The Turmoil .........................................................................................................................................................1

There is a midland city in the heart of fair, open country, a dirty and wonderful city nesting dingily in the fog

of its own smoke. The stranger must feel the dirt before he feels the wonder, for the dirt will be upon him

instantly. It will be upon him and within him, since he must breathe it, and he may care for no further proof

that wealth is here better loved than cleanliness; but whether he cares or not, the negligently tended streets

incessantly press home the point, and so do the flecked and grimy citizens. At a breeze he must smother in

the whirlpools of dust, and if he should decline at any time to inhale the smoke he has the meager alternative

The smoke is like the bad breath of a giant panting for more and more riches. He gets them and pants the

fiercer, smelling and swelling prodigiously. He has a voice, a hoarse voice, hot and rapacious trained to one

tune: "Wealth! I will get Wealth I will make Wealth! I will sell Wealth for more Wealth! My house shall be

dirty, my garment shall be dirty, and I will foul my neighbor so that he cannot be cleanbut I will get

Wealth! There shall be no clean thing about me: my wife shall be dirty and my child shall be dirty, but I will

get Wealth!" And yet it is not wealth that he is so greedy for: what the giant really wants is hasty riches. To

Not so long ago as a generation, there was no panting giant here, no heaving, grimy city; there was but a

pleasant big town of neighborly people who had understanding of one another, being, on the whole, much of

the same type. It was a leisurely and kindly place"homelike," it was calledand when the visitor had been

taken through the State Asylum for the Insane and made to appreciate the view of the cemetery from a little

hill, his host's duty as Baedeker was done. The good burghers were given to jogging comfortably about in

phaetons or in surreys for a family drive on Sunday. No one was very rich; few were very poor; the air was

But there was a spirit abroad in the land, and it was strong here as elsewherea spirit that had moved in the

depths of the American soil and labored there, sweating, till it stirred the surface, rove the mountains, and

emerged, tangible and monstrous, the god of all good American hearts Bigness. And that god wrought the

In the souls of the burghers there had always been the profound longing for size. Year by year the longing

increased until it became an accumulated force: We must Grow! We must be Big! We must be Bigger!

Bigness means Money! And the thing began to happen; their longing became a mighty Will. We must be

Bigger! Bigger! Bigger! Get people here! Coax them here! Bribe them! Swindle them into coming, if you

must, but get them! Shout them into coming! Deafen them into coming! Any kind of people; all kinds of

people! We must be Bigger! Blow! Boost! Brag! Kill the faultfinder! Scream and bellow to the Most High:

Bigness is patriotism and honor! Bigness is love and life and happiness! Bigness is Money! We want

They got it. From all the states the people came; thinly at first, and slowly, but faster and faster in thicker and

thicker swarms as the quick years went by. White people came, and black people and brown people and

yellow people; the negroes came from the South by the thousands and thousands, multiplying by other

thousands and thousands faster than they could die. From the four quarters of the earth the people came, the

broken and the unbroken, the tame and the wildGermans, Irish, Italians, Hungarians, Scotch, Welsh,

English, French, Swiss, Swedes, Norwegians, Greeks, Poles, Russian Jews, Dalmatians, Armenians,

Rumanians, Servians, Persians, Syrians, Japanese, Chinese, Turks, and every hybrid that these could

propagate. And if there were no Eskimos nor Patagonians, what other human strain that earth might furnish

With Bigness came the new machinery and the rush; the streets began to roar and rattle, the houses to

tremble; the pavements were worn under the tread of hurrying multitudes. The old, leisurely, quizzical look

of the faces was lost in something harder and warier; and a cockney type began to emerge discerniblya

cynical young mongrel, barbaric of feature, muscular and cunning; dressed in good fabrics fashioned

apparently in imitation of the sketches drawn by newspaper comedians. The female of his kind came with

him a pale girl, shoddy and a little rouged; and they communicated in a nasal argot, mainly insolences and

elisions. Nay, the common speech of the people showed change: in place of the old midland vernacular,

irregular but clean, and not unwholesomely drawling, a jerky dialect of coined metaphors began to be heard,

The city piled itself high in the center, tower on tower for a nucleus, and spread itself out over the plain, mile

after mile; and in its vitals, like benevolent bacilli contending with malevolent in the body of a man, missions

and refuges offered what resistance they might to the saloons and all the hells that cities house and shelter.

Temptation and ruin were ready commodities on the market for purchase by the venturesome; highwaymen

walked the streets at night and sometimes killed; snatching thieves were busy everywhere in the dusk; while

housebreakers were a common apprehension and frequent reality. Life itself was somewhat safer from

intentional destruction than it was in medieval Rome during a faction warthough the Roman murderer was

more like to pay for his deedbut death or mutilation beneath the wheels lay in ambush at every crossing.

The politicians let the people make all the laws they liked; it did not matter much, and the taxes went up,

which is good for politicians. Lawmaking was a pastime of the people; nothing pleased them more. Singular

fermentation of their humor, they even had laws forbidding dangerous speed. More marvelous still, they had

a law forbidding smoke! They forbade chimneys to smoke and they forbade cigarettes to smoke. They made

laws for all things and forgot them immediately; though sometimes they would remember after a while, and

hurry to make new laws that the old laws should be enforcedand then forget both new and old. Wherever

enforcement threatened Money or Votes or wherever it was too much to botherit became a joke.

So the place grew. And it grew strong. Straightway when he came, each man fell to the same worship:

The Sheridan Building was the biggest skyscraper; the Sheridan Trust Company was the biggest of its kind,

and Sheridan himself had been the biggest builder and breaker and truster and buster under the smoke. He

had come from a country crossroads, at the beginning of the growth, and he had gone up and down in the

booms and relapses of that period; but each time he went down he rebounded a little higher, until finally, after

a year of overwork and anxietythe latter not decreased by a chance, remote but possible, of recuperation

from the former in the penitentiaryhe found himself on top, with solid substance under his feet; and

thereafter "played it safe." But his hunger to get was unabated, for it was in the very bones of him and grew

He was the city incarnate. He loved it, calling it God's country, as he called the smoke Prosperity, breathing

the dingy cloud with relish. And when soot fell upon his cuff he chuckled; he could have kissed it. "It's good!

It's good!" he said, and smacked his lips in gusto. "Good, clean soot; it's our lifeblood, God bless it!" The

smoke was one of his great enthusiasms; he laughed at a committee of plaintive housewives who called to

beg his aid against it. "Smoke's what brings your husbands' money home on Saturday night, "he told them,

jovially. "Smoke may hurt your little shrubberies in the front yard some, but it's the catarrhal climate and the

adenoids that starts your chuldern coughing. Smoke makes the climate better. Smoke means good health: it

makes the people wash more. They have to wash so much they wash off the microbes. You go home and ask

your husbands what smoke puts in their pockets out o' the payrolland you'll come around next time to get

It was Narcissism in him to love the city so well; he saw his reflection in it; and, like it, he was grimy, big,

careless, rich, strong, and unquenchably optimistic. From the deepest of his inside all the way out he believed

it was the finest city in the world. "Finest" was his word. He thought of it as his city as he thought of his

family as his family; and just as profoundly believed his city to be the finest city in the world, so did he

believe his family to bein spite of his son Bibbsthe finest family in the world. As a matter of fact, he

Bibbs Sheridan was a musing sort of boy, poor in health, and considered the failurethe "odd one"of the

family. Born during that most dangerous and anxious of the early years, when the mother fretted and the

father took his chance, he was an illnourished baby, and grew meagerly, only lengthwise, through a feeble

childhood. At his christening he was committed for life to "Bibbs" mainly through lack of imagination on his

mother's part, for though it was her maiden name, she had no strong affection for it; but it was "her turn" to

name the baby, and, as she explained later, she "couldn't think of anything else she liked AT ALL!" She

offered this explanation one day when the sickly boy was nine and after a long fit of brooding had demanded

some reason for his name's being Bibbs. He requested then with unwonted vehemence to be allowed to

exchange names with his older brother, Roscoe Conkling Sheridan, or with the oldest, James Sheridan,

Junior, and upon being refused went down into the cellar and remained there the rest of that day. And the

cook, descending toward dusk, reported that he had vanished; but a search revealed that he was in the

coalpile, completely covered and still burrowing. Removed by force and carried upstairs, he maintained a

cryptic demeanor, refusing to utter a syllable of explanation, even under the lash. This obvious thing was

wholly a mystery to both parents; the mother was nonplussed, failed to trace and connect; and the father

regarded his son as a stubborn and mysterious fool, an impression not effaced as the years went by.

At twentytwo, Bibbs was physically no more than the outer scaffolding of a man, waiting for the building to

begin insidea longshanked, longfaced, rickety youth, sallow and hollow and haggard, darkhaired and

darkeyed, with a peculiar expression of countenance; indeed, at first sight of Bibbs Sheridan a stranger

might well be solicitous, for he seemed upon the point of tears. But to a slightly longer gaze, not grief, but

mirth, was revealed as his emotion; while a more searching scrutiny was proportionately more puzzlinghe

seemed about to burst out crying or to burst out laughing, one or the other, inevitably, but it was impossible

to decide which. And Bibbs never, on any occassion of his life, either laughed aloud or wept.

He was a "disappointment" to his father. At least that was the parent's word a confirmed and established

word after his first attempt to make a "business man" of the boy. He sent Bibbs to "begin at the bottom and

learn from the ground up" in the machineshop of the Sheridan Automatic Pump Works, and at the end of six

months the family physician sent Bibbs to begin at the bottom and learn from the ground up in a sanitarium.

"You needn't worry, mamma," Sheridan told his wife. "There's nothin' the matter with Bibbs except he hates

work so much it makes him sick. I put him in the machineshop, and I guess I know what I'm doin' about as

well as the next man. Ole Doc Gurney always was one o' them nutty alarmists. Does he think I'd do anything

Anything except perfectly definite health or perfectly definite disease was incomprehensible to Sheridan. He

had a genuine conviction that lack of physical persistence in any task involving money must be due to some

subtle weakness of character itself, to some profound shiftlessness or slyness. He understood typhoid fever,

pheumonia, and appendicitisone had them, and either died or got over them and went back to workbut

when the word "nervous" appeared in a diagnosis he became honestly suspicious: he had the feeling that there

was something contemptible about it, that there was a nigger in the woodpile somewhere.

"Look at me," he said. "Look at what I did at his age! Why, when I was twenty years old, wasn't I up every

morning at four o'clock choppin' wood yes! and out in the dark and the snowto build a fire in a country

grocery store? And here Bibbs has to go and have a DOCTOR because he can'tPho! it makes me tired! If

He paced the bedroomthe usual setting for such parental discussionsin his nightgown, shaking his big,

grizzled head and gesticulating to his bedded spouse. "My Lord!" he said. "If a little, teeny bit o' work like

this is too much for him, why, he ain't fit for anything! It's ninetenths imagination, and the rest of itwell, I

won't say it's deliberate, but I WOULD like to know just how much of it's put on!"

"Bibbs didn't want the doctor," said Mrs. Sheridan. "It was when he was here to dinner that night, and noticed

"Eat!" he snorted. "Eat! It's work that makes men eat! And it's imagination that keeps people from eatin'.

Busy men don't get time for that kind of imagination; and there's another thing you'll notice about good

health, if you'll take the trouble to look around you, Mrs. Sheridan: busy men haven't got time to be sick and

they don't GET sick. You just think it over and you'll find that ninetynine per cent. of the sick people you

"Look at the other boys," her husband bade her. "Look at Jim and Roscoe. Look at how THEY work! There

isn't a shiftless bone in their bodies. Work never made Jim or Roscoe sick. Jim takes half the load off my

shoulders already. Right now there isn't a harderworkin', brighter business man in this city than Jim. I've

pushed him, but he give me something to push AGAINST. You can't push 'nervous dyspepsia'! And look at

Roscoe; just LOOK at what that boy's done for himself, and barely twentyseven years old married, got a

fine wife, and ready to build for himself with his own money, when I put up the New House for you and

"Papa, you'll catch cold in your bare feet," she murmured. "You better come to bed."

"And I'm just as proud of Edie, for a girl," he continued, emphatically, "as I am of Jim and Roscoe for boys.

She'll make some man a mighty good wife when the time comes. She's the prettiest and talentedest girl in the

United States! Look at that poem she wrote when she was in school and took the prize with; it's the best poem

I ever read in my life, and she'd never even tried to write one before. It's the finest thing I ever read, and R. T.

Bloss said so, too; and I guess he's a good enough literary judge for me turns out more advertisin' liter'cher

than any man in the city. I tell you she's smart! Look at the way she worked me to get me to promise the New

Houseand I guess you had your finger in that, too, mamma! This old shack's good enough for me, but you

and little Edie 'll have to have your way. I'll get behind her and push her the same as I will Jim and Roscoe. I

tell you I'm mighty proud o' them three chuldern! But Bibbs" He paused, shaking his head. "Honest,

mamma, when I talk to men that got ALL their boys doin' well and worth their salt, why, I have to keep my

Mrs. Sheridan tossed her head fretfully upon the pillow. "You did the best you could, papa," she said,

He glared at her indignantly. "Reproachin' myself!" he snorted. "I ain't doin' anything of the kind! What in the

name o' goodness would I want to reproach myself for? And it wasn't the 'best I could,' either. It was the best

ANYBODY could! I was givin' him a chance to show what was in him and make a man of himselfand

He went to the oldfashioned gasfixture, turned out the light, and muttered his way morosely into bed.

"More like hookworm, I said," he explained, speaking louder. "I don't know what to do with him!"

Beginning at the beginning and learning from the ground up was a long course for Bibbs at the sanitarium,

with milk and "zwieback" as the basis of instruction; and the months were many and tiresome before he was

considered near enough graduation to go for a walk leaning on a nurse and a cane. These and subsequent

months saw the planning, the building, and the completion of the New House; and it was to that abode of

Bigness that Bibbs was brought when the cane, without the nurse, was found sufficient to his support.

Edith met him at the station. "Well, well, Bibbs!" she said, as he came slowly through the gates, the last of all

the travelers from that train. She gave his hand a brisk little shake, averting her eyes after a quick glance at

him, and turning at once toward the passage to the street. "Do you think they ought to 've let you come? You

"But I certainly do look better," he returned, in a voice as slow as his gait; a drawl that was a necessity, for

when Bibbs tried to speak quickly he stammered. "Up to about a month ago it took two people to see me.

Edith did not turn her eyes directly toward him again, after her first quick glance; and her expression, in spite

of her, showed a faint, troubled distaste, the look of a healthy person pressed by some obligation of business

to visit a "bad" ward in a hospital. She was nineteen, fair and slim, with small, unequal features, but a

prettiness of color and a brilliancy of eyes that created a total impression close upon beauty. Her movements

were eager and restless: there was something about her, as kind old ladies say, that was very sweet; and there

was something that was hurried and breathless. This was new to Bibbs; it was a perceptible change since he

had last seen her, and he bent upon her a steady, whimsical scrutiny as they stood at the curb, waiting for an

"That's the new car," she said. "Everything's new. We've got four now, besides Jim's. Roscoe's got two."

"Oh, WE're all well," she said, briskly; and then, as if something in his tone had caught her as significant,

"You look" He paused again, taking in the full length of herher trim brown shoes, her scant, tapering,

rough skirt, and her coat of brown and green, her long green tippet and her mad little rough hat in the mad

"You look," he answered, as his examination ended upon an incrusted watch of platinum and enamel at her

wrist, "you lookexpensive!" That was a substitute for what he intended to say, for her constraint and

preoccupation, manifested particularly in her keeping her direct glance away from him, did not seem to grant

"I expect I am!" she laughed, and sidelong caught the direction of his glance. "Of course I oughtn't to wear it

in the daytimeit's an evening thing, for the theaterby my day wristwatch is out of gear. Bobby

Lamhorn broke it yesterday; he's a regular rowdy sometimes. Do you want Claus to help you in?"

"Oh no," said Bibbs. "I'm alive." And after a fit of panting subsequent to his climbing into the car unaided, he

"We only got your telegram this morning," she said, as they began to move rapidly through the "wholesale

district" neighboring the station. "Mother said she'd hardly expected you this month."

"They seemed to be through with me up there in the country," he explained, gently. "At least they said they

were, and they wouldn't keep me any longer, because so many really sick people wanted to get in. They told

me to go home and I didn't have any place else to go. It 'll be all right, Edith; I'll sit in the woodshed until

"Pshaw!" She laughed nervously. "Of course we're all of us glad to have you back."

"Of course! Didn't he write and tell you to come home?" She did not turn to him with the question. All the

She flushed a little. "I expect I ought to 've written sometime, or one of the boys"

"You can't think how busy we've all been this year, Bibbs. I often planned to writeand then, just as I was

going to, something would turn up. And I'm sure it's been just the same way with Jim and Roscoe. Of course

"Of course!" he said, readily. "There's a chunk of coal fallen on your glove, Edith. Better flick it off before it

"We've been having very bright weather this monthfor us." She blew the flake of soot into the air, seeming

He looked up at the dingy sky, wherein hung the disconsolate sun like a cold tin pan nailed up in a

smokehouse by some lunatic, for a decoration. "Yes," said Bibbs. "It's very gay." A few moments later, as

"Good gracious!" she cried. "Didn't you know we'd moved? Didn't you know we were in the New House?"

"We've been there a month! Good gracious! Didn't you know" She broke off, flushing again, and then

went on hastily: "Of course, mamma's never been so busy in her life; we ALL haven't had time to do anything

but keep on the hop. Mamma couldn't even come to the station today. Papa's got some of his business

friends and people from around the OLDhouse neighborhood coming tonight for a big dinner and

'housewarming'dreadful kind of peoplebut mamma's got it all on her hands. She's never sat down a

"I don't like some of the things father WOULD have in it, but it's the finest house in town, and that ought to

be good enough for me! Papa bought one thing I likea view of the Bay of Naples in oil that's perfectly

beautiful; it's the first thing you see as you come in the front hall, and it's eleven feet long. But he would have

that old fruit picture we had in the Murphy Street house hung up in the new diningroom. You remember

ita table and a watermelon sliced open, and a lot of rougedlooking apples and some shiny lemons, with

two dead prairiechickens on a chair? He bought it at a furniturestore years and years ago, and he claims it's

a finer picture than any they saw in the museums, that time he took mamma to Europe. But it's horribly out of

date to have those things in diningrooms, and I caught Bobby Lamhorn giggling at it; and Sibyl made fun of

it, too, with Bobby, and then told papa she agreed with him about its being such a fine thing, and said he did

just right to insist on having it where he wanted it. She makes me tired! Sibyl!"

Edith's first constraint with her brother, amounting almost to awkwardness, vanished with this theme, though

she still kept her full gaze always to the front, even in the extreme ardor of her denunciation of her

"SIBYL!" she repeated, with such heat and vigor that the name seemed to strike fire on her lips. "I'd like to

know why Roscoe couldn't have married somebody from HERE that would have done us some good! He

could have got in with Bobby Lamhorn years ago just as well as now, and Bobby 'd have introduced him to

the nicest girls in town, but instead of that he had to go and pick up this Sibyl Rink! I met some awfully nice

people from her town when mamma and I were at Atlantic City, last spring, and not one had ever heard of the

"Up to the time I found her out!" the sister returned, with continuing vehemence. "I've found out some things

"Well" Edith hesitated, her lips setting primly. "Of course, I always did see that she never cared the snap of

The sister emitted a shrill cry, to be interpreted as contemptuous laughter, and, in her emotion, spoke too

"Never mind, Edith," he consoled her. "You see, she couldn't have married me, because I didn't know her;

and besides, if she's as mercenary as all that she'd have been too clever. The head doctor even had to lend me

"I didn't mean anything unpleasant about YOU," Edith babbled. "I only meant I thought she was the kind of

girl who was so simply crazy to marry somebody she'd have married anybody that asked her."

"Yes, yes," said Bibbs, "it's all straight." And, perceiving that his sister's expression was that of a person

"Roscoe's perfectly lovely to her," she continued, a moment later. "Too lovely! If he'd wake up a little and lay

down the law, some day, like a MAN, I guess she'd respect him more and learn to behave herself!"

"Oh, well, I mean she's so insincere," said Edith, characteristically evasive when it came to stating the very

Bibbs contented himself with a noncommittal gesture. "Business is crawling up the old streets," he said, his

long, tremulous hand indicating a vasty structure in course of erection. "The boardinghouses come first and

"That isn't for shops," she informed him. "That's a new investment of papa's the 'Sheridan Apartments.'"

"Well, well," he murmured. "I supposed 'Sheridan' was almost well enough known here already."

"Oh, we're well enough known ABOUT!" she said, impatiently. "I guess there isn't a man, woman, child, or

nigger baby in town that doesn't know who we are. But we aren't in with the right people."

"You know what I mean: the best people, the old familiesthe people that have the real social position in

Bibbs indulged in his silent chuckle again; he seemed greatly amused. "I thought that the people who actually

had the real whatyoumaycallit didn't know it," he said. "I've always understood that it was very

unsatisfactory, because if you thought about it you didn't have it, and if you had it you didn't know it."

"That's just bosh," she retorted. "They know it in this town, all right! I found out a lot of things, long before

we began to think of building out in this direction. The right people in this town aren't always the

societycolumn ones, and they mix around with outsiders, and they don't all belong to any one clubthey're

taken in all sorts into all their clubsbut they're a clan, just the same; and they have the clan feeling and

they're just as much We, Us and Company as any crowd you read about anywhere in the world. Most of 'em

were here long before papa came, and the grandfathers of the girls of my age knew each other, and"

"I see," Bibbs interrupted, gravely. "Their ancestors fled together from many a stricken field, and Crusaders'

blood flows in their veins. I always understood the first house was built by an old party of the name of

Vertrees who couldn't get along with Dan'l Boone, and hurried away to these parts because Dan'l wanted him

Edith gave a little ejaculation of alarm. "You mustn't repeat that story, Bibbs, even if it's true. The Vertreeses

are THE best family, and of course the very oldest here; they were an old family even before Mary Vertrees's

greatgreatgrandfather came west and founded this settlement. He came from Lynn, Massachusetts, and

"And there are other old families like the Vertreeses," she went on, not heeding him; "the Lamhorns and the

"Strange names to me," he interrupted. "Poor things! None of them have my acquaintance."

"No, that's just it!" she cried. "And papa had never even heard the name of Vertrees! Mrs. Vertrees went with

some antismoke committee to see him, and he told her that smoke was what made her husband bring home

his wages from the payroll on Saturday night! HE told us about it, and I thought I just couldn't live through

the night, I was so ashamed! Mr. Vertrees has always lived on his income, and papa didn't know him, of

course. They're the stiffist, most elegant people in the whole town. And to crown it all, papa went and bought

the next lot to the old Vertrees country mansionit's in the very heart of the best new residence district now,

and that's where the New House is, right next door to themand I must say it makes their place look rather

shabby! I met Mary Vertrees when I joined the Mission Service Helpers, but she never did any more than just

barely bow to me, and since papa's break I doubt if she'll do that! They haven't called."

"And you think if I spread this gossip about Vertrees the First stealing Dan'l Boone's gun, the chances that

"Papa knows what a break he made with Mrs. Vertrees. I made him understand that," said Edith, demurely,

"and he's promised to try and meet Mr. Vertrees and be nice to him. It's just this way: if we don't know

THEM, it's practically no use in our having build the New House; and if we DO know them and they're

decent to us, we're right with the right people. They can do the whole thing for us. Bobby Lamhorn told Sibyl

he was going to bring his mother to call on her and on mamma, but it was weeks ago, and I notice he hasn't

done it; and if Mrs. Vertrees decides not to know us, I'm darn sure Mrs. Lamhorn 'll never come. That's ONE

"Oh, he's a friend of the whole family," she returned, with a petulance which she made an effort to disguise.

"Roscoe and he got acquainted somewhere, and they take him to the theater about every other night. Sibyl has

him to lunch, too, and keeps" She broke off with an angry little jerk of the head. "We can see the New

House from the second corner ahead. Roscoe has built straight across the street from us, you know. Honestly,

Sibyl makes me think of a snake, sometimesthe way she pulls the wool over people's eyes! She honeys up

to papa and gets anything in the world she wants out of him, and then makes fun of him behind his

backyes, and to his face, but HE can't see it! She got him to give her a twelvethousanddollar porch for

"Good heavens!" said Bibbs, staring ahead as they reached the corner and the car swung to the right,

"Well," he drawled, "I'm pretty sure the sanitarium's about half a size bigger; I can't be certain till I measure."

And a moment later, as they entered the driveway, he added, seriously: "But it's beautiful!"

It was gray stone, with long roofs of thick green slate. An architect who loved the milder "Gothic motives"

had built what he liked: it was to be seen at once that he had been left unhampered, and he had wrought a

picture out of his head into a noble and exultant reality. At the same time a landscapedesigner had played so

good a second, with readymade accessories of screen, approach and vista, that already whatever look of

newness remained upon the place was to its advantage, as showing at least one thing yet clean under the

grimy sky. For, though the smoke was thinner in this direction, and at this long distance from the heart of the

town, it was not absent, and under tutelage of wind and weather could be malignant even here, where cows

Altogether, the New House was a success. It was one of those architects' successes which leave the owners

veiled in privacy; it revealed nothing of the people who lived in it save that they were rich. There are houses

that cannot be detached from their own people without protesting: every inch of mortar seems to mourn the

separation, and such a houseno matter what be done to itis ever murmurous with regret, whispering the

old name sadly to itself unceasingly. But the New House was of a kind to change hands without emotion. In

our swelling cities, great places of its type are useful as financial gauges of the business tides; rich families,

one after another, take title and occupy such houses as fortunes rise and fallthey mark the high tide. It was

impossible to imagine a child's toy wagon left upon a walk or driveway of the New House, and yet it

What the architect thought of the "Golfo di Napoli," which hung in its vast gold revel of rococo frame against

"Edith, did you say only eleven feet?" Bibbs panted, staring at it, as the whitejacketed twin of a Pullman

"Eleven without the frame," she explained. "It's splendid, don't you think? It lightens things up so. The hall

"This statue in the corner is pretty, too," she remarked. "Mamma and I bought that." And Bibbs turned at her

direction to behold, amid a grove of tubbed palms, a "lifesize," blackbearded Moor, of a plastic

compositon painted with unappeasable gloss and brilliancy. Upon his chocolate head he wore a gold turban;

in his hand he held a goldtipped spear; and for the rest, he was red and yellow and black and silver.

"Hallelujah!" was the sole comment of the returned wanderer, and Edith, saying she would "find mamma,"

left him blinking at the Moor. Presently, after she had disappeared, he turned to the colored man who stood

waiting, Bibbs's travelingbag in his hand. "What do YOU think of it?" Bibbs asked, solemnly.

"Gran'!" replied the servitor. "She mightly hard to dus'. Dus' git in all 'em wrinkles. Yessuh, she mighty hard

"I expect she must be," said Bibbs, his glance returning reflectively to the black bull beard for a moment. "Is

"Yessuh. We got one nem spare rooms all fix up fo' you, suh. Right up staihs, suh. Nice room."

He led the way, and Bibbs followed slowly, stopping at intervals to rest, and noting a heavy increase in the

staff of service since the exodus from the "old" house. Maids and scrubwomen were at work under the

patently nominal direction of another Pullman porter, who was profoundly enjoying his own affectation of

"Ev'ything got look spick an' span fo' the big doin's tonight," Bibbs's guide explained, chuckling. "Yessuh,

The room to which he conducted his lagging charge was furnished in every particular like a room in a new

hotel; and Bibbs found it pleasant though, indeed, any room with a good bed would have seemed pleasant

to him after his journey. He stretched himself flat immediately, and having replied "Not now" to the

Whitejacket, racially sympathetic, lowered the windowshades and made an exit on tiptoe, encountering the

other whitejacketthe harassed overseer in the hall without. Said the emerging one: "He mighty shaky,

Mist' Jackson. Drop right down an' shet his eyes. Eyelids all black. Rich folks gotta go same as anybody else.

Anybody ast me if I change 'ith 'at ole boy No, suh! Le'm keep 'is money; I keep my black skin an' keep

Mr. Jackson expressed the same preference. "Yessuh, he look tuh me like somebody awready laid out," he

concluded. And upon the stairway landing, near by, two old women, on allfours at their work, were likewise

"Hech!" said one, lamenting in a whisper. "It give me a turn to see him go bywhite as wax an' bony as a

"Well," said the other, "I'd a b'y o' me own come home t' die once" She fell silent at a rustling of skirts in

She was one of those fat, pink people who fade and contract with age like drying fruit; and her outside was a

true portrait of her. Her husband and her daughter had long ago absorbed her. What intelligence she had was

given almost wholly to comprehending and serving those two, and except in the presence of one of them she

was nearly always absentminded. Edith lived all day with her mother, as daughters do; and Sheridan so held

his wife to her unity with him that she had long ago become unconscious of her existence as a thing separate

from his. She invariably perceived his moods, and nursed him through them when she did not share them;

and she gave him a profound sympathy with the inmost spirit and purpose of his being, even though she did

not comprehend it and partook of it only as a spectator. They had known but one actual altercation in their

lives, and that was thirty years past, in the early days of Sheridan's struggle, when, in order to enhance the

favorable impression he believed himself to be making upon some capitalists, he had thought it necessary to

accompany them to a performance of "The Black Crook." But she had not once referred to this during the last

Mrs. Sheridan's manner was hurried and inconsequent; her clothes rustled more than other women's clothes;

she seemed to wear too many at a time and to be vaguely troubled by them, and she was patting a skirt down

At sight of the recumbent figure she began to close the door softly, withdrawing, but the young man had

heard the turning of the knob and the rustling of skirts, and he opened his eyes.

"Don't go, mother," he said. "I'm not asleep." He swung his long legs over the side of the bed to rise, but she

"No," she said, bending over to kiss his cheek, "I just come for a minute, but I want to see how you seem.

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Sheridan, having let in the light at a window, came back to the bedside. "You look a great

deal better than what you did before you went to the sanitarium, anyway. It's done you good; a body can see

that right away. You need fatting up, of course, and you haven't got much color"

"She's too sensitive," said Mrs. Sheridan, "and it makes her exaggerate a little. What about your diet?"

"That's good," she said, nodding. "They mean for you just to build up your strength. That's what they told me

the last time I went to see you at the sanitarium. You look better than what you did then, and that's only a

"No, it couldn't be. I know it ain't THAT long, but maybe it was longer 'n I thought. And this last month or so

I haven't had scarcely even time to write more than just a line to ask how you were gettin' along, but I told

Edith to write, the weeks I couldn't, and I asked Jim to, too, and they both said they would, so I suppose

"What I think you need," said the mother, gravely, "is to liven up a little and take an interest in things. That's

what papa was sayin' this morning, after we got your telegram; and that's what 'll stimilate your appetite, too.

"Plans?" Bibbs, turning on his side, shielded his eyes from the light with his hand, so that he might see her

She turned away, going back to the window to draw down the shade. "Well, you better talk it over with

HIM," she said, with perceptible nervousness. "He better tell you himself. I don't feel as if I had any call,

exactly, to go into it; and you better get to sleep now, anyway." She came and stood by the bedside once

more. "But you must remember, Bibbs, whatever papa does is for the best. He loves his chuldern and wants

He made a little gesture of assent, which seemed to content her; and she rustled to the door, turning to speak

again after she had opened it. "You get a good nap, now, so as to be all rested up for tonight."

"Youyou meanhe" Bibbs stammered, having begun to speak too quickly. Checking himself, he drew

a long breath, then asked, quietly, "Does father expect me to come downstairs this evening?"

"Well, I think he does," she answered. "You see, it's the 'housewarming,' as he calls it, and he said he thinks

all our chuldern ought to be around us, as well as the old friends and other folks. It's just what he thinks you

needto take an interest and liven up. You don't feel too bad to come down, do you?"

"Oh, see here!" she cried, with brusque cheerfulness. "You're not so bad off as you think you are, Bibbs.

"It isn't that," he interrupted. "Honestly, I'm only afraid it might spoil somebody's appetite. Edith"

"I told you the child was too sensitive," she interrupted, in turn. "You're a plenty goodlookin' enough young

man for anybody! You look like you been through a long spell and begun to get well, and that's all there is to

"It 'll do you good," she returned, rustling into the hall. "Now take a nap, and I'll send one o' the help to wake

you in time for you to get dressed up before dinner. You go to sleep right away, now, Bibbs!"

Bibbs was unable to obey, though he kept his eyes closed. Something she had said kept running in his mind,

repeating itself over and over interminably. "His plans for youhis plans for youhis plans for youhis

plans for you" And then, taking the place of "his plans for you," after what seemed a long, long while, her

flurried voice came back to him insistently, seeming to whisper in his ear: "He loves his chuldernhe loves

his chuldernhe loves his chuldern""you'll find he's always rightyou'll find he's always right" Until

at last, as he drifted into the state of halfdreams and distorted realities, the voice seemed to murmur from

beyond a great black wing that came out of the wall and stretched over his bedit was a black wing within

the room, and at the same time it was a black cloud crossing the sky, bridging the whole earth from pole to

pole. It was a cloud of black smoke, and out of the heart of it came a flurried voice whispering over and over,

"His plans for youhis plans for youhis plans for you" And then there was nothing.

He woke refreshed, stretched himself gingerlyas one might have a care against too quick or too long a pull

upon a frayed elasticand, getting to his feet, went blinking to the window and touched the shade so that it

He looked out into the lemoncolored light and smiled wanly at the next house, as Edith's grandiose phrase

came to mind, "the old Vertrees country mansion." It stood in a broad lawn which was separated from the

Sheridans' by a young hedge; and it was a big, square, plain old box of a house with a giant saltcellar atop

for a cupola. Paint had been spared for a long time, and no one could have put a name to the color of it, but in

spite of that the place had no look of being out at heel, and the sward was as neatly trimmed as the Sheridans'

The separating hedge ran almost beneath Bibbs's windowfor this wing of the New House extended here

almost to the edge of the lotand, directly opposite the window, the Vertreeses' lawn had been graded so as

to make a little knoll upon which stood a small rustic "summerhouse." It was almost on a level with Bibbs's

window and not thirty feet away; and it was easy for him to imagine the present dynasty of Vertreeses in

grievous outcry when they had found this retreat ruined by the juxtaposition of the parvenu intruder. Probably

the "summerhouse" was pleasant and pretty in summer. It had the lookof a place wherein little girls had

played for a generation or so with dolls and "housekeeping," or where a lovely old lady might come to read

something dull on warm afternoons; but now in the thin light it was desolate, the color of dust, and hung with

Bibbs looked at it with grave sympathy, probably feeling some kinship with anything so dismantled; then he

turned to a chevalglass beside the window and paid himself the dubious tribute of a thorough inspection. He

looked the mirror up and down, slowly, repeatedly, but came in the end to a long and earnest scrutiny of the

face. Throughout this cryptic seance his manner was profoundly impersonal; he had the air of an

entomologist intent upon classifying a specimen, but finally he appeared to become pessimistic. He shook his

head solemnly; then gazed again and shook his head again, and continued to shake it slowly, in complete

And at that he was instantly aware of an observer. Turning quickly, he was vouchsafed the picture of a

charming lady, framed in a rustic aperture of the "summerhouse" and staring full into his windowstraight

into his eyes, too, for the infinitesimal fraction of a second before the flashingly censorious withdrawal of her

own. Composedly, she pulled several dead twigs from a vine, the manner of her action conveying a message

or proclamation to the effect that she was in the summerhouse for the sole purpose of suchlike pruning and

tending, and that no gentleman could suppose her presence there to be due to any other purpose whatsoever,

or that, being there on that account, she had allowed her attention to wander for one instant in the direction of

Having pulled enough twigs to emphasize her unconsciousnessand at the same time her disapprovalof

everything in the nature of a Sheridan or belonging to a Sheridan, she descended the knoll with maintained

composure, and sauntered toward a sidedoor of the country mansion of the Vertreeses. An elderly lady,

"Nothing. Just looking into one of Sheridans' windows," said Mary Vertrees. "I got caught at it."

"We'll go, just the same," the daughter returned. "I suppose those women would be glad to have us if we'd

"One of the sons, I suppose he was. I believe he's insane, or something. At least I hear they keep him in a

sanitarium somewhere, and never talk about him. He was staring at himself in a mirror and talking to himself.

"Like a ghost in a blue suit," said Miss Vertrees, moving toward the street and waving a whitegloved hand

in farewell to her father, who was observing them from the window of his library. "Rather tragic and

And Mrs. Vertrees, with many misgivings, set forth with her daughter for their gracious assault upon the New

Mr. Vertrees, having watched their departure with the air of a man who had something at hazard upon the

expedition, turned from the window and began to pace the library thoughtfully, pending their return. He was

about sixty; a small man, withered and dry and fine, a trim little sketch of an elderly dandy. His lambrequin

mustacherelic of a forgotten Anglomaniahad been profoundly black, but now, like his smooth hair, it

was approaching an equally sheer whiteness; and though his clothes were old, they had shapeliness and a

flavor of mode. And for greater spruceness there were some jaunty touches; gray spats, a narrow black ribbon

across the gray waistcoat to the eyeglasses in a pocket, a fleck of color from a button in the lapel of the

The room was not like him, being cheerful and hideous, whereas Mr. Vertrees was anxious and decorative.

Under a mantel of imitation black marble a merry little coalfire beamed forth upon high and narrow

"Eastlake" bookcases with long glass doors, and upon comfortable, incongruous furniture, and upon

meaningless "woodwork" everywhere, and upon half a dozen Landseer engravings which Mr. and Mrs.

Vertrees sometimes mentioned to each other, after thirty years of possession, as "very fine things." They had

been the first people in town to possess Landseer engravings, and there, in art, they had rested, but they still

had a feeling that in all such matters they were in the van; and when Mr. Vertrees discovered Landseers upon

the walls of other people's houses he thawed, as a chieftain to a trusted follower; and if he found an edition of

Bulwer Lytton accompanying the Landseers as a final corroboration of culture, he would say, inevitably,

The growth of the city, which might easily have made him a millionaire, had ruined him because he had

failed to understand it. When towns begin to grow they have whims, and the whims of a town always ruin

somebody. Mr. Vertrees had been most strikingly the somebody in this case. At about the time he bought the

Landseers, he owned, through inheritance, an officebuilding and a large house not far from it, where he

spent the winter; and he had a country placea farm of four hundred acreswhere he went for the summers

to the comfortable, ugly old house that was his home now, perforce, all the year round. If he had known how

to sit still and let things happen he would have prospered miraculously; but, strangely enough, the dainty little

man was one of the first to fall down and worship Bigness, the which proceeded straightway to enact the role

of Juggernaut for his better education. He was a true prophet of the prodigious growth, but he had a fatal gift

for selling good and buying bad. He should have stayed at home and looked at his Landseers and read his

Bulwer, but he took his cow to market, and the trained milkers milked her dry and then ate her. He sold the

officebuilding and the house in town to buy a great tract of lots in a new suburb; then he sold the farm,

except the house and the ground about it, to pay the taxes on the suburban lots and to "keep them up." The

lots refused to stay up; but he had to do something to keep himself and his family up, so in despair he sold the

lots (which went up beautifully the next year) for "traction stock" that was paying dividends; and thereafter

he ceased to buy and sell. Thus he disappeared altogether from the commercial surface at about the time

James Sheridan came out securely on top; and Sheridan, until Mrs. Vertrees called upon him with her

Mr. Vertrees, pinched, retired to his Landseers, and Mrs. Vertrees "managed somehow" on the dividends,

though "managing" became more and more difficult as the years went by and money bought less and less.

But there came a day when three servitors of Bigness in Philadelphia took greedy counsel with four

fellowworshipers from New York, and not long after that there were no more dividends for Mr. Vertrees. In

fact, there was nothing for Mr. Vertrees, because the "traction stock" henceforth was no stock at all, and he

had mortgaged his house long ago to help "manage somehow" according to his conception of his "position in

life"one of his own oldfashioned phrases. Six months before the completion of the New House next door,

Mr. Vertrees had sold his horses and the worn Victoria and "stationwagon," to pay the arrears of his two

servants and reestablish credit at the grocer's and butcher's and a pair of elderly carriagehorses with

such accoutrements are not very ample barter, in these days, for six months' food and fuel and service. Mr.

Vertrees had discovered, too, that there was no salary for him in all the buzzing cityhe could do nothing.

It may be said that he was at the end of his string. Such times do come in all their bitterness, finally, to the

man with no trade or craft, if his feeble clutch on that slippery ghost, Property, shall fail.

The windows grew black while he paced the room, and smoky twilight closed round about the house, yet not

more darkly than what closed round about the heart of the anxious little man patrolling the fanshaped zone

of firelight. But as the mantel clock struck wheezily six there was the rattle of an outer door, and a rich and

beautiful peal of laughter went ringing through the house. Thus cheerfully did Mary Vertrees herald her

She came rushing into the library and threw herself into a deep chair by the hearth, laughing so

uncontrollably that tears were in her eyes. Mrs. Vertrees followed decorously, no mirth about her; on the

contrary, she looked vaguely disturbed, as if she had eaten something not quite certain to agree with her, and

"Papa! Oh, oh!" And Miss Vertrees was fain to apply a handkerchief upon her eyes. "I'm SO glad you made

Mrs. Vertrees shook her head. "I suppose I'm very dull," she said, gently. "I didn't see anything amusing.

They're most ordinary, and the house is altogether in bad taste, but we anticipated that, and"

"And I'm GOING!" she shouted, and was seized with fresh paroxysms. "Think of it! Never in their house

She made a little face as if positive now that what she had eaten would not agree with her. "I couldn't!" she

"Yes, that's justjust the way sheshe looked when they asked her!" cried Mary, choking. "And then

sheshe realized it, and tried to turn it into a cough, and she didn't know how, and it sounded likelike a

"I suppose," said Mrs. Vertrees, much injured, "that Mary will have an uproarious time at my funeral. She

Mary jumped up instantly and kissed her; then she went to the mantel and, leaning an elbow upon it, gazed

"THEY didn't notice anything," she said. "So far as they were concerned, mamma, it was one of the finest

"Only the mother and daughter," Mary answered. "Mrs. Sheridan is dumpy and rustly; and Miss Sheridan is

pretty and pushingdresses by the fashion magazines and talks about New York people that have their

pictures in 'em. She tutors the mother, but not very successfullypartly because her own foundation is too

flimsy and partly because she began too late. They've got an enormous Moor of painted plaster or something

in the hall, and the girl evidently thought it was to her credit that she selected it!"

"They have oilpaintings, too," added Mrs. Vertrees, with a glance of gentle price at the Landseers. "I've

"Oh, if one owned a Raphael or a Titian!" said Mr. Vertrees, finishing the implication, not in words, but with

a wave of his hand. "Go on, Mary. None of the rest of them came in? You didn't meet Mr. Sheridan or" He

paused and adjusted a lump of coal in the fire delicately with the poker. "Or one of the sons?"

Mary's glance crossed his, at that, with a flash of utter comprehension. He turned instantly away, but she had

"No," she said, "no one except the women, but mamma inquired about the sons thoroughly!"

"Oh, most adroitly, too!" laughed the girl. "Only she couldn't help unconsciously turning to look at

"Never mind, mamma! Mrs. Sheridan and Miss Sheridan neither of THEM could help unconsiously turning

to look at mespeculativelyat the same time! They all three kept looking at me and talking about the

oldest son, Mr. James Sheridan, Junior. Mrs. Sheridan said his father is very anxious 'to get Jim to marry and

settle down,' and she assured me that 'Jim is right cultivated.' Another of the sons, the youngest one, caught

me looking in the window this afternoon; but they didn't seem to consider him quite one of themselves,

somehow, though Mrs. Sheridan mentioned that a couple of years or so ago he had been 'right sick,' and had

been to some cure or other. They seemed relieved to bring the subject back to 'Jim' and his virtuesand to

look at me! The other brother is the middle one, Roscoe; he's the one that owns the new house across the

street, where that young blacksheep of the Lamhorns, Robert, goes so often. I saw a short, dark young man

standing on the porch with Robert Lamhorn there the other day, so I suppose that was Roscoe. 'Jim' still lurks

in the mists, but I shall meet him tonight. Papa" She stepped nearer to him so that he had to face her, and

his eyes were troubled as he did. There may have been a trouble deep within her own, but she kept their

surface merry with laughter. "Papa, Bibbs is the youngest one's name, and Bibbsto the best of our

"Mary!" Mrs. Vertrees cried, sharply. "You're outrageous! That's a perfectly horrible way of talking!"

