Stories of a Western Town.................................................................................................................................1

There was a drabble of dead leaves on the sidewalk which was of wood, and on the roadway which was of

macadam and stiff mud. The wind blew sharply, for it was a December day and only six in the morning. Nor

were the houses high enough to furnish any independent bulwark; they were low, wooden dwellings, the

tallest a bare two stories in height, the majority only one story. But they were in good painting and repair, and

most of them had a homely gayety of geraniums or bouvardias in the windows. The house on the corner was

the tall house. It occupied a larger yard than its neighbors; and there were lace curtains tied with blue ribbons

for the windows in the right hand front room. The door of this house swung back with a crash, and a woman

darted out. She ran at the top of her speed to the little yellow house farther down the street. Her blue calico

gown clung about her stout figure and fluttered behind her, revealing her blue woollen stockings and felt

slippers. Her gray head was bare. As she ran tears rolled down her cheeks and she wrung her hands.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, lieber Herr Je!" One near would have heard her sob, in too distracted agitation to heed the

motorneer of the passing streetcar who stared after her at the risk of his car, or the tousled heads behind a

few curtains. She did not stop until she almost fell against the door of the yellow house. Her frantic knocking

was answered by a young woman in a light and artless costume of a quilted petticoat and a red flannel sack.

Thekla Lieders rather staggered than walked into the room and fell back on the black haircloth sofa.

"There, there, there," said the young woman while she patted the broad shoulders heaving between sobs and

"Oh, no, oh, Mrs. Olsen, he has done it again!" She wailed in sobs, like a child.

"Done it? Done what?" exclaimed Mrs. Olsen, then her face paled. "Oh, my gracious, you DON'T mean he's

Mrs. Lieders gulped down her tears. "Oh, not so bad as that, I cut him down, he was up in the garret and I

sussuspected him and I run up andoh, he was there, a choking, and he was so mad! He swore at me

andhe kicked me when II says: 'Kurt, what are you doing of? Hold on till I git a knife,' I saysfor his

hands was just dangling at his side; and he says nottings cause he couldn't, he was most gone, and I knowed I

wouldn't have time to git no knife but I saw it was a rope was pretty bad worn and so so I just run and

jumped and ketched it in my hands, and being I'm so fleshy it couldn't stand no more and it broke! And, oh!

he he kicked me when I was try to come near to git the rope off his neck; and so soon like he could git his

"So I come here for to git you and Mr. Olsen to help me git him down stairs, 'cause he is too heavy for me to

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll call Carl. Carl! dost thou hear? come! But did you dare to leave him Mrs. Lieders?"

Part of the time she spoke in English, part of the time in her own tongue, gliding from one to another, and

Mrs. Lieders wiped her eyes, saying: "Oh, yes, Danke schon, I aint afraid 'cause I tied him with the rope,

righd good, so he don't got no chance to move. He was make faces at me all the time I tied him." At the

Mrs. Olsen, a little bright tinted woman with a nose too small for her big blue eyes and chubby cheeks,

"Well, I did nefer hear of sooch a mean acting man!" seemed to her the most natural expression; but the wife

"No, he is not a mean man," she cried, "no, Freda Olsen, he is not a mean man at all! There aint nowhere a

better man than my man; and Carl Olsen, he knows that. Kurt, he always buys a whole ham and a whole

barrel of flour, and never less than a dollar of sugar at a time! And he never gits drunk nor he never gives me

any bad talk. It was only he got this wanting to kill himself on him, sometimes."

"Well, I guess I'll go put on my things," said Mrs. Olsen, wisely declining to defend her position. "You set

Indeed, it was hardly more than that time before both Carl Olsen, who worked in the same furniture factory as

Kurt Lieders, and was a comely and afterwitted giant, appeared with Mrs. Olsen ready for the street.

He nodded at Mrs. Lieders and made a gurgling noise in his throat, expected to convey sympathy. Then, he

Feeling further expression demanded, Mrs. Olsen asked: "How many times has he done it, Mrs. Lieders?"

Mrs. Lieders was trotting along, her anxious eyes on the house in the distance, especially on the garret

windows. "Three times," she answered, not removing her eyes; "onct he tooked Rough on Rats and I found it

out and I put some apple butter in the place of it, and he kept wondering and wondering how he didn't feel

notings, and after awhile I got him off the notion, that time. He wasn't mad at me; he just said: 'Well, I do it

some other time. You see!' but he promised to wait till I got the spring house cleaning over, so he could shake

the carpets for me; and by and by he got feeling better. He was mad at the boss and that made him feel bad.

"It was the razor he wanted," the wife continued, "and when he come home and says he was going to leave

the shop and he aint never going back there, and gets out his razor and sharps it, I knowed what that meant

and I told him I got to have some bluing and wouldn't he go and get it? and he says, 'You won't git another

husband run so free on your errands, Thekla,' and I says I don't want none; and when he was gone I hid the

razor and he couldn't find it, but that didn't mad him, he didn't say notings; and when I went to git the supper

he walked out in the yard and jumped into the cistern, and I heard the splash and looked in and there he was

trying to git his head under, and I called, 'For the Lord's sake, papa! For the Lord's sake!' just like that. And I

fished for him with the pole that stood there and he was sorry and caught hold of it and give in, and I rested

the pole agin the side cause I wasn't strong enough to h'ist him out; and he held on whilest I run for help

"And I got the ladder and he clum out," said the giant with another grin of recollection, "he was awful wet!"

"He sharped the razor onct," said Mrs. Lieders, "but he said it was for to shave him, and I got him to promise

to let the barber shave him sometime, instead. Here, Mrs. Olsen, you go righd in, the door aint locked."

By this time they were at the house door. They passed in and ascended the stairs to the second story, then

climbed a narrow, ladderlike flight to the garret. Involuntarily they had paused to listen at the foot of the

stairs, but it was very quiet, not a sound of movement, not so much as the sigh of a man breathing. The wife

"Guess he's trying to scare us by keeping quiet!" said Olsen, cheerfully, and he stumbled up the stairs, in

advance. "Thunder!" he exclaimed, on the last stair, "well, we aint any too quick."

In fact Carl had nearly fallen over the master of the house, that enterprising selfdestroyer having contrived,

pinioned as he was, to roll over to the very brink of the stair well, with the plain intent to break his neck by

In the dim light all that they could see was a small, old man whose white hair was strung in wisps over his

purple face, whose deep set eyes glared like the eyes of a rat in a trap, and whose very elbows and knees

expressed in their cramps the fury of an outraged soul. When he saw the newcomers he shut his eyes and his

"Well, Mr. Lieders," said Olsen, mildly, "I guess you better git downstairs. Kin I help you up?"

Olsen shook his head. "I hate to trouble you, Mr. Lieders," said he in his slow, undecided tones, "please

excuse me," with which he gathered up the little man into his strong arms and slung him over his shoulders,

as easily as he would sling a sack of meal. It was a vent for Mrs. Olsen's bubbling indignation to make a dive

for Lieders's heels and hold them, while Carl backed downstairs. But Lieders did not make the least

resistance. He allowed them to carry him into the room indicated by his wife, and to lay him bound on the

plump feather bed. It was not his bedroom but the sacred "spare room," and the bed was part of its luxury.

Thekla ran in, first, to remove the embroidered pillow shams and the dazzling, silken "crazy quilt" that was

Safely in the bed, Lieders opened his eyes and looked from one face to the other, his lip curling. "You can't

"Well, I think you had ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Lieders!" Mrs. Olsen burst out, in a tremble

But the placid Carl only nodded, as in sympathy, saying, "Well, I am sorry you feel so bad, Mr. Lieders. I

Mrs. Olsen looked as if she would have liked to exhort Lieders further; but she shrugged her shoulders and

"I wished you'd stay to breakfast, now you're here," Thekla urged out of her imperious hospitality; had Kurt

been lying there dead, the next meal must have been offered, just the same. "I know, you aint got time to git

Mr. Olsen his breakfast, Freda, before he has got to go to the shops, and my teakettle is boiling now, and the

But Mrs. Olsen seconded her husband's denial, and there was nothing left Thekla but to see them to the door.

No sooner did she return than Lieders spoke. "Aint you going to take off them ropes?" said he.

Silence. Thekla, brushing a few tears from her eyes, scrutinized the ropes again, before she walked heavily

Directly a savory steam floated through the hall and pierced the cracks about the door; then Thekla's footsteps

She had brought his breakfast, cooked with the best of her homely skill. The pork chops that he liked had

been fried, there was a napkin on the tray, and the coffee was in the best gilt cup and saucer.

"Take it 'way," said he, "I won't touch it if you stand till doomsday, lessen you untie me!"

Thekla sighed and went away, leaving the tray on the table. It may be that she hoped the sight of food might

stir his stomach to rebel against his dogged will; if so she was disappointed; half an hour went by during

Thekla groaned, while the tears started to her red eyelids. "But you'll git awful tired and it will hurt you if you

He closed his eyes again, to be the less hindered from dropping back into his distempered musings. Thekla

took a seat by his side and sat silent as he. Slowly the natural pallor returned to the high forehead and sharp

features. They were delicate features and there was an air of refinement, of thought, about Lieders's whole

person, as different as possible from the robust comeliness of his wife. With its keen sensitiveness and its

undefined melancholy it was a dreamer's face. One meets such faces, sometimes, in incongruous places and

wonders what they mean. In fact, Kurt Lieders, head cabinet maker in the furniture factory of Lossing Co.,

was an artist. He was, also, an incomparable artisan and the most exacting foreman in the shops. Thirty years

ago he had first taken wages from the senior Lossing. He had watched a modest industry climb up to a great

business, nor was he all at sea in his own estimate of his share in the firm's success. Lieders's workmanship

had an honesty, an infinite patience of detail, a daring skill of design that came to be sought and commanded

its own price. The Lossing "art furniture" did not slander the name. No sculptor ever wrought his soul into

marble with a more unflinching conscience or a purer joy in his work than this woodcarver dreaming over

sideboards and bedsteads. Unluckily, Lieders had the wrong side of the gift as well as the right; was full of

whims and crotchets, and as unpractical as the Christian martyrs. He openly defied expense, and he would

have no trifling with the laws of art. To make after orders was an insult to Kurt. He made what was best for

the customer; if the latter had not the sense to see it he was a fool and a pig, and some one else should work

Young Lossing had learned the business practically. He was taught the details by his father's best workman;

and a mighty hard and strict master the best workman proved! Lossing did not dream that the crabbed old

tyrant who rarely praised him, who made him go over, for the twentieth time, any imperfect piece of work,

who exacted all the artisan virtues to the last inch, was secretly proud of him. Yet, in fact, the thread of

romance in Lieders's prosaic life was his idolatry of the Lossing Manufacturing Co. It is hard to tell whether

it was the Lossings or that intangible quantity, the firm, the business, that he worshipped. Worship he did,

however, the one or the other, perhaps the both of them, though in the peevish and erratic manner of the

Nobody guessed what a blow it was to Kurt when, a year ago, the elder Lossing had died. Even his wife did

not connect his sullen melancholy and his gibes at the younger generation, with the crape on Harry Lossing's

hat. He would not go to the funeral, but worked savagely, all alone by himself, in the shop, the whole

afternoonbreaking down at last at the sight of a carved panel over which Lossing and he had once

disputed. The desolate loneliness of the old came to him when his old master was gone. He loved the young

man, but the old man was of his own generation; he had "known how things ought to be and he could

understand without talking." Lieders began to be on the lookout for signs of waning consideration, to watch

his own eyes and hands, drearily wondering when they would begin to play him false; at the same time

because he was unhappy he was ten times as exacting and peremptory and critical with the younger

workmen, and ten times as insolently independent with the young master. Often enough, Lossing was

exasperated to the point of taking the old man at his word and telling him to go if he would, but every time

the chain of long habit, a real respect for such faithful service, and a keen admiration for Kurt's matchless

skill in his craft, had held him back. He prided himself on keeping his word; for that reason he was warier of

using it. So he would compromise by giving the domineering old fellow a "good, stiff rowing." Once, he

coupled this with a threat, if they could not get along decently they would better part! Lieders had answered

not a word; he had given Lossing a queer glance and turned on his heel. He went home and bought some

poison on the way. "The old man is gone and the young feller don't want the old crank round, no more," he

That was the beginning of his tampering with suicide. Thekla, who did not have the same opinion of the

"trouble," had interfered. He had married Thekla to have someone to keep a warm fireside for him, but she

was an ignorant creature who never could be made to understand about carving. He felt sorry for her when

the baby died, the only child they ever had; he was sorrier than he expected to be on his own account, too, for

it was an ugly little creature, only four days old, and very red and wrinkled; but he never thought of confiding

his own griefs or trials to her. Now, it made him angry to have that stupid Thekla keep him in a world where

he did not wish to stay. If the next day Lossing had not remembered how his father valued Lieders, and made

an excuse to half apologize to him, I fear Thekla's stratagems would have done little good.

The next experience was cut out of the same piece of cloth. He had relented, he had allowed his wife to save

him; but he was angry in secret. Then came the day when open disobedience to Lossing's orders had snapped

the last thread of Harry's patience. To Lieders's aggrieved "If you ain't satisfied with my work, Mr. Lossing, I

kin quit," the answer had come instantly, "Very well, Lieders, I'm sorry to lose you, but we can't have two

bosses here: you can go to the desk." And when Lieders in a blind stab of temper had growled a prophecy that

Lossing would regret it, Lossing had stabbed in turn: "Maybe, but it will be a cold day when I ask you to

come back." And he had gone off without so much as a word of regret. The old workman had packed up his

tools, the pet tools that no one was ever permitted to touch, and crammed his arms into his coat and walked

out of the place where he had worked so long, not a man saying a word. Lieders didn't reflect that they knew

nothing of the quarrel. He glowered at them and went away sore at heart. We make a great mistake when we

suppose that it is only the affectionate that desire affection; sulky and illconditioned souls often have a

passionate longing for the very feelings that they repel. Lieders was a womanish, sensitive creature under the

surly mask, and he was cut to the quick by his comrades' apathy. "There ain't no place for old men in this

world," he thought, "there's them boys I done my best to make do a good job, and some of 'em I've worked

overtime to help; and not one of 'em has got as much as a goodby in him for me!"

But he did not think of going to poor Thekla for comfort, he went to his grim dreams. "I git my property all

straight for Thekla, and then I quit," said he. Perhaps he gave himself a reprieve unconsciously, thinking that

something might happen to save him from himself. Nothing happened. None of the "boys" came to see him,

except Carl Olsen, the very stupidest man in the shop, who put Lieders beside himself fifty times a day. The

other men were sorry that Lieders had gone, having a genuine workman's admiration for his skill, and a sort

of underground liking for the unreasonable old man because he was so absolutely honest and "a fellow could

always tell where to find him." But they were shy, they were afraid he would take their pity in bad part, they

Carl, honest soul, stood about in Lieders's workshop, kicking the shavings with his heels for half an hour, and

grinned sheepishly, and was told what a worthless, scamping, bragging lot the "boys" at Lossing's were, and

said he guessed he had got to go home now; and so departed, unwitting that his presence had been a

consolation. Mrs. Olsen asked Carl what Lieders said; Carl answered simply, "Say, Freda, that man feels

Meanwhile Thekla seemed easily satisfied. She made no outcry as Lieders had dreaded, over his leaving the

"Well, then, papa, you don't need git up so early in the morning no more, if you aint going to the shop," was

But that evening, while Lieders was down town (occupied, had she known it, with a codicil to his will), she

went over to the Olsens and found out all Carl could tell her about the trouble in the shop. And it was she that

made the excuse of marketing to go out the next day, that she might see the rich widow on the hill who was

talking about a china closet, and Judge Trevor, who had asked the price of a mantel, and Mr. Martin, who had

looked at sideboards (all this information came from honest Carl); and who proposed to them that they order

such furniture of the best cabinetmaker in the country, now setting up on his own account. He, simple as a

baby for all his doggedness, thought that they came because of his fame as a workman, and felt a glow of

pride, particularly as (having been prepared by the wife, who said, "You see it don't make so much difference

with my Kurt 'bout de prize, if so he can get the furniture like he wants it, and he always know of the best in

the old country") they all were duly humble. He accepted a few orders and went to work with a will; he

would show them what the old man could do. But it was only a temporary gleam; in a little while he grew

homesick for the shop, for the sawdust floor and the familiar smell of oil, and the picture of Lossing flitting in

and out. He missed the careless young workmen at whom he had grumbled, he missed the whir of machinery,

and the consciousness of rush and hurry accented by the cars on the track outside. In short, he missed the

feeling of being part of a great whole. At home, in his cosey little improvised shop, there was none to dispute

him, but there was none to obey him either. He grew deathly tired of it all. He got into the habit of walking

around the shops at night, prowling about his old haunts like a cat. Once the night watchman saw him. The

next day there was a second watchman engaged. And Olsen told him very kindly, meaning only to warn him,

that he was suspected to be there for no good purpose. Lieders confirmed a lurking suspicion of the good

Carl's own, by the clouding of his face. Yet he would have chopped his hand off rather than have lifted it

The memory of it all, the cruel sense of injustice, returned with such poignant force that Lieders groaned

Instantly, Thekla was bending over him. He did not know whether to laugh at her or to swear, for she began

fumbling at the ropes, half sobbing. "Yes, I knowed they was hurting you, papa; I'm going to loose one arm.

