By Meredith Nicholson

 OTHERWISE PHYLLIS. With frontispiece in color. 

 THE PROVINCIAL AMERICAN AND OTHER PAPERS. 

 A HOOSIER CHRONICLE. With illustrations. 

 THE SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SUITORS. With illustrations. 

 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK

OTHERWISE PHYLLIS

[Illustration: PHYLLIS]

 OTHERWISE PHYLLIS

 BY

 MEREDITH NICHOLSON

 [Illustration]

 BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge 1913

 COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON

 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 _Published September 1913_

 TO

 ALBERT B. ANDERSON

 A CITIZEN OF THE HOOSIER COMMONWEALTH WHOSE ATTAINMENTS AS LAWYER AND JUDGE HAVE ADDED TO THE FAME OF MONTGOMERY THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED WITH SINCERE REGARD AND ADMIRATION

CONTENTS

 I. THE KIRKWOODS BREAK CAMP 1

 II. THE MONTGOMERYS OF MONTGOMERY 14

 III. 98 BUCKEYE LANE 34

 IV. A TRANSACTION IN APPLES 51

 V. THE OTHERWISENESS OF PHYLLIS 65

 VI. THE SMOKING-OUT OF AMZI 78

 VII. GHOSTS SEE THE LIGHT AGAIN 91

 VIII. LISTENING HILL 104

 IX. ON AN ORCHARD SLOPE 113

 X. PHIL'S PARTY 123

 XI. BROTHERS 144

 XII. NAN BARTLETT'S DECISION 158

 XIII. THE BEST INTERESTS OF MONTGOMERY 168

 XIV. TURKEY RUN 182

 XV. LOIS 201

 XVI. MERRY CHRISTMAS 217

 XVII. PHIL'S PERPLEXITIES 241

 XVIII. AMZI IS FLABBERGASTED 259

 XIX. PHIL MOVES TO AMZI'S 272

 XX. BACK TO STOP SEVEN 281

 XXI. PHIL'S FISTS 292

 XXII. MR. WATERMAN'S GREAT OPPORTUNITY 308

 XXIII. PLEASANT TIMES IN MAIN STREET 321

 XXIV. THE FORSAKEN GARDEN 336

 XXV. PHIL ENCOUNTERS THE SHERIFF 355

 XXVI. A CALL IN BUCKEYE LANE 373

 XXVII. AMZI'S PERFIDY 385

OTHERWISE PHYLLIS

OTHERWISE PHYLLIS

CHAPTER I

THE KIRKWOODS BREAK CAMP

"Stuff's all packed, Phil, and on the wagon. Camera safe on top and yoursuit-case tied to the tail-gate. Shall we march?"

"Not crazy about it, daddy. Why not linger another week? We can unlimberin a jiffy. "

"It's a tempting proposition, old lady, but I haven't the nerve. "Kirkwood dropped an armful of brush on the smouldering camp-fire andstood back as it crackled and flamed. There came suddenly a low whiningin the trees and a gust of wind caught the sparks from the blazing twigsand flung them heavenward. He threw up his arm and turned his hand tofeel the wind. "The weather's at the changing point; there's rain inthat!"

"Well, we haven't been soaked for some time, " replied Phil. "We've beenawfully respectable. "

"Respectable, " laughed her father. "We don't know what the word means!We're unmitigated vagabonds, you and I, Phil. If I didn't know that youlike this sort of thing as well as I do, I shouldn't let you come. Butyour aunts are on my trail. "

"Oh, one's aunts! Oh, one's three aunts!" murmured Phil. 

"Not so lightly to be scorned! When I was in town yesterday your AuntKate held me up for a scolding in the post-office. I'd no sooner climbedup to my den than your Aunt Josie dropped in to ask what I had done withyou; and while I was waiting for you to buy shoes at Fisher's your AuntFanny strolled by and gave me another overhauling. It's a questionwhether they don't bring legal process to take you away from me. What'sa father more or less among three anxious aunts! As near as I can makeout, Aunt Fanny's anxiety is chiefly for your complexion. She says youlook like an Indian. And she implied that I am one. "

"One of her subtle compliments. I've always thought Indians were nice. "

It was clear that this father and daughter were on the best of terms, and that admiration was of the essence of their relationship. Philstooped, picked up a pebble and flung it with the unconscious grace of aboy far down the creek. Her Aunt Fanny's solicitude for her complexionwas or was not warranted; it depended on one's standard in such matters. Phil was apparently not alarmed about the state of her complexion. 

"Suppose we wait for the moon, " Kirkwood suggested. "It will be with usin an hour, and we can loaf along and still reach town by eleven. Only alittle while ago we had to get you to bed by eight, and it used tobother me a lot about your duds; but we've outgrown that trouble. Iguess--"

He paused abruptly and began to whistle softly to himself. Phil wasfamiliar with this trick of her father's. She knew the processes of hismind and the range of his memories well enough to supply the conclusionof such sentences as the one that had resolved itself into a dolefulwhistle. As he was an excellent amateur musician, the lugubrious tone ofhis whistling was the subject of many jokes between them. 

The walls of a miniature cañon rose on either side of the creek, and thelight of the wind-blown camp-fire flitted across the face of theshelving rock, or scampered up to the edge of the overhanging cliff, where it flashed fitfully against the sky. The creek splashed and foamedthrough its rough, boulder-filled channel, knowing that soon it would befree of the dark defile and moving with dignity between shores of corntoward the Wabash. The cliffs that enclosed Turkey Run represented somewild whim of the giant ice plow as it had redivided and marked thisquarter of the world. The two tents in which the Kirkwoods had lodgedfor a month had been pitched in a grassy cleft of the more accessibleshore, but these and other paraphernalia of the camp were now packed fortransportation in a one-horse wagon. As a fiercer assault of the windshook the vale, the horse whinnied and pawed impatiently. 

"Cheer up, Billo! We're going soon!" called Phil. 

Kirkwood stood by the fire, staring silently into the flames. Phil, having reassured Billo, drew a little away from her father. In earliertimes when moods of abstraction fell upon him, she had sought to rousehim; but latterly she had learned the wisdom and kindness of silence. She knew that this annual autumnal gypsying held for him the keenestdelight and, in another and baffling phase, a poignancy on which, as shehad grown to womanhood, it had seemed impious to allow her imaginationto play. She watched him now with the pity that was woven into her lovefor him: his tall figure and the slightly stooped shoulders; the roundfelt hat that crowned his thick, close-cut hair, the dejection thatseemed expressed in so many trifles at such moments, --as in his mannerof dropping his hands loosely into the pockets of his corduroy coat, andstanding immovable. Without taking his eyes from the fire he sat downpresently on a log and she saw him fumbling for his pipe and tobacco. Hebent to thrust a chip into the fire with the deliberation that markedhis movements in these moods. Now and then he took the pipe from hismouth, and she knew the look that had come into his gray eyes, thoughshe saw only the profile of his bearded face as the firelight limned it. 

Now, as at other such times, on summer evenings in the little garden athome, or on winter nights before the fire in their sitting-room, shefelt that he should be left to himself; that his spirit traversed realmsbeyond boundaries she might not cross; and that in a little while hisreverie would end and he would rise and fling up his long arms and askwhether it was breakfast-time or time to go to bed. 

Phil Kirkwood was eighteen, a slim, brown, graceful creature, with ahabit of carrying her chin a little high; a young person who seemed tobe enjoying flights into the realm of reverie at times, and then, beforeyou were aware of it, was off, away out of sight and difficult to catchwith hand or eye. As a child this abruptness had been amusing; now thatshe was eighteen her aunts had begun to be distressed by it. Her criticswere driven to wild things for comparisons. She was as quick as aswallow; and yet a conscientious ornithologist would have likened her inher moments of contemplation to the thrush for demureness. And a robinhopping across a meadow, alert in all his mysterious senses, was notmore alive than Phil in action. Her middle-aged aunts said she wasimpudent, but this did not mean impudent speech; it was Phil's silencesthat annoyed her aunts and sometimes embarrassed or dismayed otherpeople. Her brown eye could be very steady and wholly respectful when, at the same time, there was a suspicious twitching of herthread-of-scarlet lips. The aunts were often outraged by her conduct. Individually and collectively they had endeavored to correct hergrievous faults, and she had received their instructions meekly. Butwhat could one do with a mild brown eye that met the gaze of aunts sosteadily and submissively, while her lips betrayed quite other emotions!

Phil's clothes were another source of distress. She hated hats and inopen weather rejected them altogether. A tam-o'-shanter was to herliking, and a boy's cap was even better. The uniform of the basketballteam at high school suited her perfectly; and yet her unreasonable auntshad made a frightful row when she wore it as a street garb. She gavethis up, partly to mollify the aunts, but rather more to save her fatherfrom the annoyance of their complaints. She clung, however, to hersweater, --on which a large "M" advertised her _alma mater_ mostindecorously, --and in spite of the aunts' vigilance she occasionallyappeared at Center Church in tan shoes; which was not what one had aright to expect of a great-granddaughter of Amzi I, whose benevolentcountenance, framed for adoration in the Sunday-School room, spoke forthe conservative traditions of the town honored with his name. 

Phil had no sense of style; her aunts were agreed on this. Herhair-ribbons rarely matched her stockings; and the stockings on agilelegs like Phil's, that were constantly dancing in the eyes of allMontgomery, should, by all the canons of order and decency, presentholeless surfaces to captious critics. That they frequently did not wasa shame, a reproach, a disgrace, but no fault, we may be sure, of theanxious aunts. Manifestly Phil had no immediate intention of growing up. The idea of being a young lady did not interest her. In June of thisparticular year she had been graduated from the Montgomery High School, in a white dress and (noteworthy achievement of the combined aunts!)impeccable white shoes and stockings. Pink ribbons (pink being the classcolor) had enhanced the decorative effect of the gown and a pink bow hadgiven a becoming touch of grace to her head. Phil's hair--brown inshadow and gold in sunlight--was washed by Montgomery's house-to-househairdresser whenever Aunt Fanny could corner Phil for the purpose. 

Phil's general effect was of brownness. Midwinter never saw the passingof the tan from her cheek; her vigorous young fists were always brown;when permitted a choice she chose brown clothes: she was a brown girl. 

 * * * * *

Speaking of Phil's graduation, it should be mentioned that she hadcontributed a ten-minute oration to the commencement exercises, itssubject being "The Dogs of Main Street. " This was not conceded a placeon the programme without a struggle. The topic was frivolous and withoutprecedent; moreover, it was unliterary--a heinous offense, difficult ofcondonation. To admit the dogs of Main Street to a high-schoolcommencement, an affair of pomp and ceremony held in Hastings's Theater, was not less than shocking. It had seemed so to the principal, but heknew Phil; and knowing Phil he laughed when the English teacherprotested that it would compromise her professional dignity to allow astudent to discuss the vagrant canines of Main Street in a commencementessay. She had expected Phil to prepare a thesis on "What the Poets HaveMeant to Me, " and for this "The Dogs of Main Street" was no propersubstitute. The superintendent of schools, scanning the programme beforeit went to the printer, shuddered; but it was not for naught that Phil's"people" were of Montgomery's elect. 

Phil was, in fact, _a_ Montgomery. Her great-grandfather, AmziMontgomery, observing the unpopulous Hoosier landscape with a shrewdeye, had, in the year of grace 1829, opened a general store on the exactspot now occupied by Montgomery's Bank, and the proper authorities a fewyears later called the name of the place Montgomery, which it remains tothis day. This explains why the superintendent of schools overlooked thetemerity of Amzi's great-granddaughter in electing the Main Street faunaas the subject of her commencement address rather than her indebtednessto the poets, though it may not be illuminative as to the holes inPhil's stockings. But on this point we shall be enlightened later. 

Phil raised her head. There had come a lull in the whisper of theweather spirit in the sycamores, and she was aware of a sound that wasnot the noise of the creek among the boulders. It was a strain of musicnot of nature's making and Phil's healthy young curiosity was instantlyaroused by it. Her father maintained his lonely vigil by the fire, quiteoblivious of her and of all things. She caught another strain, and thenbegan climbing the cliff. 

The ascent was difficult, but she drew herself up swiftly, catching atbushes, seeking with accustomed feet the secure limestone ledges thatpromised safety, pausing to listen when bits of loosened stone fellbehind her. Finally, catching the protruding roots of a great sycamorewhose shadow had guided her, she gained the top. The moon, invisible inthe vale, now greeted her as it rose superbly above a dark woodlandacross a wide stretch of intervening field. But there were nearer lightsthan those of star and moon, and their presence afforded her a thrill ofsurprise. 

Clearer now came the strains of music. Here was a combination ofphenomena that informed the familiar region with strangeness. The musiccame from a barn, and she remembered that barn well as a huge, gloomyaffair on the Holton farm. Satisfied of this, Phil turned, half-unconsciously, and glanced up at the sycamore. That hoary oldlandmark defined a boundary, and a boundary which, on various accounts, it was incumbent upon the great-granddaughter of Amzi Montgomery I toobserve. A dividing fence ran from the sycamore, straight toward themoon. It was a "stake-and-rider" fence, and the notches on the Holtonside of it were filled with wild raspberry, elderberry, and weeds; buton the Montgomery side these interstices were free of such tangle. Thefact that lights and music advertised the Holton farm to the eye and earseemed to Phil a matter worthy of her attention. The corn was in theshock on the Montgomery side; the adjacent Holton field had lain fallowthat year. The shocks of corn suggested to Phil's imagination the tentsof an unsentineled host or an abandoned camp; but she walked fearlesslytoward the lights and music, bent upon investigation. The moon would notfor some time creep high enough to light the valley and disturb herfather's vigil by the camp-fire: there need be no haste, for even if hemissed her he would not be alarmed. 

The old Holton house and its outbuildings lay near the fence and Philcalculated that without leaving her ancestral acres she would be able todetermine exactly the nature and extent of this unprecedented revelry inthe Holton barn. She approached as near as possible and rested her armson the rough top rail of the fence. There were doors on both sides ofthe lumbering old structure, and her tramp across the cornfield wasrewarded by a comprehensive view of the scene within. The music ceasedand she heard voices--gay, happy voices--greeting some late-comers whoseautomobile had just "chug-chugged" into the barnyard. She saw, beyondthe brilliantly lighted interior, the motors and carriages that hadconveyed the company to the dance; and she caught a glimpse of thefarmhouse itself, where doubtless refreshments were even now inreadiness. Phil was far enough away to be safe from observation and yetnear enough to identify many of the dancers. They were chiefly youngpeople she had known all her life, and the strangers were presumablyfriends of the Holtons from Indianapolis and elsewhere. 

The strains of a familiar waltz caused a quick reassembling of thedancers. The music tingled in Phil's blood. She kept time with head andhands, and then, swinging round, began dancing, humming the air as herfigure swayed and bent to its cadences. By some whim the nearestcorn-shock became the center of her attention. Round and round it shemoved, with a child's abandon; and now that the moon's full glory layupon the fields, her shadow danced mockingly with her. Fauns and nymphstripped thus to wild music in the enchanted long ago when the world wasyoung. Hers was the lightest, the most fantastic of irresponsibleshadows. It was not the mere reflection of her body, but a prefigurementof her buoyant spirit, that had escaped from her control and tauntinglyeluded capture. Her mind had never known a morbid moment; she had neverfeared the dark, without or within. And this was her private affair--ajoke between her and the moon and the earth. It was for the moment allhers--earth and heaven, the mystery of the stars, the slumbering powerof a beneficent land that only yesterday had vouchsafed its kindlyfruits in reward of man's labor. 

After a breathless interval a two-step followed, and Phil danced again, seizing a corn-stalk and holding it above her head with both hands likea wand. When the music ended she poised on tiptoe and flung the stalkfar from her toward the barn as though it were a javelin. Then as shetook a step toward the fence she was aware that some one had beenwatching her. It was, indeed, a nice question whether the flying stalkhad not grazed the ear of a man who stood on Holton soil, his armsresting on the rail just as hers had been ten minutes earlier, and nearthe same spot. 

"'Lo!" gasped Phil breathlessly. 

"'Lo!"

They surveyed each other calmly in the moonlight. The young man beyondthe fence straightened and removed his hat. He had been watching herantics round the corn-shock and Phil resented it. 

"What were you doing that for?" she demanded indignantly, her hands inher sweater pockets. 

"Doing what, for instance?"

"Watching me. It wasn't fair. "

"Oh, I liked your dancing; that was all. "

"Oh!"

An "Oh" let fall with certain intonations is a serious impediment toconversation. The young gentleman seemed unable at this crucial instantto think of a fitting reply. Finding himself unequal to a response inher own key he merely said:--

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to. I came over here to sit on thefence and watch the party. "

"Watch it! Why don't you go in and dance?"

He glanced down as though to suggest that if Phil were to scrutinize hisraiment she might very readily understand why, instead of being amongthe dancers, he contented himself with watching them from a convenientfence corner. He carried a crumpled coat on his arm; the collar of hisflannel shirt was turned up round his throat. His hat was of batteredfelt with a rent in the creased crown. 

"My brother and sister are giving the party. I'm not in it. "

"I suppose your invitation got lost in the mail, " suggested Phil, thisbeing a form of explanation frequently proffered by local humorists fortheir failure to appear at Montgomery functions. 

"Nothing like that! I didn't expect to be here to-day. In fact, I'vebeen off trying to borrow a team of horses; one of mine went lame. I'vejust brought them home, and I'm wondering how long I've got to waitbefore the rumpus is over and those folks get out of there and give thehorses a chance. It's going to rain before morning. "

Phil had heard the same prognostication from her father, and it was inthe young man's favor that he was wise in weather lore. The musicianshad begun to play a popular barn dance, and the two spectators watchedthe dancers catch step to it. Then Phil, having by this time drawn atrifle closer to the fence and been reassured by her observations of theclean-shaven face of the young man, became personal. 

"Are you Charlie Holton?"

"No; Fred. Charlie's my brother. "

"And your sister's name is Ethel. "

"O. K. I'm trying to figure you out. If you weren't so tall I'd guessyou were Phyllis Kirkwood. "

"That's all of my name, " replied Phil. "I remember you now, but you musthave been away a long time. I hadn't heard that anybody was living overthere. "

"The family haven't been here much since I was a kid. They have movedout their things. What's left is mine. "

Mr. Frederick Holton turned and extended the hand that held his hat witha comprehensive gesture. There was a tinge of irony in his tone thatPhil did not miss. "What's left here--house, barn, and land--belongs tome. The town house has been sold and Charlie and Ethel have come outhere to say good-bye to the farm. "

"Oh!"

This time Phil's "Oh" connoted mild surprise, polite interest, and faintcuriosity. 

The wind rustled the leaves among the corn-shocks. The moon gazedbenevolently upon the barn, tolerant of the impertinence of man-madelight and a gayety that was wholly inconsonant with her previousknowledge of this particular bit of landscape. 

Fred Holton did not amplify his last statement, so Phil's "Oh, " in sofar as it expressed curiosity as to the disposition of the Holtonterritory and Mr. Frederick Holton's relation to it, seemed destined tono immediate satisfaction. 

"I must skip, " remarked Phil; though she did not, in fact, skip at once. 

"Staying over at your grandfather's?" The young man's arm pointed towardthe north and the venerable farmhouse long occupied by tenants of theMontgomerys. 

Old Amzi had acquired much land in his day and his grandson, Amzi III, clung to most of it. But this little availed Phil, as we shall see. Still it was conceivable and pardonable that Fred Holton should assumethat Phil was domiciled upon soil to which she had presumably certaininalienable rights. 

"No; I've been camping and my father's waiting for me down there inTurkey Run. We've been here a month. "

"It must be good fun, camping that way. "

"Oh, rather! But it's tough--the going home afterwards. "

"I hate towns myself. I expect to have some fun out here. "

"I heard this farm had been sold, " remarked Phil leadingly. 

"Well, I suppose it amounts to that. They were dividing up father'sestate, and I drew it. "

"Well, it's not so much to look at, " remarked Phil, as though theappraisement of farm property were quite in the line of her occupations. "I've been across your pasture a number of times on my way to UncleAmzi's for milk, but I didn't know any one was living here. One canhardly mention your farm in terms of grandeur or splendor. "

Fred Holton laughed, a cheerful, pleasant laugh. Phil had not thought ofit before, but she decided now that she liked him. His voice wasagreeable, and she noted his slight drawl. Phil's father, who was bornin the Berkshires, said all Hoosiers drawled. As a matter of fact, Phil, who was indubitably a Hoosier, did not, save in a whimsicalfashion of her own, to give a humorous turn to the large words withwhich she sometimes embellished her conversation. Her father said thather freedom from the drawl was no fault of the Montgomery High School, but attributable to his own vigilance. 

Phil knew that it was unseemly to be talking across a fence to a strangeyoung man, particularly when her father was doubtless waiting for her toreturn for the homeward journey; and she knew that she was guilty of agrievous offense in talking to a Holton in any circumstances. Still thesituation appealed to her imagination. There hung the moon, patrongoddess of such encounters, and here were fields of mystery. 

"They say it's no good, do they? They're right. I know all about it, soyou don't need to be sorry for me. "

Sensitiveness spoke here; obviously others had made the mistake, ofwhich she would not be guilty, of sympathizing with him in hispossession of these unprofitable acres. Phil had no intention of beingsorry for him. She rather liked him for not wanting her sympathy, thoughto be sure there was no reason why he should have expected it. 

"You've been living in Indianapolis?"

"The folks have. Father died, you know, nearly two years ago. I was inMexico, and now I'm back to stay. "

"I suppose you learned farming in Mexico?" Phil pursued. 

"Well, hardly! Mining; no silver; quit. "

"Oh, " said Phil, and filed his telegram for reference. 

They watched the dance for a few minutes. 

"What's that?"

Phil started guiltily as Holton turned his head toward the creek, listening. Her father was sounding the immelodious fish-horn which hecalled their signal corps. He must have become alarmed by her longabsence or he would not have resorted to it, and she recalled with shamethat it had been buried in a soap-box with minor cooking-utensils at thebottom of the wagon, and could not have been resurrected withouttrouble. 

"Good-bye!" She ran swiftly across the field toward the creek. The horn, sounding at intervals in long raucous blasts, roused Phil to her bestspeed. She ran boy fashion with her head down, elbows at her sides. FredHolton watched her until she disappeared. 

He made a detour of the barn, followed a lane that led to the town road, and waited, in the shadow of a great walnut at the edge of a pasture. Hewas soon rewarded by the sound of wheels coming up from the creek, andin a moment the one-horse wagon bearing Phil and her father passedslowly. He heard their voices distinctly; Kirkwood was chaffing Phil forher prolonged absence. Their good comradeship was evident in theirlaughter, subdued to the mood of the still, white night. Fred Holton wasbusy reconstructing all his previous knowledge of the Kirkwoods, and heknew a good deal about them, now that he thought of it. 

At the crest of Listening Hill, --so called from the fact that in oldtimes farm-boys had listened there for wandering cows, --the wagonlingered for a moment--an act of mercy to the horse--and the figures offather and daughter were mistily outlined against the sky. Then theyresumed their journey and Fred slowly crossed the fields toward thebarn. 

CHAPTER II

THE MONTGOMERYS OF MONTGOMERY

A stout, spectacled gentleman of fifty or thereabouts appeared atintervals, every business day of the year, on the steps of Montgomery'sBank, at the corner of Main and Franklin Streets. As he stood on thispedestal, wearing, winter and summer, a blue-and-white seersucker officecoat tightly buttoned about his pudgy form, and frequently with anancient straw hat perched on the side of his head, it was fair to assumethat he was in some way connected with the institution from whose doorshe emerged. This was, indeed, the fact, and any intelligent child couldhave enlightened a stranger as to the name of the stout gentlemanindicated. He was one of the first citizens of the community, if wealth, probity, and long residence may be said to count for anything. And hisname, which it were absurd longer to conceal, was Amzi Montgomery, or, to particularize, Amzi Montgomery III. As both his father and hisgrandfather who had borne the same name slept peacefully in Greenlawn, it is unnecessary to continue in this narrative the numericaldesignation of this living Amzi who braved the worst of weathers toinspect the moving incidents of Main Street as a relief from the strainand stress of the business of a private banker. 

When, every hour or so, Mr. Montgomery, exposing a pink bald head to theelements, glanced up and down the street, usually with a cigar plantedresolutely in the corner of his mouth, it was commonly believed that hesaw everything that was happening, not only in Main Street, but in allthe shops and in the rival banking-houses distributed along thatthoroughfare. After surveying the immediate scene, --having, for example, noted the customers waiting at the counter of the First National Bank, diagonally opposite, --something almost invariably impelled his glanceupward to the sign of a painless dentist, immediately above the FirstNational, --a propinquity which had caused a wag (one of the Montgomery'scustomers) to express the hope that the dentist was more painless thanthe bank in his extractions. 

There was a clothing store directly opposite Amzi's bank, and hiswandering eye could not have failed to observe the lettering on thewindows of the office above it, which, in badly scratched gilt, published the name of Thomas Kirkwood, Attorney at Law, to thelitigiously inclined. Still higher on the third and final story of thebuilding hung a photographer's sign in a dilapidated condition, andthough a studio skylight spoke further of photography, almost every oneknew that the artist had departed years ago, and that Tom Kirkwood hadnever found another tenant for those upper rooms. 

At two o'clock on the afternoon of the day following the return of PhilKirkwood and her father from their camp on Sugar Creek, as Mr. Montgomery appeared upon the steps of the bank and gazed with his usualunconcern up and down Main Street, his spectacles pointed finally (or soit seemed) to the photographer's studio over the way. Although a slightmist was falling and umbrellas bobbed inanely in the fashion ofumbrellas, Amzi in his seersucker coat was apparently oblivious of theweather's inclemency. One of the windows of the abandoned photographgallery was open, and suddenly, without the slightest warning, the headof Miss Phyllis Kirkwood bent over the cornice and she waved her handwith unmistakable friendliness. It was then that Mr. Montgomery, asthough replying to a signal, detached his left hand from its pocket, made a gesture as graceful as a man of his figure is capable of, andthen, allaying suspicion by passing the hand across his bald head, helooked quickly toward the court-house tower and immediately withdrew tocontinue his active supervision of the four clerks who sufficed for hisbank's business. 

As depositors were now bringing to the receiving teller's window theirday's offerings, Mr. Montgomery took his stand at the paying teller'swindow, --a part of his usual routine, --to relieve the pressure incidentto the closing hour, one teller at other times being quite equal to thedemands of both departments. Mr. Montgomery's manner of paying a checkwas in itself individual. He laid his cigar on the edge of the counter, passed the time of day with a slightly asthmatic voice, drew the checktoward him with the tips of his fingers, read it, cocked an eye at theindorsement, and counted out the money with a bored air. If silverentered into the transaction, he usually rang the last coin absently onthe glass surface of the counter. 

In other times the sign on the window had proclaimed "Montgomery &Holton, Bankers"; and the deletion of the second name from thecopartnership was due to an incident that must be set down succinctlybefore we proceed further. Amzi II had left a family of five children, of whom Phil Kirkwood's three aunts have already been mentioned. Theonly one of the Montgomery girls, as they were locally designated, whohad made a marriage at all in keeping with the family dignity, had beenLois. 

Lois, every one said, was the handsomest, the most interesting of theMontgomerys, and she had captured at eighteen the heart of Tom Kirkwood, who had come out of the East to assume the chair of jurisprudence inMadison College, which, as every one knows, is an institutioninseparably associated with the fame of Montgomery as a community ofenlightenment. Tom Kirkwood was a graduate of Williams College, with aBerlin Ph. D. , and he had, moreover, a modest patrimony which, after hismarriage to Lois Montgomery, he had invested in the block in Main Streetopposite the Montgomery Bank. The year following the marriage he had, inkeeping with an early resolution, resigned his professorship and begunthe practice of law. He seemed to have escaped the embarrassments andprejudices that attend any practical undertakings by men who have bornethe title of professor, and whether his connection with the Montgomeryfamily saved him from such disqualification it was nevertheless truethat he entered upon the law brilliantly. Two or three successes inimportant cases had launched him upon this second career auspiciously. 

Amzi II was still living at the time of the marriage, and as he valuedhis own position in the community and wished his family to maintain itstraditions, he had subdivided a large tract of woodland in which hisfather's house stood, and bestowed an acre lot upon each of hisdaughters. His son had declined a similar offer, having elected early inlife the bachelor state in which we have found him. As Lois had been thefirst to marry, her house was planted nearest to the gray old brick inwhich she had been reared. 

If the gods favored the Montgomerys, they seemed no less to smile with apeculiar indulgence upon the Kirkwoods. People who had said that Loiswas a trifle strong-willed and given to frivolity were convinced thather marriage had done much to sober her. In the second year thereafterPhyllis was born, a further assurance that Lois was thoroughlyestablished among the staid matrons of her native town. Then in thefifth year of her marriage, rumors--almost the first scandalous gossipthat had ever passed current in those quiet streets--began to be heard. It did not seem possible that in a community whose morals were nurturedin Center Church, a town where everybody was "good, " where norespectable man ever entered a saloon and divorce was a word not to bespoken before children, --that here, a daughter of the house ofMontgomery was causing anxiety among those jealous of her good name. Afew of Kirkwood's friends--and he had many--may have known the innerhistory of the cloud that darkened his house; but the end came with ablinding flash that left him dazed and dumb. 

The town was so knit together, so like a big family, that LoisMontgomery's escapade was a tragedy at every hearth-side. It wasimmeasurably shocking that a young woman married to a reputable man, andwith a child still toddling after her, should have done this grievousthing. To say that she had always been flighty, and that it was whatmight have been expected of a woman as headstrong as she had been as agirl, was no mollification of the blow to the local conscience, acutelysensitive in all that pertained to the honor and sanctity of themarriage tie. And Jack Holton! That she should have thrown away a manlike Tom Kirkwood, a gentleman and a scholar, for a rogue like Holton, added to the blackness of her sin. The Holtons had been second only tothe Montgomerys in dignity. The conjunction of the names on the old signover the bank at Main and Franklin Streets had expressed not onlyunquestioned financial stability, but a social worth likewiseunassailable. Jack Holton, like Amzi Montgomery, had inherited aninterest in the banking-house of Montgomery & Holton. To be sure hisbrother William had been the active representative of the secondgeneration of Holtons, and Jack had never really settled down toanything after he returned from the Eastern college to which he had beensent; but these were things that had not been considered until after hedecamped with Lois Kirkwood. Many declared after the event that they had"always known" that Jack was a bad lot. Those who sought to account forLois Kirkwood's infatuation remembered suddenly that he and Lois hadbeen boy and girl sweethearts and that she had once been engaged tomarry him. It was explained that his temperament and hers wereharmonious, and that Kirkwood, for all his fine abilities, was asober-minded fellow, without Holton's zest for the world's gayety. Anyfurther details--the countless trifles with which for half a dozen yearsthe gossips of Montgomery regaled themselves--are not for this writing. 

Many years had passed--or, to be explicit, exactly sixteen. One of thefirst results of the incident had been the immediate elimination of theHolton half of the firm name by which the bank had long been known. Jack's brother William organized the First National Bank, toward whichMr. Amzi Montgomery's spectacles pointed several times daily, asalready noted. Samuel, the oldest son of the first Holton, tried avariety of occupations before he was elected Secretary of State. Henever fully severed his ties with Montgomery, retaining a house in townand the farm on Sugar Creek. After retiring from office, he became aventuresome speculator, capitalizing his wide political acquaintance inthe sale of shares in all manner of mining and plantation companies, anddying suddenly, had left his estate in a sad clutter. 

In due course of time it became known that Lois Kirkwood had divorcedher husband at long range, from a Western state where such matters wereat the time transacted expeditiously, and a formal announcement of hermarriage to Holton subsequently appeared in the Montgomery "EveningStar. "

The day after his wife's departure Kirkwood left his home and did notenter it again. It was said by romanticists among the local gossips thathe had touched nothing, leaving it exactly as it had been, and that healways carried the key in his pocket as a reminder of his sorrow. Philwas passed back and forth among her aunts, _seriatim_, until she went tolive with her father, in a rented house far from the original roof-tree. 

Even in practicing the most rigid economy of space some reference mustbe made to the attitude of Lois Kirkwood's sisters toward her as asinning woman. Their amazement had yielded at once to righteousindignation. It was enough that she had sinned against Heaven; but thatshe should have brought shame upon them all and placed half thecontinent between herself and the scene and consequences of heriniquity, leaving her family to shoulder all its responsibilities, wastoo monstrous for expression. They were Montgomerys _of_ Montgomery; itseemed incredible that the town itself could ever recover from the shockof her egregious transgression. They vied with each other inmanifestations of sympathy for Kirkwood, whose nobility under sufferingwas so admirable; and they lavished upon Phil (it had been _like_ Lois, they discovered, to label her with the preposterous name of Phyllis!) anaffection which became in time a trial to the child's soul. 

Their fury gained ardor from the fact that their brother Amzi had never, after he had blinked at them all when they visited him in his privateroom at the bank the morning after the elopement, mentioned to anyliving soul the passing of this youngest sister. It had been an occasionto rouse an older brother and the head of his house to some dramaticpronouncement. He should have taken a stand, they said, though just whatstand one should take, when one's sister has run off with another manand left a wholly admirable husband and a winsome baby daughter behind, may not, perhaps, have been wholly clear to the minds of the remainingimpeccable sisters. They demanded he should confiscate her share oftheir father's estate as punishment; this should now be Phil's; theywanted this understood and they took care that their friends should knowthat they had made this demand of Amzi. But a gentleman of philosophichabit and temper, who serenely views the world from his bank's doorstep, need hardly be expected to break his natural reticence to thunder at anerring sister, or even to gladden the gallery (imaginably the whole townthat bears his name) by transfers of property, of which he was thelawful trustee, to that lady's abandoned heir. 

Lois had caused all eyes to focus upon the Montgomerys with a newintentness. Before her escapade they had been accepted as a matter ofcourse; now that she had demonstrated that the Montgomerys were subjectto the temptations that beset all mankind, every one became curious asto the further definition of the family weaknesses. The community may besaid to have awaited the marriages of the three remaining Montgomerygirls in much the same spirit that a family physician awaits theappearance of measles in a child that has been exposed to that malady. And Montgomery was not wholly disappointed. 

Kate, who like Lois, was a trifle temperamental, had fallen before thecharms of one Lawrence Hastings. The manner of Hastings's advent inMontgomery is perhaps worthy of a few words, inasmuch as he came tostay. Hastings was an actor, who visited Montgomery one winter as amember of a company that had trustfully ventured into the provinces witha Shakespearean repertoire. Montgomery was favored in the hope that, being a college town, it would rally to the call of the serious drama. Unfortunately the college was otherwise engaged at the moment with adrama of more contemporaneous interest and authorship. An unusuallysevere January added to the eager and nipping air upon which the curtainrises in "Hamlet, " and proved too much for the well-meaning players. Hastings (so ran tradition) had gallantly bestowed such money as he hadupon the ladies of the company to facilitate their flight to New York. His father, a successful manufacturer of codfish packing-boxes atNewburyport, telegraphed money for the prodigal's return with thestipulation that he should forswear the inky cloak and abase himself inthe box factory. 

At this point Kate Montgomery, in charge of an entertainment for thebenefit of Center Church, invited Hastings (thus providentially flungupon the Hoosier coasts) to give a reading in the church parlors. Almostcoincidently the opera house at Montgomery needed a manager, andHastings accepted the position. The Avon Dramatic Club rose andflourished that winter under Hastings's magic wand. It is not every townof fifteen thousand that suddenly enrolls a Hamlet among her citizens, and as the creator and chief spirit of the dramatic club, Hastings'ssocial acceptance was immediate and complete. In other times the townwould have been wary of an actor; but had not Hastings given hisservices free of charge for the benefit of Center Church, and was he nota gentleman, the son of a wealthy manufacturer, and had he not declinedmoney offered by telegraph that he might cling stubbornly to his art?Kate Montgomery talked a good deal about his art, which he would notrelinquish for the boxing of codfish. After Hastings had given a lectureon "Macbeth" (with readings from the play) in the chapel of MadisonCollege, his respectability was established. There was no reasonwhatever why Kate Montgomery should not marry him; and she did, at theend of his first year in town. He thereupon assumed the theater leaseand what had been the old "Grand Opera House" became under his ownership"Hastings's Theater, " or "The Hastings. "

Fanny Montgomery had contented herself with the hand of a young mannamed Fosdick who had been summoned to town to organize a commercialclub. In two years he added several industries to Montgomery's scantlist, and wheedled a new passenger station out of one of the lordlyrailroads that had long held the town in scorn. Two of the industriesfailed, the new station was cited as an awful example by the Professorof Fine Arts at the college, and yet Paul Fosdick made himself essentialto Montgomery. The commercial club's bimonthly dinners gave the solidcitizens an excuse for leaving home six nights a year, and in acommunity where meetings of whist clubs and church boards constitutedthe only justification for carrying a latch-key this new freedomestablished him at once as a friend of mankind. Fosdick was whollypresentable, and while his contributions to the industrial glory ofMontgomery lacked elements of permanence, he had, so the "Evening Star"solemnly averred, "done much to rouse our citizens from their lethargyand blaze the starward trail. " After he married Fanny, Fosdick opened anoffice adjoining the Commercial Club rooms and his stationery bore thelegend "Investment Securities. " Judge Walters, in appointing a receiverfor a corporation which Fosdick had organized for the manufacture andsale of paving-brick, inadvertently spoke of the promoter's occupationas that of a "dealer in insecurities"; but this playfulness on thecourt's part did not shake confidence in Fosdick. He was a popularfellow, and the success of those Commercial Club dinners was not to bediscounted by the cynical flings of a judge who was rich enough to becomfortably indifferent to criticism. 

Amzi Montgomery being, as hinted, a person of philosophic temperament, had interposed no manner of objection to the several marriages of hissisters until Josephine, the oldest, and the last to marry, tendered hima brother-in-law in the person of Alexander Waterman. Josephine was theleast attractive of the sisters, and also, it was said, the meekest, thekindest, and the most amiable. An early unhappy affair with a youngminister was a part of the local tradition, and she had been cited as abroken-hearted woman until she married Waterman. Waterman was a lawyerwho had been seized early in life with a mania for running for Congress. The district had long been Republican, but with singular obstinacyWaterman insisted on being a Democrat. His party being hopelessly in theminority he was graciously permitted to have such nominations as heliked, with the result that he had been defeated for nearly every officewithin the gift of a proud people. He was a fair jury lawyer, and anorator of considerable repute among those susceptible to theblandishments of the florid school. 

Amzi's resentment of Josephine's choice was said to be due to a grillingthe banker had received at Waterman's hands on the witness stand. Oncewhile standing on the steps of his bank for a survey of the visibleuniverse, Amzi was rewarded with an excellent view of the liveliestrunaway that had thrilled Main Street in years. Several persons werehurt, and one of the victims had sued the grocer whose wagon had donethe mischief. 

Waterman was the plaintiff's attorney, and Amzi Montgomery was, ofcourse, an important though reluctant witness. The banker loathedlitigation in all its forms and in his own affairs studiously avoidedit. It enraged him to find one of his idiosyncrasies advertised by thefact that he had observed the violent collision of a grocer's wagon witha fellow-citizen. His anger was augmented by the patronizing manner inwhich Waterman compelled him to contribute to the record of the caseadmissions touching his habits of life, which, though perfectly lawfuland decorous, became ridiculous when uttered on oath in a law court. Every one knew that Mr. Montgomery stood on the bank steps at intervalsto take the air, but no one had ever dreamed that he would be obliged todiscuss or explain the habit. 

The "Evening Star" printed all of his testimony that it dared; but asthe cross-examination had been conducted before a crowded courtroom theneat give and take between lawyer and witness had not lacked thoroughreporting. For several weeks thereafter Amzi did not appear on the banksteps; nor did he revert to his old habit until satisfied that groups ofidlers were not lying in wait. After Josephine introduced Waterman tothe family circle Amzi seemed generously to overlook the offense. He wasas cordial toward him as toward either of the other brothers-in-law, with the exception of Kirkwood, though of course Kirkwood, strictlyspeaking, no longer continued in that relationship. 

These details aside, it is possible to return to the bank, and await theresult of that furtive gesture with which Mr. Amzi Montgomery respondedto Phil Kirkwood's signal from the window of the photograph gallery. Byhalf-past four the clerks had concluded their day's work; the routineletters to Chicago, Cincinnati, and Indianapolis correspondents had beensealed and dispatched, and the vault locked by Mr. Montgomery's ownhand. Thereupon he retired to the back room, unlocked the FranklinStreet door and beguiled himself with the "Evening Star. " Shortly beforefive o'clock he heard light steps outside followed by a tap and Philopened and closed the door. 

"Lo, Amy!"

She pronounced the _a_ long, after a fashion she had adopted inchildhood and refused to relinquish. Amzi was "A-mee" to Phil. Sheglanced into the bank room, seized his newspaper, crunched it into afootball, and kicked it over the tellers' cages into the front window. Then she pressed her uncle down into his chair, grasped his face in herhands, and held him while she kissed him on the nose, the left eye, andthe right cheek, choosing the spot in every instance with provokingdeliberation as she held his wriggling head. He lost his cigar and hisspectacles were knocked awry, but he did not appear to be distressed. Phil set his spectacles straight, struck a match for a fresh cigar, andseated herself on the table. 

"I'm back, Amy. How did you know we'd be home to-day?"

"Dreamed it, " said Amzi, apparently relieved that her assaults upon hispeace and dignity were ended. 

"I'd been watching for you half an hour before you came out on thesteps. I'd about given you up. "

"So? You were pretty late getting home last night. Your father ought tobe ashamed of himself. "

Amzi glared at Phil. His curiously large blue eyes could, at will, express ferocity, and the red and purple in his face deepened as he shuthis jaws tight. She was not, however, in the least disturbed, not evenwhen he pushed back his chair to escape her swinging legs, and pointedhis finger at her threateningly. 

"I wanted to see you, " he gasped. 

"So I inferred, " Phil remarked, bending forward and compressing her lipsas though making a careful calculation, then touching the point of hisnose. 

Amzi rubbed the outraged nose with the back of his hand, wheezedhoarsely (the effect of the rain upon his asthma), and cleared histhroat. 

"You'll come down from your high horse in a minute. I've got somethingto tell you that will sober you up a bit. "

Phil raised her hands and with brown nimble fingers found and readjustedthe pin that affixed a shabby felt hat to her hair. Then she folded herarms and looked at the tips of her shoes. 

"The suspense is killing me. I who am about to die salute you!"

Amzi frowned at her levity. His frown caused a disturbance throughouthis vast tracts of baldness. 

"You'll change your tune in a minute, my young commodore. Have you seenyour aunts?"

"No; but it's not their fault! Aunt Josie called; the others telephonedfor dates. I saw Aunt Josie first, which explains why we didn't meet. Iknew something was up. "

"Something is up. They got me over to Josie's last night to ask me tohelp. It's a big programme. And I wanted to warn you in advance. You'vegot to stop all your capers; no more camps on Sugar Creek, no moretomboy foolishness; no more general nonsense. You've got to be acivilized woman, and conduct yourself according to the rules in suchcases made and provided. "

"Oh, is that it? And they got you to tell me, did they? How sweet ofthem!" observed Phil. "I might have guessed it from the look of AuntJosie's back as she went out the gate. "

"Her back? Thunder! How did you see her back?"

"From the roof, Amy, if you must know. If you had three aunts who hadturned up every few minutes all your natural life to tell you what notto do, you'd run for the roof, too, every time you heard the gate click. And that last cook they put in the house was just a spy for them. Butshe didn't spy long! I've bounced her!"

Amzi blinked and coughed, and feigned even greater ferocity. 

"That's it! That's the kind of thing you've got to stop doing! You'realways bouncing the hired girls your aunts put in the house to take careof you and you've got to quit; you've got to learn how to manage aservant; you've got"--and he drew himself up to charge his words withall possible dignity--"you've got to be a lady. "

"You insinuate, Amy, that I'm not one, just natural born?"

"I don't mean any such thing, " he blurted. "You know mighty well what Imean--this skylarking, this galloping around town on your pony. You'vegot to behave yourself; you've got to pay attention to what your auntstell you. You've got to listen to me!"

"Look me in the eye, you old fraud! I'll bet every one of 'em has calledyou up to tell you to see me and give me a lecturing. They're a jollylot of cowards, that's all. And I came over here thinking you wanted tobe nice and cheerful like you always used to be. All by your dear oldlonesome you'd never think of talking to me like this; I've a goodnotion to muss you up!"

The thought of being mussed was clearly disturbing. He rose hastily andretreated to the barred window, with the table between them. 

"Oh, you're guilty! I always know when they've been putting you up tosomething. Come along now and sit down like a good old uncle and tell mewhat new idea has struck those foolish females. Sit down right there inyour little chair, Amy; I'll let you off from that mussing if you tellthe truth. "

"You see, Phil, " he began earnestly, "you've grown up. You're not a kidany more to chase cats and dogs through the court-house square, and flipon the interurbans, but a grown woman, and you've got to begin actinglike one. And you've got to begin right now. Just look at your shoes;look at that hat! What kind of clothes is that sailor boy's suit you'rewearing? You've got to dress like a decent white girl that's had somebringing-up, and you've got to--you've got--" Amzi coughed as thoughafraid of the intended conclusion of his sentence. Phil's eyes were bentupon him with disconcerting gravity. He hoped that Phil would interruptwith one of her usual impertinences; but with the suspicion of laughterin her eyes she waited, so that he perforce blurted it out. "You've gotto go into society; that's what's the matter!"

Phil moved her head slightly to one side, and her lips parted. A farawaylook came into her eyes for an instant only. Amzi was watching herkeenly. He was taken aback by her abrupt change of manner; her suddensobriety baffled him. Something very sweet and wistful came into herface; something that he had not seen there before, and he was touched byit. 

"I suppose I must change my ways, Uncle Amy. I do act like a wildzebra, --I know that. But I'm sorry. Of course it's silly for a girlwho's nearly nineteen to be as skittish as I am. And they tell me I'm abad example to my cousins and the whole town. It's tough to be a badexample. What's this they're going to do to me?"

"Oh, you've got to be brought out; you've got to have a party; they wantme to have it in my house. "

"All right, " said Phil tamely. She seemed, indeed, to be thinking ofsomething else. Her manner continued to puzzle him; he was even troubledby it. He relighted his cigar and watched the smoke of the extinguishedmatch after he had tossed it into the little grate. 

"Uncle Amy, " said Phil, quite soberly, "I'm really serious now. I'vebeen wondering a good deal about what's going to become of me. "

"How's that, Phil?"

"Well, I'm not as silly as I act; and I've been wondering whether Ioughtn't to try to do something?"

"What kind of something? Housekeeping--that sort of thing?"

"Yes; but more than that. I ought to go to work to earn money. "

Amzi shrugged his shoulders. 

"Thunder! you can't do that, " he said with decision. "It wouldn't beproper for you to do that. "

"I don't see why not. Other girls do. "

"Girls do when they have to. You don't have to. "

"I'm not so sure of that. We might as well be sensible if we're going totalk about it. "

Amzi agreed to this with a nod and resettled himself in his chair. 

"Daddy isn't making enough to take care of us, that's all. Thisafternoon I was over in his office cleaning up his desk, --you know henever does it himself, and even a harum-scarum like me can help itsome, --and I saw a lot of things that scared me. Bills and things likethat. And it would be hard to talk to daddy about it; I don't think Iever could. And you know he really could make a lot of money if hewanted to; I can tell that from the letters he gets. He doesn't answerhis letters. Every month last year I used to straighten his desk, andsome of last spring's bills are still there, and they haven't been paid. I know, of course, that that can't go on forever. "

"You oughtn't to have to bother about that, Phil. It's none of yourbusiness. "

"Yes, " she replied, earnestly, "it is my business. And it's beentroubling me for a long time. I can't talk to father about it; you cansee how that would be; and he's such a dear--so fine and kind. I supposethere isn't anybody on earth as fine as daddy. And he breaks my heart, sometimes; goes about so quiet, as though he had gone into himself andshut the blinds, as they do in a house where somebody's dead. It seemsjust like that, Uncle Amy. "

Amzi was uncomfortable. It was not to hear her speak of drawn blinds inhouses of the dead that he had summoned Phil for this interview. Hissisters had asked him to reason with her, as they had often appealed tohim before in their well-meant but tactless efforts to correct herfaults, but she had evinced an accession of reasonableness that made himuneasy. She had changed from the impulsive, exasperating young creaturehe knew into an anxious, depressed woman in a mackintosh, whom he didnot know at all! He breathed hard for a few minutes, angry at hissisters for bringing this situation to pass. It was absurd to tame agirl of Phil's spirit. He had enjoyed, more than anything in his life, his confidential relations with Phil. It was more for the fun of thething than because there was any cause for it that a certain amount ofmystery was thrown about such interviews as this. There was no reason onearth why Phil shouldn't have entered by the front door inbanking-hours, or visited him in her grandfather's house where he lived. But he liked the joke of it. He liked all their jokes, and enteredzestfully into all manner of conspiracies with her, to the discomfitureof the aunts, to thwart their curbing of her liberties. He pridedhimself upon his complete self-control, and it was distinctly annoyingto find that Phil's future, seen against a background plastered with herfather's unpaid bills, caused a sudden hot anger to surge in his heart. Within the range of his ambitions and desires he did as he liked; and hehad a hardened bachelor's fondness for having his way. He walked to thewindow and stared out at the street. It grew late and the rain wasgathering volume as though preparing for a night of it. 

A truck heavily loaded with boxes and crates of furniture moved slowlythrough Franklin Street toward the railway. Amzi was at once alert. Heread much current history in the labels on passing freight, and oftenformed the basis for credits therefrom. Was it possible that one of thebank's customers was feloniously smuggling merchandise out of town toavoid writs of attachment? Such evils had been known. Phil jumped fromthe table and joined him at the window. She knew her Uncle Amzi's mentalprocesses much better than he imagined; suspicion was writ large on hiscountenance. 

"Humph!" she said. "That's only the stuff from the Samuel Holton house. Charlie and Ethel are moving to Indianapolis. That's some of thefurniture they had in their town house here. I saw the crates in theyard this morning. "

"I believe you're right, Phil; I believe you're right. "

His eyes opened and shut several times quickly, as he assimilated thisinformation. Then he recurred to Phil's affairs. 

"Speaking of money, Phil, we'll have to do something about those unpaidbills. In a town like this everybody knows everybody's business--exceptyours and mine. We can't have your father's bills piling up; they've gotto be paid. And this brings me to something I've meant to speak to youabout for some time. In fact, I've just been waiting for a chance, butyou're so confoundedly hard to catch. There's--a--some money--er--thatis to say, Phil, as executor of your grandfather's estate, I hold somemoney, that--er--"

He coughed furiously, blew his nose, and made a fresh start. 

"I'm going to open an account for you--your own money, understand!--andyou can pay those bills yourself. We'll start with, say, five hundreddollars and you can depend on a hundred a month. It will bestrictly--er--your money. Understand? You needn't say anything to yourfather about it. That's all of that. "

He feigned sudden interest in the wet street, but Phil, whose eyes hadnot left him, tapped him lightly on the shoulder. 

"Oh, no, you don't! You haven't a cent that belongs to me, and you knowit, you splendid old fraud. And don't you try that game on me again orI'll stop speaking to you. "

"Do you mean--" he began to bluster; "do you mean to say that I don'tknow my own business? Do you think I'm going to steal money from yourgrandfather's estate to give you? Why--"

"You weren't born to adorn the front row of successful liars, Amy. Andeven if you had a million or two lying round loose, you couldn't give mea cent of it; I wouldn't take it. It wouldn't be square to daddy;daddy's a gentleman, you know, and I couldn't do anything meaner than totake your money to pay his debts with. So there, you old dear, I've agood notion to muss you up, after all. "

He again put the table between them, and stood puffing from the unwontedhaste with which he had eluded her grasp. He had managed the matterbadly, and as his hand, thrust into his coat pocket, touched a check hehad written and placed there as a preliminary to this interview, asheepish expression crossed his face. 

"Well, " he blurted, "I'd like to know what in thunder you're going todo! I tell you it's yours by right. I ought to have given it to you longago. "

"I'm skipping, " said Phil, reaching down to button her raincoat. "We'regoing to Rose's for tea. "

"Tea?"

Amzi's emphasis implied that in tea lay the sole importance of Phil'sannouncement; and yet, subjected to even the most superficial analysis, Mr. Montgomery's sensations were not in the least attributable to thethought of tea. Tea in the sense intended by Phil was whollycommonplace, --a combination of cold meat, or perhaps of broiled chicken, with hot biscuits, and honey or jam, or maybe canned peaches with cream. Considered either as a beverage or as a meal, tea contained no thrill;and yet perhaps the thought of tea at Miss Rose Bartlett's aroused inAmzi Montgomery's breast certain emotions which were concealed by hisexplosive emphasis. Phil, turning up the collar of her mackintosh, reaffirmed the fact of tea. 

"You never come to my house for just tea, but you go to Rose's. You'realways going to Rose's for tea, " boomed Amzi. 

"Daddy likes to go, " added Phil, moving toward the door. 

"I suppose he does, " remarked Amzi, a little absently. 

"By-by, Amy. Thanks, just the same, anyhow. "

"Good-night, Phil!"

Phil lingered, her hand on the knob. 

"Come over yourself, after tea. There may be music. Daddy keeps his'cello over there, you know. "

"His 'cello?"

It seemed that 'cello, like tea, was a word of deep significance. Amziglared at Phil, who raised her head and laughed. 

"Nonsense!" he ejaculated, though it was not clear just wherein thenonsense lay. 

"Oh, your old flute is over there, too, " said Phil, not without scorn. 

Having launched this she laughed again and the door closed upon her witha bang. She hammered the glass with her knuckles to attract hisattention, flung back her head as she laughed again, and vanished. 

Amzi stared at the door's rain-splashed pane. The world was empty nowthat Phil had gone. He drew down the shabby green blind with a jerk andprepared to go home. 

CHAPTER III

98 BUCKEYE LANE

The Bartlett sisters lived in Buckeye Lane, a thoroughfare that ranalong the college campus. Most of the faculty dwelt there, and theBartlett girls (every one said "the Bartlett girls" just as every onesaid "the Montgomery girls": it was established local usage) weredaughters of a professor who had died long ago. 

Rose was the housekeeper, and a very efficient one she was, too. In allbusiness transactions, from the purchase of vegetables to the collectionof the dividends on their small inheritance, Rose was the negotiator andactive agent. She was, moreover, an excellent cook; her reputation inthis department of domestic science was the highest. And as two womencan hardly be expected to exist on something like four hundred dollars ayear (the sum reluctantly yielded by their patrimony), Miss Rosecommercialized her genius by baking cakes, cookies, jumbles, and pies, if demanded. In Montgomery, where only Mrs. William Holton had ever keptmore than one servant (though Fanny Fosdick had attempted higherflights), Miss Rose was an ever-ready help in times of domesticadversity to distracted housekeepers who found the maintenance of evenone servant attended with the gravest difficulties. 

Miss Nan was an expert needlewoman, and, like her sister, augmentedtheir income by the labor of her hands. Her contributions to the potwere, indeed, much larger than Rose's. The clients she served werechiefly women of fastidious taste in these matters who lived insurrounding cities. Her exhibitions of cross-stitching, hemstitching, and drawn-work were so admirable as to establish a broad field for herenterprises. Her designs were her own, and she served ladies who likednovel and exclusive patterns. These employments had proved in no wisedetrimental to the social standing of the Bartlett girls. If Rose bakeda cake for a wedding supper, this did not militate in the least againsther eligibility as a guest of the occasion. And likewise Nan couldunfold a napkin she had herself hemstitched for a consideration, withoutthe slightest fear that any one would make invidious comments upon thefact. 

In the matter of the respective ages of the sisters no stranger was everinformed of the exact fact, although every one knew. Judge Walters hadestablished an unchangeable age for both of them. They were, the judgesaid, twenty-nine; though as they were not twins, and as he hadpersisted in this fallacy for almost a decade, it is difficult to seehow they could both be permanently twenty-nine. 

Not all the time of these ladies was spent in cooking and needlework. Miss Rose was a musician, who played the organ at Center Church and wasusually the sympathetic accompanist at all concerts given by localtalent. And, as though not to be outdone, Miss Nan quietly exercised thepen conjointly with the needle. Several editors in New York were quitefamiliar with the neat backhand of a lady they had never seen who sentthem from an unheard-of town in Indiana the drollest paragraphs, themost amusing dialogues, and the merriest of jingles. Now and then NancyBartlett's name was affixed to an amusing skit in which variousMontgomery people found their foibles published to the world, thoughwith a proper discretion, and so amiably that no one could take offense. With the perversity of such communities, many declared that Miss Rosewas more talented than Miss Nan, and that she could have written muchbetter things than her sister if she had chosen. But what could havebeen more ridiculous than any attempt to arouse rivalry between sisterswho dwelt together so contentedly, and who were the busiest and happiestwomen in town!

The Bartlett girls were the best friends the college boys had. If one ofthese ladies undertook, in the absence of a manservant, to drive themower across their fifty feet of lawn, some youngster invariablyappeared to relieve her of this task. Or if wood or coal were observedlying upon the walk in front of the Bartlett gate, it was always aquestion whether the Sigma Chis or the Phi Gamma Deltas would see thefuel first and hasten to conceal anything so monstrous, so revolting tothe soul of young Greeks, in the Bartlett cellar. Amid all theirvocations and avocations, the Bartletts moved tranquilly in anatmosphere of luxurious leisure. They were never flustered; theiremployments were a kind of lark, it seemed, never to be referred toexcept in the most jocular fashion. When Rose had entrusted to the ovena wedding-cake or a pan of jumbles she would repair to the piano for aten-minute indulgence in Chopin. Similarly indifferent to fate, Nan atintervals in the day drew a tablet and fountain-pen from hersewing-table and recorded some whimsicality which she had seeminglyfound embedded in the mesh of a shopping-bag she was embellishing. Andwhen, in due course, a funny-looking, canary-colored envelope carriedthis fragment to the desk of some bored phlegmatic editor, he would, aslike as not, grin and scribble an order to the cashier for two dollars(or some such munificent sum) and pin it to the stamped "return" canaryenvelope, which would presently reach Number 98 Buckeye Lane, Montgomery, Indiana. 

Phil Kirkwood hardly remembered a time when Number 98 had not been asafe port in the multitudinous squalls that beset her youth. TheBartletts were wholly human, as witness their pantry andgarret--veritable magazines of surprises! Miss Rose was a marvel atcutting out silhouettes; Miss Nan would, with the slightest provocation, play bear or horse, crawling over the floor with Phil perched on herback blowing a horn. It was no wonder that Phil's vagrant steps turnedinstinctively toward Number 98. In the beginning her father used to seekher there; and having by this means learned the way, it was the mostnatural thing in the world for father and daughter to visit theBartletts together. A man whose wife divorces him is entitled to somesocial consolations, and if tea and jam at the house of two maidenladies of irreproachable character satisfies him, the community shouldbe satisfied also. The gossips had never been able to decide which ofthe Bartlett girls was likelier to assume the rôle of Phil's stepmother. There were those who favored Rose. As Kirkwood played the 'cello, Roseto some observers seemed more plausible by reason of her musical talent. Others believed that it would be Nan, as Nan was "literary" and Kirkwoodwas a scholar, suspected of "writing, " though just what he wrote no onewas able to say. It had been said thousands of times that AmziMontgomery must eventually marry one of the Bartletts, but here, too, opinion was divided as to which one would probably be so favored. Amzihad fluted in the Schumann Quartette, devoted to chamber music, but hisasthma had broken up the club, and he now rarely essayed the instrument. Still, Amzi loved his joke, and Nan was a joker. So it was clear thateither Kirkwood or Montgomery might with propriety marry either Rose orNan. Whenever a drought seemed imminent in local gossip, these oasesbubbled. 

Phil's aunts were not unaware of the high favor in which their nieceheld the Bartletts; nor had they failed to speculate upon the chances ofKirkwood's remarrying. They resented the idea, chiefly because suchaction would cause a revival of the old scandal involving their sister, which they were pardonably anxious to have forgotten. Then, too, it wastheir solemn duty to keep their hands on Phil, who was a Montgomery andentitled to their consideration and oversight, and if Kirkwood shouldremarry, Phil would be relinquished to the care of a stepmother, agrievous thought at all times. 

On this rainy October evening, tea was dispatched in the gayest humor inthe little Bartlett dining-room. Rose and Phil disappeared in thekitchen to "do" the dishes while Nan and Kirkwood communed in thebook-lined living-room. 

"You've had a talking with Phil, " said Kirkwood. 

"Yes; she came in this morning, when Rose was out and I said severalthings to her that I ought to have said long ago. It wasn't easy to saythem. But it's time for her to sober down a little, though I wish in myheart she could go on forever just as she is. It doesn't seem possiblethat she's a woman, with a future to think about. "

"Phil's future--" murmured Kirkwood pensively. 

"Your future and hers are bound up together; there's no escaping that. "

"I'm afraid that's so! There are a thousand things I know should be donefor her, but I don't grasp them. I seem unable to get hold of anythingthese days. "

He looked at his hands, as though wondering at their impotence. Theywere bronzed and rough from the camp, but his sensitive nature wasexpressed in them. The gray showed in his beard and hair. Where theshort beard did not hide his cheeks they were tanned. His blue sergesuit had been freshly pressed; a polka-dot scarf was neatly tied underthe points of a white-wing collar. He suggested an artist who had justreturned from a painting trip in the open--a town man who wasn't afraidof the sun. If an artist one might have assumed that he was none tooprosperous; his white cuffs were perceptibly frayed. Nan Bartlettscrutinized him closely, and there came into her eyes the look of oneabout to say something, long withheld and difficult to say. 

She was a small, fair woman, with a becoming roundness of figure. Heryellow hair, parted evenly in the middle, curled prettily on herforehead. A blue shirt-waist with a turnover collar and a ready-madeskirt spoke for a severe taste in dress. A gold-wire bracelet on herleft wrist and a stickpin in her four-in-hand tie were her onlyornaments. She had a fashion of raising her arm and shaking the braceletback from her hand. When she did this, it was to the accompaniment of aslight turning of the head to one side and a dreamy look came into herlarge blue eyes. It was a pretty, graceful trick. She did not hesitatenow that her mind was made up, but spoke quickly and crisply. 

"You don't work hard enough; you are not making your time count. Itisn't fair to Phil; it isn't fair to yourself. "

"That's true; I know it, " he replied, meeting her eyes quickly. 

"And now's the time for you to change; Phil needs you. Phil's going toneed a lot of things--money, for example. And you've reached a time oflife when it's now or never. "

The bracelet flashed back under her cuff. She looked at her wristwonderingly as if surprised that the trinket had disappeared; then sheglanced at Kirkwood, casually, as though she were in the habit of sayingsuch things to him, which was not, however, the fact. 

He straightened himself and his hands clenched as though to do battle ather behest. 

"Mine's a wasted life; for years everything has seemed futile. I'm gladyou spoke to me. I need to be brought up short. "

Nan nodded. This was not a debatable question; undeniably he did need tobe brought up with a sharp turn. It was in her mind that perhaps she hadsaid enough; but she wished to make sure of it. 

"Nobody can touch you at your best; it's your best that you've got toput into the struggle. It mustn't be said of you that you neglectbusiness, and even refuse cases; and they do say that of you. "

"I've grown careless and indifferent, " he confessed; "but it's time forme to wake up. I can't see Phil heading for the poorhouse and that'swhere we're going. "

"No doubt of it!" she assented. "Phil's aunts complain of you, and saythat if you won't care for her you ought to turn her over to them. That's funny, on one side, and on the other it isn't. There's a gooddeal to support their attitude. Phil's needs are those of a girl readyto meet the world, and she will need money. And I've noticed that moneyis a shy commodity; it doesn't just come rolling uphill to anybody'sdoorstep. "

Kirkwood knew perfectly well the elusiveness of money; it seemed lessso now from Nan's way of stating the fact. When one needed a dollar oneshould go and find it; this was clearly Miss Nan's philosophy, and inher own affairs he knew that she had demonstrated its efficacy. 

He lowered his voice as though about to touch upon a matter even moreconfidential than any that had engaged their attention. It was evidentlysomething wholly pleasant that he wished to speak of; his eye brightenedand his face flushed slightly. The look he bent upon her was ofunmistakable liking. 

"'The Gray Knight of Picardy' is booming. I saw a stack of him atCrosby's to-day: half a dozen people have asked me if I read it. It wasput out so late in the spring that it's astonishing how it's carriedthrough the summer. Some of the papers are just reviewing it--and themore deliberate journals are praising it. And when we were speaking ofmoney matters a bit ago, I clean forgot that I have a check from thepublisher that I'm going to hand you now. "

He drew from his pocket a draft which she took eagerly and glanced at. 

It was for two thousand dollars, payable to Nancy Bartlett. Nan slippedit quickly into the drawer of her sewing-table. As she drew her handaway, he caught and held it an instant. Nan did not look at him as shequietly freed herself. She ignored the act, though her cheek flushedscarlet. She minimized the incident by shaking down her bracelet. 

"Half of that is yours, " she said. "I will deposit it to-morrow and giveyou my check. You ought to have made the contract in your own name, butI never thought they would take it--much less that it would sell, or Ishould have insisted in the beginning. "

"Well, I had faith in your three quarters of the work; mine is thepoorest part of it. "

"Your half made it possible, --the form and the planning. I never couldhave done a long-sustained thing like that; I'm a paragrapher, that'sall. "

"You're a humorist of a high order, " he said warmly. "It's the hugejoke of the thing that is making people like it. Let me see, thepublisher is advertising a quotation from some paper that has called itthe funniest book in ten years. "

"That's a stock phrase of the critics, " said Nan; "they merely changethe title of the book from year to year. But it's been fun doing a bookthat way and putting it out anonymously. Judge Walters spoke to me of ityesterday; said he had stayed up all night to finish it. "

"It's going to take more ingenuity than I possess to hide theauthorship; that's why I want you to carry the burden. The publishersays the public demand to know who Merlin Shepperd is. And threemagazines want a short story by the author of 'The Gray Knight ofPicardy. ' I'll send you the letters. That enterprising Phil has anuncomfortable habit of running through my desk and I'm likely to forgetto lock up these things. She thought I was working on a brief all lastwinter when I was doing my part of the 'Gray Knight. ' But I turn thepartnership over to you now--with all the assets and liabilities and thefirm name and style. You are Merlin Shepperd and I am Kirkwood, attorneyand counselor at law, over Bernstein's. You see, " he added, smiling, "your lecture led right up to that. No more literary ventures for me!"

"Well, I'd forgotten the 'Gray Knight' for the moment; but in spite ofhim I believe you had better stick to the law. "

"There's this, Nan, " he said earnestly, looking at her with anintentness that caused her to move uneasily; "it would seem quitenatural for a partnership like this to be extended further. This worldwould be a pretty bleak place without you. You know and understand that. And there is Phil; Phil needs you just as I do. I mean to start afreshat the law; I mean to make myself count. And I need you. "

He rose and looked down at her. It was as though by this act hepresented himself as a rehabilitated Thomas Kirkwood; a man ready tograpple with the world afresh for her sake. He bent over and touchedlightly her hands clasped quietly upon her knee. 

"Dear Nan: I love you, Nan, " he said softly, and stepped back, waitingfor her to speak. 

She raised her head and their eyes met. 

"Tom, " she said, "you are the dearest of men; but that is not for youand me. It will never be for you and me. And please, Tom, because youare the finest of men, never speak of this again. You will promise, won't you?"

"No, " he said, shaking his head slowly; "I will not promise. You havereasons and I think I know what they are. I want to talk to you soon, for this has been in my heart a long time. I meant to speak to you lastspring. But now the need is greater. I not only need you, but Phil needsyou. "

She smiled at the mention of Phil. 

"That's a poor argument. Phil really doesn't need any one but you. Ishould be afraid of spoiling dear, splendid Phil. "

It was upon this that Rose and Phil came in from the kitchen. Rose wastaller than her sister, a slender, handsome woman, with an air ofdistinction which dishwashing in no wise abated. She was one of thoseAmerican women who wear an apron like a vestment--who, the _vestisdomestica_ flung aside, adorn the parlor as charmingly as they grace thekitchen. 

Phil began to whistle a tune, which Rose tried to identify for her bystriking the chords. 

"What are you two talking about?" asked Phil, turning from the piano. 

"Discussing the origin of the pyramids, " replied Nan, rising. "You andRose must have settled something in all the time you took to the dishes. It was a noisy session, too. You must have been playing drop theteacup. "

Phil clasped her hands dramatically, reciting:--

 "A moment then, She poised upon the dishpan's utmost verge The heirloom teapot old, with flowers bedight. And with a cry--"

She paused, feigning forgetfulness. Her father rose quickly and caughtup the imaginary fragment:--

 "And with a cry As when some greedy wight, on porridge keen, Gulps it, and bawleth loud to find it hot, -- Screams for the cook and tuggeth at his sword--"

"Familiar, " observed Rose dreamily from the piano. "Is it 'Pelleas andEtarre' or 'The Passing of Arthur'?"

"Nope. 'The Bold Buccaneer, ' by the Honest Iceman of Mazoopa, " answeredPhil. 

"And here he is now, " said Nan as the front door boomed and rattled. 

There was no bell at the Bartletts': but from the door hung abass-drumstick, with which visitors were expected to thump. This hadbeen a part of the equipment of a local band that had retired frombusiness. In the dispersion of its instruments the drum had reached asecond-hand store. Nan, with a keen eye for such chances, had bought anddismantled the drum, and used the frame as a stockade for fresh chirpersfrom her incubator. The drumstick seemed to have been predestined of alltime to serve as a knocker. 

"It's Amy. I told him to come, " said Phil. 

Her father's face fell almost imperceptibly. The company was complete asit was and much as he liked Amzi he resented his appearance at thishour. Rose went to the door. 

"It may be Judge Walters. He's been trying to get over for some time totalk about that new book on hypnotism, " said Nan. 

It proved, however, to be Amzi. They heard him telling Rose in the entrythat he was just passing and thought he would drop in. 

"That will do for that, Amy, " called Phil. "You told me you werecoming. "

"I told you nothing of the kind!" blustered Amzi. 

"Then, sir, you didn't; you _did not_!"

Amzi glared at them all fiercely. His cherubic countenance was sobenevolent, the kind eyes behind his spectacles so completely annulledhis ferocity, that his assumed fierceness was absurd. 

He addressed them all by their first names, and drew out a cigar. Kirkwood was smoking his pipe. Phil held a match for her uncle andplaced a copper ash-tray on the table at his elbow. Rose continued hersearch for a piece of music, and Nan curled herself on the corner of adavenport that occupied one side of the room under the open bookshelves. 

"This looks like a full session; first we've had for some time, "remarked Amzi. "Been playing, Rose?"

"No; Phil's trying to remember a tune. Whistle it, Phil. "

Phil whistled it, her eyes twinkling. 

"Sounds like a dead march done in ragtime, " suggested Nan, whose ear wassaid to be faulty. 

"All the great masters will be done over pretty soon by the raggists, "declared Phil. 

"Spoken like the Philistine you are not, Phil, " said Kirkwood. "What youwere trying to whistle is the 'Lucia Sextette' upside down. Rose, let'shave the 'Mozart Minuet' we used to play. We haven't had it for moons. "

She played it, Phil turning the music. Then Kirkwood was reminded of theexistence of his 'cello. Amzi watched him tuning it, noted the operationrestlessly, and then rose demanding:--

"Nan, where's my flute? Seems to me I left it here the last time weplayed. "

This was a joke. It had been in the house at least six years. Philwhistled a few bars from a current light opera, and pretended to beabsorbed in an old etching of Beethoven that hung over the piano. Sheglanced covertly at her uncle, who knew perfectly well that Phil waslaughing at him. Nan, meanwhile, produced the flute. It was in thisfashion that the trio was usually organized. 

"Bad night for asthma, but let's tackle some of the good old ones, " saidAmzi. 

This, too, was part of a familiar formula, and Rose found the music. Soon Amzi's cheeks were puffing with the exertion of fluting the"Minuet, " while Kirkwood bent to the 'cello. Nan and Phil became anattentive audience on the davenport, as often before. When Amzi droppedout (as he always did), Phil piped in with her whistle, and that, too, was the usual procedure. She whistled a fair imitation of the flute; shehad a "good ear"; Rose said her "ear" was too good, and that thisexplained her impatience of systematic musical instruction. Amzi abusedthe weather and incidentally the flute; they essayed the Bach-Gounod"Ave Maria" and the "Träumerei, " with like failure on Amzi's part. ThenRose played, number after number, Beethoven, Schumann, Chopin, withoutpause. It was clear that the woman loved her music; that it meant a verygreat deal to her. Its significance was in the fine lines of her face, beautifully grave, but lighting wonderfully through passages that spoketo her with special meaning. Her profile was toward Kirkwood. He had, indeed, taken a seat that gave him a particular view that he fancied andhis eyes wandered from her hands to her lovely, high-bred face. No onespoke between the numbers, or until Rose, sitting quiet a moment at theend, while the last chord died away, found her own particular seat bythe white wooden mantel. 

"I guess those chaps knew their business, " observed Amzi. "And I guessyou know yours, Rose. I don't know that you ever brought out thatnocturne quite so well before. Eh, Tom?"

Kirkwood agreed with him. Rose had surpassed herself, in the opinion ofthe lawyer. Both men found pleasure in paying tribute to her talents. Amzi turned to Nan, who nodded acquiescence. The banker really lovedmusic, and slipped away several times every winter to Chicago, to hearconcerts or the opera. On occasions he had taken Kirkwood and Phil andthey had made a great lark of it. 

"What's this rumor about the Sycamore Traction being in trouble?" askedNan. 

Amzi rubbed his head. He had not come to the Bartletts' to discussbusiness, and the topic was not, moreover, one that interested him atthe moment. 

"There are a lot of papers on your desk about that, daddy, " Philremarked. "But I suppose those are office secrets. "

There was, indeed, a telegram from a New York lawyer asking why Kirkwoodhad not replied to a certain letter. He glanced at her quickly, apparently disturbed that the matter had been mentioned. Her father'sinattention to the letter of the New York lawyer had, independently ofNan Bartlett's reference to the traction company, caused Phil to makecertain resolutions touching both her father and herself. 

"I've got my hand on that, Phil. I've answered. "

Phil saw that the subject of this correspondence, whose import she hadscarcely grasped, was not to be brought into the conversation. Sheturned away as Amzi addressed her father in a low tone. 

"Tom, as I remember, you made a report on that scheme before the bondswere sold. Do you mind telling me whether that was for the same crowdthat finally took it up?"

"Yes; but they cut down the amount they undertook to float. Sam Holtonsold a lot of the bonds along the line; a good many of them are heldright here in this county. "

"They are, indeed. It seemed a plausible thing for the home folks to ownthe securities of a company that was going to do so much for the town;they pulled that string hard. It was a scheme to draw the coin out ofthe old stocking under the fireplace. If it was good for widows andorphans out in Seattle and Bangor, why wasn't it good for 'em at home?And it _is_ good for the people at home if it's played straight. I'vehad an idea that these cross-country trolleys will have about the samehistory the steam roads had, --a good many of 'em will bust and theoriginal investors will see their securities shrink; and there will besmash-ups and shake-downs and then in time the lines will pay. Justwhat's the trouble here, Tom, if you don't mind?"

"There's an apprehension that the November interest won't be paid. Thecompany's had some hard luck--a wreck that's piled up a lot of damagesuits, for one thing; and in one or two counties the commissioners aretrying to make them pay for new bridges--a question of theinterpretation of the franchise. I gave warning of that possibility. "

"Thunder! I hope it won't come to the worst. I didn't know you werekeeping track of it. "

"One of my old classmates at Williams is counsel for the DesbrossesTrust and Guaranty Company which is the trustee for the bondholders. Ipassed on the mortgage for them as to its local aspects. I'm going overto Indianapolis to meet him in a few days to determine what to do inevent the interest is defaulted. The management has been unsatisfactory, and after five years the replacements are running ahead of theestimates. "

"I wonder--" began Amzi; then he paused and rubbed his scalp. "I supposemy neighbor Bill is already out from under. "

"I don't know, " said Kirkwood soberly. "It was Sam who was the chiefpromoter. "

"Sam was a smooth proposition. Thunder! I lost money when Sam died. I'dmade a bet with myself that they'd pin something on him before he gotthrough, but he died just out of spite to make me lose. Thunder! Billmakes strong statements. "

The strength of the statements made by the First National Bank did not, however, seem to disturb Amzi. What he had learned from Kirkwood had notbeen in the nature of fresh information, but it had confirmed certainsuspicions touching the Sycamore Traction Company. The Bartletts andPhil were talking quietly in a corner. Amzi rose and pulled down hispercale waistcoat and buttoned the top button of his cutaway coat, inwhich he looked very much like a fat robin. He advanced toward the groupin the corner. 

"Nan, " he said, "you didn't buy a Sycamore bond that time I told you notto, did you?"

Rose beat time for her sister mockingly, and they answered in singsong. 

"We did not! We did not! But, " Nan added, dropping her hands to hersides tragically, "but if we had, oh, sir!"

"If you had I should have bought it of you at a premium. It's hard workbeing a banker for women: they all want ten per cent a month. "

"Paul Fosdick's things were all guaranteed ten per cent a year, "remarked Rose. 