"Well, I'm close to twentyfour," said Mary, turning to her. "I haven't been able to like anybody yet that's

asked me to marry him, and maybe I never shall. Until a year or so ago I've had everything I ever wanted in

my life you and papa gave it all to meand it's about time I began to pay back. Unfortunately, I don't kow

"But you needn't talk of it like THAT!" insisted the mother, plaintively. "It's notit's not"

"How did they happen to ask you to dinner?" Mr. Vertrees inquired, uneasily. "'Stextrawdn'ry thing!"

"Climbers' hospitality," Mary defined it. "We were so very cordial and easy! I think Mrs. Sheridan herself

might have done it just as any kind old woman on a farm might ask a neighbor, but it was Miss Sheridan who

did it. She played around it awhile; you could see she wanted toshe's in a dreadful hurry to get into

thingsand I fancied she had an idea it might impress that Lamhorn boy to find us there tonight. It's a sort

of housewarming dinner, and they talked about it and talked about itand then the girl got her courage up

and blurted out the invitation. And mamma" Here Mary was once more a victim to incorrigible merriment.

"Mamma tried to say yes, and COULDN'T! She swallowed and squealedI mean you coughed, dear! And

then, papa, she said that you and she had promised to go to a lecture at the Emerson Club tonight, but that

her daughter would be delighted to come to the Big Show! So there I am, and there's Mr. Jim Sheridanand

And she ran out of the room, scooping up her fallen furs with a gesture of flying grace as she sped.

When she came down, at twenty munutes after seven, her father stood in the hall, at the foot of the stairs,

waiting to be her escort through the dark. He looked up and watched her as she descended, and his gaze was

fond and proudand profoundly disturbed. But she smiled and nodded gaily, and, when she reached the

"At least no one could suspect me tonight," she said. "I LOOK rich, don't I, papa?"

She did. She had a look that worshipful girl friends bravely called "regal." A head taller than her father, she

was as straight and jauntily poised as a boy athlete; and her brown hair and her brown eyes were like her

mother's, but for the rest she went back to some stronger and livelier ancestor than either of her parents.

"And my dress?" She threw open her dark velvet cloak, showing a splendor of white and silver. "Anything

better at Nice next winter, do you think?" She laughed, shrouding her glittering figure in the cloak again.

There was a curious humility in his tone, and something morea significance not veiled and yet abysmally

apologetic. It was as if he suggested something to her and begged her forgiveness in the same breath.

And upon that, for the moment, she became as serious as he. She lifted her hand from his shoulder and then

set it back more firmly, so that he should feel the reassurance of its pressure.

"Don't worry," she said, in a low voice and gravely. "I know exactly what you want me to do."

It was a brave and lustrous banquet; and a noisy one, too, because there was an orchestra among some plants

at one end of the long diningroom, and after a preliminary stiffness the guests were impelled to

conversenecessarily at the tops of their voices. The whole company of fifty sat at a great oblong table,

improvised for the occasion by carpenters; but, not betraying itself as an improvisation, it seemed a

permanent continent of damask and lace, with shores of crystal and silver running up to spreading groves of

orchids and lilies and white rosesan inhabited continent, evidently, for there were three marvelous,

gleaming buildings: one in the center and one at each end, white miracles wrought by some inspired

craftsman in sculptural icing. They were models in miniature, and they represented the Sheridan Building, the

Sheridan Apartments, and the Pump Works. Nearly all the guests recognized them without having to be told

The arrangement of the table was visably baronial. At the head sat the great Thane, with the flower of his

family and of the guests about him; then on each side came the neighbors of the "old" house, grading down to

vassals and retainerssuperintendents, cashiers, heads of departments, and the like at the foot, where the

Thane's lady took her place as a consolation for the less important. Here, too, among the thralls and bondmen,

sat Bibbs Sheridan, a meek Banquo, wondering how anybody could look at him and eat.

Nevertheless, there was a vast, continuous eating, for these were wholesome folk who understood that dinner

meant something intended for introduction into the system by means of an aperture in the face, devised by

He was better content to be left to himself; his voice was not strong enough to make itself heard over the

hubbub without an exhausting effort, and the talk that went on about him was too fast and too fragmentary for

his drawl to keep pace with it. So he felt relieved when each of his neighbors in turn, after a polite inquiry

about his health, turned to seek livelier reponses in other directions. For the talk went on with the eating,

incessantly. It rose over the throbbing of the orchestra and the clatter and clinking of silver and china and

"Yes, sir! Started without a dollar." . . . "Yellow flounces on the overskirt" . . . "I says, 'Wilkie, your

department's got to go bigger this year,' I says." . . . "Fifteen per cent. turnover in thirtyone weeks." . . . "One

of the bigest men in the bigest" ... "The wife says she'll have to let out my pants if my appetite" . . .

"Say, did you see that statue of a Turk in the hall? One of the finest things I ever" . . . "Not a dollar, not a

nickel, not one red cent do you get out o' me,' I says, and so he ups and" . . . "Yes, the baby makes four,

they've lost now.". . . "Well, they got their raise, and they went in big." . . . "Yes, sir! Not a dollar to his name,

and look at what" . . . "You wait! The population of this town's goin' to hit the million mark before she

And through the interstices of this clamoring Bibbs could hear the continual booming of his father's heavy

voice, and once he caught the sentence, "Yes, young lady, that's just what did it for me, and that's just what'll

do it for my boysthey got to make two blades o' grass grow where one grew before!" It was his familiar

flourish, an old story to Bibbs, and now jovially declaimed for the edification of Mary Vertrees.

It was a great night for Sheridanthe very crest of his wave. He sat there knowing himself Thane and master

by his own endeavor; and his big, smooth, red face grew more and more radiant with good will and with the

simplest, happiest, most boylike vanity. He was the picture of health, of good cheer, and of power on a

holiday. He had thirty teeth, none bought, and showed most of them when he laughed; his grizzled hair was

thick, and as unruly as a farm laborer's; his chest was deep and big beneath its vast facade of starched white

linen, where little diamonds twinkled, circling three large pearls; his hands were stubby and strong, and he

used them freely in gestures of marked picturesqueness; and, though he had grown fat at chin and waist and

He dominated the table, shouting jocular questions and railleries at every one. His idea was that when people

were having a good time they were noisy; and his own additions to the hubbub increased his pleasure, and, of

course, met the warmest encouragement from his guests. Edith had discovered that he had very foggy notions

of the difference between a band and an orchestra, and when it was made clear to him he had held out for a

band until Edith threatened tears; but the size of the orchestra they hired consoled him, and he had now no

He kept time to the music continuallywith his feet, or pounding on the table with his fist, and sometimes

with spoon or knife upon his plate or a glass, without permitting these sideproducts to interfere with the real

"Tell 'em to play 'Nancy Lee'!" he would bellow down the length of the table to his wife, while the musicians

were in the midst of the "Toreador" song, perhaps. "Ask that fellow if they don't know 'Nancy Lee'!" And

when the leader would shake his head apologetically in answer to an obedient shriek from Mrs. Sheridan, the

"Toreador" continuing vehemently, Sheridan would roar halfremembered fragments of "Nancy Lee,"

"Oh, there she stands and waves her hands while I'm away! "A sailer's wife a sailer's star should be! Yo

"HAY, there, old lady!" he would bellow. "Tell 'em to play 'In the Gloaming.' In the gloaming, oh, my

darling, lalalumteeWell, if they don't know that, what's the matter with 'Larboard Watch, Ahoy'?

THAT'S good music! That's the kind o' music I like! Come on, now! Mrs. Callin, get 'em singin' down in

your part o' the table. What's the matter you folks down there, anyway? Larboard watch, ahoy!"

No external bubbling contributed to this effervescence; the Sheridans' table had never borne wine, and, more

because of timidity about it than conviction, it bore none now; though "mineral waters" were copiously

poured from bottles wrapped, for some reason, in napkins, and proved wholly satisfactory to almost all of the

guests. And certainly no wine could have inspired more turbulent good spirits in the host. Not even Bibbs

was an alloy in this night's happiness, for, as Mrs. Sheridan had said, he had "plans for Bibbs"plans which

So he pounded the table and boomed his echoes of old songs, and then, forgetting these, would renew his

friendly railleries, or perhaps, turning to Mary Vertrees, who sat near him, round the corner of the table at his

right, he would become autobiographical. Gentlemen less naive than he had paid her that tribute, for she was

a girl who inspired the autobiographical impulse in every man who met herit needed but the sight of her.

The dinner seemed, somehow, to center about Mary Vertrees and the jocund host as a play centers about its

hero and heroine; they were the rubicund king and the starry princess of this spectaclethey paid court to

each other, and everybody paid court to them. Down near the sugar Pump Works, where Bibbs sat, there was

audible speculation and admiration. "Wonder who that lady ismakin' such a hit with the old man." "Must

be some heiress." "Heiress? Golly, I guess I could stand it to marry rich, then!"

Edith and Sibyl were radiant: at first they had watched Miss Vertrees with an almost haggard anxiety,

wondering what disasterous effect Sheridan's pastoral gaietiesand other thingswould have upon her, but

she seemed delighted with everything, and with him most of all. She treated him as if he were some delicious,

foolish old joke that she understood perfectly, laughing at him almost violently when he braggedprobably

As he proclaimed to the table, she had "a way with her." She had, indeed, as Roscoe Sheridan, upon her right,

discovered just after the feast began. Since his marriage three years before, no lady had bestowed upon him

so protracted a full view of brilliant eyes; and, with the look, his lovely neighbor saidand it was her first

She repeated the look deliberately, which was noted, with a mystification equal to his own, by his sister

across the table. No one, reflected Edith, could image Mary Vertrees the sort of girl who would "really flirt"

with married menshe was obviously the "opposite of all that." Edith defined her as a "thoroughbred," a

"nice girl"; and the look given to Roscoe was astounding. Roscoe's wife saw it, too, and she was another

"Because!" said Mary Vertrees, replying to Roscoe's monosyllable. "And also because we're nextdoor

neighbors at table, and it's dull times ahead for both of us if we don't get along."

Roscoe was a literal young man, all stocks and bonds, and he had been brought up to believe that when a man

married he "married and settled down." It was "all right," he felt, for a man as old as his father to pay florid

compliments to as pretty a girl as this Miss Vertrees, but for himself"a young married man"it wouldn't

do; and it wouldn't even be quite moral. He knew that young married people might have friendships, like his

wife's for Lamhorn; but Sibyl and Lamhorn never "flirted"they were always very matteroffact with each

other. Roscoe would have been troubled if Sibyl had ever told Lamhorn she hoped he was susceptible.

"Why, no!" she exclaimed, and seemed startled. "Your mother told me this afternoon that you lived at home."

"But you" she paused, confused, and then slowly a deep color came into her cheek. "But I understood"

"No," he said; "my wife and I lived with the old folks the first year, but that's all. Edith and Jim live with

"II see," she said, the deep color still deepening as she turned from him and saw, written upon a card

before the gentleman at her left the name, "Mr. James Sheridan, Jr." And from that moment Roscoe had little

Mr. James Sheridan had been anxiously waiting for the dazzling visitor to "get through with old Roscoe," as

he thought of it, and give a bachelor a chance. "Old Roscoe" was the younger, but he had always been the

steady wheelhorse of the family. Jim was "steady" enough, but was considered livelier than Roscoe, which

in truth is not saying much for Jim's liveliness. As their father habitually boasted, both brothers were

"capable, hardworking young business men," and the principal difference between them was merely that

which resulted from Jim's being still a bachelor. Physically they were of the same type: dark of eyes and of

hair, freshcolored and thickset, and though Roscoe was several inches taller than Jim, neither was of the

height, breadth, or depth of the father. Both wore young business men's mustaches, and either could have sat

for the tailorshop lithographs of young business men wearing "rich suitings in dark mixtures."

Jim, approving warmly of his neighbor's profile, perceived her access of color, which increased his

approbation. "What's that old Roscoe saying to you, Miss Vertrees?" he asked. "These young married men

"Am I blushing?" she said. "Are you sure?" And with that she gave him ample opportunity to make sure,

repeating with interest the look wasted upon Roscoe. "I think you must be mistaken," she continued. "I think

She laughed, and then, leaning to him a little, said in a tone as confidential as she could make it, under cover

This might well be a style new to Jim; and it was. He supposed it a nonsensical form of badinage, and yet it

took his breath. He realized that he wished what she said to be the literal truth, and he was instantly snared by

"By George!" he said. "I guess you're the kind of girl that can say anything yes, and get away with it, too!"

She laughed againin her way, so that he could not tell whether she was laughing at him or at herself or at

the nonsense she was talking; and she said: "But you see I don't care whether I get away with it or not. I wish

"More like if you've got a chance to get away FROM me!" Jim was inspired to reply. "Not one in the world,

"I mightn't be so much in fun as you think," she said, regarding him with sudden gravity.

Her gravity continued an instant longer. "I may not turn out to be funny for YOU."

"So long as you turn out to be anything at all for me, I expect I can manage to be satisfied." And with that, to

"Yes," he said, plaintively, not wholly lacking intuition, "I can see you're the sort of girl that would laugh the

"'Laugh'!" she cried, gaily. "Why, it might be a matter of life and death! But if you want tragedy, I'd better put

Jim was dazed. She seemed to be playing a little game of mockery and nonsense with him, but he had

glimpses of a flashing danger in it; he was but too sensible of being outclassed, and had somewhere a

consciousness that he could never quite know this giddy and alluring lady, no matter how long it pleased her

"As you are a new neighbor of mine and of my family," she returned, speaking slowly and with a

crossexaminer's severity, "I think it would be well for me to know at once whether you are already walking

"NO!" she cried, and with that they both laughed again; and the pastime proceeded, increasing both in its

Observing its continuance, Mr. Robert Lamhorn, opposite, turned from a lively conversation with Edith and

remarked covertly to Sibyl that Miss Vertrees was "starting rather picturesquely with Jim." And he added,

For the moment Sibyl gave no sign of having heard him, but seemed interested in the clasp of a long "rope"

of pearls, a loop of which she was allowing to swing from her fingers, resting her elbow upon the table and

following with her eyes the twinkle of diamonds and platinum in the clasp at the end of the loop. She wore

many jewels. She was pretty, but hers was not the kind of prettiness to be loaded with too sumptuous

accessories, and jeweled headdresses are dangerousthey may emphasize the wrongness of the wearer.

"I said Miss Vertrees seems to be starting pretty strong with Jim," repeated Mr. Lamhorn.

"I heard you." There was a latent discontent always somewhere in her eyes, no matter what she threw upon

the surface of cover it, and just now she did not care to cover it; she looked sullen. "Starting any stronger than

"You haven't been making her see it this eveningprecisely," said Sibyl, looking at him steadily. "You've

Sheridan was booming and braying louder than ever, the orchestra having begun to play "The Rosary," to his

"I COUNT THEM OVER, LALATUMTEEDUM," he roared, beating the measures with his fork.

"EACH HOUR A PEARL, EACH PEARL TEEDUMTUMDUMWhat's the matter with all you folks?

"Mr. Sheridan," she said, turning cheerfully from the ardent Jim, "you don't know what you interrupted! Your

son isn't used to my rough ways, and my soldier's wooing frightens him, but I think he was about to say

"I'll say something important to him if he doesn't!" the father threatened, more delighted with her than ever.

"Oh, wait!" cried Mary. "If they'd only make less noice! I want Mrs. Sheridan to hear."

"She'd say the same," he shouted. "She'd tell me I was mighty slow if I couldn't get ahead o' Jim. Why, when

"You must listen to your father," Mary interrupted, turning to Jim, who had grown read again. "He's going to

tell us how, when he was your age, he made those two blades of grass grow out of a teacupand you could

At that Sheridan pounded the table till it jumped. "Look here, young lady!" he roared. "Some o' these days

Edith looked aghast; she was afraid this was indeed "too awful," but Mary Vertrees burst into ringing

"But which" he began, and then suddenly gave forth such stentorian trumpetings of mirth that for once the

whole table stopped to listen. "Jim," he roared, "if you don't propose to that girl tonight I'll send you back to

And Bibbsdown among the retainers by the sugar Pump Works, and watching Mary Vertrees as a ragged

boy in the street might watch a rich little girl in a gardenBibbs heard. He heardand he knew what his

Mrs. Vertrees "sat up" for her daughter, Mr. Vertrees having retired after a restless evening, not much

soothed by the society of his Landseers. Mary had taken a key, insisting that he should not come for her and

seeming confident that she would not lack for escort; nor did the sequel prove her confidence unwarranted.

She was not the woman to make herself easyno servant had ever seen her in a wrapperand with her hair

and dress and her shoes just what they had been when she returned from the afternoon's call, she sat through

the slow night hours in a stiff little chair under the gaslight in her own room, which was directly over the

"front hall." There, book in hand, she employed the time in her own reminiscences, though it was her belief

Her thoughts went backward into her life and into her husband's; and the deeper into the past they went, the

brighter the pictures they brought her and there is tragedy. Like her husband, she thought backward

because she did not dare think forward definitely. What thinking forward this troubled couple ventured took

the form of a slender hope which neither of them could have borne to hear put in words, and yet they had

talked it over, day after day, from the very hour when they heard Sheridan was to build his New House next

door. Forso quickly does any ideal of human behavior become an antique their youth was of the

innocent old days, so dead! of "breeding" and "gentility," and no craft had been more straitly trained upon

them than that of talking about things without mentioning them. Herein was marked the most vital difference

between Mr. and Mrs. Vertrees and their big new neighbor. Sheridan, though his youth was of the same

epoch, knew nothing of such matters. He had been chopping wood for the morning fire in the country grocery

It was after one o'clock when Mrs. Vertrees heard steps and the delicate clinking of the key in the lock, and

then, with the opening of the door, Mary's laugh, and "Yesif you aren't afraidtomorrow!"

The door closed, and she rushed upstairs, bringing with her a breath of cold and bracing air into her mother's

She let her cloak fall upon the bed, and, drawing an old redvelvet rockingchair forward, sat beside her

mother after giving her a light pat upon the shoulder and a hearty kiss upon the cheek.

"Mamma!" Mary exclaimed, when Mrs. Vertrees had expressed a hope that she had enjoyed the evening and

This inquiry obviously made her mother uncomfortable. "I don't" she faltered. "Ask you what, Mary?"

"Oh, it isn't distressing!" said Mary. "And I got along so fast" She broke off to laugh; continuing then, "But

"I don't know what you mean," Mrs. Vertrees insisted, shaking her head plaintively.

"Yes," said Mary, "I'm going out in his car with him tomorrow afternoon, and to the theater the next

nightbut I stopped it there. You see, after you give the first push, you must leave it to them while YOU

"What to make of anything!" Mary finished for her. "So that's all right! Now I'll tell you all about it. It was

gorgeous and deafening and teetotal. We could have lived a year on it. I'm not good at figures, but I

calculated that if we lived six months on poor old Charlie and Ned and the stationwagon and the Victoria,

we could manage at least twice as long on the cost of the 'housewarming.' I think the orchids alone would

have lasted us a couple of months. There they were, before me, but I couldn't steal 'em and sell 'em, and

She leaned back and laughed reassuringly to her troubled mother. "It seemed to be a successwhat I could,"

she said, clasping her hands behind her neck and stirring the rocker to motion as a rhythmic accompaniment

to her narrative. "The girl Edith and her sisterinlaw, Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan, were too anxious about the

effect of things on me. The father's worth a bushel of both of them, if they knew it. He's what he is. I like

him." She paused reflectively, continuing, "Edith's 'interested' in that Lamhorn boy; he's goodlooking and

not stupid, but I think he's" She interrupted herself with a cheery outcry: "Oh! I mustn't be calling him

names! If he's trying to make Edith like him, I ought to respect him as a colleague."

"All the better! Well, he's a bad lot, that Lamhorn boy; everybody's always known that, but the Sheridans

don't know the everybodies that know. He sat between Edith and Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan. SHE'S like those

people you wondered about at the theater, the last time we wentdressed in ballgowns; bound to show

their clothes and jewels SOMEwhere! She flatters the father, and so did I, for that matterbut not that way. I

"That's what flattered him. After dinner he made the whole regiment of us follow him all over the house,

while he lectured like a guide on the Palatine. He gave dimensions and costs, and the whole b'ilin' of 'em

listened as if they thought he intended to make them a present of the house. What he was proudest of was the

plumbing and that Bay of Naples panorama in the hall. He made us look at all the plumbingbathrooms

and everywhere elseand then he made us look at the Bay of Naples. He said it was a hundred and eleven

feet long, but I think it's more. And he led us all into the readymade library to see a poem Edith had taken a

prize with at school. They'd had it printed in gold letters and framed in motherofpearl. But the poem itself

was rather simple and wistful and nicehe read it to us, though Edith tried to stop him. She was modest

about it, and said she'd never written anything else. And then, after a while, Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan asked me

to come across the street to her house with themher husband and Edith and Mr. Lamhorn and Jim

"Of course," said Mary. "I'll make it as easy for you as I can, mamma. Mr. James Sheridan, Junior. We went

over there, and Mrs. Roscoe explained that 'the men were all dying for a drink,' though I noticed that Mr.

Lamhorn was the only one near death's door on that account. Edith and Mrs. Roscoe said they knew I'd been

bored at the dinner. They were objectionably apologetic about it, and they seemed to think NOW we were

going to have a 'good time' to make up for it. But I hadn't been bored at the dinner, I'd been amused; and the

"But, Mary," her mother began, "isis" And she seemed unable to complete the question.

"Never mind, mamma. I'll say it. Is Mr. James Sheridan, Junior, stupid? I'm sure he's not at all stupid about

business. OtherwiseOh, what right have I to be calling people 'stupid' because they're not exactly my kind?

"Yes, and two other things of that kindI don't know what. But, after all, I wondered if they were so bad. If

I'd been at a dinner at a palace in Italy, and a relief or inscription on one of the old silver peices had referred

to some great deed or achievement of the family, I shouldn't have felt superior; I'd have thought it picturesque

and statelyI'd have been impressed. And what's the real difference? The icing is temporary, and that's

much more modest, isn't it? And why is it vulgar to feel important more on account of something you've done

yourself than because of something one of your ancestors did? Besides, if we go back a few generations,

we've all got such hundreds of ancestors it seems idiotic to go picking out one or two to be proud of ourselves

about. Well, then, mamma, I managed not to feel superior to Mr. James Sheridan, Junior, because he didn't

Mrs. Vertrees's expression had lost none of its anxiety pending the conclusion of this lively bit of analysis,

and she shook her head gravely. "My dear, dear child," she said, "it seems to meIt looksI'm afraid"

"Say as much of it as you can, mamma," said Mary, encouragingly. "I can get it, if you'll just give me one

"Everything you say," Mrs. Vertrees began, timidly, "seems to have the air of It is as if you were seeking

"Not exactly, Mary. That wasn't quite what I meant," said Mrs. Vertrees, speaking direct untruth with perfect

unconsciousness. "But you said that that you found the latter part of the evening at young Mrs. Sheridan's

"And as Mr. James Sheridan was there, and I saw more of him than at dinner, and had a horribly stupid time

in spite of that, you think I" And then it was Mary who left the deduction unfinished.

Mrs. Vertrees nodded; and though both the mother and the daughter understood, Mary felt it better to make

"Well," she asked, gravely, "is there anything else I can do? You and papa don't want me to do anything that

distresses me, and so, as this is the only thing to be done, it seems it's up to me not to let it distress me. That's

"That's what I say!" said Mary, cheerfully. "And so it doesn't. It's all right." She rose and took her cloak over

her arm, as if to go to her own room. But on the way to the door she stopped, and stood leaning against the

foot of the bed, contemplating a threadbare rug at her feet. "Mother, you've told me a thousand times that it

"No, not in words; I mean what you MEANT. It's true, isn't it, that marriage really is 'not a bed of roses, but a

field of battle'? To get right down to it, a girl could fight it out with anybody, couldn't she? One man as well

"Yes, yes," said Mary, indulgently. "I don't mean you and papa. But isn't it propinquity that makes marriages?

"Mary, I can't bear for you to talk like that." And Mrs. Vertrees lifted pleading eyes to her daughtereyes

Mary caught the appeal, came to her, and kissed her gaily. "Never fret, dear! I'm not likely to do anything I

don't want to doI've always been too thoroughgoing a little pig! And if it IS propinquity that does our

choosing for us, well, at least no girl in the world could ask for more than THAT! How could there be any

She gave her mother a final kiss and went gaily all the way to the door this time, pausing for her postscript

with her hand on the knob. "Oh, the one that caught me looking in the window, mamma, the youngest one"

"No. He didn't speak at all, that I saw, to any one. I didn't meet him. But he isn't insane, I'm sure; or if he is,

he has long intervals when he's not. Mr. James Sheridan mentioned that he lived at home when he was 'well

enough'; and it may be he's only an invalid. He looks dreadfully ill, but he has pleasant eyes, and it struck me

that ifif one were in the Sheridan family"she laughed a little ruefully"he might be interesting to talk

to sometimes, when there was too much stocks and bonds. I didn't see him after dinner."

"There must be something wrong with him," said Mrs. Vertrees. "They'd have introduced him if there

"I don't know. He's been ill so much and away so muchsometimes people like that just don't seem to

'count' in a family. His father spoke of sending him back to a machineshop or some sort; I suppose he meant

when the poor thing gets better. I glanced at him just then, when Mr. Sheridan mentioned him, and he

happened to be looking straight at me; and he was patheticlooking enough before that, but the most tragic

"No," said Mary, thoughtfully, "I don't think he is; but he might be uncomprehending, and certainly he's the

kind of man to do anything he once sets out to do. But I wish I hadn't been looking at that poor boy just then!

"I wouldn't." Mrs. Vertrees smiled faintly, and in her smile there was the remotest ghost of a genteel

Mary laughed and nodded. "Yes, indeed! Plenty pleasant enough, and probably, if all were known, too

And when she had gone Mrs. Vertrees drew a long breath, as if a burden were off her mind, and, smiling,

Edith, glancing casually into the "readymade" library, stopped abruptly, seeing Bibbs there alone. He was

standing before the pearlframed and golden lettered poem, musingly inspecting it. He read it:

Fugitive I will forget the things that sting: The lashing look, the barbed word. I know the very hands that fling

The stones at me had never stirred To anger but for their own scars. They've suffered so, that's why they

strike. I'll keep my heart among the stars Where none shall hunt it out. Oh, like These wounded ones I must

not be, For, wounded, I might strike in turn! So, none shall hurt me. Far and free Where my heart flies no one

"Bibbs!" Edith's voice was angry, and her color deepened suddenly as she came into the room, preceded by a

scent of violets much more powerful than that warranted by the actual bunch of them upon the lapel of her

Bibbs did not turn his head, but wagged it solemnly, seeming depressed by the poem. "Pretty young, isn't it?"

he said. "There must have been something about your looks that got the prize, Edith; I can't believe the poem

She glanced hurriedly over her shoulder and spoke sharply, but in a low voice: "I don't think it's very nice of

you to bring it up at all, Bibbs. I'd like a chance to forget the whole silly business. I didn't want them to frame

it, and I wish to goodness papa'd quit talking about it; but here, that night, after the dinner, didn't he go and

read it aloud to the whole crowd of 'em! And then they all wanted to know what other poems I'd written and

why I didn't keep it up and write some more, and if I didn't, why didn't I, and why this and why that, till I

"I couldn't tell 'em anything! I just choke with mortification every time anybody speaks of the thing."

Bibbs looked grieved. "The poem isn't THAT bad, Edith. You see, you were only seventeen when you wrote

"Oh, hush up!" she snapped. "I wish it had burnt my fingers the first time I touched it. Then I might have had

sense enough to leave it where it was. I had no business to take it, and I've been ashamed"

"No, no," he said, comfortingly. "It was the very most flattering thing ever happen to me. It was almost my

last flight before I went to the machineshop, and it's pleasant to think somebody liked it enough to"

"But I DON'T like it!" she exclaimed. "I don't even understand itand papa made so much fuss over its

getting the prize, I just hate it! The truth is I never dreamed it 'd get the prize."

"Well, I had to have something to turn in, and I couldn't write a LINE! I hate poetry, anyhow; and Bobby

Lamhorn's always teasing me about how I 'keep my heart among the stars.' He makes it seem such a mushy

"You'll have to live it down, Edith. Perhaps abroad and under another name you might find"

"Oh, hush up! I'll hire some one to steal it and burn it the first chance I get." She turned away petulantly,

moving to the door. "I'd like to think I could hope to hear the last of it before I die!"

"When I first came you couldn't look at me," Bibbs explained, in his impersonal way. "But I've noticed you

"It's because you look so much better," she told him, cheerfully. "This month you've been here's done you no

"You look worse than 'most anybody I ever saw," said Edith, with supreme candor. "But I don't know much

about it. I've never seen a corpse in my life, and I've never even seen anybody that was terribly sick, so you

mustn't judge by me. I only know you do look better, I'm glad to say. But you're right about my not being

able to look at you at first. You had a kind of whiteness thatWell, you're almost as thin, I suppose, but

you've got more just ordinarily pale; not that ghastly look. Anybody could look at you now, Bibbs, and

"Wellalmost that!" she laughed. "And you're getting a better color every day, Bibbs; you really are. You're

"'Afraid so'! Well, if you aren't the queerest! I suppose you mean father might send you back to the

machineshop if you get well enough. I heard him say something about it the night of the" The jingle of a

distant bell interrupted her, and she glanced at her watch. "Bobby Lamhorn! I'm going to motor him out to

When she had gone, Bibbs mooned pessimistically from shelf to shelf, his eye wandering among the titles of

the books. The library consisted almost entirely of handsome "uniform editions": Irving, Poe, Cooper,

Goldsmith, Scott, Byron, Burns, Longfellow, Tennyson, Hume, Gibbon, Prescott, Thackeray, Dickens, De

Musset, Balzac, Gautier, Flaubert, Goethe, Schiller, Dante, and Tasso. There were shelves and shelves of

encyclopedias, of anthologies, of "famous classics," of "Oriental masterpieces," of "masterpieces of oratory,"

and more shelves of "selected libraries" of "literature," of "the drama," and of "modern science." They made

an effective decoration for the room, all these big, expensive books, with a glossy binding here and there

twinkling a reflection of the flames that crackled in the splendid Gothic fireplace; but Bibbs had an

impression that the bookseller who selected them considered them a relief, and that whitejacket considered

them a burden of dust, and that nobody else considered them at all. Himself, he disturbed not one.

There came a chime of bells from a clock in another part of the house, and whitejacket appeared beamingly

in the doorway, bearing furs. "Awready, Mist' Bibbs," he announced. "You' ma say wrap up wawm f' you'

ride, an' she cain' go with you today, an' not f'git go see you' pa at fo' 'clock. Aw ready, suh."

He equipped Bibbs for the daily drive Dr. Gurney had commanded; and in the manner of a master of

ceremonies unctuously led the way. In the hall they passed the Moor, and Bibbs paused before it while

whitejacket opened the door with a flourish and waved condescendingly to the chauffeur in the car which

"It seems to me I asked you what you thought about this 'statue' when I first came home, George," said Bibbs,

"Yessuh!" George chuckled, perfectly understanding that for some unknown reason Bibbs enjoyed hearing

him repeat his opinion of the Moor. "You ast me when you firs' come home, an' you ast me nex' day, an'

mighty near ev'y day all time you been here; an' las' Sunday you ast me twicet." He shook his head solemnly.

"Mighty lamiDAL!" George, burst out laughing. "What DO 'at word mean, Mist' Bibbs?"

"I nev' DID hear it!" said George. "I uz dess sittin' thinkum to myse'f an' she pop in my head'lamiDAL,'

"It's exactly the word for the statue," said Bibbs, with conviction, as he climbed into the car. "It's a lamiDAL

"Hiyi!" George exulted. "Man! Man! Listen! Well, suh, she mighty lamiDAL statue, but lamiDAL statue

heap o' trouble to dus'!" "I expect she is!" said Bibbs, as the engine began to churn; and a moment later he

George turned to Mist' Jackson, who had been listening benevolently in the hallway. "Same he awways say,

Mist' Jackson'I expec' she is!' Ev'y day he try t' git me talk 'bout 'at lamiDAL statue, an' awways, las'

thing HE say, 'I expec' she is!' You know, Mist' Jackson, if he git well, 'at young man go' be pride o' the

"Look out with all 'at money, George!" Jackson warned the enthusiast. "White folks 'n 'is house know 'im

"I risk it!" cried George, merrily. "I put her all on nowev'y cent! 'At boy's go' be flower o' the flock!"

This singular prophecy, founded somewhat recklessly upon gratitude for the meaning of "lamiDAL," differed

radically from another prediction concerning Bibbs, set forth for the benefit of a fair auditor some twenty

Jim Sheridan, skirting the edges of the town with Mary Vertrees beside him, in his own swift machine,

encountered the invalid upon the highroad. The two cars were going in opposite directions, and the occupants

of Jim's had only a swaying glimpse of Bibbs sitting alone on the back seathis white face startlingly white

against cap and collar of black furbut he flashed into recognition as Mary bowed to him.

Jim waved his left hand carelessly. "It's Bibbs, taking his constitutional," he explained.

"Yes, I know," said Mary. "I bowed to him, too, though I've never met him. In fact, I've only seen him

"Well, I'm his brother," Jim said, deprecatingly, "but I don't know what he's like, and, to tell the truth, I've

never felt exactly like I WAS his brother, the way I do Roscoe. Bibbs never did seem more than half alive to

me. Of course Roscoe and I are older, and when we were boys we were too big to play with him, but he never

played anyway, with boys his own age. He'd rather just sit in the house and mope around by himslef. Nobody

could ever get him to DO anything; you can't get him to do anything now. He never had any LIFE in him;

and honestly, if he is my brother, I must say I believe Bibbs Sheridan is the laziest man God ever made!

Father put him in the machineshop over at the Pump Worksbest thing in the world for himand he was

just plain no account. It made him sick! If he'd had the right kind of energythe kind father's got, for

instance, or Roscoe, eitherwhy, it wouldn't made him sick. And suppose it was either of themyes, or me,

eitherdo you think any of us would have stopped if we WERE sick? Not much! I hate to say it, but Bibbs

Mary looked thoughtful. "Is there any particular reason why he should?" she asked.

"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean that, do you? Don't you believe in a man's knowing how to

earn his salt, no matter how much money his father's got? Hasn't the business of this world got to be carried

on by everybody in it? Are we going to lay back on what we've got and see other fellows get ahead of us? If

we've got big things already, isn't it every man's business to go ahead and make 'em bigger? Isn't it his duty?

"YeesI don't know. But I feel rather sorry for your brother. He looked so lonelyand sick."

"He's gettin' better every day," Jim said. "Dr. Gurney says so. There's nothing much the matter with him,

reallyit's ninetenths imaginary. 'Nerves'! People that are willing to be busy don't have nervous diseases,

"Oh, he's not a lunatic," said Jim. "He's just queer. Sometimes he'll say something right bright, but half the

time what he says is 'way off the subject, or else there isn't any sense to it at all. For instance, the other day I

heard him talkin' to one of the darkies in the hall. The darky asked him what time he wanted the car for his

drive, and anybody else in the world would have just said what time they DID want it, and that would have

been all there was to it; but here's what Bibbs says, and I heard him with my own ears. 'What time do I want

the car?' he says. 'Well, now, that dependsthat depends,' he says. He talks slow like that, you know. 'I'll tell

you what time I want the car, George,' he says, 'if you'll tell ME what you think of this statue!' That's exactly

his words! Asked the darky what he thought of that Arab Edith and mother bought for the hall!"

"Askin' a darky what he thought of a piece of statuaryof a work of art! Where on earth would be the fun of

"See here!" he cried. "Isn't there any way for us to get over this Mister and Miss thing? A month's got

thirtyone days in it; I've managed to be with you a part of pretty near all the thirtyone, and I think you

She looked panicstricken immediately. "Oh, no," she protested, quickly. "No, I don't, and"

"Yes, you do," he said, and his voice shook a little. "You couldn't help knowing."

"What for? You do know how I feel, and youwell, you've certainly WANTED me to feel that wayor

"'Spoilin' it!'" He slowed down the car and turned his face to her squarely. "See here, Miss Vertrees, haven't

"Stop! Stop the car a minute." And when he had complied she faced him as squarely as he evidently desired

"I don't know," she repeated. Her voice was low and troubled and honest, and she kept her clear eyes upon

And at that, though she laughed, she looked a little contemptuous. "No," she said. "And I don't think I ever

shall tell any man thator ever know what it means. I'm in earnest, Mr. Sheridan."

"Then youyou've just been flirting with me!" Poor Jim looked both furious and crestfallen.

"Not on bit!" she cried. "Not one word! Not one syllable! I've meant every single thing!"

"Of course you don't!" she said. "Now, Mr. Sheridan, I want you to start the car. Now! Thank you. Slowly,

till I finish what I have to say. I have not flirted with you. I have deliberately courted you. One thing more,

and then I want you to take me straight home, talking about the weather all the way. I said that I do not

believe I shall ever 'care' for any man, and that is true. I doubt the existence of the kind of 'caring' we hear

about in poems and plays and novels. I think it must be just a kind of emotional TALK most of it. At all

"It isn't an excuse," she said, gently, and gave him one final look, wholly desolate. "I haven't said I should

She inclined her head in a broken sort of acquiescence, very humble, unfathomably sorrowful.

"You needn't!" shouted Jim, radiant and exultant. "You needn't! By George! I know you're square; that's

"Talk about the weather? I will! God bless the old weather!" cried the happy Jim.

Through the open country Bibbs was borne flying between brown fields and sunflecked groves of gray

trees, to breathe the rushing, clean air beneath a glorious skythat sky so despised in the city, and so

maltreated there, that from early October to midMay it was impossible for men to remember that blue is the

Upon each of Bibbs's cheeks there was a hint of something almost resembling a pinkishness; not actual color,

but undeniably its phantom. How largely this apparition may have been the work of the wind upon his face it

is difficult to calculate, for beyond a doubt it was partly the result of a lady's bowing to him upon no more

formal introduction than the circumstance of his having caught her looking into his window a month before.

She had bowed definitely; she had bowed charmingly. And it seemed to Bibbs that she must have meant to

There had been something in her recognition of him unfamiliar to his experience, and he rode the warmer for

it. Nor did he lack the impression that he would long remember her as he had just seen her: her veil

tumultuously blowing back, her face glowing in the windand that look of gay friendliness tossed to him

By and by, upon a rising ground, the driver halted the car, then backed and tacked, and sent it forward again

with its nose to the south and the smoke. Far before him Bibbs saw the great smudge upon the horizon, that

nest of cloud in which the city strove and panted like an engine shrouded in its own steam. But to Bibbs, who

had now to go to the very heart of it, for a commanded interview with his father, the distant cloud was like an

implacable genius issuing thunderously in smoke from his enchanted bottle, and irresistibly drawing Bibbs

They passed from the farm lands, and came, in the amber light of November late afternoon, to the farthermost

outskirts of the city; and here the sky shimmered upon the verge of change from blue to gray; the smoke did

not visibly permeate the air, but it was there, nevertheless impalpable, thin, no more than the dust of

smoke. And then, as the car drove on, the chimneys and stacks of factories came swimming up into view like

miles of steamers advancing abreast, every funnel with its vast plume, savage and black, sweeping to the

horizon, dripping wealth and dirt and suffocation over league on league already rich and vile with grime.

The sky had become only a dingy thickening of the soiled air; and a roar and clangor of metals beat

deafeningly on Bibbs's ears. And now the car passed two great blocks of long brick buildings, hideous in all

ways possible to make them hideous; doorways showing dark one moment and lurid the next with the leap of

some virulent interior flame, revealing blackened giants, half naked, in passionate action, struggling with

formless things in the hot illumination. And big as these shops were, they were growing bigger, spreading

over a third block, where two new structures were mushrooming to completion in some hasty cement process

of a stability not overreassuring. Bibbs pulled the rug closer about him, and not even the phantom of color

was left upon his cheeks as he passed this place, for he knew it too well. Across the face of one of the

Thence they went through streets of wooden houses, all grimed, and adding their own grime from many a

sooty chimney; flimsey wooden houses of a thousand flimsy whimsies in the fashioning, built on narrow lots

and nudging one another crossly, shutting out the stingy sunlight from one another; bad neighbors who would

destroy one another root and branch some night when the right wind blew. They were only waiting for that

wind and a cigarette, and then they would all be gone togethera pinch of incense burned upon the tripod of

Along these streets there were skinny shadetrees, and here and there a forest elm or walnut had been left;

but these were dying. Some people said it was the scale; some said it was the smoke; and some were sure that

asphalt and "improving" the streets did it; but Bigness was in too Big a hurry to bother much about trees. He

had telegraphpoles and telephonepoles and electriclightpoles and trolleypolls by the thousand to take

their places. So he let the trees die and put up his poles. They were hideous, but nobody minded that; and

sometimes the wires fell and killed peoplebut not often enough to matter at all.

Thence onward the car bore Bibbs through the older parts of the town where the few solid old houses not

already demolished were in transition: some, with their fronts torn away, were being made into segments of

apartmentbuildings; others had gone uproariously into trade, brazenly putting forth "showwindows" on

their first floors, seeming to mean it for a joke; one or two with unaltered facades peeped humorously over

the tops of temporary office buildings of one story erected in the old front yards. Altogether, the town here

was like a boardinghouse hash the Sunday after Thanksgiving; the old ingredients were discernible.

This was the fringe of Bigness's own sanctuary, and now Bibbs reached the roaring holy of holies itself. The

car must stop at every crossing while the darkgarbed crowds, enveloped in maelstroms of dust, hurried

before it. Magnificent new buildings, already dingy, loomed hundreds of feet above him; newer ones, more

magnificent, were rising beside them, rising higher; old buildings were coming down; middleaged buildings

were coming down; the streets were laid open to their entrails and men worked underground between

palisades, and overhead in metal cobwebs like spiders in the sky. Trolleycars and long interurban cars, built

to split the wind like torpedoboats, clanged and shrieked their way round swarming corners; motorcars of

every kind and shape known to man babbled frightful warnings and frantic demands; hospital ambulances

clamored wildly for passage; steamwhistles signaled the swinging of titanic tentacle and claw; riveters

rattled like machineguns; the ground shook to the thunder of gigantic trucks; and the conglomerate sound of

it all was the sound of earthquake playing accompaniments for battle and sudden death. On one of the new

steel buildings no work was being done that afternoon. The building had killed a man in the morningand

And in the hurrying crowds, swirling and sifting through the brobdingnagian camp of iron and steel, one saw

the campfollowers and the pagan womenthere would be work today and dancing tonight. For the

Puritan's dry voice is but the crackling of a leaf underfoot in the rush and roar of the coming of the new

Bibbs was on time. He knew it must be "to the minute" or his father would consider it an outrage; and the big

chronometer in Sheridan's office marked four precisely when Bibbs walked in. Coincidentally with his

entrance five people who had been at work in the office, under Sheridan's direction, walked out. They

departed upon no visible or audible suggestion, and with a promptness that seemed ominous to the

newcomer. As the massive door clicked softly behind the elderly stenographer, the last of the procession,

Bibbs had a feeling that they all understood that he was a failure as a great man's son, a disappointment, the

"queer one" of the family, and that he had been summoned to judgmenta wellfounded impression, for that

It is frequently an advantage for deans, schoolmasters, and worried fathers to place delinquents in the

Sheridan, standing, gazed enigmatically upon his son for a period of silence, then walked slowly to a window

and stood looking out of it, his big hands, loosely hooked together by the thumbs, behind his back. They were

soiled, as were all other hands downtown, except such as might be still damp from a basin.

"Well, Bibbs," he said at last, not altering his attitude, "do you know what I'm goin' to do with you?"

Bibbs, leaning back in his chair, fixed his eyes contemplatively upon the ceiling. "I heard you tell Jim," he

began, in his slow way. "You said you'd send him to the machineshop with me if he didn't propose to Miss

That brought his father sharply round to face him. "You beat the devil! Bibbs, what IS the matter with you?

"Boh! Even ole Doc Gurney says there's nothin' wrong with you organically. No. You're a dreamer, Bibbs;

that's what's the matter, and that's ALL the matter. Oh, no one o' these BIG dreamers that put through the big

deals.! No, sir! You're the kind o' dreamer that just sets out on the back fence and thinks about how much

trouble there must be in the world! That ain't the kind that builds the bridges, Bibbs; it's the kind that borrows

fifteen cents from his wife's uncle's brotherinlaw to get ten cent's worth o' plug tobacco and a nickel's

He put the finishing touch on this etching with a snort, and turned again to the window.

"Look out there!" he bade his son. "Look out o' that window! Look at the life and evergy down there! I

should think ANY young man's blood would tingle to get into it and be part of it. Look at the big things

young men are doin' in this town!" He swung about, coming to the mahogany desk in the middle of the room.

