[Illustration Caption: Martha told him that he had always been herideal and that she worshipped him. ]

HER WEIGHT IN GOLD

By GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON

NEW YORK

1914

Nearly all of the stories presented in this volume appeared separatelyin various magazines. The author desires to acknowledge his thanks tothe publications for courtesies extended by their editors: TheNational Magazine, Short Stories, the Saturday Evening Post, TheReader, The Woman's World, Good Housekeeping and The IllustratedSunday Magazine. 

CONTENTS

HER WEIGHT IN GOLD

THE MAID AND THE BLADE

MR. HAMSHAW'S LOVE AFFAIR

THE GREEN RUBY

THE GLOAMING GHOSTS

WHEN GIRL MEETS GIRL

QUIDDLERS THREE

THE LATE MR. TAYLOR

THE TEN DOLLAR BILL

HER WEIGHT IN GOLD

"Well the question is: how much does she weigh?" asked Eddie Ten Eyckwith satirical good humour. 

His somewhat flippant inquiry followed the heated remark of GeneralHoratio Gamble, who, in desperation, had declared that his step-daughter, Martha, was worth her weight in gold. 

The General was quite a figure in the town of Essex. He was thepresident of the Town and Country Club and, besides owning a splendidstud, was also the possessor of a genuine Gainsborough, picked up atthe shop of an obscure dealer in antiques in New York City for aridiculously low price (two hundred dollars, it has been said), andwhich, according to a rumour started by himself, was worth a hundredthousand if it was worth a dollar, although he contrived to keep thesecret from the ears of the county tax collector. He had married latein life, after accumulating a fortune that no woman could despise, andof late years had taken to frequenting the Club with a far greaterassiduity than is customary in most presidents. 

Young Mr. Ten Eyck's sarcasm was inspired by a mind's-eye picture ofMiss Martha Gamble. To quote Jo Grigsby, she was "so plain that allcomparison began and ended with her. " Without desiring to appearungallant, I may say that there were many homely young women in Essex;but each of them had the delicate satisfaction of knowing that Marthawas incomparably her superior in that respect. 

"I am not jesting, sir, " said the General with asperity. "Martha maynot be as good-looking as--er--some girls that I've seen, but she is ajewel, just the same. The man who gets her for a wife will be a blamedsight luckier than the fellows who marry the brainless little fools wesee trotting around like butterflies. " (It was the first time thatEddie had heard of trotting butterflies. )

"She's a fine girl, " was his conciliatory remark. 

"She is pure gold, " said the General with conviction. "Pure gold, sir. "

"A nugget, " agreed Eddie expansively. "A hundred and eighty poundnugget, General. Why don't you send her to a refinery?"

The General merely glared at him and subsided into thoughtful silence. He was in the habit of falling into deep spells of abstraction at suchtimes as this. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how Marthacame by her excessive plainness. Her mother was looked upon as abeautiful woman and her father (the General's predecessor) had been aman worth looking at, even from a successor's point of view. ThatMartha should have grown up to such appalling ugliness was a source ofwonder, not only to the General, but to Mrs. Gamble herself. 

Young Mr. Ten Eyck was the most impecunious spendthrift in Essex. Helived by his wits, with which he was more generously endowed thananything in the shape of gold or precious jewels. His raiment wasaccumulative. His spending-money came to him through an allowance thathis grandmother considerately delivered to him at regular periods, butas is the custom with such young men he was penniless before thequarter was half over. At all times he was precariously close to beingsubmerged by his obligations. Yet trouble sat lightly upon his head, if one were to judge by outward appearances. Beneath a bland, care-free exterior, however, there lurked in Edward's bosom a perpetualpang of distress over the financial situation. 

What worried him most was the conviction that all signs pointed towardthe suspension of credit in places where he owed money, and, Young Mr. Ten Eyck's sarcasm was inspired by a mind's-eye picture of Miss MarthaGamble. To quote Jo Grigsby, she was "so plain that all comparisonbegan and ended with her. " Without desiring to appear ungallant, I maysay that there were many homely young women in Essex; but each of themhad the delicate satisfaction of knowing that Martha was incomparablyher superior in that respect. 

"I am not jesting, sir, " said the General with asperity. "Martha maynot be as good-looking as--er--some girls that I've seen, but she is ajewel, just the same. The man who gets her for a wife will be a blamedsight luckier than the fellows who marry the brainless little fools wesee trotting around like butterflies. " (It was the first time thatEddie had heard of trotting butterflies. )

"She's a fine girl, " was his conciliatory remark. 

"She is pure gold, " said the General with conviction. "Pure gold, sir. "

"A nugget, " agreed Eddie expansively. "A hundred and eighty poundnugget, General. Why don't you send her to a refinery?"

The General merely glared at him and subsided into thoughtful silence. He was in the habit of falling into deep spells of abstraction at suchtimes as this. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how Marthacame by her excessive plainness. Her mother was looked upon as abeautiful woman and her father (the General's predecessor) had been aman worth looking at, even from a successor's point of view. ThatMartha should have grown up to such appalling ugliness was a source ofwonder, not only to the General, but to Mrs. Gamble herself. 

Young Mr. Ten Eyck was the most impecunious spendthrift in Essex. Helived by his wits, with which he was more generously endowed thananything in the shape of gold or precious jewels. His raiment wasaccumulative. His spending-money came to him through an allowance thathis grandmother considerately delivered to him at regular periods, butas is the custom with such young men he was penniless before thequarter was half over. At all times he was precariously close to beingsubmerged by his obligations. Yet trouble sat lightly upon his head, if one were to judge by outward appearances. Beneath a bland, care-free exterior, however, there lurked in Edward's bosom a perpetualpang of distress over the financial situation. 

What worried him most was the conviction that all signs pointed towardthe suspension of credit in places where he owed money, and, as heowed without discrimination, the future seemed hard to contemplate. 

Prudent mothers stood defiantly between him and what might have beenprosperity. He could win the hearts of daughters with shamefulregularity and ease, but he could not delude the heads of the familiesto which they belonged. They knew him well and wisely. 

The conversation between him and General Gamble took place in thereading-room of the Town and Country Club. There was a small tablebetween them, and glasses. 

"What is the market price of gold to-day, General?" asked Eddieimpudently, after he had watched the old man's gloomy countenance outof the corner of his eye for the matter of three minutes or more. 

The General regarded him with deep scorn. "Gold? What do you knowabout gold? You seldom see anything more precious than copper. "

"That's no joke, " agreed Eddie with his frank smile. "I am the only, original penny limit. That reminds me, General. I meant to speak of itbefore, but somehow it slipped my mind. Could you lend me--"

The General held up his hand. "I've been waiting for that, Eddie. Don't humiliate yourself by asking for a small amount. I haven't theremotest idea how much you already owe me, but it doesn't matter inview of the fact that you'll never pay it. You were about to requestthe loan of ten dollars, my boy. Why not ask for a respectableamount?--say, fifty dollars. "

Eddie's heart leaped. "That's just the amount I meant to ask you tolet me have for a week or two. 'Pon my word, it is. "

"Well, " said the General, taking a notebook from his pocket andcarefully jotting down an entry with his gold-tipped pencil, "Icheerfully give it to you, Eddie. I shall credit your account withthat amount. Fifty dollars--um! It is a new system I have concluded toadopt. Every time you ask me for a loan I shall subtract the amountfrom what you already owe me. In time, you see, the whole debt will belifted, --and you'll not owe me a cent. " Eddie blinked. A slow grincrept into his face as he grasped the irony in the General's scheme. 

"Fine financing, General. It suits me to a dot. By the way, do youthink you can spare another hundred or two?"

"The books are closed for the month, " said the General placidly. Herang the bell on the table. "More ice, boy, and the same bottle. As Iwas saying, Eddie, I can't for the life of me see why you fellows areso blind when it comes to Martha. She is--"

"We are not blind, " interrupted Eddie, not at all annoyed by hisfailure to negotiate the loan. "That's just the trouble. If a blindman came along, I've no doubt he could see something attractive inher. "

"Damme! If she were my own daughter, I'd thrash you for that remark, sir. "

"If she were your own daughter, you wouldn't be discussing her with ahigh-ball in your hand. "

The General coughed. "Ahem! Eddie, I'd give a good deal to see thatgirl married. Leave the bottle on the table, boy. She will have money--a lot of it--one of these days. There are dozens of young men that weknow who'd do 'most anything for money. I--By George!" He broke off tostare with glittering eyes at the face of the young man opposite. Agreat thought was expanding in his brain. 

Eddie shifted nervously. "Why are you looking at me like that? I don'tneed it that badly. "

"I'd never thought of you, Eddie, --'pon my word I hadn't. Not untilthis moment. You need money worse than any one I know. There isn'tanother girl in town who would marry you, and Martha WOULD. Believeme, she would! And let me tell you, sir, you couldn't find a truerwife than Martha. You--"

"She couldn't help being true, " mused Eddie, rattling the ice in hisempty glass. The General pushed the bottle toward him. 

"She is a bit older than you, I'll admit, " pursued the Generalreflectively. "Worth her weight in gold, " he murmured with a sort ofecstasy in his voice. 

Young Ten Eyck assumed an injured air. "I am poor, General Gamble, butI am NOT blind. "

"She likes you, " went on the older man, revelling in the new-foundhope. "You don't amount to much, --and she knows it, I suppose, --butyou can have her, my boy. She'll be the richest girl in Essex when Idie. Take her, my boy; I gladly give my consent. Will you permit me tocongratu--"

"One moment, if you please. In a case like this, you would NEVER die. It would be just my luck. No, I thank you. I decline the honour. Ifyou could perform a miracle and transform her into REAL gold, I mightconsider the proposition, but not as it now stands. "

"She weighs about one-eighty, " said the General speculatively. 

Eddie glanced at him sharply. "One hundred and eighty pounds in gold. Quite a pile, eh?"

The General was silent for a long time, permitting the vague idea tothrive in his harassed mind. His young companion was moodily trying toestimate the value of one hundred and eighty pounds of virgin gold. 

At last the General reached a conclusion. It was a rather heroiceffort. He relighted his cigar with trembling fingers. 

"I suppose you haven't heard of the wedding present I intend to bestowupon the fortunate man who leads her to the altar!" said he, castingthe fatal die. 

"No; but a separate house and lot wouldn't be despised, I should say. "

"Nonsense. By the way, Eddie, this must not go any farther. It'sstrictly entre nous. I don't want to have the dear girl pestered todeath by fortune hunters. On his wedding day the man who marriesMartha is to have the equivalent of her weight in double eagles. Isn'tthat ra--rather handsome?"

He sank back and waited for the seed to sink deeply into Ten Eycksoil. Eddie's eyelids flickered. The grin of a Cheshire cat came tohis lips involuntarily and remained there without modification for thematter of an hour or two. 

"Great!" he said at last. 

"I must be on my way, " observed the wily step-father, beating aretreat so hastily that Eddie missed the opportunity to scoff. But thecontemplative smile remained just as he had left it. 

Several days passed before the two met again. The General had sowedwisely, and he was reasonably certain of the harvest. He knew that itwould be hard for young Ten Eyck to bring himself to the sacrificialaltar; but that he would come and would bend his neck was a foregoneconclusion. He went on the theory that if you give a man rope enoughhe'll hang himself, and he felt that Eddie was almost at the end ofhis rope in these cruel days. 

As for Eddie, he tried to put the thought out of his mind, but as timewent on he caught himself many times--(with a start of shame)--tryingto approximate the worth of Martha Gamble on the basis set forth byher step-father. The second day after the interview he consulted afriend of his who happened to be a jeweller. From him he ascertainedthe present market value of twenty-four carat gold. So much for thestart!

His creditors were threatening to sue or to "black-list" him; hisfriends long since had begun to dodge him, fearing the habitualrequest for temporary loans; his allowance was not due for severalweeks. Circumstances were so harsh that even Martha appeared desirableby contrast. He felt an instinctive longing for rest, and peace, and--pecuniary absolution. 

He was therefore deserving of pity when he finally surrendered to theinevitable. How he cursed himself--(and his creditors)--as he set outto find the General on that bright spring day when every other livingcreature on earth seemed to be happy and free from care. Kismet!

General Gamble was reading in a quiet corner of the Club. That is tosay, he had the appearance of one reading. As a matter of fact, he hadbeen watching Eddie's shy, uncertain evolutions for half an hour ormore, and he chuckled inwardly. As many as ten times the victimstrolled through the reading room, on the pretext of looking for someone. Something told the General that he was going to lose Martha. 

At last Eddie approached him. He came with the swift impetuosity of aman who has decided and is afraid to risk a reaction. 

"Hello, General, " was his crisp greeting as he dropped into the chairwhich the astute old gentleman had placed, with premeditation, closeto his own some time before. He went straight to the point. "I've beenthinking over what you said the other day about Martha. Well, I'llmarry her. "

"You!" exclaimed the General, simulating incredulity. "You!"

"Yes. I'll be IT. How much does she really weigh?"

"Are--are you in earnest, my boy?" cried the other. "Why, she'll betickled to death!"

"May I have her?"

"God bless you, --YES!"

"I suppose I ought to go up and see her and--and tell her I love her, "said Eddie lugubriously. "Or, " with a fine inspiration, "perhaps youwouldn't mind telling her for me. I--"

"Tell her yourself, you young rascal, " cried the General in fine goodhumour, poking his prospective stepson-in-law in the ribs. 

Eddie winced. "You can do that to me now, but if you jab me in theribs after I'm married I'll jab you in the eye. "

"Good! I like your spirit. Gad, I love a fighting-man! And now, myboy, it seems to me there's no sense in delaying matters. You have myconsent. As a matter of form you ought to get Martha's. She'll takeyou, of course, but I--I suppose she would like the idea of beingproposed to. They all do. I daresay you two can settle the point in ajiffy in some quiet nook up at the--But, there! I shall not offersuggestions to you in an affair of the heart, my son. Will you be upto see her this evening?"

Eddie drew a long breath. "If--if she has no other engagement. "

"Engagement?" gasped the General, with popping eyes. "She hasn't satup after eight o'clock in four years, except on Christmas Eve. Youwon't be disturbed; so come around. "

"Perhaps, to be sure of finding her up, I'd better come to dinner. "

"By all means. Stay as late as you like, too. She won't get sleepy to-night. Not a bit of it. " He arose to depart. 

"Just a moment, General, " said Eddie curtly. "We've got a fewpreliminaries to arrange before I commit myself. Here is a paper foryou to sign. Business is business, you know, and this is the firstreally business-like thing I've ever done. Be good enough to read thispaper very carefully before signing. "

General Gamble put on his glasses and read the brief, but amplecontract which bound him to pay to Edward Peabody Ten Eyck, on the daythat he was married to Martha Gamble, for better or for worse, anamount equivalent to the value of her weight in pure gold. Hehesitated for one brief, dubious moment, then called for pen, ink, andpaper. When these articles were brought to him, he deliberately drewup a second contract by which Edward Ten Eyck bound himself to wedMartha Gamble (and no other) on a day to be named by mutual consent ata later date--but not very much later, he was privately resolved. 

"Now, " said he, "we'll each sign one. You sha'n't get the better ofme, my boy. "

Each signed in the presence of two waiters, neither of whom knew thenature of the instruments. 

"Troy weight, " said the General magnanimously. "She is a jewel, youknow. "

"Certainly. It's stipulated in the contract--twenty-four carat gold. You said pure, you remember. You may have noticed that I take her atthe prevailing market price of gold. It is now four cents a carat. Twenty-four carats in a pennyweight. That makes ninety-six cents perpennyweight. Twenty pennyweight in an ounce, and there we havenineteen dollars and twenty cents per ounce. We'll--we'll weigh her inby ounces. "

"That's reasonable. The price of gold isn't likely to fluctuate much. "

"It must be distinctly understood that you keep her well-fed from thisday on, General. I won't have her fluctuating. She hasn't any sillynotions about reducing, has she?"

"My dear fellow, she poses as a Venus, " cried the General. "Good! Andhere's another point: pardon me for suggesting it, but you understandthat she's to weigh in--er--that is to say, her clothing is to beweighed in with her. "

"What's that?"

"You heard what I said. She's to be settled for--dressed. " "Good Lord, she isn't a chicken!"

"Nobody said she was. It is fit and proper that her garments should beweighed with her. Hang it all, man, I'm marrying her clothes as wellas anything else. "

"I will not agree to that. It's preposterous. "

"I don't mean her entire wardrobe. Just the going-away gown and hat. You can't very well ask her to weigh herself without any--But asgentlemen we need not pursue the matter any farther. You shall haveyour way about it. "

"She has a fine pair of scales in her bedroom. She weighs herselfevery night for her own gratification. I don't see why she can't do itonce or twice for my sake. "

"But women are such dreadful liars about their own weight. She'll besure to lop off fifteen or twenty pounds in the telling. Hang it, Iwant witnesses. "

The General assumed a look of distress. "Remember, sir, that you arespeaking of your future wife. You'll have to take her word. "

Eddie slumped down in his chair, muttering something aboutniggardliness. 

"I suppose I'll have to concede the point. " His eyes twinkled. "I say, it would be a horrible shock to you, General, if she were to refuse meto-night. "

"She sha--WON'T!" said the General, setting his jaw, but turning ashade paler. "She'll jump at the chance. "

Eddie sighed dismally. "Doesn't it really seem awful to you?"

"Having you for a son-in-law? YES. "

"You know I'm only doing this because I want to set up in business formyself and need the money, " explained the groom-elect in an effort tojustify himself. "Oh, another little point. I'd almost forgotten it. Isuppose it will be perfectly convenient for us to live with you for ayear or two, until I--"

"No!" thundered the General. "Not by a long shot! You go tohousekeeping at once, do you understand?"

"But think of her poor mother's feelings--"

"Her mother has nothing whatever to do with it, sir. See here, we'llput that in the contract. " He was visibly disturbed by the thought ofwhat the oversight might have meant to him. "And now, when shall wehave the wedding?"

"Perhaps we'd better leave that to Martha. "

"We'll leave nothing to anybody. "

"She'll want to get a trousseau together and all that sort of thing. I'm ready to go through with it at any time, but you know what girlsare. " He was perspiring. 

"Yes, " said the General with a reminiscent light in his eye. "Idaresay they all enjoy a few weeks of courtship and love-making. "

Eddie gulped suddenly and then shot a quick, hunted look toward thebuffet door. 

"Have a drink?" demanded the other abruptly. He had caught the sign ofdanger. 

They strolled into the buffet, arm-in-arm, one loving the world ingeneral, the other hating everybody in it, including the General. Before they parted Eddie Ten Eyck extracted a solemn promise from hisfuture step-father-in-law that he would ascertain Martha's exactweight and report the figure to him on the following day. 

"It will seem easier if I know just about what to expect, " explainedthe young man. 

That very afternoon the General, with a timidity that astonished him, requested his stepdaughter to report her correct weight to him on thefollowing morning. He kept his face well screened behind his newspaperwhile speaking, and his voice was a little thick. 

"What for, father?" asked Martha, looking up from her book insurprise. Her eyes seemed to grow even larger than the lenses of herspectacles. 

"Why, you see--er--I'm figuring on a little more insurance, " hestammered. 

"What has my weight to do with it?"

"It isn't life insurance, " he made haste to explain. A bright ideastruck him. "It is fire insurance, my dear. "

"I don't see what my--"

"Of course you don't, " he interrupted genially. "It's this way. Thefire insurance companies are getting absurdly finicky about the risks. Now they insist on knowing the weight of every inmate of the housesthey insure. Has something to do with the displacement of oxygen, Ibelieve. Your mother and I--and the servants, too--expect to beweighed to-night. "

"Oh, " she said, and resumed her reading. 

He waited for a while, fumbling nervously with his watch chain. 

"By the way, my dear, " he said, "what have you been doing to thatbully chap, Eddie Ten Eyck?"

"Doing to him? What do you mean?"

"Just what I say. "

"I haven't seen the miserable loafer in months, " she said. Her voicewas heavy, not unlike that of a man. For some reason she shuffleduneasily in her chair. The book dropped into her capacious lap. 

"You've been doing something behind my back, you sly minx, " he chided. "What do you think happened to-day?"

"To Eddie Ten Eyck?"

"In a way, yes. He came up to me in the Club and asked my permissionto pay--er--court to you, my dear. He said he loved you better than--Hey! Look out there! What the dev--Hi, Mother! Come here quick! GoodHeaven, she's going to die!"

Poor Martha had collapsed in a heap, her arms dangling limply over theside of the chair, her eyes bulging and blinking in a most grotesquemanner. At first glance one would have sworn she was strangling. Afterwards the General denounced himself as an unmitigated idiot forhaving given her such a shock. He ought to have known better. 

Mrs. Gamble rushed downstairs in great alarm, and it was not longbefore they had Martha breathing naturally, although the Generalalmost made that an impossibility by the ruthless manner in which hefanned her with the very book she had been reading--a heavy volumewhich he neglected to open. 

The whirligig room reduced itself to a library for Martha once more, not so monotonous as it once had been, no doubt, but still a library. Out of the turmoil of her own emotions, she managed to grasp enough ofwhat the General was saying to convince herself that this was notanother dream but a reality, and she became so excited that her motheradvised her to go to bed for a while before dinner, if she expected toappear at her best when Eddie arrived. 

For the first time since early childhood, Martha blushed as sheattempted to trip lightly upstairs. As a matter of fact, she DID tripon next to the top step and sprawled. Under ordinary circumstances shewould have been as mad as a wet hen, but on this happy occasion shemerely cried out, when her parents dashed into the hall below onhearing the crash:

"It's good luck to fall upstairs!"

The fires of life had been rekindled, and when such a thing happens toa person of Martha's horse-power, the effect is astonishing. At four o'clock she began dressing for the coming suitor. When he arrived atseven, she was still trying to decide whether her hair looked betterby itself or with augmentations. 

Below, in the huge library, Eddie Ten Eyck sat disconsolate, nervouslycontemplating the immediate future. He was all alone. Not even aservant was to be seen or heard. It was as still as the Christmas Evewhose jingle we love so well. 

Never in all his aimless existence had he felt so small, sounimportant, so put-upon as at this moment. His gaze, sweeping theceiling of the library, tried to penetrate to the sacred precinctsabove. Even the riches and the stateliness of the Gamble mansionfailed to reimburse his fancy for the losses it was sustaining witheach succeeding minute of suspense. Dimly he recalled that GeneralGamble had spent nearly half a million dollars in the construction ofthis imposing edifice. The library was worth more than one hundredthousand dollars; the stables were stocked with innumerablethoroughbreds; the landed estate was measured by sections instead ofacres; the stocks and bonds were--But even as he considered thequestion of assets, there surged up before him an overwhelmingliability that brought the General's books to balance. 

By this time, Eddie had become so proficient in the art of rapidcalculation that he could estimate within a few ounces just what aperson would have to weigh in order to be worth as much as thelibrary, the mansion, or the bonds. The great Gainsborough that hungin the west end of the room corresponded in value (if reports weretrue concerning the price Gamble had asked for it) to a woman weighinga shade over two hundred and three pounds troy. 

He lifted a handsome bronze figure from the library table andmurmured: "It's worth a ten-pound baby, twenty-two hundred dollars anda fraction. "

The General came in, followed closely by the butler, who bore a trayholding at least ten cocktails. After the greetings, Eddie glanceduneasily at the cocktails. 

"Is--is it to be as big a dinner as all this?" he asked ruefully. 

"Oh, no. Just family, my boy; we four. The women don't drink, Eddie, so help yourself. "

Eddie gratefully swallowed three in rapid succession. 

"I see you mean to make it absolutely necessary for me to take thegold cure, " he said with a forlorn smile. 

Martha put in an appearance at seven-thirty, having kept dinnerwaiting for half an hour, much to the amazement of those who had livedwith her long enough to know her promptness in appearing for meals. 

Mr. Ten Eyck, who was a rather good-looking chap and fastidious to adegree, did not possess the strength to keep his heart anywhere nearthe customary level. It went hurtling to his very boots. He shookhands with the blushing young woman and then involuntarily shranktoward the cocktails, disregarding the certainty that he would findthem lukewarm and tasteless. 

She was gotten up for the occasion. But, as it was not her costumethat he was to embrace in matrimony, we will omit a description of thecreation she wore. It was pink, of course, and cut rather low in orderto protect her face from the impudent gaze of man. 

Her face? Picture the face of the usual heroine in fiction and thencontrive to think of the most perfect antithesis, and you have Marthain your mind's eye much more clearly than through any description Icould hope to present. 

She was squat. Her somewhat brawny shoulders sloped downward andforward--and perhaps a little sidewise, I am not sure about that. Herhair was straw-coloured and stringy in spite of the labour she hadexpended on it with curling-iron and brush. As to her face, the morenoticeable features were a very broad, flat nose; a comparativelychinless under jaw, on which grew an accidental wisp of hair or two; anarrow and permanently decorated upper lip. When she smiled--well, theeffect was discouraging, to say the least. Her eyes were pale andprominent. In spite of all this, practice in rouging might have helpedher a little, but she had had no practice. Young men never came to thehouse, and it was not worth while to keep up appearances for the oldones who were content to dodder at the end of the way. You would sayat a glance that she was a very strong and enduring person, somewhatalong the lines of a suffragette ward politician. 

The dinner was a genial one, after all. The General was at his best, and the wine was perfect. In lucid moments, Eddie found himselfreflecting: "If I can drink enough of this I'll have delirium tremensand then I won't have to believe all that I see. "

Martha had always called him Eddie. In fact, every one called himEddie. He was that sort of a chap. To-night, he observed, with a hazyinterest, she addressed him as Mr. Ten Eyck, and rather frequently, atthat. It was: "Do you really think so, Mr. Ten Eyck?" or "How veryamusing, Mr. Ten Eyck, " or "Good gracious, Mr. Ten Eyck, " until poorEddie, unused to this distinction, reached a point where he mutteredsomething in way of protest that caused the General to cough violentlyin order to give his guest a chance to recover himself before it wastoo late. 

After dinner the General and Mrs. Gamble retired somewhatprecipitously, leaving the young people alone. 

Eddie heaved a tremendous sigh of decision and bravely crossed theroom. Martha was seated upon the davenport, nervously toying with herfan. He saw with misgiving that she evidently expected something wasgoing to happen. Her eyes were downcast. 

He stood silent and somewhat awed before her for many minutes, takingthe final puffs at an abbreviated cigarette. Then he abruptly sat downat the opposite end of the couch. As he did so, she thought she heardhim mutter something about "one hundred and seventy, at the lowest. "

"So many people have given up playing golf, Mr. Ten Eyck, " she said. "I am surprised that you keep it up. "

"Golf?" he murmured blankly. 

"Weren't you speaking of your score for the eighteen holes?"

He gazed at her helplessly for a moment, then set his jaw. 

"Say, Martha, " he began, in a high and unnatural treble, "I am a manof few words. Will you marry me? Oh! Ouch! What the dickens are youdoing? O--oh! Don't jump at me like that!"

The details are painful and it isn't necessary to go into them. Suffice it to say, she told him that he had always been her ideal andthat she had worshipped him from childhood's earliest days. He, on theother hand, confessed, with more truth than she could have guessed, that he had but recently come to a realisation of her true worth, andwhat she really meant to him. 

She set the wedding day for November the eleventh, --just seven weeksoff. 

Before leaving, --she kept him until nearly twelve, --he playfully cameup behind her as she stood near the table, and, placing his handsunder her elbows, said:

"Hold 'em stiff now. "

Then, to her amazement, he tried to lift her from the floor. Hecouldn't budge her. 

"It's all right, " he exclaimed exultantly and refused to explain. 

That night in his dreams an elephant came along and stood for a whileon his chest, but he was used to it by that time, and didn't mind. 

The next morning, General Gamble reported by telephone that Marthaweighed one hundred and sixty-eight pounds and nine ounces. A minutelater, Eddie was at his desk calculating. 

On the twenty-third of September she weighed two thousand and twenty-five ounces troy. At nineteen dollars and twenty cents an ounce shewas then worth $38, 880. With any sort of luck, he figured, she mightbe expected to pick up a few pounds as the result of her new-foundhappiness and peace of mind. Her worries were practically over. Contented people always put on flesh. If everything went well, sheought to represent at least $40, 000 on her wedding day. Perhaps more. 

He haunted the Country Club by day and the town clubs by night, alwayspreoccupied and figuring, much to the astonishment of his friends andcronies. He scribbled inexplicable figures on the backs of golf cards, bar checks, and menus. 

By the end of the first week he had made definite promises to all ofhis creditors. He guaranteed that every one should be paid before themiddle of November. Moreover, he set aside in his calculations the sumof $7, 000 for the purchase of a new house. Early in the second week hehad virtually expended $15, 000 of what he expected to receive, and wasgiving thanks for increased opportunities. 

He called at the Gamble house regularly, even faithfully. True, heurged Martha to play on the piano nearly all of the time, but to allintents and purposes it was a courtship. 

When the engagement was announced, the town--in utter ignorance of theconspiracy--went into convulsions. The half-dozen old maids in uppercircles who had long since given up hope began to prink and perkthemselves into an amazing state of rejuvenation, --revival, you mightsay. They tortured themselves with the hope that never dies. They evenlent money to impecunious gentlemen who couldn't believe their sensesand went about pinching themselves. 

Eddie Ten Eyck's credit was so good that he succeeded in borrowingnearly five thousand dollars from erstwhile adamantine sceptics. 

One day the General met him in the street. The old soldier wore atroubled look. "She's sick, " he said without preamble. "Got pains allover her and chills, too. "

"Is it serious?" demanded Eddie. 

"I don't know. Neither does the doctor. He's waiting for developments. Took a culture to-day. She's in bed, however. "

"SHE MUST NOT DIE, " said Eddie, a desperate gleam in his eye. "I--can't afford to have anything like that happen now. Can't she bevaccinated?"

At the end of the second day thereafter it was known all over townthat Martha Gamble was ill with typhoid fever. She was running atemperature of 104 degrees and two doctors had come up from New Yorkto consult with the Essex physician, bringing with them a couple oftrained nurses. They said her heart was good. 

After the consultation, the General and Eddie sat alone in thelibrary, woebegone and disconsolate. 

"They think they can pull her through, " said the former vaguely. 

"Curse 'em, " grated Eddie; "they've GOT to do it. If there is theleast prospect of her dying, General, I must insist that the weddingday be moved forward. I'll--I'll marry her to-day. By Jove, it mightgo a long way toward reducing her temperature. "

"Impossible! We shall stick to the original agreement. " "Confound you, I believe you are hoping she'll die before the eleventh of November. It would be just like you, General Gamble. "

"I'm not hoping for anything of the sort, sir, " thundered the other. "But, if it SHOULD happen--" He did not finish the sentence, but therewas a green light in his eyes. 

Eddie was silent for many minutes. 

"And if she SHOULD die, where do I come in, or get off, or whatever isthe proper thing to say in the circumstances? It wouldn't be fair tome, General Gamble. You know it wouldn't. It would be a damnedoutrage. Here am I, a devoted lover, eager to make her happy--to MAKEHER LAST MOMENTS happy ones, mind you, and you sit there and deny herthe consolation of--"

"All's fair in love, my boy, " said the General blandly. 

"Rats!"

"Martha wasn't strong enough to stand the excitement. It was like asudden and frightful change in the weather. Her constitution couldn'tfight it off. " "Constitution? Good Lord!"

"We ought to make allowances, my boy. "

"I am in no position to make allowances. Are these doctors any good?"

"The best in New York City. "

"And the nurses? Everything depends on good nursing. "

"They are real Canadians. "

"General, up to the time I was eleven years old I said my prayersevery night. I'm going to begin again to-night, " said Eddie solemnly, as he passed his hand across his brow. 

The days went by with monotonous similarity. Bright or dark, wet ordry, they looked the same to Eddie Ten Eyck. At first he had beenpermitted to visit her once or twice a day, staying for a few minuteson each occasion. After a while the visits were stopped by thedoctor's order. But still he haunted the Gamble mansion. He waylaidthe doctor; he bribed or coerced the nurses; he watched the sick-roomdoor with the eye of a hungry dog; he partook inordinately of theGeneral's liquors. Martha was delirious, that much he was able togather by persistent inquiry. She seemed obsessed with the idea thatshe and Eddie were to keep house in Heaven, with two cherubs and ahypodermic syringe. 

Mrs. Gamble was deeply touched and not a little surprised by thedevotion of her daughter's fiance. She turned to him in these hours ofdespair and gave to him a large share of her pity and consolation. Sheasked him to pray for Martha. He said he had been praying for some oneelse nearly all his life, but henceforth would put in a word forMartha. 

The wedding day was near at hand when an unexpected and alarmingcomplication set in. The doctors were hurriedly gathered inconsultation. There was a crisis. One of the nurses confided to Mr. Ten Eyck that there was no hope, but the other declared that if thepatient survived the eighth of November she would "be out of thewoods. " The eighth was three days off. Those three days were spent byEddie in a state of fearful suspense. He implored Providence and Fateto stand by him until after the eleventh. He went so far as to add acouple of days to include the thirteenth, not being superstitious. Thenight of the eighth was a memorable one. No one in the Gamble housewent to bed. The ninth came and then the doctors appeared with gladtidings. The crisis was past and there was every chance in the worldfor the patient to recover, unless of course, some unforeseencomplication intervened. 

Eddie staggered out to the stables and performed a dance of joy. 

"What's her temperature?" he demanded of one of the grooms, absentlyrepeating a question he had asked five thousand times during the pastfew weeks. "I beg your pardon, Smith. " Then he hurried back to thehouse. Meeting one of the doctors he gripped him by the arm. 

"Is she sure to live, doc--doctor?"

"Forever, " said the doctor, meaning to comfort him. 

"No!" gasped Eddie. 

"Let me congratulate you, Mr. Ten Eyck. She is quite rational now and--pardon me if I repeat a sick-room secret--she declares that thereshall be no postponement of the wedding. She is superstitious aboutpostponements. "

Eddie hesitated. "Ahem! Is--is she emaciated?"

"No more than might be expected. "

"I--I hope she hasn't wasted very much. "

"Skin and bones, " said the doctor with the most professionalbluntness. 

Eddie mopped his brow. "You--you don't mean it! See here, doctor, youought to advise very strongly against the--er--marriage at this time. Tell her it would kill her. The shock, I mean. I am willing to wait--GOD KNOWS, I am only too willing to wait--until she is strong and welland herself once more. Tell her--"

"Perhaps you would better talk it over with her father, Mr. Ten Eyck. I am not--"

"Her father--" began Eddie, but caught himself up. 

"I would not answer for her safety if a postponement were evensuggested. Her heart is set on it, my dear fellow. She will be strongenough to go through with it. "

"But I want to be married in church. "

"I daresay you will agree with me when I say that your feelings arenot to be considered in a crisis of this kind, " said the doctorcoldly, and moved away. 

At noon on the eleventh Martha awoke from a sound and restful sleep. Sweet lassitude enveloped her, but her mind went groping for somethingthat had been troubling her in a vague sort of way for the last forty-eight hours. 

"Is it the eleventh?" she whispered, stretching out her hand to thewatchful nurse. 

"Yes, my dear. Now try to go to sleep again--"

"Where is Mr. Ten Eyck?"

"Sh!"

"What time is it!"

"Now don't worry about the time--"

"Is it night or day?"

"It is noon. "

"I am to be married at eight o'clock this evening, Miss Feeney. "

"Yes, yes, I know, " soothingly. 

"You might send word to Mr. Ten Eyck that I shall be ready. He mayforget the ring unless you tell him that--there--is--to be--no post--"She went to sleep in the middle of postponement. 

While the nurses were preparing her for the ceremony, General Gamblesent word into the sick-room that the doctor desired her correctweight--for scientific purposes. 

The patient, too weak to help herself, was lifted upon the scales, where she remained long enough for it to be seen that she weighedseventy-three pounds and eight ounces. She was then hustled into bed, but seemed to be in even better spirits than before, confiding to thenurses that she knew Mr. Ten Eyck was partial to slender women, andthat if she had anything to do with it she'd never weigh more than onehundred and ten again, "as long as she lived. "

"One hundred and ten is a lovely weight, don't you think, MissFeeney!" she asked. 

Miss Feeney was feeling her pulse. The other nurse was trying to sticka mouth thermometer between the patient's lips. 

"It is a much lovelier weight than seventy-three, " said Miss Feeneygently. 

The General, in the privacy of his bed-chamber, reduced the pounds toounces and found that Martha, in her present state, represented eighthundred and eighty-four ounces. He could not suppress a chuckle, eventhough he felt very mean about it. She was worth $16, 972 in gold. Herillness had cost him approximately $2, 000 in doctors' fees, et cetera, but it had cost Eddie Ten Eyck $21, 911 in pure gold, with twenty centsover in silver. 

It is said that the bridegroom almost collapsed when he looked for thefirst time upon his emaciated investment. It was worse than he hadexpected. She was literally "skin and bones. "

Mechanically, semi-paralysed, he made the responses to the almoststaccato words of the clergyman. The ceremony was hurried through at alively rate, but to Eddie it seemed to take hours. Her fingers feltlike a closed fan in his own pulseless hand. He replied "I do" and "Iwill" without really being aware of the fact, and all the time he wasgazing blankly at her, trying to remember where he had seen herbefore. 

Away back in the dim, forgotten ages there was a robust, squat, valuable figure; but--this! His brain reeled. He was being married toan utter stranger. His loss was incalculable. 

We will speed over the ensuing months. It goes without saying thatMartha became well and strong and abominably vigorous in the matter ofappetite. Her days of convalescence--But why go into them? They areinteresting only to the person who is emerging from a period ofsuffering and fasting. Why dwell upon the reflections of Eddie TenEyck as he saw an erstwhile stranger transformed into an oldacquaintance before his very eyes? Why go into the painful detailsattending the stealthy payment of nearly $17, 000 by the party of thefirst part to the party of the second part, and why tell of the usesto which the latter was compelled to put this meagre fortune almostimmediately after acquiring it? No one cares to be harassed by thesemiserable, mawkish details. 

One really needs to know but one thing: the bridegroom soon stoodshorn of all his ill-gotten gains, unless we except the wife of whomno form of adversity could rob him. 