They all waited for the explosion that must follow the mention of thisparticular brother-in-law. Nowhere else in town would any one have daredto bring Fosdick, who was believed to be his pet abomination, into aconversation. Even in Hastings he found a kind of joy; the presence of aretired Hamlet among the foliage of the family tree was funny now thathe had got used to it; and Amzi had a sense of humor. This littlecompany expected him to explode and he must not disappoint them. Thecolor mounted to his bald dome and his eyes bulged. 

"Thunder! Rose, play that jiggly funeral march of a marionette!"

"I refuse, " said Rose, spreading her skirts on the divan, "to doanything so cruel!"

"And besides, " said Nan, "I bought a share of stock in his brickyard. "

"Nan Bartlett, " said Amzi, planting himself before her, "I will give youa peck of parsnips for that share. "

"Couldn't take advantage of you, Amzi; and we never eat parsnips. They're bad for the complexion. "

"Thunder!" he snorted contemptuously. 

"Thunder" was his favorite, almost his only, expletive, but his thunderwas only a single boom without reverberations. His four auditorsunderstood him perfectly, however. Fosdick was always "starting"something. He had even attempted to organize a new cemetery association, which, as Greenlawn was commodious, and as any amount of land adjacentmade possible its indefinite expansion, Amzi regarded as an absurd andunholy project. With Fosdick, Amzi had no business relations of anykind. He belonged to the Commercial Club, to be sure, but this was aconcession on his part; he never attended any of its meetings. And hehad, it was said, requested his enterprising brother-in-law to withdrawhis patronage from the Montgomery Bank for reasons never wholly clear tothe curious. Fosdick had talked about it in bitterness of spirit; Amzihad not. Amzi never talked of his business. He rarely lost a customer;and if a citizen transferred his account to the First or the Citizens'National, it was assumed that Amzi no longer cared particularly to havethat individual on his ledgers. Such a transfer aroused in cautiousminds a degree of suspicion, for horses rarely died in Amzi's stable. 

"Thunder! It's time to go home. Guess the rain's stopped. "

Amzi set out for home with the Kirkwoods. He was in capital spirits, andkept up a steady give and take with Phil. Just before reaching his owngate they passed Kirkwood's former home. Amzi's sisters persistentlydemanded that something be done about the abandoned house, which, withits neglected garden, was a mournful advertisement of their sister'sill-doings. It had been a shock to them to discover, a few years afterher flight, that it had passed from her to Amzi and from him toKirkwood. The consideration had been adequate; the county records toldthe story plainly. There was, of course, no reason why Lois shouldcontinue to own a house for which she had no use; but there was lessreason why her former husband should acquire the property merely, as itseemed, from motives of sentiment. Every weed in the garden--and thecrop was abundant--called attention to the blot on the Montgomery'scutcheon. And if Kirkwood was silly enough to cling to the old home, while living in a rented house in a less agreeable neighborhood, therewas no reason why he should refuse to lease it and devote the income toPhil's upbringing. 

It was not a cheerful item of the urban landscape and the sorrow ofAmzi's sisters that it should remain dolefully at their own thresholdswas pardonable. The moon looked down at it soberly through dispersingclouds as though grieved by its disrepair. The venerable forest treesthat gave distinction to the "old Montgomery place" had shaken theirleaves upon this particular part and parcel of the elder Amzi's acres, and piled them upon the veranda steps. The gate, fastened to the post bya chain and padlock, sagged badly, and bulged upon the public walk. 

Amzi stopped and pushed it back, causing the chain to rattle dolorously. Kirkwood watched him indifferently. Phil lent her uncle a hand. Amzi, panting from his efforts, ejaculated: "Thunder!" and a moment later theybade each other good-night under the gas lamp at his own gate. 

CHAPTER IV

A TRANSACTION IN APPLES

Phil was not visible the next morning when at seven o'clock Kirkwoodglanced about the house for her. She had indulged herself in the matterof rising since the high-school bell no longer regulated her habits, andher father had hardly expected to see her. There was no morningnewspaper to read--he took a Chicago daily at his office--and he openedthe windows and doors to admit the air. Domestic affairs interestedThomas Kirkwood little. During the years in which Phil was passed fromaunt to aunt he had lived at the Morton House, and after establishingthe new home that he might have her with him, one or another of theaunts had supervised his household, and at times, to his discomfiture, all had taken a hand at it. 

This rented cottage where the Kirkwoods lived was in the leastfashionable part of Main Street, beyond the commercial district and nearthe railroad. Trains thundered through a cut not far from the rearfence, and the cars of the Sycamore Traction Company rumbled by atintervals. The cottage was old but comfortable, and it was remarked thatKirkwood had probably chosen it for the reason that he could go to andfrom his office without passing his abandoned home. Phil liked living onMain Street. Her devotion to that thoroughfare had been a source ofgreat pain to her aunts. Even as her Uncle Amzi absorbed local colorfrom the steps of his bank, Phil was an alert agent in the field, onnodding terms with the motormen of the interurban cars, and with thejehus, who, cigarette in mouth and hat tipped on one side, drove thevillage hacks. Captain Joshua Wilson, who had been recorder of hiscounty continuously since he lost a leg at Missionary Ridge, and whowrote a poem every year for the reunion of his regiment, had writtencertain lines for the "Evening Star" in which "P. K. " was addressed asthe Diana of Main Street. As to the soundness of his mythology theremight be debate, but there was no question as to Phil's thoroughidentification with Main Street, all the way from her father's house, past the court-house, shops, and banks, out to the old Sugar CreekBridge where the town became country without any warning whatever. 

It was Judge Walters who first called her "Otherwise Phyllis. " This wasin Phil's school days before she passed from her aunts' custody. Thejudge delighted in Phil's battles with the aunts. Whenever his wifebegan to recount a day's occurrences at the supper-table, and therecital opened promisingly, it was the judge's habit to cut short herprefaces with, "Otherwise Phyllis--" and bid her hurry on to thecatastrophe, sparing no tragic detail. 

Kirkwood had never, from the day his wife left him, offered himself inthe market-place as an object of sympathy. He had been a man of reservesat all times, and the sudden termination of his married life had merelydriven him in further upon himself. If he was broken-hearted, thefragments were well hidden. He felt that he was a failure, and he sawmen of less ability passing him in the race. Now and then he had rousedhimself under stress and demonstrated his unusual gifts by strikingsuccesses; but after one of these spurts he would relapse into anindifference to which he seemed increasingly ready to yield. 

He had risen this morning with a new resolution, attributable to histalk with Nan Bartlett the night before. Even if he did not care forhimself, there was always Phil to consider. And Phil was very much toconsider. She had decided for herself that the high school had given herall the education she needed. Kirkwood had weighed the matter carefullyand decided that she would not profit greatly by a college course--adecision which Phil had stoutly supported. Her aunts favored a year at afinishing school to tone down her rough edges, but having laid theirplan before their brother Amzi that gentleman had sniffed at it. Whatwas the use of spoiling Phil? he demanded. "Thunder!" And there was noreason in the world why Phil should be spoiled. 

Phil was not, in any view of the case, an ignorant person. She knew agreat many things that were not embraced in the high-school curriculum. Her father harbored an old-fashioned love of the poets; which is notmerely to say that at some time in his life he had run through them, butthat he read poetry as one ordinarily reads novels, quite naturally andwithout shame. Something of his own love of poetry had passed to hisdaughter. He had so trained her that literature meant to Phil notprinted pages, but veritable nature and life. Books were a matter ofcourse, to be taken up and put down as the reader pleased, and nothingto grow priggish about. She had caught from him an old habit, formed inhis undergraduate days, of a light, whimsical use of historical andliterary allusions. She entered zestfully into the spirit of this kindof fooling; and, to his surprise, she had developed an astonishing knackof imitation and parody. Sometimes Kirkwood without preluding, wouldutter a line for Phil to cap; they even composed sonnets in thisantiphonal fashion and pronounced them superior to the average magazineproduct. Phil had not only learned much from her father, but she hadabsorbed a great deal of lore at the Bartletts', where everythingbookish was vitalized and humanized. 

Kirkwood, hearing the creak of the swinging door between the pantry anddining-room, --a familiar breakfast signal, --chose with care a volume ofBagehot and carried it to the table which had been set, he imagined, bythe "girl" selected by his sisters-in-law to carry on his establishmentduring the winter. 

He helped himself to grapes, and was eating with his eye on a page ofBagehot when the door swung again and Phil piped a cheerfulgood-morning. She was an aproned young Phil and her face was flushedfrom recent proximity to the range. She described her entrance in linesshe had fashioned for the purpose:--

 "She came While yet the jocund day was young, and fetched In hands but lightly singed upon the stove The coffee-pot, with muddy contents filled--"

Kirkwood, concealing his surprise at seeing her, took his cue:--

 "And he, toying meanwhile with fruitage of the vine, To-wit the mellow grape, scarce breathed to see The nut-brown maid, and gasped, 'Where is the cook?'"

"Oh, the cook has went, to come down to the plain prose of it, daddy. There was one here yesterday, but one's dynastic aunts had picked herfor her powers of observation and ready communication, so I fired herhence. And with that careless grace which I hope you find becoming in meI decided to run the shop all by my lonesome for a while. I thought I'dstart with breakfast so that any poisons that may creep into thevictuals will have time to work while the drug-stores are open. How longdo you cook an egg, is it two minutes or two weeks?"

"This will never do, " said Kirkwood gravely, watching her pour thecoffee. "You shouldn't have discharged one cook until you had another. "

"Tut! There's not enough to do in this house for two able-bodiedwomen--and I'm one! Rose taught me how to make coffee yesterday, andtoast and eggs are easy. Just look at that coffee! Real amber? It's animprovement for looks on what you've been brewing for yourself in camp. And I've been watching your winning ways with the camp frying-pan. Rosegave me a cook-book that is full of perfectly adorable ideas. Come upfor lunch and I'll show you some real creations. "

She slipped away into the kitchen and reappeared with toast and boiledeggs. She had cooked the eggs by the watch as Rose had instructed her. Her father relaxed the severity of his countenance to commend them. Buthe did not like Phil in this new rôle. The casting forth of the cookprovided by the aunts would be regarded as an offense not lightly to bepassed by those ladies; but Phil had never appeared so whollyself-possessed. She poured coffee for herself, diluted it with hotwater, buttered a slice of toast with composure, tasted it andcomplained that the grocer had sent rancid butter. 

Kirkwood pushed aside his Bagehot. He did not know just how to deal witha daughter who, without the slightest warning, dispatched her cook andtook upon herself the burden of the household. The coffee was to hisliking; it was indubitably better than he had been used to; but thething would not do. He must show Phil the error of her ways and lose notime about it. 

"I'm sorry you didn't like the girl they sent you; but you must findanother. There's no reason, of course, why you shouldn't choose foryourself; but it's not easy to find help in a town like this. I can'thave you doing the housework. That must be understood, Phil. "

"You're not having me; I'm having me, which is a very different thing. If you had driven me into the kitchen with loud, furious words, I shouldhave rebelled--screamed, and made a terrible scene. But you did nothingof the kind. It happened in this wise. Glancing up quite by chance, asit were, you beheld me pouring coffee of my own brewing. Fatherly prideextinguished any feeling of shock or chagrin. You have smothered anyclass feeling that may linger in your aristocratic soul and are making agood bluff at enjoying the eating of your breakfast with the lady whocooked it. Could anything be more beautiful? The ayes seem to have it;the ayes have it, as I used to be fond of saying when I was boss of thePhilomathean. I wish now I'd taken the domestic science course moreseriously and spent less time in the gymnasium. But thus it is we liveand learn. "

Phil's tone made rebuke difficult. He loved her foolishness just as herUncle Amzi did--just as every one did except her aunts, for whom theaffected stiltedness of her speech was merely a part of her generaldeplorable unconventionality. 

"Well, Phil, the idea of your cooking the meals for this establishmentisn't debatable. You're overruled and the debate closed. "

"Still harping on my daughter's cooking! Please, in current idiom, cutit out. Try marmalade on that too, too perfect toast. "

He accepted marmalade and returned to the attack. 

"You see, Phil, everything's different now. You've got to wake up toyour social responsibilities. "

"And be a perfect lady? I know. Amy got me into the back room of thebank yesterday and told me. One's aunts had bullied the old dear intospringing the sad intelligence. Then Nan had already given me a session. And now you, too, Brutus, are about to lay the matter before me in a fewcrisp sentences. But why all this assumption that I'm not a real lady?There's a good deal of loose thinking on that subject, to use one ofyour own best phrases. If there is nothing more before the house--"

Phil had been studiously stuccoing her toast with marmalade, and she bitinto it before looking at her father. 

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Phil. This is a serious time inyour life. You've got to adapt yourself to the ways of the world--theworld of convention. You must consider yourself as a member of society. It's only in a limited sense that we can be individualists. And I can'thave my daughter weighed down with such cares as these you threaten toassume. It would hurt me more than I can tell you if I believed itnecessary. But it isn't necessary. None the less I know perfectly wellthat if it were necessary you would be equal to it--you are equal toanything you undertake. But I can't have you wasting yourself on suchthings. "

"Daddy dear, this is getting terribly philosophical. Let us be reallyserious for a little bit. You know, we haven't much money, have we? Notvery much, anyhow. "

She had broached the matter as delicately as possible. It had been inher mind that she must speak to her father about their affairs, but shehad not thought the opportunity would offer so quickly. It was hard tosay to him that she had undertaken to manage the housekeeping as aneconomical measure; that she knew he owed money that he had no immediateprospect of paying. 

The hurt look that she had seen in his eyes sometimes was heartbreaking. When Phil was younger, she used to ask about her mother, but later shehad never referred to her. Her aunts had, after their fashion, not beenabove using her mother to point a moral. In their lack of appreciationof the keenness of the child's intuitions or her eager imagination, theyhad established in her a belief that her mother was a bad woman: thefacts spoke for themselves. And having had a bad mother it was incumbentupon Phil to choose her path with a particular care and to walk in itcircumspectly. 

Phil had, by this time, considered the case from the changing viewpointsnatural to the young mind. In that rosy light through which a girl offifteen is apt to view life, --the first realizations of sex, the age ofthe first novels, --Phil had not been free from the contemplation of hermother as a romantic figure. For a woman to forsake a husband for alover was not without precedents. Phil had dreamed over this a gooddeal, in an impersonal sort of way, and the unknown mother had beenglorified in scenes of renunciation, following nobly the high call of agreater love. By a swift transition her father assumed the sympatheticrôle in the domestic drama. She chanced upon novels in which the spurnedhusband was exalted to the shame of the dishonorable wife. Her fatherfitted well into this picture. She even added herself to the _dramatispersonæ_, not without a sense of her value in the scene. But these wereonly passing phases. There was no morbid strain in Phil. Her father wasthe best of companions, and she was quick to recognize his fineness andgentleness and to appreciate his cultivation with its background ofsolid learning. 

Phil's question startled her father. Money had never been discussed inthe household, and this new gravity in his daughter's eyes troubled him. Phil's needs had been few; her demands had burdened him little. Heraunts had bought her clothes and sent him the bills. When he gave hermoney to spend, he never asked for an accounting, though he was oftenamused by the uses to which she put it; and sometimes he had beentouched by her gifts at Christmas or on his birthdays, which ranged froma reckless investment in gay neckties to a set of some author whosedefinitive edition he had coveted--Shelley or Landor or Matthew Arnold. No; money was not a subject that had interested Phil, and her fatherfound her direct question disconcerting. 

"No, Phil. We are not rich--far from it. It's hardly possible for alawyer to grow rich in a town like this. But I haven't been doing aswell as I could lately. I've got to do better and I must be about it. "

He drew himself up in his chair and glanced at his watch. It hadstopped, and as the court-house clock boomed eight he set it. It wasquite like him to allow his watch to run down. 

"I was in your office yesterday, daddy, and I hope you won't mind, but Iwas straightening your desk and I couldn't help seeing some old bills. Several of them had been there a long time. My graduating dress hasn'tbeen paid for--and some things like that. We must economize until thosebills are paid. And I was thinking that you ought to get more money outof the building. Rents are going up on Main Street. I heard Paul Fosdicksay so. You ought to raise the clothing store rent right away. I don'tknow of any easier way of getting money, " she added drolly, "than bywringing it from the tenants. "

She laughed, to make it easier for him. 

"Yes; that's one way of doing it; only Bernstein had a long lease thatexpires--I'm not sure when it does expire--" he concluded, and the colordeepened in his dark cheeks. It was his business to know when the leaseon the property expired, and as though reminded by this lapse ofsimilar failures in other directions, he drew out his watch again andmade sure that he had wound it. 

"It expires, " said Phil, "on the last day of this next December. Ilooked it up yesterday afternoon in that little memorandum book you keepin your desk. "

"I guess that's right. I'm glad you mentioned it. I'll see Bernsteinright away and ask him if he wants to renew the lease. I suppose I oughtto coax a higher rent out of him, but he's been there a long time. "

"Oh, he'll stand another fifty and be glad of it. His sign is on all thefences in the country--'Bernstein's--The Same Old Place. ' It would costhim some money to change that. And you could cheer him up by paintingthe front of the building. The interurban is bringing a lot morebusiness to Montgomery. I've been thinking we ought to do somethingabout that third floor room where the photograph shop used to be. Bernstein has an upstairs room in the next building where his tailorimparts that final deft touch that adjusts ready-made garments to themost difficult figure. It would be handier for him to conduct thesartorial transformations in the chamber over his own gate, wouldn't it?And I don't think we need wait for that photographer to come back fromthe penitentiary or wherever he languisheth. "

She was minimizing the significance of these suggestions--a significancethat lay, she knew, in the fact of their coming from her--by lapsinginto the absurdities with which she embellished her familiar talk. Shepronounced "languisheth" with a prolongation of the last syllable thatgave to it a characteristic touch of mockery. 

"I'd been hoping he'd show up again and cart off his rubbish. But we'vehad some fun out of the gallery. If we rent it to Bernstein for hisretouching mysteries, we shan't have any place to develop ournegatives. "

"That's so; but maybe we can retouch Bernstein for enough extra to getthem done for us. It's the ducats, my lord, that move my fancy. TheBernsteins have grown almost disagreeably rich at the same old stand andit's about time the Kirkwoods were thrusting their talons into thetreasure chest. "

Sounds of disaster in the kitchen caused Phil to rise hastily anddisappear through the swing doors. She returned calmly a moment later. 

"Only the tea-kettle playing at being a geyser. When we get rich I'mgoing to have a gas range. They say it's the only way to cook and cookand be a lady still. "

"That brings us back to cooking--" began her father. 

"Not at all, daddy. The subject is dismissed forever. I'm going to havethat Ethiop who does chores for us clean up the photograph gallery. I'llbe down after while, to see how it looks. "

She bade him good-bye at the front door, and went whistling about thefurther business of the morning. The sky was blue and the air warmed asthe sun climbed into the heavens. Phil felt that she had conveyed to herfather a sense of their imperative needs without wounding him. She wasresolved to help him if she could. Her pride had been pricked by herUncle Amzi's proffered aid, which she had carefully avoided mentioningto her father. She knew that it would have hurt him, and she hadreasoned, much in the fashion of Nan Bartlett, that her father owed itto himself to exercise his unquestioned gifts to reëstablish himself inhis profession. As he left her and walked toward the street, she wasaware that he strode away more quickly than was his wont. 

Phil's morning was not eventless. The telephone jingled three times, asthree aunts demanded to know why she had parted with themaid-of-all-work they had installed in the Kirkwood kitchen. Aunt Josiewas censorious and Aunt Fanny mildly remonstrative; Aunt Kate soughtlight as to the reason for the cook's early passing, as she was anxiousto try her herself. Phil disposed of these calls with entire good humor. Then a senior, between lectures at the college, asked her if she wouldgo driving with him Sunday afternoon. The senior, in the security of hisfraternity house, prolonged the conversation. As this was Thursday andthere was never any imperative need in Montgomery for making engagementsso far ahead, the senior was exercising unjustifiable precaution. Phildeclined the invitation. Her aunts had repeatedly warned her againstcollege boys. A daughter of the house of Montgomery was not to wasteherself upon students, a lawless body of whom no one knew anything inparticular save that they seized every opportunity to murder sleep forreputable citizens. 

Phil employed the telephone to order of the grocer and butcher, madebeds, swept rooms, and sat down with a new magazine, dropped at the doorby the postman, to run her eyes over the pictures. One or two things shewas sure her father would like; a sketch of Massenet she must call toRose Bartlett's attention. She planned luncheon and began the peeling ofpotatoes with a page of Keats propped on the table beside her--a trickshe had learned at the Bartletts'. "Endymion" need suffer nothing fromproximity to potatoes, though it should be said that Phil's paring wouldhave distressed a frugal housekeeper. 

While thus employed a step sounded on the brick walk, and a young manknocked at the open door without glancing in. He chewed a straw as heobserved the chimneys of the adjoining house, and Phil, sitting by thekitchen table, paused in her paring to make sure of his identity. Thenshe placed her pan of potatoes on the table and crossed quickly to thedoor. 

"Good-morning, madam. Would you like--"

He extended two apples as samples. Phil glanced at them with interest. They were not the best of apples, as any one could see. Fred Holtonremoved his hat and pulled the straw from his mouth. 

"I beg your pardon, Miss Kirkwood, " he said, with a gravity that was notmitigated by a slight quivering of Phil's lips as she continued toignore their earlier acquaintance. "I didn't know this was your house orI shouldn't have come in. "

"Then it's a good thing you didn't know, " replied Phil. "If you'reselling apples you have to try all the houses you come to. Not to gointo every gate wouldn't be business. "

"Well, I suppose that's so, " observed Holton doubtfully, letting one ofthe apples fall. Phil picked it up with the quick reach of a shortstop. She ignored his apologies for failing to recover it himself, andexamined the apple critically. 

"If you haven't any better apples in your wagon than this, you're notlikely to sell many, " Phil commented. "This one's spotted and it's asafe guess that a worm nestles within. You ought to pick out the bestfor samples. "

"They're not a very good lot, " confessed Holton. "It's an old orchardand it hasn't had any attention. I'm going to put out some new treesnext year. "

"That's a good idea, " Phil observed reflectively. "I've noticed thatthey've been planting pears and apples in several places around there. Uncle Amy got a good first crop this year from his young orchard. But hehad a man spray the bugs off. There are a lot of things to do to anorchard. The land Uncle Amy turned into an orchard runs right up to yourplace, and it must be the same kind of land. But it isn't as easy as itlooks--apples isn't. "

"Apples isn't?" he repeated soberly. 

"Oh, cheer up, that's a joke! I know apples _aren't_!"

The young man smiled. 

"Mine _isn't_, I'm afraid, from what you say about them. "

"I think maybe that speck isn't a wormhole, after all, " said Phil, subjecting the apple she still held to another scrutiny. "You might giveus a half a bushel of these. My ambitions lead me toward apple pie, andif it doesn't come out well I can blame your apples. "

He smiled again, and frank admiration shone in his eyes as they surveyedPhil with more assurance. 

"If you really want some of these I'll bring them in. Half a bushel?"

"That will be enough, " replied Phil succinctly. She rubbed the applewith the corner of her blue-and-white apron, chose a spot that inspiredconfidence, and bit into it. She waited for the effect absently andpuckered her lips. "It's a cooker. What's the name of the brand?"

"Give it up. "

"Then I'll tell you. It's a 'Liza Browning. You'd better learn the namesof apples before you go much further in the business. Any farmhand cantell you. Uncle Amy's taught me about twenty. What's the price of thisprecious fruit?"

"Oh, I couldn't charge you for these, you know. You see--"

"Then I won't take them--nary an apple! You bring in those apples andI'll pay you just the same price you ask everybody else. "

Her attention was attracted by a black cat moving along the alley fencewith noble unconcern. Phil stepped out upon the brick walk, drew backher arm and threw the apple. It struck the fence immediately beneath thecat, which vanished on the alley side. 

"Good shot. You almost got him!"

"Almost nothing!" said Phil scornfully. "You didn't suppose I wanted tohit the wretch, did you? He's an old pal of mine and would be lonesomeif I didn't scare him to death occasionally. "

Holton brought the apples in a sack which he emptied into a basket Philfound for the purpose. His absence had been prolonged. To measure half abushel of apples is not ordinarily a serious matter, but in thisinstance the vendor chose fastidiously. The fruit that went into thesack was beyond question the best in the wagon. 

"How much?" asked Phil, surveying her purchase, purse in hand. 

"Oh, about a quarter. "

She handed him a fifty cent piece. 

"Please don't try that again--not here! I've been telephoning thegrocery and apples about like those are a dollar a bushel. Good-morning!"

"Good-morning, Miss Kirkwood. "

He looked at her intently, laughed, threw the sack over his shoulder andwent out, holding the coin in his hand. 

CHAPTER V

THE OTHERWISENESS OF PHYLLIS

Hint to those who read with an eye on the clock: skip this chapter! Itis made up from notes furnished by Mrs. John Newman King, Judge Walters, Captain Joshua Wilson, the veteran recorder, former-Sheriff Whittleseyand others, and is included merely to satisfy those citizens ofMontgomery who think this entire history should be devoted to Phil, tothe exclusion of her friends and relations. The historian hopes he is anopen-minded person, and he would rather please Montgomery than any othercenter of thought and industry he knows; but the laws of proportion (asPhil would be the first to point out) may not lightly be ignored. Phil'sotherwiseness was always difficult to keep in bounds; it must nottyrannize these pages. Skip and carry thirteen, but don't complain ifpilgrims from Montgomery take you to task for denying Phil five minutesof your time. 

Phil was on her way to Buckeye Lane the first cold day in November tocall on the daughter of a newly enrolled member of the Madison facultywhen she saw her Uncle Amzi on the bank steps taking the air. She had onher best walking-suit, and swung a silver cardcase in her hand. Thecardcase marked an advance. Formal calls were not to Phil's taste, buther aunts had lately been endeavoring to persuade her that it was nolonger seemly for her to "drop in" when and where she pleased, but thatthere were certain calls of duty and ceremony which required her besttogs and the leaving of circumspect bits of cardboard inscribed "MissKirkwood. " When Phil set forth to call upon a girl friend it was stillsomething of a question whether caller and callee would sit in theparlor and be ladies or seek the open to crack walnuts on the kitchensteps or slide down the cellar door. 

As Phil spied her uncle she stopped abruptly, feigned to be looking atthe sign over his head, and when his glasses presently focused upon her, pretended suddenly to be intent upon the face of the court-house clocktwo blocks distant. 

"Beg pardon, sir, but is this a bank?"

Thus accosted Mr. Montgomery looked upon his niece with exaggeratedsurprise. 

"A bank, little girl? What on earth do you want with a bank?"

"I thought I might separate it from some of its cash; or if the termsare satisfactory I might leave some money. If the venerable old party Iaddress holds a job inside we might withdraw from the public gaze andcommune within the portals. The day is raw and that ice-cream suitinvites pneumonia. "

Passers-by viewed the pair with an amused smile. Captain Wilson, stumping along at the moment, asked without pausing:--

"Stranger in town, Amzi?"

"Yes, Cap; she's just bought the town and wants the key to the bankvault. "

Phil followed her uncle into the bank and waited for him to walk roundbehind the cages. The dingy old room with its walnut counter and desksseemed at once a brighter place. The four clerks made it convenient toexpose themselves to Phil's smile. She planted herself at the payingteller's cage and waited for Amzi's benevolent countenance to appear atthe wicket. She held up her cardcase that he might have the full benefitof her splendor, extracted a small bit of paper, and passed it in tohim. Seeing that it was not one of the familiar checks of the MontgomeryBank, he scrutinized it closely. It was a check of the "Journey's End"Magazine Company for fifty dollars, drawn upon a New York bank andpayable to Phyllis Kirkwood. 

Amzi's face expressed no surprise. He threw it back and waved her away. 

"It's no good. Worthless!"

"No good? You don't mean--"

"No good, Miss Kirkwood--without your indorsement. "

"Why didn't you say so! I don't want to come as near sudden death asthat again. "

He thrust out a pen so that she need not turn to the tall desk behindher to make the indorsement. He examined the signature carefully andblotted it. 

"One of your own efforts, Phil?" he asked carelessly. 

"Well, yes, you might say so. I suppose you'd call it that. "

"Poetry?"

"A poor guess, Amy, and marks you as an ignorant person. Fifty dollarsfor a poem out of my green little cantaloupe? That's half what Miltongot for 'Paradise Lost. ' And the prices haven't gone up much since Johndied. "

She knew that his curiosity was aroused. This play of indifference wasan old game of theirs, a part of the teasing to which she subjected himand which he encouraged. 

"Story?"

"Absurd! Everybody in this town is writing a novel. Every time I go intothe post-office I see scared-looking people getting their manuscriptsweighed, and nervously looking round for fear of being caught. Nan saysit's a kind of literary measles people have in Indiana. Aunt Josephine'scook writes poetry--burnt up a pan of biscuits the other day when shewas trying to find a rhyme for 'Isaiah. '"

"I wondered what caused me so much pain the last time I ate supper atJosie's. I must have swallowed a sonnet. What's your line, Phil?"

"Zoölogy. "

"Possible?"

"It was this way, Amy. You know that piece I read at the high-schoolcommencement--'The Dogs of Main Street'?"

"I do, Phil, I do; I nearly laughed myself to death. "

"Well, it did seem to tickle the folks. I was about to kindle the firewith it one day when I happened to think that if it would make ahigh-school commencement laugh it ought to raise a laugh out of 'mostanybody. So I touched it up and put in a few new dogs I've got the boysin Landers's livery-stable taking care of, and sent it to threemagazines. The first two regretted, but the third fell for it. They wantpictures of the dogs, though, and will give me twenty more round irondollars for a full set, so if you see me on the hike with the camera inthe morning, don't ring up the town marshal. "

"Well, well, " said Amzi; "it sounds like easy money. Going to keep itup?"

"I have said nothing, " replied Phil, holding up her cardcase andswinging it by its short chain. "Just credit me with the fifty and I'llbring in my book the next time I find it. "

In front of the theater she ran into her Uncle Lawrence, gloomily posedbefore the entrance with his astrakhan collar drawn up about his ears. He had once seen Richard Mansfield in just such a coat and had beenmoved to imitation. 

"Divinity!" breathed Hastings tragically, noting Phil's glowing cheeksand satisfying raiment. 

"Forget it!" said Phil. "How about a box for the Saturday matinee? Ithink I'll pull off a party for a bunch of girls at your expense. Whatis that on the boards? You don't mean that 'Her Long Road Home'threatens this town again? Why rub it in, Lawr_i_nce?"

"They've canceled, " said Hastings with a sigh. "That booking-office is aden of thieves. No honor, no feeling, no ideals of art!"

His tones were unusually abysmal. He stood with his back to the door ofhis theater as though shielding it from Philistine assaults upon thedrama's divine temple. 

"By the way, Lawr_i_nce--" Her Aunt Kate had rebuked her at least athousand times for calling him "Lawr_i_nce. " He had asked her to callhim "Uncle Larry, " which was her main reason for not doing so. Herstandard of uncles was high. She had never admitted her aunts' husbandsto a share in a relationship that was ennobled by Amzi Montgomery. Fosdick was usually "Paul" to Phil; Waterman she always called "Judge, "which he hated. "Lawr_i_nce, what became of that play you wroteyourself and put on in Chicago? Why don't you bring it here and give thetown a treat?"

Hastings bent upon her the grieved look of a man who suffers mutely themost unkindest cut of all. _Et tu, Brute!_ was in his reproachfulglance. 

"I didn't think this of you, Phil. Of course you knew the piece closedSaturday night at Peoria. "

She had not known. Her aunt had spoken largely of the venture. Thetheatrical powers of New York having frowned upon Hastings's play, hehad produced it himself, sending it forth from Chicago to enlighten theWest before carrying it to Broadway, there to put to rout and confusionthe lords of the drama who had rejected it. Five thousand dollars hadbeen spent and the play had failed dismally. Nor was this the first ofHastings's misadventures of the same sort. Phil analyzed her uncle'sgloom and decided that it was sincere, and she was sorry for him as washer way in the presence of affliction. Hastings was an absurd person, intent upon shining in a sphere to which the gods had summoned him onlyin mockery. Phil lingered to mitigate his grief as far as possible. 

"I'm sorry; but I suppose if a play won't go, it won't. "

"A play of merit won't! My aim was to advance the ideal of Americandrama; that was all. The same money put into musical comedy would havenailed S. R. O. On the door all winter. "

"Lawr_i_nce, " said Phil, glancing up at the façade of The Hastings, "I'll tell you how you can make a barrel of money out of this brickbuilding. "

He looked at her guardedly. Phil was a digger of pits, as he knew byexperience, and he was in no humor for trifling. His own balance at thebank was negligible, and his wife had warned him that no more moneywould be forthcoming for the encouragement of the American drama. 

"Lawr_i_nce, what you ought to do is to hire that blind piano-pounderwho thumps for the fraternity dances, put a neat red-haired girl in abox on the sidewalk, get one of the football team who's working his waythrough college to turn the crank, and put on a fil-lum. "

This was, indeed, rubbing salt in his wounds. He flinched at thethought. 

"Turn my house over to the 'movies'! Phil, I didn't think this of you. After all I've tried to do to lift this dingy village to a realizingsense of what drama is--what it should mean--"

"Trim it, Hector. You can break all the banks in town uplifting thedrama and never put it over. About once a winter you have a good piece;the rest of the time the folks who want to see real actors go toIndianapolis or sneak up to Chicago for a week and beat you to it. Thatfil-lum show down by the court-house is rotten. Coarse and stupid. Whynot spend a few dollars changing the front of this joint and put on goodpictures? The people who keep the pictures moving in Indianapolis sitaround the fire Sunday evenings and burn money--it comes in so fast thebanks haven't room for it. Call this 'The Home Fireside'--no nickelodeonbusiness--and get the Center Church quartette to sing. It will soundjust like prayer-meeting to people who think a real theater a sinfulplace. If you don't tackle it, I'll throw Bernstein out and take it upmyself. There's a new man in town right now trying to locate a screen;beat him to the wire, Lawr_i_nce. "

"By Jove, Phil--!"

She started off briskly and a little farther on met Jack Whittlesey thesheriff, who grinned and touched his coonskin cap. 

"Got an engagement, Phil? Hope not. Uncle Alec is goin' to holler in afew minutes. "

"I'm out calling, Sheriff, but if you're sure the judge is going to actup, I'll take a look in. "

She crossed the street to the court-house. To Phil nothing was funnierthan Alec Waterman in the throes of oratory. Waterman was big and burly, with a thunderous voice; and when he addressed a jury he roared andshook his iron-gray mane in a manner truly terrifying. In warm weatherwhen the windows were open, he could be plainly heard in any part of thecourt-house square. When Phil reached the circuit court-room JudgeWalters, with his feet on the judicial desk, was gazing at the ceiling, as was his habit when trials grew tedious. As Phil entered, he jerkeddown his feet, sat erect, snapped his fingers at the bailiff, anddirected the placing of a chair within the space set apart for the bar. Phil smiled her thanks, and made herself comfortable with her back tothe clerk's desk. The case in progress was a suit for personal injuriesagainst the Sycamore Traction Company, brought by Waterman for a farmer, who, on the preceding Fourth of July, had been tossed a considerabledistance toward Chicago by a violent contact with one of the defendant'scars. The motorman and the conductor had both testified that the car wasrunning empty and that the proper signals had been given at the requiredcrossings. 

The judge left the bench and lounged about the clerk's desk, hoping tocatch Phil's eye and draw her aside for one of the parleys in which hedelighted; but Phil had immediately become absorbed in the testimony. Waterman's voice rose louder and louder as he sought to befuddle themotorman as to the time of the accident, the place where the collisionoccurred and the signaling, but without avail. The attorney for thecompany looked on with an amused smile of unconcern. Both the motormanand the conductor had been carefully rehearsed in their testimony andthere was little likelihood that plaintiff's counsel would be able totrap them. Waterman was going back and forth over the time of day, attempting to show that the car was behind its schedule, and exceedingthe speed limit, but the man clung to his story stubbornly. It was atexactly five minutes past three; he was running slowly, and had whistledat all the earlier stops; and when he saw the plaintiff driving upon theright of way ahead of him he put on the brakes as quickly as possible. 

Phil moved to a chair just behind Waterman. He was so deeply engrossedthat he did not notice her. He was making no headway, and was about todrop the witness when Phil bent over and whispered. Without turninground he rose and renewed the attack. 

"I will ask you, sir, to state to this jury whether it is not a factthat the brake of your car was out of order and whether it had not givenyou trouble before you struck the plaintiff?"

The witness stammered and glanced at counsel for the defendant, who roseand objected to the question as not proper cross-examination. The judgereturned to the bench with renewed interest and overruled the objection. The witness admitted that there had been some slight trouble with thebrake, and Waterman roared another question that drowned theexplanation. 

"Isn't it a fact that you ran past Stop 7 just south of the scene ofthis collision, and did not stop your car because it was out of controlby reason of a crippled brake?"

The witness was plainly disturbed, and the defendant's counsel wasunable to protect him. He admitted that the brake might not have been inperfect order, but it was an old car--

"It was an old car, " boomed Waterman, "and the brake was worn out andyou couldn't have stopped at that crossing even if you had wanted to!Isn't that the fact?"

The motorman telegraphed appealingly to the company's lawyer. The judgeordered him to answer the question. 

"There were no passengers on the car, " the man, now thoroughly confused, murmured inconsequently. 

Waterman bent his head and took another cue from Phil, then strodemajestically toward the witness. 

"There were no passengers on your car? Why not?" he thundered. 

"Why not what?" faltered the witness. 

"I ask you, sir, if it isn't true that there was a passenger waiting atStop 7 and that you ran by that crossing because your brake wouldn'twork?"

The witness looked at Phil and involved himself in difficulty byadmitting that the car's speed was such that he was unable to seeclearly whether any passenger was waiting at Stop 7. After sparringbetween counsel, Phil was placed upon the stand and sworn to tell thewhole truth. Main Street had heard that something unusual was happeningin the circuit court and the room filled. 

Her name, she testified, was Phil Kirkwood. (She always signed herselfPhil at school, distrusting Phyllis as high-falutin'. )

"Otherwise Phyllis, " interposed the judge soberly. "It is essential thatthe record identify all witnesses beyond per-adventure. "

The audience tittered. Phil began her story. She had been spending theFourth of July at her Uncle Amzi's farm, but wanted to return homebefore her uncle was ready, to attend a party. There was no question ofthe time, as she had walked across the fields to that particular stop tomeet the car on its scheduled hour. She had stood upon the track andwaved the flag placed in the shed at the stop for that purpose, but toher disgust the car had rushed by at full speed. She had heard thehissing of the air as the car whirled by, and there being no other carfor an hour she had been obliged to return to the farm and wait for heruncle to drive her in. 

Counsel for defendant, a stranger to the ways of Montgomery, who hadcome from Indianapolis to try the case, asked Phil ironically if shewere an expert in the management of a trolley car. 

"Oh, I shouldn't say that, " said Phil; "but I used to ride with motormensometimes, back and forth to the farm, and they let me stop and startthe car. "

She explained that she knew from the sound as the air went on that thebrake was out of order. The twelve good men and true in the jury boxbent forward attentively as she met the lawyer's questions. He was ayoung man and Phil was undeniably pretty. In her calling clothes she didnot look like a girl who would chum with motormen. His manner waselaborately deferential. 

"Miss Kirkwood, may I trouble you to tell the jury whether you ever rodein the car of this particular motorman?" he asked. 

"No, sir, " replied Phil. 

"You never saw him before, and after all you're not sure he's the manwho was in charge of that car that day, are you?"

Phil dangled the cardcase from her white-gloved fingers carelessly. 

"Perfectly confident of it, " she answered. 

"If you are sure of it, will you kindly tell the jury just how it is youremember him--how you identify him as the motorman on this car on thatparticular afternoon?"

"Oh! Do you really want me to tell that?" asked Phil. 

"Answer the question!" the attorney returned sharply, misreading herapparent reluctance. 

"Why, " began Phil, speaking rapidly and distinctly and turning towardthe jurors, --"why, it's because I had noticed him all that summerpassing our house and he always ran faster than the other motormen, --youcould tell his car at night if you didn't see it because it ran sofast, --and he's the same man who ran into Bernstein's deliverywagon--the one with the lame horse--at the corner of Monon Street abouta week before the Fourth of July. I saw that, too!"

"If Your Honor please, " said Waterman, rising as the court ruled thatPhil's last answer, which the defendant's counsel had sought vainly tointerrupt, should be stricken out, "the plaintiff rests. We will waiveargument in this case, " he added impressively, putting from him, withunprecedented self-denial, the chance of pillorying the unfeelingdefendant corporation. 

Judge Walters looked down at Phil solemnly. 

"The court is unable to determine whether the witness is also associatecounsel for plaintiff, but in any event, I suggest that she claim theusual witness fee at the clerk's office. "

Phil left the court-room and resumed her walk toward Buckeye Lane. 

Paul Fosdick, just coming down from his office, arrested her. Fosdick, whose blithe spirit was never greatly disturbed by the failure of hisenterprises, greeted Phil gayly. He entertained a high opinion of Phil. At family gatherings, which his wife and sisters-in-law made odious bypetty bickerings, Phil was always a refuge. It was nothing to Phil whichof her aunts wore the best hat, or that Mrs. Hastings had been abroadand to New York while the others had been denied these recreations anddelights. If his wife's faith in him had been shaken by his inability tograsp the fortune which always seemed just within reach; and if, onChristmas and New Year's and Thanksgiving Day, when they met at Amzi's, he was a bit uncomfortable, knowing that his wife's share of theMontgomery money had gone into many ventures without ever coming outagain, Phil could be depended upon to infuse cheer into those somberoccasions. He frequently discussed his schemes with Phil, who wasusually sympathetic; and now and then she made a suggestion that wasreally worth considering. Where other members of the family criticizedhim harshly behind his back, Phil delivered her criticisms face to face. 

"Lo, Phil!"

"Lo, Paul!"

"Phil, what's new about Sycamore Traction? They say your pa's going tohave a receiver appointed. "

"If he does they will print it in the papers. How do you like my hat?"

"It's a dream, but I hope you're not going to make trouble for your dearaunts' husbands by going in for clothes. The competition in the familyis hot enough now without you butting in. Hastings is in mourning at thebank and Waterman is sad over his last political licking and my billionsare coming by slow freight. "

"By the way, Paul, I fell over that busted brickyard of yours out by theflour mill the other day when I was walking for my health. There oughtto be money in bricks, " she ended meditatively. 

"There ought, Phil, but there ain't. I'm still hoping to pull thatscheme out, but it takes time. You know this town doesn't know how toback up its enterprises. "

"Cease knocking! What you want to do is to stop trying to organize anundertakers' trust in this town where everybody lives to a green old ageand get busy with brick. The last time I was in Indianapolis I saw a lotof new houses built out of brick that looked just about like thosepink-and-yellow effects you started in on. They came from over inIllinois somewhere, and I guess the clay's off the very same stratum. What you ought to do is to nail close to some of the city architects andhypnotize them into using your goods. "

"We tried all that, Phil; but they wouldn't listen. "

"Let me see; what name did you give those bricks?"

"We called 'em the 'Gold Finish. ' Nothing the matter with that, isthere?"

"'Most everything's the matter with that name. Anything that suggests agold brick is bound to scare sensible people. Think of living in a housethat people would laugh at and call the 'gold-brick' house! You've gotto get a lot better, Paul. Try once more and call 'em the 'Daffodil' orthe 'Crocus'--something that sounds springlike and cheerful. And play uplocal pride--a Hoosier product for Hoosier people. Then when you've donethat, fly to Chicago and give away enough to build a house in one of thenew suburbs and daffodils will spring up all over the prairie. Am Ilucid?"

"There may be something in giving an old dog a new name. I've a goodnotion to give it a try, and if--"

"Oh, there's no charge! You might send me up a couple of those brick; Ican use 'em for nut-crackers. "

Judge Walters once said of Phil that if she would keep a diary and writedown honestly everything that happened to her if would some day putPepys to the blush. Not every day was as rich in adventure as this; butthis is not a bad sample. If Phil had been a prig or fresh orimpertinent, she would not have been the idol of Main Street. A geniusfor being on the spot when events are forward must be born in one, andher casual, indifferent air contributed to a belief in Main Street thatshe was leagued with supernatural agencies. If there was a fire, Philarrived ahead of the department; and if a prisoner broke out of jail, Phil knew it before the "Evening Star" could print the fact. 

"Some one told me, " Captain Wilson would begin, addressing JudgeWalters; and the judge would answer, "Otherwise Phyllis. " And the judgewould say, "I'm going to quit taking the 'Star' and subscribe for Phil. "

Phil had, on the whole, a pretty good time. 

CHAPTER VI

THE SMOKING-OUT OF AMZI

Although a Holton had brought scandal upon the house of Montgomery byeloping with one of its duly married daughters, or perhaps because ofthat disagreeable circumstance, Mrs. Hastings, Mrs. Fosdick, and Mrs. Waterman were constantly exercised over the affairs of the Holtons. TheHoltons prospered, as witness the fashion in which William (the wickedJack's brother) had built up the First National Bank after thedissolution of the old Montgomery & Holton partnership. And there wasSamuel, who had varied his political activities by organizing companiesto raise vanilla beans or sarsaparilla, or to dig silver in Mexico--aman of affairs, unquestionably, who had outgrown Montgomery and moved tothe state capital where he died. Even Samuel's paltry achievements weretouched with a certain magnificence in the eyes of these ladies; Samuelhad escaped from Montgomery and this was a consummation that had longbeen the burden of their prayers. The very existence of the FirstNational Bank was offensive to the sisters of Amzi Montgomery. They hadwanted Amzi to "nationalize" his bank when the break occurred and it hadbeen "just like" their stubborn brother to continue in the old rut. 

Mrs. William Holton lived in a modern house that was superior toanything the Montgomerys could boast. It had two bathrooms, amusic-room, and electric lights. In Montgomery one bathroom had longbeen a summit-crowning achievement, to which the fortunate possessormight point with pride; and as for dedicating a room to music, andplanting in it a grand piano flanked by a bust of Mozart, and sheddingupon it a dim opalescent glow from concealed lights--no one in thecommunity had ever before scaled such heights of grandeur. 

For half a dozen years after their sister's escapade the Montgomerysisters had not spoken to a Holton; but in such communities as theirsthe "cutting" of persons with whom one has been brought up is attendedwith embarrassments. William Holton had married, a little late, aMemphis woman he had met on a trip to Mexico to inspect the plantationsin which he and his brother Samuel were interested. She was "a Southernwoman, " with a charming accent, as every one admitted. The accent wasgreatly admired. Several young girls sought to soften the vowels oftheir native Hoosier speech in conformity with the models introduced byMrs. Holton. The coming of this lady, the zest with which she enteredinto the social life of the town, the vacillations of certain oldfriends of the Montgomerys who had taken sides against the Holtons afterthe Kirkwood incident, had given the three sisters an excuse forabandoning the feud in so far at least as it applied to William Holton. In any view of the case, no matter how base the Holtons might be, therewas no reason why the family sins should be visited upon the lady withthe aforesaid accent, whose taste in dress was unassailable and whopoured tea with such an air. 

Amzi read his newspaper in the little back room of the bank on aNovember afternoon and awaited the coming of his sisters. The necessityfor any business discussions between them had steadily diminished. Theirfather's estate had long ago been distributed, and Amzi had not troubledhimself as to the subsequent fate of the money he had paid to hissisters. They were all blessed with husbands, and if these gentlemen didnot safeguard their wives' property it was no affair of his. There hadbeen about half a million dollars, which meant in round figures ahundred thousand dollars apiece, and this in Montgomery is a great dealof money. 

When his sisters arrived, Amzi rose with the nice courtesy that lay inhim and placed chairs for them about the table. Then panting from hisexertion he pulled a cigar from his waistcoat and dry-smoked it. Theywere unwontedly grave, suggesting the gloom of a committee appointed toperfect funeral arrangements for a poor relation. 

"You have talked to Phil about the party, I suppose, " said Mrs. Waterman. 

"I have: I most certainly have, Josie, " replied Amzi, sighing heavily. 

"And she's going to do what we want?"

Amzi tilted his head to one side reflectively, and took the cigar fromhis mouth. 

"She's going to stand for the party, if that's what you mean; but as todoing what you want on general principles, I'm not so dead sure. "

"It was your duty, Amzi, to go into the matter thoroughly--to lay downthe law to her, " observed Mrs. Fosdick. 

"All right, " nodded Amzi. "In the words of the poet, I done it. But Phildoesn't need lectures. "

"Doesn't need them?" sniffed Mrs. Fosdick. "That poor child couldn'thave a lecture too many. She always pulls the wool over your eyes. It'sright and proper for us to know just what she said when you told her shehad to stop running round so much and act like a respectablewell-brought-up girl. "

"You're a lot of silly geese about Phil--all of you, " declared Amzi, bringing his gaze to bear upon them _seriatim_. "Phil is far from beinga fool, and there's a heart in her as big as the court-house. We don'tappreciate her; we're always nagging her and trying to reform her. "

The plural was pure chivalry. It was not Amzi who nagged Phil. Theaunts, perfectly aware of this, and ready usually to challenge anyintimation that their attitude toward Phil was not dictated by equityand wisdom, were silent. Their failure to respond with their customarydefense aroused his suspicions. They had been to a tea somewhere andwere in their new fall togs. Their zealous attempts to live up to whatwere to him the absurdest, the most preposterous ideals, struck himjust now as pathetic; but he was fond of his sisters. If the course oftheir lives was inexplicable and their ambitions ridiculous and futile, his good humor never failed in his intercourse with them. But they hadnot disclosed their hand on this occasion--he was confident of this--andhe warily fortified himself to meet whatever assault their strategy hadplanned. The three women glanced at one another covertly: Kate and Fannyseemed to be deferring to their older sister. It was with unmistakablediffidence and after a minute scrutiny of her cardcase that Mrs. Waterman spoke. 

"Amzi, this is an important time in Phil's life, and there are somethings we ought to counsel each other about. We all take it for grantedthat you know where Lois is. "

Amzi crossed his fat legs and shrugged his fat shoulders. He was not inthe least pleased by the direction of the inquiry. 

"We feel we are entitled to know all you know about her, " added Mrs. Fosdick. 

"You should remember, " said Mrs. Hastings, "that she's our sister aswell as yours. "

Amzi's jaws tightened and he inspected the end of his cigar. This suddenmanifestation of sisterly interest in Lois was not without its amusingside. They had long ago spurned their sister with bitterness, and hisspeculations as to the real object of their visit had not touched theremote horizons against which Lois was vaguely limned. 

"I don't see, " he observed deliberately, "that Lois has anythingwhatever to do with Phil or any of the rest of us. "

"Of course not, Amzi. That's exactly the point. We only want to be sureshe's a long way off; we're entitled to know that. And we've heard--"

Mrs. Hastings laid upon _heard_ that fine, insinuating inflection thatis a part of the grammar of gossip. His sisters had heard something, andwhile he discounted its value automatically, as was his way, he was notwithout curiosity as to its nature. They saw that he was interested. 

"The Walters have just got back from a Western trip, and they heard inSeattle that Lois has left Holton. He had been doing badly--drinking, and all that. "

"It was bound to come, of course, " said Mrs. Waterman. "You can't tellme that people who do a thing like that can ever be happy. "

Her tone did not please Amzi. It was clear that he found the wholesubject disagreeable. He was immensely annoyed that they had come to himto discuss Lois after years of silence. It was as though a great rockplanted in the avenue of her exit had succumbed to the tooth of Time andits exfoliations were falling ominously about him. 

"I thought it was understood long ago that we had dropped Lois. If sheand Holton got tired of each other, it's their business. I don't imagineyou want me to send for her to come home. "

"Amzi!" they gasped. 

It seemed that this shuddering exclamation expressed a horror that shooktheir very souls. It was incredible that so dark a thought should havecrossed the mind of a man commonly looked upon as sane. 

"That would be the limit, " cried Mrs. Hastings. "Don't even mention sucha thing--it's too horrible to joke about. "

"I wasn't joking. If she's gone to smash with Holton, I thought maybeyou wanted us to bring the prodigal home, and give her veal loaf forSunday evening tea. By the way, Kate, don't ever turn me loose on any ofyour veal loaf again. The last I had at your house gave me indigestion;it might have led to apoplexy and killed me. "

The fierceness of his frowning caused his scalp to wrinkle clear back tohis fringe of hair. His sisters were vexed by his attempt to relieve thediscussion with humor. It was necessary to sober him, and Mrs. Hastingsthought she could effect the sobering of Amzi. 

"Minnie Walters says they have lost their money; the judge saw JackHolton, but you know how the judge is; he wouldn't ever speak of it to asoul. "

"Minnie would, " said Amzi dryly. 

"Minnie only mentioned it in the kindest way, " said Mrs. Waterman, coloring. "You know Minnie doesn't gossip; but as an old friend of ourfamily she thought we ought to know. I think it was kind of her to tellus. "

"Well, it doesn't seem to have made you girls much happier. What onearth are you going to do; what do you want me to do?" he demanded, blowing out his cheeks and glaring. 

"We don't want you to do anything, Amzi, " said Mrs. Hastings, with thatsweetness with which women of little discernment attempt to blunt thewrath of man. 

It was important to keep Phil in the picture: with Phil dancing beforethem Amzi could be held in subjection. Mrs. Waterman hastened to mentionPhil and the responsibility they all felt about her, to justify theircuriosity as to Phil's mother. Amzi blew his nose and readjusted hisspectacles. Mrs. Waterman advanced the battle-line boldly. 

"We assume that you have always kept in touch with poor Lois and thatyou still hear from her. And we feel that the time has come for you totreat us more frankly about her. It's for Phil's sake, you know, Amzi. "

Amzi could not see how any of the later transactions in the life ofPhil's mother were of the slightest importance to Phil. He shook hishead impatiently and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Lois, " he blurted, "is in Dresden. "

"Then she _has_ left him!" cried Mrs. Fosdick, with a note of triumphthat trumpeted the complete vindication of Mrs. Waterman's averments. 

"I tell you I don't know anything about Holton, " replied Amzi, who had, in strictest truth, told them nothing of the kind. He experienced theinstant regret suffered by secretive persons who watch a long-guardedfact slip away beyond reclamation; but repentance could avail nothing, so he added, --

"Yes; she's abroad. She's been over there for some time. "

"Of course, he's run through her money; that was to be expected!"exclaimed Mrs. Fosdick in a tone that implied a deep resentment of thefate that had robbed the erring Lois of her money. 

"If he did she never told me so, " Amzi answered. "But Lois was neverwhat you might call a squealer; if he robbed her you can be pretty deadsure she wouldn't sob about it on the street corners. That wouldn't be abit like the Lois I remember. Lois wasn't the woman to go scampering offafter the Devil and then get scared and burst out crying when she foundher shoes beginning to get hot. "

After all these years Amzi had spoken, and his sisters did not like histone. Their brother, a gentleman the correctness of whose life had neverbeen questioned, was referring to the conduct of the sister who haddisgraced her family in outrageous and sinful terms. The Prince ofDarkness and the fervid pavements of his kingdom were not to be broughtinto conversation with any such lightness, as though the going to theDevil were not, after all, so horrible--not something to be whisperedwith terror in the dark confessional of their souls. One might haveimagined that Lois's very sins had endeared her to this phlegmatic olderbrother! There was not only this gloomy reflection, but his admissionshad opened long vistas to their imaginations. He probably knew more thanhe meant to disclose, and this made it necessary to continue theirpumping with the greatest discretion. 

"It would be hard if she came back on you for help--after everythingthat's happened; but of course that would be your affair, Amzi, " saidMrs. Hastings leadingly. 

"It would, " Amzi admitted explosively. "It undoubtedly would!"

This, in their eagerness, seemed an admission. The interview was provingfruitful beyond their fondest hopes. He had doubtless been in Lois'sfullest confidence from the first; and darkest of all, it was whollylikely, now that she had broken with Holton, that Amzi was supplying herwith the means of subsistence in the capitals of Europe. Around thislast thought they rallied. 

"Of course, if Lois should really be in need, Amzi, " said Mrs. Waterman, "it would be the duty of all of us to help her; that would only beright. But even if it comes to that we should have to consider Phil, too. When you think of everything, our responsibility is much greaterfor Phil than for Lois. Phil is here; her life's before her; she's one_of_ us, you know, Amzi. "

"Right, Josie; you are mighty right. What you mean is that if it came toa question of Lois's starving in Europe and Phil's starving on ourdoorsteps, we'd help Phil first because she's right here under ournoses. But I don't understand that Lois is starving; nor is Phil forthat matter. Phil's all right. "

The thought that he was sending money to Lois was disagreeable; that heshould be doing so when Phil's needs cried so stridently aroused thedirest apprehensions. They had all received from Amzi their exactproportion of their father's estate; even Waterman had never been ableto find a flaw in the adjustment. Through Waterman they had learned thatLois's proper receipt was on file; they knew exactly the date on whichit had been placed of record in the county clerk's office. They hadlooked upon this as the final closing of all the doors that shut thissister out of their calculations. They, or their children, werepotential beneficiaries in Amzi's property if he ultimately died abachelor. And there was no telling when his asthma might be supplementedby a fatal pneumonia. This was never to be whispered in so far as thechances of their own offspring were concerned; but of Phil and thepropriety of her expectations they might speak with entire candor. 

"While we are talking of these matters, " observed Mrs. Hastings, "we mayas well face one or two things that have troubled us all a good deal. You know as well as we do that poor Tom has gradually been playing out;it's pitiful the way he has been letting his business go. Every oneknows that he has ability, but he's been living more and more up in theair. He owns the block over there and the rent he gets from that isabout all he has. And I shouldn't be at all surprised if the block hadbeen mortgaged. "

"I've heard, " said Mrs. Waterman, examining a button on her white glove, "that he has borrowed money on it. "

They looked guardedly at Amzi. Mrs. Waterman's husband, who kept an eyeon the county records, had, at his wife's behest, assured himselffrequently that Kirkwood's block in Main Street was unencumbered. Kirkwood's former home, the decaying monument to his domestic tragedy, and the only other thing he owned, was free also. In this process of"smoking out" their brother it would have helped if they could havepointed to the menace of her father's encumbered property to Phil; butthey had already learned more than they had expected in establishingbeyond per-adventure the fact that Lois and Amzi maintainedcommunication, and that in all likelihood he was providing for her inher exile. It was high time they scanned the top shelves of the closetoccupied by the dancing family skeleton!

"While we're about it we may as well face the possibility that Tom maymarry again, " remarked Mrs. Fosdick suddenly. 

Amzi drew his hand across his pink dome. 

"Nothing to hinder him that I know of, " he replied. 

"I don't know of anything that would wake him up unless it would bethat. The right sort of woman could do a lot for a man like Tom, withall that he has suffered. " This from Mrs. Waterman, who seemed deeplymoved by the thought of Kirkwood's sufferings. 

"But Phil--I can't imagine Phil with a stepmother. We never could allowthat; we should have to take her away from him, " declared Mrs. Fosdick. 

Amzi rested his elbow on the table, and breathed hard for a minute. Hetook the unlighted cigar from his mouth and waved it at them. 

"What's got into you girls anyhow! You're borrowing trouble in all thebanks in the universe--a little above your line of credit. You seemterribly anxious about Lois all of a sudden. It just happens that Iknow she ain't hungry, and that she's over there living like arespectable woman. Lois isn't like the rest of us; Lois is different!There's more electricity in Lois than the rest of us have; you know itas well as I do. Now just to satisfy your curiosity I'll tell you that Isaw Lois--"

"You saw her!" they chorused. 

"I saw her in Chicago about two months ago. She was on her way to Europethen; I had dinner with her and put her on the train for New York, andshe sailed the day she got there; so now, if you're scared to death forfear she's going to turn up here in town, you can put it clean out ofyour minds. "

They sighed their relief. He was not given to long speeches and theeffort of his recent deliverances caused him to cough, and the coughingbrought his voice finally to a high wheeze. He had not quite finishedyet, however. 

"Now, as for Tom Kirkwood marrying, " he went on, "let him marry. It'snone of our business, is it? He married into our family and got theworst of it. It wasn't a particularly cheerful business, the way it cameout. If he's fool enough to try it again, it's his trouble not ours; andyou can't tell but he might make a go of it next time. "

"We have no idea of trying to hinder him, " said Mrs. Waterman withdignity. "As you say, it's Tom's trouble. And of course we could manageso Phil wouldn't suffer, no matter what he did. "

"Phil suffer! Thunder! What are you always talking about Phil for; Itell you Phil's all right! Phil's got more gumption than all the rest ofus put together. Phil's an honor to the family; she's the best girl inthis town and the best girl in the whole state of Indiana, or the UnitedStates, for that matter. If you have visions of seeing Phil chased overthe back lot by any stepmother, you have another guess coming. Thunder!"

He drew out a white silk handkerchief and blew his nose. The sisters sawwith regret that there was no recurring to the attractive subject ofthat interview in Chicago, though their minds were beset with a thousandquestions they wished to ask him about it. They realized that to do sowould be a blunder. They had stumbled upon a gold mine and were obligedto leave its rich hoard untouched. They returned to Phil, who, as atopic, offered safer ground than her mother. 

"Phil's party, " said Mrs. Hastings briskly, "ought to be in keeping withthe family dignity. We thought it a lot better for you to have it inyour house than for us--our own houses are small. " (This withresignation. ) "And it doesn't seem quite nice for _us_ to have it in theMasonic Hall, though some of the nicest people are doing that. To bringPhil out in her grandfather's house speaks for the whole family. Andit's dear of you to consent to it. We all appreciate that, Amzi. "

"Of course it's the place for it!" affirmed Amzi impatiently. "I'll givethat party and you can get whatever Phil needs and do it right; youunderstand? And then I want you to give me all the bills. Now what elsedo you want?"

"We feel, " began Mrs. Fosdick, "that the invitations, which will go outin your name, should take in everybody we want Phil to know. "

Amzi grinned guardedly. 

"That's pretty good, Fanny. Do you suppose there's a man, woman, baby, or yellow dog in this town that Phil doesn't know? I doubt it. But goon. "

"We don't mean that way, Amzi, " said Mrs. Waterman patiently. "Wemean--"

"Thunder! Go on!"

"We mean that the list should be representative--that old differencesshould be put aside. "

The wrinkles on Amzi's pink pate scampered back to find refuge in hisabsurd fringe of pale-gold hair. Mrs. Waterman advanced her picketshurriedly. 

"You know we've had to recognize the Holtons of late, disagreeablethough it has been. William isn't like Jack--you know that; and when hebrought his wife here, a perfect stranger, it didn't seem fair to ignoreher. "

"The fact is, " Mrs. Fosdick interpolated, "we simply couldn't, Amzi. This town's too small to carry on a feud comfortably. We all stoppedspeaking to the Holtons after poor Lois left, but the rest of themcouldn't help what Jack did; and, of course, Lois--"

"You want to ask Mr. And Mrs. William to Phil's party?"

Mrs. Fosdick, fearing from the fierceness with which he reduced thematter to words, that he was about to veto the suggestion, hastened tostrengthen their case. 

"For business reasons, Amzi, we feel that we ought to bury the hatchet. Paul has to meet William Holton constantly. No matter what we think, William _is_ really one of the wide-awake business men of the town, andin all sorts of things; and Paul has to keep him on the executivecommittee of the Commercial Club--the president of the First NationalBank can't be overlooked, though you can't ever doubt Paul's devotion toall our interests. "

"And, " Mrs. Waterman added, "Mr. Holton retained Alec in a case lastwinter. "

"Yep, " observed Amzi, "he did. It was that suit about opening up ChapelStreet and I was one of the defendants. " And then he added, withcalculated softness, as though recalling a pleasant memory, "Alec lostthe suit. "

The mention of the Chapel Street Extension had been an unfortunate slipon Mrs. Waterman's part; but Amzi was generous. 

"Bill Holton is undoubtedly a leading citizen, " he observed, looking atthe ceiling and rubbing his nose absently. The irony of this, if heintended any, was well hidden. William Holton, president of the FirstNational Bank, was a business rival, and Amzi never abused hiscompetitors. Having satisfied his curiosity as to the ceiling, heannounced his complete acquiescence in the idea of inviting the WilliamHoltons. "No objection whatever, " he declared, "to asking Bill and hiswife. Is that all of 'em you want?"

"Well, there are Ethel and Charlie. They've just closed their house hereand mean to live in Indianapolis, but of course they still belong here. Charlie is doing very well, they say--quite a brilliant young man; andEthel is very sweet and well-bred. She went to Miss Waring's school inIndianapolis and knows some of the nicest young people in the city. Ithink it would be nice to ask them; it always looks well to have someout-of-town guests. "

"That Sam's children you're talking about? What's the matter with theother boy?"

"Fred? I think the less we say about him the better. He's been down inMexico on one of Sam's schemes and I guess he didn't do well. He's onthe old farm next your place. I guess Ethel and Charlie can representthat branch of the family. If you think--" began Mrs. Fosdick, anxiousthat Amzi should be fully satisfied. 

"Thunder! I don't think. You fix it up to suit yourselves. "

They began to adjust their wraps, fairly well satisfied with the resultsof the visit. Amzi eyed their autumnal splendors with the mild wonder awoman's raiment always aroused in him. 

"Tom marry again, you say, " he observed pensively. "What's put that ideain your head?"

"Why, you know as well as we do, Amzi, that he and Rose Bartlett arevery sympathetic, " exclaimed Mrs. Hastings, veiling a sharp glance athim. The three women, feigning inattention, were alert for theirbrother's reply. It came promptly. 

"Rose is a fine woman, " he said with cordial emphasis. "A fine woman. And, " he immediately added, "so's Nan!"

Then he thrust his hands into his coat pockets and filled his cheeks andglared. 

They were grieved by the mention of Nan. The bluff heartiness with whichhe had expressed his admiration for Rose had been gratifying andsatisfying; but by speaking with equal fervor of Nan he had sent themadrift again. 

CHAPTER VII

GHOSTS SEE THE LIGHT AGAIN

Kirkwood plunged into work with an ardor that was not lost upon Phil. Herose early and kept office hours with a new faithfulness, and hefrequently carried books and papers home for study. Something wasimpending, Phil surmised, in the affairs of the Sycamore TractionCompany, for he had been to Indianapolis to confer with the New Yorklawyer who represented the trustee for the bondholders and they had madean inspection of the road together. It had always been Kirkwood's waywhen aroused to devote himself tirelessly to his client's business, andPhil had not failed to note how completely labor transformed him. Hislanguor and indifference now disappeared; he spoke feelingly of thegenerosity of his Williams classmate, who had placed the Sycamore casein his hands. It was a great opportunity and he assured her that hemeant to make the most of it. 

He warned her that she was not to tell any one what he was engaged upon, and that she must not be surprised into confessions by her aunts. Hebegan to visit the capital, always returning on the evening train, though she knew that he might more comfortably have spent the night inthe city. He explained to Phil that he hoped to adjust the Sycamore'saffairs without litigation. 

"I'm just enough of an old fogy to cut myself out of a big fee bysmoothing the wrinkles without a lawsuit. It's the professor in me, Phil; it's the academic taint. "

And to this the obvious retort was, of course, that it was because ofhis highmindedness that he sought peaceable adjustments where moredrastic measures would have been to his profit. 

She, too, was putting forth her best energies, and he was relieved tofind that she disposed of her work so lightly; even her frequentcalamities were a matter for jesting. They made a joke of the washing ofthe supper dishes: he insisted on helping her, and would don an apronand do the rougher part of it. He declared that he had never been sowell fed before, and that her cooking showed real genius. It would be adark day when his fee in the traction case would make it possible toinstall a new maid-of-all work. 

Phil was aware that their talk drifted often and with seeminginevitableness to the Bartletts. Her successes with the housekeepingwere due to the friendly supervision of the sisters in Buckeye Lane. Heliked to hear her recount the ways in which they were her guide andinspiration. In doubts she flew to them; but one or the other appearedalmost daily at the cottage. "Rose showed me how to make that spongecake, " Phil would say; or, if the furniture in their little parlor hadbeen rearranged, it was very likely Nan who had suggested the change. Itwas a considerable distance across town from the Kirkwoods' to Number 98Buckeye Lane, and as these women were exceedingly busy it was notwithout sacrifice that they visited Phil so constantly. "Nan read mesome new jokes she's just sending off this morning: I wonder how peoplethink up such things, " Phil would observe, turning, perhaps, with herhand on the pantry door; and she knew that her father's face lighted atthe mention of Nan and her jokes. 

The aunts had not been above planting in Phil's young breast thesuspicion that her father was romantically "interested" in one of theBartletts--as to which one they hoped she would enlighten them. Theytried to keep track of the visits paid by the father and daughter toBuckeye Lane; their veiled inquiries were tinged also with suspicionsthat Amzi might be contemplating marriage with one of these maidenladies of the Lane--the uncertainties in each case as to the bright starof particular adoration giving edge to their curiosity. The cautiousapproaches, the traps set in unexpected places, amused Phil when she wasnot angered by them. As she viewed the matter it would be perfectlynatural for her father to marry either of the Bartlett sisters, her onlyfear being that marriage would disturb the existing relations betweenthe two houses which were now so wholly satisfactory. 

Phil managed to visit her father's office every day or two, trips to"town" being among the Montgomery housewife's privileges, a part of herroutine. Much visiting was done in Main Street, and there was alwayssomething to take one into Struby's drug-store, which served as a club. Even in winter there was hot chocolate and bouillon to justify thesociably inclined in lingering at the soda-water tables by the frontwindows. Phil, heedful of the warnings of the court-house clock, managedto keep in touch with current history without jeopardizing theregularity of meals at home. She was acquiring the ease of the Bartlettsin maintaining a household with a minimum of labor and worry. Her auntshad convoyed her to Indianapolis to buy a gown for the coming-out party, which was now fixed for the middle of November; and they were to returnto the city shortly for a fitting. All Main Street was aware that Philwas to be brought out; the aunts had given wide publicity to the matter;they had sighingly confessed to their friends the difficulties, thelabor, the embarrassment of planting their niece firmly in society. 

Phil, dropping into her father's office in the middle of an afternoonand finding him absent, dusted it from force of habit and began turningthe pages of a battered copy of "Elia" she kept tucked away in an alcovethat contained the Indiana Reports. A sign pinned on the door statedthat her father would return in half an hour. This card, which hadadorned the door persistently for several years, had lately ceased toprophesy falsely, Phil knew, and she thought she heard her father on thestairs when a young man she did not at once recognize opened the doorand glanced about, then removed his hat and asked if Mr. Kirkwood wouldreturn shortly. 

"I'm Mr. Charles Holton, " said the visitor. 

For a man to prefix "mister" to his own name was contrary to localusage, and the manner, the voice, the city clothes of Charles Holton atonce interested Phil. She was sitting in her father's old swivel chair, well drawn in under his big flat-top desk, across which she surveyed thevisitor at leisure. She placed him at once in his proper niche among theHoltons: it was of him that people were speaking as a Montgomery boy whowas making himself known at the capital. He was the brother of Ethel andFred, and clearly an alert and dashing person. 

"Pardon me; but I remember you perfectly, Miss Kirkwood. I hope we maydispense with the formality of an introduction--we old Montgomerypeople--and that sort of thing!"

Holton carried a stick, which was not done in Montgomery save by elderlymen, or incumbents of office, like Judge Walters or CongressmanReynolds. His necktie also suggested more opulent avenues than MainStreet. 

"By the outward and visible sign upon the portal I assume that Mr. Kirkwood will return shortly. "

He referred to his watch, absently turned the stem-key, and sat down inone of the chairs which Phil had lately dusted. 

"I used to see you around a lot when I was a boy--you and your pony; butwe've all been away so much--my sister Ethel and I. You know Ethel?"

"I've seen her, " said Phil. 

"We've just been breaking up our old home here. Rather tough, too, whenyou think we're quite alone. We've sold the old house; sorry, but thebest offer I got was from a doctor who wants to turn it into adrink-cure sanatorium. Tough on the neighbors, but there you are! Itdidn't seem square to stand in the way of bracing up booze victims. "

He expected her approval of this attitude; and Phil murmured phrasesthat seemed to fill the gap he left for them. 

"Had to go to the highest bidder--you can hardly give away an old houselike that in a place like this. Neighbors are kicking, but it wasn't myfault. "

Phil said she supposed that was so. 

She was still noting various small items of Holton's raiment--his tanoxford shoes, brilliant socks, and brown derby. A brown derby seemed oddin Montgomery. From the pocket of his sackcoat protruded the cuffs oftan gloves, and he wore an inconspicuous watch chain passed from pocketto pocket of his waistcoat. Not even the most prosperous of the collegeseniors had ever presented to Phil's eye a variety of adornments sotastefully chosen, a color scheme so effective. The interview seemed tobe to the young man's liking. He talked with assurance, holding hislight stick with one hand, and balancing his hat on his knee with theother. Often before men had come into the office as Phil sat there andshe had conversed with them while they waited for her father. She hadusually exhausted the possibilities in forecasting her father's returnat such times; but this gentleman seemed in no wise impatient. He spokeof the world's affairs lightly and with a flattering confidence in theunderstanding and sympathy of his auditor. The theatrical attractions atthe capital, the promise of grand opera in Chicago, the politicalchanges, these were things of passing interest, but nothing to growfeverish about. 

"The new trolley line will make a lot of difference to towns likeMontgomery--revolutionize things in fact. Part of the great socialchange that is apparent all over the Middle West. There won't be anycountry folks any more; all hitched on to the cities--the rubesderubenized and inter-urbanized!"

Phil admitted that the changes he suggested were of significance. Herfather often used similar phrases in speaking of tendencies andinfluences; but it was to be expected of him. The same ideas asexpressed by Charles Holton derived a certain importance from the factthat he condescended to utter them; they gained weight and authorityfrom his manner of presenting them. He was not only a man of the world, but an acute observer of social phenomena; and he was a new sort. Shehad not known any one like him. The memory of her two meetings with Fredcame back to her: she recalled them the more clearly by reason of thecontrast between the brothers. 

"Your brother has moved back to the farm, " she suggested to gainconfirmation of a relationship which seemed hardly plausible with thisradiant young person before her. 

"Oh, Fred! Well, I'd have you know that I offered to take Fred in withme, but he wouldn't see it. I'd like the folks over here to know that;but I couldn't do anything with him. He camped on one of our Mexicanmines so long that he is afraid of cities, --isn't city-broke, --andseemed relieved when I suggested that he take the farm. It's no greatshakes of a farm as farms go, but he's one of these plodding chaps wholike a hard job. He came back and took a look around and said it wasback to the soil for him! So there was the farm, just waiting forsomebody to tackle it. I haven't seen him for some time, --I'm terriblybusy, --but I dare say he's out there, an earnest young husbandmananxious to become one of these prosperous farmers who push the price ofbread out of sight and cry to have the tariff taken off champagne. Youdon't happen to know Fred?"

"I've met your brother, " said Phil with reserve. 

"Well, I suppose we Montgomery folks are all acquainted without beingintroduced. Lots of 'em moving to Indianapolis; I'm thinking oforganizing a club over there to keep the Montgomery people together--anannual dinner, say; and that sort of thing. Do you know, it's rathernice of you to be talking to me in this friendly, neighborly way; itreally is. "

As Phil seemed not to see at once wherein the particular kindness of itlay, he smiled and continued:--

"Our families haven't been so friendly, you know. Pardon me!"

Phil, seeing now what he meant, colored deeply, and glancing out of thewindow was rewarded by a glimpse of Amzi's back. He had just concludedan observation and was turning into the bank. 

"You will pardon me, won't you, " pleaded young Holton, lowering hisvoice. 

"I think father will be here shortly, " Phil remarked irrelevantly. 

He had opened himself to the suspicion that he had broached the subjectof the antipathy between their houses merely to test its dramatic value. To be talking to the daughter of a woman with whom his uncle had elopedmade a situation; it is possible that he liked situations that calledinto action his wits and an evident gift for using his voice and eyes. He had been rapidly noting Phil's good points. He wished to impress her, and he was not convinced that the impression he had made was favorableor that she forgave him for touching, however lightly, upon theungrateful topic of her mother's dereliction. He had never thought ofhis Uncle Jack's escapade with Mrs. Kirkwood concretely; it had happenedlong ago, before he became attentive to such things; but the young womanwith whom he was now conversing visualized the episode for him. In hismind there was an element of picturesqueness in that joint page ofHolton-Montgomery history. He wondered whether Phil looked like hermother. Phil was pretty enough, though in repose she seemed ratherspiritless. She was swinging herself in the swivel chair, carelessly, and since his reference to the old scandal he saw or imagined that hesaw her manner change from courteous interest to a somewhat frostyindifference. His pride was pricked by the sense of his blunder. Heflattered himself that in his intercourse with men and women he wasadroit in retrieving errors, and his instinct warned him that thecurtain must not fall upon a scene that left him in discomfiture at theback of the stage. 

