopeless aristocrat! Grandfatherwould have a fit. I want a big, full-blooded, brawny chap, who isn't aslave to his coat and trousers--the kind of man you've talked so muchabout--one who could get his hands dirty and be a gentleman. I'mlonging for the outdoor life--and the outdoor man to live it withme. '

"'Give Harry a chance--his uneducation had only just begun, ' I urged. 

"I left Marie with a rather serious look in her face, and began towonder how I should accomplish the uneducation of Harry. 

"That young man came to see me, in a day or two, at our home. My newset of Smollett lay on the piano, and he greatly admired it. Above allthings Harry loved books, and his specialty was Smollett; he had readevery tale in the series, at college, and made a mark with his thesison 'The Fathers of English Fiction. ' He spent an hour of delight withthose books of mine. Then he said to me:

"'Only fifty copies printed?'

"'Only fifty, ' I said. 

"'Could I get a set?'

"'All sold, ' I assured him, 'but I shall be glad to give these booksto you on two conditions. '

"He turned in astonishment. 

"'They can do you no further harm, and my first request is that you donot lend them. My second is that you take them home in my wheelbarrowby daylight with your own hands. '

"He silently demurred. 

"'At last those books have a chance to do some little good in theworld, and I don't want them to lose it, ' I urged. 'The hands, feet, and legs of the high and low born are slowly being deprived oftheir rights in this community. Pride is robbing them of theirancient and proper offices. How many of the young men and women ofour acquaintance would be seen on the street with a package in theirhands, to say nothing of a wheelbarrow? Their souls are above it!'

"'Why should they carry packages and roll wheelbarrows?' Harry asked. 'Stores deliver goods these days. '

"'That's one reason why it costs so much to live. We have to pay forour pride and our indolence and the delivery of the goods. It's allcharged in the bill. Some member of the family used to go to marketevery morning with his basket and carry the goods home with him. '

"'It would be ridiculous for me to do that, ' said Harry. 'We're ableto pay the bills. '

"'But you're doing a great injustice to those who are not. You makethe delivery system a necessary thing, and those who can't afford ithave to help you stand the expense--a gross injustice. I want you tohelp me in this cause of the hand and foot. Your example would be fullof inspiration. Excuse me a moment. '

"I went for the wheelbarrow and rolled it up to the front door. Thenwe brought out the books and loaded them. That done, I seized thehandles of the barrow. 

"'Come on, ' I said. 'I'll do the work--you share the disgrace withme. '

"My gray hairs were too much for him. 

"'No; give me the handles, ' he insisted. 'If it won't hurt you, itwon't hurt me--that's sure. '

"So, in his silk hat and frock-coat and spats, with a carnation in hisbuttonhole, he seized the wheelbarrow like a man, and away we went. Isteered him up the Main Street, and people began to hail us withlaughter from automobiles, and to jest with us on the sidewalk, andMarie came along with two other pretty girls, and the barrow halted ina gale of merriment. 

"'What in the world are you doing?' one of them asked. 

"'It's the remains of the late Mr. Smollett, ' I explained. 

"'I'm setting an example to the young, ' said Harry, as he mopped hisforehead. 'Couldn't help it. I had to do this thing. '

"'Great!' Marie exclaimed. 'Simply great! I'm going to get me awheelbarrow. '

"She would take hold of the handles and try it, and went on half ablock in spite of our protests, creating much excitement. 

"That was the first rude beginning of The Basket and WheelbarrowBrigade in Pointview, of which I shall tell you later. And now I shallexplain my generosity--it can generally be explained--and how I cameby the Smollett. "

VI

IN WHICH BETSEY COMMITS AN INDISCRETION

"Christmas was approaching, and Betsey said to me one day that she hadbeen guilty of a great extravagance. 

"'I know you will forgive me just this once, ' she went on. 'My lovefor you is so extravagant that I had to keep pace with it. You'vesimply got to accept something very grand. '

"'I can't think of anything that I need unless it's a new jack-knife, 'I said. 

"'Nonsense!' she exclaimed. 'You've got to let me spend some money foryou. I've been held down in the expression of my affections as long asI can stand it. I've doubled my charities since we were married, as atoken of my gratitude, and now I've a right to do something to pleasemyself. '

"'All right! We'll lift the lid, ' I said. 'We can lie about it, Isuppose, and cover up our folly. '

"'Well, of course we don't have to tell what it cost, ' said Betsey;'and, Socrates, you can't expect to reform me in a year. It's takenhalf a lifetime to acquire my follies. '

"That's one trouble with the whole problem. You can't tear down astructure which has been slowly rising for half a century in a day, orin many days. 

"Christmas arrived, and Betsey went down-stairs with me and covered myeyes in the hall and led me to the grand piano. Then I was permittedto look, and there was the most gorgeous set of books that my eyesever beheld--a set of Smollett, in lovely brown calf, decorated withmagnificent gold tooling! Yes, I love such things--who doesn't?--andI gave Betsey a great hug, and we sat down with tears in our eyes tolook at the pages of vellum and the wonderful etchings which adornedso many of them. They were charming. I knew that the books had cost atleast a thousand dollars. Grandpa Smead looked awfully stern in hisgold frame on the wall. 

"'Now don't think too badly of me, ' she urged. 'Every poor familywithin twenty miles is eating dinner at my expense this ChristmasDay. '

"'You are the dearest girl in all the land!' I said. 'There's nobodylike you. '

"'I knew that you were fond of the classics, ' said Betsey, 'so Iconsulted Harry Delance, and he suggested that I should give you a setof Smollett; said it would renew your youth. You know he's devoted toSmollett. '

"'And why shouldn't we keep up with Harry?' I said. 

"'Well, you know he took the first prize in literature, and ought tohave excellent taste. Then the young man who sold the set to me isworking his way through Yale. I was glad to help him, too; herecommended these books--said they were moral and uplifting--not atall like the modern trash. He knew that we enjoyed home reading. Marywill read them aloud to us, and we'll enjoy them together. '

"This father of romance was not unknown to me, and I did not share herconfidence in the joys ahead of us, but said nothing. 

"After a fine dinner Betsey wanted to start in at once. We sat down bythe fireside while her secretary began to read aloud from one of thetreasured volumes. I had not read the story, and chose it as being theleast likely to make trouble. In a short time we came to rough goingand the young woman began to falter. 

"'That will do, ' said Betsey, suddenly, as I tried to conceal myemotions. 

"She took the book from the hands of her secretary and read on insilence for a minute or so. 

"'My land!' she exclaimed, with a look of horror. 'That book wouldcorrupt the morals of John Bunyan. '

"'Never mind; John never lived in Pointview, ' I argued. 'He didn'thave a chance to get hardened. '

"Betsey had a determined look in her face, and rang for the coachman. 

"'I'll have them stored in the stable, ' said she, firmly. 

"'If you don't keep it locked, all the women in the neighborhood'll bein there, ' I warned her, knowing that she couldn't help telling herfriends of what had happened. 

"'That's no reason why the men should be unduly exposed, ' said Betsey. 'Poor things! It's my duty to protect _you_ as long as I can, Socrates. '

"I promised to get rid of the books somehow, and persuaded her to letthem stay where they were until I had had time to think about it. Thenshe said:

"'Socrates, forgive me. I didn't mean it, and I wanted to be so niceto you. I guess it's a just punishment for my extravagance. I thoughtthe modern novels were bad enough. What can I do for you now?'

"'Always, when you're in doubt, do nothing, ' I suggested. 

"'Oh, I know what I'll do!' she exclaimed, joyfully. 'I'll knit you apair of socks with my own hands. '

"'Eureka!' I shouted. 'Those socks shall make footprints on the sandsof time. '"

VII

IN WHICH SOCRATES ATTACKS THE WORST DOERS AND BEST SELLERS

"One evening, soon after that, Betsey and I went to a party at DeaconBenson's. The Deacon is Marie's grandfather--a strict, old-lineCongregationalist. The old gentleman owned some two hundred acres inthe very heart of Pointview and about a mile of shore-front. In allthe buying and selling, he had refused to part with an acre of hisland, now worth at least a million dollars. He had willed it all toMarie. 

"Deacon Joe was a relic of Puritan days, with shrewd eyes under heavygray tufts, and a mouth bent like a sickle, and whiskers under astrong chin, and lines in his face that suggested the heart of a lion. In his walks he was always accompanied by a hickory cane and a bulldogwhose countenance and philosophy were like unto those of the Deacon. 

"He was a perfectly honest man who had joined the church with mentalreservations. He had reserved the right to employ certain adjectivesand nouns which had been useful in Pointview since the days of thepioneer, and which had grown more and more indispensable to theopinions of an honest man. The verb 'to damn' in all its parts andrelations had been one of them. The word 'hell' was another. Itrepresented a thing of great conversational value, and he recommendedit with perfect frankness to certain people. He loved hell and hardcider, and hated Episcopalians. He loved to tell how one Episcopalianhad cheated him in a horse trade, and how another had never paid for abushel of onions. That was enough for him. He had always thought thema loose, unprincipled lot with no adequate respect for fire andbrimstone. But Deacon Joe was honest, and his word was worth a hundredcents on the dollar. 

"Now the Delances were Episcopalians from away back--High-ChurchEpiscopalians, at that. The old man had sniffed a good deal when Harrybegan to pay attention to Marie, and had come to see me about it. 

"I eased his fears and appealed to his avarice. Harry had too muchmoney and some follies, I confessed, but he was sound at heart, and Ihad hope of making a strong man of him, and of course his money mightbe a great lever in his hands. 

"'Very well--we'll keep an eye on him, ' he snapped, and left mewithout another word. 

"After that Marie was allowed to go out with the young man in his dragand tandem. 

"Harry and his sister came to the party at Deacon Joe's, and broughtwith them a late volume of D'Annunzio for Marie to read. Harry wishedto know if I had read it, and gave us a talk on the realism of thismodern Italian author. 

"Again I drew on the memoirs of Dr. Godfrey Vogeldam Guph, and thistime I explained that the learned doctor had all the talents but one. He never told a lie--never but once, and that was on his death-bed. Yes, it was a little late, but still it was in time to save hisreputation, and, possibly, even his soul. To a man of his parts thetruth had always been good enough, and lying unnecessary. If he hadtold a lie it wouldn't have amounted to anything--everybody would havebelieved it. He wouldn't have got any credit--poor man! He had no moreuse for a lie than a fish has for a mackintosh--until he came to hislast touching words, which were delivered to a minister and his sisterSophia, who had been reading to him from a book of D'Annunzio. 

"'My chance has arrived at last, ' he said to Sophia, 'and in orderthat I may make the most of it, you will please send for a minister. '

"The latter came, and, seeing the book, asked the good man if he hadread it. 

"'Alas! my friend, that it should be necessary for me to tell a lie onmy death-bed, ' said the Doctor. 'But now, at last, I tell it proudlyand promptly. I have not read that book. '

"'And therein I do clearly see the truth, ' said the wise oldminister. 

"'Which is this, ' the learned Doctor confessed. 'I have come to anhour when a lie, and nothing but a lie, can show my sense of shame. Isolemnly swear that I have not read it!'

"'Well, at least you're a noble liar, ' said the man of God. 'I absolveyou. '

"'I claim no credit--I am only doing my duty, ' said the good Doctor, with a sign of ineffable peace. 

"As soon as I could get his attention, I called Harry aside andwhispered: 'In Heaven's name, boy, get hold of that book and hang onto it. '

"'Why?' he asked. 