"Look at what I was doin' at your age! Look at what your own brothers are doin'! Look at Roscoe! Yes, and

look at Jim! I made Jim president o' the Sheridan Realty Company last NewYear's, with charge of every

inch o' ground and every brick and every shingle and stick o' wood we own; and it's an example to any young

manor ole man, eitherthe way he took ahold of it. Last July we found out we wanted two more big

warehouses at the Pump Works wanted 'em quick. Contractors said it couldn't be done; said nine or ten

months at the soonest; couldn't see it any other way. What 'd Jim do? Took the contract himself; found a

fellow with a new cement and concrete process; kept men on the job night and day, and stayed on it night and

day himselfand, by George! we begin to USE them warehouses next week! Four months and a half, and

every inch fireproof! I tell you Jim's one o' these fellers that make miracles happen! Now, I don't say every

young man can be like Jim, because there's mighty few got his ability, but every young man can go in and do

his share. This town is God's own country, and there's opportunity for anybody with a pound of energy and an

ounce o' gumption. I tell you these young business men I watch just do my heart good! THEY don't set

around on the back fence no, sir! They take enough exercise to keep their health; and they go to a baseball

game once or twice a week in summmer, maybe, and they're raisin' nice families, with sons to take their

places sometime and carry on the workbecause the work's got to go ON! They're puttin' their lifeblood

into it, I tell you, and that's why we're gettin' bigger every minute, and why THEY'RE gettin' bigger, and why

He slapped the desk resoundingly with his open palm, and then, observing that Bibbs remained in the same

impassive attitude, with his eyes still fixed upon the ceiling in a contemplation somewhat plaintive, Sheridan

was impelled to groan. "Oh, Lord!" he said. "This is the way you always were. I don't believe you understood

a darn word I been sayin'! You don't LOOK as if you did. By George! it's discouraging!"

"I don't understand about gettingabout getting bigger," said Bibbs, bringing his gaze down to look at his

"WHAT?" Sheridan leaned forward, resting his hands upon the desk and staring across it incredulously at his

"Great God!" shouted Sheridan, and struck the desk a blow with his clenched fist. "A son of mine asks me

that! You go out and ask the poorest daylaborer you can find! Ask him that question"

"Yes, I reckon he would!" Sheridan swung away from the desk. "I reckon he certainly would! And I got

"Damnation!" Sheridan roared. "Did you ever hear the word Prosperity, you ninny? Did you ever hear the

He flung himself into a chair after the outburst, his big chest surging, his throat tumultuous with gutteral

incoherences. "Now then," he said, huskily, when the anguish had somewhat abated, "what do you want to

Bibbs looked startled; then timidity overwhelmed hima profound shyness. He bent his head and fixed his

lowered eyes upon the toe of his shoe, which he moved to and fro upon the rug, like a culprit called to the

"No, sir." Bibbs's voice was almost inaudible, and what little sound it made was unquestionably a guilty

"I see," said his father, breathing quickly with the restraint he was putting upon himself. "That is, you want to

Sheridan got up again. "I take my hat off to the man that can write a good ad," he said, emphatically. "The

best writin' talent in this country is right spang in the ad business today. You buy a magazine for good

writin'look on the back of it! Let me tell you I pay money for that kind o' writin'. Maybe you think it's

easy. Just try it! I've tried it, and I can't do it. I tell you an ad's got to be written so it makes people do the

hardest thing in this world to GET 'em to do: it's got to make 'em give up their MONEY! You talk about

'poems and essays.' I tell you when it comes to the actual skill o' puttin' words together so as to make things

HAPPEN, R. T. Bloss, right here in this city, knows more in a minute than George Waldo Emerson ever

"Of COURSE I'm right! And if it ain't just like you to want to take up with the most outo'date kind o'

writin' there is! 'Poems and essays'! My Lord, Bibbs, that's WOMEN'S work! You can't pick up a newspaper

without havin' to see where Mrs. Rumskididle read a paper on 'Jane Eyre,' or 'East Lynne,' at the

GodKnowsWhat Club. And 'poetry'! Why, look at Edith! I expect that poem o' hers would set a pretty

highwater mark for you, young man, and it's the only one she's ever managed to write in her whole LIFE!

When I wanted her to go on and write some more she said it took too much time. Said it took months and

months. And Edith's a smart girl; she's got more energy in her little finger than you ever give me a chance to

see in your whole body, Bibbs. Now look at the facts: say she could turn out four or five poems a year and

you could turn out maybe two. That medal she got was worth about fifteen dollars, so there's your

incomethirty dollars a year! That's a fine success to make of your life! I'm not sayin' a word against poetry.

I wouldn't take ten thousand dollars right now for that poem of Edith's; and poetry's all right enough in its

placebut you leave it to the girls. A man's got to do a man's work in this world!"

He seated himself in a chair at his son's side and, leaning over, tapped Bibbs confidentially on the knee. "This

city's got the greatest future in America, and if my sons behave right by me and by themselves they're goin' to

have a mighty fair share of ita mighty fair share. I love this town. It's God's own footstool, and it's made

money for me every day right along, I don't know how many years. I love it like I do my own business, and

I'd fight for it as quick as I'd fight for my own family. It's a beautiful town. Look at our wholesale district;

look at any district you want to; look at the park system we're puttin' through, and the boulevards and the

public statuary. And she grows. God! how she grows!" He had become intensely grave; he spoke with

solemnity. "Now, Bibbs, I can't take any of itnor any gold or silver nor buildings nor bondsaway with

me in my shroud when I have to go. But I want to leave my share in it to my boys. I've worked for it; I've

been a builder and a maker; and two blades of grass have grown where one grew before, whenever I laid my

hand on the ground and willed 'em to grow. I've built big, and I want the buildin' to go on. And when my last

hour comes I want to know that my boys are ready to take charge; that they're fit to take charge and go ON

with it. Bibbs, when that hour comes I want to know that my boys are big men, ready and fit to hold of big

things. Bibbs, when I'm up above I want to know that the big share I've made mine, here below, is growin'

He leaned back, deeply moved. "There!" he said, huskily. "I've never spoken more what was in my heart in

my life. I do it because I want you to understandand not think me a mean father. I never had to talk that

"Wait a minute!" Sheridan raised his hand. "If you see the least bit in the world, then you understand how it

feels to me to have my son set here and talk about 'poems and essays' and suchlike fooleries. And you must

understand, too, what it meant to start one o' my boys and have him come back on me the way you did, and

have to be sent to a sanitarium because he couldn't stand work. Now, let's get right down to it, Bibbs. I've had

a whole lot o' talk with ole Doc Gurney about you, one time another, and I reckon I understand your case just

about as well as he does, anyway! Now here, I'll be frank with you. I started you in harder than what I did the

other boys, and that was for your own good, because I saw you needed to be shook up more'n they did. You

were always kind of moody and mopishand you needed work that 'd keep you on the jump. Now, why did

it make you sick instead of brace you up and make a man of you the way it ought of done? I pinned ole

Gurney down to it. I says, 'Look here, ain't it really because he just plain hated it?' 'Yes,' he says, 'that's it. If

he'd enjoyed it, it wouldn't 'a' hurt him. He loathes it, and that affects his nervous system The more he tries it,

the more he hates it; and the more he hates it, the more injury it does him.' That ain't quite his words, but it's

"Well, then, I reckon it's up to me not only to make you do it, but to make you like it!"

Bibbs shivered. And he turned upon his father a look that was almost ghostly. "I can't," he said, in a low

Sheridan jumped up, his patience gone. To his own view, he had reasoned exhaustively, had explained fully

and had pleaded more than a father should, only to be met in the end with the unreasoning and mysterious

stubbornness which had been Bibbs's baffling characteristic from childhood. "By George, you will!" he cried.

"You'll go back there and you'll like it! Gurney says it won't hurt you if you like it, and he says it 'll kill you if

you go back and hate it; so it looks as if it was about up to you not to hate it. Well, Gurney's a fool! Hatin'

work doesn't kill anybody; and this isn't goin' to kill you, whether you hate it or not. I've never made a

mistake in a serious matter in my life, and it wasn't a mistake my sendin' you there in the first place. And I'm

goin' to prove itI'm goin' to send you back there and vindicate my judgment. Gurney says it's all 'mental

attitude.' Well, you're goin' to learn the right one! He says in a couple more months this fool thing that's been

the matter with you 'll be disappeared completely and you'll be back in as good or better condition than you

were before you ever went into the shop. And right then is when you begin overright in that same shop!

Nobody can call me a hard man or a mean father. I do the best I can for my chuldern, and I take full

responsibility for bringin' my sons up to be men. Now, so far, I've failed with you. But I'm not goin' to keep

ON failin'. I never tackled a job YET I didn't put through, and I'm not goin' to begin with my own son. I'm

Bibbs rose and went slowly to the door, where he turned. "You say you give me a couple of months?" he

Sheridan pushed a bellbutton on his desk. "Gurney said two months more would put you back where you

were. You go home and begin to get yourself in the right 'mental attitude' before those two months are up!

Bibbs's room, that neat apartment for transients to which the "lamidal" George had shown him upon his

return, still bore the appearance of temporary quarters, possibly because Bibbs had no clear conception of

himself as a permanent incumbent. However, he had set upon the mantelpiece the two photographs that he

owned: one, a "group" twenty years oldhis father and mother, with Jim and Roscoe as boysand the other

a "cabinet" of Edith at sixteen. And upon a table were the books he had taken from his trunk: Sartor Resartus,

Virginibus Puerisque, Huckleberry Finn, and Afterwhiles. There were some other books in the trunka large

one, which remained unremoved at the foot of the bed, adding to the general impression of transiency. It

contained nearly all the possessions as well as the secret life of Bibbs Sheridan, and Bibbs sat beside it, the

day after his interview with his father, raking over a small collection of manuscripts in the top tray. Some of

these he glanced through dubiously, finding little comfort in them; but one made him smile. Then he shook

his head ruefully indeed, and ruefully began to read it. It was written on paper stamped "Hood Sanitarium,"

A man may keep a quiet heart at seventy miles an hour, but not if he is running the train. Nor is the habit of

contemplation a useful quality in the stoker of a foundry furnace; it will not be found to recommend him to

the approbation of his superiors. For a profession adapted solely to the pursuit of happiness in thinking, I

would choose that of an invalid: his money is time and he may spend it on Olympus. It will not suffice to be

an amateur invalid. To my way of thinking, the perfect practitioner must be to all outward purposes already

dead if he is to begin the perfect enjoyment of life. His serenity must not be disturbed by rumors of recovery;

he must lie serene in his long chair in the sunshine. The world must be on the other side of the wall, and the

wall must be so thick and so high that he cannot hear the roaring of the furnace fires and the screaming of the

Having read so far as the word "peace," Bibbs suffered an interruption interesting as a coincidence of

contrast. High voices sounded in the hall just outside his door; and it became evident that a woman's quarrel

was in progress, the parties to it having begun it in Edith's room, and continuing it vehemently as they came

"Yes, you BETTER go home!" Bibbs heard his sister vociferating, shrilly. "You better go home and keep

"You see here!" This was Sibyl, and her voice was both acrid and tremulous. "Don't you talk to me that way!

I came here to tell Mother Sheridan what I'd heard, and to let her tell Father Sheridan if she thought she ought

"Yes, you did!" And Edith's gibing laughter tooted loudly. "Yes, you did! YOU didn't have any other reason!

"Oh, hush up, mamma! I'd like to know, then, if she says her new friends tell her he's got such a reputation

"I've explained that to Mother Sheridan." Sibyl's voice indicated that she was descending the stairs. "Married

This seemed to have no very soothing effect upon Edith. "'Shielded from a young girl'!" she shrilled. "You

seem pretty willing to be the shield! You look out Roscoe doesn't notice what kind of a shield you are!"

Sibyl's answer was inaudible, but Mrs. Sheridan's flurried attempts at pacification were renewed. "Now, Edie,

"No! I WON'T 'talk it over'! Stop pulling me! Let me ALONE!" And Edith, flinging herself violently upon

Bibbs's door, jerked it open, swung round it into the room, slammed the door behind her, and threw herself,

face down, upon the bed in such a riot of emotion that she had no perception of Bibbs's presence in the room.

Gasping and sobbing in a passion of tears, she beat the coverlet and pillows with her clenched fists. "Sneak!"

Bibbs saw that she did not know he was there, and he went softly toward the door, hoping to get away before

she became aware of him; but some sound of his movement reached her, and she sat up, startled, facing him.

"No; don't go." She applied a handkerchief to her eyes, emitted a sob, and repeated her request. "Don't go. I

don't mind you; you're quiet, anyhow. Mamma's so fussy, and never gets anywhere. I don't mind you at all,

"All right." And he returned to his chair beside the trunk. "Go ahead and cry all you want, Edith," he said.

"Sibyl told mammaOH!" she began, choking. "Mary Vertrees had mamma and Sibyl and I to tea, one

afternoon two weeks or so ago, and she had some women there that Sibyl's been crazy to get in with, and she

just laid herself out to make a hit with 'em, and she's been running after 'em ever since, and now she comes

over here and says THEY say Bobby Lamhorn is so bad that, even though they like his family, none of the

nice people in town would let him in their houses. In the first place, it's a falsehood, and I don't believe a

word of it; and in the second place I know the reason she did it, and, what's more, she KNOWS I know it! I

won't SAY what it isnot yetbecause papa and all of you would think I'm as crazy as she is snaky; and

Roscoe's such a fool he'd probably quit speaking to me. But it's true! Just you watch her; that's all I ask. Just

As it happened, Bibbs was literally watching "that woman." Glancing from the window, he saw Sibyl pause

upon the pavement in front of the old house next door. She stood a moment, in deep thought, then walked

quickly up the path to the door, undoubtedly with the intention of calling. But he did not mention this to his

sister, who, after delivering herself of a rather vague jeremiad upon the subject of her sisterinlaw's

treacheries, departed to her own chamber, leaving him to his speculations. The chief of these concerned the

social elasticities of women. Sibyl had just been a participant in a violent scene; she had suffered hot insult of

a kind that could not fail to set her quivering with resentment; and yet she elected to betake herself to the

presence of people whom she knew no more than "formally." Bibbs marveled. Surely, he reflected, some

traces of emotion must linger upon Sibyl's face or in her manner; she could not have ironed it all quite out in

And in this he was not mistaken, for Mary Vertrees was at that moment wondering what internal excitement

Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan was striving to master. But Sibyl had no idea that she was allowing herself to exhibit

anything except the gaiety which she conceived proper to the manner of a casual caller. She was wholly

intent upon fulfilling the sudden purpose that brought her, and she was no more selfconscious than she was

finely intelligent. For Sibyl Sheridan belonged to a type Scriptural in its antiquity. She was merely the idle

and halfeducated intriguer who may and does delude men, of course, and the best and dullest of her own sex

as well, finding invariably strong supporters among these latter. It is a type that has wrought some damage in

the world and would have wrought greater, save for the check put upon its power by intelligent women and

by its own "lack of perspective," for it is a type that never sees itself. Sibyl followed her impulses with no

reflection or questionit was like a hound on the gallop after a master on horseback. She had not even the

instinct to stop and consider her effect. If she wished to make a certain impression she believed that she made

"My mother asked me to say that she was sorry she couldn't come down," Mary said, when they were seated.

Sibyl ran the scale of a cooing simulance of laughter, which she had been brought up to consider the polite

thing to do after a remark addressed to her by any person with whom she was not on familiar terms. It was

intended partly as a courtesy and partly as the foundation for an impression of sweetness.

"Just thought I'd fly in a minute," she said, continuing the cooing to relieve the last doubt of her gentiality. "I

thought I'd just behave like REAL country neighbors. We are almost out in the country, so far from

downtown, aren't we? And it seemed such a LOVELY day! I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed

meeting those nice people at tea that afternoon. You see, coming here a bride and never having lived here

before, I've had to depend on my husband's friends almost entirely, and I really 've known scarcely anybody.

Mr. Sheridan has been so engrossed in business ever since he was a mere boy, why, of course"

"Yes. I've been seeing quite a lot of the Kittersbys since that afternoon," Sibyl went on. "They're really

She stopped with unconscious abruptness, her mind plainly wandering to another matter; and Mary perceived

that she had come upon a definite errand. Moreover, a tensing of Sibyl's eyelids, in that moment of

abstraction as she looked aside from her hostess, indicated that the errand was a serious one for the caller and

easily to be connected with the slight but perceptible agitation underlying her assumption of cheerful ease.

"Mrs. Kittersby and her daughter were chatting about some to the people here in town the other day," said

Sibyl, repeating the cooing and protracting it. "They said something that took ME by surprise! We were

Mary interrupted her promptly. "Do you mean 'mutual' to include my mother and me?" she asked.

To her surprise, Sibyl nodded eagerly, as if greatly pleased. "That's just the way Mrs. Kittersby talked!" she

cried, with a vehemence that made Mary stare. "Yes, and I hear that's the way ALL you old families here

Mary looked aside, but otherwise she was able to maintain her composure. "I had the impression he was a

"Oh yes," said the caller, absently. "He is, certainly. A man's reputation for a little gaiety oughtn't to make a

great difference to married people, of course. It's where young girls are in question. THEN it may be very,

very dangerous. There are a great many things safe and proper for married people that might be awf'ly

"I don't know," returned the frank Mary. "Do you mean that you intend to remain a friend of Mr. Lamhorn's,

"That's it exactly!" was the naive and ardent response of Sibyl. "What I feel about it is that a man with his

reputation isn't at all suitable for Edith, and the family ought to be made to understand it. I tell you," she

cried, with a sudden access of vehemence, "her father ought to put his foot down!"

Her eyes flashed with a green spark; something seemed to leap out and then retreat, but not before Mary had

caught a glimpse of it, as one might catch a glimpse of a thing darting forth and then scuttling back into

"Of course," said Sibyl, much more composedly, "I hardly need say that it's entirely on Edith's account that

I'm worried about this. I'm as fond of Edith as if she was really my sister, and I can't help fretting about it. It

This tune was off the key, to Mary's ear. Sibyl tried to sing with pathos, but she flatted.

And when a lady receives a call from another who suffers under the stress of some feeling which she wishes

to conceal, there is not uncommonly developed a phenomenon of duality comparable to the effect obtained by

placing two mirrors opposite each other, one clear and the other flawed. In this case, particularly, Sibyl had

an imperfect consciousness of Mary. The Mary Vertrees that she saw was merely something to be cozened to

her own frantic purposea Mary Vertrees who was incapable of penetrating that purpose. Sibyl sat there

believing that she was projecting the image of herself that she desired to project, never dreaming that with

every word, every look, and every gesture she was more and more fully disclosing the pitiable truth to the

clear eyes of Mary. And the Sibyl that Mary saw was an overdressed woman, in manner half rustic, and in

mind as shallow as a pan, but possessed by emotions that appeared to be strongperhaps even violent. What

"And Edith's life WOULD be spoiled," Sibyl continued. "It would be a dreadful thing for the whole family.

She's the very apple of Father Sheridan's eye, and he's as proud of her as he is of Jim and Roscoe. It would be

a horrible thing for him to have her marry a man like Robert Lamhorn; but he doesn't KNOW anything about

him, and if somebody doesn't tell him, what I'm most afraid of is that Edith might get his consent and hurry

on the wedding before he finds out, and then it would be too late. You see, Miss Vertrees, it's very difficult

"I see," said Mary, looking at her thoughtfully, "Does Miss Sheridan seem toto care very much about

"He's deliberately fascinated her," returned the visitor, beginning to breathe quickly and heavily. "Oh, she

wasn't difficult! She knew she wasn't in right in this town, and she was crazy to meet the people that were,

and she thought he was one of 'em. But that was only the start that made it easy for himand he didn't need

it. He could have done it, anyway!" Sibyl was launched now; her eyes were furious and her voice shook. "He

went after her deliberately, the way he does everything; he's as coldblooded as a fish. All he cares about is

his own pleasure, and lately he's decided it would be pleasant to get hold of a piece of real moneyand there

was Edith! And he'll marry her! Nothing on earth can stop him unless he finds out she won't HAVE any

money if she marries him, and the only person that could make him understand that is Father Sheridan.

Somehow, that's got to be managed, because Lamhorn is going to hurry it on as fast as he can. He told me so

last night. He said he was going to marry her the first minute he could persuade her to itand little Edith's

all ready to be persuaded!" Sibyl's eyes flashed green again. "And he swore he'd do it," she panted. "He swore

And then Mary understood. Her lips parted and she stared at the babbling creature incredulously, a sudden

vivid picture in her mind, a canvas of unconscious Sibyl's painting. Mary beheld it with pity and horror: she

saw Sibyl clinging to Robert Lamhorn, raging, in a whisper, perhaps for Roscoe might have been in the

house, or servants might have head. She saw Sibyl entreating, beseeching, threatening despairingly, and

Lamhorntired of herfirst evasive, then brutally letting her have the truth; and at last, infuriated,

"swearing" to marry her rival. If Sibyl had not babbled out the word "swore" it might have been less plain.

The poor woman blundered on, wholly unaware of what he had confessed. "You see," she said, more quietly,

"whatever's going to be done ought to done right away. I went over and told Mother Sheridan what I'd heard

about Lamhornoh, I was open and aboveboard! I told her right before Edith. I think it ought all to be done

with perfect frankness, because nobody can say it isn't for the girl's own good and what her best friend would

do. But Mother Sheridan's under Edith's thumb, and she's afraid to ever come right out with anything. Father

Sheridan's different. Edith can get anything she wants out of him in the way of money or ordinary indulgence,

but when it comes to a matter like this he'd be a steel rock. If it's a question of his will against anybody else's

he'd make his will rule if it killed 'em both! Now, he'd never in the world let Lamhorn come near the house

again if he knew his reputation. So, you see, somebody's got to tell him. It isn't a very easy position for me, is

Sibyl rippled and cooed again. "There isn't ANYBODY even made such a hit with Father Sheridan in his life

as you have. And of course we ALL hope you're not going to be exactly an outsider in the affairs of the

family!" (This sally with another and louder effect of laughter.) "And if it's MY duty, why, in a way, I think it

"Listen," said Sibyl. "Now suppose I go to Father Sheridan with this story, and Edith says it's not true;

suppose she says Lamhorn has a good reputation and that I'm repeating irresponsible gossip, or suppose

(what's most likely) she loses her temper and says I invented it, then what am I going to do? Father Sheridan

doesn't know Mrs. Kittersby and her daughter, and they're out of the question, anyway. But suppose I could

say: 'All right, if you want proof, ask Miss Vertrees. She came with me, and she's waiting in the next room

"Listen just a minute more," Sibyl urged, confidingly. She was on easy ground now, to her own mind, and

had no doubt of her success. "You naturally don't want to begin by taking part in a family quarrel, but if YOU

take part in it, it won't be one. You don't know yourself what weight you carry over there, and no one would

have the right to say you did it except out of the purest kindness. Don't you see that Jim and his father would

admire you all the more for it? Miss Vertrees, listen! Don't you see we OUGHT to do it, you and I? Do you

suppose Robert Lamhorn cares a snap of his finger for her? Do you suppose a man like him would LOOK at

Edith Sheridan if it wasn't for the money?" And again Sibyl's emotion rose to the surface. "I tell you he's after

nothing on earth but to get his finger in that old man's moneypile, over there, next door! He'd marry

ANYBODY to do it. Marry Edith?" she cried. "I tell you he'd marry their nigger cook for THAT!"

She stopped, afraidat the wrong timethat she had been too vehement, but a glace at Mary reassured her,

and Sibyl decided that she had produced the effect she wished. Mary was not looking at her; she was staring

straight before her at the wall, her eyes wide and shining. She became visibly a little paler as Sibyl looked at

"After nothing on earth but to get his finger in that old man's moneypile, over there, next door!" The voice

was vulgar, the words were vulgarand the plain truth was vulgar! How it rang in Mary Vertrees's ears! The

Sibyl put forth her best bid to clench the matter. She offered her bargain. "Now don't you worry," she said,

sunnily, "about this setting Edith against you. She'll get over it after a while, anyway, but if she tried to be

spiteful and make it uncomfortable for you when you drop in over there, or managed so as to sort of leave

you out, why, I've got a house, and Jim likes to come there. I don't THINK Edith WOULD be that way; she's

too crazy to have you take her around with the smart crowd, but if she DID, you needn't worry. And another

thingI guess you won't mind Jim's own sisterinlaw speaking of it. Of course, I don't know just how

matters stand between you and Jim, but Jim and Roscoe are about as much alike as two brothers can be, and

Roscoe was very slow making up his mind; sometimes I used to think he actually never WOULD. Now, what

I mean is, sistersinlaw can do lots of things to help matters on like that. There's lots of little things can be

She stopped, puzzled. Mary Vertrees had gone from pale to scarlet, and now, still scarlet indeed, she rose,

without a word of explanation, or any other kind of word, and walked slowly to the open door and out of the

Sibyl was a little taken aback. She supposed Mary had remembered something neglected and necessary for

the instruction of a servant, and that she would return in a moment; but it was rather a rude excess of

absentmindedness not to have excused herself, especially as her guest was talking. And, Mary's return being

delayed, Sibyl found time to think this unprefaced exit odder and ruder than she had first considered it. There

might have been more excuse for it, she thought, had she been speaking of matters less importantoffering

Sibyl yawned and swung her muff impatiently; she examined the sole of her show; she decided on a new

shape of heel; she made an inventory of the furniture of the room, of the rugs, of the wallpaper and

engravings. Then she looked at her watch and frowned; went to a window and stood looking out upon the

brown lawn, then came back to the chair she had abandoned, and sat again. There was no sound in the house.

A strange expression began imperceptibly to alter the planes of her face, and slowly she grew as scarlet as

Maryscarlet to the ears. She looked at her watch againand twentyfive minutes had elapsed since she

She went into the hall, glanced over her shoulder oddly; then she let herself softly out of the front door, and

Roscoe met her upon the threshold, gloomily. "Saw you from the window," he explained. "You must find a

"Mrs. Vertrees. I been waiting for you a long time, and I saw the daughter come out, fifteen minutes ago, and

post a letter, and then walk on up the street. Don't stand out on the porch," he said, crossly. "Come in here.

But as she was moving to obey he glanced across at his father's house and started. He lifted his hand to shield

his eyes from the setting sun, staring fixedly. "Something's the matter over there," he muttered, and then,

more loudly, as alarm came into his voice, he said, "What's the matter over there?"

Bibbs dashed out of the gate in an automobile set at its hightest speed, and as he saw Roscoe he made a

genture singularly eloquent of calamity, and was lost at once in a cloud of dust down the street. Edith had

followed part of the way down the drive, and it could be seen that she was crying bitterly. She lifted both

Sheridan had decided to conclude his day's work early that afternoon, and at about two o'clock he left his

office with a man of affairs from foreign parts, who had traveled far for a business conference with Sheridan

and his colleagues. Herr Favre, in spite of his French name, was a gentleman of Bavaria. It was his first visit

to our country, and Sheridan took pleasure in showing him the sights of the country's finest city. They got

into an open car at the main entrance of the Sheridan Building, and were driven first, slowly and

momentously, through the wholesale district and the retail district; then more rapidly they inspected the

packinghouses and the stockyards; then skirmished over the "park system" and "boulevards"; and after that

whizzed through the "residence section" on their way to the factories and foundries.

"No white," said Herr Favre, with a wave of his hand toward the long rows of houses on both sides of the

"Oh. I see!" Sheridan laughed indulgently. "You mean 'GRAY.' No, they ain't, they're white. I never saw any

Herr Favre shook his head, much amused. "There are NO white ones," he said. "There is no white

ANYTHING in your city; no white windowcurtains, no white house, no white peeble!" He pointed upward.

"Smoke!" Then he sniffed the air and clasped his nose between forefinger and thumb. "Smoke! Smoke

"Oh! SMOKE!" Sheridan cried with gusto, drawing in a deep breath and patently finding it delicious. "You

"Exbensif!" said Herr Favre. "Ruins foliage; ruins fabrics. Maybe in summer it iss not so bad, but I wonder

"They must need many, too!" said the vistior. "New hats, new all things, but nothing white. In Munchen we

"Well, I never been to Munich, but I took in the Mediterranean trip, and I tell you, outside o' some right good

scenery, all I saw was mighty dirty and mighty shiftless and mighty rundown at the heel. Now comin' right

down TO it, Mr. Farver, wouldn't you rather live here in this town than in Munich? I know you got more

enterprise up there than the part of the old country I saw, and I know YOU'RE a live business man and you're

associated with others like you, but when it comes to LIVIN' in a place, wouldn't you heap rather be here than

"For me," said Herr Favre, "no. Here I should not think I was living. It would be like the miner who goes into

"We got a good many good citizens here from your part o' the world. THEY like it."

"Oh yes." And Herr Favre laughed deprecatingly. "The first generation, they bring their Germany with them;

then, after that, they are Americans, like you." He tapped his host's big knee genially. "You are patriot; so are

"Well, I reckon you must be a pretty hot little patriot yourself, Mr. Farver!" Sheridan exclaimed, gaily. "You

certainly stand up for your own town, if you stick to sayin' you'd rather live there than you would here. Yes,

SIR! You sure are some patriot to say THATafter you've seen our city! It ain't reasonable in you, but I

must say I kind of admire you for it; every man ought to stick up for his own, even when he sees the other

fellow's got the goods on him. Yet I expect way down deep in your heart, Mr. Farver, you'd rather live right

here than any place else in the world, if you had your choice. Man alive! this is God's country, Mr. Farver,

and a blind man couldn't help seein' it! You couldn't stand where you do in a business way and NOT see it.

Soho, boy! Here we are. This is the big works, and I'll show you something now that 'll make your eyes stick

They had arrived at the Pump Works; and for an hour Mr. Favre was personally conducted and personally

instructed by the founder and president, the buzzing queen bee of those buzzing hives.

"Now I'll take you for a spin in the country," said Sheridan, when at last they came out to the car again.

"We'll take a breezer." But, with his foot on the step, he paused to hail a neat young man who came out of the

office smiling a greeting. "Hello, young fellow!" Sheridan said, heartily. "On the job, are you , Jimmie? Ha!

They don't catch you OFF of it very often, I guess, though I do hear you go automobileridin' in the country

sometimes with a mighty finelookin' girl settin' up beside you!" He roared with laughter, clapping his son

upon the shoulder. "That's all right with meif it is with HER! So, Jimmie? Well, when we goin' to move

"No!" cried his father, delighted. "Don't tell me you're goin' to keep your word about dates! That's no way to

"They'll be all ready for you on the minute," said Jim. "I'm going over both of 'em now, with Links and

"Well, then, when you get through with that," said his father, "you go and take your girl out ridin'. By

George! you've earned it! You tell her you stand high with ME!" He stepped into the car, waving a waggish

farewell, and when the wheels were in motion again, he turned upon his companion a broad face literally

"I got two o' the finest boys," said Sheridan, "I got two o' the finest boys God ever made, and that's a fact, Mr.

Farver! Jim's the oldest, and I tell you they got to get up the day before if they expect to catch HIM in bed!

My other boy, Roscoe, he's always to the good, too, but Jim's a wizard. You saw them two newprocess

warehouses, just about finished? Well, JIM built 'em. I'll tell you about that, Mr. Farver." And he recited this

history, describing the new process at length; in fact, he had such pride in Jim's achievement that he told Herr

"Fine young man, yes," repeated the good Munchner, threequarters of an hour later. They were many miles

"He is that!" said Sheridan, adding, as if confidentially: "I got a fine family, Mr. Farverfine chuldern. I got

a daughter now; you take her and put her anywhere you please, and she'll shine up with ANY of 'em. There's

culture and refinement and society in this town by the carload, and here lately she's been gettin' right in the

thick of ither and my daughterinlaw, both. I got a mighty fine daughterinlaw, Mr. Farver. I'm goin' to

get you up for a meal with us before you leave town, and you'll seeand, well, sir, from all I hear the two of

'em been holdin' their own with the best. Myself, I and the wife never had time for much o' that kind o' doin's,

but it's all right and good for the chuldern; and my daughter she's always kind of taken to it. I'll read you a

poem she wrote when I get you up at the house. She wrote it in school and took the first prize for poetry with

it. I tell you they don't make 'em any smarter 'n that girl, Mr. Farver. Yes, sir; take us all round, we're a pretty

happy family; yes, sir. Roscoe hasn't got any chuldern yet, and I haven't ever spoke to him and his wife about

itit's kind of a delicate matterbut it's about time the wife and I saw some gran'chuldern growin' up

around us. I certainly do hanker for about four or five little curlyheaded rascals to take on my knee. Boys, I

hope, o' course; that's only natural. Jim's got his eye on a mighty splendidlookin' girl; lives right next door to

us. I expect you heard me joshin' him about it back yonder. She's one of the ole bluebloods here, and I guess

it was a mighty good stockto raise HER! She's one these girls that stand tight up and look at you! And

pretty? She's the prettiest thing you ever saw! Good size, too; good health and good sense. Jim 'll be just right

if he gets her. I must say it tickles ME to think o' the way that boy took ahold o' that job back yonder. Four

He expanded this theme once more; and thus he continued to entertain the stranger throughout the long drive.

Darkness had fallen before they reached the city on their return, and it was after five when Sheridan allowed

Herr Favre to descend at the door of his hotel, where boys were shrieking extra editions of the evening paper.

"Now, good night, Mr. Farver," said Sheridan, leaning from the car to shake hands with his guest. "Don't

A newsboy had thrust himself almost between them, yelling, "Extry! Secon' Extry. Extry, all about the

The boy moved away philosophically. "Extry! Extry!" he shrilled. "Three men killed! Extry! Millionaire

"Don't forget, Mr. Farver." Sheridan completed his interrupted farewells. "I'll come by to take you up to our

house for dinner. I'll be here for you about halfpast five tomorrow afternoon. Hope you 'njoyed the drive

much as I have. Good nightgood night!" He leaned back, speaking to the chauffer. "Now you can take me

around to the Central City barbershop, boy. I want to get a shave 'fore I go up home."

"Extry! Extry!" screamed the newsboys, zigzagging among the crowds like bats in the dusk. "Extry! All

about the horrable acciDENT! Extry!" It struck Sheridan that the papers sent out too many "Extras"; they

printed "Extras" for all sorts of petty crimes and casualties. It was a mistake, he decided, critically. Crying

"Wolf!" too often wouldn't sell the goods; it was bad business. The papers would "make more in the long

run," he was sure, if they published an "Extra" only when something of real importance happened.

"Extry! All about the hor'ble AX'nt! Extry!" a boy squawked under his nose, as he descended from the car.

"Go on away!" said Sheridan, gruffly, though he smiled. He liked to see the youngsters working so noisily to

But as he crossed the pavement to the brilliant glass doors of the barbershop, a second newsboy grasped the

"Say, Yallern," said this second, hoarse with awe, "'n't chew know who that IS?"

At about the same hour, four times a weekMonday, Wednesday, Friday, and SaturdaySheridan stopped

at this shop to be shaved by the head barber. The barbers were negroes, he was their great man, and it was

their habit to give him a "reception," his entrance being always the signal for a flurry of jocular hospitality,

followed by general excesses of briskness and gaiety. But it was not so this evening.

The shop was crowded. Copies of the "Extra" were being read by men waiting, and by men in the latter

stages of treatment. "Extras" lay upon vacant seats and showed from the pockets of hanging coats.

There was a loud chatter between the practitioners and their recumbent patients, a vocal charivari which

stopped abruptly as Sheridan opened the door. His name seemed to fizz in the air like the last sputtering of a

firework; the barbers stopped shaving and clipping; lathered men turned their prostrate heads to stare, and

The head barber, nearest the door, stood like a barber in a tableau. His left hand held stretched between

thumb and forefinger an elastic section of his helpless customer's cheek, while his right hand hung poised

above it, the razor motionless. And then, roused from trance by the door's closing, he accepted the fact of

Sheridan's presence. The barber remembered that there are no circumstances in lifeor just after it under

He stepped forward, profoundly graave. "I be through with this man in the chair one minute, Mist' Sheridan,"

he said, in a hushed tone. "Yessuh." And of a solemn negro youth who stood by, gazing stupidly, "You goin'

RESIGN?" he demanded in a fierce undertone. "You goin' take Mist' Sheridan's coat?" He sent an angry look

round the shop, and the barbers, taking his meaning, averted their eyes and fell to work, the murmur of

"You sit down ONE minute, Mist' Sheridan," said the head barber, gently. "I fix nice chair fo' you to wait in."

"Yessuh." And he went quickly back to his chair on tiptoe, followed by Sheridan's puzzled gaze.

Something had gone wrong in the shop, evidently. Sheridan did not know what to make of it. Ordinarily he

would have shouted a hilarious demand for the meaning of the mystery, but an inexplicable silence had been

imposed upon him by the hush that fell upon his entrance and by the odd look every man in the shop had bent

Vaguely disquieted, he walked to one of the seats in the rear of the shop, and looked up and down the two

lines of barbers, catching quickly shifted, furtive glances here and there. He made this brief survey after

wondering if one of the barbers had died suddenly, that day, or the night before; but there was no vacancy in

The seat next to his was unoccupied, but some one had left a copy of the "Extra" there, and, frowning, he

picked it up and glanced at it. The first of the swollen display lines had little meaning to him: Fatally Faulty.

New Process Roof Collapses Hurling Capitalist to Death with Inventor. Seven Escape When Crash Comes.

Thus far had he read when a thin hand fell upon the paper, covering the print from his eyes; and, looking up,

"I've come for you, father," said Bibbs. "Here's the boy with your coat and hat. Put them on and come home."

And even then Sheridan did not understand. So secure was he in the strength and bigness of everything that

Without a word, he followed Bibbs heavily out throught the still shop, but as they reached the pavement he

stopped short and, grasping his son's sleeve with shaking fingers, swung him round so that they stood face to

"Whatwhat" His mouth could not do him the service he asked of it, he was so frightened.

"Extry!" screamed a newsboy straight in his face. "Young North Side millionaire insuntly killed! Extry!"

Sheridan did not know what he said. But in those first words and in the first anguish of the big, stricken face

Standing in the black group under gaunt trees at the cemetery, three days later, Bibbs unwillingly let an old,

old thought become definite in his mind: the sickly brother had buried the strong brother, and Bibbs

wondered how many million times that had happened since men first made a word to name the sons of one

mother. Almost literally he had buried his strong brother, for Sheridan had gone to pieces when he saw his

dead son. He had nothing to help him meet the shock, neither definite religion nor "philosophy" definite or

indefinite. He could only beat his forehead and beg, over and over, to be killed with an ax, while his wife was

helpless except to entreat him not to "take on," herself adding a continuous lamentation. Edith, weeping,

made truce with Sibyl and saw to it that the mourning garments were beyond criticism. Roscoe was dazed,

and he shirked, justifying himself curiously be saying he "never had any experience in such matters." So it

was Bibbs, the shy outsider, who became, during this dreadful little time, the master of the house; for as

strange a thing as that, sometimes, may be the result of a death. He met the relatives from out of town at the

station; he set the time for the funeral and the time for meals; he selected the flowers and he selected Jim's

coffin; he did all the grim things and all the other things. Jim had belonged to an order of Knights, who

lengthened the rites with a picturesque ceremony of their own, and at first Bibbs wished to avoid this, but

upon reflection he offered no objectionhe divined that the Knights and their service would be not precisely

a consolation, but a satisfaction to his father. So the Knights led the procession, with their band playing a

dirge part of the long way to the cemetery; and then turned back, after forming in two lines, plumed hats

"Mighty finelookin' men," said Sheridan, brokenly. "They allall liked him. He was" His breath caught

"Dust to dust," said the minister, under the gaunt trees; and at that Sheridan shook convulsively from head to

foot. All of the black group shivered, execpt Bibbs, when it came to "Dust to dust." Bibbs stood passive, for

he was the only one of them who had known that thought as a familiar neighbor; he had been close upon dust

himself for a long, long time, and even now he could prophesy no protracted separation between himself and

dust. The machineshop had brought him very close, and if he had to go back it would probably bring him

closer still; so closeas Dr. Gurney predictedthat no one would be able to tell the difference between dust

and himself. And Sheridan, if Bibbs read him truly, would be all the more determined to "make a man" of

him, now that there was a man less in the family. To Bibbs's knowledge, no one and nothing had ever

prevented his father from carrying through his plans, once he had determined upon them; and Sheridan was

incapable of believing that any plan of his would not work out according to his calculations. His nature

unfitted him to accept failure. He had the gift of terrible persistence, and with unflecked confidence that his

way was the only way he would hold to that way of "making a man" of Bibbs, who understood very well, in

his passive and impersonal fashion, that it was a way which might make, not a man, but dust of him. But he

He had no shudder for that thought or for any other thought. The truth about Bibbs was in the poem which

Edith had adopted: he had so thoroughly formed the oversensitive habit of hiding his feelings that no doubt

he had forgottenby this timewhere he had put some of them, especially those which concerned himself.

But he had not hidden his feelings about his father where they could not be found. He was strange to his

father, but his father was not strange to him. He knew that Sheridan's plans were conceived in the stubborn

belief that they would bring about a good thing for Bibbs himself; and whatever the result was to be, the son

had no bitterness. Far otherwise, for as he looked at the big, woeful figure, shaking and tortured, an almost

unbearable pity laid hands upon Bibbs's throat. Roscoe stood blinking, his lip quivering; Edith wept audibly;

Mrs. Sheridan leaned in half collapse against her husband; but Bibbs knew that his father was the one who

It was over. Men in overalls stepped forward with their shovels, and Bibbs nodded quickly to Roscoe, making

a slight gesture toward the line of waiting carriages. Roscoe understoodBibbs would stay and see the grave

filled; the rest were to go. The groups began to move away over the turf; wheels creaked on the graveled

drive; and one by one the carriages filled and departed, the horses setting off at a walk. Bibbs gazed

steadfastly at the workmen; he knew that his father kept looking back as he went toward the carriage, and that

was a thing he did not want to see. But after a little while there were no sounds of wheels or hoofs on the

gravel, and Bibbs, glancing up, saw that every one had gone. A coupe had been left for him, the driver dozing

The workmen placed the flowers and wreaths upon the mound and about it, and Bibbs altered the position of

one or two of these, then stood looking thoughtfully at the grotesque brilliancy of that festalseeming hillock

beneath the darkening November sky. "It's too bad!" he half whispered, his lips forming the wordsand his

meaning was that it was too bad that the strong brother had been the one to go. For this was his last thought

before he walked to the coupe and saw Mary Vertrees standing, all alone, on the other side of the drive.

She had just emerged from a grove of leafless trees that grew on a slope where the tombs were many; and

behind her rose a multitude of the barbaric and classic shapes we so strangely strew about our graveyards:

urncrowned columns and stonedraped obelisks, shopcarved angels and shopcarved children poising on

pillars and shafts, all liftingin unthought pathostheir blind stoniness toward the sky. Against such a

background, Bibbs was not incongruous, with his figure, in black, so long and slender, and his face so long

and thin and white; nor was the undertaker's coupe out of keeping, with the shabby driver dozing on the box

and the shaggy horses standing patiently in attitudes without hope and without regret. But for Mary Vertrees,

here was a grotesque setting she was a vivid, living creature of a beautiful world. And a graveyard is not

She also looked startled and confused, but not more startled and confused than Bibbs. In "Edith's" poem he

had declared his intention of hiding his heart "among the stars"; and in his boyhood one day he had

successfully hidden his body in the coalpile. He had been no comrade of other boys or of girls, and his

acquaintances of a recent period were only a few fellowinvalids and the nurses at the Hood Sanitarium. All

his life Bibbs had kept himself to himselfhe was but a shy onlooker in the world. Nevertheless, the startled

gaze he bent upon the unexpected lady before him had causes other than his shyness and her unexpectedness.

For Mary Vertrees had been a shining figure in the little world of late given to the view of this humble and

elusive outsider, and spectators sometimes find their hearts beating faster than those of the actors in the

spectacle. Thus with Bibbs now. He started and stared; he lifted his hat with incredible awkwardness, his

"Mr. Sheridan," said Mary, "I'm afraid you'll have to take me home with you. I" She stopped, not lacking a

In that manner and in that place they exchanged their first words. Then Mary withour more ado got into the

"You're very kind," she said, somewhat breathlessly. "I should have had to walk, and it's beginning to get

"I ought to tell youI" Mary began, confusedly. She bit her lip, sat silent a moment, then spoke with

"It does, though," said Mary. "I had not intended to come to the cemetery, Mr. Sheridan, but one of the men

in charge at the house came and whispered to me that 'the family wished me to'I think your sister sent him.