He made no resistance and she was as good as her word. She unbound and bound him in sections, as it were;

Then she left the room, but only to return with some hot coffee. Lieders twisted his head away. "No," said he,

"I don't eat none of that breakfast, not if you make fresh coffee all the morning; I feel like I don't eat never no

Thekla knew that the obstinate nature that she tempted was proof against temptation; if Kurt chose to starve,

"Just dying is the matter with me, Thekla. If I can't die one way I kin another. Now Thekla, I want you to quit

crying and listen. After I'm gone you go to the boss, young Mr. Lossing but I always called him Harry

because he learned his trade of me, Thekla, but he don't think of that nowand you tell him old Lieders that

worked for him thirty years is dead, but he didn't hold no hard feelings, he knowed he done wrong 'bout that

"Yes, papa," said Thekla, which was a surprise to Kurt; he had dreaded a weak flood of tears and

protestations. But there were no tears, no protestations, only a long look at him and a contraction of the

eyebrows as if Thekla were trying to think of something that eluded her. She placed the coffee on the tray

beside the other breakfast. For a while the room was very still. Lieders could not see the look of resolve that

finally smoothed the perplexed lines out of his wife's kind, simple old face. She rose. "Kurt," she said, "I

don't guess you remember this is our weddingday; it was this day, eighteen year we was married."

"So!" said Lieders, "well, I was a bad bargain to you, Thekla; after you nursed your father that was a cripple

"The Lord knows best about that," said Thekla, simply, "be it how it be, you are the only man I ever had or

will have, and I don't like you starve yourself. Papa, say you don't kill yourself, today, and dat you will eat

"Yes," Lieders repeated in German, "a bad bargain for thee, that is sure. But thou hast been a good bargain

He had seasons, all the morning, of wondering over his meekness, and his agreement to be tied up again, at

night. But still, what did a day matter? a man humors women's notions; and starving was so tedious. Between

whiles he elaborated a scheme to attain his end. How easy to outwit the silly Thekla! His eyes shone, as he

hid the little, sharp knife up his cuff. "Let her tie me!" says Lieders, "I keep my word. Tomorrow I be out of

Thekla went about her daily tasks, with her everyday air; but, now and again, that same pucker of thought

returned to her forehead; and, more than once, Lieders saw her stand over some dish, poising her spoon in air,

The dinner was more elaborate than common, and Thekla had broached a bottle of her currant wine. She

Lieders felt a queer movement of pity. After the table was cleared, he helped his wife to wash and wipe the

dishes as his custom was of a Sunday or holiday. He wiped dishes as he did everything, neatly, slowly, with a

careful deliberation. Not until the dishes were put away and the couple were seated, did Thekla speak.

An inarticulate groan and a glance at the door from Lieders. "I just got to, papa. It aint righd for you to do the

way you been doing for so long time; efery little whiles you try to kill yourself; no, papa, that aint righd!"

Kurt, who had gotten out his pencils and compasses and other drawing tools, grunted: "I got to look at my

"No, Kurt, no, papa"the hands holding the blue apron that she was embroidering with white linen began to

tremble; Lieders had not the least idea what a strain it was on this reticent, slow of speech woman who had

stood in awe of him for eighteen years, to discuss the horror of her life; but he could not help marking her

agitation. She went on, desperately: "Yes, papa, I got to talk it oud with you. You had ought to listen, 'cause I

"Well, I aint saying I done it 'cause you been bad to me; everybody knows we aint had no trouble."

"But everybody what don't know us, when they read how you tried to kill yourself in the papers, they think it

was me. That always is so. And now I never can any more sleep nights, for you is always maybe git up and

do something to yourself. So now, I got to talk to you, papa. Papa, how could you done so?"

Lieders twisted his feet under the rungs of his chair; he opened his mouth, but only to shut it again with a

"I got my mind made up, papa. I tought and I tought. I know WHY you done it; you done it 'cause you and

"Yes, he had, I madded him first; I was a fool. Of course I knowed more than him 'bout the work, but I hadn't

"Yes, papa, I got my mind made up"like most sluggish spirits there was an immense momentum about

Thekla's mind, once get it fairly started it was not to be diverted"you never killed yourself before you used

to git mad at the boss. You was afraid he would send you away; and now you have sent yourself away you

don't want to live, 'cause you do not know how you can git along without the shop. But you want to get back,

you want to get back more as you want to kill yourself. Yes, papa, I know, I know where you did used to go,

nights. Now"she changed her speech unconsciously to the tongue of her youth"it is not fair, it is not fair

to me that thou shouldst treat me like that, thou dost belong to me, also; so I say, my Kurt, wilt thou make a

bargain with me? If I shall get thee back thy place wilt thou promise me never to kill thyself any more?"

Lieders had not once looked up at her during the slow, difficult sentences with their half choked articulation;

but he was experiencing some strange emotions, and one of them was a novel respect for his wife. All he said

"I tell you, it aint no use; I know the boss, he aint going to be letting womans talk him over; no, he's a good

Lieders's eyes blurred with a mild and dreamy mist; he sighed softly. "Thekla, you can't see how it is. It is

like you are tied up, if I don't can do that; if I can then it is always that I am free, free to go, free to stay. And

Thekla's mild eyes flashed. "I don't believe you would like it so you wake up in the morning and find ME

Lieders had the air of one considering deeply. Then he gave Thekla one of the surprises of her life; he rose

from his chair, he walked in his shuffling, unheeled slippers across the room to where the old woman sat; he

Thekla wiped her eyes. A little pause fell between them, and in it they may have both remembered vanished,

halfforgotten days when life had looked differently to them, when they had never thought to sit by their own

fireside and discuss suicide. The husband spoke first; with a reluctant, halfshamed smile, "Thekla, I tell you

what, I make the bargain with you; you git me back that place, I don't do it again, 'less you let me; you don't

The apron dropped from the withered, brown hands to the floor. Again there was silence; but not for long;

ghastly as was the alternative, the proposal offered a chance to escape from the terror that was sapping her

Thekla rose and went to the door; as she opened it a fierce gust of wind slashed her like a knife, and Lieders

exclaimed, fretfully, "what you opening that door for, Thekla, letting in the wind? I'm so cold, now, right by

the fire, I most can't draw. We got to keep a fire in the baseburner good, all night, or the plants will freeze."

Thekla said confusedly that something sounded like a cat crying. "And you talking like that it frightened me;

But Thekla drew a long breath and straightened herself, saying, "Yes, I make it, papa, I make it."

"Well, put another stick of wood in the stove, will you, now you are up?" said Lieders, shrugging his

shoulders, "or I'll freeze in spite of you! It seems to me it grows colder every minute."

But all that day he was unusually gentle with Thekla. He talked of his youth and the struggles of the early

days of the firm; he related a dozen tales of young Lossing, all illustrating some admirable trait that he

certainly had not praised at the time. Never had he so opened his heart in regard to his own ideals of art, his

own ambitions. And Thekla listened, not always comprehending but always sympathizing; she was almost

The next morning, he was surprised to have her appear equipped for the street, although it was bitterly cold.

She wore her garb of ceremony, a black alpaca gown, with a white crocheted collar neatly turned over the

long black, broadcloth cloak in which she had taken pride for the last five years; and her quilted black silk

bonnet was on her gray head. When she put up her foot to don her warm overshoes Kurt saw that the stout

ankles were encased in white stockings. This was the last touch. "Gracious, Thekla," cried Kurt, "are you

"Oh, I don't mind," replied Thekla, nervously. Then she had wrapped a scarf about her and gone out while he

"Oh, well, Thekla she aint such a fool like she looks!" he observed to the cat, "say, pussy, WAS it you out

The cat only blinked her yellow eyes and purred. She knew that she had not been out, last night. Not any

The streetcar did not land her anywhere near a market; it whirled her past the lines of low wooden houses

into the big brick shops with their arched windows and terracotta ornaments that showed the ambitious

architecture of a growing Western town, past these into mills and factories and smokestained chimneys.

Here, she stopped. An acquaintance would hardly have recognized her, her ruddy cheeks had grown so pale.

But she trotted on to the great building on the corner from whence came a low, incessant buzz. She went into

the first door and ran against Carl Olsen. "Carl, I got to see Mr. Lossing," said she breathlessly.

It was not Carl's way to ask questions; he promptly showed her the office and she entered. She had not seen

young Harry Lossing half a dozen times; and, now, her anxious eyes wandered from one dapper figure at the

He was a handsome young man, she thought, and he had kind eyes, but they hardened at her first timid

"Will you walk in here, Mrs. Lieders?" said Lossing. His voice was like the ice on the windowpanes.

Declining the chair that he pushed toward her she stood in the centre of the room, looking at him with the

"It is for you that he will kill himself, Mr. Lossing. This is the dird time he has done it. It is because he is so

lonesome now, your father is died and he thinks that you forget, and he has worked so hard for you, but he

thinks that you forget. He was never tell me till yesterday; and thenit was it was because I would not let

"Yes, he was hang himself, but I cut him, no I broke him down," said Thekla, accurate in all the disorder of

her spirits; and forthwith, with many tremors, but clearly, she told the story of Kurt's despair. She told, as

Lieders never would have known how to tell, even had his pride let him, all the man's devotion for the

business, all his personal attachment to the firm; she told of his gloom after the elder Lossing died, "for he

was think there was no one in this town such good man and so smart like your fader, Mr. Lossing, no, and he

would set all the evening and try to draw and make the lines all wrong, and, then, he would drow the papers

in the fire and go and walk outside and he say, 'I can't do nothing righd no more now the old man's died; they

don't have no use for me at the shop, pretty quick!' and that make him feel awful bad!" She told of his

homesick wanderings about the shops by night; "but he was better as a watchman, he wouldn't hurt it for the

world! He telled me how you was hide his dinnerpail onct for a joke, and put in a piece of your pie, and how

you climbed on the roof with the hose when it was afire. And he telled me if he shall die I shall tell you that

he ain't got no hard feelings, but you didn't know how that mantel had ought to be, so he done it righd the

other way, but he hadn't no righd to talk to you like he done, nohow, and you was all righd to send him away,

but you might a shaked hands, and none of the boys never said nothing nor none of them never come to see

him, 'cept Carl Olsen, and that make him feel awful bad, too! And when he feels so bad he don't no more

want to live, so I make him promise if I git him back he never try to kill himself again. Oh, Mr. Lossing,

Bewildered and more touched than he cared to feel, himself, Lossing still made a feeble stand for discipline.

"No, sir, no, Mr. Lossing, it was not that, it was you said it would be a cold day that you would take him

back; and it was git so cold yesterday, so I think, 'Now it would be a cold day tomorrow and Mr. Lossing he

Lossing burst into a laugh, perhaps he was glad to have the Western sense of humor come to the rescue of his

compassion. "Well, it was a cold day for you to come all this way for nothing," said he. "You go home and

Kurt's manner of receiving the news was characteristic. He snorted in disgust: "Well, I did think he had more

sand than to give in to a woman!" But after he heard the whole story he chuckled: "Yes, it was that way he

said, and he must do like he said; but that was a funny way you done, Thekla. Say, mamma, yesterday, was

"Never you mind, papa," said Thekla, "you remember what you promised if I git you back?"

Lieders's eyes grew dull; he flung his arms out, with a long sigh. "No, I don't forget, I will keep my promise,

butit is like the handcuffs, Thekla, it is like the handcuffs!" In a second, however, he added, in a changed

tone, "But thou art a kind jailer, mamma, more like a comrade. And no, it was not fair to theeI know that

AFTER the week's shower the low Iowa hills looked vividly green. At the base of the first range of hills the

Blackhawk road winds from the city to the prairie. From its startingpoint, just outside the city limits, the

wayfarer may catch bird'seye glimpses of the city, the vast river that the Iowans love, and the three bridges

tying three towns to the island arsenal. But at one's elbow spreads Cavendish's melon farm. Cavendish's

melon farm it still is, in current phrase, although Cavendish, whose memory is honored by lovers of the

cantaloupe melon, long ago departed to raise melons for larger markets; and still a weatherbeaten sign

creaks from a post announcing to the world that "the celebrated Cavendish Melons are for Sale here!" Today

the melonvines were softly shaded by raindrops. A pleasant sight they made, spreading for acres in front of

the greenhouses where mushrooms and early vegetables strove to outwit the seasons, and before the brown

cottage in which Cavendish had begun a successful career. The black rooftree of the cottage sagged in the

middle, and the weatherboarding was dingy with the streaky dinginess of old paint that has never had

enough oil. The fences, too, were unpainted and rudely patched. Nevertheless a second glance told one that

there were no gaps in them, that the farm machines kept their bright colors well under cover, and that the

garden rows were beautifully straight and clean. An old white horse switched its sleek sides with its long tail

and drooped its untrammelled neck in front of the gate. The wagon to which it was harnessed was new and

had just been washed. Near the gate stood a girl and boy who seemed to be mutually studying each other's

person. Decidedly the girl's slim, light figure in its dainty frock repaid one's eyes for their trouble; and her

face, with its brilliant violet eyes, its full, soft chin, its curling auburn hair and delicate tints, was charming;

but her brother's look was anything but approving. His lip curled and his small gray eyes grew smaller under

It was a suit of the cotton mixture that looks like wool when it is new, and cuts a figure on the counters of

every dealer in cheap readymade clothing. It had been Tim Powell's best attire for a year; perhaps he had not

been careful enough of it, and that was why it no longer cared even to imitate wool; it was faded to the hue of

a clay bank, it was threadbare, the trousers bagged at the knees, the jacket bagged at the elbows, the pockets

"I thought you were to have a new suit," said the girl. "Uncle told me himself he was going to buy you one

"I wouldn't have asked him to buy me anything yesterday for more'n a suit of clothes."

"Why?" The girl opened her eyes. "Didn't he do anything with the lawyer? Is that why you are both so glum

"No, he didn't. The lawyer says the woman that owns the mortgage has got to have the money. And it's due

The girl grew pale all over her pretty rosy cheeks; her eyes filled with tears as she gasped, "Oh, how hateful

"She never promised nothing, Eve; it ain't been hers for more than three months. Sloan, that used to have it,

died, and left his property to be divided up between his nieces; and the mortgage is her share. See?"

"No, he didn't; he jest said if Uncle was behind he wouldn't press him; and he did let Uncle get behind with

the interest two times and never kicked. But he died; and now the woman, she wants her money!"

"I think it is mean and cruel of her to turn us out! Uncle says mortgages are wicked anyhow, and I believe

"I guess he couldn't have bought this place if he didn't give a mortgage on it. And he'd have had enough to

"It come due three months ago; Richards ain't never paid up the interest even, and now he says he's got to

"But don't he KNOW we've got to pay our own mortgage? How can we help HIM? I wish Uncle would sell

The boy gave her the superior smile of the masculine creature. "I suppose," he remarked with elaborate irony,

"And just as like as not Uncle won't want to go to the carnival," Eve went on, her eyes filling again.

Tim gazed at her, scowling and sneering; but she was absorbed in dreams and hopes with which as yet his

"All the girls in the A class were going to go to see the fireworks together, and George Dean and some of the

boys were going to take us, and we were going to have tea at May Arlington's house, and I was to stay all

night;"this came in a half sob. "I think it is just too mean! I never have any good times!"

"Oh, yes, you do, sis, lots! Uncle always gits you everything you want. And he feels terrible bad when

"Well, do you want us to git things we can't afford? I ain't never advised him except the best I knew how. I

told him Richards was a blowhard, and I told him those Alliance grocery folks he bought such a lot of truck

of would skin him, and they did; those canned things they sold him was all musty, and they said there wasn't

any freight on 'em, and he had to pay freight and a fancy price besides; and I don't believe they had any more

"Uncle always believes everything. He always is so sure things are going to turn out just splendid; and they

"I don't believe in being so good you can't make money. I don't want always to be poor and despised, and

"I guess you can be pretty good and yet make money, if you are sharp enough. Of course you got to be

sharper to be good and make money than you got to be, to be mean and make money."

"Well, I know one thing, that Uncle ain't EVER going to make money. He " The last word shrivelled on

her lips, which puckered into a confused smile at the warning frown of her brother. The man that they were

He didn't seem angry, anyhow. He called: "Well, Evy, ready?" and Eve was glad to run into the house for her

hat without looking at him. It was a relief that she must sit on the back seat where she need not face Uncle

Nor did he; it was Nelson Forrest that stole furtive glances at the lad's profile, the knitted brows, the freckled

The boyish shoulders slouched forward at the same angle as that of the fiftyyearold shoulders beside him.

Nelson, through long following of the plough, had lost the erect carriage painfully acquired in the army. He

was a handsome man, whose freshcolored skin gave him a perpetual appearance of having just washed his

face. The features were long and delicate. The brown eyes had a liquid softness like the eyes of a woman. In

general the countenance was alertly intelligent; he looked younger than his years; but this afternoon the lines

about his mouth and in his brows warranted every gray hair of his pointed short beard. There was a reason.