"'You don't know the old man as I do--that's why, ' I said. 'If heshould happen to read it, he'd go after you with his grandfather'ssword the next time you showed up here. '

"Marie stood near us, and I beckoned to her, and she came to my side. 

"'The book, ' said Harry--'would you let me take it?'

"'I took it to my grandfather, and he is reading it in his room, ' sheanswered. 'Shall I go and get it?'

"Harry hesitated. 

"'He won't mind, ' said Marie; 'I'll go and get it. '

"And away she went. 

"She came back to us soon, a bit embarrassed. 

"'He seems to be very much interested and--and a little cross, ' saidshe. 'I think he will bring it out to you soon. '

"Harry turned pale. 

"'You look sick, old man, ' I said. 

"'I'm not feeling very well, ' said he, 'and I think I shall excusemyself and go home. '

"There was danger of a scene, but he got away unharmed. By and by thelionhearted deacon came out of his room, asked severely for 'youngDelance, ' wandered through the crowd, answered indignantly a fewinquiries about his health, and returned to his lair. 

"I saw that the Deacon was mad. New New England had imprudently bumpedinto old New England, and it was too soon to estimate the damage. "

The Honorable Socrates Potter laughed as he filled his pipe, andresumed with an attitude of ease and comfort;

"I'm a bit of a Puritan myself, although I understood Harry betterthan did the Deacon. The young people have been captured by thefrankness of the Latin races. They call it emancipation. Travel andthe higher education have opened the storage vats of foreigndegeneracy and piped them into our land. Certain young men who havebeen 'finished' abroad, where they filled their souls with Latinlewdness, have turned it into fiction and a source of profit. Womenbuy their books and rush through them, and only touch the low places. There they lie entranced, thick as autumnal leaves that strew thebrooks in Vallombrosa. Like the women in the sack of Ismail, they sitthem down and watch for the adultery to begin. 

"The imagination of the old world seems to have gone wild--OscarWilde! How the Oscars have thriven there since the first of them wentto jail!--a degenerate dynasty!--hiding the stench of spiritual rotwith the perfume of faultless rhetoric, speaking the unspeakable withthe tongues of angels and of prophets! And mostly, my boy, they havethriven on the dollars of American women under the leadership ofmodern culture. And, you know, the maiden follows mama. She is anapologist of sublime lewdness, of emancipated human caninity. Now I amno prude. I can stand a fairly strong touch of human nature. I caneven put up with a good deal of the frankness of the cat and dog. Butthe frankness of some modern authors makes me sorry that Adam was acommon ancestor of theirs and mine. It's a disgrace to Adam and thewhole human brotherhood. We sons of the Puritans ought to get busy inthe old cause. Noah had the good sense to keep the animals and thepeople apart, and that's what we've always stood for. "

VIII

IN WHICH SOCRATES ATTACKS THE HELMET AND THE BATTLE-AX

"Marie came to see us at our home next morning and began to cry assoon as she had sat down in the library. The thing I had looked forhad come to pass. Her grandfather had dropped Harry from his list, andwarned him to keep off the rag-carpet. There was to be no moreprancing around in the 'toot-coach' and the 'Harry-cart, ' as he calledthem, for Marie. In his view it was the surest means of getting toperdition. Harry was an idler, and he had always found that an idlebrain was the devil's workshop. Marie might be polite to the youngman, but she must keep her side of the road and see that there wasalways plenty of room between them. 

"'He's so hateful, ' Marie said of her grandfather. 'He made such afuss about our getting a crest that we've a perfect right to! Mama hadto give it up. '

"'What! Do you mean to tell me that you have no crest!' I inquired, anxiously. 

"'We have one, but we cannot use it; our hands are tied, ' was hersorrowful answer. 

"'I'm astonished. Why, everybody is going to have a crest inPointview. 

"'The other day I suggested to Bridget Maloney, our pretty chambermaid, that she ought to have the Maloney crest on her letter-heads. 

"'"What's that?" says Bridget. 

"'"What's that!" I said, with a look of pity. 

"'Then I showed her a letter from Mrs. Van Alstyne, with a lion and agriffin cuffing each other black and blue at the top of the sheet. 

"'"It's grand!" said she. 

"'"It's the Van Alstyne crest, " I said. "It's a proof of respectability. Aren't you as good as they are?"

"'"Every bit!" said she. 

"'"That's what I thought. Don't you often feel as if you were betterthan a good many people you know?"

"'"Sure I do. "

"'"Well, that's a sign that you're blue-blooded, " said I. "Probablyyou've got a king in your family somewhere. A crest shows that yoususpect your ancestors--nothing more than that. It isn't proof, sothere's no reason why you shouldn't have it. You ought not to be goingaround without a crest, as if you were a common servant-girl. Why, every kitchen-maid will be thinking she's as good as you are. You wantto be in style. You have money in the bank, and not half the peoplewho have crests are as well able to afford 'em. "

"'"How much do they cost?"

[Illustration: "'IT'S THE VAN ALSTYNE CREST, ' I SAID. 'IT'S A PROOF OFRESPECTABILITY. '"]

"'"Nothing--at least, yours'll cost nothing, Bridget. I shall be gladto buy one for you. "

"'The simple girl thanked me, and I found the Maloney crest for her, and had the plate made and neatly engraved on a hundred sheets ofpaper. 

"'Next week the Pointview _Advocate_ will print this item: "MissBridget Maloney, the genial chambermaid of Mrs. Socrates Potter, usesthe Maloney crest on her letter-heads. She is said to be a linealdescendant of his Grace Bryan Maloney, one of the early dukes ofIreland. "

"'Bridget is haughty, well-mannered, and a neat dresser. She's apace-maker in her set. Even the high-headed servants of WarburtonHouse imitate her hats and gowns. 

"'Yesterday Katie O'Neil, one of Mrs. Warburton's maids, came to mefor information as to the heraldry of her house. I found a crest forKatie; and then came Mary Maginness; and Bertha Schimpfelheim, thedaughter of a real German count; and one August Bernheimer, a youngbarber of baronial blood; and Pietro Cantaveri, our prosperousbootblack, who was the grandson of an Italian countess; and so itgoes, and soon all the high-born servers of Pointview will be suppliedwith armorial bearings. 

"'These claims to distinction shall be soberly chronicled in the_Advocate_. Not one is to be overlooked or treated with any lack ofrespect. On the contrary, the whole thing will be exploited with aproper sense of awe. '

"Marie laughed. 

"'Wait till I tell mama, ' she said. 'It's lucky you told me. It'ssaved us. I guess grandfather was right about that. '

"'And he's right about Harry, too, ' I said. 'But don't despair; I'mtrying to put a new mainspring in the boy. If I succeed, yourgrandfather may have to change his mind. '

"She went away comforted, but not happy. 

"Well, I went on with the crest campaign. Bertha, Pietro, and theothers got their crests and saw their names in the paper. 

"The supply of crests was soon perfectly adequate, and among our bestpeople the demand for them began to diminish, and suddenly ceased. Thebeast rampant and couchant, the helmet and the battle-ax, associatedonly with mixed tenses and misplaced capitals according to theirancient habit. This chambermaid grammar was referred to by my friend, Dr. Guph, as the 'battle-ax brand'--a designation of some merit. Expensive stationery fell into the fireplaces of Pointview, andarmorial plates were found in the garbage. The family trees of thevillage were deserted. Not a bird twittered in their branches. Thesubject of genealogy was buried in deep silence, save when theirreverent referred to some late addition to our new aristocracy. 

"Now I want to make it clear that we have no disrespect for thecustoms of any foreign land. If I were living in a foreign land andneeded evidence of my respectability, I'd have a crest, if it waslikely to prove my case. But America was founded by the sons of theyeomen, and the yeomen established their respectability with otherevidence. Their brains were so often touched by the battle-ax thatsome of us have an hereditary shyness about the head, and we dodge atevery baronial relic. "

IX

IN WHICH SOCRATES INCREASES THE SUPPLY OF SPLENDOR

"In due time the Society of Useful Women met at our house, and I wasinvited to make a few remarks, and said in effect:

"'We are trying to correct the evil of extravagant display inAmerica, and first I ask you to consider the cause of it. We find itin the ancient law of supply and demand. The reason that women love toarray themselves in silk and laces and jewels and picture-hats andplumes of culture and sunbursts of genealogy lies in the fact thatthe supply of these things has generally been limited. Their cost isso high, therefore, that few can afford them, and those who wearthem are distinguished from the common herd. This matter of buyingdistinction is the cause of our trouble. Now I propose that weincrease the supply of jewels, silks, laces, picture-hats, andancestors in Pointview--that we bring them within the reach of all, and aim a death-blow at the distinction to be obtained by displayingthem. There isn't a servant-girl in this community who doesn't pantfor luxuries. Why shouldn't she? I move that we have a committeeto consider this inadequate supply of luxuries, with the power toincrease the same at its own expense. '

"I was appointed chairman of that committee, and went to work, withBetsey and Mrs. Warburton as coadjutors. 

"We stocked a store with clever imitations of silks, satins, andold lace, and the best assortment of Brummagem jewelry that could beraked together. We had a great show-case full of glitteringpaste--bracelets, tiaras, coronets, sunbursts, dog-collars, rings, necklaces--all extremely modish and so handsome that they wouldhave deceived any but trained eyes. Our pearls and sapphires wereespecially attractive. We hired a skilled dressmaker, familiarwith the latest modes, and a milliner who could imitate the moststunning hats on Fifth Avenue at reasonable prices. Every servant ingood standing in our community was permitted to come and see andbuy and say 'Charge it. '

"Mrs. Warburton's ball for the servants of Pointview, to be given inthe Town Hall, was coming near. It happened that the committee ofarrangements included Marie and the young Reverend Robert Knowles. Their intimacy began in the work of that committee. For days they rodeabout in the minister's motor-car getting ready for the ball and forthe greater intimacy that followed it. 

"Our ball sent its radiance over land and sea. Sunbursts shone likestars in the Milky Way. A fine orchestra furnished music. Reportersfrom New York and other cities were present. 

"The nurses, cooks, kitchen-girls, laundresses, and chambermaids ofPointview were radiant in silk, lace, diamonds, pearls, and rubies. The costumes were brilliant, but all in good taste. Alabaster? Why, mydear boy, they would have made the swell set resemble a convention ofbeanpoles. For the matter of busts, they busted the record!

"The only mishap occurred when Bertha Schimpfelheim--some call her BigBertha--slipped and fell in a waltz, injuring the knee of hercompanion. To my surprise the brainiest of these working-folk saw thesatire in which they were taking part, and entered into it with allthe more spirit because they knew. 

[Illustration: "RADIANT IN SILK, LACE, DIAMONDS, PEARLS, AND RUBIES"]

"The presence of Mr. Warburton, Mr. And Mrs. Delance, Marie, and theReverend Robert Knowles on the floor insured proper decorum and lentan air of seriousness to the event. It proved an effective backgroundfor Marie. She shone like a pigeon-blood ruby among garnets. She woreno jewels, and was distinguished only by her beauty and the simplicityof her costume and the unmistakable evidence of good breeding in herface and manners. 

"Harry sat with me in the gallery. 

"'She's wonderful!' he exclaimed. 'All this rococo ware simplyemphasizes her charm. Only a girl of brains could carry it off as shedoes. She's among them and yet apart. An old duke once told me that ifyou want to know the rank of a lady, observe how she treats aninferior. It's quite true. By Jove! I'm in love with Marie, and I'mgoing to make her my wife if possible. '

"'That's one really substantial result of the ball, ' I said. 

"'Do you think that she cares for Knowles--that minister chap?'"