A month after the wedding, Eddie was eagerly awaiting the fourthquarterly instalment of his allowance. He was out of debt, it is true, but he never had been poorer in all his life. The thing that appalledhim most was the fact that he had unlimited credit and did not possessthe courage to take advantage of it. He could have borrowed right andleft; he could have run up stupendous accounts; he could have livedlike a lord. But Martha, before she was really able to sit up in bed, began to talk about something in a cottage, --something that made himturn pale with desperation, --and bread and cheese and kisses, entirelywith an eye to thrift and what Eddie considered a nose for squalor. Hecouldn't imagine anything more squalid than a subsistence on the threecommodities mentioned. In fact, he preferred starvation. 

Martha harped for hours at a stretch on how economically she couldconduct their small establishment, once they got into the house he hadbound himself to buy in his days of affluence. She seemed to take itfor granted that she would be obliged to skimp and pinch in order toget along on what Eddie would be able to earn. 

"Our meat and grocery bills will be almost nothing, Eddie dear, " shesaid one day, with an enthusiasm that discouraged him. "You see, Imean to keep my figure, now that I've got it. I sha'n't eat a thingfor days at a time. "We'll have no meat, nor potatoes, nor sugar--"

"Just bread and cheese, " said he wanly. 

"And something else, " she added coquettishly. 

"Kisses are fattening, " he said. 

"Goodness! Who ever told you that?" she cried in dismay. 

"A well-known specialist, " he said, his mind adrift. 

"Well, there is one thing sure, Eddie, " she declared firmly; "we willnot go into debt for anything. We positively must keep out of debt. Iwon't have you worrying about money matters. "

"I'm not likely to, " said he with conviction. 

He then began to watch for signs of decrepitude in the General. 

As soon as Martha was strong enough to travel, her step-fathersuggested that they go South for the winter instead of opening thelittle house down the street. He went so far as to offer to pay theexpenses of the trip as a sort of belated wedding gift. 

Eddie objected. He said that his real estate business was in such astate that he couldn't afford to leave it for a day. 

"I didn't know you HAD a business, " exclaimed the General. 

"I am making arrangements to take up a Government claim in Alaska, "said his son-in-law grimly. 

"Great Scott!"

"I'm going to some place where I can DIG for gold. "

"Are you in earnest?"

"Bitterly. "

"And--and would you subject Martha to the rigours of an Alaskan winterin--"

"Inasmuch as we shall have to subsist on snowballs until you pass inyour cheques, General, I think we'd better go where they are fresh andplentiful. "

Fortunately for the bride and groom, everybody that was anybody inEssex gave them a wedding present. Not a few, in a fever ofexultation, gave beyond their means, and a great many of them withunintentional irony gave pickle dishes. By the time they were ready togo into their new home, it was cosily, even handsomely furnished. TheGeneral, contrite of heart, spent money lavishly in trying to make thehome so attractive for Eddie that he wouldn't be likely to desert itfor something worse. 

The groom's sense of humour was only temporarily dulled. He notedsigns of its awakening when he assisted in the unpacking of fourcheval mirrors, gifts to the bride from persons who may or may nothave been in collusion but who certainly wanted Martha to see herselfas others saw her, and, as it turned out, from all sides. 

The glow of health--an almost superhuman health--increased in thecountenance of Mrs. Edward Ten Eyck. Her hair was a bit slow inrestoring itself, and a shade or two darker, but on the other hand, despite all she could do to prevent it, she resumed her naturalproportions with a rapidity that was sickening. 

It was not long before her figure was unquestionably her own. 

Eddie tried to conceal his dismay. He even tried to drown it. Theirfirst quarrel grew out of her objection to the presence ofintoxicating liquors in the house. 

"I don't approve of whiskey, " she said flatly. 

"But you had it at your house. "

"You forget that he was only my stepfather. "

"He isn't in the past tense yet, " said he bitterly. 

"I've always maintained that whiskey should be used for medicinalpurposes only. "

"Then please don't worry about it, " said he curtly. "I've ordered abarrel of it. "

"For--for medicinal purposes?" "Strictly. "

She studied his face with uneasy alarm in her eyes. 

"You--don't feel as though you were going to be ill, do you, dear?"

He moved to the opposite side of the table, involuntarily lifting hisleft elbow as if to shield himself. She stopped half-way. Then helaughed awkwardly and turned the subject. 

One day he reached the startling conclusion, that she was gettingheavier than she had ever been before. It required days ofcontemplation, scrutiny, and development of purpose before he couldask her to step onto the scales at the meat market. 

A cold perspiration started on his forehead as he moved the balancealong the bar and found it would be necessary to use the two-hundredpound weight instead of the one-hundred, the fifty, and divers smallones that had been sufficient in days of yore. 

She weighed two hundred and three pounds. 

At nine o 'clock that night some one took him home from the EssexClub, and Martha was in hysterics until the doctor, summoned withhaste and vehemence, assured her that her husband was not dead. 

The approach of springtime found Eddie in a noticeably run-downcondition. Friends and acquaintances began to remark that he was"going to seed in a hurry, " or "he's awfully run down at the heel, " or"I've never seen such a change in a man. "

He was no longer the gay, whilom, inconsequent man about town. Thebest proof of this was his utter lack of pride in the matter of dressand his carelessness in respect to his personal appearance. Once hehad been the beau-ideal of the town. Nowadays he slouched about thestreets with a cigarette drooping listlessly between his lips, hisface unshaven, his clothes unpressed and dusty. There was always ahunted, far-away look in his eyes. 

Habitues of the Club began to notice that he was once more makingmathematical calculations on the backs of envelopes or the margins ofnewspapers and magazines. No one pretended to explain this queer habitof his, but they observed that his efforts represented sums inmultiplication. Occasionally, as if to throw them off the track, hedid a sum in subtraction, and there were frequent lapses intosimplified addition. 

It was noted, however, that the numerals one, nine, decimal, two and acipher, invariably in that sequence, figured somewhere in everycalculation. 

General Gamble could have solved the mystery, but he maintained arigid silence. In his heart, the old schemer nurtured a fear thatsooner or later Eddie would commit suicide or run away, either ofwhich would signify the return of Martha to the mansion she haddeserted for a cottage. And he knew that if she ever came back itwould be as a permanent visitor. 

He encountered his son-in-law frequently at unexpected times and inunusual places, and was never without the feeling that the young maneyed him balefully. He could feel the intensity of that unwaveringgaze for hours after meeting Eddie. It was an ardent, searching lookthat seemed to question his right to survive the day. 

After such meetings, the General was wont to survey himself long andfearsomely in the first mirror or show window that presented itself. He began to wonder if he was in failing health. At times he thought hediscerned signs of approaching decrepitude, but his doctor assured himthat he was never healthier or happier than he appeared to be at thisparticular period in his life. 

Still, he could not shake off the rather ghastly feeling that Eddiewas secretly praying that his days were numbered. 

One day at the Club he complained of a severe pain in his back, andthe very next day he was shocked to find his son-in-law dressed insombre black with a strip of crape around his arm. Immediately onseeing the General in his usual state of health, Eddie solemnlyremoved the band from his sleeve and, carefully rolling it up, stuckit into his waistcoat pocket. 

"I'm saving it for a rainy day, " said Eddie with a cold-blooded smile. 

"Good Heaven!" said the General, and at once felt the pain return tohis back. 

"Have you seen Martha lately?" asked Eddie, tapping the bell on thetable. 

"Oh, yes, " said the General, settling a little deeper into his chair. "She is looking remarkably well. "

"Do you know what she weighs at present?"

"Of course not. She took the scales over to your house. Besides, Idon't care a hang. "

"Day before yesterday she weighed two hundred and ninety-eightpounds. " His voice rose to a shrill screech. "It's a blamed outrage!"He dropped his chin into his hands and went on muttering vaguely, hiseyes glued to the top button of the General's waistcoat. 

"By Jove, she IS doing well. "

"She can hardly walk. If she keeps on, she won't be able to see, either. Her eyes are almost lost. I screwed up the courage to take along look at her to-day. She has lost her neck entirely and I haven'tthe remotest idea where her ears are. "

"I--I DO feel sorry for you, Eddie, " cried the General, moved byunexpected compunction. 

Eddie rambled on. "Sometimes I sit down and actually watch her grow. You can notice, it if you look steadily for a given time. "

The two sat stiff and silent for many minutes. Eddie stole a slyglance at his companion's ruddy face. 

"You are a remarkably well preserved man, General, " he venturedspeculatively. "Would you mind telling me your age?"

"I am seventy-one, Eddie, if it is any encouragement to you, " said theGeneral eagerly. 

"You look good for another ten years, " said Eddie hopelessly. 

"I am a little worried about my heart, " prevaricated the General. Hemeant to be magnanimous. Eddie did not look up, but his eyes began toblink rapidly. "There is heart disease in the family, you know. "

"Then maybe Martha has--er--has--"

"Has what, my son!"

"I forgot. She is only your step-daughter. I was worried for a moment, that's all. "

In the fall of the year, Eddie announced to his father-in-law thatMartha was tipping the beam at three hundred and fourteen pounds, three ounces, and increasing daily. The General gave vent to an uneasylaugh, whereupon Eddie, mistaking his motive, launched into a tiradethat ended with the frantic wish that the old man would hurry up anddie. 

"Now, Eddie, don't talk like that! I have about made up my mind to dosomething handsome for you and Martha. I have practically decided tomake her an allowance for clothing and so forth--"

"Clothing!" groaned Eddie. "She doesn't want clothes. What could shedo with 'em? I am the one who needs clothes. Look at me. Look at thefrayed edges and see how I shine in the back. There is a patch or twothat you can't see. I put those patches on myself, too. Martha is sodarned fat she can't hold a pair of trousers in her lap. Moreover, shecan't sew with anything smaller than a crochet needle. Look at me! Iam growing a beard so that people can't see my Adam's apple. That'show poor and thin I'm getting to be. Now just listen a minute; I'llgive you a few figures that will paralyse you. "

He jerked out his lead pencil and with the rapidity of a lightningcalculator multiplied, added, and subtracted. 

"She is worth $72, 403. 20 to-day. What do you think of that? Prove thefigures for yourself. Here's the pencil. "

"I don't care to--"

"The day of the wedding, " went on Eddie wildly, "she weighed in at$16, 972. 80, I think. See what I mean? She's bulling the market and Ican't realise a cent on her. She's gone up $55, 430 in less than ayear. Suffering Isaac! Why couldn't she have weighed that much a yearago?" He was so furious that he chopped off his words in such a waythat they sounded like the barking of a dog. 

The General pushed back his chair in alarm. 

"Calm yourself, Eddie. "

"Oh, I'm calm enough. "

"Martha will be a very rich woman when I die, and you won't have to--"

"That sounds beautiful. But don't you see that she's getting so blamedfat that she's liable to tip over some day and die before I can findany one to help me set her up again? And if that should happen, willyou kindly tell me WHERE _I_ WOULD COME IN?"

"You are a heartless, mercenary scoundrel, " gasped the General. 

"Well, you would be sore, too, if this thing had happened to you, "whined Eddie. He sprang to his feet suddenly. "By thunder, I can'tstand it a day longer. Good-bye, General. I'm going to skip out. "

"Skip out! Leave her? Is that what you mean?"

"Yes. She can always find a happy home with her mother and you. I'moff to the--"

"For Heaven's sake, " cried the General hoarsely, "don't do that, Eddie. Don't you dare do anything like that. I--I--I am sure we canarrange something between us. I'm not a stingy, hard-hearted man, andyou know it. You deserve relief. You deserve compensation. I am yourfather-in-law and, damme, I'll not go back on you in your time ofneed. I'll make up the amount you have already lost, 'pon my soul Iwill, Eddie. Stand by your guns, that's all I ask. "

A seraphic expression came into Eddie's face. "When?" he demanded. 

"Immediately. Can you come to my house this evening? Alone, ofcourse. "

"I should say I can!" shouted Eddie, growing two inches taller in aninstant. He took the package of crape from his pocket and threw itinto a cuspidor. Then he sighed profoundly. "Gad, have you ever feltlike another man, General? It's great. "

As the General was past the point where he could risk saying anotherword, he maintained a strenuous silence. 

Eddie indulged in an expansive grin. "You asked if I could come alone. That's the only way I can come. If you ever expect to see Martha, General, you will have to come to my house to do so. Do you rememberthat saying about Mahomet and the mountain?"

THE MAID AND THE BLADE

Over two centuries ago. Virginia, fair Virginia, in her most rugged, uncouth state, yet queen of all the colonies, rich in the dignity ofan advanced settlement, glorious in prophecies and ambitions; thefavoured ward of England's sovereigns, the paradise of her royalpillagers, the birthplace of American Freedom. 

Jamestown was in the throes of a savage struggle, confined not toherself alone, but spreading to the farthermost ends of the apparentlyunbounded state. The capital fight was on, the contest waging betweenthe town in which grew Bacon's rebellion and Williamsburg, in whichWilliam and Mary College had just been born, an infant venture thatseemed but a mockery in the wilds. Boisterous, boasting Jamestown, since the rule of Berkeley and the unfortunate overthrow of Bacon, hadresumed a state of composure which she had not known in the fivepreceding decades, and was beginning to look upon herself as theundisputed metropolis of the wilderness. The impudence ofWilliamsburg, with her feeble scholastic claims, was not evencondemned--it was ignored. 

The crude fort at Jamestown held a merry garrison, the Governor havingimpressed upon royalty across the sea the importance of troops in aland where unexpected rebellions against authority might succeed thepartially triumphant uprising against Sir William in 1676. Bacon'sdeath in the October of that year had lost the fight which had beenfairly won, and it was wisdom which told the new Governor that troopswere essential, even in time of peace. 

The commander of the garrison was Colonel Fortune. The number andquality of his troops are not important factors in this tale. 

Among the men were a dozen or more subalterns, fresh from England, undergoing their first rough work in the forests of Virginia. In thisfledgling crowd were young Grafton, afterward a general; Mooney, Vedder, Hoicraft and others, whose names, with those of their Virginiacompanions went into colonial history. 

Near the fort were the homes of the officers, the Governor's residencebeing but a short distance down the rough, winding lane, which wasdignified by the name of street. Colonel Fortune's home was thehandsomest, the merriest of them all, a typical frontier mansion. Amansion of those days could be little more than a cottage in these, yet the Colonel's was far brighter, gayer than the palace of today. Inhis house gathered chivalrous subalterns from English homes, stalwartVirginians of inherited gallantry, the men and women from whom sprungthe first families of that blue blood which all Americans cherishlovingly and proudly. 

His board was more hospitable than that of the Governor, his favourswere coveted more eagerly even than were those of his superior. Stern, exacting, yet affable and courteous, he was the idol of a people whosehatred for those who ruled them had wrought ruin more than once. Mrs. Fortune, a lady of gentle birth closely related, in fact, to a certainbranch of nobility, shared the power of her husband. 

But there was a colonial queen whose reign was of more consequence tothe youth of Jamestown than was that of the august person across thesea. She was queen of hearts, this daughter of theirs, airy KateFortune. Daintiest maid in all the land, famed for her wit, herfollies, her merry loveliness, her dimples and her sunshine, she wasthe wiliest tempter who ever laid unconscious siege against man'sindifference. The English officers called her an angel, the moredeferential Virginians moaned that she was a witch, yet would not haveburned her for the whole universe. On the contrary, they sacrificedthemselves to the worship of her craft. War and strife were forgotten, the treacheries of the Indians were minimised, and a score or more ofdreamers, awake or asleep, found their minds so full of dainty Katethat thought of else could work no means of entrance. In that year ofour Lord, Jamestown was a veritable cauldron of rivals, fair suitorsall, some bold, some timid, none hopeful. 

Strange as it may appear to those who live these two centuries later, there were no jealousies, no bitterness among them. In those good daysthe favoured man's best friends were his beaten rivals. Kate's kingdomwas not large, was not glittering, but her sceptre was mighty. It wasmade of tenderness and beauty. 

For two months the Governor's nephew had been her most ardent admirer, notwithstanding the fact that he had been in Virginia but sixty days. His surrender had been instantaneous. 

Ordinarily the nephew of the Governor, who was a lord of the realm, might be considered a superior rival, but in this instance he was noteven feared. He had come to Jamestown with exalted ideas. He dressedbetter, talked better and lived better, and he seemed to hold everyman in the colony in disdain. Friendly, courteous even to the lowestsoldier, he still gave forth the impression that he was condescending, not alone to those beneath, but to those above him. That this scion, this self-ordered perfect man, should have drifted to the coloniesfrom the drawing-rooms of London only to fall in love with KateFortune seemed incredible. 

Moreover, he had refused to wrestle in the contests at the fort, andhad failed to fight the man who had warmly called him a coward in thepresence of others. 

Tales of his conduct in that and other exhibitions had been spread, and the good-looking young officer eventually became a laughing-stock. One day, however, he pulled the nose of an impudent lieutenant. Whenthe red-faced lieutenant insisted upon satisfaction with swords hemerely turned pale and ignored the challenge. 

"I came here to fight the Indians, not to kill my comrades, " he hadsaid, and a disdainful laugh followed, bringing a flush to his face ashe walked away. 

Kate Fortune rather admired the easy elegance of the stranger, yetdespised his lack of courage, the story having come to her promptlyenough. She began to treat him coldly and he was at last driven tofeel that he was her most unwelcome suitor. One day he bluntly askedher why she treated him so unkindly. 

"Captain Studdiford, I will be frank with you, " replied the girl. "Howcan you expect me to admire a man who submits to the ridicule of awhole company of men, not one of whom seems able to cope with him instrength or in the experience of arms? I am the daughter of an Englishsoldier; that should be sufficient reason for my conduct. If I havemistreated you it was because I could not help it. " She saw a look ofpain come and go in his flushed face, hence the hasty apology, such asit was. 

"So I am an object of derision to you, as well as to them, " heobserved, quietly. "I shall not intrude myself again, Miss Fortune. Iam brave enough to tell you, for the first time, and in the face ofyour evident dislike, that I love you better than I ever dreamed Icould love a woman. " He was turning away in apparent indifference ashe concluded this strange avowal. 

Kate planted herself squarely before him, her pretty, perplexed facetwitching between a smile and a frown, wonder fairly popping from hercurious blue eyes. 

"Isn't it cowardly to say that when you know how I feel? You are safein confessing something that you already know I cannot consider, " shesaid. 

"I would rather not discuss it. You may treat it as a jest, ascowardice, or what you like. I cannot control your treatment of thebest thing an honest man has to give a woman. " It left the girlstanding on the tips of her toes in sheer surprise. She was at no timea dignified queen, but she was an inquisitive one. 

"But, Captain, you must not go away fearing that I--I shall treatlightly what you have said to me, " she murmured. 

"Fearing? Why should I fear your ridicule more than that of others?You are brighter, more bewitching, more tantalising than any woman Ihave ever known--you are maddening--do you hear? Ah, I crave yourpardon for so far forgetting myself as to dwell upon a matter which Ishould have forgotten in your displeasure. By the way, I should liketo tell you why I will not accommodate these young fools with a duel, why I have controlled my natural desire to resent their insults. Ihave fought one duel and I have killed a man. These men would have nomore chance than that man had. You may tell them so. Farewell!"

She watched his tall figure move from her dooryard and disappear inthe direction of the river. Then Kate sat down in the window and gazedhalf regretfully toward the opening in the timber through which he hadpassed. 

It began to occur to her that Captain Studdiford was somehow thesuperior of any man she had ever seen. She felt a joy that he hadfought a duel, although the thought that he had killed a man causedher to shudder. With the shudder, however, came the relieved feelingthat he had not been the victim. Her face flushed faintly, too, as sherecalled his strange avowal of love. 

That same night a half dozen young men, with as many maids, dropped into spend the chilly evening before the Colonel's roaring fires. Theywere toasting apples and chattering gaily when Kate suddenly turned toa young Virginian, and with taunting eyes, cried:

"Morton Trask, I know why Captain Studdiford would not fight a duelwith you. "

"So do I, " responded Trask. "Because he feared me. "

"'Twas no such reason. He says he does not choose to kill anything butIndians. " A big laugh went up from the men. 

"The fool! Did he say that to you?" cried Trask. 

"He truly did; and, besides, he has fought and killed a man. "

"Ho! Ho!" laughed Trask, disdainfully. 

"Did he stab him in the dark?" questioned Farring. 

"He lies if he says he fought aught save a boy, " sneered Trask. 

"Yet he pulled your valiant nose until it was red for near a week, "said Kate, cheerily. 

"Oh, would that I were at him--the coward!" cried Trask, white andtrembling. 

"You can pull his nose when next you meet him, Morton, it is yourturn, you know, " said Kate, laughingly, and Trask glared at theburning logs in angry silence. 

"Please forgive me, Morton; I did not mean to hurt you by recalling aprevious injury, " cried Kate, and Trask's injury increased with hercontrition. 

"I cannot see why you defend the Captain, Miss Fortune, " venturedFarring. 

"Why not? He will not defend himself. "

"But you surely cannot approve a coward?"

"Are you sure he is a coward?"

"I should consider myself one under the circumstances, I believe, " hereplied, evasively. 

"Would it not be cowardly to fight Morton Trask if he knew he couldkill him?"

"Bah!" came from the angry Trask. 

"He could, at least, have given Trask satisfaction for an insult, "said Varney. Kate wavered. 

"That's true, " she said; "he should have been a gentleman. Still, thatdoes not prove him a coward. "

"I'll wager that I can prove him a coward, " observed LieutenantHolmes. "And safely, too. "

"'Twere wise to do it safely, " supplemented Miss Fortune. 

"One time at home we exposed a boasting captain, who would have had usthink him the bravest man on earth--"

"But that does not seem to be Captain Studdiford's object, "interrupted Kate. 

"True, " went on Holmes, "but that has nothing to do with it. Thiscaptain was one night approached by five of his fellow officers, disguised as highwaymen, and despite his declarations that he hadfought dozens of such men, he ran like a hound, screaming murder allthe way. Why not test your captain's courage as we tested ours, MissFortune?"

"In the first place, I could not be a very impressive highwayman, andin the second place, he might shoot. "

"You have plenty of men at your command who would serve as Indians forsuch an experiment, " speculated Varney. 

"Egad! we all would!" exclaimed Holmes. "So you might!" she cried. "Hewould be willing to kill you if you were Indians. "

"We might as well give up the plan, for we could not force him toleave town without a bodyguard, " sneered Trask. 

"Fie! That is easy. Miss Fortune could ask him to ride with her intothe forest and he would go blindly enough, " said Holmes. 

"I?" cried Kate, blushing to think of herself in that position afterStuddiford's proclamation. "I could not--would not do such a thing. Prove him a coward, but do not ask me to help you. " "Holmes is right, and Miss Fortune should be willing to make the test. She is hisdefender; she cannot refuse to satisfy herself of her error in thisharmless, yet effective way, " announced big Farring, and every memberof the party laid siege against Kate's faltering opposition. The funof it all finally appealed to her and she rather timidly agreed to theproposition. How could she ask him to ride with her after what hadpassed between them? He would think her unwomanly and, strangelyenough, with that thought she began to feel that she must have hisgood opinion. Yet she went, half dubiously, into the plot to prove acoward of the man she was beginning to admire. 

The details of the scheme were submitted by the men, and were asfollows: Kate was to ask him to ride horseback with her to "Big Fork, "five miles through the forest, on some near afternoon, and the menwere to bedeck themselves as Indians, attack them, take her from hiscustody and hurry her off into apparent captivity, whilst he trembledwith fear and inaction. 

"But suppose he should happen to be disappointing and shoot somebody, "objected Lucy Gaines. 

"Oh, he must have no chance to do that, " said Varney. "Miss Fortunecan induce him to discharge his pistols in some feat of marksmanshipand we will swoop down before he can reload them. "

"For shame!" cried Kate. "How could that be a fair test of bravery? Anunarmed man against five brawny Indians! I'll have none of it. Hispistols must remain undisturbed. "

"But--good heavens!--he may kill us all, " cried Trask. 

"Well, how else is he to prove his courage? You must take yourchances, gentlemen, with your coward. If he is a coward you need notfear his pistols, though he had a dozen; if he is not, then you mayhave to run from them. "

"Allow us to capture you and offer him the privilege of fighting foryour liberty, choosing his own weapons. If he agrees to fight for you, instead of taking his proffered freedom, we will leave the field tohim and you may call him hero. That is fair, is it not?" proposedFarring. 

"You will not hurt him?" asked Kate doubtingly. 

"Hurt him? We shall not even catch him. He will leave you and fly forhis life!" cried Trask. 

"I tell you now, gentlemen, if he stands the test and disproves yourtaunts against his valour, my respect for him will be far more thanyou can ever hope to inspire. Yet, after all, it will be a diversion--it will be fun to see how he will act, " mused the fair plotter. 

It required all of Kate's courage and a dismal sacrifice of pride tosuggest the ride to Captain Studdiford, but she did it the nextmorning, stopping him near the fort after having walked not thirtyfeet behind for more than two hundred yards. She was a trifle insecureas to her own valour in this preliminary step. 

The rosiness of her cheeks might have been by others attributed to thechill of the December morn, but she knew they were the flames from aninward fire. 

Captain Studdiford's heart thumped unusually fast as he looked downinto the piquant face and big blue eyes, which for the first timesince he had known her, wore a gleam bordering on embarrassment. Theywere very soft and timid this morning--there was something appealingin their tempting depths. 

"May I not walk with you? I am going your way, " were her first wordsas she reached his side. 

"Whither, pray?"

"Oh, to--" and here she blushed, for in truth she had no destination--"to Anna Corwin's, " she concluded in relief. 

"But Mistress Corwin lives back yonder. How came you to be going thisway?"

"Did I say Anna Corwin?"

"If I am not deaf. "

"Then I must have meant some one else; to be sure I did--how queer ofme. I am going to Lucy's. You cannot say, sir, that she does not livein this direction. I'll not walk with you if you are bound to beparticular, though. " Her little ears were very red. 

"I beg you to forgive me and allow me to walk with you, " cried theCaptain eagerly. 

"I like that much better. No matter if I were going to Anna's andchose a roundabout way, you should not be so impolite as toremonstrate. As a rule, Captain, the men prefer the roundabout way. "

"Be it miles I would walk it with thee, " cried he, smiling at hermerry vanity. 

"Oh, would you do that?" she asked, suddenly seeing her way clear. Yet, in spite of all, her composure deserted her and she blurted itout, turning red again. "I am dying to ride to 'Big Fork' tomorrow, but I have no one to accompany me. Would you like to go?" Then toherself, "What a fool he thinks me!"

"Gladly; but, are we sure there are no stray Indians about?" he asked, rather quickly. 

"He is afraid, " she thought, with strange disappointment. "If you areafraid, we will not go, " she said a trifle coldly. 

"Afraid? Not for myself, but for you. We will go if you like, and Ishould rejoice to meet all of the Indians in Virginia if it willplease you. "

So they made their plans, and she was so loth to leave him that he wasforced to remind her that they had passed the home of Lucy Gaines afull furlong or more. He left her at the door, his heart exultant, hers all a-flutter. 

The next afternoon the two rode forth from Jamestown and into theforest, following the well-made road which led to the westward beneaththe red and yellowing oaks. Half an hour previous to their departurefive young men had ridden from the home of Lucy Gaines, strangebundles strapped to their saddles. Above all things, they hadcautioned Kate to demand the Captain's proof of marksmanship at apoint near Big Fork. 

It was with some consternation, notwithstanding all the plotting, thatKate observed the big pistols at the Captain's side and the heavysword which jangled against his leg. That jangling sword gave her thetremors, and she cast many furtive glances toward its chain andscabbard. At last she was compelled to ask:

"How can you, I pray, use such a monstrous sword, Captain Studdiford?It must have been made for a giant. " "It was; it was my great-great-grand-father's over a century ago. See! It is serviceable, even in myweak hand. " He pulled the gleaming blade, long and heavy, from itsscabbard, and swept it downward through the air so fiercely that itresembled a wide sheet of silver. Kate's blue eyes grew wide withapprehension, a cold chill seized upon her and her ruddy face paled. He returned the weapon to its sheath with such a forceful crash thatshe started violently in her saddle, her little teeth clicking insheer affright. 

"I could cleave a man's skull in twain as easily as you can cut anapple. Would that we could meet a warlike Indian that I could show youhow it merits my praise. "

"Goodness!" gasped Kate hopelessly. "You would not strike a--a--manwith it, would you?"

"If he were an enemy. For you, loved one, I could cut down an army. "Their horses drew more closely side by side and the fierce, stronghand was gently laid upon her trembling fingers. Tenderly clasping thelittle one the big one raised it until it touched the lips of him wholeaned across to kiss it. Their eyes met as he raised his head. Hiswere full of love, hers with a pleading dread, the uncertain quiverbetween love and fear. Without a word he dropped the hand, suddenlysick at heart. 

"I could die for her and she despises me, " he groaned to himself. 

"Oh, what have I--have we done?" she thought, a thousand fearsgathering in her heart. "He is no coward and he will kill one of them!How can I tell him--how can I save their lives? He will despise me!That awful sword! A man's skull! Oh, dear! He called me loved one! Howbig and strong he is! He called me--how can I keep him from using thesword? The pistols I can manage and--perhaps they will not be there. He will kill them all--horror upon horror! What have I done? Oh!" thelast exclamation was so loud and so sudden that the pale Captainturned quickly. 

"What is it? What is it?"

She laughed wildly, even gleefully, almost in the face of hercompanion. 

"Nothing--nothing at all!" she cried. 

"I am glad to have afforded you amusement, Mistress Fortune. You maytear my heart to shreds. "

Her manner changed instantly. Tears flew to the blue eyes and her handcrept toward him. 

"Forgive me, pray, Captain Studdiford, I--I did not mean to hurt you. I--I--am very foolish, very unkind. You must hate me, " she faltered. 

"Hate you! How could I? You do not love me--why should I have hoped? Ican but blame myself. " Her hand had fallen to her side because he hadnot touched it. "And it is our last afternoon together. "

"Last?" she repeated, faintly. 

"Yes; for I shall not see you again. "

"Oh--you--you--do not mean that!"

"I have asked to be transferred to Willamsburg. I--I have not onefriend in Jamestown; why should I stay here?" he cried bitterly. 

"But you have, " she exclaimed, eagerly; "you have. I am your friend. "

"Friend! That is not what I ask of you, " he said, almost gruffly. 

Silence, broken only by the clatter of the hoofs upon the roadfollowed his words. In her confusion she had forgotten the terriblesword, but it recurred to her, and, with it, the thought which hadgiven birth to her untimely mirth, the thought that was to lead herfrom the chief predicament into which she had been cast. She would askthe Captain to turn back to Jamestown at once, avoiding thepossibility of conflict. 

"Captain Studdiford, I believe we had better turn back. " Her face grewcrimson beneath his calm gaze. "As you like. You will grant me time toadjust my saddle girth; it is slipping, " he said coolly, dismountingwithout another word. 

They were fully three miles from the village, and in a dense piece offorest. On either side of the narrow road grew the thickest ofunderbrush with the great, gaunt trees stretching above like silentsentinels. The girl's mind was chaos; her thoughts were changing andinterchanging like leaves before the whirling wind. She knew that sheadmired this man, and that something even sweeter was beginning tothrob its way into her heart. A half smile came to her troubled faceas she thought of the war-painted plotters two miles away, waiting tomake a coward of her hero. A touch of remorse came to her as sheremembered her part in the play, and that the plot would have beencarried out had she not seen the great swing of that fearful sword. What havoc it would have wrought! And he was to leave Jamestown!Without a friend, he had said. How could he say that?

In the midst of these varying thoughts she allowed her softening eyesto wander from him toward the trees above and the straggling brushbeneath their knotty limbs. A suppressed scream called the Captain'sattention to her staring eyes. They were blinking with consternation. 

Deep in the underbrush she had seen the form of an Indian warrior!Horrors! The sword!

"What do you see?" cried he, staring toward the now deserted brush. 

"Nothing--nothing!" she gasped. "Yes--I mean, that red bird! See? Doshoot it for me--I must have it! Isn't it beautiful?" She wasexcitedly pointing toward a red bird in the top branches of a big oak. 

He drew his pistols and deliberately aimed with one of them. The shotmissed and the bird darted away. 

"Oh, goodness!" she cried. "Try the other one!"

"But the bird is gone. "

"Is it? So it is--but, quick! See if you can cut off that twig upthere--the one with three red leaves. I wager you cannot! Quick, andthen we will ride for home. "

"Why are you so excited?"

"I am not the least bit excited--I never am! Why do you not shoot atthat twig?"

"You try it, " he surprised her by saying, pushing a pistol into herhand. Without a word or aim she blazed away at the sky and hisfirearms were useless. She handed the smoking pistol to him with alaugh. 

"Would it not be awful if Indians came upon us!" she cried, withstrange exultation. "But mount, and race with me to the spring!"

As the Captain placed his foot in the stirrup a yell burst from thethicket, an arrow whizzed above their heads, and a half-a-dozen, fierce warriors were dashing toward them. 

"Do not use your sword!" she screamed. 

Before the bewildered soldier could catch his breath an ugly brave wasin the road, not ten feet away, knife in hand. Out whizzed the sword!

Kate screamed in agony, clasping her hand over her eyes. 

"They are friends! Do not strike!"

But it was too late. The streak of steel cut the air. A sickeningthud, a gurgling howl, and the assailant fell, his head half severedfrom his body. An instant later the big Englishman was in his saddle. A second slash and an Indian at his side went down beneath theancestral blade!

The two horses plunged forward as a brawny redskin grasped her arm andshe felt herself being dragged to the ground. Then a hand clasped herother arm, a big form leaned over behind her, far across the back ofher horse. She heard the hiss of something cutting the air, the crashas of splitting wood, a scream, of agony and the Indian's ruthlessgrasp was loosened. Her horse stumbled and seemed to totter beneathher, but again that arm from aloft exerted itself and it seemed as ifshe were being lifted to the tree tops. Almost before she couldrealise it she was upon another horse, clasped in the arm of itsrider, and they were off like the wind. 

Suddenly she felt the form of the man who held her so closely dropforward with a groan and then straighten again slowly. Exultant yellscame from behind them, several arrows whizzed past, and then naughtwas heard but the thunder of the horse's hoofs upon the frozen road. As her eyes opened involuntarily, terror possessing them, they fellupon the scene far behind. Two hundred yards away her own horse laystruggling in the road, two human forms stretched near it, anotherdragging itself to the roadside. Three feathered Indians were somefifty yards nearer, gesticulating wildly. Her brain whirred andbuzzed, and--consciousness was lost!

When she regained her senses she was lying upon the ground. Withfeeble eyes she glanced wonderingly about. To a tree near by a horsewas hitched, beneath her body were the blankets from the horse andcertain garments from the back of man. All was as a dream; she couldaccount for nothing. Studdiford was leaning against the big oak, coatless and as pale as a ghost. Deep lines stretched across his browand down his mouth; his eyes were closed, as if in pain. 

An involuntary moan escaped her lips, and the Captain was at her sidealmost before it had died away. She was crying. 

"Oh, what have I done! What have I done!"

"Calm, yourself, dearest! You are safe--entirely so. See, we arealone, far from those devils. It is but a mile to Jamestown. Be braveand we will soon be at home, " he murmured hoarsely, kneeling at herside and lifting her to a sitting posture. 

"Home! I can never go home! Oh, God, you do not know--you do notknow!"

"There--there! Now, be quiet. "

"How could you know? I am a murderess--I am the wretch! Kill me; Icannot live!" she wailed. 

"Hush!" he cautioned, lovingly. 

"You could not know--you did not know them, Captain Studdiford!" shecried, sitting bolt upright, glaring wildly about her, thenshudderingly plunging her white face against his shoulder. "They werenot Indians, " she almost whispered. 

"Not Indians!" he gasped. 

"God forgive me--no! It was all a trick--to test your courage--forgiveme--to test--to test--oh! and I allowed you to kill them!"

"Speak! Go on! What do you mean?" "They were our friends--not Indians!My dearest friends! Oh, how is it that I am not struck dead for this?Please heaven, let me die!" she wailed. 

"My God!" he exclaimed, after the first bewildering shock. "A trick--and I have killed--oh, it cannot be true!" He leaped to his feet, allowing her to fall from his side to the ground, where she lay, awretched, shivering heap. With a ferocious oath he snatched the bigsword from the ground and turned upon her, with eyes blazing, musclesquivering. 

She was looking up at him, those wide blue eyes gleaming piteously. 

"Kill me!" she murmured, and closed the eyes to await the stroke. 

His big arm relaxed, the sword fell from his nerveless grasp, clangingto the ground. 

When she reopened her eyes after an age of suspense she saw himleaning against the tree, his body shaking with sobs. A second glanceand she started to her feet alarmed. 

His broad back was covered with blood. Near his left shoulder theclothing was torn and an ugly, gaping wound leered at her. 

"Oh, " she gasped; "you--you are hurt!"

"Hurt!" he groaned. "They have killed me! You have killed me--you andyour friends. I hope you--are--satisfied--with--your--see?" As he sankto the ground, he pointed feebly to the cruel arrow which he had tornfrom his side. It lay not far away, grim and bloody. 

The horrified girl glanced at it helplessly and then at theunconscious man, unable to realise. Then she cried aloud in her agonyand threw herself upon the prostrate form, moaning:

"Dead! Dead! Speak to me, Ralph--look up! I love you--I worship you!You shall not leave me!"

She kissed the pallid face, caressed the chilling head, sobbing:

"Forgive me--forgive me!"

An hour afterward the clatter of hoofs upon the road aroused her fromthe semi-conscious condition into which her grief had thrown her. Through the gathering darkness she saw horsemen approaching--Indianriders! A moment later they were dismounting at her side, and well-known voices were calling to her:

"Are you hurt?"

"What has happened?"

"Killed? My God!"

It was Farring, Trask and the other plotters, reeking with excitement. Their horses were wet from the fierceness with which they had beenridden. 

"Do not touch him! You have killed him!" she cried, striving to shieldthe body from Farring's anxious touch. 

"Killed him? Good God, Kate! where did you meet them!" cried Farring, as Trask pulled her from Studdiford's side. 

"Are you not dead?" she finally whispered to the men. 

"We? He killed three of them--split their heads! But the wretches putan arrow into him, after all. What a dreadful thing we have done!Fairly tricked him to his death!" cried poor Trask. 

"Then--then it was not you?" cried Kate. 