Nelson was having one of those searing flashes of insight that do come occasionally to the most blindly

hopeful souls. Nelson had hoped all his life. He hoped for himself, he hoped for the whole human race. He

served the abstraction that he called "PROgress" with unflinching and unquestioning loyalty. Every new

scheme of increasing happiness by force found a helper, a fighter, and a giver in him; by turns he had been an

Abolitionist, a Fourierist, a Socialist, a Greenbacker, a Farmers' Alliance man. Disappointment always was

followed hard on its heels by a brandnew confidence. Progress ruled his farm as well as his politics; he

bought the newest implements and subscribed trustfully to four agricultural papers; but being a born lover of

the ground, a vein of saving doubt did assert itself sometimes in his work; and, on the whole, as a farmer he

was successful. But his success never ventured outside his farm gates. At buying or selling, at a bargain in

any form, the fourteenyearold Tim was better than Nelson with his fifty years' experience of a wicked and

Was that any part of the reason, he wondered today, why at the end of thirty years of unflinching toil and

honesty, he found himself with a vast budget of experience in the ruinous loaning of money, with a mortgage

on the farm of a friend, and a mortgage on his own farm likely to be foreclosed? Perhaps it might have been

better to stay in Henry County. He had paid for his farm at last. He had known a good moment, too, that day

he drove away from the lawyer's with the cancelled mortgage in his pocket and Tim hopping up and down on

the seat for joy. But the next day Richardsjust to give him the chance of a good thing had brought out

that Maine man who wanted to buy him out. He was anxious to put the money down for the new farm, to

have no whiplash of debt forever whistling about his ears as he ploughed, ready to sting did he stumble in

the furrows; and Tim was more anxious than he; butthere was Richards! Richards was a neighbor who

thought as he did about Henry George and Spiritualism, and belonged to the Farmers' Alliance, and had lent

Nelson all the works of Henry George that he (Richards) could borrow. Richards was in deep trouble. He had

lost his wife; he might lose his farm. He appealed to Nelson, for the sake of old friendship, to save him. And

Nelson could not resist; so, two thousand of the thirtyfour hundred dollars that the Maine man paid went to

Richards, the latter swearing by all that is holy, to pay his friend off in full at the end of the year. There was

money coming to him from his dead wife's estate, but it was tied up in the courts. Nelson would not listen to

Tim's prophecies of evil. But he was a little dashed when Richards paid neither interest nor principal at the

year's end, although he gave reasons of weight; and he experienced veritable consternation when the renewed

mortgage ran its course and still Richards could not pay. The money from his wife's estate had been used to

improve his farm (Nelson knew how rundown everything was), his new wife was sickly and "didn't seem to

take hold," there had been a disastrous hailstorm but why rehearse the calamities? they focussed on one

Then Nelson, who had been restfully counting on the money from Richards for his own debt, bestirred

himself, only to find his patient creditor gone and a woman in his stead who must have her money. He wrote

again sorely against his willbegging Richards to raise the money somehow. Richards's answer was in

his pocket, for he wore the best black broadcloth in which he had done honor to the lawyer, yesterday.

Richards plainly was wounded; but he explained in detail to Nelson how he (Nelson) could borrow money of

the banks on his farm and pay Miss Brown. There was no bank where Richards could borrow money; and he

begged Nelson not to drive his wife and little children from their cherished home. Nelson choked over the

pathos when he read the letter to Tim; but Tim only grunted a wish that HE had the handling of that feller.

And the lawyer was as little moved as Tim. Miss Brown needed the money, he said. The banks were not

disposed to lend just at present; money, it appeared, was "tight;" so, in the end, Nelson drove home with the

There was only one way. Should he make Richards suffer or suffer himself? Did a man have to grind other

people or be ground himself? Meanwhile they had reached the town. The stir of a festival was in the air. On

every side bunting streamed in the breeze or was draped across brick or wood. Arches spanned some of the

streets, with inscriptions of welcome on them, and swarms of colored lanterns glittered against the sunlight

almost as gayly as they would show when they should be lighted at night. Little children ran about waving

flags. Grocery wagons and butchers' wagons trotted by with a flash of flags dangling from the horses'

harness. The streets were filled with people in their holiday clothes. Everybody smiled. The shopkeepers

answered questions and went out on the sidewalks to direct strangers. From one window hung a banner

inviting visitors to enter and get a list of hotels and boardinghouses. The crowd was entirely goodhumored

and waited outside restaurants, bandying jokes with true Western philosophy. At times the wagons made a

temporary blockade in the street, but no one grumbled. Bands of music paraded past them, the escort for

visitors of especial consideration. In a window belonging, the sign above declared, to the Business Men's

Association, stood a huge doll clad in blue satin, on which was painted a device of Neptune sailing down the

Mississippi amid a storm of fireworks. The doll stood in a boat arched about with lanterndecked hoops, and

while Nelson halted, unable to proceed, he could hear the voluble explanation of the proud citizen who was

This, Nelson thought, was success. Here were the successful men. The man who had failed looked at them.

Eve roused him by a shrill cry, "There they are. There's May and the girls. Let me out quick, Uncle!"

He stopped the horse and jumped out himself to help her. It was the first time since she came under his roof

that she had been away from it all night. He cleared his throat for some advice on behavior. "Mind and be

respectful to Mrs. Arlington. Say yes, ma'am, and no, ma'am " He got no further, for Eve gave him a

"All she thinks of is wearing fine clothes and going with the fellers!" said her brother, disdainfully. "If I had

"Maybe if you despise girls so, you'll be born a girl the next time," said Nelson. "Some folks thinks that's how

"Do YOU, Uncle?" asked Tim, running his mind forebodingly over the possible business results of such a

belief. "S'posing he shouldn't be willing to sell the pigs to be killed, 'cause they might be some friends of his!"

he reflected, with a rising tide of consternation. Nelson smiled rather sadly. He said, in another tone: "Tim,

I've thought so many things, that now I've about given up thinking. All I can do is to live along the best way I

"You bet I ain't going to help the world move," said the boy; "I'm going to look out for myself!"

"Then my training of you has turned out pretty badly, if that's the way you feel."

A little shiver passed over the lad's sullen face; he flushed until he lost his freckles in the red veil and burst

out passionately: "Well, I got eyes, ain't I? I ain't going to be bad, or drink, or steal, or do things to git put in

the penitentiary; but I ain't going to let folks walk all over me like you do; no, sir!"

Nelson did not answer; in his heart he thought that he had failed with the children, too; and he relapsed into

He had come to the city to show Tim the sights, and, therefore, though like a man in a dream, he drove

conscientiously about the gay streets, pointing out whatever he thought might interest the boy, and generally

discovering that Tim had the new information by heart already. All the while a question pounded itself, like

the beat of the heart of an engine, through the noise and the talk: "Shall I give up Richards or be turned out

When the afternoon sunlight waned he put up the horse at a modest little stable where farmers were allowed

to bring their own provender. The charges were of the smallest and the place neat and weathertight, but it

had been a long time before Nelson could be induced to use it, because there was a higherpriced stable kept

by an exfarmer and member of the Farmers' Alliance. Only the fact that the keeper of the lowpriced stable

They had supper at a restaurant of Tim's discovery, small, specklessly tidy, and as unexacting of the pocket as

the stable. It was an excellent supper. But Nelson had no appetite; in spite of an almost childish capacity for

being diverted, he could attend to nothing but the question always in his ears: "Richards or mewhich?"

Until it should be time for the spectacle they walked down the hill, and watched the crowds gradually blacken

every inch of the riverbanks. Already the swarms of lanterns were beginning to bloom out in the dusk.

Strains of music throbbed through the air, adding a poignant touch to the excitement vibrating in all the faces

and voices about them. Even the stolid Tim felt the contagion. He walked with a jaunty step and assaulted a

tune himself. "I tell you, Uncle," says Tim, "it's nice of these folks to be getting up all this show, and giving it

"Do you think so?" says Nelson. "You don't love your book as I wish you did; but I guess you remember

about the ancient Romans, and how the great, rich Romans used to spend enormous sums in games and

shows that they let the people in free towell, what for? Was it to learn them anything or to make them

happy? Oh, no, it was to keep down the spirit of liberty, Son, it was to make them content to be slaves! And

so it is here. These merchants and capitalists are only looking out for themselves, trying to keep labor down

and not let it know how oppressed it is, trying to get people here from everywhere to show what a fine city

"Well, 'TIS a fine town," Tim burst in, "a boss town! And they ain't gouging folks a little bit. None of the

hotels or the restaurants have put up their prices one cent. Look what a dandy supper we got for twentyfive

cents! And ain't the boy at Lumley's grocery given me two tickets to set on the steamboat? There's nothing

Nelson made no remark; but he thought, for the fiftieth time, that his farm was too near the city. Tim was

picking up all the city boys' false pride as well as their slang. Unconscious Tim resumed his tune. He knew

that it was "Annie Rooney" if no one else did, and he mangled the notes with appropriate exhilaration.

Now, the river was as busy as the land, lights swimming hither and thither; steamboats with ropes of tiny

stars bespangling their dark bulk and a white electric glare in the bow, low boats with lights that sent

wavering spearheads into the shadow beneath. The bridge was a blazing barbed fence of fire, and beyond

the bridge, at the point of the island, lay a glittering multitude of lights, a fairy fleet with miniature sails

Nelson followed Tim. The crowds, the ceaseless clatter of tongues and jar of wheels, depressed the man, who

hardly knew which way to dodge the multitudinous perils of the thoroughfare; but Tim used his elbows to

such good purpose that they were out of the levee, on the steamboat, and settling themselves in two

comfortable chairs in a coign of vantage on deck, that commanded the best obtainable view of the pageant,

before Nelson had gathered his wits together enough to plan a path out of the crush.

"I sized up this place from the shore," Tim sighed complacently, drawing a long breath of relief; "only jest

Obediently, Nelson took his chair. His head sank on his thin chest. Richards or himself, which should he

sacrifice? So the weary old question droned through his brain. He felt a tap on his shoulder. The man who

roused him was an acquaintance, and he stood smiling in the attitude of a man about to ask a favor, while the

expectant halfsmile of the lady on his arm hinted at the nature of the favor. Would Mr. Forrest be so

kind?there seemed to be no more seats. Before Mr. Forrest could be kind Tim had yielded his own chair

"Smart boy, that youngster of yours," said the man; "he'll make his way in the world, he can push. Well, Miss

Alma, let me make you acquainted with Mr. Forrest. I know you will be well entertained by him. So, if you'll

excuse me, I'll get back and help my wife wrestle with the kids. They have been trying to see which will fall

Under the leeway of this pleasantry he bowed and retired. Nelson turned with determined politeness to the

lady. He was sorry that she had come, she looking to him a very fine lady indeed, with her black silk gown,

her shining black ornaments, and her bright black eyes. She was not young, but handsome in Nelson's

judgment, although of a haughty bearing. "Maybe she is the principal of the High School," thought he.

"Martin has her for a boarder, and he said she was very particular about her melons being cold!"

"Yes, I was born here." She smiled, a smile that revealed a little break in the curve of her cheek, not exactly a

"I don't know when I have seen such a fine appearing lady," thought Nelson. He responded: "Well, I wasn't

born here; but I come when I was a little shaver of ten and stayed till I was eighteen, when I went to Kansas

to help fight the border ruffians. I went to school here in the Warren Street schoolhouse."

"So did I, as long as I went anywhere to school. I had to go to work when I was twelve."

Nelson's amazement took shape before his courtesy had a chance to control it. "I didn't suppose you ever did

"I guess I haven't done much else. Father died when I was twelve and the oldest of five, the next only

eightPolly, that came between Eb and me, diednaturally I had to work. I was a nursegirl by the day,

first; and I never shall forget how kind the woman was to me. She gave me so much dinner I never needed to

"You poor little thing! I'm afraid you went hungry sometimes." Immediately he marvelled at his familiar

"No, not so often," she said, musingly; "but I used often and often to wish I could carry some of the nice

things home to mother and the babies. After a while she would give me a cookey or a piece of bread and

butter for lunch; that I could take home. I don't suppose I'll often have more pleasure than I used to have then,

seeing little Eb waiting for sister; and the baby and mother " She stopped abruptly, to continue, in an

instant, with a kind of laugh; "I am never likely to feel so important again as I did then, either. It was great to

have mother consulting me, as if I had been grown up. I felt like I had the weight of the nation on my

"And have you always worked since? You are not working out now?" with a glance at her shining gown.

"Oh, no, not for a long time. I learned to be a cook. I was a good cook, too, if I say it myself. I worked for the

Lossings for four years. I am not a bit ashamed of being a hired girl, for I was as good a one as I knew how. It

was Mrs. Lossing that first lent me books; and Harry Lossing, who is head of the firm now, got Ebenezer into

the works. Ebenezer is shippingclerk with a good salary and stock in the concern; and Ralph is there,

learning the trade. I went to the businesscollege and learned bookkeeping, and afterward I learned

typewriting and shorthand. I have been working for the firm for fourteen years. We have educated the girls.

"What time did I have to think of being married? I had the family on my mind, and looking after them."

"That was more fortunate for your family than it was for my sex," said Nelson, gallantly. He accompanied the

compliment by a glance of admiration, extinguished in an eyeflash, for the white radiance that had bathed

"Now you will see a lovely sight," said the woman, deigning no reply to his tribute; "listen! That is the

The air was shaken with the boom of cannon. Once, twice, thrice. Directly the boatwhistles took up the roar,

making a hideous din. The fleet had moved. Spouting rockets and Roman candles, which painted above it a

kaleidoscopic archway of fire, welcomed by answering javelins of light and red and orange and blue and

green flares from the shore; the fleet bombarded the bridge, escorted Neptune in his car, manoeuvred and

After the boats, silently, softly, floated the battalions of lanterns, so close to the water that they seemed

flaming waterlilies, while the dusky mirror repeated and inverted their splendor.

"They're shingles, you know," explained Nelson's companion, "with lanterns on them; but aren't they pretty?"

The fireworks, however, were slow of coming. They could see the barge from which they were to be sent;

they could watch the movements of the men in white oilcloth who moved in a ghostly fashion about the

They sat in the darkness, waiting; and there came to Nelson a strange sensation of being alone and apart from

all the breathing world with this woman. He did not perceive that Tim had quietly returned with a box which

did very well for a seat, and was sitting with his knees against the chairrungs. He seemed to be somehow

outside of all the tumult and the spectacle. It was the vainglorying triumph of this world. He was the soul

outside, the soul that had missed its triumph. In his perplexity and loneliness he felt an overwhelming longing

for sympathy; neither did it strike Nelson, who believed in all sorts of occult influences, that his confidence in

a stranger was unwarranted. He would have told you that his "psychic instincts" never played him false,

although really they were traitors from their astral cradles to their astral graves.

He said in a hesitating way: "You must excuse me being kinder dull; I've got some serious business on my

"Is that so? Well, I know how that is; I have often stayed awake nights worrying about things. Lest I shouldn't

"That was what Ebenezer and Ralph were for having me do; but mother my mother always had so much

sensemother says, 'No, Alma, you've got a good place and a chance in life, you sha'n't give it up. We'll hire

a girl. I ain't never lonesome except evenings, and then you will be home. I should jest want to die,' she says,

'if I thought I kept you in a kind of prison like by my being sicknow, just when you are getting on so well.'

There never WAS a woman like my mother!" Her voice shook a little, and Nelson asked gently:

"No, she died last year." She added, after a little silence, "I somehow can't get used to being lonesome."

"My goodness! I guess it is. And it's hardest when trouble comes on a man and he can't go nowhere for

"Yes, ma'am; that is, they ain't my own children. Lizzie and I never had any; but these two we took and they

"They must be a comfort to you; but they are considerable of a responsibility, too."

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed softly to himself. "Sometimes I feel I haven't done the right way by them, though

I've tried. Not that they ain't good children, for they areno better anywhere. Tim, he will work from

morning till night, and never need to urge him; and he never gives me a promise he don't keep it, no ma'am,

never did since he was a little mite of a lad. And he is a kind boy, too, always good to the beasts; and while

he may speak up a little short to his sister, he saves her many a step. He doesn't take to his studies quite as I

would like to have him, but he has a wonderful head for business. There is splendid stuff in Tim if it could

While Nelson spoke, Tim was hunching his shoulders forward in the darkness, listening with the whole of

two sharp ears. His face worked in spite of him, and he gave an inarticulate snort.

"Well," the woman said, "I think that speaks well for Tim. Why should you be worried about him?"

"I am afraid he is getting to love money and worldly success too well, and that is what I fear for the girl, too.

You see, she is so pretty, and the idols of the tribe and the market, as Bacon calls them, are strong with the

"Yes, that's so," the woman assented vaguely, not at all sure what either Bacon or his idols might be. "Are the

"No, ma'am; it was like this: When I was up in Henry County there came a photographic artist to the village

near us, and pitched his tent and took tintypes in his wagon. He had his wife and his two children with him.

The poor woman fell ill and died; so we took the two children. My wife was willing; she was a wonderfully

good woman, member of the Methodist church till she died. II am not a church member myself, ma'am; I

passed through that stage of spiritual development a long while ago." He gave a wistful glance at his

companion's dimly outlined profile. "But I never tried to disturb her faith; it made HER happy."