"I got out on the opposite side of the carriage," she continued. "I mean opposite fromfrom where all of you

were. And I wandered off over in the other direction; and I didn't realize how little timeit takes. From

where I was I couldn't see the carriages leavingat least I didn't notice them. So when I got back, just now,

you were the only one here. I didn't know the other people in the carriage I came in, and of course they didn't

Mary looked out through the dusty window. "I think we'd better be going home, if you please," she said.

She gave him a quick little glance. "I think you must be very tired, Mr. Sheridan; and I know you have reason

to be," she said, gently. "If you'll let me, I'll" And without explaining her purpose she opened the door on

"Driver!" she called, in her clear voice, loudly. "Driver! We'd like to start, please! Driver! Stop at the house

just north of Mr. Sheridan's, please." The wheels began to move, and she leaned back beside Bibbs once

more. "I noticed that he was asleep when we got in," she said. "I suppose they have a great deal of night

Bibbs drew a long breath and waited till he could command his voice. "I've never been able to apologize

quickly," he said, with his accustomed slowness, "because if I try to I stammer. My brother Roscoe whipped

me once, when we were boys, for stepping on his slatepencil. It took me so long to tell him it was an

Mary Vertrees had never heard anything quite like the drawling, gentle voice or the odd implication that his

not noticing the motionless state of their vehicle was an "accident." She had formed a casual impression of

him, not without sympathy, but at once she discovered that he was unlike any of her cursory and vague

imaginings of him. And suddenly she saw a picture he had not intended to paint for sympathy: a sturdy boy

hammering a smaller, sickly boy, and the sickly boy unresentful. Not that picture alone; others flashed before

her. Instantaneously she had a glimpse of Bibbs's life and into his life. She had a queer feeling, new to her

experience, of knowing him instantly. It startled her a litttle; and then, with some surprise, she realized that

she was glad he had sat so long, after getting into the coupe, before he noticed that it had not started. What

she did not realize, however, was that she had made no response to his apology, and they passed out of the

Bibbs was so content with the silence he did not know that it was silence. The dusk, gathering in their small

inclosure, was filled with a rich presence for him; and presently it was so dark that neither of the two could

see the other, nor did even their garments touch. But neither had any sense of being alone. The wheels

creaked steadily, rumbling presently on paved streeets; there were the sounds, as from a distance, of the

plodplod of the horses; and sometimes the driver became audible, coughing asthmatically, or saying, "You,

JOE!" with a spiritless flap of the whip upon an unresponsive back. Oblongs of light from the lamps at

streetcorners came swimming into the interior of the coupe and, thinning rapidly to lances, passed utterly,

leaving greater darkness. And yet neither of these two last attendants at Jim Sheridan's funeral broke the

It was Mary who preceived the strangeness of ittoo late. Abruptly she realized that for an indefinite

interval she had been thinking of her companion and not talking to him. "Mr. Sheridan," she began, not

knowing what she was going to say, but impelled to say anything, as she realized the queerness of this

The coupe stopped. "You, JOE!" said the driver, reproachfully, and climbed down and opened the door.

Mary was incredulous; she felt that it couldn't be true and that it mustn't be true that they had driven all the

"We're there, sir," said the driver, sympathetically. "Next house north of Mr. Sheridan's."

Bibbs descended to the curb. "Why, yes," he said. "Yes, you seem to be right." And while he stood staring at

the dimly illuminated front windows of Mr. Vertrees's house Mary got out, unassisted.

"Let me help you," said Bibbs, stepping toward her mechanically; and she was several feet from the coupe

"Oh no," she murmured. "I think I can" She meant that she could get out of the coupe without help, but,

perceiving that she had already accomplished this feat, she decided not to complete the sentence.

"You, JOE!" cried the driver, angrily, climbing to his box. And he rumbled away at his team's best pacea

"Thank you for bringing me home, Mr. Sheridan," said Mary, stiffly. She did not offer her hand. "Good

"Good night," Bibbs said in response, and, turning with her, walked beside her to the door. Mary made that a

short walk; she almost ran. Realization of the queerness of their drive was growing upon her, beginning to

shock her; she stepped aside from the light that fell through the glass panels of the door and withheld her

"Good night," said Bibbs, and went obediently. When he reached the street he looked back, but she had

Moving slowly away, he caromed against two people who were turning out from the pavement to cross the

But Sibyl took the wanderer by the arm. "Come over to our house for a little while, Bibbs," she urged. "I

"Yes. I want you to. Your father's gone to bed, and they're all quiet over thereall worn out. Just come for a

He yielded, and when they were in the house she repeated herself with real feeling: "'All worn out!' Well, if

anybody is, YOU are, Bibbs! And I don't wonder; you've done every bit of the work of it. You mustn't get

He let her have her own way, following her into the diningroom, and was grateful when she brought him a

tiny glass filled from one of the decanters on the sideboard. Roscoe gloomily poured for himself a much

heavier libation in a larger glass; and the two men sat, while Sibyl leaned against the sideboard, reviewing the

episodes of the day and recalling the names of the donors of flowers and wreaths. She pressed Bibbs to

remain longer when he rose to go, and then, as he persisted, she went with him to the front door. He opened

"Bibbs, you were coming out of the Vertreeses' house when we met you. How did you happen to be there?"

"I wasn't," he explained, moving to depart. "I'd just brought Miss Vertrees home."

"Yes," he said, and stepped out upon the porch, "that was it. Good night, Sibyl."

"Wait!" she said, following him across the threshold. "How did that happen? I thought you were going to wait

"I did wait. Miss Vertrees was there," he said, reluctantly. "She had walked away for a while and didn't notice

that the carriages were leaving. When she came back the coupe waiting for me was the only one left."

She regarded him with dilating eyes. She spoke with a slow breathlessness. "And she drove home from Jim's

Without warning she burst into laughter, clapped her hand ineffectually over her mouth, and ran back

Bibbs went home pondering. He did not understand why Sibyl had laughed. The laughter itself had been

spontaneous and beyond suspicion, but it seemed to him that she had only affected to effort to suppress it and

that she wished it to be significant. Significant of what? And why had she wished to impress upon him the

fact of her overwhelming amusement? He found no answer, but she had succeeded in disturbing him, and he

At home, uncles, aunts, and cousins from out of town were wandering about the house, several mournfully

admiring the "Bay of Naples," and others occupied with the Moor and the plumbing, while they waited for

trains. Edith and her mother had retired to some upper fastness, but Bibbs interviewed Jackson and had the

various groups of relatives summoned to the diningroom for food. One greatuncle, old Gideon Sheridan

from Boonville, could not be found, and Bibbs went in search of him. He ransacked the house, discovering

the missing antique at last by accident. Passing his father's closed door on tiptoe, Bibbs heard a murmurous

sound, and paused to listen. The sound proved to be a quavering and rickety voice, monotonously bleating:

"The Loord givuth and the Loord takuth away! We got to remember that; we got to remember that! I'm

agittin' along, James; I'm agittin' along, and I've seen amany of 'em gotwo daughters and a son the

Lord give me, and He has taken all away. For the Loord givuth and the Loord takuth away! Remember the

words of Bildad the Shuhite, James. Bildad the Shuhite says, 'He shall have neither son nor nephew among

Bibbs opened the door softly. His father was lying upon the bed, in his underclothes, face downward, and

Uncle Gideon sat near by, swinging backward and forward in a rockingchair, stroking his long white beard

and gazing at the ceiling as he talked. Bibbs beckoned him urgently, but Uncle Gideon paid no attention.

"Bibdad the Shuhite spake and his says, 'If thy children have sinned against Him and He have cast them

There was a muffled explosion beneath the floor, and the windows rattled. The figure lying face downward

on the bed did not move, but Uncle Gideon leaped from his chair. "My God!" he cried. "What's that?"

There came a second explosion, and Uncle Gideon ran out into the hall. Bibbs went to the head of the great

staircase, and, looking down, discovered the source of the distubance. Gideon's grandson, a boy of fourteen,

had brought his camera to the funeral and was taking "flashlights" of the Moor. Uncle Gideon, reassured by

Bibbs's explanation, would have returned to finish his quotation from Bildad the Shuhite, but Bibbs detained

him, and after a little argument persuaded him to descend to the diningroom whither Bibbs followed, after

He kept his eye on Gideon after dinner, diplomatically preventing several attempts on the part of that

comforter to reascend the stairs; and it was a relief to Bibbs when George announced that an automobile was

waiting to convey the ancient man and his grandson to their train. They were the last to leave, and when they

He stretched himself wearily upon the bed, but presently rose, went to the window, and looked for a long

time at the darkened house where Mary Vertrees lived. Then he open his trunk, took therefrom a small

Laughter after a funeral. In this reaction people will laugh at anything and at nothing. The band plays a dirge

on the way to the cemetery, but when it turns back, and the mourning carriages are out of hearing, it strikes

up, "Darktown is Out Tonight." That is natural but there are women whose laughter is like the whirring

of whips. Why is it that certain kinds of laughter seem to spoil something hidden away from the laughers? If

they do not know of it, and have never seen it, how can their laughter hurt it? Yet it does. Beauty is not out of

place among gravestones. It is not out of place anywhere. But a woman who has been betrothed to a man

would not look beautiful at his funeral. A woman might look beautiful, though, at the funeral of a man whom

she had known and liked. And in that case, too, she would probably not want to talk if she drove home from

the cemetery with his brother: nor would she want the brother to talk. Silence is usually either stupid or timid.

But for a man who stammers if he tries to talk fast, and drawls so slowly, when he doesn't stammer, that

nobody has time to listen to him, silence is advisable. Nevertheless, too much silence is open to suspicion. It

may be reticence, or it may be a vacuum. It may be dignity, or it may be false teeth. Sometimes an

imperceptible odor will become perceptible in a small inclosure, such as a closed carriage. The ghost of

gasoline rising from a lady's glove might be sweeter to the man riding beside her than all the scents of Arcady

in spring. It depends on the ladybut there ARE! Three miles may be three hundred miles, or it may be three

feet. When it is three feet you have not time to say a great deal before you reach the end of it. Still, it may be

that one should begin to speak. No one could help wishing to stay in a world that holds some of the people

that are in this world. There are some so wonderful you do not understand how the dead COULD die. How

could they let themselves? A falling building does not care who falls with it. It does not choose who shall be

upon its roof and who shall not. Silence CAN be golden? Yes. But perhaps if a woman of the world should

find herself by accident sitting beside a man for the length of time it must necessarily take two slow old

horses to jog three miles, she might expect that man to say something of some sort! Even if she thought him a

feeble hypochondriac, even if she had heard from others that he was a disappointment to his own people,

even if she had seen for herself that he was a useless and irritating encumbrance everywhere, she might

expect him at least to speakshe might expect him to open his mouth and try to make sounds, if he only

barked. If he did not even try, but sat every step of the way as dumb as a frozen fish, she might THINK him a

frozen fish. And she might be right. She might be right if she thought him about as pleasant a companion

Bibbs closed his notebook, replacing it in his trunk. Then, after a period of melancholy contemplation, he

undressed, put on a dressinggown and slippers, and went softly out into the hallto his father's door. Upon

the floor was a tray which Bibbs had sent George, earlier in the evening, to place upon a table in Sheridan's

roombut the food was untouched. Bibbs stood listening outside the door for several minutes. There came

In the morning he woke to a state of being hitherto unknown in his experience. Sometimes in the process of

waking there is a little pause sleep has gone, but coherent thought has not begun. It is a curious halfvoid,

a glimpse of aphasia; and although the person experiencing it may not know for that instant his own name or

age or sex, he may be acutely conscious of depression or elation. It is the moment, as we say, before we

"remember"; and for the first time in Bibbs's life it came to him bringing a vague happiness. He woke to a

sense of new riches; he had the feeling of a boy waking to a birthday. But when the next moment brought him

his memory, he found nothing that could explain his exhilaration. On the contrary, under the circumstances it

seemed grotesquely unwarranted. However, it was a brief visitation and was gone before he had finished

dressing. It left a little trail, the pleased recollection of it and the puzzle of it, which remained unsolved. And,

in fact, waking happily in the morning is not usually the result of a drive home from a funeral. No wonder the

His father had gone when he came downstairs. "Went on down to 's office, jes' same," Jackson informed

him. "Came sat breakfas'table, all by 'mself; eat nothin'. George bring nice breakfas', but he di'n' eat a thing.

Yessuh, went on downtown, jes' same he yoosta do. Yessuh, I reckon putty much ev'ything goin' go on

It struck Bibbs that Jackson was right. The day passed as other days had passed. Mrs. Sheridan and Edith

were in black, and Mrs. Sheridan cried a little, now and then, but no other external difference was to be seen.

Edith was quiet, but not noticeably depressed, and at lunch proved herself able to argue with her mother upon

the propriety of receiving calls in the earliest stages of "mourning." Lunch was as usualfor Jim and his

father had always lunched downtownand the afternoon was as usual. Bibbs went for his drive, and his

mother went with him, as she sometimes did when the weather was pleasant. Altogether, the usualness of

During the drive Mrs. Sheridan talked fragmentarily of Jim's childhood. "But you wouldn't remember about

that," she said, after narrating an episode. "You were too little. He was always a good boy, just like that. And

he'd save whatever papa gave him, and put it in the bank. I reckon it 'll just about kill your father to put

somebody in his place as president of the Realty Company, Bibbs. I know he can't move Roscoe over; he told

me last week he'd already put as much on Roscoe as any one man could handle and not go crazy. Oh, it's a

pity" She stopped to wipe her eyes. "It's a pity you didn't run more with Jim, Bibbs, and kind o' pick up his

ways. Think what it'd meant to papa now! You never did run with either Roscoe or Jim any, even before you

got sick. Of course, you were younger; but it always DID seem queerand you three bein' brothers like that.

I don't believe I ever saw you and Jim sit down together for a good talk in my life."

"Mother, I've been away so long," Bibbs returned, gently. "And since I came home I"

"Oh, I ain't reproachin' you, Bibbs," she said. "Jim ain't been home much of an evening since you got

backwhat with his work and callin' and goin' to the theater and places, and often not even at the house for

dinner. Right the evening before he got hurt he had his dinner at some miser'ble rest'rant down by the Pump

Works, he was so set on overseein' the night work and gettin' everything finished up right to the minute he

told papa he would. I reckon you might 'a' put in more time with Jim if there'd been more opportunity, Bibbs.

"I suppose I really didn't, mother. He was busy, you see, and I hadn't much to say about the things that

"It's a pity! Oh, it's a pity!" she moaned. "And you'll have to learn to know about 'em NOW, Bibbs! I haven't

said much to you, because I felt it was all between your father and you, but I honestly do believe it will just

kill him if he has to have any more trouble on top of all this! You mustn't LET him, Bibbsyou mustn't!

You don't know how he's grieved over you, and now he can't stand any morehe just can't! Whatever he

says for you to do, you DO it, Bibbs, you DO it! I want you to promise me you will."

"No, no! Why can't you?" she cried, clutching his arm. "He wants you to go back to the machineshop

"Yes, that's itto go in a cheerful spirit. Dr. Gurney said it wouldn't hurt you if you went in a cheerful

spiritthe doctor said that himself, Bibbs. So why can't you do it? Can't you do that much for your father?

You ought to think what he's done for YOU. You got a beautiful house to live in; you got automobiles to ride

in; you got fur coats and warm clothes; you been taken care of all your life. And you don't KNOW how he

worked for the money to give all these things to you! You don't DREAM what he had to go through and what

he risked when we were startin' out in life; and you never WILL know! And now this blow has fallen on him

out of a clear sky, and you make it out to be a hardship to do like he wants you to! And all on earth he asks is

for you to go back to the work in a cheerful spirit, so it won't hurt you! That's all he asks. Look, Bibbs, we're

gettin' back near home, but before we get there I want you to promise me that you'll do what he asks you to.

In her earnestness she cleared away her black veil that she might see him better, and it blew out on the smoky

"There!" she exclaimed, satisfied. "That's a good boy! That's all I wanted you to say."

"Don't give me any credit," he said, ruefully. "There isn't anything else for me to do."

"No, no," he soothed her. "We'll have to begin to make the spirit a cheerful one. We may" They were

turning into their own driveway as he spoke, and he glanced at the old house next door. Mary Vertrees was

visible in the twilight, standing upon the front steps, bareheaded, the door open behind her. She bowed

"Of all the queer boys!" she cried. "You always were. Always! You haven't forgot what you just promised

"No," he answered, as the car stopped. "No, the spirit will be as cheerful as the flesh will let it, mother. It

His voice was low, and in her movement to descend from the car she failed to here his final words.

But she was fretful in her grief. "You said it wouldn't do to behave like SOMEBODY. Behave like WHO?"

"It was just nonsense," he explained, turning to go in. "An obscure person I don't think much of lately."

"Behave like WHO?" she repeated, and upon his yielding to her petulant insistence, she made up her mind

The outward usualness of things continued after dinner. It was Sheridan's custom to read the evening paper

beside the fire in the library, while his wife, sitting near by, either sewed (from old habit) or allowed herself

to be repeatedly baffled by one of the simpler forms of solitaire. Tonight she did neither, but sat in her

customary chair, gazing at the fire, while Sheridan let the unfolded paper rest upon his lap, though now and

then he lifted it, as if to read, and let it fall back upon his knees again. Bibbs came in noiselessly and sat in a

corner, doing nothing; and from a "receptionroom" across the hall an indistinct vocal murmur became just

audible at intervals. Once, when this murmur grew louder, under stress of some irrepressible merriment,

Edith's voice could be heard"Bobby, aren't you awful!" and Sheridan glanced across at his wife

She rose at once and went into the "receptionroom"; there was a flurry of whispering, and the sound of

tiptoeing in the hallEdith and her suitor changing quarters to a more distant room. Mrs. Sheridan returned

"They won't bother you any more, papa," she said, in a comforting voice. "She told me at lunch he'd 'phoned

he wanted to come up this evening, and I said I thought he'd better wait a few days, but she said she'd already

told him he could." She paused, then added, rather guiltily: "I got kind of a notion maybe Roscoe don't like

him as much as he used to. Maybe maybe you better ask Roscoe, papa." And as Sheridan nodded

solemnly, she concluded, in haste: "Don't say I said to. I might be wrong about it, anyway."

He nodded again, and they sat for some time in a silence which Mrs. Sheridan broke with a little sniff, having

fallen into a reverie that brought tears. "That Miss Vertrees was a good girl," she said. "SHE was all right."

Her husband evidently had no difficulty in following her train of thought, for he nodded once more,

He rose heavily, helping himself to his feet by the arms of his chair. "I fixed it," he said, in a husky voice. "I

moved Cantwell up, and put Johnston in Cantwell's place, and split up Johnston's work among the four men

with salaries high enough to take it." He went to her, put his hand upon her shoulder, and drew a long,

audible, tremulous breath. "It's my bedtime, mamma; I'm goin' up." He dropped the hand from her shoulder

and moved slowly away, but when he reached the door he stopped and spoke again, without turning to look at

her. "The Realty Company 'll go right on just the same," he said. "It's likeit's like sand, mamma. It puts me

in mind of chuldern playin' in a sandpile. One of 'em sticks his finger in the sand and makes a hole, and

another of 'em 'll pat the place with his hand, and all the little grains of sand run in and fill it up and settle

against one another; and then, right away it's flat on top again, and you can't tell there ever was a hole there.

The Realty Company 'll go on all right, mamma. There ain't anything anywhere, I reckon, that wouldn't go

And he passed out slowly into the hall; then they heard his heavy tread upon the stairs.

Mrs. Sheridan, rising to follow him, turned a piteous face to her son. "It's so forlong," she said, chokingly.

"That's the first time he spoke since he came in the house this evening. I know it must 'a' hurt him to hear

Edith laughin' with that Lamhorn. She'd oughtn't to let him come, right the very first evening this way; she'd

oughtn't to done it! She just seems to lose her head over him, and it scares me. You heard what Sibyl said the

"We CAN'T have any trouble o' THAT kind!" she wailed. "Oh, it looks as if movin' up to this New House

had brought us awful bad luck! It scares me!" She put both her hands over her face. "Oh, Bibbs, Bibbs! if you

only wasn't so QUEER! If you could only been a kind of dependable son! I don't know what we're all comin'

Bibbs gazed for a while at the fire; then he rose abruptly, like a man who has come to a decision, and briskly

sought the roomit was called "the smokingroom"where Edith sat with Mr. Lamhorn. They looked up

in no welcoming manner, at Bibbs's entrance, and moved their chairs to a less conspicuous adjacency.

"Good evening," said Bibbs, pleasantly; and he seated himself in a leather easychair near them.

"Nothing in the world. Father and mother have gone upstairs; I sha'n't be going up for several hours, and

there didn't seem to be anybody left for me to chat with except you and Mr. Lamhorn."

"I can talk about almost anything," said Bibbs with an air of genial politeness. "It doesn't matter to ME. I

don't know much about business if that's what you happened to be talking about. But you aren't in

"I'm not, either," said Bibbs. "It was getting cloudier than usual, I noticed, just before dark, and there was

He seemed to feel that he had begun a conversation the support of which had now become the pleasurable

duty of other parties; and he sat expectantly, looking first at his sister, then at Lamhorn, as if implying that it

was their turn to speak. Edith returned his gaze with a mixture of astonishment and increasing anger, while

Mr. Lamhorn was obviously disturbed, though Bibbs had been as considerate as possible in presenting the

weather as a topic. Bibbs had perceived that Lamhorn had nothing in his mind at any time except

"personalities"he could talk about people and he could make love. Bibbs, wishing to be courteous, offered

Lamhorn refused it, and concluded from Bibbs's luxurious attitude in the leather chair that this halfcrazy

brother was a permanent fixture for the rest of the evening. There was not reason to hope that he would move,

"Too bad," said Bibbs, genially, walking to the door with the visitor, while Edith stood staring as the two

disappeared in the hall. She heard Bibbs offering to "help" Lamhorn with his overcoat and the latter rather

curtly declining assistance, these episodes of departure being followed by the closing of the outer door. She

"What's the matter with you?" she cried, furiously. "What do you MEAN? How did you dare come in there

Her voice broke; she made a gesture of rage and despair, and ran up the stairs, sobbing. She fled to her

mother's room, and when Bibbs came up, a few minutes later, Mrs. Sheridan met him at his door.

"Oh, Bibbs," she said, shaking her head woefully, "you'd oughtn't to distress your sister! She says you drove

Bibbs smiled faintly, noting that Edith's door was open, with Edith's naive shadow motionless across its

threshold. "Yes," he said. "He doesn't appear to much of a 'man's man.' He ran at just a glimpse of one."

"No, no," he answered. "I said, 'just a glimpse of one.' I didn't claim " But her door slammed angrily; and

"There," he said, sighing. "That's almost the first time in my life I ever tried to be a man of action, mother,

and I succeeded perfectly in what I tried to do. As a consequence I feel like a horsethief!"

"You hurt her feelin's," she groaned. "You must 'a' gone at it too rough, Bibbs."

He looked upon her wanly. "That's my trouble, mother," he murmured. "I'm a plain, blunt fellow. I have

For once she perceived some meaning in his queerness. "Hush your nonsense!" she said, goodnaturedly, the

"You mustn't do that under a misapprehension," he warned her, when they were alone in the diningroom.

"Speak to me. I came into the smokingroom last night 'on purpose,'" he told her, gravely. "I have a prejudice

She laughed. "I guess you think it means a great deal who you have prejudices against!" In mockery she

adopted the manner of one who implores. "Bibbs, for pity's sake PROMISE me, DON'T use YOUR influence

"Listen," he said, with peculiar earnestness. "I'll tell you now, becausebecause I've decided I'm one of the

family." And then, as if the earnestness were too heavy for him to carry it further, he continued, in his usual

Edith hooted. "SHE did to HIM! And because you overheard that spat between us the other day when I the

Edith screamed with laughter. "You were with ROSCOEand you heard Lamhorn making love to Sibyl!"

"You're funnier than ever, Bibbs!" she cried. "You say he made love to her because you heard them

"That's it. If you want to know what's 'between' people, you canby the way they quarrel."

"Nothing. That's how I knew. People who quarrel over nothing!it's always certain"

Edith stopped laughing abruptly, but continued her mockery. "You ought to know. You've had so much

"I haven't any, Edith," he said. "My life has been about as exciting as an incubator chicken's. But I look out

"Well, then," she said, "if you look out through the glass you must know what effect such stuff would have

upon ME!" She rose, visibly agitated. "What if it WAS true?" she dmanded, bitterly. "What if it was true a

hundred times over? You sit there with your silly face half ready to giggle and half ready to sniffle, and tell

me stories like that, about Sibyl picking on Bobby Lamhorn and worrying him to death, and you think it

matters to ME? What if I already KNEW all about their 'quarreling'? What if I understood WHY she" She

broke off with a violent gesture, a sweep of her arm extended at full length, as if she hurled something to the

ground. "Do you think a girl that really cared for a man would pay any attention to THAT? Or to YOU, Bibbs

He looked at her steadily, and his gaze was as keen as it was steady. She met it with unwavering pride.

Finally he nodded slowly, as if she had spoken and he meant to agree with what she said.

"Ah, yes," he said. "I won't come into the smokingroom again. I'm sorry, Edith. Nobody can make you see

anything now. You'll never see until you see for yourself. The rest of us will do better to keep out of

"That's sensible," she responded, curtly. "You're most surprising of all when you're sensible, Bibbs."

Thawing so far as to smile, she underwent this brief ceremony, and George appeared, summoning Bibbs to

the library; Dr. Gurney was waiting there, he announced. And Bibbs gave his sister a shy but friendly touch

Dr. Gurney was sitting by the log fire, alone in the room, and he merely glanced over his shoulder when his

patient came in. He was not over fifty, in spite of Sheridan's habitual "ole Doc Gurney." He was gray,

"Your father telephoned me yesterday afternoon, Bibbs," he said, not rising. "Wants me to 'look you over'

again. Come around here in front of mebetween me and the fire. I want to see if I can see through you."

"You mean you're too sleepy to move," returned Bibbs, complying. "I think you'll notice that I'm getting

"Well, it won't do." The doctor rubbed his eyelids. "You're so much better I'll have to use some machinery on

you before we can know just where you are. You come down to my place this afternoon. Walk down all

"Don't blame you!" the doctor grunted. "Yes, I expect it 'll make a lump in your gizzard again. Well, what do

you say? Shall I tell him you've got the old lump there yet? You still want to write, do you?"

"Yes," the doctor agreed. "I suppose it you broke away and lived on roots and berries until you began to

'attract the favorable attention of editors' you might be able to hope for an income of four or five hundred

"Of course I know what you want to do," said Gurney, drowsily. "You don't hate the machineshop only; you

hate the whole showthe noice and jar and dirt, the scramblethe whole bloomin' craze to 'get on.' You'd

like to go somewhere in Algiers, or to Taormina, perhaps, and bask on a balcony, smelling flowers and

writing sonnets. You'd grow fat on it and have a delicate little life all to yourself. Well, what do you say? I

can lie like sixty, Bibbs! Shall I tell your father he'll lose another of his boys if you don't go to Sicily?"

The doctor's drowsiness disappeared for a moment, and he gave his patient a sharp glance. "It's a risk," he

said. "I think we'll find you're so much better he'll send you back to the shop pretty quick. Something's got

hold of you lately; you're not quite so lackadaisical as you used to be. But I warn you: I think the shop will

He rose, shook himself, and rubbed his eyelids. "Well, when we go over you this afternoon what are we

"Oh no," Gurney laughed. "Not quite yet; but you may be almost. We'll see. Don't forget I said to walk

And when the examination was concluded, that afternoon, the doctor informed Bibbs that the result was

much too satisfactory to be pleasing. "Here's a new 'situation' for a oneact farce," he said, gloomily, to his

next patient when Bibbs had gone. "Doctor tells a man he's well, and that's his death sentence, likely. Dam'

Bibbs decided to walk home, though Gurney had not instructed him upon this point. In fact, Gurney seemed

to have no more instructions on any point, so discouraging was the young man's improvement. It was a dingy

afternoon, and the smoke was evident not only to Bibbs's sight, but to his nostrils, though most of the

pedestrians were so saturated with the smell they could no longer detect it. Nearly all of them walked

hurriedly, too intent upon their destinations to be more than half aware of the wayside; they wore the

expressions of people under a vague yet constant strain. They were all lightly powdered, inside and out, with

fine dust and grit from the hardpaved streets, and they were unaware of that also. They did not even notice

that they saw the smoke, though the thickened air was like a shrouding mist. And when Bibbs passed the new

"Sheridan Apartments," now almost completed, he observed that the marble of the vestibule was already

That recalled to him the faint odor of gasolene in the coupe on the way from his brother's funeral, and this

incited a train of thought which continued till he reached the vicinity of his home. His route was by a street

parallel to that on which the New House fronted, and in his preoccupation he walked a block farther than he

intended, so that, having crossed to his own street, he approached the New House from the north, and as he

came to the corner of Mr. Vertrees's lot Mr. Vertrees's daughter emerged from the front door and walked

thoughtfully down the path to the old picket gate. She was unconscious of the approach of the pedestrian

from the north, and did not see him until she had opened the gate and he was almost beside her. Then she

looked up, and as she saw him she started visibly. And if this thing had happened to Robert Lamhorn, he

would have had a thought far beyond the horizon of fainthearted Bibbs's thoughts. Lamhorn, indeed, would

Mary was the picture of a lady flustered. She stood with one hand closing the gate behind her, and she had

turned to go in the direction Bibbs was walking. There appeared to be nothing for it but that they should walk

together, at least as far as the New House. But Bibbs had paused in his slow stride, and there elapsed an

instant before either spoke or movedit was no longer than that, and yet it sufficed for each to seem to say,

Then they both spoke at once, each hurriedly pronouncing the other's name as if about to deliver a message of

importance. Then both came to a stop simultaneously, but Bibbs made a heroic effort, and as they began to

"IIhate a frozen fish myself," he said. "I think three miles was too long for you to put up with one."

"Good gracious!" she cried, turning to him a glowing face from which restraint and embarrassment had

suddenly fled. "Mr. Sheridan, you're lovely to put it that way. But it's always the girl's place to say it's turning

cooler! I ought to have been the one to show that we didn't know each other well enough not to say

SOMETHING! It was an imposition for me to have made you bring me home, and after I went into the house

I decided I should have walked. Besides, it wasn't three miles to the carline. I never thought of it!"

"No," said Bibbs, earnestly. "I didn't, either. I might have said something if I'd thought of anything. I'm

talking now, though; I must remember that, and not worry about it later. I think I'm talking, though it doesn't

sound intelligent even to me. I made up my mind that if I ever met you again I'd turn on my voice and keep it

She interrupted him with laughter, and Mary Vertrees's laugh was one which Bibbs's father had declared,

after the housewarming, "a cripple would crawl five miles to hear." And at the merry lilting of it Bibbs's

father's son took heart to forget some of his trepidation. "I'll be any kind of idiot," he said, "if you'll laugh at

She did; and Bibbs's cheeks showed a little actual color, which Mary perceived. It recalled to her, by contrast,

her careless and irritated description of him to her mother just after she had seen him for the first time.

"Rather tragic and altogether impossible." It seemed to her now that she must have been blind.

They had passed the New House without either of them showingor possessingany consciousness that it

"I'll keep on talking," Bibbs continued, cheerfully, "and you keep on laughing. I'm amounting to something in

the world this afternoon. I'm making a noise, and that makes you make music. Don't be bothered by my

bleating out such things as that. I'm really frightened, and that makes me bleat anything. I'm frightened about

two things: I'm afraid of what I'll think of myself later if I don't keep talkingtalking now, I mean and I'm

afraid of what I'll think of myself if I do. And besides these two things, I'm frightened, anyhow. I don't

remember talking as much as this more than once or twice in my life. I suppose it was always in me to do it,

though, the first time I met any one who didn't know me well enough not to listen."

"No," he returned, gravely. "I'm not thinking at all; I'm only making vocal sounds because I believe it's more

mannerly. I seem to be the subject of what little meaning they possess, and I'd like to change it, but I don't

know how. I haven't any experience in talking, and I don't know how to manage it."

"You needn't change the subject on my account, Mr. Sheridan," she said. "Not even if you really talked about

yourself." She turned her face toward him as she spoke, and Bibbs caught his breath; he was pathetically

amazed by the look she gave him. It was a glowing look, warmly friendly and understanding, and, what

almost shocked him, it was an eagerly interested look. Bibbs was not accustomed to anything like that.

She was still looking at him, and she saw the strange radiance that came into his face. There was something

about him, too, that explained how "queer" many people might think him; but he did not seem "queer" to

He waited, and became coherent. "YOU say something now," he said. "I don't even belong in the chorus, and

"Perhaps" she began, but after pausing thoughtfully she made a gesture with her muff, indicating a large

brick church which they were approaching. "Do you see that church, Mr. Sheridan?"

"I suppose I could," he answered in simple truthfulness, looking at her. "But I don't want to. Once, when I

was ill, the nurse told me I'd better say anything that was on my mind, and I got the habit. The other reason I

don't want to see the church is that I have a feeling it's where you're going, and where I'll be sent back."

She shook her head in cheery negation. "Not unless you want to be. Would you like to come with me?"

"Whywhyyes," he said. "Anywhere!" And again it was apparent that he spoke in simple truthfulness.

"Then comeif you care for organ music. The organist is an old friend of mine, and sometimes he plays for

me. He's a dear old man. He had a degree from Bonn, and was a professor afterward, but he gave up

everything for music. That's he, waiting in the doorway. He looks like Beethoven, doesn't he? I think he

"Yes," said Bibbs, as they reached the church steps. "I think Beethoven would like it, too. It must be pleasant

"No, no," he answered, heartily. "I would not mind so only you should shooer come!"

The organist looked bluntly surprised. "Iss that SO?" he exclaimed. "Well, I am glad if you wish him, and if

"No," said Bibbs, as the three entered the church together. "II played theI tried to play" Fortunately

he checked himself; he had been about to offer the information that he had failed to master the jews'harp in

"What?" Dr. Kraft's surprise increased. "Young man, you are fortunate! I play for Miss Vertrees; she comes

They had reached the head of the central aisle, and as the organist finished speaking Bibbs stopped short,

turning to look at Mary Vertrees in a dazed way that was not of her preceiving; for, though she stopped as he

did, her gaze followed the organist, who was walking away from them toward the front of the church, shaking

"It's false pretenses on my part," Bibbs said. "You mean to be kind to the sick, but I'm not an invalid any

more. I'm so well I'm going back to work in a few days. I'd better leave before he begins to play, hadn't I?"

"No," said Mary, beginning to walk forward. "Not unless you don't like great music."

He followed her to a seat about halfway up the aisle while Dr. Kraft ascended to the organ. It was an

enormous one, the procession of pipes ranging from long, starveling whistles to thundering fat guns; they

covered all the rear wall of the church, and the organist's figure, reaching its high perch, looked like that of

some Lilliputian magician ludicrously daring the attempt to conrol a monster certain to overwhelm him.

"I don't know. I never heard any except 'Largo.' I don't know anything about music. I don't even know how to

She turned away as a great sound began to swim and tremble in the air; the hugh empty space of the church

filled with it, and the two people listening filled with it; the universe seemed to fill and thrill with it. The two

sat intensely still, the great sound all round about them, while the church grew dusky, and only the organist's

lamp made a tiny star of light. His white head moved from side to side beneath it rhythmically, or lunged and

recovered with the fierceness of a duelist thrusting, but he was magnificently the master of his giant, and it

Bibbs was swept away upon that mighty singing. Such a thing was wholly unknown to him; there had been

no music in his meager life. Unlike the tale, it was the Princess Bedrulbudour who had brought him to the

enchanted cave, and thatfor Bibbswas what made its magic dazing. It seemed to him a long, long time

since he had been walking home drearily from Dr. Gurney's office; it seemed to him that he had set out upon

a happy journey since then, and that he had reached another planet, where Mary Vertrees and he sat alone

together listening to a vast choiring of invisible soldiers and holy angels. There were armies of voices about

them singing praise and thanksgiving; and yet they were alone. It was incredible that the walls of the church

were not the boundaries of the universe, to remain so for ever; incredible that there was a smoky street just

yonder, where housemaids were bringing in evening papers from front steps and where children were taking

He had a curious sense of communication with his new friend. He knew it could not be so, and yet he felt as

if all the time he spoke to her, saying: "You hear this strain? You hear that strain? You know the dream that

these sounds bring to me?" And it seemed to him as though she answered continually: "I hear! I hear that

strain, and I hear the new one that you are hearing now. I know the dream that these sounds bring to you.

And though the church grew so dim that all was mysterious shadow except the vague planes of the windows

and the organist's light, with the white head moving beneath it, Bibbs had no consciousness that the girl

sitting beside him had grown shadowy; he seemed to see her as plainly as ever in the darkness, though he did

not look at her. And all the mighty chanting of the organ's multitudinous voices that afternoon seemed to

Bibbs to be chorusing of her and interpreting her, singing her thoughts and singing for him the world of

humble gratitude that was in his heart because she was so kind to him. It all meant Mary.

But when she asked him what it meant,on their homeward way, he was silent. They had come a few paces

"I'll tell you what it meant to me," she said, as he did not immediately reply. "Almost any music of Handel's

always means one thing above all others to me: courage! That's it. It makes cowardice of whining seem so

infinitesimalit makes MOST things in our hustling little lives seem infinitesimal."

"Yes," he said. "It seems odd, doesn't it, that people downtown are hurrying to trains and hanging to straps

in trolleycars, weltering every way to get home and feed and sleep so they can get downtown tomorrow.

And yet there isn't anything down there worth getting to. They're like servants drudging to keep the house

going, and believing the drudgery itself is the great thing. They make so much noise and fuss and dirt they

forget that the house was meant to live in. The housework has to be done, but the people who do it have been

so overpaid that they're confused and worship the housework. They're overpaid, and yet, poor things! they

haven't anything that a chicken can't have. Of course, when the world gets to paying its wages sensibly that

"Do you mean 'communism'?" she asked, and she made their slow pace a little slowerthey had only three

"Whatever the word is, I only mean that things don't look very sensible nowespecially to a man that wants

to keep out of 'em and can't! 'Communism'? Well, at least any 'decent sport' would say it's fair for all the

strong runners to start from the same mark and give the weak ones a fair distance ahead, so that all can run

something like even on the stretch. And wouldn't it be pleasant, really, if they could all cross the

winningline together? Who really enjoys beating anybodyif he sees the beaten man's face? The only way

we can enjoy getting ahead of other people nowadays is by forgetting what the other people feel. And that,"

he added, "is nothing of what the music meant to me. You see, if I keep talking about what it didn't mean I

"Didn't it mean courage to you, tooa little?" she asked. "Triumph and praise were in it, and somehow those

"Yes, they were all there," Bibbs said. "I don't know the name of what he played, but I shouldn't think it

would matter much. The man that makes the music must leave it to you what it can mean to you, and the

name he puts to it can't make much differenceexcept to himself and people very much like him, I

"I image music must make feelings and paint pictures in the minds of the people who hear it," Bibbs went on,

musingly, "according to their own natures as much as according to the music itself. The musician might

compose something and play it, wanting you to think of the Holy Grail, and some people who heard it would

think of a prayermeeting, and some would think of how good they were themselves, and a boy might think

of himself at the head of a solemn procession, carrying a banner and riding a white horse. And then, if there

They had reached her gate, and she set her hand upon it, but did not open it. Bibbs felt that this was almost

"No, that's true, and I didn't need to ask. I knew. But you said you were trying to keep from telling me what it

"I can't keep from telling it any longer," he said. "The music meant to meit meant the kindness ofof

"No," she said, decidedly. "I thought perhaps you'd like to hear Dr. Kraft play. And you did."

Mary laughed. "I? I strum! Piano. A little ChopinGrieg Chaminade. You wouldn't listen!"

Bibbs drew a deep breath. "I'm frightened again," he said, in an unsteady voice. "I'm afraid you'll think I'm

"Oh, if you want ME to play for you!" she said. "Yes, gladly. It will be merely absurd after what you heard

this afternoon. I play like a hundred thousand other girls, and I like it. I'm glad when any one's willing to

listen, and if you" She stopped, checked by a sudden recollection, and laughed ruefully. "But my piano

won't be here after tonight. II'm sending it away tomorrow. I'm afraid that if you'd like me to play to

"If I could play" he said, wistfully, "if I could play like that old man in the church I could thank you."

It was too dark to see his face, but his voice held such plain honesty, and he spoke with such complete

unconsciousness of saying anything especially significant, that she knew it was the truth. For a moment she

was nonplussed, then she opened the gate and went in. "You'll come after dinner, then?"

"Yes," he said, not moving. "Would you mind if I stood here until time to come in?"

She had reached the steps, and at that she turned, offering him the response of laughter and a gay gesture of

her muff toward the lighted windows of the New House, as though bidding him to run home to his dinner.

Music can come into a blank life, and fill it. Everything that is beautiful is music, if you can listen.

There is no gracefulness like that of a graceful woman at a grand piano. There is a swimming loveliness of

line that seems to merge with the running of the sound, and you seem, as you watch her, to see what you are

There are women who make you think of pine woods coming down to a sparkling sea. The air about such a

woman is bracing, and when she is near you, you feel strong and ambitious; you forget that the world doesn't

like you. You think that perhaps you are a great fellow, after all. Then you come away and feel like a boy

who has fallen in love with his Sundayschool teacher. You'll be whipped for itand ought to be.

There are women who make you think of Diana, crowned with the moon. But they do not have the "Greek

profile." I do not believe Helen of Troy had a "Greek profile"; they would not have fought about her if her

nose had been quite that long. The Greek nose is not the adorable nose. The adorable nose is about an eighth

Much of the music of Wagner, it appears, is not suitable to the piano. Wagner was a composer who could

interpret into music such things as the primitive impulses of humanityhe could have made a machineshop

into music. But not if he had to work in it. Wagner was always dealing in immensitiesa machineshop

There is a mystery about pianos, it seems. Sometimes they have to be "sent away." That is how some people

speak of the penitentiary. "Sent away" is a euphuism for "sent to prison." But pianos are not sent to prison,

and they are not sent to the tunerthe tuner is sent to them. Why are pianos "sent away"and where?

Sometimes a glorious day shines into the most ordinary and useless life. Happiness and beauty come caroling

out of the air into the gloomy house of that life as if some stray angel just happened to perch on the rooftree,

resting and singing. And the night after such a day is lustrous and splendid with the memory of it. Music and

beauty and kindnessthose are the three greatest things God can give us. To bring them all in one day to one

who expected nothingah! the heart that received them should be as humble as it is thankful. But it is hard

to be humble when one is so rich with new memories. It is impossible to be humble after a day of glory.

Yesthe adorable nose is more than an eighth of an inch shorter than the Greek nose. It is a full quarter of

There are women who will be kinder to a sick tramp than to a conquering hero. But the sick tramp had better

That "mystery about pianos" which troubled Bibbs had been a mystery to Mr. Vertrees, and it was being

explained to him at about the time Bibbs scribbled the reference to it in his notes. Mary had gone upstairs

upon Bibbs's departure at ten o'clock, and Mr. and Mrs. Vertrees sat until after midnight in the library,

talking. And in all that time they found not one cheerful topic, but became more depressed with everything

and with every phase of everything that they discussedno extraordinary state of affairs in a family which

has always "held up its head," only to arrive in the end at a point where all it can do is to look on helplessly at

the processes of its own financial dissolution. For that was the point which this despairing couple had

reachedthey could do nothing except look on and talk about it. They were only vaporing, and they knew it.

"She needn't to have done that about her piano," vapored Mr. Vertrees. "We could have managed somehow

without it. At least she ought to have consulted me, and if she insisted I could have arranged the details with

"She thought that it might beannoying for you," Mrs. Vertrees explained. "Really, she planned for you not

to know about it until they had removeduntil after tomorrow, that is, but I decided toto mention it. You

see, she didn't even tell me about it until this morning. She has another ides, too, I'm afraid. It'sit's"

"Her other idea isthat is, it wasI think it can be avoided, of courseit was about her furs."

"No!" he exclaimed, quickly. "I won't have it! You must see to that. I'd rather not talk to her about it, but you

"All the more reason for her to keep them!" he returned, irritably. "We're not THAT far gone, I think!"

"Perhaps not yet," Mrs. Vertrees said. "She seems to be troubled about thethe coal matter andabout

Tilly. Of course the piano will take care of some things like those for a while and"

"You mustn't be distressed about it in ONE way," she said, comfortingly. "She arranged with thewith the

purchaser that the men will come for it about half after five in the afternoon. The days are so short now it's

"Oh, yes," he agreed, moodily. "So far as that goes people have a right to move a piece of furniture without

stirring up the neighbors, I suppose, even by daylight. I don't suppose OUR neighbors are paying much

attention just now, though I hear Sheridan was back in his office early the morning after the funeral."