"Heavens, no! We found the Indians dragging their dead from the road, three miles back, and knew that something terrible had happened. 

"Thank God! I am spared that! But he must not die--he shall not! Ilove him. Do you hear? I love him!"

For three weeks the victim of that ill-fated trick hung between lifeand death. Surgery was crude in the colonies, and the first evidenceof restoration was due more to his rugged constitution than to theskill of his doctors. The poor fellow rolled and tossed upon one ofMrs. Fortune's soft beds, oblivious to the kind offices of those abouthim. They had taken him there at Kate's command, and she had wornherself to a shadow with anguish, love and penitence. She watched himby day and by night--in her restless dreams; her whole existence wasin the tossing victim of her folly. Every twitch of that pain-strickenbody seemed to show her that he was shrinking from her in hatred. Herpretty face was white and drawn, the blue eyes dark and pitiful, themerry mouth, plaintive in its hopelessness. 

And those jovial tricksters--those who had jeered over his lack ofcourage, the testing of which they had undertaken! They were smittenby their own curses, haunted by their own shame. The fiery Trask, thepolished Farring, the ingenious Holmes, with all of Jamestown, prayedfor his recovery, and spared no pains to bring to life and health theman who had won that which they had relinquished hope of having--Kate's love. They were tender, sympathetic, helpful--true men andgood. 

Kate could not forget the look of disgust she had seen uponStuddiford's face as he stood above her with the great sword in hishand. His first thought had been to kill her!

Sitting beside him, bathing the fevered brow, caressing the rumpledhair, holding his restless hands, she could feel her heart thumpinglike lead, so heavy had it grown in the fear of his awakening. 

Finally the doctors told her that he would recover, that the fever wasbroken. Then came the day when he slept, cool and quiet, no trace offever, no sign of pain. 

It was then that Kate forsook him, burying herself in her distantroom, guilty and heart-broken, fearing above all things on earth, thefirst repellent glance he would bestow upon her. Once, while he slept, she peered through his door, going back to her room and her spinningwith tears blinding the plaintive blue eyes. 

At last, one day, her mother came from the Captain's room and said toher gently:

"Kate, Captain Studdiford asks why you do not come to see him. Hetells me that for three days he has suffered because you have been sounkind. Go to him, dear; he promises he will not plead his love if itis so distasteful to you!"

Distasteful! The girl grew faint with wonder. Her limbs trembled, herlips parted, her eyes blurred and her ears roared with the rush ofblood from her heart. 

"Mother!" she whispered, at last, steadying herself against the wall. "Are you sure, Mother?"

"That he wants you? My child, his eyes fill with tears when he thinksof you. I have seen them moisten as he lies looking from the window. "

But Kate was gone. 

When Mrs. Fortune opened the door to the sick man's room soonafterward she drew back quickly, closed it again, and, lifting hereyes aloft, murmured:

"God make them happy!"

MR. HAMSHAW'S LOVE AFFAIR

Mr. Hamshaw was short, bald, pudgy--and fifty-seven. Besides all this, he was a bachelor, and one jolly one, at the time when this narrativeopens. He lived in apartments pretty well downtown, where he waslooked after with scrupulous care by a Japanese valet and an Irish"cook-lady. " Mr. Hamshaw was forever discharging his valet and foreverre-engaging him. Sago persistently refused to leave at the hour setfor his departure, and Mr. Hamshaw finally came to discharge him everyevening in order that he might be sure to find him at his post in themorning. Regularly, he would call Sago into the den, very red in theface over some wholly imaginary provocation. 

"This ends it, Sago! You go! I've stood it as long as I can--or will. You leave the place tonight, sir--bag and baggage. I don't want to seeyour face again. Understand?"

"Yes, sir; very well, sir" Sago would respond with perfect equanimity. Sago engaged to be very, very English at such distinguished times. 

"You go tonight. "

"Yes, Mr. Hamshaw. May I ask what I have done to displease you, sir!"

"Never mind, sir! I'll tell you tomorrow. Don't bother me about ittoday. And, say, if you don't press this dinner coat of mine beforetomorrow night I'll discharge you without a recommendation. "

"Very good, sir. "

Once when Sago threatened to leave unless Ellen, the cook, wasdismissed, poor Mr. Hamshaw had a most uncomfortable half-hour. YoungMr. Goodrich from the bank was dining with him at the time. Now it wasquite as hard to get rid of Ellen, notwithstanding the fact that shewas constantly on the verge of leaving of her own accord, as it was todischarge Sago. The host prayed down to his comfortable boots that thethreats of Sago might not grow louder than confidential hisses as hepassed behind his chair in the capacity of butler, but he was countingwithout Ellen. There was a long, painful interval between courses, andthen Ellen marched in from the kitchen, majestically attired for thestreet. 

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Hamshaw, but this time I go for fair. It'saither me or the Chinee-"

"Blawst yer eyes!" snarled Sago in his very best English, mightilyincensed. 

"But, Ellen--" began Mr. Hamshaw, bowled over. 

"Don't beg me to stay, " she cried, glaring at Sago, who glared backsafely from behind Mr. Goodrich's chair. "The dago has insulted me forthe last toime. I'm sorry, sor, it had to come roight in the middle ofdinner, sor, but it couldn't wait. "

"Can't you subdue yourself till morning, Ellen? It is--"

"I can subjue meself, sor, but who the divil is to subjue the Malay?He's gone too far this--"

"I've only been doing my duty, sir, " inserted Sago, drawing the saladspoon through his hand very much as a Samurai would have drawn asword. "Ellen she--I mean her didn't--"

"Never mind, never mind, " groaned Mr. Hamshaw, at bay. "You may bothgo. I fire--I discharge both of you! I'm sure, Mr. Goodrich, you willoverlook this unfortunate--"

"Discharge me, sor?" half shrieked Ellen. "I never was discharged froma place in me loife. I won't stand for it! I'll lave, but I'll not bedischarged. It's Sago that has to be discharged--not me. "

"Discharge both of them, Mr. Hamshaw, " advised Goodrich amiably. "Iknow where you can get an excellent cook and--"

"Oh, you do, eh? With recommindations, too, I suppose!" sniffed Ellenin a fine flare. 

"The very best, my good woman. "

"Well, I'd loike to see them, " announced Ellen loyally. "No wan cancook for Mr. Hamshaw unless she gives the best of characters. "

"She's a Japanese woman, " explained Mr. Goodrich, "and they're said tobe the best cooks in the world. "

"The divil a step will I take out of this place to make way for ahaythen Jap. " Shebegan taking off her hat. "I'll have the squab on ina minute, Mr. Hamshaw, and I'll serve it, too. " This last with adeadly look at Sago. "He says he'll quit if I don't. Well, I don't!"

"Will you make the dressing for the salad, sir, or shall I?" politelyinquired Sago, ignoring Ellen completely. 

"Have you decided to stay long enough for that purpose?" demanded Mr. Hamshaw. 

"I have given notice, sir, that Ellen has to go, " said Sago soberly. 

"And I refuse to go for the loikes of you, " retorted Ellen with greatdignity. 

"Then, Mr. Hamshaw, I shall remain until she does go. But go shemust. "

"I'll go when I get good and ready, Mr. Sago. "

"We'll have the squab now, Sago, " said Mr. Hamshaw. 

"Very good, sir. "

It was quite an old story among the members of the club, especiallythose who knew Mr. Hamshaw intimately, that he had once felt theinclination to take unto himself a wife. That, of course, was yearsand years ago, and it is hardly necessary to remark that the youngwoman, whoever she may have been, was not possessed of a responsiveinclination. Result: Mr. Hamshaw not only refrained from marrying anyone in all the subsequent years but astutely prevented any one frommarrying him. It was quite true that at fifty-seven he was not a thingof beauty, but he had a heart of gold and was beloved by all the menand children who knew him. Certainly it is quite doubtful if he couldhave been all this had he married even the woman of his choice. 

One day there came to the big apartment-house where lived Mr. Hamshawand his two servants a most uncommon hullabaloo and sensation. It wasan unheard-of proceeding for a tenant to move out of this amiable andexclusive establishment, and naturally, it was impossible for any oneto move in. Of course, however, such contingencies as births, weddings, and funerals could not be provided against, and it was dueentirely to the advent of a bride that the aforesaid uproar occurred. A widower on the second floor took unto himself a widow, and she wasnow being moved in with all her goods and chattels. 

It would appear that the new Mrs. Gladding did not approve of herhusband's furniture, his servants, or his own flesh and blood. As aconsequence, they were departing jointly, and in their stead camesubstitutes from her former apartments in Eads Avenue. Mr. Gladding'stwo grown-up sons were shuffled off to bachelor quarters downtown andtheir rooms were turned over to Mrs. Gladding's two grown-updaughters--just out in society. The transfer was over at last, and, tothe intense gratification of Mr. Hamshaw, the big building saw thelast of its moving-vans, its plumbers and decorators, and the newGladdings were as quietly ensconced as the old had been. It was notuntil the end of the second week thereafter that Mr. Hamshaw had hisfirst glimpse of the two debutantes--the young Misses Frost. 

But that one glimpse was his undoing. 

All those years of constancy to his original inclination were blottedout as if by magic. His primeval affection was uprooted, turned over, and then jolted unceremoniously out of existence. One divided glimpsehad restored vigour to his waning passion and it flamed with all thefury of coals that have smouldered long and lazily. The onedistressing condition attached to this pleasant and refreshingrestoration was the fact that he succumbed not to one, but to both ofthe Misses Frost--succumbed heartily and bodily, without the faintesthope of discrimination. He was in love with both at first sight. Forthe life of him he could not tell which he had seen first. 

That very evening at the dinner hour he rode up and down in theelevator no less than a dozen times, and each time as he passed thesecond floor he hopefully but surreptitiously peered forth at theGladdings' door. Once the car stopped to take some one on at thisfloor, and his dear old heart gave an enormous throb of anticipation, turning to disappointment an instant later when a messenger-boyslouched in. 

"Find 'em at home?" asked the elevator-boy. 

"Sure. Say, dey're wonders, ain't dey, dese society girls? I don'tblame people for sendin' 'em violets. "

Mr. Hamshaw could have slain No. 329 for his familiarity, but lost theopportunity in wondering what the young ladies would think if theyreceived 10, 000 violets from an unnamed sender. For days, be it saidin all solemnity, Mr. Hamshaw waited and watched for glimpses of theyoung ladies--princesses he was calling them down in the neighbourhoodof his rejuvenated heart. He neglected his business, ate at the mostirregular hours, and finally gave himself up to the astonishing habitof walking up and down five flights of stairs. Sago and Ellen, unitedin worrying over these idiosyncrasies, were troubled deep down intheir consciences. 

The master took to standing out in front of the main entrance onbitterly cold days, smoking cigar after cigar. He said, inexplanation, that it was unhealthy to smoke indoors. Twice in as manyweeks he had glimpses of the young ladies. On both occasions theywalked briskly past him with their pretty noses in the air. It wasevident that they disdained carriages and street cars, for they struckoff downtown with the stride of athletes. 

"By Jove, they're fine specimens!" murmured Mr. Hamshaw, admiringtheir bonny figures from the doorway. 

It is quite natural that he should have kept his secret from Sago andEllen. Sooner would he have died than permit these staunch guardiansto grasp the whole truth concerning his--he even felt guilty enough tocall it "foolish"--infatuation. If the Misses Frost received frequentofferings of rare violets from an unmentioned source they were not sopuzzled that they could find no one to thank even though it surprisedthe innocent young man in the extreme. If they took notice of thestout, bald old gentleman who shuffled his feet and looked consciouswhen they strode past it was not for him to know at that stage of thegame. He felt so small after the weary weeks of watching that he wentand had himself weighed, devoutly certain that he shrunk respectably. He even went in for a savage system of training, calculated to reducehis avoirdupois. 

One day, while he was swinging along through the park, a mile and ahalf from home, trying to take off a few of the pounds that made himimpossible to the willowy Misses Frost, he unexpectedly came upon hisdual affinity. In his agitation he narrowly escaped being run down bya base and unsympathetic cab operated by a profane person who seldomshaved. As it was, he lost his hat. The wind whirled it over theground much faster than he could sprint, with all his training, andbrought it up against a bush in front of the young women. One of themsprang forward and snatched it up before it could resume its flight. Mr. Hamshaw came up puffing and confused, but radiant. 

"Thank you, thank you, ever so much!" he panted. "Never mind the dust. It's been dusty before. Besides, it's an old one. I have a better oneat home, and a silk--"

He brought himself up with a jerk, realising that he was jabberinglike a fool. The young women were polite and respectful. Not a sign ofderision appeared in their faces. 

"Fierce wind, isn't it?" asked one of them, and it dawned instantlyupon him that she was the one he loved. He jammed his hat far downupon his head, glancing, as he did so, at the other girl. She wassmiling genially, her face rosy from the wind her sister condemned, and, with ruthless inconstancy, Mr. Hamshaw at once changed his mind. She was the one. 

"Pardon me for the liberty, " he said, "but I am Mr. Hamshaw. We areneighbours, you know. Live in the same building. "

"Oh, is that so?" asked the taller of the two, and, to his dismay, hesaw that her surprise was genuine. 

"Yes; you are on the second--I am on the sixth. "

"Where the Jap is?" asked the shorter one. 

"He's my valet. "

"Funny little thing, isn't it?"

"An excellent servant, Miss--"

"Look out, there goes your lid again! I'll get it--my legs are swifterthan yours!" cried the tall athlete in petticoats, and off she sailedin pursuit. 

"You need some one to chase your hat for you, Mr. Hamshaw, " said theshort one airily. 

"Are you going our way?" asked the other, with a smile that could haveled him to perdition. 

"To the end of the earth, " he murmured gallantly. 

For the next ten minutes he walked on air. His heart was so light thatit bobbed up and down like a fisherman's cork. He was not long indiscovering that the tall one was Mame and the short one Lou--shortfor Marie and Louise, they explained on request!

"I see a good many boxes of flowers going up to your apartment, "ventured Mr. Hamshaw, quite out of breath. 

"Every day, and sometimes in between, " said Marie. 

"Ah, it's so nice to be popular!" he chirped. "And--and you can'tblame the men, either, you know. "

"You can't thank them, either, if they don't enclose their cards. Nearly every day there is a guessing match in the back parlour. It'spoor form to send flowers without a card. "

"By George, they're fine girls!" reflected Mr. Hamshaw. "Healthy, vigorous, full of life, and not a bit spoiled. Hang it all, I'm an assto act like this! But I can't help it. A man is never too old to learnor to love. I'll play hob with some of these young dandies before Iget through. Hamshaw, you've got to win one of these girls. But whichone? There's the rub! It's awfully annoying!"

But it grew to be quite romantic. Mr. Hamshaw came to look uponhimself as an up-to-date Romeo. The young ladies did not offer him anyinducement to call upon them in their own home, but they frequentlywalked with him in the park of afternoons, and were astonishinglyagreeable about candy, soda-water and matinees. Their reluctance tolunch or dine with him downtown stamped them in his mind as somethingmost admirable. He quite understood. And their devotion to their sickfriend was truly beautiful. He never saw them but they were going tovisit her. Miss Louise naively informed him that they gave her some ofthe violets he sent to them, but that she knew he wouldn't mind. 

"Do you think she'd like it if I sent her some good books to read?"asked he, quite delighted. 

"Sure, " replied Miss Marie. 

"How very unconventional, " beamed Mr. Hamshaw to himself. "Hang itall, I wish I could decide between them! I think I'd look better withthe short one, but--"

One day his nephew, young Jimmy Sprang, met him on the street andproceeded to twit him about his second childhood. 

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded Mr. Hamshaw with great dignity and asinking heart. 

"Who are the fairies you're trotting--"

"Stop, sir!" thundered Mr. Hamshaw. "Not another word, sir! They areladies, and not to be discussed by such a bounder as you. "

At last Mr. Hamshaw decided to take Louise. "I'll tell her tomorrow, "he said to himself, quite sure that it was only necessary to tell andnot to ask. But that evening, just after returning from the club, hesaw something that troubled and harassed him not a little. He saw andheard Sago talking to the Misses Frost--not only talking but in amanner so familiar that it must have been extremely nauseating to thecultured young women. The three were standing under the electric lightat the corner, and the young women instead of appearing annoyed at theheathen's twaddle, seemed to be highly amused. Only the greatestexercise of self-restraint kept Mr. Hamshaw from kicking Sago into themiddle of the next block. 

Mr. Hamshaw was on the point of intervening when, to his utterconsternation, the two young women started off up the street withSago. To add to his misery, Sago did not come in at all that night. Inresponse to Mr. Hamshaw's savage inquiry, Ellen, who attended him thenext morning, said that Sago had gone to a dance on the West Side andhad not turned up. Mr. Hamshaw sat bolt upright in bed and thencollapsed. 

The next afternoon he went home early, haggard and with a headache. His confidence was not gone, however. After arranging himselfcarefully--he refused to call for Sago--he boldly descended to thesecond floor. Then he lost his nerve. Instead of ringing the Gladdingdoor-bell he walked on downstairs and out into the open air. At thecorner he came plump upon Mr. Gladding himself, the step-father of thetwo girls. 

"How are you, Mr. Hamshaw? Fine weather we're having, " greeted the manfrom the second floor. 

"I've just been to your flat, " said Mr. Hamshaw. 

"Indeed! Any one at home?"

"I don't know--that is, I didn't go in. You see--are you going homenow, Gladding, or downtown?"

"Home, of course. I've been downtown all day. Anything you wanted tosee me about, Mr. Hamshaw?"

"Oh, no--nothing important. "

"Well, won't you come up with me now? By the way, I'd like you to meetmy wife and her daughters. "

"I know your daughters, I believe. "

"Ah!"

"It is about one of them that I wish to speak with you, sir. " Theywere on the second-floor landing by this time. "May I come in?"

"Certainly, " said Mr. Gladding. 

Mr. Hamshaw sat stiff and uncomfortable on the divan while Mr. Gladding rang for a maid. He also called down the hall to ask Mrs. Gladding and the young ladies to come in and greet Mr. Hamshaw. 

"Before they come, " began the latter, fidgeting nervously, "I want tosay that I expect to marry Miss Frost. It's been hard work to choosebetween them--"

"What are you talking about?" gasped the father. 

"I know I've done a most reprehensible thing in courting them--I meanher--in this manner, but, you see--"

At this juncture Mrs. Gladding entered the room, followed by twostrange young women--sleepy, tired, scrawny young women, who looked atMr. Hamshaw as if he were a sofa-cushion and nothing more. 

"My wife--er--Mr. Hamshaw, and the Misses Frost, " mumbled Mr. Gladding, bowled over completely. 

"What's that?" shouted Mr. Hamshaw, coming to his feet and topplingover backward again. The others stared at him as if he were mad. "How--how many have you--I mean, how many daughters are there?"

"Two!" exclaimed Mrs. Gladding, freezing up immediately. The societyyoung women relaxed into a giggle. 

"Then--who--is this a joke?" gasped Mr. Hamshaw, perspiration startingin torrents. 

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded Mr. Gladding. 

"Where are Marie and Louise?" murmured Mr. Hamshaw. 

Just then a trim maid appeared in the doorway--white-capped andaproned. 

"Did you ring, Ma'am?--Good Heavens!"

It was Marie!

Mr. Hamshaw fainted without more ado, and the apartment was in anuproar. Everybody thought he was dead, and the Misses Frost promptlyduplicated his swooning act. 

When Mr. Hamshaw opened his eyes, Marie was standing near by withammonia and wet towels. 

"Where is Louise?" he asked weakly. 

"She's went and married that awful little Jap of yours last night. Here, take another sniff at this. Go on; don't be afraid of it. I'vegive it to the young ladies regular for the last five years. What'sthat, sir?"

"Nothing--nothing, " he whispered. 

"You said something, sir. "

"And you're not Miss Frost?"

"One of them scrawny--I beg pardon, sir! Did you think I was--"

"Well, if that's the case, I can tell you what I said a moment ago. Isaid 'D--n it all!' Where am I?"

"At Mr. Gladding's, sir. "

"Is Sago upstairs?"

"No, sir; they've gone to the matinee on their wedding trip, Mr. Hamshaw. "

"Oh!"

It was not what Mr. Hamshaw said but the way he said it. 

THE GREEN RUBY

He was a very good-looking chap--this Cannable who lived in thecivilised city of New Orleans. It is quite true that he came from anisland in the sea, but as that island is known to geographers, greatand small, as England, it is scarcely worth while to mention hismigration as an achievement of civilisation. Moreover, it was knownthat he had eaten of human flesh, but it was not with the gusto ofthose ancient Fijis who banqueted on salubrious sailors and munchableministers whenever they had the simultaneous chance and appetite. 

He was one of three survivors of the ill-fated Graceby polarexpedition, and as such he had been obliged to subsist for some dayson whatsoever was set before him by the cook, a discreet butoverpowering person who certainly would have been the sole survivor ifthe relief expedition had been delayed a few days longer. But thatportion of Mr. Cannable's history sounds much better in whispers andit does not look pretty in print. He never repeated it of his ownaccord. The newspapers told it for him when he was too weak andexhausted to deny or affirm. 

His uncle, Sir John Bolingbroke, sent him out from London soon afterhis return from the frozen North to represent great financialinterests on the Cotton Exchange at New Orleans. For two years theyoung man stuck manfully to his post in the southern city, but it wasan irksome restraint to one whose heart was turbulent with the love oftravel and adventure. Just at the time when he was ready to resign hisposition and hie himself into the jungles of the Amazon on anexploring expedition two things happened, either of which was initself sufficient to stay him for the while. In the first place, hisuncle died and left him two hundred thousand pounds in good Englishmoney, and in the second place he met Agatha Holmes. 

The two hundred thousand pounds, it is but just to say, might not havekept him from the equator, but it is doubtful if all, much less anyspecific portion of the globe, could have induced him to leave AgathaHolmes. And so it was that Mr. James Cannable--for short "Jimmy"--remained in New Orleans for many months, estimably employed in thebusiness of evolving a plan that might permit him to journey to theworld's end with two hundred thousand pounds in one hand and a certaingirl's future in the other. 

The months and the plans were profitable, it seems, for one splendidevening saw him at the altar-rail beside the fairest girl in all theSouthland, the queen of a thousand hearts. Agatha Holmes became Mrs. Cannable, and thereby hangs a tale. It would appear, from all thecurrent but unpublished records of social Louisiana, that Agatha hadgone about shattering hearts in a most unintentional but effectivefashion up to the time Mr. Jimmy Cannable refused to be routed. Certainly it is no blot upon this fair young coquette's fame to admitthat she had plighted herself to at least four ardent suitors in daysgone by, and it was equally her own affair if she took every woman'sprivilege of shifting her fancy before she was ready to marry. 

Unluckily for Agatha, however, she neglected to disengage herselfproperly from the most recent suitor next before Mr. Cannable. So faras that worthy was concerned the engagement still obtained, for he, poor chap, was down in Patagonia somewhere surveying for railroads anddid not have the slightest means of ascertaining her change ofaffection. How was he to know that she had married Jimmy Cannable, andhow was he to know that she had forgotten his very existence without asingle pang of remorse? He only knew that he had starved himself togive her a diamond ring, to say nothing of the wonderful old rubyheirloom that had been in the family for centuries. 

He told her at parting that no power on earth could keep him from someday reclaiming the heirloom and with it the hand of the girl who wasto wear it all her life. 

One day, out of the past and up from the wilds, came the word thatHarry Green was on his way home after an absence of three years. Agatha Holmes had been Mrs. Cannable for three months and she hadforgotten young Mr. Green as completely as if he never had been a partof her memory. A cablegram addressed to Agatha Holmes one day wasdelivered to Agatha Cannable. It simply said: "Am coming back at lastfor the ruby. Harry, " and it was sent from London. She found herselfwondering what he was doing in England and how long it would be beforehe could reach New Orleans, but it did not dawn upon her for threefull days that he still imagined himself to be her tardy but acceptedfiance. Then in the fulness of her joy she sat down and laughed overhis amazement--perhaps his chagrin--when he learned that she wasanother man's wife. 

At first thought she decided to tell Jimmy the news, permitting him toenjoy the fun as well, but the discretion which shapes woman's endsforestalled the impulse. There was much she could not explain injustice to herself, to say nothing of the other man who had gone awaywith her in his heart. True, it may not have been difficult to holdher immaculate in a heart surrounded by Patagonians, but there wassomething disturbing in the fact that he had been constant, after all. She recalled, with a slight shiver (which grew with time, by the way), that she had sworn to kill herself rather than to marry any one butHarry Green. It also came back to her memory that the hot-bloodedHarry had promised faithfully, though fiercely, that he wouldaccomplish that end for her in case she violated her oath. 

It is sufficient to say that she was the most wretched young woman inNew Orleans by the time Harry Green landed in New York. He telegraphedto her, announcing his arrival and his hasty departure for theSouthern metropolis. Somehow the slip of paper read like a death-warrant to her peace of mind. 

"How annoying it is to have an old affair revived like this, " shewailed to herself. "Why couldn't he, too, have married some one else?How, in Heaven's name, will it end?" She thought of a thousandsubterfuges through which she might avoid seeing him, but put them allaside with the recollection of his indomitable will. He would see hersooner or later; the inevitable could not be avoided. 

She finally took to her bed with daily headaches, distractedly butstealthily studying a railroad time-table. 

"He's leaving New York by this time. Good Heaven, he'll be in Mobileby one o'clock tomorrow, Pass Christian a few minutes later--oh, dear, I wonder if he will be terribly violent! Jimmy is noticing, too. Hesays I'm ill. He wants to take me to California, but I don't dare--Idon't dare! Harry Green would be sure to follow. I know him--oh, howwell I know him! He would--"

A servant came in to announce that Miss Carrithers was down stairs. 

"Ask her to come up, " sighed Agatha. "I'll tell her myself that Idon't want to see her, but it won't mean anything to Betty. She'llstay all morning. "

"Yes, ma'am, " agreed the maid as she hurried away. A moment later MissCarrithers fairly bounded into the darkened bed-chamber, her face fullof excitement. 

"Have you heard?" she gasped, dropping upon the side of the bed. "Harry Green's coming home. He's in New York now. Joe Pierce had atelegram. "

"Yes, I know, " said Agatha drearily. 

"Have you heard from him--you?" demanded Miss Betty in amazement--andsome little concern. 

"Of course, Betty; why shouldn't I?" irritably. 

"Oh, I suppose it's all right, " said the other dubiously. "I was onlythinking of the--of the old days. "

"Betty, " said Mrs. Cannable, sitting up suddenly and grasping herfriend's hand, "I'm the most wretched creature on earth. I don't knowwhat I'm to do. "

"Is it about--about Harry Green?" "Yes. You see, dear, he--he doesn'tknow I'm married. "

"Goodness, Agatha! You don't mean he--he still thinks you are engagedto marry him?"

"That's just it, Betty. I didn't tell him--in fact, I had forgottenall about him, away down there in Patagonia, wherever it is. He--"

"And, oh, he was so terribly in love with you--and you with him, too!"

"No, no; don't say that. It was so foolish. Besides, he's been gonenearly three years. How could he expect me to wait all that time? Ihaven't had a letter from him for more than a year. I counted it uptoday. "

"Does Jimmy Cannable know about--him?"

"I don't know and I'm afraid to ask. "

"Harry's a frightfully determined person, " mused Betty Carrithersreflectively. 

"He swore I should be his wife if we waited a thousand years. "

"That's the one thing in your favour. When they swear such things asthat they can't possibly mean all they say, " said Miss Betty sagely. She was the prettiest and most popular girl in town, but she was awise body for all that. Her trim little figure was surcharged with amagnetism that thrilled one to the very core; her brown eyes dancedruthlessly through one's most stubborn defences; her smile and herfrown were the thermometers by which masculine emotions could begauged at a glance. "It will be rather difficult to face him, won'tit?"

"Betty, it's simply impossible! Think of Harry Green waiting all theseyears, believing in me, as constant as the sun--and then to find I'vemarried some one else. You know I love Jimmy Cannable with all myheart. I can't bear the thought of what might happen if he and Harryquarrelled about--about those old days. "

"Don't cry--don't be a goose! It's the commonest thing in the world. Every girl has had dozens of affairs. "

"I know, but not just like this one. My husband wants to take me toCalifornia. I wish--oh, how I wish I could go! But Harry would follow--I know he'll be merciless. "

Miss Carrithers was thoughtful for several minutes, paying slight heedto the doleful sobs from the bed. 

"I'll tell you what, Agatha, " she said at last; "I believe this affaircan be managed easily enough if you will just leave town. "

"Oh, Betty!" sitting up and looking at her friend hopefully. 

"Of course, I never had a chance at Harry Green. You monopolised him. I liked him immensely--from a distance. You go away, and let meexplain the situation to him. "

It was the straw that the drowning person grasps, and Mrs. Cannableclutched it with a shriek of delight. She poured her story into theears of her too loyal friend, who smiled confidently in response toher apprehensions. 

Miss Carrithers did not exchange confidences, however; she merely gavepromises to do her best. She was shrewd enough to know that if sheconfessed to Agatha that she had cared for Harry Green--from adistance--that capricious and perverse young person would havedeclined to retire from the field of strife. After all, Betty admittedto herself, it was not wholly a service of sacrifice she was grantingher friend. There was something of a selfish motive in her loyalty. 

"I'll love you forever if you will explain everything and send himaway, " said Agatha in the end. 

"At least, I shall explain everything, " agreed Betty complacently. Agatha blushed consciously as she drew a small diamond from amongthose on her fingers. 

"I didn't know his address, so you see I couldn't send it back tohim, " she explained. "And, Betty, if you'll hand me my jewel box I'llask you to return that--er--you remember my old ruby pendant!"

"Was--that--did he give it to you?"

"Yes. You don't know how I hate to give it up. Isn't it beautiful?"She reluctantly let the ruby slip from her fingers into those of herfriend. 

"Perfectly gorgeous, " said Betty, fastening it about her neck andsurveying herself in the cheval glass. "I'd give anything if itbelonged to me. "

"Now, excuse me a minute, dear. I'll telephone to Jimmy and tell himwe'll start for California tonight. Harry gets here tomorrow at 4:45on the limited. "

"You can be well out of the way by that time, " said pretty MissCarrithers with a smile. 

"And now, Betty, you will send him back to Patagonia, won't you?"

"I'll keep him away from California, my dear, that's all. "

Miss Carrithers sat in her carriage outside the railroad station, waiting for the train that was to bring Harry Green into New Orleans. Outwardly she was cool, placid; inwardly she was a fever of emotions. He had telegraphed the time of his arrival to Agatha; Betty receivedand read the message. Mr. And Mrs. Cannable were miles westward, hurrying to California. It was one thing to say she would take certainresponsibilities off the hands of the bride; it was altogether anotherproposition to sit there and wait for the man she had admired for fouror five years with a constancy that surprised even herself. Herreflections at this specific hour were scarcely definable. Chief amongthem was a doubt--this doubt: Would Harry Green remember her? Itseemed such an absurd doubt that she laughed at it--and yet cultivatedit with distracting persistency. 

The train was ten minutes late. A newsboy had made two trips to thetrain-board in quest of information. When the big locomotive finallythundered and hissed its way to a stand-still near the gates, CanalStreet seemed to have become a maze of indefinite avenues, so dizzyhad she grown of a sudden. Her eyes searched the throng that sweptthrough the . Gates; at last she saw him approaching. 

She had expected a tired, worn man, unfashionably dressed, eager-eyedand wistful. Instead, the tall fellow who came forth was attired inthe most modern English garments; he was brown, fresh-faced, keen-eyedand prosperous looking. The same old Harry Green grown stronger, handsomer, more polished. His black eyes were sweeping the streetanxiously as if in search of some one. He did not see BettyCarrithers, and her heart sank. 

Behind him stalked two gigantic negroes. They were the centre of allobservation. People stared at the blacks who carried Harry Green'sbags as if they were looking upon creatures just out of an ArabianNight's tale. Nearly seven feet tall and of Herculean proportions werethese giants. It is no wonder that the crowd gaped and felt somethinglike awe mingling with curiosity. 

Mr. Green, erstwhile Patagonian surveyor, started at the sound of asoft voice close at hand, a voice in which grateful surprise wasuppermost. 

"Why, Harry Green! How do you do!" He turned and beheld MissCarrithers. She was leaning forward in her carriage, her little glovedhand extended toward him impulsively. She was amazed to see a look ofrelief flash in his eyes. His smile was broad and wholesome as hegripped the little hand in a mighty brown one. 

"Betty Carrithers!" he exclaimed. "Now, this is like home! By George, you haven't changed a bit. "

"Don't you think so!" She flushed. "It's been several years, you know. A woman can change terribly in--"

"Ah, but you've just changed into a woman. "

"And what a man you've grown to be, " admiringly. 

"I hope so. Patagonia would make a man of any one. Are you expectingsome one?"

"I was; but I see every one has come out. Won't you let me take you uptown? Goodness, who are those awful giants that stand over there allthe time like guards?"

"They're from Patagonia. Call them anything you like; they don'tunderstand English. They are my men of all work. Thanks, I will rideup with you. Tell him to stop at the St. Charles. " Then he turned andspoke to the giants, who solemnly nodded their heads and climbed intoa cab close by. Green seated himself beside Miss Carrithers. There wasa hunted look in his eyes and a nervous tremor in his voice. "A sortof bodyguard, as it were, Betty. By the way, you haven't seen AgathaHolmes, have you? I telegraphed to her. "

Miss Carrithers had braced herself for this question and she also hadprepared an answer. She could not look at his face, however, despiteher determination. 

"Agatha Holmes! Is it possible you haven't heard? Don't you know that--that she is married?"

She knew in her heart it was a cruel blow, but it was the best way, after all. Instinctively she felt that he had ceased breathing, thathis body was stiffening under the shock, that his eyes were staring ather unbelievingly. Imagine her surprise, even consternation, when, after a breathless moment, his tremendous sigh of relief was followedby the most cheerful of remarks. 

"Good Lord!" he fairly gasped, "that simplifies matters!"

She turned like a flash and found his face radiant with joy. It washard for her to believe her own senses. He actually was rejoicing; shehad expected him to groan with despair. It is no wonder that her planof action was demolished on the instant; it is not surprising thatevery vestige of resourcefulness was swept away by this amazingreverse. She stared at him so pathetically, so helplessly, that helaughed aloud. 

"I know what you're thinking, " he said, and there was no mistaking thelightness of his heart. "I don't blame you for being shocked if youthought I had come back to such a fate as you evidently pictured. Betty, by Jove, you'll never know how happy you've made me!"

"I--I am surprised. Agatha told me that you--you--"

"And she's really married? Never mind what she told you. It doesn'tmatter now. Is she happy?"

"She adores her husband--young Jimmy Cannable. You know him. She willbe crazy with joy, Harry, when she finds out that you, too, are happy. She was half mad with remorse and all that. It will--"

"Heavens, Betty, I thought I was the remorseful one. By George, I loveyou for telling me this!"

A shocking suspicion hurtled through her brain. 

"You mean, there is--another woman?" she said with a brave effort. Sheeven smiled accusingly. 

"Some day I'll tell you all about it, " he said evasively. "I--Isuppose it would be all right for me to go round and call on Agathathis evening. "

"She is not in town. California, " said Betty. 

"Great Scott! In California?" The dismay in his face was even greaterthan the relief of the moment before. 

"Not exactly. She's on her way. "

"By George, I wonder if I can catch her by wire? I must--I really mustsee her. " He was so agitated that she observed beads of perspirationstarting on his brow. She was mystified beyond description. Was he, after all, she found herself wondering, playing a part? Was it in hiscrafty heart to follow and kill Agatha Holmes!"

"Oh, no, --you can't do that, " she protested quickly. "Won't you--comeout to dinner tonight?" she added somewhat confusedly. "We can talkover old times. "

"Thanks, Betty, but I can't. " At the same time he glanced uneasily ata cab which drove along close behind them. 

"You were going to call upon Agatha, " she pouted. 

"But not at dinner-time, " he said, mopping his brow. "I'll come upabout nine, if I may. "

He came at nine, a trifle out of breath and uneasy in his manner. Thegreat Green ruby hung from the chain that encircled Betty's slim, pretty neck. Its soft red eye glowed like a coal against the whiteskin, but if she thought to surprise him with it, she was to bedisappointed. He did not look at it. 

She did not know at the time that a giant Patagonian stood beneath thegas lamp at the corner above the Carrithers mansion in St. CharlesAvenue. His gaunt, dark face was turned toward her doorway and hisfierce eyes seemed to bore holes through the solid oak. 

"I can't stay very late, " he said almost as he responded to thegreeting. "Confounded business engagement. Where is Agatha to stay inCalifornia?"

"I don't know. It wasn't decided. Perhaps they'll go to Japan. "

"Good Lord!"

"You seem terribly interested, for a man who doesn't care, " she said. 

"I should say I am interested--but not in the way you think. " After amoment's reflection, as he stood looking down upon her, he went onexcitedly, "I'll tell you something, Betty. You're a good sort, andyou can keep a secret as long as any woman--which isn't long, ofcourse. But it will be long enough for me to get out of town first. Imust go to California tomorrow. Wait! Don't look like that! I'm notgoing to annoy Agatha. She'll understand when she hears what I have tosay. Have you ever noticed the ruby pendant that she wears--or wore, perhaps?"

"The big one she called her 'coal of fire' because it burned herconscience so terribly? Yes. "

"Well, I gave it to her. I've just got to have it back. That's thewhole story. That's what I'm here for. That's why that awful blackdevil is standing out there on the corner. See him? Under the gaslamp?" He drew the curtains aside and she peeped out. "He's waitingfor me. "

"What does it mean?" she cried, with a nameless dread creeping overher. 

"He is there in the interest of my father-in-law, " said Mr. Green. 

"You---your father-in-law?" she gasped, staring at him wildly. 

"Yes--my wife's father, " he said somewhat plaintively. He sat downnear her, a nervous unsettled look in his eyes. She felt her heartturn cold; something seemed to be tightening about her throat. Thelight of hope that had been fanning began to flicker its way toextinction. 

"You are married?" came from her stiff lips. 

"Yes, " he replied doggedly. "A year ago, Betty. I--I did not write toAgatha about it because I--I hoped that she'd never know how false Iwas to my promise. But, she's done the same thing; that takes aterrible load off my mind. I feared that I might find her waiting, youknow. It would have been hard to break it to her, don't you see?"