"Oh, I don't think it is any good fooling with other people's religions," said the woman, easily. "It is just like

trying to talk folks out of drinking; nobody knows what is right for anybody else's soul any more than they do

"That's all the story. We took the children, and their father was killed by the cars the next year, poor man; and

"No, ma'am; I haven't done very well somehow by anyone, myself included, though God knows I've tried

Then followed the silence natural after such a confession when the listener does not know the speaker well

"I am impressed," said Nelson, simply, "to talk with you frankly. It isn't polite to bother strangers with your

It was not extravagant sympathy; but Nelson thought how kind her voice sounded, and what a musical voice

He told herwith surprisingly little egotism, as the keen listener notedthe story of his life; the struggle of

his boyhood; his random selfeducation; his years in the army (he had criticised his superior officers, thereby

losing the promotion that was coming for bravery in the field); his marriage (apparently he had married his

wife because another man had jilted her); his wrestle with nature (whose pranks included a cyclone) on a

frontier farm that he eventually lost, having put all his savings into a "Greenback" newspaper, and being thus

swamped with debt; his final slow success in paying for his Iowa farm; and his purchase of the new farm,

with its resulting disaster. "I've farmed in Kansas," he said, "in Nebraska, in Dakota, in Iowa. I was willing to

go wherever the land promised. It always seemed like I was going to succeed, but somehow I never did. The

world ain't fixed right for the workers, I take it. A man who has spent thirty years in hard, honest toil oughtn't

to be staring ruin in the face like I am today. They won't let it be so when we have the single tax and when

we farmers send our own men instead of city lawyers, to the Legislature and halls of Congress. Sometimes I

The reply came in crisp and assured accents, which were the strongest contrast to Nelson's soft, undecided

pipe: "Seems to me in this last case the one most to blame is neither you nor the world at large, but this man

Richards, who is asking YOU to pay for HIS farm. And I notice you don't seem to consider your creditor in

this business. How do you know she don't need the money? Look at me, for instance; I'm in some financial

difficulty myself. I have a mortgage for two thousand dollars, and that mortgagefor which good value was

given, mind youfalls due this month. I want the money. I want it bad. I have a chance to put my money

into stock at the factory. I know all about the investment; I haven't worked there all these years and not know

how the business stands. It is a chance to make a fortune. I ain't likely to ever have another like it; and it

won't wait for me to make up my mind forever, either. Isn't it hard on me, too?"

"Lord knows it is, ma'am," said Nelson, despondently; "it is hard on us all! Sometimes I don't see the end of it

"Social fiddlesticks! I beg your pardon, Mr. Forrest, but it puts me out of patience to have people expecting to

be allowed to make every mortal kind of fools of themselves and then have 'a social revolution' jump in to

slue off the consequences. Let us understand each other. Who do you suppose I am?"

"It's Alma Brown, Mr. Forrest. I saw you coming on the boat and I made Mr. Martin fetch me over to you. I

told him not to say my name, because I wanted a good plain talk with you. Well, I've had it. Things are just

about where I thought they were, and I told Mr. Lossing so. But I couldn't be sure. You must have thought me

Nelson, who had changed color half a dozen times in the darkness, sighed before he said: "No, ma'am; I only

thought how good you were to tell me. I hoped maybe you were impressed to trust me as I was to trust you."

Being so dark Nelson could not see the queer expression on her face as she slowly shook her head. She was

thinking: "If I ever saw a babe in arms trying to do business! How did HE ever pay for a farm?" She said:

"Well, I did it on purpose; I wanted you to know I wasn't a cruel aristocrat, but a woman that had worked as

hard as yourself. Now, why shouldn't you help me and yourself instead of helping Richards? You have

confidence in me, you say. Well, show it. I'll give you your mortgage for your mortgage on Richards's farm.

The hiss of a rocket hurled her words into space. The fireworks had begun. Miss Brown looked at them and

watched Nelson at the same time. As a good business woman who was also a good citizen, having subscribed

five dollars to the carnival, she did not propose to lose the worth of her money; neither did she intend to lose

a chance to do business. Perhaps there was an obscurer and more complex motive lurking in some stray

corner of that queer garret, a woman's mind. Such motivesaimless softenings of the heart, unprofitable

diversions of the fancywill seep unconsciously through the toughest business principles of woman.

She was puzzled by the look of exaltation on Nelson's features, illumined as they were by the uncanny light.

If the fool man had not forgotten all his troubles just to see a few fireworks! No, he was not that kind of a

fool; maybeand she almost laughed aloud in her pleasure over her own insightmaybe it all made him

think of the war, where he had been so brave. "He was a regular hero in the war," Miss Brown concluded,

She had guessed aright, although she had not guessed deep enough in regard to Nelson. He watched the great

wheels of light, he watched the river aflame with Greek fire, then, with a shiver, he watched the bombs

bursting into myriads of flowers, into fizzing snakes, into fields of burning gold, into showers of jewels that

made the night splendid for a second and faded. They were not fireworks to him; they were a magical

phantasmagoria that renewed the incoherent and violent emotions of his youth; again he was in the chaos of

the battle, or he was dreaming by his campfire, or he was pacing his lonely round on guard. His heart leaped

again with the old glow, the wonderful, beautiful worship of Liberty that can do no wrong. He seemed to hear

"In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, As He died to make men holy, let us die to make

His turbid musings clearedor they seemed to him to clear under the strong reaction of his imagination

and his memories. It was all over, the dream and the glory thereof. The splendid young soldier was an elderly,

"A poor soldier, but enlisted for the war," says Nelson, squaring his shoulders, with a lump in his throat and

his eyes brimming. "I know by the way it hurts me to think of refusing her that it's a temptation to

wrongdoing. No, I can't save myself by sacrificing a brother soldier for humanity. She is just as kind as she

can be, but women don't understand business; she wouldn't make allowance for Richards."

He felt a hand on his shoulder; it was Martin apologizing for hurrying Miss Brown; but the baby was fretting

"I'm sorryyeswell, I wish you didn't have to go!" Nelson began; but a hoarse treble rose from under his

"If you will allow me the pleasure," said Nelson, with the touch of courtliness that showed through his

"Well, I WOULD like to see the hundred bombs bursting at once and Vulcan at his forge!" said Miss Brown.

Thus the matter arranged itself. Tim waited with the lady while Nelson went for the horse, nor was it until

afterward that Miss Brown wondered why the lad did not go instead of the man. But Tim had his own

reasons. No sooner was Nelson out of earshot than he began: "Say, Miss Brown, I can tell you something."

"That Richards is no good; but you can't get Uncle to see it. At least it will take time. If you'll help me we can

get him round in time. Won't you please not sell us out for six months and give me a show? I'll see you get

"You?" Miss Brown involuntarily took a business attitude, with her arms akimbo, and eyed the boy.

"Yes, ma'am, me. I ain't so very old, but I know all about the business. I got all the figures downhow much

we raise and what we got last year. I can fetch them to you so you can see. He is a good farmer, and he will

catch on to the melons pretty quick. We'll do better next year, and I'll try to keep him from belonging to

things and spending money; and if he won't lend to anybody or start in raising a new kind of crop just when

we get the melons going, he will make money sure. He is awful good and honest. All the trouble with him is

he needs somebody to take care of him. If Aunt Lizzie had been alive he never would have lent that

Miss Brown did not feel called on to say anything. Tim continued in a judicial way: "He is awful good and

kind, always gets up in the morning to make the fire if I have got something else to do; and he'd think

everything his wife did was the best in the world; and if he had somebody to take care of him he'd make

money. I don't suppose YOU would think of it?" This last in an insinuating tone, with evident anxiety.

Whether she was more offended or amused she couldn't tell; and she stood staring at him by the electric light.

To her amazement the hard little face began to twitch. "I didn't mean to mad you," Tim grunted, with a quiver

in his rough voice. "I've been listening to every word you said, and I thought you were so sensible you'd talk

over things without nonsense. Of course I knew he'd have to come and see you Saturday nights, and take you

buggy riding, and take you to the theatre, and all such thingsfirst. But I thought we could sorter fix it up

between ourselves. I've taken care of him ever since Aunt Lizzie died, and I did my best he shouldn't lend that

money, but I couldn't help it; and I did keep him from marrying a widow woman with eight children, who

kept telling him how much her poor fatherless children needed a man; and I never did see anybody I was

willingbeforeand it's it's so lonesome without Aunt Lizzie!" He choked and frowned. Poor Tim, who

had sold so many melons to women and seen so much of back doors and kitchen humors that he held the sex

very cheap, he did not realize how hard he would find it to talk of the one woman who had been kind to him!

"You poor little chap!" cried Miss Brown; "you poor little sharp, innocent chap!" The hand she laid on his

shoulder patted it as she went on: "Never mind, if I can't marry your uncle, I can help you take care of him.

You're a real nice boy, and I'm not mad; don't you think it. There's your uncle now."

Nelson found her so gentle that he began to have qualms lest his carefully prepared speech should hurt her

feelings. But there was no help for it now. "I have thought over your kind offer to me, ma'am," said he,

humbly, "and I got a proposition to make to you. It is your honest due to have your farm, yes, ma'am. Well, I

"I know it, ma'am. I honor you for your kindness; but I can't risk what what might be another person's idea

of duty about Richards. Our consciences ain't all equally enlightened, you know."

They drove along the streets where the lanterns were fading. Tim grew uneasy, she was silent so long. On the

brow of the hill she indicated a side street and told them to stop the horse before a little brown house. One of

As Nelson cramped the wheel to jump out to help her from the vehicle, the light from the electric arc fell full

on his handsome face and showed her the look of compassion and admiration, there.

"Wait one moment," she said, detaining him with one firm hand. "I've got something to say to you. Let

Richards go for the present; all I ask of you about him is that you will do nothing until we can find out if he is

so bad off. But, Mr. Forrest, I can do better for you about that mortgage. Mr. Lossing will take it for three

"Just the same. I was only trying to help you a little by the other way, and I failed. Never mind."

"Please let him bring you some melons tomorrow and make a stagger at it, though," said Tim.

All the way home Nelson saw the same face of Failure between the old mare's white ears; but its grim

IT was while Harry Lossing was at the High School that Mrs. Carriswood first saw Tommy Fitzmaurice. He

was not much to see, a long lad of sixteen who had outgrown his jackets and was not yet grown to his ears.

At this period Mrs. Fitzmaurice was his barber, and she, having been too rash with the shears in one place,

had snipped off the rest of his curly black locks "to match;" until he showed a perfect convict's poll, giving

his ears all the better chance, and bringing out the rather square contour of his jaws to advantage. He had the

true IrishNorman face; a skin of fine texture, fair and freckled, high cheekbones, straight nose, and wide

blue eyes that looked to be drawn with ink, because of their sharply pencilled brows and long, thick, black

lashes. But the feature that Mrs. Carriswood noticed was Tommy's mouth, a flexible and delicately cut

mouth, of which the lips moved lightly in speaking and seldom were quite in repose.

Tommy, however, was not a finished orator, and Mrs. Carriswood herself deigned to help him with his

graduating oration; Tommy delivering the aforesaid oration from memory, on the stage of the Grand Opera

House, to a warmhearted and perspiring audience of his townspeople, amid tremendous applause and not

Really the speech deserved the applause; Mrs. Carriswood, who had heard half the eloquence of the world,

Her part in the affair always amused her; though, in fact, it came to pass easily. She had the great fortune of

the family. Being a widow with no children, and the time not being come when philanthropy beckons on the

right hand and on the left to freehanded women, Mrs. Carriswood travelled. As she expressed it, she was

searching the globe for a perfect climate. "Not that I in the least expect to find it," said she, cheerfully, "but I

like to vary my disappointments; when I get worn out being frozen, winters, I go somewhere to be soaked."

She was on her way to California this time, with her English maid, who gave the Lossing domestics many a

jolly moment by her inextinguishable panic about red Indians. Mrs. Derry supposed these savages to be

lurking on the prairie outside every Western town; and almost fainted when she did chance to turn the corner

upon three Kickapoo Indians, splendid in paint and feathers, and peacefully vending the "Famous Kickapoo

Sagwa." She had others of the artless notions of the travelling English, and I fear that they were encouraged

not only by the cook, the "second girl," and the manofallwork, but by Harry and his chum, Tommy; I

know she used to tell how she saw tame buffalo "roosting" on the streets, "w'ich they do look that like

She had a great opinion of Tommy, a mystery to her mistress for a long time, until one day it leaked out that

Tommy "and Master Harry, too," had told her that Tommy's greatgrandfather was a lord in the old country.

"The family seem to have sunk in the world since, Derry," was Mrs. Carriswood's single remark, as she

smiled to herself. After Derry was dismissed she picked up a letter, written that day to a friend of hers, and

"Harry"one may look over her pretty shoulder without impertinence, in a story"Harry," she wrote, "is a

boy that I long to steal. Just the kind of boy we have both wanted, Sarahfrank, happy, affectionate. I must

tell you something about him. It came out by accident. He has the Western business instincts, and what do

you suppose he did? He actually started a wee shop of his own in the corner of the yard (really it is a

surprisingly pretty place, and they are quite civilized in the house, gas, hot water, steam heat, all most

comfortable), and sold 'pop' and candy and cakes to the boys. He made so much money that he proposed a

partnership to the cook and the setting up a little booth in the 'county fair,' which is like our rural cattle

shows, you know. The cook (a superior person who borrows books from Mrs. Lossing, but seems very decent

and respectful notwithstanding, and broils game to perfection. And SUCH game as we have here,

Sarah!)well, the cook made him creamcakes, sandwiches, tarts, and candy, and Harry honorably bought

all the provisions with his profits from the first venture. You will open your eyes at his father permitting such

a thing, but Henry Lossing is a thorough Westerner in some ways, and he looks on it all as a joke. 'Might

"Well, they had a ravishing display, so Alma, the cook, and William, the man, assured meper Derry. All

the sadder its fate; for alas! a gang of rowdy boys fell upon Harry, and while he was busy fighting half of

them he is as plucky as his uncle, the generalthe other half looted the beautiful stock in trade! They

would have despoiled our poor little merchant entirely but for the opportune arrival of a schoolmate who is

mightily respected by the rowdies. He knocked one of them down and shouted after the others that he would

give every one of them a good thrashing if they did not bring the plunder back; and as he is known to be a lad

of his word for good or evil, actually the scamps did return most of the booty, which the two boys brushed off

and sold, as far as it went (!) The consequence of the fray has been that Harry is unboundedly grateful to this

Tommy Fitzmaurice, and is at present coaching him on his graduating oration. Fitzmaurice has studied hard

and won honors, and wants to make a show with his oration, to please his father. 'You see,' says Harry,

'Tommy's father has saved money and is spending it all on Tommy, so's he can be educated. He needs

Tommy in the business real bad, but he won't let him come in; he keeps him at school, and he thinks

everything of his getting the valedictory, and Tommy, he worked nights studying to get it.' When I asked

what was the father's business, Harry grew a bit confused. 'Well, he kept a saloon; but'Harry hastened to

explain'it was a very nice saloon, never any trouble with the police there; why, Tommy knew every man

on the force. And they keep good liquors, too,' said Harry, earnestly; 'throw away all the beer left in the

glasses.' 'What else would they do with it?' asked innocent I. 'Why, keep it in a bucket,' said Harry, solemnly,

'and then slip the glass under the counter and half fill out of the bucket, then hold it under the keg LOW, so's

the foam will come; that's a trick of the trade, you know. Tommy says his father would SCORN that!' There

is a vista opened, isn't there? I was rather shocked at such associates for Harry, and told his mother. Did she

think it a good idea to have such a boy coming to the house? a saloonkeeper's son? She did not laugh, as I

half expected, but answered quite seriously that she had been looking up Tommy, that he was very much

attached to Harry, and that she did not think he would teach him anything bad. He has, I find myself, notions

of honor, though they are rather the code of the street. And he picks up things quickly. Once he came to tea. It

was amusing to see how he glued his eyes on Harry and kept time with his motions. He used his fork quite

properly, only as Harry is a lefthanded little fellow, the righthanded Thomas had the more difficulty.

"He is taking such vast pains with his 'oration' that I felt moved to help him. The subject is 'The Triumph of

Democracy,' and Tommy civilly explained that 'democracy' did not mean the Democratic party, but 'just only

"The oration was the kind of spreadeagle thing you might expect; I can see that Tommy has formed himself

on the orators of his father's respectable saloon. What he said in comment interested me more. 'Sure, I guess it

is the best government, ma'am, though, of course, I got to make it out that way, anyhow. But we come from

Ireland, and there they got the other kind, and me granny, she starved in the famine time, she did thatwith

the fever. Me father walked twenty mile to the Sackville's place, where they gave him some meal, though he

wasn't one of their tenants; yes, and the lady told him how he would be cooking it. I never will forget that

"I saw a dramatic opportunity: would Tommy be willing to tell that story in his speech? He looked at me with

an odd look or so I imagined it! 'Why not?' says he; 'I'd as soon as not tell it to anyone of them, and why

not to them all together?' Well, why not, when you come to think of it? So we have got it into the speech; and

I, I myself, Sarah, am drilling young Demosthenes, and he is so apt a scholar that I find myself rather

pleasantly employed." Having read her letter, Mrs. Carriswood hesitated a second and then added Derry's

information at the bottom of the page. "I suppose the lordly ancestor was one of King James's creation see

Macaulay, somewhere in the second volume. I dare say there is a drop or two of good blood in the boy. He

has the manners of a gentlemanbut I don't know that I ever saw an Irishman, no matter how low in the

Thus it happened that Tommy's valedictory scored a success that is a tradition of the High School, and came

to be printed in both the city papers; copies of which journals Tommy's mother has preserved sacredly to this

day; and I have no doubt, could one find them, they would be found wrapped around a yellow photograph of

the "A Class" of 1870: eight pretty girls in white, smiling among five solemn boys in black, and Tommy

himself, as the valedictorian, occupying the centre of the picture in his new suit of broadcloth, with a rose in

It was the story of the famine that really captured the audience; and Tommy told it well, with the true Irish

In the front seat of the parquette a little old man in a wrinkled black broadcloth, with a bald head and a fringe

of whisker under his long chin, and a meek little woman, in a red Paisley shawl, wept and laughed by turns.