"'I'm inclined to think that she likes you better, ' I said. 

"'Is your inclination encouraged by evidence?'

"'That query I must decline to answer, ' said I. 

"'Well, you know, I'm not going to be long in doubt, ' the boydeclared, as he left me. 

"The event was an epoch-maker. Long reports of it appeared in thedaily press and traveled far in a surge of thoughtful merriment. Forinstance: 'Miss Mary Maginness, the accomplished lady-in-waiting ofMrs. William Warburton, of Warburton House, wore a coronet and adog-collar of diamonds above a costume of white brocaded satin, trimmed with old duchesse lace and gold ornaments. Miss Maginness is alineal descendant of Lord Rawdon Maginness, of Cork, who early in theseventeenth century commanded an army that drove the Italians out ofIreland. '

"And so it went, with column after column of glittering detail. Sincethen the servants have enjoyed a monopoly in splendor--it's been akind of Standard Jewel Company, and certain rich men have boasted inmy presence that they haven't a jewel in their houses; and one addedwith quite unneeded emphasis: 'Not a measly jewel. My wife says thatthey suggest dish-water and aprons. '

"'It is too funny!' said Mrs. Warburton. 'You know those jewels at theball were quite as real as many that are worn by ladies of fashion. Most rich women who want to save themselves worry keep their jewels inthe strong-box and wear replicas of paste and composition. '

"The instalment jeweler has gone out of business, and half a dozenservant-girls have refused to make further payments on theirsolitaires and returned them. 

"One singular thing happened. Nearly all those servants paid theirbills to our store, and we closed out with an unexpected profit, whilea number of stores who charged their goods to the noble band ofemployers have stopped for need of money. "

X

IN WHICH SOCRATES BREAKS THE DRAG AND TANDEM MONOPOLY IN POINTVIEW

"Harry's father came often for a smoke and talk with me after dinner, and his favorite subject was Harry. As a subject of conversation, Harry was more successful than the average crime. In this respect heresembled a divorce or a murder. That's how it happened that Harry goton my mind. He is one of the most skilful riders of the human mindthat I know of. He was wearing us out, and we were all bucking to gethim off. Well, his father was thinking about him while I was thinkingabout the rest of Pointview. It was another case of Rome and Cæsar. Harry's last achievement was to accuse his father of being thefossiliferous remnant of an ancient time. 

"'The truth is, Harry hasn't enough competition in his line, ' Isuggested, one evening. 'The other boys are doing well, but they don'tkeep up with him. 

"'You know after I left college, in my youth, I spent a couple ofyears in Wyoming. Well, Mary Ann Crowder was the only single ladywithin a hundred miles, and she was the most obstreperous damn critterthat I ever saw. She had a monopoly an' knew it, an' wasn't decentlypolite. Put on more style than a nigger at a cakewalk. Though she hadred hair an' only one eye, some of the boys used to ride sixty milesfor a visit with her. Then they had to swim the Snake River and maybewrestle with a tame bear that was loose in the dooryard. By and by aman with two unmarried daughters moved on to a ranch near us, and thenMary Ann began to be polite. She suddenly became a human being, an'killed the bear, an' moved across the river an' married the first manthat proposed, and lived happily ever after. 

"'What we need here is another drag and tandem. '

"'Get what you need, and I'll pay the bills, ' said Harry's father. 

"So I went to a sale in New York, bought my drag and tandem-cart, andhad them shipped to Pointview. Our local sign-painter put a crest or, rather, a kind of royal hatchment, on the panels of both. Then I soldthem for next to nothing to a local livery on conditions. Its newowner agreed to use the drag for chowder-parties, and to break theworst-looking nags in his stable to drive tandem on the cart. 

"Tommy Ruggles, a smart-looking knight of the currycomb, whose firstname was a kitchen word in Pointview, sprang to my assistance. He hadcurly hair, and a good deal of natural cuteness, and was, moreover, 'adivvle with the girls. ' He contracted with me to take a selected listof female servants for an airing in the tandem-cart. He was to get aroyalty of five dollars a head on every servant that was properlyaired, with a small premium on red ones. 

"He began with Big Bertha, our worthy German countess. Tommy had aplayful humor, and cracked his long whip over the rough-harnessed nagsand merrily tooted his horn as the rig lumbered along through the mainstreets of our village. Many laughed and many wondered, while an armyof noisy kids followed and hung on behind. 

"Tommy got his second girl, who was hit on the head with a ripetomato, and then it was all over. The girls wouldn't stand for it. Thesport had become too exciting. Tommy told me how he had invitedBridget Maloney, and she had said: 'Na-a-ah! Do yez take me for anidiot? Sure every rotten egg in the town would be jumpin' at me. '

"It suggested an idea. As the imitation idiots had given out, wewould try the real thing. So I 'phoned the manager of our thrivingidiot asylum on the Post Road and arranged to have Tommy take one ofhis patients every day for a drive in the cart. Why shouldn't all theidiots enjoy themselves? Fresh air would be good for them. It wouldturn the cart into a charity which would cover a part of my sins. Iasked for the better class of idiots--the quiet ones, who had senseenough to appreciate a good thing. The parade began and continued dayafter day. 

"Harry had retired his tandem after Tom, with a stiff-backed idiot byhis side, had clattered after him through the village behind the twospavined nags to the amusement of many people. He had kept up withHarry. 

"Soon that kind of a rig was known as the Idiot Wagon. Then Tommyresigned; it was more than he could stand. He said he was willing todo any honest work for money, but not that. He said that the idiotsimagined themselves rich, and put on so much style that it made thewhole thing ridiculous. 

"'Never mind--it's the habit of idiots, ' I said. 

"'One of 'em thinks he's Napoleon Bonaparte, an' calls me his man, andwears a plug hat and sits as straight as a ramrod, and bows to thepeople when they laugh at him, ' said Tommy. 'Some of 'em get stuck onthe cart, and it's a fight to get 'em out of it. I tell ye, I'm sicko' the job. The sight o' that cart makes me feel nutty. '

"'Never mind, Tom, ' I said; 'you've been a public benefactor, and youand the cart are entitled to an honorable discharge. '

"Every bright day the drag was tooling over the road with picnic-partieson their way to one of the popular beaches. Our local lodges andpolitical clubs, and now and then a load of Italians, were able toenjoy the luxury which had been the exclusive delight of Harry and thefluffy maidens of Pointview. 

"Drags an' tandems are all right if you don't go too far with 'em. Wewere just in time to prevent them from becoming tools of degenerationin our village. "

XI

IN WHICH SUNDRY PEOPLE MAKE GREAT DISCOVERIES

"There were many private panics in Pointview. It was my privilege toobserve, under calm exteriors, a raging fever of excitement--charactersgoing bankrupt, collectors wandering in a fruitless quest. One littlerill that flowed into the swift river of national trouble issued fromthe bosom of my clerk, Mr. 'Cub' Sayles. It had been one of the mostplacid bosoms in Pointview. Now it was in the midst of what I havesince referred to as the 'Violet and Supper Panic of 1907. '

"Cub was a quiet, hard-working, serious-minded boy whose mother movedin the higher circles of Boston. He had a low, pleasant voice, atouch of Harry's dialect, and a sad face. He had asked for a highersalary, and I had asked for information. 

"'You see every time I go to call on my girl I have to take a bunch ofviolets or a two-pound box of candy, ' he said. 'Then if we go to thetheater her chaperon has to be with us--don't you know? She's a stoutlady who complains of faintness before the play ends, and I have toask them out to supper. Then I am always greatly alarmed, for younever can tell what will happen, sir, with two ladies at supper andonly twenty dollars in your pocket, and both ladies fond of game andcrab-meat. It's really very trying. I sit and tremble as I watch them, and go home with only a feeble remnant of my salary, and next day Ihave to pawn my diamond ring. '

"'All that isn't honest, ' I said. 'You're getting her favor underfalse pretenses. You're trying to make her believe that you are asort of aristocrat with lots of money. Why don't you tell her thetruth--that you can't afford violets, that the two-pound box is aburden that is breaking your back, and that every theater-supper sendsyou to the pawnbroker's?'

"'I can't--she would throw me over, ' he explained. 'The girls expectthose things. They like to show and talk about them--don't you know?It's the fashion. Our best young men do it, sir. '

"'Well, if you are willing to give up your honor for a lady's smileyou won't do for me, ' I said. 'You must not only tell the truth, butlive it. You must be just what you are--a poor boy working for twentydollars a week. If the girl doesn't like it she's unfit to associatewith honest men. If you don't like it I don't like you. '

"Perspiration had begun to dampen the brow of Cub. 

"'I--I hadn't seen it in that light, sir, ' he said. 'But what am I todo, sir? I am heavily indebted to my tailor. '

"'What! Haven't you paid for those lovely garments?'

"'I had them charged, sir, ' Cub sadly answered. 'My mother sent me ahundred dollars to pay for them, but I loaned it to Roger Daniels. Ishould be much obliged, sir, if you would collect it for me. '

"I went to Roger and made him pay the debt. He paid it in a curiousway--by going to his tailor and buying a hundred dollars' worth ofclothes for Cub and having them charged. It was compounding a felony, but my client was satisfied and Roger was grateful. He began to havesome regard for me. Not every lawyer had been able to make him pay. Within a day or so he came to consult me about a mortgage on hispatrimony. 

"Roger had married and settled down immediately after his remarkablecruise. He had kept his party in ignorance of his financial troublesand returned with his reputation as an aristocrat firmly established. The gay young Bessie Runnymede had accepted him at once. He had becomejunior partner in a firm of brokers and had rented a handsomeresidence in Pointview. 

"So they began their little play with ladies, lords, and gentlemen inthe cast, and with a country-house, a tandem, a crested limousine, anda racing launch for scenery. But Roger had what is known as a badseason. Well, you know, the moving-picture shows had got such a holdon the public. 

"At first we concluded that he must have made another lucky play inthe market. Then, after six months or so, bills against Roger began toarrive for collection from sundry department stores in the city. Hewas a good fellow and had plausible excuses, and I declined to presspayment and returned the bills. 

"One day, some eight months after the wedding, an urgent telegramfrom Roger brought me to New York. I found the young man in hisoffice, with his wife at his side. They were both in tears. I sat downwith them, and he told me this story:

"'The fact is, I'm a thief, ' he began. 'I have confessed the truth tomy partners. Since my marriage I have taken about twenty thousanddollars--needed every cent of it to keep going. The fact is, Iexpected to make a killing in the market and return the money--hadinside information--but everything went wrong. Yesterday I was cleanedout. 

"'I went home late in the evening. I hoped that my wife would be inbed, but she was waiting for me. She said that I looked sick, andwanted to know what was the matter. I told her that I had a headache, and got into bed as soon as possible; but I couldn't sleep. Long aftermidnight my wife rose and turned on the light and came to my bed andsaid that she knew I was troubled about something--that she had seenit in my face for weeks. She begged that I would let her help me bearit. Then I told her the truth, and discovered--for I didn't know herbefore--one of the noblest women in the world. She hid her face in thepillow, and then I had a bad moment. 

"'"Why did you do it?" she asked as soon as she could speak. 

"'And I said: "We've been foolish--trying to keep up with Harry andthe rest of them. It was my fault. I ought to have told you that Icouldn't go the pace. "

"'She saw the truth in a flash, and the old-fashioned woman in her gotto work. 