"It pleased Ethel and me very much to have an invitation to your party, Miss Kirkwood. It was nice of you to ask us, and we shall certainly comeover, even if I have to give up a trip to New York I had expected tomake at just that time. Let me see, it's the twentieth, isn't it? Well, I guess I can make them wait down there. We Western folks don't oftenget a chance to make New Yorkers wait. "

Phil was disposed to be magnanimous. He undoubtedly wished to beagreeable; and it was his uncle, a remote person whom she had neverseen, who had decamped with her mother. It was hardly just to hold himaccountable for his uncle's misdeeds. She wondered whether the uncle hadbeen like this nephew, or whether he was more like William Holton, whomshe had seen frequently all her life. In her encounters with FredHolton, she had only vaguely associated him with that other andindubitably wicked Holton who had eloped with her mother. 

She was conscious that some one was stirring in the room overhead, andshe became attentive to the sounds. Her father had asked delay indisposing of the apparatus of the old photograph gallery; he had wantedto look the old stuff over, he had said, and he wished also to utilizethe darkroom in developing the pictures he had taken on their lastouting. One of the objects of her call this afternoon had been to urgehim to haste, as Bernstein wanted to move his remodeling shop into therooms at once. 

"I make it a rule of my life, " Holton went on, "to duck when it comes toother people's mistakes. I make enough of my own without shoulderingthose my friends and relations are responsible for--particularly myrelations. For example, if dear old Fred wants to throw himself away ona farm, that's his trouble. I did all I could to save him. And when Ihad done that, I had done my best, and I'm a busy man with troubles ofmy own!"

Her reception of this was not wholly satisfactory. She made in fact noreply at all. 

"Excuse me, " she said, hearing steps unmistakably; "I think maybe fatheris on the floor above. If you will wait here, I'll run up and see. "

He saw her erect for the first time as she passed him. Her apparentlanguor as she swung in the old creaky chair had belied what wasevidently her more natural manner. The few steps necessary to carry herfrom the desk to the door were taken lightly, with a long, free stride. Captain Wilson, in apostrophizing her as the Diana of Main Street, hadpaid no inappropriate tribute to Phil's graceful carriage. Holton roseas she crossed the room, noting her brown cheek, the golden glint in herhair, her finely modeled features, her clear brown eyes and their darklashes. His eyes still rested upon the door for a moment after it hadclosed upon her. Then he struck the floor with his stick, and whistledsoftly. "Lordy!" he ejaculated. 

Phil accused herself of dullness in not having thought earlier of thephotograph gallery. Her father must have been conducting himself veryquietly there or she would have heard him before. It had been a brightday and he had undoubtedly been taking advantage of the sun to do hisprinting. She had always encouraged his experiments in photography, which afforded him one of his few recreations. He owned a fine cameraand he gave to every detail of the photographer's art the care hebestowed upon anything that deeply interested him. They had bound inportfolios many of the views obtained in their adventures afield, and hehad won prizes at state and national exhibitions of camera societies. Phil was relieved to know that he was developing these newest plates, for now there would be no excuse for retaining the deserted gallery andit could be turned over to Bernstein without further delay. 

It had grown late, and even under the glazed roof she did not at oncemake him out. 

"Daddy!" she called softly. 

She had broken in upon one of his deep reveries, and as she spoke hestarted guiltily. The oblong of glass he had been holding, staring at inthe lessening light, fell with a crash, breaking into countless pieces. 

"Oh, daddy! Did I scare you like that! Hope it wasn't one of the bestnegatives that went to smash--hard luck to wipe one of those Autumn onSugar Creek gems out of existence!"

"It's all right, Phil--all right. It was only an old negative. I waslooking over the rubbish here and amused myself by printing some of theold plates. There are a lot of old ghosts hidden away there in thecloset. This was an old shop, you know, dating back to the Civil War, and there are negatives here of a lot of our local heroes. I wonder ifit's right to throw them away? It's like exterminating a generation todestroy them. There must be people who would like to have prints of someof these. "

"We might sell them to that new photographer for money enough to paintthe building, " she suggested. "The real owner would owe us a lot of rentif he ever turned up, which he never will. That would be our only way ofgetting even. "

"There spoke a practical mind, Phil!"

She knew from the poor result of his effort to appear cheery thatsomething had occurred to depress him. His own associations withMontgomery had been too recent for the resurrection of old citizens tohave any deep significance for him. 

"We must go, Phil; I didn't mean for you to catch me here. I've wastedthe whole afternoon--but some of the Sugar Creek views have come outwonderfully. We must clean up and turn the room over to Bernstein rightaway. "

Her alert eyes marked the Sugar Creek pictures at one end of a shelfbuilt against the window, but from his position at the moment she hadsurprised him in his brooding she knew that he had not been studyingthem. Nor did these new prints from old plates present likenesses ofMontgomery's heroes of the sixties; but there were three--a littlequaint by reason of the costumes--of a child, a girl of fourteen, and ayoung woman; and no second glance was necessary to confirm her instantimpression that these represented her mother--the mother of whom she hadno memory whatever. There were photographs and a miniature of her motherat home, and at times she had dreamed over them; and there was aportrait done by an itinerant artist which hung in her Uncle Amzi'shouse, but this, her Aunt Josephine had once told her, did not in theleast resemble Lois. 

Kirkwood tried clumsily to hide the prints. 

"No; Phil, please don't!" he exclaimed harshly. 

"Of course, I may see them, daddy, --of course!"

He allowed her to take them from him. 

"It's mamma, " said Phil. "How dear they are!" she murmured softly. 

As she turned the prints to catch the dimming light, he watched her, standing inertly with his elbow on the shelf. 

"Isn't it odd that I never saw any of these! even Uncle Amy hasn'tthem. "

She bent over the print of the child, who stood with a hoop, smiling asthough in delight at her belated rescue from oblivion. 

"You were going to give these to me, weren't you, daddy?" She wasrunning over the others. One that showed the mature woman in a fur capelong out of fashion and with a fur cap perched on her head, held herlongest. 

"If you want them, " said her father, "you shall have them, of course. Iwill touch them up a bit in the morning. "

"Maybe, " said Phil looking at him quickly, "it is better not to keepthem. Was it one of these plates that broke?"

"Yes, " said Kirkwood; "it was this one"; and he indicated the picturethat revealed his wife in her young womanhood. 

It was over this that he had been dreaming alone in the dim gallery whenshe had interrupted his reverie. The pity of it all, the bleakdesolation of his life, smote her sharply, now that she had caught aglimpse of the ghosts scampering off down the long vistas. With anabrupt gesture she flung aside the melancholy reminder of his tragedy. 

"Dear old daddy!" She held him in her strong arms and kissed him. 

She felt that all these spectres must be driven back into their worldof shadows, and she seized the prints and tore them until only littleheaps of paper remained and these she scattered upon the floor. 

"Are these the plates?"

He indicated them with a nod. One after the other they crashed echoinglyin the bare gallery. She accomplished the destruction swiftly and withcertainty. One that fell on edge undamaged she broke with her heel. 

Then she took a match from his pocket and lit the gas in one of the oldburners. The light revealed a slight smile on his face, but it was nothis accustomed smile of good humor. His eyes were very sad and gentle. 

"Thank you, dear old Phil! I guess that's the best way, after all. Itmust be time to go home now. Are you ready?"

"Wait here a minute--you had better pull down the windows and lock up. I'll close the office and you can meet me on the landing. "

She went out, closing the door, and ran down to the office, whereCharles Holton stood at the window looking out upon Main Street, wherethe electric lamps were just sputtering into light. 

"Ah, " he cried turning toward her with a bow, "I'd begun to think youhad forgotten my unworthy presence on earth!"

"Not at all, Mr. Holton. I'm sorry, but my father is too much engaged tosee you to-day. If you really want to see him you can come into-morrow. "

This was not what he had expected. Dismissal was in her tone rather morethan in her words. Their eyes met for a moment in the dim dusk and hewould have prolonged the contact; but she walked to the desk and stoodthere, looking down at the copy of "Elia" which lay as she had left itwhen he had interrupted her reading. She refused to be conscious of hisdisappointment or to make amends for having caused him to waitneedlessly. He turned at the door. 

"I hope I haven't put you to any inconvenience?" he remarked, butwithout resentment. 

"Not at all, Mr. Holton. Good-afternoon!"

"Good-day, Miss Kirkwood. "

She listened until his step died away down the stair and then went outand whistled for her father. 

CHAPTER VIII

LISTENING HILL

The Holton farmhouse, a pretentious place in the day of FrederickHolton's grandfather, was now habitable and that was the most that couldbe said for it. When the second generation spurned the soil and becameurbanized, the residence was transformed from its primal state into acountry home, and the family called it "Listening Hill Farm. " Itsaustere parlor of the usual rural type was thrown together with theliving-room, the original fireplace was reconstructed, and running waterwas pumped to the house by means of a windmill. The best of the oldfurniture had been carried off to adorn the town house, so that whenFred succeeded to the ownership it was a pretty bare and comfortlessplace. Samuel had never lived there, though the farm had fallen to himin the distribution of his father's estate; but he had farmed it at longrange, first from Montgomery, and latterly, and with decreasing success, from Indianapolis after his removal to the capital. The year beforeFred's arrival no tenant had been willing to take it owing to theimpoverished state of the land. 

Most of the farms in the neighborhood were owned by town people, andoperated by tenants. As for Fred, he knew little about agriculture. Onthe Mexican plantation which his father and Uncle William hadcontrolled, he had learned nothing that was likely to prove of theslightest value in his attempt to wrest a living from these neglectedHoosier acres. His main qualifications for a farming career were adogged determination to succeed and a vigorous, healthy body. 

The Holtons had always carried their failures lightly, and even Samuel, who had died at Indianapolis amid a clutter of dead or shaky financialschemes, was spoken of kindly in Montgomery. Samuel had saved himselfwith the group of politicians he had persuaded to invest in the Mexicanmine by selling out to a German syndicate just before he died; andSamuel had always made a point of taking care of his friends. He hadcarried through several noteworthy promotion schemes with profit beforehis Mexican disasters, and but for the necessity of saving harmless hispersonal and political friends he might not have left so little for hischildren. So spake the people of Montgomery. 

Charles Holton was nearing thirty, and having participated in hisfather's political adventures, and been initiated into the mysteries ofpromotion, he had a wide acquaintance throughout central Indiana. He hadbeen graduated from Madison, and in his day at college had done much torelieve the gray Calvinistic tone of that sedate institution. It was hewho had transformed the old "college chorus"--it had been a "chorus"almost from the foundation--into a glee club, and he had organized thefirst guitar and banjo club. The pleasant glow he left behind him stillhung over the campus when Fred entered four years later. Charles'smeteoric social career had dimmed the fact (save to a few soberprofessors) that he had got through by the skin of his teeth. Fred'splodding ways, relieved only by his prowess at football, had left a verydifferent impression. Fred worked hard at his studies because he had to;and even with persistence and industry he had not shone brilliantly inthe scientific courses he had elected. The venerable dean once said thatFred was a digger, not a skimmer and skipper, and that he would be allright if only he dug long enough. He was graduated without honors andwent South to throw in his fortunes with his father's Mexican projects. He was mourned at the college as the best all-round player a Madisoneleven had ever boasted; but this was about all. 

When he accepted Listening Hill Farm as his share of his father'sestate, Fred had a little less than one thousand dollars in cash, whichhe had saved from the salaries paid him respectively by the plantationand mining companies. This had been deposited as a matter of conveniencein an Indianapolis bank and he allowed it to remain there. He realizedthat this money must carry him a long way, and that every cent must gointo the farm before anything came out of it. He had moved to the farmlate in the summer--just in time to witness the abundant harvests of hisneighbors. 

One of the friendliest of these was a young man named Perry, who hadcharge of Amzi Montgomery's place. Perry belonged to the new school offarmers, and he had done much in the four years that he had been in thebanker's employ to encourage faith in "book farming, " as it had not yetceased to be called derisively. He was a frank, earnest, hard-workingfellow whose ambition was to get hold of a farm of his own as quickly aspossible. He worked Amzi's farm on shares, with certain privileges inthe matter of feeding cattle. Amzi picked him up by chance and withmisgivings; but Perry had earned the biggest dividends the land had everpaid. Perry confided to Fred a hope he had entertained of leasing theHolton farm for himself when his contract with Montgomery expired. Nowthat Fred had arrived on the scene he explained to the tyro exactly whathe had meant to do with the property. As he had seriously canvassed thesituation for a couple of years, witnessing the failures of the last twotenants employed by Samuel Holton, Fred gladly availed himself of hisadvice. 

Fred caught from Perry the spirit of the new era in farming. It nolonger sufficed to scratch the earth with a stick and drop in a seed;the earth itself must be studied as to its weaknesses and the seed mustbe chosen with intelligent care. One of the experts from the stateagricultural school, in the field to gather data for statistics, passedthrough the country, and spent a week with Fred for the unflatteringreason that the Holton acres afforded material for needed information asto exhausted soils. He recommended books for Fred to read, and what wasmore to the point sent a young man to plan his work and initiate himinto the mysteries of tilling and fertilizing. The soil expert was anenthusiast, and he left behind him the nucleus of a club which hesuggested that the young men of the neighborhood enlarge during thewinter for the discussion of new methods of farm efficiency. 

Fred hired a man and went to work. He first repaired the windmill andassured the water-supply of the house and barn. A farmer unembarrassedby crops, he planned his campaign a year ahead. He worked harder on hisbarren acres than his neighbors with the reward of their labor in sight. He tilled the low land in one of his fallow fields and repaired thefences wherever necessary. His most careful scrutiny failed to discloseanything on which money could be realized at once beyond half a dozencords of wood which he sent to town and sold and the apples he hadoffered for sale in the streets of Montgomery. These by-products hardlypaid for the time required to market them. Perry had suggested thatwinter wheat be tried on fifty acres which he chose for the experiment, and in preparing and sowing the land Fred found his spirits rising. Thehired man proved to be intelligent and capable, and Fred was not abovelearning from him. Fred did the cooking for both of them as part of hisown labor. 

Some of his old friends, meeting him in Main Street on his visits totown, commiserated him on his lot; and others thought William Holtonought to do something for Fred, as it was understood that he was backingCharles in his enterprises. Still other gossips, pointing to the failureof the Mexican ventures, inclined to the belief that Fred was a dullfellow, and that he would do as well on the farm as anywhere else. 

On a Sunday afternoon in this same November, Fred had cleaned up afterhis midday meal with the hired man and was sprawled on an old settlereading when a motor arrived noisily in the dooryard. Charles wasdriving and with him were three strangers. Fred went out to meet hisbrother, who introduced his companions as business men fromIndianapolis. 

"We're taking a run over the route of the new trolley line you'veprobably read about in the papers. Hadn't heard of it yet? Well, it'sgoing to cut the Sycamore line at right angles in Montgomery, and rundown into the coal fields. We're going to haul coal by electricity--anew idea in these parts--and it's going to be a big factor instimulating manufactures in small centers. It's going to be a big thingfor this section--your farm is worth twenty dollars more an acre just onour prospectus. "

"No doubt you'd be glad to take that twenty right now, " remarked one ofthe strangers. 

"Oh, I'll wait for it, " replied Fred, laughing. 

"Are you implying that you're likely to have to wait?" demanded Charles. "My dear boy, we're doing this just for you farmers. In the old days therailroads were all in league against the poor but honest farmer; he wascrippled as much as he was helped by the railroads; but with the trolleythe farmer can be in the deal from the jump. We want every farmer onthis line to have an interest; we're going to give him a chance to goin. Am I right, Evans?"

Evans warmed to the topic. He was a young broker and wore city clothesquite as good as Charles's. It was going to be a great thing for thecountry people; the possibilities of the trolley line had not yet beenrealized. Social and economic conditions were to be revolutionized, andthe world generally would be a very different place when the proposedline was built. Charles allowed his friends to do most of the talkingand they discussed the project eloquently for an hour. 

The men refused Fred's invitation to go indoors, and said they wouldwalk to the highway and the machine could pick them up. 

When the brothers were alone, Charles spoke of the farm. 

"I see you've got to work. The whole thing looks better than I ever sawit. I'm glad you've painted the barn red; there's nothing like red fora barn. I must make a note of that; all barns should be painted red. "

With a gesture he colored all the barns in the world to his taste. Fredgrinned his appreciation of his brother's humor. 

"I thought that on Sundays all you young farmers hitched a side-barbuggy to a colt and gave some pretty girl a good time. "

"I'd be doing just that but for two reasons--I haven't the colt or theside-bar, and I don't know any girls. What about this trolley line? Ithought the field was crowded now. "

"Oh, Uncle Will and I are going to put this one through and we're goingto make some money out of it, too. There's money in these things if youknow how to handle 'em. It's in the promotion, not the operating. "

"But I heard in town that the Sycamore line isn't doing well. There arerumors--"

"Oh, I know about that; it's only a fuss among the fellows who aretrying to control it to reorganize and squeeze the bondholders. Iffather had lived he'd have kept it level. But we're all out of it--awayout and up the street. "

"Glad to hear it, " Fred remarked. The gift of easy and picturesquespeech had been denied him. All his life he had heard his father talk injust this strain; and his Uncle William, while less voluble, was evenmore persuasive and convincing. Charles did not always ring true, butany deficiencies in this respect were compensated for by his agreeableand winning manners. Fred had the quiet man's distrust of ready talkers;but he admired his brother. Charles was no end of a bright fellow andwould undoubtedly get on. 

"I tell you what I'll do with you, old man, " Charles continued. "Isuppose you already know some of these farmers around here. We're goingto give them every chance to go in with us--let 'em in on the groundfloor. We feel that this should be the people's line in the broadestsense, --give 'em a share of the benefits, --not merely that they can flipa can of milk on board one of our cars and hustle it direct to theconsumer and get back coal right at their door, but they shallparticipate in the profits they help to create. Now listen to this;there's not much you can do this winter out here and I stopped to makeyou an offer to solicit stock subscriptions among the country people. Alot of these farmers are rich fellows, --the farmers are gettingaltogether too much money for their own good, --and here's an idealinvestment for them, a chance to add to the value of their farms and atthe same time earn a clean six per cent on our bonds and share in theprofits on a percentage of common that we're giving bondholders freegratis for nothing. What do you say to taking a hand with us? We'll putyou on a salary right away if you say so. The very fact that you'vechosen to come here to live and take up farming will give you standingwith the country folks. "

Fred smiled at this. 

"On the other side of the sketch the fact that I'm as ignorant offarming as the man in the moon is likely to rouse their suspicions. I'mmuch obliged, Charlie, but my job's right here. I'm going to try toraise something that I can haul to town in a wagon and get money for. Ihaven't your business genius. It would seem queer to me to go aboutasking people to take their money out of the bank to give me in exchangefor pieces of paper that might not be good in the end. And besides, agood many of these country people swallowed the same hook when it wasbaited with Sycamore. It's not a good time to try the same bait in thisneighborhood, --not for the Holton family, at any rate. "

"Mossback! I tell you we're out of Sycamore with clean hands. Don't youknow that the big fellows in New York are the men who get in on suchpromotions as this and clean up on it! I'm giving you a chance that lotsof men right here in this county would jump at. It's a little short of amiracle that a trolley coal road hasn't been built already. And think, too, of the prestige our family will get out of it. We've always beenthe only people in Montgomery that had any 'git up and git. ' You don'twant to forget that your name Holton is an asset--an asset! Why, overin Indianapolis the fact that I'm one of the Montgomery Holtons helps meover a lot of hard places, I can tell you. Of course, father had plowedthe ground, and the more I hear about him the more I admire him. He hadvision--he saw things ahead. "

"And he came pretty near dying busted, " observed Fred. 

"But no man lost a cent through him!" Charles flashed. "That makes meswell up with pride every time I think of it--that he took care of hisfriends. He saw things big, and those Mexican schemes were all right. Ifhe'd lived, they would have pulled through and been big moneymakers. "

They had been walking slowly towards Charles's machine. 

"I'm not saying anything against father, " said Fred; "but the kind ofthings he took up strike me as dangerous. I know all about thatplantation and the mine, too, for that matter. I don't blame father forsending me down there, but I wish I had back the years I put on thosejobs. "

"Oh, rot! The experience was a big thing for you. And you got paid forit. You must have saved some money--wasn't any way to spend money downthere. "

"I don't keep an automobile, " remarked Fred ruefully. 

"By Jove, I can't afford it myself, but I've got to make a front. Nowthose fellows--"

His companions were hallooing from the highway to attract his attention. He waved and shouted that he was coming. 

"Those fellows are in touch with a lot of investors. Nice chaps. Ipromised to get 'em home for dinner, and I must skip. You'd better thinkover my proposition before turning it down for good. I don't like tothink of your being out here all winter doing nothing. You might as welltake a hand with us. I'll guarantee that you won't regret it. "

"I don't believe I care to try it. I'm a born rube, I guess; I like itout here. And I'm going to stick until I make good or bust. "

Charles had cranked his machine and jumped in. 

"Look here, Fred, " he said, raising his voice above the noise of theengine, "when I can do anything for you, I want you to call on me. Andif you need money at any time, I want you to come to me or go to UncleWill. In fact, he's a little sore because you don't drop in on himoftener. So long!"

The machine went skimming down the road, and when it reached the pikeand Charles picked up his friends, Fred watched its slow ascent ofListening Hill, and waited for it to disappear beyond the crest. 

CHAPTER IX

ON AN ORCHARD SLOPE

Fred moved off across the fields in quest of Perry. Charles never lefthim wholly happy. His long absence from home had in a way lessened hisreliance on family ties, and an interview with his brother deepened thesense of his own dullness. He wondered whether it were not proof of hisgeneral worthlessness that he was so quickly adjusting himself to theconditions of rural life; and yet from such reflections his spiritquickly rebounded. In the very soil itself, he felt a kinship, born of ahidden, elusive, cramped vein of poetic feeling that lay deep in hisnature. All life, he vaguely realized, is of a piece: man and the earthto which he is born respond to the same laws. He contemplated thewheatfield, tilled partly by his own hands, with a stirring of the heartthat was new to his experience. He was wedded to this land; his hope wasbound up in it; and he meant to serve it well. 

He sprang over the fence into a woods pasture on Amzi Montgomery's farmand strode on. He picked up a walnut and carried it in his hand, sniffing the pungent odor of the rind. It was as warm as spring, and thedead leaves, crisp and crackling under his tread, seemed an anomaly. Thewood behind him, he crossed a pasture toward the barn and hesitated, seeing that Perry was entertaining visitors. He had fallen into thehabit of dropping in at the Perrys' on Sunday afternoons and he wasexpected to-day, so he kept on. As he reached the barn lot, heidentified Amzi Montgomery and Phyllis Kirkwood, to whom Perry wasapparently dilating on the good points of a Jersey calf that was eyeingthe visitors wonderingly. 

"Don't be afraid, Holton; my lecture is just over. You've heard itbefore and I'm not going to repeat it, " Perry called to him. 

"How do you do, Mr. Holton, " said Phil. 

He pulled off his hat and walked up to shake hands with her. 

"I didn't expect to find you here. I usually come over Sundayafternoons. "

"Does that mean you wouldn't have come if you'd known we were here!"laughed Phil. "Oh, Uncle Amy, this is Mr. Fred Holton. He's yournext-door neighbor. "

Amzi turned from his observation of the calf and took the cigar from hismouth. He remembered Fred Holton as a boy and the young man had latterlyfallen within his range of vision in Main Street. He availed himself ofthis nearer view to survey Samuel Holton's younger son deliberately. Fred waited an instant for the banker to make a sign. Amzi took a steptoward him and Fred advanced and offered his hand. 

"How d' ye do, Fred, " said Amzi, and looked him over again. He addressedhim quite as cordially as he would have spoken to any other young man hemight have found there. "Perry has told me about you. I guess you've gotquite a job over there. "

"Yes, but I was looking for a job when I took it, " said Fred. 

"I like being a farmer myself, " said the banker, "when I know the corn'sgrowing while I'm in bed in town. "

"I think I'll stay up nights to watch my corn grow, if it ever does, "said Fred. 

"That land of yours is all right, " said Amzi amiably, "but it's got tobe brought up. That farm's been cursed with overdrafts, and overdraftsin any business are bad. "

"That's a new way of putting it, " Fred replied, "but I'm sure it's sounddoctrine. You can't take out what you don't put in. "

"That, " said Amzi, feeling in his pocket for his matchbox, "is a safegeneral principle. "

He passed his cigar-case to Perry and Fred, commended his own cigarshumorously, and looked Fred over again as the young man refused, explaining that he had grown used to a pipe and was afraid of the shockto his system of a good cigar. 

"We were going to take a walk over the place; Mr. Montgomery wants tosee his orchard. Come along, won't you?" said Perry. 

Fred waited for a confirmation of the tenant's invitation. 

"Yes; come along, Fred, " said Amzi. 

His manner toward Holton was that of an old acquaintance; he called himFred quite as though it were the most natural thing in the world for himto do so. Phil and Perry moved off together and Amzi walked along besideFred across a field of wheat stubble toward the orchard that stretchedaway on a slope that corresponded to the rise of Listening Hill in thehighway. He talked of fruit-growing in which he appeared to be deeplyinterested, and declared that there was no reason why fruit should beonly an insect-blighted by-product of such farms as his; thatintelligent farmers were more and more taking it up. He confessed hisfirm belief in scientific farming in all its branches. Most men in smalltowns keep some touch with the soil. In a place like Montgomery the soilis the immediate source of urban prosperity, and in offices and storesmen discuss crop conditions and prospects as a matter of course. Amziowned a number of farms in different parts of the county, but this onethat had been long in the family was his particular pride. He paused nowand then to point out features of his possessions for Fred's admiration. 

"Land, " he observed reflectively, "is like a man or a horse; you got totreat 'em right or they won't work. Thunder! You think you'll stick itout over there, do you?"

"I've got to; and I want to! I want to make it go!"

Amzi glared at him a moment with puffed cheeks. Fred had spoken withwarmth, and being unfamiliar with the banker's habit of trying to blowup occasionally, for no reason whatever, he was a little appalled byAmzi's manner of receiving his declaration. 

"If you mean it like that, " said the banker, "you will make it go. It'sthe wanting to do a thing real hard that brings it round. Is thatgospel?"

He blurted his question with a ferociousness that again startled Fred;but he was beginning to suspect that this was the banker's usual way ofconversing, and his awe of him diminished. Amzi was an amusing person, with a tang of his own; and he clearly meant to be kind. It wasnecessary to answer the banker's last explosion and Fred repliedsoberly:

"I hope it is; I hope the wanting to do it will help in the doing. "

Amzi made no response to this. He seemed to ignore it, and spoke ofPerry admiringly, as the kind of man he liked, quoting statistics of thewheat yield of the field they were traversing, and then stoppedabruptly. 

"Thunder! How did they come to give you the farm?"

"I took it: I chose to take it. It was by an agreement between mybrother and sister and me. I'm not sure but that I got the best of thepartition. The stocks and bonds father left didn't mean anything to me. I don't know anything about such things. "

"They let you have the farm as your share; you were afraid of the otherstuff?"

"Yes; it didn't look very good and I was perfectly satisfied. I thoughtthe arrangement fair enough to me: Charlie knew about the other thingsand I didn't. Most of them were very doubtful. "

"They told you they were doubtful; you didn't know anything about them. Was that the way of it?"

"Yes; that was about the way of it, Mr. Montgomery. "

Amzi glared and drew out his handkerchief to mop his face. 

"I saw an automobile come out of your place awhile ago and climb thehill toward town. Charlie been to see you?"

"Yes. He had some friends with him from the city. Charlie knows no endof people. "

"There are people like that, " said Amzi, kicking a clod, and in doing sonearly losing his equilibrium; "there are people with a talent forknowing folks. " This was not an important observation, nor was it at allrelevant. Mr. Montgomery had merely gone as far as he cared to in thediscussion of the distribution of Samuel Holton's estate and this washis way of changing the subject. 

Amzi walked ahead with Perry when they met at the edge of the orchardand Phil loitered behind with Fred. A hawk swung from the cloudlessblue; sparrows, disturbed by these visitors, flew down the orchardaisles in panic. The air was as dry as the stubble of the shorn fields. From the elevation crowned by the orchard it was possible to survey theneighborhood and Phil and Fred paused in silence for several minutes, with their faces turned toward the creek. 

Seeing Phil thus was very different from seeing her across a fence inthe moonlight, or meeting her at her kitchen door. Her new dark-bluegown with hat to match struck him as being very stylish, as indeed, theywere, having come from the best shop in Indianapolis. Phil in gloves wasa different Phil, a remote being quite out of hailing distance. He wastorn between admiration for her dressed-upness and rebellion against asplendor that set her apart like a goddess for timorous adoration. Standing beside and a little behind her, his soul was shaken by thequick shadowings of her lashes. He was so deep in thought during thissilent contemplation that he started and blushed when she turned roundsuddenly. 

"We're terribly solemn, I think, " she remarked, regarding himcarelessly. 

This was unfair. She had no right to look at him in that fashion, takinghis breath away and saying something to which he could think of no replywhatever. Amzi and Perry had wandered away out of sight. She had spokenof solemnity; it was a solemn thing to be alone with a girl like Phil, on a day like this, under a fleckless sky, and with the scarlet maplesand the golden beeches gladdening the distances. Without looking at him, Phil extended her monologue:--

"I like cheerfulness myself. "

"I'm not so opposed to it as you may imagine, " he replied, smiling. "I'mnot much of a talker. I've been alone a whole lot, in lonesome placeswhere there wasn't anybody to talk to. I suppose talking is a habit. When there are people around who talk about things it's natural to getinto the way of talking. Isn't that so?"

"I suspect it is, " Phil answered. "While my critics haven't exactly saidthat I talk too much, they agree that I talk at the wrong time. Let'sall be seated. "

She dropped down on the grass, and smoothed her skirt. It was the besteveryday dress she had ever owned and she meant to be careful of it. Herpatent leather oxford ties were the nicest she had ever had, and she wasnot without her pride in their brightness. Fred seated himself near her. His clothes were his Sunday best, and none too good at that; he waspainfully conscious of the contrast of their raiment. 

"Your brother Charlie talks a good deal. I saw him the other day, " saidPhil. 

"Yes; Charlie talks mighty well. He can talk to anybody. Where did youmeet him?"

"In town, at father's office. "

"Oh; he was there, was he?"

It was plain that Fred was surprised that there should be anyintercourse between the Kirkwoods and his brother. 

"He called to see father; but he didn't see him, " explained Phil, asthough reading his thoughts and willing to satisfy his curiosity. 

"Charlie's getting up a new trolley line. He wanted me to go in withhim. "

"Gave you a chance to escape from your farm? I should think you would betempted. "

"I didn't feel the temptation particularly, " answered Fred; "but it waskind of him to come and see me. "

"Well, there is that, " Phil replied indifferently. "You seemed to geton first-rate with Uncle Amy. Was that the first time you ever talked tohim?"

"Yes. But I remember that once when I was a little chap he met me in thestreet over by the college--I remember the exact spot--and gave me apenny. I seem to remember that he used to do that with children quiteunexpectedly. I imagine that he does a lot of nice things for people. "

"Uncle Amy, " said Phil deliberately, "is the second grandest man nowpresent on earth. Daddy is the first. "

"I don't know your father, except as I see him in the street. "

"I suppose not, " said Phil. 

These commonplaces were leading nowhere, and they were becoming theleast bit trying. 

"My aunts have decided that the Montgomerys and the Holtons might aswell bury the hatchet. They're going to ask your Uncle William to myparty. They can't stand not knowing your aunt. "

He did not at once grasp this. He was only dimly conscious of Montgomerysocial values and the prominence of his Uncle William's wife had notseemed to him a matter of importance. His acquaintance with that ladywas indeed slight, and he did not see at once wherein Phil's aunts hadanything to gain by cultivating her society, nor did Phil enlighten him. This turn of the talk embarrassed him by its suggestion of the escapadein which Phil's mother and his uncle had figured. Phil was notapparently troubled by this. 

"They didn't invite you to my party, did they?"

He did not know exactly whom she meant by "they"; and he had not heardof Phil's party. 

"No, " he answered, smiling; "they probably never heard of me. "

"Well, you will be invited. Your brother and sister are coming. Yourbrother Charlie told me so. He's going to give up a trip to New Yorkjust to be there. "

Phil, he reflected, had been pleased by Charles's magnanimity inchanging plans that embraced the magical name of New York to be presentat her coming-out party. From his knowledge of his brother he felt quitesure that Charles must think it worth while to abandon the visit to NewYork to pay the tribute of his presence to a daughter of theMontgomerys. This contributed to Fred's discomfiture and made it moredifficult to talk to Phil. On the face of it Phil was not a difficultperson. He had seen her dance round a corn-shock in the moonlight, and agirl who would do that ought to be easy to talk to; and he had seen her, aproned at her kitchen door, throw an apple at a cat with enviableexactness of aim, and a girl who threw apples at cats should be humanand approachable. It must be her smart city frock that made thedifference: he hated Phil's clothes, and he resented with particularanimosity the gloves that concealed her hands. 

She saw the frown on his face. 

"I don't believe I heard you say whether you were coming to my party ornot. If you expect to travel about that time you needn't put yourselfout, of course. You shall have one of our regular engraved invitations. How do you get mail out here?" she ended practically. 

"R. F. D. 7. It will be thrilling to get something out of that bird's nestbesides bills, fertilizer and incubator circulars, and the bulletins ofthe Department of Agriculture. Thank you very much. But if, afterconferring with your aunts, you find that they don't approve of me, itwill be all right. "

"You have funny thoughts in your head, don't you? Don't you suppose I'mgoing to have something to say about my own party? Just for a postscriptI'll tell you now that I expect you to come. If I've got to have a partyI want to have as many fellow-sufferers as possible. "

"Does that mean"--and Fred laughed--"that you are not terribly excitedabout your own party? It sounded that way. "

He was not interested in parties himself; he had hardly been to onesince he was a child, and the thought of such an imposing function as heassumed Phil's coming out would be appalled him. And there was thematter of clothes: the dress-suit he had purchased while he was incollege had gone glimmering long ago. The Sunday best he wore to-day wastwo years old, and a discerning eye might have detected itsimperfections which a recent careful pressing had not whollyobliterated. His gaze turned for a moment toward the land in which layhis hope; he had to look past Phil to see those acres. His thoughts werestill upon her party and his relation to it, so that it was with adistinct shock that he heard her say softly and wistfully:--

"It's queer, isn't it?"

"What is?"

She lifted her arm with a sweeping gesture. 

"The world--things generally--what interests you and me; what interestsUncle Amy and Mr. Perry; the buzzings in all our noddles. Thousands ofpeople, in towns just like Montgomery, live along some way or other, andmost of them do the best they can, and keep out of jails and poorhouses, mostly, and nothing very important happens to them or has to. It alwaysstrikes me as odd how unimportant we all are. We're just us, and if Goddidn't make us very big or wise or good, why, there's nothing to be doneabout it. And no matter how hard we get knocked, or how often westumble, why, most of us like the game and wouldn't give it up foranything. I think that's splendid; the way we just keep plugging on. Weall think something pleasant is going to happen to-morrow orday-after-to-morrow. Everybody does. And that's what keeps the worldmoving and everybody tolerably cheerful and happy. "

Phil the philosopher was still another sort of person. She had spoken inher usual tone and he looked at her wonderingly. It was a new experienceto hear life reduced to the simple terms Phil used. She seemed to himlike a teacher who keeps a dull pupil after class, and, by eliminatingall unessential factors, makes clear what an hour before had been onlya jumble of meaningless terms in the student's mind. 

He was still dumb before this new Phil with her a, b, c philosophy whenher eyes brightened, and she sprang to her feet. Bending forward withher hand to her ear, and then dropping her arms to her sides, shesaid:--

 "Adown the orchard aisles they come, methinks, -- My lord who guardest well his treasure chests, Attended by his squire and faithful drudge, And back to town I soon must lightly skip Else father will be roaring for his tea. "

She was, indeed, a mystifying being! It was not until the absurdity ofher last line broke upon him that he saw that this was only another sideof Phil the inexplicable. She threw up her arm and signaled to her UncleAmzi, who was approaching with Perry. The interruption was unwelcome. Ithad been a bewildering experience to sit beside Phil on the sunnyorchard slope. He had not known that any girl could be like this. 

"Do you write poetry?" he asked, from the depths of his humility. 

She turned with a mockery of disdain. 

"I should think you could see, Mr. Holton, that these are not singingrobes, nor is this lovely creation of a hat wrought in the similitude ofa wreath of laurel; but both speak for the plain prose of life. Youhave, therefore, no reason to fear me. "

In a moment they were all on their way to the house; and soon Phil andAmzi were driving homeward. 

"What was Fred Holton talking to you about?" asked Amzi, as he shook thereins over the back of his roadster. 

"He wasn't talking to me, Amy; I was talking to him. He's a nice boy. "

"He doesn't run so much to gold watches and chains as the rest of 'em. He seems to be pretty decent. Perry says he's got the right stuff inhim. " And then, with more animation: "Those Holtons! Thunder!"

CHAPTER X

PHIL'S PARTY

Mr. Amzi Montgomery thought it only proper to learn all that waspossible of the affairs of his customers. This was the part of wisdom ina cautious banker; and he was distressed when checks that were notself-explanatory passed through the receiving-teller's window. A smallbank is a good place in which to sharpen one's detective sense. Everycheck tells a story and is in some degree a clue. 

No account on his bank's ledgers was more often scrutinized than that ofNancy Bartlett, and when she deposited a draft for $2115. 15, theincident was not one to be passed lightly. No such sum had ever beforebeen placed to Nan's credit. He knew that she received five- and ten-and even fifty-dollar drafts from Eastern periodicals, and he hadtouched these with reverent hands: but two thousand dollars in a lumpfrom one of the best-known publishers in the country staggered Amzi. Toadd to his mystification, half the amount plus one cent, to-wit, $1057. 58, was immediately transferred to Thomas Kirkwood's account, andthis left Amzi away up in the air. Just what right Tom Kirkwood had toparticipate in Nan's earnings Amzi did not know, nor did he seeimmediately any way of finding out. 

What did happen, though, coincident with this event, and much to hisgratification, was the installation of a girl-of-all-work in Kirkwood'shouse. Phil had been dislodged from the kitchen, and Amzi was mightilyrelieved by this. A kitchen was no place for his niece, that flower ofthe Montgomery flock. His spirits rose when Phil hailed him one morningas he stood baring his head to the November air on the bank steps, andtold him that her occupation was gone. She made the confession ruefully;it was unfair for her father to discharge her just as she was gettingthe hang of the range and learning to broil a steak without incineratingit. "Just for that" she would spend a great deal of time in Main Street, and ruin her constitution at Struby's soda-fountain. 

While Amzi was still trying to account for Nan's check, two otherincidents contributed further to his perplexities. On his way home oneevening he saw Nan and Kirkwood walking together. It was only a fairassumption that the two friends had met by chance and that Kirkwood wasmerely accompanying Nan to her door, as he had every right to do. Theywere walking slowly and talking earnestly. To avoid passing them, Amziturned off at the first cross-street, but stood for a moment staringafter them. Then the next evening he had gone to call at the Bartletts'and all his intervening speculations were overthrown when he foundKirkwood there alone with Rose, Nan being, it seemed, in Indianapolis ona visit. Rose and Kirkwood had evidently been deeply engrossed, too, when Amzi interrupted their conference with the usual thump of thedrumstick. The piano, he observed, was closed, and it was inexplicablethat Kirkwood should be spending an unmusical evening with Rose. Nor wasPhil with her father. This was another damaging fact. It was a blow toAmzi to find that such things could happen in his own town, and underhis very eyes. 

If it hadn't been for Phil's party, the preparations for which gave himplenty to do, Amzi's winter would have opened most unhappily; but Phil'sparty was an event of importance not only in her life, but in Amzi's aswell. Everybody who had the slightest title to consideration received aninvitation. He was glad his sisters had suggested that the Holtons beinvited. It gave him an excuse for opening the doors wide. He heard muchfrom his kinsfolk about the prosperity of the Holtons, who were held upto him in rebuke for his own sluggish business methods. He wanted hissisters and the rest of the world to know that the First National Bankof Montgomery aroused in him no jealous pangs. 

Phil arrived at Amzi's early and ran upstairs to take off her wraps. When this was accomplished and her Aunt Fanny's housemaid, lent for theoccasion, had duly admired her, she knocked boldly on her uncle's door. 

"Come in, you Phil, " he shouted. 

Amzi stood before his chiffonier in his shirt sleeves, trying to make abow of his white tie. A cigar, gripped firmly in his teeth, was notproving of much assistance in the operation. As Phil crossed the room, he jerked off the strip of lawn and threw it into the open drawer. 

"See what you've done? See all that litter? All that stuff crumpled upand wasted just on your account? I told that fellow in Indianapolis togive me the ready-made kind that buckles behind, but he wouldn't listen;said they don't keep 'em any more. And look at that! It's a good thing Igot a dozen! Thunder!"

The "Thunder" was due to the fact that in his excess of emotion over thedifficulties with his raiment, his eyes had not until that instant takenin Phil. His jaw fell as he stared and tears filled his eyes. Above thesoft folds of her white crêpe gown the firm clean lines of her shouldersand throat were revealed and for the first time he fully realized thatthe Phil who had gladdened his days by her pranks--Phil the romp andhoyden--had gone, and that she would never be quite the same again. There was a distinct shock in the thought. It carried him back to theday when her mother had danced across the threshold from youth towomanhood, with all of Phil's charm and grace and her heart of laughter. 

Phil fanned herself languidly, feigning to ignore his bewilderment. Anaigrette in her hair emphasized her height. She lifted her arms and, whistling softly, pirouetted about the room. Her movements were those ofvigorous, healthy youth. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks aglow. 

"Thunder!" gasped Amzi, feeling absently of his collar. "Is that you, Phil?"

"Generally speaking, it _ain't_, Amy. What do you think of the gladnessof these joyful rags anyhow?"

"You look right, Phil. You've grown about six inches since I saw youlast. High heels?"

She thrust out a slipper for his inspection. 

"Those clothes are not as bad as some I've seen. I don't mind thelow-in-the-neck effect when there's a neck to show like yours. Most of'em look like the neck of a picked gander. I guess Fanny did about theright thing. Fanny's taste is usually pretty fair. "

"Oh, the whole syndicate took a hand in it, " said Phil with a sigh. "They nearly wore me out; but they were so busy consulting each otherthat they didn't notice that I chose the crêpe myself. But I wanted youto like my things, Amy. "

"Of course I like 'em. You certainly look grand. "

He rummaged in one of the chiffonier drawers. 

"Just wait a minute, " he said; "you've got to fix this fool thing forme. " He placed a fresh tie round his white-wing collar and looselycrossed the ends. "I ain't going to take any chances of spoiling this. Now, Phil, do your noblest. "

"With gloves on? Well, I'm used to doing daddy's over again, so heregoes. "

He stood with his chin in air while she tied the bow. Her youth, herloveliness, her red lips, compressed at the crucial moment when the bowtook form, moved and thrilled him. No one in the world had ever been sodear to him as Phil! When she rested her hands on his shoulders andtilted her head to one side to study her handiwork he raised himself onhis toes and lifted his hands, in one of which he had concealedsomething. 

"Bend your head a little, Phil; I ought to have a ladder for this. "

And in a moment he drew down upon her neck a chain with a pendant ofpearls, which he had chosen with the greatest care at the best jeweler'sin Indianapolis. 

"Now look at yourself!"

She sprang to the mirror, and while she was exclaiming over it, heremarked, "I guess it don't make you look much worse, Phil. But itdoesn't make you look much nicer. Thunder! Nothing could!"

"Amy! I'm going to muss you up!" she cried, wheeling round. 

"Phil--don't you touch me; don't you dare!"

He backed away and began drawing on his coat, and she abandoned the ideaof mussing him to make sure his tie didn't crawl up over his collar. Sheclasped him tight and kissed him on the mouth. 

"What a dear old pal you are, Amy, " she said, laying her cheek againsthis. "Don't you ever think I don't appreciate what you do for me--whatyou are to me!"

"I guess that's all right, Phil, " he said, and turned round to thechiffonier and blew his nose furiously. "Where's Tom?"

"I guess daddy's gone downstairs. "

"Well, most of your aunts are on the job somewhere and we'd better godown and start this party. I hear the fiddlers tuning up. "

Amzi II had built a big house with a generous hall and large rooms, andit had been a matter of pride with Amzi III to maintain it as it hadbeen, refusing to listen to the advice of his sisters that he shut offpart of it. Amzi liked space, and he was not in the least dismayed byproblems of housekeeping. In preparing for Phil's party he had had allthe white woodwork repainted, and the floors of the drawing- andliving-rooms had been polished for dancing. 

In Montgomery functions of all sorts begin early. The number ofavailable public vehicles is limited, and by general consent thecitizens take turns in the use of them. There hadn't been a party at theMontgomery homestead since the marriage of the last of the Montgomerygirls. It was not surprising that to-night many people thought a littlemournfully of the marriage of the first! The launching of Phil affordedopportunity for contrasting her with her mother; she was or she was notlike Lois; nearly all the old people had an opinion one way or another. 

Among the early arrivals was Mrs. John Newman King. Mrs. King, ateighty, held her own as the person of chief social importance in town. The Montgomerys were a good second; but their standing was based merelyupon long residence and wealth; whereas Mrs. King had to her credit notonly these essential elements of provincial distinction, but she hadbeen the wife of a United States Senator in the great days of the CivilWar. She had known Lincoln and all the host of wartime heroes. Lincoln, Grant, and Sherman had been her guests right there in Montgomery--at thebig place with the elms and beeches, all looking very much to-day as itdid in the stirring sixties. Mrs. King wore a lace cap and very rustlingsilk, and made pretty little curtsies. She talked politics to gentlemen, and asked women about their babies, and was wholly charming with younggirls. 

She paused before Phil, in the semicircle that included Amzi and hissisters with their husbands, and Tom Kirkwood. 

"My dear child, on this proud occasion I want to say that the day youfell out of the cherry tree in my back yard and broke your arm and cameinto the house to get a sand tart as usual before going home, just asthough nothing had happened, I loved you and I have loved you eversince. And you didn't cry either!"

"I didn't cry, Aunt Jane, because I hadn't sense enough to know I'd beenhurt!"

"You were always a child of spirit! It's spirit that counts in thislife. And for all we know in the next one, too. Don't you let all theserelations of yours spoil you; I've known all the Montgomerys ever sinceyour great-grandfather came here from Virginia, and you please me morethan all the rest of 'em put together. Do you hear that, Amzi!"

Amzi was prepared to hear just this; he was nigh to bursting with pride, for Mrs. King was the great lady of the community and her opinionoutweighed that of any dozen other women in that quarter of Indiana. 

Montgomery is just a comfortable, folksy, neighborly town, small enoughto make hypocrisy difficult and unnecessary. In a company like this thatmarked Phil's entrance upon the great little world, no realMontgomeryite remembered who had the most money, or the costliestautomobile, or the largest house. The Madison professors, who never hadany hope of earning more than fifteen hundred dollars a year if theylived forever, received the special consideration to which they wereentitled; and Judge Walters might be hated by most of the lawyers at thebar for his sharp admonitions from the bench, but they all respected himfor his sound attainments and unquestioned probity. Among others whowere presented to Phil (as though they hadn't known her all her life!)were a general and a colonel and other officers of the line, includingCaptain Joshua Wilson, poet and county recorder, and the editors of thetwo newspapers, and lawyers and doctors and shopkeepers, and, yes, clerks who stood behind counters, and insurance agents and thepostmaster, all mingling together, they and their children, in the mostdemocratic fashion imaginable. 

"We're all here, " said old General Wilks, who had been a tower ofstrength in the Army of the Tennessee, "and we're the best people of thebest state on earth. I claim the privilege of age, Amzi, to kiss theprettiest girl in Indiana. "

Beyond question the arrival of the William Holtons, with their niece andnephew from Indianapolis, caused a stir. They were among the latecomers, and the curious were waiting to witness their reception, whichproved to be disappointingly undramatic. Their welcome in no wisediffered from that accorded to other guests. Every one said that CharlesHolton was a handsome fellow, and his sister Ethel a very "nice" thoughrather an insipid and colorless young woman. It was generally understoodthat Amzi's sisters had forced his hand. The conservatives were disposedto excuse Amzi for permitting the Holtons to be invited; but theythought the Holtons displayed bad taste in accepting. It was Phil'sparty, and no Holton had any business to be connected with anything thatconcerned Phil. And Tom Kirkwood's feelings ought to have beenconsidered, said his old friends. 

"You see, " Charles Holton remarked to Phil, when he had bowed over herhand with a good deal of manner, "I really did give up that New Yorktrip. I would have come back from China to see you in that gown!"

The musicians (five artists from the capital, and not the drummer andpiano-thumper usually considered adequate in Montgomery for fraternityand class functions) now struck up the first number. 

"Please give me a lot of dances, " begged Charles, looking at Phil'scard. 

"One! Just one!" replied Phil. 

"You are bound to be a great tyrant; you should be merciful to yourhumblest subject. "

"I haven't seen any of the humility yet, " she laughed. 

Her Uncle Lawrence Hastings had undertaken to manage the dance and heglided away with her to the strains of the first waltz. Hastings boasteda velvet collar to his dress-coat, and the town had not yet ceased tomarvel that fortune had sent to its door a gentleman so exquisite, sofinished, so identified with the most fascinating of all the arts. Hastings had for the social affairs of Montgomery a haughty scorn. Itpained him greatly to be asked to a neighbor's for "supper, "particularly when it was quite likely that the hostess would herselfcook and serve the food; and the Fortnightly Assembly, a club of marriedfolk that met to dance in Masonic Hall, was to him the tamest, thedullest of organizations, and the fact that his brother-in-law Waterman, who waltzed like a tipsy barrel, enjoyed those harmless entertainmentshad done much to embitter Hastings's life. Hastings imagined himself inlove frequently; the Dramatic Club afforded opportunities for theintense flirtations in which his nature delighted. The parents ofseveral young women who had taken part in his amateur theatricals hadbeen concerned for their daughters' safety. And now Phil interestedhim--this new Phil in city clothes. The antics of Phil, the tomboy ofMain Street, had frequently aroused his indignation; Phil, a débutantein an evening gown that he pronounced a creation of the gods, was worthyof serious attention. She was, he averred, Hermione, Rosalind, Portia, Beatrice, combined in one perfect flower of womanhood. 

"You are adorable, Phil, " he sighed, when the music ceased, leaving themat the end of the living-room. "A star danced and you were born. "

"That is very sweet, Lawr_i_nce, " said Phil; "but here comes my nextpartner. You mustn't stand in the way of the young men. "

The very lightest laughing emphasis on "young" made a stab of this. Heposed in a window and watched her, with his gloomiest Hamlet-like air, until his wife, noting this familiar symptom, interrupted hismeditations and commissioned him to convoy a lady with an ear-trumpet tothe dining-room. 

The party was going merrily; there was no doubt of its complete success. Some of the older folk remarked upon the fact that Phil had danced withCharles Holton; and he danced well. There was a grace in the Holtons, and Charles was endowed with the family friendliness. He made a point ofspeaking to every one and of dancing with the wall-flowers. It was notedpresently that he saw Mrs. King to her carriage, and was otherwiseregardful of the old folks. 

Phil had wondered whether Fred Holton would come. She had hoped he wouldwhen she asked him at her uncle's farm, and the formal invitation hadbeen dispatched to R. F. D. 7 as promised. 

It was ten o'clock when Fred appeared. Phil saw him over her partner'sshoulder talking to Amzi in the hall door, and as she swept by him inthe dance she caught his eye. Fred had come late out of sheer timidity, but he had arrived at a moment when the gayety was at its height. 

His diffidence had been marked even in his college days, and he wasunused to gatherings of this kind. The proximity of so many gay, laughing people was a real distress to him. And if the other members ofhis family were able to overlook Jack Holton's great sin, Fred wasacutely conscious of it now that Phil had dawned on his horizon. He hadno sooner entered the house than he regretted his temerity in coming;and he had come merely to see Phil--that was the whole of it. Nor didthe thought of this now contribute to his comfort. His glimpses of heras she danced up and down the room with three partners in turn--one ofthem his brother--set his pulses throbbing. Phil in her simple whitegown--this glowing, joyous woman was no longer of his world. For thefirst time in his life his heart was shot through with jealousy. He hadalways felt Charles's superiority, but with a younger brother's loyaladmiration he had not resented it. He resented it now. Fred hadresurrected a cutaway coat for this adventure, and he was acutely awarethat there were more dress-coats in evidence than he had imagined wereavailable in Montgomery. Amzi, who had greeted him kindly, introducedhim to a visiting girl whose name he did not catch, and he was doing hisbest to present an appearance of ease in talking to her. It had been along time since he had danced, and he did not know the new steps. Thegirl asked him why he did not invite her to dance, and this added to hisdiscomfiture. There is no greater unhappiness than that of thenon-dancing young man at a dancing-party. He is drawn to such functionsby a kind of fascination; he does not understand why other young menwith no better brains than his are able to encircle the waists of themost beautiful girls and guide them through difficult evolutions. Hevows that he will immediately submit himself to instruction and lifthimself from the pits of torment. 

The visiting girl was carried off, evidently to her relief and delight, by a strange young man and Fred was left stranded in an alcove. He hadnever felt so lonesome in his life. Phil vanished and now that he nolonger enjoyed even his earlier swift glimpses of her, his dejectionincreased. He was meditating an escape when, as his eyes sought her, shestood suddenly breathless beside him. A divinity had no right thus toappear unheralded before mortal eyes. Fred blushed furiously and put outhis hand awkwardly. Phil's latest partner begged for another dance;there was to be an extra, he pleaded; but she dismissed him with a waveof her fan. There had been high-school dances where Phil had learned tosteel her heart against the importunate. 

"Why didn't you come and speak to me?" demanded Phil when they werealone. 

"I was just waiting for a chance. I didn't want to bother you. "

"Well, you'll have to do better than this! You're the only person in thehouse who hasn't spoken to me! But it was nice of you to come: it mustbe a trouble to come to town at night when you live so far. " She satdown in the window-seat and bade him do likewise. "You did see UncleAmy, didn't you? I saw you talking to him; but you ought to have comeearlier while there was a receiving-line ready for you. Now you'll haveto look around for everybody; you have to speak to my three aunts andall my uncles and my father. "

"I'll be glad to, " declared Fred; and then realizing the absurdity ofhis fervor in consenting to speak to the aunts and uncles he laughed. 

"You're scared, " said Phil. "And if you won't tell anybody I'm a littlebit scared myself, just because everybody tells me how grown-up I am. "

The music struck up and a young cavalier--a college senior, who hadworshiped Phil since his freshman year--came to say that it was hisdance. She told him that she was tired and would have to be excused. Hewished to debate the question, but she closed the incident promptly andeffectively. 

"I'm busy talking to Mr. Holton; and I can see you any time, Walter. "

Walter departed crestfallen; she treated him as though he were still afreshman. He was wearing his first dress-coat and the tallest collar hecould buy, and it was humiliating to be called Walter and sent away by agirl who preferred to talk to a rustic-looking person in a cutaway coatand a turnover collar with a four-in-hand tie. 

Phil carried Fred off for a tour of the rooms, pausing to introduce himto her father and to the three aunts, to whom she said how kind it wasof Fred to come; that he was the only person she had personally asked tothe party. And it was just like Phil, for years the loyal protector ofall the discards among the cats and dogs in town, to choose a clodhopperfor special attention. Kirkwood, who had forgotten Fred's existence, greeted him in his pleasant but rather absent way. 

The torrid Wabash Valley summers of many years had not greatly modifiedthe chill in Kirkwood's New England blood, and the isolation in which hehad lived so long had deepened his reserve. The scholarly stamp had notbeen effaced by his abandonment of the academic life, and many of hisfellow-townsmen still addressed him as Professor Kirkwood. His joyto-night lay in Phil's happiness; his heart warmed to the terms ofpraise in which every one spoke of her. It touched his humor that hisdaughter was in some degree a public character. Her escapades inchildhood and youth had endeared her to the community. In her battleswith the aunts public sympathy had been pretty generally with Phil. "Otherwise Phyllis--?" Many a smile had been occasioned by thatquestion. Tom Kirkwood knew all this and was happy and grateful. He hadnot attended a large gathering of his fellow-townfolk since his wifeleft him, so that his daughter's coming-out was an event of doublesignificance for him. 

The aunts were somewhat critical of the arrangements for refreshing theguests. Amzi, refusing to heed their suggestions that the catering beentrusted to an Indianapolis firm, had arranged everything himself. Thecakes were according to the best recipes known at 98 Buckeye Lane, andRose and Nan were there, assisting, by Amzi's special command. Duringthe evening he consulted first one and then the other; and when hissisters asked icily for instructions, he told them to look handsome andkeep cheerful. This was unbrotherly, of course, but Amzi was supremelyhappy. 

The older people had been served in the dining-room and many of them hadalready gone or were now taking leave, and the waiters were distributinglittle tables for the young people. 

"Let me see, you were to have refreshments with me, Miss Kirkwood; Ihave a table in the drawing-room alcove all ready, " said Charles Holtonto Phil as she still stood talking to Fred in the hall. Fred had beenwondering just what his own responsibilities were in the matter. Charleshad greeted him affably; but Fred's diffidence deepened in his brother'spresence: Charles was a master of the social arts, whereas Fred had onlyinstinctive good-breeding to guide him. Fred was about to move away, butPhil detained him. 

"Isn't it curious that you two brothers should have the same idea, " saidPhil artlessly. "It's really remarkable! But I think"--and she turnedgravely to Fred--"I think, as long as you came too late for a dance withme, I shall eat my piece of pie with you--and I think right up there onthe stairs would be an excellent place to sit!"

Fred, radiant at the great kindness of this, went off to bring the saladfor which she declared she was perishing. Charles looked at her with anamused smile on his face. 

"You're a brick! It's mighty fine of you to be so nice to Fred. Dear oldFred!"

Phil frowned. 

"Why do you speak of your brother in that way?"

"How did I speak of him?"

"Oh, as if he were somebody to be sorry for!"

"Oh, you misunderstood me! I was merely pleased that you were being niceto him. Fred would never have thought of asking you to sit on the stairswith him--I knew that; it was just like you to save him fromembarrassment. "

"Oh!"

He was piqued by the connotations suggested by Phil's "Oh!" Phil was notonly stunningly pretty, but she had wits. It was his way to impressgirls he met, and there was no time for dallying now; Fred would returnin a moment and take Phil away from him. He intended to see a great dealof her hereafter, and he believed that in the opening skirmishes of aflirtation a bold shot counts double. Phil waved her hand in thedirection of the table where the Bartletts, her father, and Amzi wereseating themselves, and when she looked round at Holton, she found hiseyes bent upon her with a fair imitation of wistfulness and longingwhich in previous encounters of this sort he had found effective. 

"I don't believe you realize how beautiful you are. I've been over theworld a good deal and there's no one anywhere who touches you. There arelots of nice and pretty girls, of course, but you are different; you area beautiful woman! To see you like this is to know for the first timewhat beauty is. And I know--I appreciate the beautiful soul there is inyou--that shines out of your eyes!" His voice was low, and a littletremulous. "I want the chance to fight for you! From that first moment Isaw you in your father's office I have thought of nothing but you. That's why I came--why I gave up business of real importance to come. And I shall come again and again, until you tell me I may come nolonger. "

His voice seemed to break with the stress of deep feeling. Phillistened, first in surprise that yielded perhaps to fear, and then herhead bent and she looked down at her fan which she slowly opened andshut. She did not lift her eyes until she was sure he had finished. 

"By the way, " she remarked, with studied carelessness, as she continuedto play with her fan, "I wish I could quote things offhand like that. Itmust be fine to have such a memory! Let me see, what is that from--'ThePrisoner of Zenda' or 'How Lulu Came to Logansport'? Oh!" (with suddenanimation as Fred came bearing two plates) "there's my young life-savernow!" Then to Charles again: "Well, I shall certainly look up thatquotation. It was ever so nice of you to remind me of it!"

Holton struck his gloved hands together smartly in his irritation andturned away. Phil was undoubtedly different; but she was not throughyet. She called him back, one foot on the stair, and said in aconfidential tone, "That nice little Orbison girl, --the blonde one, Imean, who's visiting here from Elwood, --I wish you'd take good care ofher; I'm afraid she isn't having a wildly exciting time. "

"This is what I call being real comfortable and cozy, " she remarked toFred as they disposed themselves on one of the lower steps. 

Below and near at hand were most of the members of her family. She sawfrom the countenances of the three aunts that they were displeased withher, but the consciousness of this did not spoil life for her. Shehumanly enjoyed their discomfiture, knowing that it was based upon thedinginess of Fred's clothes and prospects. Their new broad tolerance ofthe Holtons did not cover the tragic implications of Fred's raiment. They meant to protect Phil in every way, and yet there was ground fordespair when she chose the most undesirable young man in the county tosit with in the intimacy of the refreshment hour at her own coming-out. Mrs. Fosdick leaned back from her table to ask Amzi in an angry whisperwhat he meant by allowing Phil to invite Fred Holton to her party. 

"What's that? Allow her! I didn't allow her! Nobody allows Phil!Thunder!" And then, after he had picked up his fallen napkin, he turnedto add: "There's nothing the matter with Fred that I know of!"

The comparative quiet that now reigned was much more to Fred's likingthan the gayety of the dance. Phil treated their companionship as amatter of course and his timidity and restraint vanished. Nothing in hisexperience had ever been so agreeable and stimulating as this. ThatPhil, of all humankind, should have made this possible was to himinexplicable. It could not be that when this was over, he should behurled back to Stop 7. 

Phil, who had disposed of Charles's confession of adoration to her ownsatisfaction, now seemed bent upon winning some praise from the haltingtongue of Charles's brother. To make conversation she directed attentionto her new trinket, holding out the chain for Fred to admire the pearls. In doing this he saw the pulse throbbing in her slim throat, and this initself was disturbing. Her nearness there on the stairway affected himeven more than on the orchard slope where he had experienced similaragitations. When she laughed he noticed an irregularity in one of herwhite teeth; and there was a tiny mole on her neck, just below her leftear. He did not know why he saw these things, or why seeing themincreased his awe. It seemed wonderful that she could so easily slip herhands out of her gloves without drawing the long gauntlets from herarms. Farther and farther receded the Phil of the kitchen apron withwhom he had bargained for the sale of the saddest apples that had everbeen brought to Montgomery by a self-respecting farmer! When her fathercame to the stair-rail to ask if she felt a draft from the upperwindows, Fred was shaken with fear; the thought that the airs of heavenmight visit affliction upon this brown-haired and brown-eyed marvel wasat once a grief to him. He felt the world rock at the bare thought ofany harm ever coming to her. 

"As if, " said Phil, when her father had been reassured, "the likes of mecould take cold. What do you do all day on a farm in winter weather?"

"Let me see; I chopped wood, this morning; and I'd bought some corn ofPerry--that is, of your uncle--and went over with the wagon to get it;and this afternoon I brought the wood I had chopped to the woodshed; andthen I went out to look at my wheatfield, and almost bought a cow ofanother neighbor--but didn't quite make a bargain. And then I began toget ready to come to your party. "

"You must have worked awfully hard to get ready, " said Phil, "for youwere late getting here. "

"Well, I loafed around outside for an hour or so before I came in, " andhe smiled ruefully. "I'm not used to parties. "

"You seem to get on pretty well, " said Phil reassuringly. 

One of the waiters had brought them ice-cream and cake, and after shehad tasted the cake Phil caught Rose Bartlett's eye and expressedecstasy and gratitude by a lifting of the head, a closing of the eyes, aswift folding of the hands. 

"How are you going to amuse yourself out there by yourself all winter?"she remarked to Fred; "I shouldn't think there would be much to do!"

"Oh, there won't be any trouble about that! I've got plenty to do andthen I want to do some studying, too. I'm going up to the University inJanuary to hear lectures--farming and stock-raising and things likethat. Perry has put me up to it. And then in between times I want to getacquainted with the neighbors; they're all mighty nice people and kindand friendly. That sounds pretty stupid, doesn't it?"

"Well, it sounds wholesome if not wildly exciting. I've lost my job. They took my kitchen away from me just as I was getting started; and Ihaven't anything much to do--except being sociable. "

"Of course, you've come out now, and you'll be going to receptions anddances all the time. "

"I can't exactly cry O joy, O joy at the thought of it. There must havebeen gypsies in my family somewhere. You'll think I'm crazy, but I'dlike to go out right now and run a mile. But there will be skatingafterwhile; and snowstorms to go walking in. I like walking insnowstorms, --the blustering kind where you can't see and go plunkinginto fences. "

Fred agreed to this; he readily visualized Phil tramping 'cross-countryin snowstorms. "It's an awful thing, " Phil resumed, "to have to berespectable. Aunt Kate wants to go South this winter and take me withher. But that would mean being shut up in a hotel. If daddy didn't haveto work, I'd make him take me to California where we could get a wagonand just keep camping. Camping out is the most fun there is in _this_world. There's a nice wooziness in waking up at night and hearing anowl right over your head; and there are the weather changes, when you goto sleep with the stars shining and wake up and hear the rain slappingthe tent. And when you've gone for a long tramp and come back tired andwet and hungry, and sit and talk about things awhile and then tumbleinto bed and get up in the morning to do it all over again--! Does thatsound perfectly wild? If it does, then I'm crazy, for that's the kind ofthing I like--not to talk about it at parties in my best clothes, but togo out and do it and keep on doing it forever and ever. "

She put the last crumb of the Bartlett cake into her mouth meditatively. 

"I like the outdoors, too, " said Fred, for whom this statement of herlikings momentarily humanized his goddess and brought her within therange of his understanding. "The earth is a good old earth. There are nojars in the way she does her business. There's something that makes mefeel sort o' funny inside when I go out now and see that littlewheat-patch of mine, and know that the snow is going to cover it, andthat with any kind of good luck it's going to live right through thecold and come to harvest next summer. And it gives me a queer feeling, and always did, the way it all goes on--and has always gone on since thebeginning of the world. When I was a little boy here in Montgomery andwent to Center Church Sunday-School, the most interesting things in theBible were about those Old Testament people, raising cattle and tendingflocks and farming just like the people right here at home. I supposeit's a feeling like that I always had that makes me want to be a farmerand live close to the ground--that and wanting to earn a living, " heconcluded, smiling. He was astonished at his own speech, which hadexpressed ideas that had never crystallized in his mind before. 

"That, " said Phil, "is what poetry is--feeling like that. "

"I suppose it is, " Fred assented. 

The waiters were relieving the guests of their burdens, and carryingout the tables, and there was a stir through the house as the musicianstook their places. Phil rose and nodded to a young gentleman who soughther for the next dance. 

"I've got to go, " said Fred. "I'll just about catch my last car. It'sbeen fine to be here. And I've enjoyed talking to you. It was mightykind of you to sit up here with me. I shall always remember it. "

Phil was drawing on her gloves, looking down upon the hall through whichthe guests from the other rooms were now passing. 

At this moment the outer hall door opened cautiously and a man steppedinside, closed it noisily, and placed his back against it with an air ofdefiance. He stood blinking in the strong light, moving his head fromside to side as though in the effort to summon speech. The waiter whohad been stationed at the door was helping to clear away the tables, buthe hurried forward and began directing this latest guest where to leavehis wraps. The stranger shook his head protestingly. It was quiteevident that he was intoxicated. He wore a long overcoat spattered withmud, and there was a dent in the derby hat he removed with elaboratecare and then swung at arm's length. The doorways filled. Something notdown in the programme was occurring. A sudden hush fell upon the house;whispered inquiries as to the identity of the stranger, who stooddrunkenly turning his gaze from left to right, passed guardedly from lipto lip. Amzi, Kirkwood, and the Bartletts remained near where they hadrisen from their table, sharing the general consternation. Amzi was thefirst to recover; he took a step toward the door, but paused as the manbegan to speak slowly and drunkenly. He seemed annoyed by his inabilityto control his tongue and his voice rose raspingly. 

"'M looking for my bruf--my bruf--my brother. Tole me 'tis h-h--'tishouse he was 't Amzi's to party. Holtons and Mungummer--Montgomerys allgood fr'ens now. Bes' ole fam'lies in town. 'Pologize for coming s'late; no time change my clothes; disgraceful--puf-puf-perfectlydisgraceful, that's whasmasser. Want t' see Will. Anybody here seenWill? Don' tell me Will's gone home s' early; mos' unfashion'ble; mos'disgracefully unfashion'ble!"

Jack Holton had come back, and this was the manner of his coming. Tomost of those who saw him that night tipsily planted against the door ofthe old Montgomery house, he was an entire stranger, so long had beenhis exile; but to Amzi, to Tom Kirkwood, to Rose and Nan Bartlett therecame at the instant of identification a thronging weight of memories. Some one had called William Holton--he was discussing local businessprospects with Paul Fosdick--and the crowd about the drawing-room doormade way for him. His nephew Charles was at his elbow. 

"Bring my coat and hat to the back door, Charlie, and see that your AuntNellie gets home, " he said; and people spoke admiringly afterward of thecomposure with which he met the situation. 

Amzi was advancing toward the uninvited guest and William turned to him. 

"This is unpardonable, Mr. Montgomery, but I want you to know that Icouldn't have foreseen it. I am very sorry. Good-night!"

Preceded by Amzi, William led his brother, not without difficulty, through the hall to the dining-room and into the kitchen, where Charlesjoined him in a moment by way of the back stairs. 

"It's Uncle Jack, is it?" Charles asked, looking at the tall figure witha curiosity that was unfeigned. 

"M' dear boy, I s'pose 's possible I'm your lon--lon--long los' uncle;but I haven't zonner--haven't zonner your acquaintance. Want to seeWill. Got prodigal on zands, Will has. Seems t'ave come back mos''no--mos' 'nopportune 'casion. All right, ole man: jus' give me y' armand I get 'long mos' com-for-ble, mos' comfort-_a_-ble, " he ended with aleer of triumph at having achieved the vowel. 

Charles helped him down the steps to the walk and then returned to thehouse. In his unfamiliarity with its arrangements, he opened by mistakethe door that led to a little den where Amzi liked to read and smoke. There quite alone stood Tom Kirkwood, his hands in his pockets, staringinto the coal-fire of the grate. Charles muttered an apology and hastilyclosed the door. 

Through the house rang the strains of a waltz, and the dance went on. 

CHAPTER XI

BROTHERS

William Holton spoke the truth to Amzi when he said that he had had nowarning of his brother's return. William, with all his apparentprosperity, was not without his troubles, and he took it unkindly thatthis brother, who for sixteen years had kept out of the way, should havechosen so unfortunate a moment for reintroducing himself to his nativetown. He had not set eyes on Jack since his flight with Lois Kirkwood, though Samuel had visited the Western coast several times on businesserrands and had kept in touch with him. William had been glad enough toforget Jack's existence, particularly as the reports that had reachedhim--even those brought back by the sanguine Samuel--had been far fromreassuring as to Jack's status in Seattle. 

Jack's return meant a recrudescence of wounds which time had seeminglyhealed, with resulting discomforts that might have far-reachingconsequences. Mrs. William had a pride of her own, and it was unjust toher for a man who had so shocked the moral sensibilities of the town tothrust himself back upon his family, especially when he had chosen topresent himself first at the domicile of the head of a house againstwhich he had so grossly sinned. 

William took Jack home and put him to bed; and when Charles followed alittle later with Mrs. Holton, the prodigal slept the sleep of wearyintoxication in her guest chamber. 

The next day the town buzzed, and the buzzing was loud enough to makeitself heard at the desk of the president of the First National Bank. William had left word at home that when Jack came to himself, he was tobe dispatched to the bank forthwith. He meant to deal with thisunwelcome pilgrim upon a business basis strictly, without any softeningdomestic influences. The honor of the Holtons was touched nearly andJack must be got rid of. Mrs. Holton telephoned at eleven o'clock thatJack was on his way downtown, and William was prepared for the interviewwhen his brother strolled in with something of his old jauntiness. 

The door of the directors' room closed upon them. The word passed alongMain Street that Jack and William were closeted in the bank. Phil, walking downtown on an errand, with the happiness of her party still inher eyes, was not without her sense of the situation. At thebreakfast-table her father, deeply preoccupied, had brought himself withan effort to review the happier events of the party. Knowing what was inhis mind Phil mentioned the untoward misfortune that had cast JackHolton of all men upon the threshold of her uncle's house. 

"It really didn't make any difference, daddy, --that man's coming. Everybody tried to forget it. And some of the young people didn't knowhim at all. "

"No; it didn't matter, Phil. Your Uncle Amzi is a fine gentleman: Inever fully appreciated his goodness and generosity as much as I didlast night. "

Phil did not know that Amzi had sought Kirkwood in the den where thelawyer had gone to take counsel with himself, and had blown himselfpurple in the face in his kind efforts to make light of the incident. The two men had never been drawn closer together in their lives than inthat meeting. 

"It wasn't Uncle Amy's fault that the William Holtons were asked to theparty; I think it was Aunt Kate who started that. And when I heard ofit, it was all over and the invitations had been sent, " Phil said. 

Kirkwood repeated his assurance that it made no difference in any way. And Phil remembered for a long time a certain light in his gentle, candid eyes as he said:--

"We get over most of our troubles in this world, Phil; and I want you toknow that that particular thing doesn't hurt me any more. Only it was ashock; the man had aged so and his condition and the suddenness ofit--But it's all over and it didn't spoil the party; that's the mainthing. "

Phil was immensely relieved, for she knew that her father told thetruth. 

Jack Holton greeted a number of old friends on his way to the bank, butthe president emeritus of the college cut him. The cold stare hereceived from this old man, who had been president of Madison Collegefor forty years, expressed a contempt that hurt. Mrs. King, in whoseyard he had played as a boy, looked over his head, though he wasconfident she knew him. His nostrils caught no scent of roast veal inthe familiar streets. At his brother's house his sister-in-law, whom hehad never seen, had not appeared when he went down for his breakfast. 

He followed his brother into the directors' room in a defiant humor. They took account of each other with a frank curiosity begotten of theirlong separation. 

"You haven't changed much, Will. You've grown a little stouter thanfather did, but dear old Sam never lost his shape, and you're like him. "

There was little resemblance between the two men. William's face, clean-shaven save for a mustache, showed few lines, though his hair hadwhitened at the temples. Jack's hair and mustache were well sprinkledwith gray, and his crown was bald. He fingered a paper-weight on thetable nervously. A history of dissipation was written legibly in hiseyes and he had a disconcerting way of jerking his head. 

"Damn it all! I guess you're not tickled to death to see me. And I needhardly say that if I hadn't been drunk, I wouldn't have turned up at oldAmzi's on the night of that kid's coming-out party. Drunk when I strucktown--hadn't been feeling well, and fell in with some old friends atIndianapolis and filled up. Hope you'll overlook my littleindiscretions. Reckon the town would have found out I was here soonenough and there's nothing like coming right out in the open. When theytold me at your house you were at Amzi's, I couldn't believe it and Iwas just drunk enough to want to investigate. "

William muttered something that Jack preferred to ignore. 

"Well, I wasn't so drunk I didn't take in Kirkwood. Old Tom has held hisown pretty well; but he's the type Time don't batter much. I'd thought agood deal about what might happen if we ever met--had rather figured ona little pistol work; but Lord! it's funny how damned soon we get overthese things. Trifles, Will, trifles--bubbles of human experience thatvanish in thin air. Damn it all! life's a queer business. We put ourfaith in women and they're a bad investment, damned uncertain anddevilish hard to please, and shake you when the night falleth and youneed a prop to lean on. By the way, your own consort ducked me thismorning; I had to have breakfast alone, with only one of Africa'shaughty daughters to break my eggs. I hope madam your wife is well. Bythe way, has she given any hostages to fortune? Thought I hadn't heardof it. You've treated me in a hell of a little brotherly fashion, Will. If it hadn't been for Sam, who was a true sport if I know one, Ishouldn't have known anything about you, dead or alive. "

William had listened with an almost imperceptible frown while heminutely studied his brother. The items he collected were not calculatedto inspire confidence or quicken fraternal feeling. Jack, whom heremembered as fastidious in old times, was sadly crumpled. The cuffs ofhis colored shirt were frayed; there were spots on his tie, and hisclothes looked as though they had been slept in. The lining of theulster he had thrown across a chair had been patched, and threads hungwhere his legs had rubbed it. The impressions reflected in William'seyes were increasingly disagreeable ones, as he diagnosed moral, physical, and financial decrepitude. It was nothing short of impudenceon Jack's part to intrude himself upon the town and upon his family. Itwas with a slight sneer that William replied to his brother's longspeech by ejaculating:--

"Well, I like your nerve! You come back drunk just when the communityhad begun to forget you, and wander into the last house in the worldwhere you ought to show yourself. Your being drunk doesn't excuse you. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Jack smiled ironically. 

"Suppose you climb off your high horse for a little bit. If I have toget a permit from my only brother to come back to the town where I wasborn, things have come to a nice pass. Better cut all that out. "

"You're certainly a past-master at making a mess of things, " Williamcontinued. "Your coming back that way fits neatly into your departure. You needn't think people have forgotten that you ran off with anotherman's wife. And your coming back right now, just when the Montgomeryshad buried the hatchet, was calculated with the Devil's own mind. "

"So that's the tune, is it?" said Jack, stretching his arms upon thetable and clasping his fingers to subdue their nervous twitchings. 

"That's just the tune! This town isn't big enough to hold you and therest of us. You've cost me a lot of money first and last. You made itnecessary for us to pull away from Amzi and start all over again, andthere was a prejudice against me from the start that I've just aboutlived down. "

Jack grinned unpleasantly. 