They had taken the deepest interest in every essay and every speech. The old man clapped his large hands

(which were encased in loose, black kid gloves) with unflagging vigor. He wore a pair of heavy boots, the

"Ain't it wonderful the like of them young craters can talk like that!" he cried; "shure, Molly, that young lady

who'd the essay where is it?"a huge black forefinger travelled down the page "'Music, The Turkish

Patrol,' Nothough that's grand, that piece; I'll be spakin' wid Professor Von Keinmitz to bring it when

we've the opening. Here 'tis, Molly: 'Tin, Essay. The Darkest Night Brings Out the Stars, Miss Mamie

Odenheimer.' Thrue for you, mavourneen! And the sintiments, wasn't they illigant? and the langwidge was

as foine as Pat Ronan's speeches or Father whist! will ye look at the flowers that shlip of a gyirl's gitting!

"Fourteen bouquets and wan basket," says the little woman, "and Mamie Odenheimer, she got seventeen

bouquets and two baskets and a sign. Well," she looked anxious, but smiled, "I know of siven bouquets

Tommy will git for sure. And that's not countin' what Harry Lossing will do for him. Hiven bless the good

"Well, I kin count four for him on wan seat," says the man, with a nod of his head toward the gay heap in the

woman's lap, "barrin' I ain't onvaygled into flinging some of thim to the young ladies!"

Harry Lossing, in the seat behind with his mother and Mrs. Carriswood, giggled at this and whispered in the

latter lady's ear, "That's Tommy's father and mother. My, aren't they excited, though! And Tommy's white's a

sheetfor fear he'll disappoint them, you know. He has said his piece over twice to me, today, he's so

scared lest he'll forget. I've got it in my pocket, and I'm going behind when it's his turn, to prompt him. Did

He was almost as keen over the floral procession as the Fitzmaurices themselves. The Lossing garden had

been stripped to the last bud, and levies made on the asparagusbed, into the bargain, and Mrs. Lossing and

Alma and Mrs. Carriswood and Derry and Susy Lossing had made bouquets and baskets and wreaths, and

Harry had distributed them among friends in different parts of the house. I say Harry, but, complimented by

"Tommy thought they would make more show that way," says Harry, "and they are all on the middle aisle, so

his father and mother can see them; Tim O'Halloran has got one for him, too, and Mrs. Macillarney, and she's

But Harry knew nothing of the most magnificent of his friend's trophies until it undulated gloriously down

the aisle, above the heads of two men, white satin ribbons flying, tinfoil shiningan enormous horseshoe of

The parents were both on their feet to crane their necks after it, as it passed them amid the plaudits.

He took the ladies over to the Fitzmaurices the minute that the diplomas were given; and, directly, Tommy

joined them, attended by two admiring followers laden with the trophies. Mrs. O'Halloran and Mrs.

Macillarney and divers of the friends, both male and female, joined the circle. Tommy held quite a little

court. He shook hands with all the ladies, beginning with Mrs. Carriswood (who certainly never had found

herself before in such a company, jammed between Alderman McGinnis's resplendent new tweeds and Mrs.

Macillarney's calico); he affectionately embraced his mother, and he allowed himself to be embraced by Mrs.

Macillarney and Mrs. O'Halloran, while Patrick Fitzmaurice shook hands with the alderman.

"Here's the lady that helped me on me piece, father; she's the lady that sent me the horseshoe, mother. Like to

make you acquainted with me father and me mother. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzmaurice, Mrs. Carriswood."

"Sure, I'm proud to meet you, ma'am," said Fitzmaurice, bowing, while his wife courtesied and wiped her

They were very grateful, but they were more grateful for the flowers than for the oratorical drilling. No doubt

they thought that their Tommy could have done as well in any case; but the splendid horseshoe was another

Ten years passed before Mrs. Carriswood saw her pupil again. During those years the town had increased and

prospered; so had the Lossing Art Furniture Works. It was after Harry Lossing had disappointed his father.

This is not saying that he had done anything out of the way; he had simply declined to be the fourth Harry

Lossing on the rolls of Harvard College. Instead, he proposed to enter the business and to begin by learning

his own trade. He was so industrious, he kept at it with such energy that his first convert was his father no,

I am wrong, Mrs. Carriswood was the first; Mrs. Lossing was not a convert, SHE had believed in Harry from

Another of Master Harry's notions was his belief in the necessity of his "meddling"so his father put itin

the affairs of the town, the state, and the nation, as well as those of the Lossing furniture company. But,

though he was pleased to make rather cynical fun of his son's political enthusiasm, esteeming it in a sense a

diverting and therefore reprehensible pursuit for a business man, the elder Lossing had a sneaking pride in it,

"Fancy, Margaret," says he, "whom do you think Harry has brought over to our side now? The shrewdest

ward politician in the town why, you saw him when he was a boyTommy Fitzmaurice."

Then Mrs. Carriswood remembered; she asked, amused, how was Tommy and where was he?

"Tommy? Oh, he went to the State university; the old man was bound to send him, and he was more dutiful

than some sons. He was graduated with honors, and came back to a large, readymade justice court's

practice. Of course he drifted into criminal practice; but he has made a fine income out of that, and is the

shrewdest, some folks say the least scrupulous, political manager in the county. And so, Harry, you have

persuaded him to cast in his lot with the party of principle, have you? and he is packing the primaries?"

"I see nothing dishonest in our trying to get our friends out to vote at the primaries, sir."

"Of course not, but he may not stop there. However, I want Bailey elected, and I am glad he will work for us;

Harry blushed a little. "I believe he would like to be city attorney, sir," said he; and Mr. Lossing laughed.

"He would make the best kind of a one," replied Harry, with youthful fervor; "he's a ward politician and all

that, I know; but he has it in him to be an uncommon deal more! And I say, sir, do you know that he and the

old man will take twentyfive thousand of the stock at par if we turn ourselves into a corporation?"

"How about this new license measure? won't that bear a little bit hard on the old man?" This from Mr.

"That will not prevent his doing his duty; why, the old man for very pride will be the first to obey the law.

Six months later they did see, since it was mostly due to Fitzmaurice's efforts that the reform candidate was

elected; as a consequence, Tommy became prosecuting attorney; and, to the amazement of the critics, made

It was during the campaign that Mrs. Carriswood met him. Her goddaughter, daughter of the friend to whom

years ago she described Tommy, was with her. This time Mrs. Carriswood had recently added Florida to her

disappointments in climates, and was back, as she told Mrs. Lossing, "with a real sense of relief in a climate

She had brought Miss Van Harlem to see the shops. It may be that she would not have been averse to Harry

Lossing's growing interested in young Margaret. She had seen a great deal of Harry while he was East at

school, and he remained her first favorite, while Margaret was as good as she was pretty, and had half a

million of dollars in her own right. They had seen Harry, and he was showing them through the different

buildings or "shops," when a man entered who greeted him cordially, and whom he presented to Mrs.

Carriswood. It was Tommy Fitzmaurice, grown into a handsome young man. He brought his heels together

and made the ladies a solemn bow. "Pleased to meet you, ladies; how do you like the West?" said Tommy.

His black locks curled about his ears, which seemed rather small now; he had a good nose and a mobile,

cleanshaven face. His hands were very white and soft, and the rim of linen above them was dazzling. His

black frockcoat was buttoned snugly about his slim waist. He brushed his face with a fine silk handkerchief,

and thereby diffused the fragrance of the best imported cologne among the odors of wood and turpentine. A

diamond pin sparkled from his neckscarf. The truth is, he knew that the visitors were coming and had made a

state toilet. "He looks half like an actor and half like a clergyman, and he IS all a politician," thought Mrs.

Carriswood; "I don't think I shall like him any more." While she thought, she was inclining her slender neck

toward him, and the gentlest interest and pleasure beamed out of her beautiful, dark eyes.

"We like the West, but I have liked it for ten years; this is not my first visit," said Mrs. Carriswood.

"I have reason to be glad for that, madam. I never made another speech so good."

"But you have," says Mrs. Carriswood, hardly knowing whether to show the young man his place or not.

"Much obliged, Harry. No, ma'am, Harry is a nice boy; but he doesn't know. I know there is a lot to learn, and

I guess a lot to unlearn; and I feel all outside; I don't even know how to get at it. I have wished a thousand

times that I could talk with the lady who taught me to speak in the first place." He walked on by her side,

talking eagerly. "You don't know how many times I have felt I would give most anything for the opportunity

of just seeing you and talking with you; those things you said to me I always remembered." He had a hundred

questions evidently stinging his tongue. And some of them seemed to Mrs. Carriswood very apposite.

"I'm on the outside of such a lot of things," says he. "When I first began to suspect that I was on the outside

was when I went to the High School, and sometimes I was invited to Harry's; that was my first acquaintance

with cultivated society. You can't learn manners from books, ma'am. I learned them at Harry's. That is,"he

colored and laughed,"I learned SOME. There's plenty left, I know. Then, I went to the University. Some of

the boys came from homes like Harry's, and some of the professors there used to ask us to their houses; and I

saw engravings and oil paintings, and heard the conversation of persons of culture. All this only makes me

know enough to KNOW I am outside. I can see the same thing with the lawyers, too. There is a set of them

that are after another kind of things; that think themselves above me and my sort of fellows. You know all the

talk about this being a free and equal country. That's the tallest kind of humbug, madam! It is that. There are

sets, one above another, everywhere; big bugs and little bugs, if you will excuse the expression. And you

can't influence the big ones without knowing how they feel. A fellow can't be poking in the dark in a speech

or anywhere else. Now, these fellows here, they go into politics, sometimes; and there, I tell you, we come

the nearest to a fair field and no favor! It is the best fellow gets the prize therethe sharpestwitted, the

nerviest, and stanchest. Oh, talk of machine politics! all the soft chaps who ain't willing to get up early in the

morning, or to go out in the wet, THEY howl about the primaries and corruption; let them get up and clean

the primaries instead of holding their noses! Those fellows, I'm not nice enough for them, but I can beat them

every time. They make a monstrous racket in the newspapers, but when election comes on they can't touch

Discoursing in this fashion, with digressions to Harry in regard to the machines, the furniture, and the sales,

that showed Mrs. Carriswood that he meant to keep an eye on his twenty odd thousand dollars, he strolled at

her side. To Miss Van Harlem he scarcely said three words. In fact, he said exactly three words, uttered as

Miss Margaret's silken skirts swung too near a pot of varnish. They were "Look out, miss!" and at the same

second, Tommy (who was in advance, with really no call to know of the danger), turned on his heel and

Tommy told Harry that Miss Van Harlem was a very handsome lady, but haughtylooking. Then he talked

"I am inclined to think Tommy will rise." (Mrs. Carriswood was describing the interview to her cousin, the

next day.) "What do you think he said to me last of all? 'How,' said he, 'does a man, a gentleman'it had a

touch of the pathetic, don't you know, the little hesitation he made on the word'how does he show his

gratitude to a lady who has done him a great service?' 'Young or old?' I said. 'Oh, a married lady,' he said,

'very much admired, who has been everywhere.' Wasn't that clever of him? I told him that a man usually sent

a few flowers. You saw the basket todayevidently regardless of expense. And fancy, there was a card, a

"The card was his mother's. She has visiting cards, now, and pays visits once a year in a livery carriage. Poor

Mrs. Fitzmaurice, she is always so scared; and she is such a good soul! Tommy is very good to her."

"Yes; but he talks of retiring. They are not poor at all, and Tommy is their only child; the others died. It is

hard on the old man to retire, for he isn't so very old in fact, but if he once is convinced that his calling stands

"Poor people," said Mrs. Carriswood; "do you know, Grace, I can see Tommy's future; he will grow to be a

boss, a political boss. He will become rich by keeping your streets always being cleaned which means

never cleanand giving you the worst fire department and police to be obtained for money; and, by and by,

a grateful machine will make him mayor, or send him to the Legislature, very likely to Congress, where he

will misrepresent the honest State of Iowa. Then he will bloom out in a social way, and marry a

"Well, we shall see," said Mrs. Lossing; "I think better things of Tommy. So does Harry."

Part of the prophecy was to be speedily fulfilled. Two years later, the Honorable Thomas Fitzmaurice was

elected mayor of his city, elected by the reform party, on account of his eminent servicesand because he

was the only man in sight who had the ghost of a chance of winning. Harry's version was: "Tommy jests at

his new principles, but that is simply because he doesn't comprehend what they are. He laughs at reform in

the abstract; but every concrete, practical reform he is as anxious as I or anybody to bring about. And he will

He was as good as his word; he gave the city an admirable administration, with neither fear nor favor. Some

of the "boys" still clung to him; these, according to Harry, were the better "boys," who had the seeds of good

in them and only needed opportunity and a leader. Tommy did not flag in zeal; rather, as the time went on

and he soared out of the criminal courts into big civil cases involving property, he grew up to the level of his

admirers' praises. "Tommy," wrote Mr. Lossing, presently, "is beginning to take himself seriously. He has

been told so often that he is a young lion of reform, that he begins to study the role in dead earnest. I don't

talk this way to Harry, who believes in him and is training him for the representative for our district. What

harm? Verily, his is the faith that will move mountains. Besides, Tommy is now rich; he must be worth a

hundred thousand dollars, which makes a man of wealth in these parts. It is time for him to be respectable."

Notwithstanding this preparation, Mrs. Carriswood (then giving Washington the benefit of her doubts of

climate) was surprised one day to receive a perfectly correct visiting card whereon was engraved, "Mr.

The young lady who was with her lifted her brilliant hazel eyes and half smiled. "Is it the droll young man we

There entered, in the wake of the butler, a distinguishedlooking personage who held out his hand with a

perfect copy of the bow that she saw forty times a day. "He is taking himself very seriously," she sighed; "he

is precisely like anybody else!" And she felt her interest snuffed out by Tommy's correctness. But, directly,

she changed her mind; the unfailing charm of his race asserted itself in Tommy; she decided that he was a

delightful, original young man, and in ten minutes they were talking in the same odd confidence that had

"Ah, do you remember that?" said he; "that's awfully good of you. Which is so fortunate as to please you, my

"Both. They are very good. Where did you get them, Tommy? I shall take the privilege of my age and call

"Thank you. The clothes? Oh, I asked Harry for the proper thing, and he recommended a tailor. I think Harry

Gone were the days of sarcastic ridicule, of visionary politics. Tommy talked of the civil service in the tone

"Why, Aunt Margaret, he is a remarkable young man," exclaimed Miss Van Harlem; "his honesty and

enthusiasm are refreshing in this pessimist place. I hope he will come again. Did you notice what lovely eyes

Before long it was not pure goodnature that caused Mrs. Carriswood to ask Fitzmaurice to her house. He

was known as a rising young man, One met him at the best houses; yet he was a prodigious worker, and had

made his mark in committees, before the celebrated speech that sent him into all the newspaper columns, or

that stubborn and infinitely versatile fight against odds which inspired the artist of PUCK.

Tommy bore the cartoon to Mrs. Carriswood, beaming. She had not seen that light in his face since the

memorable June afternoon in the Operahouse. He sent the paper to his mother, who vowed the picture "did

not favor Tommy at all, at all. Sure Tommy never had such a red nose!" The old man, however, went to his

It was about this time that Mrs. Carriswood observed something that took her breath away: Tommy

Fitzmaurice had the presumption to be attentive to my lady's goddaughter, Miss Van Harlem. Nor was this

the worst; there were indications that Miss Van Harlem, who had refused the noble names and titles of two or

three continental nobles, and the noble name unaccompanied by a title of the younger son of an English earl,

without mentioning the halfdozen "nice" American claimantsMiss Van Harlem was not angry.

The day this staggering blow fell on her, Mrs. Carriswood was in her dressingroom, peacefully watching

Derry unpack a box from Paris, in anticipation of a state dinner. And Miss Van Harlem, in a bewitching

wrapper, sat on the lounge and admired. Upon this scene of feminine peace and happiness enter the

Destroyer, in the shape of a note from Tommy Fitzmaurice! Were they going on Beatoun's little excursion to

Alexandria? If they were, he would move heaven and earth to put off a committee meeting, in order to join

them. By the way, he was to get the floor for his speech that afternoon. Wouldn't Mrs. Carriswood come to

It was a wellworded note; as Mrs. Carriswood read it she realized for the first time how completely Tommy

was acclimated in society. She remembered his plaint years ago, and his awe of "oil paintings" and "people of

culture;" and she laughed halfsadly as she passed the note over to Miss Van Harlem.

"I presume it is the Alexandria excursion that the Beatouns were talking about yesterday," she said, languidly.