To his amazement, she laughed shrilly, almost hysterically. In theflash of a moment's time, her feeling toward Harry Green began toundergo a change. It was not due to the realisation that she had lostall hope of having him for her own; it was, instead, the discoverythat her small girlish love for him had been the most trivial ofinfatuations and not real passion. She laughed because she had pitiedAgatha and Green and herself; she laughed, moreover, in memory of herdeliberate eagerness to assume Agatha's burdens for purely selfishreasons. 

"I know it's amusing to you, " he agreed with a wry smile. "Everythingamused you, as I remember, Betty. Do you remember that night inCondit's conservatory when you and I were hiding from--"

"Don't, please!" she objected, catching her breath painfully. "I was afoolish girl then, Harry. But tell me all about your--your wife. I amcrazy to know. "

He looked involuntarily toward the window before replying; sheobserved the hunted look in his eyes and wondered. 

"There isn't much to tell. She lives in Patagonia, " he said, somewhatsullenly. Then he glanced at his watch. 

"What! Is she a--a native?" she cried. 

"She was born there, but--Good Lord, you don't think she's black?"

"Or even a giantess, " she smiled. 

"She's white, of course, and she's no bigger than you, Betty. Sheisn't as pretty, I'll have to say that. But let's talk about somethingelse. How am I to catch Agatha? It's imperative. 'Gad, it's life ordeath, Betty. "

"What do you mean?" she asked, startled. 

He swallowed painfully two or three times as he scraped the edge ofthe rug with his foot, looking down all the while. 

"Well, you see, it's this way. I've married into a rather queerfamily. My--my wife's most damnably jealous. "

"That isn't very queer, is it?"

"She has a queer way of being jealous, that's all. Somehow she's gotit into her head that there's another woman up here in North America. "

"Oh, I begin to see. And, of course, there isn't?"

"Certainly not. I love my wife. "

"Good for you, Harry. I didn't think it of you, " she said with a smilewhich he did not understand. 

"Oh, I say, Betty, you are making fun of me. "

"On the contrary, I'm just beginning to treat you seriously. "

"I suppose I owe some sort of an explanation in connection with myremark about jealousy. It's due my wife. "

"May I ask where she is at present?"

"She's on the range in Patagonia. I--I couldn't bring her here, youknow. Betty, I want you to help me with Agatha. She's got that rubyand I simply have to get it back again. I'll tell you all about--aboutmy marriage. Perhaps you'll understand. You see, I meant to be true toAgatha. But it was so cursed lonesome down there--worse than Siberiaor mid-ocean. We were surveying near the west coast--rotten country--and I met her at her father's place. You see, they raise cattle andall that sort of thing there. Her old man--I should say Mr. Grimes--isthe cattle king of Patagonia. He's worth a couple of millions easy. Well, to make a long story short, we all fell in love with Pansy--thewhole engineering corps--and I won out. She's the only child and she'smotherless. The old man idolises her. She's fairly good-looking and--well, she's being educated by private tutors from Buenos Aires. I'mnot a cad to tell you. She's pure gold in spite of her environment. "

"No doubt, if she's surrounded by millions. "

"Don't be sarcastic. Some day she'll come in for the old man's money. She'll be educated by that time and as good as anybody. Then we'llcome back to the States and she'll--well, you'll see. The only troubleis that she thinks there's a woman up here that I loved before I lovedher. One day, shortly after we were married, she found a photograph ofAgatha which I'd always carried around in my trunk. It was the picturein which she wore the Green ruby. Don't you remember it? "Well, youcan't imagine how she carried on. She acted like a sav--but I won'tsay it. She has had no advantages--yet, and she's a bit untrained inthe ways of the world. Of course, she hated Agatha's face because itwas beautiful. She complained to the old man. The worst of it all isthat I had already shown her a picture of the ruby, taken from thateastern magazine, and she recognised it as the one on Agatha's neck. "Well, you should have heard the old--my father-in-law! Phew!"

"What did he say?" asked Betty, pitying him. 

"I can't repeat it. He went on at a fearful rate about fellows of mystripe having wives in other parts of the world, and he was in acondition to commit murder before he got through. It all ended with amonstrous demand from my wife. She commanded me to produce thependant. By George, Betty, I was in a frightful mess!

"I could only say it was in New Orleans. The old man looked holesthrough me and said he'd give me four months in which to produce it. Anything that Pansy demanded he'd see that she got it, if he had toshoot his way to it. You ought to see him! And, incidentally, she canshoot like Buffalo Bill herself. She shot a gaucho through the neckhalf a mile away. "

"A gaucho?"

"Yes--a cowherder. Hang it, everybody carries a gun down there. Nowyou know why I'm here. The old man said if I didn't bring that ruby tomy wife in a given time he'd find me and shoot me full of holes. Sheloves me, but she said she'd do the same thing. I've just got to havethat ruby. They mean it. "

"You poor boy, " said Betty scornfully. "And I was feeling so sorry foryou because of Agatha. "

"It's no joke, Betty. These big blacks are my servants forappearance's sake only. They are in reality my keepers. The old mansent them along to see that I did come back, one way or another. They'd just as soon throttle me as eat. "

"It would be easy to lose them up here, I should say. "

"Well, I reckon you don't know a Patagonian. They can scent like abloodhound and they never give up. Those fellows are here to attend tome, and they'll do it, never fear. Either one of them could thrashhalf the police in New Orleans. They are terrible! There's no escapefrom them. I'd thought of something desperate but--but Grimes himselfis to be reckoned with. Sometimes I--I almost wish I hadn't won out. "

"But think of the millions. "

"The only thing I can think of, Betty, is that miserable ruby. I'vegot to recover it and sail for South America inside of ten days. Andshe's in California! Did you ever hear of such luck?"

Betty Carrithers walked over and looked from the window. The giantblack was still under the street lamp and she could not repress ashudder as she glanced from time to time to the man on the couch. Afeeling of pity arose in her breast. Harry Green was unworthy, afterall. He was not what he had seemed to be to her in those days of herteens. He was no longer an idol; her worshipful hours were ended. Instead, he was a weak, cringing being in the guise of a strongattractive man; he had been even more false than Agatha, and he hadnot the excuse of love to offer in extenuation. Pity and loathingfought for supremacy. Something was shattered, and she felt lonely yetrelieved. Strangely, she seemed content in the discovery. 

He was leaning forward, staring blankly at the rug, when she turned toresume her seat. A haggard face was raised to hers and his handtrembled as he jerked out his watch for the fourth time since enteringthe room. 

"I'm a bit nervous, " said he. "Time flies. "

"Do you remember the fairy princesses of your childhood books?" sheasked suddenly. "What would you say if one should quickly appear inreal life?"

"What do you mean?"

"Outside stands the terrible ogre, ready to eat you up. Permit me toappear before you as the fairy princess. I can save you from death. Myonly regret is that I can not provide you with an enchanted tapestry, to waft you back to your lady love in the beautiful land of Patagonia. Here, behold! I restore to you the wonderful ruby!"

She unclasped the chain and dropped the great jewel into his shakinghand. He turned deathly white and then leaped up with a shout ofincredulous joy. A hundred questions flew to his lips, faster than shecould answer. She allowed him to babble on disjointedly for some time. 

"Isn't it sufficient that I restore it to you? Why ask questions? Itwas my commission to do this thing. I'll confess it hasn't happenedjust as I anticipated, but what of that? Doubtless you recall thisring also. I think it signified an engagement. Take it. There may comea day when it will be ornamental as well as useful to your wife. " Heaccepted the solitaire which she drew from her finger. His face was astudy. 

"Betty, " he said, puzzled and helpless, "it--it isn't possible that itwas you instead of Agatha that I gave these things to? I had typhoidfever down there. There are a lot of things I don't remember sincethen. It wasn't you, of course. "

She laughed in his perplexed face--a good-humoured, buoyant laugh. 

"If you can't remember, Harry, I shan't enlighten you. You have theruby, isn't that enough?"

Ten minutes later he said good-bye to her and sallied forth into thenight. She stood in the window and watched the huge sentinel strideoff behind him like a gaunt shadow which could not be shaken off. Thatfigure and another like it were to cling to his heels until he came tohis journey's end. She smiled and shook her head pityingly as HarryGreen passed out of her life at the corner below. 

In her own room shortly afterward she took an old photograph from adrawer, looked at it a moment with a smile on her lips, and then toreit into many pieces. 

"The strangest part of it is that I don't seem to mind, " she said toherself, and that night she slept peacefully. 

THE GLOAMING GHOSTS

PART I

Gloaming had been the home of the Gloames for two centuries at least. Late in the seventeenth century one of the forebears acquired thepicturesque acres in Virginia and they have not been without a Gloameas master since that time. At the time when the incidents to berelated in this story transpired, Colonel Cassady Gloame was the ownerof the famous old estate and he was lord of the countryside. The powerof the ancient Gloames was not confined to the rural parts of thatvast district in southern Virginia; it was dominant in the countyseats for miles around. But that is neither here nor there. The readerknows the traditional influence of every old Virginia family. It islike the royal household of an eastern monarchy. It leads, dominates, and sets the pace for all its little universe. No one cares to learnthat the Gloames were the first family of them all; it does not matterespecially that old Sir Henry settled there nearly a hundred yearsbefore the Revolution; it is simple history that some of the Gloameswho followed after him fought like tigers for the country in one warand just as hard against it in another. Let it be understood thatGloaming was two centuries old and that there was no fairer, proudername in all Virginia than that which had been handed down to ColonelCassady Gloame, the last of the race. 

The rambling old house that faced the river was known from one end ofthe state to the other, not only for its age, but for its hospitality. The Gloames, whether wild or sedate, had always been famous for thewarmth of their hearts. The blood was blue and the hearts were true, is what the world said of the Gloames. The years had made but littlechange in the seat of the Gloames. The mansion, except for the repairsthat time demanded, was virtually the same as in the days of old SirHenry. Nine generations of Gloames had begun life in the picturesqueold house and it had been the pride of each. It had borne goodAmericans and blue Virginians. The architecture, like its children, seemed perennial. Time made few inroads upon the character of itslines. Its furnishings and its treasures were almost as antique. Decrepit age alone was responsible for the retirement of historic bitsof furniture. The plate was as old as the hills, the service asvenerable. Gloaming looked to be the great-great-grand-parent of everyother habitation in the valley. 

Colonel Cassady Gloame was the last of the long and illustrious race. He was going to the grave childless; the name would end with him. True, he would doubtless leave a widow, but what is a widow when onefigures on the perpetuation of a name? The Colonel was far past sixty, his wife barely twenty-five. He loved her devotedly and it is onlyjust to say that she esteemed him more highly than any other man inall the world. But there would be no children. 

Mrs. Gloame, beautiful, cultured, gay as a butterfly, was the daughterof Judge Garrison of New York. She had been married for five years andshe was not yet tired of the yoke. Her youth was cheerfully, loyallygiven over to the task of making age a joy instead of a burden to thisgallant old Virginian. She was a veritable queen in this littleVirginia kingdom. Though she was from the North, they loved her in theSouth; they loved her for the same reason that inspired old ColonelGloame to give his heart and honour to her keeping--because they couldnot help it. 

The Christmas holidays were always a season of great merriment atGloaming. There never had been a Christmas Eve without festivities inthe good old home of the Gloames. Sometimes, in the long array ofyears, there may have been sorrow and grief and trouble in the heartsof the inmates, but all such was dissipated when the Christmas bellsbegan to ring. Even that terrible tragedy in the winter of 1769 liftedits shadow long enough to permit the usual happiness to shine throughall the last week of the dying year. 

There was always a genial house party in holiday times, and Gloamingrang free with the pleasures of the light-hearted. The Colonel himselfwas the merriest of the merry-makers, second only in enthusiasm to thesunny young wife from the North. The night of December 24, 1897, foundthe old mansion crowded with guests, most of whom were spending theweek with the Gloames. There had been dancing and music and games, andeleven o'clock brought fatigue for even the liveliest of the guests. It was then that pretty Louise Kelly, of the Major Kellys of Richmond, peremptorily commanded the Colonel to tell the oft-told tale of theGloaming Ghosts. 

"Come to order, " she cried to the guests in the double parlours. "Colonel Gloame is going to tell us about those dear old ghosts. "

"Now, my dear Louise, I've told that story times without number toevery soul in this house, " remonstrated the Colonel. "You, to mycertain knowledge have been an attentive listener for one hundred andnine times. Even though it brings upon my head the weight of yourwrath, I must positively decline to--"

"You have nothing to say about it, Colonel Gloame, " declared MissKelly definitely. "The first thing required of a soldier is duty. Itis your duty to obey when commanded by the officer of the night. Inthe first place, you've not told the story to every one here. Lieutenant King has just confessed that he never has heard of theGloaming Ghosts and, furthermore, he laughed when I told him that youboasted of real, live ghosts more than a hundred years old. "

"Oh, we are very proud of our ghosts, Lieutenant King, " cried Mrs. Gloame. 

"I imagined that people lived in some terror of ghosts, " venturedKing, a young West Pointer. 

"You couldn't drag the Colonel into the south wing up-stairs with awhole regiment of cavalry horses, " said old Mr. Gordon, the Colonel'sbest friend. 

"Tush, " remonstrated the Colonel. 

"There's a real ghost, a white lady who walks on air, who spends hertime in the room whose windows look out over the low lands along theriver, " piped up little Miss Gordon, a grand-daughter in very shortdresses. 

"How romantic, " laughed the Lieutenant. 

The Colonel, despite his customary remonstrances, would not havemissed telling the story for worlds. He liked to be coaxed. He was inhis element when the score or more of eager guests, old and young, crowded into the room about him and implored him to go on with thetale. 

"It's a mighty threadbare sort of a ghost we have here, my dearLieutenant, " he admitted at last, and there was a sigh of contentmentfrom the lips of many. They knew the story would be forthcoming. "Poorold thing, I've told about her so often I'm afraid she'll refuse tocome and visit us any more. "

At this juncture, young Mr. Gates Garrison strolled leisurely into theroom, coming from the dining-room where he had lingered with theapples and cider and doughnuts. He was a tall, fair young fellow oftwenty-four, a year younger than his sister, the pretty Mrs. Gloame, and a senior in Columbia College. The Colonel stood with his back tothe blazing grate, confronting the crowd of eager listeners, who haddragged chairs and settees and cushions from all parts of the house toprepare the auditorium. 

"Come here, Gates, and hear the ghost story, " cried his sister, makingroom between herself and Miss Kelly. 

"Same old story?" inquired the law student, stifling a yawn. 

"Of course; come and sit between us. "

"Oh, I'm not afraid of ghosts, " replied Gates indifferently. 

Miss Kelly looked daggers through her tender blue eyes. 

"I wonder what that boy has on his mind?" murmured Mrs. Gloameanxiously. 

"Nothing, " responded Miss Kelly, sweetly. But the Colonel wasbeginning. 

"Whatever you may think of this story, " he began, "I can assure youthat there is a very deep mystery attached to Gloaming and as I cannotoffer the faintest explanation except to call your attention to thesupernatural conditions which exist, I am obliged to admit that I, forone, firmly believe the house is haunted. For several generations theGloame family, to an individual, has believed in the ghost of thesouth wing and our faith cannot be shaken. We have the evidence of ourears, our eyes, and of all who have undertaken to explode the theory. I'll be just as brief as possible, Major Harper, so you need not lookat your wife's watch. My great-great-grandfather, Godfrey Gloame, wasborn in this house and he brought a beautiful bride here when he wasmarried twenty-five years afterward. He was, as are all the Gloames, aVirginian of the old type, and he was a fire-eater, so the familyrecords say. When he was married it was to a young lady of wealth andposition in the North--a very gay and, if I must say it, aparticularly--ah!--unsatisfactory mistress of a home. " "What could youexpect of a Yankee wife?" asked young Garrison, tantalisingly. 

"They were different in those days, " responded the grey old narrator, with a smile for his wife. "My great-great-grandmother was a beautifulwoman, and she was well aware of that fact. Her husband was a jealousdevil, as unreasonable as a jackass, and as stubborn as an ox. To makea long story short, after they had been married five years and hadseen enough of the connubial hell to drive them both out of mind, hetook a sudden fancy that she was false to him. A young Virginian, infact, the very man who stood up with him at the wedding, was afrequent visitor at this house and was a decided favourite with mymaternal ancestor. Godfrey went to drinking rather heavily, simplybecause he found it impossible to discover anything wrong in hiswife's conduct--I may say that he had watched her, too, ladies andgentlemen. Being too honourable to accuse her of infidelity withouthaving actual proof, he suffered in silence and his cups, all the timeallowing the gap between them to grow wider and wider. One night hecame home from Richmond late and saw his friend, Harry Heminway, leaving the place on horseback. Inflamed by jealousy, and drink, too, I reckon, he dashed up to his wife's room. I do not know whatfollowed, for no one ever knew, but the next mornin' they found herdead on the bed, her throat cut from ear to ear in a most dreadfulmanner. He was dead on the floor, the same knife sticking in hisbreast. Their son, my great-grand-father, the famous General George W. Gloame, then a child of three, was lying on the bed with his mother, asleep. "

"What beautiful nerves that kid must have had, " muttered Gates. 

"And did they never hang the murderer?" asked Lieutenant King. 

"Good heavens, no! Didn't I say he had jabbed the knife into his ownheart? How could they hang him? Well, all this happened in that roomat the far end of the south wing--it's always locked now and has beenfor a hundred and thirty years. The furniture stands just as it waswhen that pair occupied the apartment. Now comes the strange part ofthe story. "

"Ugh!" interrupted Miss Kelly, with a shudder. "Just hear how the windwhistles around the house. It positively gives me the shivers. "

"Well, within a week after the murder queer things began to happen inthat room, " the Colonel went on. "Odd noises were to be heard, muffledscreams came from behind the closed doors, and finally the people wholived here saw the white, ghostly form of my great-great-grandmothermoving about in the room and in the halls. Ever since that time herspirit can be seen up there, for it comes around once in a while tosee if anybody desecrates the room by trying to sleep in it. With myown eyes I have seen it--dozens of times. Since my marriage it has notbeen here, but I expect it almost any night. "

George Washington appeared suddenly in the hall door and hisstentorian though eminently respectable tones startled the entireassemblage, the Colonel included. There were a dozen little feminineshrieks and more than one man caught his breath sharply. GeorgeWashington was the butler at Gloaming. 

"Majah Harpeh's kerridge, sah, " he announced obsequiously. 

"Oh, I'm so glad, " gasped Miss Kelly, mightily relieved. Then, inconfusion: "I mean, Mrs. Harper, that I'm glad it isn't the ghost, youknow. "

Half an hour later the parlours were deserted, except for the presenceof a tall young man with a far-away, dissatisfied look in his eyes. Inall the spare bed chambers guests were preparing for bed. YoungGarrison had said good night to all of them and remained below stairsto commune with himself at the midnight hour. 

For many minutes he sat before the fireplace, staring moodily at theflames. Gates Garrison admitted reluctantly that it was all very niceat Gloaming, that it was "a bully place to spend the holidays and allthat, you know, " but for a very well-defined reason he was wishingthey were over and he was back in New York once more. He was in love. It is not unusual for a young man of his age to be desperately in loveand it is by no means unusual that he should be in love with the mostimpossible of persons. Gates Garrison's affections at this period ofhis life were the property in fee simple of a very pretty anddecidedly popular member of the chorus at Weber & Field's. Afterconvincing himself that he was quite alone in the huge old parlour, the hopeless Mr. Garrison guiltily drew from the inside pocket of hiscoat a thick and scrawly letter. Then he did things to this letterthat in after years he would blush to acknowledge, if they remained apart of his memory. He kissed the scribble--undeniably. Then, withrapt eyes, he reread the lengthy missive from "Dolly. " It had come inthe morning mail and he had read it a dozen times. The reader is leftto conjecture just what the letter contained. Mr. Garrison's thoughtswere running something like this:

"Lord, if my sister knew about you, Dolly, she'd have so many fitsthat you couldn't count them. They think I'm an absolute stick when itcomes to girls. If they only knew! What the deuce did I do with thatphotograph--ah, here it is. Inside vest pocket, left-hand side--justwhere it belongs. "

He pulled a small photograph from his vest pocket and sat gazing at itrapturously. It was the portrait of the fair Dolly in tights. After along scrutiny of this rather picturesque product of nature and thephotographer, he arose and, with a sigh, turned off all the lights inthe room, still holding the picture in his hand. The fire in the gratewas now the only means of illumination in the parlour and the hallswere dark. Reconsidering his impulse to go to bed, he threw himself ina chair before the grate, his elbow resting on the mahogany table atits right. There he devoted himself to--dreams. A wave of cold aircrossing his back brought him from dreamland. 

"Some one must have left a door open, " he grumbled. He looked up anddown the hall and then resumed his seat before the fire. A momentlater the chilly draft struck him again. "Confound it! There's a devilof a draft from somewhere. It goes clean through me. Must be a crackin the floor. That's the trouble with these shacks that somebody'sgrandfather built before the flood. " He vigorously poked up the fireand drew his chair a little closer to the circle of warmth. 

Had he turned his head for an instant as he sat down he could haveseen that he was not alone in the room. A tall, shadowy woman in whitewas standing in the hall door, looking pensively in upon him. For afull minute she stood there, hesitating between modesty and curiosity, and then turned as if to glide away. 

Reconsidering, she smiled defiantly and more or less nervously, andthen turned back into the room. Of course, he did not hear her as sheapproached. The mere fact that her filmy white dress was of thefashion in vogue before the Revolution should prove her identity tothe reader. She was the Gloaming Ghost. 

Gates Garrison was softly, tenderly addressing the photograph of theairy but not ethereal Dolly. The words were not for the ears ofothers. Even the infatuated lover would have despised the strain ofsoftness in his tones had he known there was a hearer. 

"If you could but speak to me, " he was saying to the picture, "you'dmake me happy, I know. You'd tell me that you love me. You'd tell methat you hate that meddlesome old man Ellison. You've got it just asbad as I have, haven't you, Dolly?"

"What a real woman she seems to be, " exclaimed a soft silvery voice athis shoulder. Garrison whirled and looked up into the beautiful faceof the ghost. 

"Great Heaven!" he gasped, struggling to his feet, his eyes riveted tothe face of the wraith. 

"Only a part of it, my dear sir, " corrected the ghost, with a raresmile in which courage struggled with diffidence. "Dear me, why do youstare at me so rudely?"

She was standing directly before him now, tall and straight. He washanging to the mantelpiece, almost speechless. 

"Who--what in Heaven's name are you?" he cried. 

"Why, don't you know me? I am Mrs. Godfrey Gloame, " she replied, atouch of resentment in her voice. 

"The--the ghost?"

"That's what they call me, " she admitted sadly. "It's such a horridthing to be called, too. In reality, I'm merely a visitor from anotherworld. There are many more of my kind in this room at this instant, sir, but you cannot see them. They are visible to me, however. If itinterests you in the least, I can tell you that you are surrounded byghosts. Please don't run! They can not hurt you. Why should they, evenif they could? What a big, strong man you are to be afraid of suchperfectly harmless, docile beings as we. Over in that corner, lookingfrom the window, stands my daughter-in-law, Mrs. George Gloame. I sawher husband, my son, sitting in the hallway as I came through. Judgingfrom their attitudes, they've had another of those horrid quarrels. Ihope you'll pardon me for disturbing you. You looked so lonely Icouldn't resist the desire to come in and see. You as I was passing. "

Gates was regaining his composure rapidly. The first uncanny shock waswearing off and he was confessing to himself that there was nothing tofear in the spectral bit of loveliness. 

"I--I'm sure I appreciate the honour, " he said, bowing low. 

"Permit me to introduce myself, " she went on, and he marvelled at hercharm of manner. "I am the great-great-grandmother of Cassady Gloame, and the daughter of Van Rensselaer Brevoort, of New York. He is amillionaire. "

"He must be a pretty old millionaire by this time, isn't he?"

"Oh, poor papa has been dead for a hundred and one years. "

"Indeed? He isn't here, is he? I'm getting so I don't mind you in theleast but I'd rather not meet any male--er--ghosts, if you please. "Mrs. Godfrey Gloame laughed unrestrainedly. 

"Don't you know that we are nothing but spectral air?" she criedderisively. 

"Ah, since you speak of it, I did feel your draft when you came in, "he said. "But, if you will pardon me, Mrs. Gloame, there is somethinguncanny about you just the same. You'll admit that, I'm sure. Howwould you have felt when you were in the flesh to have had a horribleghost suddenly walk in upon you?" "Oh, I am horrible, am I?" she saidas she leaned toward him with an entrancing smile. 

"Heavens, no!" he retracted. "You are a marvel of beauty. I don'twonder that your husband was jealous. " She did not appear to haveheard the last remark. 

"How I used to live in terror of ghosts, " she cried, looking aboutapprehensively. "Would you believe it, sir, up to the time I wasmarried I could not bear the thought of being left alone in the housefor a single minute of the night. The darkness, the mystic flicker ofthe lights, the stillness seemed to swarm with spirits--Oh, you don'tknow how I suffered with the fear of them. "

"And after you got married--what then?"

"I soon had material spirits to contend with. "

"How so?"

"That is an extremely personal inquiry, sir. "

"I beg pardon if I have overstepped the bounds of politeness. "

"I may as well tell you that my husband drank terribly. It's all overthe country anyhow, I hear. "

"The Gloame pedigree says that you drove him to it. "

"I know that is what the Gloames claim, but it is a shameless slander. My poor, dear husband has told me since that he was wrong and he wouldgive all he has on earth to set me aright in that hateful oldpedigree. The poor fellow killed himself, you doubtless know. I wasnever so shocked in my life as when I heard that he had committed sucha brutal act. " Mrs. Gloame was looking sadly, reminiscently into thefire and there was a trace of tears in her voice. 

"But, my dear madam, didn't he begin by slaying you?" exclaimed Gatesin surprise. 

"To be sure, he did destroy me first or I might have kept him fromcommitting the awful crime of suicide, " she said, despondently. 

PART II

"But murder is so much worse than suicide, " expostulated Garrison. "Wehang men for murder, you know. "

"I've a notion that it would be difficult to hang them for suicide. But you are quite wrong in your estimation of the crime. You do notknow what it is to be murdered, I presume. "

"Well, hardly. "

"Nor what it is to commit suicide? Well, let me advise you, judgingfrom what I know of the hereafter, get murdered in preference tocommitting suicide. I'd even suggest that you commit murder, if youare determined to do anything rash. "

"And be hanged for it!" laughed Gates. 

"You can be hanged or be d----d, just as you like, " she saidmeaningly. "I wish you could talk to my husband if you are thinking ofdoing anything of the kind. I'm sure your young love affairs must begetting to the suicide stage by this time. "

"But I don't want to kill anybody, much less myself. Oh, I beg yourpardon, " he cried suddenly. "Pray have a chair, Mrs. Gloame. It wasunpardonable in me to let you remain standing so long. I've been atrifle knocked out, I mean disconcerted. That's my only excuse. "

"You are not expected to know anything about ghost etiquette, " shesaid sweetly, dropping into a chair at the side of the table farthestfrom the fire. Garrison had some fear that her vapoury figure mightsink through the chair, but he was agreeably surprised to find that itdid not. Mrs. Gloame leaned back with a sigh of contentment anddeliberately crossed her pretty feet on the fender. 

"Won't you sit nearer to the fire?" lie asked. "It's very cold tonightand you must be chilled to the bone. You are not dressed for coldweather. " She was attired in a low-necked and sleeveless gown. 

"I'm not at all cold and, besides, I did not bring my bones with me. "He resumed his seat at the opposite side of the table. "Have you comefar tonight?"

"From the graveyard a mile down the river. It is a beautiful cemetery, isn't it?"

"I am quite a stranger in these parts. Besides, I'm not partial tograveyards. "

"Oh, dear me, " she cried, in confusion. "The idea of my sitting heretalking to a total stranger all this time. You must think me extremelybold. "

"I am the bold one, madam. It's my first experience, you know, and Ithink I'm doing pretty well, don't you? By the way, Mrs. Gloame, myname is Gates Garrison, of New York, and my sister is the present Mrs. Gloame. "

"The pretty young thing with the old Gloame husband?"

"Can't say she's pretty, you. Know. She's my sister. "

"I passed her in the hall tonight. "

"The dev--the deuce you did!" cried Gates, coming to his feet inalarm. "Then she must be lying out there in a dead faint. " He wasstarting for the door when she recalled him. 

"Oh, she did not see me. She merely shivered and asked a servant toclose the door. An ill wind seems to be a north wind, so far as ghostsare concerned, " she concluded pathetically. "So you are from New York. Dear New York; I haven't been there in a hundred and thirty-fiveyears, I dare say. One in my position rather loses count of the years, you know. I suppose the place is greatly changed. And your lady-lovelives there, too, I see. "

"My lady-love?" demanded Gates, taken back. 

"Yes, the girl who is so well dressed from her shoulders up, " with atantalising smile. 

"You mean--this?" he asked, turning a fiery red as he tried to slipthe picture of Dolly under a book. 

"Let me see it, please. Who is she?" He was ashamed, but he held outthe picture. A poorly disguised look of disgust crossed the startledfeatures of Mrs. Godfrey Gloame. 

"She's--a friend of the Colonel's, " said Gates promptly. 

"I should think his wife would do well to be on her guard. This is thefirst time I ever saw such a costume. In my day a woman would not havedared to do such a thing. Don't you know her?"

"Oh, casually, " answered he, looking away. 

"I'm glad to hear that. She is nothing to you, then?"

He shook his head in fine disdain. 

"I don't care much for you men in these days, Mr. Garrison, " she said. 

"You're not complimentary. "

"When I compare the men of my day--men like Godfrey--with the men oftoday, I thank Heaven I had the honour to be killed by a gentleman. You don't know how many unhappy wives I meet in the cemetery. "

"Well, there are no women like you in this day, either. You arebeautiful, glorious, " he cried, leaning toward her eagerly. She shrankback with a laugh, holding her hands between his face and her own. 

"How lovely, " she sighed. "But keep away, please. "

"Well, I should say, " he exclaimed, his teeth almost chattering, socold was the air that fanned his face. "I never got such a frost froma woman in all my life. "

"If my husband had heard your words of flattery he would have createda terrible disturbance. He was fearfully jealous--a perfect devil whenthe spell came over him. "

"A devil then and a devil now, I may infer. "

"Oh, no; you do him an injustice. Godfrey really was an angel, and ifhe had not killed himself I think he would not now be in such anuncertain position. He is still on probation, you see. "

"Between two fires, as it were. "

"I think not. The last time I saw him he was shivering. "

"I don't wonder, " said Gates, ruefully, recalling the chill of amoment since. "Does he ever come here?"

"Not often. There are so many unpleasant associations, he says. It washere that the funeral took place and he has expressed very strongexceptions to the sermon of a minister who alluded to him as anunfortunate victim of his own folly. The idea! It would have beenfolly, indeed, for Godfrey to have lived after I was dead. Every womanin Virginia would have been crazy to marry him. And then one of thepall-bearers did not suit him. He had cheated Godfrey in a horsetrade, I think. "

"I should like to have known Godfrey Gloame. "

"You would have admired him. He was the best pistol shot, the bravestman in all Virginia. Three times he fought duels, coming offvictorious each time. He would have been an ideal husband if he hadnot been so indolent, so dissipated, and so absurdly jealous of HarryHeminway. I shall never forgive him for killing me on account of poorHarry. "

"Is that why he killed you?" asked Gates eagerly. 

"He said so at the time, but he was sorry for it afterward. That isusually the way with jealous men. "

"Whew!" exclaimed the man, starting up. "There's another draft, didn'tyou feel it?"

"It is my husband coming, I know his footstep, " she said delightedly, looking toward the door. 

"Holy smoke!" cried Gates, in alarm. 

"Don't let him hear you speak of smoke. He is very touchy about itjust now. Ah, come in, Godfrey, dear. "

She crossed to the door to meet the tall, grey young man in theeighteenth century costume, Garrison looking on with open mouth, andrising hair. 

Godfrey Gloame was a handsome fellow, albeit he was as transparent asglass. His hair was powdered with all the care of a dandy and hisgarments hung properly upon his frame. He kissed his wife and thenglared at young Mr. Garrison. 

"Who is this man, Beatrice?" he demanded, his hand going to his swordhilt. Mrs. Gloame caught the hand and there was passionate entreaty inher eyes. "Speak, woman! What are you doing here with him at this timeof night?"

"Now, don't he cross, Godfrey, " she pleaded. "It's only Mr. Garrison. "

"And who the devil is Mr. Garrison?"

"What a very disagreeable ghost, " muttered Gates, remembering thatghosts are harmless. 

Mrs. Gloame led the unruly Godfrey up to the table and, in adelightfully old-fashioned way, introduced the two gentlemen. 

"Mr. Garrison is the brother of my successor, the present mistress ofGloaming, " she said. 

"And a devilish pretty woman, too. I've seen her frequently. By theway, I stopped in her bedchamber as I came through. But that's neitherhere or there. What are you doing here with this young whipper-snapper, Beatrice?"

"Let me explain, Mr. Gloame, " began Gates hastily. 

"I desire no explanation from you, sah, " interposed Godfrey, toweringwith dignity. "You would explain just as all men do under likecircumstances. Beatrice, I demand satisfaction. "

"Be rational, Godfrey, for once in your life. It is beneath my dignityto respond to your insult, " said Mrs. Gloame proudly. 

"Good for you, Mrs. Gloame, " cried Garrison approvingly. "You would bea bully actress. "

"Sah, you insult my wife by that remark, " roared Godfrey Gloame, andthis time the sword was unsheathed. 

"Oh, I'm not afraid of you, old chap, " said Gates bravely. "You'renothing but wind, you know. Be calm and have a chair by the fire. Yourwife says you have chills. "

"I do not require an invitation to sit down in my own house, sah. I amGodfrey Gloame, sah, of Gloaming, sah. "

"You mean you were--you are now his shade, " said Gates. "Ah, that'sthe word I've been trying to think of--shade! You are shades--that'sit--shades, not ghosts. Yes, Mr. Gloame, I've heard all about yourtaking off and I am sure that you were a bit too hasty. You had nolicense to be jealous of your wife--she assures me of it, and fromwhat I've seen of her I'd be willing to believe anything she says. "

"Ah, too true, too true! I always was and always will be a fool. Itwas she who should have slain me. Will you ever forgive me, Beatrice, forgive me fully?" said Godfrey, in deep penitence. 

"I can forgive everything but the fact that you were so shockinglydrunk the night you killed us, " said she, taking his hands in hers. 

"Oh, that was an awful spree! My head aches to think of it. "

"It was not the murder I condemn so much as the condition you were inwhen you did it, " she complained. "Mr. Garrison, you do not know howhumiliating it is to be killed by a man who is too drunk to know wherethe jugular vein is located. My neck was slashed--oh, shockingly!"

"Yes, my dear sah, if I must admit it, I did it in a most bunglingmannah, " admitted her husband. "Usually I am very careful in mattersof importance, and I am only able to attribute the really indecentbutchery to the last few sups I took from General Bannard's demijohn. My hand was very unsteady, wasn't it, dearest?"

"Miserably so. See, Mr. Garrison, on my neck you can see the fivescars, indications of his ruthlessness. One stroke should have beensufficient, a doctor told me afterwards. This one, the last, --do yousee it? Well, it was the only capable stroke of them all. Just thinkof having to go through eternity with these awful scars on my neck. And it was beautiful, too, wasn't it, Godfrey?"

Garrison thought it must have been the prettiest neck ever given towoman. 

"Divine!" cried Mr. Gloame warmly. "My dear sah, there never lived awoman who had the arms, the neck, and shoulders that my wifepossessed. I speak reservedly, too, sah, for since my demise I haveseen thousands. A shade has some privileges, you know. "

"Godfrey Gloame!" cried his wife, suspiciously. "What have you beendoing? Have you been snooping into the privacy of--"

"Now, my dear girl, do not be too hasty in your conclusions. You'llobserve, Mr. Garrison, that I am not the only jealous one. I havemerely seen some shoulders. Very ordinary ones, too, I'll say. Oh, Iam again reminded that I want an explanation for your damnablyimproper conduct tonight, madam. This thing of meeting a man here attwelve o'clock is--"

"Goodness!" cried Mrs. Gloame anxiously. "It is not twelve, is it! Imust hasten away by a quarter after twelve. "

"It lacks considerable of that hour, " said Gates. Turning to GodfreyGloame, who was leaning against the mantel, he went on to explain:"You see, sir, I was reading here and your wife dropped in--blew in, Imight say--all without my knowledge, very much as you did. She had hadno invitation, we had made no date--I mean arrangement--and I wasparalysed at first. Your wife is a perfect stranger to me. There is adisparity in our ages that ought to protect her. I am twenty-four andshe is at least a hundred and fifty. "

"Sir! I am but twenty-five!" exclaimed Mrs. Gloame indignantly. 

"Madam, I must remind you that you have a great-great-grandson inColonel Gloame the present, who, by the way, is very proud of hisancestry. But pardon my jesting, please. Would you like a littlebrandy or a glass of wine? It is a cold night, even for shades. Let meprepare a toddy--it won't take a minute, and I know how to get up acracker-jack. New thing in all of the New York clubs. "

After a moment of indecision the two Gloames sank into chairs besidethe table. Godfrey waved his hand pleasantly, courteously, to theyoung New Yorker. 

"My dear sah, " he said, "your explanation of this rather unaccountablesituation is entirely acceptable. I see the position clearly, just asit is, and I humbly apologise for afflicting you with an insinuation. Beatrice, I crave your forgiveness again. Your proffer of the toddy, Mr. Garrison, is timely and I should be happy to place my approvalupon your particular concoction. "

"Godfrey, " cried his wife in distress, "you swore you would neverdrink another drop. "

"But this shall be the last, " he pleaded, "so help me--so help me--Moses. "

Garrison set to work with the Colonel's decanters, concocting a brewover the spirit lamp, the two wraiths looking on in silent admiration. 

"How like you Mr. Garrison is, Godfrey, " said Mrs. Gloame. 