"Oh, the bank hasn't been terribly prosperous, then!"

William blinked at the thrust. He had given the conversation anunfortunate turn, and he sought uncomfortably for another line ofattack. Jack unwittingly opened the way for him. 

"You were the good boy of the family and used to be a pillar in thechurch. I have a distinct though melancholy impression that when I tookmyself hence you were passing the basket in Center Church every Sundaymorning. I don't recall that I ever _saw_ you do it, but it was amatter of common knowledge in this town, Will, that you did that verything. And being a Christian, just how do you square your effusivebrotherly welcome with the gospel? The only reason God makes sinners isto give 'em a chance to repent. Without repentance what do you supposewould become of your churches anyhow?"

"I don't see any repentance in you; and I want to know right now whatyou've done with that woman?"

Jack blinked, then smiled and gave a laugh expressive of disdain andcontempt. 

"If you please, which woman?"

William's frown deepened. The one woman was certainly enough, and hisrage was increased by the leer that accompanied the question. 

"Oh, I dare say there have been enough of them! I mean the one you tookaway from here; I mean Lois Kirkwood. "

"Oh, Lois!" He spoke as though surprised that she should be chosen forparticular attention, and his lip curled scornfully. "When a man goeswrong, Will, he pays for it. Take it from me that that's one gospeltruth that I've proved to my entire satisfaction. It's queer, Will, howsoon a bonfire burns out--the bigger the fire the quicker it goes. Iwent plum crazy about that girl. She'd married the one particular man onearth who was least likely to make her happy. He bored her. And I guessher baby bored her, too, --she wasn't a domestic animal, --no pussy cat tosit by the fire and play with the baby and have hubby's slipperstoasting when he came home to supper. And I had time to play with her; Iwasn't so intellectual as Tom, but my nature was a damned sight moresympathetic. It looked as though we had been made for each other, and Iwas fooled into thinking so. And I was bored myself--this silly littletown, with nothing to hold anybody. Lois and I were made for a biggerworld--at least we thought so: and by Jove, it was funny how we fooledeach other--it was altogether too damned funny!"

"I'm glad you take a humorous view of it, " replied William coldly. "Notsatisfied with disgracing the family, you come back to rub it in. Wheredid you leave the woman? I suppose you've chucked her--the usual way. "

Jack threw back his head and laughed. 

"Well, I like that! You don't know what I had to put up with! She mademe suffer, I can tell you! I don't believe she'd deny herself that shemade it damned uncomfortable for me. She liked to spend money, for onething, and I couldn't make it fast enough; and she wanted to mingle withthe rich and gay, and our story had followed us, and it's funny, Will, what a lot of old-fashioned, stupid, Thursday-night-prayer-meeting andthe-pastor-in-to-tea morality there is left in this fool world! It cutLois up a good deal, being snubbed by people she wanted to stand wellwith. It gave me a jolt to find that I wasn't all-sufficient for herafter all; which hurt some when we'd decided we could be happy alonetogether in the woods for the rest of our days. It's a long story, andI'm not going to talk about it. With the money I took away from here Ibegan monkeying with real estate; it didn't seem that anybody out therecould lose just then: but I was a bad guesser. In five years I hadplayed in all my chips, and had to sneak around office buildings tryingto sell life insurance, which wasn't dignified nor becoming in a memberof the haughty house of Holton. "

"Sam told me a different story. Why don't you tell the truth if you talkabout it at all? You gambled and lost your money--that's what happened;and real estate speculation was only a side line. But Lois had money; Isuppose you played that away, too. Sam never seemed quite clear aboutyour relations with her. "

"I guess he didn't! There's a queer woman, Will. The inscrutable ways ofProvidence were not in it with hers. She hated me, but she wouldn't letgo of me; seemed to be her idea that shaking one man was enough and shewouldn't let me make her a widow a second time. By George, I couldn'tshake her--I had to live off her!"

William shrugged his shoulders and scowled. It was incredible that thiscould be his own brother who spoke thus of the gravest relationships oflife. And it was with a steady sinking of spirit that it was beaten inupon him that this man had come back to plant himself at his door. Hewas busy calculating the effect upon himself, his family, and hisbusiness of the prodigal's return. He was shocked, disgusted, alarmed. 

His wife had told him in the long vigil that followed her return fromAmzi Montgomery's house, when she learned that her brother-in-law wassleeping off his spree in her guest-room, that Jack had to go. She wasproud and arrogant, and she had no idea of relinquishing her socialpre-eminence--not too easily won--in the town to which William Holtonhad brought her to live out her life. One or two of the old families hadnever received her with any cordiality, clearly by reason of the oldscandal. And where there are only seventeen thousand people in a townthe indifference of two or three, when they happen to include a womanlike Mrs. King, was not to be ignored or borne without rancor. William'sindignation was intensified as he reviewed Jack's disclosures from theangle his wife had drawn for him in the midnight conference. Hiscuriosity was sharpened, however, as to the subsequent relationship ofJack and Lois Kirkwood. Seattle is a long way from Montgomery and linesof communication few and slight. Samuel, returning from his visits tothe coast, had usually been too full of his own schemes to furnish anysatisfactory details of Jack and his wife. William dropped hisplumb-line in a new spot where he fancied the water would prove shallow. 

"You lived off her, didn't you, until you had lived up all she had? Thegospel didn't neglect her; she got her share of the punishment. "

"Look here, Will, you mustn't make me laugh like that! You know I usedto think I understood human nature, but I never started with that woman. I did live at her expense, --I had to, --and she stood for it until I gotto hanging round the saloons too much. She used to pay my dues in theclub, damned if she didn't, until I got fired for too much poker in thechamber over the gate. I must say she was a good sport: as a fair-mindedman, I've got to admit that. And she swung the lash over me--never laidit on, but made it sizz--whistle--till I'd duck and sniffle; and she didexactly what she pleased without caring a damn whether I liked it ornot! By George, I knew she was a wonder when I took her off Kirkwood'shands, but she wasn't wonderful in just the way I thought she'd be. Thatwas where the joke came in. And she made people like her; she could dothat; and she got on, so that wherever she could go without me she waswelcome. That was after people got sorry for her because she was hookedup to me; but most of 'em, I guess, liked her on her own account. Aqueer development, Will. For the past five years I've just been a pieceof furniture, to be dusted and moved occasionally like an oldrocking-chair that gets into a house, nobody knows exactly how, and isshoved around, trying corners where it won't be noticed much, until itwinds up in the garret. But after all the corners had been tried, --shedidn't have any garret; we lived mostly in hotels and flats, --I wasgradually worked out on the second-hand man's wagon, and here I am. "

"She kept her money, then?" asked William with assumed indifference. 

"Will, " said Jack with a mockingly confidential air, leaning forward onthe table, "after the first two or three years I never knew whether shehad a cent or not, that's the straight of it. Considering that she hadthrown away her reputation like an old shoe just for me, and that welived along under the same roof, that was the most astonishing thing ofall. She began by handing me out a hundred now and then when I wasbroke; then it dropped to ten, and then it got down to a dollar aweek, --humiliating, Will, considering that I had given up my interest inthe ancient and honorable firm of Montgomery & Holton, Bankers, just forher! But when she shook me for good, I'm damned if she didn't give me aclean thousand just as a consolation prize. "

William was more interested in this phase of the relationship than inanything that had gone before. He was aware of the local belief thatJack had thrown away his wife's share of her father's estate in his realestate speculations in Seattle and that Amzi supported her dutifully bya regular allowance; in fact, the three sisters had encouraged thisimpression by characteristic insinuations. 

"What's become of her? Where is she now?"

"That's where you've got me stung: how do I know where she is! After sheslipped me the thousand and bade me a long and chilling farewell, I usedto keep track of her in one way or another. She had a restless streak inher, --that's why she couldn't stand Tom and the rest of it, --and when itwas all peach blossoms and spring with us she liked to take spurts overthe world. We used to run down to San Francisco for little sprees, andthen when that played out she shifted to New York. But I've lost hertrail--I don't any more know where she is than if I'd never laid eyes onher. She went abroad a couple of times and she may be over there now. Say, if Amzi's putting up for her you will lose your main competitor oneof these days! She'd bust the biggest bank in Wall Street, that woman!She's a luxurious little devil, and a wonder for looks. Even the harshtrial of living with me didn't wear her to a frazzle the way you mightsuppose it would. I guess if I hadn't poisoned the wells for her, shecould have shaken me for most any man she liked. By George, I'll get toweeping on your neck in a minute, just thinking about her. I started into tell you what a miserable little wretch she is and I'm winding up bybragging about her. She's got that in her! But she'll bust Amzi beforeshe winds up. And I hope you appreciate the value of that news. OldAmzi, if he hasn't changed, is a fat-head who's content to sit in hislittle bank and watch the world go by. And I guess he's got a nice bunchof brothers-in-law on his hands. Poor old Amzi! There was alwayssomething amusing about the cuss, even when he was a smug littleroly-poly as a boy. But I passed his bank this morning and it lookedlike an undertaker's office. The contrast between that old tomb andyour plant pleases me, Will; it soothes my family pride. You are an ableman and I congratulate you on your success. Sam liked to cut didoes onthin ice a little too well; but you're a born banker--inherited it fromfather; and I guess I didn't do you so ill a turn after all when I cutloose with Lois and broke up the old partnership. There wasn't enoughroom in Montgomery & Holton for all of us. "

Several times William shifted his position uneasily. His brother'sflattery merely paved the way to a demand--he was confident of this;and he had no intention of yielding to demands. To begin advances tothis melancholy wreck would be to establish a precedent for interminablebenefactions. It was better to deal with the matter at once. A clerkcalled him out to speak to a customer and when he came back, Jack wasmoodily glaring out upon the little court at the rear of the bank. William did not seat himself again, but stood by the table, as though toindicate his intention of terminating the interview. 

"I can't give you any more time. Just what have you come back for? I'mentitled to know, and we may as well have it out. "

"What have I come back for? I've come back to stay, that's what I'm backfor! I want a job, that's all, and if you won't give me one, I'd like toknow just where your brotherly heart expects me to go. "

"You can't stay here, Jack. You've got to clear out. I don't mean to behard on you, and I'll give you enough to take you wherever you want togo; but you can't camp here; you've got to move on. If you'd come backlike a gentleman, it might have been different; but the whole town'supset. I'd just about lived you down, and here you come back and stir upthe whole mess. The way you came back puts us all in the hole; thesympathy of the community was swinging round to our side a little, andeven the Montgomerys were making it clear that they were willing to letbygones be bygones and here you come to spoil it all! And you've notonly got to go, but you've got to go now, this very day by the firsttrain. "

This was received blinkingly. Jack shook his head as though in pity forhis brother's harshness. 

"For a man brought up by a Christian father and mother to point the doorto a long-lost brother is painful, Will. It wounds me deeply. I tell youright now that I'm not going away from here until I get good and ready. Do you follow me?"

He rested the tips of his fingers on the table and bent toward hisbrother with a cold glitter in his eyes. Under the mockery of hisphrases a hot anger lurked. 

"All right, " said William. "Stay, then. But you can't hang yourselfaround my neck. Understand that right here. "

"You haven't heard all my story yet--"

"I've heard all I'm going to hear. I've heard enough to make me sick. Ihope nobody else in this town will ever hear it. It's worse than I hadever imagined--you allowing that woman to support you! And it'snauseating to think that you don't realize the rottenness of it. But youseem to be incapable of any decent feeling about anything. "

"Stop sentimentalizing and listen to me. I didn't come back here toenter upon a new social career; I came back on business. You remember, Will, that Sam came West when you and he were selling bonds in thisSycamore Traction line on which I rode proudly home last night. I helpedSam sell a pretty big bunch of those bonds out there. Sam could sellanything--Sam was a wonder! and he planted a big bunch of those thingsalong the coast--my friends, you know. Sam's dead and gone now and Iain't going to knock him--but Sam was an exuberant chap and heovercalculated the cost of building the road. That was on theconstruction company, but you and Sam were in that--same old game ofworking both sides of the street. It was just a mistake in figures, ofcourse, but some of those people out there hear the road ain't doingwell, and they're friends of mine, Will, valued friends, and now thatSam's gone it's up to you and me to take care of 'em--do you followme?"

"If that's what you're up to you've made a big mistake. That road's oneof the most successful traction lines in the West, and pays its bondinterest on the dot. "

"Nothing easier; but I happen to know that the last payment was madewith borrowed money. Of course, only a little temporary accommodation, but just the same it wasn't paid out of earnings. And, Will, you oughtto be mighty careful--you oughtn't to advance bank funds for such apurpose; it's damned bad business; it's downright immoral; that's all!But how about the bonds your construction company got--that nice littlemargin between a fair profit for building the road and a big fat stealat the expense of the bondholders? And you authorized the sale of bondsat eighty to pay the construction bill, got ninety, and pocketed thedifference. Oh, you needn't get white and blink at me. I know what hedid with his share of the boodle--he had to take care of his politicalchums he got into other schemes. I know all about Sam--he was alwaysborrowing, we will call it, from Peter to pay Paul, and most of it gotinto Sam's pocket. Now here's my position; right here's where I come in. I'm going to help you take care of this, but you've got to act whitewith me. I'm not going to be kicked out of town--not unless you go withme. Is that plain?"

"You're a fool. I understand nothing except that you're trying toblackmail me; and it won't go. Why, you ought to know that the thing youaccuse Sam of doing would have landed him and me, too, in thepenitentiary. What do you suppose the trustee for the bondholders wasdoing? What do you imagine the New York investors were thinking about?"

"They were asleep, Will, " Jack replied, with a gleam of malignant humor. "And Sam was awful slick. Sam could sell winter underwear in hell. And Iguess you could sell anthracite at a profit down there, too. You talkabout the family dignity;--by George, I never started with you fellows!Running away with another man's wife is tame business compared with yourgrafting. And I've got a little more news for you. The clouds aregathering, you might say, in all parts of the horizon. " He swept theroom with a comprehensive gesture. "It's just one of those queer twistsof the screw of fate that brings us all up against Tom Kirkwood. Tom'ssmart: he always was, and as straight a man as God Almighty ever put onthe footstool, and he's prying into Sycamore Traction. I stopped off fora day or two in Indianapolis and got on to this. There was a lawyer andan officer of the Desbrosses Trust & Guaranty Company out here from NewYork to talk things over with Kirkwood, --he has some pull downthere, --and they've employed him. While Sam lived he watched littlethings like that; filled up the accountants with champagne and took careof the statements, but I guess you are not quite as smart as Sam. Iguess it's about all you can do to take care of the bank examiner whenhe drops in to shake hands. "

William had listened intently, his arms folded, a smile of derision onhis face. 

"Just how much do you charge for this information?" he demanded coldly. 

"I'm not going to charge you; I'm going to help you, Will. It's my dutyas a brother to warn you and help you out of trouble. Family feeling isstrong in me: I'm not a man to let my own brother go down if I can keephim up. I see it in your eye that--"

William flung round to the door and swung it open. 

"Get out of here!"

"Oh, is that the answer? Then, all right!"

He picked up his hat, drew on his coat unhurriedly, walked calmly roundthe table and lounged out of the bank. 

CHAPTER XII

NAN BARTLETT'S DECISION

"Dad's gone to Indianapolis to be gone several days and didn't expect tobe back to-night; so come over and stay with me, won't you--please? Ifyou won't I'll have to go to Aunt Josephine's, which is a heartbreakingthought. "

This was the second day after the party, and Nan agreed to go. Phil'smaid-of-all-work did not sleep at the house and the aunts had assertedthat Phil's new status as a member of society made necessary some sortof chaperonage. Nan arrived at the house late in the afternoon and foundPhil opening a box of roses that had just come from Indianapolis byexpress. 

"American beauties! and grand ones!"

She handed Nan the card and watched her face as she read it. 

"I should have guessed Charlie Holton, " said Nan colorlessly. "Well, they're fine specimens. "

"It's very nice of him, I think, " said Phil. "Particularly when I was sosnippy to him. "

"Why did you snip him?" asked Nan, watching Phil thrust the last of thelong stems into a tall vase. 

"Oh, he started in to rush me. And I guess he's some rusher. I supposehe's had a lot of practice. "

"I suppose he has, " said Nan indifferently. 

"And nobody ever gave me just the line of talk he puts up, except ofcourse Lawr_i_nce. "

She feigned to be observing the adjustment of the roses with aparticular interest, and looking round caught Nan frowning. 

"Is he trying to flirt with you? I supposed even he had his decentmoments. When did that happen?"

"Oh, at the party; everything happened at the party. "

"Two men making love to you on the same evening is a good record forMontgomery. I suppose Lawrence played the ardent Romeo game; Iunderstand that he's better 'off' than 'on. ' And you snipped him, ofcourse. "

"Oh, I mean to snip them all! Isn't that right?"

"It's pathetic that Lawrence Hastings never quite forgets that he playedthe banana circuit in repertoire. That man's an awful bore. "

"I find him amusing, " said Phil provokingly. "And he always gives me abox at matinées. Which is just that much more than I ever get out of myother imitation uncles. If I led him on a trifle, don't you suppose hemight come to the point of proposing to fly with me? That would be aconsummation devoutly to be worked for. "

"Phil, I'll send you to bed if you talk like that. "

"There's always the window and the old apple tree; I dare you to put meto bed! I suppose, " she said, nodding in the direction of the roses, "that those are a sort of peace offering, to make up for his unclecoming to the party as he did. If that's the idea it was decent of him. "

The maid brought in a box that had just been left at the kitchen door. Phil ran to the window and caught a glimpse of a man closing the gate. It was Fred Holton, in a long ulster with the collar turned up about hisears. He untied his horse, attached to a ramshackle buggy, and droveoff. Phil recognized him instantly, but made no sign to Nan. 

Across the top of the small pasteboard box, "Perishable" was scrawled. Inside, neatly dressed, lay six quails. On a card was written:--

 "_Compliments of Listening Hill Farm. _"

"What's Listening Hill Farm?" asked Nan. 

"That's Fred Holton's. He lives out there now. It's just like that boyto slip round to the back door with an offering like that. Roses fromCharlie; birds from Fred. And there's just about that difference betweenthem. "

Nan's eyes clouded. 

"Phil, " she said with emphasis, "those three aunts of yours haven't thesense of rabbits! The comparison flatters them. They had no businessasking the Holtons to your party. It was unnecessary--it was absurd. Itwas cruel!"

Nan was not often like this. There was unmistakable indignation in hertone as she continued:--

"Your Uncle Amzi should have set his face against it. And I suppose theywere satisfied with the outcome; I devoutly hope so. "

"Well, don't jump on Amy; he only let them have their way to avoid afuss. When the three of them descend on him they do try Amy's soul; henever admits it, but I always know afterwards. It unsettles him for aweek. "

"Those women, " said Nan, "have been all over town apologizing for JackHolton--as though it was up to them to defend him for turning up at yourparty vilely drunk. I tell you, Phil, I'm glad you have the sense youhave in that head of yours and that you've grown up to a point where wecan talk of things. The Holtons are no good! There's a crooked streak inthe whole lot. And all that's the matter with your blessed trio of auntsis their ambition to stand well with Mrs. William, and your preciousuncles lean on the First National counter when they want to borrowmoney. But you'd think they'd have some respect for your father, foryour uncle, for you!"

"Oh, well, it's all over now, " replied Phil. 

"It's a good thing you're the wise child you are! You understandperfectly that the Holtons are not for you in this world. And if yourfather weren't the gentleman he is he would have made a big row aboutthose people being asked to your party: it was an insult, too deep formy powers of description. Those women treat your father as though hewere a halfway idiot--a fool to be thrust around when it pleases them, and to be the object of simpering tears when they want to play thepathetic in speaking of your mother to people. They are detestable, contemptible. And Jack Holton's turning up at Amzi's was the very laststraw. "

Phil gazed at Nan with increasing surprise. This was not the familiarNan Bartlett of the unfailing gentleness, the whimsical humor. This wasalmost a scene, and scenes were not to the liking of either of theBartlett sisters. 

"Daddy hardly referred to that, Nan. I don't think it really troubledhim. "

"That's the worst of it, dear child! Of course he wouldn't show feelingabout it! That's the heartbreaking thing about that father of yours, that he has borne that old trouble so bravely. It was ghastly that thatman of all men should have stumbled into Amzi's house in that way. Nothing was ever nobler than the way your father bore it. "

She knelt suddenly and clasped Phil in her arms as though to shield herfrom all the wrongs of the world. There were tears in Nan's eyes, unmistakably, when Phil stroked her cheek, and then for the first timewith a sudden impulse Nan kissed her. Phil's intercourse with theBartletts had been in the key of happy companionship, marked with arestraint that the girl respected and admired. There had been animperceptible line beyond which she had never carried her pranks withthem. Tears she had never associated with either of the sisters. Shewould have assumed, if it had ever been a question in her mind, thatRose would have been the likelier to yield to emotion. 

Nan walked to the window and looked out upon the slowly falling snow. Phil was busy for a moment readjusting herself to the new intimacyestablished by the sight of her friend's agitation. These first tearsthat Phil had ever seen in Nan's eyes had a clarifying effect upon herconsciousness and understanding. There flashed upon her keen mind athought--startling, almost incredible. It was as though in some strangefashion, in the unlikeliest spot, she had come upon a rare flower, toomarvelous to breathe upon. Her quick wits held it off guardedly forbewildered inspection. Could it be possible that it was for her fatherthat Nan had yielded to tears? Beneath liking and sympathy might therelie a deeper feeling than friendship in this woman's heart? There hadalways seemed to be an even balance of regard for the sisters in all herfather's intercourse with Buckeye Lane. They had been a refuge andresource, but she had imagined that he went there as she did because itwas the very pleasantest place in town to visit. Whether he admired onemore than the other had never been a problem in her mind, though now sherecalled the intimations of her aunts--intimations which she had castinto the limbo to which she committed their views and insinuations onmost topics. Phil stood by the black slate mantel of the shelf-linedsitting-room, her heart beating fast. But Nan turned to her laughingly. 

"It's old age, Phil! Rose always tells me that I must stop peppering myvictuals or I'll become one of the sobbing sisterhood one of these days. What have you been reading lately, Phil?"

"Just finished 'The Gray Knight of Picardy. ' Daddy didn't want me toread it--said it was only half good and that I oughtn't to waste time onbooks that weren't a hundred per cent good. I think it's bully. I'mcrazy about it. It's so beautifully, deliciously funny. And Nan--why, Nan, it sounds just like you!"

"Elucidate, " remarked Nan carelessly. 

"Oh, it's like you, some of it--the general absurdness of it all; andthen some of it is so amazingly like dad--when he has a high-falutin'fit and talks through his hat in the old Morte Darthur lingo. It'sMalory brought up to date, with a dash of Quixote. I nearly died at thatplace where the knight breaks his lance on the first automobile he eversaw and then rides at the head of the circus parade. It's certainly aticklesome yarn. "

She advanced upon Nan dramatically, with arm outstretched, pointingaccusingly. "Look me in the eye, Nan! Did you and daddy frame that upbetween you? Be careful now! Dad wrote prodigiously all last winter--letme think it was a brief; and you and he used to get your heads togethera good deal, private like, and I feigned not to notice because I thoughtyou were talking about me!"

She clasped Nan by the wrists and laughed into her eyes. 

"Go and sit in your little chair, Phil. Your intuitions are playingtricks with your judgment. "

"Fudge! I know it's true now. The author's name in the book is a _nom deplume_. I saw that in a literary note somewhere. "

Nan had seriously hoped Phil would not learn of the joint authorship;but already it was an accepted fact in the girl's mind. She was smittenwith contrition for her blindness in having failed to see earlier whatwas now plain enough! Nan was in love with her father! Theircollaboration upon a book only added plausibility to her surmise. Nothing could be plainer, nothing, indeed, more fitting! Her heartwarmed at the thought. Her father stood forth in a new light; she wastorn with self-accusations for her stupidity in not having seen it allbefore. Admitting nothing, Nan parried her thrusts about the "GrayKnight. " When Phil caught up the book and began to read a passage thatshe had found particularly diverting, and which she declared to bealtogether "Nanesque, " as she put it, Nan snatched the book away anddeclined to discuss the subject further. 

Nan had recovered her spirits, and the two gave free rein to thebadinage in which they commonly indulged. 

They were sitting down at the table when Kirkwood arrived. He had foundit possible to come home for the night and run back to the city in themorning. Now that Phil's suspicions had been aroused as to Nan, she wasalert for any manifestation of reciprocal feeling in her father. He wasclearly pleased to find Nan in his house; but there was nothing new inthis. He would have been as glad to see Rose, Phil was sure. Phillaunched daringly upon "The Gray Knight of Picardy, " parrying evasionand shattering the wall of dissimulation behind which they sought toentrench themselves. It was just like Nan and her father; no one elsewould ever have thought up anything so preposterous, so killinglyfunny. She went for the book and cited chapters and attributed them, oneafter the other, to the collaborators. 

"Oh, you can't tell me! That talk between the knight and the cigar-storeIndian is yours, Nan; and the place where he finds the militia drillingand chases the colonel into the creek is yours, daddy! And I'm ashamedof both of you that you never told me! What have I done to be left outof a joke like this! You might have let me squeeze in a little chaptersomewhere. I always thought I could write a book if some one would giveme a good start. "

"We're cornered, " said Nan finally. "But we'll have to bribe her. "

"I came by the office and found some more letters from magazines thatwant short stories, serials, anything from the gifted author of 'TheGray Knight of Picardy, '" said Kirkwood. "Why not enlarge the syndicate, Nan, and let Phil in? But I've got to retire; I mustn't even besuspected. This is serious. It would kill my prospects as a lawyer if itgot out on me that I dallied at literature. It's no joke that the law isa jealous mistress. And now I have the biggest case I ever had; andlikely to be the most profitable. How do we come by these birds, Phil?"

"Fred Holton brought them in, daddy. You remember him; he was at theparty. "

"Yes; I remember, Phil. He's Samuel's boy, who's gone to live on theirold farm. "

Nan turned the talk away from the Holtons and they went into theliving-room where Kirkwood read some of the notices he had found in hismail. He improvised a number of criticisms ridiculing the bookmercilessly and he abused the imaginary authors until, going too far, Phil snatched away the clippings and convicted him of fraud. Shedeclared that he deserved a mussing and drove him to a corner to makethe threat good, and only relented when she had exacted a promise fromhim never to leave her out again in any of his literary connivings withNan. 

The wind whistled round the house, and drove the snow against the panes. A snowstorm makes for intimacy, and the three sat by the grate cozily, laughing and talking; it was chiefly books they discussed. This was thefirst time Nan had ever shared a winter-night fireside with theKirkwoods, much as she saw of them. And Phil was aware of a fitness inthe ordering of the group before the glowing little grate. The verybooks on the high shelves seemed to make a background for Nan. Nothingcould be more natural than that she should abide there forever. Philbecame so engrossed in her speculations that she dropped out of thetalk. Inevitably the vague shadow of the mother she had never knownstole into the picture. She recalled the incident of the broken negativethat had slipped from her father's fingers upon the floor of theabandoned photograph gallery. Her young imagination was kindled, and hersympathies went out to the man and woman who sat there before the littlegrate, so clearly speaking the same language, so drawn together bycommon interests and aspirations. 

She was brought to earth by Nan's sudden exclamation that she must gohome. There was no question about it, she said, when they pleaded thestorm as a reason for spending the night; she had come merely to relievePhil's loneliness. Nan protested that she could go alone; but Kirkwoodwithout debating the matter got into his ulster, and Phil, screened bythe door, watched them pass under the electric light at the corner. 

 * * * * *

The streets were deserted and the storm had its will with the world. Nanand Kirkwood stopped for breath and to shake off the snow where agrocer's shed protected the sidewalk. 

"I came back to-night, " he said, "because I wanted to see you, and Iknew I should find you with Phil. Nan, after what happened at Amzi's theother night I find I need you more than I ever knew. I was afraid youmight imagine that would make a difference. But not in the way you maythink--not about Lois! It was just the thought of him--that he had oncebeen my friend, and came back like that. It was only that, Nan. If shehad come back and stood there in the door I shouldn't have had a twinge. I'm all over that. I've been over it for a long time. "

"I think I understand that, but nothing can make any difference as tous. That is one thing that is not for this world! Come, we must hurryon!"

As she took a step forward he sprang in front of her. 

"Nan, I've got to go back to the city on the morning train. I want youto tell me now that you will marry me--let us say in the spring. Let mehave that to look forward to. I've waited a long time, and the years arepassing. I want you to say 'yes' to-night. "

He touched her shoulders lightly with his hands. They slipped along herarms till he clasped her fingers, tightly clenched in her muff. 

"You love me, Nan; I know you do! And you have known a long time that Icare for you. Nothing was ever as dear as the thought of you. Whateverhas gone before in my life is done and passed. I can't have you say 'no'to me. Please, dear Nan--dearest!"

It was a strange place for lovers' talk, but the tumult of the storm wasin Kirkwood's heart. The weariness of a laborious day vanished in thepresence of this woman. His habitual restraint, the reticences of hisnature were swept away. His was no midsummer passion; winter'sbattle-song throbbed in his pulses. He caught her arm roughly as shesought to continue their flight. 

"No, Tom; no!"

"Then why?" he persisted. "It can't be because of Lois--you can'tsuspect that even the thought of her wounds me now. Jack's coming backproved that to me: I mean what I say; I don't care any more! There'snothing for me in this world but you--you and Phil! The memory of thatother woman is gone; I give myself to you as though she had neverbeen. "

"Oh, Tom, I don't believe you! I don't believe any man like you everforgets! And Phil mustn't know you even think you have forgotten! Thatwould be wrong; it would be a great sin! She must never think you haveforgotten the woman who is her mother. And it isn't right that youshould forget! There are men that might, but not you--not you, dearTom!"

She shook off his hands and flung herself against the storm. He plungedafter her, following perforce. It was impossible to talk, so blindingwas the slant of snow and sleet in their faces. She drove on with theenergy born of a new determination, and he made no effort to speak againas he tramped beside her. 

When they reached the house in Buckeye Lane he sought to detain her witha plaintive "Please, Nan?" But she rapped on the door and when Roseopened it slipped in, throwing a breathless good-night over hershoulder. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE BEST INTERESTS OF MONTGOMERY

Phil dropped into the "Evening Star" office to write an item about theapproaching Christmas fair at Center Church, for which she was thepublicity agent. Incidentally she asked Billy Barker, the editor, toinstruct her in the delicate art of proof-reading. As he was an oldfriend she did not mind letting him into the secret of "The Dogs of MainStreet. " Barker's editorial sense was immediately roused by Phil'sdisclosure. He said he would write to "Journey's End" for advance sheetsand make it a first-page feature the day it appeared. 

Montgomery was a literary center; in the early eighties it had beenreferred to by the Boston "Transcript" as the Hoosier Athens; and theAthenians withheld not the laurel from the brows of their bards, romancers, and essayists. Not since Barker had foreshadowed thepublication of "The Deathless Legion, " General Whitcomb's famous tale ofthe Cæsars, had anything occurred that promised so great a sensation asthe news that Phil had ventured into the field of authorship. Barkereven fashioned phrases in which he meant to publish the gladtidings, --"a brilliant addition to the Hoosier group"; "a new JaneAusten knocks at the door of Fame, " etc. He jotted down a list of thecommonest typographical symbols, and warned Phil against anover-indulgence in changes, as it might prejudice the "Journey's End"office against her. 

"I was about to offer you a job, Phil, but now that you're a high-pricedmagazine writer I'm ashamed to do it. Our local has skipped and I'malmost up against going out to chase a few items myself. You might pullout that church fair a few joints, or I'll be reduced to shoving inboiler plate on the first page; which is reprehensible. Kindly humbleyourself and give me some 'Personal and Society, '--some of your highlyinteresting family must be doing something or somebody, --dish it up anddon't spare the gravy. "

"You haven't heard rumors that the Hastings is to be turned into afil-lum show-house, have you?" asked Phil, fishing a lead pencil stubfrom her pocket. 

"Lord, no! Has our own Hamlet come to that? Write a hot roast of it;turn the screw on this commercializing of our only theater--this basebetrayal of public confidence by one to whom we all looked for noblerthings. I'm sore at Lawrence anyhow for kicking at our write-up of thoseoutlaws who strolled through here playing 'She Never Told Her Love. ' Thefact is that girl told it in the voice of one who should be bawlingquick orders in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Here's where we taunt Mr. Hastings with his own lofty idealism. Have all the fun with him youlike; and not a soul shall ever know from me who knocked him. "

Phil nibbled her pencil meditatively. 

"You've got the wrong number. Lawr_i_nce hasn't found the price yet;he's only getting estimates; but you'd better coax him to make thechange--bring the drammer closer to the hearts of the people. None ofthese cheap fil-lums where a comic dog runs in and upsets the tea-table, just as the parson is about to say grace, but the world's greatestartists brought within the reach of all who command the homely nickel. Do you follow me, O protector of the poor?"

"I see your family pride is stung, Phil. Let it go at that. There's acut of Hastings as Romeo that I'm utilizing as a paper-weight, and I'llrun that just to show there's no hard feeling. By the by, Phil, how'syour pa getting on with the traction company?"

"Nothing doing! I'm not as foolish as I am young. And besides I don'tknow. "

The editor took a turn across the room and rumpled his hair. He pointedto a clipping on his desk from the Indianapolis "Advertiser" of thatmorning. The headlines proclaimed:--

 SCANDAL IN SYCAMORE TRACTION

 RUMORS THAT RECEIVERSHIP IS IMMINENT

 FOREIGN BONDHOLDERS THREATENING

 HOLTON ESTATE TO BE INVESTIGATED

Phil's face grew serious. Her father had not been home for several daysand she knew that his business in Indianapolis had absorbed his time andattention increasingly. 

"I'm sure I don't know anything about it, " she answered, "and of courseif you thought I did you wouldn't ask me. "

"Of course not, Phil. But it's a mess. And I don't know whether to printsomething about it or let it go. Bill Holton's out of town and I don'tlike to shoot without giving him a chance. But I owe him a few. If thecompany goes bust, there's going to be a row round here we won't forgetin a hurry. Every widow and orphan in the county has got some of thatstuff. They worked that racket as hard as they could--home road for thehome people. What's the answer?"

Phil drew up the editor's clip of paper and wrote:--

 "Mr. Amzi Montgomery went to Indianapolis yesterday to attend the Nordica concert. "

Barker stared at this item blankly. 

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Nothing, " said Phil indifferently; "it's only an item. "

"Amzi's always going to concerts, " remarked the editor inconsequently. 

"I thought maybe he wasn't going to this one, for the excellent reasonthat he declined to take me along. "

Barker ran his hand through his hair, looked at Phil with dawningintelligence, and his brow cleared. 

"I haven't said anything, " remarked Phil discreetly, "because I don'tknow anything. "

Barker put on his coat and hat. 

"Guess I'll go out and sniff the local feeling on this proposition. It'sabout time I blew the lid off and said a few things about Bill Holton. If Bernstein brings in copy for his Christmas 'ad, ' whistle for the boyand tell 'em to hustle it. Hang your stuff on the hook and I'll writethe heads later. Don't let your playful humor get away with you, and ifany farmers come in with the biggest pumpkin ever raised on Sugar Creek, note the name and weight carefully, call the boy and send the preciousfruit right home to our wife. Our annual biggest pumpkin is long overdueand undelivered. You might just head that item 'When the Frost is on thePunkin. ' We have captious subscribers who check up on favoritequotations and our aim is to please one and all. "

A desk stood by the window from which the editorial eye in its frenziedrollings enjoyed a fine sweep of Main Street. To Phil Main Street ranround the world. Its variety was infinite. No one knew the ways, theinterests, the joys and sorrows of Montgomery better than she. Every onewas, in a sense, a character. More or less unconsciously she fitted themall into little dramas, or sketched them with swift, telling strokes. The fact that this Main Street summarized American life; that there werehundreds of Main Streets presenting much the same types, the same mildencounters and incidents, appealed to her sense of humor. Her longestjourney in the world had been a summer excursion to New England with herfather, and she had been struck by the similarity of the phenomenaobservable in Williamstown, Pittsfield, Northampton--and Montgomery! Inevery town, no matter what its name, there was always the same sleepyteam in front of the Farmers' Bank, the same boy chasing his hat, thesame hack-driver in front of the hotel, the same pretty girl bowing tothe same delighted young man near the same town pump or the soldiers'monument in the square. 

Phil wrote busily. It was easy for her to write, and when, looking upcasually, items were suggested to her by the passers-by, she returned toher work with a smile on her face. Judge Walters passed carrying asatchel; this meant that he had returned from holding court in BooneCounty; Captain Wilson stumped by with a strange young man who Philreasoned immediately must be the nephew he had expected to visit himduring the holidays. The new auto-truck of the express company, whichhad long been forecast in Main Street rumor, rumbled by, and sheheralded its arrival in a crisp paragraph. "Spress, " the venerable dogthat for ages had followed the company's old horse and wagon, was atlast out of commission, Phil's "brevity" recited. The foreman came infrom the composing-room, told her gravely that the paper was overset, and departed with her copy. 

She took up the article relating to Sycamore Traction and read itthrough to the end. Many of the terms meant nothing to her; but theguarded intimations of improper conduct on the part of the promoters anddirectors were sufficiently clear. What interested her most of all wasthe accusation, cautiously attributed "to one in a position to know, "that the estate of Samuel Holton had been so manipulated as to concealpart of the assets, and that a movement was on foot to reopen the estatewith a view to challenging the inventory. The names of Charles Holtonand his Uncle William, president of the First National Bank ofMontgomery, appeared frequently in the article, which closed with astatement signed by both men that the stories afloat were baselessfabrications; that the company was earning its charges and that therumors abroad through the state were the result of a conspiracy by anumber of stockholders to seize control of the company. 

Looking up, Phil saw her father pass the window, and before she couldknock on the glass to attract his attention he came in hurriedly. 

"'Lo, daddy!"

"What are you up to, Phil? Where's Barker?"

"Out taking the air. His local's quit and I'm doing a few literary gemsfor him. " She rose and leaned across the counter. Anxiety was plainlywritten on her father's face, and she surmised that something ofimportance had brought him back from the city at this hour. He had notexpected to return until Saturday, and this was only Thursday. 

"I must see Barker. Where do you suppose he went?"

"He's trying to make up his mind what to do about that, " said Phil, indicating the clipping. 

Kirkwood took from his pocket several sheets of typewritten legal cap, and ran them over. 

"I want him to print this; it must get in to-day. The people heremustn't be stampeded by those stories. A repetition of them in the'Star' might do great harm--incalculable harm to the community and toall its interests. "

"It doesn't sound pretty--that piece in the 'Advertiser. '"

"It's all surmise and speculation. That's what I've been in the cityabout lately; and if they give us a chance we'll pull it out withoutscandal. "

"Suppose I write an interview with you along that line and stick yourstatement on the end of it?"

"I'll have to see Barker first: he's supposed to be unfriendly to theHoltons--old political feeling. "

It occurred to Phil that it was odd for her father to be interposinghimself between the Holtons and scandalous insinuations of the press asto their integrity. Tom Kirkwood reflected a moment, then opened thegate in the office railing and sat down beside her. 

"I've got to get the twelve o'clock train back, " he said, "and this mustgo in to-day. We must reassure the people as quickly as possible. "

She wrote an opening paragraph without further parley and read it. Hemade a few changes, and then dictated a statement as attorney for theDesbrosses Trust & Guaranty Company, trustee for the Sycamorebondholders. 

The stories set afloat at Indianapolis were gross exaggerations, hedeclared, and there was no occasion for alarm in any quarter. It wastrue that the company had suffered serious losses owing to unfortunateaccidents, but these were not of a character to jeopardize the interestsof bondholders. A thorough investigation was in progress, and judgmentshould be reserved until the exact truth should be known. The trusteemeant to safeguard every interest of the investors. 

Kirkwood was lost in thought for several minutes, and then took a sheetof paper and experimented with a number of sentences until thesesurvived his careful editing:--

 "I personally believe that the affairs of the Sycamore Traction Company will be speedily adjusted in a way that will satisfy those concerned, and meanwhile all efforts to shake public confidence in any of the interests or institutions of Montgomery can only react disastrously upon those guilty of such attempts. "

He read this over frowningly. 

"I think that will be all, Phil, " he said, handing her a clean copy. 

While she was numbering the pages, Barker came in and Kirkwood drew himinto a corner, where they conversed earnestly. The editor had met thatmorning many citizens who spoke bitterly of the Sycamore TractionCompany. The Indianapolis "Advertiser's" circulation in Montgomery wasalmost equal to that of the "Evening Star"; and on the wintry corners ofMain Street, in the lobby of the Morton House, and in the court-house, men were speculating as to the effect of the reports from Indianapolisupon the Holton bank. The Holtons were Democrats and the "Evening Star"was the Republican county organ. Barker disliked William Holton onpersonal grounds and here was his chance for reprisal. 

"They're all crooks, " said the editor hotly; and cut Kirkwood short with"No one knows that better than you. "

Kirkwood ignored this thrust. 

"It isn't your feeling or mine, Barker, about these people. It's thetown and its best interests we've got to consider. I give you my wordthat I believe these kinks in Sycamore will be straightened out. Nobodyknows more about the situation than I do. If you repeat this'Advertiser' article, you'll start a run on the First National Bank, andif it should go down, it wouldn't do any of us any good, would it? Itwouldn't help the town any, would it? I want you to trust me about this. There's no question of newspaper enterprise involved; but there is achance for you to serve the community. The very fact that you have neverbeen friendly to the Holtons will give additional weight to what youprint to-day. I'm not asking you to smother this talk as a favor to me, but for the good of the town--all of us. And I believe you're big enoughand broad enough to see it. "

Barker was reluctant to yield. His paper was one of the most influentialcountry papers in the state. He was proud of its reputation and anxiousto do nothing that would injure its hard-won prestige. 

"That's all right, Kirkwood, but how about that swindling constructioncompany the Holtons worked as a side line? The bad service the companyhas given from the start pretty nearly proves that there was crookedwork there. How do you get around that?"

"You'll have to believe what I say, that we will handle it all to thesatisfaction of the public. But smashing a bank won't help any. We'retrying to manage in such way that no innocent party will suffer. "

"Well, there's nothing innocent about these Holtons. Sam died and gotout of it, but Will and this young Charlie are off the same block. Andnow Jack's come back to make trouble for them. I don't see myselfjumping in to protect these fellows; if they've got themselves in ahole, let them wiggle out. "

"You're not talking like a reasonable human being, Barker. Try toovercome personal prejudices. Just remember that several hundredpeople--our friends and neighbors--are going to be hurt if the bankfails. I've just headed off Waterman. He was about to bring suit for areceiver on behalf of one of the local bondholders on the ground ofmismanagement. That would be a mistake. It's in our plans to bring upthe road's efficiency at once. The trustee is in a position to do that. I want you to help me quiet these disturbing rumors. If I didn't believeit would all come out right, I'd tell you so very frankly. "

Barker shrugged his shoulders and walked to his desk. He read Phil'sintroduction and the accompanying statement with Kirkwood's nameattached. 

"All right, Tom. But remember that this is personal to you; I wouldn'tdo it for any other man on earth. "

"You're doing it for the town, Barker. We're all friends and neighborshere; and I give you my word that you won't regret it. I've got to run, Phil. Sorry; but I'll be back in a day or two. How are Nan and Rose?"

"Fine. "

"Nan staying with you?"

"No; I've moved over there for a few days. "

"That's all right. Give them my compliments. "

The door closed on him as Barker came back from the composing-room, where he had carried the Sycamore article and ordered it double-leaded. Phil, gathering up her belongings, lingered for a word. Barker rippedthe wrapper from an exchange absently. 

"Phil, you've never suspected your father of being a little touched inhis upper story, have you?"

"That short-circuited; say it some other way, " observed Phil, buttoningher glove. 

"That dad of yours, Phil, if he ain't plumb crazy, is the whitest whiteman that ever trod the footstool. I always suspected him of beingtolerably highminded, but I guess if ever a man climbed on top of hissoul and knew that he was the boss of it with the help of Almighty God, that man is Tom Kirkwood. It's got me fuddled, Phil. It's addled me likethe report of a tariff commission or an argument for governmentownership of laying hens; but I respect it, and I admire it. Be good toyour daddy. So far as I know he hasn't any competition in his class. "

Phil pondered this as she walked toward Buckeye Lane. It was notnecessary for her to understand the intricacies of the tractioncompany's troubles to realize that her father had interceded for theHoltons. Barker's praise of him warmed her heart. She knew that herfather was by no means tame and bloodless. In many long talks, trampingand camping, they had discussed nearly every subject under the sun; andshe knew that his wrath blazed sometimes at the evils and wrongs of theworld. Once she had gone unbidden to the court-house to hear him speakin a criminal case, where he had volunteered to defend an Italianrailroad laborer who had been attacked by a gang of local toughs and inthe ensuing fight had stabbed one of his assailants. Kirkwood was not anorator by the accepted local standard, --a standard established by "Dan"Voorhees and General "Tom" Nelson of an earlier generation, --but thatafternoon, after pitilessly analyzing the state's case, he had yieldedhimself to a passionate appeal for the ignorant alien that had thrilledthrough her as great music did. She had never forgotten that; it hadgiven her a new idea of her father. There had been something awful andterrifying in his arraignment of the witnesses who sought to swear awaythe cowed prisoner's liberty. Her father's gentleness, his habitualrestraint, had seemed finer and nobler after that. 

In the nature of her upbringing Phil had developed the habit of thinkingher way out of perplexities. Her intimate knowledge of the history andtraditions of Montgomery furnished the basis for a healthy philosophy, and the wide range of her well-directed reading had opened doors thatlet in upon her intelligence much of the light and shadow of humanexperience. Happiness was not, she knew, an inalienable right, butsomething to be sought and worked for. Her thoughts played about herfather and his life--that broken column of a life, with its patheticedges! What would become of him and Nan, now that she knew Nan lovedhim, and imaginably, he loved her? For the first time in her life shefound her face pressed against a dark pane, unable to see light. 

She was conscious that some one was walking rapidly behind her, and shewhirled round as her name was spoken. It was Fred Holton, who hadevidently been following her. 

"Why so formal! Why didn't you whistle?" she asked, shaking hands withhim. "Those birds you sent me were meat for gods. 

 'Then mighty Jove, Grabbing the last brown quail from off the plate, Shouted, "For gods alone such food"; and bade Dian to skip, with bow well bent, and bring A billion birds to grace another feast. '"

"If Dian filled that order, " said Fred, "it would get her into troublewith the game warden. "

"That was one good thing about the gods, " remarked Phil as he caughtstep with her; "they didn't have to be afraid of policemen. How did youcome to tear yourself loose from Stop 7 to-day?"

"Trouble, if you want the real truth. "

They had reached the college and were walking along the Buckeye Laneside of the campus. Fred was wrapped in his ulster and wore an old furcap with its ear-flaps gathered up and tied on top. Now that the firstpleasure of the meeting had passed, an anxious look had come into hisface. He stared straight ahead, walking doggedly. 

"I came into town to see your father, but I just missed him. I wanted totalk to him. "

"He hasn't been in town much lately and he was only here for an hourthis morning. But he'll be back in a few days. "

"I'm sorry, " said Fred, "not to see him to-day. "

Just what business he had with her father she could not imagine; but shewas sorry for his trouble, whatever it might be. In her recentreflections touching the Holtons she had not thought of Fred at all;nor did it occur to her now that he was in any way concerned with theSycamore difficulties. 

"Miss Kirkwood--"

"Well, Mr. Holton, if you will be real nice, I'll let you call me Phil. I met you before I grew up--that night I danced in the cornfield. Themoon introduced and chaperoned us, after a fashion, so we'll considerthat you belong to the earlier period of what might be called my life. That was my last fling. When I came home that night I was a grown-up. How do you like that, Fred?"

"More than I care to say!" And his face lighted. 

He realized perfectly that knowing his diffidence she was trying to makethings easier for him, just as she had at her party. Phil was wonderingwhether she dared ask him to go to the Bartletts' with her for luncheon. 

"It's lonesome, Phil, not having anybody to talk to about your troubles. There are times when we've got to lean up against advice. "

"They say I never do much leaning, " Phil replied. "My aunts say it. There ought to be a place like a post-office where you could poke in aquestion and get the answer right back; but there isn't. "

"Our folks are in a lot of trouble, according to the papers, " said Fred. "That's what I wanted to see your father about. "

"Oh!"

"I felt that I ought to see him as soon as possible. "

"I wouldn't trouble about what's in the papers. That's what my fathercame back for to-day--to head off the home papers about the tractioncompany. "

"Just how do you mean?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "I thought he was onthe other side of the case. "

"Well, the 'Star' this evening will say that everything will be allright, and for people not to get excited. I don't see why you shouldbother. You're a farmer and not mixed up in the traction business. "

He seemed not to notice when they reached and passed the Bartletts', though she had told him she was going there for luncheon. 

"They say Charlie didn't play straight in settling father's estate; thatit's going to be opened up and that we've got to give back what we gotfrom it. The 'Advertiser' had all that this morning. Perry brought mehis paper and we talked it over before I came in. He said it wasn't anyof my business; but I think it is. We owe it to father--all of us--ifthere's anything wrong, to show our willingness to open up the estate. Ithought I'd like to tell your father that. "

"We've got to turn back here. I understand how you feel, but I can'tadvise you about that. That article said you weren't responsible--itsaid in very unpleasant words that you had been robbed, and that givingyou the farm and making you think that was your fair share was a part ofthe fraud. If they should go into that, you might get a lot more. Isn'tthat so?"

"I don't believe Charlie did it; I don't believe it any more than Ibelieve that my father made money unfairly out of the building of thetrolley line. But it's up to us to reply to this attack in a way to stopall criticism. We can't have people thinking such things about us, " hewent on more earnestly. "It's ghastly! And I'm going to surrender thefarm; I won't keep it if these things are true or half true. I won'thold an acre of it until these questions are settled!"

"That sounds square enough. But I don't know anything about it. Just ongeneral principles, as long as you're not mixed up in the fuss, I'd hangon to my farm, particularly if you were entitled to more than you got. But you need a lawyer, not a girl to talk to. "

"I suppose that's so; and I oughtn't to have talked to you about it atall. But somehow--"

They had reached the Bartletts' again and Phil paused with her hand onthe gate. She had decided not to ask him in to luncheon; his mood wasnot one that promised well for a luncheon party; and Nan, at least, hadclearly manifested her unfriendliness toward all the Holtons. 

"Somehow, I felt that I'd like to tell you how I felt about it. Ishouldn't want you to think we were as bad as that story in the'Advertiser' makes us out. "

"That's all right, Fred. This will all come out right"; and Phil swungopen the gate and stepped into the little yard. 

"I want, " said Fred, detainingly, speaking across the gate; "I want youto think well of me! I care a good deal about what you think of me!"

"Oh, everybody thinks well of you!" answered Phil, and caught up thedrumstick and announced herself. 

CHAPTER XIV

TURKEY RUN

A week before Christmas Mrs. William Holton gave a sleigh-ride andskating-party for a niece from Memphis, and Phil was invited. Shementioned the matter to her father, and asked him what she should doabout it. 

He had come back from Indianapolis in good spirits, and told her thatthe affairs of the traction company had been adjusted and that he hopedthere would be no more trouble. He seemed infinitely relieved by theoutcome, and his satisfaction expressed itself to her observing eyes inmany ways. The confidence reposed in him by his old friend, the counselof the Desbrosses Trust & Guaranty Company, had not only pleased him, but the success that had attended his efforts to adjust the tractioncompany's difficulties without resorting to the courts had strengthenedhis waning self-confidence. He even appeared in a new suit of clothes, and with his beard cut shorter than he usually wore it, --changes thatevoked the raillery in which Phil liked to indulge herself. He waspromised the care of certain other Western interests of the TrustCompany, and he had been offered a partnership in Indianapolis by one ofthe best lawyers in the state. 

"Things are looking up, Phil. If another year had gone by in the oldway, I should have been ready for the scrap heap. But I miss the cookingour poverty introduced me to; and I shan't have any more time forfooling with excursions into Picardy with the Gray Knight. By the way, Ifound some strange manuscript on my desk at the office to-day. If you'vetake up the literary life you'll have to be careful how you leave yourvestigia in lawyers' offices. It was page eighteen of something that Itook the liberty of reading, and I thirsted for more. "

She had not told him about "The Dogs of Main Street, " wishing to waituntil she could put the magazine containing it into his hands. Under thestimulus of the acceptance of her sketch she had been scratchingvigorously in her spare moments. Having begun with dogs she meditated anattack upon man, and the incriminating page she had left behind in herfather's office was a part of a story she was writing based upon anincident that had occurred at a reunion of Captain Wilson's regimentthat fall in Montgomery. A man who had been drummed out of the regimentfor cowardice suddenly reappeared among his old comrades with anexplanation that restored him to honored fellowship. Phil had elaboratedthe real incident as Captain Wilson described it, and invested it withthe element of "suspense, " which she had read somewhere was essential tothe short story. 

Phil was living just now in a state of exaltation. She began a notebookafter the manner of Hawthorne's, and was astonished at the ease withwhich she filled its pages. Now that her interest was aroused she saw"material" everywhere. The high school had given her German and French, and having heard her father say that the French were the great mastersof fiction, she addressed herself to Balzac and Hugo. The personalitiesof favorite contemporaneous writers interested her tremendously, and shesought old files of literary periodicals that she might inform herselfas to their methods of work. She kept Lamb and Stevenson on the stand byher bed and read them religiously every night. There had never been anyfun like this! Her enjoyment of this secret inner life was so satisfyingthat she wished no one might ever know of it. She wrote and rewrotesentences and paragraphs, thrust them away into the drawers of the longtable in her room to mellow--she had got this phrase from Nan, --and thendug them out in despair that they seemed so lifeless. She planned no endof books and confidently set down titles for these unborn masterpieces. Nan and Rose marked the change in her. At times she sat with her chinin her hand staring into vacancy. The two women speculated about thisand wondered whether her young soul was not in the throes of a firstlove affair. 

Now that fortune smiled upon her father Phil's happiness marked newattitudes, with no cloud to darken the misty-blue horizons of herdreams. She meant to be very good to her father. And as to his marryingNan, she was giving much time to plots for furthering their romance. 

"Fred Holton was looking for you the other day. I suppose you haven'tseen him. "

"Yes; he came to Indianapolis and saw me at the hotel. I remember thathe was at your party, but I don't recall how you got acquainted withhim?"

Phil laughed. 

"Oh, that last night we camped at Turkey Run I wandered off by myselfand met him in the funniest fashion, over by the Holton barn. They werehaving a dance--Charlie and Ethel, and Fred was watching the revel fromafar, and saw me dancing like an idiot round the corn-shocks. And Italked to him across the fence and watched the dance in the barn untilyou blew the horn. I didn't tell you about it because it seemed sosilly--and then I thought you wouldn't like my striking up acquaintanceswith those people. But Fred is nice, I think. "

"He seems to be a very earnest young person. He came to me on a businessmatter in a spirit that is to his credit. "

Phil had decided, in view of Nan's unlooked-for arraignment, to give herfather another chance to express himself as to her further socialrelations with the Holtons. 

"Daddy dear, I want you to tell me honestly whether you have any feelingabout those people, " she said when they were established at the firesidefor the evening. "Of course, you know that one's aunts were responsiblefor asking them to Amy's party; it wasn't Amy's doings; but if you wantme to keep clear of them I'll do it. Please tell me the truth--just howyou feel about it. "

"Phil, " said Kirkwood, meeting her eyes steadily, "those aunts of yoursare silly women--with vain, foolish, absurd ideals. They didn't consultme about asking the Holtons because I'm a stupid old frump, and itdidn't make any difference whether I'd like it or not. But I'm eternallygrateful that they did it; and I'm glad that other man came back just ashe did. For all those things showed me that the years have blotted outany feeling I had against them. I haven't a bit, Phil. Maybe I ought tohave; but however that may be there's no bitterness in my soul. And I'mglad I've discovered that; it's a greater relief to me than I candescribe. "

His smile, the light touch he gave her hands, carried conviction. Thediscussion seemed to afford him relief. 

"So far as the Holtons concern me, there's peace between our houses. It's perfectly easy for a man to shoot another who has done him a wrong;but it doesn't help any, for, "--and he smiled the smile that Phil lovedin him--"for the man being dead can't know how much his enemy enjoys histaking off! Murder, as a fine art, Phil, falls short right there. "

He had not mentioned her mother; and Phil wondered whether she tooshared this amnesty. It was inconceivable that he should have forgiventhe man if he still harbored hatred of the woman. 

With a sudden impulse she rose and caught his face in her hands. 

"Why don't you marry Nan, daddy?"

She saw the color deepen in his cheeks and a startled look came into hiseyes. 

"What madness is this, Phil?" he asked, with an effort at lightness. 

"It means that I think it would be nice--nice for you and Nan and nicefor me. I can see her here, sitting right there in that chair that shealways sits in when she comes. I think it would be fun--lots of fun forher to be here all the time, so we wouldn't always be trailing overthere. "

He laughed; she felt that he was not sorry that she had spoken of Nan. 

"Are we always trailing over there? I suppose they really are our bestfriends. But there is Rose, you know. Wouldn't she look just as much athome in her particular chair as Nan?"

"Well, Rose is fine, too, but Rose is different. "

"Oh, you think there's a difference, do you?"

He picked up a book, turned over the leaves idly, and when he spokeagain it was not of Nan. 

"If you want to go to Mrs. Holton's party it's all right, Phil. Isuppose most of the young people will be there. "

"Yes; it's a large party. "

"Then go and have a good time. And Phil--"

"Yes, daddy. "

"Be careful what foolish notions you get into your head. "

 * * * * *

Mrs. William Holton undeniably did things with an air. It may have beenan expression of her relief at having disposed of Jack Holton so quicklyand effectively--he had vanished immediately after his interview withWilliam in the bank--that her sleigh-ride and skating-party asoriginally planned grew into a function that well-nigh obscured Phil's"coming-out. " It began with a buffet luncheon at home, followed by theride countryward in half a dozen bob-sleds and sleighs of alldescriptions. It was limited to the young people, and Phil found thatall her friends were included. Ethel and Charles Holton had come overfrom Indianapolis to assist their aunt in her entertainment. 

"Mighty nice to find you here!" said Charles to Phil as he stood besideher on the sidewalk waiting for their appointed "bob. " "And you may besure I'm glad to get a day off. I tell you this business life is agrind. It's what General Sherman said war is. I suppose your father toldyou what a time we've been having straightening out the traction tangle. Scandal--most outrageous lying--but that father of yours is a masternegotiator. He ought to be in the diplomatic service. "

He looked at her guardedly with a quick narrowing of the eyes. 

"Oh, I suppose it wasn't really so serious, " said Phil indifferently. "Father never brings business home with him and I only know that I don'tlike having him away so much. "

"Yes, " said Holton, "I don't doubt that you miss him. But Montgomery isgetting gay. Over in Indianapolis there's more doing, of course, andbigger parties; but they don't have the good old home flavor. It's theseinformal gatherings of boys and girls who have known each other alltheir lives that count. "

It was the brightest of winter days, with six inches of snow, and coldenough to set young blood tingling. They set off with a merry jinglingof bells and drove through town to advertise their gayety before turningcountryward. The destination was Turkey Run, that fantastic anomaly ofthe Hoosier landscape, where Montgomery did much of its picnicking. 

A scout sent ahead the day before had chosen a stretch of ice where thecreek broadened serenely after its bewilderingly tumultuous coursethrough the gorge. There the ice was even and solid and the snow hadbeen scraped away. In the defile, sheltered by its high rocky banks, bonfires were roaring. The party quickly divided itself into twos--whyis it that parties always effect that subdivision with any sort ofopportunity?--and the skaters were off. 

Phil loved skating as she loved all sports that gave free play to herstrong young limbs. The hero of the Thanksgiving football game hadattached himself to her, but Phil, resenting his airs of proprietorship, deserted him after one turn. 

As her blood warmed, her spirits rose. The exercise and the keen airsent her pulses bounding. It was among the realizations of her new innerlife that physical exercise stimulated her mental processes. To-daylines, verses, couplets--her own or fragments of her reading--tumbledmadly over each other in her head. No one ranged the ice more swiftly ordaringly. She had put aside her coat and donned her sweater--not the oldrelic of the basketball team, but a new one from her fall outfit, whichincluded also the prettiest of fur toques. The color was bright in hercheeks and the light shone in her eyes as she moved up and down thecourse with long, even strides or let herself fly at the boundaries, orturned in graceful curves. Skating was almost as much fun as swimming, and even better fun than paddling a canoe. 

She kept free of companions for nearly an hour, taunting those who triedto intercept her, and racing away from several cavaliers who combined inan effort to corner her. Then having gained the heights of herimaginings, she was ready to be a social being once more. 

Charles Holton, who had viewed her flights with admiration as he helpedthe timid and awkward tyros of the company, swung into step with her. 

"It's wonderful how you do it? Please be kind to me a mere mortal!"

He caught her pace and they moved along together at ease. Her mood hadchanged and she let him talk all he liked and as he liked. They had mettwice at parties since she had snubbed him at Amzi's the night of herpresentation, and he had made it plain that he admired her. Hecontrasted advantageously with the young gentlemen of Montgomery. He wasless afraid of being polite, or his politeness was less self-consciousand showed a higher polish. He had twice sent her roses and once a newnovel, and these remembrances had not been without their effect. It wasimaginable that his tolerance of the simple sociabilities of Montgomerywas attributable to an interest in Phil, who dreamed a great deal thesedays; and there was space enough in the ivory tower of her fancy toenshrine lovers innumerable. Charles was a personable young man, impressionable and emotional, and not without imagination of his own. Her humor, and the healthy common-sense philosophy that flowered fromit, were the girl's only protection from her own emotionalism andsusceptibility. Even in the larger world of the capital there was nogirl as pretty as Phil, Charles assured himself; she was not onlyagreeable to look at, but she piqued him by her indifference to hisadvances. His usual cajoleries only provoked retorts that left himblinking, not certain whether they were intended to humble him or tostimulate him to more daring efforts. 

"You're the only girl in the bunch who skates as though she loved it. You do everything as though it was your last hour on earth and you meantto make the most of it. I like that. It's the way I feel about thingsmyself. If I had your spirit I'd conquer the world. "

"Well, the world is here to be conquered, " said Phil. "What peak haveyou picked to plant your flag on?"

"Oh, I want money first--you've got to have it these days to do thingswith; and then I think I'd like power. I'd go in for politics--thegovernor's chair or the senate. If father hadn't died he could have gotthe governorship easy; he was entitled to it and it would have comealong just in the course of things. What would you like to do best ofall?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe it. I don't want a thing I haven'tgot--not a single thing. On a day like this everything is mine--thatlong piece of woods over there--black against the blue sky--and thecreek underfoot--I couldn't ask for a single other thing!"

"But there must be a goal you want to reach--everybody has that. "

"Oh, you're talking about to-morrow! and this is to-day. And sufficientunto the day is the joy thereof. If I ever told anybody what I mean todo to-morrow, it would be spoiled. I'm full of dark secrets that I nevertell any one. "

"But you might tell me--I'm the best possible person to tell secretsto. "

"I can't be sure of that, when I hardly know you at all. "

"That's mighty cruel, you know, when I feel as though I had known youalways. "

He tried to throw feeling into this, but the time and place and hervigorous strides over the ice did not encourage sentiment. 

"You oughtn't to tell girls that you feel you have known them always. Itisn't complimentary. You ought to express sorrow that they are sodifficult to know and play the card that you hope by great humility andperseverance one day to know them. That is the line I should take if Iwere a man. "

He laughed at this. There were undoubted fastnesses in her nature thatwere not easily attainable. She seemed to him amazingly mature incertain ways, and in others she was astonishingly childlike. 

"They say you're a genius; that you're going to do wonderful things, " hesaid. 

"Who says it?" asked Phil practically, but not without interest. 

"Oh, my aunt says it; she says other people say it. "

"Well, my aunts haven't said it, " remarked Phil. "According to them myonly genius is for doing the wrong thing. "

"We needn't any of us expect to be appreciated in our own families. That's always the way. You read a lot, don't you?"

"I like to read; but you can read a lot without being a genius. Geniusesdon't have to read--they know it all without reading. So there's that. "

"I'll wager you write, too;--confess now that you do!"

"Letters to my father when he's away from home--one every night. But heisn't away very much. "

"But stories and things like that. Yes; don't deny it: you mean to be awriter! I'm sure you can succeed at that. Lots of women do; some of thebest writers are women. You will write novels like--like--George Eliot. "

Phil laughed her derision of the idea. 

"She knew a lot; more than I could ever know if I studied all my life. But there's only one George Eliot; I'm hardly likely--just Phil Kirkwoodin Montgomery, Indiana, --to be number two. "

The direction of the talk was grateful to her. It was pleasant to feelthe warmth of his interest in her new secret aims without having toacknowledge them. It was flattering that he surmised the line of herinterests, and spoke of them so kindly and sympathetically. 

"I try to do some reading all the time, " he went on; "but a business manhasn't much chance. Still, I usually keep something worth while on thecenter table, and when I travel I carry some good book with me. I likepictures, too, and music; and those things you miss in a town likeMontgomery. "

"Well, Montgomery is interesting just the same, " said Phil defensively. "The people are all so nice and folksy. "

He hastened to disavow any intention of slurring the town. He shouldalways feel that it was home, no matter how far he might wander. Heexplained, in the confidence that seemed to be establishing itselfbetween them, that there was a remote possibility that he might returnto Montgomery and go into the bank with his uncle, who neededassistance. It was desirable, he explained, to keep the management ofthe bank in the hands of the family. 

"You know, " he went on, "they printed outrageous stories about all of usin the 'Advertiser. ' They were the meanest sort of lies, but I'd likeyou to know that we met the issue squarely. I've turned over to yourfather as trustee all the property they claimed we had come bydishonestly. The world will never know this, for your father shut up thenewspapers--it was quite wonderful the way he managed it all;--and, ofcourse, it doesn't make any difference what the world thinks. This wasmy affair, the honor of my family, and a matter of my own conscience. "

Her knowledge of the traction muddle was sufficient to afford abackground of plausibility for this highminded renunciation. There wassomething likable in Charles Holton. His volubility, which hadprejudiced her against him in the beginning, seemed now to speak for afrankness that appealed to her. There was no reason for his telling herthese things unless he cared for her good opinion; and it was notdisagreeable to find that this man, who was ten years her senior andpossessed of what struck her as an ample experience of life, should beat pains to entrench himself in her regard. 

As she made no reply other than to meet his eyes in a look ofsympathetic comprehension, he went on:--

"You won't mind my saying that we were all terribly cut up over UncleJack's coming back here; but I guess we've disposed of him. I don'tthink he's likely to trouble Montgomery very much. Uncle Will had it outwith him the day after he showed up so disgracefully at your party; and, of course, Uncle Jack would never have done that if he had been himself. He went to Indianapolis and tried to make a lot of trouble for all ofus, but that was where your father showed himself the fine man he is. Iguess it isn't easy to put anything over on that father of yours; he'sgot the brains and character to meet any difficulty squarely. "

Phil murmured her appreciation. They had paused in the middle of thecourse and were idly cutting figures, keeping within easy conversationalrange. 

"Your initials are hard to do, " said Holton, backing into line besideher and indicating the letters his skates had traced on the surface. The"P. K. " was neatly done. Phil without comment etched a huge "C" and thencut an "H" within its long loop. 

"Splendid! You are the best skater I ever saw! I'd like to cut that outand keep it in cold storage as a souvenir. "

This did not please her so much as his references to her hiddenambitions, and seeing that she failed to respond, and fearing one of hertaunts, he led the way toward the gorge. It was four o'clock, andalready shadows were darkening the deep vale where most of the skatershad now gathered about the bonfires. Phil's popularity was attested bythe tone in which the company greeted her. She sat down on a log andentered into their give-and-take light-heartedly, while Holtonunfastened her skates. He had found her coat and thrown it round hershoulders. He was very thoughtful and attentive, and his interest in herhad not gone unremarked. 

"We were just wondering, " said one of the girls, "whether anybody herewas sport enough to scale that wall in the winter? We've saved that foryou, Phil. "

Phil lifted her head and scanned the steep slope. She had scaled itoften; in fact one of her earliest remembered adventures had been aninglorious tumble into the creek as the reward of her temerity. That wasin her sixth year when she had clambered up the cliff a few yards inpursuit of a chipmunk. 

"I haven't done that for several moons; but I have done it, children. There wouldn't be any point in doing it, of course, if anybody else haddone it--I mean to-day, with ice all over the side. "

"You mustn't think of it, Phil, " said Mrs. Holton, glancing upanxiously. 

"I shan't think of it, Mrs. Holton, unless somebody says it can't bedone. I'm not going to take a dare. "

"Just for that, " said Charles, "I'm going to do it myself. "

"Better not tackle it, " said one of the college boys, eyeing the cliffcritically. "I've done it in summer, and it's hard enough then; but youcan see how the ice and snow cover all the footholds. You'd have to doit with ropes the way they climb the Alps. "

Holton looked at Phil as she sat huddled in her coat. It was in her eyesthat she did not think he would attempt it, and he resented her lack offaith in his courage. 

"I don't think, " she remarked, helping herself to a sandwich, "thatanybody's going to be cruel enough to make me do it. "

"If I do it, " said Holton, "no one else will ever have to try it againin winter. It will be like discovering the North Pole--there's nothingin it for the second man. "

"You're not going to try it! Please don't!" cried Mrs. Holton. "If yougot hurt it would spoil the party for everybody. "

"Don't worry, Aunt Nellie. It's as easy as walking home. "

He was already throwing off his overcoat, measuring the height andchoosing a place for his ascent. 

Amid a chorus of protests and taunts he began climbing rapidly. Philrose and watched him with sophisticated eyes as he began mounting. Shesaw at once that he had chosen the least fortunate place in the wholeface of the declivity for an ascent. There were two or three faintlyscratched paths, by which the adventurous sometimes struggled to thetop, and she had herself experimented with all of them; but Holton hadessayed the most precipitous and hazardous point for his attempt. 

At the start he sprang agilely up the limestone which for a distancethrust out rough shelves with ladder-like regularity; and when thisfailed, he caught at the wild tangle of frozen shrubbery and clutchedthe saplings that had hopefully taken root wherever patches of earthgave the slightest promise of succor. As his difficulties increased ahush fell upon the spectators. 

He accomplished half the ascent, and paused to rest, clinging with onehand to a slender maple. He turned and waved his cap, and was greetedwith a cheer. 

"Better let it go at that!" called one of the young men. "Come on back. "

Charles flung down a contemptuous answer and addressed himself to themore difficult task beyond. Particles of ice and frozen earth detachedby his upward scramble clattered down noisily. Withered leaves, shakenfree from niches where the winds had gathered them, showered fitfullyinto the valley. He began drawing himself along by shrubs and youngtrees that covered a long outward curve in the face of the cliff. Thosebelow heard the crackle of frozen twigs, and the swish of releasedboughs that marked his progress. Phil stood watching him with anabsorbed interest in which fear became dominant. Better than the othersPhil knew the perils of the cliff, the scant footholds offered by eventhe least formidable points in the rough surface. 

He was rounding the bulging crag with its sparse vegetation when, as heseemed to have cleared it safely, a sapling that he had grasped for amoment yielded, and he tumbled backward. 

Those below could see his frantic struggles to check his descent as hisbody shot downward with lightning-like swiftness. A short clump ofbushes caught and held him for an instant, then gave way, and they sawhim struggling for another hold. Then a shelf of rock caught him. He layflat for a moment afraid to move, and those below could not see him. Then he sat up and waved his cap, and shouted that he was safe. 

The awe-struck crowd hardly knew what Phil was doing until she hadcrossed the ice and begun to climb. While Charles was still crashingdownward, she had run to a favorable point her quick eyes had marked andwas climbing up a well-remembered trail. The snow and ice had increasedits hazards, and an ominous crackling and snapping of twigs attended herflight. 

"Come back! Come back!" they called to her. Half a dozen young menplunged after her; but already well advanced, she cried to them not tofollow. 

"Tell him to stay where he is, " she called; and was again nimblycreeping upward. There was no way to arrest or help her, and she hadclearly set forth with a definite purpose and could not be brought back. Cries of horror marked every sound as her white sweater became thetarget of anxious eyes. 

The white sweater paused, hung for tremulous instants, was lost anddiscernible again. A frozen clod, loosened as she clutched at theprojecting roots of a young beech, ricocheted behind her. Her course, paralleling that taken by Holton, was about ten yards to the left of it. To those below it seemed that her ascent was only doubling the hour'speril. Charles, perched on the rock that had seemingly flung out its armto save him, was measuring his chances of escape without knowing thatPhil was climbing toward him. 

As she drew nearer he heard the sounds of her ascent, and peering oversaw the sweater dangling like a white ball from the cliff-side. 

"Go down, Phil! You can't make it; nobody can do it! Tell the boys toget a rope, " he shouted. "Please go back!"

Already messengers had run for assistance, but the little cañon in itspocket-like isolation was so shut in that it was a mile to the nearesthouse. 

Along the tiny thread of a trail, transformed by sleet and snow until itwas scarcely recognizable, Phil pressed on steadily. Charles, seeingthat she would not go back, ceased his entreaties, fearing to confuse oralarm her. Her hands caught strong boughs with certainty; the tiny twigsslapped her face spitefully. Here and there she flung herself flatagainst the rocky surface and crept guardedly; then she was up dancingfrom one vantage-point to another, until finally she paused, clinging toa sapling slightly above Holton. When she had got her breath she calledan "All right!" that echoed and reëchoed through the valley. 

"You thought you could do it, didn't you?" she said mockingly; "and nowI've had to spoil my clothes to get you off that shelf. "

"For God's sake, stay where you are! There's nothing you can do for me. The boys have gone round to bring a rope, and until they come you muststay right there!"

Phil, still panting, laughed derisively. 

"You're perfectly ridiculous--pinned to a rock like Prometheus--Simeonon his pillar! But it wouldn't be dignified for you to let the boys haulyou up by a rope. You'd never live that down. They'll be years getting arope; and it would be far from comfortable to sit there all night. "

While she chaffed she was measuring distances and calculating chances. The shelf which had caught him was the broader part of a long edge ofoutcrop. Phil beat among the bushes to determine how much was exposed, but the ledge was too narrow for a foothold. 

"Please stop there and don't move!" Holton pleaded. "If you break yourneck, I'd never forgive myself, and I'd never be forgiven. "

Phil laughed her scorn of his fears and began creeping upward again. Thesituation appealed to her both by reason of its danger and its humor;there was nothing funnier than the idea of Charlie Holton immured on arock, waiting to be hauled up from the top of the cliff. She meant toextricate him from his difficulties: she had set herself the task; itwas like a dare. Her quick eyes searching the rough slope noted a treebetween her and the shelf where Holton clung, watching her andcontinuing his entreaties not to heed him, but to look out for her ownsafety. Its roots were well planted in an earthy cleft and itssubstantial air inspired confidence. It had been off the line of hisprecipitous descent and he had already tried to reach it; but in thecautious tiptoeing to which his efforts were limited by the slightmargin of safety afforded by the rock he could not touch it. 

"If I swing down from that tree and reach as far as I can, you ought tobe able to catch my hand; and if you can I'll pull, and you can makeyour feet walk pitty-pat up the side. "

Her face, aglow from the climb, hung just above him. She had thrown offher hat when she began the ascent and her hair was in disorder. Her eyeswere bright with excitement and fun. It was immensely to herliking--this situation: her blood sang with the joy of it. She addressedhim with mocking composure. 

"It's so easy it isn't right to take the money. "

He protested that it was a foolish risk when he would certainly berescued in a short time. She, too, must remain where she was until theropes were brought. 

"They never do that way in books, " said Phil. "If I'd taken that tumble, some man would have rescued me; and now that you're there, it's onlyfair that I should pull you off. If I hadn't as good as told you youcouldn't, you wouldn't be there. That's the simple philosophy of that. All ready! Here goes!"

Clinging to the tree with her knees to get a better grip she swungherself down as far as possible. The sapling bent, but held stoutly. Holton ceased protesting, held up his arms to catch her if she fell;then as she repeated her "ready, " he tiptoed, but barely touched herfinger-tips. She drew back slowly to gather strength for another effort. It was the most foolhardy of undertakings. Only the tree, with itsquestionable hold upon the cliff-side, held her above the gorge. Shestrained her arms to the utmost; their finger-tips touched and sheclasped his hand. There was a tense moment; then her aid making itpossible, he dug his feet into the little crevices of the rocky surfaceand began creeping up. 

Once begun there was no letting go. The maple under their combinedweight curved like a bow. Phil set her teeth hard; her arms straineduntil it seemed they would break. Then, as Holton began to aid himselfwith his free hand, his weight diminished, and in one of these secondsof relief, Phil braced herself for a supreme effort and drew him towardher until he clutched the tree. He dragged himself up, and flung himselfdown beside her. Neither spoke for several minutes. Those of the partywho remained below were now calling wildly to know what had happened. 

"Trumpet the tidings that we are safe, " said Phil when she had got herbreath. 