"He wants to show that young Irishman that we have a mild flavor of antiquity, ourselves. We are to see

Alexandria and have a real old Virginian dinner, including one of the famous Beatoun hams and some of the

'69 Chateau Yquem and the sacred '47 port. I suppose he will have the fourinhand buckboard. 'A small

party ' that will mean the Honorable Basil Sackville, Mrs. Beatoun, Lilly Denning, probably one of the

Cabinet girls, Colonel Turner, and that young Russian Beatoun is so fond of, Tommy Fitzmaurice "

"Why do you always call Mr. Fitzmaurice Tommy?"this interruption comes with a slight rise of color from

"Everybody calls him Tommy in his own town; a politician as popular as he with the boys is naturally

Tommy or Jerry or Billy. They slap him on the back or sit with an arm around his neck and concoct the ways

"I don't think anyone slaps Mr. Fitzmaurice on the back and calls him Tommy, NOW," says Margaret, with a

"I dare say his poor old father and mother don't venture on that liberty; I wish you had seen them "

And Mrs. Carriswood's dismay was such that for a second she simply gasped. Were things so far along that

such confessions were made? Tommy must be very confident to venture; it was shrewd, very shrewd, to

forestall Mrs. Carriswood's sure revelationsoh, Tommy was not a politician for nothing!

"Besides," Margaret went on, with the same note of repressed feeling in her voice, "his is a good family, if

"She takes HIM seriously too!" thought Mrs. Carriswood, with inexpressible consternation; "what SHALL I

Strange to say, perhaps, considering that she was so frankly a woman of the world, her stubbornest

objection to Tommy was not an objection of expediency. She had insensibly grown to take his success for

granted, like the rest of the Washington world; he would be a governor, a senator, he might beanything!

And he was perfectly presentable, now; no, it would be on the whole an investment in the future that would

pay well enough; his parents would be awkward, but they were old people, not likely to be too much en

Mrs. Carriswood, while not overjoyed, would not feel crushed by such a match, but she did view what she

regarded as Tommy's moral instability, with a dubious and fearful eye. He was earnest enough for his new

principles now; but what warrant was there of his sincerity? Margaret and her mother were highminded

women. It was the gallant knight of her party and her political faith that the girl admired, the valiant fight, not

the triumph! No mere soldier of fortune, no matter how successful or how brilliant, could win her; if Tommy

Wherefore, after a bad quarter of an hour reflecting on these things, Mrs. Carriswood went to the Capitol,

resolved to take her goddaughter away. She would not withdraw her acceptance of the Beatouns' invitation,

no; let the Iowa congressman have every opportunity to display his social shortcomings in contrast with the

accomplished Russian, and Jack Turner, the most elegant man in the army; the next day would be time

enough for a telegram and a sudden flitting. Yet in the midst of her plans for Tommy's discomfiture she was

assailed by a queer regret and reluctance. Tommy's fascination had affected even a professional critic of life;

he had been so amusing, so willing, so trusting, so useful, that her chill interest had warmed into liking. She

felt a moving of the heart as the handsome black head arose, and the first notes of that resonant, thrilling

As Mrs. Carriswood sank back, turning a little in an instinctive effort to repulse her own sympathy, she was

aware of the presence near her of an elderly man and woman. The old man wore a shining silk hat and

shining new black clothes. His expansive shirtbosom was very white, but not glossy, and rumpled in places;

and his collar was of the spiked and antique pattern known as a "dickey." His wrinkled, red face was edged

by a white fringe of whisker. He wore large goldbowed spectacles, and his jaws worked incessantly.

The woman was a little, mild, wrinkled creature, with an anxious blue eye and snowy hair, smoothed down

over her ears, under her fine bonnet. She was richly dressed, but her silks and velvets ill suited the season.

Had she seen them anywhere else, Mrs. Carriswood might not have recognized them; but there, with Tommy

before them, both of them feverishly absorbed in Tommy, she recognized them at a glance. She had a twinge

of pity, watching the old faces pale and kindle. With the first rustle of applause, she saw the old father slip his

hand into the old mother's. They sat well behind a pillar; and however excited they became, they never so lost

themselves as to lean in front of their shield. This, also, she noticed. The speech over, the woman wiped her

eyes. The old man joined in the tumult of applause that swept over the galleries, but the old woman pulled his

arm, evidently feeling that it was not decent for them to applaud. She sat rigid, with red cheeks and her eyes

brimming; he was swaying and clapping and laughing in a roar of delight. But it was he that drew her away,

finally, while she fain would have lingered to look at Tommy receiving congratulations below.

"Poor things," said Mrs. Carriswood, "I do believe they haven't let him know that they are here." And she

remembered how she had pitied them for this very possibility of humiliation years before. But she did not

pursue the adventure, and some obscure motive prevented her speaking of it to Miss Van Harlem.

Did Tommy's parents tell Tommy? If they did, Tommy made no sign. The morning found him with the

others, in a beautiful white flannel suit, with a silk shirt and a red silk sash, looking handsomer than any man

of the party. He took the congratulations of the company modestly. Either he was not much puffed up, or he

They saw Alexandria in a conscientious fashion, for the benefit of the guest of the day. He was a modest

young fellow with a nose rather too large for his face, a long upper lip, and frank blue eyes. He made himself

agreeable to one of the Cabinet girls, on the front seat, while Tommy, just behind him, had Miss Van Harlem

The old streets, the toppling roofs, the musty warehouses, the uneven pavement, all pleased the young

creatures out in the sunshine. They made merry over the ancient ballroom, where Washington had asked a

faraway ancestress of Beatoun to dance; and they decorously walked through the old church.

IT happened in the church. Mrs. Carriswood was behind the others; so she saw them come in, the same little

In the chancel, Beatoun was explaining; beside Beatoun shone a curly black head that they knew.

Mrs. Carriswood sat in one of the high old pews. Through a crack she could look into the next pew; and there

they stood. She heard the old man: "Whist, Molly, let's be getting out of this! HE is here with all his grand

The old woman's voice was so like Tommy's that it made Mrs. Carriswood start. Very softly she spoke: "I

only want to look at him a minute, Pat, jest a minute. I ain't seen him for so long."

"And is it any longer for you than for me?" retorted the husband. "Ye know what ye promised if I'd be taking

you here, unbeknownst. Don't look his way! Look like ye was a stranger to him. Don't let us be mortifying

him wid our country ways. Like as not 'tis the prisidint, himself, he is colloguein' wid, this blessed minute.

A stranger to him, his own mother! But she stepped back; she turned her patient face. ThenTommy saw

A wave of red flushed all over his face. He took two steps down the aisle, and caught the little figure in his

And before Mrs. Carriswood could speak she saw him step back and push young Sackville forward, crying,

He did it so easily; he was so entirely unaffected, so perfectly unconscious, that there was nothing at all

embarrassing for anyone. Even the Cabinet girl, with a grandmother in very humble life, who must be kept in

For this happy result Mrs. Carriswood owns a share of the credit. She advanced on the first pause, and

claimed acquaintanceship with the Fitzmaurices. The story of their last meeting and Tommy's first triumph in

oratory came, of course; the famous horseshoe received due mention; and Tommy described with much

humor his terror of the stage. From the speech to its most effective passage was a natural transition; equally

natural the transition to Tommy's grandmother, the Irish famine, and the benevolence of Lady Sackville.

Everybody was interested, and it was Sackville himself, who brought the Fitzmaurices' noble ancestors, the

He was entirely serious. "My grandmother told me of your greatgrandfather, Lord Fitzmaurice; she saw him

ride to hounds once, when she was a little girl. They say he was the boldest rider in Ireland, and a renowned

duellist too. King James gave the title to his grandfather, didn't he? and the countryside kept it, if it was given

rather too late in the day to be useful. I am glad you have restored the family fortunes, Mr. Fitzmaurice."

The Cabinet girl looked on Tommy with respect, and Miss Van Harlem blushed like an angel.

"All is lost," said Mrs. Carriswood to herself; yet she smiled. Going home, she found a word for Tommy's

ear. The old Virginian dinner had been most successful. The Fitzmaurices (who had been almost forced into

the banquet by Beatoun's imperious hospitality) were not a wet blanket in the least. Patrick Fitzmaurice,

brogue and all, was an Irish gentleman without a flaw. He blossomed out into a modest wag; and told two or

three comic stories as acceptably as he was used to tell them to a very different circleonly, carrying a

fresher flavor of wit to this circle, perhaps, it enjoyed them more. Mrs. Fitzmaurice looked scared and ate

almost nothing, with the greatest propriety, and her fork in her left hand. Yet even she thawed under Miss

Van Harlem's attentions and gentle Mrs. Beatoun's tact, and the winning ways of the last Beatoun baby. She

took this absent cherub to her heart with such undissembled warmth that its mother ever since has called her

They were both (Patrick and his wife) quite unassuming and retiring, and no urging could dissuade them from

"My word, Tommy, your mother and I can git home by ourselves," whispered honest Patrick; "we've not

exceededif the wines WERE good. I never exceeded in my life, God take the glory!"

But he embraced Tommy so affectionately in parting that I confess Mrs. Carriswood had suspicions. Yet,

surely, it is more likely that his brain waslet us not say TURNED, but just a wee bit TILTED, by the joy

But Mrs. Carriswood's word had nothing to do with Tommy's parents, ostensibly, though, in truth, it had

everything to do. She said: "Will you dine with us tomorrow, quite en famille, Thomas?"

"I ought to tell you, I suppose, that I find your house a pretty dangerous paradise, Mrs. Carriswood," says

"Thank you," answers Tommy, in a different tone; "you've always been an angel to me. What I owe to you

and Harry Lossingwell, I can't talk about it. But see here, Mrs. Carriswood, you always have called me

He looked puzzled, and she liked him the better that he should not make enough of his conduct to understand

her; but, though she has called him Tommy often since, he keeps the brevet in her thoughts. In fact, Mrs.

Carriswood is beginning to take the Honorable Thomas Fitzmaurice and his place in the world seriously,

THE Louders lived on the second floor, at the head of the stairs, in the Lossing Building. There is a restaurant

to the right; and a new doctor, every six months, who is every kind of a healer except "regular," keeps the

permanent boarders in gossip, to the left; two or three dressmakers, a dentist, and a diamond merchant

upstairs, one flight; and half a dozen families and a dozen single tenants higherso you see the Louders

had plenty of neighbors. In fact, the multitude of the neighbors is one cause of my story.

Tilly Louder came home from the Lossing factory (where she is a typewriter) one February afternoon. As she

turned the corner, she was face to the river, which is not so full of shipping in winter that one cannot see the

steelblue glint of the water. Back of her the brick paved street climbed the hill, under a shapeless arch of

trees. The remorseless pencil of a railway has drawn black lines at the foot of the hill; and, all day and all

night, slender red bars rise and sink in their black sockets, to the accompaniment of the outcry of tortured

steam. All day, if not all night, the crooked pole slips up and down the trolley wire, as the yellow cars rattle,

and flash, and clang a spiteful little bell, that sounds like a soprano bark, over the crossings.

It is customary in the Lossing Building to say, "We are so handy to the cars." The street is a handsome street,

not free from dingy old brick boxes of stores below the railway, but fast replacing them with fairer structures.

The Lossing Building has the wide arches, the recessed doors, the balconies and the colonnades of modern

business architecture. The occupants are very proud of the balconies, in particular; and, summer days, these

will be a mass of greenery and bright tints. Today, it was so warm, February day though it was, that some of

Tilly could see them if she craned her neck. There were some bouvardias and fuchsias of her mother's among

She was a young woman, but not a very young woman. Her figure was slim, and she looked better in loose

waists than in tightly fitted gowns. She wore a dark green gown with a black jacket, and a scarlet shirtwaist

underneath. Her face was long, with square chin and high cheekbones, and thin, firm lips; yet she was

comely, because of her lustrous black hair, her clear, gray eyes, and her charming, fair skin. She had another

gift: everything about her was daintily neat; at first glance one said, "Here is a person who has spent pains, if

By this time Tilly was entering the Lossing Building. Halfway up the stairway a hand plucked her skirts.

The hand belonged to a tiredfaced woman in black, on whose breast glittered a little crowd of pins and

"Please excuse me, Miss Tilly," said the woman, at the same time presenting a flat package in brown paper,

"but WILL you give this pattern back to your mother. I am so very much obliged. I don't know how I

Not very far. A stout woman and a thin young man, with long, wavy, red hair, awaited her on the landing.

The woman held a plate of cake which she thrust at Tilly the instant they were on the same level, saying:

"The cake was just splendid, tell your mother; it's a lovely recipe, and will you tell her to take this, and see

"AndahMiss Louder," said the man, as the stout woman rustled away, "here are some Banner of Lights;

I think she'd be interested in some of the articles on the true principles of the inspirational faith " Tilly

placed the bundle of newspapers at the base of her load"andand, I wish you'd tell your dear mother that,

She had advanced a little space before a young girl in a bright blue silk gown flung a radiant presence

between her and the door. "Oh, Miss Tilly," she murmured, blushing, "will you just give your mother

this?it'sit's Jim's photograph. You tell her it's ALL right; and SHE was exactly right, and I was wrong.

Tilly, with a look of resignation, accepted a stiff package done up in white tissue paper. She had now only

three steps to take: she took two, only two, for"Miss Tilly, PLEASE!" a voice pealed around the corner,

while a flushed and breathless young woman, with a large baby toppling over her lean shoulder, staggered

into view. "My!" she panted, "ain't it tiresome lugging a child! I missed the car, of course, coming home from

ma's. Oh, say, Tilly, your mother was so good, she said she'd tend Blossom next time I went to the doctor's,

"I'll take the baby," said Tilly. She hoisted the infant on to her own shoulder with her right arm. "Perhaps

you'll be so kind's to turn the handle of the door," said she in a slightly caustic tone, "as I haven't got any

As the young mother opened the door, Tilly entered the parlor. For a second she stood and stared grimly

about her. The furniture of the room was oldfashioned but in the best repair. There was a cabinet organ in

one corner. A crayon portrait of Tilly's father (killed in the civil war) glared out of a florid gilt frame. Perhaps

it was the fault of the portrait, but he had a peevish frown. There were two other portraits of him, large

ghastly gray tintypes in oval frames of rosewood, obscurely suggesting coffins. In these he looked distinctly

sullen. He was represented in uniform (being a lieutenant of volunteers), and the artist had conscientiously

gilded his buttons until, as Mrs. Louder was wont to observe, "It most made you want to cut them off with the

scissors." There were other tintypes and a flock of photographs in the room. What Mrs. Louder named "a

throw" decorated each framed picture and each chair. The largest armchair was drawn up to a table covered

At Tilly's entrance she started and turned her head, and then one could see that the tears were streaming down

"Now, MOTHER!" exploded Tilly. Kicking the door open, she marched into the bedchamber. An indignant

sweep of one arm sent the miscellany of gifts into a rockingchair; an indignant curve of the other landed the

baby on the bed. Tilly turned on her mother. "Now, mother, what did you promise HUSH! will you?" (The

latter part of the sentence a fierce "ASIDE" to the infant on the bed.) In a second Mrs. Louder's arms were

encircling him, and she was soothing him on her broad shoulder, where I know not how many babies have

Jane Louder was a tall womantall and portly. She had a massive repose about her, a kind of soft dignity;

and a stranger would not guess how tender was her heart. Deprecatingly she looked up at her only child,

standing in judgment over her. Her eyes were fine still, though they had sparkled and wept for more than half

a century. They were not gray, like Tilly's, but a deep violet, with black eyelashes and eyebrows. Black, once,

had been the hair under the widow's cap, now streaked with silver; but Jane Louder's skin was fresh and

daintily tinted like her daughter's, for all its fine wrinkles. Her voice when she spoke was mellow and slow,

with a nervous vibration of apology. "Never mind, dear," she said, "I was just reading 'bout the Russians."

"I know, Tilly, but Alma Brown lent this to me, herself. There's a beautiful article in it about 'The Horrors of

"No, thank you. I don't care to have my heart ache. I'm not going to read any more horrors about the

Russians, or hear them either, if I can help it. I have to write Mr. Lossing's letters about them, and that's

enough. I've given all I can afford, and you've given more than you can afford; and I helped get up the

subscription at the shops. I've done all I could; and now I ain't going to have my feelings harrowed up any

"But I cayn't HELP it, Tilly. I cayn't take any comfort in my meals, thinking of that awful black bread the

poor children starve rather than eat; and, Tilly, they ain't so dirty as some folks think! I read in a magazine

how they have GOT to bathe twice a week by their religion; and there's a bathhouse in every village. Tilly,

"Over three thousand. This town is the greatest town for giving give to the cholera down South, give to

Johnstown, give to Grinnell, give to cyclones, give to fires. The Freeman always starts up a subscription, and

Mr. Bayard runs the thing, and Mr. Lossing always gives. Mother, I tell you HE makes them hustle when he

takes hold. He's the chairman here, and he has township chairmen appointed for every township. He's so

popular they start in to oblige him, and then, someway, he makes them all interested. I must tell you of a

funny letter he had today from a Captain Ferguson, out at Baxter. He's a rich farmer with lots of influence

and a great worker, Mr. Lossing says. But this is 'most word for word what he wrote: 'Dear Sir: I am sorry for

the Russians, but my wife is down with the la grippe, and I can't get a hired girl; so I have to stay with her. If

"No, ma'am. He said he'd try if it was the city, but it was easier finding goldmines than girls that would go

into the country. See here, I'm forgetting your presents. Mother, you look real dragged andqueer!"