"Except the water, my dear, " agreed Godfrey, taking it for grantedthat she referred to his ability to mix drinks. "Do you use the waterto cleanse the goblet, Mr. Garrison?"

"Chief ingredient, Mr. Gloame, " explained Gates, and Godfrey's heartsank heavily. 

"By the way, have a cigarette while I am busy with this. "

He tossed his cigarette case to Godfrey, who inspected it and thecontents curiously. 

"Are they to smoke, sah?"

"Certainly, light up, if Mrs. Gloame doesn't object. "

"It used to be we had nothing but tobacco to smoke, " said GodfreyGloame, lighting a cigarette from a coal in the grate. 

"Will it make him ill?" asked Mrs. Gloame. "He has a very frailstomach. "

"I think the smoke will mix very nicely with his stomach, " said Gates. "For want of something better to say, I'll ask you how you spent thesummer. "

"For my part, I stayed at home with the old complaint: nothing towear, " said Mrs. Gloame. "I am curious to know where my husband was, however. "

"Well, I didn't need anything to wear, " said he, naively. "My summerwas spent a long way from heaven, and I have just this much to say toyou mortals: you did not know what you were talking about when yousaid that the past summer was hotter than--excuse me, Beatrice; Ialmost uttered a word that I never use in the presence of a lady. "

"You don't mean to say you have gone to--to--oh, you poor boy!" criedMrs. Gloame, throwing her arms about her husband's neck. 

"Not yet, dearest, " said Godfrey consolingly. "I was merely spending aseason with an old friend, Harry Heminway. He asked about you and Itold him you were so far above him that he ought to be ashamed toutter your name. Ah, Mr. Garrison has finished the toddy. "

Garrison ceremoniously filled the goblets and handed them to hisguests. Godfrey Gloame arose grandly, holding his glass aloft. 

"Well, Mr. Garrison, " he said, "I can only say to you that I am gladto have met you and that I am sincerely sorry we have not been friendsbefore. You have given us a very pleasant evening, quite unexpectedly, and I drink to your very good health. " "Hold, sir!" cried Gates. "I amsure you will allow me to suggest an amendment. Let us drink to theeverlasting joy of the fair woman who is your wife. May her shadownever grow less. "

"Thank you, " said she, "I bid you drink, gentlemen, and share the joywith me. Ah!" as she set the goblet down, "that is delicious. "

"Superb!" cried her husband. "My dear sah, it thrills me, it sends awarmth through me that I have not experienced in a hundred and thirty-five years. How long do you expect to remain at Gloaming?"

"One week longer. "

"I shall come again if you will but prepare another like this. "

"You swore that this would be your last, Godfrey; are you asvacillating as ever!" cried his wife. 

"I--oh, dearest, a few of these won't hurt me--you know they won't, "came earnestly from the other wraith. 

"If you touch another I shall despise you forever and forever, " shecried firmly. "Take your choice, Godfrey Gloame. "

"It's plain that I am doomed to eternal punishment, whichever way youput it, " mourned poor Godfrey. "Take away the glasses, Mr. Garrison. I'll no more of it if my wife so disposes. "

"Noble fellow, " said Gates. "Have another cigarette!"

"Stay! I have heard that they are worse than liquor, " objected Mrs. Gloame. 

"I don't know but you are right, " supplemented Gates. 

"But I must have some sort of a vice, dear, " pleaded poor Godfrey. 

"Vice may be fashionable on earth, but if that's the case it wasfashion that ruined us, you'll remember, Godfrey, " she reminded him. 

"That's worth thinking about, " mused Garrison. "There is somethingdeep in that observation. You spooks are--"

"'Spooks!" cried the Gloames, arising in deep resentment. 

"I mean shades, " apologised Gates. "You do say--"

"Pardon me, " interrupted Godfrey, nervously, "but can you tell me whattime it is?"

"Ten minutes after twelve, sir. " "Oh, we must be going, " cried Mrs. Gloame. 

"What's the rush?" demanded Gates. 

"We cannot stay out after twelve-fifteen, sah. We get an extra fifteenminutes on Christmas Eve, you know, " explained Godfrey. 

"We are led to believe that you stay out till the cock crows, " saidGates. 

"Oh, these absurd superstitions, " cried Mrs. Gloame merrily. "Howignorant the people are. Are you going my way, Godfrey?"

"Yes, dear, and I care not what the direction may be. Good-night, Mr. Garrison. "

"Good-night, " added the beautiful Mrs. Gloame, " and a Merry Christmas. I sincerely hope we have not annoyed you. "

"I have never enjoyed anything so hugely. No one will believe me whenI tell this story at the club. Merry Christmas to both of you. You'llcome again, won't you?"

They were at the door and looking back at him. 

"If you care to come to the room in the south wing, you will find methere at most any time, Mr. Garrison, " was her parting invitation. Gates was positive he heard Godfrey swear softly as they glided awayin the darkness. 

And no one did believe him when he told the story at the club. 

WHEN GIRL MEETS GIRL

At a glance one would have said that they were desperadoes--the two ofthem. The one who stood outside the shadow of the black, low-lyingwall was a brawny, sinister-looking woman whose age might have beenfifty or it might have been thirty, so deceptive was the countenanceshe bore. Her companion, a short, heavily built creature, slunkfarther back into the protecting shadows and betrayed unmistakablesigns of nervousness, not to say fear. At the corner below ashuddering automobile purred its ugly song, the driver sitting farback in the shelter of the top, her eyes fixed steadily upon the twowho lurked in the shadow of the wall that surrounded the almostdeserted club house. The woman who drove the car manifestly was of astation in life far removed from those who stood watch near theopening in the hedge-topped wall that gave entrance to the grounds ofthe Faraway Country Club. Muffled and goggled as she was, it waseasily to be seen that she was of a more delicate, aristocratic mouldthan the others, and yet they were all of a single mind. They wereengaged in a joint adventure, the character of which could not bemistaken. 

The taller of the two women suddenly darted into the shadow, grippingthe arm of her companion with a hand of iron. 

"Sh! Here he comes. Remember now, Brown: no faltering. He's alone. Don't lose your nerve, woman. "

"I'm new at this sort of thing, Quinlan, " whispered the othernervously. "I don't like it. "

"You're not supposed to like it, but you've got to see it through, just the same. Stand ready, and do what I told you. I'll take care ofthe rest. "

A young man, tall and graceful, came swinging down the shrub-linedwalk, whistling a gay little air, far from suspecting the peril thatawaited him at the gate below. His cheery farewell shout to friends onthe club-house veranda had been answered by joyous voices. It wasmidnight. 

"Better wait awhile, old man, " some one had called after him. "It'sbound to rain cats and dogs before you get to the trolley. "

"A little water won't hurt me, " he had shouted back. "So long, fellows. "

When he passed through the gate, under the single electric light thatshowed the way, and turned swiftly into the dark lane, threateningrolls of thunder already smote the air and faint flashes of lightningshot through the black, starless sky. A gust of wind blew a greatswirl of dust from the roadway, filling his eyes and half blindinghim. As he bent his half-turned body against the growing hurricane, apair of strong arms seized him from behind; almost simultaneously athick blanket from which arose the odour of chloroform was thrown overhis head and drawn tight. Shrill, sibilant whispers came to his earsas he struggled vainly to free himself from those who held him. 

Some one hissed: "Don't hit him, you fool! Don't spoil his face!"

He remembered kicking viciously, and that his foot struck againstsomething hard and resisting. A suppressed screech of pain and ragerewarded the final conscious effort on his part. Very hazily herealised that he was being dragged swiftly over the ground, for milesit seemed to him, then came what appeared to be a fall from a greatheight, after which his senses left him. 

The automobile leaped forward, swerved perilously at the sharp curvebelow the club gate and rushed off into the very teeth of the storm, guided by the firm, resolute hands of the woman at the wheel. 

Once, when they had traversed a mile or more of the now drenched andslippery road, the woman who drove the car in its mad flight--unmistakably the master-mind in this enterprise--called back over hershoulder to the twain who held watch over the captive in the tonneau:

"Is he regaining consciousness? Don't let him go too long. "

"He's all right, ma'am, " said the taller of the two ruffians, bendingher ear to the captive's breast. "Fit as a fiddle. "

"Say, we'll get twenty years for this if we're nabbed, " growled theburly one called Brown. "Kidnapping is a serious business--"

"Hold your tongue!" cried the woman at the wheel. 

"Well, I'm only telling you, " grumbled Brown, nervously straighteningher black sailor. 

"It isn't necessary to tell me, " said the driver. Her voice, high andshrill in battle with the storm, was that of a person of breeding andrefinement, in marked contrast to the rough, coarse tones of hercompanions. 

Mile after mile the big machine raced along the rain-swept highway, back from the Hudson and into the hills. Not once did the firm hand onthe wheel relax, not once did the heart of the leader in this daringplot lose courage. Few are the men who would have undertaken thishazardous trip through the storm, few men with the courage or therecklessness. 

At last, the car whirled into a narrow, almost unseen lane, and, goingmore cautiously over the treacherous ruts and stones, made its waythrough the forest for the matter of a mile or two, coming to a stopfinally in front of a low, rambling house in which lights gleamed fromtwo windows on the ground floor. 

The two strong-armed hirelings dragged their still inert prisoner fromthe car, and, without a word, carried him up the walk to the house, following close upon the heels of their mistress. 

A gaunt old woman opened the door to admit the party, then closed itbehind them. 

Two days passed before Cuthbert Reynolds, one of the most popular andone of the wealthiest young men in New York, was missed from his usualhaunts, and then the city rang with the news that he had disappearedas completely as if the earth had opened to swallow him in a hungry, capacious maw. 

Heir to a vast estate, unusually clever for one so markedly handsome, beloved by half the marriageable young women in the smartest circles, he was a figure whose every movement was likely to be observed bythose who affected his society and who profited by his position. Whenhe failed to appear at his rooms in Madison Avenue, --he had nobusiness occupation and therefore no office down town, --his valet, after waiting for twenty-four hours, called up several of his friendson the telephone to make inquiries. Later on, the police were broughtinto the case. Then the newspapers took up the mystery, and bynightfall of the third day the whole city was talking about theastounding case. 

Those whilom friends who had shouted good-bye to him from the countryclub veranda were questioned with rigid firmness by the authorities. They could throw no light upon the mystery. The unusual circumstanceof his returning to town by trolley instead of by motor was easilyexplained. His automobile had been tampered with in the club garageand rendered unfit to use. The other men were not going into town thatnight, but offered him the use of their cars. He preferred thetrolley, which made connections with the subway, and they permittedhim to go as he elected. 

Naturally the police undertook to question his friends of an oppositesex. It was known that many of them were avowedly interested in himand that he had had numerous offers of marriage during the springmonths of the year, all of which, so far as could be learned, he haddeclined to consider. As for possessing evil associates among women, there was no one who could charge him with being aught but a man ofthe most spotless character. No one, man or woman, had ever spoken illof him in that respect. The police, to whom nothing is sacred, strovefor several days to discover some secret liaison which might haveescaped the notice of his devoted friends (and the more devoted one'sfriends are, the more they love to speculate on his misdemeanours), but without avail. His record was as clear as a blank page. There wasnot a red spot on it. 

Gradually it dawned upon every one that there was something reallytragic in his disappearance. Those who at first scoffed at the idea offoul play, choosing to believe that he was merely keeping himself inseclusion in order that he might escape for the while from the notablyfatiguing attentions of certain persistent admirers, came at last toregard the situation in the nature of a calamity. Eligible young mentook alarm, and were seldom seen in the streets except in pairs ortrios, each fearing the same mysterious and as yet unexplained fate ofthe incomparable Reynolds. Few went about unattended after nightfall. Most of them were rigidly guarded by devoted admirers of an oppositesex. It was no uncommon thing to see a young man in the company ofthree or four resolute protectors. 

In the meantime, Reynolds' relations had the reservoir dredged, theHudson raked, the Harlem scooped, and all of the sinister byways ofthe metropolis searched as with a fine-tooth comb. A vast reward wasoffered for the return of the young man, dead, or alive or maimed. Theposters said that $100, 000 would be paid to any one giving informationwhich might lead to the apprehension of those who had made way withhim. The Young Women's Society for the Prevention of Manslaughterdrafted resolutions excoriating the police department, and advocatingwholesale rewriting of the law. 

The loveliest of Cuthbert's admirers was Linda Blake, and the mostunheralded. No one regarded her as a favourite rival, for no one tookthe slightest notice of her. The daughter of a merchant princess, shewas somewhat beyond the pale, according to custom, and while she wasan extremely pretty young woman she was still shy and lamentablymodest. As third corresponding secretary of the Spinsters' League shewas put upon dreadfully by four fifths of the members and seldom had amoment of her own in which to declare herself to be anything more thana drudge in the movement to establish equality among God's images. Shehad little time for social achievements and but little opportunity toescape from the Spinsters' League by the means looked upon as mostefficacious. She loved Cuthbert Reynolds, but she was denied theprivilege of declaring her love to him because she seldom got nearenough to be seen by the popular bachelor, much less to speak to himexcept to pass the time of day or to hear him reply that his programmewas full or that his mother was feeling better. 

She had but three automobiles, whereas her haughty rivals possessed adozen or more. 

And yet it was Linda Blake who took the right and proper way to solvethe mystery attending the disappearance of Cuthbert Reynolds, the petof all the ladies. 

Let us now return to Reynolds, whom we left on the threshold of thatmysterious house in the hills back of Tarrytown. When he regained hissenses--he knew not how long he had been unconscious--found himself ina small, illy furnished bed-chamber. The bed on which he was lyingstood over against a window in which there were strong iron bars. Fora long time he lay there wondering where he could be and how he cameto be in this unfamiliar place. There was a racking pain in his head, a weakness in his limbs that alarmed him. Once, in his callow days, hehad been intoxicated. He recalled feeling pretty much the same as hefelt now, the day after that ribald supper party at Maxim's. Moreover, he had a vague recollection of iron bars but no such bed as this. 

As he lay there racking his brain for a solution to the mystery, a keyrasped in the door across the room. He turned his head. A gas jetabove the wretched little washstand lighted the room but poorly. Thedoor opened slowly. A tall, ungainly woman entered the room--acreature with a sallow, weather-beaten face and a perpetual leer. 

"Where am I?" demanded he. 

The woman stared at him for a moment and then turned away. The doorclosed swiftly behind her, and the key grated in the lock. Hefloundered from the bed and staggered to the door, grasping the knobin his eager, shaking hand. 

"Open up, confound you!" he cried out. The only response was the fastdiminishing tread of heavy footsteps on a stairway outside. He triedthe window bars. The night was black outside; a cool drizzle blewagainst his face as he peered into the Stygian darkness. Baffled inhis attempt to wrench the bars away, he shouted at the top of hisvoice, hoping that some passer-by--some good Samaritan--would hear hiscry and come to his relief. Some one laughed out there in the night; alow, coarse laugh that chilled him to the bone. 

He looked at his watch. The hour was three. With his watch in hishand, he came to realise that robbery had not been the motive of thosewho held him here. His purse and its contents were in his pocket; hisscarf pin and his gold cigarette ease were not missing. Lighting acigarette, he sat down upon the edge of the bed to ruminate. 

Suddenly his ear caught the sound of soft footsteps outside the door. They ceased abruptly. He had the uncanny feeling that some one waspeeping through the keyhole. He smiled at the thought of howembarrassing it might have been. 

"Get away from there!" he shouted loudly. There came the unmistakablesound of some one catching breath sharply and the creaking of a looseboard in the floor. "A woman, " he reflected with a smile. 

"If this is a joke, I don't appreciate it, " he said to himself, looking at himself in the mirror. After adjusting his disarrangednecktie and brushing his hair, he sat down in the low rocker to awaitdevelopments. 

He had not long to wait. A resolute tread sounded on the stairway, anda moment afterward the door was thrown open to admit the tall athleticfigure of a very handsome young woman. Reynolds leaped to his feet inamazement. 

"Miss Crouch!" he cried, clutching the back of the chair. A slow flushof anger mounted to his brow. "Are you responsible for this beastlytrick?"

She smiled. "I expected to hear you call it an outrage, " she saidquietly. 

"Well, outrage, if it pleases you. What does it mean?"

She crossed the room and stood directly in front of him, stillsmiling. He did not flinch, but the light in her eyes was mostdisquieting. 

"It means, my dear Cuthbert, that you are in my power at last. You'llnot leave this house alive, unless you go forth as my husband. "

He stared at her in utter amazement. "Your husband? My God, woman, have you no pride?"

"Bushels of it, " she said. 

"But I have refused to marry you at least a half-dozen times. Thatought to be ample proof that I don't love you. To be perfectly brutalabout it, I despise you. "

"Thanks for the confidence, but it will do you no good. I am not thesort of woman to be thwarted, once my mind and heart are fixed on athing. Whether you like it or not, you shall be my husband beforeyou're a day older. "

"Never!" he exclaimed, his eyes flashing. 

Before he could make a move to defend himself, she clasped him in herstrong, young arms and was raining passionate kisses upon his lips, his brow, his cheek. 

Weak from the effects of the chloroform, his struggles were futile. Hewould have struck her had there been a weapon handy. 

"I'll die before I'll marry you, Elinor Crouch, " he shouted, freeinghimself at last. 

"We'll see about that, " she said, standing off to survey him thebetter. "I'll give you until tomorrow night to submit to my demands, peaceably and sensibly. Then, if you are still obdurate, we'll seewhat starvation will do to--"

"You wouldn't starve me, you wretch, " he cried in horror. 

"It's a most efficacious way of bringing a man to terms, " said MissCrouch, fixing him with glittering eyes. 

"By Jove, " said he, shaking his head in despair, "I knew we'd come tothis sort of thing if we passed that infernal law giving you women theupper hand of us. "

"We only ask for equal rights, my friend, " she said. "This is the sortof thing you men used to do and no one made a fuss about it. Now it'sour turn to apply the whip. "

"I'm blessed if I'll vote for another woman, if I live to be amillion, " he growled. 

"Oh, yes, you will. You'll vote just as your wife tells you to vote, and there's the end to that. But, I can't stand here discussingpolitics with you. I give you until tomorrow night to think it over. Ajustice of the peace will be here to perform the ceremony. You know Ilove you. You know I'll make you a good wife--a devoted, adoring wife. I am fair to look upon. I am rich, I am of good family. Half the menin the town would give their boots to be in yours. You have but to saythe word and we set sail this week on my yacht for a honeymoon trip tothe ends of the earth. Everything that love and money can procure foryou shall be--"

"Stop! I will hear no more. Leave the room! No! Wait! Where am I?"

She laughed softly. "You are where no one will ever think of lookingfor you. Good night!"

She turned and went swiftly through the door. With an execration onhis lips, he sprang after her, only to find himself confronted by twovicious-looking women with pistols in their hands. With a groan, hedrew back into the room. The door closed with a bang, the key turnedin the lock, and he was alone to reflect upon the horrors of the fateahead of him. 

Elinor Crouch was a beautiful girl, and an alluring one. Even thoughhe hated her, he was forced to admit to himself that she was the mostbeautiful creature he had ever seen. Not once, but a hundred times, had he passed judgment upon her physical charms from a point of viewobtained in his club window, but always there had been in his mind thereservation that she was not the sort of woman he would care to marry. Now he was beginning to know her for what she really was: a schemingamazon who would sacrifice anything to appease a pride that had beenwounded by his frequent and disdainful refusals to become her husband. 

Would she carry out her threat and starve him if he persisted in hisdetermination to defy her? Could she be so cruel, so inhuman as that?

He was considerably relieved after the few hours of sleep thatfollowed his interview with the fair Miss Crouch, to find a bountifuland wholesome breakfast awaiting him. True, it was served by an evil-appearing woman who looked as though she could have slit his throatand relished the job, but he paid little heed to her after the firstfruitless attempts to engage her in conversation. She was a sourcreature and given to monosyllables, this Quinlan woman. 

Reynolds had been brought up to respect the adage concerning "a womanscorned. " He knew that women in these days are not to be trifled with. If Elinor Crouch set about to conquer, the chance for mercy at herhands would be slim. There was absolutely no means of escape from hisprison. Daylight revealed a most unpleasant prospect. The barredwindow through which he peered was fifty or sixty feet from theground, which was covered with jagged boulders. On all sides was thedark, impenetrable forest which marks the hills along the Hudson. After a few minutes' speculation he decided that he was confined in anupper chamber of the pump house connected with the estate. Investigation showed him that the bars in the windows had been placedthere but recently. 

In considerable agitation he awaited the coming of night, fullydetermined that if the worst came to the worst he would acceptstarvation and torture rather than submit to the cruel demands ofElinor Crouch. He would die before he would consent to become herhusband. 

She came at nine o'clock, accompanied by a fat little woman in black, who was introduced as a justice of the peace. 

"Well?" said his captor, with the most enticing smile. "Have youdecided, Cuthbert?"

"I have, " said he resolutely. "I want to warn you, Elinor, that youshall pay dearly for this outrage. I shall--"

"Then you consent?" she cried, her face aglow. 

"No! A thousand times, no! I mean--"

"You are wasting your breath, Cuthbert Reynolds, " she interrupted, asteely glitter in her eyes. "Justice Snow, will you proceed at oncewith the ceremony? I will not--"

Reynolds sprang past her with the agility of a cat and hurled himselfthrough the half-open door, hoping to find the way momentarily clearfor a dash to liberty. Even as hope leaped up in his breast it wasdestroyed. 

Two brawny figures fell upon him at the landing and he was borne toearth with a fierceness that stunned him into insensibility. 

When he regained consciousness a few moments later, he was lying boundon the bed. The grim figure of the redoubtable Quinlan sat in therocker over against the door, and there was a scornful leer on herthin lips. 

"Bread and water for you, my laddy-buck, " said she, with a broad wink. "What a blithering fool you are. The finest lady in the land wants tomake you her husband, and you kick up a row about it. You--"

"You go to the devil, " said Reynolds savagely. 

Quinlan laughed. 

For four days and nights, he remained in the small, bare room. Eachday brought his persecutor to his side, and on each occasion she wentaway baffled but hopeful. She pleaded, stormed and threatened, but heheld steadfast to his resolve. 

"I'll die a thousand times, you fiend, before I'll consent to thisceremony. Go on starving me, as you've set out to do. What will youhave gained in the end?"

"At least the consolation of knowing that no other woman shall callyou husband, " she said vindictively. 

He was thin, emaciated and hollow-eyed for lack of proper sustenance. His captors gave him barely enough food and drink to keep body andsoul together. Once a day the gaunt Quinlan brought bread and water tohis room, and once the beautiful Elinor forgot her cigarettes and abonbon box on leaving him in a rage. He hid the boxes after emptyingthem, cunningly realising that if he ever escaped her clutches thearticles would serve as incontrovertible evidence against her. ButQuinlan and Brown, strong and vigorous, were more than a match for himin his weakened condition. They choked him until he revealed thehiding place of the two gold boxes. Then they beat him cruelly. 

"If you tell the boss that we beat you up, young fellow, you'll getyour come-uppin's good and plenty, " said Quinlan savagely, as he fellback exhausted in the corner. "You keep your mouth closed, if youdon't want it closed forever. "

"If you have a spark of humanity in your soul, woman, you'll give mefood, " he cried. "I am dying. Have you no heart, either of you? Seehere, I'll give each of you enough money to keep you in comfort forthe rest of your lives if you'll--"

"None o' that, Mr. Reynolds, " snapped Quinlan. "What do you take usfor? Men?"

"Gad, I wish you were, " he exclaimed. "I'd thrash you within an inchof your lives if you were. "

"Well, don't go to offering us money, that's all. We're women, and wedon't sell out a friend. Say, ain't you about ready to give in to her?You'd better say the word. She'll make you the happiest man on earth. What's more, you'll get a good square meal the minute you say you'llmarry her. "

"I wouldn't marry her if she were the last woman in the world, " hecried. "Listen to me! Haven't you two women husbands who are dear toyou? Haven't you husbands--"

"They're both in the penitentiary, curse 'em, " snarled Brown, clenching and unclenching her hands. "I wish I could get my hooks onthat man of mine, that's all. "

"Lucky dog!" said Reynolds. 

"You bet he's a lucky dog. I believe he got sent up deliberately. "

"Well, he's only got eight more years to serve, Brown, " said Quinlan. "He'll come back to you for food and clothes. Then you can make up forthis lost time. "

"I'll do it, all right, " said Brown, smiting the window sill with herhuge fist. Quinlan chuckled. 

That night Reynolds made his last stand. When Miss Crouch left him, hewas almost ready to submit. Had she but known it, another five minutesof argument would have brought him to terms. Starvation had conqueredhim. 

"If I live till morning, " he kept repeating to himself in the solitudeof his cell, "I'll give in. I can't stand it any longer. I shall gomad. "

He fell back on the bed and lay staring at the ceiling, a beatenwreck. Delirium was at hand. 

Sometime during the night he was aroused from a fitful slumber by asound at his window. The night was very dark. He could see nothing, and yet he knew that some one was there--some one who would help himin his final hour of despair. Struggling weakly from the bed, hedragged himself to the bars. Beaching between them, his handencountered the topmost rung of a ladder. Some one was ascending frombelow. He could feel the supports quiver, he could hear the laddercreak beneath the weight of a living, moving body. 

A moment later, the dull outlines of a head and shoulders appeared inthe black frame--the head of a woman! With a groan of despair heshrank back, thinking that the visitor was one who had come to tormenthim in some new fashion. 

"Cuthbert!" whispered the woman on the outside. "Cuthbert, dear, areyou there? Speak!"

He staggered to the window once more. Hope buoyed him up. The voicewas not that of one of his inquisitors. It was low, sweet, gentle, yetquivering with anxiety. 

"Yes, yes!" he whispered. "Who are you? For God's sake, get me out ofthis place. I am dying here. "

"Thank God, you are alive, " came the tense whisper from the woman. "Iam not too late. "

"Who are you?" He had discovered that her features were renderedunrecognisable by an ugly pair of motor goggles. A thick veil held herpanama motor hat in place. 

She laughed nervously, even shyly. 

"Never mind, Mr. Reynolds, " she said. "Enough to say that I am here torelease you if it is in the power of woman to do so. "

"You call me Mr. Reynolds now, " he protested. "A moment ago it was'Cuthbert dear. ' Who are you, oh, my deliverer?"

"Don't ask, please. Not now. You shall know in good time. How longhave you been here?"

"Ages, it seems. In truth, but five days. She is starving me todeath. "

"The fiend! Tell me, are you married to her?"

"No!"

"Then I shall do my best to save you. " He reflected. Perhaps it wouldbe leaping from the frying-pan into the fire. 

"Just a moment, please. How am I to know that I am bettering myposition by accepting liberty at your hands. "

"Oho! You fear that I may want to marry you against your will? Is thatit? Well, the instant you are free you shall be at liberty to gowhither you please and to marry whosoever pleases you. Is that fairenough?"

"Forgive me for doubting you. But how are you to effect a rescue? I amguarded by powerful women who would make short work of you in combat. I can see that you are slight. They are huge, well-armed creatures. Are you--"

"Don't worry about me, " she whispered eagerly. "I can take care ofmyself. And now, be patient. I must leave you. The only way to releaseyou seems to be through the house itself. I have no saw or file, butwait! There is a saw and file in the tool box on my machine. Howstupid of me! I'll be back in a jiffy. Don't lose heart. "

She went rapidly down the ladder. He bethought himself when too lateand lighted the gas. His watch showed him that it was two o'clock. 

Vastly excited and strangely revived, he awaited her return, prayingthat she might not be intercepted by the minions of Elinor Crouch. Anhour passed. He was about to give up in despair, confident that shehad been summarily dealt with by the eagle-eyed Quinlan, when stealthysounds came to his ears from the landing outside his door. 

A key was gently inserted in the lock. He prepared to defend himselfby grasping the small rocker in his weak, trembling hands. 

The door opened a few inches, then swung wide. Instead of ElinorCrouch or her hirelings on the threshold stood the lithe, gracefulfigure of a girl in a grey motoring suit. She sprang into the room. The goggles were no longer in evidence, but the green veil hid herfeatures quite completely. 

"Quick! Follow me! I have accounted for the tall woman who stood guardon the stairway. We must get away before the others discover herbody. "

"Good God! Have you killed her?"

"I hope not. Just a little tap on the head with this wrench, that'sall. She'll come out of it all right. Hurry! I've got a couple offriends watching outside. They'll give the alarm if we fail to appearat once. "

"Men? Thank heaven!"

"No! Women! What good are men at a time like this? Merciful--are yougoing to faint?"

He sank to the floor with a groan, and the chair clattered against thewall with a noise that must have been heard throughout the house. 

When he opened his eyes again, his head was pillowed on her knees andshe was wildly whispering words of love and encouragement to him. 

"My darling, speak to me. I am here to save you! Open your eyes. Lookat me! Don't--Oh, thank Heaven! You are alive!"

He looked up into the now uncovered face and an expression of utterbewilderment grew in his eyes. 

"Linda Blake!" he murmured. "Can it be possible?" His fingerstightened on her arm and a glad light leaped into his eyes. 

She pulled down her veil in confusion. 

"Don't look at me, " she whispered. "I hope you didn't hear what I saidto you. "

"I heard every word, love of my life. I--Listen! What's that?" He satbolt upright. 

"Some one's coming!" she cried, springing to her feet and placingherself between him and the door. He saw a glistening revolver in hersmall, white hand. 

"It's Elinor Crouch, " he whispered. "Heavens, how I have come to hatethose footsteps of hers. "

Elinor Crouch, her face pale with anger and apprehension, dashed intothe room an instant later. She was attired in a loose wrapper, securedat the waist by a handsome Oriental girdle. Her black hair hung in twolong plaits down her back. It was apparent that she had made no effortto perfect a toilet before rushing up-stairs in response to the noise. 

Her dark eyes scarcely took in the slight figure of Linda Blake. Theywere for the man on the floor, and for him alone. 

"Thank Heaven, you are here!" she cried, in a voice thrilling withrelief. "I was afraid you might have--"

"Stand back, Miss Crouch, " interrupted Linda firmly. "Don't you dareto touch him. "

"Who--who are you?" gasped Elinor, for the first time granting thegirl a look of surprise, but not of fear. "Why, on my life, it's thatBlake girl. Soho! This is your work, is it? May I inquire, Miss Blake, what you are doing in my house at this time of night?"

"I am not here to parley with you, Miss Crouch. Stand aside, please. If you attempt to stop us, I shall shoot you like a dog. "

"Oh, you think you can take him away from me, do you? Well, we shallsoon make short shrift of you, my excellent heroine. Brown! Quinlan!Here, at once!" She called angrily down the stairs. 

Linda smiled. "I think you'll find that my friends have taken care ofBrown and Quinlan. "

As if to prove the declaration, a ringing voice came up the stairwayfrom far below. 

"Are you all right, Linda?" It was a woman's voice and it was full oftriumph. 

"We've fixed these two muckers down here. Shall we come up?"

"Stay where you are, girls. I can manage nicely by myself, thank you, "called Linda. Then she turned to the infuriated Elinor, who had shrunkback against the wall, panting with rage and disappointment. "You'dbetter come with us peaceably, my woman, " she said coldly, stillkeeping the revolver levelled at the person of her rival. "Don't makeany trouble for us. If you show fight we'll be obliged to--Here!"

Elinor Crouch suddenly threw herself forward. The movement was sounexpected that she was upon Linda before the girl could fire. Twicethe revolver was discharged in a vain attempt to end the struggle atits beginning, and both bullets came so near to hitting Reynolds thathe hastily rolled under the bed, from which position he watched thecontest in some security but with a great deal of interest. 

The combatants swayed back and forth across the narrow room, locked ina tight embrace. The Crouch woman was the larger and stronger, but heradversary was lithe and sinewy and as cool as a veteran in the line ofbattle. She succeeded in tripping the heavier woman, resorting to anew trick in wrestling that had just come into practice among athleticwomen, and they went to the floor with a crash, Reynolds' rescuer ontop. 

He crawled forth to assist her, keeping his eye on the pistol all thewhile. Weak as he was, he succeeded in sitting upon Miss Crouch's headwhile Linda attempted to secure her arms with the thick veil she hadtorn from her hat. He suffered excruciating pain when the furiousElinor bit him severely, but called out words of encouragement to thebrave girl who fought so valiantly for him. 

Just as Elinor Crouch relaxed with a groan of despair, two eager youngwomen dashed into the room. In a jiffy, the late mistress of thesituation was bound securely, hand and foot, and Linda Blake stoodtriumphant and lovely over her foe. 

"We'll turn you over to the police, " she said, smiling down upon theghastly face of Elinor Crouch. 

"For God's sake, spare me, " groaned the unhappy captive. "It was allfor love, Cuthbert. I--"

But Cuthbert Reynolds had already passed from the room, leaning feeblyon the arm of his deliverer. 

"How did you trace me here, dear?" he asked as they slowly descendedthe stairs. 

"I found out that she was having her mail forwarded to the villageover yonder, and I knew that she owned this place in the woods. I onlyhad to put two and two together, Cuthbert. You--you don't mind if Icall you Cuthbert, do you?"

He pressed her arm closer to his side. "You are a darling, Linda. I'llmarry you tomorrow if you say the word. "

She kissed him rapturously. 

"It's too good to be true, " she sighed. 

QUIDDLERS THREE

CHAPTER I

THE THREE VAN WINKLES

It was not because Mr. Van Winkle had no love for his sons that heturned the three of them out of his house and home, but because heloved them well. There was Courtney Van Winkle--nicknamed "Corky" byhis irrepressible brothers--and, besides him, the twins, Jefferson andRipley. Courtney was thirty, the twins twenty-six. Jeff and Rip werebig, breezy fellows who had rowed on their college crew and rowed withthe professors through five or six irksome and no doubt valuelessyears; Courtney was their opposite in every particular exceptbreeziness. But he was not breezy in the same way. He was the typicalsociety butterfly, chatty to the point of blissfulness and as full ofenergy as a pint bottle of champagne. You could never by any stretchof the fancy liken him to anything so magnificent as a quart. Dapper, arrogant, snobbish, superior was he, and a very handy man to haveabout if one wanted to debate the question: Should spats be worn thisyear the same as last, or why WILL the common herd!

He had never done a stroke of work in his life. Nor, for that matter, had his towering, able-bodied brothers. They took the not unnaturalstand that it wasn't necessary. Were they not the sons of the veryrich Mr. Van Winkle? Wasn't he accountable for their coming into theworld and wasn't he therefore responsible for them up to the verybanks of the Jordan? Of course, he was. No one will pretend to denyit. Work is intended only for those who long for a holiday, not forhim who begins a vacation the day he is born. Such was the attitude ofthe Van Winkle boys, if not their argument. 

For years old Bleecker Van Winkle had paid for their automobiles, their polo ponies, their pony ballets, their lobsters and otherglorifications, and he had finally reached the conclusion that whileit was practically impossible for him to part with his money, he wasnevertheless a fool. So he sat him down to think. As the result of hiscogitations--long-drawn-out--he turned over a leaf in the Van Winklefamily history. 

"Boys, " said he, at the end of a rather stupefying half-hour for them, "you've heard what I have to say. You know that I love you all. Youwill agree that I have been a fond, foolish and over-indulgent father. As I've said before, it is my fault entirely that you are triflers andspendthrifts. I should have done better by you. You are college men. At least, you are CALLED college men, because, with the unceasing aidof well-paid tutors you managed to get your degrees. I regret, however, to say that you are not educated men. You are sociallycultivated, but that's all. I am to be blamed for all this. Now I ampaying the penalty. What I have just disclosed to you is the result ofpainful deliberation and with your welfare in mind, not my own. Youhave agreed at last to my proposition, not, I fear, willingly, butbecause there is no alternative. I have given Jeff and Ripley anexcellent education in baseball, swimming, golf and Broadway. No doubteither of you could get a job as a professional baseball player. Courtney has been thoroughly polished by contact with society. Heshould have no trouble at all in earning quite a decent living byteaching the nouveau riche how to behave in polite society. If, in tenyears, you all come to me and convince me that you have actuallyacquired something of a fortune without any assistance from me, Ishall be happy to kill the fatted calf and divide it with you. Pleasebear in mind the little statement in regard to my last will andtestament. Get it into your heads clearly. At my death my fortune goesto the three of you, share and share alike, but it is to be held intrust for ten years thereafter, principal AND INCOME intact. Notethat, please: and income. It is possible, even probable that I mayalter the will later on, but now it stands in just that way. "

They looked at each other blankly for a long time after the oldgentleman left the room. The expression in Courtney's cock-a-doodleface was beyond description. The world had come to an end! The twinswere unable to lounge with their accustomed ease and elegance. Theysat bolt upright for perhaps the first time in their lives. To them, the world was just beginning, and it was a hard, cold, unfriendlyworld that lay before them. 

In exactly one week from that day the three of them were to start outin the world to make men of themselves. Each was to have two thousanddollars in money and each was to start the journey free from debt. Mr. Van Winkle agreed to square up every pecuniary debt of honour andevery debt of folly. They were to shift for themselves, and they wereto have a fair start. For at least three years they were to absentthemselves from his home, support themselves without assistance fromhim, and report progress whenever they felt inclined to do so. He didnot even require them to do that much unless they wished, but heassured them that he would be proud and happy if they could reportPROGRESS. 

"I don't ask you to get rich in ten years. You couldn't do ithonestly, my lads. All I ask is that you support yourselves honourablyand be as respectable as possible in this day and age. Don't try to betoo respectable. People will discredit you. They always do. Besquare. " He had said this to them in the course of the amazingmonologue. 

"I can't live more than a month on two thousand dollars, " whimperedCourtney, long after the old man had closed the door behind him. "Why, he hasn't the remotest idea what it costs to keep up one's end insociety here in New York. I--"

"Shut up, Corky, " growled Ripley. "We want to think. "

"Don't call me Corky, " snarled his brother. "You know I detest it, even when I'm feeling cheerful, and God knows I don't want to bespoken of lightly today. "

"Do you mean that as a joke?"

"A joke? Oh, I see. I suppose you connect 'cork' and 'light' in youreffort to--"

"Thank Heaven, " broke in Jefferson, a shadow of relief crossing hisdoleful face, "we are spared one thing. "

"What's that?" said Ripley. 