"'"Roger, get up and dress yourself, " said she. "We will go and seeyour partners to-night. We will go together, for I am as guilty asyou. We will tell them the truth and beg for time. Maybe we can getthe money. "

"'We started in our motor-car about one o'clock for the city, on darkand muddy roads. Some ten miles out we broke an axle and left car anddriver and went on afoot. My wife wouldn't wait. No trains wererunning. But we could get a trolley five miles down the road. So wewent on in the dark and silence. I put my arm around her, and not aword passed between us for an hour or so. I don't know what she wasthinking of, but I was trying to count my follies. It began to rain, and I felt sorry for Bess, and took off my coat and threw it overher. '

"'"I don't mind the rain, " she said. "It will cool me. "

"'We were a sight when we got to the trolley, and just before daylightwe rang the bell of the senior partner. Our weariness and muddy shoesand rain-soaked garments were a help to us. They touched his heart, sir. Anyhow, he gave me a week of grace in which to make good. I mustget the money somehow, and I want your advice about it. '

"'I'm glad of one part of it all, ' I said--'that you have discoveredeach other and learned that you are human beings of a pretty goodsort. I've much more respect for both of you than I ever had before. '

"He looked at me in surprise. 

"'Oh, you are a better man than you were three months ago!' I answeredhim. 'You happen to have run against the law, and it's shocked andfrightened you. But you are improving. Long ago you began to incurdebts which you couldn't pay, and you must have known that youcouldn't pay them. In that manner you became possessed of a large sumof money belonging to other people. It was used not for necessities, but to maintain a foolish display. That is the most heartless kind offraud. I've much more respect for you now that you see your fault andconfess it. I'm convinced now that you have a conscience, and thatyou will be likely to make some use of it in the future. I'mparticularly grateful to your wife. She has shown me that she is justa woman, and not an angel. I don't believe that it was at allnecessary for you to have groveled in aristocratic crimes in order towin her heart. The yacht cruise and the tandem and the violets and theFifth Avenue clothes and the ton of candy were quite superfluous. Youneeded only to tell her the truth, like a man, and say that you lovedher. '

"'It is true, Roger, ' said the girl as she broke down again. 

"'I did it all to please you, dear, ' the boy answered, in his effortto comfort her. 

"'And it did please me, ' she said, brokenly, 'but I know that I shouldhave been better pleased if--'

"She hesitated, and I expressed her thought for her:

"'If he had centralized on manhood. There is something sweeter thanviolets and grander than fine raiment in a sort of character that aboy should offer to the girl he loves. '

"They were both convinced. It was easy to see that now, and I promisedto do what I could for them. 

"I got a schedule of the young man's debts and found that he owed, among other debts, six thousand dollars to sundry shops and departmentstores in New York--the purchases of his wife in the eight months oftheir wedded life. I asked her how it could have happened. 

"'He opened accounts for me and said I could buy what I wanted, andyou know it is so easy to say "Charge it, '" was her answer. 'Every onehas accounts these days, and they tempt you to buy more than youneed. '

"'It is true. Credit is the latest ally of the devil. It is the greattempter. It is responsible for half the extravagance of modern life. The two words 'charge it' have done more harm than any others in thelanguage. They have led to a vast amount of unnecessary buying. Theyhave developed a talent for extravagance in our people. They havecreated a large and growing sisterhood and brotherhood of dead-beats. They have led to bankruptcy and slow pay and bad debts. They haveraised the cost of everything we require because the tradesman compelsus to pay his uncollected accounts. They are added to your bills andmine, and the merchant prince suffers no impairment of his fortune. 

"Bessie's bank-account was also overdrawn. That reminds me of a newsinner--the bank-check. It is so easy to draw a check--and, then, somehow, it's only a piece of paper. You let it go without a pangwhile you would be very thoughtful if you were counting out the moneyand parting with it. 

"The check is another way of saying 'Charge it. '

"That evening I went to see Harry. "

XII

IN WHICH HARRY IS FORCED TO ABANDON SWAMP FICTION AND LIKE FOLLIES ANDTO STUDY THE GEOGRAPHY AND NATIVES OF A LAND UNKNOWN TO OURHEIRISTOCRACY

"I found Harry smoking with Cub Sayles in his den above stairs in thebig country-house of Henry Delance. As I entered Harry said to hisyoung friend:

"'I have to talk over some things with Mr. Potter--would you mindgoing down to the library?'

"Cub withdrew, and Harry sat down with me. 

"'I suppose you've seen him?' he asked, nervously. 

"'Whom?'

"'Why, you know a mysterious stranger has been looking for me and--byJove!--I'm scared stiff. He's an Englishman. '

"'What of that?'

"'Let me show you, ' said Harry. 

"He took a key from his pocket, unlocked a door, and fetched thefamiliar skull of the Bishop of St. Clare and put it on the tablebefore me. 

"'It's that damn Bishop's head, ' he whispered. 'It has comeback--would you believe it?--picked up by a fisherman on the Irishcoast and returned to the express office in London. All the olddirections were quite legible on the box. "To Harry Delance, SS. _Lusitania_. If not found, forward to Pointview, Conn. , U. S. A. , charges collect!" So it came on. I received a notice and went down andgot it out of bond and paid three pounds, and here it is. '

"'It looks as if the Bishop was out for revenge, ' I said, with alaugh. 

"'He's got on my nerves and my conscience, ' said Harry. 'By Jove! hehaunts me. When I heard of this mysterious Englishman to-day I got achill. '

"'You go buy yourself a small shovel and a pocket light to-morrow, ' Isuggested, and at night go back in the hills with the Bishop's headand bury it. '

"'And if I get into trouble I want you to take care of me. '

"I made no answer. It didn't seem necessary, but I said: 'There'sanother matter of which I have come to talk with you. Our friend Rogeris in trouble. '

"I told him the story of Roger's downfall. It got under his vest, andI added: 'Now, Harry, it's up to you to indulge in some morephilanthropy. You ought to help him. '

"'What--what can I do?' he asked in amazement. 

"'Lend him the money--twenty thousand dollars. It isn't all that thepublic will charge against you on Roger's account, but it will do. '

"'Harry sank in his chair and threw up his hands as if grasping for astraw. 

"'It's my whole allowance for the year, ' he said, 'and I couldn'tappeal to the Governor. '

"'Nevertheless you ought to do it, for Roger told me that it was yourpace that brought him where he is. '

"'What an ass!' Harry exclaimed, and the old Bishop seemed to indorsehis view. 'By the blue beard of the Caliph, what am I to do?'

"'Pay it, ' I insisted. 

"'Pay it and die, ' he groaned. 'I shall have to do it somehow, butthis kind of thing is grinding me. '

"'You can go to my ranch in Wyoming and live on nothing for sixmonths, ' I said. 'When you get back I'll lend you enough to tide youover!

"'I'll do it, ' he said, as if it were the very straw he had beenreaching for. 

"Then he began to tell me of other troubles. Marie had been decidedlycool to Harry at the servants' ball. Then he had met her on thestreet, and she had barely noticed him and hurried away, with theyoung Reverend Robert Knowles at her side. Harry was, fortunately, going slow, but he had received internal injuries and was sufferingfrom shock. 

"'The old man is at the bottom of it, ' I explained. 'You gave him adose from the wrong bottle. It p'isoned him. '

"'By Jove! What a prude he is!' said Harry. 'Upon my word that is oneof the noblest books I ever read--contains a great lesson, don't youknow? It takes you straight to the heights. '

"'Too straight, ' I said. 'It turns out for nothing. It crosses amorass to avoid going around. When you reach the high ground you arecovered with mud and slime. You need to be washed and disinfected, andperhaps you've caught a fever that will last as long as you live. Many a boy and girl have got mired in this swamp fiction that youenjoy so much. There are many of us who prefer to go around the swampand keep on a decent footing even if it takes longer. '

"'We want to know all sides of life, ' said Harry. 

"'And would you care to see the girl you loved studying life in abrothel?'

"'Well, really, you know, that's different, ' Harry stammered. 

"'But the fact is, her feet might as well be in a brothel as herbrain, ' I insisted. 'She might shake the dust from her _feet_. Harry, there's one side of life that you ought to study at once--the Americanside. You've neglected the Western hemisphere in your studies. Whencan you start for the ranch?'

"'Day after to-morrow--if you like. This place is a dreadful bore. '

"'Good! I'll attend to the tickets to-day, The cart, drag, and horseswill be all the better for a vacation, and the eyes of the people arein need of rest. '

"'The whole outfit is going to be sold, " said Harry. 'Idiots and thehoi polloi have quite ruined the sport here. The Governor is alwayspoking fun at it, you know, and it has made me so weary! One can'tstand that kind of thing forever--can he? I got after his helmet, battle-ax, and family tree, by Jove! Our crested chambermaids andbootblacks have been a great help to me. What a noble band ofphilanthropists! Father and I have made an agreement. He is going tochuck the battle-ax and saw the royal branches off our family tree andI am going to sell the drag, cart, and horses. '

"'That's a great treaty, ' I said. 'The settlement of the Alaskanfrontier is not more important than fixing the boundaries of oursocial life. Let us surrender the tools of idiocy; especially, let usabandon all claim to the helmet and battle-ax. They're all right intheir place, but they aren't ours. The plowshare and the pruning-hookare our symbols. '

"'By Jove! you know, the old Bishop of St. Clare agrees with youexactly, ' said Harry. 'I've been reading his life and writings, whichI picked up in London, and he's about converted me to your way ofthinking. He hated "the glittering idleness" of the rich and putindustry above elegance. '

"'And he doesn't intend that your education shall be neglected--he'slooking after you. '

"'He's as industrious as Destiny, ' said the young man. 'Did you knowthat Cub Sayles is engaged?'

"'To whom?'

"'Mrs. Revere-Chalmers. '

"'God rest his soul!' I exclaimed. 

"'It's just the thing for Cub, ' said Harry. 'He's poor but presentable, and has many extravagant tastes. She's quite a bit older than he, ofcourse, but that isn't unusual. '

"'I warned him long ago, knowing that his folly would undo him. Now hewill be a captain of New Thought, King of the Flub Dubs, advertisingmanager of the Psychological Hair Factory, and inspector of pimples. '

"'But don't you know that he will have everything that he desires?'

"'Except happiness. '

"'Oh, I think that she is very fond of him!' said Harry. 'She told meto-day that he is the only man she ever loved, and the dear old girlthinks that she won him by concentration. '

"With this remark, made on the 20th of May, Harry dropped out of thehistory of Pointview until December. "

XIII

IN WHICH THE MINISTER GETS INTO LOVE AND TROUBLE

"Cub resigned his place in my office next day, and confessed hispurpose, and I heard him with sober respect and tried in every properway to save him. It wouldn't work. 

"The lines of panic had left the face of Cub. The two-pound expressionhad departed from it. The faintness of chaperons would no longerimperil his comfort. 

"'A hundred and four pounds of candy and twenty suppers, and all fornothing!' I exclaimed. 'You ruin a girl's digestion and chuck herover. It isn't fair. '

"'But, sir, I found that I didn't love her, ' said Cub. 

"'What a waste of violets, confectionery, and crab-meat!'

"'Yes, sir, in a way; but you see I had to have my training insociety, ' Cub declared. 

"What was the use? Cub had no more humor than a sewing-machine. 

"'The wedding day drew on apace, and just before its arrival anotorious weekly in New York gave the lady a drubbing. Certaincircumstances that made her first marriage unhappy were plainly hintedat. The town shuddered with amazement. Cub stood pat, but theEpiscopal minister refused to marry them. The Baptist minister balked. It looked like a postponement, but the knot was tied, on scheduletime, by the Reverend Robert Knowles. That made no end of talk, and asmall party of insurgents left his church. Deacon Benson was on thepoint of pulling out, and swore so much about it that I advised him tohang on for his own sake. 