"That was awful; horrible! What did you do it for? It was so absurd--sounnecessary!" he cried, relief and anger mingling in his tone. "Thehorror of it--I'll never get over it as long as I live. "

"Forget it, " said Phil. "It was just a lark. But now that it's over, I'll confess that I thought for about half a second--just before youbegan edging up a little--that I'd have to let go. But don't you evertell anybody I said so; that's marked confidential. "

The note was obviously forced. Her heart still pounded hard andweariness was written plainly in her face. Now that the stress of thehalf-hour had passed, she was not without regret for what she had done. Her father would not be pleased; her uncle would rebuke her sharply; heraunts would shudder as much at the publicity her wild adventure was sureto bring her as at the hazard itself. She was conscious of theadmiration in Holton's eyes; conscious, indeed, of something more thanthat. 

"I want to know that you did that for me: I must think so!" he saidhoarsely. 

His lips trembled and his hands shook. Her foolhardiness had placed boththeir lives in jeopardy. It pleased him to think that she had saved hislife--whereas in strictest truth she had only added to his peril. 

"I didn't do it for you: I did it for fun, " she replied shortly; and yetdeep down in her heart she did not dislike his words or the intensemanner in which he spoke them. Her dallyings with boys of her own age, with only now and then a discreet flirtation with one of the collegeseniors, comprised her personal experiences of romance. 

"You are beautiful--wonderful! Yours is the bravest soul in the world. Iloved you the day I first saw you in your father's office. Phil--"

For a moment his hand lay upon hers that was trembling still from itsgrip of the tree. 

"We must climb to the top; the joke will be spoiled if we let them helpus, " she cried, springing to her feet. "Come! The way will be easieralong the old path. "

Across the vale some one hallooed to them. Her white sweater was clearlyprinted against the cliff and a man on the edge of the farther sidestood with the light of the declining sun playing round him. The ravinenarrowed here and the distance across was not more than a hundredyards. 

Phil fluttered her handkerchief. 

"It's Fred!" she said. "See! There by the big sycamore. "

Fred waved his cap, then dropped his arm to his side and stood, asentinel-like figure, at the edge of his acres, etched in heroic outlineagainst the winter sky. His trousers were thrust into his boots; thecollar of the mackinaw coat he wore at his work was turned up about histhroat. He leaned upon an axe with which he had been cutting the coarserbrush in the fence corners. The wind ruffled his hair as he stood thus, in the fading light. He had been busy all afternoon and quite unmindfulof his aunt's party, to which, for reasons sufficient to that lady, hehad not been bidden. 

A sense of his rugged simplicity and manliness seemed to be borne toPhil across the ravine. Something in Fred Holton touched her with a kindof pathos--there was in him something of her father's patience, andsomething of his capacity for suffering. As she looked he swung the axeupon his shoulders and struck off homeward across the fields. 

Charles sprang ahead of her and began the remainder of the ascent. Itwas he who was now impatient. 

"We must hurry unless you want the crowd to carry us up. "

"Let me go ahead, " she answered, ignoring the hand he reached down toher, and eager to finish the undertaking. "There's nothing hard aboutthe rest of it and I know every inch of the path. "

CHAPTER XV

LOIS

A lady stepped from the westbound train at Montgomery just at nightfallon the day before Christmas. The porter of the parlor car pulled downmore luggage than travellers usually bring to Montgomery, and itssurfaces were plastered with steamship and hotel labels. AmziMontgomery, who had been lurking in the shadow of the baggage-room forsome time, advanced and shook hands hurriedly. 

"Well, Lois!"

"Well, Amzi!"

In the electric-lighted shed the lady might have been seen to smile atthe brevity and colorlessness of this exchange, or possibly at the hastewith which Amzi was crossing the platform to the hack-stand. 

"Here are my checks, please, Amzi. Don't be discouraged--there are onlysix of them!" she said cheerfully; her remarks being punctuated by thethump of her trunks as they were tumbled out of the baggage-car. Shestood glancing about with careless interest while Amzi shouted for thetransfer man. She trailed her umbrella composedly as she idled about theplatform, refreshing herself with deep inhalations of the crisp Decemberair, while Amzi ordered the trunks delivered to his own house. 

Her brother's perturbation was in no wise reflected in Mrs. Holton'smanner. To all appearances she was at peace with the world, andevidently the world had treated her kindly. Her handsome sables spokefor prosperity, her hat for excellent taste; she was neatly gloved andbooted. She gave an impression of smoothness and finish. In her righthand she carried a tiny purse, which she loosened carelessly from timeto time, letting it swing by its chain, and catching it again with agraceful gesture. 

"The town may have changed, " she remarked, when Amzi came back and puther into the dingy carriage, "but the hacks haven't. I recall the faintbouquet of old times. That must be the court-house clock, " shecontinued, peeping from the window. "They were building the newcourthouse about the time I left. I miss something; it must be the oldfamiliar jiggle of the streets. Asphalt? Really! I suppose the goodcitizens have screamed and protested at the improvements, as goodcitizens always do. It's stuffy in here. If you don't mind, Amzi, we'llhave some air. "

She gave the strap a jerk and the window dropped with a bang. 

"How's your asthma these days? You never speak of yourself in yourletters, and when I saw you in Chicago I didn't like your wheeze. "

"Thunder! I haven't got the asthma. I'm as fit as a fiddle. Doctors tellme to watch my blood pressure and cut off my toddies. Remember? I usedto like 'em pretty well. "

"Verily you did!"--and she laughed merrily. "You used to mix a toddyabout once a month as near as I can remember. Frightful dissipation!Unless you've changed mightily, you're a model, Amzi; a figure to pointyoung men and maidens to. Whee!" she exclaimed as the hack rattledacross the interurban track in Main Street, "behold the lights! Not sodifferent from Paris after all. What did I see there--Hastings'sTheater? Didn't that use to be the Grand Opera House? What a fall, mycountrymen! That must be where our illustrious brother-in-law holdsforth in royal splendor. What's his first name, Amzi?"

"Lawr_i_nce, " he replied, and she saw him grin broadly as the light froman overhead lamp shone upon them. "That's what Phil calls him. "

"Phil's at home, of course?"

This was her first reference to Phil, and she had spoken of herdaughter carelessly, casually. Amzi shuffled his feet on the hack floor. 

"I guess Phil's back; she's been in Indianapolis. Phil's all right. There's nothing the matter with Phil. "

He was so used to declaring Phil's all-rightness to his other sistersthat the defensive attitude was second nature. His tone was not lostupon Lois and she replied quickly:--

"Of course, Phil's all right; I just wondered whether she were at home. "

"She's with Tom, " Amzi added; and as the hack had reached his house heclambered out and bade the driver carry in the bags. 

She paused midway of the walk that led in from the street and surveyedthe near landscape. This had been her father's house, and there within astone's throw stood the cottage in which she had begun her married life. The street lights outlined it dimly, and her gaze passed on to the otherhouses upon the Montgomery acres, in which her sisters lived. These hadnot been there when she left, and the change they effected interestedher, though, it seemed, not deeply. 

The door was opened by a white-jacketed Negro. 

"This is my sister, Mrs. Holton, Jerry. You can take her things right upto the front room. "

"Yes, sah. Good-evenin', ma'am; good-evenin'. Mighty fine weather we'rehavin'; yes, ma'am, it shore is cole. "

He helped her deftly, grinning with the joy of his hospitable race in"company, " and pleased with the richness of the coat he was hangingcarefully on the old rack in the hall. 

"Tell Sarah we'll have supper right away. Want to go to your room now, Lois?"

"Thanks, no; I'm hungry and the thought of food interests me. You don'tdress for dinner, do you, Amzi?"

"Thunder, no! I'll put on my slippers and change my collar. Back in aminute. "

As he climbed the stairs she gave herself an instant's inspection in theoblong gilt-framed mirror over the drawing-room mantel, touching herhair lightly with her fingers, and then moved through the rooms hummingsoftly. When Amzi came down she met him in the hall. 

"Well, old fellow, it's wonderful how you don't change! You're no fatterthan you were twenty years ago, but your hair has gone back on youscandalously. Kiss me!"

She put her arm round his neck and when the kiss had been administered, patted his cheeks with her small delicate hands. Supper was announcedimmediately and she put her arm through his as they walked to thedining-room. 

"It's a dear old house, just as it always was; and it's like yoursentimental old soul to hang on to it. Sentiment counts, after all, Amzi. Too bad you had to be a banker, when I distinctly remember how youused to drive us all crazy with your flute; and you did spout Byron--youknow you did! You ought to travel; there's nothing like it--asentimental pilgrimage would brighten you up. If I couldn't move aroundI'd die. But I always was a restless animal. Dear me! If this isn't thesame old dinner service father bought when we were youngsters. It'swonderful that you've kept it; but I don't miss a thing. You've evenhung on to the old double-barreled pickle thing and the revolvingcastor. "

She tasted her soup with satisfaction. 

"I can see that you are not averse to the fleshpots. I dare say yourbachelor establishment is a model. Don't the neighbors try to break inand steal the help? As I remember Fanny she always took the easiest wayround. Which is Kate's house, the one beyond the next, or the third?"

"The second; she came next. There's nothing in between your old houseand Kate's place. "

Amzi met his sister's eyes with a scrutiny that expressed mild surprisethat she should thus make necessary a reference to her former domicile, and with somewhat less interest than she had taken in the ancestralchina. To Amzi her return was a fact of importance, and since receivingher telegram from New York announcing her visit to Montgomery he hadbeen in the air as to its meaning. Jack Holton's appearance only a fewweeks earlier still agitated the gossips. He assumed that Lois knewnothing of this, as, indeed, she did not; but there was nothing in hisknowledge of his sister to encourage the belief that she would havecared if she had known. His old love for her warmed his heart as hewatched her across the table. In the one interview he had had with herafter her flight, --an hour's talk in Chicago, --he had not so fullyrealized as now, in this domestic setting, how gracefully she bore heryears and her griefs! It was this that puzzled him. Sorrow was notwritten in her still youthful face, nor was it published in her finebrown eyes. They were singularly lovely eyes--retaining something oftheir girlish roguishness. His masculine eye saw no hint of gray in herbrown hair. She was astonishingly young, not only in appearance but inmanner, and her vivacity--her quick smile, her agreeable murmurouslaughter--deepened his sense of her charm. She had not only been hisfavorite sister in old times; but through all these years he had carriedher in his heart. And though his restraint yielded before her good humorhe was appalled by the situations--no end of them!--created by herreturn. 

Not a soul knew of her coming. As he reflected that his sisters wereeven then dining tranquilly in their several domiciles, quite obliviousof the erring Lois's proximity, he inwardly chuckled. They had for yearsbeen "poor-Loising" Lois, and Jack Holton's re-appearance hadstrengthened their belief that she was in straitened circumstances, apensioner on Amzi; and they deplored any drain upon resources to whichthey believed themselves or their children after them justly entitled. They would be outraged to learn that the prodigal had reëntered by thefront door of her father's house, followed by a wagonload of trunks, presumably filled with fine raiment. 

Amzi did not know what had brought her back, nor did he care, now thathe saw her across his table, enjoying tearlessly her fricassee chicken, and sipping the claret he always produced for a guest. The penitentialhusks which her sisters would have thought proper in the circumstanceswere not for Lois. He could not imagine her, no matter how grievouslyshe might sin, as meekly repenting in sackcloth and ashes. He wonderedjust what she meant to do now that she had come back; he wondered whather sisters and the rest of Montgomery would do! The situationinterested him impersonally. It sufficed for the moment that she wasthere, handsome, cheerful, amusing, for he had been seriously troubledabout her of late. He was aware that a lone woman, with her history, andblessed or cursed with her undeniable charm, is beset by perils, and itwas a comfort to see her under his roof, with no visible traces of therust of time. 

She smiled into his eyes and lifted her glass. 

"To the old house, Amzi!"

He saw her lips quiver and her eyes fill. There was sincere feeling inher voice, but the shadow upon her spirit was a fleeting one. 

"I'm going to run up and change my shoes, " she said as they left thetable, and in a few moments he heard the click of her heels as she camedown. 

"This is much cozier, " she remarked, resting her smart pumps on thefender beside his worn leathern slippers. "Now tell me about the girls;how do they get on?"

He sketched for her briefly the recent history of the family, replyingto her constant interruptions with the frankness she demanded. Watermanshe remembered; she had never seen Fosdick or Hastings. Amzi'sdescription of Hastings amused her, and she laughed gayly at herbrother's account of the former actor's efforts to lift the localdramatic standard. 

"So that's what Kate did, is it? Well, I suppose she has had some funspending her money on him. Alec Waterman was always an absurd person, but from what you say I judge Josie has held on to her money better thanthe others. Alec never had sense enough to be a big spender. "

"Thunder!" Amzi ejaculated. "Josie's broke like the rest of 'em. Alechas a weakness for gold mines. That's cost a heap, and he doesn't earnenough practicing law to pay for the ice in Josie's ice-box. Fosdicklives up in the air--away up, clean out of sight. I figure that as afloorwalker in a department store Hastings would be worth about twelvedollars a week; and Fosdick might succeed as barker for a five-leggedcalf in a side-show; but Alec's place in the divine economy is somethingI have never placed, and I defy any man to place it!"

Amzi was enjoying himself. It was with real zest that he hit off hisbrothers-in-law to this sister, who afforded him an outlet forlong-stifled emotions. He had been honestly loyal to the threehomekeeping sisters and to their husbands also for that matter; and thefact that he could at last let himself go deepened his sense of thesympathy and the understanding that had always existed between him andLois. He hated fuss; and his other sisters were tiresomely fussy andmaddeningly disingenuous. In half an hour Lois had learned all she caredto know of the family history. She merely dipped into the bin, broughtup a handful of wheat, blew away the chaff, eyed the remaining kernelswith a sophisticated eye, and tossed them over her shoulder. 

"As near as I can make out they're all broke; is that about it?"

"Just about, " Amzi replied. "They haven't mortgaged their homes yet, butif Mrs. Bill Holton turns up with a new automobile next spring or getssome specially dazzling rags, I expect to see three nice fresh mortgageson those homes out there. "

"Ah! Mrs. William sets the pace, does she? It's a good thing father diedbefore he saw the Montgomerys trying to keep up with the Holtons. William prospers?"

"Judged by Mrs. Bill's doings he does. By the way, Jack has been backhere. "

Amzi turned to see what effect the mention of Jack Holton would haveupon her; but in no wise embarrassed, with only a slight lifting of thebrows, she said quickly:--

"I thought it likely. I suppose William ran to meet him--generallove-feast and all that?"

They were approaching delicate ground; but it seemed as well to go onand be done with it. He told her, more fully than he had recounted anyother incident of the sixteen years, of Phil's party; of the insistenceof her sisters upon a reconciliation with the William Holtons, and ofJack's appearance on the threshold. His indignation waxed hot; theenormity of the offense was intensified by the fact that he wasdescribing it to Lois; it seemed even more flagrantly directed againsther, now that he thought of it, than to Phil or Phil's father. He roseand stood with his back to the fire as he dilated upon it. Lois frownedonce or twice, but at the end she laughed, her light little laugh, saying:--

"And William has got rid of him, of course. "

"Oh, they had it out the next day at the bank, but Jack's not far away. He's been in Indianapolis making trouble. He resented being kicked outof the bank--which is about what it came to. And Bill bounced him withreason. He's in trouble. In spite of automobiles and the fine front theyput up generally, Bill and the First National are not so all-firedprosperous. Tom's been trying to fix things up for them. "

"Tom Kirkwood?" She frowned again at the mention of her first husband, but appeared interested, listening attentively as he described theSycamore Traction difficulties. 

"Samuel always was a bad case. So it's come to this, that Tom is tryingto keep William out of jail? It's rather a pretty situation, as youthink of it, " she murmured. "Just how does Tom get on?"

"Tom didn't get on at all for a long time; but whenever he was pushedinto a case he burnt himself up on it. Tom was always that kind of afellow--if the drums beat hard enough he would put on his war paint andgo out and win the fight. There's a dreamy streak in Tom; I guess henever boiled out all the college professor he had in him; but he's tothe front now. They think a lot of him over at Indianapolis; he's had achance to go into one of the best law firms there. He's got brains inhis head--and if--"

His jaws shut with a snap, as he remembered that his auditor was a womanwho had weighed Tom Kirkwood in the balance and found him wanting. Loisnoted his abrupt silence. She had clasped her knees and bent forward, staring musingly into the fire, as he began speaking of Kirkwood. Amzi'scheeks filled with the breath that had nearly voiced that "if. "

"If he hadn't married a woman who didn't appreciate him and who wreckedhis life for him, there's no telling what he might have done. "

She finished his sentence dispassionately, and sat back in her chair;and as he blinked in his fear of wounding her by anything he might say, she took matters in her own hands. 

"I was a fool, Amzi. There you have it all tied up in a package andlabeled in red ink; and we needn't ever speak of it again. It's on theshelf--the top one, behind the door, as far as I'm concerned. I haven'tcome back to cry over spilt milk, like a naughty dairymaid who trips andfalls on the cellar steps. I ought to; I ought to put on mourning formyself and crawl into Center Church on my knees and ask the Lord'sforgiveness before the whole congregation. But I'm not going to doanything of the kind. One reason is that it wouldn't do me any good; andthe other is that I'd never get out of the church alive. They'd tear meto pieces! It's this way, Amzi, that if we were all made in the samemould you could work out a philosophy from experience that would applyto everybody; but the trouble is that we're all different. I'mdifferent; it was because I was different that I shook Tom and went offwith Jack. Of course, the other man is a worthless cur and loafer;that's where fate flew up and struck at me--a deserved blow. But when Isaw that I had made a bad break, I didn't sit down and sob; I merelytried to put a little starch into my self-respect and keep from goingclear downhill. Tom's probably forgotten me by this time; he never wasmuch of a hater and I guess that's what made me get tired of him. Healways had the other cheek ready, and when I annoyed him he used to takerefuge in the Greek poets, who didn't mean anything to me. "

She smiled as though the recollection of the Greek poets amused her andran on in her low, musical voice:--

"When I saw I'd drawn a blank in Jack Holton, it really didn't bother meso much as you might think. Of course, I was worried and humiliated attimes; and there were days when I went into the telegraph office andwent through the motions of sending for you to come and fish me out ofmy troubles. I tore up half a dozen of those messages, so you neverheard me squeal; and then I began playing my own game in my own way. Ihung a smile on the door, so to speak, and did my suffering inside. Forten years Jack never knew anything about me--the real me. For a longtime I couldn't quite come to the point of shaking him, and he couldn'tshake me, --he couldn't without starving"; and she smiled the ghost of agrim little smile. "I suppose I wasn't exactly in a position to insiston a husband's fidelity, but when he began to be a filthy nuisance I gotrid of him. Just before I went abroad this last time I divorced him, andgave him enough to keep him running for a while. My story in a nutshellis this, " and she touched her fingers lightly as she epitomized herpersonal history: "married at eighteen, to a gentleman; a mother attwenty; at twenty-three, ran off with a blackguard; married him in duecourse to satisfy the _convenances_. Not forty yet and divorced twice!And here I am, tolerably cheerful and not so much the worse for wear. "

She waited for him to say something; but there appeared to be little forAmzi to say. 

"I guess we all do the best we can, Lois. You don't have to talk to meabout those things. I'm glad you're back; that's all. "

He showed his embarrassment, shifting from one foot to the other, andrubbing his hand nervously across his head. 

"Amzi, you're the best man in the world, and I didn't come back here tobe a nuisance to you. I can sleep here and run off on the early train--Ilooked it up before I came. But I thought I'd like to see the house--andyou in it--once more. It's a big world, and there are plenty of placesto go. There's a lot of Europe I haven't seen yet, and I like it overthere. I have some good friends in Dresden, and I promised them to comeback. So don't feel that I'm on your hands. I'm not! I can clear out inthe morning and nobody need know that I've been here. "

He walked up to her and laid his hands on her shoulders. He gasped ather suggestion of immediate flight. He had not known how much she meantto him; and oh, she was so like Phil! It was Phil who had danced in hismind while she summarized her life; it was the Phil she did notknow--had never known--and for whom, astonishingly, she had not askedbeyond her casual inquiry as to the girl's whereabouts. Nothing wasclear in his mind save that Lois must see and know Phil. 

"I want you to stay, Lois; you've got to stay. And everything's going tobe all right. "

"Please be square with me, Amzi. This is a small town and a woman can'tcoolly break all the commandments and then come back and expect to bemet with a brass band. You and I understand each other; but you've gotto think of the rest of the family; my coming will doubtless outrage oursisters' delicate moral natures--I know that--and there's Tom--it'shardly fair to him to come trailing back. And the town's too small forme to hide in--it was always a gossipy hole. "

He clasped her wrists tightly. The working of his face showed his deepfeeling. Not often in his life had he been so touched, so moved. Two bigtears rolled down his ruddy cheeks. 

"You've got to stay because of Phil! I tell you there's nobody to thinkabout but Phil!"

Suddenly she threw her arms about his neck and burst into tears. 

"Oh, I couldn't speak of her! You don't understand that it's because ofPhil I ought to go! You thought I was heartless about it, but it's notthat I don't care. I'm afraid to see Phil! I'm afraid!"

"Don't you worry about Phil, " he answered, digging the tears out of hiseyes with his knuckles. "Phil's all right, " he concluded. 

He crossed the hall and when he returned, carrying a bulky photographalbum, she had regained her composure, and stood holding her hands tothe fire. 

"Sit here and look at Phil: I've got all her pictures from the time shewas a baby. I guess you remember these first ones. "

She sat down by the center table and he turned up the gas in theblue-shaded lamp. She passed the baby pictures quickly, but lookedclosely at those that showed her daughter at school age. Under eachphotograph Amzi had written the date, so that as a record the collectionwas complete. There were half a dozen disclosures of Phil in her M. H. S. Sweater. Amzi called attention to these with a chuckle. 

"Nearly killed the girls; Phil chasing round town in that thing! Andhere she's trigged out in her graduating clothes. I guess you'd havebeen proud of her that night. Her piece was about tramp dogs; funniestthing you ever heard! And here she is--let me see--yes, that was lastsummer. Those other things are just little snapshots; and here's a groupshowing Phil with her class. Phil in front--she was the head of herclass all right!" he ended proudly. 

Whatever emotions may have been aroused by this pictorial review of herchild's life, Lois outwardly made no sign. She murmured her pleasure atone and another of the pictures, looked closely at the latest in pointof time, sighed and closed the book. 

"She looks like me, I suppose. Is she taller?"

"The least bit, maybe; but you're as like as two peas, " answered Amzi;and then added, with the diffidence of a man unused to gracefulspeeches, "I guess you'd almost pass for sisters. By George, Lois, you're a wonder! You ain't a year older!"

"That's no compliment, Amzi! I ought to have changed, " she repliedsoberly. "But there's gray in my hair if you know where to look, and thewrinkles are getting busy. "

"The more I think of it, the more remarkable the resemblance gets, " hepersisted, ignoring her confessions. 

"That doesn't make it any easier, Amzi; please don't speak of thatagain. "

She tossed the book on the table, as though dismissing a disagreeablesubject. 

"Well, " she said, "about going?"

"You're not going, " he replied with decision. "I won't let you go. Idon't know how we're going to work it all out, but it won't be so bad. The girls have got to take it. "

She caught a gleam of humor in his eye. The displeasure of his othersisters at her return clearly had no terrors for him. It may have beenthat she herself shared his pleasure in the thought of theirdiscomfiture. She crossed the hall, wandering aimlessly about, while hewaited and wondered. When she returned she said with the brisk manner ofone given to quick decisions:--

"I'm going to stay, Amzi. But let us understand now that if I'm atrouble to you, or the rest of them make you uncomfortable, I'll clearout and go to the hotel, or set up a house of my own. So don't be sillyabout it. I'm a practical person and can take care of myself. I'm not onyour hands, you know, financially speaking or any other way. "

"Thunder! No!"

This was the first time she had touched upon money matters. While sheturned the leaves of the album, the clumsy baggage-men had poundedlaboriously up the back stairs with her trunks, emphasizing theprosperity of which her visible apparel spoke. He was not without anacute curiosity as to the state of her fortunes. Lois had always been aluxurious person, but she was, unaccountably, the only one of hissisters who had never asked him for money. He had made what they called"advances" to all of them and these had increased as their fortunesdwindled. There was something bafflingly mysterious here. It was a fairassumption that Jack Holton had spent Lois's money long ago, and thefact that she had floated home with her flags flying and had justannounced her ability to set up an establishment for herself wasdisquieting rather than reassuring. He was ashamed of his fears, but itwas against reason that she should have escaped the clutches of aworthless blackguard like Jack Holton with any of her patrimony. 

Now that she had announced her determination to remain her spirits rosebuoyantly. The thought of meeting Phil had shaken her; and yet that hadbeen but a moment's fleeting shadow, as from a stray cloud wanderingacross a summer sky. When she referred to Phil again, it was with adetachment at which he marveled. If he had not loved her so deeply andif his happiness at her return had been less complete, he should havethought her heartless. She had called herself "different"; and she was, indeed, different in ways that defied his poor powers of analysis. Shewas a mystifying creature. Her assurance, her indifference toward theworld in general, the cool fashion in which she had touched off on herpretty fingers the chief incidents of her life did not stagger him somuch as they fascinated him. She was of his own blood, and yet it wasalmost another language that she spoke. 

She had brought down a box of bon-bons which she now remembered andurged him to try, moving fitfully about the room and poking at the boxfrom time to time absently, while he volunteered information touchingold friends. Her interest in local history was apparently the slightest:he might have been talking of the Gauls in the time of Cæsar for all theinterest she manifested in her contemporaries and their fortunes. Hefinally mentioned with dogged daring the Bartletts whom she had knownwell; they had been exceedingly kind to Phil, he said. Her manner was soprovokingly indifferent that he was at the point of bringing Kirkwoodinto the picture in a last effort to shatter her unconcern. She bit abon-bon in two, made a grimace of dissatisfaction, and tossed theremaining half into the fire. 

"Oh, the Bartlett girls! Let me see, which was the musical one--Rose orNan?"

"Rose. Nan's literary. They're fine women, and they've been a mighty bighelp to Phil, " he persisted. 

"Very nice of them, I'm sure, " she said, yawning. 

The yawn reminded her that she was sleepy, and without prelude shekissed him, asked the breakfast hour, and went up to bed. 

He followed to make sure that she had what she needed, surveyed thetrunks that loomed in the hall like a mountain range, and went below tocommune with the fire. 

As he reviewed the situation, to the accompaniment of her quick, lightpatter on the guest-room floor, he was unable to key himself to a noteof tragedy. The comedy of life had never been wasted on him, and it was, after all, a stupendous joke that Lois should have come back almost astranquilly as though she had been away for a week's visit. The longer hebrooded the more it tickled him. She either was incapable ofcomprehending the problems involved in her return or meant to face themwith the jauntiness which her troubled years had increased rather thandiminished. 

Life with her, he mused, was not a permanent book of record, but aflimsy memorandum, from which she tore the leaves when they displeasedher and crumpled them into the wastebasket of oblivion. It was a newidea; but it had, he reflected, its merits. He went to the front door, as was his habit, to survey the heavens before retiring. The winterstars shone gloriously, and the night was still. The town clock boomedtwelve, ushering in Christmas. He walked a little way down the path ashe counted the strokes, glanced up at Lois's window, then across thehedges to the homes of the other daughters of the house of Montgomery, chuckled, said "Thunder!" so loudly that his own voice startled him, andwent hurriedly in and bolted the door. 

CHAPTER XVI

MERRY CHRISTMAS

On every Christmas morning it was the custom of Amzi's sisters to repairwith their several families to his house, carrying their gifts andbearing thence such presents as he might bestow. The Fosdicks and theWatermans had children, and these were encouraged to display themselvesfrequently at their uncle's. And Amzi was kind and generous in hisrelations with all of them. Amzi Waterman and Amzi Fosdick, still inshort trousers, had been impressed at their respective homes with theimportance of ingratiating themselves with Uncle Amzi, and Amzi, fullycognizant of this, was an ideal uncle to each impartially. Mrs. Fosdickhoped that her little Susan would be as thoroughly established in Amzi'sregard as Phil; there was always Phil, --that unbridled, unbroken, fearless young mustang of a Phil. 

Amzi was down early giving the final revision to his list of presents. Having found in years gone by that it was decidedly unsafe to buy giftsfor his sisters, as they were never satisfied with his selections andpoorly concealed their displeasure, he had latterly adopted the policyof giving each of them one hundred dollars in gold. 

Ten was the usual hour for the family gathering, and as the clockstruck, Amzi began wandering through the house restlessly. Occasionallyhe grinned, and said "Thunder!" quietly to himself. In the night watcheshe had pondered the advisability of warning Lois's sisters of herreturn; but he saw nothing to be gained by this. Something of Lois'sserene indifference had communicated itself to him; and as an attentivestudent of the continuing human comedy he speculated cheerfully as tothe length and violence of the impending storm. Kirkwood had neverparticipated in these Christmas morning visits, and Phil usuallydropped in after her aunts had departed. It seemed easier to let Fatetake charge of the disclosure. 

A door slammed in the upper hall, and Amzi heard the colored womandescending the back stairs. Lois was having her breakfast in her room, an unprecedented circumstance in the domestic economy. Then Jeremiah wassummoned to distribute the much-belabeled trunks. Amzi's sensationsduring these unwonted excitements were, on the whole, not disagreeable. The invasion of his bachelor privacy was too complete for any minuteanalysis of what he liked or didn't like. It was a good deal of ajoke, --this breakfasting in bed, this command of the resources of hisestablishment to scatter trunks about. As he crossed the hall he wasarrested by a cheerful "Merry Christmas. "

Lois, in a pink kimona, smilingly waved her hand from the top step whereshe sat composedly watching him. 

"Merry Christmas!" he called back. 

"Here's a present for you, --got it in Paris, special. If you don't likeit, I'll trade you another for it. Catch!"

She tossed him a box containing a scarfpin, and she nursed her knees, humming to herself and clicking her slipper heels while he examined it. She interrupted his stammered thanks to ask whether any of the "folks"had been in yet. 

She had dressed her hair in the prevailing pompadour fashion, which washighly becoming; and the kimona imparted to her face a soft rose color. She was a pretty rose of a woman, and he leaned against the newel andregarded her with appreciation. 

"I slept like a top; it's as still as the woods around here. I supposeMontgomery's never going to grow much; and it's just as well. What'sproperty worth a front foot on Main Street, --oh, say within a couple ofblocks of the court-house?"

"About five hundred dollars, I guess. "

She lifted her head as though thinking deeply. 

"Real estate's the only thing, if you get into it right. You were nevermuch on speculation, were you, Amzi? Well, you were wise to keep out ofit. It takes imagination--" She brushed the subject away gracefully. "You still own a farm or two?"

"Yes. "

"I always thought I'd like to go in for farming sometime. I've lookedinto the fruit business out West and there must be a lot of cheap landin Indiana that would do splendidly for apples. There's no reason whyyou should have to pay the freight on apples all the way from Oregon. Ever tackled apples?"

"Yes; I have an orchard or two, " he admitted wonderingly. 

If he had spent the night guessing what subject she would choose for amorning confab, apple culture would not have been on the list. He hadthought that perhaps the day would bring a torrent of questions aboutold friends, but she seemed more aloof than ever. The pearl in hisscarfpin was a splendid specimen; he roughly calculated that itrepresented an expenditure of at least a hundred dollars; and she hadflung it at him as carelessly as though she were tossing cherries from atree. 

"Can I do anything for you about the trunks? You can have Jerry as longas you like. "

"Oh, I shan't work on that job all day. It's too much bother. I'll digthe stuff out gradually. I'll have to throw most of it away anyhow. I'vegot everything I own in that pile. I suppose I'd better getdressed--What did you say about the morning gathering, --is it aceremonial affair?"

"Well, the girls have liked to do it that way, --all come in a bunchafter their home doings. "

"That's very nice, really picturesque! I suppose they're all a lot ofcomfort to you, living alone this way. Do they dine here to-day? Howabout Tom and Phil?"

It was clear from her tone that the identity of his guests was anegligible matter. She mentioned her former husband without emotion, and her tone implied no particular interest in the answer. 

"We were all of us to dine with Josie to-day; we sort o' move around, and it's her turn; but if you'd rather stay here we'll have dinnertogether or any way you like. Tom never mixes up in the dinner parties. But Phil will be here after a while; say about eleven. You'd better beready. "

"Certainly; I'll get into some other clothes right away. " She stood, lifted her arms, and stretched herself lazily. "It's nice to see youlooking so well; but Sarah confided to me when she brought up mybreakfast that you eat altogether too much. Sarah's very nice; I likeSarah. And I can see that Jerry dotes on you. You're pampered, Amzi; Ican see that you don't resist the temptation to stuff yourself withSarah's cooking. I'd be a roly-poly myself if I didn't cut off starchand sweets now and then. "

There was a sound of steps at the front door, followed by a prolongedtinkle of the doorbell. Amzi glanced up to make sure she was out ofsight. He heard her humming as she passed down the hall to her room andthen he rubbed his head vigorously as though rallying his wits inreadiness for the invasion, and flung open the door. 

The two young Amzis and little Susan greeted him effusively and heyielded himself with avuncular meekness to their embraces. They had comebearing gifts which they bestowed upon him noisily, while the remainderof the delegation crowded in. His three sisters kissed him insuccession, in the ascending order of age, and he shook hands with hisbrothers-in-law. 

"Morning, Amzi!"

"Morning, Lawrence!"

"Morning, Amzi!"

"Morning, Paul!"

"Morning, Amzi!"

"Morning, Alec!"

These greetings were as stiff as those that pass between a visitingstatesman and the local yeomanry at a rural reception. Lawrence, Paul, and Alec undoubtedly hated this perfunctory annual tribute to the headof the house of Montgomery, but Amzi liked the perpetuation of hisfather's house as a family center. It did not matter that greed andsentimentalism were back of his sisters' stubborn devotion to theMontgomery tradition; with him it was an honest sentiment; and as totheir avarice, to which he was not insensible, it should be said thatcharity was not least among his rugged virtues. 

He made a lark of opening his gifts for the delight of the children. Atruce had been effected between the Fosdicks and Watermans by which eachof the young Amzis bestowed a box of neckties of approximately the samevalue upon their uncle. Little Susan gave him a muffler; the sisters hadjoined in a new easy chair which Jeremiah now carried in; their husbandshad combined in their usual tribute of cigars. A toy and a five-dollargold-piece for each child; the little chamois-skin bags of gold-piecesfor the sisters; a book for each brother-in-law, completed Amzi'sofferings. He announced to the children that he was going to build atoboggan in the back yard for their joint use just as soon as springcame. This was a surprise and called forth much joyous chorusing fromthe youngsters, whose parents viewed this pendant to the expected giftswith satisfaction, as indicating the increasing warmth of Amzi'saffection for their children. 

"You are always generous, Amzi, " said Mrs. Waterman fervidly. "You canput the toboggan on our lot if you like. "

"And cut down the trees! I should rather do without it than destroy asingle one of the old beeches, " averred Mrs. Hastings, who, having nochildren to enjoy the felicities of tobogganing, was not deeplyinterested in the project. 

"No trees shall be cut down, " replied Amzi quickly; "I'm going to put iton my own place. You can't tell but I may use it myself more orless--after dark. The children won't mind, and the doctors say I needexercise. "

Mrs. Waterman pinched her young Amzi, who sweetly chirruped, "We'd loveto have you use it, Uncle Amzi. "

"If Uncle Amzi falls off and breaks hims neck, it would be so fun-nee, "piped Susan delightedly. 

"Susan!" exclaimed Susan's mother, lifting a severe finger. 

"It _would_ be fun-nee. Wouldn't it be fun-nee, Aunt Katie? DannyHolton, he fell off hims bicycle going down hims toboggan and breakedone leg; and it ain't got mended yet. And papa says Uncle Amzi's so fatan' he tumble on the ice it would smash him like a old cucumber. Yes, Idid, too, hear him say it. Didn't you hear him say it, mamma?"

Mrs. Fosdick had heard nothing of the kind, for the excellent reason, asher husband declared, that no such impious thought had ever crossed hismind, much less expressed itself in Susan's presence. 

Amzi roared with delight, caught up Susan and planted her on hisshoulder. Even if Paul Fosdick really had compared him to a maturecucumber it did not greatly matter. Fanny Fosdick glared at her Paul. All the adults present except Amzi were plainly distressed. Mrs. Hastings, being childless and therefore entitled to her opinions as tothe rearing of children, resolved that at last she must speak to Fannyabout Susie. And all this embarrassment and irritation by the guilelessSusie had not disturbed Amzi one whit. Amzi had no intention ofrewriting his will to punish Susie, or her forbears. 

Hastings, gloomily inhaling a cigarette, turned over the pages of thebook which Amzi had given him. It was a late study of the art of HenryIrving, and its bestowal had been a conscious flattery on Amzi's part. Still, it touched unhappy chords in Hastings's bosom. Who was betterequipped than he to catch up the fallen mantle of Irving? And here helay impotent in the hands of the fates that had set him down in a dullvillage, without means even to hang a moving-picture screen upon thedeserted stage of his theater. 

Amzi, having crawled over the floor with Susie at some personalinconvenience and distress, was now helping his namesakes to set up theengines he had given them, while their mothers murmured suggestions andwarnings. Waterman stood at the window looking out upon the snow-coveredlawn. Fosdick scanned the market page in Amzi's copy of the Indianapolis"Advertiser. " It was in Waterman's mind that if he had the essentialfunds he might the next year renew his assaults upon the halls ofCongress. The brothers-in-law distrusted and disliked each other. Each, after his fashion, was a failure; and the angle of their severalfailures had become acute. Their wives made a brave showing to thepublic and to each other; there was always the Montgomery pride to besustained. 

Amzi, having abandoned the field of engineering to his nephews, contemplated the scene philosophically with his back to the fire. Hissisters discussed the annual ball to be given in January by the Sons ofMontgomery. They were on the invitation committee, and were confrontedwith the usual problems of elimination. There was a standard tomaintain, and the Newells, who had just moved from Ladoga, and set up anew house and a six-cylinder automobile, were, as every one was saying, _such_ nice people; and Newell undoubtedly made a lot of money out ofhis sawmills; and all that. They were painfully conscious that theirhusbands were not amusing Amzi or each other. 

"Where's Phil, Amzi?" asked Mrs. Waterman. 

"Phil hasn't showed up yet. I guess she'll be along pretty soon. "

"Tom has had her with him over at Indianapolis all week. I don't thinkhe ought to take her over there, to run around town while he's busy. She's had so little experience, and with her heedlessness; and all--"

Mrs. Waterman left the conclusion to their imaginations, and as Amzimade no response and as the other gentlemen seemed indifferent, Mrs. Fosdick threw a bit of kindling upon the dull ashes of theconversation. 

"Mary Fanning said she saw Phil on the street with a young man over atIndianapolis, only last Tuesday. It isn't fair of Tom; or right, Amzi--"

"Thunder! I heard what Mary was saying. She saw Phil in WashingtonStreet, with Charlie Holton. What have you girls got against Charlie? Ifit hadn't been for you Phil wouldn't have known him. "

"Oh, there's nothing against Charlie; he's a fine fellow. I didn't knowit was Charlie, " she ended weakly. 

"Well, it was Charlie. Nan Bartlett heard what Mary was saying, andasked her about it, and that was all there was to it: she saw Phil andCharlie walking along Washington Street, just as they might walk downMain Street here at home if they happened to meet. And for that matterPhil hasn't been depending on her father for amusement over there. She'sbeen visiting the Fitches--the lawyer Fitch, of Wright and Fitch. Tom'sbeen offered a place in the firm; they're the best lawyers in Indiana;and I guess there's nothing the matter with Mrs. Fitch, is there?"

This was not only news, but it was astonishing news. Mrs. Fitch's namenot only guaranteed a scrupulous chaperonage, but the fact that Phil wasa guest in her house was significant of Tom Kirkwood's standing at thecapital and of Phil's social acceptance by a woman whose name wasconstantly impressed upon all students of the society columns of theIndianapolis newspapers. 

"The last time I was over I saw Mrs. Fitch in a box at the theater, andI must say that I couldn't do much for her clothes, " remarked Mrs. Hastings. 

"You didn't have to do anything for them, " said Amzi amiably. "Here, Jerry, put that down on the side table. "

Jeremiah had appeared with a tray that supported a huge bowl. Thisfollowed established custom: eggnog was always served at thesegatherings of the clan. Amzi sent the darky away and began filling theglasses, as he liked to serve the tipple himself. The faces of hisbrothers-in-law brightened. The persistence with which their wivesfussed about Phil exasperated them, and their attacks upon their niece, open or veiled, always roused Amzi. And there was nothing whatever to begained, as they knew from long experience, by suggesting Phil'sdelinquencies. The husbands of Phil's aunts admired Phil; the more thegirl annoyed her aunts, the more they admired her. 

"Why doesn't Phil come?" demanded Fosdick. "The circle isn't completewithout her. "

Mrs. Waterman had several times during the hour pricked up her ears atsounds above which she was unable to adjust to her knowledge of Amzi's_ménage_. The step on the floor above was not that of the heavy-footedSarah, nor yet that of the shuffling Jeremiah. Sarah could be heard inthe kitchen, and Jeremiah was even now passing cakes and orange juice tothe children at the dining-room table. 

"Amzi, who's upstairs?" demanded Mrs. Waterman. 

"Upstairs? Thunder! A woman!"

Whereupon Amzi, having handed round the eggnog, stood sipping a glasscontentedly in his favorite post by the hearth. 

"A woman upstairs!"

"Yep. She's a woman. "

"Amzi!"

Their backs grew rigid. They had never believed their brother capable ofsuch a thing. They exchanged glances that telegraphed the horror of thisdepravity. If it had been any one else on earth! And the brazenness ofit! Hastings and Fosdick grinned at each other, as much as to say thatafter all you never can tell. It was a pleasant discovery that theirbrother-in-law was only human. The cheek of the thing was stupendous;his indifference to the fine scorn of their impeccable wives was superb. Hereafter those ladies would be more tolerant of weak and erring man. 

Amzi rocked himself on his heels, ignoring them. He had wondered whyLois did not add herself to the family circle. He, too, had heard herquick steps on the floor above, and had grown impatient at her longdelay; but that was part of the joke of it all: Lois would take her timeand appear when it suited her convenience. Not for gold, not for muchfine gold would he have preluded her approach with any warning. Andtheir ready assumption that they had caught him in an act of improprietytickled him tremendously. They were all listening now; and there wasundeniably something really naughty and devilish in the patter of thoseFrench heels!

A door above closed with a bang. The shameless creature was trippingdownstairs as gayly as though the house belonged to her. The ease of herdescent spoke for youth; it was in three minds that old fools are alwaysmore susceptible to the wiles of young adventuresses. The sistersaverted their faces from the contaminating sight. Amzi was crossing theroom and reached the open door as it framed his sister. He had a fine, instinctive sense of courtesy and even his pudgy figure could notdiminish his dignity. He took Lois by the hand and led her to the broadhearth as though the fireplace symbolized the domestic altar, and he wasrestoring her to its protection. 

"This is Lois, " he said simply, as she swung round; and as they stareddully he repeated, "This is Lois. "

Mrs. Fosdick was nearest, and Mrs. Holton put out her hand to her. 

"Well, Fanny!" she said; and then, sweeping them all with her smile, "Merry Christmas!"

Her clasp of Mrs. Fosdick's hand seemed to bring them all to their feet, and she moved quickly from one to the other, with some commonplace ofgreeting, and a bright smile for each. Clasping the hands of Kate andJosephine together she looked from one to the other and said in herpleasant voice, --

"How like old times it seems; and how nice to come in on you all atChristmas! You are a bit stouter--you two--but Fanny hasn't changed abit. Alec"--she swung round toward the bewildered men--"I don't believeyou know me, but I should have recognized you anywhere. Please, now, which is which of you?"

"That's Paul Fosdick, Lois; and that's Lawrence Hastings. Gentlemen, Mrs. Holton. "

"Very glad to meet you, gentlemen. Odd, isn't it? that this should bethe first time!"

She gave them her hand in turn in her quick graceful way. Since marryinginto the family they had heard much of this Lois, and lo! theirpreconceived notions of her went down with a bang. They had been misledand deceived; she was not that sort of person at all! She had effectedas by a miracle a change in the atmosphere of the room. It was as thoughthe first daffodil had daringly lifted its head under a leaden Februarysky. Amzi, prepared for an explosion, marveled that none had shaken thehouse from its foundations. But while the masculine members of thefamily yielded up their arms without a struggle their wives werefortifying themselves against the invader. Amzi's conduct was whollyreprehensible; he had no right to permit and sanction Lois's return; thepossibilities implied in her coming were tremendous and far-reaching. Itwas a staggering blow, this unlooked-for return. While their husbandsstood grinning before the shameless woman, they conferred in glances, furtively looking from each other to the prodigal. Amzi fortifiedhimself with another glass of eggnog. 

Lois had dominated the scene from the moment of her appearance. Herentrance had been the more startling by reason of its very simplicity. She was taking everything as a matter of course, quite as though therewere nothing extraordinary in the parting of the waters to afford herpassage dry shod, through those sixteen years, to a promised landimaginably represented by Montgomery. Her sisters, huddled by the centertable, struggled against their impotence to seize the situation. Thiswas not their idea of the proper return of a woman who had sinnedagainst Heaven, to say nothing of the house of Montgomery. Their coursewas the more difficult by reason of their ignorance of the cause of herdescent upon them. Amzi should suffer for this; but first she must bedealt with; and they meant to deal with her. Their rage surged the morehotly as they saw their husbands' quick capitulation. They, too, shouldbe dealt with!

"Let us all sit down and be comfortable, " said Lois easily, and Hastingsand Fosdick bumped heads in their mad haste to place a chair for her. 

Hastings, with his theatric instincts stimulated, and realizing thatsilence would give the massed artillery of the enemy a chance tothunder, immediately engaged the newcomer in conversation. Paris and itstheaters served admirably as a theme. Lois clearly knew her Paris well;and she had met Rostand--at a garden party--and spoke of thecontemporaneous French drama with the light touch of sophistication. French phrases slipped from her tongue trippingly, and added to hercharm and mystery, her fellowship with another and wider world. FromHastings she turned to embrace them all in her talk. The immobilecountenances of her sisters, reflecting stubborn resentment andantagonism, were without effect upon her. Instead of sitting before themas the villainess of this domestic drama, a culprit arraigned for hermanifold wickednesses, she was beyond question the heroine of the piece. 

"You remember, Fanny, what a hard business we used to make of ourFrench? Well, in Seattle I had a lot of time on my hands and I put in agood deal of it studying languages. There was a wonderful Frenchwomanout there and I got her to teach me, --all good fun, with her; we used togo places together, and I finally reached the point where I could talkback to a French waiter. I really believe I could set up as a teachernow without being indicted for taking money under false pretenses. Youhave been over, haven't you, Kate? It seems to me I heard of your beingthere; but you might all have gone round the world a dozen times! Whosechildren are those out there? Bring them in and let me have a look atthem. "

The children were brought in by their fathers and presented without anyinterruption to her flow of talk. She let fall a question here and therethat was presumably directed to one or the other of her sisters, buttheir faint, reluctant answers apparently did not disturb her. She wastreating them as though they were dingy frumps; and they revoltedagainst all this prattle about Paris. It was distinctly unbecoming in awoman whose sins were so grievous to ripple on so light-heartedly aboutthe unholiest of cities when they sat there as jurors waiting to hearher plea for mercy. 

"Susan, you dear angel, come here!"

Susie toddled into her aunt's arms, raised a face that stickilytestified to her Uncle Amzi's plentiful provision of candy, and waskissed. Mrs. Waterman, formulating a plan of campaign, took a steptoward Susan as though to save the child from this desecration of itsinnocence; but a glance from Amzi gave her pause. 

"Oo have booful clothes. Whas oor name?"

"I'm a new aunt; I'm your Aunt Lois. You never heard of me, did you?Well, it doesn't matter the tiniest little bit. Something tells me thatwe're going to get on famously. I shouldn't wonder, I shouldn't wonderat all, Susan, if we became the best of friends. "

Her voice softened into new and charming tones. She held the sticky, chubby hands unmindfully. She was one of those women who are incapableof an awkward attitude. The child lingered, examining with wide-eyedscrutiny the enchantments of the new lady's apparel. 

"She's charming, Fanny, " Lois remarked, glancing up suddenly at Susan'smother; "a perfectly adorable baby. "

"Oo going to stay in this house? This Uncle Amzi ims house. "

"Now, Susan, do you really want me to stay?"

Susan surveyed her newfound aunt gravely before passing upon thisquestion that was so much more momentous than she realized. Lois, bending forward in her low chair with her head slightly to one side, met the child's gaze with like gravity. It might have been assumed fromher manner that she attached the greatest importance to Susan's verdict;there may even have been an appeal in the brown eyes; but if there wasit was an affair between the woman and the child in which the spectatorshad no share. 

Susan swallowed. 

"Oo stay and play wif me. Uncle Amzi ims going to make big toboggan inims yard and oo can slide down wif me. And Phil she come and play. Philmake me bow and arroo and Phil, her shooted it at old rooster and imsest runned and runned. "

"How splendid!" laughed Lois. 

"You may go now, Susan, " said her mother, feeling that this flirtationhad progressed far enough. 

Thus admonished Susan withdrew, while her brother and cousin submittedthemselves to the new aunt's closer inspection. 

"Two Amzis! It's quite fine of you to perpetuate the name, girls. Youmust be sure, boys, always to spell your name out; don't hide in behindan initial. These old Bible names are a lot better than these new fancyones. There must be a million Donalds and Dorothys right now scatteredover the United States. Where do you go to school, boys?"

She plainly interested them. She was a new species, and had for them thecharm of strangeness. She wore on her wrist a tiny watch, the like ofwhich they had never seen before, and one of them poked it shyly withhis finger. She accommodatingly slipped it off and gave it to them toexamine, telling them of the beautiful shop in Geneva where she hadbought it. Susan returned to share in these further revelations by thewonderful lady. The spectacle of their children gathered at the erringLois's knees, filled the watchful sisters with dismay. The ease of thewoman's conquests, her continued indifference to their feelings, causedtheir indignation to wax hot. 

"The children must go. Run along home now, and, boys, see that Susiegets home safely. No; you must go at _once_!" said Mrs. Waterman. 

"Oo bring lady home to ours house, mamma; my wants to play with lady'swatch. "

"Skip along, Susan; you'll have lots of time to play with my watch, "said Lois. "Oh, wait a minute!"

Jeremiah was bringing fresh glasses for the eggnog, and she sent him toher room to bring down some packages she had left on her bed. 

While he was gone she romped with Susan, running back through the hallinto the dining-room with the chirruping child trotting after her, andpaused breathless as Jeremiah placed the parcels on the center table. 

"That is altogether unnecessary; the children have had enough presents, "said Mrs. Fosdick. "The children must go at once. "

"Oh, these are only trifles; just a minute more, " Lois flung over hershoulder. 

She peered into a box, inspected the contents with a moment's quickappraisement, and clasped on Susie's chubby wrist a tiny bracelet. 

"There, Susan! What do you think of that?"

Susan thought well of it beyond question and trotted to her mother toexhibit the treasure. 

Three pairs of eyes looked upon the trinket coldly. Careless of theirscorn Lois was enjoying the mystification of the young Amzis, to whomshe held out two boxes and bade them make a choice. She laughed merrilywhen they opened them and found two silver watches as like as two peas. 

There was no questioning Lois's complete success with the children. Their fathers responded in grateful praise of the gifts: their UncleAmzi said "Thunder!" and expressed his delight. 

"Now, you youngsters run along or I'll get scolded for keeping you. Scoot!"

Lois urged them to the door, where Susan presented her face for furtherosculation. 

"You shouldn't have done that, Lois; it was altogether unnecessary, "announced Mrs. Fosdick. 

"Oh, those things! they're not of the slightest importance. I didn'tknow just how many youngsters you had, and the shops over there aresimply irresistible. "

She ladled herself a glass of eggnog composedly, as though whollyunconscious that the withdrawal of the noncombatants had cleared thefield for battle. 

The sisters, having sipped Amzi's Christmas tipple apprehensively, notedthat this was Lois's second glass. 

"Well, what are you all doing with yourselves?" she asked, sinking intoa chair. "Kate, I believe I look more like you than either Fanny or Jo. I think you are taller than I am, but we have the same complexion. Myface is all chopped up from the sea; it was the worst crossing I evermade, but I only missed one day on deck. The captain is the best offellows and kept an officer trailing me to see that I didn't tumbleoverboard. "

She glanced at Hastings as though he were more likely than the others torespond to observations on sea travel. He declared that he alwayspreferred winter crossings; it was the only way to feel the power andmajesty of the sea. 

"I always feel so, " said Lois. 

Amzi fidgeted about the room, wishing they would all go. 

"Lois, " said Mrs. Waterman, gathering herself together, "you willunderstand, of course, that we don't mean to be unkind, but we feel thatwe have a right--that it is only proper and just for us to know why youhave come back in this way, without giving us any warning, so that wemight prepare ourselves--"

Lois's brows lifted slightly; the slim fingers of her right hand claspedthe gold band by which the blue enameled watch was attached to her leftwrist. She tilted her head to one side, as though mildly curious as tothe drift of her sister's remark. 

"Oh, you mustn't mind that at all! I should have been sorry if you hadgone to any trouble for me. Dropping in this way, what should oneexpect?" A pretty shrug expressed her feeling that nothing at all hadbeen expected. "Jo, do you remember that time you were running fromCaptain Joshua Wilson's cow, in his pasture over there beyond thecollege, and you fell over a fence and cracked a tooth, and how youbawled about it? And I suppose that gold tooth is a memento of theoccasion. We used to be the maddest of harum-scarums in those days!"

It was not wholly kind, perhaps, for a woman whose white, even teethwere undisfigured by fillings thus to direct attention to the marks ofthe dentist's tool in her sister's mouth. And yet Lois had not meant tobe unkind; the past as symbolized by Captain Wilson's cow sent her offtangentially into the recent history of Captain Joshua's family, and shedemanded information as to the Wilsons' daughter Amanda, who ran awayand married an army officer she had met at Columbus, Ohio. As thesisters had never liked Amanda Wilson, they were not pleased to beobliged to confess that the marriage had been a satisfactory one inevery particular, and that Amanda's husband was now a colonel. Thebarometer fell steadily and the gloom of the Arctic night deepened inthe faces of the trio. 

"Anybody have any more eggnog?" asked Amzi guilelessly. 

"I think, " said Mrs. Fosdick furiously, "that we've all had enough ofthat stuff. "

This was the least bit pointed, as her husband was at that momentfilling a fourth glass for himself. 

Mrs. Waterman renewed her attack, drawing nearer to the culprit. 

"Of course, you realize, Lois, that after all that has happened, yourcoming back here, particularly unannounced, creates a very delicatesituation. It can't be possible that you don't understand how itcomplicates things--that as a matter of fact--"

"Oh, as a matter of fact it's a great bore to talk of it! I suppose I'mthe one that's likely to be most annoyed, but you needn't waste anytime being sorry for me. I didn't have to come; nobody asked me. You'llnot be in the least embarrassed by my coming. I don't look as though Iwere in deep distress about anything, do I? Well, I'm not. So don'tprepare to weep over me. Tears are bad for the complexion and puckeringup your face makes wrinkles. "

Fosdick snickered, an act of treachery on his part which brought hiswife to Mrs. Waterman's support. Fanny Fosdick was readier of speechthan Josephine, who was inclined to pomposity when she tried to beimpressive. 

"You can't dodge the situation in any such way; you had no right to comeback. Your coming can only bring up the old scandal, that we have beentrying to live down. It's not a thing you can laugh off. A woman can'tdo what you did in a town like this and come back expecting everybody tosmile over it. "

"And Jack Holton has just been here; that was bad enough!" threw in Mrs. Hastings. "And if you are still running after _him_--"

"Girls!" exploded Amzi, "you'd better cut all this out. You're not goingto help matters by fussing over what Lois did. I'm sure we're all gladto have her back; I'm sure we've always hoped she would come back. "

"I think the least you say about it the better, Amzi, " said Mrs. Waterman witheringly. "It's your fault that she's here. And if you hadhonored us with your confidence and taken our advice--"

"Thunder! what would you have done about it! I didn't think it was anyof your business. "

This from the potential benefactor of their children was not reassuring. The financial considerations crystallized by the return of the wandererwere not negligible. Every one in Montgomery knew that Jack Holton hadcome back to wrest money from William, and it was inconceivable thatLois had not flung herself upon Amzi for shelter and support. And asthey had long assumed that she was a pensioner upon her brother'sbounty, they were now convinced by the smartness of her gown and hergeneral "air" as of one given to self-indulgence in the world's bazaars, that she had become a serious drain upon Amzi's resources. 

"I think, " declared Mrs. Waterman, "that it is a good deal our business. We can't make the world over to suit ourselves, and we can't fly in theface of decency without getting scratched. And when a woman brought upas Lois was does what she did, and runs through with her money, andcomes home--"

She gulped in her effort to express the enormity of her sister'stransgressions; whereupon Mrs. Fosdick caught the ball and flung back:--

"Of course, if Lois is in need of help, we all stand ready to help her. She must understand that we feel strongly the ties of blood, and I wantto say that I'm willing to do my share, in the very fullest sense. "

Lois rose impatiently. 

"Don't be a lot of geese, you girls! Of course, you're all cut up atseeing me so unexpectedly, but I'm not going to let you be foolish aboutit. It's all in a lifetime anyway: and I really wish you wouldn't saythings which to-morrow or the day after you'll be sorry for. Iunderstand as perfectly as though you ran on all night just how youfeel; you're horrified, ashamed, outraged--all those things. Bless me, you wouldn't be respectable women if you were not! If you fell on myneck and kissed me I should resent it. Really I should! You would be adisgrace to civilization if my showing up here on Christmas morningdidn't give you nausea. I've been divorced twice, and anybody with anysort of nice feeling about life would make a rumpus about it. I'm ratherannoyed about it myself; so that's all perfectly regular. You have saidjust what you ought to have said and you feel just as you should feel. Now that's understood, why not talk of something else and becomfortable?"

The three men had discreetly betaken themselves across the hall and thechildren of Amzi II were alone. 

"You forget, Lois, that there are other persons besides ourselves toconsider. If it were just Amzi and us--" persisted Mrs. Waterman, shifting her ground before this shameless confession. 

"There's the whole world, when you come to that, " said Lois. "What's inyour mind, Jo, --Tom and Phil? Well, there's nothing novel in that; Ithought about them a good deal before I came back. You may scratch Tomoff the list; he's clear out of it. But as for Phil--"

"As for Phil, you have no right--"

"I haven't the slightest claim on Phil, of course; I never said I had, and I don't pretend to have. Please don't assume, Fanny, that I've lostall the wits I ever had! I'll say to you frankly that I feel that mycoming may be troublesome to Phil; and yet the fact that I am here" (shesmiled and threw out her arms, allowing them to fall to emphasize thefutility of words)--"the fact that I am here shows that I haveconsidered that and decided to take the risk of coming, in spite ofPhil. "

"Lois, you don't seem to have the slightest comprehension of thecase--not the slightest, " urged Mrs. Waterman, resenting the smile withwhich her sister had ended. "You brutally abandoned Phil; and now youcome back to spoil her life. I didn't suppose there was a woman in theworld so callous, so utterly without shame, so blindly selfish--"

Amzi paused in his stride across the room and planted himselfbelligerently before his oldest sister. His eyes bulged angrily. 

"Josie, you can't talk like that to Lois; not in this house! I tell you, Lois is all right. If you don't like her, you can let her alone. I'm notgoing to have you talk to her like this--not here. Now I want you tounderstand, you, Josie; you, Kate; you, Fanny" (he indicated each inturn with his pudgy forefinger) "I wouldn't let her badger you, and I'mnot going to let you jump on her. "

"You talk like a fool, Amzi, " said Mrs. Waterman, angry tears flashingin her eyes. "If you realized what we have always stood for in thiscommunity, and what it means to you as well as the rest of us; and poorlittle Phil, and all--"

"What have you all got to do with Phil? Phil's all right, " he shoutedhoarsely. 

"I think, " shot Mrs. Hastings, "that the easiest thing for Lois, and thebest thing, is for her to go quietly without seeing Phil. "

"That's my own opinion, " affirmed Mrs. Fosdick. 

Lois listened with her detached air, as though the subject underdiscussion related to some one she knew slightly but was notparticularly interested in. 

"Bless me! Such a wow and a wumpus. You really think I'd better go?" sheasked casually. 

The three, accepting this as a sign of yielding, chorused an eager, sibilant Yes. 

"Think of Phil, just at the threshold of her life. We've done our bestfor poor dear Phil, " said Mrs. Fosdick chokingly. "Amzi can't deny thatwe've tried to do our duty by her. "

"Of course, you have all been nice to her, " remarked Lois, picking up abox of candy and shaking it to bring to the surface some particularsweetmeat. 

"It has not been so easy to bring Phil up!" declared Mrs. Waterman, enraged that Phil's mother should take their assumption ofresponsibility for the child's upbringing so lightly, so entirely as amatter of course. 

"You ought to know, without our telling you, Lois, " said Mrs. Hastings, "that your coming back will be the worst thing possible for dear Phil. If you think about it quietly for an hour or two, I'm sure you will seethat. "

"You ought to go down on your knees to God with it!" boomed Mrs. Waterman, "before you think of contaminating her young life. It's onlyright that we should talk to our pastor before coming to a decision. "

Amzi snorted and walked to the window. There he saw as he looked outupon the lawn something that interested him; that caused a grin tofasten itself upon his rubicund countenance. Phil, under a fire ofsnowballs from a group of boys who were waiting with their Christmassleds for a chance to hitch to a passing vehicle, gained Amzi's gate, ducked behind the fence to gather ammunition, rose and delivered herfire, and then retreated toward the house. Her aunts, still stubbornlyconfronting her mother, and sobbingly demanding that Phil be kept awaypending a recourse to spiritual counsel, started at the sound of anunmistakable voice. Amzi, chewing his cigar, watched Phil's flight upthe path, and noted the harmless fall of the final shots about her. Shewaved her hand from the doorstep, commented derisively upon the enemy'smarksmanship, and flung the door open with a bang. A gust of cold airseemed to precipitate Phil into the room. 

"Hello, Amy! Merry Christmas, everybody!"

Amzi walked toward Lois. "Phil, this is your mother. " Mrs. Hastingsglided from her post by the hearth until she stood between Phil andLois, who stood with her back to the center table, the tips of herfingers resting upon it. Her face betrayed no apprehensions. For themoment she was out of the scene and the contest lay between Phil and heraunts. 

"Phil, this is not the place for you! Go into the other room at once, "said Mrs. Hastings, swallowing a sob. 

Amzi struck a match and lighted a cigar with his habitual three puffs. Across the flame he saw Phil sweeping the group with her eyes. She stooderect, her hands in her muff to which particles of snow clung where ithad fallen in her encounter with the boys at the gate. The crisp air hadbrightened her cheeks. She wore that look of unconcern for which she hadbeen distinguished as a child. She moved her head slightly, to avoid thefigure of the intercepting aunt, and met for an instant her mother'sindifferent, unappealing gaze. Her intuitions grasped the situation andweighed its nice points. Phil had rarely in her life been surprised andshe showed no surprise now. 

"It's rather cold, isn't it, Phil?" Lois remarked. 

"Chilly in here--rather!" said Phil in the same key. 

"Phil!" thundered the aunts. 

"Christmas is nicer with snow. I hate green Christmases, " observed Lois, who had not changed her position. 

"I've never seen but two, " replied Phil, as readily as though thedialogue had been rehearsed; "and I hated them. " Then, drawing her handfrom her muff, she flung it out in a burlesque of the amateurrecitationist:--

 "O pray, upon my Christmas morn, Let snow the leaf-shorn boughs adorn. 

"How _is_ that, Amy! A little worse than my worst?" She stepped roundher Aunt Kate, shook hands with her mother, then upon second thoughtdropped her muff, seized both her hands, and kissed her. 

"Were you all really just about going? I'm late! Made nine stops on theway, took a brief sleigh-ride with Captain Wilson, ate too muchbutter-scotch at the Bartletts', and here we are!"

She pushed a chair toward the hearth so violently that the castorsscreeched and her Aunt Kate jumped to avoid being run over. 

"Why not sit down, mamma? Amy, where's my present? Here's me to you. "

She picked up her muff, drew out a parcel tied with red ribbon, with abit of mistletoe tucked under the bow-knot, and tossed it to Amzi. 

"It's perfectly bully that you're back, " she said, addressing herselfagain to her mother. "Actually here all right, --a real Christmassurprise. I'll take that up with Amy later; he's no business playingsuch a trick. But it must tickle you to see how dee-lighted everybodyis! Oh, are you off, Aunt Josie? Hello, Lawr_i_nce!" She turned to waveher hand to Hastings at the door, where Waterman, Fosdick, and he hadwitnessed their wives' discomfiture. Those ladies were now attempting toimpart to their exits the majesty of righteous indignation. 

Phil kicked an old carpeted footstool to the hearth, and dropped upon itat her mother's feet. 

"What an old fraud Amy is not to have told me!"

She waited for the ultimate sounds of departure, and kissed her fingersto the closed door. 

Then she raised her arms quickly and drew down her mother's head untiltheir cheeks touched. 

"Thunder!" said Amzi, and left them together. 

CHAPTER XVII

PHIL'S PERPLEXITIES

Phil reached home shortly before one, and called her father's name inthe hall without eliciting a response. The odor of roasting turkey wasin the house, and she noted that the table was set for four. Themaid-of-all-work was moulding cranberry jelly when Phil thrust her headinto the kitchen. 

"There's going to be company for dinner, " the woman explained. "Your pacame in and told me so. He's gone down to his office for a minute. "

Phil had not heard that they were to have guests. She stood in thedining-room viewing the two extra places and wondering whom her fatherhad asked. Usually on holidays, when the rest of the family assembled atAmzi's, the Kirkwoods had eaten their midday meal alone. If he had askedthe Bartletts' to share this particular Christmas feast it must havebeen without premeditation, for she had herself visited the sisters onher way to Amzi's, and nothing had been said about a later meeting. Itwas not like her father to invite guests without consulting her. Hermother's return had changed the world's orbit. Nothing was as it hadbeen; nothing seemed quite real. The house in Buckeye Lane, about whichso many happy memories clustered, was suddenly become distorted and allout of drawing, as though she viewed it through a defective window-pane. She went upstairs and glanced warily into her father's bedroom, asthough fearing to find ghosts there. 

As she redressed her hair she regarded herself in the mirror with a newcuriosity. She was a stranger to herself; she was not the same PhilKirkwood who had stood before the glass that morning, but a verydifferent person--a Phil who had come suddenly upon a hidden crevassein the bright, even meadow of her life and peered into an undreamed-ofabyss. 

If her mother--that mother who had always lived less vividly in herimagination than her favorite characters in fiction--had not proved sobewilderingly, so enthrallingly captivating, so wholly charming andlovable, she might have grappled the situation with some certainty. Butno woman had ever been like that! Her mother was the most wonderfulbeing in the world! Little by little through the years her aunts hadbeen creating in Phil's mind a vulgar, vain, wicked figure and pointingto it as a fair portrait of her mother. She had always disliked heraunts; she found herself hating them now with a passionate intensitythat frightened her. 

She flung herself down in the window-seat and looked toward Main Streetwith unseeing eyes. A wonderful voice murmured in her ears, speaking anew language. She tried to recall what had been said as she crouched ather mother's feet, her head in her lap, before the fire in Amzi'sliving-room; but it was like the futile effort to recall an elusivestrain of music. She had felt curiously no disparity of years in thatinterview; it had been like a talk with a newfound sister, or with agirl with whom she had established one of the sudden intimatefriendships of school days. This wonderful Lois touched with a warmbrilliancy innumerable points and surfaces that flashed and gleamedbefore Phil's fascinated, eager eyes. She had satisfied her curiosity asto Phil in a dozen direct questions that elicited information withoutleaving any ground for discussing it. Was Phil well?--and happy? Whatwas Phil most interested in? Had there been money enough for her needs?And always with the implication that if the answers to these questionsshould not prove satisfactory, it did not greatly matter, as thedeficiencies could easily be supplied. 

They were to see each other, Phil and this enchanting mother--to-morrow;yes, there had been definite agreement upon that. But Lois had seemed asindifferent to days after to-morrow as to days before yesterday. Andwhile this troubled Phil, she had caught so much of her mother's spirit, she had been so responsive to the new amazing language that fell sofascinatingly from her mother's lips, that she accepted the promise of asingle to-morrow without misgivings. Sufficient unto the day was thewonder thereof!

She drew from her pocket a wristlet of diamonds, which Lois had givenher as they parted at Amzi's door. The gems sparkled in the sunnywindow. It was a trinket of beauty and value, and Phil clasped it uponher wrist and contemplated it with awe and delight. It was worth, sheassumed, almost or quite as much as the house in which she lived; andyet her mother had bestowed it upon her with gay apologies for itspaltriness--this mother out of a fairy-tale, this girlish mother withthe wise, beautiful eyes, and most entrancing of voices. 

The gate clicked and she glanced down at the yard. Her father wasbringing Rose and Nan to the house! They were walking briskly, andadvanced to the door laughing. The women looked up, saw Phil, and wavedtheir hands. Her father flung a snowball at the window. Happiness was inthe faces of the trio--a happiness that struck Phil with forebodings. She had never in her imaginings thought an hour would come when shewould begrudge her father any joy that might come to him; even less hadit ever seemed possible that she would look forward with dread tomeeting Rose and Nan. She hid her mother's gift and ran down to let themin. 

"You remember, " said her father, "the Maryland epicure's remark aboutthe turkey being an annoying bird--just a leetle too big for one and notquite big enough for two? I decided to see how it would work for four. "

"We didn't know we were coming, Phil, when we saw you. Your father camealong afterward and found we were going to eat a plain, domestic duck byourselves; and we weakly, meekly fell, " explained Rose. 

"There can't be a real Christmas unless there's a party; and I thoughtit about time we had a quiet little celebration of 'The Gray Knight ofPicardy'--seventh edition now printing, and the English rights wellplaced. Phil, it's up to you to carry on the literary partnership withNan. I'm out of it. I'm going to write the publisher at once to go aheadand enlighten the wondering world as to the authorship of the 'GrayKnight'--Miss Nancy Bartlett, of Buckeye Lane!"

"You shall do nothing of the kind, Tom, " declared Nan with emphasis; andimmediately blushed. 

This was the first time Phil had heard Nan call her father by his firstname. To be sure, he always addressed both Nan and Rose by theirChristian names; but that was not surprising, as he had known theBartletts' well from the time of his coming to the college, when everyone called him Professor or Doctor. 

At the table Nan and Kirkwood did most of the talking, and now and thenthey exchanged glances that expressed to Phil some new understandingbetween them. It had never before been so clear to Phil how perfectlysympathetic these two were. Her father was a clever man and Nan Bartlettan unusually clever woman. At other times Phil would have delighted intheir sharp fencing; the snap and crackle of their dialogue; but herheart ached to-day. She felt the presence of a specter at the table. Sheheard that other voice with its new and thrilling accents, thatcareless, light laugh with its gentle mockery. She was recalled from along reverie by a question from Rose. 

"How did you find the gathering of the clans at Amzi's?"

"Just about as cheerful as usual, " replied Phil colorlessly. 

"Amzi's seat will be in the front row of the heavenly choir-loft, "observed Nan. "What he has taken from those women has given him a cleartitle to joys ineffable. "

"Amy is not a mere man, " said Phil; "he is a great soul. "

She had spoken so earnestly that they all looked at her in surprise. Ifshe had referred to her uncle as a brick, or a grand old sport, or thedearest old Indian on the reservation, they would have taken it as amatter of course; but Phil was not quite herself to-day. 

"Don't you feel well, Phil?" asked Nan, so pointedly referring to theunwonted sobriety with which she had spoken of her uncle that they alllaughed. 

"The aunts must have been unusually vexatious to-day. You're not quiteup to pitch, Phil. Too much candy has spoiled your appetite, " remarkedher father. 

"I guess my sweet tooth did betray me into indiscretions, " she answeredwith an effort at lightness; and added, "The bon-bon and the caramel Poor Phyllis did waylay; And being only a weak mortal young thing to whom Christmas comes but once a year Is it surprising what befell? For she knew not the sad word Nay. "

"Oh, unutterable horrors! That's the worst you ever perpetrated!" criedher father. "Just for that you shall eat another piece of mince pie. "

"Nothing of the kind, Tom; we must not add to the sufferings of onewhose own rhymes are punishment enough, " said Nan. 

The two women looked at Phil more closely. She seemed preoccupied andher contributions to their banter were perfunctory and spiritless. Whenthey were established in the living-room, Phil crouched on a stool bythe fire. Concealment and dissimulation were so wholly foreign to hernature that it was with difficulty that she resisted an impulse to blurtout the whole thing. They would know within a few hours of her mother'sreturn, and the fact that she had withheld the information would makeher situation more difficult. She saw her father furtively touch Nan'shand; he was beyond question very much in love with her; and Nan hadpractically confessed, on that memorable afternoon following Amzi'sparty, her regard for Kirkwood. Then it had seemed to Phil the mostnatural and rational thing in the world for her father and Nan to marry;but now in this whirling chaos to which the world had been reduced, thethought of it was abhorrent. No wonder they looked at her curiously, notunderstanding her silence. Phil loved them all! Phil wanted everybody tobe happy! Yet clearly happiness even in the small circle of her nearestand dearest was impossible. Her nimble fancy led her over rough chaoticpeaks in an effort to find a point from which to survey the generaldesolation. In practical terms she reasoned that men and women sometimesremarried after a long estrangement. Perhaps--But she was unable to pushbeyond that perhaps. 

The bell rang and she was glad of the interruption. Fred Holton had cometo call. Kirkwood greeted him cordially, and they widened the circlebefore the grate to admit him. Phil addressed herself to Fred with thekindliness he always inspired in her. He was a trifle abashed by thepresence of the Bartletts, and on seeing them, furtively dropped apackage he had brought on a chair by the door. Phil, inspecting itglancingly, saw her name scribbled on the paper wrapper. 

"Christmas gift! Who guesses this is a Christmas gift for me?"

"Everybody!" cried the Bartletts. 

"I guess it's a book. I hope it's a book. I shall be disappointed if itisn't a book, " continued Phil. 

Fred blushed, and said it wasn't anything. The clerk in the bookstorehad recommended it, and he thought Phil might like it. Phil tore off thewrapper and held up "The Gray Knight of Picardy. " The sight of it sent aquick, sharp pain through her heart. It was no longer merely the besttale of the season that her father and one of her dearest friends hadwritten, but a book her father and the woman he loved had written; andthis, in the light of the day's events, was a very different matter. 

"Thank you, Fred. It's nice of you to think of me. And I'm sure it's agood story. "

"They say it's awfully funny, " said Fred. 

Nothing seemed funny to Phil; but she exerted herself to beentertaining. She was in a mood to be touched by his gift. CharlesHolton had sent her a box of roses from Indianapolis and they werenodding from the tall vase on the mantel. She saw Fred eyeing them, andhastened to say that books made the finest possible gifts. 

"It must be lonely in the country to-day, " remarked Nan. "But I supposeyou've spent the day in town. "

"Only part of it, " replied Fred. "I couldn't desert the live stock; andI have a man there with me. We had our Christmas feast and I hopped onthe interurban. "

"Turkey?" asked Phil. 

"No; rabbit. Rabbit's much more wholesome for Christmas than turkey. Wesell turkeys to the city folks and feast on rabbits when we need them. Ipoached this one, too. But don't tell Mr. Montgomery. It ran under hisfence into my pasture, and fearing it was my last chance for Christmasdinner, I pulled the trigger. Is that a high crime, Mr. Kirkwood?"

"Not at all. We'll assume that it was really your rabbit that had justbeen out for a stroll on Mr. Montgomery's side of the fence. I'llpromise to get you off if you're prosecuted. "

"I should think it would be quite grand and splendid to own a farm andgo out and pick off game that way, " said Phil musingly. "Monarch of allyou survey, and that sort of thing. When I had a Flobert rifle in myenchanted youth and shot sparrows in our back yard, I had something ofthe same exalted feeling. Only our estate here is too limited. Theneighbors kicked; so many wild shots. Absurd how sensitive people are. But I suppose if I hadn't broken a few glasses of new quince preservesthe lady across our alley had put to sun in her kitchen window, I mightnever have lost the gun. "

"I don't seem to remember that incident of your career, Phil, " saidRose. 

"I hope nobody does. The lady's husband happened to be the town marshal, and he told daddy a lot of sad things that were going to happen to meif I didn't stop shooting at his perfectly good wife as she followed herusual avocations. "

The Bartletts were relieved to find Phil restored to something like hernormal cheerful self. They all enlarged upon the impingement of herbullets upon the marshal's wife's quinces, discussing the subject in themock-serious vein that was common in their intercourse. If Phil hadkilled her neighbor, would it have been proper for the defense to provethat the quinces were improperly prepared? Kirkwood insisted that suchtestimony would have been grossly irregular and that an able jurist likeJudge Walters would certainly have rejected it. They played with theidea of Phil's heinous crime until they wore it out. 