Mrs. Vertrees made a little sound of commiseration. "I don't believe that was because he wasn't suffering,

though. I'm sure it was only because he felt his business was so important. Mary told me he seemed wrapped

up in his son's succeeding; and that was what he bragged about most. He isn't vulgar in his boasting, I

understand; he doesn't talk a great deal about hishis actual moneythough there was something about

blades of grass that I didn't comprehend. I think he meant something about his energybut perhaps not. No,

his bragging usually seemed to be not so much a personal vainglory as about his family and the greatness of

"'Greatness of this city'!" Mr. Vertrees echoed, with dull bitterness. "It's nothing but a coalhole! I suppose it

looks 'great' to the man who has the luck to make it work for him. I suppose it looks 'great' to any YOUNG

man, too, starting out to make his fortune out of it. The fellows that get what they want out of it say it's 'great,'

and everybody else gets the habit. But you have a different point of view if it's the city that got what it wanted

Mrs. Vertrees seemed unaware of this unusual outburst. "I believe," she began, timidly, "he doesn't boast

Her husband's face was dark, but at that a heavier shadow fell upon it; he looked more haggard than before.

"'The other one'," he repeated, averting his eyes. "You meanyou mean the third sonthe one that was here

"Yes, thethe youngest," she returned, her voice so feeble it was almost a whisper.

And then neither of them spoke for several long minutes. Nor did either look at the other during that silence.

At last Mr. Vertrees contrived to cough, but not convincingly. "What ahwhat was it Mary said about

him out in the hall, when she came in this afternoon? I heard you asking her something about him, but she

"Sheshe didn't say much. All she said was this: I asked her if she had enjoyed her walk with him, and she

"That was all. He IS wistfullooking; and so fragilethough he doesn't seem quite so much so lately. I was

watching Mary from the window when she went out today, and he joined her, and if I hadn't known about

"Oh, nothing, of course," she said, hurriedly. "Nothing definite, that is. Mary said decidely, long ago, that he's

not at all insane, as we thought at first. It's onlywell, of course it IS odd, their attitude about him. I suppose

it's some nervous trouble that makes himperhaps a little queer at times, so that he can't apply himself to

anythingor perhaps does odd things. But, after all, of course, we only have an impression about it. We

don't knowthat is, positively. I" She paused, then went on: "I didn't know just how to askthat isI

didn't mention it to Mary. I didn'tI" The poor lady floundered pitifully, concluding with a mumble. "So

"I don't think I've caught more than a glimpse of him," said Mr. Vertrees. "I wouldn't know him if I saw him,

but your impression of him is" He broke off suddenly, springing to his feet in agitation. "I can't image

heroh, NO!" he gasped. And he began to pace the floor. "A halfwitted epileptic!"

"Oh, it's horrible! I can't" He threw himself back into his chair again, sweeping his hands across his face,

Mrs. Vertrees was tremulous. "You mustn't give way so," she said, inspired for once almost to direct

discourse. "Whatever Mary might think of doing, it wouldn't be on her own account; it would be on ours. But

if WE shouldshould consider it, that wouldn't be on OUR own account. It isn't because we think of

"Oh God, no!" he groaned. "Not for us! We can go to the poorhouse, but Mary can't be a stenographer!"

Sighing, Mrs. Vertrees resumed her obliqueness. "Of course," she murmured, "it all seems very premature,

speculating about such things, but I had a queer sort of feeling that she seemed quite interested inthis " She

had almost said "in this one," but checked herself. "In this young man. It's natural, of course; she is always so

strong and well, and he ishe seems to be, that israther appealing to thethe sympathies."

"Perhaps," she faltered"perhaps you might feel easier if I could have a little talk with some one?"

"I had thought ofnot going about it too brusquely, of course, but perhaps just waiting for his name to be

mentioned, if I happened to be talking with somebody that knew the familyand then I might find a chance

to say that I was sorry to hear he'd been ill so much, and Something of that kind perhaps?"

"Yes. That iswell, in a way, of course, one OF the family. That Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan is not athat is,

she's rather a pleasantfaced little woman, I think, and of course rather ordinary. I think she is interested

aboutthat is, of course, she'd be anxious to be more intimate with Mary, naturally. She's always looking

over here from her house; she was looking out the window this afternoon when Mary went out, I

noticedthough I don't think Mary saw her. I'm sure she wouldn't think it out of place toto be frank about

matters. She called the other day, and Mary must rather like hershe said that evening that the call had done

"Yes, so do I," she returned, promptly. "It isn't really a thing we should be considering seriously, of course.

Thus they skirmished up and down the field, but before they turned the lights out and went upstairs it was

thoroughly understood between them that Mrs. Vertrees should seek the earliest opportunity to obtain definite

information from Sibyl Sheridan concerning the mental and physical status of Bibbs. And if he were subject

to attacks of lunacy, the unhappy pair decided to prevent the sacrifice they supposed their daughter intended

to make of herself. Altogether, if there were spiteful ghosts in the old house that night, eavesdropping upon

Mrs. Vertrees's opportunity occurred the very next afternoon. Darkness had fallen, and the pianomovers had

come. They were carrying the piano down the front steps, and Mrs. Vertrees was standing in the open

doorway behind them, preparing to withdraw, when she heard a sharp exclamation; and Mrs. Roscoe

"It's Mrs. Sheridan, isn't it?" Mrs. Vertrees was perplexed by this informal appearance, but she reflected that

"No. Oh no, thank you!" Sibyl panted, pressing her hand to her side. "You don't know what a fright you've

given me! And it was nothing but your piano!" She laughed shrilly. "You know, since our tragedy coming so

suddenly the other day, you have no idea how upset I've beenalmost hysterical! And I just glanced out of

the window, a minute or so ago, and saw your door wide open and black figures of men against the light,

carrying something heavy, and I almost fainted. You see, it was just the way it looked when I saw them

bringing my poor brotherinlaw in, next door, only such a few short days ago. And I thought I'd seen your

daughter start for a drive with Bibbs Sheridan in a car about three o'clockandThey aren't back yet, are

"And the only thing I could think of was that something must have happened to them, and I just dashed

overand it was only your PIANO!" She broke into laughter again. "I suppose you're just sending it

"It'sit's being taken downtown," said Mrs. Vertrees. "Won't you come in and make me a little visit. I was

SO sorry, the other day, that I wasah" She stopped inconsequently, then repeated her invitation. "Won't

"Thank you, but I must be running back. My husband usually gets home about this time, and I make a little

"That's very sweet." Mrs. Vertrees descended the steps and walked toward the street with Sibyl. "It's quite

"I'm afraid Miss Vertrees will miss her piano," said Sibyl, watching the instrument disappear into the big van

"Yes, she plays very well. One of your relatives came to hear her yesterday, after dinner, and I think she

"I never heard of it. But I shouldn't think it would matter much whether he was or not, if he could get Miss

"II believe not immediately. Mr. Sheridan came last evening to hear her play because she had arranged

with thethat is, it was to be removed this afternoon. He seems almost well again."

"He seems very delicate," said Mrs. Vertrees. "I shouldn't think he would be able to stand a great deal, either

physically or" She paused and then added, glowing with the sense of her own adroitness"or mentally."

"Bibbs is all right. You needn't wor" Sibyl choked, and pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. "Good

night, Mrs. Vertrees," she said, hurriedly, as the headlights of an automobile swung round the corner above,

sending a brightening glare toward the edge of the pavement where the two ladies were standing.

"Won't you come in?" urged Mrs. Vertrees, cordially, hearing the sound of a cheerful voice out of the

But Sibyl was halfway across the street. "No, thanks," she called. "I hope she won't miss her piano!" And

she ran into her own house and plunged headlong upon a leather divan in the hall, holding her handkerchief

The noise of her tumultuous entrance was evidently startling in the quiet house, for upon the bang of the door

there followed the crash of a decanter, dropped upon the floor of the diningroom at the end of the hall; and,

after a rumble of indistinct profanity, Roscoe came forth, holding a dripping napkin in his hand.

"What's your excitement?" he demanded. "What do you find to go into hysterics over? Another death in the

"Oh, it's funny! she gasped. "Those old frostbitten people! I guess THEY'RE getting their comeupance!"

Lying prone, she elevated her feet in the air, clapped her heels together repeatedly, in an ecstasy.

"Me?" she cried, dropping her feet and swinging around to face him. "Nothing. It's them! Those Vertreeses!"

"That Mrs. Kittersby told me all about 'em a week ago," said Sibyl. "They've been hard up for a long time,

and she says as long ago as last winter she knew that girl got a pair of walkingshoes resoled and patched,

because she got it done the same place Mrs. Kittersby's cook had HERS! And the night of the

housewarming I kind of got suspicious, myself. She didn't have one single piece of any kind of real jewelry,

and you could see her dress was an old one done over. Men can't tell those things, and you all made a big fuss

over her, but I thought she looked a sight, myself! Of course, EDITH was crazy to have her, and"

"Well, I'm TELLING you! Mrs. Kittersby says they haven't got a THING! Just absolutely NOTHINGand

they don't know anywhere to turn! The family's all died out but them, and all the relatives they got are very

distant, and live East and scarcely know 'em. She says the whole town's been wondering what WOULD

become of 'em. The girl had plenty chances to marry up to a year or so ago, but she was so indifferent she

scared the men off, and the ones that had wanted to went and married other girls. Gracious! they were lucky!

"Terrible funny, terrible funny!" said Roscoe, with sarcasm. "It's so funny I broke a cutglass decanter and

"Wait!" she begged. "You'll see. I was sitting by the window a little while ago, and I saw a big wagon drive

up across the street and some men go into the house. It was too dark to make out much, and for a minute I got

the idea they were moving outthe house has been foreclosed on, Mrs. Kittersby says. It seemed funny, too,

because I knew that girl was out riding with Bibbs. Well, I thought I'd see, so I slipped overand it was their

PIANO! They'd sold it and were trying to sneak it out after dark, so nobody'd catch on!" Again she gave way

to her enjoyment, but resumed, as her husband seemed about to interrupt the narrative. "Wait a minute, can't

you? The old lady was superintending, and she gave it all away. I sized her up for one of those old churchy

people that tell all kinds of lies except when it comes to so many words, and then they can't. She might just as

well told me outright! Yes, they'd sold it; and I hope they'll pay some of their debts. They owe everybody,

and last week a coaldealer made an awful fuss at the door with Mr. Vertrees. Their cook told our upstairs

girl, and she said she didn't know WHEN she'd seen any money, herself! Did you ever hear of such a case as

"That Vertrees girl! Don't you see they looked on our coming up into this neighborhood as their last chance?

They were just going down and out, and here bobs up the green, rich Sheridan family! So they doll the girl up

in her old things, made over, and send her out to get a Sheridan she's GOT to get one! And she just goes in

blind; and she tries it on first with YOU. You remember, she just plain TOLD you she was going to mash

you, and then she found out you were the married one, and turned right square around to Jim and carried him

off his feet. Oh, Jim was landedthere's no doubt about THAT! But Jim was lucky; he didn't live to STAY

landed, and it's a good thing for him!" Sibyl's mirth had vanished, and she spoke with virulent rapidity. "Well,

she couldn't get you, because you were married, and she couldn't get Jim, because Jim died. And there they

Sibyl's voice rose and culminated in a scream of renewed hilarity. "BIBBS! She waited in the graveyard,

and drove home with him from JIM'S FUNERAL! Never spoke to him before! Jim wasn't COLD!"

She rocked herself back and forth upon the divan. "Bibbs!" she shrieked. "Bibbs! Roscoe, THINK of it!

He stared unsympathetically, but her mirth was unabated for all that. "And yesterday," she continued,

between paroxysms"yesterday she came out of the housejust as he was passing. She must have been

looking outwaiting for the chance; I saw the old lady watching at the window! And she got him there last

nightto 'PLAY' to him; the old lady gave that away! And today she made him take her out in a machine!

And the cream of it is that they didn't even know whether he was INSANE or notthey thought maybe he

was, but she went after him just the same! The old lady set herself to pump me about it today. BIBBS! Oh,

But Roscoe looked grim. "So it's funny to you, is it? It sounds kind of pitiful to me. I should think it would to

"Oh, it might," she returned, sobering. "It might, if those people weren't such frozenfaced smart Alecks. If

they'd had the decency to come down off the perch a little I probably wouldn't think it was funny, but to see

'em sit up on their pedestal all the time they're eating dirt well, I think it's funny! That girl sits up as if she

was Queen Elizabeth, and expects people to wallow on the ground before her until they get near enough for

her to give 'em a good kick with her old patched shoesoh, she'd do THAT, all right!and then she

"Look here," said Roscoe, heavily; "I don't care about that one way or another. If you're through, I got

something I want to talk to you about. I was going to, that day just before we heard about Jim."

At this Sibyl stiffened quickly; her eyes became intensely bright. "What is it?"

"Well," he began, frowning, "what I was going to say then" He broke off, and, becoming conscious that he

was still holding the wet napkin in his hand, threw it pettishly into a corner. "I never expected I'd have to say

anything like this to anybody I MARRIED; but I was going to ask you what was the matter between you and

"I felt the time had come for me to know about it," he went on. "You never told me anything"

"Well, we'd got in a way of not talking much," said Roscoe. "It looks to me now as if we'd pretty much lost

the run of each other the way a good many people do. I don't say it wasn't my fault. I was up early and down

to work all day, and I'd come home tired at night, and want to go to bed soon as I'd got the paper

readunless there was some good musical show in town. Well, you seemed all right until here lately, the last

"You changed; you didn't look the same. You were all strung up and excited and fidgety; you got to looking

peakid and run down. Now then, Lamhorn had been going with us a good while, but I noticed that not long

ago you got to picking on him about every little thing he did; you got to quarreling with him when I was there

and when I wasn't. I could see you'd been quarreling whenever I came in and he was here."

"Yeswhen it injures my wife's health!" he returned, with a quick lift of his eyes to hers. "You began to run

down just about the time you began falling out with him." He stepped close to her. "See here, Sibyl, I'm going

"That was all I was going to say the other day," he said. "I was going to ask you"

"Yes, that was all you were going to say THE OTHER DAY. Yes. What else have you to say tonight?"

"Tonight," he replied, with grim swiftness, "I want to know why you keep telephoning him you want to see

She made a long, low sound of comprehension before she said, "And what else did Edith want you to ask

"Is that all Edith told you to ask me? You saw her when you stopped in there on your way home this evening,

didn't you? Didn't she tell you then what I said over the telephone to Mr. Lamhorn?"

"No, she didn't!" he vociferated, his voice growing louder. "She said, 'You tell your wife to stop telephoning

Robert Lamhorn to come and see her, because he isn't going to do it!' That's what she said! And I want to

A maid appeared at the lower end of the hall. "Dinner is ready," she said, and, giving the troubled pair one

"I intend to know exactly what has been going on," he declared. "I mean to know just what"

"Oh, you DO!" she cried, shrilly. "You mean to know just what's what, do you? You listen to your sister

insinuating ugly things about your wife, and then you come home making a scene before the servants and

humiliating me in their presence! Do you suppose that Irish girl didn't hear every word you said? You go in

there and eat your dinner alone! Go on! Go and eat your dinner alonebecause I won't eat with you!"

And she broke away from the detaining grasp he sought to fasten upon her, and dashed up the stairway,

panting. He heard the door of her room slam overhead, and the sharp click of the key in the lock.

At seven o'clock on the last morning of that month, Sheridan, passing through the upper hall on his way to

descend the stairs for breakfast, found a couple of scribbled sheets of notepaper lying on the floor. A

window had been open in Bibbs's room the evening before; he had left his notebook on the silland the

sheets were loose. The door was open, and when Bibbs came in and closed it, he did not notice that the two

sheets had blown out into the hall. Sheridan recognized the handwriting and put the sheets in his coat pocket,

intending to give them to George or Jackson for return to the owner, but he forgot and carried them

downtown with him. At noon he found himself alone in his office, and, having a little leisure, remembered

the bits of manuscript, took them out, and glanced at them. A grance was enough to reveal that they were not

epistolary. Sheridan would not have read a "private letter" that came into his possession in that way, though

in a "matter of business" he might have felt it his duty to take advantage of an opportunity afforded in any

manner whatsoever. Having satisfied himself that Bibbs's scribblings were only a sample of the kind of

writing his son preferred to the machineshop, he decided, innocently enough, that he would be justified in

It appears that a lady will nod pleasantly upon some windy generalization of a companion, and will wear the

most agreeable expression of accepting it as the law, and thendays afterward, when the thing is a mummy

to its promulgatorshe will inquire out of a clear sky: "WHY did you say that the people downtown have

nothing in life that a chicken hasn't? What did you mean?" And she may say it in a manner that makes a

sensible reply very difficultyou will be so full of wonder that she remembered so seriously.

Yet, what does the rooster lack? He has food and shelter; he is warm in winter; his wives raise not one fine

family for him, but dozens. He has a clear sky over him; he breathes sweet air; he walks in his April orchard

under a roof of flowers. He must die, violently perhaps, but quickly. Is Midas's cancer a better way? The

rooster's wives and children must die. Are those of Midas immortal? His life is shorter than the life of Midas,

The worthy moneyworker takes his vacation so that he may refresh himself anew for the hard work of

getting nothing that the rooster doesn't get. The officebuilding has an elevator, the rooster flies up to the

bough. Midas has a machine to take him to his work; the rooster finds his worm underfoot. The "business

man" feels a pressure sometimes, without knowing why, and sits late at wine after the day's labor; next

morning he curses his head because it interferes with the workhe swears never to relieve that pressure

again. The rooster has no pressure and no wine; this difference is in his favor.

The rooster is a dependent; he depends upon the farmer and the weather. Midas is a dependent; he depends

upon the farmer and the weather. The rooster thinks only of the moment; Midas provides for tomorrow.

What does he provide for tomorrow? Nothing that the rooster will not have without providing.

The rooster and the prosperous worker: they are born, they grub, they love; they grub and love grubbing; they

grub and they die. Neither knows beauty; neither knows knowledge. And after all, when Midas dies and the

rooster dies, there is one thing Midas has had and rooster has not. Midas has had the excitement of

accumulating what he has grubbed, and that has been his life and his love and his god. He cannot take that

god with him when he dies. I wonder if the worthy gods are those we can take with us.

The manuscript ended there, and Sheridan was not anxious for more. He crumpled the sheets into a ball,

depositing it (with vigor) in a wastebasket beside him; then, rising, he consulted a Cyclopedia of Names,

which a bookagent had somehow sold to him years before; a volume now first put to use for the location of

"Midas." Having read the legend, Sheridan walked up and down the spacious office, exhaling the breath of

contempt. "Dam' fool!" he mumbled. But this was no new thought, nor was the contrariness of Bibbs's notes a

He felt very lonely, and this was, daily, his hardest hour. For a long time he and Jim had lunched together

habitually. Roscoe preferred a club luncheon, but Jim and his father almost always went to a small restaurant

near the Sheridan Building, where they spent twenty minutes in the consumption of food, and twenty in talk,

with cigars. Jim came for his father every day, at five minutes after twelve, and Sheridan was again in his

office at five minutes before one. But now that Jim no longer came, Sheridan remained alone in his office; he

had not gone out to lunch since Jim's death, nor did he have anything sent to himhe fasted until evening.

It was the time he missed Jim personally the mostthe voice and eyes and handshake, all brisk and alert, all

businesslike. But these things were not the keenest in Sheridan's grief; his sense of loss went far deeper.

Roscoe was dependable, a steady old wheelhorse, and that was a great comfort; but it was in Jim that

Sheridan had most happily perceived his own likeness. Jim was the one who would have been surest to keep

the great property growing greater, year by year. Sheridan had fallen asleep, night after night, picturing what

the growth would be under Jim. He had believed that Jim was absolutely certain to be one of the biggest men

That reminded him of a question he had in mind to ask Roscoe. It was a question Sheridan considered of no

present importance, but his wife had suggested itthough vaguelyand he had meant to speak to Roscoe

about it. However, Roscoe had not come into his father's office for several days, and when Sheridan had seen

He waited until the greater part of his day's work was over, toward four o'clock, and then went down to

Roscoe's office, which was on a lower floor. He found several men waiting for business interviews in an

outer room of the series Roscoe occupied; and he supposed that he would find his son busy with others, and

that his question would have to be postponed, but when he entered the door marked "R. C. Sheridan. Private,"

He was sitting with his back to the door, his feet on a windowsill, and he did not turn as his father opened

"Some pretty good men out there waitin' to see you, my boy," said Sheridan. "What's the matter?"

"Well, I guess that's all right, too. I let 'em wait sometimes myself! I just wanted to ask you a question, but I

Roscoe made no reply; and his father, who had turned to the door, paused with his hand on the knob, staring

curiously at the motionless figure in the chair. Usually the son seemed pleased and eager when he came to the

Sheridan was puzzled; then, abruptly, he decided to ask his question. "I wanted to talk to you about that

young Lamhorn," he said. "I guess your mother thinks he's comin' to see Edith pretty often, and you known

Sheridan uttered an exclamation and walked quickly to a position near the window where he could see his

son's face. Roscoe's eyes were bloodshot and vacuous; his hair was disordered, his mouth was distorted, and

"ROSCOE!" Blank astonishment was Sheridan's first sensation. Probably nothing in the world could have

more amazed his than to find Roscoethe steady old wheelhorsein this condition. "How'd you GET this

For reply Roscoe laughed hoarsely. "Yeuh! Cold! I been drinkun all time, lately. Firs' you notice it?"

"By George!" cried Sheridan. "I THOUGHT I'd smelt it on you a good deal lately, but I wouldn't 'a' believed

Roscoe chuckled and threw out his right arm in a meaningless gensture. "Hog!" he repeated, chuckling.

"Yes, a hog!" said Sheridan, angrily. "In business hours! I don't object to anybody's takin' a drink if you

wants to, out o' business hours; nor, if a man keeps his work right up to the scratch, I wouldn't be the one to

baste him if he got good an' drunk once in two, three years, maybe. It ain't MY way. I let it alone, but I never

believed in forcin' my way on a grownup son in moral matters. I guess I was wrong! You think them men

out there are waitin' to talk business with a drunkard? You think you can come to your office and do business

drunk? By George! I wonder how often this has been happening and me not on to it! I'll have a look over

Roscoe stumbled to his feet, laughing wildly, and stood swaying, contriving to hold himself in position by

"Hoohoorah!" he cried. "'S my principles, too. Be drunkard all you want tooutside business hours. Don'

for Gossake le'n'thing innerfere business hours! Business! Thassit! You're right, father. Drink! Die!

Sheridan had seized the telephone upon Roscoe's desk, and was calling his own office, overhead.

"Abercrombie? Come down to my son Roscoe's suite and get rid of some gentlemen that are waitin' there to

see him in room twofourteen. There's Maples and Schirmer and a couple o' fellows on the Kinsey business.

Tell 'em something's come up I have to go over with Roscoe, and tell 'em to come back day after tomorrow

at two. You needn't come in to let me know they're gone; we don't want to be disturbed. Tell Pauly to call my

house and send Claus down here with a closed car. We may have to go out. Tell him to hustle, and call me at

Roscoe had laughed bitterly throughout this monologue. "Drunk in business hours! Thass awf'l! Mus'n' do

such thing! Mus'n' get drunk, mus'n' gamble, mus'n' kill 'nybodynot in business hours! All right any other

time. Kill 'nybody you want to's long 'tain't in business hours! Fine! Mus'n' have any trouble 't 'll innerfere

business. Keep your trouble 't home. Don' bring it to th' office. Might innerfere business! Have funerals on

Sundaymight innerfere business! Don' let your wife innerfere business! Keep all, all, ALL your trouble an'

your meanness, an' your tradyour tradegykeep 'em ALL for home use! If you got die, go on die 't

Sheridan picked up a newspaper from Roscoe's desk, and sat down with his back to his son, affecting to read.

"You know wh' I think?" he went on. "I think Bibbs only one the fam'ly any 'telligence at all. Won' work, an'

di'n' get married. Jim worked, an' he got killed. I worked, an' I got married. Look at me! Jus' look at me, I ask

you. Fine 'dustriss young business man. Look whass happen' to me! Fine!" He lifted his hand from the

sustaining chair in a deplorable gesture, and, immediately losing his balance, fell across the chair and

caromed to the floor with a crash, remaining prostrate for several minutes, during which Sheridan did not

relax his apparent attention to the newspaper. He did not even look round at the sound of Roscoe's fall.

Roscoe slowly climbed to an upright position, pulling himself up by holding to the chair. He was slightly

sobered outwardly, having progressed in the prostrate interval to a state of befuddlement less volatile. He

"You ask' me what I thought about Lamhorn. You did ask me that. Well, I won't tell you. I won't say dam'

The telephonebell tinkled. Sheridan placed the receiver to his ear and said, "Right down." Then he got

Roscoe's coat and hat from a closet and brought them to his son. "Get into this coat," he said. "You're goin'

They went out into the main hall by a side door, not passing through the outer office; and Sheridan waited for

an empty elevator, stopped it, and told the operator to take on no more passengers until they reached the

ground floor. Roscoe walked out of the building and got into the automobile without lurching, and twenty

minutes later walked into his own house in the same manner, neither he nor his father having spoken a word

Sheridan did not go in with him; he went home, and to his own room without meeting any of his family. But

as he passed Bibbs's door her heard from within the sound of a cheerful young voice humming jubilant

WHO looks a mustang in the eye? ... With a leap from the ground To the saddle in a bound. And awayand

It was the first time in Sheridan's life that he had ever detected any musical symptom whatever in Bibbshe

had never even heard him whistle and it seemed the last touch of irony that the useless fool should be

To Sheridan it was Tom o' Bedlam singing while the house burned; and he did not tarry to enjoy the melody,

He emerged only upon a second summons to dinner, two hours later, and came to the table so white and silent

that his wife made her anxiety manifest and was but partially reassured by his explanation that his lunch had

Presently, however, he spoke effectively. Bibbs, whose appetite had become hearty, was helping himself to a

second breast of capon from whitejacket's salver. "Here's another difference between Midas and chicken,"

Sheridan remarked, grimly. "Midas can eat rooster, but rooster can't eat Midas. I reckon you overlooked that.

Bibbs retained enough presence of mind to transfer the capon breast to his plate without dropping it and to

Having returned his antagonists's fire in this fashion, he blushedfor he could blush distinctly nowand his

mother looked upon him with pleasure, thought the reference to Midas and roosters was of course jargon to

her. "Did you ever see anybody improve the way that child has!" she exclaimed. "I declare, Bibbs, sometimes

"I found something of his on the floor upstairs this morning, before anybody was up," said Sheridan. "I

reckon if people lose things in this house and expect to get 'em back, they better get up as soon as I do."

"He knows!" her father returned. "Seems to me like I forgot to bring it home with me. I looked it

overthought probably it was something pretty important, belongin' to a busy man like him." He affected to

search his pockets. "What DID I do with it, now? Oh yes! Seems to me like I remember leavin' it down at the

Sheridan gave him a grin. "Perhaps pretty soon you'll be gettin' up early enough to fine things before I do!"

It was a threat, and Bibbs repeated the substance of it, later in the evening, to Mary Vertreesthey had come

"My time's here at last," he said, as they sat together in the melancholy gaslight of the room which had been

denuded of its piano. That removal had left an emptiness so distressing to Mr. and Mrs. Vertrees that neither

of them had crossed the threshold since the dark day; but the gaslight, though from a single jet, shed no

melancholy upon Bibbs, nor could any room seem bare that knew the glowing presence of Mary. He spoke

"Yes, it's come. I've shirked and put off, but I can't shirk and put off any longer. It's really my part to go to

himat least it would save my face. He means what he says, and the time's come to serve my sentence. Hard

"Yes. I'm sure of it. I've felt that he has a great, brave heart. It's only that he has to be kind in his own

She looked at him gravely, earnest concern in her friendly eyes. "It's going to be pretty hard for you, isn't it?"

"Ohselfpity!" he returned, smiling. "This has been just the last flicker of revolt. Nobody minds work if he

likes the kind of work. There'd be no loafers in the world if each man found the thing that he could do best;

but the only work I happen to want to do is uselessso I have to give it up. Tomorrow I'll be a

"I get up at six," he said. "I have a lunchbasket to carry with me, which is aristocratic and no advantage. The

other workmen have tin buckets, and tin buckets are better. I leave the house at sixthirty, and I'm at work in

my overalls at seven. I have an hour off at noon, and work again from one till five."

"It wasn't muscularly exhaustingnot at all. They couldn't give me a heavier job because I wasn't good

"When I left," said Bibbs, "I was 'on' what they call over there a 'clippingmachine,' in one of the

Bibbs explained. "It's very simple and very easy. I feed long strips of zinc into a pair of steel jaws, and the

jaws bite the zinc into little circles. All I have to do is to see that the strip goes into the jaws at a certain

He had kept his voice cheerful as he spoke, but he had grown a shade paler, and there was a latent anguish

deep in his eyes. He may have known it and wished her not to see it, for he turned away.

"You do that all day long?" she asked, and as he nodded, "It seems incredible!" she exclaimed. "YOU feeding

a strip of zinc into a machine nine hours a day! No wonder" She broke off, and then, after a keen glance at

He laughed ruefully. "I think it's the noise, though I'm ashamed to say it. You see, it's a very powerful

machine, and there's a sort of rhythmical crashinga crash every time the jaws bite off a circle."

"The thing should make about sixtyeight disks a minutea little more than one a second."

"Oh, the workman has to sit in its lap," he said, turning to her more gaily. "The others don't mind . You see,

it's something wrong with me. I have an idiotic way of flinching from the confounded thingI flinch and

duck a little every time the crash comes, and I couldn't get over it. I was a treat to the other workmen in that

Mary's gaze was averted from Bibbs now; she sat with her elbow resting on the arm of the chair, her lifted

hand pressed against her cheek. She was staring at the wall, and her eyes had a burning brightness in them.

"It doesn't seem possible any one could do that to you," she said, in a low voice. "No. He's not kind. He ought

to be proud to help you to the leisure to write books; it should be his greatest privilege to have them

"Can't you SEE him?" Bibbs interrupted, a faint ripple of hilarity in his voice. "If he could understand what

you're sayingand if you can imagine his taking such a notion, he's have had R. T. Bloss put up posters all

over the country: 'Read B. Sheridan. Read the Poet with a Punch!' No. It's just as well he never got theBut

"It isn't," said BIBBS, honestly. "I never couldbut you're the kindest lady in this world, Miss Vertrees."

She gave him a flashing glance, and it was as kind as he said she was. "That sounds wrong," she said,

impulsively. "I mean 'Miss Vertrees.' I've thought of you by your first name ever since I met you. Wouldn't

"Ah, that's very pretty!" she laughed. "You're such an honest person, it's pleasant to have you gallant

sometimes, by way of variety." She became grave again immediately. "I hear myself laughing as if it were

some one else. It sounds like laughter on the eve of a great calamity." She got up restlessly, crossed the room

"Just over it," said Bibbs. "Two years. But I don't mind the prospect of a repetition so much as"

Bibbs looked up at her shyly. "I want to say it, butbut I come to a dead balk when I try. I"

"Go on. Say it, whatever it is," she bade him. "You wouldn't know how to say anything I shouldn't like."

"I doubt if you'd either like or dislike what I want to say," he returned, moving uncomfortably in his chair and

looking at his feethe seemed to feel awkward, thoroughly. "You see, all my lifeuntil I met youif I

ever felt like saying anything, I wrote it instead. Saying things is a new trick for me, and thiswell, it's just

this: I used to feel as if I hadn't ever had any sort of a life at all. I'd never been of use to anything or anybody,

and I'd never had anything, myself, except a kind of haphazard thinking. But now it's differentI'm still of

no use to anybody, and I don't see any prospect of being useful, but I have had something for myself. I've had

a beautiful and happy experience, and it makes my life seem to beI mean I'm glad I've lived it! That's all;

it's your letting me be near you sometimes, as you have, this strange, beautiful, happy little while!"

He did not once look up, and reached silence, at the end of what he had to say, with his eyes still awkwardly

regarding his feet. She did not speak, but a soft rustling of her garments let him know that she had gone back

to her chair again. The house was still; the shabby old room was so quiet that the sound of a creaking in the

And yet, when Mary spoke at last, her voice was barely audible. "If you think it has beenhappyto be

"No," she interrupted, with a sudden sharpness. "You said what you did because you think the shop's going to

"Yes, you do think that!" She rose to her feet again and came and stood before him. "Or you think it's going

to send you back to the sanitarium. Don't deny it, Bibbs. There! See how easily I call you that! You see I'm a

friend, or I couldn't do it. Well, if you meant what you said and you did mean it, I know it!you're not

And now Bibbs looked up. She stood before him, straight and tall, splendid in generous strength, her eyes

"If I mean THAT much to you," she cried, "they can't harm you! Go back to the shopbut come to me when

your day's work is done. Let the machines crash their sixtyeight times a minute, but remember each crash

"EVERY evening. I want you. They sha'n't hurt you again!" And she held out her hand to him; it was strong

and warm in his tremulous clasp. "If I could, I'd go and feed the strips of zinc to the machine with you," she

said. "But all day long I'll send my thoughts to you. You must keep remembering that your friend stands

Light seemed to glow from her; he was blinded by that radiance of kindness. But all he could say was,

And they laughed and looked at each other, and at last Bibbs found what it meant not to be alone in the

When he came into the New House, a few minutes later, he found his father sitting alone by the library fire.

Bibbs went in and stood before him. "I'm cured, father," he said. "When do I go back to the shop? I'm ready."

The desolate and grim old man did not relax. "I was sittin' up to give you a last chance to say something like

that. I reckon it's about time! I just wanted to see if you'd have manhood enough not to make me take you

over there by the collar. Last night I made up my mind I'd give you just one more day. Well, you got to it

before I didpretty close to the eleventh hour! All right. Start in tomorrow. It's the first o' the month. Think

"Six o'clock," Bibbs responded, briskly. "And I want to tell youI'm going in a 'cheerful spirit.' As you said,

"That's YOUR lookout!" his father grunted. "They'll put you back on the clippin'machine. You get nine

"More than I'm worth, too," said Bibbs, cheerily. "That reminds me, I didn't mean YOU by 'Midas' in that

The sound of the young man's footsteps ascending the stairs became inaudible, and the house was quiet. But

presently, as Sheridan sat staring angrily at the fire, the shuffling of a pair of slipers could be heard

descending, and Mrs. Sheridan made her appearance, her oblique expression and the state of her toilette being

those of a person who, after trying unsuccessfully to sleep on one side, has got up to look for burglars.

"Papa!" she exclaimed, drowsily. "Why'n't you go to bed? It must be goin' on 'leven o'clock!"

She yawned, and seated herself near him, stretching out her hands to the fire. "What's the matter?" she asked,

sleep and anxiety striving sluggishly with each other in her voice. "I knew you were worried all dinnertime.

You got something new on your mind besides Jim's bein' taken away like he was. What's worryin' you now,

"Until he KNOWS something!" The unhappy man struck his palms together, then got to his feet and began to

pace the room, as was his wont when he talked. "He'll go back to the machine he couldn't learn to tend

properly in the six months he was there, and he'll stick to it till he DOES learn it! Do you suppose that

lummix ever asked himself WHY I want him to learn it? No! And I ain't agoin' to tell him, either! When he

went there I had 'em set him on the simplest machine we gotand he stuck there! How much prospect would

there be of his learnin' to run the whole business if he can't run the easiest machine in it? I sent him there to

make him THOROUGH. And what happened? He didn't LIKE it! That boy's whole life, there's been a settin'

up o' something mulish that's against everything I want him to do. I don't know what it is, but it's got to be

worked out of him. Now, labor ain't any more a simple question than what it was when we were young. My

idea is that, outside o' union troubles, the man that can manage workin'in men is the man that's been one

himself. Well, I set Bibbs to learn the men and to learn the business, and HE set himself to balk on the first

job! That's what he did, and the balk's lasted close on to three years. If he balks again I'm just done with him!

"I knew there was something else," said Mrs. Sheridan, blinking over a yawn. "You better let it go till

"Suppose something happened to Roscoe," he said. "THEN what'd I have to look forward to? THEN what

could I depend on to hold things together? A lummix! A lummix that hasn't learned how to push a strip o'

"Roscoe?" she yawned. "You needn't worry about Roscoe, papa. He's the strongest child we had. I never did

know anybody keep better health than he does. I don't believe he's even had a cold in five years. You better

"Suppose something DID happen to him, though. You don't know what it means, keepin' property together

these daysjust keepin' it ALIVE, let alone makin' it grow the way I do. I've seen too many estates hacked

away in chunks, big and little. I tell you when a man dies the wolves come out o' the woods, pack after pack,

to see what they can tear off for themselves; and if that dead man's chuldern ain't on the job, night and day,

everything he built 'll get carried off. Carried off? I've seen a big fortune behave like an ashbarrel in a

cyclonethere wasn't even a dustheap left to tell where it stood! I've seen it, time and again. My Lord!

when I think o' such things comin' to ME! It don't seem like I deserved itno man ever tried harder to raise

his boys right than I have. I planned and planned and planned how to bring 'em up to be guards to drive the

wolves off, and how to be builders to build, and build bigger. I tell you this business life is no fool's job

nowadaysa man's got to have eyes in the back of his head. You hear talk, sometimes, 'd make you think the

millennium had comebut right the next breath you'll hear somebody hollerin' about 'the great unrest.' You

BET there's a 'great unrest'! There ain't any man alive smart enough to see what it's goin' to do to us in the

end, nor what day it's got set to bust loose, but it's frothin' and bubblin' in the boiler. This country's been fillin'

up with it from all over the world for a good many years, and the old campmeetin' days are dead and done

with. Church ain't what it used to be. Nothin's what it used to beeverything's turned up from the bottom,

and the growth is so big the roots stick out in the air. There's an awful ruction goin' on, and you got to keep

hoppin' if you're goin' to keep your balance on the top of it. And the schemers! They run like bugs on the

bottom of a boardafter any piece o' money they hear is loose. Fool schemes and crooked schemes; the fool

ones are the most and the worst! You got to FIGHT to keep your money after you've made it. And the woods

are full o' mighty industrious men that's got only one motto: 'Get the other fellow's money before he gets

yours!' And when a man's built as I have, when he's built good and strong, and made good things grow and

prosperTHOSE are the fellows that lay for the chance to slide in and sneak the benefit of it and put their

names to it! And what's the use of my havin' ever been born, if such a thing as that is goin' to happen? What's

the use of my havin' worked my life and soul into my business, if it's all goin' to be dispersed and scattered

He strode up and down the long room, gesticulatinglittle regarding the troubled and drowsy figure by the

fireside. His throat rumbled thunderously; the words came with stormy bitterness. "You think this is a time

for young men to be lyin' on beds of ease? I tell you there never was such a time before; there never was such

opportunity. The sluggard is despoiled while he sleepsyes, by George! if a may lays down they'll eat him

before he wakes!but the live man can build straight up till he touches the sky! This is the business man's

day; it used to be the soldier's day and the statesman's day, but this is OURS! And it ain't a Sunday to go

fishin'it's turmoil! turmoil!and you got to go out and live it and breathe it and MAKE it yourself, or

you'll only be a dead man walkin' around dreamin' you're alive. And that's what my son Bibbs has been doin'

all his life, and what he'd rather do now than go out and do his part by me. And if anything happens to

"Oh, do stop worryin' over such nonsense," Mrs. Sheridan interrupted, irritated into sharp wakefulness for the

moment. "There isn't anything goin' to happen to Roscoe, and you're just tormentin' yourself about nothin'.

Sheridan halted. "All right, mamma," he said, with a vast sigh. "Let's go up." And he snapped off the electric

"Did you speak to Roscoe?" she yawned, rising lopsidedly in her drowsiness. "Did you mention about what I

But Roscoe did not come downtown the next day, nor the next; nor did Sheridan see fit to enter his son's

house. He waited. Then, on the fourth day of the month, Roscoe walked into his father's office at nine in the

Roscoe sat. His father walked close to him, sniffed suspiciously, and then walked away, smiling bitterly.

"I reckon I better adopt some decent young man," his father returned. "I'd bring Bibbs up here and put him in

Sheridan began cutting. "It's a lie. I've had Ray Wills up from your office. He didn't want to give you away,

but I put the hooks into him, and he came through. You were drunk twice before and couldn't work. You been

leavin' your office for drinks every few hours for the last three weeks. I been over your books. Your office is

Roscoe's head was sunk between his shoulders. "I can't stand very much talk about it, father," he said,

"No!" Sheridan cried. "Neither can I! What do you think it means to ME?" He dropped into the chair at his

big desk, groaning. "I can't stand to talk about it any more'n you can to listen, but I'm goin' to find out what's

"See here!" said Sheridan. "Can you go back to your office and stay sober today, while I get my work done,

or will I have to hire a couple o' huskies to follow you around and knock the whiskey out o' your hand if they

"You needn't worry about that," said Roscoe, looking up with a faint resentment. "I'm not drinking because

"We'll see about that!" said Sheridan, harshly. "Now I can't fool with you today, and you get up out o' that

chair and get out o' my office. You bring your wife to dinner tomorrow. You didn't come last Sunday but

you come tomorrow. I'll talk this out with you when the womenfolks are workin' the phonograph, after

dinner. Can you keep sober till then? You better be sure, because I'm going to send Abercrombie down to

"TOLD him!" And Sheridan laughed hideously. "Do you suppose there's an elevatorboy in the whole dam'

So sang Bibbs, his musical gaieties inaudible to his fellowworkmen because of the noise of the machinery.

He had discovered long ago that the uproar was rhythmical, and it had been intolerable; but now, on the

afternoon of the fourth day of his return, he was accompanying the swing and clash of the metals with

jubilant vaquero fragments, mingling improvisations of his own among them, and mocking the zinceater's

Fearless and bold, Chang! Bash! Behold! With a leap from the ground To the saddle in a bound, And

awayand away! HiYAY! WHO looks a chang, chang, bash, crash, bang! WHO cares a dash how you

bash and you crash? NIGHT'S on the way EACH time I say, HiYAY! Crash, chang! Bash, chang! Chang,

The long room was ceaselessly thundering with metallic sound; the air was thick with the smell of oil; the

floor trembled perpetually; everything was implacably in motionnowhere was there a rest for the dizzied

eye. The first time he had entered the place Bibbs had become dizzy instantly, and six months of it had only

added increasing nausea to faintness. But he felt neither now. "ALL DAY LONG I'LL SEND MY

YOU." He saw her there beside him, and the greasy, roaring place became suffused with radiance. The poet

was happy in his machineshop; he was still a poet there. And he fed his old zinceater, and sang:

Awayand away! HiYAH! Crash, bash, crash, bash, CHANG! Wild are his eyes, Fiercely he dies!

He was unaware of a sensation that passed along the lines of workmen. Their great master had come among

them, and they grinned to see him standing with Dr. Gurney behind the unconscious Bibbs. Sheridan nodded

to those nearest himhe had personal acquaintance with nearly all of them but he kept his attention upon

his son. Bibbs worked steadily, never turning from his machine. Now and then he varied his musical

"Go on, you old crashbasher! Chew it up! It's good for you, if you don't try to bolt your vittles. Fletcherize,

you pig! That's right YOU'LL never get a lump in your gizzard. Want some more? Here's a nice, shiny

The words were indistinguishable, but Sheridan inclined his head to Gurney's ear and shouted fiercely:

Chang! Chang, bash, chang! It's I! WHO looks a mustang in the eye? Fearless and bo

His father grasped him by the arm. "Here!" he shouted. "Let ME show you how to run a strip through there.

The foreman says you're some better'n you used to be, but that's no way to handleGet out the way and let

"Careful? Boh!" Sheridan seized a strip of zinc from the box. "What you talkin' to yourself about? Tryin' to

"'Abused'? No!" shouted Bibbs. "I was SINGINGbecause I 'like it'! I told you I'd come back and 'like it.'"

Sheridan may not have understood. At all events, he made no reply, but began to run the strip of zinc through

"Here!" he shouted. "This is the way. Watch how I do it. There's nothin' to it, if you put your mind on it." By

his own showing then his mind was not upon it. He continued to talk. "All you got to look out for is to keep it

"Look out!" shouted Bibbs and Gurney together, and they both sprang forward. But Sheridan's right hand had

followed the strip too far, and the zinceater had bitten off the tips of the first and second fingers. He swore

vehemently, and wrung his hand, sending a shower of red drops over himself and Bibbs, but Gurney grasped

"Come out of here. Come over to the lavatory in the office. Bibbs, fetch my bag. It's in my machine, outside."