"The pleasure of lending money to Corky. "

Courtney's face fell. He had intended to ask his brothers for a smallloan, and was ready to argue that they, being strong, healthy beasts, would survive as long on fifteen hundred dollars as he could possiblyhope to exist on three thousand. 

"I'm not asking for alms, confound you. "

"By Jove!" exclaimed Ripley, with a gleam of joy in his eyes. "Didn'tthe governor say he'd settle all of our debts, giving us a clean billto start with?"

"He did, bless his heart, " said Jeff. 

"Precious little good that will do me, " lamented Courtney. 

"Well, it may do me a lot of good. In settling your debts, Corky, itoccurs to me he'll have to fork over that twenty-seven hundred dollarsyou owe me. "

"Clever head, Rippy, " shouted Jeff. "He owes me a matter of fifteen orsixteen hundred. Fine work. The old gentleman can't go back on thedebts of honour. He'll have to settle for Corky's--"

"You go to thunder, " grated Corky. "Do you suppose I'm going to seethe governor stung by you two vampires? In the first place, it was HISmoney I borrowed from you. In the second place--"

"Right you are, Corky, " agreed Rip. "It WAS his money. We absolve himbut not you. If the time ever comes when you are able to pay it backto me, out of your own pocket, I'll be pleased to collect. We'll letit go at that. "

"I expect to starve to death inside of--"

"Oh, no, you won't. Neither of us will go so far as that. " It wasJefferson who spoke. He arose and stretched his long, muscular frame. "Do you know, I think the pater is absolutely right in this thing. He--"

"RIGHT?" shrieked Courtney. 

"Yes, right. We ARE loafers. We waste time over trifles. He wants tobe proud of us if such a thing is possible. I don't blame him. If Iever have a son I'll know how to bring him up. "

"This is no time to be sentimental, Jeff, " said Courtney, with deepirony in his voice. "We are confronted by a catastrophe. Unlike mostcatastrophes, it awaits our pleasure. We are expected to walk up andshake hands with it and say, 'I'm glad to meet you, old chap, ' orsomething of the sort. "

"It IS a pretty howdy-do, I'll admit, " said Rip thoughtfully. "Still, I agree with Jeff. The governor's right. "

"You always agree with each other, " said Courtney, pacing the floor inhis despair. 

"Don't pull your hair like that, Corky, " cautioned Jeff, with a good-humoured grin. "You've got to be very saving from now on. "

"A miserable pittance, a bagatelle, " groaned Courtney. 

"It IS getting thin, " commented Rip. 

"Eh? I'm not talking about hair, damn it!"

"Be a man, Corky, " cried Jeff cheerfully. 

"I asked you not to call me 'Corky, ' didn't I?" He glared at his bigbrother. "How can you stand there grinning like an imbecile with allthis hanging over you?"

Jefferson's smile expanded. "If dad can make men of all three of hissons, he won't have to die to go to heaven. He'll BE there. "

"And you fellows could have married those awful Sickler girls withouthalf trying last winter, " groaned Courtney. "A million apiece in theirown right! My Lord, if you could only have looked ahead!"

"We did!" cried the twins in unison. 

A cunning gleam leaped into Courtney's watery eyes. He drew a longbreath. 

"I wonder--" he began, and then stopped. 

"No, " said Jeff, divining his thoughts. "You proposed to both of 'em, Corky. It's no use. You are NOT the Van Winkle twins. "

After a time, they fell into a discussion of plans and possibilities. Their father had not left a loophole through which they could fire atrandom. His sentence was clean-cut. They could not fall back upon himfor support, help or advice. It was all very clearly set forth. Theywere to find their own road and travel it to the bitter end. 

"I'm willing to work, " said Jeff. "The trouble with me is I don't knowwhat to tackle first. "

"That's my fix, " said his twin. 

"Well, I know the first thing I'm going to do, " said Courtney, springing to his feet. And he did it an hour later. He succeeded inborrowing ten thousand dollars from a millionaire who had come to NewYork from Cleveland to live and die a Gothamite. With sublimedisregard for the thing called conscience, Courtney included this newdebt in the list to be prepared for his father, and permitted the oldgentleman to settle without so much as a qualm of self-reproach. Heconsidered it high finance, I believe. His brothers lived up to hisestimate of their astuteness by never even thinking of a ruse soclever. Corky congratulated himself on getting a long start over them. Moreover, he had something else in mind. It will be disclosed lateron. 

A week later Mr. Van Winkle said good-bye to his sons, and they setout upon their travels somewhat after the fashion laid down by thoseamiable gentlemen who conceived fables and fairy tales and called themthe Arabian Nights. You may recall the Three Sons of the Merchant, andthe Three Princes, and the Three Woodmen, not to speak of innumerabletrios who served Messrs. Grimm and Andersen with such literaryfidelity. 

The Van Winkle brothers started out rather late in life to make men ofthemselves. Inasmuch as they elected to start in separate and distinctgrooves and as their courses were not what you might call parallel, weare likely to gain time and satisfaction by taking them up one at atime. We must not lose sight of the fact that they set out to acquirethree separate and distinct fortunes. 

Courtney set sail almost immediately for a land where "Corky" was anunheard-of appellation--or epithet as he was wont to regard it--andwhere fortunes hung on bushes, if one may be allowed to use thecolloquialism. He went to France. It may seem ridiculous to seekfortunes in France, but he was not looking for French fortunes. He wasmuch too clever a chap for that. He was after American money, and heknew of no place where it was easier to get it than in France. ByFrance, he meant Paris. If one is really smart, one can find a greatmany American dollars in Paris. For that matter, if one is a goodbridge player and has the proper letters--not of credit but ofintroduction--he can make a splendid living in any land wherecivilisation has gained a substantial foothold. Nothing is so amiableas civilisation. It actually yearns for trouble, and it will have itat any cost. It is never so happy as when it is being skilfullyabused. As a society parasite, Corky had learned that it is easier tofool a man who has brains than it is to fool one who hasn't any atall. He had come in contact with both varieties, and he knew. And asfor women, one can always fool them by looking pensive. They cannotbear it. 

Possessed of a natural wit, a stunted conscience and an indefatigableego, he had no fear that his twelve thousand, slightly reduced by thistime, would see him well along on his journey toward affluence. 

Corky was well known in Paris. He had spent many a day and many adollar there. At this season of the year, the capital was filled withNew York, Philadelphia and Boston people whom he knew and with whom hemight have fraternised if he had felt inclined. But he aimed higher. He hitched his wagon to the setting sun and was swept into the societyof Middle and Far Western tourists; people with money they did notknow how to spend; people who needed expert advice; people whohankered for places at Newport but had to be satisfied with SugarHills. His New York acquaintances knew him too well, but no betterthan he knew them. They had no money to waste on education. Theyneeded all they could scrape together to keep the wolf out of WallStreet. He had no use in this direful emergency for frugal societyleaders; he was after the prodigal climber. 

Before he had been in Paris a week he was accepting invitations todine with solid gentlemen from Des Moines and Minneapolis and havinghimself looked up to with unquestioned ardour by the wives thereof. Was he not the gay Mr. Van Winkle, of New York? Was he not the plus-ultra representative of the most exclusive society in the UnitedStates? Was he not hand in glove with fabled ladies whose names werehousehold words wherever the English language is broken? Yes! He wasTHE Van Winkle! The son of A Van Winkle! And what a WONDERFUL game ofbridge he played! It was a pleasure to lose money to him. 

He soon found, however, to his discomfiture, that the daughters ofthese excellent westerners were engaged to be married to younggentlemen who were at work like himself in getting a fortune, butalong different lines. So far as he could find out, they were so busymaking headway in the commercial world that they wouldn't be able toafford a trip to Europe until they were somewhere in the neighbourhoodof fifty-five or sixty. Their sweethearts were taking it while theycould. 

If Courtney had been as good-looking as either of his brothers--or asboth of them, for that matter, because there wasn't much choicebetween them--he might have played havoc with the chances of more thanone man at home, but he was no Adonis. To be perfectly candid, he waswhat a brawny Westerner would call a "shrimp. " There is no call todescribe him more minutely than that. 

Most of his new friends wanted to have supper at Maxim's or to go tothe Bal Tabarin. They wouldn't believe him when he insisted that theseplaces were not what they used to be, and that Montmartre was now thefashionable roistering ground. So he took them to Maxim's and was gladof it afterwards. There wasn't a New Yorker in sight. 

One night, after a rather productive game in the apartments of afamily from Cedar Rapids, he proposed a supper at Maxim's. His hostnot only fell in with the proposition, but insisted on giving thesupper himself. Corky was very polite. He took into consideration thefact that Mr. Riggles was a much older man than himself, and allowedhim to have his own way. 

It was at Maxim's that he first saw the Grand Duchess. She wasn'treally a lady of title, but she looked the part so completely that hespoke of her as the "Grand Duchess" the instant his shifty gaze fellupon her. That is to say, she was painted, bewrinkled, bewigged, begowned, bejewelled and--(I was about to say be-dabbed)--for all theworld like a real duchess, and she smoked a long cigarette in a stilllonger holder, and blew smoke through her nostrils with great APLOMBand but very few coughs. 

His companions bowed to her. She waved her hand in amiable response. 

"Who is she?" demanded Corky of his hostess. He almost whispered it. 

"Oh, she's a silly old thing from Wisconsin. Did you ever see such aget-up?"

"It's marvellous. I thought she was a grand duchess. "

"That's what SHE thinks, if airs count for anything. I think she's afreak. "

"I suppose she was good-looking in her day, " remarked his hostess'shusband, appraising the grande dame with calculating eyes. 

"Do you think they're real?" asked Corky, and his hostess said shethought they were. He did not give a name to them, but they were sooverpoweringly prominent that she knew what he meant. It was almostimpossible to see anything but pearls when one looked in the directionof the Grand Duchess. Corky couldn't help thinking how dangerous itwas for the lady to wear such a fortune at Maxim's. 

He listened with keen ears to the story of the "silly old thing fromWisconsin. " She was a widow of sixty-five and she had been traversingEurope from end to end for several years in quest of a coronet. Manymillions in gold had she, but even the most impecunious of noblemenhad given them a wide berth, --reluctantly, perhaps. Reversing theorder of things, she was not seeing Europe; she was letting Europe seeher. 

No one in Maxim's so gay and kittenish and coy as she! She was theessence of youth. Her hair was as yellow as gold and so thick andundulating that one could not help wondering how far down her back itwould drop if released. Her lips were red with the rich, warm blood ofyouth and her cheeks bore the bloom of the peach. The Grand Duchesswas a creation. To make sure that every one knew she was present, shechattered in a high, shrill voice in Malapropian French, and giggledat everything. 

"She is amazing, " said Corky for the third time during supper. "And noone will marry her?"

"Not recently, " said his host. "What do you mean?"

"I mean no one has married her in the last forty years. There WAS one, of course, but he died a few years back. That's why she wears a pearlmourning wreath around her neck, and a cloth-of-gold gown. He was intrade, as the English would say. "

"She IS amazing, " said Corky for the fourth time. "By Jove, do youknow I'd like to meet her. "

"Nothing so easy, " said the other. "Come along now. I'll present you. She'll be tickled to death to meet a real Van Winkle. "

Five minutes later Corky was drinking his own health in the presenceof the Grand Duchess from Wisconsin. 

"I have heard so much of you, Mr. Van Winkle, " she said. "Is it truethat you are a descendant of that aristocratic old Rip?"

Corky couldn't help blushing. He begged her not to get her Van Winklesmixed, and she tapped him on the knuckles with her pearl-studded fan. 

At five o'clock that morning, Corky stood before the mirror in hisbed-chamber and stared very intently at his somewhat waveringfeatures. Notwithstanding the champagne, he recognised a very sternresolve in the reflection. 

"I'm going to marry that woman, " he said with grave precision. 

CHAPTER II

THE GRAND DUCHESS

He went about it deliberately. According to report, the Grand Duchesswas worth fifteen millions. Corky was not satisfied to accept rumouras fact, so he undertook an investigation on his own account. Fromreliable sources, he soon learned that she possessed but ten millions, but, he argued, it was better to know it in the beginning than to waituntil she died to find out that her fortune had undergone thecustomary shrinkage. Moreover, he ascertained that she frequented halfthe baths in Europe in the effort to prolong a fast declining sense ofhumour--on the principle, no doubt, that life is a joke and death isnot. She had a family of grown children in the States, but even thatdid not alarm Corky. He felt sure there would be enough to go around. Of course, it wasn't the nicest thing in the world being married to awoman more than twice one's age, but if everything went as he hoped, it might not be so very long before he could begin looking about for awife half as old as himself. One sickening fear troubled him, however. She might insist on a house at Newport and a seat in the Inner Circle. She had that look about her. 

He had the shrewdness to treat her with the disdain that his socialposition warranted. It was part of his plan of action to make her longfor the opportunity to look down upon people instead of foreverstaring up at them from a grovelling attitude. He knew her kind as heknew the first three letters of the alphabet. On the other hand, hewas politely attentive, incomparably epigrammatic, and as full ofexquisite mannerisms as the famous Brummel himself. In a word, he wasTHE Van Winkle, and she but a passer-by. 

By day he schemed, by night he lifted orisons to the gods and dreamedof the fruits thereof. Something seemed to tell him that if he didn'tget her before she was sixty-six the quest would be hopeless. Experience had shown him that women see themselves as they really areafter they are past sixty-five. Moreover, they become absolutelyinsane on the subject of self-preservation so far as money isconcerned. They seem to feel that their rainy day is imminent, if notactually at hand. No matter how many millions they may possess, theylurk in the shadow of the poor-house. Men at sixty-five becomepodagrical and sour, perhaps, but they are not as much worried bythoughts of the poorhouse as they are by visions of the play-house. 

Corky was to be seen everywhere with the Grand Duchess. (We may aswell continue to speak of her as the Grand Duchess since every one inParis was calling her that, now that she had been so aptly dubbed bythe clever Mr. Van Winkle. ) He drove in the Bois with her, and hedrove without shame or embarrassment. He was the life of her big andlittle feasts at Pre Catalin and D'Armenonville. He sat in her box atthe Opera; he translated the conspicuously unspeakable passages in allof the lively but naive comedies; he ordered her champagnes andinvented hors d'oeuvres so neoterical in character that even theFrenchmen applauded his genius. And, through all, he was managing verynicely to keep his twelve thousand snugly to himself. 

There were times when he could have cursed his own father--and perhapsdid--but that is not relevant to this narrative. 

In proper sequence he led the Grand Duchess through all the reflectedphases of society and came at last to the juncture where his ownadroitness told him it was time to speak of the glories of Newport andthe wonders of New York as seen only from the centre of the innerCircle. There was a vast difference between the Outer Rim and theInner Circle; he did not say it in so many words, but she had notrouble in divining it for herself. She was dazzled. She was beginningto understand that a palace in Fifth Avenue was no more than a socialsepulchre unless it could be filled day and night with the Kings andQueens of Gotham. She felt very small, coming out of the Middle West. 

It wasn't very difficult for him to secure for her an invitation tothe American Ambassador's ball, or to the pacific functions ordered bythe French President, but it was not so easy to bring aboutintroductions to the New York women of fashion who happened to be inParis from time to time during the summer. The Grand Duchess read thenewspapers. She always knew when New York notables were in the city, and she was not slow to express a desire to meet them. He couldarrange it, of course. And then, on meeting them, she would at onceinsist on giving a dinner or a supper at Pre Catalin, or, on findingthat they couldn't scrape up a spare evening, --to make it afternoontea. Poor Corky shrivelled at such times. 

"If she wasn't so DAMNED girlish!" he used to say to himself. 

"Tell me, " she said to him late one afternoon as they were drivinghome through the Champs Elysees; "is it true that servants' wages arelower in New York City than any place else in the country? I've alwaysheard so. "

She was looking at people through her magnificent lorgnon, and peopleundeniably were looking at her. There were many wonderful women in theBois that day, but none so worthy of a stare as she. 

Corky pricked up his ears. It looked like a "feeler. "

"Perceptibly lower, " he said. 

"And food is higher, they say. "

"Ah, " said he, "but so are the buildings. "

"How much do you think I could live on per year in New York!"

"Why do you enquire?"

"For instance, " said she. It grated on his nerves when she used suchexpressions as "for instance. "

"Well, it depends on how well you intend to live. "

"I want to live as well as anybody else. "

"Then I should say that you couldn't very well manage on less than tenthousand a year. " He knew he was equivocating but was fearful that ifhe said a hundred thousand she would take alarm. 

"That isn't very much, " she said, with a perplexed frown. "I had anidea that if I wanted to live in style it would cost somewhere aroundseventy-five or a hundred thousand. I know a woman from Iowa who livesat the Ritz-Carlton and goes about some--although not in the realsmart set--and she says it costs five or six thousand a month, justputtering. Maybe you've met her out in society. Her name is Bliggs. "

"Bliggs? Um! Name's not familiar. Of course, you CAN spend a hundredthousand easily in New York if you get into the right set, " he said. 

"That's just the point, " said she. "If I get into the right set. I'vegot ample means, Mr. Van Winkle, if--"

"They scorn money, " said he flatly. 

She drew in her breath quickly. "I suppose they do, " she sighed. "Sometimes I really believe it's a handicap to have a lot of money. "

"I know a good many charming Western women who have married into thesmart set, " he said slowly. 

"And did they stick?" she enquired. 

"Stick?" he gasped. 

"I mean, did they make good--that is, were they PERMANENTLY received?"

"Oh, yes! Some of them have become leaders. It's really only a matterof marrying the right man. "

She was silent as they drove across the Place de la Concorde. 

"I suppose it's almost out of the question unless one does marry intoit, " she said finally. 

"Or UP to it, " he suggested. His sordid little heart was beatingrather jerkily. 

"Won't you stop in and have tea with me?" she asked suddenly. 

He thought rapidly. "I'm sorry. I'm having tea with some New Yorkpeople at the Ritz. Awfully sorry. People I shouldn't like to offendor I'd send an excuse. You understand, I hope. "

Her jaws were set. He shot a furtive glance at the thickly plasteredface and inwardly pitied himself while outwardly rejoicing. 

"Some of the people who entertain baboons at dinner, I suppose, " shesaid through compressed lips. 

He smiled. "And poodles, " he supplemented with perfect amiability andmore truth than he knew. She sniffed. "I'm afraid you don't approve ofour little larks. We've got to have something new once in a while orwe'd die of ennui. "

"Umph!" was her simple response, but he noted the pensive, wistfullook in her eyes. 

She set him down at his hotel. "Can't you dine with me at half pasteight? I sha'n't ask any one else. I'm terribly blue today. You WILLcome and cheer me up, won't you?"

"With pleasure, " he said, bowing very low over her gloved hand, whichwas amazingly lumpy with invisible rubies and diamonds. "So good ofyou. "

While dressing for dinner he repeated the oft-repeated process ofreducing the Grand Duchess to a tangible result. Supposing she had asmany as fifteen years longer to live, and supposing her income to beonly $400, 000 a year, there was still compensation in the calculationthat he would be but forty-five and that no matter how extravagant shemight become there was small likelihood of the principal ever beingdisturbed. (On one point he meant to be very rigid: she should be keptout of Wall Street. ) Furthermore, allowing for the shares that wouldgo to her three grown daughters and their husbands (if they had them), he could be reasonably certain of at least three million dollars. Fifteen into three million goes two hundred thousand times, accordingto long division. Two hundred thousand dollars a year is what it cameto in round numbers. He figured it as a rather handsome salary, morethan he could earn at anything else. Of course, if it should happen tobe but twelve years, the remuneration, so to speak, would be $250, 000;eleven years $272, 727 and a fraction; ten years $300, 000; nine--well, he even figured it down to the unlikely term of two years. And allthis without taking into consideration the certainty that her fortunewould increase rather than diminish with the years to come. 

On another point he meant to be firm, even adamant. If they were to bemarried at all, it would have to be without the least delay, In fact, he would advise making rather a secret of it until after the ceremony. Two weeks at the outside for the engagement period, he should say. Something told him that if her daughters got wind of the affair theywould have the Grand Duchess locked up in a sanitarium for theremainder of her days. Besides, the suspense would be terrific. 

They dined tete-a-tete. She had gorgeous apartments in the ElyseePalace Hotel; a private dining-room and a beautiful view of the greatavenue. The evening was warm. The windows were open and from theoutside came the noises of a Parisian night. A soft July moon lentradiance to an otherwise garish world, and a billion stars twinkledmerrily. It seemed to Corky, as he looked up into the mellow dome, that he had never known the stars to twinkle so madly as they twinkledon this fateful night. There were moments of illusion when he was surethat the moon itself was twinkling. He laid it to his liver. 

The little gold clock on the mantelpiece was striking ten when hebegan clearing his throat for action. He always remembered that it wasprecisely ten o'clock, because he had to look intently at thediminutive face of the thing to make sure that it wasn't strikingtwenty or thirty. It seemed to go on forever. They were still in thedining-room and quite alone. For some uncanny reason the Grand Duchesshad not giggled once since the coffee was served. She was ominouslypatient. 

"I've been thinking about what you said this afternoon, " said Corkyirrelevantly. She had just mentioned the weather. 

"Indeed?"

"Yes. You put an idea into my head. Now, please don't say it! It'ssuch a beastly banal joke, don't you know, that one about ideas. Wouldyou mind answering a few questions?"

She began fanning herself. "If possible, Mr. Van Winkle, " she said. "But I can tell you in advance that I never tell any one my age. "

"Quite right, " said he in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's nobody'sbusiness. " He appeared to be thinking. 

"Well, go ahead and ask, " said she. 

"I don't know just how to begin. "

"What is it you want to know?" she enquired encouragingly. 

"How old are your daughters?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, leaning back in her chair in a sort of collapse. "What do you want to know that for?"

"Well, I'm leading up to something else, if you must know. "

She brightened up a bit. "They're rather young, of course. "

"Naturally, " said he. "But HOW young?"

"Mary is--let me see--I can't just recollect--"

"You needn't be afraid to tell me the truth, " he said graciously. "Itwon't make the least difference. "

"Well, Mary is thirty-three. She's the married one. Edith--"

"Is one of 'em married?" he exclaimed, his face clouding. 

"She's divorced at present. She married a scamp in the East who wantedher for her money, and--"

"Never mind, " interrupted Corky hastily. "I don't care to hear thefamily scandal. Where does she live?"

"New York City, most of the time. You may have seen her. She goes outa great deal, I hear: I'm not certain whether she's gone back to hermaiden name or retains her ex-husband's. His name is Smith. " "I see, "said Corky, abstractedly. "Good looking?"

"Mary? Yes, indeed. Stunning. I'm sure you'll admire her, Mr. VanWinkle. "

"I wish you'd call me Courtney. "

"I suppose I might just as well begin, " she said resignedly. Hestarted, and was silent for a moment. 

"The others: are they married?"

"No. Edith is twenty-five and Gwendolyn twenty-three. They're athome. "

"Why don't they travel with you?"

She looked positively aggrieved. "They are really very domestic intheir tastes, " said she. "They were over with me three years ago, butprefer America. "

"Are they engaged?"

"Not to my knowledge. "

"They'd tell you if they were, wouldn't they?"

"If they thought it was any of my business, " she said sharply. Corkywas in no condition to flush. It was a pallid hour for him. 

"I suppose they have ample means of their own, " he ventured. 

"They manage pretty well. "

"Was nothing left to them outright?"

"Some real estate. "

"I see. Everything else went to you?"

"Oh, dear, no. He left $10, 000 to his only sister. I sued to get itback, but lost. I always hated her. "

"There was considerably more than $10, 000 in the estate, of course, "he said quickly. 

She smiled and closed one eye very slowly. "I should rather think so, "she said. He was silent, pondering deeply. "Can you think of anythingmore to ask?"

"I'm trying to think if there is, " he replied frankly. She gave him afew minutes. "I can't recall anything more at this moment, " heannounced. "Oh, just a moment! Was there anything mentioned in thewill about your never marrying again?"

"Not a word, " said she triumphantly. 

"Good!" said he, and arose somewhat unsteadily from his chair. 

The Grand Duchess held up her hand to check the words on his lips. 

"Sit down, " she said brusquely. "I've got a few questions I'd like toask of you, Corky. "

"Corky! Good Lord, don't call me THAT. Where did you hear that name--"

"I saw it in the Herald. It's the only thing I have against you. Ican't help thinking of you as a sort of monument to my poor deadhusband. Have I never told you that he had a cork leg? Well, he had. He lost a real leg at Gettysburg. My husband was a big, brave man, Courtney. He wasn't a polished society chap and he didn't know muchabout grammar, but he was as fine and honest and noble as any man whoever lived. But this is no time to discuss the qualifications of a manas big and grand as my husband. It--it seems like sacrilege. What Iwant to know is this: how old is your father?"

"What?"

"What is his age?"

"My fa--What's that got to do with it?"

"To do with what?" sharply. 

He stammered. "Why, --er--with the qualifications of your husband. "

"Nothing at all. "

"Well, he's about sixty. "

"Vigorous?"

"Good Lord! Certainly. "

"And very rich, as I'm informed. "

"All this is very distasteful to me. "

"And your brothers? Are they worthy young men?"

"Of course, " angrily. 

"Don't flare up, please. And now, what is your income?"

"MY income? Why, this is positively outrageous! I--"

"Maybe I should have said 'allowance. '"

Corky swallowed hard. "I'm not a rich man, if that's what you want toknow. I'll be perfectly honest with you. I'm horribly poor. "

Her face brightened. "Now you are talking like a man. You must notforget I am from the West. We like frankness. And yet, in spite ofyour poverty, you really are received in the Smart Set? How do youmanage it?"

"Men are always in demand, " admitted Corky, making a wretched error indiplomacy. He was thankful to see that it went unnoticed. "That is, men who are worth while. "

The Grand Duchess settled back in her chair, and softly patted hercoiffure, choosing to stroke the curls immediately above her ears. 

"Well?" she invited, calmly, deliberately. 

"I'd like to marry you, " said Corky. 

"Do you expect me to say 'yes'?"

"I do. "

"Well, I'll let you know in the morning. "

"I prefer to have my answer now. "

"I've got to think it over. "

"Haven't you been thinking it over for some time?" he demandedimpatiently. 

"I'll admit that I am in love with you, " she said coyly. 

He shuffled his feet uneasily. "And you also will admit that I am inlove with you, won't you?"

"Are you?"

"How can you ask?"

"Well, prove it. "

"Won't I be proving it beyond all question if I marry you?"

She sighed. "That isn't the way I was wooed years ago. "

"You forget that it was long before my time. Custom changes, my dear. I love you in the present, up-to-date fashion, not as they did in theunsettled West. "

She pondered. "How much of an allowance will you expect?"

"Whatever you choose to settle upon me, I shall be happy to divideequally with you. That's the only way we can carry on our socialcampaign. "

"Well, I'll marry you, Corky. "

He blinked his eyes two or three times. "When?" he enquired, andabsently looked at his watch. 

"Next Saturday, " she said. 

"Good!" said he. 

When he got back to his hotel he found awaiting him there a letterfrom his brother Ripley. The news it brought caused him to thank hislucky stars that his fortune would be safe on Saturday. 

Jefferson and Ripley were making their fortunes in a middle-west city, following the ancient and honourable pursuit of the golf-ball asinstructors in rival country clubs. They seemed to be a bit uncertainas to what they would follow during the winter, but both of them werethinking rather seriously of getting married. 

The news that caused Gorky's eyes to bulge came in the last casualparagraph of the letter. "Oh, by the way, " wrote Rip, "the governorhas just been married. I suppose you haven't heard of it. He had hisappendix out six weeks ago and married his night nurse as soon as hewas up. Well, so long. I'm giving a lesson at 10:30. Good luck. "

CHAPTER III

THE TWINS

The twins went fortune-seeking in a more complaisant way. They werebig and hardy and the world had no real terrors for them. As twinsshould go, they fared forth together in quest of the road to wealth. They had been told that it lay toward the West and that it grewbroader as one drew nearer the land of the setting sun. The West wasthe place for young men with ambitions. That expression had been ding-donged into their ears by college mates from Los Angeles and Seattleever since they had learned that these two towns were something morethan mere dots on the map. 

They had heard so much of the two cities that they decided to tryOmaha or some other place of that character before definitely puttingtheir strength against the incomprehensibly sagacious gentlemen whowere responsible for the supremacy of Seattle and Los Angeles over allother towns on the continent. 

As was their wont, they went about the thing casually and withoutworry. They could not buckle down to work until after the wedding of afriend in Chicago, a classmate at college. He had asked them to act asushers. The twins were especially well-qualified to serve as ushers. Since graduating they had performed that service for no fewer thantwenty members of the class and were past-masters at the trade. It wasonly fair and right that they should usher for old Charley Whistler, although the name was not quite as familiar as it ought to have been. They couldn't quite place him, but so long as he had done them thehonour to ask them to take part in his wedding, they were reasonablysecure in the belief that he was all right. Before leaving New York, they spent several hundred dollars on a joint wedding present, a habitacquired when they first came out of college and which clung to themthrough many marriages, no doubt because of the popularity of thephrase: "Know all men by these presents, etc. "

They were somewhat surprised on reaching Chicago to learn that CharleyWhistler did not live there at all, but in W----, a thriving city notfar removed from the Illinois metropolis. They could not have beenexpected to know that dear old Charley lived in W---- when they didn'teven know there was such a place as W---- to live in. They heard allabout the place from Charley, however. It seemed to be a city ofdistilleries. Everybody there was rich because everybody owned adistillery. 

"Come out and visit us, " said Charley after he had told them what awonderful place it was. "I'm so busy I can't take more than two weeksfor a honeymoon. Any time after the first of June will be convenient, boys. I'll show you a REAL town. "

"There's only one real town, " said Jefferson, his mind drifting backto Manhattan Island. 

"Only one, " said Ripley. 

"Bosh! Say, how many distilleries has New York got? Answer that, willyou?"

"I don't know, but I'll bet ten dollars we could drink up in threemonths all the whiskey you can make in W---- in a whole year. "

Charley was silenced. He could only remark: "Well, there's more moneyin making it than there is in drinking it. " The twins assented. "Anyhow, I wish you fellows could come out and see what we've gotthere. I'd like to get some of the Van Winkle millions interested inour village. "

The twins exchanged glances. "The Van Winkle money is pretty well tiedup, " said Jeff. 

"Well, it won't be forever, will it? I want to get you young fellowsinterested. And say, I can introduce you to some of the finest girlsthis side of Paradise. The burg is full of 'em. Why, I've heard NewYorkers say that they'd never seen so many pretty women or betterdressed ones than we've got right there in--"

"I know, " interrupted Rip. "That's what you hear in every city inAmerica, big or little. And it's always the poor, impressionable NewYorker who says it, the fellow who has to put up with the depressinghomeliness and dowdiness of Fifth Avenue. Give us a rest, Charley. "

"Have you got a baseball team there?" demanded Jeff sarcastically. 

"Sure! A peach, too. We're leading the league. "

"What league?"

"The Peewee Valley League, of course. Two country clubs, too, withbrand new golf courses. Oh, we're getting to the front, let me tell--"

"Why two?"

Charley stared. "Great Scott! Haven't you heard? It's been in all thepapers. The row in the Wayside Country Club? It's only two years old, but, by George, they've had enough quarrels to last a New York club acentury. There was a split last fall, and a new club was formed--theElite Country Club. All the nicest people in town belong to the Elite. Lot of muckers run the Wayside. If you---"

"Which one has the distilleries?" asked Pip. "Both. The whiskey peoplecan't very well discriminate, don't you see? Same as the breweries. It's good business for them to support both clubs. Good Lord, it's sixo'clock. You fellows will have to be at the church at seven sharp, youknow. Better dress pretty soon. So long. See you later. "

The long and short of it was that the Van Winkle twins DID go out toW----. They remained in Chicago for three weeks looking for work atteas, bridge-parties, theatre-parties and luncheons at all of thecountry clubs. They played golf and tennis when not engaged in lookingfor work. Their joint four thousand dollars, pooled, had dwindled tobarely half that amount, but they were cheerful. Their only prayer wasthat no one else in the class of '08 would decide to get marriedbefore the summer was over. 

W---- is a thriving, bustling, aggressive town in the MississippiValley. It is not necessary to describe it in detail. The Van Winkleswere put up at the Commercial Club, the W---- Club and the two countryclubs. Charley Whistler attended to that. He was so proud of his twodistinguished ushers that he sadly neglected his bride in showing themoff to acquaintances during the first week of their stay. 

Almost the first thing he did was to introduce them to the Barrowssisters, treasured by W---- as her "fairest daughters. " Every one intown, including the editors, spoke of them familiarly as "Toots" and"Beppy" Barrows, applying nicknames that had grown up with them andhad no connection whatever with the names they received whenchristened. They were young, rich, lovely and apparently heart-whole. Charley Whistler, being newly-wedded, wanted every one else in theworld to get married. He was continually saying that there was"nothing like it, " and resented some of the ironic rejoinders of menwho had been married all their lives, to hear them talk about it. Sohe made haste to introduce the twins to the beautiful Barrows girls. 

With a perfectly beautiful fidelity to the fitness of things, the twoVan Winkles fell prostrate before the charms of the two young ladies, and spent nearly a month looking for work in their delightful company. It was not until they realised that their funds were reduced to almostnothing that they came down to earth with a thud. They had less thanone hundred dollars between them and destitution. 

Sitting in the shade of a huge old oak near the first tee on the EliteClub course, awaiting the appearance of the young women with whom theywere to play a mixed foursome, the twins fell to discussing a subjectthey had dreaded to contemplate much less to broach. 

"Jeff, " said Rip, poking a dandelion with the head of his mashie, "lend me fifty till next week. "

"Fifty what?" enquired Jeff gloomily. 

"Cents, of course, " said Rip. "But I'll take it in dollars if youhappen to have them. "

"We're up against it, old boy, " said his brother, lighting a freshcigarette. "What's to be done?"

"I suppose we'll have to clear out, " sighed Rip. "We can't go on inthis way. They are the finest, best girls I've ever known, and it's abloody shame to--to go on. "

"Right-o! We've just got to clear out while our credit is good. I hateto do it, though. I--I don't mind confessing that I'm heels over headin love with her. It's a damned shame, isn't it?"

"You're no worse off than I am, " groaned Rip. "We are a nice pair ofRomeos, aren't we? Good Lord, what will they think of us when theyfind us out?"

"Well, " mused Jeff, "they're sensible darlings. Maybe they'llunderstand. "

"Never! These western girls are not brought up to understand suchblighters as we are. We are a species known only to the effete East. No; they will not understand. God knows I'm willing to work. Thetrouble is, I haven't time. "

"Well, we'll have to work, steal or starve. "

"I can't steal and I won't starve. I'm afraid we'll have to move onfarther west. Cow-punching isn't bad if one--Here they come. Not aword, old boy. We'll talk it over tonight. It's my notion we'd bettermove on tomorrow while we've got the wherewithal. I'm not mean enoughto borrow money from Whistler and I haven't the face to ask UncleGeorge to help us out. Darn him, I think he's the one who put it intofather's head to do this--"

"Sh!" hissed the other, coming to his feet as the trim, trig figuresof the Barrows girls drew near. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting, " said Toots, the elder of the two. "Mrs. Garvin was telling a story in the locker room. " Toots was an exquisiteblonde, tall, slender and lithesome. 

"I've been slicing horribly of late, Mr. Van Winkle, " said Beppy, frowning prettily. "Can you straighten me out? What am I doing that'swrong?" She was dark and brilliant, and quite as tall as her sister. One would go miles to find two more comely maids than these. 

"Standing too far away from the ball, " said Jeff, to whom the remarkwas addressed. 

"I don't see why the club doesn't hire a professional, " complainedshe. "He could get rich showing the members how to play the sort ofgolf they needn't be ashamed of. "

"Three fourths of them don't know the difference between a mashie anda mid-iron, " said Toots. "We learned in England, you know. "

"By Jove!" exclaimed Rip, apropos of nothing. A great light beamed inhis face. 

"By Jove!" repeated Jeff, divining his thought. 

Then, just to prove that they understood each other, they drove atleast two hundred and fifty yards off the first tee, straight down thecourse. Jeff showed Beppy how to overcome the slice. She got a hundredand fifty yard ball. 

"For heaven's sake!" she exclaimed, surprised by her own prowess. "Howwonderful! And how easy, when you know how. "

With singular coincidence of purpose, the two Van Winkles set about toteach their partners how to play better golf than they had ever playedbefore. By the time they were playing the long eighth hole, the youngmen were so exercised over the discovery of a vocation that theysliced badly into the rough. Trudging side by side through the tallgrass, looking for balls which the caddies had lost, they addressedeach other in excited undertones. 

"Nothing could suit me better, " said Jeff. 

"It's like finding money. Lessons at three dollars an hour and theprivilege of selling all the golf balls to the players. How's that?Shall we tackle it?"

Jeff experienced a momentary pang of doubt. "Of course we'd lose ourstanding as amateurs. We'd be professionals, you know. "

"What's the odds? Even amateurs have to live, old son. "

"What will the girls think of us?" dolefully. 

"They can't blame us for earning an honest dollar. "

"A Van Winkle earning an honest dollar!" scoffed Jeff, with a shortlaugh. "It's incredible. No one will believe it. "

"Here's what I think, " said Rip seriously. "We ought to make a cleanbreast of everything those girls. Tell 'em just how we stand. I'llstake my head they'll stand for it. "

"Tell 'em we've been kicked out by the governor?" gasped Jeff. 

"Sure. A rich man's sons earning their daily bread by the sweat oftheir brow. Horrible ogre of a father, d'ye see? Romance of thehighest order. By ginger, Jeff, I'm strong for it. It's honest workand I'm not ashamed of it. "

The Barrows girls witnessed the strange spectacle of two brothers inquest of golf-balls shaking hands with each other in the centre of awire-grass swamp, and blinked their beautiful eyes in amazement. 

At the "nineteenth hole, " over tea and highballs, the Van Winkle twinsmade humble confession to the high priestesses of W----. They did notspare themselves. On the contrary, they confessed their utterworthlessness and paid homage to the father who had sent them out inthe world to retrieve themselves. 

"And what do you think of the scheme?" asked Rip at the end of alengthy and comprehensive explanation of the project in mind. 

"Fine!" cried the two girls in a breath. "Then, the first thing to dois to convince the club that it needs a professional, " said Jeffeagerly. He was looking into Beppy's big brown eyes. 