"'But there ain't much to hang on to, ' said the Deacon. 

"'Mrs. Revere-Chalmers-Sayles held a mortgage on the property of theBaptist Society of Pointview, and asked me to foreclose it. 

"'I have another mortgage on the Congregational church, and they'rebehind in their interest, but I'm not going to push them, ' she said tome. 

"So young Mr. Knowles had acted from motives of business prudence, andwas not much at fault. The old church had ceased to live within itsmeans and had entered the 'charge it' van, and was trying to serve twomasters. 

"Betsey and I paid both mortgages and threw them in the fire. 

"Young Mr. Knowles came to see us with Marie, and brought the thanksof the parish. They were a good-looking couple. 

"This minister of the First Congregational Church of Pointview nowaspired to be the prime minister of its first heiress. Theiracquaintance, which had begun in the arrangements for the servants'ball, had grown in warmth and intimacy as soon as Harry had gone. Robert began to take after Marie, with muffler open and all the gason. He was a swell of a parson--utterly damned with good-fortune. Hadan income from the estate of his father, a call from on high, a crestfrom Charlemagne, diplomas from college and the seminary, a finefigure, red cheeks, and 'heavenly eyes. ' As to his fatal gift ofbeauty, the young ladies were of one mind. They agreed, also, aboutthe cut of his garments, that were changed several times a day. 

"A dashing, masculine, head-punching spirit might have saved him withall his ballast, but he didn't have it. The Reverend Robert was a goodfellow to everybody--a fairly sound-hearted, decent, handsome fellow, but not a man. To be that, one has to know things at firsthand--especially work and trouble. He was a second-hand, school-madethinker. His doctrines came out of the books, but his conduct wasmildly modern. He danced and smoked a little, and played bridge andgolf, and made his visits in a handsome motor-car. 

"Marie liked the young man, and she and her mother rode and trampedabout with him almost every day of that summer. Deacon Joe showedsigns of faintness when he spoke of him. 

"One day I went up to the Benson homestead and found the old mansitting on his piazza alone. 

"'Where's Marie?' I asked. 

"'Off knocking around with the minister, ' said Deacon Joe, in a voicefrail with contempt. 

"'She might be in worse company, ' I suggested. 

"'Maybe, ' he snapped. 

"'What's the matter with the minister?'

"'Nothing, ' said the old man, with a chuckle. 'He's a completegentleman, complete! So plaguy beautiful that he's a kind of a girl'splaything. He couldn't milk a cow or dig a hill o' potatoes. Acts kindo' faint an' sickly to me. '

"The Deacon thoughtfully stirred the roots of his beard with thefingers of his right hand, and went on with a squint and a feeble tonewhich he seemed to think best suited to his subject. 

"'Talks so low you can hardly hear him. I have to set with my hand tomy ear every Sunday to make out what he's sayin', an' he prays as ifhe had the lung fever. Talks o' hell as though it was a quart o' coldmolasses. That's one reason we ain't no respect for it in thiscommunity. Ay--'es! That's the reason. '

"He squinted his face thoughtfully and resumed with more energy. 

"'I like to hear a man get up on his hind legs and holler as they usedto--by gravy! Ye can't scare anybody by whispers. Damn it, sir, whatwe need is an old-fashioned revival. '

"The Deacon halted to take a chew of tobacco, and went on, with asorrowful calmness:

"'Now this young feller don't want to give no credit to God--not abit--no, sir! Science has done everything. I've noticed it time an'ag'in. T'other Sunday he said that an angel spoke to Moses, an' theBible says, as plain as A B C, that God spoke to him. How can heexpect that God is going to bless his ministry, an' he never givin'Him any credit?'

"'It's rather bad politics, anyhow, ' I said. 

"'An' the church is goin' from bad to worse, ' he complained. 'Theaverage attendance is about forty-seven, an' it used to be betweenfive an' six hundred, an' we are all taxed to death to keep it goin'. I have to pay three hundred a year for the privilege o' gittin' madevery Sunday. Two or three of us have got after him an' made himpromise to do better. Some awful free-minded folks have crept into thechurch, an' the fact is, we need their money, ' Deacon Joe went on. 'What the minister ought to do is stick to the old doctrines that aresafe an' sound. 'St'id o' that he's tryin' to sail 'twixt rock an'reef. '

"'Between Scylla and Charybdis, ' I suggested. 

"'Between Silly an' what?' the old man asked, as if in doubt of mymeaning. 

"We were interrupted by the arrival of the Reverend Robert with Marieand her mother, in his handsome landaulet. Marie asked me to go withher to gather wild flowers in a bit of woodland not far away. I went, and soon saw her purpose. She had had the 'jolliest, cutest letterfrom Harry' that she had ever read, and seemed to be in doubt as towhether she ought to let him write to her. 

"'Has your grandfather forbidden it?' I asked. 

"'No. '

"'Then it's up to you, ' I said. 

"'Do you think he cares for me?'

"'I should think him a fool if he didn't, ' I said, looking down intoher lovely dark eyes. 

"'But do you really and truly think that he cares for me?' sheinsisted. 

"'I suspect that he does. '

"'Why?'

"'A lawyer must not betray a confidence. '

"'Do you like him?'

"'Wait until his uneducation is completed, and I'll tell you. I ambeginning to have hope for Harry. '

"'I'm sorry grandpapa is so hateful!' she exclaimed, with a sigh. 

"I stood up for the old man and asked:

"'Do you like the Reverend Robert?'

"'Very much! He's so good-looking, and has such beautiful thoughts!Have you heard him preach?'

"'No. '

"'We think his sermons are fine. Everybody likes them but grandpapa. He wants noise, you know--lung power and old theology. I hate it!'

"'He doesn't take to Robert?'

"'No; he calls him a calf. Nobody is good enough for me, you know. He'd like me to marry some man with a hoe, who would take me to churchand Sunday school every sabbath morning, and for a walk to thecemetery in the afternoon, and down to the prayer-meeting everyWednesday night, and on a journey from Genesis to Revelations once ayear. It's too much to expect of a human being. Then the hoes are inthe hands of Poles, Slavs, and Italians. So what am I to do?'

"'Well, you are young--you can afford to wait a while, ' I said. 

"'But not until I am old and all withered up. I am going to marry theman I love within a year or so, if he has the good sense to ask me. Don't you ever go to church?'

"'No, ' I said. 

"'Why not?'

"I tried to think. There were the ministers--two boys and three oldmen--dried beef and veal! Not to my knowledge had a single one of themever expressed an idea. They were seen, but not felt. The Church! Why, certainly, it was founded on the sweetness, strength, and sanity of agreat soul. I had almost forgotten that. It had grown feeble. It hadgot its fortunes entangled in psychological hair. It should have beencorrecting the follies of the people--their selfishness, their sinfulpride, their extravagance, their loss of honor and humanity. Had I notseen, in the case of Harry and his followers, how the Church hadfailed in its work? Ought it not to have sought and saved them longago--saved them from needless disaster? It should have been appealingto their consciences. If appeals had failed it should have stung themwith ridicule or raised a voice like that of Christ against thePharisees. The Church! Why, it was living, not in the present, but inthe past. Here in Pointview the Church itself had become one of thegreatest follies of the time. 

"'I want you to go next Sunday and hear Mr. Knowles, as a favor tome--won't you?' Marie asked. 

"'Yes, ' I said. 'In the next five Sundays I shall go to everyProtestant church in Pointview. I want to know what they're doing. Ishall put aside my scruples and go. '"

XIV

IN WHICH SOCRATES DISCOVERS A NEW FOLLY

"Well, I went and saw the Reverend Robert Knowles sail between 'Sillyand Charybdis. ' He bumped on both sides, but did it rather gracefully. He reviewed the career of Samuel, who lived and died some thousands ofyears ago. The miraculous touch of Carlyle or Macaulay might easilyhave failed in the task of reviving a man so thoroughly dead. But theReverend Robert entered this unequal contest with no evidence ofalarm. The dead man prevailed. The power of his long sleep fell uponus. My head grew heavy. I felt my weight bearing down upon thecushions. A stiffness came into my bones. 

"On our way to church Betsey had placed the young minister in mythoughts. The trustees had reckoned that he would revive the interestof the young people in Sunday worship; and he did, but it was theworship of youth and beauty. 

"Well, the other churches were emptier than ever, and so the spirituallife of the community was in no way improved. In fact, I guess it hadbeen a little embittered by the new conditions. As soon as it becameknown that Marie had won the prize of his favor the other girls hadreturned to their native altars, having discovered that the newminister was vain, worldly, and conceited. 

"Lettie Davis, who had made a dead set at him, had been stronglyconvinced of that as soon as he began to show a preference for Marie, and the Davis family had left the church and gone over to theMethodists. The young man had been filled with alarm. He feared itwould wreck the church. That old ship of the faith was leaky andiron-sick, and down by the head and heel, as they say at sea. Sherolled if one got off or on her. 

"Such was the condition of things when we entered the church of myfathers. We sat down in the Potter pew a few minutes before theservice began. There were, by actual count, forty-nine people gatheredaround the altar of the old church, and behind us a great emptinessand the ghosts of the dead. In my boyhood I had sat in its dim light, with six hundred people filling every seat to the doors and a man ofpower and learning in the pulpit. 

"Faces long forgotten were there in those pews--old faces, youngfaces. How many thousands had left its altar to find distant homes orto go on their last journey to that nearer one in the churchyard! Myheart was full and ready for strong meat, but none came to me. Themoment of silence had been something rare--like an old Grecian vasewonderfully wrought. Then, suddenly, the singing fell upon us andbroke the silence into ruins. It was in the nature of a breach of thepeace. There are two kinds of people who ought to be gently but firmlyrestrained: the person that talks too much and the person that singstoo much. 

"This young minister undoubtedly meant well. He's about the kind of achap that I've seen in law-offices working for fifteen dollars aweek--industrious, zealous, and able up to a point, and all rightunder supervision. He can be trusted to handle a small case withintelligence and judgment. But I wouldn't go to him for instruction inphilosophy; and if I wished to relay the foundation of my life Ishould, naturally, consult some other person. As one might expect, hehad searched the cellars of theology for canned goods, and withextraordinary success. 

"The young man had so lately arrived in this world he couldn't beexpected to know much about its affairs, and especially about thoseof Samuel. It was graceful and decorous elocution. The Deaconexpressed his opinion of it in snores, and I longed to follow suit. 

"The sermon ended with a dramatic recitation, and on our way out theminister met us at the door. 

"'You must manage to keep these people awake, ' I suggested to him. 

"'How am I to do it?' he asked. 

"'Well, you might have a corps of pin-stickers carefully distributedin the pews, or you could put the pins in your sermon. I recommend thelatter. '

"We went away with a sense of injury. 

"'Let's keep trying, ' said Betsey, 'until you find some one you wouldcare to hear. I would feel at home in any of our churches. These daysthere's no essential difference between Congregationalists, Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, and Episcopalians. I've talked with all ofthem, and their differences are dead and gone. They stand in theprinted creeds, but are no longer in the hearts of the people. '

"'Then why all these empty churches?' I asked. 'Why don't the peopleget together in one great church?'

"'Don't talk about the millennium, ' said Betsey. 'We must try to makethe best of what we have. '

"Well, in the next four Sundays we went from church to church to getstrength for our souls, and found only weakness and disappointment. Immune from ridicule and satire, the sacred inefficiency of our pulpithad waxed and grown and taken possession of the churches. And onethought came to me as I listened. There should be a number of exits toevery Christian church, plainly marked: 'To be used in case of fire. 'Ancient history, dead philosophy, sophomoric periods, bad music, emptypews, weary groups of the faithful longing for home, were, in brief, the things that we saw and heard. It was pathetic. 