And when Bibbs brought the bag to the washroom he found the doctor still grasping Sheridan's wrist, holding

the injured hand over a basin. Sheridan had lost color, and temper, too. He glared over his shoulder at his son

"You go on back to your work," he said. "I've had worse snips than that from a pencilsharpener."

"I have, too!" Sheridan retorted, angrily. "Bibbs, you go on back to your work. There's no reason to stand

around here watchin' ole Doc Gurney tryin' to keep himself awake workin' on a scratch that only needs a little

"HERE!" Sheridan bellowed, as his son was passing out of the door. "You watch out when you're runnin' that

machine! You hear what I say? I slipped, or I wouldn't got scratched, but youYOU'RE liable to get your

Half an hour later, Gurney touched him on the shoulder and beckoned him outside, where conversation was

possible. "I sent him home, Bibbs. He'll have to be careful of that hand. Go get your overalls off. I'll take you

"No, you don't," the doctor returned, smothering a yawn. "He wants me to take you down to my office and

give you an overhauling to see how much harm these four days on the machine have done you. I guess you

folks have got that old man pretty thoroughly upset, between you, up at your house! But I don't need to go

"I say I can see you're starting out, at least, in good shape. What's made the difference?"

"I like the machine," said Bibbs. "I've made a friend of it. I serenade it and talk to it, and then it talks back to

"Well, well!" The doctor stretched himself and stamped his foot repeatedly. "Better come along and take a

drive with me. You can take the time off that he allowed for the examination, and"

"Not at all," said Bibbs. "I'm going to stand by my old zinceater till five o'clock. I tell you I LIKE it!"

"I don't know about that," Bibbs said, thoughtfully; "but the zinceater doesn't interfere with my thinking, at

least. It's better than being in business; I'm sure of that. I don't want anything to change. I'd be content to lead

"You do beat the devil!" exclaimed Gurney. "Your father's right when he tells me you're a mystery. Perhaps

the Almighty knew what He was doing when He made you, but it takes a lot of faith to believe it! Well, I'm

off. Go on back to your murdering old machine." He climbed into his car, which he operated himself, but he

refrained from setting it immediately in motion. "Well, I rubbed it in on the old man that you had warned him

not to slide his hand along too far, and that he got hurt because he didn't pay attention to your warning, and

because he was trying to show you how to do something you were already doing a great deal better than he

could. You tell him I'll be around to look at it and change the dressing tomorrow morning. Goodby."

But when he paid the promised visit, the next morning, he did more than change the dressing upon the

damaged hand. The injury was severe of its kind, and Gurney spent a long time over it, though Sheridan was

rebellious and scornful, being brought to a degree of tractability only by means of horrible threats and talk of

amputation. However, he appeared at the dinnertable with his hand supported in a sling, which he seemed to

regard as an indignity, while the natural inquiries upon the subject evidently struck him as deliberate insults.

Mrs. Sheridan, having been unable to contain her solicitude several times during the day, and having been

checked each time in a manner that blanched her cheek, hastened to warn Roscoe and Sibyl, upon their

arrival at five, to omit any reference to the injury and to avoid even looking at the sling if they possibly could.

The Sheridans dined on Sundays at five. Sibyl had taken pains not to arrive either before or after the hand

was precisely on the hour; and the members of the family were all seated at the table within two minutes after

It was a glum gathering, overhung with portents. The air seemed charged, awaiting any tiny ignition to

explode; and Mrs. Sheridan's expression, as she sat with her eyes fixed almost continually upon her husband,

was that of a person engaged in prayer. Edith was pale and intent. Roscoe looked ill; Sibyl looked ill; and

Sheridan looked both ill and explosive. Bibbs had more color than any of these, and there was a strange

brightness, like a light, upon his face. It was curious to see anything so happy in the tense gloom of that

Edith ate little, but gazed nearly all the time at her plate. She never once looked at Sibyl, though Sibyl now

and then gave her a quick glance, heavily charged, and then looked away. Roscoe ate nothing, and, like Edith,

kept his eyes upon his plate and made believe to occupy himself with the viands thereon, loading his fork

frequently, but not lifting it to his mouth. He did not once look at his father, though his father gazed heavily

at him most of the time. And between Edith and Sibyl, and between Roscoe and his father, some bitter

wireless communication seemed continually to be taking place throughout the long silences prevailing during

"Didn't you go to church this morning, Bibbs?" his mother asked, in the effort to break up one of those

He roused himself. "I think it was about" He frowned, seeming to concentrate his will to recollect. "I think

Whitejacket George was glad of an opportunity to leave the room and lean upon Mist' Jackson's shoulder in

the pantry. "He don't know they WAS any suhmon!" he concluded, having narrated the diningroom

dialogue. "All he know is he was with 'at lady lives nex' do'!" George was right.

"Oh?" Sibyl gave the ejaculation an upward twist, as of mocking inquiry, and followed it by another,

Bibbs looked at her studiously, but she spoke no further. And that completed the conversation at the

Coffee came finally, was disposed of quickly, and the party dispersed to other parts of the house. Bibbs

However, he went obediently to the giltandbrocade room in which his mother and his sister and his

sisterinlaw had helplessly withdrawn, according to their Sabbatical custom. Edith sat in a corner, tapping

her feet together and looking at them; Sibyl sat in the center of the room, examining a brooch which she had

detached from her throat; and Mrs. Sheridan was looking over a collection of records consisting exclusively

of Caruso and ragtime. She selected one of the latter, remarking that she thought it "right pretty," and

As the second reached its conclusion, George appeared in the broad doorway, seeming to have an errand

there, but he did not speak. Instead, he favored Edith with a benevolent smile, and she immediately left the

room, George stepping aside for her to precede him, and then disappearing after her in the hall with an air of

successful diplomacy. He made it perfectly clear that Edith had given him secret instructions and that it had

Sibyl stiffened in her chair; her lips parted, and she watched with curious eyes the vanishing back of the

"Here's another right pretty record," said Mrs. Sheridan, affecting with patent nervousnessnot to hear.

Sibyl bit her lip and began to tap her chin with the brooch. After a little while she turned to Bibbs, who

Sibyl got up and stood in the doorway. She leaned against the casing, still tapping her chin with the brooch.

Her eyes were dilating; she was suddenly at high tension, and her expression had become one of sharp

When the record was spun out she could hear Sheridan rumbling in the library, during the ensuing silence,

and Roscoe's voice, querulous and husky; "I won't say anything at all. I tell you, you might just as well let me

But there were other sound: a rustling and murmur, whispering, low protesting cadences in a male voice. And

as Mrs. Sheridan started another record, a sudden, vital resolve leaped like fire in the eyes of Sibyl. She

Lamhorn and Edith both sprang to their feet, separating. Edith became instantly deathly white with a rage that

But Edith's shaking was not so violent as Sibyl's, nor was her face so white. At sight of them and of their

embrace, all possible consequences became nothing to Sibyl. She courtesied, holding up her skirts and

"Sit just as you wereboth of you!" she said. And then to Edith: "Did you tell my husband I had been

"That was a MANLY thing to do! Oh, it was like a gentleman! You wouldn't comeyou wouldn't even

come for five minutes to hear what I had to say! You were TIRED of what I had to say! You'd heard it all a

thousand times before, and you wouldn't come! No! No! NO!" she stormed. "You wouldn't even come for

five minutes, but you could tell that little cat! And SHE told my husband! You're a MAN!"

Edith saw in a flash that the consequences of battle would be ruinous to Sibyl, and the furious girl needed no

further temptation to give way to her feelings. "Get out of this house!" she shrieked. "This is my father's

Edith and Sibyl began to scream insults at each other simultaneously, fronting each other, their furious faces

close. Their voices shrilled and rose and crackedthey screeched. They could be heard over the noise of the

phonograph, which was playing a brassband selection. They could be heard all over the house. They were

heard in the kitchen; they could have been heard in the cellar. Neither of them cared for that.

"You told my husband!" screamed Sibyl, bringing her face still closer to Edith's. "You told my husband! This

"I'll tell your husband again! I'll tell him everything I know! It's TIME your husband"

They were swept asunder by a bandaged hand. "Do you want the neighbors in?" Sheridan thundered.

There fell a shocking silence. Frenzied Sibyl saw her husband and his mother in the doorway, and she

understood what she had done. She moved slowly toward the door; then suddenly she began to run. She ran

into the hall, and through it, and out of the house. Roscoe followed her heavily, his eyes on the ground.

The words were indefinite, but the voice was not. Neither was the vicious gesture of the bandaged hand,

which concluded its orbit in the direction of the door in a manner sufficient for the swift dispersal of George

and Jackson and several female servants who hovered behind Mrs. Sheridan. They fled lightly.

"Papa, papa!" wailed Mrs. Sheridan. "Look at your hand! You'd oughtn't to been so rough with Edie; you hurt

There was, in fact, a spreading red stain upon the bandages at the tips of the fingers, and Sheridan put his

"Don't you bother, dear," said Lamhorn, quietly. "He doesn't understand. YOU mustn't be troubled." Pallor

was becoming to him; he looked very handsome, and as he left the room he seemed in the girl's distraught

eyes a persecuted noble, indifferent to the rabble yawping insult at his heels the rabble being enacted by

"Don't come back, either!" said, Sheridan, realistic in this impersonation. "Keep off the premises!" he called

"It is NOT!" Edith cried, breaking from her mother. "You'll SEE about that! You'll find out! You'll find out

what 'll happen! What's HE done? I guess if I can stand it, it's none of YOUR business, is it? What's HE done,

I'd like to know? You don't know anything about it. Don't you s'pose he told ME? She was crazy about him

soon as he began going there, and he flirted with her a little. That's everything he did, and it was before he

met ME! After that he wouldn't, and it wasn't anything, anyway he never was serious a minute about it.

SHE wanted it to be serious, and she was bound she wouldn't give him up. He told her long ago he cared

"Yes," said Sheridan, sternly; "that's HIS side of it! That 'll do! He doesn't come in this house again!"

"Yes, I'll look out! I'd 'a' told you today he wasn't to be allowed on the premises, but I had other things on

my mind. I had Abercrombie look up this young man privately, and he's no 'count. He's no 'count on earth!

He's no good! He's NOTHIN'! But it wouldn't matter if he was George Washington, after what's happened

"But, papa," Mrs. Sheridan began, "if Edie says it was all Sibyl's fault, makin' up to him, and he never

"'S enough!" he roared. "He keeps off these premises! And if any of you so much as ever speak his name to

But Edith screamed, clapping her hands over her ears to shut out the sound of his voice, and ran upstairs,

sobbing loudly, followed by her mother. However, Mrs. Sheridan descended a few minutes later and joined

her husband in the library. Bibbs, still sitting in his gold chair, saw her pass, roused himself from reverie, and

"She locked her door," said Mrs. Sheridan, shaking her head woefully. "She wouldn't even answer me. They

"Well," said her husband, "she can settle her mind to it. She never speaks to that fellow again, and if he tries

to telephone her tomorrow Here! You tell the help if he calls up to ring off and say it's my orders. No,

"Edith feels about him just what you did about father," said Bibbs. "And if YOUR father had told you"

"So you're handin' out your advice, are you, Bibbs?" said Sheridan. "What is it?"

"Let her see him all she wants," Bibbs repeated, thoughtfully. "You're up against something too strong for

you. If Edith were a weakling you'd have a chance this way, but she isn't. She's got a lot of your

determination, father, and with what's going on inside of her she'll beat you. You can't keep her from seeing

him, as long as she feels about him the way she does now. You can't make her think less of him, either.

Nobody can. Your only chance is that she'll do it for herself, and if you give her time and go easy she

probably will. Marriage would do it for her quickest, but that's just what you don't want, and as you DON'T

"I can't stand any more!" Sheridan burst out. "If it's come to BIBBS advisin' me how to run this house I better

resign. Mamma, where's that nigger George? Maybe HE'S got some plan how I better manage my family.

Bibbs, for God's sake go and lay down! 'Let her see him all she wants'! Oh, Lord! here's wisdom; here's"

"Bibbs," said Mrs. Sheridan, "if you haven't got anything to do, you might step over and take Sibyl's wraps

homeshe left 'em in the hall. I don't think you seem to quiet your poor father very much just now."

"All right." And Bibbs bore Sibyl's wraps across the street and delivered them to Roscoe, who met him at the

door. Bibbs said only, "Forgot these," and, "Good night, Roscoe," cordially and cheerfully, and returned to

the New House. His mother and father were still talking in the library, but with discretion he passed rapidly

Having thus demonstrated that he was about twentyfive and had formed a somewhat indefinite definition of

friendship, but one entirely his own (and perhaps Mary's) Bibbs went to bed, and was the only Sheridan to

His cheerfulness was vaguely diminished by the troublous state of affairs of his family. He had recognized

his condition when he wrote, "Who would wake from such a dream as this?" Bibbs was a sympathetic person,

easily touched, but he was indeed living in a dream, and all things outside of it were veiled and remotefor

that is the way of youth in a dream. And Bibbs, who had never before been of any age, either old or young,

He went whistling from the house before even his father had come downstairs. There was a fog outdoors,

saturated with a fine powder of soot, and though Bibbs noticed absently the dim shape of an automobile at the

curb before Roscoe's house, he did not recognize it as Dr. Gurney's, but went cheerily on his way through the

dingy mist. And when he was once more installed beside his faithful zinceater he whistled and sang to it, as

other workmen did to their own machines sometimes, when things went well. His comrades in the shop

glanced at him amusedly now and then. They liked him, and he ate his lunch at noon with a group of

Socialists who approved of his ideas and talked of electing him to their association.

The short days of the year had come, and it was dark before the whistles blew. When the signal came, Bibbs

went to the office, where he divested himself of his overallshis single divergence from the routine of his

fellowworkmenand after that he used soap and water copiously. This was his transformation scene: he

passed into the office a rather frail young workingman noticeably begrimed, and passed out of it to the

pavement a cheerfully preoccupied sample of gentry, fastidious to the point of elegance.

The sidewalk was crowded with the bearers of dinnerpails, men and boys and women and girls from the

workrooms that closed at five. Many hurried and some loitered; they went both east and west, jostling one

Coming toward him, as slowly, through the crowd, a tall girl caught sight of his long, thin figure and stood

still until he had almost passed her, for in the thick crowd and the thicker gloom he did not recognize her,

though his shoulder actually touched hers. He would have gone by, but she laughed delightedly; and he

stopped short, startled. Two boys, one chasing the other, swept between them, and Bibbs stood still, peering

"Good heavens!' cried Bibbs. "I thouhgt it was your voice coming out of a star!"

"There's only smoke overhead," said Mary, and laughed again. "There aren't any stars."

She took his arm, and they went on. "I've come to walk home with you, Bibbs. I wanted to."

"But it's not safe, and I'm not worth it. You shouldn't haveYou ought to know better. What did"

"I was in this part of town already," she said. "At least, I was only seven or eight blocks away, and it was dark

when I came out, and I'd have had to go home aloneand I preferred going home with you."

"It's pretty beautiful for me," said Bibbs, with a deep breath. "You'll never know what it was to hear your

laugh in the darknessand then to to see you standing there! Oh, it was kikeit was likeHow can I

TELL you what it was like?" They had passed beyond the crowd now, and a crossinglamp shone upon them,

which revealed the fact that again she was without her furs. Here was a puzzle. Why did that adorable little

vanity of hers bring her out without them in the DARK? But of course she had gone out long before dark. For

undefinable reasons this explanation was not quite satisfactory; however, allowing it to stand, his solicitude

for her took another turn. "I think you ought to have a car," he said, "especially when you want to be out after

"I wish you would." Bibbs's tone was earnest and troubled. "I think in winter you"

"But my mother tried to insist on sending one over here every afternoon for me. I wouldn't let her, because I

"A girl likes to walk, too," said Mary. "Let me tell you where I've been this afternoon and how I happened to

be near enought to make you take me home. I've been to see a little old man who makes pictures of the

smoke. He has a sort of warehouse for a studio, and he lives there with his mother and his wife and their

seven children, and he's gloriously happy. I'd seen one of his pictures at an exhibition, and I wanted to see

more of them, so he showed them to me. He has almost everthing he ever painted; I don't suppose he's sold

more than four or five pictures in his life. He gives drawinglessons to keep alive."

"Literally. He paints from his studio window and from the street anywhere. He just paints what's around

"Wonderful! He sees the sky through it, somehow. He does the ugly roofs of cheap houses through a haze of

smoke, and he does smoky sunsets and smoky sunrises, and he has other things with the heavy, solid, slow

columns of smoke going far out and growing more ethereal and mixing with the hazy light in the distance;

and he has others with the broken skyline of downtown, all misted with the smoke and puffs and jets of

vapor that have colors like an orchard in midApril. I'm going to take you there some Sunday afternoon,

"There are workers in beauty here," she told him, gently. "There are other painters more prosperous than my

"No. Since the town began growing so great that it called itself 'greater,' one could live here all one's life and

"The beautyworkers seem buried very deep," said Bibbs. "And I imagine that your friend who makes the

smoke beautiful must be buried deepest of all. My father loves the smoke, but I can't imagine his buying one

of your friend's pictures. He'd buy the 'Bay of Naples," but he wouldn't get one of those. He'd think smoke in

"Yes," she said, thoughtfully. "And really he's the town. They ARE buried pretty deep, it seems, sometimes,

"Yes, because everything is, since you called me your friend. The city is only a rumble on the horizon for me.

It can't come any closer than the horizon so long as you let me see you standing by my old zinceater all day

long, helping me. Mary" He stopped with a gasp. "That's the first time I've called you 'Mary'!"

"I said it without thinking. It must be because you came there to walk home with me. That must be it."

"Women like to have things said," Mary informed him, her tremulous laughter continuing. "Were you glad I

"Nonot 'glad.' I felt as if I were being carried straight up and up and upover the clouds. I feel like that

still. I think I'm that way most of the time. I wonder what I was like before I knew you. The person I was then

seems to have been somebody else, not Bibbs Sheridan at all. It seems long, long ago. I was gloomy and

sicklysomebody else somebody I don't understand now, a coward afraid of shadowsafraid of things

that didn't existafraid of my old zinceater! And now I'm only afraid of what might change anything."

"Ah, don't you see?" he cried. "I want it to last for a thousand, thousand years, just as it is! You've made me

Bibbs continued to live in the shelter of his dream. He had told Edith, after his ineffective effort to be useful

in her affairs, that he had decided that he was "a member of the family"; but he appeared to have relapsed to

the retired list after that one attempt at participancyhe was far enough detached from membership now.

These were turbulent days in the New House, but Bibbs had no part whatever in the turbulencehe seemed

an absentminded stranger, present by accident and not wholly aware that he was present. He would sit,

faintly smiling over pleasant imaginings and dear reminiscences of his own, while battle raged between Edith

and her father, or while Sheridan unloosed jeremiads upon the sullen Roscoe, who drank heavily to endure

them. The happy dreamer wandered into stormareas like a somnambulist, and wandered out again

unawakened. He was sorry for his father and for Roscoe, and for Edith and for Sibyl, but their sufferings and

Sibyl was under Gurney's care. Roscoe had sent for him on Sunday night, not long after Bibbs returned the

abandoned wraps; and during the first days of Sibyl's illness the doctor found it necessary to be with her

frequently, and to install a muscular nurse. And whether he would or no, Gurney received from his hysterical

patient a variety of pungent information which would have staggered anybody but a family physician. Among

other things he was given to comprehend the change in Bibbs, and why the zinceater was not putting a lump

Sibyl was not deliriousshe was a thin little ego writhing and shrieking in pain. Life had hurt her, and had

driven her into hurting herself; her condition was only the adult's terrible exaggeration of that of a child after

a bad bruisethere must be screaming and telling mother all about the hurt and how it happened. Sibyl

babbled herself hoarse when Gurney withheld morphine. She went from the beginning to the end in a breath.

"You ought to let me die!" she wailed. "It's cruel not to let me die! What harm have I ever done to anybody

that you want to keep me alive? Just look at my life! I only married Roscoe to get away from home, and look

what that got me into!look where I am now! He brought me to this town, and what did I have in my life

but his FAMILY? And they didn't even know the right crowd! If they had, it might have been SOMETHING!

I had nothingnothingnothing in the world! I wanted to have a good time and how could I? Where's

any good time among these Sheridans? They never even had wine on the table! I thought I was marrying into

a rich family where I'd meet attractive people I'd read about, and travel, and go to dancesand, oh, my Lord!

all I got was these Sheridans! I did the best I could; I did, indeed! Oh, I DID! I just tried to live. Every

woman's got a right to live, some time in her life, I guess! Things were just beginning to look brighterwe'd

moved up here, and that frozen crowd across the street were after Jim for their daughter, and they'd have

started us with the right peopleand then I saw how Edith was getting him away from me. She did it, too!

She got him! A girl with money can do that to a married womanyes, she can, every time! And what could I

do? What can any woman do in my fix? I couldn't do ANYTHING but try to stand itand I couldn't stand it!

I went to that iciclethat Vertrees girland she could have helped me a little, and it wouldn't have hurt her.

It wouldn't have done her any harm to help me THAT little! She treated me as if I'd been dirt that she

wouldn't even take the trouble to sweep out of her house! Let her WAIT!" Sibyl's voice, hoarse from

babbling, became no more than a husky whisper, though she strove to make it louder. She struggled half

upright, and the nurse restrained her. "I'd get up out of this bed to show her she can't do such things ot me! I

was absolutely ladylike, and she walked out and left me there alone! She'll SEE! She started after Bibbs

before Jim's casket was fairly underground, and she thinks she's landed that poor loonbut she'll see! She'll

see! If I'm ever able to walk across the street again I'll show her how to treat a woman in trouble that comes

to her for help! It wouldn't have hurt her anyit wouldn'tit wouldn't. And Edith needn't have told what

she told Roscoeit wouldn't have hurt her to let me alone. And HE told her I bored himtelephoning him I

wanted to see him. He needn't have done it! He needn'tneedn't" Her voice grew fainter, for that while,

with exhaustion, though she would go over it all again as soon as her strength returned. She lay panting.

Then, seeing her husband standing disheveled in the doorway, "Don't come in, Roscoe," she murmured. "I

don't want to see you." And as he turned away she added, "I'm kind of sorry for you, Roscoe."

Her antagonist, Edith, was not more coherent in her own wailings, and she had the advantage of a mother for

listener. She had also the disadvantage of a mother for duenna, and Mrs. Sheridan, under her husband's sharp

tutelage, proved an effective one. Edith was reduced to telephoning Lamhorn from shops whenever she could

Edith was incomparably more in love than before Lamhorn's expulsion. Her whole being was nothing but the

determination to hurdle everything that separated her from him. She was in a state that could be altered by

only the lightest and most delicate diplomacy of suggestion, but Sheridan, like legions of other parents,

intensified her passion and fed it hourly fuel by opposing to it an intolerable force. He swore she should cool,

Edith planned neatly. She fought hard, every other evening, with her father, and kept her bed between times

to let him see what his violence had done to her. Then, when the mere sight of her set him to breathing fast,

she said pitiably that she might bear her trouble better if she went away; it was impossible to be in the same

town with Lamhorn and not think always of him. Perhaps in New York she might forget a little. She had

written to a school friend, established quietly with an aunt in apartmentsand a month or so of theaters and

restaurants might bring peace. Sheridan shouted with relief; he gave her a copious cheque, and she left upon a

Monday morning, wearing violets with her mourning and having kissed everybody goodby except Sibyl and

Bibbs. She might have kissed Bibbs, but he failed to realize that the day of her departure had arrived, and was

surprised, on returning from his zinceater, that evening, to find her gone. "I suppose they'll be maried ther,"

Sheridan, seated, warming his stockinged feet at the fire, jumped up, fuming. "Either you go out o' here, or I

will, Bibbs!" he snorted. "I don't want to be in the same room with the particular kind of idiot you are! She's

through with that riffraff; all she needed was to be kept away from him a few weeks, and I KEPT her away,

Bibbs obeyed the gesture of a hand still bandaged. And the black silk sling was still round Sheridan's neck,

but not word of Gurney's and no excruciating twinge of pain could keep Sheridan's hand in the sling. The

wounds, slight enough originally, had become infected the first time he had dislodged the bandages, and

healing was long delayed. Sheridan had the habit of gesture; he could not "take time to remember," he said,

that he must be careful, and he had also a curious indignation with his hurt; he refused to pay it the

The Saturday following Edith's departure Gurney came to the Sheridan Building to dress the wounds and to

have a talk with Sheridan which the doctor felt had become necessary. But he was a little before the

appointed time and was obliged to wait a few minutes in an anteroom there was a directors' meeting of

some sort in Sheridan's office. The door was slightly ajar, leaking cigarsmoke and oratory, the latter all

"No, sir; no, sir; no, sir!" he heard the big voice rumbling, and then, breaking into thunder, "I tell you NO!

Some o' you men make me sick! You'd lose your confidence in Almighty God if a doodlebug flipped his

hind leg at you! You say money's tight all over the country. Well, what if it is? There's no reason for it to be

tight, and it's not goin' to keep OUR money tight! You're always runnin' to the woodshed to hide your nickels

in a crack because some fool newspaper says the market's a little skeery! You listen to every streetcorner

croaker and then come and set here and try to scare ME out of a big thing! We're IN on this understand? I

tell you there never WAS better times. These are good times and big times, and I won't stand for any other

kind o' talk. This country's on its feet as it never was before, and this city's on its feet and goin' to stay there!"

And Gurney heard a series of whacks and thumps upon the desk. "'Bad times'!" Sheridan vociferated, with

accompanying thumps. "Rabbit talk! These times are glorious, I tell you! We're in the promised land, and

The directors came forth, flushed and murmurous, and Gurney hastened in. His guess was correct: Sheridan

had been thumping the desk with his right hand. The physician scolded wearily, making good the fresh

damage as best he might; and then he said what he had to say on the subject of Roscoe and Sibyl, his opinion

meeting, as he expected, a warmly hostile reception. But the result of this conversation was that by telephonic

command Roscoe awaited his father, an hour later, in the library at the New House.

"Gurney says your wife's able to travel," Sheridan said brusquely, as he came in.

"Yes." Roscoe occupied a deep chair and sat in the dejected attitude which had become his habit. "Yes, she

"No, I hear YOU wouldn't!" There was a bitter gibe in the father's voice, and he added: "It's a good thing

she's goin' abroadif she'll stay there. I shouldn't think any of us want her here any moreyou least of all!"

"Well, when are you comin' back to your office?" Sheridan used a brisker, kinder tone. "Three weeks since

you showed up there at all. When you goin' to be ready to cut out whiskey and all the rest o' the foolishness

and start in again? You ought to be able to make up for a lot o' lost time and a lot o' spilt milk when that

"It's no use, father, I tell you. I know what Gurney was going to say to you. I'm not going back to the office.

"Wait a minute before you talk that way!" Sheridan began his sentrygo up and down the room. "I suppose

you know it's taken two pretty good men about sixteen hours a day to set things straight and get 'em runnin'

"They must be good men." Roscoe nodded indifferently. "I thought I was doing about eight men's work. I'm

"Look here! If I worked you it was for your own good. There are plenty men drive harder 'n I do, and"

"Yes. There are some that break down all the other men that work with 'em. They either die, or go crazy, or

have to quit, and are no use the rest of their lives. The last's my case, I guess'complicated by domestic

"You set there and tell me you give up?" Sheridan's voice shook, and so did the gesticulating hand which he

extended appealingly toward the despondent figure. "Don't do it, Roscoe! Don't say it! Say you'll come down

there again and be a man! This woman ain't goin' to trouble you any more. The work ain't goin' to hurt you if

you haven't got her to worry you, and you can get shut o' this nasty whiskeyguzzlin'; it ain't fastened on you

"Gurney!" Sheridan vociferated the name savagely. "It's Gurney, Gurney, Gurney! Always Gurney! I don't

know what the world's comin' to with everybody runnin' around squealin', 'The doctor says this,' and, 'The

doctor says that'! It makes me sick! How's this country expect to get its Work done if Gurney and all the other

old nannygoats keep up this blattin''Oh, oh! Don't lift that stick o' wood; you'll ruin your NERVES!' So

he says you got 'nervous exhaustion induced by overwork and emotional strain.' They always got to stick the

Work in if they see a chance! I reckon you did have the 'emotional strain,' and that's all's the matter with you.

You'll be over it soon's this woman's gone, and Work's the very thing to make you quit frettin' about her."

"Shut up!" Sheridan bellowed. "I'm so sick o' that man's name I feel like shootin' anybody that says it to me!"

He fumed and chafed, swearing indistinctly, then came and stood before his son. "Look here; do you think

"I've got between seven and eight thousand a year clear, of my own, outside the salary. That much is mine

"It is? You could 'a pulled it out without me, I suppose you think, at your age?"

"My Lord! It's about what a Congressman gets, and you want to quit there! I suppose you think you'll get the

rest when I kick the bucket, and all you have to do is lay back and wait! You let me tell you right here, you'll

never see one cent of it. You go out o' business now, and what would you know about handlin' it five or ten

or twenty years from now? Because I intend to STAY here a little while yet, my boy! They'd either get it

away from you or you'd sell for a nickel and let it be split up and " He whirled about, marched to the other

end of the room, and stood silent a moment. Then he said, solomnly: "Listen. If you go out now, you leave

me in the lurch, with nothin' on God's green earth to depend on but your brotherand you know what he is.

I've depended on you for it ALL since Jim died. Now you've listened to that dam' doctor, and he says maybe

you won't ever be as good a man as you were, and that certainly you won't be for a year or soprobably

more. Now, that's all a lie. Men don't break down that way at your age. Look at ME! And I tell you, you can

shake this thing off. All you need is a little GETup and a little gumption. Men don't go away for YEARS

and then come back into MOVING businesses like oursthey lose the strings. And if you could, I won't let

youif you lay down on me now, I won'tand that's because if you lay down you prove you ain't the man I

thought you were." He cleared his throat and finished quietly: "Roscoe, will you take a month's vacation and

"All right," said Sheridan. He picked up the evening paper from a table, went to a chair by the fire and sat

Roscoe rose, his head hanging, but there was a dull relief in his eyes. "Best I can do," he muttered, seeming

about to depart, yet lingering. "I figure it out a good deal like this," he said. "I didn't KNOW my job was any

strain, and I managed all right, but from what Gurfrom what I hear, I was just up to the limit of my nerves

from overwork, and the the trouble at home was the extra strain that's fixed me the way I am. I tried to

brace, so I could stand the work and the trouble too, on whiskey and that put the finish to me! II'm not

hitting it as hard as I was for a while, and I reckon pretty soon, if I can get to feeling a little more energy, I

better try to quit entirelyI don't know. I'm all inand the doctor says so. I thought I was running along

fine up to a few months ago, but all the time I was ready to bust, and didn't know it. Now, then, I don't want

you to blame Sibyl, and if I were you I wouldn't speak of her as 'that woman,' because she's your

daughterinlaw and going to stay that way. She didn't do anything wicked. It was a shock to me, and I don't

deny it, to find what she had doneencouraging that fellow to hang around her after he began trying to flirt

with her, and losing her head over him the way she did. I don't deny it was a shock and that it 'll always be a

hurt inside of me I'll never get over. But it was my fault; I didn't understand a woman's nature." Poor Roscoe

spoke in the most profound and desolate earnest. "A woman craves society, and gaiety, and meeting attractive

people, and traveling. Well, I can't give her the other things, but I can give her the travelingreal traveling,

not just going to Atlantic City or New Orleans, the way she has, two, three times. A woman has to have

something in her life besides a business man. And that's ALL I was. I never understood till I heard her talking

when she was so sick, and I believe if you'd heard her then you wouldn't speak so hardheartedly about her; I

believe you might have forgiven her like I have. That's all. I never cared anything for any girl but her in my

life, but I was so busy with business I put it ahead of her. I never THOUGHT about her, I was so busy

thinking business. Well, this is where it's brought us toand now when you talk about 'business' to me I feel

the way you do when anybody talks about Gurney to you. The word 'business' makes me dizzyit makes me

honestly sick at the stomach. I believe if I had to go downtown and step inside that office door I'd fall down

on the floor, deathly sick. You talk about a 'month's vacation' and I get just as sick. I'm rattledI can't

planI haven't got any planscan't make any, except to take my girl and get just as far away from that

Sheridan waited until he heard the sound of the outer door closing; then he rose and pushed a tiny disk set in

Sheridan returned to his chair and fixed his attention fiercely upon the newspaper. He found it difficult to

pursue the items beyond their explanatory rubricsthere was nothing unusual or startling to concentrate his

Bibbs came through the hall whistling, and entered the room briskly. "Well, father, did you want me?"

"Yes. Sit down." Sheridan got up, and Bibbs took a seat by the fire, holding out his hands to the crackling

"I came within seven of the shop record today," he said. "I handled more strips thand any other workman

"There!" exclaimed his father, greatly pleased. "What'd I tell you? I'd like to hear Gurney hint again that I

wasn't right in sending you there I would just like to hear him! And youain't you ashamed of makin'

"I didn't go at it in the right spirit the other time," Bibbs said, smiling brightly, his face ruddy in the cheerful

"Well, I guess I've pretty thoroughly vindicated my judgement. I guess I HAVE! I said the shop 'd be good

for you, and it was. I said it wouldn't hurt you, and it hasn't. It's been just exactly what I said it would be.

"Well, I'd like to know any place I been wrong, first and last! Instead o' hurting you, it's been the makin' of

youphysically. You're a good inch taller'n what I am, and you'd be a bigger man than what I am if you'd

get some flesh on your bones; and you ARE gettin' a little. Physically, it's started you out to be the huskiest

one o' the whole family. Now, then, mentallythat's different. I don't say it unkindly, Bibbs, but you got to

do something for yourself mentally, just like what's begun physically. And I'm goin' to help you."

Sheridan decided to sit down again. He brought his chair close to his son's, and, leaning over, tapped Bibbs's

Bibbs instantly looked thoroughly alarmed. He drew back. "II'm all right now, father."

"Listen." Sheridan settled himself in his chair, and spoke in the tone of a reasonable man reasoning. "Listen

here, Bibbs. I had another blow today, and it was a hard one and right in the face, though I HAVE been

expectin' it some little time back. Well, it's got to be met. Now I'll be frank with you. As I said a minute ago,

mentally I couldn't ever called you exactly strong. You been a little weak both ways, most of your life. Not

but what I think you GOT a mentality, if you'd learn to use it. You got willpower, I'll say that for you. I

never knew boy or man that could be stubbornernever one in my life! Now, then, you've showed you could

learn to run that machine best of any man in the shop, in no time at all. That looks to me like you could learn

to do other things. I don't deny but what it's an encouragin' sign. I don't deny that, at all. Well, that helps me

to think the case ain't so hopeless as it looks. You're all I got to meet this blow with, but maybe you ain't as

poor material as I thought. Your tellin' me about comin' within seven strips of the shop's record today looks

to me like encouragin' information brought in at just about the right time. Now, then, I'm goin' to give you a

raise. I wanted to send you straight on up through the shopsa year or two, maybe but I can't do it. I lost

Jim, and now I've lost Roscoe. He's quit. He's laid down on me. If he ever comes back at all, he'll be a long

time pickin' up the strings, and, anyway, he ain't the man I thought he was. I can't count on him. I got to have

SOMEBODY I KNOW I can count on. And I'm down to this: you're my last chance. Bibbs, I got to learn you

to use what brains you got and see if we can't develop 'em a little. Who knows? And I'm goin' to put my time

in on it. I'm goin' to take you right downtown with ME, and I won't be hard on you if you're a little slow at

first. And I'm goin' to do the big thing for you. I'm goin' to make you feel you got to do the big thing for me,

in return. I've vindicated my policy with you about the shop, and now I'm goin' to turn right around and swing

you 'way over ahead of where the other boys started, and I'm goin' to make an appeal to your ambition that 'll

make you dizzy!" He tapped his son on the knee again. "Bibbs, I'm goin' to start you off this way: I'm goin' to

make you a director in the Pump Works Company; I'm goin' to make you vicepresident of the Realty

Sheridan took his dismay to be the excitement of sudden joy. "Yes, sir! And there's some pretty fat little

salaries goes with those vicepresidencies, and a pinch o' stock in the Pump Company with the directorship.

You thought I was pretty mean about the shopoh, I know you did!but you see the old man can play it

both ways. And so right now, the minute you've begun to make good the way I wanted you to, I deal from the

new deck. And I'll keep on handin' it out bigger and bigger every time you show me you're big enough to

Sheridan looked perplexed. "What's the matter with you? Didn't you understand what I was tellin' you?"

"What's the matter with you?" Sheridan was half amazed, half suspicious. "Your head feel funny?"

"I've never been quite so sane in my life," said Bibbs, "as I have lately. And I've got just what I want. I'm

living exactly the right life. I'm earning my daily bread, and I'm happy in doing it. My wages are enough. I

"Damnation!" Sheridan sprang up. "You've turned Socialist! You been listening to those fellows down there,

Sheridan tried to restrain his growing fury, and succeeded partially. "Then what is it? What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he son returned, nervously. "Nothingexcept that I'm content. I don't want to change anything."

Bibbs had the incredible folly to try to explain. "I'll tell you, father, if I can. I know it may be hard to

"Yes, I think it may be," said Sheridan, grimly. "What you say usually is a LITTLE that way. Go on!"

Perturbed and distressed, Bibbs rose instinctively; he felt himself at every possible disadvantage. He was a

sleeper clinging to a dreama rough hand stretched to shake him and waken him. He went to a table and

made vague drawings upon it with a finger, and as he spoke he kept his eyes lowered. "You weren't

altogether right about the shopthat is, in one way you weren't, father." He glanced up apprehensively.

Sheridan stood facing him, expressionless, and made no attempt to interrupt. "That's difficult to explain,"

Bibbs continued, lowering his eyes again, to follow the tracings of his finger. "II believe the shop might

have done for me this time if I hadn'tif something hadn't helped me to oh, not only to bear it, but to be

happy in it. Well, I AM happy in it. I want to go on just as I am. And of all things on earth that I don't want, I

don't want to live a business lifeI don't want to be drawn into it. I don't think it IS livingand now I AM

living. I have the healthful toiland I can think. In business as important as yours I couldn't think anything

"It hasn't seemed to get anywhere, that I can see," said Bibbs. "You think this city is rich and powerfulbut

what's the use of its being rich and powerful? They don't teach the children any more in the schools because

the city is rich and powerful. They teach them more than they used to because some peoplenot rich and

powerful peoplehave thought the thoughts to teach the children. And yet when you've been reading the

paper I've heard you objecting to the children being taught anything except what would help them to make

money. You said it was wasting the taxes. You want them taught to make a living, but not to live. When I

was a little boy this wasn't an ugly town; now it's hideous. What's the use of being big just to be hideous? I

mean I don't think all this has meant really going aheadit's just been getting bigger and dirtier and noisier.

Wasn't the whole country happier and in many ways wiser when it was smaller and cleaner and quieter and

kinder? I know you think I'm an utter fool, father, but, after all, though, aren't business and politics just the

housekeeping part of life? And wouldn't you despise a woman that not only made her housekeeping her

ambition, but did it so noisily and dirtily that the whole neighborhood was in a continual turmoil over it? And

supposed she talked and thought about her housekeeping all the time, and was always having additions built

to her house when she couldn't keep clean what she already had; and suppose, with it all, she made the house

"Just one minute!" Sheridan interrupted, adding, with terrible courtesy, "If you will permit me? Have you

"I ask the simple question: Have you ever been right about anything whatever in the course of your life?

Have you ever been right upon any subject or question you've thought about and talked about? Can you

He was flourishing the bandaged hand as he spoke, but Bibbs said only, "If I've always been wrong before,

surely there's more chance that I'm right about this. It seems reasonable to suppose something would be due

"Yes, I thought you wouldn't see the point. And there's another you probably couldn't see, but I'll take the

liberty to mention it. You been balkin' all your life. Pretty much everything I ever wanted you to do, you'd let

out SOME kind of a holler, like you are nowand yet I can't seem to remember once when you didn't have

to lay down and do what I said. But go on with your remarks about our city and the business of this country.

"I don't want to be a part of it," said Bibbs, with unwonted decision. "I want to keep to myself, and I'm doing

it now. I couldn't, if I went down there with you. I'd be swallowed into it. I don't care for money enought

"No," his father interrupted, still dangerously quiet. "You've never had to earn a living. Anybody could tell

that by what you say. Now, let me remind you: you're sleepin' in a pretty good bed; you're eatin' pretty fair

food; you're wearin' pretty fine clothes. Just suppose one o' these noisy housekeepersme, for

instancedecided to let you do your own housekeepin'. May I ask what your proposition would be?"

"I'm earning nine dollars a week," said Bibbs, sturdily. "It's enough. I shouldn't mind at all."

"My work!" Bibbs answered. "And I've done so well on that clippingmachine I believe I could work up to

fifteen or even twenty a week at another job. I could be a fair plumber in a few months, I'm sure. I'd rather

"You better set about learnin' one pretty dam' quick!" But Sheridan struggled with his temper and again was

partially successful in controlling it. "You better learn a trade over Sunday, because you're either goin' down

Sheridan raised his hands sardonically, as in prayer. "O God," he said, "this boy was crazy enough before he

began to earn his nine dollars a week, and now his money's gone to his head! Can't You do nothin' for him?"

Then he flung his hands apart, palms outward, in a furious gesture of dismissal. "Get out o' this room! You

got a skull that's thicker'n a whale's thighbone, but it's cracked spang all the way across! You hated the

machineshop so bad when I sent you there, you went and stayed sick for over two yearsand now, when I

offer to take you out of it and give you the mint, you holler for the shop like a calf for its mammy! You're

cracked! Oh, but I got a fine layout here! One son died, one quit, and one's a loon! The loon's all I got left! H.

P. Ellersly's wife had a crazy brother, and they undertook to keep him at the house. First morning he was

there he walked straight though a tendollar plateglass window out into the yard. He says, 'Oh, look at the

pretty dandelion!' That's what you're doin'! You want to spend your life sayin', 'Oh, look at the pretty

dandelion!' and you don't care a tinker's dam' what you bust! Well, mister, loon or no loon, cracked and crazy

or whatever you are, I'll take you with me Monday morning, and I'll work you and learn youyes, and I'll

lam you, if I got tountil I've made something out of you that's fit to be called a business man! I'll keep at

you while I'm able to stand, and if I have to lay down to die I'll be whisperin' at you till they get the

embalmin'fluid into me! Now go on, and don't let me hear from you again till you can come and tell me

Bibbs gave him a queer look. There was something like reproach in it, for once; but there was more than

There was sleet that evening, with a whopping wind, but neither this storm nor that other which so

imminently threatened him held place in the consciousness of Bibbs Sheridan when he came once more to the

presence of Mary. All was right in his world has he sat with her, reading Maurice Maeterlinck's Alladine and

Palomides. The sorrowful light of the gasjet might have been May morning sunshine flashing amber and

rose through the glowing windows of the SainteChapelle, it was so bright for Bibbs. And while the

zinceater held out to bring him such golden nights as these, all the king's horses and all the king's men might

Bibbs read slowly, but in a reasonable manner, as if he were talking; and Mary, looking at him steadily from

beneath her curved fingers, appeared to discover no fault. It had grown to be her habit to look at him

whenever there was an opportunity. It may be said, in truth, that while they were together, and it was light,

When he came to the end of Alladine and Palomides they were silent a little while, considering together; then

he turned back the pages and said: "There's something I want to read over. This:

"You boy!" she murmured again, blushing charmingly. "You might read another line over. The first time I

ever saw you, Bibbs, you were looking into a mirror. Do it again. But you needn't read itI can give it to

"I! I'm one of the hands at the Pump Worksand going to stay one, unless I have to decide to study

"No." She shook her head. "You love and want what's beautiful and delicate and serene; it's really art that you

want in your life, and have always wanted. You seemed to me, from the first, the most wistful person I had

Bibbs looked doubtful and more wistful than ever; but after a moment or two the matter seemed to clarify

itself to him. "Why, no," he said; "I wanted something else more than that. I wanted you."