Tilly was sorting out the parcels and explaining them; at the end of her task her mind harked back to an old

grievance. "Mother," said she, "I've been thinking for a long time, and I've made up my mind."

"Yes, dearie." Mrs. Louder's eyes grew troubled. She knew something of the quality of Tilly's mind, which

resembled her father's in a peculiar immobility. Once let her decision run into any mould (be it whatsoever it

might), and let it stiffen, there was no chance, any more than with other iron things, of its bending.

"Positively I could hardly get up the stairs today," said Tilly she was putting her jacket and hat away in her

orderly fashion; of necessity her back was to Mrs. Louder"there was such a raft of people wanting to send

stuff and messages to you. You are just working yourself to death; and, mother, I am convinced we have got

Mrs. Louder dropped into a chair and gasped. The baby, who had fallen asleep, stirred uneasily. It was not a

pretty child; its face was heavy, its little cheeks were roughened by the wind, its lower lip sagged, its chin

creased into the semblance of a fat old man's. But Jane Louder gazed down on it with infinite compassion.

"Tilly," said she, "I've been in this block, Mrs. Carleton and me, ever since it was built; and, some way,

between us we've managed to keep the run of all the folks in it; at least when they were in any trouble. We've

worked together like sisters. She's 'Piscopal, and I guess I'm Unitarian; but never a word between us. We

tended the Willardses through diphtheria and the Hopkinses through smallpox, and we steamed and

fumigated the rooms together. It was her first found out the Dillses were letting that twelveyearold child

run the gasoline stove, and she threatened to tell Mr. Lossing, and they begged off; and when it exploded we

put it out together, with flour out of her flourbarrel, for the poor, shiftless things hadn't half a sack full of

their own; and her and me, we took half the care of that little neglected Ellis baby that was always sitting

down in the sticky flypaper, poor innocent child. He's took the valedictory at the High School, Tilly, now.

No, Tilly, I couldn't bring myself to leave this building, where I've married them, and buried them, and born

them, you may say, being with so many of their mothers; I feel like they was all my children. Don't ASK

Tilly's head went upward and backward with a little dilatation of the nostrils. "Now, mother," said she in a

voice of determined gentleness, "just listen to me. Would I ask you to do anything that wouldn't be for your

happiness? I have found a real pretty house up on Fifteenth Street; and we'll keep house together, just as

cosey; and have a woman come to wash and iron and scrub, so it won't be a bit hard; and be right on the

streetcars; and you won't have to drudge helping Mrs. Carleton extra times with her restaurant."

"But, Tilly," eagerly interrupted Mrs. Louder, "you know I dearly love to cook, and she PAYS me. I couldn't

feel right to take any of the pension money, or the little property your father left me, away from the house

expenses; but what I earn myself, it is SUCH a comfort to give away out of THAT."

Tilly ran over and kissed the agitated face. "You dear, generous mother!" cried she, "I'LL give you all the

money you want to spend or give. I got another rise in my salary of five a month. Don't you worry."

"Don't you think it's best done and over with, after we've decided, mother? You have worked so hard all your

"But, Tilly, I love to work; I wouldn't be happy to do nothing, and I'd get so fleshy!"

Tilly only laughed. She did not crave the show of authority. Let her but have her own way, she would never

flaunt her victories. She was imperious, but she was not arrogant. For months she had been pondering how to

give her mother an easier life; and she set the table for supper, in a filial glow of satisfaction, never dreaming

that her mother, in the kitchen, was keeping her head turned from the stove lest she should cry into the fried

ham and stewed potatoes. But, at a sudden thought, Jane Louder laid her big spoon down to wipe her eyes.

"Here you are, Jane Louder"thus she addressed herself"mourning and grieving to leave your friends and

be laid aside for a useless old woman, and jist be taken care of, and you clean forgetting the chance the Lord

A smile of exaltation, of lofty resolution, erased the worry lines on her face. "Why, it might be to save twenty

lives," said she; but in the very speaking of the words a sharp pain wrenched her heart again, and she caught

up the baby from the floor, where he sat in a wall of chairs, and sobbed over him: "Oh, how can I go away

She never thought of disputing Tilly's wishes. "It's only fair," said Jane. "She's lived here all these years to

Neither did she for a moment hope to change Tilly's determination. "She was the settest baby ever was,"

thought poor Jane, tossing on her pillow, in the night watches, "and it's grown with every inch of her!"

But in the morning she surprised her daughter. "Tilly," said she at the breakfasttable, "Tilly, I got something

"And how I've wished and wished I could do something something to COUNT? I never could, Tilly,

because I ain't got the money or the intellect; but s'posing I could do it for somebody else, like this Captain

Ferguson who could do so much if he just could get a hired girl to take care of his wife. Well, I do know how

Tilly could restrain herself no longer; her voice rose to a shout of dismay"Mother Louder, you AIN'T

"Not their hired girl, Tilly; just their help, so as he can work for those poor starving creatures." Jane strangled

a sob in her throat. Tilly, in a kind of stupor of bewilderment, frowned at her plate. Then her clouded face

cleared. If Mrs. Louder had surprised her daughter, her daughter repaid the surprise. "Well, if you feel that

way, mother," said she, "I won't say a word; and I'll ask Mr. Lossing to explain to the Fergusons and fix

For some reason Tilly's throat felt dry, she lifted her cup. She did not intend to look across the table, but her

eyes escaped her. She set the coffee down untasted. The clock was slow, she muttered; and she left the room.

Jane Louder remained in her place, with the same pale face, staring at the tablecloth.

"It don't seem like I COULD go, now," she thought dully to herself; "the time's so awful short, I don't s'pose

Maria Carleton can git up to see me more'n once or twice a month, busy as she is! I got so to depend on

seeing her every day. A sister couldn't be kinder! I don't see how I am going to bear it. And to go away,

For a long while she sat, her face hardly changing. At last, when she did push her chair away, her lips were

tightly closed. She spoke to the little pile of books lying on the table in the corner. "I cayn'tthese are my

own and you are strangers!" She walked across the room to take up the same magazine which Tilly had found

her reading the day before. When she began reading she looked sternpoor Jane, she was steeling her

heart but in a little while she was sniffing and blowing her nose. With a groan she flung the book aside.

She did go. Harry Lossing made all the arrangements. Tilly was satisfied. But, then, Tilly had not heard

Harry's remark to his mother: "Alma says Miss Louder is trying to make the old lady move against her will. I

dare say it would be better to give the young woman a chance to miss her mother and take a little quiet

Tilly saw her mother off on the train to Baxter, the Fergusons' station. Being a provident, farsighted, and

also inexperienced traveller, she had allowed a full halfhour for preliminary passages at arms with the

railway officials; and, as the train happened to be an hour late, she found herself with time to spare, even after

she had exhausted the catalogue of possible deceptions and catastrophes by rail. During the silence that

followed her last warning, she sat mentally keeping tally on her fingers. "Confidence men" Tilly began

with the thumb"Never give anybody her check. Never lend anybody money. Never write her name to

anything. Don't get out till conductor tells her. In case of accident, telegraph me, and keep in the middle of

the car, off the trucks. Not take care of anybody's baby while she goes off for a minute. Not take care of

Tilly felt a movement of impatience; there, after all her cautions, there was her mother helping an old woman,

an utterly strange old woman, to pile a birdcage on a bandbox surmounting a bag. The old woman was clad

in a black alpaca frock, made with the voluminous draperies of years ago, but with the uncreased folds and

the brilliant gloss of a new gown. She wore a bonnet of a singular shape, unknown to fashion, but made out

of good velvet. Beneath the bonnet (which was large) appeared a little, round, agitated old face, with bobbing

white curls and white teeth set a little apart in the mouth, a defect that brought a kind of palpitating frankness

"Now, who HAS mother picked up now?" thought Tilly. "Well, praise be, she hasn't a baby, anyhow!"

She could hear the talk between the two; for the old woman being deaf, Mrs. Louder elevated her voice, and

the old woman, herself, spoke in a high, thin pipe that somehow reminded Tilly of a lost lamb.

"That's just so," said Mrs. Louder, "a body cayn't help worrying over a sick child, especially if they're away

"Solon and Minnie wouldn't tell me," bleated the other woman, "they knew I'd worry. Kinder hurt me they

should keep things from me; but they hate to have me upset. They are awful good children. But I suspicioned

something when Alonzo kept writing. Minnie, she wouldn't tell me, but I pinned her down and it come out,

Eliza had the grip bad. And, then, nothing would do but I must go to herwhy, Mrs. Louder, she's my child!

As she talked her eyes were darting about the room, eagerly fixed on every new arrival.

"Are you expecting anyone, Mrs. Higbee?" said Jane. They seemed, at least, to know each other by name,

"No," said Mrs. Higbee, "II fact is, I'm kinder frightened. Ifact is, Mrs. Louder, I guess I'll tell you,

though I don't know you very well; but I've known about you so long I run away and didn't tell 'em. I just

couldn't stay way from Liza. And I took the birdfor the children; and it's my bird, and I was 'fraid Minnie

would forget to feed it and it would be lonesome. My children are awful kind good children, but they don't

understand. And if Solon sees me he will want me to go back. I know I'm dretful foolish; and Solon and

Minnie will make me see I am. There won't be no good reason for me to go, and I'll have to stay; and I feel as

She ran a few steps in half a dozen ways, then fluttered back to her bag and her cage.

"Well," said Mrs. Louder, drawing herself up to her full height, "you SHALL go if you want to."

Then a most unexpected helper stepped upon the stage. What is the mysterious instinct of rebellion to

authority that, nine cases out of ten, sends us to the aid of a fugitive? Tilly, the unconscious despot of her own

"Not if I carry it," said she, snatching up the birdcage; "run inside that den where they sell refreshments;

It fell out precisely as she planned. They heard Solon demanding a lady with a birdcage of the agent; they

heard the agent's reply, given with official indifference, "There she is, inside." Directly, Solon, a small man

with an anxious mien, ran into the waitingroom, flung a glance of disappointment at Tilly, and ran out

Tilly went to her client. "Did he look like he was anxious?" was the mother's greeting. "Oh, I just know he

and Minnie will be hunting me everywhere. Maybe I had better go home, 'stead of to Baxter."

"No, you hadn't," said Tilly, with decision. "Mother's going to Baxter, too, and if you like, minnit you're

"You're real kind, I'd be ever so much obliged. And you don't mind your ma travelling alone? ain't that nice

for her!" She seemed much cheered by the prospect of company and warmed into confidences.

"I am kinder lonesome, sometimes, that's a fact," said she, "and I kinder wish I lived in a block or a flat like

your ma. You see, Minnie teaches in the public school and she's away all day, and she don't like to have me

make company of the hired girl, though she's a real nice girl. And there ain't nothing for me to do, and I feel

like I wasn't no use any more in the world. I remember that's what our old minister in Ohio said once. He was

a real nice old man; and they HAD thought everything of him in the parish; but he got old and his sermons

were long; and so they got a young man for assistant; and they made HIM a pastor americus, they called

itsome sort of Latin. Folks did say the young feller was stuck up and snubbed the old man; anyhow, he

never preached after young Lisbon come; and only made the first prayers. But when the old folks would ask

him to preach some of the old sermons they had liked, he only would say, 'No, friends, I know more about

my sermons, now.' He didn't live very long, and I always kinder fancied being a AMERICUS killed him. And

"That ain't fair to your children," said Tilly; "you ought to let them know how you feel. Then they'd act

"Oh, I don't know, I don't know. You see, miss, they're so sure they know better'n me. Say, Mrs. Louder, be

"No, ma'am, I'm going to take care of a sick lady," said Jane, "it's kinder queer. Her name's Ferguson, her

"For the land's sake!" screamed Mrs. Higbee, "why, that's my 'Liza!" She was in a flutter of surprise and

delight, and so absorbed was Tilly in getting her and her unwieldy luggage into the car, that Jane's daughter

"Put your arm in QUICK," she yelled, as Jane essayed to kiss her hand through the window; "don't EVER put

your arm or your head out of a train!"the train moved away"I do hope she'll remember what I told her,

With such reflections, and an ugly sensation of loneliness creeping over her, Tilly went to assure Miss Minnie

Higbee of her mother's safety. She described her reception to Harry Lossing and Alma, later. "She really

seemed kinder mad at me," says Tilly, "seemed to think I was interfering somehow. And she hadn't any

business to feel that way, for SHE didn't know how I'd fooled her brother with that birdcage. I guess the

poor old lady daren't call her soul her own. I'd hate to have my mother that wayso 'fraid of me. MY mother

"Yes, we are. Mother is working too hard. She knows everybody in the building, and they call on her all the

Alma and Mr. Lossing exchanged glances. There is an Arabian legend of an angel whose trade it is to

decipher the language of faces. This angel must have perceived that Alma's eyes said, with the courage of a

second in a duel, "Go on, now is the time!" and that Harry's answered, with masculine pusillanimity, "I don't

But he spoke. "Very likely your mother does sometimes work too hard," said he. "But don't you think it

would be harder for her not to work? Why, she must have been in the building ever since my father bought it;

and she's been a janitor and a fire inspector and a doctor and a ministering angel combined! That is why we

never raised the rent to you when we improved the building, and raised it on the others. My father told me

your mother was the best paying tenant he ever had. And don't you remember how, when I used to come with

him, when I was a little boy, she used to take me in her room while he went the rounds? She was always

doing good to everybody, the same way. She has a heart as big as the Mississippi, and I assure you, Miss

Louder, you won't make her happy, but miserable, if you try to dam up its channel. She has often told me that

she loved the building and all the people in it. They all love her. I HOPE, Miss Louder, you'll think of those

things before you decide. She is so unselfish that she would go in a minute if she thought it would make you

happier." The angel aforesaid, during this speech (which Harry delivered with great energy and feeling), must

have had all his wits busy on Tilly's impassive features; but he could read ardent approval, succeeded by

indignation, on Alma's countenance, at his first glance. The indignation came when Tilly spoke. She said:

"Thank you, Mr. Lossing, you're very kind, I'm sure" Harry softly kicked the wastebasket under the

desk"but I guess it's best for us to go. I've been thinking about it for six months, and I know it will be a

hard struggle for mother to go; but in a little while she will be glad she went. It's only for her sake I am doing

it; it ain't an easy or a pleasant thing for me to do, either " As Tilly stopped her voice was unsteady, and

"What's best for her is the only question, of course," said Alma, helping Harry off the field.

In a few days Tilly received a long letter from her mother. Mr. Ferguson was doing wonders for the Russians;

the family were all very kind to her and "nice folks" and easily pleased. ("Of COURSE they're pleased with

mother's cooking; what would they be made of if they weren't!" cried Tilly.) It was wonderful how much help

Mrs. Higbee was about the house, and how happy it made her. Mrs. Ferguson had seemed real glad to see her,

and that made her happy. And then, maybe it helped a little, her (Jane Louder's) telling Mrs. Ferguson

("accidental like") how Tilly treated her, never trying to boss her, and letting her travel alone. Perhaps, if Mrs.

Ferguson kept on improving, they might let her come home next week. And the letter ended:

"I will be so glad if they do, for I want to see you so bad, dear daughter, and I want to see the old home once

more before we leave. I guess the house you tell me about will be very nice and convenient. I do thank you,

dear daughter, for being so nice and considerate about the Russians. Give my love to Mrs. Carleton and all of

them; and if little Bobby Green hasn't missed school since I left, give him a nickel, please; and please give

that medical student on the fifth floorI forget his namethe stockings I mended. They are in the first

When Tilly read the letter she was surrounded by wallpaper and carpet samples. Her eyes grew moist before

"It is an awful short time, but I've just got to hurry and have it over before she comes," said she.

Next week Jane returned. She was on the train, waiting in her seat in the car, when Captain Ferguson handed

"DEAR MOTHER: I shall be very glad indeed to see you. I have a surprise which I hope will be pleasant for

you; anyhow, I truly have meant it for your happiness. Your affectionate daughter, M. E. LOUDER."

There must have been, despite her shrewd sense, an obtuse streak in Tilly, else she would never have written

that letter. Jane read it twice. The paper rattled in her hands. "Tilly has moved while I was gone," she said; "I

never shall live in the block again." She dropped her veil over her face. She sat very quietly in her seat; but

the conductor who came for her ticket watched her sharply, she seemed so dazed by his demand and was so

The train rumbled and hissed through darkening cornfields, into scattered yellow lights of low houses, into

angles of white light of streetarcs and shopwindows, into the red and blue lights dancing before the

Jane let her and Harry Lossing take all her bundles and lift her out of the car. Whether she spoke a word she

could not tell. She did rouse a little at the vision of the Lossing carriage glittering at the street corner; but she

had not the sense to thank Harry Lossing, who placed her in the carriage and lifted his hat in farewell.