"I began to think about it. Here were five church organizations, allweak, infirm, begging, struggling for life. The automobile and thegolf and yacht clubs had nearly finished the work of destruction whichincompetence had so ably begun. There was not much left of them; yettheir combined property was worth about one hundred thousand dollars. They spent in the aggregate fifty-six hundred dollars for ministers'salaries, and their total average attendance was only four hundred andforty-nine. I could see no more extravagant waste of time, work, andcapital in any other branch of human effort. Some would call itwicked, but, though we speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, we had better have kept still. 

"The Reverend Mr. Knowles came to me within a day or two andapologized for his sermon. He complained that he couldn't behimself--that he didn't dare speak his thoughts. 

"'Whose thoughts do you speak?' I asked. 

"'Well, I trail along in the wake of the fathers. '

"'Then you are feeding your flock on corned and kippered thoughts--onthe dried and dug-up convictions of the dead. It isn't fair. It isn'teven honest. The church here is dying of anemia for want of freshfood. The new world must have new thought to fit new conditions. Itsoutlook has been utterly changed. If a man who had never seen alocomotive or a motor-car or a tandem or a telephone or an electriclight or the sons and daughters of a new millionaire or the home andcrest of the same or a bill of a modern merchant were to come down outof the backwoods and try to tell us how to run the world, we shouldthink him an ass, and wisely. Consider how these things have changedthe spirit of man and surrounded it with new perils. '

"'But think of the old fellows--the mossbacks--who hate your newphilosophy, ' said the minister. 

"'And think of the young fellows who are so easily tossed about. Themoss of senility is covering the bloom of youth and the honor ofyouth. '"

XV

IN WHICH HARRY RETURNS TO POINTVIEW AND GOES TO WORK

"Betsey and I were giving a dinner-party at our house. Mr. And Mrs. Henry Delance and the Warburtons and Dan and Lizzie had come over todiscuss a plan for the correction of the greatest folly andextravagance in the village--namely, the waste of its spiritualenergy. 

"At first we had to discuss a fact related to another folly, for theDelances told how Harry's pet collie had come up to the back door thatday with a human skull in his mouth. Of course I knew that Harry'sBishop had returned, but held my peace about it. To them it hadsuggested murder, and they had consulted the chief of police. 

[Illustration: "HARRY'S PET COLLIE HAD COME UP TO THE BACK DOOR WITH AHUMAN SKULL IN HIS MOUTH"]

"'How do you know that it is not one of your ancestors dug up in aback pasture, ' I said. 

"'It might be William the Conqueror, ' Lizzie remarked. 

"'I deny it, ' said Delance, in perfect good nature. 'We have resignedfrom William's family. As a matter of fact, I never joined it. '

"I congratulated him. 

"'It has always seemed like the merest poppycock to me--thisgenealogical craze of the ladies, ' said Henry. 'When our Londonsolicitor wrote that it would take another hundred pounds to establishthe connection beyond a doubt, he gave away the whole scheme, and Iresigned. It was too silly. In these days of titled chambermaids Ithink we shall worry along pretty well without William. '

"Then Betsey said: 'I was reading in the county history to-day thatold Zebulon Delance, who was killed in a fight with Indians in 1750, was buried in a meadow back of his house. '

"'It may be the skull of old Zeb, ' said Henry. 

"'Now there's an ancestor worth having, ' I suggested. 

"'I wonder if it can belong to old Zeb, ' Henry mused. 

"At last we got to my plan. I pictured the condition of the communityas I saw it, and the inefficiency of the church and the need of a newand active power in Pointview. 

"I proposed that we buy the old skating-rink and remodel it, employthe best talent in America, and start a new center of power in thecommunity--a power that should, first of all, keep us sane, and thenas decent as possible. The mathematics of the enterprise were at myfingers' ends:

 "Initial Expenses $15, 000 "Annual Outlay for Instruction 8, 000 "For Music 3, 500 "For Maintenance 1, 000 "For Management 3, 500

"It was no small matter, but the initial expense and the first year'soutlay were subscribed in ten minutes. Betsey set the ball rollingwith an offer of ten thousand dollars, and then it was like shakingripe apples off a tree. 

"'Who is to be the manager?' Delance wanted to know. 'It's a bigjob. '

"'I propose that we try Harry, ' I said; 'in my opinion it willinterest him. I've had him in training for a year or so, and he'sabout ready for big work. '

"'I don't believe Harry can do it, ' his father declared. 

"'I should think it might not be to his taste, ' said Bill Warburton. 

"'But I have later and better information than the rest of you, ' Isaid. 'If you will leave the matter in my hands you may hold meresponsible for the results. '

"They gave me the white card. I could do as I liked. The fact is, Ihad just had a letter from Harry which filled me with new hope. I haveit here. "

The Honorable Socrates Potter took the letter from his pocket andsaid:

"You see, Harry has been discovering America. He is the Columbus ofour heiristocracy. His mental map has been filled with great citiesand splendid hotels, and thrifty towns and enormous areas of wheat andcorn, and astonishing distances and sublime mountain scenes. Moreover, he has learned the joys of a simple life; he had to. Of course, heknew of these things, but feebly and without pride, as one knows theTetons who has never seen them. Leaving in May, he stopped in all thebig cities, and finished his journey from the railroad with astage-ride of some ninety miles. Of the stage-ride and other matters, he writes thus:

"'On the front seat with the driver sat a lady smoking a cigar, who, now and then, offered us a drink from a bottle. At her side was a ladywith a wooden leg, and a hen in her hand. You know every woman is alady out here. The driver swore at the horses, the hen swore at thelady, and several of the passengers swore at each other, and it wasall done in the most amiable spirit. Two rough-necks sat beside me whokept shooting with revolvers at sage-hens as they--the men, not thehens--irrigated the tires with tobacco-juice. At the next stop I gotinto a row with a one-eyed professor of elocution, because he said Icarried too much for the size of my mule, an' didn't speak proper. Heobjected to my pronunciation, and I to his choice of words. In theargument his revolver took sides with him. I got one of my toes loppedwith a bullet, and the lady who carried the cigar and the bottle tookme to her home and nursed me like a mother, and the lady with thewooden leg brought me strawberries every day and sang to me and toldme some good stories. I had thought it was a God-forsaken country, but, you see, I was wrong. There's more real practical Christianityamong these people than I ever saw before, and it's hard work to be anass here. The way of the ass is full of trouble, and I begin tounderstand why you wanted me to come out to Wyoming. The people arerough, but as kind as angels. Felt like turning back, but these womenput new heart in me, especially the wooden-legged one. 

"'"We don't like parlor talk out here, " she said; "it ain't consideredgood ettikit. Folks don't mind a little, but if it goes too fur it'sconsidered insultin' an' everybody begins to speak to ye like he wastalkin' to a balky mule. "

"'I went on as soon as I was able, and spent the whole summer on theback of a cayuse. Got lost in the mountains; went hungry and cold likethe wolf, as Garland puts it, for three days; had to think my way backto camp. It was the best schooling in geography and logic and Americanhumanity that I ever had. Every man at the ranch, and the women, hadbeen out hunting for me. I offered them money, but they woudn't take acent--the joy of seeing me was enough. They haven't a smitch of therevolting money-hunger of the average European. With all its faults Iam proud of my country. I want you to find a good, big American jobfor me. 

"'I have been reading the Bishop of St. Clare, who says: "There hathbeen more energy expended in swaggering about with full bellies and aburden of needless fat than would move the island to the main shore. If thy purse be used to buy immunity from work, it secureth immunityfrom manhood; and what is a man without manhood?"

"'There is the American idea for you. 

"'Deacon Joe has got to change his mind about me. Marie has onlywritten me one letter, and that was a frost. If you have any influencewith the girl, don't let her get engaged to that parson. '

Socrates laughed as he put the letter away, and went on:

"Well, Harry came back, browned and brawny, with his cayuse, saddle, and sombrero, and a shooting-iron half as long as my arm. 

"He came here for a talk with me the day after his arrival. Thesubject of a lifework was pressing on him. 

"'Have you seen Zeb?' was his first query. 

"'Zeb?' I asked. 'Who is Zeb?'

"'That dear old, irrepressible bishop, ' said Harry. 'They have dug himup and named him Zeb, and put him on a top shelf in the library. Theythink he is one of our great-grandfathers. '

"'Oh, he has been promoted, ' I remarked. 

"Harry went on:

"'My dog is responsible for the reappearance of the bishop. I took himwith me that night, and he knew where to find it. Father is sure thatit's the head of old Zeb Delance. '

"'Let the Bishop rest where he is, ' I suggested. 'Now that he hasconverted you, he will probably let up. At least, let us hope that hewill not worry you. Of course he will remind you of past follies everytime you look at him, but that will do you no harm. '

"'Oh, I couldn't forget him! Father has been reading up on Zeb, and hedoes nothing but talk about him. He has learned that the Indiansburied the head and burned the body of a victim. '

"'He symbolizes the change in your taste. Zeb was a man of action--aworker. What do you propose to do now?'

"'Well, I have thought some of following Dan into agriculture. '

"'Don't, ' was my answer. 'You're not the type for that kind of a job. Dan was brought up to work with his hands. I fear that you would be aFifth Avenue farmer. '

"'Well, what would you say to a plant for the manufacture ofaeroplanes? I stopped at Dayton and looked into the matter, andlearned to fly. I have ordered a biplane, and it will be delivered inthe spring. '

"I vetoed that plan, and asked where he proposed to settle. 

"'Right here--if possible, ' said Harry. 

"'Good! There's one thing about your family tree that I like, and youought to be proud of it. Your forebears, having been treated withshameless oppression, came to these inhospitable shores in 1630. Theyneedn't have done it if they had been willing to knuckle down and saythey liked crow when they didn't. They wouldn't do that, so they leftthe old sod and ventured forth in a little sailing-vessel on themighty deep. It required some courage to do that. They landed safely, and for nearly three hundred years their descendants have lived andworked and suffered all manner of hardships in New England. It's aproper thing, Harry, that you should do your work where, mostly, theydid their work--in dear old Connecticut. '

"'And besides, it's the home of Marie, ' he said. 

"'And let us consider what there is to be done in the home of Marie, 'I went on. 'Here in the very town where so many of your fathers havelived and worked we find a singular parade of folly. The idle richfrom a near city are closing in upon us. Many of the Yankees haveacquired property and ceased to work. Back in the distant hills theytoil not, but live from hand to mouth in a pitiful state ofdegeneration. The work of the hand is almost entirely that ofItalians, Poles, Hungarians, and Greeks. 

"'Our tradesmen have a low code of honor. They overcharge us for thenecessities of life. Many of them have been caught cheating. Our wivesand sons and daughters are living beyond their means, as if ignorantof the fact that it is the beginning of dishonesty. Our poverty ismostly that of the soul. The churches are dying, and the sabbath isdead. What we need is a return to the honor, sanity, and common senseof old New England, which gave of its fullness to the land we love. Let's start a school of old-fashioned decency and Americanism. Let'scall it the Church of All Faiths and make it a center of power. '

"I laid the scheme before him in all its details, and then--

"'I'm with you, ' he said, 'and I think I can see Knowles moving andDeacon Joe coming down off his high horse. '

"'Possibly we could use Knowles, ' I suggested. 'There'll be a lot ofdetail. '

"'But only as a kind of clerk, ' said Harry. 