"And here I am!" she laughed, completely understanding. "I think we're like those two in The Cloister and the

Hearth. I'm just the rough Burgundian crossbow man, Denys, who followed that gentle Gerard and told

"He isn't, though," said Bibbs, as a hoarse little bell in the next room began a series of snappings which

proved to be ten, upon count. "He gets into the clock whenever I'm with you." And, sighing deeply, he rose to

"II try to be," he said. "It isn't easy to be careful not to risk everything by giving myself a little more at a

"Carefree. That's it. Except when you feel sorry for me about something, you always have that splendid

look. It puts courage into people to see it. If I had a struggle to face I'd keep remembering that lookand I'd

never give up! It's a brave look, too, as though gaiety might be a kind of gallantry on your part, and yet I don't

quite understand why it should be, either." He smiled quizzically, looking down upon her. "Mary, you haven't

"No," he said; "I can't imagine you with a care in the world. I think that's why you were so kind to meyou

have nothing but happiness in your own life, and so you could spare time to make my troubles turn to

happiness, too. But there's one little time in the twentyfour hours when I'm not happy. It's now, when I have

to say good night. I feel dismal every time it comesand then, when I've left the house, there's a bad little

blankness, a black void, as though I were temporarily dead; and it lasts until I get it established in my mind

that I'm really beginning another day that's to end with YOU again. Then I cheer up. But now's the bad

timeand I must go through it, and sogood night." And he added with a pungent vehemence of which he

"Do you?" she said, rising to go to the door with him. But he stood motionless, gazing at her wonderingly.

"I don't knowit seemed to me that there was something I ought to understandand didn't."

She laughed and met his wondering gaze again frankly. "My eyes are pleased," she said. "I'm glad that you

She went to the front door with him; she always went that far. They had formed a little code of leavetaking,

by habit, neither of them ever speaking of it; but it was always the same. She always stood in the doorway

until he reached the sidewalk, and there he always turned and looked back, and she waved her hand to him.

Then he went on, halfway to the New House, and looked back again, and Mary was not in the doorway, but

the door was open and the light shone. It was as if she meant to tell him that she would never shut him out; he

could always see that friendly light of the open doorwayas if it were open for him to come back, if he

would. He could see it until a wing of the New House came between, when he went up the path. The open

doorway seemed to him the beautiful symbol of her friendshipof her thought of him; a symbol of herself

And she kept the door openeven tonight, though the sleet and fine snow swept in upon her bare throat and

arms, and her brown hair was strewn with tiny white stars. His heart leaped as he turned and saw that she was

there, waving her hand to him, as if she did not know that the storm touched her. When he had gone on, Mary

did as she always didshe went into an unlit room across the hall from that in which they had spent the

evening, and, looking from the window, watched him until he was out of sight. The storm made that difficult

tonight, but she caught a glimpse of him under the streetlamp that stood between the two houses, and saw

that he turned to look back again. Then, and not before, she looked at the upper windows of Roscoe's house

across the street. They were dark. Mary waited, but after a little while she closed the front door and returned

to her window. A moment later two of the upper windows of Roscoe's house flashed into light and a hand

lowered the shade of one of them. Mary felt the cold thenit was the third night she had seen those windows

But Bibbs had no glance to spare for Roscoe's windows. He stopped for his last look back at the open door,

and, with a thin mantle of white already upon his shoulders, made his way, gasping in the wind, to the lee of

A stricken George, muttering hoarsely, admitted him, and Bibbs became aware of a paroxysm within the

house. Terrible sounds came from the library: Sheridan cursing as never before; his wife sobbing, her voice

rising to an agonized squeal of protest upon each of a series of muffled detonations the outrageous

thumping of a bandaged hand upon wood; then Gurney, sharply imperious, "Keep your hand in that sling!

"LOOK!" George gasped, delighted to play herald for so important a tragedy; and he renewed upon his face

the ghastly expression with which he had first beheld the ruins his calamitous gesture laid before the eyes of

Gazing down the hall, Bibbs saw heroic wreckage, seemingly Byzantine painted colossal fragments of the

shattered torso, appallingly human; and gilded and silvered heaps of magnificence strewn among ruinous

palms like the spoil of a barbarians' battle. There had been a massacre in the oasis the Moor had been

"YESshu! POW! he hit 'er! An' you' ma run tell me git doctuh quick 's I kin telefoamshe sho' you' pa goin'

bus' a bloodvessel. He ain't takin' on 'tall NOW. He ain't nothin' 'tall to what he was 'while ago. You done

miss' it, Mist' Bibbs. Doctuh got him all quiet' down, to what he was. POW! he hit 'er! Yessuh!" He took

Bibbs's coat and proffered a crumpled telegraph form. "Here what come," he said. "I pick 'er up when he done

stompin' on 'er. You read 'er, Mist' Bibbsyou' ma tell me tuhn 'er ovuh to you soon's you come in."

Bibbs read the telegram quickly. It was from New York and addressed to Mrs. Sheridan.

George departed, and Bibbs was left gazing upon chaos and listening to thunder. He could not reach the

stairway without passing the open doors of the library, and he was convinced that the mere glimpse of him,

just then, would prove nothing less than insufferable for his father. For that reason he was about to make his

escape into the goldandbrocade room, intending to keep out of sight, when he heard Sheridan vociferously

"Tell him to come in here! He's out there. I heard George just let him in. Now you'll SEE!" And tearstained

Bibbs went as far as the doorway. Gurney sat winding a strip of white cotton, his black bag open upon a chair

near by; and Sheridan was striding up and down, his hand so heavily wrapped in fresh bandages that he

seemed to be wearing a small boxingglove. His eyes were bloodshot; his forehead was heavily bedewed;

one side of his collar had broken loose, and there were bloodstains upon his right cuff.

"THERE'S our little sunshine!" he cried, as Bibbs appeared. "THERE'S the hope o' the familymy lifelong

Sheridan turned upon him, uttering a sound like a howl. "For God's sake, sing another tune!" he cried. "You

said you 'came as a doctor but stay as a friend,' and in that capacity you undertake to sit up and criticize ME

"Oh, talk sense," said the doctor, and yawned intentionally. "What do you want Bibbs to say?"

"You were sittin' up there tellin' me I got 'hysterical''hysterical,' oh Lord! You sat up there and told me I

got 'hysterical' over nothin'! You sat up there tellin' me I didn't have as heavy burdens as many another man

you knew. I just want you to hear THIS. Now listen!" He swung toward the quiet figure waiting in the

doorway. "Bibbs, will you come downtown with me Monday morning and let me start you with two

"Bibbs, you want to stay in the shop, do you, at nine dollars a week, instead of takin' up my offer?"

"And I'd like the doctor to hear: What 'll you do if I decide you're too highpriced a workin'man either to

Sheridan leaned over Gurney and shouted, in a voice that cracked and broke, piping into falsetto: "He thinks

of bein' a PLUMBER! He wants to be a PLUMBER! He told me he couldn't THINK if he went into

He fell back a step, wiping his forhead with the back of his left hand. "There! That's my son! That's the only

son I got now! That's my chance to live," he cried, with a bitterness that seemed to leave ashes in his throat.

Dr. Gurney thoughtfully regarded the bandage strip he had been winding, and tossed it into the open bag.

"What's the matter with giving Bibbs a chance to live?" he said, coolly. "I would if I were you. You've had

Sheridan's mouth moved grotesquely before he could speak. "Joe Gurney," he said, when he could command

himself so far, "are you accusin' me of the responsibility for the death of my son James?"

"I accuse you of nothing," said the doctor. "But just once I'd like to have it out with you on the question of

Bibbsand while he's here, too." He got up, walked to the fire, and stood warming his hands behind his back

and smiling. "Look here, old fellow, let's be reasonable," he said. "You were bound Bibbs should go to the

shop again, and I gave you and him, both, to understand pretty plainly that if he went it was at the risk of his

life. Well, what did he do? He said he wanted to go. And he did go, and he's made good there. Now, see: Isn't

that enough? Can't you let him off now? He wants to write, and how do you know that he couldn't do it if you

gave him a chance? How do you know he hasn't some message something to say that might make the

world just a little bit happier or wiser? He MIGHTin timeit's a possibility not to be denied. Now he can't

deliver any message if he goes down there with you, and he won't HAVE any to deliver. I don't say going

down with you is likely to injure his health, as I thought the shop would, and as the shop did, the first time.

I'm not speaking as doctor now, anyhow. But I tell you one thing I know: if you take him down there you'll

kill something that I feel is in him, and it's finer, I think, than his physical body, and you'll kill it deader than

a doornail! And so why not let it live? You've about come to the end of your string, old fellow. Why not

"Yourswith nature." Gurney sustained the daunting gaze of his fierce antagonist equably. "You don't seem

"Natural law," said Gurney. "What do you think beat you with Edith? Did Edith, herself, beat you? Didn't she

obey without question something powerful that was against you? EDITH wasn't against you, and you weren't

against HER, but you set yourself against the power that had her in its grip, and it shot out a spurt of

flameand won in a walk! What's taken Roscoe from you? Timbers bear just so much strain, old man; but

YOU wanted to send the load across the broken bridge, and you thought you could bully or coax the cracked

thing into standing. Well, you couldn't! Now here's Bibbs. There are thousands of men fit for the life you

want him to leadand so is he. It wouldn't take half of Bibbs's brains to be twice as good a business man as

"Your son Bibbs," said the doctor, composedly, "Bibbs Sheridan has the kind and quantity of 'gray matter'

that will make him a success in anythingif he ever wakes up! Personally I should prefer him to remain

asleep. I like him that way. But the thousands of men fit for the life you want him to lead aren't fit to do much

with the life he OUGHT to lead. Blindly, he's been fighting for the chance to lead ithe's obeying something

that begs to stay alive within him; and, blindly, he knows you'll crush it out. You've set your will to do it. Let

me tell you something more. You don't know what you've become since Jim's going thwarted youand

that's what was uppermost, a bafflement stronger than your normal grief. You're half mad with a consuming

fury against the very self of the lawfor it was the very self of the law that took Jim from you. That was a

law concerning the cohesion of molecules. The very self of the law took Roscoe from you and gave Edith the

certainty of beating you; and the very self of the law makes Bibbs deny you tonight. The LAW beats you.

Haven't you been whipped enough? But you want to whip the law you've set yourself against it, to bend it

The voice broke from Sheridan's heaving chest in a shout. "Yes! And by God, I will!"

"I've heard that dam'fool story, too," Sheridan retorted, fiercely. "That's for chuldern and niggers. It ain't

twentieth century, let me tell you! "Defied the lighning,' did he, the jackass! If he'd been half a man he'd 'a'

got away with it. WE don't go showin' off defyin' the lightning we hitch it up and make it work for us like

"Gurney, you know a lot about bigness!" Sheridan began to walk to and fro again, and the doctor returned

gloomily to his chair. He had shot his bolt the moment he judged its chance to strike center was best, but the

"I'm tryin' to make a big man out o' that poor truck yonder," Sheridan went on, "and you step in, beggin' me

to let him be Lord knows whatI don't! I suppose you figure it out that now I got a SONINLAW, I

There was a bronze inkstand upon the table. Sheridan put his right hand in the sling, but with his left he swept

the inkstand from the table and halfway across the rooma comet with a destroying black tail. Mrs.

"Let it lay!" he shouted, fiercely. "Let it lay!" And, weeping, she obeyed. "Yes, sir," he went on, in a voice

the more ominous for the sudden hush he put upon it. "I got a spender for a soninlaw! It's wonderful where

property goes, sometimes. There was ole man Tracyyou remember him, DocJ. R. Tracy, solid banker.

He went into the bank as messenger, seventeen years old; he was president at fortythree, and he built that

bank with his life for forty years more. He was down there from nine in the morning until four in the

afternoon the day before he diedover eighty! Gilt edge, that bank? It was diamond edge! He used to eat a

bag o' peanuts and and apple for lunch; but he wasn't stingy he was just livin' in his business. He didn't

care for pie or automobileshe had his bank. It was an institution, and it come pretty near bein' the beatin'

heart o' this town in its time. Well, that ole man used to pass one o' these here turnedupnose and

turneduppants cigarette boys on the streets. Never spoke to him, Tracy didn't. Speak to him? God! he

wouldn't 'a' coughed on him! He wouldn't 'a' let him clean the cuspidors at the bank! Why, if he'd 'a' just seen

him standin' in FRONT the bank he'd 'a' had him run off the street. And yet all Tracy was doin' every day of

his life was workin' for that cigarette boy! Tracy thought it was for the bank; he thought he was givin' his life

and his lifeblood and the blood of his brain for the bank, but he wasn't. It was every bitfrom the time he

went in at seventeen till he died in harness at eightythreeit was every last lick of it just slavin' for that

turnedupnose, turneduppants cigarette boy. AND TRACY DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HIS NAME! He

died, not ever havin' heard it, though he chased him off the front steps of his house once. The day after Tracy

died his oldmaid daughter married the cigaretteand there AIN'T any Tracy bank any more! And

Gurney pointed to the flourishing right hand without speaking, and Sheridan once more returned it to the

"My soninlaw likes Florida this winter," Sheridan went on. "That's good, and my soninlaw better enjoy

it, because I don't think he'll be there next winter. They got twelvethousand dollars to spend, and I hear it

can be done in Florida by rich sonsinlaw. When Roscoe's woman got me to spend that much on a porch for

their new house, Edith wouldn't give me a minute's rest till I turned over the same to her. And she's got it,

besides what I gave her to go East on. It 'll be gone long before this time next year, and when she comes

home and leaves the cigarette behind for goodshe'll get some more. MY name ain't Tracy, and there

ain't goin' to be any Tracy business in the Sheridan family. And there ain't goin' to be any college foundin'

and endowin' and trusteein', nor Godknowswhat to keep my property alive when I'm gone! Edith 'll be

back, and she'll get a girl's share when she's through with that cigarette, but"

"By the way," interposed Gurney, "didn't Mrs. Sheridan tell me that Bibbs warned you Edith would marry

Sheridan went completely to pieces: he swore, while his wife screamed and stopped her ears. And as he

swore he pounded the table with his wounded hand, and when the doctor, after storming at him ineffectively,

sprang to catch and protect that hand, Sheridan wrenched it away, tearing the bandage. He hammered the

"Fool!" he panted, choking. "If he's shown gumption enough to guess right the first time in his life, it's

enough for me to begin learnin' him on!" And, struggling with the doctor, he leaned toward Bibbs, thrusting

forward his convulsed face, which was deathly pale. "My name ain't Tracy, I tell you!" he screamed,

hoarsely. "You give in, you stubborn fool! I've had my way with you before, and I'll have my way with you

Bibbs's face was as white as his father's, but he kept remembering that "splendid look" of Mary's which he

had told her would give him courage in a struggle, so that he would "never give up."

"No. You can't have your way," he said. And then, obeying a significant motion of Gurney's head, he went

Mrs. Sheridan, in a wrapper, noiselessly opened the door of her husband's room at daybreak the next

morning, and peered within the darkened chamber. At the "old" house they had shared a room, but the

architect had chosen to separate them at the New, and they had not known how to formulate an objection,

although to both of them something seemed vaguely reprehensible in the new arrangement.

Sheridan did not stir, and she was withdrawing her head from the aperture when he spoke.

She came and sat by the bed. "I woke up thinkin' about it," she explained. "And the more I thought about it

the surer I got I must be right, and I knew you'd be tormentin' yourself if you was awake, so well, you got

plenty other troubles, but I'm just sure you ain't goin' to have the worry with Bibbs it looks like."

"Look how biddable he was about goin' back to the Works," she continued. "He's a right goodhearted boy,

really, and sometimes I honestly have to say he seems right smart, too. Now and then he'll say something

sounds right bright. 'Course, most always it doesn't, and a good deal of the time, when he says things, why, I

have to feel glad we haven't got company, because they'd think he didn't have any gumption at all. Yet, look

at the way he did when Jimwhen Jim got hurt. He took right hold o' things. 'Course he'd been sick himself

so much and alland the rest of us never had, much, and we were kind o' green about what to do in that kind

o' troublestill, he did take hold, and everything went off all right; you'll have to say that much, papa. And

Dr. Gurney says he's got brains, and you can't deny but what the doctor's right considerable of a man. He acts

sleepy, but that's only because he's got such a large practicehe's a pretty wideawake kind of a man some

ways. Well, what he says last night about Bibbs himself bein' asleep, and how much he'd amount to if he ever

woke upthat's what I got to thinkin' about. You heard him, papa; he says, 'Bibbs 'll be a bigger business

man than what Jim and Roscoe was put togetherif he ever wakes up,' he says. Wasn't that exactly what he

"I suppose so," said Sheridan, without exhibiting any interest. "Gurney's crazier 'n Bibbs, but if he wasn'tif

"Listen, papa. Just suppose Bibbs took it into his mind to get married. You know where he goes all the

"Oh, Lord, yes!" Sheridan turned over in the bed, his face to the wall, leaving visible of himself only the thick

grizzle of his hair. "You better go back to sleep. He runs over thereevery minute she'll let him, I suppose.

"WHY ain't there?" she urged. "I know betterthere is, too! You wait and see. There's just one thing in the

world that 'll wake the sleepiest young man alive upyes, and make him JUMP upand I don't care who he

is or how sound asleep it looks like he is. That's when he takes it into his head to pick out some girl and settle

down and have a home and chuldern of his own. THEN, I guess, he'll go out after the money! You'll see. I've

known dozens o' cases, and so 've youmoony, no'count young men, all notions and talk, goin' to be

ministers, maybe or something; and there's just this one thing takes it out of 'em and brings 'em right down to

business. Well, I never could make out just what it is Bibbs wants to be, really; doesn't seem he wants to be a

minister exactly he's so faraway you can't tell, and he never SAYSbut I know this is goin' to get him

right down to common sense. Now, I don't say that Bibbs has got the idea in his head yet'r else he wouldn't

be talkin' that fooltalk about nine dollars a week bein' good enough for him to live on. But it's COMIN',

papa, and he'll JUMP for whatever you want to hand him out. He will! And I can tell you this much, too: he'll

want all the salary and stock he can get hold of, and he'll hustle to keep gettin' more. That girl's the kind that a

young husband just goes crazy to give things to! She's pretty and finelookin', and things look nice on her,

and I guess she'd like to have 'em about as well as the next. And I guess she isn't gettin' many these days,

either, and she'll be pretty ready for the change. I saw her with her sleeves rolled up at the kitchen window

the other day, and Jackson told me yesterday their cook left two weeks ago, and they haven't tried to hire

another one. He says her and her mother been doin' the housework a good while, and now they're doin' the

cookin,' too. 'Course Bibbs wouldn't know that unless she's told him, and I reckon she wouldn't; she's kind o'

stiffishlookin', and Bibbs is too up in the clouds to notice anything like that for himself. They've never asked

him to a meal in the house, but he wouldn't notice that, either he's kind of innocent. Now I was

thinkin'you know, I don't suppose we've hardly mentioned the girl's name at table since Jim went, but it

Sheridan flung out his arms, uttering a sound halfgroan, halfyawn. "You're barkin' up the wrong tree! Go

"I'll bet you," she said, rising"I'll bet you he goes to church with her this morning. What you want to bet?"

"Go back to bed," he commanded. "I KNOW what I'm talkin' about; there's nothin' in it, I tell you."

She shook her head perplexedly. "You think becausebecause Jim was runnin' so much with her it wouldn't

"Yes, I do," he grunted. "Now go on. Maybe I can get a little sleep. I ain't had any yet!"

"Well" She went to the door, her expression downcast. "I thought maybebut" She coughed

prefatorily. "Oh, papa, something else I wanted to tell you. I was talkin' to Roscoe over the 'phone last night

when the telegram came, so I forgot to tell you, butwell, Sibyl wants to come over this afternoon. Roscoe

says she has something she wants to say to us. It 'll be the first time she's been out since she was able to sit

upand I reckon she wants to tell us she's sorry for what happened. They expect to get off by the end o' the

week, and I reckon she wants to feel she's done what she could to kind o' make up. Anyway, that's what he

said. I 'phoned him again about Edith, and he said it wouldn't disturb Sibyl, because she'd been expectin' it;

she was sure all along it was goin' to happen; and, besides, I guess she's got all that foolishness pretty much

out of her, bein' so sick. But what I thought was, no use bein' rough with her, papaI expect she's suffered a

good dealand I don't think we'd ought to be, on Roscoe's account. You'llyou'll be kind o' polite to her,

He mumbled something which was smothered under the coverlet he had pulled over his head.

"What?" she said, timidly. "I was just sayin' I hoped you'd treat Sibyl all right when she comes, this

But if he had accepted her proffered wager that Bibbs would go to church with Mary Vertrees that morning,

Mrs. Sheridan would have lost. Nevertheless, Bibbs and Mary did certainly set out from Mr. Vertrees's house

with the purpose of going to church. That was their intention, and they had no other. They meant to go to

But it happened that they were attentively preoccupied in a conversation as they came to the church; and

though Mary was looking to the right and Bibbs was looking to the left, Bibbs's leftward glance converged

with Mary's rightward glance, and neither was looking far beyond the other at this time. It also happened that,

though they were a little jostled among groups of people in the vicinity of the church, they passed this

somewhat prominent edifice without being aware of their proximity to it, and they had gone an incredible

number of blocks beyond it before they discovered their error. However, feeling that they might be

embarrassingly late if they returned, they decided that a walk would make them as good. It was a windless

winter morning, with an inch of crisp snow over the ground. So they walked, and for the most part they were

silent, but on their way home, after they had turned back at noon, they began to be talkative again.

"Yeswhen he's in a mood to flatter me. Other times, other names. He has quite a list."

"You mustn't mind," she said, gently. "He's been getting some pretty severe shocks. What you've told me

"Yes. Big andblind. He's like a Hercules without eyes and without any consciousness except that of his

"Are you sure, Bibbs? It CAN'T be for nothing; it must be stronger for something, even though he doesn't

know what it is. Perhaps what he and his kind are struggling for is something so great they COULDN'T see

"Till he breaks through and leaps out into the daylight," she finished for him, cheerily.

"Into the smoke," said Bibbs. "Look at the powder of coaldust already dirtying the decent snow, even

though it's Sunday. That's from the little pigs; the big ones aren't so bad, on Sunday! There's a fleck of soot on

your cheek. Some pig sent it out into the air; he might as well have thrown it on you. It would have been

braver, for then he'd have taken his chance of my whipping him for it if I could."

"IS there soot on my cheek, Bibbs, or were you only saying so rhetorically? IS there?"

"Is there? There ARE soot on your cheeks, Marya fleck on each. One landed since I mentioned the first."

She halted immediately, giving him her handkerchief, and he succeeded in transferring most of the black

An elderly couple, it chanced, had been walking behind Bibbs and Mary for the last block or so, and passed

ahead during the removal of the soot. "There!" said the elderly wife. "You're always wrong when you begin

guessing about strangers. Those two young people aren't honeymooners at allthey've been married for

"I wish I did know who threw that soot on you," said Bibbs, looking up at the neighboring chimneys, as they

"But they don't arrest the streetcars for shaking all the pictures in the houses crooked every time they go by.

Nor for the uproar they make. I wonder what's the cost in nerves for the noise of the city each year. Yes, we

pay the price for living in a 'growing town,' whether we have money to pay or none."

"Nobody gets it. There isn't any pay; there's only money. And only some of the men downtown get much of

"Yes," she said, smiling to him, and nodding. "And you don't want it, and you don't need it."

"But you don't think I'm a sleepwalker, Mary?" He had told her of his father's new plans for him, though he

had not described the vigor and picturesqueness of their setting forth. "You think I'm right?"

"A thousand times!" she cried. "There aren't so many happy people in this world, I thinkand you say

"The thought of going down thereinto the money shuffleI hate it as I never hated the shop!" he said. "I

hate it! And the city itself, the city that the money shuffle has madejust look at it! Look at it in winter. The

snow's tried hard to make the ugliness bearable, but the ugliness is winning; it's making the snow hideous; the

snow's getting dirty on top, and it's foul underneath with the dirt and disease of the unclean street. And the

dirt and the ugliness and the rush and the noise aren't the worst of it; it's what the dirt and ugliness and rush

and noise MEANthat's the worst! The outward things are insufferable, but they're only the expression of a

spirita blind enbryo of a spirit, not yet a souloh, just greed! And this 'go ahead' nonsense! Oughtn't it all

to be a fellowship? I shouldn't want to get ahead if I couldI'd want to help the other fellow to keep up with

"I read something the other day and remembered it for you," said Mary. "It was something BurneJones said

of a picture he was going to paint: 'In the first picture I shall make a man walking in the street of a great city,

full of all kinds of happy life: children, and lovers walking, and ladies leaning from the windows all down

great lengths of street leading to the city walls; and there the gates are wide open, letting in a space of green

field and cornfield in harvest; and all round his head a great rain of swirling autumn leaves blowing from a

"And if I painted," Bibbs returned, "I'd paint a lady walking in the street of a great city, full of all kinds of

uproarious and futile life children being taught only how to make money, and lovers hurrying to get richer,

and ladies who'd given up trying to wash their windows clean, and the gates of the city wide open, letting in

slums and slaughterhouses and freightyards, and all round this lady's head a great rain of swirling soot"

He paused, adding, thoughtfully: "And yet I believe I'm glad that soot got on your cheek. It was just as if I

were your brother the way you gave me your handkerchief to rub it off for you. Still, Edith never"

"No. And I" He contented himself with shaking his head instead of offering more definite information.

Then he realized that they were passing the New House, and he sighed profoundly. "Mary, our walk's almost

They said no more until they came to her gate. As they drifted slowly to a stop, the door of Roscoe's house

opened, and Roscoe came out with Sibyl, who was startlingly pale. She seemed little enfeebled by her illness,

however, walking rather quickly at her husband's side and not taking his arm. The two crossed the street

without appearing to see Mary and her companion, and entering the New House, were lost to sight. Mary

"No, Bibbs." And she gave him a bright, quick look that made him instantly unreasonably happy.

"I mustn't keep you standing her, and I mustn't go in with youbutI just wanted to sayI've seemed very

stupid to myself this morning, grumbling about soot and all thatwhile all the time IMary, I think it's

been the very happiest of all the hours you've given me. I do. And I don't know just whybut it's seemed

to me that it was one I'd always remember. And you," he added, falteringly, "you look soso beautiful

"It's something I've had a lot of theories about, but none of them ever just fits. You used to wear furs in the

fall, but now it's so much colder, you don'tyou never wear them at all any more. Why don't you?"

Her eyes fell for a moment, and she grew red. Then she looked up gaily. "Bibbs, if I tell you the answer will

"Because I found I'd be warmer without them!" She caught his hand quickly in her own for an instant,

It is the consoling attribute of unused books that their decorative warmth will so often make even a

readymade library the actual "livingroom" of a family to whom the shelved volumes are indeed sealed.

Thus it was with Sheridan, who read nothing except newspapers, business letters, and figures; who looked

upon books as he looked upon bricabrac or crocheting when he was at home, and not abed or eating, he

He stood in the manycolored light of the stainedglass window at the far end of the long room, when

Roscoe and his wife came in, and he exhaled a solemnity. His deference to the Sabbath was manifest, as

always, in the length of his coat and the closeness of his Saturdaynight shave; and his expression, to match

this religious pomp, was more than Sabbatical, but the most dismaying of his demonstrations was his keeping

Sibyl advanced to the middle of the room and halted there, not looking at him, but down at her muff, in

which, it could be seen, her hands were nervously moving. Roscoe went to a chair in another part of the

But Sibyl found a shaky voice, after an interval of gulping, though she was unable to lift her eyes, and the

darkling lids continued to veil them. She spoke hurriedly, like an ungifted child reciting something

"Father Sheridan, you and mother Sheridan have always been so kind to me, and I would hate to have you

think I don't appreciate it, from the way I acted. I've come to tell you I am sorry for the way I did that night,

and to say I know as well as anybody the way I behaved, and it will never happen again, because it's been a

pretty hard lesson; and when we come back, some day, I hope you'll see that you've got a daughterinlaw

you never need to be ashamed of again. I want to ask you to excuse me for the way I did, and I can say I

haven't any feelings toward Edith now, but only wish her happiness and good in her new life. I thank you for

all your kindness to me, and I know I made a poor return for it, but if you can overlook the way I behaved I

know I would feel a good deal happierand I know Roscoe would, too. I wish to promise not to be as

foolish in the future, and the same error would never occur again to make us all so unhappy, if you can be

He looked steadily at her without replying, and she stood before him, never lifting her eyes; motionless, save

She looked up then with vast relief, though there was a revelation of heavy tears when the eyelids lifted.

"Thank you," she said. "There's something elseabout something differentI want to say to you, but I want

Sibyl interrupted. She had just seen Bibbs pass through the hall and begin to ascend the stairs; and in a flash

And she went away quickly, gaining the top of the stairs in time to see Bibbs enter his room and close the

door. Sibyl knew that Bibbs, in his room, had overheard her quarrel with Edith in the hall outside; for bitter

Edith, thinking the more to shame her, had subsequently informed her of the circumstance. Sibyl had just

remembered this, and with the recollection there had flashed the thoughtout of her own experience that

people are often much more deeply impressed by words they overhear than by words directly addressed to

them. Sibyl intended to make it impossible for Bibbs not to overhear. She did not hesitateher heart was hot

with the old sore, and she believed wholly in the justice of her cause and in the truth of what she was going to

say. Fate was virtuous at times; it had delivered into her hands the girl who had affronted her.

Mrs. Sheridan was in her own room. The approach of Sibyl and Roscoe had driven her from the library, for

she had miscalculated her husband's mood, and she felt that if he used his injured hand as a mark of emphasis

again, in her presence, she would (as she thought of it) "have a fit right there." She heard Sibyl's step, and

"Yes, he wants you to," said Sibyl. "It's all right, mother Sheridan. He's forgiven me."

Mrs. Sheridan sniffed instantly; tears appeared. She kissed her daughterinlaw's cheek; then, in silence,

"And I hope Edith will be happy," Sibyl added, inciting more applications of Mrs. Sheridan's handkerchief

"Well, there was something else I had to say, and he wants you to hear it, too," said Sibyl. "We better go

She led the way, Mrs. Sheridan following obediently, but when they came to a spot close by Bibbs's door,

Sibyl stopped. "I want to tell you about it first," she said, abruptly. "It isn't a secret, of course, in any way; it's

something the whole family has to know, and the sooner the whole family knows it the better. It's something

it wouldn't be RIGHT for us ALL not to understand, and of course father Sheridan most of all. But I want to

just kind of go over it first with you; it 'll kind of help me to see I got it all stratight. I haven't got any reason

for saying it except the good of the family, and it's nothing to me, one way or the other, of course, except for

that. I oughtn't to 've behaved the way I did that night, and it seems to me if there's anything I can do to help

the family, I ought to, because it would help show I felt the right way. Well, what I want to do is to tell this

so's to keep the family from being made a fool of. I don't want to see the family just made use of and twisted

around her finger by somebody that's got no more heart than so much ice, and just as sure to bring troubles in

the long run asas Edith's mistake is. Well, then, this is the way it is. I'll just tell you how it looks to me and

Within the room, Bibbs, much annoyed, tapped his ear with his pencil. He wished they wouldn't stand talking

near his door when he was trying to write. He had just taken from his trunk the manuscript of a poem begun

the preceding Sunday afternoon, and he had some ideas he wanted to fix upon paper before they maliciously

seized the first opportunity to vanish, for they were but gossamer. Bibbs was pleased with the beginnings of

his poem, and if he could carry it through he meant to dare greatly with it he would venture it upon an

editor. For he had his plan of life now: his day would be of manual labor and thinkinghe could think of his

friend and he could think in cadences for poems, to the crashing of the strong machineand if his father

turned him out of home and out of the Works, he would work elsewhere and live elsewhere. His father had

the right, and it mattered very little to Bibbshe faced the prospect of a workingman's lodginghouse

without trepidation. He could find a washstand to write upon, he thought; and every evening when he left

Mary he would write a little; and he would write on holidays and on Sundayson Sundays in the afternoon.

In a lodginghouse, at least he wouldn't be interrupted by his sisterinlaw's choosing the immediate vicinity

of his door for conversations evidently important to herself, but merely disturbing to him. He frowned

plaintively, wishing he could think of some polite way of asking her to go away. But, as she went on, he

"I don't know whether you heard it, mother Sheridan," she said, "but this old Vertrees house, next door, had

been sold on foreclosure, and all THEY got out of it was an agreement that let's 'em live there a little longer.

Roscoe told me, and he says he heard Mr. Vertrees has been up and down the streets more 'n two years, tryin'

to get a job he could call a 'position,' and couldn't land it. You heard anything about it, mother Sheridan?"

"Well, I DID know they been doin' their own housework a good while back," said Mrs. Sheridan. "And now

Sibyl sent forth a little titter with a sharp edge. "I hope they find something to cook! She sold her piano

Bibbs jumped up. He was trembling from head to foot and he was dizzy of all the real things he could

never have dreamed in his dream the last would have been what he heard now. He felt that something

incredible was happening, and that he was powerless to stop it. It seemed to him that heavy blows were

falling on his head and upon Mary's; it seemed to him that he and Mary were being struck and beaten

physicallyand that something hideous impended. He wanted to shout to Sibyl to be silent, but he could not;

"What I think the whole family ought to understand is just this," said Sibyl, sharply. "Those people were so

hard up that this Miss Vertrees started after Bibbs before they knew whether he was INSANE or not! They'd

got a notion he might be, from his being in a sanitarium, and Mrs. Vertrees ASKED me if he was insane, the

very first day Bibbs took the daughter out autoriding!" She paused a moment, looking at Mrs. Sheridan, but

"It's the truth," Sibyl declared, loudly. "Oh, of course we were all crazy about that girl at first. We were pretty

green when we moved up here, and we thought she'd get us INbut it didn't take ME long to read her! Her

family were down and out when it came to moneyand they had to go after it, one way or another,

SOMEHOW! So she started for Roscoe; but she found out pretty quick he was married, and she turned right

around to Jimand she landed him! There's no doubt about it, she had Jim, and if he'd lived you'd had

another daughterinlaw before this, as sure as I stand here telling you the God's truth about it! Wellwhen

Jim was left in the cemetery she was waiting out there to drive home with Bibbs! Jim wasn't COLDand she

didn't know whether Bibbs was insane or not, but he was the only one of the rich Sheridan boys left. She had

The texture of what was the truth made an even fabric with what was not, in Sibyl's mind; she believed every

word that she uttered, and she spoke with the rapidity and vehemence of fierce conviction.

"What I feel about it is," she said, "it oughtn't to be allowed to go on. It's too mean! I like poor Bibbs, and I

don't want to see him made such a fool of, and I don't want to see the family made such a fool of! I like poor

Bibbs, but if he'd only stop to think a minute himself he'd have to realize he isn't the kind of man ANY girl

would be apt to fall in love with. He's betterlooking lately, maybe, but you know how he WASjust kind

of a long white rag in good clothes. And girls like men with some SO to 'emSOME sort of dashingness,

anyhow! Nobody ever looked at poor Bibbs before, and neither'd sheno, SIR! not till she'd tried both

Roscoe and Jim first! It was only when her and her family got desperate that she"

Bibbswhiter than when he came from the sanitariumopened the door. He stepped across its threshold

"Oh, good heavens!" cried Sibyl. "Were you in THERE? Oh, I wouldn't" She seized Mrs. Sheridan's arm,

pulling her toward the stairway. "Come on, mother Sheridan!" she urged, and as the befuddled and confused

lady obeyed, Sibyl left a trail of noisy exclamations: "Good gracious! Oh, I wouldn'tToo bad! I didn't

DREAM he was there! I wouldn't hurt his feelings! Not for the world! Of course he had to know SOME time!

She heard his door close as she and Mrs. Sheridan reached the top of the stairs, and she glanced over her

"Still, it's a good deal better he knows about it," said Sibyl. "I shouldn't wonder it might turn out the very best

And completing their descent to the library, the two made their appearance to Roscoe and his father. Sibyl at

once gave a full and truthful account of what had taken place, repeating her own remarks, and omitting only

"But as I told mother Sheridan," she said, in conclusion, "it might turn out for the very best that he did

He merely grunted in reply, and sat rubbing the thick hair on the top of his head with his left hand and

looking at the fire. He had given no sign of being impressed in any manner by her exposure of Mary

Vertrees's character; but his impassivity did not dismay Sibylit was Bibbs whom she desired to impress,

"I'm sure it was all for the best," she said. "It's over now, and he knows what she is. In one way I think it was

lucky, because, just hearing a thing that way, a person can tell it's SOand he knows I haven't got any ax to

Mrs. Sheridan went nervously to the door and stood there, looking toward the stairway. "I wishI wish I

knew what he was doin'," she said. "He did look terrible bad. It was like something had been done to him that

wasI don't know what. I never saw anybody look like he did. He lookedso queer. It was like you'd"

"Yes,m. He ring bell; tole me make him fiah in his grate. I done buil' him nice fiah. I reckon he ain' feelin' so

"What do you expect he wants a fire for?" she asked, turning toward her husband. "The house is warm as can

"Well, II kind o' wish you hadn't said anything, Sibyl. I know you meant it for the best and all, but I don't

"Mother Sheridan, you don't mean you WANT that kind of a girl in the family? Why, she"

"I don't know, I don't know," the troubled woman quavered. "If he liked her it seems kind of a pity to spoil it.

He's so queer, and he hasn't ever taken much enjoyment. And besides, I believe the way it was, there was

more chance of him bein' willin' to do what papa wants him to. If she wants to marry him"

Sheridan interrupted her with a hooting laugh. "She don't!" he said. "You're barkin' up the wrong tree, Sibyl.

He cut her short. "That's enough. You may mean all right, but you guess wrong. So do you, mamma."

"She did not," he said, curtly. "She wouldn't take Jim. She turned him down cold."

"And YOU needn't worry," he said, turning to his wife. "This won't have any effect on your idea, because

there wasn't any sense to it, anyhow. D' you think she'd be very likely to take Bibbsafter she wouldn't take

JIM? She's a goodhearted girl, and she lets Bibbs come to see her, but if she'd ever given him one sign of

encouragement the way you women think, he wouldn't of acted the stubborn fool he hashe'd 'a' been at me

long ago, beggin' me for some kind of a job he could support a wife on. There's nothin' in itand I've got the

same old fight with him on my hands I've had all his lifeand the Lord knows what he won't do to balk me!

"SH!" Mrs. Sheridan, still in the doorway, lifted her hand. "That's his stephe's comin' downstairs." She

shrank away from the door as if she feared to have Bibbs see her. "II wonder" she said, almost in a

Her timorousness had its effect upon the others. Sheridan rose, frowning, but remained standing beside his

chair; and Roscoe moved toward Sibyl, who stared uneasily at the open doorway. They listened as the slow

Bibbs stopped upon the threshold, and with sick and haggard eyes looked slowly from one to the other until

"I'm sorry you've had so much trouble with me," he said, gently. "You won't, any more. I'll take the job you

Sheridan did not speakhe stared, astounded and incredulous; and Bibbs had left the room before any of its

occupants uttered a sound, though he went as slowly as he came. Mrs. Sheridan was the first to move. She

went nervously back to the doorway, and then out into the hall. Bibbs had gone from the house.

Bibbs's mother had a feeling about him then that she had never known before; it was indefinite and vague, but

very poignantsomething in her mourned for him uncomprehendingly. She felt that an awful thing had been

The fire George had built for him was almost smothered under thick, charred ashes of paper. The lid of his

trunk stood open, and the large upper tray, which she remembered to have seen full of papers and

notebooks, was empty. And somehow she understood that Bibbs had given up the mysterious vocation he

had hoped to followand that he had given it up for ever. She thought it was the wisest thing he could have

done and yet, for an unknown reason, she sat upon the bed and wept a little before she went downstairs.

As Bibbs came out of the New House, a Sunday trio was in course of passage upon the sidewalk: an ample

young woman, placid of face; a blackclad, thin young man, whose expression was one of habitual anxiety,

habitual wariness and habitual eagerness. He propelled a perambulator containing the thirdand all three

"How'd you like for me to be THAT young fella, mamma?" the husband whispered. "He's one of the sons,

The wife stared curiously at Bibbs. "Well, I don't know," she returned. "He looks to me like he had his own

"I expect he has, like anybody else," said the young husband, "but I guess we could stand a good deal if we

"Well, maybe, if you keep on the way you been, baby 'll be as well fixed as the Sheridans. You can't tell."

She glanced back at Bibbs, who had turned north. "He walks kind of slow and stooped over, like."

"So much money in his pockets it makes him sag, I guess," said the young husband, with bitter admiration.

Mary, happening to glance from a window, saw Bibbs coming, and she started, clasping her hands together in

"Bibbs!" she cried. "What is the matter? I saw something was terribly wrong when IYou look" She

paused, and he came in, not lifting his eyes to hers. Always when he crossed that threshold he had come with

his head up and his wistful gaze seeking hers. "Ah, poor boy!" she said, with a gesture of understanding and

"You needn't tell me," she said. "They've made you give up. Your father's wonyou're going to do what he

She gave a little cry of compassion, and came and sat near him. "Bibbs," she said. "I can be glad of one thing,

though it's selfish. I can be glad you came straight to me. It's more to me than even if you'd come because you

were happy." She did not speak again for a little while; then she said: "Bibbsdearcould you tell me

Still he did not look up, but in a voice, shaken and husky he asked her a question so grotesque that at first she

Both of her hands leaped to her cheeksshe grew red and then white. She rose slowly and moved backward

from him, staring at him, at first incredulously, then with an intense perplexity more and more luminous in

her wide eyes; it was like a spoken question. The room filled with strangeness in the long silencethe two

"Bibbs, look at me!" Her voice was loud and clear. "What made you say that? Look at me!"

She went closer to him, her eyes ever brighter and wider with that intensity of wonder. "You've given upto

your father," she said, slowly, "and then you came to ask me" She broke off. "Bibbs, do you want me to

"No!" she cried. "You do not. Then what made you ask me? What is it that's happened?"

"Wait," she said. "Let me think. It's something that happened since our walk this morningyes, since you

left me at noon. Something happened that" She stopped abruptly, with a tremulous murmur of amazement

Bibbs swallowed painfully and contrived to say, "I doI do want you to marry me, ififyou could."

She looked at him, and slowly shook her head. "Bibbs, do you" Her voice was as unsteady as hislittle

Somewhere in the still air of the room there was a whispered word; it did not seem to come from Mary's

"I've had nothing but dreams," Bibbs said, desolately, "but they weren't like that. Sibyl said no girl could care

about me." He smiled faintly, though still he did not look at Mary. "And when I first came home Edith told

me Sibyl was so anxious to marry that she'd have married ME. She meant it to express Sibyl's extremeity,

you see. But I hardly needed either of them to tell me. I hadn't thought of myself aswell, not as particularly

Oddly enough, Mary's pallor changed to an angry flush. "Those two!" she exclaimed, sharply; and then, with

thoroughgoing contempt: "Lamhorn! That's like them!" She turned away, went to the bare little black mantel,

and stood leaning upon it. Presently she asked: "WHEN did Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan say that 'no girl' could care

Mary drew a deep breath. "I think I'm beginning to understanda little." She bit her lip; there was anger in

good truth in her eyes and in her voice. "Answer me once more," she said. "Bibbs, do you know now why I

"I think I know what happened, now." Mary's breath came fast and her voice shook, but she spoke rapidly.

"You 'heard her say' more than that. You 'heard her say' that we were bitterly poor, and on that account I tried

first to marry your brotherand then" But now she faltered, and it was only after a convulsive effort that

she was able to go on. "And thenthat I tried to marryyou! You 'heard her say' that and you believe

that I don't care for you and that 'no girl' could care for youbut you think I am in such an 'extremity,' as

Sibyl wasthat you And so, not wanting me, and believing that I could not want you except for my

'extremity'you took your father's offer and then came to ask meto marry you! What had I shown you of

Suddenly she sank down, kneeling, with her face buried in her arms upon the lap of a chair, tears

He came and stood beside her. "You kill me!" he said. "I can't make it plain. From the first of your loveliness

to me, I was all self. It was always you that gave and I that took. I was the dependentI did nothing but lean

on you. We always talked of me, not of you. It was all about my idiotic distresses and troubles. I thought of

you as a kind of wonderful being that had no mortal or human suffering except by sympathy. You seemed to

lean downout of a rosy cloudto be kind to me. I never dreamed I could do anything for YOU! I never

dreamed you could need anything to be done for you by anybody. And today I heard thatthat you"

"You heard that I needed to marrysome oneanybodywith money," she sobbed. "And you thought we

"No!" he said, quickly. "I didn't believe you'd done one kind thing for mefor that. No, no, no! I knew you'd

NEVER thought of me except generouslyto give. I said I couldn't make it plain!" he cried, despairingly.

"Wait!" She lifted her head and extended her hands to him unconsciously, like a child. "Help me up, Bibbs."