"But it doesn't need TWO, " spoke Toots. 

The four faces fell. "I never thought of that, " murmured Jeff. 

"The Wayside Club has no instructor, " cried Rip, grasping at a straw. 

"But no one thinks of going to Wayside, " protested Toots. "They areperfectly dreadful. "

"Still they could be taught how to play golf, " said Rip. "In anyevent, beggars can't be choosers. We both want to stay in W----. "

"Well, there's only one way out of it, " said Beppy quickly. "You, Ripley, apply to the Wayside for the position. Jefferson has alreadyspoken for the place here. "

"He has not!" exclaimed Toots indignantly. 

"He has! I am on the golf committee, so that settles it. I'll call ameeting of the committee tomorrow--"

"I don't see why Ripley should be sacrificed--"

"Wait, girls, " broke in Ripley with a laugh. "It's very flattering tous, but please don't quarrel on our account. We can settle it nicelyby flipping a coin. "

"Heads, " said Jefferson without hesitation. He won. "Sorry, old chap. "

"We shall have to join Wayside, " lamented Toots. "Oh, how I hate it. "

"I wouldn't join until you see whether I land the place, " advisedRipley. "I suppose I COULD go to some other city. "

Both girls uttered such a harmonious protest against that alternative, that he said he wouldn't consider leaving his brother for anything inthe world. 

"I know the president of Wayside, " said Beppy consolingly. "He used tobe in business with father. I'll see him tomorrow and tell him---"

"See him TODAY, " advised Toots firmly. 

"You are adorable, " whispered Rip as he walked beside her toward theautomobile. "I wish I could do something to show how much I appreciateyour--your friendship. " Her response was a most enchanting smile. Under his breath he said: "Gad, I'd like to kiss you!" It is barelypossible that thoughts speak louder than words and that she heard him, for she said something in reply under her own breath that would havemade it a very simple matter for him to kiss her if he had beenacquainted with the silent tongue. 

The Van Winkle twins, in anticipation of success crowning theirefforts to become professional instructors in the two country clubs, outlined a splendid and cunning campaign for themselves. By inspiringa fierce rivalry between the would-be golfers of the two clubs, theycould build up a thriving practice in their chosen profession. Therivalry was already bitter along other lines. If they could get themen of the clubs into a fighting humour over the golf situation, therewould be no end to the lessons they would demand of their instructors. By using a little strategy, the twins figured they could keep theclubs in a state of perpetual tournament. The results would be far-reaching and gratifying. 

Before the end of the week, the redoubtable sons of old Bleecker VanWinkle, "leaders of cotillions in the Four Hundred and idols ofNewport and Bar Harbor, " (according to the local press), wereinstalled as instructors in the rival clubs. Everybody in town, exceptthe conspiring Barrows girls, regarded the situation as a huge joke. The fashionable young "bloods" were merely doing it for the "fun ofthe thing. " That was the consensus of opinion. The news wastelegraphed to the New York papers and the headlines in Gotham wereworth seeing. The twins winked at each other and--played golf. 

Be it said to their credit, they were soon earning twenty-five orthirty dollars a day--and saving half of it!

So intense was the golf fever in W---- that the middle of July foundthe links of both clubs so crowded that it was almost impossible toplay with anything except a putter. Nearly every foursome had agallery following it and no one spoke above a whisper after he enteredthe club grounds, so eager were the members to respect the proprietiesof golf. Men who had but lately scoffed at the little white ball nowtalked of stymies and lies and devits as if they had known them alltheir lives. Hooks, tops and slices were on every man's tongue, andyou might have been pardoned for thinking that Bunker Hill was smackin the centre of W----, and that Col. Bogie had come there to be beatento death in preference to being executed in any other city in theworld. 

The merry Van Winkles, good fellows and good sports that they were, thrived with the game, and kept straight down the course of true loveas well. 

"Jeffy, " said Rip one evening after returning from a rather protractedcall on Toots Barrows, "I have asked her to marry me. "

"So have I, " said Jeff, who had returned with him from the Barrowshome. "I wonder what the governor will say?"

"I'm not worrying about him. I'm wondering what the girls' mother willsay. "

"No one will say we are marrying them for their money, that'spositive. Everybody here thinks we've got millions and millions. "

"Oh, by the way, did she accept you!"

"Certainly. Did she accept you?"

"Of course. Another thing, did she say anything to you about hurryingthe thing along a bit, so as to have it over with before her mothergets wind of it?"

"By George, she did. That's odd, isn't it? She's afraid her motherwill object to her marrying a New Yorker. Got some silly prejudiceagainst the Four Hundred. I said it couldn't happen any too soon forme. We had a sort of a notion next week would be about right. "

"It suits me, " said the other. They shook hands. "I want to say, hereand now, that I love her with all my heart and soul, and I'll neverlet her rue the day she married me. I love her, old son. "

"Not a blamed bit more than I do, " said Jeff fervently. "She's thebest ever!"

The next morning they saw by the newspaper that their father hadmarried his night nurse in the hospital and was going up into Maine torecover!

That same day, on the seventh tee of the Elite course, Toots promisedto marry Ripley two weeks from Wednesday. At Wayside Beppy toldJefferson she would marry him at the same time, but I think it was onthe ninth green. 

"Mother will be wild when we cable the news to her, " said she. 

CHAPTER IV

ALL VAN WINKLES

The fortnight between that fateful day on the links and the Wednesdayaforesaid, was full of surprising complications for the Van Winkle andBarrows families. 

The two girls went into fits of hysteria on receipt of a cablegramfrom their mother in Paris announcing her marriage to Mr. Courtney VanWinkle, of New York. They were still more prostrated on learning fromtheir wide-eyed sweethearts that not only was Courtney their step-father but he was on the point of becoming their brother-in-law aswell. A still greater shock came the day of their own double weddingwhich took place in the Barrows mansion on Ardmore Avenue in thepresence of a small company of guests. It developed that the Mrs. Smith who nursed old Mr. Van Winkle and afterwards married him wastheir divorced sister, Mary, who had not only grown tired of a husbandbut of nursing other women's husbands as well. The situation wasunique. 

"Good heavens, " said Rip, after the ceremony which linked the entireBarrows family to the Van Winkles, "what relation are we to eachother?"

"Well, " said his wife, "for one thing, you are my uncle by marriage. "

"And I am my father's brother-in-law. By the same argument, thegovernor becomes his own son's son-in-law. Can you beat it?"

"Your brother becomes your father, and my mother is my sister. Now, let's see what else--"

"And your sister is now your mother-in-law. By the way, has she anychildren?"

"Two little girls, " said Toots. 

"That makes poor old Corky a grandfather, " groaned Rip. 

Pretty much the same conversation took place between Jeff and Beppy. 

"Corky is my father-brother, " said Jeff, summing it all up. 

On the high seas, Mr. And Mrs. Courtney Van Winkle threshed out theamazing situation, and in the mists of the Maine coast, theflabbergasted father of the three young men who fared forth to makemen of themselves agonised over the result of their efforts. 

"When I am quite strong again, my dear, " said he to the comely ex-nurse--who, by the way, had engaged a male attendant to take her placein looking after the convalescent gentleman, "we must have a familygathering in New York. What is your mother like?"

"She is like all women who marry at her age, " said she withouthesitation--and without rancour. "She's very silly. What sort of aperson is your son?"

"I don't know, " said Mr. Van Winkle with conviction. 

We will permit three months to slip by. No honeymoon should be shorterthan that. It is meet that we should grant our quiddlers three andtheir excellent parent the supreme felicity of enjoying the periodwithout being spied upon by a mercenary story-teller. But allinterests, as well as all roads, lead to a common centre. The centrein this case was New York City. 

It goes without saying that the Barrows girls, Edith and Gwendolyn, preferred New York to W---- as a place of residence. They married NewYorkers and it was only right and proper that they should love NewYork. Possessing a full third of the enormous fortune left by theirdistilling father, they maintained that they could afford to live inNew York, even though their husbands remained out of employment forthe rest of their natural lives. We already know that Mrs. Corky VanWinkle longed for a seat among the lofty, and that Mrs. Bleecker VanWinkle had married at least two gentlemen of Gotham in the struggle tofeel at home there. Therefore, we are permitted to announce thatJefferson and Ripley Van Winkle resigned their positions as golf-instructors the instant the wedding bells began to ring, and went uponthe retired list with the record of an honourable, even distinguishedcareer behind them. They said something about going into "the Street, "and their amiable and beautiful wives exclaimed that it would beperfectly lovely of them. But, they added, there was really no excusefor hurrying. 

We come now to the family gathering in the palatial home of Mr. Courtney Van Winkle, just off Fifth Avenue (on the near east side), and it is December. Corky's wife bought the place, furnished. Hecouldn't stop her. The only flaw in the whole arrangement, accordingto the ambitious Grand Duchess, was the deplorable accident thatadmitted a trained nurse into the family circle. It would be very hardto live down. She never could understand why Mr. Van Winkle did it!

The twins and their brides were occupying enormous suites at one ofthe big hotels, pending the completion of a new and exclusiveapartment building in Fifth Avenue. They had been in town but a weekwhen Courtney and the Grand Duchess returned from Virginia HotSprings, where they had spent November. Old Mr. Van Winkle was justout of the hospital after a second operation: an adhesion. He wasreally unfit for the trip up town from the old Van Winkle mansion;nevertheless, he made it rather than disappoint his new--(I use theword provisionally)--daughter-in-law, who had set her heart uponhaving the family see what she had bought. I am not quite certain thatshe didn't include Corky in the exhibit. 

There were introductions all around. Mr. Van Winkle, senior, waspresented to his mother-in-law and to his sisters, and, somewhatfacetiously, to his father-in-law, his brothers, his sons and hisdaughters. Corky had the pleasure of meeting his three sons-in-law, his three daughters-in-law, his two sisters, his brothers, his fatherand his granddaughters-in-law. The twins--but why continue? Puzzles ofthis character provide pleasure for those who choose to work them outfor themselves, and no doubt many who have followed the course of thisnarrative are to be classed among them. 

Of course, in his own home Corky sat at the head of the table, but itis not to be assumed that he was the undisputed head of the family, although he may have advanced claims to the distinction because of hisposition as father-in-law to every one else of the name. Mr. VanWinkle, pere, jocosely offered to relinquish the honour to his son, and the twins vociferously shouted their approval. 

"You are the oldest member of the family by marriage, Corky, " saidJeff, and was rewarded by a venomous stare from his joint mother-and-sister-in-law. 

"How you talk!" said the Grand Duchess, suddenly remembering herlorgnette. The stare became intensified. "Isn't the house attractive, Mr. Van Winkle?" she asked, turning to the old gentleman, with amirthless smile. 

"Are you addressing me, my dear, as your son-in-law or as your father-in-law?" enquired Mr. Van Winkle. 

"Why do you ask?" she demanded. 

"Because if you are speaking to me as your son, I prefer to be calledBleecker. "

"Stuff and nonsense, Mr. Van Winkle! Why, I scarcely know you. "

"Won't you tell me your Christian name? I can't very well go aboutcalling my daughter MISSIS Van Winkle. "

"Minervy--I mean Minerva. Of course, I shall expect you to call meMinerva. I--I suppose it is only right that I should call youBleecker. Isn't it an odd situation?"

"I should say so, " put in Rip. "I'll have to give up calling youfather, Bleecker. You are my brother now. "

"I don't think we should carry a joke too far, " said his fatherseverely. 

"It's no joke, " said Kip. "Is it, Father Corky?"

"See here, confound you, don't get funny, " snapped Corky from the headof the table. "You forget the servants. "

"I'm not ashamed to have them hear me call you father, Corky, "protested Rip. "I'll shout it from the house top if you think there'sany doubt about my sincerity. "

"Don't tease, Ripley, " said Toots. "Your poor brother is dreadfullyembarrassed. "

"You must go with me to the dressmaker's tomorrow, girls, " said theGrand Duchess, effectually putting a stop to the discussion. "I shallbe there all day trying on gowns, and I want your opinions. "

"Didn't you have anything made in Paris, Mother?" cried Toots andBeppy in unison. 

"She did, " said Corky emphatically. "We paid duty on seventy-threegowns, to say nothing of other things. "

"But they are all out of fashion by this time, " said Mrs. Corky, joyously. "They are at least three months old. I'm getting everythingnew. The season promises to be an unusually brilliant one, doesn't it, dear?"

Every one waited for Gorky's reply. He appeared to have swallowedsomething the wrong way. It was just like them to wait, CONFOUND them, thought he resentfully. 

"Yes, " said he, so succinctly that the four ladies were bitterlydisappointed. For them, the topic called for the most elaboratetreatment. "I shall give a big ball right after the holidays, " saidthe Grand Duchess, determined to keep the subject going. "Corky and Ihave been going over the list of invitations this week. We mean tomake it very select. On a rough estimate, we figure that the affairwon't cost a cent less than fifty thousand--"

"My dear!" cried Corky, rapping violently on the table with his forkin his agitation. 

"That's a pearl-handled fork, " his wife reminded him, going very redunder her rouge. 

At this juncture Jefferson arose and, clearing his throat, began atoast to the brides. 

"On your feet, gentlemen! Here's to the four Mrs. Van Winkles, thefourest of the fair--I mean the fairest of the four--ouch!--thefairest--of--the--fair. May they never know an hour of remorse! Maytheir hearts always beat time to the tune of love we shall sing intotheir lovely ears, and may they be kind enough to forgive us ourtransgressions while they listen to our eternal and everlasting song!Drink, gentlemen!"

As the four gentlemen drained their glasses, the four ladies applaudedthe eloquent Jeff. 

"You must write that out for Corky, Jefferson, " cried his mother-in-law. "He may have an opportunity to spring it--"

"Ahem!" barked Corky, quite viciously. 

"I am sure we shall all love one another and be happy to the end ofour days, " cried Mrs. Bleecker Van Winkle, an extremely handsome womanof thirty-three. 

"Good for you, Mother!" shouted Rip, with enthusiasm and every onelaughed, Corky the loudest of all. 

Beppy rose half way out of her seat and peered down the table in thedirection of her sister Mary. 

"Stop holding hands, you silly things!" she cried, shaking her fingerat Bleecker Van Winkle and his wife. 

"I'm not holding hands, " cried Mary. 

"She was feeling my pulse, " explained the old gentleman hastily. 

As a matter of fact, when Mary undertook to bestow upon her husbandthe caress known as "holding hands" she invariably took his wristbetween her thumb and forefinger and absent-mindedly counted ten ortwelve before realising her mistake. 

The father of the three young men took this particular moment torevoke, in a very diplomatic way, the sentence he had declared a fewmonths earlier in the year. Without saying it in so many words, hegave them to understand that he considered their fortunes made andwarmly congratulated them upon the successful issue of theirendeavours. He made so bold as to state that he took upon his ownshoulders all of the trivial mistakes they may have made during yearsof adolescence, and gave to them the glory of achieving success whenfailure might have been their lot because of the foolish adoration ofa doting parent. It was a very pretty speech, but the boys noticedthat he carefully refrained from acknowledging that they had made menof themselves. 

"And now, " said he, in conclusion, "permit me to paraphrase the toastof that amiable ancestor whom fiction has given to us, the ancient Ripwhose days will be longer than ours, whose life will run smoothlythrough centuries to come: 'May we all live long--and prosper'!"

They drank it standing. 

The Grand Duchess beamed. "So that dear old gentleman WAS yourancestor after all. How glad I am to know it!"

"Yes, my dear daughter, " said her venerable son-in-law, running hisfingers through his niveous thatch, "he was the first of the time-wasting Van Winkles. "

THE LATE MR. TAYLOR

Hawkins was not a drinking man. To be sure, he took a glass ofsomething occasionally, but he thoroughly understood himself at thetime. He took it to be companionable, that was all. Therefore, in viewof what happened to him on one unforgetable night, it is well to knowthat Hawkins bore an impeccable reputation for sobriety. Likewise, hisveracity never had been seriously questioned. 

The night was bitterly cold--so cold, in fact, that Hawkins relishedthe prospect of remaining in-doors. There was a blizzard blowing fiftyknots an hour. Hawkins rarely used the word "mile, " it may be said; hewas of a decidedly nautical turn ever since the memorable trip toEurope and back. He was middle-aged and a bachelor. This explains thefact that he was a man of habits if not of parts. For years he hadlived in cosy apartments on the fifth floor, surrounded byunmistakable signs of connubial joy, but utterly oblivious to thesepertinent manifestations. Away back--I should say abaft--in the dimpast he had given some little thought to matrimony but she was nowalmost beyond memory. 

Each day after Hawkins had balanced the books at the bank--and theyalways balanced, so methodical was Hawkins--he went for his stroll inthe park. Then came dinner, then a half hour or so of conversationwith the other boarders, and then the club or the theatre. Usually hewent home early in the night as he always went to town early in themorning. The occasions were not infrequent when he could smile grimlyand pityingly upon one or more of his companions of the night beforeas they passed him on their belated way home long after dawn. It wasthen that Hawkins drew himself a trifle more erect, added a bit ofelasticity to his notably springy stride, and congratulated himselfwarmly on being what he was. 

Soon after eight o'clock on the night of the great blizzard, Hawkinsforsook the companionship of the disgruntled coterie downstairs andretired to his library on the fifth floor. His suite consisted ofthree rooms--and a bath, as they say when they talk of letting them toyou. There was a library, a bed chamber and a parlour with broadcouches against two of the walls. Sometimes Hawkins had friends tostay all night with him. They slept on the couches because it did notmake any difference to them and because Hawkins was of a philanthropicturn of mind when occasion demanded. 

He got into his dressing gown and slippers, pulled the big leatherchair up to the blazing grate, and prepared for a long and enjoyablevisit with one Charles Dickens. A young woman of charm and persistencehad induced him, only the week before to purchase a full set ofDickens with original Cruikshank engravings--although Hawkins secretlyconfessed that he was sceptical--and it was not like him to spendmoney without getting its full value in return. It was with some showof gratitude then that he looked upon the blizzard which kept himindoors for the night. Years ago he had read "Oliver Twist" and "DavidCopperfield, " but that was the extent of his acquaintance withDickens. Now that he had the full set on his shelves, it behooved himto read the great Englishman from beginning to end. 

"This is a terrible night, " he mused, as he ran his eye along the rowof green and gilt books, and "Bleak House" seems especially fit forthe hour. "We'll begin with that. "

Outside the wind howled like mad, shrieking around the corners as ifbent on destroying every bit of harmony in the world. It whistled andscreamed and gnashed its way through the helpless night, the bitingsleet so small that it could penetrate the very marrow of man. Hawkinsserenely tucked his heels into the cushions of the footstool andlaughed at the storm. 

"I sha'n't be disturbed tonight, that's sure, " he thought, complacently. "No one but a drivelling idiot would venture out in sucha blizzard as this unless absolutely driven to it. 'Gad, that wind issomething awful! I haven't heard anything like it since last Februaryand that was when we had the coldest night in forty years, if one canbelieve the weather bureau. " Here Hawkins allowed "Bleak House" todrop listlessly into his lap while he indulged in a moment or two ofretrospection. "Let's see; that was said to have been the deadliestcold snap Chicago has ever known. Scores of people were frozen todeath on the streets and many of them in their homes. I hope there isno one so luckless as to be homeless tonight. The hardiest man wouldbe helpless. Think of the poor cab-drivers and--oh, well, it doesn'thelp matters to speculate on what may be happening outside. I shudderto think, though, of what the papers will tell in the morning. "

The midnight hour was close at hand before Hawkins reluctantly andtenderly laid "Bleak House" on the library table, stretched himselfand prepared for bed. The blizzard had not lost any of its fury. Indeed, it seemed to have grown more vicious, more merciless. Hawkins, in his pajamas, lifted the curtain and sought a glimpse of the nightand its terrors. The window panes were white with frost. He scrapedaway the thick layer and peered forth into the swirling storm. 

"Worse than ever, " he thought, a troubled look in his eyes. "Poordevils, who ever you are, I feel for you if you're out in all this. "

He turned off the lights, banked the fire on the grate and was soonshivering between the icy sheets of his bed. It seemed to him theynever would get warm and cosy, as he had so confidently expected. Hawkins, being a bank clerk, was a patient and enduring man. Years oftraining had made him tolerant even to placidity. As he cuddled in thebed, his head almost buried in the covers, he resignedly convincedhimself that warmth would come sooner or later and even as the chillsran up and down his back he was philosophic. So much for system and aclear conscience. 

Gradually the chill wore away and Hawkins slumbered, warm and serenedespite the wrath of the winds which battered against the walls of hishabitation. At just what minute sleep came he did not know. He heardthe clock striking the hour of twelve. Of that he was sure, because hecounted the strokes up to nine before they ran into a confused jangle. He remembered wondering dimly if any one had been able to distinguishthe precise instant when sleep succeeds wakefulness. At any rate, heslept. 

The same little clock struck twice a few minutes after a sudden chillaroused him to consciousness. For a moment or two he lay therewondering how he came to be out-of-doors. He was so cold and damp thatsome minutes of wakefulness were required to establish the fact thathe was still in his own room and bed. It struck Hawkins as strangethat the bedclothes, tucked about his head, seemed wet and heavy andmouldy. He pulled them tightly about his shivering body, curled hislegs up until the knees almost touched the chin and--yes, Hawkins saiddamn twice or thrice. It was not long until he was sufficiently awaketo realise that he was very much out of patience. 

Presently he found himself sniffing the air, his nostrils dilatingwith amazement. There was a distinct odour of earth, such as onescents only in caverns or in mossy places where the sun is forever astranger. It was sickening, overpowering. Hawkins began to feel thatthe chill did not come from the wintry winds outside but from somecool, aguish influence in the room itself. Half asleep, he impatientlystrove to banish the cold, damp smell by pulling the coverlet over hishead. His feet felt moist and his knees were icy cold. The thickblanket seemed plastered to his black, wet and rank with the smell ofstagnant water. 

"What in thunder is the matter with me?" growled he, to himself. "Inever felt this way before. It's like sleeping in a fog or worse. Abig slug of whiskey is what I need, but it's too infernal cold to getout of bed after it. How the dickens is it that typhoid fever startsin on a fellow? Chilly back and all that, I believe, --but I can'trecall anything clammy about it. "

The more he thought of it the more worried he became; more earnestbecame his efforts to shut out the chilly dampness. It occurred to himthat it would be wise to crawl out and poke up the fire in the nextroom. Then he remembered that there was a gas grate in his bedroom, behind the bureau. Of course, it would be quite a task to move thebureau and even then he might find that the gas pipe was not connectedwith the burner. The most sensible proceeding, he finally resolved, would be to get up and rebuild the fire and afterward add an overcoatand the cherished steamer rug to the bed coverings. Damper and dampergrew the atmosphere in the room. Everything seemed to reek with theodour of rotting wood and mouldy earth; his nostrils drank the smellof decaying vegetation and there seemed to be no diminution. Instead, the horrible condition appeared to grow with each succeeding breath ofwakefulness. 

The palms of his hands were wet, his face was saturated. Hawkins wasconscious of a dreadful fear that he was covered with mildew. Once, when he was a small boy, he had gone into a vault in the cemetery withsome relatives. Somehow, the same sensations he felt on that far-offday were now creeping over him. The room seemed stifled with the smellof dead air, cold and gruesome. He tried to convince himself that hewas dreaming, but it was too easy to believe the other way. Suddenlyhis heart stopped beating and his blood turned to ice, for there shotinto his being the fear that some dreadful thing was about to clutchhim from behind, with cold, slimy hands. In his terror he could almostfeel the touch of ghastly fingers against his flesh. 

With rigid, pulseless hands he threw the soggy covers from his faceand looked forth with wide startled eyes. His face was to the wall, his back--(his cringing back)--to the open room. Hawkins was positivethat he had heard the clock strike two and he knew that no hour of thewinter's night was darker. And yet his eyes told him that his ears hadlied to him. 

It was not inky darkness that met his gaze. The room was draped in thegrey of dawn, cold, harsh, lifeless. Every object on the wall wasplainly visible in this drear light. The light green stripes in thewall paper were leaden in colour, the darker border above was almostblue in its greyness. For many minutes Hawkins remained motionless inhis bed, seeking a solution of the mystery. Gradually the convictiongrew upon him that he was not alone in the room. There was no sound, no visible proof that any one was present, but something supernaturaltold him that an object--human or otherwise--was not far from hisside. The most horrible feeling came over him. He was ready to shriekwith terror, so positive was his belief that the room was occupied bysome dreadful thing. 

Even as he prepared to turn his face toward the open room, there cameto his ears the most terrifying sound. Distinctly, plainly he heard achuckle, almost at the bedside. A chuckle, hollow, sepulchral, mirthless. The hair on Hawkins's head stood straight on end. Theimpulse to hide beneath the covers was conquered by the irresistibledesire to know the worst. 

He whirled in the bed, rising to his elbow, his eyes as big asdollars. Something indescribable had told him that the visitor was norobber midnight marauder. He did not fear physical injury, strange asit may seem. 

There, in the awful grey light, sitting bolt upright in the Morrischair, was the most appalling visitor that man ever had. For whatseemed hours to Hawkins, he gazed into the face of this ghastly being--the grey, livid, puffy face of a man who had been dead for weeks. 

Fascination is a better word than fright in describing the emotion ofthe man who glared at this uncanny object. Unbelief was supreme in hismind for a short time only. After the first tremendous shock, hisrigid figure relaxed and he trembled like a leaf. Horror seemed to beturning his blood to ice, his hair to the whiteness of snow. Slowlythe natural curiosity of the human mind asserted itself. His eyes leftthe face of the dread figure in the chair and took brief excursionsabout the room in search of the person who had laughed an age before. Horror increased when he became thoroughly convinced that he was alonewith the cadaver. 

Whence came that chuckle?

Surely not from the lips of this pallid thing near the window. Hisbrain reeled. His stiff lips parted as if to cry out but no soundissued forth. 

In a jumbled, distorted way his reason began to question the realityof the vision, and then to speculate on how the object came to be inhis room. To his certain knowledge, the doors and windows were locked. No one could have brought the ghastly thing to his room for thepurpose of playing a joke on him. No, he almost shrieked in revulsion, no one could have handled the terrible thing, even had it beenpossible to place it there while he slept. And yet it had been broughtto his bedroom; it could not have come by means of its own. 

He tried to arise, but his muscles seemed bound in fetters of steel. In all his after life he was not to forget the picture of that hideousfigure, sitting there in the tomb-like grey. The face was bloated andsoft and flabby, beardless and putty-like; the lips thick andcolourless; the eyes wide, sightless and glassy. The black hair wasmatted and plastered close to the skull, as if it had just come fromthe water. The clothes that covered the corpse were wet, slimy andreeking with the odour of stagnant water. Huge, stiff, puffy handsextended over the ends of the chair's arms, the fingers twice thenatural size and absolutely shapeless. Truly, it was a most repulsiveobject. There was no relief in the thought that the man might haveentered the room alive, in some mysterious manner, for every signrevealed the fact that he had been dead for a long time. 

Hawkins, in his horror, found himself thinking that if he were to pokehis finger suddenly into the cheek of the object, it would leave animpression that hours might not obliterate. 

It was dead, horribly dead, and--the chuckle? His ears must havedeceived him. No sound could have come from those pallid lips--

But the thing was speaking!

"It is so nice and warm here, " came plainly and distinctly from theMorris chair, the voice harsh and grating. Something rattled in eachtone. Hawkins felt his blood freeze within him and he knew his eyeswere bulging with terror. They were glued upon the frightful thingacross the room, but they saw no movement of the thick lips. 

"Wha--What?" gasped Hawkins, involuntarily. His own voice sounded highand squeaky. 

"I've been so cursed cold, " responded the corpse, and there wereindications of comfort in the weird tones. "Say, I've had a devil of atime. It's good to find a warm spot again. The Lord knows I've beenlooking for it long enough. "

"Good Lord! Am I crazy? Is it actually talking?" murmured Hawkins, clutching the bedclothes frantically. 

"Of course, I'm talking. Say, I'm sorry to have disturbed you at thistime of night, but you wouldn't mind if you knew how much I'vesuffered from this terrible cold. Don't throw me out, for God's sake. Let me stay here till I thaw out, please do. You won't put me out, will you?" The appeal in those racking tones was too grotesque fordescription. 

"I wouldn't--wouldn't touch you for a million dollars, " gaspedHawkins. "Good Heavens, you're dead!"

"Certainly. Any fool could tell that, " answered the dead man, scornfully. 

"Then--then how do you come to be here?" cried the owner of the room. "How can you be dead and still able to talk? Who placed you in thatchair?"

"You'll have to excuse me, but my brain is a trifle dull just now. Ithasn't had time to thaw out, I fancy. In the first place, I think Icame up the fire escape and into that window. Don't get up, please; Iclosed it after me. "What was the next question? Oh, yes--I remember. It isn't an easy matter to talk, I'll confess. One's throat gets socold and stiff, you know. I kept mine in pretty good condition bycalling out for help all the time I was in the water. "

"In the--water?"

"Yes. That's how I happen to be so wet and disagreeable. You see, I'vebeen out there in the lake for almost a year!"

Hawkins fell back in the bed, speechless. He started with fresh terrorwhen he passed his hand over his wet forehead. The hand was like ice. 

"There's a lot of them out there, you may be sure. I stumbled overthem two or three times a day. No matter where you walk or float, you're always seeing dead people out there. They're awful sights, too, --give one the shivers. The trouble with most people who go to thebottom is that they give up and are content to lie there forever, washed around in the mud and sand in a most disgusting way. I couldn'tbear the thought of staying down there for ages, so I kept on tryingto get out. Shows what perseverance will do, doesn't it?"

"You don't mean to say that--that--Good Lord, I must have brainfever!" cried poor Hawkins hoarsely. 

"Do I annoy you? I'll be going presently, although I hate to leavethis warm corner. But you can rest assured of one thing: I'll never gonear that lake again. All the weight in the world couldn't drag me tothe bottom after what I've gone through. It's not right, I know, totrespass like this. It's a rank shame. But don't be hard on me, Mr. --Mr. --?"

"I don't know it, " groaned Hawkins, who could not have told his nameif his life was at stake. He had forgotten everything except theterrible thing in the Morris chair. 

"My name is--or was--Taylor, Alfred B. Taylor. I used to live inLincoln Avenue, quite a distance out. Perhaps you have heard of me. Didn't the newspapers have an account of my disappearance lastFebruary? They always print such stuff, so I'm sure they had somethingabout me. I broke through the ice off Lincoln Park one day whilewalking out toward the crib. "

"I--I remember, " Hawkins managed to whisper. "You were the Board ofTrade man who--who--"

"Who took one chance too many, " completed the dead man, grimly. "ABoard of Trade man often gets on very thin ice, you know, " thesepulchral laugh that oozed from those grey lips rang in thelistener's ears till his dying day. "These clothes of mine were prettygood the day I went down, but the water and the fishes have playedhavoc with them, I'm afraid. It strikes me they won't hold togethermuch longer. "

"You--you don't look as though you'd hold together very longyourself, " ventured Hawkins, picking up a little courage. 

"Do I look that bad?" asked Mr. Taylor, quite ruefully. "Well, Idaresay it's to be expected. I've been plodding around on the bottomof the lake for a year and the wear and tear is enormous. For months Iwas frozen stiff as a rail. Then summer came along and I was warmed upa bit. The terrible cold snap we're having just now almost caught mebefore I got out of the water. The trouble was, I lost my bearings andwandered miles and miles out into the lake. Then it was like hunting aneedle in a haystack to find dry land. I'm sure I travelled a circlefor hundreds of miles before I accidentally wandered upon the beachdown there by the Fresh Air place. I really believe this is a coldernight than the first one I spent in the lake, and that day wassupposed to be a record breaker, I remember. Twenty-six below zero, ifI'm not mistaken. By George, I'm warming up nicely in here. I feellike stretching a bit!"

"For God's sake, don't!" almost shrieked Hawkins, burying his headbeneath the covers. 

"Very well, since you object, " came to his muffled ears. "You must bevery warm in that bed. I'd give all I have in the world if I could getinto a nice warm bed like that once more. "

Hawkins peeped from beneath the cover in dire apprehension, but wasintensely relieved to see that the terrible Mr. Taylor had not changedhis attitude. The eyes of the watcher suddenly fixed themselves on thevisitor's right hand. The member was slowly sliding off the arm of thechair. Fascinated, Hawkins continued to watch its progress. At last, it dropped heavily from its resting place. The position of the corpsechanged instantly, the sudden jerk of the dead weight pulling the bodyforward and to one side. The head lolled to the right and the lowerjaw dropped, leaving the mouth half open. One eyelid closed slowly, asif the cadaver was bestowing a friendly wink upon his host. 

"Very awkward of me, " apologised Mr. Taylor, his voice not sodistinct, his words considerably jumbled on account of the unfortunatemishap to his mouth. 

"Get out of here!" shrieked Hawkins, unable to endure the horror anylonger. "Get out!"

"Oh, you don't mean that, do you?" pleaded the thing in the chair. "I'm just beginning to feel comfortable and--"

"Get out!" again cried Hawkins, frenzied. 

"It's rotten mean of you, old man, " said Mr. Taylor. "I wouldn't turnyou out if our positions were reversed. Hang it, man, I'd be humane. I'd ask you to get into bed and warm up thoroughly. And I'd set outthe whiskey, too. "

But Hawkins was speechless. 

"Confound your penurious soul, " growled Mr. Taylor, after a longsilence, "I've a notion to climb into that bed anyhow. If you want tothrow me out, go ahead. I'm used to being knocked about and a littlemore of it won't hurt me, I guess. Move over there, old man. I'm goingto get in. "

With a scream of terror, Hawkins leaped up in the bed. The dead manwas slowly rising from the chair, one eye fixed on the ceiling, theother directed toward the floor. Just as the awful body lurchedforward, Hawkins sprang from the bed and struck out frantically withhis clenched hand. The knuckles lodged against the bulging brow of thedead man and they seemed to go clear to the skull, burying themselvesin the cushion-like flesh. As the horrid object crashed to the floor, Hawkins flew through the library and into the hall, crying like amadman. 

Other occupants of the building, awakened by the frightful shrieks, found him crouching in a corner on one of the stair landings, his wideeyes staring up the steps down which he had just tumbled. It was aninterminably long time before he could tell them what had happened andthen they all assured him he had been dreaming. But Hawkins knew hehad not been dreaming. 

Three of the men who went to his bedroom came hurriedly down thestairs, white-faced and trembling. They had not seen the corpse butthey had found plenty of evidence to prove that something terrible hadbeen in Hawkins' bedroom. 

The window was open and the chair which stood in front of it wasoverturned, as if some one had upset it in crawling out upon the fireescape platform. One of the men looked out into the night. He saw aman crossing the street in the very face of the gale, running as ifpursued. It was too dark to see the man's face, but the observer wassure that he turned twice to look up at the open window. The figureturned into an alley, going toward the lake. 

The Morris chair was wet and foul-smelling, and the floor wassaturated in places. A piece of cloth, soaked with mud, was foundbeneath the window sill. Evidently it had been caught and torn away bythe curtain hook on the window sash. Hawkins would not go near theroom and it was weeks before he was able to resume work at the bank. 

And, stranger than all else, the dead body of a man was found in thesnow near the Fresh Air Sanitarium the next morning, but no one couldidentify the corpse. The man had been dead for months. 

THE TEN DOLLAR BILL

A CHRISTMAS STORY

Mr. And Mrs. Digby Trotter had been married just five years. Fiveyears before Digby had gone to his father to tell him that he intendedto marry Kate Anderson. The old gentleman grew very red in the faceand observed, more forcibly than considerately:

"You must be a dod-gasted idiot! You get married? And to thatbrainless little fool whose father exhorts or extorts religion for$600 a year at that miserable little church over there on QueenStreet--is that the girl you mean?" And then Trotter, pere, ceasedspeaking to look searchingly into his son's face; an embarrassed smilebrightened his grim old countenance and he went on, good humourgrowing stronger in each succeeding word: "You rascal! Why did youtell me that? Do you know, for a moment, I actually thought you werein earnest, and--well, demme! it did work me up a little. I ought tohave known better, too--but, then, you did say it as if you meant it. Excuse me, boy; I guess I'm the fool, myself. "

"That remains to be seen, sir, " was the most polite thing that his soncould say under the circumstances, taking his hands out of his pocketsand putting them back again at once. "You see, it's this way, Father, you laughed too soon. It's not so devilish much of a joke as youthink. I meant it. "

Mr. Trotter's smile faded away as does the sunshine that hides itselfin the dusk of eventide. Father and son grew warm in the discussion ofthis most amazing determination on the part of the latter and it allcame to a sharp end when both lost temper. When Digby jammed his hatdown over his eyes, buttoned close his overcoat and dashed out of thebank into the street, he might have been heard to say, as a partingshot:

"I'll marry her now if I starve for two thousand years!"

And marry her he did. 

Trotter, senior, did not attend the wedding, did not send the youngcouple a present, nor a greeting; in fact, he did nothing but ignorethem completely. He had told Digby that he would never forgive him andhad gone so far as to call on poor little Dr. Anderson, theunfortunate possessor of a pretty daughter and a $600 charge, expressing himself as earnestly averse to the union of their children. When he had concluded his interview with the minister the latter wasextremely pale and nervous, but he was master of the situation. Hestood, holding open the door to his plain, pitiful old study and Mr. Trotter, very much injured and crestfallen, was passing out with thesewords stinging his ears:

"I am sorry, sir--just as sorry as you. I like Digby; he is a good, open-hearted boy, but I had hoped to see Kate better wedded!" Then heclosed the door and seated himself in the old cushioned chair, staringat the grate until the glare seemed to hurt his eyes. At least, theygrew very hot and dry, then streaming wet. 

And so they were married five years ago. Since then their struggle hadbeen a hard one; both ends would not meet, no matter how firmly Digbypersevered in his efforts to bring about such a union. He would not, could not ask his father for assistance, nor would that patient, faithful little wife have permitted him to harbour such a design hadhe weakened in his avowed intention to "get along without a dollarfrom dad. " Notwithstanding their feeble warfare against privation, inwhich defeat hovered constantly over fields where victory seemedassured, theirs had been a happy sort of misery. Digby loved Kate andKate worshipped him; his pity for her was overwhelmed by theearnestness with which she pitied him. No struggle of his failed butthat she shouldered and bore the failure with him, cheering him whenhe felt like lagging, smiling when he despaired the deepest. Betweenthem a speck of joy grew larger, brighter each day despite the gloomthat surrounded it. Their child was their one possession of worth, 4-year-old Helen--sunny-faced Helen--Helen who suffered none of thepangs because of the sacrifices made by those whose darkness sheillumined. 