"As a kind of clerk, I agreed. 'We shall need a number of clerks. Iintend that every family within ten miles shall be visited at leastonce a week. We shall not only let our light shine, but we shall makeit shine into every human heart in this community. If they're toocallous we'll punch a hole with our trusty blade and let the light in. The lantern and the rapier shall be our weapons. '

"Harry was full of enthusiasm. He had met Marie on the street, and shewas glad to learn that he was going to work. 

"'Incidentally, I hope to win your grandfather's consent, ' he had saidto her. 

"And she had answered: 'If you could do that I should think you werean extremely able young man. '

"'And worthy of the best girl living?' Harry had urged. 

"'That's too extravagant, ' Marie had said as she left him. 

"Harry went to work with me at once. He bought the rink and the groundbeneath it and some more alongside. We spent days and nights with anarchitect making and remaking the plans, and by and by we knew thatwe were right. Soon the contractor began his work, and in three monthswe had finished the most notable meeting-house of modern times. 

"The walls were tinted a rich cream color, the woodwork was paintedwhite. There were new carpets in the aisles, and between themcomfortable seats for nine hundred people. The fine old pulpit fromwhich Jonathan Edwards had preached his first sermon was the center ofa little garden of ferns and palms and vines and mosses, all growingin good ground, with a small fountain in their midst--a symbol ofpurity. A great sheet of plate glass behind the pulpit showed athicket of evergreens. High above the pulpit was another big sheet ofglass, through which one got a broad view of the sky, and it wasframed in these words: 'The heavens declare the glory of God and thefirmament showeth his handiwork. '

"The walls were adorned with handsome pictures loaned by my friends. On one wall were these modern commandments, most of which were gleanedfrom the masterly volume entitled _The Life and Writings of RobertDelance, Bishop of St. Clare_, which Harry had found in a Londonbookstore:

"1. 'Be grateful unto God, for He hath given thee life, time, and thisbeautiful world. Other things thou shalt find for thyself. '

"2. 'Be brave with thy life, for it is very long. '

"3. 'Waste no time, for thy time is very little. '

"4. 'See that this world is the better for thy work and kindness. '

"5. 'Doubt not the truth of that thy senses tell thee, for thy God isno deceiver. '

"6. 'Love the truth and live it, for no one is long deceived bylying. '

"7. 'Give not unto the beast and neglect thy brother. '

"8. 'Go find thy brothers in the world and see that these be many, fora man's strength and happiness are multiplied by the number of hisbrothers. '

"9. 'Beware lest thy wealth come between thee and them and tend tothine own poverty and theirs. '

"10. 'Suffer little children to come unto thee, for of such is thekingdom of heaven. '

"The simple-hearted old Bishop had just the philosophy we needed. Itseemed to have been carefully designed to meet the inventiveness ofthe modern sinner. He was turning out well and had already exerted awholesome influence on the character of Harry. Would that allancestors were as well chosen!

"We did not wish to hinder the other churches, and that spirit wentinto all our plans. First, then, we decided that our services shouldbegin at twelve o'clock every Sunday, and close at one or beforetwenty minutes after one. That gave our parishioners a chance to goto the other churches if they wanted to. I traveled from Boston to St. Louis, and returned _via_ Washington, to engage talent for our pulpit. I wanted the best that this land afforded, and was prepared to pay itsprice. I engaged nine ministers, distinguished for eloquence andlearning, three Governors, the Mayor of a Western city, two UnitedStates Senators, one Congressman, and a Justice of the Supreme Courtof the land. They were all great-souled men, who had shown in word andaction a touch of the spirit of Jesus Christ. Some of them had beenthrowing light into dark places and driving money-changers from thetemple and casting out devils. They were all qualified to enlightenand lift up our souls. 

"I asked that their lessons should be drawn from the lives of themodern prophets--Abraham Lincoln, Silas Wright, Daniel Webster, Charles Sumner, Henry Clay, Noah Webster, George William Curtis, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Sidney Lanier, Horace Greeley, and others likethem. What I sought most was an increase of the love of honor and therespect for industry in our young men and women. Holiness was a thingfor later consideration, it seemed to me. 

"I put a full-page advertisement in each local paper, which read aboutas follows:

"'The Church of All Faiths. 

"'Built especially for sinners and for good people who wish to bebetter. 

"'Will begin its work in this community Sunday, June 19th, at twelveo'clock, with a sermon by Socrates Potter, Esq. , of Pointview, inwhich he will set forth his view of what a church should do, and anaccount of what this church proposes to do, for its parishioners. Other churches are cordially invited to worship, and to work with usfor the good of Pointview. '

"The curiosity of all the people had been whetted to a keen edge. Theyhad begged for information, but Betsey and I had said that theyshould know all about it in due time. I had given my plan to thecontributors only, and they were to keep still about it. 

"Sometimes silence is the best advertisement, and certain men who seemto be so modest that they are shocked by the least publicity are thegreatest advertisers in the world. The man who hides his candle undera bushel is apt to be the one whose candle is best known. So ithappened with us. Nine hundred and sixteen people filled the seats inour church that morning by twelve o'clock, and two hundred more weretrying to get in. 

"At the next service an honored minister whose soul is even greaterthan his fame preached for us, and that week a petition came to me, signed by six hundred citizens, complaining that the hour wasinconvenient, and asking that it be changed to 10. 30 A. M. I believe inthe voice of the people, and obeyed it; but I knew what would happen, and it did. The other churches were deserted and silent. One by onetheir ministers came to see me--all save one old gentleman in whom thebrimstone of wrath had begun to burn more fiercely. We needed and wereglad to have the help of two of them. There were the sick and the poorto be visited; there were weddings and funerals and countless detailsin the organization of the new church to be attended to. 

"I ought to tell you that a curious and unexpected thing had happened. Fisherfolk, street gamins, caddies, loafers on the docks and in thelivery stables, millionaires and million-heiresses--people who hadthought themselves either above or below religion--came to ourmeetings. Each resembled in numbers a political rally. 

"We have started an improvement school for Sunday evenings, in whichthe great story is told in lectures and fine photographs thrown on ascreen. And not only the great story, but any story calculated toinspire and enlighten the youthful mind. The best of the world's workand art and certain of the great novels will be presented in this way. I am going to get the great men of the world to give us three-minutesermons on the phonograph. Thus I hope to make it possible for ourpeople to hear the voices and sentiments of kings, presidents, premiers, statesmen, and prophets--the men and women who are makinghistory. 

"We have started a small country club where poor boys and girls canenjoy billiards, bowling, golf, and tennis. Any boy or girl in thistown who has a longing for better things is sought and found by ourministers, and all kinds of encouragement are offered. People andclergy of almost every faith that is known here in Pointview areworking side by side for one purpose. Think of that! The revolutionhas been complete and mainly peaceful. As to the expense of it all, we tax the rich, and for the rest we temper the wind to the length oftheir wool. 

"Of course, there were certain people who didn't like it, and amongthem was Deacon Joe. He and four others hired a minister, and sat inlonely sorrow in the old church every Sunday, until the expensesickened them. Then the Deacon got mad at the town, and refused to beseen in it. 

"'Reach everybody, ' had been one of our mottoes, and Deacon Joe saidthat he guessed we wouldn't reach him. "

XVI

WHICH PRESENTS AN INCIDENT IN OUR CAMPAIGN AGAINST NEW NEW ENGLAND

"We had some adventures in new New England which ought to be set down. Here's one of them. 

"The old village of Trent lies back in the hills, a little journeyfrom Pointview, on the shores of a pleasant river. To the unknowingtraveler, who approaches from either hilltop, it has a peaceful andinviting look. But the rutted, rocky road begins at once to excitesuspicion. A bad road is an indication and a producer of degeneracy inman and beast. It tends to profanity, and if it went far wouldprobably lead to hell. Trent itself is one of the little modern hellsof New England. There are the venerable and neatly fashioned houses ofthe old-time Yankee--the peaked roofs and gables, the columns, thecozy verandas, the garden spaces. But the old-time Yankees are gone. The well-kept gardens are no more. Many of the houses are going toruin. One is an Italian tenement. The others are inhabited bycoachmen, chauffeurs, gardeners, mill-hands, and degenerate Yankees. The inn is a mere barroom. Sounds of revelry and the odor of stalebeer come out of it. In front are teams of burden, abandoned, for atime, by their drivers, and sundry human signs of decay loafing in theshadow of the old lindens. Among them are the seedy remnants of a oncenoble race. They are fettered by 'rheumatiz' and the disordered liver. They move like boats dragging their anchors. To make life tolerabletheir imaginations need assistance. They are like the Flub Dubs oflost Atlantis. Each imagines himself the greatest man in the village. They talk in loud words. They quarrel and fight over the crown. So ithas been a brawling, besotted community. 

"Trent's leading citizen is a Yankee politician who owns most of itsreal estate and derives a profit from its lawless traffic. Trent hasbeen his enterprise. 

"Knowles went over there one day to conduct a funeral, which wasinterrupted by a dog-fight under the coffin and nearly broken up by arow over two dollars which had been found in a pocket of the deadman. 

"We opened a club-house next to the hotel, and began a campaign forthe regeneration of Trent. Soon we discovered that its one officer wasunwilling to arrest offenders against law and order. We had himremoved and a new man put in his place. This man was set upon andseverely beaten, and lost interest in the good work. Then Harryapplied for the job and got it. He took with him a force of huskyyoung men--mostly college boys. The first day on duty he arrested inthe street a drunken man who carried in his hands a small sack ofpotatoes. The latter whistled for help, and the enemies of law andorder swarmed out of their haunts. Harry had become an expert ballpitcher, noted for speed and accuracy. He floored his man and tookpossession of the potatoes, with which he proceeded to defend himself. Only two balls were pitched, but they held the enemy in check untilHarry's deputies had rushed out of the club-house. A flying wedgescattered the crowd. No further violence was needed. The ruffians sawthat he meant business and had the nerve and muscle to carry itthrough, and nothing more was necessary--just then. 

"They took the drunken man to the lock-up, and came back and got abartender, and led him in the same path. Harry has the situation wellin hand, and is the most popular man in our community. Every day wehave items to put to his credit, and nothing to charge against hisreputation. There's something going on at the club every evening, andthe rooms are crowded. Those men who had sat day by day brawling underthe lindens now spend most of their leisure in the reading and cardrooms. Peace reigns in Trent. Such is the power of united benevolenceworking with the strong hand and the courageous spirit. "

XVII

WHICH PRESENTS A DECISIVE INCIDENT IN OUR CAMPAIGN AGAINST OLD NEWENGLAND

"Harry was pretty well disabled with affection for a time. He was likea Yankee with the 'rheumatiz, ' and you know when a Yankee gets hold ofthe 'rheumatiz' he hangs on. It don't often get away from him. Itbecomes an asset--a conservational asset--an ever-present help in timeof haying. 

"Since Harry's return the tactics of Marie had been faultless. Hereyes had said, 'Come on, ' while her words had firmly held him off. Heshook the tree every time they met, but the squirrel wouldn't comedown. 

"It was a hard part for Marie to play, between the pressure of twohandsome boys and her duty to grandpapa. The Reverend Robert had wonthe favor of the old gentleman by turning from tennis to agriculturefor exercise. He had gone over to the Benson farm and helped with thespring's work; he had supper there every Sunday evening, after whichhe conducted a little service for the Deacon's benefit. He waspressing, as they say in golf, and it didn't improve his game. I sawthat Marie was not quite so fond of him. I had maintained an attitudeof strict neutrality, but could not fail to observe that Marie hadbegun to lean. 