Then, when she was once more upon her feet, she wiped her eyes and smiled upon him ruefully and faintly,

but reassuringly, as if to tell him, in that way, that she knew he had not meant to hurt her. And that smile of

hers, so lamentable, but so faithfully friendly, misted his own eyes, for his shamefacedness lowered them no

"Let me tell you what you want to tell me," she said. "You can't, because you can't put it into wordsthey

are too humiliating for me and you're too gentle to say them. Tell me, though, isn't it true? You didn't believe

"I believe it, Bibbs. You thought that I was fond of you; you knew I cared for youbut you didn't think I

might bein love with you. But you thought that I might marry you without being in love with you because

"Were desperately poor," she said. "You can't even say that! Bibbs, it was true: I did try to make Jim want to

marry me. I did!" And she sank down into the chair, weeping bitterly again. Bibbs was agonized.

"Listen," she said. "Listen till I get throughI want you to understand. We were poor, and we weren't fitted

to be. We never had been, and we didn't know what to do. We'd been almost rich; there was plenty, but my

father wanted to take advantage of the growth of the town; he wanted to be richer, but insteadwell, just

about the time your father finished building next door we found we hadn't anything. People say that,

sometimes, meaning that they haven't anything in comparison with other people of their own kind, but we

really hadn't anythingwe hadn't anything at all, Bibbs! And we couldn't DO anything. You might wonder

why I didn't 'try to be a stenographer'and I wonder myself why, when a family loses its money, people

always say the daughters 'ought to go and be stenographers.' It's curious!as if a wave of the hand made you

into a stenographer. No, I'd been raised to be either married comfortably or a welltodo old maid, if I chose

not to marry. The poverty came on slowly, Bibbs, but at last it was all thereand I didn't know how to be a

stenographer. I didn't know how to be anything except a welltodo old maid or somebody's wifeand I

couldn't be a welltodo old maid. Then, Bibbs, I did what I'd been raised to know how to do. I went out to

be fascinating and be married. I did it openly, at least, and with a kind of decent honesty. I told your brother I

had meant to fascinate him and that I was not in love with him, but I let him think that perhaps I meant to

marry him. I think I did mean to mary him. I had never cared for anybody, and I thought it might be there

really WASN'T anything more than a kind of excited fondness. I can't be sure, but I think that though I did

mean to marry him I never should have done it, because that sort of a marriage isit's sacrilegesomething

would have stopped me. Something did stop me; it was your sisterinlaw, Sibyl. She meant no harmbut

she was horrible, and she put what I was doing into such horrible wordsand they were the truthoh! I

SAW myself! She was proposing a miserable compact with meand I couldn't breathe the air of the same

room with her, though I'd so cheapened myself she had a right to assume that I WOULD. But I couldn't! I left

her, and I wrote to your brotherjust a quick scrawl. I told him just what I'd done; I asked his pardon, and I

said I would not marry him. I posted the letter, but he never got it. That was the afternoon he was killed.

That's all, Bibbs. Now you know what I didand you knowME!" She pressed her clenched hands tightly

Bibbs had forgotten himself long ago; his heart broke for her. "Couldn't youIsn't thereWon't you" he

stammered. "Mary, I'm going with father. Isn't there some way you could use the money withoutwithout

"You gave me something to live for," he said. "You kept me alive, I think and I've hurt you like this!"

"Oh, a thousand times!" Her right hand went out in a faltering gesture, and just touched his own for an

"No, no, no!" She sprang up, facing him, and, without knowing what she did, she set her hands upon his

"Never, never, never!" she cried, in a passion of tears. "You mustn't come any more. I can't see you, dear!

Somehow, in helpless, stumbling obedience to her beseeching gesture, he got himself to the door and out of

Sibyl and Roscoe were upon the point of leaving when Bibbs returned to the New House. He went straight to

"When you said that if I'd stop to think, I'd realize that no one would be apt to care enough about me to marry

me, you were right," he said. "I thought perhaps you weren't, and so I asked Miss Vertrees to marry me. It

And, having thus spoken, he quitted the room as straightforwardly as he had entered it.

"He's SO queer!" Mrs. Sheridan gasped. "Who on earth would thought of his doin' THAT?"

Sibyl was altogether taken aback. "Do you supose it's true? Do you suppose she WOULDN'T?"

"He didn't look exactly like a young man that had just got things fixed up fine with his girl," said Sheridan.

"I told you," he interrupted, angrily, "she ain't that kind of a girl! If you got to have proof, well, I'll tell you

and get it over with, though I'd pretty near just as soon not have to talk a whole lot about my dead boy's

private affairs. She wrote to Jim she couldn't take him, and it was a good, straight letter, too. It came to Jim's

"I remember I saw her put a letter in the mailbox that afternoon," said Roscoe. "Don't you remember, Sibyl?

I told you about itI was waiting for you while you were in there so long talking to her mother. It was just

before we saw that something was wrong over here, and Edith came and called me."

Sibyl shook her head, but she remembered. And she was not cast down, for, although some remnants of

perplexity were left in her eyes, they were dimmed by an increasing glow of triumph; and she

departedafter some further fragmentary discoursevisably elated. After all, the guilty had not been

exalted; and she perceived vaguely, but none the less surely, that her injury had been copiously avenged. She

bestowed a contented glance upon the old house with the cupola, as she and Roscoe crossed the street.

When they had gone, Mrs. Sheridan indulged in reverie, but after a while she said, uneasily, "Papa, you think

"I don't know," he answered, walking moodily to the window. "I been thinkin' about it." He came to a

"Well, you goin' back on what you said?" he inquired, brusquely, as he opened the door. "You goin' to take it

"Well, perhaps I didn't have any call to accuse you of that. I don't know as you ever did go back on anything

you said, exactly, though the Lord knows you've laid down on me enough. You certainly have!" Sheridan

was baffled. This was not what he wished to say, but his words were unmanageable; he found himself unable

to control them, and his querulous abuse went on in spite of him. "I can't say I expect much of younot from

the way you always been, up to nowunless you turn over a new leaf, and I don't see any encouragement to

think you're goin' to do THAT! If you go down there and show a spark o' real GITup, I reckon the whole

office 'll fall in a faint. But if you're ever goin' to show any, you better begin right at the beginning and begin

"You better, if it's in you!" Sheridan was sheerly nonplussed. He ad always been able to say whatever he

wished to say, but his tongue seemed bewitched. He had come to tell Bibbs about Mary's letter, and to his

own angry astonishment he found it impossible to do anything except to scold like a drudgedriver. "You

better come down there with your mind made up to hustle harder than the hardest workin'man that's under

you, or you'll not get on very good with me, I tell you! The way to get aheadand you better set it down in

your booksthe way to get ahead is to do ten times the work of the hardest worker that works FOR you. But

you don't know what work is, yet. All you've ever done was just stand around and feed a machine a child

could handle, and then come home and take a bath and go callin'. I tell you you're up against a mighty

different proposition now, and if you're worth your saltand you never showed any signs of it yetnot any

signs that stuck out enough to bang somebody on the head and make 'em sit up and take noticewell, I want

to say, right here and nowand you better listen, because I want to say just what I DO say. I say"

He meandered to a full stop. His mouth hung open, and his mind was a hopeless blank.

"That's all," said Sheridan, frowning heavily. "That's all I came to say, and you better see 't you remember it!"

He shook his head warningly, and went out, closing the door behind him with a crash. However, no sound of

footsteps indicated his departure. He stopped just outside the door, and stood there a minute or more. Then

abruptly he turned the knob and exhibited to his son a forehead liberally covered with perspiration.

"Well, I thought you needn't feel so much upset about it" The door closed on his voice as he withdrew, but

the conclusion of the sentence was nevertheless audible"if you knew she wouldn't have Jim, either."

And he stamped his way downstairs to tell his wife to quit her frettin' and not bother him with any more

fool's errands. She was about to inquire what Bibbs "said," but after a second thought she decided not to

speak at all. She merely murmured a wordless assent, and verbal communication was given over between

Bibbs and his father were gone when Mrs. Sheridan woke, the next morning, and she had a dreary day. She

missed Edith woefully, and she worried about what might be taking place in the Sheridan Building. She felt

that everything depended on how Bibbs "took hold," and upon her husband's return in the evening she seized

upon the first opportunity to ask him how things had gone. He was noncommittal. What could anybody tell

by the first day? He'd seen plenty go at things well enough right at the start and then blow up. Pretty near

anybody could show up fair the first day or so. There was a big job ahead. This material, such as it

wasBibbs, in facthad to be broken in to handling the work Roscoe had done; and then, at least as an

overseer, he must take Jim's position in the Realty Company as well. He told her to ask him again in a month.

But during the course of dinner she gathered from some disjointed remarks of his that he and Bibbs had

lunched together at the small restaurant where it had been Sheridan's custom to lunch with Jim, and she took

this to be an encouraging sign. Bibbs went to his room as soon as they left the table, and her husband was not

She became an anxious spectator of Bibbs's progress as a man of business, although it was a progress she

could glimpse but dimly and only in the evening, through his remarks and his father's at dinner. Usually

Bibbs was silent, except when directly addressed, but on the first evening of the third week of his new career

he offered an opinion which had apparently been the subject of previous argument.

"I'd like you to understand just what I meant about those storagerooms, father," he said, as Jackson placed

his coffee before him. "Abercrombie agreed with me, but you wouldn't listen to him."

"You can talk, if you want to, and I'll listen," Sheridan returned, "but you can't show me that Jim ever took up

with a bad thing. The roof fell because it hadn't had time to settle and on account of weather conditions. I

"You can't have it," said Bibbs. "You can't, because Jim planned for the building to stand up, and it won't do

it. The other onethe one that didn't fallis so shot with cracks we haven't dared use it for storage. It won't

stand weight. There's only one thing to do: get both buildings down as quickly as we can, and build over.

Sheridan looked sarcastic. "Fine! What we goin' to do for storagerooms while we're waitin' for those few

"Rent," Bibbs returned, promptly. "We'll lose money if we don't rent, anyhowthey were waiting so long for

you to give the warehouse matter your attention after the roof fell. You don't know what an amount of stuff

they've got piled up on us over there. We'd have to rent until we could patch up those process perilsand the

Krivitch Manufacturing Company's plant is empty, right across the street. I took an option on it for us this

Sheridan's expression was queer. "Look here!" he said, sharply. "Did you go and do that without consulting

"It didn't cost anything," said Bibbs. "It's only until tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock. I undertook to

"Oh, you did?" Sheridan's tone was sardonic. "Well, just suppose you couldn't convince me."

"I can, thoughand I intend to," said Bibbs, quietly. "I don't think you understand the condition of those

"Now, see here," said Sheridan, with slow emphasis; "suppose I had my mind set about this. JIM thought

they'd stand, and suppose it waswell, kind of a matter of sentiment with me to prove he was right."

Bibbs looked at him compassionately. "I'm sorry if you have a sentiment about it, father," he said. "But

whether you have or not can't make a difference. You'll get other people hurt if you trust that process, and

that won't do. And if you want a monument to Jim, at least you want one that will stand. Besides, I don't think

Sheridan was puzzled by his son's tone. "Why are you 'sorry'?" he asked, curiously.

"Because I had the building inspector up there, this noon," said Bibbs, "and I had him condemn both those

"He'd been afraid to do it before, until he heard from usafraid you'd see he lost his job. But he can't

Sheridan gave him a long and piercing stare from beneath lowered brows. Finally he said, "How long did

Bibbs jumped up. "I thought you would be. I'll telephone the Krivitch agent. He gave me the option until

Sheridan gazed after him as he left the room, and then, though his expression did not alter in the slightest, a

sound came from him that startled his wife. It had been a long time since she had heard anything resembling a

chuckle from him, and this soundalthough it was grim and drybore that resemblance.

She brightened eagerly. "Looks like he was startin' right well, don't it, papa?"

"Startin'? Lord! He got me on the hip! Why, HE knew what I wanted that's why he had the inspector up

there, so 't he'd have me beat before we even started to talk about it. And did you hear him? 'Can't reasonably

defend SENTIMENT!' And the way he says 'Us': 'Took an option for Us'! 'Stuff piled up on Us'!"

There was always an alloy for Mrs. sheridan. "I don't just like the way he looks, though, papa."

"Oh, there's got to be something! Only one chick left at home, so you start to frettin' about IT!"

"I guess that's the common sense comin' out on him, then," said Sheridan. "You'll see symptoms like that in a

"Well, and he don't have as good color as he was gettin' before. And he'd begun to fill out some, but"

Sheridan gave forth another dry chuckle, and, going round the table to her, patted her upon the shoulder with

his left hand, his right being still heavily bandaged, though he no longer wore a sling. "That's the way it is

"No. He don't look well. It ain't exactly the way he looked when he begun to get sick that time, but he kind o'

"Yes, he may 'a' lost something," said Sheridan. "I expect he's lost a whole lot o' foolishness besides his

"No," his wife persisted. "I mean he looks right peakid. And yesterday, when he was settin' with us, he kept

"He was lookin' over there. He never read a word all afternoon, I don't believe."

"Look, here!" said Sheridan. "Bibbs might 'a' kept goin' on over there the rest of his life, moonin' on and on,

but what he heard Sibyl say did one big thing, anyway. It woke him up out of his trance. Well, he had to go

and bust clean out with a bang; and that stopped his goin' over there, and it stopped his poetry, but I reckon

he's begun to get pretty fair pay for what he lost. I guess a good many young men have had to get over

worries like his; they got to lose SOMETHING if they're goin' to keep ahead o' the procession

nowadaysand it kind o' looks to me, mamma, like Bibbs might keep quite a considerable long way ahead.

Why, a year from now I'll bet you he won't know there ever WAS such a thing as poetry! And ain't he funny?

He wanted to stick to the shop so's he could 'think'! What he meant was, think about something useless. Well,

I guess he's keepin' his ming pretty occupied the other way these days. Yes, sir, it took a pretty fairsized

shock to get him out of his trance, but it certainly did the business." He patted his wife's shoulder again, and

And so Bibbs sat in the porch of the temple with the moneychangers. But no One came to scourge him

forth, for this was the temple of Bigness, and the changing of money was holy worship and true religion. The

priests wore that "settish" look Bibbs's mother had seen beginning to develop about his mouth and eyesa

wary look which she could not define, but it comes with service at the temple; and it was the more marked

He did as little "useless" thinking as possible, giving himself no time for it. He worked continuously, keeping

his thoughts still on his work when he came home at night; and he talked of nothing whatever except his

work. But he did not sing at it. He was often in the streets, and people were not allowed to sing in the streets.

They might make any manner of hideous uproarthey could shake buildings; they could outthunder the

thunder, deafen the deaf, and kill the sick with noise; or they could walk the streets or drive through them

bawling, squawking, or screeching, as they chose, if the noise was traceably connected with business; though

street musicians were not tolerated, being considered a nuisance and an interference. A man or woman who

went singing for pleasure through the streetslike a crazy Neopolitanwould have been stopped, and

belike locked up; for Freedom does not mean that a citizen is allowed to do every outrageous thing that

comes into his head. The streets were dangerous enough, in all conscience, without any singing! and the

Motor Federation issued public warnings declaring that the pedestrian's life was in his own hands, and giving

directions how to proceed with the least peril. However, Bibbs Sheridan had no desire to sing in the streets, or

anywhere. He had gone to his work with an energy that, for the start, at least, was bitter, and there was no

He began to know his active fellowcitizens. Here and there among them he found a leisurely, kind soul, a

relic of the old period of neighborliness, "pioneer stock," usually; and there were menparticularly among

the merchants and manufacturers"so honest they leaned backward"; reputations sometimes attested by

stories of heroic sacrifices to honor; nor were there lacking some instances of generosity even nobler. Here

and there, too, were bookmen, in their little leisure; and, among the Germans, musicmen. And these, with

the others, worshiped Bigness and the growth, each man serving for his own sake and for what he could get

out of it, but all united in their faith in the beneficence and glory of their god.

To almost all alike that service stood as the most important thing in life, except on occasion of some such

vital, brief interregnum as the dangerous illness of a wife or child. In the way of "relaxation" some of the

servers took golf; some took fishing; some took "shows"a mixture of infantile and negroid humor,

stockings, and tin music; some took an occasional debauch; some took trips; some took cards; and some took

nothing. The high priests were vigilant to watch that no "relaxation" should affect the service. When a man

attended to anything outside his business, eyes were upon him; his credit was in dangerthat is, his life was

in danger. And the old priests were as ardent as the young ones; the million was as eager to be bigger as the

thousand; seventy was as busy as seventeen. They stove mightily against one another, and the old priests

were the most wary, the most plausible, and the most dangerous. Bibbs learned he must walk charily among

And outside the temple itself were the pretenders, the swarming thieves and sharpers and fleecers, the sly

rascals and the open rascals; but these were feeble folk, not dangerous once he knew them, and he had a good

guide to point them out to him. They were useful sometimes, he learned, and many of them served as

gobetweens in matters where business must touch politics. He learned also how breweries and "traction"

companies and banks and other institutions fought one another for the political control of the city. The

newspapers, he discovered, had lost their ancient political influence, especially with the knowing, who looked

upon them with a skeptical humor, believing the journals either to be retained partisans, like lawyers, or else

striving to forward the personal ambitions of their owners. The control of the city lay not with them, but was

usually obtained by giving the hordes of negroes ginmoney, and by other largesses. The revenues of the

people were then distributed as fairly as possible among a great number of men who had assisted the winning

side. Names and titles of offices went with many of the prizes, and most of these titleholders were expected

to present a busy appearance at times; and, indeed, some among them did work honestly and faithfully.

Bibbs had been very ignorant. All these simple things, so well known and customary, astonished him at first,

and oncein a brief moment of forgetting that he was done with writinghe thought that if he had known

them and written of them, how like a satire the plainest relation of them must have seemed! Strangest of all to

him was the vehement and sincere patriotism. On every side he heard itit was a permeation; the newest

schoolchild caught it, though just from Hungary and learning to stammer a few words of the local language.

Everywhere the people shouted of the power, the size, the riches, and the growth of their city. Not only that,

they said that the people of their city were the greatest, the "finest," the strongest, the Biggest people on earth.

They cited no authorities, and felt the need of none, being themselves the people thus celebrated. And if the

thing was questioned, or if it was hinted that there might be one small virtue in which they were not perfect

and supreme, they wasted no time examining themselves to see if what the critic said was true, but fell upon

him and hooted him and cursed him, for they were sensitive. So Bibbs, learning their ways and walking with

them, harkened to the voice of the people and served Bigness with them. For the voice of the people is the

Sheridan had made the room next to his own into an office for Bibbs, and the door between the two rooms

usually stood openthe father had established that intimacy. One morning in February, when Bibbs was

"Bibbs," he said, "I don't like to butt in very often this way, and when I do I usually wish I hadn'tbut for

Heaven's sake what have you been buying that ole busted intertraction stock for?"

Bibbs leaned back from his desk. "For eleven hundred and fiftyfive dollars. That's all it cost."

"Well, it ain't worth eleven hundred and fiftyfive cents. You ought to know that. I don't get your idea. That

"Well, he must 'a' got it from one o' the crowd o' poor ninnies that was soaked with it. Don't you know who

"It belonged to Mr. Vertrees," said Bibbs, shortly, applying himself to his desk.

"So!" Sheridan gazed down at his son's thin face. "Excuse me," he said. "Your business." And he went back

"I reckon you won't mind lunchin' alone today"he was shuffling himself into his overcoat"because I

just thought I'd go up to the house and get THIS over with mamma." He glanced apologetically toward his

right hand as it emerged from the sleeve of the overcoat. The bandages had been removed, finally, that

morning, revealing but three fingers the forefinger and the finger next to it had been amputated. "She's

bound to make an awful fuss, and it better spoil her lunch than her dinner. I'll be back about two."

But he calculated the time of his arrival at the New House so accurately that Mrs. Sheridan's lunch was not

disturbed, and she was rising from the lonely table when he came into the diningroom. He had left his

"What's the matter, papa?" she asked, quickly. "Has anything gone wrong? You ain't sick?"

She rang, and told George to have coffee made, and when he had withdrawn she said querulously, "I just

"Nothin' in the world," he responed, heartily, taking a seat at the head of the table. "I thought I'd talk over a

notion o' mine with you, that's all. It's more womenfolks' business than what it is man's, anyhow."

Mrs. Sheridan nodded pessimistically. "I guess it's time you had him, too. I KNEW Bibbs"

"Now, mamma, hold your horses! I wanted him to look Bibbs over BEFORE anything's the matter. You don't

suppose I'm goin' to take any chances with BIBBS, do you? Well, afterwards, I shut the door, and I an' ole

Gurney had a talk. He's a mighty disagreeable man; he rubbed it in on me what he said about Bibbs havin'

brains if he ever woke up. Then I thought he must want to get something out o' me, he go so flatteringfor a

minute! 'Bibbs couldn't help havin' business brains,' he says, 'bein' YOUR son. Don't be surprised,' he

says'don't be surprised at his makin' a success,' he says. 'He couldn't get over his heredity; he couldn't

HELP bein' a business successonce you got him into it. It's in his blood. Yes, sir' he says, 'it doesn't need

MUCH brains,' he says, 'an only thirdrate brains, at that,' he says, 'but it does need a special KIND o' brains,'

he says, 'to be a millionaire. I mean,' he says, 'when a man's given a start. If nobody gives him a start, why,

course he's got to have luck AND the right kind o' brains. The only miracle about Bibbs,' he says, 'is where he

got the OTHER kind o' brainsthe brains you made him quit usin' and throw away.'"

"But what'd he say about his health?" Mrs. Sheridan demanded, impatiently, as George placed a cup of coffee

before her husband. Sheridan helped himself to cream and sugar, and began to sip the coffee.

"I'm comin' to that," he returned, placidly. "See how easy I manage this cup with my left hand, mamma?"

"It's wonderful," he interrupted, admiringly, "what a fellow can do with his left hand. I can sign my name

with mine now, well's I ever could with my right. It came a little hard at first, but now, honest, I believe I

RATHER sign with my left. That's all I ever have to write, anywayjust the signature. Rest's all dictatin'."

He blew across the top of the cup unctuously. "Good coffee, mamma! Well, about Bibbs. Ole Gurney says he

believes if Bibbs could somehow get back to the state o' mind he was in about the machineshopthat is, if

he could some way get to feelin' about business the way he felt about the shopnot the poetry and writin'

part, but" He paused, supplementing his remarks with a motion of his head toward the old house next door.

"He says Bibbs is older and harder 'n what he was when he broke down that time, and besides, he ain't the

kind o' dreamy way he was thenand I should say he AIN'T! I'd like 'em to show ME anybody his age that's

Mrs. Sheridan shook her head. "I don't see any help THAT way. You know yourself she wouldn't have Jim."

"Who's talkin' about her havin' anybody? But, my Lord! she might let him LOOK at her! She needn't 'a' got

so mad, just because he asked her, that she won't let him come in the house any more. He's a mighty funny

boy, and some ways I reckon he's pretty near as hard to understand as the Bible, but Gurney kind o' got me in

the way o' thinkin' that if she'd let him come back and set around with her an evening or two sometimesnot

reg'lar, I don't meanwhyWell, I just thought I'd see what YOU'D think of it. There ain't any way to talk

about it to Bibbs himselfI don't suppose he'd let you, anyhowbut I thought maybe you could kind o' slip

over there some day, and sort o' fix up to have a little talk with her, and kind o' hint around till you see how

"ME!" Mrs. Sheridan looked both helpless and frightened. "No." She shook her head decidedly. "It wouldn't

"I won't risk her turnin' me out o' the house. Some way, that's what I believe she did to Sibyl, from what

Roscoe said once. No, I CAN'Tand, what's more, it 'd only make things worse. If people find out you're

runnin' after 'em they think you're cheap, and then they won't do as much for you as if you let 'em alone. I

He sighed with resignation. "All right, mamma. That's all." Then, in a livelier tone, he said: "Ole Gurney took

the bandages off my hand this morning. All healed up. Says I don't need 'em any more."

She came toward him, but he rose, still keeping his hand in his pocket. "Wait a minute," he said, smiling.

"Now it may give you just a teeny bit of a shock, but the fact iswell, you remember that Sunday when

Sibyl came over here and made all that fuss about nothin'it was the day after I got tired o' that statue when

"Now wait!" he said, laughing and pushing her away with his left hand. "The truth is, mamma, that I kind o'

slipped out on you that morning, when you wasn't lookin', and went down to ole Gurney's officehe'd told

me to, you seeand, well, it doesn't AMOUNT to anything." And he held out, for her inspection, the

mutilated hand. "You see, these days when it's all dictatin', anyhow, nobody 'd mind just a couple o'"

He had to jump for hershe went over backward. For the second time in her life Mrs. Sheridan fainted.

It was a full hour later when he left her lying upon a couch in her own room, still lamenting intermittently,

though he assured her with heat that the "fuss" she was making irked him far more than his physical loss. He

permitted her to think that he meant to return directly to his office, but when he came out to the open air he

told the chauffeur in attendance to await him in front of Mr. Vertrees's house, whither he himself proceeded

Mr. Vertrees had taken the sale of half of his worthless stock as manna in the wilderness; it came from

heavenby what agency he did not particularly question. The broker informed him that "parties were

interested in getting hold of the stock," and that later there might be a possible increase in the value of the

large amount retained by his client. It might go "quite a ways up" within a year or so, he said, and he advised

He rose from his knees feeling that he was surely coming into his own again. It was more than a mere gasp of

temporary relief with him, and his wife shared his optimism; but Mary would not let him buy back her piano,

and as for fursspring was on the way, she said. But they paid the butcher, the baker, and the

candlestickmaker, and hired a cook once more. It was this servitress who opened the door for Sheridan and

He was not the man to conceal admiration when he felt it, and he flushed and beamed as Mary made her

appearance, almost upon the heels of the cook. She had a look of apprehension for the first fraction of a

second, but it vanished at the sight of him, and its place was taken in her eyes by a soft brilliance, while color

"Don't be surprised," he said. "Truth is, in a way it's sort of on business I looked in here. It 'll only take a

He chuckled. "Neighbors! Sometimes people don't see so much o' their neighbors as they used to. That is, I

"I guess I could manage that much." And they sat down, facing each other and not far apart.

"Of course, it couldn't be called business, exactly," he said, more gravely. "Not at all, I expect. But there's

something o' yours it seemed to me I ought to give you, and I just thought it was better to bring it myself and

explain how I happened to have it. It's thisthis letter you wrote my boy." He extended the letter to her

solomnly, in his left hand, and she took it gently from him. "It was in his mail, after he was hurt. You knew

He sighed. "I'm glad he didn't. Not," he added, quickly"not but what you did just right to send it. You did.

You couldn't acted any other way when it came right down TO it. There ain't any blame comin' to youyou

"You'll have to excuse me for readin' it. I had to take charge of all his mail and everything; I didn't know the

"Well"he leaned forward as if to rise"I guess that's about all. I just thought you ought to have it."

He looked at her hopefully, as if he thought and wished that she might have something more to say. But she

seemed not to be aware of this glance, and sat with her eyes fixed sorrowfully upon the floor.

"Well, I expect I better be gettin' back to the office," he said, rising desperately. "I toldI told my partner I'd

be back at two o'clock, and I guess he'll think I'm a poor business man if he catches me behind time. I got to

walk the chalk a mighty straight line these dayswith THAT fellow keepin' tabs on me!"

He guffawed derisively. "Me? I'm nothin' to that partner o' mine. You couldn't guess to save your life how he

keeps after me to hold up my end o' the job. I shouldn't be surprised he'd give me the grand bounce some day,

and run the whole circus by himself. You know how he isonce he goes AT a thing!"

He laughed, looking away from her. "It's just my way o' speakin' o' that boy o' mine, Bibbs."

He stood then, expectant, staring out into the hall with an air of careless geniality. He felt that she certainly

must at least say, "How IS Bibbs?" but she said nothing at all, though he waited until the silence became

"Well, I guess I better be gettin' down there," he said, at last. "He might worry."

"You'll have to excuse my left hand," he said. "I had a little accident to the other one."

"Nothin' at all! Dictate everything nowadays, anyhow." He laughed jovially. "Did anybody tell you how it

"It was this way," he began, and both, as if unconsciously, sat down again. "You may not know it, but I used

to worry a good deal about the youngest o' my boysthe one that used to come to see you sometimes, after

Jimthat is, I mean Bibbs. He's the one I spoke of as my partner; and the truth is that's what it's just about

goin' to amount to, one o' these daysif his health holds out. Well, you remember, I expect, I had him on a

machine over at a plant o' mine; and sometimes I'd kind o' sneak in there and see how he was gettin' along.

Take a doctor with me sometimes, because Bibbs never WAS so robust, you might say. Ole Doc GurneyI

"Well, one day I an' ole Doc Gurney, we were in there, and I undertook to show Bibbs how to run his

machine. He told me to look out, but I wouldn't listen, and I didn't look outand that's how I got my hand

hurt, tryin' to show Bibbs how to do something he knew how to do and I didn't. Made me so mad I just

wouldn't even admit to myself it WAS hurtand so, by and by, ole Doc Gurney had to take kind o' radical

measures with me. He's a right good doctor, too. Don't you think so, Miss Vertrees?"

"Yes, he is so!" Sheridan now had the air of a rambling talker and gossip with all day on his hands. "Take

him on Bibbs's case. I was talkin' about Bibbs's case with him this morning. Well, you'd laugh to hear the

way ole Gurney talks about THAT! 'Course he IS just as much a friend as he is doctorand he takes as

much interest in Bibbs as if he was in the family. He says Bibbs isn't anyways bad off YET; and he thinks he

could stand the pace and get fat on it ifwell, this is what'd made YOU laugh if you'd been there, Miss

Vertreeshonest it would!" He paused to chuckle, and stole a glance at her. She was gazing straight before

her at the wall; her lips were parted, andvisiblyshe was breathing heavily and quickly. He feared that

she was growing furiously angry; but he had led to what he wanted to say, and he went on, determined now to

say it all. He leaned forward and altered his voice to one of confidential friendliness, though in it he still

maintained a tone which indicated that ole Doc Gurney's opinion was only a joke he shared with her. "Yes,

sir, you certainly would 'a' laughed! Why, that ole man thinks YOU got something to do with it. You'll have

to blame it on him, young lady, if it makes you feel like startin' out to whip somebody! He's actually got

THIS theory: he says Bibbs got to gettin' better while he worked over there at the shop because you kept him

cheered up and feelin' good. And he says if you could manage to just stand him hangin' around a little

maybe not much, but just SOMEtimesagain, he believed it 'd do Bibbs a mighty lot o' good. 'Course, that's

only what the doctor said. Me, I don't know anything about that; but I can say this muchI never saw any

such a MENTAL improvement in anybody in my life as I have lately in Bibbs. I expect you'd find him a good

deal more entertaining than what he used to beand I know it's a kind of embarrassing thing to suggest after

the way he piled in over here that day to ask you to stand up before the preacher with him, but accordin' to ole

"No, no, no!" she cried. "But I don't understandand I think you don't. What is it you want me to do?"

He sighed again, but this time with relief. "Well, well!" he said. "You're right. It 'll be easier to talk plain. I

ought to known I could with you, all the time. I just hoped you'd let that boy come and see you sometimes,

"You don't understand." She clasped her hands together in a sorrowful gesture. "Yes, we must talk plain.

Bibbs heard that I'd tried to make your oldest son care for me because I was poor, and so Bibbs came and

asked me to marry himbecause he was sorry for me. And I CAN'T see him any more," she cried in distress.

Sheridan cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You mean because he thought that about you?"

"Wellyou mean he was so much inyou mean he thought so much of you " The words were

inconceivably awkward upon Sheridan's tongue; he seemed to be in doubt even about pronouncing them, but

after a ghastly pause he bravely repeated them. "You mean he thought so much of you that you just couldn't

"NO! He was sorry for me. He cared for me; he was fond of me; and he'd respected metoo much! In the

finest way he loved me, if you like, and he'd have done anything on earth for me, as I would for him, and as

he knew I would. It was beautiful, Mr. Sheridan," she said. "But the cheap, bad things one has done seem

always to come backthey wait, and pull you down when you're happiest. Bibbs found me out, you see; and

"He wasn't? Well, it seems to me he gave up everything he wanted to do it was fool stuff, but he certainly

wanted it mighty badhe just threw it away and walked right up and took the job he swore he never

would just for you. And it looks to me as if a man that'd do that must think quite a heap o' the girl he does

it for! You say it was only because he was sorry, but let me tell you there's only ONE girl he could feel

"No, no," she said. "Bibbs isn't like other menhe would do anything for anybody."

Sheridan grinned. "Perhaps not so much as you think, nowadays," he said. "For instance, I got kind of a

suspicion he doesn't believe in 'sentiment in business.' But that's neither here nor there. What he wanted was,

just plain and simple, for you to marry him. Well, I was afraid his thinkin' so much OF you had kind o'

sickened you of himthe way it does sometimes. But from the way you talk, I understand that ain't the

trouble." He coughed, and his voice trembled a little. "Now here, Miss Vertrees, I don't have to tell

youbecause you see things easyI know I got no business comin' to you like this, but I had to make Bibbs

go my way instead of his ownI had to do it for the sake o' my business and on his own account, tooand I

expect you got some idea how it hurt him to give up. Well, he's made good. He didn't come in halfhearted or

mean; he came inall the way! But there isn't anything in it to him; you can see he's just shut his teeth on it

and goin' ahead with dust in his mouth. You see, one way of lookin' at it, he's got nothin' to work FOR. And it

seems to me like it cost him your friendship, and I believe honestthat's what hurt him the worst. Now

At that she cried out, and dropped her hands and let him see her face. "Ah! He was only sorry for me!"

He gazed at her intently. Mary was proud, but she had a fatal honesty, and it confessed the truth of her now;

she was helpless. It was so clear that even Sheridan, marveling and amazed, was able to see it. Then a change

"I won't tell him," said Sheridan, from the doorway. "I won't tell anybody anything!"

There was a heavy townfog that afternoon, a smokemist, densest in the sanctuary of the temple. The

people went about in it, busy and dirty, thickening their outside and inside linings of coaltar, asphalt,

sulphurous acid, oil of vitriol, and the other familiar things the men liked to breathe and to have upon their

skins and garments and upon their wives and babies and sweethearts. The growth of the city was visible in

the smoke and the noise and the rush. There was more smoke than there had been this day of February a year

earlier; there was more noise; and the crowds were thickeryet quicker in spite of that. The traffic

policeman had a hard time, for the people were independentthey retained some habits of the old

markettown period, and would cross the street anywhere and anyhow, which not only got them killed more

frequently than if they clung to the legal crossings, but kept the motormen, the chauffeurs, and the

truckdrivers in a stew of profane nervousness. So the traffic policemen led harried lives; they themselves

were killed, of course, with a certain periodicity, but their main trouble was that they could not make the

citizens realize that it was actually and mortally perilous to go about their city. It was strange, for there were

probably no citizens of any length of residence who had not personally known either some one who had been

killed or injured in an accident, or some one who had accidentally killed or injured others. And yet, perhaps it

was not strange, seeing the sharp preoccupation of the facesthe people had something on their minds; they

Mary Vertrees was not often downtown; she had never seen an accident until this afternoon. She had come

upon errands for her mother connected with a timorous refurbishment; and as she did these, in and out of the

department stores, she had an insistent consciousness of the Sheridan Building. From the street, anywhere, it

was almost always in sight, like some monstrous geometrical shadow, murkcolored and rising limitlessly

into the swimming heights of the smokemist. It was gaunt and grimy and repellent; it had nothing but

strength and sizebut in that consciousness of Mary's the great structure may have partaken of beauty.

Sheridan had made some of the things he said emphatic enought to remain with her. She went over and over

themand they began to seem true: "Only ONE girl he could feel THAT sorry for!" "Gurney says he's got

you on his brain so bad" The man's clumsy talk began to sing in her heart. The song was begun there when

She was directly opposite the Sheridan Building then, waiting for the traffic to thin before she crossed,

though other people were risking the passage, darting and halting and dodging parlously. Two men came

from the crowd behind her, talking earnestly, and started across. Both wore black; one was tall and broad and

thick, and the other was taller, but noticeably slender. And Mary caught her breath, for they were Bibbs and

his father. They did not see her, and she caught a phrase in Bibbs's mellow voice, which had taken a crisper

ring: "Sixtyeight thousand dollars? Not sixtyeight thousand buttons!" It startled her queerly, and as there

was a glimpse of his profile she saw for the first time a resemblance to his father.

She watched them. In the middle of the street Bibbs had to step ahead of his father, and the two were

separated. But the reckless passing of a truck, beyond the second line of rails, frightened a group of country

women who were in course of passage; they were just in front of Bibbs, and shoved backward upon him

violently. To extricate himself from them he stepped back, directly in front of a moving trolleycarno

place for absentmindedness, but Bibbs was still absorbed in thoughts concerned with what he had been

saying to his father. There were shrieks and yells; Bibbs looked the wrong wayand then Mary saw the

heavy figure of Sheridan plunge straight forward in front of the car. With absolute disregard of his own life,

he hurled himself at Bibbs like a footballplayer shunting off an opponent, and to Mary it seemed that they

both went down together. But that was all she could seeautomobiles, trucks, and wagons closed in

between. She made out that the trolleycar stopped jerkily, and she saw a policeman breaking his way

through the instantly condensing crowd, while the traffic came to a standstill, and people stood up in

automobiles or climbed upon the hubs and tires of wheels, not to miss a chance of seeing anything horrible.

Mary tried to get through; it was impossible. Other policemen came to help the first, and in a minute or two

the traffic was in motion again. The crowd became pliant, dispersingthere was no figure upon the ground,

and no ambulance came. But one of the policemen was detained by the clinging and beseeching of a gloved

"Was that who the other one was? I seen him knock himoh, he's not bad off, I guess, lady. The ole man got

him out of the way all right. The fender shoved the ole man around some, but I reckon he only got shook up.

Sheridan and Bibbs, in fact, were at that moment in the elevator, ascending. "Whiskbroom up in the office,"

Sheridan was saying. "You got to look out on those corners nowadays, I tell you. I don't know I got any call

to blow, thoughbecause I tried to cross after you did. That's how I happened to run into you. Well, you

want remember to look out after this. We were talkin' about Murtrie's askin' sixtyeight thousand flat for that

ninetynineyear lease. It's his lookout if he'd rather take it that way, and I don't know but"

"No," said Bibbs, emphatically, as the elevator stopped; "he won't get it. Not from Us, he won't, and I'll show

you why. I can convince you in five minutes." He followed his father into the office anteroomand

convinced him. Then, having been diligently brushed by a youth of color, Bibbs went into his own room and

He was more shaken than he had allowed his father to perceive, and his side was sore where Sheridan had

struck him. He desired to be alone; he wanted to rub himself and, for once, to do some useless thinking again.

He knew that his father had not "happened" to run into him; he knew that Sheridan had instantlyand

instinctivelyproved that he held his own life of no account whatever compared to that of his son and heir.

Bibbs had been unable to speak of that, or to seem to know it; for Sheridan, just as instinctively, had swept

the matter asideas of no importance, since all was wellreverting immediately to business.

Bibbs began to think intently of his father. He perceived, as he had never perceived before, the shadowing of

something enormous and indomitableand lawless; not to be daunted by the will of nature's very self;

laughing at the lightning and at wounds and mutilation; conquering, irresistibleand blindly noble. For the

first time in his life Bibbs began to understand the meaning of being truly this man's son.

He would be the more truly his son henceforth, though, as Sheridan said, Bibbs had not come downtown

with him meanly or halfheartedly. He had given his word because he had wanted the money, simply, for

Mary Vertrees in her need. And he shivered with horror of himself, thinking how he had gone to her to offer

it, asking her to marry himwith his head on his breast in shameful fear that she would accept him! He had

not known her; the knowing had lost her to him, and this had been his real awakening; for he knew now how

deep had been that slumber wherein he dreamily celebrated the superiority of "friendship"! The sleepwalker

had wakened to bitter knowledge of love and life, finding himself a failure in both. He had made a burnt

offering of his dreams, and the sacrifice had been an unforgivable hurt to Mary. All that was left for him was

the work he had not chosen, but at least he would not fail in that, though it was indeed no more than "dust in

He went to the window, raised it, and let in the uproar of the streets below. He looked down at the blurred,

hurrying swarmsand he looked across, over the roofs with their panting jets of vapor, into the vast, foggy

heart of the smoke. Dizzy traceries of steel were rising dimly against it, chattering with steel on steel, and

screeching in steam, while tiny figures of men walked on threads in the dull sky. Buildings would overtop the

But what for? The old question came to Bibbs with a new despair. Here, where his eyes fell, had once been

green fields and running brooks, and how had the kind earth been despoiled and disfigured! The pioneers had

begun the work, but in their old age their orators had said for them that they had toiled and risked and

sacrificed that their posterity might live in peace and wisdom, enjoying the fruits of the earth. Well, their

posterity was hereand there was only turmoil. Where was the promised land? It had been promised by the

soldiers of all the wars; it had been promised to this generation by the pioneers; but here was the very

posterity to whom it had been promised, toiling and risking and sacrificing in turnfor what?

The harsh roar of the city came in through the open window, continuously beating upon Bibbs's ear until he

began to distinguish a pulsation in it a broken and irregular cadence. It seemed to him that it was like a

titanic voice, discordant, hoarse, rustily metallicthe voice of the god, Bigness. And the voice summoned

"Come and work!" it seemed to yell. "Come and work for Me, all men! By your youth and your hope I

summon you! By your age and your despair I sommon you to work for Me yet a little, with what strength you

have. By your love of home I summon you! By your love of woman I summon you! By your hope of children

"You shall be blind slaves of Mine, blind to everything but Me, you Master and Driver! For your reward you

shall gaze only upon my ugliness. You shall give your toil and your lives, you shall go mad for love and

worship of my ugliness! You shall perish still worshipping Me, and your children shall perish knowing no

And then, as Bibbs closed the window down tight, he heard his father's voice booming in the next room; he

could not distinguish the words, but the tone was exultantand there came the THUMP! THUMP! of the

maimed hand. Bibbs guessed that Sheridan was bragging of the city and of Bigness to some visitor from

And he thought how truly Sheridan was the high priest of Bigness. But with the old, old thought again,,

"What for?" Bibbs caught a glimmer of far, faint light. He saw that Sheridan had all his life struggled and

conquered, and must all his life go on struggling and inevitably conquering, as part of a vast impulse not his

own. Sheridan served blindlybut was the impulse blind? Bibbs asked himself if it was not he who had been

in the greater hurry, after all. The kiln must be fired before the vase is glazed, and the Acropolis was not

Then the voice came to him again, but there was a strain in it as of some hugh music struggling to be born of

the turmoil. "Ugly I am," it seemed to say to him, "but never forget that I AM a god!" And the voice grew in

sonorousness and in dignity. "The highest should serve, but so long as you worship me for my own sake I

will not serve you. It is man who makes me ugly, by his worship of me. If man would let me serve him, I

Looking once more from the window, Bibbs sculptured for himselfin the vague contortions of the smoke

and fog above the roofsa giganitc figure with feet pedestaled upon the great buildings and shoulders

disappearing in the clouds, a colossus of steel and wholly blackened with soot. But Bibbs carried his fancy

furtherfor there was still a little poet lingering in the back of his headand he thought that up over the

clouds, unseen from below, the giant labored with his hands in the clean sunshine; and Bibbs had a glimpse

of what he made thereperhaps for a fellowship of the children of the children that were children nowa

He lifted the thing from his desk and answeredand as the small voice inside it spoke he dropped the

receiver with a crash. He trembled violently as he picked it up, but he told himself he was wronghe had

been mistakenyet it was a startlingly beautiful voice; startlingly kind, too, and ineffably like the one he

There was a little thrill of pathetic halflaughter in the instrument. "BibbsI wanted tojust to see if

"I was looking when you were so nearly run over. I saw it, Bibbs. They said you hadn't been hurt, they

"No, no, I wasn't hurt at allMary. It was father who came nearer it. He saved me."

"Yes, I saw; but you had fallen. I couldn't get through the crowd until you had gone. And I wanted to

"I don't know what to say," he cried. "It's so wonderful to hear your voice againI'm shaking, MaryII

don't knowI don't know anything except that I AM talking to you! It IS youMary?"

"MaryI've seen you from my window at homeonly five times since I since then. You lookedoh,

how can I tell you? It was like a man chained in a cave catching a glimpse of the blue sky, Mary. Mary, won't

youlet me see you againnear? I think I could make you really forgive meyou'd have to"

"Mary," he said, even more tremulously than before, "I can'tyou COULDN'T mean it was becauseyou

"Mary?" he called, huskily. "If you mean THATyou'd let me see you wouldn't you?"

And now the voice was so low he could not be sure it spoke at all, but if it did, the words were, "Yes,

But the voice was not in the instrumentit was so gentle and so light, so almost nothing, it seemed to be

Slowly and incredulously he turnedand glory fell upon his shining eyes. The door of his father's room had