"Put on the black cap and tell me when I'm to die, " said Phil. "I'mguilty. I really did kill the woman and I buried her under the plum treein her back yard. Now let's think of something cheerful. "

Nan and Kirkwood dropped out of the circle a little later, and Philheard them talking in subdued tones in the library. Rose withdrew to thewindow and became absorbed in a book. 

"I saw you and Charlie that day you climbed up the bluff, " said Fred themoment Rose was out of hearing. "I hope you won't do that any more. Ihope you won't ever do things like that again!" he ended earnestly. 

"It was just a lark; why shouldn't I do it?"

"The chances were that you'd fall and be killed. You had no right totake the chance. And Charlie had no right to let you do it. "

"Charlie hadn't anything to do with it. He couldn't have helpedhimself, " said Phil defensively. 

"Then the rest of them down on the creek should have stopped you. It wasthe craziest thing I ever saw. "

"I suppose it was silly, " Phil admitted tamely, "but it's all over now. "

It was in her heart to say that nothing greatly mattered, and yet therewas a certain comfort in knowing that he cared. His blue eyes told herfrankly how much he cared; and she was not unmindful of the wistfulsmile with which he regarded her. 

His glance wandered from her face to the long-stemmed roses on themantel-shelf behind her. He knew perfectly well where those roses hadcome from. She saw the resentment in his eyes. The resumption of socialrelations between her aunts and the Holtons that had brought her incontact with these nephews of Jack Holton struck her in a new light, with Fred there before her, with Charles's roses flaunting themselvesunrebuked in her father's house. She had no business to be receivingFred Holton; Charles's flowers assumed suddenly a dire significance. Shemeant to be rid of them the moment she could do so without attractingattention. It was on her tongue to say something unkind to Fred; herloyalty to her mother seemed to demand it. And yet neither Fred norCharles had been in any wise responsible for her mother's tragedy. Fredhad risen and stood before the fire with his arms folded. The care hetook to make himself presentable, expressed in his carefully brushedclothes; the polish on his rough shoes; his clean-shaven face, touchedher now as at other times. She wondered whether, if they had been alone, she would not have confessed her perplexities and asked his counsel. Intheir talks she had been impressed by his rugged common sense, and herplight was one that demanded the exercise of just that quality. Roseturned the pages of her book. Her father and Nan continued theirconference in low tones in the adjoining room. 

"You promise--don't you--that you won't ever do foolish things like thatany more, " and Fred put out his hand half in farewell, half as thoughthe clasp he invited would mean a pledge. 

"Please forget it. I'll probably never have another chance. That was thekind of thing you do only once; there wouldn't be any fun in doing itover again. "

"Your father has been mighty nice to me: I wanted to tell him Iappreciated it. I felt I'd like to say that to him on Christmas--just akind of sentimental feeling about it. But you please say it for me. He'll understand; I couldn't say it before the others. "

She responded passively: there were a good many things that she must sayto her father!

Kirkwood and Nan reappeared as they heard Fred saying good-bye to Rose. 

Nan said she and her sister must be going, too, as they had some callsto make. At the door Nan kissed Phil, and asked her to come to see herthe next day. The kiss and this special invitation, half-whispered, confirmed Phil's belief that her father and Nan would have told her oftheir engagement if Fred's coming had not interfered. She was glad forthe delay, and yet it would have been easier in many ways to have metthe issue squarely before Nan and Rose. She and her father watched Fredand the women pass from sight toward town. 

"He seems to be a nice fellow, " remarked Kirkwood, as they returned tothe living-room--"a clean, manly sort of chap. "

"He's all that, " replied Phil. "He came to thank you for something: he'stoo shy to talk much in company and he asked me to tell you how much heappreciated something or other you had done for him. "

"Queer chap, for a Holton, " Kirkwood observed, striking a match on theunderside of the slate mantel-shelf. "There's a real nobility in thatboy. He didn't tell you what he wanted to speak to me about? That'sbetter yet. I imagine his brother isn't so shy about publishing his goodworks before men. "

Kirkwood's eyes sought the roses. The "attentions" Phil was receivinghad roused in him the mixed bewilderment and awe with which a fatherrealizes that he has on his hands a daughter upon whom other men havebegun to look covetously. Half a dozen young fellows were dancingattendance upon Phil. In the hotel and at the theater in Indianapolismen and women had paid her the tribute of a second glance, and Mrs. Fitch had been enthusiastic about her. His tolerant spirit had notvisited upon the young Holtons the sins of their uncle. Charles'sdevotion to Phil had rather amused him; he had taken it as an obliquecompliment to himself, assuming that it was due to anxiety on Charles'spart to ingratiate himself with Phil's father quite as much as withPhil. 

"I suppose what Fred meant was a little matter between us in thetraction business. You know that farm he settled on next to Amzi's? He'sturned it over to me. "

"You mean he doesn't own it any more?" asked Phil. 

"Strictly speaking, no. In the general Holton mess he thought he oughtto surrender the property. Rather quixotic, but creditable to the boy. You see Charlie was executor of their father's estate. Charlie's beyonddoubt a very smooth young person. And no end plausible. He got Fred totake that farm in settlement of all claims against Samuel's estate. Andwhen Fred found out there was trouble over his father's financiering ofthe Sycamore he hopped on the trolley and came to the city and turnedover the farm to me as trustee. He seemed no end grateful to me forallowing him to do it. "

"But you didn't let him--it isn't fair! Why the farm's no good anyhow!And besides, Charlie wouldn't have done Fred an injury. He talked to methe other day at his aunt's skating-party about all that tractionbusiness and I'm sure he never meant any harm. He couldn't help what hisfather did. But to take Fred's farm away--why, daddy, that would be thesupreme grand lim_ite_!"

Kirkwood laughed and pinched her chin. 

"What a terrible young person you are! You seem to forget that I'm notthe Holtons' attorney. I'm hired by the poor innocents who bought SamHolton's bonds, and it's my business to get all the money for them Ican. Charles's tricks with his father's estate only figure incidentally, but they have a dark look. It's merely a case of the sins of theparents being visited upon the children--"

He had been speaking half-carelessly, not really heeding what he said, and he arrested himself with an impatient shrug of the shoulders. Thevisitation of a parent's sins upon children was not a subject fordiscussion in that household, as Phil realized with a poignancy born ofher morning's adventure. Kirkwood was instantly contrite as he saw tearsin Phil's eyes. He would not for worlds have wounded her. It wasimpossible for him to know how in her new sensitiveness this carelessspeech, which a day earlier would have passed unheeded, aroused all herinstincts of defense. She was half-aware of the irony by which theirtalk about the nephews of Jack Holton had carried them with so fateful adirectness to her mother. 

Kirkwood frowned. His former wife was of all subjects the mostungrateful on this Christmas day. The old wounds had healed absolutelyand the scars even had vanished in his new hope and happiness. He didnot mean to have his day spoiled. He crossed the room to the windowwhere Phil stood pulling idly at a withered geranium leaf. He drew herround and kissed her. 

"Forgive me, dear old Phil! I wouldn't hurt you for ten thousandkingdoms. And I didn't mean that. I don't think it; moreover, I don'tbelieve in that philosophy. "

His contrition was unmistakedly sincere; yet she knew that if he had notobliterated the thought of her mother from his mind he would not havelet slip that reference to parental sins. His forgetfulness was worsethan the offense itself. 

She experienced a sensation, new in all their intercourse, of wanting tohurt him. This was, in all kindness and charity, the instant forannouncing her mother's return; and yet before making that disclosurePhil meant to force him to tell her in so many words that he was engagedto marry Nan. This was the most astonishing of all Phil's crowdingexperiences of the day, that she harbored with cruel satisfaction thethought of inflicting pain upon her father--her old comrade, with whomshe had so joyfully camped and tramped and lived so many happy days inthis little house, where now for the first time shadows dancedmalevolently. 

"I wanted this to be a happy day, Phil. What do we care about theHoltons or Sycamore Traction! Charlie and Fred are all right, and I mustsay that I've been a good deal pleased by the attitude of both the youngfellows. But I have something to tell you; something you've beenprepared for for a long time in that wise, old head of yours. It's mademe the happiest man in the world; and I hope it will make you almost ashappy. And I believe it's for your good; that it's going to be a greatbig factor in working out all your problems and mine! Come now, forgiveme, and tell me whether you want three guesses as to what it is!"

He rested the tips of his fingers on her shoulders, standing off andlooking at her with all the old fondness in his eyes. He had spokenbuoyantly; his manner was that of a young man about to confide a loveaffair to a sympathetic sister. 

Phil slipped from under his hands and stood rigid, with her back againstthe geranium box. She swallowed a sob and lifted her head to meet theblow. He would not have it thus, but caught her hands and swung them ina tight clasp. 

"It's Nan, Phil, dear: Nan's promised to marry me! She's been saying shenever would. It was only last night she agreed to take this poor oldwreck and try to make a man of me. We meant to tell you to-day if FredHolton hadn't come in, and then the girls had to run. But nobody is toknow for a month yet; we mean to be married at Easter. That last pointwe fixed up just now in the library. You see what a lot of things canhappen right here in dear old Montgomery within twenty-four hours. "

He waited for one of her characteristic Philesque outbursts--one of thetumultuous mussings with which she celebrated her happy surprises. Nothing was needed to complete his joy but Phil's approval, about whichhe had never had the slightest question. In his last talk with Nan onChristmas Eve they had discussed Phil and the effect of their marriageupon her rather more than upon themselves. And he had now exhaustedhimself upon the announcement; there was nothing more that he could say. Phil's hands were cold in his, and with an almost imperceptible pressureshe was thrusting him away from her. Two great tears welled in her eyesand stole down her cheeks. 

"Why, Phil! I thought you--you of all people in the world--"

"Mamma has come back!" said Phil colorlessly; and repeated, "mamma hascome back. She is at Uncle Amy's, and I have seen her. "

There was silence for a little space while he stared at her. Their eyesmet in a long gaze. He grew suddenly white and she felt the trembling ofhis hands. 

"O God, no!" he said hoarsely. "You don't mean that, Phil. This is ajoke--not here; not in Montgomery! She would never do that. Come, youmustn't trifle with me; it's--it's too horrible. "

His voice sank to a whisper with his last word. The word and his tone inuttering it had not expressed the full sense of the horror that was inhis face. 

"It is true, daddy, " she said softly, kindly. "I have seen her; I havetalked with her. "

"You saw her at Amzi's?" he asked dully. 

"Yes; she came last night. I didn't know it until I got to the housethis morning. They were all there, and when I went in they tried to sendme off; they thought I oughtn't to see her. "

"There was a scene, then; they were ugly about it?"

"They tried to be; but it didn't go!"

He noted the faltering triumph of her tone and looked at her moreclosely. 

"They wanted her to go and she held her ground against them?"

"I held it with her, " said Phil. 

"You didn't think she should go; was that it, Phil?"

"I didn't think she should be treated like a dog!"

Phil drew away, with her head held high, her fists tightly clenched. Kirkwood walked slowly across the room thrice while she stood immovable. He recalled her presence in a moment and remarked absently:--

"Amzi should have told me. It wasn't fair for him to do this. If I hadknown last night that she was here--"

He broke off with a groan. The resigned, indifferent air he had latelyflung off possessed him again, and seeing it the pity stole back intoher heart. She moved about, avoiding him, fearful of meeting again thathurt, wounded look in his eyes. The short day was drawing to an end, andthe shadows deepened. He was mechanically lighting his pipe, and shecrouched in her favorite seat by the fire. 

"It's a little tough, Phil, " he said finally with a revival of courage, pausing in his slow, aimless wandering through the rooms. "It's a littletough after so long, and _now_. "

She could not controvert this; she merely waited to see what further hehad to say. He paused presently, his arm on the mantel-shelf, hisfingers nervously playing with his pipe. 

"What is she like, Phil?"

"Oh, she is lovely! She is the most charming woman that ever lived!"

"You liked her, then; she was nice to you?"

"She is dear and sweet and wonderful! Oh, I didn't know she would belike that!"

His eyes opened and shut quickly. There was an implied accusationagainst him in the fervor of her admiration for the wife who haddeserted him. He groped for something in self-justification with whichto confute Lois Montgomery's daughter. 

"You found her what you would like your mother to be, --you didn't thinkher hard or cruel?"

"No. "

"You wouldn't have thought her a woman who would desert a husband and ahelpless baby and run away with another man?"

There was silence in the room. He had mercilessly condensed the caseagainst Lois Montgomery, reducing it to its harshest terms for Phil'scontemplation. It was in Phil's mind that she had nothing to do withthose things; that the woman against whose cheek she had laid her ownwas not Thomas Kirkwood's recreant wife, but another and very differentperson. She did not know how to express this; it seemed preposterous toinsist to her father that his former wife was not the same woman thatshe had held speech with that day. 

"I can't talk about her in that way, daddy. I can't tell you just how Ifeel. But it seemed so wonderful, when I went into the house, and thosehorrible creatures were circling round her like wolves, that weunderstood each other, she and I, without a word being said! And I hatedthem all, except dear old Amy. They all went home and Amy went off andleft us alone, and we talked just as though we had been old friends. "

She ceased as though to attempt to describe it would be profanation. 

"What did she say--about me?" he asked blindly. 

"Oh, she didn't talk about you at all! It wasn't that kind of talk--notabout what she had done--not even about what she meant to do! She is soyoung! She is just like a girl! And she speaks so charmingly, with theloveliest voice. It's like the way the water ripples round the bigboulders at The Run. "

"She hadn't anything to say about her going off? I don't quite believeyou mean that, Phil. "

"That's exactly the truth, daddy"; and there was grieved surprise in hertone. "Why, she isn't like that; she wouldn't ever say anything to hurtany one. I haven't words to tell you about her, because there was neverany one like her. She is all sunniness and sweetness. And she's the mostamusing person I ever saw, --ever so droll and funny!"

Phil's refusal or inability to see her mother in robes of sin irritatedKirkwood. For Phil to call her an amusing person was sheer childishnaïveté. Phil was the victim of an infatuation which he could understandnow that his wife began to live again in his imagination. He had read inbooks that the maternal instinct will assert itself after longseparations, where mother and child are without other clue than that ofthe mysterious filial and maternal tie to guide them; but his practicalsense rejected the idea. If he had been warned of Lois's unaccountablereturn, he might have fortified Phil against her charms, but now it wastoo late. Lois was Phil's mother. Shocked as he was by this terminationof his Christmas-Day happiness, his nature revolted against any attemptto shatter Phil's new idol. The fact that Lois had sinned as muchagainst Phil as against himself was not something that he could urge nowthat Phil had taken her stand. The thought of Lois brought before himnot only the unhappy past, but she seemed, with the cruelestcalculation, to have planted herself in the path of his happy future. 

He was intent upon a situation that called for immediate handling. Hetried to bring the scattered dim stars in this new firmament to focus. He might go to Nan and endeavor to minimize the effects of Lois'sreturn, urging that if she wished to spend the rest of her life inMontgomery it was her affair, and had nothing whatever to do with herformer husband or the woman he meant to marry. This was a sane, reasonable view of the situation; but its sanity and reasonableness werenot likely to impress Nan Bartlett. Such an event as the sudden returnof Lois would pass into local history as a great sensation. JackHolton's re-appearance only a few weeks earlier had caused hisfellow-townsmen to attack the old scandal with the avidity of a dogunearthing a neglected bone; and the return of the woman in the casecould hardly fail to prove far more provocative of gossip. If Loispersisted in remaining in Montgomery, it was wholly unlikely that Nanwould ever marry him; nor could he with any delicacy insist upon herdoing so. They might marry and move to Indianapolis, thereby escapingthe discomforts of the smaller town's criticism; and this was madepossible by his brightening prospects. At any rate, it was only fair togo to Nan at once and lay the matter before her. Even now the news mighthave reached her; news spreads quickly in the world's compactMontgomerys. 

Phil aroused herself as she heard him fumbling for his coat at thehall-rack. She found a match and lighted the gas. 

"Going out, daddy?" she asked in something like her usual tone. 

He looked at her vaguely as he drew on his coat, as though trying tounderstand what she had said. 

"Well, you'll be back for supper. There'll be the usualholiday-cold-turkey supper, daddy. "

"Yes, Phil; I'll be back after while. I'm going for a tramp. "

But she knew that he had gone to see Nan. 

CHAPTER XVIII

AMZI IS FLABBERGASTED

Struby's drug-store did a large business in hot drinks in the weekfollowing Christmas, as citizens and citizenesses met to discuss thereturn of Lois Montgomery. The annual choir-row in Center Church causedscarcely a ripple; the county poorhouse burned to the ground, and nobodycared particularly; an august professor in the college was laid low withwhooping-cough, and even this calamity failed to tickle the community asit would have done in ordinary circumstances. 

Wonder and mystery were in the air of Main Street. Persons who had nomoney in Montgomery's Bank, and whom the liveliest imagination could notdramatize as borrowers from that institution, dropped in casually onfictitious errands, in the hope of seeing or hearing something. Housewives who lived beyond the college, or over in the new bungalowaddition across the Monon tracks, who had no business whatever in theneighborhood of the old Montgomery place, made flimsy excuses forvisiting that region in the hope of catching a glimpse of a certain ladywho, after a long absence, had reappeared in town with bewilderingsuddenness. What Amzi had said to his sisters Kate, Josie, and Fanny andwhat they had said to him, and what Mrs. Lois Montgomery Holton had saidto them all afforded an ample field for comment where facts were known;and where there were no facts, speculation and invention riotedoutrageously. Had Tom Kirkwood seen his former wife? Would Phil breakwith her father and go to live at Amzi's with her mother? Was it truethat Lois had come back to Indiana in the hope of effecting areconciliation with Jack Holton, of whom unpleasant reports were nowreaching Montgomery from the state capital? An intelligent communitypossessed of a healthy curiosity must be pardoned for polishing itsspectacles when a drama so exciting and presenting so many characters isbeing disclosed upon its stage. 

It was said that Mrs. Holton emerged from Amzi's house daily to take theair. She had been observed by credible witnesses at the stamp window ofthe post-office; again, she had bought violets at the florist's; she hadbeen seen walking across the Madison campus. The attendants in the newCarnegie library had been thrilled by a visit from a strange lady whocould have been none other than Mrs. Holton. 

At four o'clock on the afternoon of January 2, Mrs. Holton drank a cupof bouillon at Struby's counter, informed the white-jacketed attendantthat it was excellent, and crossed Main Street to Montgomery's Bankunder the admiring eyes of a dozen young collegians who happened to beloafing in the drug-store. Amzi escorted his sister at once to hisprivate room at the rear, poked the fire, buttoned his coat and satdown. 

"Well, Lois, how goes it?"

His question was the one he habitually asked his customers, and he hadno idea that anything of importance had happened to his sister since heleft her at one o'clock. 

"The air in the counting-room is bad, Amzi; you ought to put inventilators. A little fresh air would increase the efficiency of theclerks one hundred per cent, " she remarked, tossing her muff and apackage on the table. It was a solid package that fell with a bang. 

"Then they'd want more pay. You've got another guess coming. "

"No. You'd cut down their wages because they worked less time. "

He rubbed his head and chuckled. It was plainly written on his face thathe was immensely fond of her, that her presence in the dim, dingy oldroom gave him pleasure. He clasped his hands behind his head toemphasize his comfort. 

"I passed Center Church on my way down just as my perfectly good sistersthree were entering the side door. The Presbyterians haven't set up aconfessional, have they?"

"Lemme see. I guess this is the afternoon they sew for the heathen. No. This is Tuesday. Pastor's Aid Society. Caught 'em in the act, did you?"

"I suppose I did. They bowed and I bowed. When I got to the corner Iturned round to take a look at the steeple and they were inspecting myclothes. They're rather funny human beings, those sisters of ours. Howdo you suppose they ever happened anyhow? How do you suppose they cameto be so good and you and I so naughty? I mention your naughtiness, Amzi, just to keep from being so lonesome. "

"Thunder!" he puffed, evidently rejoicing in the wickedness sheconferred upon him. 

"I came to talk business a little, Amzi. Didn't want to do it at thehouse. In fact, I'm out of money; broke; busted. I bought a cup of soupat the drug-store over the way and left my last dime on the counter. "

He rubbed his pink pate and cleared his throat. He was not surprised; hehad expected her to be broke. Several times in the week that had passedsince her return, he had thought of broaching the subject of money, buthad refrained. Lois could have anything he had; that was his feelingabout it; and no doubt when she needed money she would ask for it. Hisother sisters had never hesitated. 

"Just say how much, Lois. "

His tone was reassuring. The others had bled him for years; he had keptan account of his "advances, " as they called them, in a pass-book, andwithin a few days he had credited Lois with an amount equal to the totalof these sums. It was approximately this amount that he had tried tobestow upon Phil the previous fall when that unreasonable young personhad scorned it. 

Lois had not answered him. Her face wore a look of abstraction and shecompressed her lips poutingly. He had found her increasingly interestingand amusing as the days passed. The subjects she discussed in their longevenings together were as various as her costumes. She was alwayscheery, always a delight to his admiring eyes. Now that she needed moneyshe would be sure to ask for it in her own charming fashion. 

"Speak up; don't be afraid. The sooner we fix it the quicker we canforget it, " he added kindly. 

"I was just wondering how to divide things around a little, " shereplied. 

"Divide how? Among your creditors?"

"Creditors? Bless your silly head, Amzi, I haven't any creditors!"

"I thought you said you were broke. "

"Oh, I believe I did, " she replied, still only half-attentive to what hesaid, and apparently not particularly interested in explaining herself. She reached for a pad and made rapid calculations. He lighted a cigarand watched her gloved hand dancing over the paper. The package she hadtossed on the table was much bewaxed and sealed. "When I said I wasbroke, I meant that I hadn't any money in my pocket. I want to open anaccount here so I can cash a check. I suppose you haven't any prejudicesagainst accepting small deposits?"

"No prejudices exactly, Lois; but it's so long since any member of thefamily came into this bank without wanting to make a touch that I'mlikely to drop dead. "

She laughed, drew out her purse, and extracted three closely foldedslips of crisp paper, took up a pen and scratched her name across theback of each. 

"There, " she said, "consider these on deposit and give me a check-book. "

He ran the drafts through his fingers, reading the amounts, and fromforce of habit compared the indorsement with the name on the face. Hesmoothed them out on the table and laid a weight on them. He looked atthe end of his cigar, then at her. Of the three bills of exchange on NewYork, one was for ten thousand dollars, issued by a Seattle bank;another was for fifteen thousand, issued by a San Francisco house, andthe third was a certified check for seven thousand and some odd dollarsand cents. Something over thirty-two thousand dollars!

He unconsciously adopted with her something of his way with Phil. Hewould not express surprise at the magnitude of the sum she had soindifferently fished out of her purse, but rather treat the matter asthough he had been prepared for it. The joke of it--that Lois shouldhave come back with money, when her sisters certainly, and the rest ofthe community probably, assumed that her return to Montgomery meantnothing more or less than the collapse of her fortunes--this was a jokeso delicious, so stupendous, that his enjoyment of it dulled the edge ofhis curiosity as to the history the fact concealed. She hadn't eventaken off her gloves to write her name on the drafts! There weredepositors who had shown more emotion over confiding one hundred dollarsto his care than she had displayed in writing her name on the books ashis largest individual depositor. He wanted to giggle; it was thefunniest thing that had ever happened. He remarked casually, --

"Got a gold mine, Lois?"

He was so full of the joy of it that he gasped at her reply. 

"How did you know?" she asked sharply. 

"I didn't. "

"I thought not. Nobody knows. And nobody need know. Just betweenourselves--all this. "

He nodded. She was an amazing creature, this sister! The joke grew. Hehoped she would delay and prolong her revelations, that he might missnothing of their humor. 

"Nevada, " she remarked sententiously. 

"Ground floor?"

"Something like that. "

She pushed toward him the pad with her calculations. They read thus:--

 Seattle R. E. 175, 000 (about) Broken Axe (Gov't 3's) 250, 000 A. T. & S. F. Bonds 20, 000 Phoenix Lumber 75, 000 Other securities 100, 000 (maybe)

His jaw fell and he gulped when he tried to speak. Even Amzi could notjoke about half a million dollars. 

"Thunder! You must be fooling, Lois. "

"I may be fooled about some of that stuff, but those figures aresupposed to be conservative by people who ought to know. "

"Lord! you're a rich woman, Lois, " he remarked with awe. "It'sflabbergasting!"

"Oh, I haven't done so badly. You'd probably like to know how it cameabout, and I might as well tell you the whole story. Jack was an awfulfizzle--absolutely no good. I saw that early in the game, and I knewwhere I'd bring up if I didn't look out for myself. He began nibblinglike a hungry rat at my share of father's estate as soon as you sent itto me. I backed him in half a dozen things he wanted to go into. Hehadn't the business sense of a baby, and I began to see that I was goingto bump my head good and hard if I didn't look sharp. He began to cheerhimself during his failures by getting drunk, which wasn't exactlypretty. He went his way and I went mine, and as he lied to me abouteverything I began to lie to him about my money. I made some friends, and one of these happened to be the wife of a banker with brains. Through him I made some small turns in real estate, covering them up soJack wouldn't know. The fifth year after I left here I made twentythousand dollars in one turn. Then I grub-staked two young fellows whowanted to try their luck in Nevada--nice college boys, all on thesquare. I invested about two thousand dollars in those youngsters, andas a result got into Broken Axe. It was so good that it scared me, and Isold out for the two hundred and fifty thousand you see on the slipthere, and bought Government bonds with it. My banker covered all thesethings up for me as long as I had Jack on my hands. When he becameintolerable I got rid of him, legally, for fear he'd cause trouble if hefound what I'd been doing. I'm a little tired of running my own businessnow and mean to dump it off on you if you don't mind. I left my papersin a safety vault in Chicago, but here's my Phoenix Lumber and ajumble of miscellaneous junk I want to send West to be sold so I can putit into things around here. I'm not going back there any more. "

"Lord!" he ejaculated, rubbing his head. "You made all that moneyyourself?"

"Sheer luck, mostly. But it isn't so bad, take it all round. By the way, in that junk there are some Sycamore Traction bonds I took off thebank's hands out there. They were carrying them as collateral for a manSam Holton stung on one of his Western trips. He'd planted all he couldin New York and had to try a new field. The bank foreclosed on the bondsand I bought twenty of them at sixty-five. I suppose from what I hearthat they're not good for much but kindling. "

"You got 'em at sixty-five, Lois?"

"The bank only lent on them at that, and there was no market for themout there. What's going to become of that road?"

Amzi glanced toward the empty counting-room where a single clerk wassealing the mail. 

"Tom's trying to save it. And I've been buying those things myself atseventy. "

"You think it's a good buy at that? Going to clean up something out ofit?"

Amzi flushed, and moved uneasily in his seat. 

"No. That's not just the way of it. I don't want to make any money outof it; neither does Tom. We're trying to protect the honest peoplearound here at home who put their money into that scheme. Sam and BillHolton made a big play for small investors, and a lot of people puttheir savings into it--the kind o' folks who scrimp to save a dollar aweek. Tom's trying to sift out the truth about the building of the line, and if he can force the surrender of the construction company's graftover and above the fair cost of the road, Sycamore will be all right. Your bonds are good, I think. People have been up in the air over therumors, and anxious to sell at any price. What I'm doing, Lois, as faras I'm able--"

He fidgeted uneasily, seemingly reluctant to disclose just what he wasdoing. 

"Well, " she said impatiently. 

"I'm picking up all I can from these little fellows--farmers, widows, and so on, and if Tom works out his scheme and the bonds are good, I'mgoing to let them have them back. That's all, " he ended shamefacedly;and added, as though such a piece of quixotism required justification toa woman who had rolled up a fortune and was therefore likely to becritical of business methods, "I suppose I'd be entitled to interest. "

"I suppose you would, you gay Napoleon of finance!" She looked at himmusingly with good humor and affection in her fine eyes. 

"I sort o' like this old town, Lois, and I don't want any harm to cometo the folks--particularly these little fellows that don't know how totake care of themselves. "

"Is Tom animated by the same philanthropic motives, or is he going toget a fee for his work?"

"Oh, he'll get paid all right. It's different with Tom. "

"I suppose so. He ought to have a good fee if he can straighten out thattangle. But, Amzi--" She hesitated a moment, then began again moredeliberately. "If you're getting more of those bonds than you want, youmight buy some with my money--I mean with a view to taking care of thesehome investors who are in a panic about Sycamore. I suppose I owesomething to the community myself--after--"

She gave him her quick, radiant smile. 

He nodded gravely. 

"All right, Lois. I'll remember that. And I'll tell you something else, now that we're on business matters. The First National Bank over the waythere is built up in the air too high; it's got all the weaknesses ofthe Holton family--showy without any real bottom to it. Some of theirstock has always been owned around through the state--quite a bunch ofit--and Bill has had to sell part of his own holdings lately; he's gotonly a scant majority. I've been picking up a little myself, on thequiet. After Tom gets through with the Holtons, I doubt if Bill's goingto be able to hold on. I know his line of customers; I guess I couldtell you about every piece of paper he's got. It's a poor line, wobblyand uncertain. There was a new examiner here not long ago, and he stayedin town two or three days when he usually cleans up in a day. Banking isa business, Lois, not a pastime, and Bill isn't a banker; he's apromoter. Do you get the idea?"

"I think I see the point, but if his bank's going to smash, why don'tyou keep away from it? There's a double liability on national bankstock, isn't there? Seems to me that's the reason I never bought any. "

"Right, Lois; but I don't intend the First shall bust. It won't do me ormy bank or the town any good to have it go to smash. A town of the sizeof this don't live down a bank failure in one generation. It soaks clearin. I've got enough now to assert my rights as a stockholder, only I'mkeeping under cover; there's no use in screaming in the newspapers. Ihaven't anything against Bill Holton, and if he pulls through, allright; but if he can't--well, I've never wanted to nationalize thisbank, but that would be one way of doing it. "

"You seem to be full of large thoughts, brother. You may play with mymoney all you like in your charitable games, with a few reservations. Ilike to eat and I don't want to spend my old age in the poorhouse. There's cash enough here to run me for some time and you can use half ofthat in any way you like. I'll take any chance you do, and you'll findI won't cry if the boiler bursts. My Seattle real estate is allright--and I mean to hold fast to it. Now I want to do something forPhil; I want to make sure she never comes to want. That's only right, you know. "

She waited for his affirmation. 

"You ought to do it, Lois, " he said. "I mean to do the right thing byher myself. If I should die to-night, Phil would be taken care of. "

"That's like you, Amzi, but it isn't necessary. I want to set aside onehundred thousand for Phil. I'd like to make a trust fund of it, and lether have the income from now on, and turn over the principal when she'sthirty, say. How does that strike you?"

"It's splendid, Lois. By George, it's grand!"

He blew his nose violently and wiped his eyes. And then his humor wastouched again. Phil, the long-unmothered, the Main Street romp, thedespair of sighing aunts, coming in for a hundred thousand dollars! Andfrom the mother whom those intolerant, snobbish sisters had execrated. He was grateful that he had lived to see this day. 

"You've been fine to Phil, and I appreciate it, Amzi. She's told me allabout it; the money you offered her and all that; and how you've stoodby her. Those dear sisters of mine have undoubtedly worked me hard as anawful example. If they hadn't painted me so black, the dear beautifulchild wouldn't have warmed to me as she has. "

"If the girls knew you had all that money, Lois, it would brace 'em up agood deal. It's a funny thing about this funny old world, how thescarletest sins fade away into pale pink at the jingle of money. "

This bit of philosophy seemed not to interest her; she was thinking ofsomething else, humming softly. Her sins were evidently so little in hermind that she paid no heed to his remark or the confusion that coveredhim when he realized that he had been guilty of a tactless andungracious speech. 

"Mrs. King called on me this afternoon, the dear old soul. "

"You don't say!"

"I do, indeed. She put on her best clothes and drove up in the oldfamily chariot. She hasn't changed a bit. "

Amzi sat pigeon-toed. Mrs. John Newman King, whose husband had beenUnited States Senator and who still paid an annual visit to Washington, where the newspapers interviewed her as to her recollections of Lincoln, was given to frank, blunt speech as Amzi well knew. It was whollypossible that she had called on Lois to administer a gratuitouschastisement, and if she had done so, all Montgomery would know of it. 

"Don't worry! She was as nice as pie. Josie had kindly gone to see herto tell her the 'family' had warned me away; the 'family' wanted her toknow, you know. Didn't want an old and valued friend like the widow ofJohn Newman King to think the good members of the House of Montgomerymeant to overlook my wickedness. Not a bit of it! You can hear Josiegoing on. She evidently laid it on so thick it made the old lady hot. When she came in, she took me by both hands and said, 'You silly littlefool, so you've come back. ' Then she kissed me. And I cried, being asilly little fool, just as she said. And she didn't say another wordabout what I'd done or hadn't done, but began talking about her tripabroad in 1872, when she saw it all, she says--the Nile and everything. She swung around to Phil and told me a lot of funny stories about her. She talked about Tom and you before she left; said she'd never made outhow you and Tom meant to divide up the Bartlett girls; seems to be benton marrying you both into the family. "

"Thunder!" he exploded. This unaccountable sister had the most amazingway of setting a target to jingling and then calmly walking off. Thethought of her husband's marrying again evidently gave her no concernwhatever. 

"Not nice of you to be keeping your own prospects a dark secret when I'mliving under the same roof with you. Out with it. "

"Don't be foolish, Lois. "

"But why don't you be a good brother and 'fess up? As I remember they'reboth nice women--quite charming and fine. I should think you'd take yourpick first, and then let Tom have what's left. You deserve well of theworld, and time flies. Don't you let my coming back here interfere withyour plans. I'm not in your way. If you think I'm back on your hands, and that you can't bring home your bonny bride because I'm in yourhouse, you're dead wrong. You ought to be relieved. " She ended byindicating the memorandum of her assets; and then tore it into bits andbegan pushing them into a little pile on the table. 

"It must be Rose--the musical one. Phil has told me about the good timesyou and she and Tom have had in Buckeye Lane. I looked all over thehouse for your flute and wondered what had become of it; so you keep itthere, do you--you absurd brother! Rose plays the piano, you flute, andTom saws the 'cello, and Nan and Phil are the audience. By the way, Mrs. King mentioned a book Nan Bartlett seems to be responsible for--'TheGray Knight of Picardy. ' Everybody was reading it on the train when Icame out, but I didn't know it was a Montgomery production. AnotherHoosier author for the hall of fame! It comes back to me that Nan alwayswas rather different--quiet and literary. I don't doubt that she wouldbe a splendid woman for Tom to marry. "

"I don't know anything about it, " said Amzi. 

"Humph!" She flung the scraps of paper into the air and watched themfall about him in a brief snowstorm. She seemed to enjoy hisdiscomfiture at the mention of the Bartletts. "Let's not be silly, youdear, delightful, elusive brother! If you want to marry, go ahead; thesooner the better. And if Tom wants to try again, I'll wish him the bestluck in the world--the Lord knows I ought to! I suppose it's Nan, theliterary one, he's interested in. She writes for the funny papers; Philtold me that; and if she's done a book that people read on trains, she'll make money out of it. And Tom's literary; I always had an ideahe'd go in for writing sometime. "

She mused a moment while Amzi mopped his head. He found it difficult todance to the different tunes she piped. He would have given his body tobe burned before referring to the possibility of Tom's marrying again;and yet Lois broached the subject without embarrassment. Nothing, infact, embarrassed her. He knew a great banker in Chicago who made apoint of never allowing any papers to lie on his desk; who disposed ofeverything as it came; and Lois reminded him of that man. There was nounfinished business on her table, no litter of memories to gather dust!He not only loved her as a sister, but her personality fascinated him. 

"They've been good to Tom; and they've been perfectly bully to Phil. They're fine women, " he said. "But as to whether Tom means to marry, Idon't know; I honestly don't. "

"Tut! You needn't be so solemn about it. I intend to see that you getmarried. If you wait much longer, some widow will come along and marryyou for your money--a poor shrimp of a woman with a lot of anæmicchildren to worry you into your grave. And as for Tom, the quicker thebetter. I wonder--"

He waited while she wondered. She had an exceedingly pretty way ofwondering. 

"I wonder, " she finished briskly, as though chagrined that she hadn'tthought of it before--"I wonder if I oughtn't to tell Tom so!"

The "Thunder!" died in his throat at the appalling suggestion. 

"O Lord, _no_!" he cried hoarsely. 

CHAPTER XIX

PHIL MOVES TO AMZI'S

When he had recovered from the first shock of his wife's return, Kirkwood adjusted himself to the new order of things in a philosophictemper. Nan had withdrawn absolutely her day-old promise to marry him. That episode in his life was ended. He felt the nobility of her attitudewithout wholly accepting its conclusions. He had tried to persuade herthat the geography of the matter had nothing to do with it; that havingpromised to marry him when they believed Lois to be safely out of theway, her return did not affect their status in the least. This was theflimsiest casuistry, as he well knew. It made a tremendous differencewhere Lois was!

"I have to go away to-morrow, Phil, and I'm likely to be in Indianapolismuch of the time until spring. I can't take you with me very well; ahotel is no place for you, and I shall be very busy. And I can't leaveyou here alone, you know. "

His tone was kind; he always meant to be kind, this dear father of hers!He hurried on with an even greater thoughtfulness to anticipate asolution of this problem which had occurred to her instantly, but whichshe lacked the courage to suggest. 

"I saw your Uncle Amzi to-day and had a long talk with him about you. Iproposed that you go to his house and stay, at least until I get throughmy work with the Sycamore Company. We won't make any definite date foryour return, for the reason that I don't just know when I'll be free tosettle down here again. Amzi was perfectly agreeable to the idea--quitesplendid about it, in fact. Your mother, it seems, means to stay withhim. And now there's this further thing, Phil. You won't mind my goinginto it a little bit, once and for all. The law gave you to me longago, but apart from that I suppose I have a certain moral claim to you. But I want you to feel free to do as you like where your mother'sconcerned. What I said of her yesterday I'm sorry for; I shouldn't havedone that if I'd been myself. And I'm not making it necessary for you tomake a choice between us. We're old comrades, you and I, Phil, and therecan't be any shadow of a difference between us, now or ever. It's thesimplest and easiest thing for you to go to your uncle's house, and wewon't even consider the fact that your mother is there; we'll justassume that her being there is the most natural thing in the world, andthat it's a matter of our common convenience for you to be there, too. You see how perfectly easy and natural it all comes about. "

She clung to him, the tears welling. She had never been disappointed inhim, and this generosity moved her deeply. He was making it easy for herto go to her mother; that was all. Her soul rebelled against the fatethat made necessary any choice when her father was so gentle, so wise, so kind, and her mother so transcendently charming and lovable. 

"You are so good to me; you have always been so good!" she sobbed. "AndI'm sorry I was ugly yesterday, about Nan. You know I love Nan. No onewas ever kinder to me than Nan--hardly you, even! And I don't want youto give her up; you need each other; you do understand each other! Oh, everything is so queer and wrong!"

"No, Phil; things are not as queer and wrong as they look. Don't getthat idea into your head. Life isn't queer or wrong; life simply isn'tas easy as it looks, and that's very different. "

He smiled, turning her face so that she could see that he smiled notunhappily. 

"But I don't want you to go away; I'd die if I thought I shouldn't seeyou any more--and all the good times we've had, right here in this oldhouse--and everything--"

"But this isn't the end of things. When I'm back, as I shall be for aday or two frequently, I'll always let you know; or you can run over tothe city and do a theater with me whenever you like. So let's becheerful about everything. "

The passing of her trunk from her father's house to her uncle's was notneglected by the gossips. Her three aunts noted it, and excoriatedKirkwood and Amzi. They took care that every one should know how theyfelt about the transfer of poor, dear Phil (on whom they had lavishedtheir love and care for years, to the end that she might grow uprespectable, etc. , etc. ) to a roof that sheltered her Jezebel of amother. 

"That was nice of him, " said Lois, when Phil explained her coming. "How's your father getting on these days?"

"Oh, quite well!" Phil replied. 

She was establishing herself in a room adjoining her mother's. Lois, ina flowered silk kimona, commented upon Phil's clothes as they werehauled from the trunk. Her opinions in the main were touched with herlight, glancing irony. 

"I'll wager Jo bought that walnut-stain effect, " she remarked, pointingan accusing finger at a dark waist. "That has Josephine stamped on it. Poor old soul!"

Her manner of speaking of her sister set Phil to giggling. Mrs. Watermanhad bought that particular article over Phil's solemn protest, and shenow sat on the bed and watched her mother carry the odious thinggingerly by the collar to the door and fling it in the direction of theback stairs. 

Lois brought from her own room a set of silver toilet articles anddistributed them over the top of Phil's bureau. 

"I forgot all about these, Phil; but they fit in handily right here. Alittle self-indulgence of my own, but my old ones are good enough. Oh, please don't!" she exclaimed, as Phil began to thank her. "Why shouldn'tyou have them? Who has a better right to them, I'd like to know!"

Whereupon she began experimenting with the nail-polisher from Phil'sset. 

"This is a good polisher, Phil. I'm going to show you how to do your ownmanicuring--every lady her own maid. Sarah dug up a colored hairdresser, manicurist, and light-running domestic chatterbox this morning, and shegave my hair a pulling I shan't forget in a hurry. Never again! If youcan't have a trained maid, you'd better be your own beautifier. I had awonderful girl the last time I was over, and took her with me on a motortrip through the château country. She was an outrageous little flirt. Two chauffeurs got into a row about her during the week we spent atTours, and one pounded the other into a pulp. The French rural policeare duller than the ox, and they locked up Marie as a witness. Imaginemy feelings! It was very annoying. "

Her smile belied the annoyance. Phil surmised that she had enjoyed theexperience; but Lois added no details to her hasty picture. Lois did nottrouble herself greatly with details; everything with her was sketchyand impressionistic. 

"What about boys, Phil?"

"I've had one proposal; he was a senior with a funny stammer. He wentaway with his diploma last June, and said he'd never forget. I got hiscards to-day. She's a Lafayette girl he had down for the 'Pan' in hissenior year. She has golden hair, " Phil added musingly. 

"The scoundrel; to forget you as quick as that!" And Lois laughed asPhil bent her head and clasped her hands in a mockery of dejection. "You've come out and I suppose you are asked to all the parties. Let mesee, when I was a girl there were candy-pullings, and 'companies' whereyou sat around and were bored until somebody proposed playing 'ThePrince of Paris Lost his Hat' or some game like that. When the old folkswent to bed, our hostess would find a pack of cards--authors, mostlikely--or play a waltz on the soft pedal for two couples to dance. Wholesome but not exciting. "

"Oh, we're livelier and better than that! They have real balls now atthe Masonic Hall; and all the fraternities have dances, and there's thePan-Hellenic, and so on. And there are dinners in courses, and bridge noend!"

"Bridge!"

Lois shrugged her shoulders, lifted her pretty brows, and tossed thenail-polisher on to the bureau to emphasize her contempt for bridge inall its forms. 

"As to young men, Phil. Tell me all about the Montgomery cavaliers. "

"Oh, every girl knows all the boys. They are divided into two classes asusual, nice and un-nice. Some of them have flirted with me and I haveflirted with them. I suppose there was nothing very naughty in that. "

"We will pass that for the present. Tell me about the young fellows whopay you attentions. "

Phil ran over the list, Lois interrupting when some familiar namearrested her attention. Phil hit off one after the other in a few aptphrases. Her mother in a rocking-chair, with arms folded, was moreserious than in any of their previous talks. What Phil disclosed wasonly the social experience of the average country-town girl. The factthat she had made a few acquaintances in Indianapolis interested hermother. 

"The Fitches? Yes; nice people. That was through your father? All right. Go on. "

"Well, there are the two Holton boys, " said Phil, self-conscious for thefirst time. "You see, my aunts thought everything ought to be fixed upwith the Holtons, and they asked Mr. And Mrs. William to my party, andthrew in Charlie and Ethel, and I suggested that they add Fred, too. They are Samuel's children. There being the two brothers it didn't seemnice to leave out one; and I already knew Fred anyhow. "

"Why this sudden affection of your aunts for the Holtons?--there is areason for everything those creatures do. "

"Mrs. William is stylish and does things. Her maid wears a cap when sheopens the door, and Mrs. William makes her calls in a neat electric. "

"Everything is explained quite satisfactorily, Phil. Amzi told me oursisters had buried the hatchet, but he didn't put it quite as clearly asyou do. He did tell me, though, that Jack had spoiled your beautifulparty by turning up drunk. That was nasty, vile, " she added, shruggingher shoulders. "Well, about these nephews?"

"Charlie is older, and very citified; quite the most dashing man wholightens our horizons. He sends me flowers and bon-bons, most expensive. And he's a joy at paying compliments; makes you feel that you're theonly one, or tries to. He has very large ideas about business and lifegenerally. But nice, I think, and kind and generous. But, mamma--"

She paused, disconcerted by a sudden keen look her mother gave her. 

"He sounds like an agreeable person, " remarked Lois, glancing at thepoint of her slipper. 

"What I started to say was that if you think I shouldn't see them anymore--"

"Bless me, no! I see what's in your mind, Phil, but you needn't troubleabout that. We're just trying to get acquainted, you and I. Weunderstand each other beautifully, and after while we'll see whether wehave any advice for each other. At your age I hadn't the sense of akitten. You're most astonishingly wise; I marvel at you! And you'vegrown up a nice, sensible girl in spite of your aunts--none of theircattishness--not a hint of it. I can't tell you how relieved I am tofind you just as you are. The way they have cuddled up to the Holtons isdiverting, but nothing more. It's what you would have expected of them. The proud and haughty Montgomerys turned snobs! It's frightful to thinkof it! As for me, I have nothing against the Holtons. I'm this kind of asinner, Phil: I carry my own load. No shoving it off on anybody else!Some people are born with ideals; I wasn't! But I hope to acquire somebefore I die; we're all entitled to a show at them. But, bless me, whatare we talking about? There's the other Holton boy; what's he got to sayfor himself?"

"Oh, he'd never say it if it were left to him! He's shy, modest, proud. No frills. "

"Handsome?"

"Well, he has a nice face, " Phil answered, so earnestly that her motherlaughed. "And he's modest and genuine and sincere. "

"Those are good qualities. As near as I can make out, you like all theseyoung men well enough--the boys you knew in high school and the collegeboys. And these Holtons have broken into the circle lately, and haveshown you small attentions--nothing very important. "

"Charlie sends me American Beauties, and Fred has brought me quails anda book. "

"What was the book?"

"'The Gray Knight of Picardy. '"

"That's Nan Bartlett's?" Lois looked at the palm of her hand carelessly. 

"Yes; it's a great success--the hit of the season. "

"I suppose your father and Nan have been good friends--literaryinterests in common, and all that?"

"Of course, " Phil answered, uncomfortable under this seeminglyindifferent questioning. 

"I have read the story. There are pages in it that are like your father. I suppose, seeing so much of each other, they naturally talked itover--a sort of collaboration?"

The question required an answer, and Phil shrank from answering. Closeted with her mother she was reluctant to confess how close had beenthe relationship between her father and Nan Bartlett. Her mind workedquickly. She was outspokenly truthful by habit; but she was a loyalsoul, too. She decided that she could answer her mother's questionwithout violating her father's confidence as to his feelings toward Nan. That was all over now; her father had told her so in a word. Loishummed, picking bits of lint from her skirt while Phil deliberated. 

"Father did help with it. I suppose he even wrote part of it, but nobodyneed know that. Daddy doesn't mean to go in for writing; he says thevery suspicion that he's literary would hurt him in the law. "

"I suppose he helped on the book just to get Nan interested. Now thatshe's launched as a writer, he drops out of the combination. "

"Something like that. Daddy is very busy, you know. "

Phil entertained views of her own as to the cause of her father's suddenawakening. She was sure that his interest in Nan was the inspiration ofit, quite as much as alarm at the low ebb of his fortunes. In thegeneral confusion into which the world had been plunged, Phil groped inthe dark along unfamiliar walls. It was a grim fate that flung her backand forth between father and mother, a shuttle playing across thebroken, tangled threads of their lives. She started suddenly as a newthought struck her. Perhaps behind this seemingly inadvertentquestioning lay some deeper interest. Suddenly the rose light of romancetouched the situation. Phil looked at Lois guardedly. What if--? With anaccession of feeling she flung herself at her mother's knees and tookher hands. 

"Could you and daddy ever make it up? Could you do that now, after allthese years?" she asked earnestly. 

Lois looked at her absently, with her trick of trying to recall aquestion not fully comprehended. 

"Oh, _that_! Never in this world! What do you think your father's madeof?" Again the shrug, so becoming, so expressive, so final! She freedher hands, and drew out and replaced a hairpin. For an instant Phil wasdismayed, but once so far afield in dangerous territory she would notretreat. 

"But what would you say?" she persisted. 

"Dear Phil, don't think of such a terrible thing; it fairly chills me. Your father is a gentleman; he wouldn't--he wouldn't do anything socruel as that!" she said ambiguously. 

"I don't see how it would be cruel, if he meant it--if he wanted to!"

"That's because you are an angel and don't know anything about this sadold world of ours. Life isn't like the story-books, Phil. In a novel anice dear daughter like you might reconcile her parents with tears andflowers and that sort of thing; but in real life it's very different asyou will see when you think of it; only I don't want you to think of itat all. I believe you like me; we hit it off quite wonderfully; and Ishould expect you to hate me if I ever dreamed of anything socontemptible as spoiling a man's life twice. "

And remembering Nan, Phil could not argue the matter. She was unable tovisualize her father on his knees to her mother. No flimsy net ofsentiment flung across the chasm could bring them within hailingdistance of each other; they were utterly irreconcilable characters. Itwas incredible that they had ever pledged themselves to love and cherisheach other forever. 

"Phil, what did your father say about my coming back?" asked Loisabruptly. 

Phil hesitated. Her mother looked at her keenly in that instant ofdelay, and then laid her hand gently upon Phil's lips. 

"No; don't answer that! It isn't a fair question. And now let us forgetall these things forever and ever!"

She proposed a walk before dinner. "I'll get into my boots and be readyin a minute. "

Phil heard her whistling as she moved about her room. 

CHAPTER XX

BACK TO STOP SEVEN

Charles Holton met his brother Fred in the lobby of the Morton House onan afternoon near the end of January. Charles was presenting a buoyantexterior to the world despite a renewal of the disquieting rumors of thefall as to Sycamore Traction and equally disagreeable hints in innerfinancial and legal circles as to the reopening of Samuel Holton'sestate. He resented Fred's meddling in the matter; he was the head ofthe family and a man of affairs, and he was not pleasantly impressed bythe fact that on two occasions to his knowledge Fred had visitedKirkwood at his Indianapolis office. 

"I want to see you, " said Charles. "Why don't you come to see me whenyou're in the city and save me the trouble of chasing over here?"

"Well, Charlie, you've found me now. What is it you want?"

"Come up to my room. I don't care to have all Montgomery hear us. "

When the door closed on them, Charles threw off his overcoat andconfronted his brother with a dark countenance. 

"You're playing the devil with the whole bunch of us--do you realizethat! You've been sneaking over to Kirkwood to tell him all our familyhistory. You think by playing up to him you'll get a lot of money. Ifyou had any claims against father's estate you ought to have come to mewith them--not gone to the man that's trying to pull us all down. "

"Stop, right where you are! I went to Kirkwood because I felt that theonly square thing was to turn the farm over to him until things werestraightened out. And after I'd turned in the farm, you fell overyourself to surrender some stuff you had--things you'd tried to hide orplaced a fake appraisement on. "

Charles, standing by the window with his hands in his pockets, smiledderisively. Fred's long ulster accentuated his rural appearance. He wasa big fellow and his deep voice had boomed with an aggressive note hisbrother resented. 

"Don't bawl as though you were driving cattle. There's no need oftelling all Main Street our affairs. Do you know what's the matter withyou--Kirkwood's working you! He's trying to scare you with threats ofthe penitentiary into telling him a lot of stuff about the family. Hemeant to try it on me, but I beat him to it--I told him to go to thebottom of everything. And if you'd kept your mouth shut I'd have takencare of you, too. You took that farm with your eyes open; and I'll sayto you right now that you got a better share of the estate than Etheland I did. "

"Then you haven't anything to be afraid of. If it's all straight therecan't be any trouble. Is this all you wanted?"

This was evidently not in the least what Charles wanted, for he changedhis tone and the direction of the talk. 

"You know, Fred, I was in father's confidence very fully. I am olderthan you, and I was associated with him in his schemes and knew allabout them. Father was a very able man; you know that; everybody said hewas one of the shrewdest and most farseeing men in the state. I won'tsay that his methods were always just what they should have been; buthe's dead and gone, and it's not for us to jump on him or let anybodyelse kick him. So far we understand each other, don't we?"

"All right; hurry up with the rest of it. "

"This is not a hurrying matter. I've got to take you into my confidence, and I want it understood that what I say doesn't go back to Kirkwood. He's a relentless devil, once he gets started. I suppose it hasn'toccurred to you that he may have a motive for pursuing us--you and meand any other Holton he has a chance to injure. You see that point, don't you?"

"No. What is it?"

"Well, you're duller than I think you are if it hasn't occurred to youthat Kirkwood is trying to even up with us for the loss of his wife. Itwas our dear Uncle Jack that ran off with her; it was a Holton that didit! You recollect that, don't you?"

"I seem to recall it, " replied Fred ironically. He had mechanicallydrawn out his pipe and was filling it from a canvas bag of cheaptobacco. 

"And that's all there is to it. Kirkwood had mooned around town here foryears, doing nothing. Then suddenly an old friend of his in the Easttook pity on him and gave him this Sycamore Company to meddle in, andhe's contemptible enough to use a law case for personal vengeanceagainst perfectly innocent people. And you walked into the trap like asilly sheep!"

"You know you don't believe that, Charlie. Kirkwood isn't that kind ofman. He's on the level and high grade. "

"He may be all that; but he's a human being too. There's no man on earthwho'd pass a thing like that. An ignorant, coarse beast would have shotsomebody; but an educated man like Kirkwood calculates carefully andsticks the knife in when he sees a chance to make it go clear through. That girl of his is the cutest kid in Indiana, and I wouldn't doanything to hurt her. But we've got to protect ourselves, you and I, Fred. We're not responsible for Uncle Jack's sins. The whole thing isblistering Kirkwood right now because Uncle Jack's turned up and thelady in the case has had so little decency as to follow him. "

"I don't suppose she thought of doing anything of the kind. She andUncle Jack broke long ago. He told me so, in fact, at Indianapolis, andmade her cruel abandonment an excuse for borrowing five dollars of me. "

"Well, we've got to get rid of _him_! He's doing all he can against us;sending people to Kirkwood with stories about father, and the tractionbusiness. I tell you, Fred, " he declared ardently, "our family is indanger of going to hell if you and I don't do something pretty quick tostop it. "

Fred puffed his pipe and watched his brother fidgeting nervously aboutthe room. A phonograph across the street called attention to amoving-picture show. In the hotel office below, the porter proclaimedthe departure of the 'bus to connect with the six-three for Peoria andall points West. 

"There they go now!" exclaimed Charles from the window. "By George!She's a good-looking woman yet!"

Fred joined him and looked down. Phil and her mother were passingrapidly on the opposite side of the street. Unconsciously Fred drew offhis cap. 

"She's a very pleasant woman, " he remarked. "Phil introduced me to herthe other day. "

"The devil she did! Where did all this happen?"

"At Mr. Montgomery's. Phil's staying there while her father's away. "

"I like your cheek! They say my nerve is pretty well developed, but itisn't equal to that. How did our late aunt--I suppose that's what sheis, " he grinned--"take you?"

"Like a lady, for instance. My going there wasn't as cheeky as youimagine. I was invited. "

"Phil?"

"No; Mr. Montgomery. "

"There must be a trick in it somewhere. He's a foxy old boy, that Amzi. Has the general appearance of a fool, but he never loses any money. "

"He's offered me a job, " said Fred. 

"He's _what_?"

"Offered me a job. "

"What's the joke? You don't mean that with all this fuss over hissister's coming back he's picked out a Holton to offer a job to!"

"That's what's happened. They want Perry--his farmer--to take a teachingplace at the agricultural school. It's a fine chance for him, and Mr. Montgomery has released him from his contract. Perry recommended me, andMr. Montgomery asked me to the house a few evenings ago to talk it over. The arrangement includes my own farm, too, which Kirkwood holds astrustee until the Sycamore business is straightened out. "

Charles backed away and stared at his brother scornfully. 

"You idiot! don't you see what they're doing? They're buying you bodyand soul. They want to get you on their side--don't you see it?--to useagainst Uncle Will and me. Well! of all the smooth, cold-blooded, calculating scoundrels I ever heard of, they are the beatingest. Ofcourse you _saw_ it; you haven't walked into the trap!"

"I've accepted the position. "

"You blundering fool, you can't accept it! I won't let you accept it!"

"I'm moving my traps to the Montgomery farmhouse to-morrow, so you'llhave to call out the troops if you stop me. "

"Well, of all the damned fools!" Then after a turn across the room heflashed round at his brother. "Look here, Fred; I see your game. Youwant to marry that girl. Well, you can't do that either!"

"All right, Charlie. Suppose you write out a list of the various thingsI can't do so I won't miss any of them. You haven't any sense of humoror you wouldn't talk about Phil marrying me. Phil's not likely to marrya clodhopper, her uncle's hired hand. "

"Don't be an ass, Fred. Phil's a fine girl; she's a wonder. "

"I suppose, " said Fred deliberately, "that if you wanted to marry PhilKirkwood yourself there would be no disloyalty to our family in that. Itwould be perfectly proper; quite the right thing. "

"I didn't say I wanted to marry her, " jerked Charles. 

He was pacing the floor with bent head. His brother's equanimityirritated him and intensified his anger. He struck his hands togethersuddenly as though emphasizing a resolution, and arrested Fred, who hadknocked the ashes from his pipe and was walking slowly toward the door. 

"I say, Fred, I didn't mean to flare up that way, but all this Sycamorebusiness has got on my nerves. Sit down a minute. Uncle Will's in aterrible funk. Plumb scared to death. And just between you and me he'sgot a right to be. "

He crossed to the door, opened it and peered into the hall. Fredbalanced himself on the footboard of the bed, and watched his brotherexpectantly. Earlier in the interview Charles had begun to say somethingas to their father's affairs, but had failed to reach the point, eitherby design or through the chance drift of their talk. Charles was deeplyworried; that was clear; and Fred resolved to give him time to swingback to the original starting-point. 

"I'm sorry if Uncle Will's in trouble, " he remarked. 

"It's the First National, " Charles went on in an excited whisper. "Theexaminer made a bad report last month and the Comptroller sent a specialagent out who's raised the devil--threatened to shut him up. That's badenough. If old Kirkwood gets ugly about Sycamore, you can't tell what hemay do. He's playing an awful deep, quiet game. The fact is he's got usall where he wants us. If he turned the screws right now we're pinched. And here's something I didn't mean to tell you; but I've got to; andyou've got to come in and help me. Father knew the Sycamore wasover-bonded. The construction company was only a fake and charged aboutdouble a fair price for its work. Father only cashed part of the bondshe got on the construction deal and hid the rest; and when he diedsuddenly I had to think hard and act quick, for I saw the road was goingto the bad, and that the people who had bought bonds in good faith wouldrise up and howl. When I took hold as administrator, I inventoried onlythe obvious stuff--that's why it looked so small. I meant to give youand Ethel your share when the danger was all over--didn't want toinvolve you; you see how it was. And now Kirkwood's trying to tracethat stuff--about three hundred thousand--a hundred thousand apiece foryou and Ethel and me. No; not a word till I get through, " he whisperedhoarsely as Fred tried to break in. "They can send me up for that;juggling the inventory; but you see how we're all in the same boat. Andwhat you can do to save me and the bank and father's good name is to goto Kirkwood--he thinks well of you and will believe you--and tell himyou know positively that father never got any of the construction bonds. You can be sure the construction company fellows got rid of theirs andtook themselves off long ago. It was a fake company, anyhow. It's all inKirkwood's hands; if you shut him off, Uncle Will can pull the bankthrough. And I'll give you your share of the bonds now. "

The perspiration glistened on his forehead; he ran his hands through hishair nervously. Misreading the look in Fred's face for incredulity, hepointed to the closet door. 

"I've got the bonds in my suit-case; I was afraid Kirkwood might find away of getting into my safety box at Indianapolis. He's no end smart, that fellow. And I figure that if the road goes into a receivership thebonds will pay sixty anyhow. You see where that puts you--no more ofthis farmer rot. You'd be well fixed. And it will be easy for you tosatisfy Kirkwood. Just the right word and he will pull his probe out ofthe administratorship, and get a receiver who will represent us and giveus the proceeds when the trouble's all over. Damn it! Don't look at methat way! Don't you see that I've been taking big chances in hiding thatstuff, just for you and Ethel! I'm going crazy with the responsibilityof all this, and now you've got to help me out. And if Kirkwood gets tothe grand jury with that administration business, you see where it putsus--what it means to you and Ethel, the disgrace of it. Don't forgetthat father took those bonds--his share of Sycamore swag--and left it upto me to defend his good name and divide the proceeds when it was safe. Don't stand there like a dead man! Say something, can't you!"

It had slowly dawned upon Fred that he was listening to an appeal formercy, a cry for help from this jaunty, cocksure brother. It was amiserable mess; beyond doubt much of what he had heard in the stuffyhotel room was true. It would not be Charles's way to incriminatehimself so far unless driven to it by direst necessity. It was clearthat he was alarmed for his personal safety. Fred did not doubt thatCharles had attempted to swindle him; had in fact gone the full lengthof doing so. His simple, direct nature was awed by a confession thatcombined so many twists and turns, so many oblique lines and loops andcircles. He sank into a creaky rocker, and rapped the arm idly with hispipe-bowl, conscious that Charles hovered over him as though fearfulthat he might escape. 

"Come back to life, can't you! It's not much I'm asking of you; it won'tcost you anything to help tide this thing over with Kirkwood. And youget your share right now--to-night. Why--" His lip curled with scornfuldepreciation as he began again to minimize the importance of thetransaction. 

Fred shook himself impatiently. 

"Please don't! Don't go over that story again or I may do somethingugly. Sit down over there in that chair. "

He bent forward, his elbows on his knees and gesticulated with the pipe, speaking slowly. 

"Let's shake the chaff out and see what's left of all this. You stole myshare of those bonds, and now that you're in danger of getting caughtyou want me to help you hide the boodle. You flatter me with the ideathat my reputation is so much better than yours that I'm in a positionto keep you out of jail. And for a little thing like that you're willingto give me my honest share of a crooked deal! You're a wonder, Charlie!It must have tickled you to death to see me turning my poor old farmover to Kirkwood to uphold the family honor while you were chasing overthe country with the real stuff packed away with your pajamas. It'spicturesque, I must say!"

His eyes rested upon his brother's face lingeringly, but his tone andmanner were indulgent, as though he were an older brother who had caughta younger one in a misdemeanor. 

"Cut that out! I've told you the whole truth. If you won't help, allright. "

"No, it isn't all right. There's no all right about any of this. It'srotten clean through. "

He frowned with the stress of his thought, then rose, and beganbuttoning his coat. 

"Well?" Charles questioned harshly, impatient for his brother'sdecision. 

"I won't do it. I won't have anything to do with your scheme. After thetrouble you've taken to steal those bonds it would be a shame to takeany of them away from you. I advise you to carry them back toIndianapolis and turn them over to Kirkwood. He's not half thecold-blooded scoundrel you seem to think. You'd make a big hit withhim. "

"And after I've told you everything--after I've shown you that I wasonly covering up father's share in that construction business, for yoursake, and our sister's, that's all you've got to say about it!"

"Every word!"

A malevolent grin crossed the older man's face. He was white withpassion. 

"You'll pay for this; I'll land one on you for this that will hurt. "

He waited expectantly for Fred to demand the nature of this vengeance;his rage cried for the satisfaction of seeing him flinch at the blow. Fred settled his cap on his head and walked stolidly toward the door. Charles caught him by the shoulder and flung him round. 

"You think you can drop me like that! Not by a damned sight you can't!You think you stand pretty close to the Montgomerys, don't you?--theonly real good Holton in the bunch--but I'll give you a jar. You imagineyou're going to marry Phil, don't you?--but I'll show you a thing ortwo. I'm going to marry Phil myself; it's all practically understood. "

"That's all right, too, Charlie, " replied Fred calmly. "The ambitiondoes you proud. I suppose when you tell Kirkwood you're engaged to hisdaughter he will call off the dogs. "

"Oh, they're not so high and mighty! Now that Phil's mother has broughther smirched reputation back here, Phil will be glad to marry and getout. "

"Just for old time's sake, Charlie, I advise you not to play that card. "

"You're too late with your advice. That day Phil and I climbed TheCliffs she promised to marry me. You saw us up there; that was beforeher mother came back. But as far as her mother's concerned, I'll standfor her. A woman that's been through the divorce mill twice has got tobe humble. You can be dead sure she would never have shown up here if ithadn't been for old Amzi's ducats. Women like that go where the moneycomes easiest. "

Fred listened with a kind of bewildered intensity. That a man shouldspeak thus of the mother of a girl whom he meant to marry touched theuttermost depths of vulgarity. Little as he had in common with hisbrother, he had never believed him capable of anything so base. Yet muchas he distrusted him, he half-believed the story of the engagement. There must be some basis for his declaration, and it would be quite likeCharles to hasten matters with a view to blocking Kirkwood'sinvestigations of the Holton estate. Jealousy and anger surged in hisheart. The air of the room stifled him. 

"You've lost your mind; that's the only way I can explain you. If youwere quite sane, you wouldn't forget the part our father's brotherplayed in Phil's mother's affairs. "

"Don't take that tragic tone with me; Uncle Jack's told me all aboutthat woman. She's the very devil. She led him a dog's life until hechucked her. "

Fred nodded, slowly drawing on his gloves, whose shabbiness affected hisbrother disagreeably. Charles had expected to score heavily with hisdeclaration that Phil had promised to marry him; but this had apparentlybeen a wasted shot. He wondered whether he had misread the symptoms thathad seemed to indicate Fred's interest in that quarter. 

Fred's composure was irritating. Charles was never sure what impressionhe made on this quiet brother, whose very unresponsiveness had drivenhim to disclosures he had not meant to make. He had managed theinterview clumsily; he was not up to the mark, or he would not have madeso many false starts in this talk, on whose results he had counted much. 

His fingers touched his scarfpin and tie nervously. 

"Now that you know the whole business I needn't ask you to keep yourmouth shut. But I suppose with your delicate sense of honor I'm safe. "

"You are quite safe, Charlie. I'd repeat my advice if I thought it woulddo any good. I'd turn that stuff over to Kirkwood as quickly as Icould. "

He had opened the door and started down the hall when Charles, hisapprehensions aroused as he saw his brother's determined stride towardthe stairs, sprang after him. 

"What are you up to; where are you going?" he demanded excitedly. 

"Stop 7. Good-night!"

CHAPTER XXI

PHIL'S FISTS

"This is very kind of you, Mrs. Holton. Please be sure that I appreciateit. "

Charles Holton bowed profoundly, and lifted his head for a closerinspection of Mrs. Lois Montgomery Holton. 

He had called for Phil, whom he had engaged to escort to a lecture inthe Athenæum Course. When his note proposing this entertainment reachedPhil, she dutifully laid it before her mother who lay on her bed readinga French novel. 

"Special delivery! A wild extravagance when there's a perfectly goodtelephone in the house. "

Lois read the note twice; her eyes resting lingeringly upon thesignature. 

"Wayland Brown Bayless, LL. D. , on 'Sunshine and Shadow. ' He was givingthat same lecture here when I was a girl; it ought to be well mellowedby this time. Either the president of the college or the pastor ofCenter Church will present him to the audience and the white pitcher ofSugar Creek water that is always provided. Well, it's a perfectly goodlecture, and old enough to be respectable: Smiles and sobs stuck in atregular intervals. I approve of the lecture, Phil. I'd almost make Amzitake me, just to see how Bayless, LL. D. , looks after all these years. Away back there when I heard him he looked so old I thought he must havebeen a baby playing in the sand when they carved the Sphinx. "

She returned the note to Phil and her eyes reverted to the book. 

"What about it, mamma?"

"Oh, about going! Let me see. This is the other Holton boy, so tospeak--the provider of American Beauties, as distinguished from thedispenser of quails?"

Phil confirmed this. 

"It's Charlie. He's taken me to parties several times. I rather thinkthis note is a feeler. He doesn't know whether he ought to comehere--now--" and Phil ended, with the doubt she attributed to CharlesHolton manifest in her own uncertainty. 

"We went over that the other day, Phil. As those wise aunts of yoursintroduced you to this person, I shouldn't suggest that you drop hisacquaintance on my account. You see"--she raised herself slightly topunch a more comfortable hollow in the pillows--"you see that wouldmerely stir up strife, which is highly undesirable. If you think you cansurvive Bayless, LL. D. 's, plea for optimism, accept the gentleman'sinvitation. There's only this--you yourself might be a littleuncomfortable, for reasons we needn't mention; you'll have to think ofthat. I suppose chaperons didn't reach Montgomery with the electriclight; girls run around with young men just as they used to. "

"I don't care what people say, so far as that is concerned, " repliedPhil. "Charlie has been kind to me--and the lecture is the only thingthat offers just now. "

Lois laughed. 

"Then, go!"

"And besides, just now people are talking about the Sycamore Company andfather's connection with it, and I shouldn't want Charlie to feel that Ithought he wasn't all straight about that; for I don't suppose he didanything wrong. He doesn't seem like that. "

Lois reached for a pot of cold cream and applied the ointment to herlips with the tip of a slim, well-cared-for finger. 

"You think maybe he's being persecuted?"

"Oh, I've wondered; that's all. "

"I shouldn't worry about that part of it: if you feel like going, tellhim you'll go. It will give me a chance to look at him. This is Charles, is it? Then it was Fred who came the other evening to see Amzi;--he'spretty serious but substantial--permissible if not exactly acceptable. You'll have to learn to judge men for yourself. And you'll do it. I'mnot a bit afraid for you. And it's rather fortunate than otherwise thatyou have specimens of the Holton family to work on, particularly with mestanding by to throw a word in now and then. "

So it came about that when Charles appeared the next evening, fortifiedwith one of the village hacks, Lois went down to inspect him. Amzi hadreturned to the bank, and Phil was changing her gown. 

Charles, having expressed his appreciation of Mrs. Holton's courtesy, found difficulty in concealing the emotions she aroused in him. He hadexpected to feel uncomfortable in the presence of this lady, of whom herformer husband, his uncle, had spoken so bitterly; but she was not atall the sort of person one would suspect of being in league with theDevil--an alliance vouched for in profane terms by Jack Holton. Charlesliked new sensations, and it was positively thrilling to stand face toface with this woman who had figured so prominently in his familyhistory. 

He placed a chair for her with elaborate care, and bowed her into it. She was a much more smoothly finished product than her daughter. Heliked "smart" women, and Mrs. Holton was undeniably "smart. " Her languidgrace, the faint hints of sachet her raiment exhaled; her abrupt, crispmanner of speaking--in innumerable ways she was delightful andsatisfying. She was a woman of the world: as a man of the world he feltthat they understood each other without argument. The disparity of theiryears was not so great as to exclude the hope that little attentionsfrom him would be grateful to her; it was a fair assumption that a womanwho had dismissed two husbands would not be averse to the approaches ofa presentable young man. He wished to fix himself in her mind as one whobreathed naturally the ampler ether of her own world. It would be easierto win Phil with her mother as an ally. 

"You did go to Madison? I suppose all good Montgomery boys go to thehome college. "

"Well, of course that was one of my mistakes. You never quite recoverwhat you lose by going to these little freshwater colleges. You neverquite get the jay out of your system. "

The obvious reply to this was that in his case it had not mattered, forpatently he did not even remotely suggest the state or condition ofjayness; but Mrs. Holton ignored the opportunity to appease his vanity. 

"Oh!"

Phil's "Oh" was ambiguous enough; but her mother's was even morebaffling. 

"Of course, we all love Madison, " he hastened to add; "but I'm around agood deal, here and there over the country, and when I meet Yale andHarvard men I always feel that I have missed something; there is adifference. "

"Clothes--neckties?" suggested Mrs. Holton. 

"It's a little deeper than that. "

"Knack of ordering a dinner?"

"Oh, you're putting me in a corner! I'd never thought it all out; butI've always felt a difference. If I'm wrong, there's nobody I'd ratherhave set me right than you. "

Her laugh was enthralling. She had no intention of committing herself onthe relative advantages of big and little colleges. 

"Let me see, Mr. Holton, your business is--"

"Oh, I'm a broker in investment securities; that's the way they have medown in the Indianapolis Directory. "

"You advise people what to do with their money and that sort of thing?It's very responsible, I should think, and it must be wearing. "

Her face reflected the gravity associated with the delicate matter ofinvestments. For a woman whose two matrimonial adventures had left her astranded dependent she carried this off well, and she could play a part;and he liked people who could carry a part gracefully. She turned sothat the firelight fell upon her face and raised a fan to shield hercheek from the heat. Her use of her hands charmed him. He could notrecall a more graceful woman in all his acquaintance. He added trimankles and a discriminating taste in silk hose to his itemizedappraisement of her attractions. 

"If a poor lone woman should come to you with a confession that sheowned, say, fifty to a hundred thousand dollars' worth of Government3's, what would you advise her to do with them?"

It was as though she spoke of poetry or the moonlit sea. "Fifty or ahundred!" She could as easily have spoken of a chest of Spanishdoubloons, or some other monetary unit of romance. He was flattered thatshe was taking so much pains with him; a woman who was so fair to lookupon might amuse herself at his expense as much as she liked. It wasdelightful trifling. He felt that it was incumbent upon him to respondin kind. 

"Oh, I should feel it my duty to double her income--or triple it. Few ofus can afford to fool with Governments; but, of course, there are notmany first-rate securities that pay high interest. That's where I comein: it's my business to find them for my clients. "

"What would you recommend--I mean right now--something that would netseven per cent and be safe for the poor widow we're talking about?"

"Well, " he laughed nervously, "I haven't anything better right now thanbonds of the Hornbrook Electric Power at a price to net six. "

"But--that sounds very conservative. And besides--they say there's notenough water in Hornbrook Creek to furnish power for any great number ofmills. The engineer's report was very unsatisfactory--quite so. I lookedinto that. Should you say that the territory adjacent to the creek islikely to invite--oh, factories, mills, and that sort of thing?"

He colored as her brown eyes met his in one of her flashing glances. Shementioned Hornbrook Creek in her low, caressing voice as though it wereonly an item of landscape, and the report of the engineers might havebeen a pirate's round-robin, hidden in an old sea chest from the way shespoke of it. It was inconceivable that she had prepared for thisinterview. She touched her pompadour lightly with the back of herhand--the smallest of hands--and he was so lost in admiration of thewitchery of the gesture that he was disconcerted to find her eyes bentupon him keenly. 

"Of course, it's got to be developed--like anything else, " he replied. 

"But--the fixed charges--and that sort of thing?"

He wished she would not say "that sort of thing. " The phrase as she usedit swept everything before it like a broom. 

"It's a delicate matter, the sale of bonds, " she continued. "I supposeif they turn out badly the investors have the bad manners to complain. "

"Well, it's up to the broker to satisfy them. My father taught me that, "he went on largely. "He promoted a great number of schemes and nobodyever had any kick. You may have heard of the Sycamore troubles--well, I'm personally assuming the responsibility there. I deeply regret, asyou may imagine, that there should be all this talk, but I'm going topull it out. It's only fair to myself to say to you that that's myattitude. There's a lot of spite work back of it; you probably realizethat. "

He wanted to say that Tom Kirkwood was the malignant agent in thesituation, but he shrank from mentioning the lawyer. He wished Philwould come down and terminate an interview that was becomingincreasingly disagreeable. 

"What do you consider those Sycamore bonds worth, Mr. Holton?"

"Par!" he ejaculated. 

"You really think so?"

"My word of honor! There's not a better 'buy' in the American market, "he affirmed solemnly. 

"You can dispose of them at full face value?" she queried, arching herbrows, her eyes full of wonder. 

"I'll pay that for any you have, Mrs. Holton, " he threw out at aventure, feeling that it was a "safe" play. 

"Then I have twenty of them, and I believe I'll sell. You may bring me acheck to-morrow. I shall have the bonds here at, say, three o'clock. "

She glanced carelessly at the watch on her wrist, and murmured somethingabout Phil's delay. The bond transaction was concluded, so far as shewas concerned; she spoke now of the reported illness of the Czar. Shehad visited St. Petersburg and appeared to be conversant with Russianpolitics. 

It was in Charles's mind that his Uncle Jack would never have dropped awoman who owned twenty bonds that were worth even a dime apiece. He wasconfident of some trick. Phil's mother had led him into ambush, and wasnow enjoying his discomfiture. His face reddened with anger. She knewperfectly well that he could not fulfill the commission he had beentrapped into undertaking. His pride was stung, and his humiliation wasdeepened by her perfect tranquillity. Phil's delay had been byconnivance, to give time for this encounter. His Uncle Jack had beenright: the woman belonged to the Devil's household. 

His ordeal had lasted only twenty minutes, though it had seemed an hour. Phil's tardiness was due to the fact that she had returned from a teajust as dinner was announced, and she had gone to the table withoutchanging her gown. She had, of course, no idea of what had occurred whenshe appeared before them, and met with her habitual cheeriness hermother's chaffing rebuke for her dallying. 