"'You have captured the rest of Pointview, and you ought to be able totake Benson's Hill, ' Marie had said to Harry. 'Grandfather is the lastenemy of your crusade. '

"It was a timely touch on the accelerator, and Harry began to speed upa little. 

"'The farm is so well defended, and there's nothing I dread so much asa hickory cane, ' the boy had answered. 'The last visit I made to thefarm I wondered whether I was going to convert him to my way ofthinking, or he was going to convert me to jelly. '

"Indeed, Deacon Joe stood firm as a mountain. People were saying thatthe minister would win in a walk, when Marie converted her grandfatherby the most remarkable bit of woman's strategy that I ever observed. It was Napoleonic. 

"One day in May, Harry came, much excited, to my office. Deacon Joewas about to move to his island, a mile or so off shore. He was goingto take Marie with him for an indefinite period. No boat would bepermitted to land there except his own and the Reverend Robert's. Marie would be a sort of prisoner. That day she had told him of theplan of her grandfather. In Harry's opinion Knowles had suggestedit. 

"'Where is the girl's mother?' I asked. 

"'On some Cook's tour in Europe, and the old man is crazy as a Marchhare, ' said my young friend. 'He's got a lot of bulldogs over there, and his hired men have been instructed to shoot a hole in any boatthat comes near. '

"I went over to the Benson homestead that afternoon, and found DeaconJoe sitting on the piazza. '

"'How are you?' I asked. 

"'Not very stout, ' said he; 'heart flutters like a ketched bird. '

"'What are you doing for it?'

"'Doctor give me some medicine; I fergit the name of it, but it is thestuff they use to blow up safes with. '

"'Nitroglycerin! The very thing! I hope they will succeed in blowingup your safe. '

"I was pretty close to the old man, and was always very frank withhim. He liked opposition, and was as fond of warfare as an OldTestament hero. 

"'What, sir?' he asked. 

"'There are some folks that have got to be blowed up before you canget an old idea out of their heads, ' I went on. 'They are locked upwith rust. That's what's the matter with you, Deacon. Your brain needsto be blowed open an' aired. You stored it full of ideas sixty yearsago and locked the door for fear they'd get away. They should havebeen taken out and sorted over at least once a year, and some throwninto the fire to make room for better ones. If life does you any good, if it really teaches you anything, your brain must keep changing itscontents. '

"The Deacon hammered the table with his cane, as he shouted:

"'You cussed fool of a lawyer! Don't you know that truth neverchanges? Truth, sir, is eternal. '

"Then I took the bat. 'Truth often changes, but error is eternal, ' Isaid. 'You know when you want to prove anything, these days, youquote from the memoirs of a great man. Well, I was reading the memoirsof the late Doctor Godfrey Vogeldam Guph not long ago. He told of aman who was very singular, but not so singular as the doctor seemed tothink. This man knew more than any human being has a right to know. Heknew the plans of God, and had formed an unalterable opinion about allhis neighbors. Then he locked up his mind and guarded it night andday, for fear that somebody would break in and carry off its contents. And it did seem as if people wanted to get hold of his treasure, forthey often came and asked about it, and some even questioned itsvalue. He said, "Away with you--truth is eternal, and my soul is fulland I will part with none of it. "

"'Meanwhile the truth about things around him began to change. NeighborSmith became a good man. Neighbor Brown became a bad man. PriscillaJones, who had been a vain and foolish woman, was one of the saints ofGod. The foundations of the world had changed. In a generation ithad grown millions of years older and different--wonderfullydifferent! Even God himself had changed, it would seem. His methods werenot as people had thought them. His character was milder. Everythinghad changed but this one man. Now when he died and came to St. Peter, the latter said to him:

"'"Who were your friends?"

"'The new-comer thought a minute, and mentioned the names of somepeople who had been long dead. "They know the truth about me, " hesaid. 

"'"Ah, but the truth changes, and they haven't seen you in manyyears, " said St. Peter. 

"'"But I have not changed, " said the man. "I am just as when they sawme. "

"'"Then you are a fool or the chief of sinners, " said St. Peter. "Behold a man as changeless as the flint-stone, who has made nofriends in over forty years! That is all I need to know about you. Take either gate you please. "

"'"One leads to Heaven--doesn't it?" said the new-comer, in greatalarm. 

"'"Yes, but you wouldn't recognize the place. There isn't a soul inparadise that cares which way you go--not a soul in all its multitudethat will be glad to see you. They have better company. Stranger! gowhich way you please, Heaven will be as uncomfortable as hell. "

"Deacon Joe gave me close attention, and I saw that my sword hadnicked him a little. Anything that affected his hope of Paradise wassure to engage his thought. He shook his head, and said that he didn'tbelieve it. But he couldn't fool me. I knew that the seed of changehad struck into him. 

"I gave him another thrust. 'Deacon, you knew Harry Delance when hewas a fool. But the truth about _him_ has changed. He is now ahard-working, level-headed young fellow, and you ought to be hisfriend. '

"'Wal, I like the way he cuffed them fellers over at Trent, ' said theDeacon. 'He pounded 'em noble--that's sartin. Mebbe if he licks a fewmore men I'll begin to like him. '

"'Give him a chance, ' was my answer. 'I hear that you are going tomove for the summer. '

"'Goin' to my island to-morrow, ' said Deacon Joe. 'I'm sick of theautymobiles an' the young spendthrifts hangin' around Marie, an' herextravagance, an' the new church nonsense, an' the other goin's-on. I've got a good house there, an' Marie an' I are goin' to rest an'stroll around without bein' run over until her mother comes back. Theonly trouble I have there is the hired men. They rob me right an'left. I wish somebody would lick them. '

"'You really need a young man like Harry, ' I urged. 'And Marie needshim. She'll be lonely over there. '

"'Not a bit, ' said the Deacon. 'She'll have a saddle-horse, and youngKnowles can come over once a week, if he wants to. I hear he's donesplendid lately. '

"'He's doing well, but I am inclined to think that Harry is the betterman, ' I said, taking sides for the first time. 

"'I don't believe it, ' was the answer of Deacon Joe. 'Knowles isgetting pretty sensible, and his voice is stronger. '

"The Deacon moved next day, and when Sunday came I went over in a boatwith the Reverend Robert at eight o'clock in the morning. I was takinga stroll on the beach when I met him, and he asked me to go along. Itwas just a social call, he explained. Incidentally, he was going topray and read a Scripture lesson at the Deacon's request. As we leftthe dock, Harry came riding by on one of his thoroughbreds and Iwaved my hand to him. When we got to the Deacon's landing, I said toRobert:

"'As I am not invited, perhaps you had better announce me to DeaconJoe, while I stay here in the boat. '

"'All right, ' he said, as he gaily jumped ashore and tied the painterrope. 

"Robert hurried in the direction of the little house, and had coveredhalf the distance, when a bulldog came sneaking toward him. Robert sawthe dog, and ran for a tree. He was making handsome progress up thetrunk of the tree when the dog reached him, and, seizing a leg of histrousers, began to surge backward. The cloth parted at the knee, andbetween the pulling of man and dog, Robert lost about all the lowerend of one trousers-leg. The hired man came running out with some moredogs, and said:

"'It's all right, Mr. Knowles, you can come down. I hope he didn'thurt you. '

"'Excuse me, ' said the young man, 'but I think I'll stay here awhile. '

"Three dogs stood at the foot of the tree looking anxiously upward. 

"'They won't hurt you while I'm here, ' said the hired man. 

"'I won't take any chances, ' said Robert. 'Go shut up your lions, andI'll come down. '

"'Who's that in the boat?' the hired man asked. 

"'Mr. Potter, ' said Robert. 

"'Well, he mustn't land 'less the old man says so--I don't care who heis. '

"Just then the hired man changed his position suddenly, and stoodlooking into the sky. I turned and saw an aeroplane coming down likesome great bird from the hills, behind the village. It sailed highabove the spires, and coasted down to a level some fifty feet abovethe water-plane between shore and island. In a minute or so it roaredover me, circled the point, and came down in the open field thatfaced the Deacon's cottage. Dogs and chickens flew and ran in greatconfusion as it swooped to earth. I knew that Harry and his new flierhad reached the island of Deacon Joe, and I hurried ashore tosee--well, 'to see what I could see, ' as the old song has it. Harryjumped from his seat. The hired man ran toward him. Deacon Joe andMarie and a woman-servant hurried out-of-doors. 

"In less time than it takes to tell it, Harry had licked the hiredman, and kicked two dogs in the belly till they ran for life, and shotanother one, and was chasing a second hired man around the wood-shed. Not being able to run fast enough to do further damage, Harry came tothe astonished group in front of the house and caught Marie in hisarms and kissed her. 

"Then he turned to the Deacon, and said: 'Sir, I will keep off yourisland if you wish, but I do not propose to be bluffed when I come topay my compliments to you and Marie. '

[Illustration: "HE LOOKED LIKE A MAN WITH A WOODEN LEG"]

"Deacon Joe was dumb with astonishment. The young minister came downout of his tree and walked slowly toward the group, with rags flappingover one extremity of his union-suit. He looked like a man with awooden leg. 

"'How did ye get here?' Deacon Joe demanded of Harry. 

"'Jumped from the top of Delance's Hill and landed right here, ' saidthe latter. 

"'In that awful-lookin' thing?' the Deacon asked, pointing with hiscane and squinting at the big biplane. 

"'In that thing, ' Harry answered. 

"'How long did it take ye?'

"'About five minutes. '

"'It's impossible, ' said the Deacon, as he approached the biplane andbegan to look at it. 

"'But you'll see me jump back again in a little while, ' Harry assuredhim. 

"'Geehanniker!' the Deacon exclaimed. 'Jumped from the top ofDelance's Hill an' licked my caretaker an' chased a hired man an'sp'ilt two dogs an' treed the minister and kissed the lady o' thehouse--all in about ten minutes. I guess you're a good deal of afeller. '

"It was the kind of thing that warmed the warrior soul of the Deacon. 

"'Hello--here's a dead dog, ' said Harry. 'If you'll have one of themen bring me a shovel I'll bury him there in the garden. Meanwhile youmay tell me how much I owe you for the two dogs. '

"'I guess about twenty-five dollars, ' said the Deacon. 

"'How much off for cash?' Harry asked. 

"'Wal, sir, if you ain't goin' to ask me to charge it, ten dollarswould do, ' the Deacon allowed. 

"'There's a wonderful power in cash, ' said Harry, as he produced themoney. 

"'You're gettin' some sense in your head, ' said the Deacon. 

"The shovel was brought; and Harry, who had expected to shoot a dogor two and had been practising for this very act, put his victim underthree feet of soil in as many minutes. That also pleased the Deacon. 

"'Purty cordy, too, ' the latter said, as he turned to Marie. 'Now, girl, take your choice. I want to know which is which, an' stop bein'bothered about it. '

"She made her choice then and there, and as to which of the two it mayhave been you will have no doubt when I tell you that Marie hadplanned every detail in this bit of strategy and Harry had been manenough to put it through. 

"'You know Zeb's commandment has been a help to me, ' he said, when Ioffered congratulations. '"Be brave with your life, for it is verylong. "'

"The Deacon has changed. His heart and mind are open. Every Sunday youmay see him in a front seat, drinking at the new fount of inspiration;and it is a rule of his life to make a new friend every day. I'minclined to think that the old man has been saved at last. 

"Yes, we try to reach everybody in one way or another. "

THE END