Trotter had married Kate with a heart overrunning with the gloriousambition of untried youth, the happy confidence of strength, fullyconvinced that nothing was necessary toward securing success save theestablishment of a purpose. And that is quite, quite the fact. 

They began with a dollar and they had seen but few, since thebeginning, that they could call their own. Too late did Digby learnthat he knew but little and that the world was full of young men whosebeginning in life had been so much worse than his that necessity hadmade them equal to the struggle for which he had been so illy preparedby an indulgent parent. Digby found the banks in which he had hoped tosecure positions thronged with clerks and accountants who had workedslowly, painfully from the bottom upward. Grey-haired men, whose liveshad been spent in the one great battle for gold, told him of theiryears in the patient ranks; thoughtful-faced young men told him howthey had been office boys, messenger boys, even janitor boys, in theclimb up the Matterhorn of success. Here he was a man of 25, strong, bright and the possessor of an unusual intelligence, a college man, arich man's son, but poorer than the smallest clerk that had ever benthis throbbing, ambitious head over the desk in his father's bank, andwho had often envied the life of his employer's son. Now that son wasbeneath them all because he did not know how to work!

Work--toil--slave! The definition of success. 

At first the failures originating from inexperience had been of smallconsequence to Digby. His old-time independence resisted the harshcriticisms of his first employers and he had, on more than oneoccasion, thrown away fair positions because the spirit could notendure the thumb of mastery. For months he rebelled against therequirements of servitude, but gradually it dawned upon him thatthough the rich man was his father he was no longer the rich man'sson. 

So, when the first year of their wedded life had rolled by, DigbyTrotter, still neat, still independent, yet not so defiant--wore ahaggard look which could no longer be disguised. The once fashionablegarments were beginning to look shabby; his recently purchasedclothing had come from the bargain counters in cheap "ready-made"establishments; his once constantly used evening dress suit hung in acloset, lonely and forlorn, minus the trousers. He was keeping thebooks in a street car office and his salary was $40 a month. 

When, at the close of their first happy, miserable year, her fatherdied and their baby was born, many changes came. They were forced totake the house for themselves and had to be accountable for the rent. Dr. Anderson had given them the right to call his home their own solong as he should live and it was the earnings of two men that keptthe little establishment crowded with happiness, if not comforts, during his lifetime. One day a blow came to them. The landlord ejectedthem. Kate wept as she passed out through the little front gate, leaving behind the dear old home with its rose bushes, its lilacs, itsgravelled walks, perhaps forever. Digby buttoned his coat tightlyabout his thinning figure and scowled as he followed her through thegate. He scowled at that invisible fate which preceded them both. Now, at the end of five years, they were living in a tenement house, acrowded, filthy place, ruled by a miserly, relentless landlord, whosegold was his god. 

The young husband had been employed by many men and in manyoccupations during these five years. Fate pursued him always, despitehis dogged determination, his earnest efforts to surmount theobstacles which crowded his path to happiness and peace. If areduction was necessary in a working force he was one of the first togo: if any one was to be superseded by a new and favoured applicant hewas the one. On many occasions he had taken up his coat and hat, stepping to the pavement with the crushed heart of a despairing man, tears in his wistful eyes, his tired brain filling, almost burstingwith the thoughts of the little woman whose brave eyes would growlarge and bright when he told her of the end, and who would kiss himand bid him not to despair. He could almost hear her suppressed sob ashe thought of her, her head upon his shoulder, her soft voice blamingherself for having dragged him down to this. 

In this warfare of poverty they had seen many hungry days, manyhardships, but neither had relinquished faith in Digby's ability tobaffle adversity and stem the tide. Like tennis balls, they had beenbatted from one end of the year to the other, and now, at this time, Digby Trotter and wife had become members of New York's "floatingpopulation. " Seldom did they live in one place more than three months, sometimes less than one. Frequently they moved because theirsurroundings were so distasteful to Kate, whose natural sense ofrefinement was averse, not to poverty and squalor, but to the vicewith which it often is associated in districts where an ignorant andvicious element flocks as if drawn by the magnetism of sin. 

A man of strong will was Digby, and a woman of wonderful strength ofpurpose was his wife, or he would have lost heart, and lost her in theend. Only once had he come home to her intoxicated, driven to itthrough despair and by what he thought to be approaching illness. Onawakening from the drunken sleep shame made him fear to meet the eyesof her who suffered with him. But she had gently said:

"Don't be ashamed, Digby; poor, dear boy! You couldn't help it, Iknow. But, dear, do try to be strong, stronger than ever, for baby'ssake if not for your own and mine. We shall all be happy yet, I'm surewe shall, if you--if you will but resist that one misfortune. "

He never drank another drop of liquor. 

Then, at last, the brave little woman took in plain sewing, greatly toDigby's anguish and mortification. Never had he felt so little like aman as when she showed so plainly that it was necessary for her toassist in the maintenance of the little household over which hepresided. The few dollars that she could earn kept them supplied withfood--at least part of the time. His odd jobs helped; the dollar thathe earned once in a while was made to go a long way. Not once did shecomplain, not once did she cry out against the son who had taken hisfather's curse for her sake. There are but few women who would be soconsiderate. 

When he came home at nights, climbing the wearisome steps that led totheir miserable home near the roof of the vast building he knew thatshe would smile and kiss him, that the baby would laugh and climbgaily upon his knee, and he knew that he would not have to tell herthat he had failed to find the coveted employment. His face would bethe indicator, and, beneath her first smile of welcome, he couldalways distinguish the searching glance of anxiety; under her warmkiss he could feel the words:

"Poor boy! I am sorry; you have tried so hard!"

Their home was poor, poorer than Digby had thought any man's homecould be, but there was no sign of the filth that characterised thecondition of other homes in the house. Mrs. Trotter kept it clean, kept it neat, and kept it as bright as possible. While they were aspoor, if not poorer than the other inhabitants of this roofed world, they were looked upon as and called "the aristocrats. " No povertycould remove nor deface the indelible stamp of superiority which goodblood and culture had given them as birthrights. Their apparel wascleaner than anything of its kind in the building, fairly immaculatewhen compared with the wretched garb of the beings who were lookedupon as human but who were--well, they were unfortunate to have thatdistinction; something less would have been more fitting. 

When occasion presented, Digby would bring home flowers, plucked fromthe gardens that he passed. Kate would bedeck the room with theblossoms, her eyes glistening as she thought of the lovely spot shehad known five long years ago. Once in awhile the more beautiful ofhis tributes would adorn her coal black hair, lending wealth to whatseemed so much like waste. 

They had curtains for their windows, too--muslin, of course--and, although the windows were almost paneless, they presented quite ahome-like appearance, especially from the street, eight floors below. Heavy wads of cloth served as glass in most of the vacant places, butthey did not serve well as light filterers. Besides all thesevaluables they owned a bedstead, a stove, some chairs, a table, asewing machine and a mirror. Not another family in the house owned amirror. 

But they were lovers ever--the same, sweet comrades in love. The babywas their Cupid at whose shrine they worshipped. She ruled theiraffections and there was no kingdom wider than her domain. Digby, covered with shame, despair and bitterness against the world, turnedhimself loose into the pasture of joy when she cooed her authority;romped like a boy whose heart had never felt as heavy as a chunk oflead; talked to her, sang to her with a voice that had never felt thequiver of dismay. Upon these sad pleasantries Mrs. Trotter smiled herworship. Better than all, Digby had never been compelled to walk withher for two or three hours in the middle of the night. It is said thatshe was the only child on earth that never had the colic. 

On the 23d of December in the year of our story, Digby had gone, bright and early, to the big queensware store of Balling and Peet, word having reached him that they needed extra help during theholidays. When he neared his old haunts, the prominent downtownstreets, instead of going boldly along the sidewalks as of yore, heslunk through alleys and across corners avoiding all possible chanceof meeting the acquaintances of bygone days, the men about town, thewomen he had known, none of whom would know him now. It was not thathe feared their recognition, but that they would refuse to look at himat all. 

The morning was bright and crisp, cold and prophetic of still greaterchill. Men in great overcoats passed him, muffled to the chin, theirwhiskers frosty with the whitened air of life that came from tinglingnoses; ruddy cheeks abounded on this typical winter day. Mr. Trotterpossessed no overcoat, but presumably following the fashion set out byother wintry pedestrians, his thin sack coat was buttoned tightly andthe collar turned up defiantly. His well-brushed though seedy Derbylooked chilly as it topped off his shivering features. His face wasblue, not ruddy. Here and there he passed companions in poverty, buttheir rags were worse than his, their faces more haggard. Never did hefeel more like the gentleman than when he saw what he could be if hewere not one. 

Something jaunty beneath his brow-beaten spirits told him that he wasto have work, that his mission would be productive of the result solong desired. In three months he had earned but ten days' wages and hehad found it rather difficult, not to say annoying to be a gentlemanwith nothing on which to keep up outward appearances. 

With an exultant feeling he approached the big store, but as heentered it the old trepidation returned, the old anxiety, the oldshudder at the thought of failure. Being directed to the manager ofthe busy establishment, he accosted him in the office, something likemeekness underlying the apparent straightforwardness to which hismanly exterior seemed so well acquainted. 

The manager was different from others of his ilk. He greeted theapplicant kindly and told him to come back the next day at noon and hewould be set to work in the express department. If he provedsatisfactory he would be retained during the whole week, perhapspermanently. They were looking for good men there, he said. Digby'swhole being seemed lighter than it had been for months when he leftthe place and hurried homeward. 

Kate's heart thumped strangely when she heard him coming down the longhall with great rapid strides, so unlike the usual slow, deliberatetread. She opened the door to admit him and when he clasped her in hisarms and rained kisses upon her face she knew that she was butreceiving the proofs of her sudden guess. Their frugal meal wasdispatched slowly, the diners allowing their tongues to displaygreater diligence than their teeth. They were all very happy. 

The great rush of business was at its height when Digby strode betweenthe counters of Balling and Peet's store the next day noon, on his wayto the office. Hundreds of people thronged the place, and he could nothelp thinking of the days when he, a lad, had accompanied his motherto this same great store where purchases were made that now seemedlike dreams to him. The smallest priced article that stood on thecounters was now beyond his power of possession. Mr. Sampson, themanager, was in the office when Digby entered. 

"Ah, you are here, I see, " he said, but his voice was not so friendlyas it had been on the day before. "I am sorry, Mr. --Mr. --"

"Trotter, " volunteered Digby, forgetting to add the servile "sir. " Hisheart was cold with apprehension. 

"We were forced by rush of business this morning to put extra men towork much earlier than I had expected. Not knowing your address Icould not notify you, and we have filled the places with men who camein early. We did not expect the rush quite so early, you see. I amsorry, sir. Perhaps we can do something for you later on. "

Digby's eyes were misty, but there was a gleam of proud resentmentbeneath the mist. His first thought was: "How can I go home and tellher of this?"

"Have you nothing else, sir, that I can do?" he asked, from the depthsof his disappointment. He actually hated the man who had failed toremember him--unreasonably, he knew, but he hated him. 

"Nothing, I believe, Mr. --Mr. Potter--no, there is nothing at all. Good day. " The manager turned to his desk and Digby, smarting to thevery centre of his heart, shot a glance of insulted pride toward him, while beneath his breath there welled the unhappy threat: "I'll someday make you remember me! I'll not always be at the bottom. "

Defiantly he strode from the office, banging the door after himindignantly. The manager looked around in mild surprise and muttered:

"Poor devil! I suppose he hasn't had a drink all day. "

When Digby reached the sidewalk the bright sunlight sent him tumblingback into the reality of his position. Hardly knowing what he did, heturned the corner, meeting the cutting wind from the west. Themoisture that came into his tired eyes as he walked dejectedly along, however, was not caused by the wind. It came from the cells of shame, disconsolation and despair. 

Ahead of him on the busy thoroughfare walked an old-time friend, JoeDelapere. But a few years ago they had been boon companions, runningthe same race, following the same course together. Now one slunkalong, shorn of his rapid spurs, while the other sped the gay coursein happy unconcern. If Joe had a care it was over his love affairs, and, as he had admitted, they were annoyances more than cares after hehad ceased to care. Digby was bitter against the world he had onceinhabited, his father more than all the rest of it together. That wasthe difference between their ways of looking at the world. 

Delapere stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and hailed a cab, asudden and increasing flurry of snow changing his desire to walk intothe necessity of riding. Cabby came dashing up and Joe pulled forthhis well filled purse. 

"Get me to No. -- Morton avenue in five minutes and another dollar isyours. Be brisk, now!" Selecting a bill, he handed it to the driverand sprang into the cab. To his box climbed the well-urged driver, crack went his whip and once more the boon companions went theirdifferent ways--in different fashion. 

But as Delapere thrust his purse back into his coat pocket somethingfluttered to the gutter. Digby's hungry eyes saw at a glance that itwas a bank note, and, calling to the cabman, he rushed to curbing andfished the bill from the slush. 

A ten dollar bill! And the cabman had not heard his shout! Putting hiscold fingers to his lips he gave vent to that shrill whistle whichalways attracts the attention of Jehu, but the cabby was earning hisextra dollar and heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing but the bigflakes that struck his tingling face Digby stopped at the corner andsaw the cab disappear down the street. 

"I'll take it to him tomorrow, " he resolved. As he started to put thebill into his pocket the thought came to him that Kate and the babywere suffering. All the way home he battled with his conscience, striving to convince himself that Delapere had not dropped the note, that it belonged to him by virtue of discovery, and that he deservedit if any one in the world did. At last there came a solution. Hewould explain it all to Kate and take her advice. He knew she wouldinsist that he take it to the owner at once, and his conscience wastemporarily eased. But, he would have to confess that he had failed tofind work! Ah, that was the rub!

Another thought! Why should he tell her he had failed! Why not deceiveher? He had the amount of a week's wages in his pocket and he had butto absent himself from the house during the days to carry out thedeception. Conscience was gone--everything was gone except the desireto shield the ones at home. 

At 5 o'clock he climbed the stairs, feeling like a joint thief andmillionaire, possessing the sort of conscience that both ignore. Katemet him at the door of their room and he smiled gaily as he kissed herthen snatched the baby from between his feet where she had plantedherself precipitously. Kate was looking at him when he took his seatnear the stove in which burned the remnants of store boxes that he hadfound that morning. His eyes could not meet hers when she asked:

"Is it all that you thought it would be, Digby?"

"Yes; I am pleased with the place. I only hope it will be permanent. "

"Didn't they give you any satisfaction about the time that they willneed you?"

"Not over a week, they said, but there is chance for a permanentplace, of course. "

"What--er--what are they to pay you, dear?"

"Ten dollars a week--it will be a great help, won't it? The rent canbe paid and you can have something warm to wear and--and--" then heinterrupted himself to stir up the fire, a wave of guilt causing himto withdraw from the ordeal imposed by her trusting blue eyes. "By theway, Kate, we must be quite merry tonight--isn't that so, Nell? Pop'sgot a job!" And with forced gaiety he juggled the laughing childtoward the ceiling. "We ought to eat, drink and be merry. But--"(lugubriously)--"what have we to eat and drink, not counting themerriment, Kate?"

"Bread, liver and water--a feast, isn't it? But, oh, Digby, how manythere are who have not even that. And tomorrow is Christmas, too. Whatshall we have for our grand dinner?"

"We'll have to have a change, to be sure--you can warm over the water, liver and bread. "

"I have a few cents left, dear--I could have sent with you for a fewlittle extras for tonight, too. I wish I had; it would be so jolly, wouldn't it?"

"I haven't had a cent for so long that I--I don't know how it wouldfeel. Keep your money, Kate; I'll have some tomorrow. I have madearrangements to draw my pay every day. " He felt like a murderer as hesat there with that fortune in his trousers pocket. Then he danced andromped with Helen as only he could romp. In the midst of one of thewildest figures Kate suddenly seized his arm and cried. 

"Digby Trotter! Stoop over, this instant! Why, what kind of a wife amI? Good gracious, but you need a patch there--it's positivelydisgraceful. How long have you been going around with that holethere?"

"I don't know--in fact, I had not observed it, " he answered, like ashame-faced boy. 

"And your coat is so short, too. Take them off at once and I'll put apatch there before I do another thing. "

"I'll have to go to bed, my dear. Can't you patch 'em with 'em on me?"

"Of course not! I'd certainly sew them fast to your person. Go to bed, if you please, then. I'll promise not to be long. "

And so the head of the house had to go to bed while its mistressrepaired the garment. 

"Say, Kate, " called out Digby from the bed, where he was playing withthe baby, "that's a positive proof that I've been compelled to sitaround a good deal this year, isn't it?"

"The evidence is certainly damaging, " she replied, laughingly, herfingers busy with the repairs. 

"Do the knees require patching, deary?"

"Not in the least; they are the soundest part of the pants, " said hiswife. 

Just then something slipped from one of the pockets and fellnoiselessly to the floor, Kate's eyes catching sight of it as itfluttered before them. 

A ten dollar bill!

And he had told her that he had no money! Poor bewildered Kate pickedup the bill and sat staring at it with wide-spread eyes, her thoughtschaos. Had he been lying to her all along? Was there money in hispockets all these months through which she had slaved to help him keeptheir little home together? Deep into her unwilling heart sank a shaftof distrust, the first it had ever felt. Then for shame she tried towithdraw the shaft, to ease the pain it had caused, but with all hertugging the thought went deeper, beyond control, becoming rooted, settled in that long unblemished home of fidelity, love andtrustfulness. 

A hundred excuses came to his defence, but her bewildered brain couldnot complete them; they became chaotic conflicts between devotion andsuspicion. No sooner did she see her way clear than it was blockedagain. There was the bill! It had fallen from his pocket--more moneythan she had known him to possess in months. And with that bill in hispocket he had wilfully told her that he had no money, not even a cent. Distrust grew stronger, faith faded away, resentment flooded the heartof the loving little woman, and the years of happy misery she hadspent with him became the memory of deception and neglect. Tearswelled up in the glittering eyes; then her teeth came firmly togetheras if to suppress the emotion with which she found herself struggling. The bitterness of reproach came to her as she turned toward the bed onwhich frolicked the husband and the child. The child! He played, toyedwith the little one, whose every want he had forgotten, with money inhis selfish pockets. His wife found herself beginning to hate, todespise him. 

But words refused to come, the reproach was unuttered, for a suddenthought intervened. The thought was mother to a resolution and DigbyTrotter was spared. 

"I guess I'll go down town, " said Digby when he stood clothed as hehad been before Kate discovered the necessity for a patch. "Perhaps Ican get a chance to help some one of the store-keepers this eveningand earn enough to get up a little dinner for tomorrow. " He wasbuttoning his little coat tightly around his neck as he made thisdeclaration, and he noticed that Kate did not respond. "Come, kisspopper good-bye, " he cried to the child and the response was ready, eager. Then he looked at Kate's quiet figure bending over the sewingnear the candle flame. A cold chill shot over him, piercing deeperthan the chills of the night without. Something like fear, suspense, grew in his heart as he bent his eyes upon the form of one who hadnever allowed him to leave her presence without a kiss, a cheery word. For an instant the thought came to him that she had at last ceased tolove the useless beggar, the robber of her joys, the man who haddragged her from comfort to this life of squalor. With inconsiderateswiftness came the memory of the days when he and the same JoeDelapere had been rivals for her love, both rich and influential. Shehad chosen the one who bore her down; perhaps now she was regrettingthe choice in a heart that longed for the other. She had spoken of Joefrequently during the past two weeks and had told him of numerousaccidental meetings with his old-time rival. But, in an instant more, his heart had revolted against this gross suspicion, hardly formed, and he almost cursed himself for the moment of doubt. Dear, dearlittle Kate!

"Kate, " he said, "aren't you going to kiss me?" He was astonished bythe flushed face she turned toward him and at the wavering eyes whichmet his in a fashion so strange that he felt a second chill go throughhis being. 

"Certainly, dear, " she said, coming to his side. "Baby shall not undome in politeness. "

"Affection would sound better, " he said, taking her cold, almostlifeless hands in his. He stooped to kiss the lips upturned to his, but drew back, a dismal uncertainty taking possession of him. "What isthe matter, Kate? Tell me, dear. Don't you want to kiss me?" He couldnot prevent the moisture from dimming his eyes, drawn by the pridewhich felt itself put to shame. 

"I'll kiss you whether I want to or not, " she said, smiling vaguely, and their lips met--both cold, fearful. 

As Digby hurried down the long, narrow stairways and out in the bitingair his fear and apprehension grew. Wonder, even dismay, charged uponhim, and his excited imagination recalled the many little short-comings he had observed in Kate's behaviour of late, all of whichbegan to assume startling proportions, convincing him beyond all doubtthat something was wrong, woefully wrong. Could it be possible that hehad lost her love, her respect? Had she at last ceased to love theunfortunate being who had battled so feebly in her behalf? Ah, hisheart waxed sore; he felt not the frost without, but the chill within. What was he to do? What was left to do? He had started from homeintending to purchase a turkey, some toys for Helen, some sweet littleremembrance for the wife he had thought so loving, but his happydesigns had been frustrated. The chilling heart refused to return tothe warmth of expected joy, to recognise the feelings of anticipation. 

"Ah, well, " he sighed, almost aloud, to the hurrying wind, "what elsecan I expect? I have done all I could; no man could do more and nowoman could have borne more than she. Truly she has borne too much--Icannot blame her--but, oh, how can she--how can she turn against menow. After all--after all!"

For blocks he rambled on in this manner, seeing no one as he passed, observing nothing. At last his face grew brighter and a momentaryshadow of joy overspread it. 

"I'll take home the turkey, the toys and the shawl to them. They shallhave them if Delapere never sees his money again--if Kate never kissesme again in her life. I'll tell her the truth about the money!"

Nevertheless it was with a guilty feeling that he ran his hand intohis trousers pocket to fondle the bill. The fingers wriggled around inthe depths, poking into every corner, searching most anxiously. Thenthe other dived into the opposite pocket and the fingers found nobill. With a startled exclamation he came to a standstill on thesidewalk and a vigorous investigation was begun, his expressiongrowing more bewildered and alarmed as the search grew more hopeless. The bill was gone! Lost!

Passers-by noticed the abstracted man fumbling in his pockets, muttering to himself, and one man asked, cheerfully:

"Lost something, pardner?"

Digby Trotter did not answer. He walked slowly down the street, hiscold hands reposing listlessly in his empty pockets, his heart in hisboots, his eyes looking vacantly toward his heart. 

"It wasn't mine; I had no right to it, " he murmured, time and again. Aimlessly about the streets he wandered, turning homeward at last, depressed, despising himself, ready to give up in spirit. He was goinghome to Kate, expecting no love to greet him, feeling in his heartthat he deserved none. 

As he passed the crowded stores he saw the turkeys, the chickens, theoysters, the apples--all of which he might have bought with the lostbill. "What use is there to be honest?" he asked of himself. Withoutknowing what he did, nor from whence came the resolution, hediscovered that he determined to steal a turkey! And he did not feelguilty; it seemed as if he had no conscience. Something stilled thathitherto relentless foe to vice which virtue calls conscience and hiswhole being throbbed with the delights of the sin that is condemned inthe ten commandments. Stealing? "Thou shalt not steal. " But he did notfeel that he was stealing, so where was the sin? Despising only thelevel to which his fortunes had fallen he saw without a conscience, without a moral fear. It all seemed so natural that he should takehome a turkey, the cranberries and all the little "goodies" that hisspare table required to make it strain with surprise on the glad day-tomorrow. 

Digby forgot that he had lost the bill, forgot that Kate had treatedhim so strangely, forgot that but an hour ago he had been lamentingthe wrong he was doing Joe Delapere in spending his money. Approachinga big grocery and general provision store he calmly stepped inside, passing along the counters with the air of a man who lived solely onturkey and wine sauce. Scores of purchasers thronged the bigestablishment and dozens of clerks were kept busy, providing for them. 

As Mr. Trotter walked through the store he viewed the baskets whichstood along the counters, laden with the belongings of customers, ready for the delivery wagons or for their owners who had left themwhile they visited other stores. Nearly every basket contained a birdof some sort--a Christmas dinner, in fact. Each had a slip of paper onwhich the name of the owner was written. As he passed the secondcounter he observed a well-filled basket and he stopped to examine thename. "Mrs. John P. Matthews, " was written on the slip. This was hisbasket, thought he, calmly and without compunction. Then he began toprice the articles on the shelves near by. This was his style ofbargaining:

"What is your cocoa worth a pound? Sure it's fresh?"

"Certainly, sir; it's Baker's best. "

"Baker's? We never use it. Let me look at that chocolate. I guess I'lltake some of it"--and his hand went slowly into his pocket--"but, holdon! We've got chocolate! Confound my forgetfulness; I'll buy out yourstore directly. Do you keep mince meat?"

"Yes, sir--over at that counter. Just step over there, please. Mr. Carew will wait on you. "

Digby felt that he had established an identity at the counter on whichstood the Matthews basket, so he walked over to the other counter, priced sweet potatoes, and was immediately directed to the provisiondepartment in the rear. He found the potatoes too high, the apples toosweet, the macaroni too old and the buckwheat not the brand he used--all of which was quite true. 

Ten minutes later he drifted back to the second counter, smiledcheerfully at the clerk, picked up the basket and started for thedoor, stopping beside a barrel of dried apples to run his fingersthrough the contents and to nibble one of the gritty chunks. He wassqueezing his way hastily through the crowd, nearing the door, when ahand was laid firmly on his left shoulder. Turning quickly he foundhimself gazing into the face of a stranger, fairly well dressed andnot overly intelligent in appearance. 

"Is that your basket, sir?" asked the stranger, calmly. 

"Of course, it is, " exclaimed Digby, hastily, a red flush flying tohis now guilty cheek, fading away, as the snow goes before the sun, aninstant later. Caught!

"I think this basket belongs to a lady, sir. "

"My wife, " interjected the culprit. "She was with me and went on toanother store. Why, what do you mean!" he suddenly demanded, realisingthat it was high time to appear injured. "Do you think I'm a thief!"

"No, sir; but will you tell me your name--or your wife's name? Merelyto satisfy me, you see; I'm a watchman here. "

"Matthews is my name, sir--and so's my wife's--John P. Matthews. Isthat satisfactory?"

The man slowly turned over the slip in the basket and read the name. 

"Are you quite sure that it is your name?" he asked, deliberately, looking keenly at Digby. 

"Certainly! Do you think I don't know my own name?" demanded Digbywith an excellent show of asperity. 

"Then this is not your basket, sir, and I am sorry to say that youwill have to be detained until you can give a satisfactoryexplanation. "

Digby's eyes fairly stuck from his head and his face was as white asthe proverbial sheet. 

"Not my--not Mrs. Matthews' basket!" he stammered, clutching the slipin his trembling fingers. His eyes grew blurred with amazement aninstant later. He passed his hand before them and when he took it awaythere was a wild, half insane stare in them. He looked again at theslip and read: "Mrs. Digby Trotter, Voxburgh building. "

His nerveless arm relinquished the basket to the hand of the strangerand his puzzled eyes sought the floor in a long stare, brokenpresently by the voice in his ear:

"Come along. Step back here with me. "

Digby shook the man's hand from his arm and, as he turned to followhim, asked hoarsely:

"Where is she now?"

"Who?"

"My wife of course--Mrs. Trotter. "

"Well, you're a bird!" exclaimed his guardian. "How about Mrs. Matthews?"

"Good Heavens, what have I done--I--I--look here, man. It's a mistake--"

"No, you don't--mistakes don't go. A man ought to know his own name. "

Digby saw no one, heard no one but the man beside him as he stumbledalong, pleading with his eyes, his mouth, his every expression. He didnot observe the lady against whom he roughly jostled, but the ladyturned in time to hear him say in piteous accents:

"Man, for God's sake, don't be too hasty--; I---"

"Oh, let up; we're onto you! This ain't your basket and you took it, that's all there is about it. Come on!" gruffly jerked out the man athis elbow. 

"But where is Mrs. Trotter? I want to--I must see her. "

"Here I am, Digby. What is the matter?" cried a well known voice inhis ear. That voice had never sounded so sweet to him, nor had itssweetness ever sounded so much like condemnation to his wretched soul. 

"Kate!" he gasped. 

"What is it?" she demanded hurriedly. "What does this man want?" Theman was staring blankly at the pair, stock still with amazement. 

"He says I--I have been trying to steal this basket. It's our--yours, I mean, isn't it? Tell him so, Kate--quick!" cried the miserable manwith the plaintive coat collar turned up about his neck. 

"This is our basket, sir, " indignantly exclaimed Mrs. Trotter. 

"I know it is yours, Mrs. Trotter; I saw you buying the stuff, but--"

"Don't haggle here any longer!" exclaimed Mr. Trotter, boldly now. "Let go of my arm!"

"I beg your pardon, sir. If the lady says it's all right, why, it is--but you know you said your name was--"

"You lie, sir!" said Digby, sternly. "I never said anything of thekind. Mrs. Trotter have you paid for this stuff?"

"No--I was not through ordering, but what does all this mean, Digby?"whispered the mystified saviour, feeling herself the shame-facedcentre of a group of wondering people. 

"Never mind now, " said her husband, with dignity. "And you, sir, unpack this basket. We don't want a cent's worth of your goods. "

"Oh, Digby--" began Kate. 

"My dear Mr. Trotter, "--began the luckless attache, but Digby silencedthem both by suddenly grasping his wife's arm and striding toward thedoor, he defiantly, conscience stricken, she bewildered beyond allhope of description. 

A moment later they were on the pavement and Digby was racking hisbrain for an explanation. How was he to account to her for hispossession of that basket, even though it was hers? It did not occurto him to wonder how she came to be the owner of the coveted basket--his penniless Kate. 

"Digby, what did that man mean?" asked Kate, finally pulling her witstogether. There was something like sternness in her voice, somethinglike resentment, something like tears. He tried to look into her eyes;eyes which were upturned to his so anxiously, but he could not. Therewas something creeping up in his throat that compelled him to gulpsuddenly. A rush of shamed degradation flashed over him, overwhelminghim completely, and before he could prevent it his honest, contriteheart had spoken. 

"Little girl--God forgive me--I was trying to steal that--thatbasket. "

He felt her start and gasp and he could distinguish the horror, theshock in her eyes, although he did not see them. Her hand relaxed itsclasp upon his arm and her trembling voice murmured:

"Oh, Digby! Oh, Digby!"

"Don't--Don't, for heaven's sake, don't, Kate! Don't blame me! I didit for you, for the baby--I--I couldn't see you hungry on Christmas"--and here the tears rolled down his cheeks and the words came thick andchoking. "Kate, I don't think I committed a crime--do you? Say youdon't think so, darling!"

"You were stealing, " she whispered, numbly. 

"For you, darling--please--please forget it--I--I--Oh, I can't sayanything more. " Her clasp tightened again on his arm and he felt thewarm spirit of forgiveness, of love communicating with his ownmiserable self. No word came to either as they faced the cutting wind, bound they knew not whither, so distraught were they with theimportance of the moment. 

Suddenly he stopped as if struck by a great blow. A glare came to hiseyes and his brain fairly reeled. Pushing her away at arm's lengthfrom him he gave expression to the sudden thought which had sostrangely affected him. 

"Where did you get the money to buy that stuff with?" he demanded, andthere was anger, suspicion, almost terror in his voice. His readybrain had resumed the thoughts of an hour ago. He saw but one solutionand it came rushing along with the reawakened thoughts, firing hissoul with jealousy. Joe Delapere had been providing his wife withmoney--he could not be mistaken. Horrible! Horrible!

But back came her answer, equally severe, and if as from a suddenrecollection, also:

"Where did you get it?"

"Get what? he demanded, harshly. Joe Delapere! Joe Delapere! JoeDelapere--that lover of old filled his brain like a raging fire. 

"You know what I mean, Digby Trotter--what is it that you mean? Wheredid you get that ten dollars you had in your pocket today?"

"Oh, heaven!" gasped Digby, almost falling over. Then he burst intorapturous laughter, and, right there on the sidewalk, embraced hervigorously. Not all the riches in the world could have purchased theone moment of relief. 

"What ten?" he cried. "Was that the ten! Oh, you dear, dear littleKate--did you do it? I thought I had lost it on the street. Oh, thisis rich!" and he laughed heartier than ever. 

"Stop!" she cried, her face flaming. "Where did you get it? Why didyou tell me that you had no money? Have you been doing this all along--all these bitter years?"

He sobered up in an instant, for he saw the situation as she had seenit. 

"Why, Kate, I--now, listen a minute! You probably won't believe me, but I swear to you I found that bill--"

"Found it!" she sneered. "That's very likely, isn't it?"

"I knew you'd say that--but I found it, just the same, " he went onpatiently. "Joe Delapere dropped it as he was getting into a carriage--yes, he did, now--and he drove off before I could pick it up andreturn it to him. I kept the money, intending to give it back to him. That's true, dear--so help me God. Don't you believe me?" He was very, very much in earnest, but she was woman enough to question further. 

"Why didn't you tell me of this before?"

"Because I--well, I didn't get that place at Balling and Feet's and Ididn't have the heart to tell you I had failed again. I kept the hilljust to deceive you. Heaven is my witness that I intended to pay itback to Joe, but the temptation was too great--I couldn't resist. Don't you understand now, dear? I wanted it for you and Helen; youdon't know how I prized it. It meant so much. Why, when I started downtown to buy the little dinner that I afterwards tried to steal--"

"From me, " she interrupted. 

"Yes, from you--I felt so happy in that I was sinning gently for you. Then I missed the bill and--well, the other followed; you know what Imean. You don't think I'm a real thief, do you, Kate?"

"No, no, dear; forgive me!" she cried, with true wifely penitence. "Isee it all and I love you for it, better than ever before. " Shesqueezed his arm tightly and squeezed her eyelids vainly. "But youmust never do it again, " she cautioned, tenderly. He laughed again, that unwilling thief and pauper. 

"Oh, by the way, while I think of it, how did you happen to have thatten?" he asked, with cruel glee. 

She felt even guiltier than he and her voice was quite feeble as sheanswered:

"Well, you remember when I was mending your trousers, " she began. Hegave her arm a tremendous pressure and interrupted:

"But the hole wasn't in the pocket, dear, was it?"

"Oh, you'll forgive me, won't you truly, Digby?" she almost wailed. 

"But you were stealing!" he said, solemnly, recalling her condemnatorywords. 

"Don't say it that way, Digby, " she protested, so faintly that hisheart smote him and he changed the subject with almost ridiculoushaste. 

"Hadn't we better go to another grocery and buy our Christmas dinner, "he suggested. 

"No, indeed!" she exclaimed. "With what could we buy it!"

"With my--your ten, I mean. "

"Digby Trotter, we may carry on our nefarious robberies asindividuals, but I don't intend to form a partnership in the business. I don't approve of doing it collectively. "

"But what will we do with the money? Burn it?"

"I thought you wanted to give it back to its owner. "

"But he won't miss it--not just yet, anyhow, " he expostulated. 

"Neither shall you; you are never to see it again, " she said, firmly, clasping the little purse defiantly. 

"Well, I guess you're right. We'll do without our turkey dinner. It'spretty rough, though, when we are nearer being millionaires than wehave been in months, " he said, regretfully. 

"I couldn't eat a mouthful of turkey bought with Joe Delapere'smoney, " she said, and he felt his heart throb joyfully for somestrange cause. 

Homeward they wended their disconsolate way, her arm through his, clinging fondly to him, he proud of the honour she was bestowing uponhim--poor, poor lovers! In spite of all, he felt better for that whichhad happened. He had begun what might have been a career of crime. Circumstance and her sweet influence had averted that career. She, too, had learned a lesson, deeper in its meaning than any logic couldhave been; she had distrusted him. Honour, love and duty bound themtogether again. They were going home to dine on dried beef, water andperhaps bread--Christmas day, too. 

Firmly they turned their wistful eyes from the shop windows; they hadnothing in common with them, save desire. 

At last they came to the dingy entrance which led to the long hallsand multigenerous stairways of their abiding place. Without a wordthey began to climb the steps, tired and with returningdiscouragement. They were thinking of the baby. Tears came to thefather's eyes, but he turned his face away and attempted to whistle. She pressed his arm again in silence, but for the same reason shelooked toward the wall. At the first landing he paused and drew her tohis breast. As their lips met in one brave, compassionate kiss a sobfled from the heart of each. 

Drawing nearer the top floor they heard strange sounds coming fromtheir own room. A gruff, hoarse voice was prominent and they stoppedto look into each other's eyes with hopeless alarm. 

"It's the landlord, " whispered Digby. "I might have known it would allcome at once!"

"What shall we do?" asked Kate, with feminine dismay. 

"Do? What do we usually do? Nothing! I don't know how I'm going to puthim off again--we're over three weeks behind with the rent. Oh, Kate!"he almost sobbed. 

"Well, dear!" She was trembling. So was he. 

"What if he orders us to leave the place?" She could not reply andthey stood silent, looking toward the door that they feared to enter. 

"Where is the baby?" he finally asked. 

"I left her with the woman across the hall. "

"But I hear her voice in our room. What is she doing in there withthat infernal old brute?" Digby's alert ear had caught the sound ofthe child's prattle, mingling with the discordant growls of the man. 

"Oh, Digby, I'm so frightened! What can they be doing in there?"

"Don't be afraid. I'll chuck him out of there on his head if he hasbeen tormenting that child with his compliments--and it would be justlike the old scoundrel, too. " He took several steps forward. 

"Do be careful!" murmured his wife, following faithfully. Digby threwopen the door defiantly and stood glaring into the little room. 

A big, portly man was seated near the stove, little Helen on his knee. As the door opened he raised his chop-whiskered face and then, placingthe child on the floor, drew himself erect and came hastily toward thepair in the doorway, exclaiming:

"My boy! At last I have got you! God knows I've searched the town overand over for you--and I find you in a hole like this! Come to my arms--oh, demme! demme! demme!"