"Sorry! But it's only eight, and the lecturer dined with Mrs. King, whonever hurries. Hope you two haven't bored each other!"

She thrust out her white-sheathed arm for her mother's help with thebuttons. Charles, still smarting, drew on his gloves with an effort atcomposure. His good looks were emphasized by his evening clothes, and aglimpse he caught of himself in the gilt-framed mirror above the mantelwas reassuring. He picked up the wrap Phil had flung on the chair, andlaid it over her shoulders, while Lois stood by, her finger-tips restingon the back of a chair. If she lacked in the essential qualities of alady, he at least could be a gentleman; and when he had donned hisovercoat, he bowed over her hand, with his best imitation of theambassadorial elegance which the Honorable Stewart King (son of Mrs. John Newman King) had brought back to Montgomery from the Belgian Court. 

"I'm glad to have had this opportunity, Mrs. Holton. "

"Not a word to Phil!" The slightest inclination of her head, acompression of the lips, the lifting of her brows, suggested that themost prodigious secrets had been discussed. She was quite equal torubbing salt in the wounds she inflicted! He was in no mood for adiscussion of sunshine and shadow; the lecture would be a bore, but hewould have an hour and a half in which to plan revenge upon Mrs. Holton. As the carriage rattled toward Masonic Hall, Phil talked gayly of theafternoon's tea. 

When they reached the hall the lecturer was just walking onto theplatform, and Charles saw with elation that Phil and he shared publicattention with the orator. As they took their seats there was muchcraning of necks. Lois's return had set all manner of rumors afloat. Ithad been said that she had come back to keep Phil out of the clutches ofthe Holtons; and here was Phil with Charlie Holton. Glances of surprisewere exchanged. It was plain that Lois was not interfering with Phil'saffairs. Possibly the appearance of the two just now had a specialsignificance. It was tough on Tom Kirkwood, though, that his daughtershould be thrown in the way of a son of the House of Holton! The pastorof Center Church introduced the lecturer to an inattentive audience. 

 * * * * *

At the end there was the usual "visiting, " and Phil remained perforce totake her part in it. Phil had enjoyed the lecture; Phil always enjoyedeverything! Charles, with her cloak on his arm, made himself agreeableto a visiting girl to whom Phil entrusted him while she obeyed a commandfrom Mrs. King to meet the speaker. 

Wayland Brown Bayless was encircled by a number of leading citizens andcitizenesses. Judge Walters was in the group, and Captain Joshua Wilson, and Mr. And Mrs. Alec Waterman, and General and Mrs. Wilks, and the wifeof Congressman Reynolds--representatives of Montgomery's oldest andbest. Phil shook hands with Wayland Brown Bayless and told him she wasglad he had quoted Shelley's "Skylark, " her favorite poem, whereupon hedeparted hurriedly to catch a train. It was then that Mrs. King tookadvantage of the proximity of so many leading citizens and citizenesses, who had just heard pessimism routed and optimism glorified, to addressPhil in that resonant tone of authority she brought to all occasions. 

"Phil, how's your mother?"

"Mamma's very well, thank you, Mrs. King. "

"I wish you would tell Lois to make no engagement for Thursdaynight--Thursday, remember--as I want her to dine with me;--that meansyou and Amzi, too. The Sir Edward Gibberts, who made the Nile trip whenI did in '72, are on their way home from Japan and are stopping off tosee me. Don't forget it's Thursday, Phil. "

It was all Montgomery she addressed, not Phil, as Phil and every one inhearing distance understood perfectly. Reduced to terms, what hadhappened was this: Mrs. John Newman King, the indisputable social censorof Montgomery, whose husband, etc. , etc. , was "taking up" Lois Holton!Not since that April afternoon when General Wilks, judge of the circuitcourt, left the bench and personally beat a drum on the court-housesteps to summon volunteers to avenge the firing upon Sumter had anythingquite touched the dramatic heights of this incident. And Mrs. King's pewin Center Church was Number 2 on the middle aisle!

Phil's blood tingled and her eyes filled. Her Aunt Josephine flung amurderous glance at her, as though she were in any wise responsible forthe vagaries of Mrs. John Newman King!

The gloomy station hack was waiting at the door when she emerged withher escort. Charles had exerted himself to interest the visitinggirl--and she had promised to call him up the next time she was inIndianapolis, which was some compensation for the banalities of thelecture. 

"It's a fine night; let's walk home, " said Phil. 

Charles discharged the hackman without debate. His had been the onlycarriage at the door, except Mrs. King's ancient coach, and he felt thatPhil had not appreciated his munificence. The remembrance of hisencounter with her mother rankled, and as he thought of Fred's rejectionof his proposal about the bonds and of Kirkwood's persistent, steadystroke in the traction matter, he was far from convinced by the lessonsof the lecture. The sight of Montgomery in its best clothes, showing itsdelight in optimism, had only aroused his contempt. He had been annoyedby Phil's manifestations of pleasure; she had laughed aloud once at astory, before the rest of the audience caught the point, and he feltthat considerable patient labor would be required to smooth out Phil'sprovincial crudenesses. 

Phil's spirits soared. The world was, indeed, a good place, and full ofcharity and kindness. Wayland Brown Bayless had said so; Mrs. JohnNewman King had done much to prove it. She walked from the hall in oneof her moods of exaltation, her head high. 

"I apologize, Phil; I had no idea the old fellow could be such a bore. Iheard him once when I was in college and thought he was the realthing--and it was, to the sophomoric taste. "

"Oh, he's a perfect dear! Don't you dare apologize! And his stories wereperfectly killing--all new to me. "

"You deserve better things, Phil, than the entertainments this townaffords. You were destined for the wider world; I've always felt thatabout you. "

He had forced a slower pace than the quick step with which Phil had setout. His mind was working busily. Phil was an exceedingly pretty and avery intelligent girl, and it would be a good stroke on his part tomarry her. Amzi would undoubtedly do the generous thing by her. He hadmade his boast to Fred--and why not? There was no surer way of stayingKirkwood's hand than to present himself as the affianced husband of thelawyer's daughter. Phil's mother did not matter, after all. Kirkwoodwould probably be relieved to find that Phil had been rescued from awoman he had every reason to hate. 

"You never looked so well as you did to-night, Phil. I was proud of you. And you won't mind my saying it, but it was fine of you to go with mewhen--well, you know what I mean. "

Phil knew what he meant. She said:--

"Fine, nothing. You were kind to ask me and I had a good time everyminute. "

"I wasn't sure you'd go. Things have happened queerly--you know what Imean. "

Phil knew what he meant. 

"Oh, don't be looking for queernesses; we've got to take things as theycome along. That's my way of doing; and I'm more than ever convincedthat optimism is the true doctrine. "

In spite of herself her last words ended a little dolorously. He wasquick to seize advantage of this unfamiliar mood. 

"I hope you know that any trouble that may come to you is my trouble, too, Phil. Not many girls would have done what you did to-night. Noother girl I ever knew or read of would have taken the chance ofstirring up gossip as you did in going with me. It was splendid andheroic. "

"Pshaw! I don't see anything heroic in going to a lecture you want tohear if a kind friend offers to take you. Let's talk of something else. "

"I want to talk about you, Phil. "

"Then you'll have to find somebody else to listen; I won't! I like tohear about interesting things. Now don't feel you must tell me I'm afruitful topic!"

"I'm serious to-night. I haven't been happy lately. I've had a lot ofresponsibilities thrown on me--things I never knew about have beendumped down on me without any warning. I was tired to death to-night, and I can't tell you what a joy it's been to be with you. I wasn'tlistening to the lecture; it meant nothing to me. I was thinking of you, Phil. "

Phil stopped short. The senior who had proposed to her had employed asimilar prelude, and she had no intention of subjecting herself to asecond attack. 

"You may think of me all you like; but don't tell me; just let me guess. It isn't any fun if you know people think of you. We expect our friendsto think of us. That's what we have them for. "

She started off more briskly, but he refused to accommodate himself toher pace. The undercurrent of resentment in his soul gathered force. Hemust justify his boast to his brother, for one thing; and for another, his face smarted from her mother's light, ironic whip. 

"Phil!" he began endearingly. 

"Oh, come on! We can't stand in the street all night discussing thephilosophy of life. "

"Since that afternoon at the Run, " he continued, as they started forwardagain, "everything has been different with me, Phil. I never felt untillately that I really wanted to follow my good inclinations: I've done alot of things I'm sorry for, but that's all over. I felt that day, as westood together at the top of the bluff, that a new spirit had come intomy life. You know I'm a good deal older than you, Phil--just about tenyears' difference; but you seem immensely older and wiser. I never knewa woman who knew as much. "

She stopped again, and drew away from him. 

"Mr. Holton!" she ejaculated mockingly; "please don't try that kind ofjollying on me. I don't like it. "

This, uttered with sharp peremptoriness, did not soothe him; nor was hein any humor to be thwarted. He had felt that Phil liked him; and agreat many girls had been in love with him. If she made his approachesdifficult, there was the more reason for believing that his proposal ofmarriage would not fall upon ungrateful ears. And, besides, Phil wasjust the sort of perverse, willful young woman to jump at a proposal, the more readily if the suitor was set apart from her by barriers thatinvited a young romantic imagination. 

"I wasn't jollying you, " he said, "and you know I wasn't. You've knownfrom the first that I admired you. In fact, it was all over with me thefirst time I spoke to you--when you took me down so. I liked yourspirit; I hate these tame, perfectly conventional girls; they bore me todeath. "

"Oh, I like _that_! How dare you say I'm not perfectly conventional!"she laughed. 

"You know perfectly well what I mean. You have a mind and will of yourown, and I like that in you. You're a perfect wonder, Phil. You're themost fascinating creature in the world!"

"Creature!" she mocked. 

"Look here, Phil; I don't want you to pick me up like that. I'm entitledto better treatment. I'm in terrible earnest and I don't mean to be putoff in any such way. "

"Well, I'm not afraid to walk home alone!" She made a feint at leavinghim; then waited for him to catch up with her. 

It had been said of Phil that she liked to tease; she had, with apardonable joy, made the high-school boys dance to her piping, and theadmiration of the young collegians was tempered with awe and fear. Shefelt herself fully equal to any emergencies that might arise with youngmen. The boys she had known had all been nice fellows, good comrades, with whom she had entered into boyish sports zestfully, until herlengthening skirts had excluded her from participation in town-ball andthe spring's delight in marbles. When her chums became seniors incollege and appeared at parties in dress-suits, the transformationstruck her as funny. They were still the "boys" who had admired theease with which she threw, and caught, and batted, and whom she hadbankrupted in naughty games of chance with marbles. She liked CharlesHolton. The difference in their years added to the flattery of hisattentions. He was a practiced flirt, and she had made experiments ofher own in the gentle art of flirtation. Phil was human. 

"If you knew how depressed I am, and how I need a little sympathy andfriendliness, you wouldn't act like that. We are good friends, aren'twe?"

"I haven't questioned it. "

"We understand each other, don't we?"

"In the plain old Hoosier language, yes!"

"And if I tell you out of the depths of my humility that no one in theworld means so much to me as you do, you understand, don't you, Phil?"

"Certainly. Your words are admirably chosen and we'll let it go atthat. "

Her flippancy now invited rather than repelled him. It was hisexperience that girls like to be made love to; the more reluctant theyappear, the better they like it; and as she moved along beside him herbeauty, her splendid health, her audacity struck fire in him. It wasto-night or never between Phil and him. His to-morrows were uncertain;there was no guessing what Kirkwood might do, and Phil alone couldprotect and save him. 

"Phil, this whole situation here is an impossible one for you. BecauseI'm older I realize it probably more than you do. First it was my UncleJack that came back here and stirred things up, and now--you won't takeit unkindly if I say that your mother's return has been mostunfortunate--for all of us. A girl like you oughtn't to be exposed tothe gossip of a country town. It's not fair to you. I love you, Phil; Iwant you to marry me, at once, the quicker the better. I want to takeyou away from all this. Phil--dear!"

His tone thrilled her; she was persuaded of his kindness and generosity. He had not abused her mother or spoken unkindly of his uncle even. Hehad shown the nicest tact and discretion in his proposal of marriage, hinting at his own difficulties without attempting to play upon hersympathies. She could not laugh it off; she felt no inclination to doso. 

"I'm sorry, Charlie; I'm awfully sorry; and I didn't want you to go on;I really didn't mean to let you; I tried to stop you. I respect you andlike you; but I don't love you. So that's all there is to it. Now wemust hurry home. "

They were quite near Amzi's gate, and there was need for urgency. Thethought of her mother gave him an angry throb; very likely she waswaiting for them. 

"You don't mean that, Phil! I can't have it that way. "

"I do mean just that. So please don't say any more about it; we won'teither of us be happier for talking about it. "

"That's not square, Phil. You knew it was bound to come to this. You letme go on believing, hoping--"

"If you think such things of me, I shall be sorry I ever saw you. "

"I've offered you a way out for yourself; your happiness is at stake. You must get away from here. Let us get married now--to-night, and leavethis place forever, Phil!"

"No!" she cried angrily, frightened now as he stopped and plantedhimself before her at the edge of Amzi's lawn, where the house loomeddarkly against the stars. 

He gripped her arms. In all her rough play with boys, none had everdared to touch her, and she choked with wrath. He had taken her offguard. Her hands, thrust into her muff, were imprisoned there by hisgrasp of her arms. 

"Phil, you can't leave me like this. You've got to say yes. I'll killmyself if you don't. "

She tried to wrench herself free, but his anger had slipped its leashand was running away with him. He drew her toward him, and the brute inhim roused at her nearness. He threw an arm round her suddenly, and bentto kiss her. Abruptly she flung him back, wrenched her arms free andseized his wrists. Her fear left her on the instant; she was as strongor stronger than he, and she held him away from her easily, breathingdeeply, and wondering just how to dispose of him. She laughed mockinglyas he struggled, confident in the security of her greater strength. Thelight from Amzi's gate-lamp fell upon them, and she peered into his facecuriously. At other times the spectacle of a gentleman in a silk hatheld at ease by a young woman in her best evening bonnet would have beenamusing, but Phil was thoroughly angry. 

"I didn't think you would be like this. I thought all the time that youwere a man; I even thought you were a gentleman!"

He jerked back in an effort to free his arms, a movement thatprecipitated his hat to the pavement. She gave his wrists a wrench thatcaused him to cry out in pain. To be held in a vise-like grip by a girlhe had tried to kiss was a new and disagreeable experience. His angerrioted uncontrollably. He brought his face closer and sneered:--

"You needn't take such grand airs;--think what your mother is!"

She flung him against the iron fence with a violence that shook it, andher fists beat a fierce tattoo on his face--white-gloved fists, drivenby sound, vigorous, young arms; and then as he cowered, with his armsraised to protect himself from her blows, she stepped back, her angerand contempt still unsatisfied. 

He lifted his head, guardedly, thinking the attack was over, and with aquick sweep of her arm she struck his face with her open hand, a sharp, tingling slap. As she turned toward the gate, her foot encountered hishat. She kicked it into the street, and then, without looking back, swung the gate open and ran up the path to the house. 

CHAPTER XXII

MR. WATERMAN'S GREAT OPPORTUNITY

Jack Holton reappeared in Montgomery toward the end of March, showedhimself to Main Street in a new suit of clothes, intimated to oldfriends that he was engaged upon large affairs, and complained bitterlyto a group of idlers at the Morton House of the local-option law thathad lately been invoked to visit upon Montgomery the curse of perpetualthirst. He then sought Alexander Waterman in that gentleman's office. Waterman he had known well in old times, and he correctly surmised thatthe lawyer was far from prosperous. Men who married into the Montgomeryfamily didn't prosper, some way! An assumption that they were bothvictims of daughters of the House of Montgomery may have entered intohis choice of Waterman as a likely person to precipitate a row inSycamore affairs. It was with a purpose that he visited Waterman'soffice on the Mill Street side of the court-house, over Redmond'sundertaking parlors--a suggestive proximity that had not been neglectedby local humorists. 

"This is your chance, old man, to take up a fight for the people thatcan't fail to make you solid. What this poor old town needs is a leader. They're all sound asleep, dead ones, who'd turn over and take anothernap if Gabriel blew his horn. These fellows are getting ready to putover the neatest little swindle ever practiced on a confiding public. The newspapers are in it--absolutely muzzled. I won't lie to you aboutmy motive in coming to you. I'm sore all over from the knocks I've got. My dear brother Will has kicked me out; actually told me he'd have mearrested if I ever showed up here again. Like a fool I sent word toKirkwood that I could be of service in getting to the bottom ofSycamore; thought he'd let bygones be bygones when it came to straightbusiness, but, by George, he didn't even answer my letter! Cold as afrozen lobster, and always was! You see I thought it was all on thelevel--his tinkering with the traction company--but he's in on theshrewdest piece of high finance that was ever put over in Indiana. Talkabout my lamented brother Samuel--Sam never started in his class!"

Waterman, with his ponderous swivel-chair tipped back against theIndiana Reports that lined the wall, listened guardedly. It was notwholly flattering to be chosen by a man of Jack Holton's reputation asthe repository of confidences; but things had been going badly withWaterman. His passion for speculation had led him to invest funds heheld as guardian in pork margins, and a caprice of the powers that playwith pork in Chicago had wiped him out. Judge Walters had just beenasking impertinent questions about the guardianship money, and when hehad gone to the First National Bank for a loan to tide over the judicialinquiry and avert an appeal to his bondsmen, William Holton had "called"a loan of three hundred dollars that the bank had been carrying for twoyears. This was very annoying, and it made the lawyer more tolerant ofJack Holton than he should otherwise have been. 

"We're talking on the dead, are we?"

Waterman grunted his acquiescence. 

"Well, Kirkwood and old Amzi have framed it up to pinch the smallSycamore stockholders. Kirkwood stands in with those Eastern fellows whohave the big end of it--he's their representative, as everybody knows. And old Amzi is gumshoeing through the woods buying bonds of the yapswho shelled out to Samuel--telling them the company's gone to the bad, and that he's the poor man's friend, anxious to assume their burdens. It's a good story, all right. Of course he has his tip from Kirkwoodthat the bonds are going to boom or he wouldn't be putting money into'em. You know Amzi--he's the king of gumshoe artists--and he andKirkwood are bound to make a big clean-up out of this. "

Waterman was interested. He had always disliked Amzi. He felt that thebanker had never dealt squarely with him, and in particular theperemptory fashion in which Amzi, seven years earlier, had pushed hispass-book through the window and suggested that he take his accountelsewhere had eaten into his soul. 

"I knew somebody was picking up those bonds, but I didn't know it wasAmzi. One of my clients had five of them, and I'd got him to the pointof letting me bring suit for a receiver, but somebody shut him off. "

"Your client's bonds are in Kirkwood's pocket, all right enough. ByGeorge, can you beat it! And here's another thing. A man hates to talkagainst his own flesh and blood; and you may think I'm not in a positionto strut around virtuously and talk about other people's sins; but Iguess I've got some sense of honor left. I've never stolen any money. Idid run off with another man's wife, and I got my pay for _that_. Thatwas in the ardor of youth, Waterman; it was a calamitous mistake. Nobodyknows it better than I do. I got my punishment. I don't wish the womanany harm; she's a brazen one, and don't need anybody's sympathy. "

Lois Montgomery Holton's brazenness had been brought to Waterman'sattention convincingly at home. Josephine, Kate, and Fanny were almostinsane over their sister's bold return. Her impudence in settlingherself upon Amzi, under their very noses, was discussed every day andall day on Sunday, whenever Lois's sisters could get their headstogether. Waterman felt that Jack Holton's direct testimony as to thebrazenness of their wicked sister would be grateful to the ears of hiswife and sisters-in-law. 

"I guess, " said Waterman, "that hasn't anything to do with the case. Ifwhat you say's true--"

"Oh, it's true, all right enough. You go over to the 'Star' office andask why they've shut up about Sycamore; ask Judge Walters why certaindamage suits against the Sycamore Company haven't been tried; go outamong the people who had put the savings of years into the tractioncompany and ask them who's buying their bonds. And then, just for ajoke, telegraph the Comptroller at Washington and ask him why he sentout a special agent of the Treasury to look over the First Nationalafter the examiner's last visit. I tell you, this town's going to have abig jar in a day or two, and it's just about up to you to get out amongthe people and tell 'em how they're being worked. "

"The people like being worked, " replied Waterman, who had been trying tobring the people to a realizing sense of their wrongs in every campaignfor twenty years. In a few months they would again be choosing aRepresentative in Congress for the seat he had long coveted, and it wasconceivable that if he should now show himself valiant in their behalfhe might avert his usual biennial defeat. It was worth considering. 

"The thing to do is to hold a mass meeting and make one of your bigspeeches, pitching into Walters for refusing to bring those damage suitsto trial, and telling the truth about what Kirkwood and Amzi are doing, and then go over to Indianapolis and bring suit for the appointment of areceiver. And, by the way, I'm not as altruistic as I look. I'll takethe receivership and you'll be the receiver's attorney, of course. Between us we ought to clear up something handsome, besides rendering agreat public service that you can cash in here any way you like. "

Only that day Judge Walters had granted the request of Wright and Fitch, the Indianapolis attorneys, for a postponement of the trial of a damagesuit against the Sycamore Company in which Waterman represented theplaintiff, and this now assumed new significance in the lawyer's mind. If he got before a mass meeting with a chance to arraign the courts fortheir subservience to corporations, he was confident that it wouldredound to his credit at the fall election. His affairs were in suchshape that some such miracle as his election to Congress was absolutelynecessary to his rehabilitation. 

"You don't think the First National's going under, do you? Bill isn'tfool enough to let it come to that?"

Holton winked knowingly to whet his auditor's appetite. 

"I don't think it; I know it! Kirkwood's a merciless devil, and he's gotBill and my hopeful nephew Charlie where the hair's short. If Sam hadlived he'd have taken care of this traction business; Sam was a genius, all right. Sam could sell lemons for peaches, and when people made faceshe sugared the lemons and proved they were peaches. Sam was nosecond-story man; he worked on the ground floor in broad daylight. Goodold Sam!"

 * * * * *

A Chicago newspaper had given currency to a rumor that the Sycamore linewas soon to be put into the hands of a receiver, and while Kirkwooddenied this promptly, there were many disquieting stories afloat as tothe fate of the road. 

The reports of an expert as to the road's physical condition had beenreassuring, on the whole, and a thorough audit had placed Kirkwood inpossession of all the facts as to the property and its possibilities. Some of the most prominent men in the State had been stockholders in theSanford Construction Company. Samuel Holton had enrolled in thatcorporation his particular intimates, who had expected him to "take careof them" as he was in the habit of doing. The list included severalformer state officials and the benevolent bosses who manipulated thelegislature by a perfectly adjusted bi-partisan mechanism. It was with adisagreeable shock that they found that Samuel had departed this life, leaving them to bear the burden of his iniquities. 

Tom Kirkwood had assembled these gentlemen in the inner room of Wrightand Fitch's offices and laid the incontrovertible figures before them, with an alternative that they return their respective shares of theplunder or answer to an action at law. Kirkwood was an absurd person. Itwas politely suggested that it would be much to his advantage to allowthe Sycamore Company to take its course through the courts, under areceiver friendly to the stockholders of the Sanford ConstructionCompany. Kirkwood was informed that things had always been done thatway; but, having no political ambitions or ties, he was littleimpressed. It seemed to the business politicians weakminded for a manwho had "pull" enough to secure employment from one of the most powerfultrust companies on the continent to refuse to listen to "reason. " It wasalmost incredible that he should be trying to save the road instead ofwrecking it, when there was no money to be made out of saving a trolleyline that had been marked for destruction from the day its first tie waslaid. Kirkwood smiled coldly upon them and their attorneys when theypassed from persuasions to threats. It was difficult to find aneffective club to use on a man who was so unreasonable as to threatenthem with the long arm of the grand jury. The most minute scrutiny ofKirkwood's private life failed to disclose anything that might be usedto frighten him. 

It had seemed to Kirkwood that the beneficiaries of the constructioncompany should pay into the Sycamore treasury enough money to repair thelosses occasioned by dishonest work. Interest on the Sycamore bonds wasdue the 1st of April. The November payment had been made with moneyadvanced by half a dozen country banks through negotiations conducted byWilliam Holton. On the day that Jack Holton was persuading Alec Watermanto thrust himself forward as the people's protagonist, Kirkwood wastightening the screws on the construction company. If the sum hedemanded was not paid by the 1st of April, he assured Samuel Holton'sformer allies that criminal proceedings would be instituted. As one ofthe construction crowd was just then much in the newspapers as aprobable nominee for a state office, Kirkwood's determination to force asettlement on his own terms was dismaying. The bi-partisan bosses hadfigured altogether too much in the newspapers, and it was not pleasantto contemplate the opening of the books of the company to public gaze. 

March prepared to go out like a lion in Montgomery that year. While AlecWaterman was pondering his duty to the public as brought to hisattention by Jack Holton, Fate seemed to take charge of his affairs. OnMarch 28 the whistle of the Sugar Creek Furniture Company failed torouse the town. The Sugar Creek Company, one of the industries that PaulFosdick had promoted, had seemed to escape the dark fate that hadpursued his other projects, so that the abruptness with which it shutdown gave the local financial seismograph a severe wrench. 

The factory had been one of the largest employers of labor inMontgomery, and its suspension was reported to be due to the refusal ofthe First National to advance money for its next maturing weeklypay-roll. To several of the workingmen who consulted Waterman abouttheir claims, he broached the matter of a mass meeting in the circuitcourtroom to discuss the business conditions of Montgomery. Two hundredmen and boys were thrown out of work by the failure of the furniturecompany; rumors as to the relations between the company and the FirstNational caused the stability of the Holton bank to be debatedguardedly; and April 1st was fixed definitely in the minds of the MainStreet gossips as the date for drastic action in Sycamore matters. 

 * * * * *

Mr. Amzi Montgomery's frequent absences in Indianapolis had occasionedcomment of late. He returned, however, on the evening of the 28th, andbefore the "Bank Open" side of the battered tin sign was presented toMain Street on the morning of the 29th, a number of citizens had calledto ask his opinion of the local financial conditions. He answered theiranxious inquiries with his habitual nonchalance, leaning against thecounter, with his cigar at an angle that testified to unruffled serenityand perfect peace with the world. Amzi had brought home from the capitala new standing collar, taller than he was in the habit of wearing, andfrom its deep recesses his countenance appeared more than usually chasteand demure. The collar, a dashing bow tie, and a speckled waistcoat thatwas the most daring expression of sartorial art available at thecapital, gave to Amzi an air of uncommon jauntiness. 

"What about this, Amzi? Is the whole town going to smash?" asked JudgeWalters. 

"Nope. Worst's over. Nothing to worry about. "

"I've got to appoint a receiver for the furniture company in a fewminutes. I hope I'm not going to have to run the whole town through mycourt. "

"You won't. The Sugar Creek Furniture Company is a year behind time; Ithought it would go down last year. Then they bounced Fosdick, and itnaturally picked up a little; but it's hard to overcome a bad start, Judge. "

"I've politely turned over my court-room for a meeting of the furniturecompany employees this afternoon. Alec's going to holler; they say he'sgoing to pitch into the traction company and dust off the banks andcapital generally. "

"Good for Alec! He'll do a good job of it. Shouldn't wonder if he'd leada mob down Main Street, hanging all the merchants, bankers, and judgesof courts. "

"That would require more energy than Alec has; his love of thedowntrodden is purely vocal. "

The county treasurer who followed the judge found Amzi disposed to befacetious over the reports that other failures were likely to follow theembarrassment of the furniture company. 

"Worst's over. Just a little flurry. When there's a rotten apple in thebarrel, better get it out. "

The treasurer jerked his head in the direction of the First National. 

Amzi met his gaze, took the cigar from his mouth, and looked at the ash. 

"Thunder! It's all right. "

"How do you know that!"

"I just guess it; that's all. "

"They say, " the treasurer whispered, "that Bill has skipped. "

"Bill's over there in his bank right now, " Amzi replied impatiently. 

"How do you make that out?"

"Because I was talking to him on the 'phone ten minutes ago. If he'sskipped, it must have been sudden. Tell people not to borrow troublewhen they can borrow money. Money's easy on Main Street. "

Amzi wobbled his cigar in his mouth the while he smoothed his newwaistcoat with both hands. He was feeling good. His house was in order;failures and rumors of failures could not disturb him. 

This was Saturday, and their spring needs had brought an unusual numberof farm-folk to town. The proximity of interest-paying day made an acuteissue of Sycamore Traction. Amzi had by no means gathered up all thebonds held by small investors. Book learning has not diminished thehusbandman's traditional incredulity: if Sycamore traction bonds wereworth seventy to Amzi Montgomery, they were undoubtedly worth eighty, atleast, to the confiding original purchasers. Those who had clung totheir bonds were disposed to ridicule those who had sold; and yet no onewas wholly comfortable, either way. The collapse of the furniturecompany might prelude a local panic, and farmers and country merchantscollected in groups along Main Street to discuss the situation. 

The Saturday half-holiday in the various Montgomery industries added tothe crowd that drifted toward the courthouse at two o'clock, drawn bythe announcement that Alec Waterman was to discuss many local issues, which the failure of the furniture company had rendered acute. Thecircuit court-room was packed with farmers, mechanics, and the usualidlers when Waterman without introduction began to speak. 

At that moment Amzi Montgomery, in his seersucker coat and with his oldstraw hat tilted to one side, stood at the door of his bank and observedhalf a dozen men on the steps of the First National. Amzi, a carefulstudent of his fellow-townsmen, was aware that men and women werepassing into the rival bank in larger numbers than usual, even for aSaturday, and that the mellifluous oratory of Alec Waterman had notdrawn from the First National corner a score of idlers who evidentlyfelt that the center of interest lay there rather than at thecourt-house. Amzi planted himself in his favorite chair in the bankwindow and watched the crowd increase. 

By half-past two the town marshal had taken official notice thatcitizens were gathering about the bank doors, and overflowing from thesidewalk halfway across Main Street, to the interruption of traffic. Women and girls, with bank-books in their hands or nervously fingeringchecks, conferred in low tones about the security of their deposits. TheCitizens' National and the State Trust Company were also receivingattention from their depositors. As three o'clock approached, theMontgomery Bank filled, and the receiving-teller began to assist thepaying-teller in cashing checks. Amzi lounged along the lines outside, talking to his customers. 

"Going to buy automobiles with your money, boys? Thunder! You in town, Jake?"

He greeted them all affably, ignoring their anxiety. 

"Boys, I'll have to get a new shop if business keeps on like this. "

A depositor who had drawn his money and was anxiously hiding it in hispocket, dropped a silver dollar that rolled away between the waitinglines. 

"Never mind, gentlemen, we sweep out every night, " said Amzi. "Now, let's all understand each other, " he continued, tilting his hat over hisleft ear, and flourishing his cigar. "It's all right for you folks tocome and get your money. The regular closing time of banks in this townis 3 P. M. , Saturdays included. We've got a right to close infifteen minutes. But just to show there's no hard feeling, I'm going tochange the closing hour to-day from 3 P. M. To 3 A. M. Tomorrow's Sunday, and you can tell folks that's got money here that they won't have anytrouble getting their change in time to put it in the collection basketto-morrow morning. "

A number of depositors, impressed by Amzi's tranquillity, tore up theirchecks and left the bank. To a woman who asked him what the excitementmeant, Amzi explained politely that the town was experiencing what hecalled a "baby panic. "

"As an old friend, Martha, I advise you to leave your money here; if Idecide to bust, I'll give you notice. "

Along the two lines, that now extended out upon the sidewalk, there wasa craning of necks. A demand from one depositor that he repeat to allwhat he had said to the woman caused Amzi to retire behind the counter. There he stood upon a chair and talked through the screen, "I don't blame you folks for being nervous. Nobody wants to lose hismoney. Money is hard to get and harder to keep. But I've never liedacross this counter to any man, woman, or child"--and then, as thoughashamed of this vulgar assertion of rectitude, he added--"unless theyneeded to be lied to. "

There was laughter at this. The room was packed, and the lines had beenbroken by the crowd surging in from the street. 

"You can all have your money. But I hope you won't spend it foolishly orstick it in the chimney at home where it'll burn up. I ain't going tobust, ladies and gentlemen. This town is all right; it's the best littletown in Indiana; sound as Sugar Creek bottom corn. This little sickinfant panic we've had to-day will turn over and go to sleep prettysoon. As an old friend and neighbor of you all, I advise you to gohome--with your money or without it, just as you like. It's all the sameto me. "

"How about the First National?" a voice demanded. 

Amzi was relighting his cigar. There was a good deal of commotion in theroom as many who had been pressing toward the windows withdrew, reassured by the banker's speech. 

Amzi, with one foot on a chair, the other on the note-teller's counter, listened while the question about the First National was repeated. 

"I'll say to you folks, " said Amzi, his voice clearing and rising to ashrill pipe, "that in my judgment the First National Bank can pay allits claims. In fact--in fact, I'm dead sure of it!"

The crowd began to disperse. Most of those who had drawn their moneywaited to re-deposit it, and Amzi walked out upon the step to view thesituation at the First National, to whose doors a great throng clungstubbornly. The marshal and a policeman were busily occupied in aneffort to keep a way open for traffic. Observed by only a few idlers, Tom Kirkwood emerged from the First National's directors' room andwalked across to where Amzi stood like a guardian angel before the doorof Montgomery's Bank. The briefest colloquy followed between Kirkwoodand his quondam brother-in-law. 

"It's fixed, Amzi. "

"Thunder, Tom; I didn't know you'd got back. "

"Got in at one, and have been shut up with Holton ever since. He's seenthe light, and we've adjusted his end of the Sycamore business; I'mtaking part cash and notes with good collateral. The whole constructioncrowd have settled, except Charlie, and he'll come in--he's got to. Thesettlement makes the traction company good--it's only a matter now ofspending the money we've got back in putting the property in shape. "

"That's good, Tom. " And Amzi looked toward the courthouse clock. "Billsay anything about me?"

"Yes; he most certainly did. He wants you to go over and take charge ofhis bank!"

"Thunder! It's sort o' funny, Tom, how things come round. "

Kirkwood smiled at Amzi's calmness. He drew from his pocket a foldedpiece of paper. 

"Here's your stock certificate, Amzi. Bill asked me to hand it to you. It's in due form. He wanted me to ask you to be as easy on him as youcould. I think what he meant was that he'd like it to look like a_bona-fide_, voluntary sale. Those ten shares give you the control, andthe Sycamore claim wiped out the rest of his holdings. I'm afraid, " headded, "there's going to be some trouble. Where's Phil?"

"Probably at the court-house hearing her Uncle Alec talk about the moneydevils. We ought to let a few banks bust, just to encourage Alec. Thunder! Phil's all right!"

CHAPTER XXIII

PLEASANT TIMES IN MAIN STREET

Phil, on her way to a tea, reached Main Street shortly before threeo'clock. Her forehandedness was due to the fact that her hostess (thewife of the college president) had asked her to perform divers andsundry preliminary offices pertaining to refreshments, and it hadoccurred to Phil that it would be as well to drop in at the Bartletts'to see whether Rose had sent the cakes she had contracted to bake forthe function, as the sophomore who delivered Rose's creations wasprobably amusing himself at the try-out of baseball material on Mill'sField. 

Shopkeepers restlessly pacing the sidewalk before the doors of theirneglected stores informed Phil of the meeting at the court-room, and ofthe panicky rumors. No good reason occurred to Phil for absentingherself from a mass meeting at which her Uncle Alec was to speak. Philliked meetings. From the crest of a stack of chicken crates near thefreight depot she had heard Albert Jeremiah Beveridge speak when thatstatesman had vouchsafed ten minutes to the people of Montgomery thepreceding autumn. She had heard such redoubtable orators as WilliamJennings Bryan, Charles Warren Fairbanks, and "Tom" Marshall, and when aSocialist had spoken from the court-house steps on a rainy evening, Phil, then in her last year in high school, had been the solerepresentative of her sex in the audience. 

Waterman was laboriously approaching his peroration when she reached thepacked court-room. Men were wedged tightly into the space reserved forthe court officials and the bar, and a number stood on the clerk's desk. She climbed upon a chair at the back of the room, the better to see andhear. There were other women and girls present--employees of thefurniture factory--but it must be confessed that even without theirsupport Phil would not have been embarrassed. 

Waterman was in fine fettle, and cheers and applause punctuated hisdiscourse. 

"I am not here to arouse class hatred, or to set one man againstanother. We of Montgomery are all friends and neighbors. Many of youhave lived here, just as I have, throughout your lives. It is for us tohelp each other in a neighborly spirit. Factories may close their doors, banks may fail, and credit be shaken, but so long as we may appeal toeach other in the old terms of neighborliness and comradeship, nothingcan seriously disturb our peace and prosperity. 

"It grieves me, however, to be obliged to confess that there are menamong us who have not felt the responsibility imposed upon them astrustees for the less fortunate. I have already touched on the immediateplight of those of you who are thrown out of employment, with your justlabor claims unpaid. There are others--and some of them are perhaps inthis room--who entrusted their savings to the Sycamore Traction Company, and who are now at the mercy of the malevolent powers that invariablycontrol and manipulate such corporations. I shall not be personal; Ihave no feelings against any of those men. But I say to you, men andwomen of Montgomery, that when I heard this morning from the lips of anindustrious and frugal German mechanic that a certain financier of thistown had bought from him a traction bond that represented twenty yearsof savings--then my blood boiled with righteous indignation. 

"My friends, a curious situation exists here. Why is it--why is it, Irepeat, while one of our fellow-citizens pretends to be trying tosafeguard by legal means all the local interests involved in thattraction company, another person who stands close to him is buying thebonds of laborers and mechanics, widows and orphans, at little more thanfifty per cent of their face value? My friends, when you find a corruptlawyer and a rapacious banker in collusion, what chance have the peopleagainst them?"

Apparently the people had no chance whatever, in the opinion of theintent auditors. The applause at this point was long continued, andWaterman, feeling that he had struck the right chord, hurried on. 

"Who are these men who have plundered their own people, thrust theirhands into the pockets of their fellow-citizens, and filched from themthe savings of years? Who are they, I say? My friends, in a communitylike this, where we are all so closely knit together, --where on theSabbath day we meet in the church porch after rendering thanks unto Godfor his mercies, --where in the midweek prayer-meeting we renew andstrengthen ourselves for the battle of life, --it is a serious matter tostand in a forum of the people before the tabernacle the law has givenus for the defense of our liberties, and impugn the motives of ourfellows. I shall not--"

"Name them!" chorused a dozen voices. 

Waterman's histrionic sense responded to the demand. With arm uplifted, he deliberated, turning slowly from side to side. He was a master of theniceties of insinuation. Innuendo he had always found more effectivethan direct statement. He shook his head deprecatingly, reluctant toyield to the clamor for the names of the human vultures he had beenarraigning. 

"Name them! Tell who they are!"

He indulged these cries with a smile of resignation. They had a right toknow; but it was left for him, in his superior wisdom, to pass upontheir demands. 

"Hit 'em, Alec! Go for 'em!" yelled a man in the front row. 

"Why, " the orator resumed, "why, " he asked, "should I name names thatare in every mind in this intelligent audience?" There was absolutequiet as they waited for the names, which he had not the slightestintention of giving. 

"Why--"

"_Coward!_"

The carrying power of Phil's voice had been deplored from her earliestyouth by her aunts. Her single word, flung across the heads of theauditors, splashed upon the tense silence like a stone dropped suddenlyinto a quiet pond. 

"Put him out!" yelled some one who attributed this impiety to the usualobstreperous boy. A number of young fellows in Phil's neighborhood, whoknew the source of the ejaculation, broke into laughter and jeers. Alexander Waterman knew that voice; he had seen Phil across the room, but had assumed that her presence was due to her vulgar curiosity, onwhich his wife had waxed wroth these many years. In his cogitations Philwas always an unaccountable and irresponsible being: it had not occurredto him that she might resent his veiled charges against her father andAmzi. Waterman, by reason of his long experience as a stump speaker, knew how to deal with interruptions. He caught up instantly thechallenge Phil had flung at him. 

"Coward?" he repeated. "I should like to ask you, my fellow-citizens, who is the coward in this crisis? Is it I, who face you to-day clothedin my constitutional guaranty of free and untrammeled speech, to speakupon the issues of this grave crisis; or is it the conspirators who meetin dark rooms to plot and plunder?"

Applause and cheers greeted this reply. Men looked at each other andgrinned, as much as to say, "Alec knows his business. " In Phil'simmediate vicinity a number of young men, lost in admiration of hertemerity, and not without chivalrous instincts, jeered the orator'sreply. In the middle of the room Fred Holton, who had gone to themeeting with some of his farmer neighbors that he met in Main Street, turned at the sound of Phil's voice. Before Waterman, luxuriating in hisapplause, could resume, Fred was on his feet. 

"As this was called as a meeting of citizens, I have a right to be here. We have listened for nearly an hour to a speech that has made nothingany clearer--that has, in fact, gone all round the pump without findingthe handle. It's time we knew what it is the speaker wants done; it'stime he came to the point and named these men who have robbed theirfriends and neighbors. Let's have the names right now before we go anyfurther. "

"Who's that talking? Put him out!"

The meeting was in disorder, and a dozen men were trying to talk. Waterman, smiling patiently, rapped with the official gavel that JudgeWalters wielded when counsel, in the heat of argument, transcended thebounds of propriety. 

"It's Fred Holton, " bellowed some one. 

Waterman smiled in quiet scorn. He had recognized Fred Holton and wasready with his answer. One of his friends who had pushed through thecrowd whispered in his ear. 

"My friends, " he began, in the indulgent tone of a grieved parent, "thegentleman who spoke a moment ago was quite right in remarking that thisis a meeting of citizens. No one denies his right to speak or tointerrupt other speakers if such be his idea of courtesy. But he willpardon me for suggesting that it is remarkable that he of all men shouldinterrupt our friendly conference here and demand that names bementioned, when, prompted by a sense of delicacy, I have refrained frommentioning his own name in this unpleasant connection. It's a name thathas been identified far too closely with the affairs of this town. Ishould like to know how a member of the Holton family dare come to thismeeting, when the suspension of one of our chief industries and theembarrassments of the Sycamore Traction Company are directlyattributable to the family of which this young gentleman is a member. And while we sit here in conference, there are grave rumors afloat thatwe are threatened with even more serious difficulties. Within a fewminutes word has reached me that a run is in progress upon certain ofour banks. " (There was a commotion throughout the room, and those nearthe doors were already pushing toward the street. )

"I beg of you, be not hasty; the hour calls for wise counsel--"

The shuffling of feet and overturning of chairs deadened the remainderof his speech. 

Phil escaped quickly from the court-house, and seeing the throng in MainStreet began a detour to reach Montgomery's Bank. Fred caught up withher and begged her to go home. 

"There's going to be a row, Phil, and you'd better keep out of the way. "

"If there's a row, that silly Waterman is responsible, " Phil replied. "I'm going to the bank to see Amy. "

People were flocking to Main Street from all directions, and findingthat she persisted in going on, Fred kept close beside her. 

"He'll scold you if you do; you'd better go home, " Fred urged as theyreached Franklin Street, a block south of Main, and saw the packedstreets at the First National corner. 

They debated a moment; then Phil was seized with an idea. 

"Fred, run over to the college and bring all the boys you can find atMill's Field. Bring them up Main Street singing, and send a flying wedgethrough the mob;--that will smash it. Beat it, before the boys hear therow and mix in!"

Fred was off for the athletic field before she had finished speaking, and Phil sought the side door of Montgomery's Bank. 

The throng at the intersection of Franklin Street and Main faced theFirst National. When the court-house clock boomed three the clerksinside made an effort to close the doors, and this had provoked a sharpencounter with the waiting depositors on the bank steps. The crowdyelled as it surged in sympathy with the effort to hold the doors open. Some one threw a stone that struck the window in the middle of"National" in the sign, and this caused an outbreak of derisive cheers. An intoxicated man on the steps turned round with difficulty and wavedhis hat. 

"Come on, boys; we'll bust the safe and find out whether they've got anymoney or not. "

Some of those who had gained entrance to the bank came out by the sidedoor, and this served to divert attention to Franklin Street for amoment. There were cries that a woman who had received her money hadbeen robbed, and this increased the uproar. 

When Amzi took a last survey from his bank steps at three o'clock, someone yelled, "Hello, Amzi!" A piece of brick flung with an aim worthy ofa nobler cause whizzed past his head and struck the door-frame with asharp thwack and blur of dust. Amzi looked down at the missile withpained surprise and kicked it aside. His clerks besought him to come inout of harm's way; and yet no man in Montgomery had established a betterright than he to stand exactly where he stood and view contemporaneoushistory in the making. 

Howls and cat-calls followed the casting of the brick. Amzi lifted hishand to stay the tumult, but in his seersucker coat and straw hat hisappearance was calculated to provoke merriment. 

"Shoot the hat! Where's your earmuffs?" they jeered. 

He could not make himself heard, and even if his voice had been equal tothe occasion no one was in humor to listen to him. Bankers wereunpopular in Montgomery that afternoon. No one had ever believed beforethat Amzi was capable of taking unfair advantage of his fellow-men; andyet Waterman's hearers were circulating the report in Main Street thatAmzi had been buying Sycamore bonds at an infamously low price. 

He flourished his cigar toward the First National, and then pointed itat his own door, but this bit of pantomime only renewed the mirth of theassemblage. It seemed to be the impression that he was trying toadvertise his bank, in the fashion of a "demonstrator" in a shop-window. The disorder increased. Some one yelled:--

"What are you paying for Sycamore bonds?"

This was followed by an ominous turning and shifting. Amzi withdrew, closed and locked the bank doors, and showed his scorn of hiscalumniators by reversing with deliberation the tin card so that itannounced "Bank Shut. "

Amzi, his dignity ruffled by the reception accorded him, had retired tohis private room when a familiar knock sounded on the Franklin Streetdoor and he turned the latch to admit Phil. 

"You--! what you doing down here? What right have you to be running thestreets on a day like this?" he blurted, his eyes bulging wrathfully. 

"Oh, chuck it, Amy! This is the best show we've had since the calliopeblew up and killed the elephant in the circus when I was seven yearsold. I've been to the meeting. The Honorable Alec delivered a nobleoration; he told them that everybody, including you and daddy, iscrooked; he's the only honest man. It was the supreme and ultimatelim_ite_!"

"Want to burn me in effigy? Call me a horned plutocrat?"

"Oh, he didn't mention you, or daddy either, by name; just hinted thatyou were both trying to rob the Sycamore bondholders. "

Amzi put his feet on a chair, settled his hat comfortably on the back ofhis head, and chewed his cigar meditatively. 

"Thunder! You'd better keep away from indignation meetings where Alec'sgoing to speak. You're likely to get shot. "

"Not I, sir. I called him a coward, right there in the meeting. A mostunladylike proceeding; indeed, it was, Amy. 

 "When rose the maid upon a chair, Some called her false: none named her fair: Nathless she saw nor sneer nor frown, But 'C-o-w-a-r-d' flung her challenge down. "

Amzi ignored her couplets--Phil's impromptu verses always embarrassedhim--and demanded the particulars. He chuckled as she described themeeting. He cross-examined her to be sure that she omitted nothing. Herreport of his brother-in-law's tirade gave him the greatest delight. Asthey talked, they heard plainly the commotion in the streets. 

"I like the way you take things, " said Phil. "The town's gone crazy, andthere's a mob in front of your little toy bank, but you're not evenpeevish. "

"Some old schoolmate threw a brick at me awhile ago when I went out forair and that annoyed me, " Amzi admitted. "If those fellows out there whohaven't any money in any bank, and never will have any, would only gohome, I'd do something to relieve the pressure. I hanker for a chance tocross the street, but they won't let me. I called the mayor on thetelephone and demanded that he send over the fire department andsprinkle 'em, but he said he couldn't unless I'd turn in an alarm--hadthe nerve to tell me it would be against the city ordinances! What doyou think of that, Phil? Guess the police force is under the bed athome. But I can wait. There's nothing like waiting. Take it from me thatyou'd better trot along to your tea. You're rather cute in that hat. Isuppose it burnt a hole in a ten-dollar-bill. "

"Twenty-five, Amy. "

"No wonder there's a panic! Go out and show yourself, so they can seewhat a plutocrat looks like. I guess that would cause 'em to breakwindows all right. "

"Ungrateful old man! Main Street will be opened for traffic in a fewminutes, thanks to the head under the hat you feign to despise. I sentFred over to the college to bring the boys down to clean things up. They're about due, methinks. "

"Fred in town?"

"Why ask? It's Saturday and he's a farmer. "

"Your thinker thinks, Phil. Would that I loved prayer-meeting as much asyou love trouble! As trustee of Madison, I wish you'd left the boys atplay. That last Washington's Birthday row almost broke up the college. "

Phil jumped down from the table suddenly and flung the door open. Abovethe murmur of the restless shuffling crowd rose the sound of singing. 

 * * * * *

The sunny afternoon had brought to Mill's Field budding baseballists andcandidates for track teams and a gallery of critics of theirperformances. Fred Holton's name was written high in the athleticrecords of Madison, and a few words bawled from the bleachers served toassemble all the students in sight. 

"There's an ugly mob downtown, boys; and it may do mischief if it hangstogether until dark. If we can pry 'em apart, they'll go home and forgetit. "

Fifty students immediately formed in line. "No clubs or sticks, boys. We'll march down Main Street in good order and see what a peacefuldemonstration will do. Forward! March!"

As they crossed the campus at double-quick, students poured out of thelibrary and joined the battalion. Others came tumbling out of thefraternity houses in Buckeye Lane, anxious to join in the lark. Beforeentering Main Street, Fred gave his last orders, which were acceptedwithout question from an alumnus whom they had all learned to know oflate as a sympathetic and stimulating visitor to the Gym, and theadviser for the Thanksgiving football game in which they had scored avictory over the hosts of Purdue. 

Two blocks from the bank they re-formed in four lines, extending fromcurb to curb, and went forward to the strains of "Old Madison":--

 "What shall we do for Madison, for Madison, for Madison? What shall we do for Madison, our college and her men?"

To the familiar strains of the college song, Montgomery had frequentlywept not without reason, for the young Madisonians had been much givenin recent years to ebullitions of college spirit. The timid mayor heardit now, looked out upon the lines of marching students, and pulled downhis office blinds to avoid witnessing the inevitable collision betweentown and gown. 

As the students approached, women and timorous men began trying toescape. Fred signaled to the yell leader, who began beating time, andthe street rang with the college cheer. They gave it over and overagain; they cheered the college and every bank in town, and betweencheers Fred moved the lines forward. The mechanics and farmers, who, alarmed for the security of their savings, had formed the nucleus of thecrowd, began to disperse before the advance of the students, but thesidewalks filled with those who expected an encounter and wished to viewit in safety. Merchants closed and barred their doors against possibleinvasion. The rougher element, that had attached itself to the throngand given it the semblance of a mob, now organized hastily for acounter-demonstration. 

"Smash the college dudes!" bawled a big fellow, throwing himself forwardas leader. There was a rush and a sharp struggle. The collegians stoodfast. The town phalanx withdrew to Franklin Street, and, considerablyincreased, rushed again upon the collegians. A lively fist-fight nowengaged the vanguard for a minute, to the delight of the spectators. Hard blows were struck on both sides. While this was in progress, Fredwithdrew the rear ranks of his army, massed them compactly, and led themin a gallant charge through the shattered line of their comrades, against the enemy. The students wavered at the moment of collision;there was sharp tackling and the line broke, closed again, and swept on, beyond Franklin Street and for half a block further; then effected aquick about-face in readiness for another charge but found the fieldclear. Some one on the packed sidewalk proposed a cheer for the college, and it was given with a will, and the collegians resumed their cheering. A few missiles flung by the vanquished town men rained upon them, butthe war was over. Fred's lines were flung across the intersectingstreets like pickets, and, impressed by their quiet order, thebelligerent town men began to mingle peacefully with the lingeringcrowd on the pavements. 

Mr. Amzi Montgomery appeared on the steps of his bank, and glanced upand down the street, and at the courthouse clock, like a pigeon emergingfrom its cote after a shower. Phil, having been warned to remain inside, naturally joined him an instant later. Amzi was saluted with a cheer inrecognition of his dignity as treasurer of Madison's board oftrustees, --a greeting he acknowledged by puffing his cheeks andguardedly lifting his hat. And all these things pleased Main Street. Anattack on the First National had been averted; the students had madeamends for many affronts to municipal dignity; and it was in the airthat other and equally interesting incidents would add further to theday's entertainment. 

The jubilant yell leader, seeing Phil beside Amzi, decided that she, too, was deserving of attention. 

"For the girl on the bank steps--all together!"

While this rah-rahing was in progress, Amzi left the steps and startedacross the street. Now, while Amzi Montgomery had been seen of all menin all years and at all seasons, standing on the steps of his bank inthe old straw hat, with his seersucker coat buttoned tightly round hissturdy figure, he had never before been known to descend into MainStreet in that garb. The crowd immediately began closing in upon him andFred detached a squad of his brawniest men to act as the banker'sbodyguard. 

Amzi moved with great serenity towards the First National Bank, andappeared to be examining the sunburst the hostile stone had stamped uponthe plate-glass window. Amzi never hurried, and he appeared to be in nohaste now. Main Street was pleased that he deliberated. The longer theentertainment lasted the better. The door of the First National had beenclosed with little difficulty during the diversion afforded by thearrival of the college men, but the steps and sidewalk were filled. Amzilooked over the crowd musingly, and beckoned to Fred. 

"Get me a box to stand on and a piece of soap--laundry soap. I wantto--"

He waved his cigar toward the window in vague explanation, and Freddived into a grocery and came back with the articles demanded. MainStreet's curiosity had never been so whetted and teased. If it had beenany one but Amzi; but it was so unmistakably Amzi! Amzi placed the boxunder the window and stood upon it. Then with characteristic nonchalancehe removed the wrapper from the cake of soap, while the crowd surged andshuffled, filling the street again in its anxiety to miss nothing. Amzibroke the bar of soap in two, and calmly trimmed half of it to serve asa crayon. As he began to write upon the glass, his guards werehard-pressed to hold back the throng that seemed bent upon pushing thebanker through his rival's window. To ease the tension the boys struckup--

 "The pirates of the Wabash, A jolly crowd are they. "

Amzi wrote slowly, in a large round hand, beginning immediately underthe "First National Bank" lettering. The faint tracings of the soap werelegible only a few yards away and the yell-leader began reading for thebenefit of the crowd. And this was Amzi's announcement:--

 I hereby guarantee all deposits in this bank. 

 Interest on Sycamore Traction bonds will be paid here April 1. Persons from whom I have bought such bonds may redeem same at price I paid for them, without discount. 

 A. MONTGOMERY. 

When he had completed his first sentence, he paused to inspect it. Murmurs of astonishment gave way to shouts of approval, and then thestreet grew silent as the remainder was read word by word. 

"Let her go now, for A. Montgo_meree_!" cried the yell-leader, and whilenecks craned and men jostled and pushed, the students cheered. WhenAmzi had written, "at the price I paid for them, " he made a period, andthen, after a moment's reflection, drew out his handkerchief and erasedit to add--"without discount. "

He threw away the soap and began to retrace his steps, but the wholetown seemed now to have massed itself in the intersecting streets. Thenearest students flung themselves together as an escort, and amid cheersAmzi returned to his own bank, where Phil opened the door and demandedto know what he had been doing to be cheered as only a football hero ischeered when his name is read at commencement. 

"Thunder!" said Amzi. "I just wanted to take the gas out of Alec'sspeech. What are those fools doing now?"

Phil, Fred, and Amzi, with several of the students who had acted as thebanker's bodyguard, gathered at the front window. Amzi's announcementthat the Sycamore interest would be paid had brought Kirkwood into theminds of many who knew of his efforts to save the company. His nameshouted here and there in the street directed attention to his officewindows. As a former member of the faculty of Madison, Kirkwood appearedusually on the platform at commencement, and now that he was mentionedthe students improvised a cheer for him that Kirkwood's building flungback at Montgomery's Bank. The demonstration continued with increasedvolume, until finally Kirkwood opened a window and looked down. A shoutrose as he appeared. The tears sprang to Phil's eyes as she saw herfather's tall figure, his stoop accentuated as he bent under the window. He had really achieved at last! She only vaguely grasped the import ofwhat Amzi had told her in a few abrupt sentences after his return to thebank, but her heart beat fast at the thought that her father shared inthe day's honors. He had been of real service to his fellow-townsmen andthey were now demanding a speech. He bowed and vanished; but when thecheering was renewed and long continued, he came back, and when silencefell upon the crowd (Phil wondered if they, too, felt the pathos in himthat had always touched her, and which just then brought the tears toher eyes!) he spoke slowly and clearly. 

"My friends, this is the best town and its people are the best andkindest people in the world. If I have done anything to win your praiseI am glad. This community is bound to prosper, for it is founded, notupon industry and thrift alone, but upon faith and honor andhelpfulness; and these, my good friends, are the things that endureforever. "

"I couldn't hear that, " said Amzi to Phil, as her father disappearedinto his office amid the loudest cheers of the day, "but I reckon Tomsaid about the right thing. "

"I'm sure he did, " replied Phil, drying her eyes, "and it's all true, too!"

CHAPTER XXIV

THE FORSAKEN GARDEN

It's pleasant, on the whole, to do something worth doing; to make grassgrow where it has never grown before; to put the last touch to acanoe-paddle of exactly the right weight and balance; to bring tosomething approximating one's ideal of a sound sentence the laststubborn, maddening clutter of words in a manuscript that has grown froma pen-scratch on the back of an envelope into a potential book. And TomKirkwood was not without his sense of satisfaction. He had withoutlitigation straightened the Sycamore Company's financial tangles. Itsphysical deficiencies were being remedied and its service brought tostandard. He had never in his life felt so conscious of his powers. Hewas out of debt--having paid back two thousand dollars Amzi had loanedhim in the fall, after Phil had raised the red flag of danger in theiraffairs. The load was off his back; men spoke to him in the street witha new cordiality; the "Evening Star, " in an excess of emotion followingthe taking-over of the First National Bank by Amzi and all the movingincidents connected with the drama of Main Street's greatest day, --the"Evening Star" had without the slightest provocation, declared that theHonorable Thomas Kirkwood was just the man for governor. The DesbrossesTrust & Guaranty Company had not only paid him handsomely, but wasentrusting him with the rehabilitation of a traction company in Illinoisthat was not earning dividends. 

He came back to Montgomery to try some cases at the April term of courtand sent his trunk to the Morton House. 

"It isn't square, daddy, " said Phil, breaking in upon him at his officeon the day of his arrival. "We were to open the house again when youhad finished at Indianapolis. And here you are, not even telling me youwere coming. "

The office was dingier and dustier than ever. She abused him for not atleast giving her a chance to clean it against his coming. 

"I have to be off again in a week; it didn't seem worth while to put youto the trouble of opening the house just for that, " he repliedevasively. His own affairs again occupied his mind, and the sight ofPhil gave a keen edge to his curiosity as to her life at Amzi's. 

"Your new suit is certainly some clothes, and a glimpse of thatfour-in-hand makes the world a nobler and better place to live in! Ifthe Indianapolis boulevards can do that for you, it's too bad I didn'tknow it long ago. I have an idea"--and she paused pensively in the actof dusting a chair--"I'm a good deal worried by the idea that you oughtto be mussed!"

He pleaded mockingly for mercy, calling attention to her inconsistencyin admiring his raiment while at the same time threatening it withdestruction. 

"You seem to have been to the dressmaker yourself. How's your bankaccount, Phil? I suppose your uncle will have to be more careful aboutoverdrafts now that he has a national bank. "

"Oh, I'm not broke. And"--suddenly serious--"I must tell you something, daddy. I've been waiting for a chance to ask you if you cared; it didn'tseem right not to ask you; and, of course, if you mind, I _won't_. "

He smiled at her earnestness, her unusual indirection. She was immenselygrown up; there were new manifestations of her otherwiseness. He notedlittle sophisticated tricks of manner that reminded him vaguely of someone else. 

"Amy says it's all right for me to do it, but that I must ask you; andmamma says that, too. "

Her preluding roused apprehensions. What might not have happened inthese weeks that Phil had spent with Lois? He observed his daughterwith a new intentness. She drew a handkerchief from her sleeve andtouched it lightly, with an un-Phil-like gesture to her nose; and aninstant later, with an almost imperceptible movement of her head, resettled her hat. She had acquired--quite unconsciously he did notquestion--a new air. She was his old Phil, but the portrait had beenretouched here and there, and was reminiscent in unaccountable ways ofsome one else very like and very different. 

"Yes, Phil, come out with it, " he said, finding her eyes upon him in awide, unseeing gaze--and that, too, he now remembered. She had taken on, as young girls do, the superficial graces and innocent affectations ofan older person. Such perfectly natural and pardonable imitation isinduced by admiration; and Lois had been a woman of fascinations in oldtimes! He had no reason for believing that she had changed; and it hadbeen clear to him that first day of Lois's return that she had laidstrong hold upon Phil's imagination. 

"Mamma wants to give me some money: she has already done some nicethings for me. She bought this hat and suit; but she wants to do more. "

Kirkwood frowned. Lois had no right to come back and steal Phil awayfrom him. He was at once jealous, suspicious. He, too, had assumed thatLois's return had not been voluntary; that she had come back ofnecessity and flung herself upon Amzi's charity. It would be quite likeher to try to tempt Phil with a handful of trinkets. 

"It isn't likely that she has much to give you; but before you acceptanything of importance you should be sure that it's a proper gift forher to offer, that she can afford to do it. "

"There doesn't seem to be any question about that, daddy. What she wantsto do is to give me a whole lot of money--enough to make me really rich. She wants to put one hundred thousand dollars in a trusteeship for me. "

There was consternation in his quick glance. Nothing in his knowledge ofLois justified a belief that she would ever, by any proper andreputable means, command any such sum. 

"You must be mistaken, Phil. You must have got the figures wrong. It'smore likely a thousand. You know mathematics was never a strong pointwith you!"

"It's this way, you see, daddy. She made a lot of money--in luckyinvestments--mines, real estate, and things like that. She told me alittle about it; as though it were a great joke. But she is very clever;she did it all by herself--and no one knows it, except just Amy; and shetold me I might tell you, so you'd understand. She even said to say toyou--" and Phil paused, knitting her brows. To be repeating as from astranger a message from her mother to her father was a fresh phase ofthe unreal situation created by her mother's return. "She said to tellyou she came by it honestly; that it wasn't tainted money!"

And Phil laughed nervously, not knowing how her father would take this. He seemed depressed, in the old familiar fashion; and she could not knowthe reason of it, or that the magnitude of his former wife's resourcesand her wish to divide with her daughter rallied all manner ofsuspicions round his jealousy. 

"She said that either Amy could manage it for me, or that if you likedshe would be perfectly willing to turn it over to you. She was very kindabout it, daddy; really she was. "

"I'm not questioning that, Phil. It's a little staggering, that's all. "

"But, of course, " she ran on eagerly, "it wouldn't make any differencebetween you and me. I know you have done everything for me. Please don'tever think I forget that, daddy. And if you have any feeling about it, please say no. I don't want money, just to be having it. We've alwaysagreed that money isn't the main thing in life. "

"It's rather necessary, though, as we've found by experience, " hereplied, with a rueful smile. "I've done pretty badly, Phil; but thingsare brighter. I'm able now to begin putting some money away for youmyself, and I shall do it, of course, just the same. But as to yourmother's offer, you must accept it; it's a large sum, far more than Icould ever command. It makes you independent; it changes the future foryou, puts things within your reach that have been clear out of thequestion. And it's very generous on her part to tell you to refer thematter to me. I assume, " he added, "that she's keeping enough forherself; there might be some difficulty later on if she didn't do that. "

"Oh, " said Phil, with an unconscious note of pride that did not escapehim, "she has plenty; she's richer, I suppose, than almost anybodyaround here. She didn't ask me not to tell you anything--she's not likethat--so you may as well know that she gave Amy a lot of money to helphim set up the new bank. It's so funny that I can't help laughing. Thewhole family--one's aunts, I mean--think she came back to sponge off ofAmy, and they don't know she's going to own almost as much as he does inthe new Montgomery National. I get to giggling when I see those womenstrutting by the house with their chins up, but mamma doesn't pay theleast attention. I don't believe she thinks about them at all; she's hadthe house fixed over--pitched a lot of Amy's old furniture into thealley--and is having the garden done by a landscape gardener sheimported from Chicago. And those poor women are fretting themselves todeath, thinking it's Amy's money she's spending. Yesterday she ordered aseven thousand dollar automobile by telegraph, --just like that!--andwhen it anchors in front of Amy's gate there'll be some deaths fromheart failure in that neighborhood. "

Kirkwood's sometime sisters-in-law had been three sharp thorns in hisside; and Phil's joy at the prospect of their discomfiture when theybeheld their sister rolling about in an expensive motor was not withoutjustification. Lois's prosperity was, however, deeply mystifying. Itflashed upon him suddenly that he did not in the least know this Lois ofwhom Phil had been speaking: she was certainly not the young woman, scarcely out of her girlhood, who had so shamelessly abandoned him. Andover this thought stumbled another: he had never known her! As hereflected, his eyes roamed to a large calendar on the wall over Phil'shead. This was the 12th of April, his wedding-day. The date interestedhim only passively; it had long ago ceased to affect him emotionally. 

He meant to speak to Nan before he left town and endeavor once more topersuade her that Lois's return had made no difference. As he swung idlyin his chair he sought to analyze his feelings. Those little tricks ofmanner that Phil imitated so unconsciously kept recurring and he triedto visualize the Lois of the present as she must be;--clever, impulsivein her generosities, heedless, indifferent. In all his conjecturingsince Christmas he had experienced no longing to have her back; nothingbeyond a mild impersonal curiosity as to how time had dealt with her. 

The success that had attended his labors had strengthened all the fibersof his will; he was the master of himself, a man again. He haddemonstrated to his own surprise and satisfaction that he could devise aplan and put it through; that he could bring an iron hand to hisdealings with men. And buoyed up by this fresh knowledge he wasimpatient at the frustration of any of his plans and hopes. Lois hadshaken down the pillars of his life once; but she could not repeat thatinjury. He had built himself a new argosy and found a new companion forhis voyaging. Nan should marry him; if she liked they would remove toIndianapolis to escape gossipy tongues; but he had definitely determinedthat the marriage should not be delayed. He was a free man and he meantto exercise and enjoy his freedom. He had taken soundings where he hadgone down on that first venture and touched nowhere any trace of thewreck; the waters of oblivion rippled listlessly over those unmarkedshoals. 

He swung round with an uncomfortable sense that Phil had been watchinghim as she bent forward, her elbow resting on the arm of one of the oldoffice chairs, her hand against her cheek. That had been one of Lois'sways and Phil's brown eyes were very like Lois's! He did not want Philto attribute his long reverie to retrospective regrets or presentlongings. 

"Well, Phil; I've got to go to the court-house to see Judge Walters. About that money, it's perfectly right for you to accept it; but I thinkit best that your Uncle Amzi should have the care of it. It's aconsiderable responsibility, however, and you must let him know that youappreciate his doing it; and I'll speak to him about it myself. Ifyou're going home you can walk as far as the court-house with me. "

He had spoken briskly, to emphasize his own indifference to Lois and hermoney. 

While Kirkwood was collecting some papers, Phil, after moving restlesslyabout and glancing down at Amzi--he happened just then to be standing onthe bank steps talking to an agent of the Comptroller's office who hadbeen dispatched from Washington to observe the metamorphosis of theFirst National into the Montgomery National, --Phil, with anembarrassment that was new to her relations with her father, askeddiffidently, --

"Shall I say anything to mamma--I mean about the money?"

This was not at all what she had meant to say. She had hoped that hewould send some message to her mother. It was incredible that the wiresshould be so utterly broken between them as to make all communicationimpossible. They were both so much to her liking; in her own heartadmiration and love enfolded them both so completely that her spiritchafed at the thought of standing first with one and then with the otheron the respective sides of the barricade that had risen between them. Her father replied brusquely:--

"No; that's all, I believe, Phil. "

As they walked toward the court-house, Lois passed on the oppositesidewalk. It is not against Montgomery conventions to nod to friendsacross Main Street or even to pause and converse across thatthoroughfare if one is so disposed. Phil nodded to her mother. She wasunable to tell whether her father was conscious that his former wifewas so near; he lifted his hat absently, seeing that Phil was speakingto some one. 

"By the way, Phil, have you been in the house lately--the old place, Imean? Amzi's carpenter tells me the wind has torn off the water-spoutsand that the veranda posts have rotted badly. "

He had so rarely mentioned the long-abandoned house that she wasstartled. He did not care! This was the most conclusive proof possiblethat he no longer cared; and the thought of it did not make her happy. Clearly Love was not, after all, a limitless dominion, without otherbounds than those set by the farthest stars, but a narrow, dark, andunstable realm. That these two should dwell in the same town, walk thesame street, at the same hour, without any desire to see and speak toeach other, was the strangest of phenomena. 

"Drop in to-morrow and have luncheon with me at the hotel. I want to seeall of you I can while I'm here, " he remarked when they reached thecourt-house. 

"Very well, daddy. "

That evening, after he had eaten the hotel supper with a printed brieffor company, Kirkwood went to the Bartletts', but no one answered hissummons and he turned away disappointed. Thinking they were probably atsome neighbor's house he decided to walk about and return later. Hisidle roaming led him past Center Church. It was prayer-meeting night, and through the open windows floated a hymn sung waveringly by the smallgathering of the faithful. It was here, on just such an April night, that he and Lois had sworn to love and cherish each other to the end oftheir days. He had been profoundly moved that night, standing before thereverend president of the college in the crowded church and repeatinghis vows after the kindly, lovable old man. And he remembered how, asthey left the church, the assembled students had shown their good-willin ringing cheers. But these memories had lost their poignancy. Verily, he did not care!

Finding himself presently before Amzi's house, he remembered withoutemotion that Lois was established there. It was an ironic fling of thedice that had brought her back prosperous and presumably happy to lurePhil away from him! He walked slowly; the proximity of his recreant wifegave him neither pang nor thrill. He loitered that the test might be themore complete. 

A man had been walking toward him from the farther side of theMontgomery place, and something furtive in his movements caused Kirkwoodto pause. Then, after halting uncertainly and fumbling at the chain thatheld the Kirkwood gate together, the man retraced his steps, andguardedly let himself into the Fosdicks' yard. Kirkwood listened, andhearing no further sounds dismissed the matter. It now occurred to himto visit his own property, whose decrepitude Amzi had brought to hisattention, and finding that he had matches and the house key, he liftedthe chain from the rickety gate and passed into the garden. Kirkwood waspreoccupied with the idea of putting the house and lot in order andselling it. Now that he was confident that it no longer held anyassociations for him, he was in haste to be rid of it. He would sell theplace and invest the proceeds for Phil. He smiled ironically as heremembered the disparity between his own fortunes and those of hisformer wife. He did not resent her prosperity; he did not understand it;but if it was the way of the gods to visit fortune upon the unrighteous, so much the worse for the gods. 

A brick walk curved round the house, and as he was about to step from itto the veranda he heard voices that came seemingly from the juttingcorner of a wing that had been his library. He had no wish to be foundthere. Very likely the yard was visited frequently by prowlers; andthere was a beaten path across the rear which had been for years a shortcut between Amzi's and his sisters' houses. He was in no mood for ameeting with any intruder who might be there at this hour, and he wasabout to steal back the way he had come when a man's voice rosesuddenly in anger. A woman replied, evidently counseling a lower tone. 

"Here in Tom's graveyard is a fitting place to talk over our affairs. You needn't be in such a hurry to go. We may as well fix this thing upnow and be done with it. I'm broke; I haven't got a cent, and it'stough, I can tell you. But it's some satisfaction to know that Will'sbroke, too. I took care that he got his, all right. The Holtons are alldown and out. Will's as poor as I am, and my gay nephew Charlie's busydodging the sheriff. Not much left for Will now but to go out and rustlefor life insurance--the common fate of inglorious failure. "

The woman's voice rose crisp and assured on the tender spring air. 

"Your note said it was something of importance. I can't stay here allnight. I haven't any money for you and your family troubles don'tinterest me. And let me say, once and for all, that I don't propose tohave you following me round. This is a big world and there's room in itfor both of us. "

Kirkwood could not see them, though he heard perfectly every word thathad been spoken, and he could not escape without attracting theirattention. 

"See here, Lois, I've just heard a whisper from Seattle that you cleanedup a lot of money out there. Good joke on me, wasn't it? I thought youwere pretty thick with the Barkleys, but I didn't know he had let youinto his deals. I want my share; if it hadn't been for me, you wouldn'thave known Seattle was on the map. It's only fair; I'll call it fiftythousand and let it go at that. "

"Nothing; absolutely not a penny! I advise you to make yourself scarce. And if you attempt to annoy me while I'm here, I'll do something veryunpleasant about it. I agreed to meet you to-night merely to tell youthat. "

Kirkwood heard her step on the walk, and drew back. The light of themoon was full upon her. She was bareheaded and wrapped in a long coat. It was thus that he saw her again, in the shadow of the house wheretogether they had kindled their hearth, --in the garden plot whosedisorder and ruin were eloquent of her broken faith. 

She was moving away swiftly, with the light step he remembered. Holtongained her side in a long leap. 

"No, you don't! Not by a damned sight, you don't!"

Kirkwood saw them both clearly in their attitude of antagonism--the wifewho had wronged him, the friend who had betrayed him. 

"You don't shake me so easily. I want my share of the profits. It was alow trick--getting rid of me so you could spend your money on yourself;humiliating me by showing me up as a drunkard in the divorce court. Iowe you a good one for that!"

"Not a cent!" she repeated, lifting her head in mockery of his clumsyattempt to becloud the real issue. 

Her taunting tone maddened him; without warning he gripped her throatroughly. His tightening clasp stifled her cry as she struggled to freeherself. 

Kirkwood stood suddenly beside them, caught Holton by the collar, andflung him back. Holton's arm was up instantly to ward off an expectedblow. He turned guardedly, and his arm fell as he recognized Kirkwood. 

"So that's the ticket! It was a trap, was it?" And then his angermounting, he flung round at Lois. "So this is what brought you back!Well, it doesn't lower my price any! He can have you and be damned tohim, but I double my price!"

"This is my property, " said Kirkwood coldly; "if you don't leaveinstantly, I'll turn you over to the police. "

"She's come back to you, has she! Well, you needn't be so set up aboutit. She's anybody's woman for the asking; you ought to have learnedthat--"

Kirkwood's stick fell with a sharp swish across his shoulders. 

"Leave these grounds at once or I'll send you to the lockup!"

Holton looked coweringly from one to the other. The strangeness of theencounter was in the mind of each: that the years had slipped away andthat Kirkwood was defending her from the man for whom she had abandonedhim. An unearthly quiet lay upon the garden. Children's voices rosefaintly on the silvery April night from the grounds beyond. Far away, beyond the station, a locomotive puffed slowly on a steep grade. Thenoises of the town seemed eerily blurred and distant. 

"Clear out! Your business here is finished. And don't come back, " saidKirkwood firmly. 

"She asked me to meet her here;--you must have known it; it was a damnedvile trick--" Holton broke out violently; but Kirkwood touched him withthe end of his stick, pointed toward the gate, and repeated his ordermore sharply. Holton whirled on his heel, found an opening in the hedge, and left them, the boughs snapping behind him. 

Kirkwood was the first to speak. 

"He's gone, I think. I'll watch until you get safely back to Amzi's. "

He lifted his hat; his tone was one of dismissal and she turned asthough to leave, hesitated and drew a step nearer. 

"If you don't mind, I'd like to speak to you a moment. I shouldn't havethought of seeking you, of course, but this makes it possible. "

He made no reply, but waited, leaning on his stick. Her foot tapped thewalk nervously; as she readjusted the cloak it exhaled the faint scentof orris that reached him as though wafted down some dim aisle ofmemory. 

"I want to speak about Phil. It was to see Phil that I came back. I wantyou to know that I wouldn't take her away from you if I could. Theremust be no misunderstanding about this. Whatever I am or have been ormay be, I am not base enough for that. "

He was silent for a moment. 

"That is something that is not in your hands or mine, " he answered. "Phil is the mistress of her own affairs. I was perfectly willing thatshe should go to Amzi's to be with you; it's for her to decide whethershe ever comes back to me. "

"That is--generous; very generous, " she replied, as though, afterhesitating before using the word, her second thought confirmed thechoice. 

"And about the money; she told me she spoke to you about that to-day. Iappreciate your attitude. I want you to understand that I'm not tryingto bribe her. I'm glad of a chance to say that I would do nothing tospoil her loyalty to you. You deserve that; and I have no illusionsabout myself. If I thought my coming would injure her--or you--in anyway, I should go at once and never come back. But I had to see her, andit has all happened fortunately--Amzi's kindness, and hers--and yourown! Phil is so dear--so lovable!"

Her last words broke in a sob, but she quickly regained herself-control. 

"I'm glad, " he replied, "if you are not disappointed in her. We havebeen very close--comrades and friends; but she has gone beyond me; andthat was inevitable. She's an independent spirit--quite capable ofmanaging her own affairs. "

"I don't think she will ever go beyond you, " Lois answered. "She hastold me all the story--and I have read a good deal into it that shedidn't tell me. And I am very grateful. She didn't have to tell me thatyou had not embittered her against me; her way of meeting me wasreassuring as to that. It was fine of you; it wasn't what I expected ordeserved. "

Unconsciously they had begun walking back and forth in the path, andonce, as they turned, they looked at each other fixedly for the firsttime. It was the deliberate frank scrutiny of old acquaintances who seekaffirmation of fading memories after long absence. 

"As to the money, I want to protect her, as far as money can do it, fromhardship and need hereafter. I don't want you to think I offer it asrestitution--or--penance. I have plenty for myself; I'm giving upnothing in doing it. "

He tried to phrase carefully his disavowal of any thought that her giftwas a penitential act. He confessed that he had been concerned forPhil's future; and that so far he had not been able to provide for herin case of his death. This brought him to Amzi, whose devotion to Philhe praised warmly. They met immediately upon the safe ground of Amzi'snobility. Then they recurred to Phil. Presently as they passed theveranda, she sat down on the steps and after a moment he seated himselfbeside her. They had sat thus, looking out upon the newly plannedgarden, when the mystery and wonder of Phil's coming filled their heartsand minds. 

"I've thought, " she said, bending forward with her arms folded upon herknees, "that Phil ought to travel--that I might take her away for alittle while. " She waited for his assent; but when he was silent, shehurried on to set herself right in this. "But I don't believe that wouldbe best. Not with me. Trotting around with me over there wouldn't do herany good. It might spoil her point of view, which is--just right--soundand healthy. The child's a genius. She wants to write--of course youknow that. "

He did not know it. Jealousy pricked him at this sudden revelation ofsomething in Phil that he had not with all his opportunity realized. 

"She's very clever, " he responded tamely. 

"It's more than that! She has a trunkful of stuff she's written--some ofit rubbish; some of it amazingly good. "

He resented these appraisements of Phil's literary experiments. It wasdisagreeable to hear from Phil's mother things which he should havelearned for himself. His trained analytical faculties were disturbed; hehad regarded the theory of the superior keenness of maternal perceptionas rather fantastic. Phil had never confided her ambitions to him; infact, it was now clear that she had concealed them, perhaps fearing hiscriticisms. 

"She's so droll!"--and Lois laughed at some recollection. "She has adelicious humor--her own special flavor. All these people in Montgomeryare story-book people to her. She's a deep one--that little Phil! Shehas written pages about them--and the drollest of all about those womenover there. "

She indicated with a gesture the domiciles of her sisters. The fact thatPhil had utilized her aunts as literary material amused Lois profoundly. But finding that the burden of the talk lay with her she asked, "Whatwould you think of college for Phil? Or is it too late?"

"She didn't seem a good subject when the time came; and besides, " headded bluntly, "I couldn't afford it. "

"Oh, she didn't speak of it regretfully; she didn't complain because youhadn't sent her!"

"No, of course not; that wouldn't be like Phil. I'm not sure collegewould be a good thing for her now; she's read prodigiously--away aheadof most girls, ahead of most people! There wouldn't be so much thatcollege could do for her. And if she really has the creative faculty, it's better not to curb or check it. Not in her case. She led her classin high school without working at it. Whatever she wants to know shewill get without tying herself up in a college course. "

Lois nodded. He was an educated man who had himself been a teacher, andhis testimony was entitled to respect. She was far more comfortable thanhe as they continued the discussion. The breadth of her understanding ofPhil piqued him. In these few weeks Lois had learned much about Philthat had been a sealed book to him. His position was absurd; it waspreposterous for him to be learning about Phil from Phil's mother, whenit was he who had shaped the course of Phil's life. He wondered whetherLois knew that her disclosures hurt his pride, shattered his vanity. 

"The dear child seems to be the sole prop of most of the paupers in thebottoms. I went with her to look at one of her families yesterday, and Icould see where her spare change has been going. She's set up a piano inthe box factory so the girls can amuse themselves at noontime and youmay be sure they're all crazy about her. Everybody seems to be!"

The remembrance of Phil's generosities amused her. She mentioned anumber of them with murmurous glee and unmistakable admiration. Phil hadnever confided these things to him, and he reflected ruefully that herindulgence in pianos for working-girls probably accounted fordeficiencies in her own wardrobe that had not at times escaped hismasculine eye. He had mildly wondered what became of the money he gavePhil for shoes! It argued an unresponsiveness in his own nature thatPhil had concealed her adventures as Lady Bountiful from him--and he hadthought she told him everything!

He was learning about Phil from the last person in the world who had anyright to know Phil. He had seen in her precociousness, her healthydelight in books, nothing astonishing, and he had known nothing of herscribbling. His irritation grew. He was impatient to escape from thisgarden that Holton had spoken of as Kirkwood's graveyard; from thischeerful ghost beside him, with her low, musical voice and her murmurouslaughter. His thoughts flew to Nan, to whom he now meant to go with hislast appeal. 

It flashed upon him that he might assure his victory over Nan's qualmsby carrying to her the definite knowledge that there was absolutely nohope, as he fancied Nan believed there was, that he and Lois mightbridge the wide chasm that had separated them for so many years andrenew the old tie. If he could go from Lois to Nan with that news, hebelieved his case would be invincible. He would make the offer to Loisnow, on this spot whose associations might be supposed to create anatmosphere of sentiment favorable to its serious consideration. Theinterview had run into a dead wall. Quite imaginably his proximity hadbegun to bore Lois. He idled with his stick, pondering. She rosesuddenly. 

"I must go back; Phil won't know what's become of me. "

"Perhaps it would be as well to tell her that we've met, " he said. "Infact, I think she should know. "

"I prefer not, " she answered with decision. "It might trouble her; shemight think--she thinks of everything!"

"Lois, there are ways--important ones--in which it would be best forher, make her happier, if we could--try again!"

She raised her hand with one of her quick gestures, and it rested for aninstant on his arm. As she lifted her face he saw the tears bright inher eyes. 

"Don't say it; don't think of it!" she whispered brokenly. 

"For Phil's sake we ought to do it if we can, " he persisted, surprisedto find how unmoved he was. 

"For Phil's sake we wouldn't if we could!" Their gaze met searchingly. "It would be doing Phil a terrible wrong!"

"I don't understand; I can't follow that, " he answered. 

And still unmoved, untouched, he saw grief and fear in her eyes, herface twitching with the pain of inner conflict. 

"No; you don't understand!" she cried softly. "But if you meant it--ifwe either of us cared any more, don't you see that it wouldn't do! Don'tyou know how unjust--how horribly unjust it would be to her, to--to leadher to think that Love could be like that; something to be taken on andput off? It would be an unholy thing! It would be a sacrilege! No onewould be deceived by it; and Phil would know we both lied!"

"But we might work it out some way; with her to help it might not gobadly. I would do my best! I promise you that, " he said, more sincerethan he had meant to be. 

She was greatly moved and he wondered where emotion might lead her. Hewas alertly watchful for any quick thrust that might find him off guard. She went on hurriedly. 

"Tom, " she said gently, "Phil had thought of it; she spoke of it. Butnothing worse could happen to her. It would spoil the dear illusions shehas about me; and in the end she would think less of you. For you don'tmean it; it's only for Phil's sake you suggest it. "

"And for your own sake, too; to protect you from--from just suchoccurrences as--"

His eyes turned away from her to the point in the hedge through whichHolton had vanished. 

She shivered as though a cold wind had touched her and drew the cloakcloser about her shoulders. 

"I don't need any one's protection. That poor beast won't bother me. Imust say now all I shall ever have to say to you. We won't lie to eachother; we need not! There is no real soul in me. If there had been, thishouse would not have been standing here empty all these years. And yetyou see that I haven't changed much; it hasn't really made a great dealof difference in me. I have had my hours of shame, and I havesuffered--a little. I believe I am incapable of deep feeling: I was bornthat way. If I appealed to your mercy now, I should be lying. And for along time I have lived the truth the best I could. I believe Iunderstand the value of truth and honor, too; I believe I realize thevalue of such things now. I'm only a little dancing shadow on the bigscreen; but I mean to do no more mischief; not if I can help it, and Ithink that at last I have mastered myself. You see, " and quite composedshe laughed again, "I'm almost a fool, but not quite. "

He murmured something as she paused, but she did not heed him, nor askwhat he had said. He was not so relieved as he had expected to be by herprompt refusal of his offer, whose fine quixotism he felt had beenwasted upon her. He was nothing to her; and never could have been; andthis rejection was not the less disagreeable because he had expected it. It is difficult to imagine any circumstances in which a man will acceptwithout resentment the idea that he is a negligible figure in a woman'slife. The finer his nature the greater his astonishment at finding thatshe is able to complete her reckoning without including him as a factorin her calculations. And in Kirkwood's case the woman had put him in thewrong when all the right was so incontrovertibly on his side. She hadtaken high ground for her refusal, and he could not immediatelyaccommodate himself to the air of this new altitude, which he had neverexpected to breathe in her company. Her thistledown nature might be theprey of the winds, but even so they might bear her high and far. 

"I must go on and finish, for there will never be another chance. Youdeserve the best life can give you. I'm glad to know things have beengoing well with you; and Amzi says it's only the beginning. With all myheart I'm glad. It makes it easier for me--don't you see! And I knowabout Nan Bartlett; not from Phil, but from Mrs. King. I hope you willmarry Nan; and if my coming has made any difference, don't let thattrouble you! In a little while I shall be gone; but Phil mustn't knowthat. And I shall never come back here--you may rely on that; but I hopeto have Phil come to me now and then. I want to keep in touch withher, --have some part in her life. And you needn't fear that I shan'tbe--quite a proper person for Phil to visit! You will believe that, won't you?"

"Yes, Lois, " he said wonderingly; for he was touched by the wistfulnessof her plea that he should not fear her influence upon Phil. "Youwouldn't have come back to Phil unless you felt you had a right to; I'msure of that, " he said with warmth. 

"No; I should not have been base enough for that, " she replied, with alittle forlorn sigh. 

"And as for your going away, it must not be on my account. It isn'tnecessary for you to go. "

He did not speak of Nan; nor did she refer to her again. 

"I'm glad this has happened this way. I think we understand a littlebetter. Good-night, Tom!"

"Good-night, Lois!"

Their hands touched. He saw the flutter of her cloak as she passed roundthe house, seeking the path to Amzi's. The garden was very still whenshe had gone. 

CHAPTER XXV

PHIL ENCOUNTERS THE SHERIFF

The May number of "Journey's End" containing Phil's veracious account ofthe dogs of Main Street created almost as much of a sensation as theconsolidation of the First National with Montgomery's Bank. The "EveningStar" did not neglect its duty to Indiana literature. A new planetblazed in the Hoosier heavens, and it was the business of Montgomery'senterprising afternoon daily to note its appearance and speculate uponits course and destiny. The "Evening Star's" "local" wrote a two-column"story" about Phil for the Sunday supplement of the Indianapolis"Advertiser. " The fact that Miss Kirkwood belonged to one of the oldestand most distinguished families in central Indiana was not overlooked;but this was merely the prelude to a breezy description of her manyadventures, her athletic prowess, her broad democracy. The "EveningStar's" "local" was under obligations to Phil for many quiet news tips;and beyond question he fully balanced the account. The pastor of CenterChurch made "The Dogs of Main Street" the text of a sermon on the humanetreatment of dumb animals--a sermon that Phil heard perforce, as shesat, blushing furiously, beside Amzi in the Montgomery pew. 

Amzi nearly perished with pride. Busy as he was with the remodeling ofthe old bank, made necessary by the consolidation (he scorned the ideaof moving his bank into the Holton property!), he found time to stand onthe bank steps and invite comments on "Phil's latest";--there hadn'tbeen a time since Phil was six when her "latest" wasn't a subject ofspirited conversation. Phil's own happiness was mitigated somewhat bythe fact that "Journey's End" had lately refused two other manuscripts. Still the editor wrote explaining why her stories were not available andurged her to try again. "Stick to the local flavor, " he said, "and don'tread Stevenson so much. Anybody can write stories about the FrenchRevolution; not many are able to catch the character and life of MainStreet. " While she pondered this, she resolved to be a poet and sold ajingle to "Life. "

Kirkwood wired his congratulations from Chicago. He had not fullyrecovered from the shock of Lois's declaration of her belief in Phil'sgenius. Reading Phil's sketch over a lonely dinner in a Chicago hotel, he was pricked anew by the consciousness that he had never fullyappreciated Phil's qualities. What Lois had said made a difference. Hewould have chuckled over the Philesque touches in "The Dogs of MainStreet" in any circumstances, but he remembered enough of thecommencement essay to value her changes, and to note the mark of thefile on certain sentences. The thing had form and something akin tostyle. While he had been counseling Nan Bartlett as to "The GrayKnight, " writing that was quite as individual as hers had been donewithout his guidance under his own roof!

In spite of his professional successes, Fate still played pranks withhim. Nan had set herself determinedly against the idea of marrying him, and his assurance that Lois had rejected the idea of remarriage, evenfor Phil's sake, had not shaken her resolution. Lois's return had dimmedthe glow of his second romance. And Nan and Rose had gone to call onher--an act whose finality was not wasted on Kirkwood. 

The authorship of "The Gray Knight of Picardy" was now generally known, and when the Bartletts called on Phil's mother the talk ran naturallyupon books and writers; and as Nan would not talk of herself, Phil'sambitions were thoroughly discussed. Phil, knowing that the Bartlettswere coming, had discreetly taken herself off. Lois's account of thevisit, given before Amzi at the dinner-table, lacked all thoseemotional elements which Phil had assumed to be inevitable where a man'sformer wife describes a call from a woman whom that man has been at thepoint of marrying. Phil had not lost her feeling that the world is aqueer place. 

"They are splendid women, Amzi, " Lois declared. "If you don't marry Rosepretty soon, I shall have to take the matter into my own hands. "

"Thunder! Rose marry me!" Amzi ejaculated. 

"Why not!" Lois answered, composedly dropping a lump of sugar into hiscoffee. "_Nan_ can't marry you; I should never have chosen you for Nan!"

The ice cracked ominously and Amzi began talking about the furniture hewas buying for the new bank. Of course Lois knew! Phil had no doubts onthat point. That astonishing mother of hers had a marvelous gift ofpenetration. Phil's adoration was increasing as the days passed. It waslittle wonder that following Mrs. John Newman King's courageous example, people seemed to be in haste to leave cards at Amzi's for Mrs. Holton. The gossip touching Lois's return lost its scandalous tinge and becameamiable, as her three sisters were painfully aware. The "stand" they hadtaken in support of their private dignity and virtue and in the interestof public morals had not won the applause they had counted on. People towhom they went for sympathy politely changed the subject when theyattempted to explain themselves. Mrs. John Newman King told the pastorof Center Church, who had sought her advice as to his own duty, that shehoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself. These were shocking words froma woman who had known Abraham Lincoln, and who was a greater power inCenter Church than the ruling elders. 

The Presbyterians were just then canvassing the town in the interest ofa projected hospital, and the "Evening Star" printed the subscriptionsfrom day to day. Amzi's name led all the rest with one thousand dollars;and immediately below his modest "A. Montgomery, " "Cash" was creditedwith a like sum. It was whispered that Lois Montgomery Holton was theanonymous contributor. Lois's three sisters were appalled by theincreasing rumors that their erring sister had come back with money. Itwas a sinful thing, if true; they vacillated between demanding aninquiry as to the source of the unknown contributor's cash or boldlysuing for peace with Lois and Amzi. And to add to their rage, they knewthat neither Lois nor Amzi cared a picayune whether peace was restoredor not. Lois's sisters were not the first among humankind to concludethat there is a difference between Sin begging bread and Sin with caketo throw away. 

Lois's automobile dazzled Main Street at this juncture. The WilliamHolton car, splendid as it had been in its day, was a junk-pile comparedto it. The accompanying chauffeur received, it was said, a salary ofseventy-five dollars a month. Public interest fastened upon this person. A crowd that gathered in front of the old bank to inspect the car on theday that Lois and Phil brought it home from Indianapolis heard Mrs. Holton address him in a strange tongue. By nightfall every one inMontgomery knew that Lois had bought the most expensive car in town;that her chauffeur was French, and that she gave him orders in his ownlanguage just as though she had spoken it all her life. Main Street wasimpressed; all Montgomery felt the thrill of these departures from itsusual, normal life. 

Lawrence Hastings carried home details as to the "make, " horse-power andfinish of the machine that caused his wife and two sisters-in-lawindescribable anguish. Still the French chauffeur was a consolingfeature; a vulnerable target for their arrows. No woman who valued herreputation would go gallivanting over the country with a foreignchauffeur, when it was the duty of Montgomery people to employ worthycollege boys to run their machines whenever possible. The sight of Philat the wheel, receiving instructions in the management of the big car onthe day after its arrival, did not greatly add to their joy in life. Theexposure of Phil to the malign influences of a French chauffeur wasanother of Lois's sins that did not pass unremarked. Still the starswould not always fight against righteousness; Phil would be killed, orshe would elope with the Frenchman, and Amzi would be sorry he hadbrought Lois home and set her up brazenly in the house of her fathers. 

Amzi, rolling home to luncheon in the new car and rolling off again withhis cigar at a provoking angle, was not unobserved from behind theshutters of his sisters' houses. In the bank merger he had acquiredvarious slips of paper that bore the names of his sisters and theirhusbands, aggregating something like seven thousand dollars, which thedrawers and indorsers thereof were severally unable to pay. The paymentof the April interest and the general bright outlook in Sycamore affairshad induced a local sentiment friendly to the company that had alreadylost Waterman one damage suit. Fosdick thought he saw a way of makinghis abandoned brickyard pay if he could only command a little readycash. Hastings had not forgotten Phil's suggestion that he transform histheater into a moving-picture house: there were indications that thehighbrows were about to make the "reel" respectable in New York, and afew thousand dollars would hitch Montgomery to the new "movement" fordramatic uplift. And here was Amzi soaring high in the financialheavens, with a sister who gave a thousand dollars to a hospital withouteven taking credit for her munificence!

Amzi and Lois enjoyed themselves without let or hindrance from theirneighboring sisters. Packages arrived by express; decorators fromIndianapolis came and went; furniture was unpacked in the front yard;and a long stone bench and a sundial appeared in Amzi's lawn, togetherwith a pool, in the center of which an impudent little god pipedjoyfully in a cloud of spray. Such trifles as these testified to theprevailing cheer of Amzi's establishment. 

The fact that Fred Holton had turned his farm over to Kirkwood waspublic property now; and people were saying that it was fine of Amzi togive Fred employment. The way in which the Holtons crossed and recrossedthe trail of the Montgomerys had been the subject of much discussion. But the situation was clearing in so far as the Holtons were concerned. William had removed to Chicago to begin life anew; and Jack had vanishedutterly, the day following the collapse of the panic. Charles, too, haddisappeared. It was believed that Kirkwood had recovered enough fromSamuel's associates in the construction company to balance thedeficiencies occasioned by fraudulent construction and that he was notparticularly interested in Charles's whereabouts. 

"How about taking a look at the farm?" asked Amzi one Saturdayafternoon. "Fred's planting corn and we'll see how the country looks. "

Lois and Phil agreed that this was a capital idea and they set off inhigh spirits. 

As they approached the farm, Jack Whittlesey, the sheriff, passed onhorseback. 

"Looks bad for somebody, " said Phil. 

"What does?" asked Amzi. 

"When Jack goes out on his horse, it's a sign somebody's going to jail. "

"Only serving subpoenas, I reckon, " said Amzi. 

They espied Fred driving a corn-planter across a long level field, andstopped the car. He ran to the fence to talk to them, and they allalighted. It was a warm afternoon and he mopped his face with a bigbandanna as he talked to them. He rested his arms on the top rail of thefence, playing with his cap--not the disreputable old coonskin withwhich Phil had become familiar that winter, but the regular MadisonCollege cap with a scarlet "M" above the visor. 

"In the words of the poet, " began Phil, "where did you get that hat?"

"This? Oh, the day of the Main Street rumpus I lost mine and one of theboys lent me his. I meant to get him another, but I haven't been to townsince. And besides, I've forgotten his name. "

"That's George Nesbit's cap, " Phil answered, after eyeing it critically. "I know because it's an old style nobody else wore this year. Georgelives at the Phi Gam house, if you care for his address. "

"I hope you don't know them all as well as that, Phil, " remarked Lois. 

"She does, " chuckled Amzi; "she does, indeed. "

Amzi and Fred dealt in technicalities. The green of young wheat caughtthe eye in the distances. These were Amzi's acres; the Holton farm laybeyond--the land that had been Fred's. In February, Phil and Amzi haddriven out one afternoon and had found Fred sowing clover seed over thesnow-covered wheat in his own field. Her imagination took fire at allthese processes. "A calendar might be laid out in great squares upon theearth, " she had written in her notebook, "and the months would telltheir own stories. " It was all a great wonder, that man had learned soperfectly how to draw from the mute soil its sweetness and vigor. Nothing man did seemed more interesting than this tilling and sowing. She noted how even snow had its use in catching and holding seed againstthe wind, and watched the sower marking his own progress and regulatingthe distribution by his tracks. Ultimately the clover would give its ownlife to nourish and strengthen the wheat--these things kindled herfancy. Here was poetry in the making, with suns and frosts, rains andsnows taking their part in it. And Fred felt it too; she knew that. Inhis shy, guarded way he had spoken of it. But to-day he was not adreamer but a man of action. 

"Got all the help you want, Fred?" Amzi was asking. 

"Yes, sir. No troubles. I'm using my old place for a boarding-house forthe hands. Suppose you won't stay for supper?" he suggested, a littleperfunctorily. 

"Just because you're so enthusiastic, we will! But we've brought our ownfodder--Phil packed the hamper; enough for a couple of regiments. We'llmeet you at my house at supper-time and have an indoors picnic. "

They waited to watch him start the team. Phil took the wheel, and asthey rolled away Lois and Amzi exchanged a glance. 

"You trust him?" she asked, glancing meaningly at Phil's back. 

"Thunder!" said Amzi; "I don't know about _that_. "

"It might be worse, " Lois replied, and her brother looked at her insurprise. 

"He's a straightforward, manly fellow; seems to have escaped the familycurse. It must be this"--Lois indicated the fields--"that makes thedifference. There's a moral influence in it; and, " she added with asmile, "there's always a market for corn. "

"He's as square a chap as they make 'em, but as for that--" and henodded towards Phil. 

"It isn't for us to say, brother, but I believe I should trust him; andthey seem to understand each other. He's far from stupid, and the kindof man to watch over her and protect her. "

These utterances greatly astonished Amzi. He wondered whether Lois's ownexperiences were responsible for her feeling that Phil needed aprotector, and her frankly expressed liking for Fred in that connection. He was surprised but not displeased though the thought of Phil'smarrying gave him a distinct shock when considered concretely. He neverdissociated it from the remembrance of Lois's tragedies. 

They found Amzi's house in order. Phil lighted the open fire to take thechill from the living-room, which had been closed since the Perrys'departure. Amzi ran off in the machine to pay a visit to one of thecounty commissioners who lived near by: Lois with her usual adaptabilityproduced a novel and made herself comfortable on a couch. She wasabsorbed in her book before Phil left the room. Her mother's readydetachment never ceased to astonish her. Sometimes in the midst of alively conversation, Lois would abruptly take up a book, or turn awayhumming to look out of the nearest window. Her ways had beendisconcerting at first, but Phil had grown used to them. It argued forthe completeness of their understanding that these dismissals werepossible. Her mother's love of ease and luxury; the pretty knick-knacksshe kept about her; her deftness in self-adornment--the little touchesshe gave to a hat that utterly re-created it--never failed to fascinatePhil. 

Having disposed of her mother, or rather, that lady having forgotten herexistence, Phil climbed the blossomy orchard slope and looked off towardListening Hill. How many things had happened since that fall afternoonwhen she had talked there with Fred! Life that had seemed simple justthen had since shown her its complexities. She watched Fred's slowprogress with the corn-planter in the field below. 

Glancing again at Listening Hill road her wandering gaze fell upon ahorse and rider. Her eye, delighting in the picturesque at all times, was alive to the strong, vigorous lines in which man and horse weredrawn against the blue May sky. They gained the crest of the road, andthe man turned in his saddle and swept the surrounding fields in aprolonged inspection. She looked away and then sought the figures again, but they had disappeared. A little cloud of dust rose in the hollowtoward Turkey Run. It was undoubtedly big Jack Whittlesey, the sheriff. The idea of one man hunting another was repugnant to Phil to-day, inthis bright, wakened world of green fields, cheery bird song andlaughing waters. She ran down the hill to escape from the very thoughtof sheriffs and prisons, and set off for the creek, following theMontgomery-Holton fence toward the Holton barn, whither the music hadlured her that night of the change o' the year when she had danced amongthe corn shocks. The laborers were all off at work and no one was insight. 

It was a very respectable-looking barn now that Fred had patched itsweather-beaten sides and painted it. She flung back the door torevisualize her recollection of the dance. The bang of the sliding doorroused a hen to noisy protest, and it sought the open with a wildbeating of wings. The hen had emerged from the manger of an unusedstall, and in feeling under the corn-trough for eggs, Phil touched somealien object. She gave a tug that brought to light a corner of brownleather, found handles, and drew out a suit-case. She was about tothrust it back when "C. H. " in small black letters arrested her eye. Itwas an odd place for the storing of luggage and her curiosity was keenlyaroused. She had seen and heard nothing of Charles Holton since thenight he had taken her to the lecture, and barns were not likelycamping-places for gentlemen of his fastidious tastes. 

A step on the planked approach to the barn caused her to thrust the caseback under the corn-box. She sprang toward the door, and faced JackWhittlesey, who grinned and took off his hat. 

"'Lo, Phil!"

"'Lo, Jack!"

"Stealing eggs, Phil?"

"The hen deceived me; nothing doing. "

"Passed you on the way out. Hardly know your old friends now you've setup a machine, I reckon. "

"Cut that out, Jack, and feed it to the larks. You had only ten votes tospare when you were elected and I landed seven of them for you, so don'tbe gay with me. "

"I'm not gay; I'm tired. I'm looking for a party. "

"What's your friend's name?" asked Phil, picking up a straw and chewingit. 

"That would be telling. You haven't seen a man chasing over the countrywith a brown suit-case, have you?"

"Nope; nor with a black, pink, or green one. Where does the storybegin?"

"Well, not in my county. They send all the hard jobs out to us farmers. Suppose there's anybody in this barn?"

"There was a hen; but she went off mad when I came in. You'd better goback and pose on Listening Hill again; you looked rather well there--alone picket on an Alp watching for Napoleon's advance. 

 "He saw afar The coming host, but thought the glint of arms, Betokened milk-cans in some peasant's cart, "--

Phil added, bending forward and shading her eyes with her hand. 

Whittlesey, knowing Phil well, laughed his appreciation absently. 

"He's been dodgin' up and down the creek here for two days, trying tomuster nerve enough to hit the trolley and clear out. There's a nicebunch of plunder in his suit-case. "

"Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief?" Phil repeated--touching thebuttons on her shirt-waist. 

"That would be tellin'. "

"Well, don't tell, then. But not mentioning any names that particularperson wouldn't be likely to hang around here, " suggested Philmeditatively. 

The sheriff eyed her critically. 

"You know who I mean? Sure you ain't seen him?"

"No, I haven't, Jack, " replied Phil truthfully. 

"If you spot a gent with a suit-case, hop for a telephone and call thejail, and mebbe I'll whack the reward. "

"It doesn't sound like such easy money, " Phil replied. 

"Charlie and Fred ain't so terribly chummy, I guess, " remarked thesheriff leadingly. "That's why I thought I'd take a look around here. Afellow as smart as Charlie would pick the unlikeliest place to hide in. I'll have a word with Fred as I go back. I got a deputy at Stop 7, watching the cars. If Charlie's in the neighborhood we'll pinch him allright. So long, Phil. "

Whittlesey moved across the barn-lot toward his horse. Phil's mind hadbeen working busily. Beyond doubt Charles Holton was lurking in theneighborhood, waiting for a chance to escape. The suit-case pointed tothis clearly. It was undeniably her duty to tell the sheriff of herdiscovery, and it had been on the tip of her tongue to do so half adozen times during their colloquy at the barn door. Whittlesey was anold friend and one of her admirations, and it was only the part of goodcomradeship to help him. 

The remembrance of her last meeting with Charles still flamed angrily inher heart when she thought of him. There was certainly no reason whyshe should shield him from the outstretched arm of the law; yet she hadfirst hesitated, then rejected the idea of communicating to the sheriffher knowledge that the plunder with which Charles was seeking to escapewas hidden in the barn. Contemptible as Charles was and doubtlessdeserving of his impending punishment, she would not aid in hisapprehension. She did not believe that Fred in like circumstances woulddo so; and there was Ethel, their sister, on whom the disgrace ofCharles's arrest would fall heavily. 

Whittlesey swung himself into his saddle and rode slowly toward thehighway. Phil returned to the barn, considering whether she should tellFred of her discovery of the suit-case. 

She stopped short on the threshold, all her senses alert. The rear doorof the barn had been opened during her brief absence. She saw across thefields the trees that marked the Turkey Run defile, and she wasconfident that this long vista had not been visible when she firstentered. She took a step toward the stall where she had found thesuit-case, looked round cautiously before bending down to draw it outagain, and a pair of eyes met hers, unmistakably Charles Holton's eyes, fear-struck, as he peered across a farm wagon behind which he hadconcealed himself. While she had been talking to Whittlesey in thebarn-lot, he had stolen in by the rear door to be nearer his booty. 

Phil walked to the door and glanced toward Listening Hill. A quarter ofa mile away she saw Whittlesey and Fred conversing earnestly at the edgeof the cornfield. No one else was in sight. The farm hands werescattered over the fields, and were not likely to visit the barn untilthey brought home their teams. Phil, standing in the door, spoke in alow tone. 

"You can get away, by the back door. The sheriff's talking to Fred downthe lane; his man's watching Stop 7. Go back to the Run and follow it tothe red covered bridge. Keep away from the trolley line; they'rewatching it. Better make for Gaston's and take the Chicago trainthere--it comes along a little before five. "

He was furtively creeping round the wagon while Phil spoke. She heardthe creaking of the planks and turned to see him tiptoeing toward thestall. His clothing was soiled and crumpled. His bent, slinking figureas he stole toward his booty affected her disagreeably. She took a steptoward him. 

"You can't do that; you can't have that. "

"It's all the baggage I've got; just a few clothes, " he mutteredhuskily. "I crawled in here last night to sleep. I've got to see Fredbefore I go. I've been waiting two days for a chance to get to him. "

He watched her with fearful intentness as he continued his cautiousadvance upon the stall. 

"You can't have that suit-case, " said Phil in a sharper tone. "Go out bythe rear door, and keep close to the fence. There's nobody in thosefields, and I'll watch till you get to the creek. "

"I want my things; I've got to have them, " he blurted hoarsely, his handon the stall-post. 

"You can't have it. If you don't go at once I'll call the sheriff back. There's nothing in that suit-case you need. Quick! Whittlesey knowsyou're around here somewhere, and if it hadn't been for me he'd havesearched the barn. "

"He's a fool. I heard his talk through the cracks, and there's nothingin that case but a suit of clothes, and I've got to have it. It's allI've got in the world. "

"Then you won't miss it much! I'm giving you a chance to get away. Ifyou don't take it and clear out in ten seconds, I'll call Whittlesey. He's still talking to Fred just a little way down the lane. "

As she turned to reassure herself of the fact, he made a dive for thesuit-case, brought it out and rushed toward the rear door. His footcaught on the edge of a rough plank and he fell headlong, the caseflying from his hand. Phil pounced upon it, flung it with all herstrength into the farthest corner of the barn, pulled him to his feet, and pushed him through the door. She drew it shut, jerked the bar intoplace, and ran through the front door into the barn-lot. She continuedrunning until she had gained the mound on which the house stood. Shereasoned that the fugitive would hardly venture to reënter the barn, asthis would bring him into the open lot with a possibility ofencountering new foes. She saw him presently stealing along the edge ofthe field toward the creek, dodging along the stake-and-rider fence andpausing frequently to rest or make sure that he was not followed. Shesaw Whittlesey bid Fred good-bye, watched the young farmer return to hiscorn-planting, and heard his voice as he called cheerily to the horses. 

Charles gained the edge of the ravine, clambered over the fence, anddisappeared. Then Phil sighed deeply and shuddered; the fear in theman's eyes had not been good to see; and yet she had been touched withpity for him. The night he had taunted her about her mother she hadtaken the measure of his baseness; but she was glad she had helped himto escape. If there was really anything of value in the suit-case, asWhittlesey had said, the law might have it and welcome; and she wasalready wondering just how to dispose of it. If Charles followed herinstructions, he would strike across country and catch the northboundevening train. His fate was out of her hands, and it was wholly unlikelythat he would make any further effort to regain his property now thatPhil had seen it. She doubted whether he had had any real errand withFred. It was much more probable that chance alone had directed his stepsto this neighborhood, and that all he wanted was to beg his brother'sprotection and aid. Now that the excitement of the episode had passed, Phil hid the bag in a dark corner of the corn-crib and continued hertramp. 

 * * * * *

Fred, having gone for a shower and change of raiment, was late to thesupper that Phil spread in the dining-room of the Montgomery farmhouse. He seemed unusually grave when they met at the table, and Phil surmisedthat Whittlesey had discussed Charles's plight with him fully. Amzi hadspent an enjoyable afternoon cruising in the neighborhood among hisfarmer friends, and was in the best of humor. Lois, who had taken herease, reading and napping, declared that she must cultivate a closeracquaintance with farm life. She pronounced it immensely interesting, feigning to ignore the ironical glances exchanged by Phil and Amzi. Sheexclaimed in a mockery of rapture over a bowl of scentless wild violetswhich Phil had gathered. They were amazingly fragrant, she said, wavingher hand lately splashed with toilet water. 

"The fraud! She hasn't been out of the house, " Phil remarked to Amzi. 

"Why should I go out and walk over the clods in my best slippers? Idon't return to Nature; Nature returns to me. It's much pleasanter thatway. " She nibbled a sandwich, elbows on table, and asked if Montgomerystill indulged itself in picnics, a form of recreation which sheassociated only with a youthful horror of chigres. 

"Met Jack Whittlesey again, on my way back, " said Amzi. "What's hehanging round here for?"

Fred looked up suddenly, the color deepening in his face. 

"Jack's always looking for somebody, " said Phil lamely, seeking to turnthe talk. "He must dream that he's looking for people. I shouldn't likehis job. "

"He's looking for Charlie, " said Fred, raising his head squarely andspeaking directly across the table to Amzi. "Jack thinks he's hidingabout here somewhere. "

Amzi blew out his cheeks to hide his embarrassment. It was not his wayto cause pain, and there was a hurt, unhappy look in Fred's eyes. AndAmzi liked Fred--liked his simplicity and earnestness, and stubbornpluck, his manly attitude in adversity. 

"How absurd, " murmured Lois, regarding critically one of Phil's deviledeggs, made, by the way, after Rose Bartlett's recipe. 

"I thought that was all a bluff about dragging Charlie into thetraction business, " remarked Amzi, who had not thought anything of thekind. 

"He never surrendered the bonds he got from father, " said Fred, relieved, now that the matter had been broached, that he could speak ofCharlie's plight to friendly hearers. "Jack said he was trying to getaway with them, and there's an indictment against him at Indianapolis. "

"Oh, they won't catch him, " said Lois in her spacious fashion. "Theynever catch anybody. "

This was a well-intentioned effort to eliminate Charles and his troublesfrom the conversation; but Fred, not heeding, spoke again directly toAmzi. 

"I think it wasn't altogether Charlie's fault that he got mixed up inthis. The temptation to keep the bonds must have been strong. But heought to have turned them over. I can't defend his not doing it. "

Amzi was still annoyed by his unfortunate reference to the sheriff. Hefumbled in his breast pocket and drew out a brown envelope. 

"I've got something for you, Fred, that ought to cheer you up. Charlie'stroubles haven't anything to do with you. Here's the deed you gave Mr. Kirkwood for your farm. It's never been recorded, and it stands asthough it had never been made. I told Tom he had got back enough moneyto straighten up the Sycamore business out of those construction fellowswithout taking your farm, and here you are. I've been holding it alittle while just to see how you would take your troubles. Burn it; andnow let's forget about Charlie. "

Fred stared, frowning, at the deed which Amzi tossed across the table. 

"This isn't right; it isn't square, " he began. 

"Be careful how you sign papers. You may not get 'em back the next time. They tried to swindle you out of your share in your father's estate--aclean case on Charlie's part, as everybody knows. You needn't worryabout Charlie. He got a lot of stuff that never figured in hisadministrator's inventory. The Sycamore Company's perfectly satisfiedwith what's been wrung out of the other fellows, and if Charlie reallyhas some of those bonds, they belong to you. "

Lois shrugged her shoulders. The subject was distasteful. Discussions ofdisagreeable business affairs were not to her liking; and she wassincerely sorry for Fred's discomfiture. 

"The sheriff's mistaken, " remarked Phil. "Charlie hasn't any of thosebonds, and Jack won't catch him; not to-day. "

At an early age Phil had learned the dramatic value of downrightstatements. She helped herself to an olive and waited for Amzi toexplode. He exploded immediately. 

"Charlie hasn't them! Jack won't catch him?"

"Of course not. I have the bonds and Charlie's a long way from here bythis time. "

She recounted her meeting with Charles in the Holton barn, and when theyexpressed incredulity, she sprang up and darted from the room. When shereappeared with the suit-case and dumped its contents on the table, Amzi, narrowly averting apoplexy, counted the bonds carefully, and madea calculation of the accrued and unpaid interest. 

"Thunder!" he blurted. "Now, look here, Fred, don't you do anythingfoolish! We'll stack these up in the bank until Kirkwood can pass onthis business. He might have them annulled, I suppose; but we'll waitand see. "

"You wouldn't have Fred steal them, Amy!"

"Steal them! Thunder! We'll run 'em through the estate and out to Fredagain. I guess Charlie took care of his sister in the original whack;but if he didn't we'll give her a slice. " He glared at Phil fiercely. "You, Phil!"

"What's the matter, Amy?"

"You lied to the sheriff of this county!"

"If you talk to me like that I'll most certainly muss you; I will, Iwill!"

"You concealed stolen property! You helped a fugitive to escape fromjustice! You--you--!" Words failing him, he bent over the table, shakingan accusing finger under her nose. 

"Forget it, Amy! If I did I glory in my shame. Put that in your pipe. Incidentally, it occurs to me that it's about time to think of goinghome. "

"I don't know what to say to all this, " said Fred as they rose from thetable. He looked from one to the other, the deep feeling showing in hisface. "It was fine of you, Phil, to help Charlie get away; I appreciatethat. I want to say again that I think Charlie means all right. He's thebest-hearted fellow in the world. "

"Well, " said Lois kindly, "we hope he will find another chance and makegood. " Then after a moment she added: "We most of us need two chances inthis world, and some of us three!"

"And about the farm, I didn't expect that: I'm not sure it's right totake it back, " said Fred. "I want to do the square thing. "

"Thunder!" ejaculated Amzi; and then, seeing that Phil was alreadyengaged in repacking the hamper with the empty dishes he turned upon herwith his mock fury and demanded that she give him another pickled peachbefore the jar was disposed of. 

"Get that article at my house, Phil?"

Phil walked close to him and shouted in his ear as to a deaf man:--

"No, you grand old imbecile! Anybody but you would know that theyrepresent the perfection of Rose Bartlett's art! Now, will you begood!"

CHAPTER XXVI

A CALL IN BUCKEYE LANE

"Going out, mamma?"

"Rather think so, Phil!" replied Lois. 

It was the week after the visit to the farm, and Phil, who was nowscratching away furiously on a short story, had opened her mother's doorlate in the afternoon to find that lady contemplating with unusualgravity a frock she had flung across the bed for inspection. 

"What are you up to, Phil?"

"Up to my chin in ink, " replied Phil, holding up a forefinger empurpledfrom the ink she was affecting. She had read in a literary note that oneof the most distinguished of contemporaneous women novelists always usedpurple ink. Phil was spreading a good deal of it over legal cappurloined from her father's office. Kirkwood was just now in town, andhe had called her on the telephone to invite her to supper with him atthe Morton House, an arrangement which she disclosed to her mother. 

"Your father's home again?" Lois asked indifferently. 

"Yes. He has something to do here about those bonds of Charlie Holton's. It sounded rather complicated; and he wants to see Fred, and Amy was tocall him into town. "

Lois's mind was upon the gown. She compressed her lips as she continuedto scrutinize it. It was a gown from Paris and a very handsome one. Having decided that it suited her purposes, she brought out a hat thatmatched it and tossed it onto the bed. 

"How do you think I'd look in those things?"

"Adorable! Shall I order up the machine?"

"Um, no: I'll walk, I think. "

"I rather take it that I'm not invited, " laughed Phil. 

"Bless me, no! I have a call to make that wouldn't interest you. "

Phil walked to the bureau--a new one of mahogany that had been among hermother's recent substitutions for the old walnut with which the househad been filled. The folder of a steamship company lay sprawled openacross the neatly arranged toilet articles. Phil picked it up idly, andnoted certain pencilings that caused her heart to give a sudden bound. She flung round upon her mother with tears in her eyes. 

"You are not--not thinking of that!"

Lois walked over to her and kissed her. She took Phil's face in herhands, looking into her eyes steadily. 

"You dear chick, you would care!"

"Oh, you mustn't! You must _not_!" Phil cried. "And you have beenthinking of it and not telling me! And just when I thought we understoodeverything. "

"I meant to tell you to-day: I really did. It wasn't easy. But I've gotto go, Phil. I'm not sure that I haven't stayed too long! You know Inever meant to stay forever. "

"Then you haven't been happy here! You don't--you don't like _me_!"

Lois sank into a chair by the window and drew the girl down beside her. Phil gripped her mother's hands tight, and stared into her face withtear-filled eyes. 

"It's as hard for me as it is for you, Phil. But we may as well have itout. I've taken passage for the first Saturday in June, and it's not faroff. Some friends are spending the summer in Switzerland and I'm goingto join them. It was half-understood when I came here. "

"It's hard; it's unkind, " Phil whispered. The fact that her mother hadplanned flight so long ahead did not mitigate the hurt of it. Nothing, it seemed, could ever be right in this world! And she had just effectedall the difficult readjustments made necessary by her mother's return!She had given herself so unreservedly to this most wonderful of women!Lois was touched by her show of feeling. 

"I'm sorry, " she said, stroking Phil's brown head. "I have had thoughtsof taking you with me. That would be easy enough--" she pauseduncertainly, as the clasp of Phil's hands tightened. "But, Phil, I haveno right to do that. It wouldn't be for your happiness in the end; Iknow that; I'm sure of that. "

"Oh, if you only would! I'll be very good--a lot nicer than you think Iam if you will take me. "

"No!" said Lois sharply, but with a slight quaver in her voice thatcaused hope to stir in Phil's breast. 

"You hadn't any right to come back and make me love you and then runaway again! It isn't kind; it isn't just!"

"You wouldn't love me much longer if I stayed! You wouldn't love me verylong if I carried you off. You've seen the best of me: I've shown you mybest box of tricks. I don't wear well, Phil; that's the trouble withme. "

She rose abruptly and drew Phil to her feet, with an effort at gayety. 

"As it is we really love each other a lot, and it would be hazardous forme to stay longer. When I saw the first blossoms in the cherry tree, Iknew it was time to go. I used to feel that way when I was a child--asthough I just couldn't bear to stay any longer. I remember the days andhours when I used to fight it, away back there when I was a school girl. There must be gypsy blood in me. I can go on being just as you have seenme--lazy and comfortable for a long time, and then the thing becomesintolerable. It's the cause of all my troubles, one of the wobbles in mywobbly character. But now that I know what's the matter--that it isn'tjust malaria--and that the curse or whatever it is will pass in time, Isuppose it isn't a weakness any longer, because I know just what to dofor it. How's that, Phil, for philosophy!"

"Oh, you're so dear, so wonderfully dear!" cried Phil, touching hermother's cheeks lightly with her hands: "and we have had such goodtimes; and I thought we should go on forever, just chumming; and youhave stirred me all up about doing things, working--how am I ever to goon trying without you?"

"Nothing could keep you from going on and doing things; you will dogreat things. It's in you. I think maybe it's the wildness in me thathas taken this turn in you. You have more brains in a little minute thanI ever had: you are amazingly clever and wise. I'm glad it was left forme to discover it; that's one credit I've got on the Good Book. "

There was a new sweetness and a wistfulness in her gravity that did notescape Phil. Phil knew that she could not change her mother's decision. Lois was already preening her wings for flight. Like a migratory birdshe was moved by an irresistible call to other lands and other summers. Phil felt the strong columns of her young life totter; but they did notfall, and she knew they would not. It was a sad business, viewed in anylight, but life, Phil had realized since Christmas brought her motherback to her, was not a holiday affair. 

"I'm only a foolish butterfly down there in the garden, " Lois wassaying. "I can't stop long anywhere. If I did I'd make mischief. Trouble!" She threw up her hand and snapped her fingers. "What a lot oftrouble I've caused in this world! I'm causing some right now; I knowit: and it has worried me a lot. And before I flit I've got tostraighten things out a little. Don't worry: I'm not going to doanything foolish. "

She presented her back for Phil to unhook her gown; and proceeded toarray herself in the Paris frock, which she had never worn before. 

"By the way, Phil, I subscribed to a clipping bureau so you could seehow far your dog piece traveled, and it's being quoted all overcreation. Some paper calls it inimitably droll, which I think rathernice. You'll find a bunch of clippings in my second drawer there. Besure and show them to your father, and don't fail to keep him in touchwith your work: he can help you once he's aroused to what you can do. Bythe way, you must boil the slang out of your system. It's charming, butit won't do. First thing you know it will be slipping in to your ink-potand corrupting your manuscripts. You know better; I don't! As you go onNan Bartlett can probably save you a good many bumps: she's a cleverwoman. I read her book twice, and I can point out everything your fatherput into that tale. There's not much of him there; only one of his dryjokes now and then. Don't imitate anybody; write about things you seeand feel. One reason I'm not going to take you away with me is thedanger of spoiling your American point of view. Two years from now youcan go over and have a look; we'll see to that; but meanwhile makeyourself into a blotter that soaks up everything. I once met a literarycritic who said that the only American literature that's worth anythingor is ever going to be worth anything will be dug right out of the soil. I didn't know then that I had a little digger in my own family! No; theother gloves; and get me the pink parasol--the one with the whitehandle. "

She was deftly thrusting the pins through her hat before the oval mirrorwhich had been one of her acquisitions. As she drew on the gloves sheturned her supple body to make sure of the satisfactory hang of herskirt. Her good spirits had returned, and she hummed softly as Philsurveyed her. She seemed less indifferent to-day to Phil's admiration. Phil's spirits rose slowly; it was difficult to mourn in this radiantpresence. 

Lois had exercised all her arts in preparing for this mysterious call. She looked astonishingly well!--and amazingly young! Dressing had alwaysbeen to Phil one of the nuisances and troubles of life. Her aunts had soannoyed her by their fussiness, and their efforts at self-embellishmenthad so disgusted her that it had been a revelation to find her mothermaking herself into charming pictures with so few strokes and so blithean indifference to results. 

Phil watched Lois to the gate, delighting in her easy, graceful step;following the pink dot of the parasol as it was lost and found againthrough the greenery. Lois sauntered toward the college and Phil turnedinto the house, speculating as to her destination. Her mother's generalspontaneousness and inadvertence had led Phil to the belief that Loiswithheld nothing; it was inconsonant with her understanding of Lois thatthere should be any recesses where the sun did not strike uponglittering mirrors in the long corridors down which, in Phil'sadoration, her mother was forever loitering. 

Students encountered near the campus turned their heads for a secondglance at Lois, thinking her a new girl in town who had escaped theirvigilance. She walked through Buckeye Lane to the Bartletts'; loweredher parasol as she passed under the maples in the yard; bent over thelilacs that overflowed upon the path, and smiled at the drumstick as shetook it in hand to announce herself. 

Nan opened the door. If she was surprised to find Mrs. Holton on herthreshold, her manner did not betray the fact. Mrs. Holton owed her acall--a call which by the social canons was slightly overdue. 

"I am very glad to see you, " said Nan cordially. 

It was cool and pleasant in the little cottage. (Houses in Montgomeryare always pleasant and cool on the warmest days!) Lois sank into aseat, her eyes taking in the room at a glance. The flute on the musiccabinet and the 'cello beside the piano did not escape her. On thetable, where presumably Nan performed her literary labors, lay theweek's darning. There was no denying the essential domesticity of theatmosphere. Lois vaguely remembered that room from the days whenProfessor Bartlett was living, and she had been a frequent visitor, delighting in the cookies and raspberry shrub that were the inevitableitems of Bartlett hospitality when youngsters were about. 

"I'm sorry Rose isn't here; she's spending the day in Indianapolis, " Nanobserved. 

"I knew that. That's why I came to-day, " replied Lois, smiling. "Iwished to see you alone. "

They exchanged the quick glance called for by this statement. Nannodded. 

"I shall be leaving very soon, " Lois remarked, holding her parasol atarm's length and whirling it idly. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, " Nan replied. 

She shook the bracelet down upon her round white arm with her accustomedgesture, rested her elbow on the writing-table, and waited. She had justcome in from a walk and was clad in a blue wash waist and dark skirt. She was immediately conscious of the perfections of Lois's raiment, noting its points from silk hose and modish pumps to the utmost tip ofthe feather on the beguiling Paris hat. 

Nan's imagination was at work upon the situation: Tom Kirkwood's formerwife had come to call upon her, and wished to see her alone; and TomKirkwood was in love with her, and she would have married him had notthis lovely apparition returned to shake her resolution. In the way ofpeople who write she began to view the encounter with unconsciousdetachment. She was not to remain long in doubt as to the purpose ofLois's visit. 

"I am going abroad for an indefinite stay. I may return, of course, nowand then, but just to pass the time of day. Montgomery will never be myhome. Amzi and Phil--"

A smile, a slight movement of her head, a lifting of the hand completedthe sentence. 

"They are strong ties, " Nan replied, smiling in return. 

"I want to tell you how deeply grateful I am to you and your sister, foryour kindnesses to dear Phil. In these years that I have been gone youand Rose have been"--she hesitated--"like mothers and grown-up sistersto her. The result speaks for itself. Without you those sisters of minewould have made a fool of her. "

"Oh, Phil couldn't have been spoiled!" exclaimed Nan. 

"Anybody might be spoiled, " Lois insisted. "I'm rather a sad example ofthe spoiled child myself. I speak, you see, from a weight ofexperience!"

The smile continued in lips and eyes. She was tremendously at ease andher ease was disconcerting. 

"Phil has kept us delighted and bewildered. She was born withunderstanding; there's genius in the child!" said Nan, with warmth. 

"Ah! I knew you realized that! Tom"--she spoke her discarded husband'sname unwaveringly, smiling still--"Tom has not quite taken her at fullvalue, though he has been--splendid. Amzi has been a dear angel toher, --but even he has never fully taken in the real Phil. But here, inthis house"--she looked about, as though the more fully to place theroom in evidence--"you have taken her into your hearts! And she neededthe oversight of women--of women like you and Rose. You have been hergreat stimulus, the wisest of counselors. It seems almost as though Ihad left her on your doorstep! I am not so dull but that I see it all. "

Nan colored deeply. Lois's suggestion, so bluntly put, that she had casther child upon the Bartletts' doorstep aroused uncomfortable memories. After an instant's reflection Nan said:--

"Phil and her father have been unusually close; I don't believe Mr. Kirkwood has failed at any point in duty or sympathy. He is immenselyproud of her development. "

"Yes. But--he is not a woman! And there's a difference, if I haven'tforfeited my right to an opinion on that point!"

She skirted the fringes, the dim borders of the past with the lighteststep. She fumbled the keys of the closed doors as though they weresilver trinkets on a châtelaine. In Nan's consciousness they seemed totinkle and jingle softly in the quiet room. 

"I thought of taking Phil away with me, to see the world, "--Nan felt asudden tightening of the throat--"but I have decided against it. Thatwill come later. In the work she wants to do it is better for her tostay here. If she learns Montgomery she will know the world! Does thatsound a little studied? I am not a maker of phrases--far from it! Butshe has splendid talents?" she ended questioningly. 

"Phil has the best mind of any girl I ever knew: she takes my breathaway!" cried Nan. 

"So! I knew you wouldn't fail me there!"

"We all realize it: we expect great things of her, " added Nan. 

Lois bent toward her with her winning manner. She drew the parasolacross her lap and clasped it in both hands. 

"That is why I am appealing to you; that is what brought me here to seeyou--alone. I am leaving Phil here with you because--because it is somuch better for her to be with you than with me! You have done my workfor me--oh, we won't discuss that! I know it all. You must credit mewith some little understanding before we go further!"

Just where that "further" was to lead, Nan could not guess. She murmuredsomething to the effect that Mrs. Holton was far too kind. 

"There is every reason why I should be kind, " Lois retorted. "And thisbrings me to a rather more serious matter, and one--one I am notbroaching without reason. I want to speak of Tom!" she flashed. Thesmile had left her face; her lovely eyes were very grave. 

"There is nothing that we need say about Mr. Kirkwood, " said Nan, reddening and stirring uneasily. 

"Please do not say that! This is an important moment in your life andmine. And I must speak to you of Tom before I go away. We are notchildren--you and I. You are a woman and a very noble one and--you mustlet me say it--I have been one of the worst. There's no finer man in theworld than Tom; I never knew that until I had flung him away. And it'sonly because of you and Phil that he found himself again. I know it allas clearly as though I had been here every day of all these years. Youpicked up the broken pieces and made a man of him again--you and Phil. And you very much more than Phil! I've come to tell you that I'mgrateful for that. He deserves well of the world. He loves you; he wantsto marry you. If I hadn't come back just when I did, you would havemarried him. "

She knelt beside Nan with lifted face. There were tears in her eyes. 

"Don't you see--don't you understand--that that is the only way I can behappy? I'm not saying this for your sake--and only half for Tom's. It'sthe old selfish me that is asking it, " she ended, smiling once more, though with brimming eyes. 

Nan turned her head. 

"I can never do it! It's not fair for you to speak to me of him. "

"Oh, don't I know that! But I never in my life played fair! I want youto promise me that you won't say no to him! He is started on the way upand on once more: I want you to help him gain the top. He needs you justas Phil does! You have already been to him what I never could have been. It is all so easy and so plain! And in no other way can I be right withmyself. I shall never trouble you by coming back! Phil can come to mesometimes--I'm sure you will not mind that! And I shall find peace thatway! For Phil's sake you and Tom must marry!"

"Phil loves you so, " said Nan; "you have no right to leave her; youdon't know what you mean to her!"

"I'm only a pretty picture in a book! She's too keen; she'd see throughme very soon. No! It must be my way, " she said, with a little triumphantnote. She rose and turned to pick up her parasol. 

Nan watched her wonderingly, for an instant dumb before the plea of thiswoman, so unlooked-for, so amazing in every aspect. Lois touched herhandkerchief to her eyes and thrust it into her sleeve. 

"Now that's all over!" she said, smiling. 

"No; it can't be over that way, " returned Nan, quite herself again. "Fora day I thought I could do it, but I'm grateful that you came back, foryour coming made me see what a mistake it would have been. There's noquestion of his needing me. If I helped him a little to find himself, Ishall always be glad, but he has tasted success now, and he will notdrop back. And as for Phil, it is absurd to pretend that she needs anyone. The days of her needs are passed, and she is at the threshold ofhappy womanhood. I am glad you came when you did, for I see now how nearI was to losing some of my old ideals that would have made the rest ofmy life one long regret. "

"Those scruples are like you--like what I know to be true of you; butyou are wrong. I believe that in a little while you will see that youare. "

"No, " continued Nan; "I know they are not wrong. I am ashamed of myselfthat I ever wavered, but now I know I shall never be tempted again. Imay seem to be taking myself too seriously"--she smiled in her accessionof assurance--"but I have a feeling of greater relief than I dare try toexplain. I am provincial and old-fashioned, and there are things I can'tbring myself to think of lightly. I suppose the prejudices of my youthcling to me, and I can't dissociate myself from the idea that, inconspicuous as I am in the general scheme of things, I have myresponsibility to my neighbors, to society, to the world. I am gratefulthat I saw the danger in time to save myself. Your coming back was welltimed; it makes me believe"--she added softly--"that there is more thana fate in these things. I had misgivings from the first; I knew that itwas wrong; but not till now have I seen how wrong it was! And I want youto be sure that this is final--that I shall never waver again. "

"But in a little while, when I am safely out of the way--"

"Your going or coming can make no difference. I can say in all sinceritythat I wish you would stay. I think it would mean much to Phil if youshould. I hope you will change your decision. You must understand thatso far as Mr. Kirkwood and I are concerned there is no reason whateverfor your going. "

Lois drew a line in the rug with the point of her parasol, her head bentin an attitude of reflection. 

"As for Tom and me, " she said, meeting Nan's eyes after an instant, "it's only right for you to know from me that he has given me anotherchance. He has offered to try me again! It was for Phil's sake. It wasgenerous--it was noble of him! But"--she shrugged her shoulders--"I'vecaused enough misery. Not in a thousand years would I do it!"

Nan nodded, but made no reply. It was enough that she had establishedher own position, and nothing that Lois could add really mattered. AndLois, with her nice sense of values, her feeling for a situation, knewthat the interview was at an end. 

A copy of the May number of "Journey's End" lay on a little stand withother magazines. Her hand rested upon it a moment, as though she thusreferred everything back to Phil, but even this evoked nothing furtherfrom Nan. 

Lois walked to the door, murmuring nothings about the weather, the charmof the flowering yards in the Lane. 

At the door she caught Nan's hands, smiled into her eyes, and said, withall her charm of tone and manner:--

"You _will_ kiss me, won't you!"

CHAPTER XXVII

AMZI'S PERFIDY

In accommodating himself to the splendors of the enlarged bank room, Amzi had not abandoned his old straw hat and seersucker coat, albeit thehat had been decorated with a dab of paint by some impious workman, andthe coat would not have been seriously injured by a visit to thelaundry. 

Amzi was observing the new façade that had been tacked onto thebuilding, when Phil drove up in the machine. This was the afternoon ofthe 3d of July. Phil and her father were camping for a week in their oldhaunt in Turkey Run, and she had motored into town to carry Amzi to hisfarm, where he meant to spend the Glorious Fourth in the contemplationof the wheat Fred had been harvesting. 

Phil had experienced a blow-out on her way to town, a fact to which thestate of her camping clothes testified. 

"Thunder!" said Amzi; "you look as though you had crawled halfway in. "

"A naughty nail in a bridge plank was the sinner, " she explained. 

She jumped out and was admiring the alterations, which had eliminatedthe familiar steps to the old room, when Mrs. Waterman emerged from aneighboring shop. 

"You dear Phil!" she cried effusively. "I've been wanting to see you for_weeks_!"

Her aunt caught and held the brown hand Phil had drawn from her batteredgauntlet. 

"Father and I are out at the Run, " Phil explained. 

These were the first words she had exchanged with either of her auntssince Christmas. She was not particularly interested in what her AuntJosephine might have to say, though somewhat curious as to why thatlady should be saying anything at all. 

"I can't talk here, " Mrs. Waterman continued, seeing that Amzi lingeredin the bank door. "But there are things I want to discuss with you, Phil, dear. "

Main Street is hot on July afternoons; and Phil was impatient to getback to the cool hollows of the Run. 

"Oh, any time, Aunt Josie, " she replied hastily. 

"It's only fair--to myself, and to Fanny and to Kate, for me to say toyou that we never meant--we never had the slightest intention--in regardto your dear mother--"

"Oh, don't trouble about that!" said Phil. "Mamma never minded! Andplease excuse me; Amy's waiting. "

She nodded good-bye, and walked through the bank to the new directors'room where Amzi was subjecting himself to the breezes of an electricfan. 

"Indian!"

"I haven't mussed you, " observed Phil, placing her gloves on the newmahogany table, "since you started up the new bank. It's about time wewere celebrating. "

He threw up his arms to ward off the threatened attack, and when heopened his eyes and peered out she was sitting on the table with thedemurest of expressions upon her countenance. 

"False alarm; only I object to your comments on my complexion. I'm someburnt; but as it isn't painful to me, the rest of creation needn'tworry. "

"Well, you needn't kick the legs of that table with your sneakers; thattable cost money!"

"Really! Woeful extravagance. Did you see Aunt Josephine holding myhand?"

"I did, " replied Amzi. "What's eating Josie?"

"She seemed to want to kiss and make up. I excused myself owing to theheat of the day. "

"Humph! I'll tell you something, Phil, if you'll sit in a chair and benice. "

She sat in a chair and was nice. 

"I was brought up, " said Amzi, "to believe in heaven. Ever hear of theplace?"

"I have, " said Phil; "and no thanks to you. "

He ignored the fling as unworthy of his attention, and continuedsoberly, --

"I never expected, in all the years I've been attending Center Church, that I'd ever see anybody on earth that had a pass right through thepearly gates; but I guess I know one woman that's got a ticket, withstop-over privileges, and a seat in the observation car--all stamped andgood for any date. That woman, Phil, is your mother. That idea's been inmy mind a good deal lately and I thought I'd mention it. "

Phil's face assumed an unwonted gravity. Her mother's departure, in allthe circumstances of her going, had still its poignancy. Phil had beenbrave, but it had cut deep. She did not reply to her uncle's remark, butwaited for him to go on. He drew out a cigar, satisfied himself that itwas in good condition, and returned it to his pocket. 

"The day she left, your mother wrote out three checks for five thousandbucks--one for each of your aunts. She told me not to turn them overuntil she had landed on the other side. Thunder! After everything theyhad done to her and tried to do to her, she did _that_!"

He waited characteristically for her to deny the facts he had stated. Alook of great tenderness came into Phil's face. 

"Said she didn't want any unkind feelings. Said it was all right the waythey acted. _Right!_" he repeated contemptuously. "I've known men--andwomen--some; but I can't beat that! And the day the cable came sayingshe'd got to Cherbourg, I called 'em down in a bunch and gave 'em thechecks. You've noticed that your Uncle Lawrence has turned his theaterinto a moving-picture shop with a yellow-haired girl selling tickets atthe gate; and your Uncle Paul has given notice that he's going to startthe brickyard again. He's got contracts to keep him going for sixmonths. And your Uncle Waterman's started in to pay a few of his debtson the installment plan. That's all your mother's money. "

A wan smile flitted across Phil's face. 

"What you laughing at?" Amzi demanded. 

"Nothing, " said Phil; "only I seem to remember that I once saidsomething to Lawr_i_nce about cutting out the drammer and putting on thereel. And Paul and I had some talk once about bricks--" she endedmeditatively. 

"Your ideas, both of 'em, I bet!" declared Amzi furiously. "I thoughtthose fellows never had that much sense all by themselves. "

"Oh, nothing like that!" replied Phil. 

"I just thought I ought to tell you what your mother did. Lois didn'tsay for me not to tell you. I guess she thought I most likely would. "

"I'm glad you did, Amy. Everything I know about mamma makes me love herthat much more. "

Amzi turned to push the regulator on the fan, and when it had ceasedhumming he rested his arms on the table and said:--

"Seems Nan's not going to marry your father, after all?"

"No, that's all over, " she answered indifferently. 

"It was fine of your mother to want them to marry. "

"Yes, it was like her. She is wonderful about everything, --thinks ofeverything and wants everybody to be happy. "

Phil clasped her crossed knees in her hands, and did not meet heruncle's eyes. The ache in her heart that was not to be stilled whollythrough many years cried aloud. 

"Nan is a splendid woman and a mighty good friend to all of us. And yourfather's got a new shove up the ladder, and is doing splendidly. Nan dida lot for him!"

Phil loosened her hands and they fell helplessly to her sides. 

"Oh, " she cried, "I don't understand all these things, Amy! If mammahadn't come back, Nan and daddy would have married; but I don't see howthey could! It's clear beyond me how people see things one way one dayand another way the next. What's the matter with all of us anyhow, thatright isn't always right? In old times people mostly got married andstayed married, and knew their minds, but nowadays marriage seems sopurely incidental. It's got to be almost ree-diculous, Amy. "

"Well, Phil, I guess we all do the best we can. I guess we can't seevery far ahead in this world. " And then he smiled grimly. "I guess wenever know when we're going to get a puncture. There's got to be patcheson the tire before we get home. "

She gave a little shrug that she had learned from her mother and walkedover to him. She clasped his chin in her fingers and tilted his head sothat she looked straight through his spectacles into his eyes. 

"Let's stay on the bank; the swimming's dangerous!"

"What are you talking about?" he blurted, fearing that a mussing wasimminent. 

"Getting married! But you--"

She turned his head the better to search his face for telltale signs. 

"You beautifulest of old sinners, how about Rose?"

He jerked himself free and pushed away from her with a screeching of thenew chair's casters. 

"Thunder!" he gasped. "Don't you ever think that!"

"Sure you're not fooling!" she demanded, amused at the look of horror inhis face. 

He drew out his handkerchief and mopped his face. His manner was that ofa man who, having heard bad news, has just been assured of its falsity. 

"I guess, " he said, "if I was fool enough--at my age--Rose wouldn't be. I've got along so far, and I guess I can pull through. "

"Then, " said Phil cheerfully, "we'll pull through together! Thismarriage business doesn't look good to me!"

"Thunder!" He looked at her narrowly. "I wish to the Lord I could keep_you_. "

"Watch me! You know we're going abroad next summer to see mamma; that'sa date. I guess you'll keep me all right enough until you get tired ofme, or I break the bank! But why chat we here? Let's set the gasolinealight and ho for the well-hoed fields of corn!"

 * * * * *

Phil carried a bundle of mail to her father to which he addressedhimself after the supper they cooked for themselves in the camp in theirold fashion. Amzi scorned their invitation to join them, as he franklyconfessed his inability to find joy in sitting on a boulder and drinkingcoffee out of a tin cup. He preferred the comforts of his own farmhouseand Fred's society. 

Phil had promised to visit him later, and finding that her father becameengrossed immediately in an engineer's report on the Illinois tractionproperty, she stole away. 

She took the familiar ascent slowly, pausing now and then to listen tothe murmur and rush of the waters beneath. From the top of the cliff shecalled down to assure her father of her safety. The dry stubble of thenewly cut wheat was rough underfoot as she set off for Amzi's. There wasmuch sowing and reaping in the world, she philosophized, and far toomuch chaff in the garnered grain! Life, that might be so simple if everyone would only be a little bit reasonable, unfolded itself before her indim, bewildering vistas. 

Fred had started to meet her, and she saw his stalwart figure againstthe fading west. 

"Mr. Montgomery is getting nervous about you; he said for you to hurry!The fact is that I bored him and he needs you to cheer him up. "

"Which is fishing, " Phil replied. "I had the dishes to wash. There's alot to do in a camp. "

"You'd better not mention the dishwashing; that's what made him cross. "

"Cross! Dear old Amy cross!" laughed Phil. "Why, Fred, he doesn't knowhow to spell the word!"

They followed a lane beside a cornfield, talking spiritedly. Fredpaused, lifted his head and filled his lungs with the fresh cool air. Itwas with a sense of elation that he traversed these fields of his owntilling and sowing and reaping. There was something in his bronzed facethat had not been there when Phil first knew him. He carried hisshoulders straighter and was less timid; he expressed himself with moreconfidence and was beyond question on very good terms with the world. Atevery meeting they had somehow seemed to make progress; they really goton famously together now that he was no longer shy in her company andhad caught the spirit of her humor. 

She had wondered frequently whether she was in love with him. Herspeculations had been purely subjective; she had not been concerned inthe least with his attitude toward her. It had occurred to her in othermoods that he would be an interesting character in a book and she hadeven jotted down notes which would have astonished him greatly if he hadbeen vouchsafed a glance at those amazing memoranda. Viewed objectivelyhe was an attractive protagonist for a story dealing with the return tothe soil of a young man, who, trying city life without success, soughtrefuge in the fields of his ancestors. The heroine must be a haughtycity girl whose scorn should yield slowly to admiration and love. Thelast chapter of the tale should be called "The Harvest. " She thoughtwell of the idea, and meant to sketch an outline of it as soon as shefinished a short story about the young gentleman who presided over thesoda-fountain at Struby's, the simple chronicle of whose love affairwith the cashier at Bernstein's she was just now transcribing for"Journey's End. "

A new incident for that delectable yarn now popped into her head. Fredwas talking about the corn which had nothing whatever to do withStruby's or the cashier at Bernstein's. She stopped and whistled as therevelation of new possibilities in her story flashed upon her. 

"What's the matter, Phil?"

"Nothing, " she answered. "I just thought of something!"

Phil rested her arms on the top rail of the fence and lifted her eyesdreamily to the glowing planet that for the moment reigned alone in theheavens. But her thoughts were in Main Street, not in Jupiter. Theinspector on the trolley line--the one with the red mustache, the onewho had punched the head of a conductor for disputing the justice of areprimand for which the inspector had been responsible--he mustcertainly be brought into the story. She was disgusted with herself thatit had never occurred to her before. The adored cashier should enter thedrug-store to refresh herself with a chocolate sundae, and the inspectorshould follow--"

"Phil, " said Fred. 

Phil, intent upon her characters, did not respond. She did not know thather face lifted to the bright planet had quickened his pulses, roused athousand longings in his heart. 

His hand stole along the rail until it touched hers. In her deepabsorption she did not notice it, or pretended that she did not; butwhen he took a step nearer she drew her hand away gently. The star heldher gaze as though it possessed some mesmeric power. A smile was uponher face as the situation at the soda-water counter took form, became averitable drama in her imagination. 

She struck her hands together and chirruped. Fred stared at her, abashed. His hand lay where it had been, but her warm slim fingers hadslipped away! When Phil was "thinking" she wholly bewildered him. Justas a girl, the loveliest in the world, Phil was far enough removed fromhim; but as a girl who "wrote, " who improvised verses, who was caughtaway as by invisible hands in her fitful dreaming, she deepened hishumility. He had often wondered whether he would ever gain courage totouch her hand in just that way; and now that he had dared it hadprofited him nothing. She had apparently been wholly unmindful of an actthat had left him trembling. She hadn't even resented it!

"Phil, I've been looking forward to seeing you all day. I've beenthinking about you--particularly. "

"That's not so surprising, " replied Phil, returning to earth a littlereluctantly, "when I've been seeing you every evening and it was prettysure to happen so to-day. Let's hurry along or Amy will say bitterthings to us that he will always regret. "

"I want to tell you something before we go on, " he said, with a gravitythat caused her to look at him sharply. 

"Fred Holton, you and I are old friends now, and good pals. I hopeyou're not going to spoil it all. "

"I love you, Phil; I can't help telling you: I have to tell you now. "

She reached down, picked up a pebble and flung it at the star. 

Assured, by the sound of its fall afar off in the corn, that it hadmissed Jupiter, she gave him her attention. He broke in before she couldspeak. 

"I know there are reasons why I shouldn't tell you. I want you to know Ihave thought about them; I know that there are family reasons why--"

She laid her hand gently on his arm. 

"Dear old Fred, " she began, as a boy might have spoken to a comrade introuble, "there's nothing about you that isn't altogether fine. Thething you were about to say you don't need to say--ever! If Amy didn'tknow you were one of the best fellows in the world, he wouldn't have gotbehind you when things were going wrong. He knew all those things thatare in your mind and he didn't care, and you may be sure I don't. Sothat's all right, Fred. "

His hope mounted as she spoke. The hand on his arm thrilled him. Thefact that he was a Holton did not, then, make any difference, and he hadbeen troubled about that ever since he realized how dear she had grownto him. 

"You've all been mighty good to me. If it hadn't been for your fatherand Mr. Montgomery, I should have lost the farm. I'm better off than Iever expected to be and I owe it all to them. It's a big thing when afellow's clear down and out to have helping hands like theirs. I don'tknow how to say these things, but I love you, Phil. You don't know whatit has meant to know you--how thinking about you makes the day's workeasier as I tramp these fields. I know I oughtn't to ask a girl like youto share a farmer's life, but I'll be so good to you, Phil! And I meanto go on and win. You've made the world a different place for me, Phil. I know what a poor clod I am, but I mean to study and to try and measureup to you. "

"Cut out that last proposition, Fred! I'm the harum-scarumest girl onearth and I know it. I'd be a real handicap to you, or any other man. Gracious! Why didn't you tell me you were going to make love to me andI'd have put on my other suit. I'll never forgive you for this, FredHolton; it's taking an unkind advantage!"

"I don't believe you think I mean it!" he cried despairingly, as hergaze wandered across the fields to the far horizon. 

"If I thought you didn't, I should never speak to you again, " shedeclared severely, meeting his eyes. 

 "The corn was glad When he had told his love. The evening star Chortled in joy. The cattle on the hills--

"Oh, come on, Fred, and let's stop foolishing!"

"Please, Phil? If only you cared a little!" he pleaded forlornly. 

"A little! I care a whole lot about you! I respect you and admire you;and I suppose, to be real frank about it, I love you a little tiny bit. But as for marrying you or anybody else--that's different, oh, verydifferent! You see, Fred, " she continued, abruptly abandoning herhalf-chaffing tone, "the ice is too thin; it makes me shudder to thinkof it! Instead of people being settled when they get married, it seemsto make them nervous. I'm going to study and work and work and _work_! Iwant to see what kind of a life I can build up for myself--and then Iwant to stand off and look at it--a good long look before I allowanybody else to have a share in it. That's all of that, Fred. "

"But, Phil. "

As she started toward the house he stepped quickly in front of her. Theshadows deepened round them, and the wind whispered in the corn. Therattle of a wagon descending Listening Hill reached them faintly andPhil lifted her head at the vague, blurred sound. After her brave speecha mood of loneliness swept her heart, and the cheer with which she hadlately fortified herself against depression failed to respond to hersummons. She had no control over the lives of her mother and father. Theone beyond the sea was not more hopelessly remote than the other in hiscamp by the creek. They and all the others who were near and dear--Amzi, even, and Nan and Rose--seemed strangely beyond her reach. The fields, the woodlands etched darkly against the sky, suddenly became Fred'sallies. He was of kin to them; he had confessed in their later talks toa simple spiritual faith born of contact with the earth, the study ofits secrets, the pondering of its mysteries. With him there would bepeace and security. Her heart ached with tenderness and longing. Thequalities her nature lacked he supplied, and love and faith like hiswere not lightly to be put aside. Fred in the dusk before her took formin her mind as a refuge and hope. He was big and strong and kind; heloved her and it was sweet to be loved by him. He took her hands, thatfluttered and became still like two forlorn birds; and then her armsstole round his neck in a tight clasp. 

"Dear Fred!" she cried, half-sobbing; "don't you ever leave me!"

 * * * * *

A little later, as they walked hand in hand toward the house, he pointedtoward the creek. 

"You see, Phil, about your work, I've thought all that out. I want youto go on with it. I've planned a kind of studio for you over there, inthat clump of trees on the edge of the Run. I'm going to build a littlebungalow, all glass on the creek side, where you can study and write, while I'm off making the corn grow. And in the evenings we'll go outthere and sit and talk. I've thought a lot about that. "

"But, you goose, that won't be helping you any, the way a farmer's wifehas to help her husband. I won't be of any use to you, writing piecesfor editors to fire back at me. "

"They won't send them back; and if they do, I'll punch their heads. "

"And daddy can live with us, can't he--always, Fred? Where we are willbe home for him!"

"Yes; of course, Phil. I've thought about that, too. I've thought aboutalmost everything. And I'm not afraid of life, Phil, --not with you. Outhere in the fields it's different from anywhere else, and easier. Thoseold stars are closer, some way, here in the country. You've got moreroom to think in, and it isn't a narrow life, but a broad one when youconsider it. You've taught me to understand all that, Phil! I believeyou feel a good deal about it as I do, and the work you want to do oughtto be better for being done out here where the corn grows tall. We won'tstay here always. We'll go off in the winters and look at the big world, and come back home to study it over. And we'll try to do a little goodas we go along. "

"Yes; we mustn't forget that, Fred. "

His simple way of speaking of things that meant much to him had alwaystouched her. Her pressure tightened on his hand and he bent and kissedher. 

"But, Fred!" she exclaimed suddenly, as they loitered on, "Amy will beawfully cross. We'd planned to go abroad next summer, and he won'tforgive me if I get married so I can't. "

"Oh, don't you worry about _him_!"

"Of course I'll worry about him; why shouldn't I?" she demanded. 

"Because I told him I was going to ask you, " Fred laughed, "and he said'Thunder' and blew his nose and wished me good luck!"

"When did all that happen, if you please, sir?"

"Last Sunday. We talked about you all afternoon. "

"And he said--oh, the hypocrite!" she cried; and then declaredresolutely, "I'm going to muss him! Come on, Fred; I'll race you to thehouse!"

THE END

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 +-----------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the | | original document have been preserved. | | | | Typographical errors corrected in the text: | | | | Page 54 though changed to thought | | Page 237 sweatmeat changed to sweetmeat | | Page 329 our changed to out | | Page 360 fradulent changed to fraudulent | +-----------------------------------------------+