"What's he doing all that for, Tilly?" cried she; "there ain't there ain't nobody deadMaria Carleton

Tilly was oddly moved, though she tried to speak lightly. "No, no, there ain't nothing wrong, at all. It's

because you've done so much for the Russians and other folks! Now, ma, I'm going to be mysterious. You

It was vaguely comforting to have Tilly so affectionate. "I'm a wicked, ungrateful woman to be so wretched,"

A great blaze of light seemed all about Jane Louder. There were the dear familiar windows of the Lossing

She followed like one in a dream; and like one in a dream she was pushed into her own old parlor. The old

parlor, but not quite the old parlor; hung with new wallpaper, shining with new paint, soft under her feet

"No, nor we ain't going to move, mathat's the surprise! I took the money I'd saved for moving, for the new

carpet and new dishes; and the Lossings they papered and painted. I was SO 'fraid we couldn't get done in

time. Alma and all the boarders are coming in pretty soon to welcome you, and they've all chipped in for a

little banquet at Mrs. Carleton's why, mother, you're crying! Mother, you didn't really think I'd move when

it made you feel so bad? I know I'm set and stubborn, and I didn't take it well when Mr. Lossing talked to me;

but the more I thought it over, the more I seemed to myself like that hateful Minnie. Oh, mother, I ain't, am I?

IT was the Christmas turkeys that should be held responsible. Every year the Lossings give each head of a

family in their employ, and each lad helping to support his mother, a turkey at Christmastide. As the business

has grown, so has the number of turkeys, until it is now well up in the hundreds, and requires a special

contract. Harry, one Christmas, some two years ago, bought the turkeys at so good a bargain that he felt the

natural reaction in an impulse to extravagance. In the very floodtide of the moneyspending yearnings, he

chanced to pass Deacon Hurst's stables and to see two Saint Bernard puppies, of elephantine size but of the

tenderest age, gambolling on the sidewalk before the office. Deacon Hurst, I should explain, is no more a

deacon than I am; he is a liverystable keeper, very honest, a keen and solemn sportsman, and withal of a

staid demeanor and a habitual garb of black. Now you know as well as I any reason for his nickname.

Deacon Hurst is fond of the dog as well as of that noble animal the horse (he has three copies of "Black

Beauty" in his stable, which would do an incalculable amount of good if they were ever read!); and he usually

has half a dozen dogs of his own, with pedigrees long enough for a poor gentlewoman in a New England

village. He told Harry that the Saint Bernards were grandsons of Sir Bevidere, the "finest dog of his time in

the world, sir;" that they were perfectly marked and very large for their age (which Harry found it easy to

believe of the young giants), and that they were "ridiculous, sir, at the figger of two hundred and fifty!"

(which Harry did not believe so readily); and, after Harry had admired and studied the dogs for the space of

half an hour, he dropped the price, in a kind of spasm of generosity, to two hundred dollars. Harry was

tempted to close the bargain on the spot, hotheaded, but he decided to wait and prepare his mother for such

In fact, a time comes to every healthy man when he wants a dog, just as a time comes when he wants a wife;

and Harry's dog was dead. By consequence, Harry was in the state of sensitive affection and desolation to

which a promising new object makes the most moving appeal. The departed dog (Bruce by name) had been a

Saint Bernard; and Deacon Hurst found one of the puppies to have so much the expression of countenance of

the late Bruce that he named him Bruce on the spota little before Harry joined the group. Harry did not at

first recognize this resemblance, but he grew to see it; and, combined with the dog's affectionate disposition,

it softened his heart. By the time he told his mother he was come to quoting Hurst's adjectives as his own.

"Beauties, mother," says Harry, with sparkling eyes; "the markings are perfectcouldn't be better; and their

heads are shaped just right! You can't get such watchdogs in the world! And, for all their enormous strength,

gentle as a lamb to women and children! And, mother, one of them looks like Bruce!"

"I suppose they would want to be housedogs," says Mrs. Lossing, a little dubiously, but looking fondly at

Harry's handsome face; "you know, somehow, all our dogs, no matter how properly they start in a kennel,

end by being so hurt if we keep them there that they come into the house. And they are so large, it is like

"Well, I hope just as I get fond of them they will not have the distemper and die!" said Mrs. Lossing; which

That evening he went to find Hurst and clinch the bargain. As it happened, Hurst was away, driving an

especially important political personage to an especially important political council. The day following was a

Sunday; but, by this time, Harry was so bent upon obtaining the dogs that he had it in mind to go to Hurst's

house for them in the afternoon. When Harry wants anything, from Saint Bernards to purity in politics, he

wants it with an irresistible impetus! If he did wrong, his error was linked to its own punishment. But this is

anticipating, if not presuming; I prefer to leave Harry Lossing's experience to paint its own moral without

pushing. The event that happened next was Harry's pulling out his checkbook and beginning to write a

check, remarking, with a slight drooping of his eyelids, "Best catch the deacon's generosity on the fly, or it

Then he let the pen fall on the blotter, for he had remembered the day. After an instant's hesitation he took a

couple of hundreddollar banknotes out of a drawer (I think they were gifts for his two sisters on Christmas

day, for he is a generous brother; and most likely there would be some small domestic joke about engravings

to go with them); these he placed in the righthand pocket of his waistcoat. In his lefthand waistcoat pocket

Harry was now arrayed for church. He was a figure to please any woman's eye, thought his mother, as she

walked beside him, and gloried silently in his six feet of health and muscle and dainty cleanliness. He was in

a most amiable mood, what with the Saint Bernards and the season. As they approached the cathedral close,

Harry, not for the first time, admired the pure Gothic lines of the cathedral, and the soft blending of grays in

the stone with the warmer hues of the brown network of Virginia creeper that still fluttered, a remnant of the

crimson adornings of autumn. Beyond were the bare, square outlines of the old college, with a wooden

cupola perched on the roof, like a little hat on a fat man, the dullred tints of the professors' houses, and the

withered lawns and bare trees. The turrets and balconies and arched windows of the boys' school displayed a

red background for a troop of gray uniforms and blazing buttons; the boys were forming to march to church.

Opposite the boys' school stood the modest square brick house that had served the first bishop of the diocese

during laborious years. Now it was the dean's residence. Facing it, just as you approached the cathedral, the

street curved into a halfcircle on either side, and in the centre the granite soldier on his shaft looked over the

city that would honor him. Harry saw the tall figure of the dean come out of his gate, the long black skirts of

his cassock fluttering under the wind of his big steps. Beside him skipped and ran, to keep step with him, a

little man in illfitting black, of whose appearance, thus viewed from the rear, one could only observe

"He must be the poor missionary who built his church himself," Mrs. Lossing observed; "he is not much of a

"So much the better for his people, and the worse for us!" says Harry, cheerfully.

Then Harry caught sight of a woman's frock and a profile that he knew, and thought no more of the preacher,

But he was in the chancel in plain view, after the procession of choirboys had taken their seats. He was an

elderly man with thin cheeks and a large nose. He had one of those great, orotund voices that occasionally

roll out of little men, and he read the service with a misjudged effort to fill the building. The building

happened to have peculiarly fine acoustic properties; but the unfortunate man roared like him of Bashan.

There was nothing of the customary ecclesiastical dignity and monotony about his articulation; indeed, it

grew plain and plainer to Harry that he must have "come over" from some franker and more emotional

denomination. It seemed quite out of keeping with his homely manner and crumpled surplice that this

particular reader should intone. Intone, nevertheless, he did; and as badly as mortal man well could! It was

not so much that his voice or his ear went wrong; he would have had a musical voice of the heavy sort, had

he not bellowed; neither did his ear betray him; the trouble seemed to be that he could not decide when to

begin; now he began too early, and again, with a startled air, he began too late, as if he had forgotten.

"I hope he will not preach," thought Harry, who was absorbed in a rapt contemplation of his sweetheart's

back hair. He came back from a tender revery (by way of a little detour into the furniture business and the

establishment that a man of his income could afford) to the church and the preacher and his own sins, to find

the strange clergyman in the pulpit, plainly frightened, and bawling more loudly than ever under the influence

of fear. He preached a sermon of wearisome platitudes; making up for lack of thought by repetition, and

shouting himself red in the face to express earnestness. "Fourthclass Methodist effort," thought the listener

in the Lossing pew, stroking his fair mustache, "with Episcopal decorations! That man used to be a Methodist

minister, and he was brought into the fold by a highchurchman. Poor fellow, the Methodist church polity

has a place for such fellows as he; but he is a stray sheep with us. He doesn't half catch on to the motions; yet

I'll warrant he is proud of that sermon, and his wife thinks it one of the great efforts of the century." Here

Harry took a short rest from the sermon, to contemplate the amazing moral phenomenon: how robust can be a

"Now, this man," reflected Harry, growing interested in his own fancies, "this man never can have LIVED!

He doesn't know what it is to suffer, he has only vegetated! Doubtless, in a prosaic way, he loves his wife and

children; but can a fellow who talks like him have any delicate sympathies or any romance about him? He

looks honest; I think he is a right good fellow and works like a soldier; but to be so stupid as he is, ought to

Harry felt a whimsical moving of sympathy towards the preacher. He wondered why he continually made

"It gives a onesided effect to his eloquence," said he. But he thought that he understood when an unguarded

"Poor fellow," said Harry. He recalled how, as a boy, he had gone to a fancydress ball in Continental

smallclothes, so small that he had been strictly cautioned by his mother and sisters not to bow except with the

greatest care, lest he rend his magnificence and reveal that it was too tight to allow an inch of underclothing.

The stockings, in particular, had been short, and his sister had providently sewed them on to the

kneebreeches, and to guard against accidents still further, had pinned as well as sewed, the pins causing

"Poor fellow!" said Harry again, "I wonder is HE pinned somewhere? I feel like giving him a lift; he is so

Thus it came about that when the dean announced that the alms this day would be given to the parish of our

friend who had just addressed us; and the plate paused before the Lossing pew, Harry slipped his hand into

I should explain that Harry being a naturally lefthanded boy, who has laboriously taught himself the use of

his right hand, it is a family joke that he is like the inhabitants of Nineveh, who could not tell their right hand

from their left. But Harry himself has always maintained that he can tell as well as the next man.

Out drifted the flock of choirboys singing, "For thee, oh dear, dear country," and presently, following them,

out drifted the congregation; among the crowd the girl that Harry loved, not so quickly that he had not time

for a look and a smile (just tinged with rose); and because she was so sweet, so good, so altogether adorable,

and because she had not only smiled but blushed, and, unobserved, he had touched the fur of her jacket, the

He did not remember the Saint Bernards until after the early Sunday dinner, and during the afterdinner

cigar. He was sitting in the library, before some blazing logs, at peace with all the world. To him, thus, came

his mother and announced that the dean and "that man who preached this morning, you know," were waiting

"They seem excited," said she, "and talk about your munificence. What HAVE you been doing?"

"Appear to make a great deal of fuss over ten dollars," said Harry, lightly, as he sauntered out of the door.

The dean greeted him with something almost like confusion in his cordiality; he introduced his companion as

"Made sure about there being no mistake," interrupted Mr. Gilling; "I the sum was so great "

A ghastly suspicion shot like a feverflush over Harry's mind. Could it be possible? There were the two other

bills; could he have given one of them? Given that howling dervish a hundred dollars? The thought was too

"It was really not enough for you to trouble yourself," he said; "I dare say you are thanking the wrong man."

To his surprise the dean colored, while the other clergyman answered, in all simplicity:

"No, sir, no, sir. I know very well. The only other bill, except dollars, on the plate, the dean here gave, and

the warden remembers that you put in two notesI"he grew quite pale"I can't help thinking you maybe

intended to put in only ONE! "His voice broke, he tried to control it. "The sum is so VERY large!" quavered

"I have given him BOTH bills, two hundred dollars!" thought Harry. He sat down. He was accustomed to

read men's faces, and plainly as ever he had read, he could read the signs of distress and conflict on the

"I INTENDED to put in two bills," said he. Gilling gave a little gaspso little, only a quick ear could have

caught it; but Harry's ear is quick. He twisted one leg around the other, a further sign of deliverance of mind.

"Well, sir, well, Mr. Lossing," he remarked, clearing his throat, "I cannot express to you properly the the

appreciation I have of youryour PRINCELY gift!" (Harry changed a groan into a cough and tried to

smile.) "I would like to ask you, however, HOW you would like it to be divided. There are a number of

worthy causes: the furnishing of the church, which is in charge of the Ladies' Aid Society; they are very hard

workers, the ladies of our church. And there is the Altar Guild, which has the keeping of the altar in order.

They are mostly young girls, and they used to wash my thingsI mean the vestments" (blushing)"but

theythey were so young they were not careful, and my wife thought she had best wash thevestments

herself, but she allowed them to laundry the otherah, things." There was the same discursiveness in his talk

as in his sermon, Harry thought; and the same uneasy restlessness of manner. "Then, we give tovarious

"That is what it was intended for," said Harry. "I hope the two hundred dollars will be of some use to you,

Harry surprised a queer glance from the dean's brown eyes; there was both humor and a something else that

"All of it. To YOU," Harry replied, dryly. He was conscious of the dean's gaze upon him. "I had a sudden

The tears rose to the clergyman's eyes; he tried to wink them away, then he tried to brush them away with a

quick rub of his fingers, then he sprang up and walked to the window, his back to Harry. Directly he was

"Mr. Gilling had diphtheria last spring," the dean struck in, "there was an epidemic of diphtheria, in Matin's

Junction; Mr. Gilling really saved the place; but his wife and he both contracted the disease, and his wife

Harry remembered some story that he had heard at the time his eyes began to light up as they do when he

"Why, YOU are the man that made them disinfect their houses," cried he, "and invented a little oven or

something to steam mattresses and things. You are the man that nursed them and buried them when the

undertaker died. You digged graves with your own hands I say, I should like to shake hands with you!"

He cleared his throat. "Would you mind, Mr. Lossing, if I took up your time so far as to tell you what so

"You see, sir, my wife was the daughter of the Episcopal minister I mean the rector, at the townwell, it

wasn't a town, it was two or three towns off in Shelby County where I had my circuit. You may be surprised,

"Yes, sir. Her fathermy wife's, I meanwas about as high a churchman as he could be, and be married.

He induced me to join our communion; and very soon after I was married. I hope, Mr. Lossing, you'll come

"A good wife cometh from the Lord, sir, SURE! I thought I appreciated mine, but I guess I didn't. She had

two things she wanted, and one I did want myself; but the otherI couldn't seem to bring my mind to it,

noanyhow! We hadn't any children but one that died four years ago, a little baby. Ever since she died my

wife has had a longing to have a stainedglass window, with the picture, you know, of Christ blessing little

children, put into our little church. In Memoriam, you know. Seems as if, now we've lost the baby, we think

all the more of the church. Maybe she was a sort of idol to us. Yes, sir, that's one thing my wife fairly longed

for. We've saved our money, what we COULD save; there are so many calls; during the sickness, last winter,

the sick needed so many things, and it didn't seem right for us to neglect them just for our baby's window;

andthe money went. The other thing was different. My wife has got it into her head I have a fine voice.

And she's higher church than I am; so she has always wanted me to INTONE. I told her I'd look like a fool

intoning, and there's no mistake about it, I DO! But she couldn't see it that way. It was 'most the only point

wherein we differed; and last spring, when she was so sick, and I didn't know but I'd lose her, it was dreadful

to me to think how I'd crossed her. So, Mr. Lossing, when she got well I promised her, for a thankoffering,

I'd intone. And I have ever since. My people know me so well, and we've been through so much together, that

they didn't make any fuss though they are not highfact is, I'm not high myself. But they were kind and

considerate, and I got on pretty well at home; but when I came to rise up in that great edifice, before that

cultured and intellectual audience, so finely dressed, it did seem to me I could NOT do it! I was sorely

tempted to break my promise. I was, for a fact." He drew a long breath. "I just had to pray for grace, or I

never would have pulled through. I had the sermon my wife likes best with me; but I know it lacks it

lacksit isn't what you need! I was dreadfully scared and I felt miserable when I got up to preach itand

then to think that you werebut it is the Lord's doing and marvellous in our eyes! I don't know what Maggie

will say when I tell her we can get the window. The best she hoped was I'd bring back enough so the church

could pay me eighteen dollars they owe on my salary. And now it's wonderful! Why, Mr. Lossing, I've

been thinking so much and wanting so to get that window for her, that, hearing the dean wanted some

carpentering done, I thought maybe, as I'm a fair carpenter that was my trade once, sirI'd ask him to let

ME do the job. I was aware there is nothing in our rulesI mean our canons to prevent me, and nobody

need know I was the rector of Matin's Junction, because I would come just in my overalls. There is a cheap

place where I could lodge, and I could feed myself for almost nothing, living is so cheap. I was praying about

that, too. Now, your noble generosity will enable me to donate what they owe on my salary, and get the

"Take my advice," said Harry, "donate nothing. Say nothing about this gift; I will take care of the warden,

"Yes," said the dean, "on the whole, Gilling, you would better say nothing, I think; Mr. Lossing is more

The older man looked at Harry with glistening eyes of admiration; with what Christian virtues of humility he

The dean's eyes twinkled above his handkerchief, which hid his mouth, as he rose to make his farewells. He

shook hands, warmly. "God bless you, Harry," said he. Gilling, too, wrung Harry's hands; he was seeking

some parting word of gratitude, but he could only choke out, "I hope you will get MARRIED some time, Mr.

"Well," said Harry, as the door closed, and he flung out his arms and his chest in a huge sigh, "I do believe it

THE notebook of Mr. Horatio Armorer, president of our street railways, contained a page of interest to

He wrote it while the train creaked over the river, and the porter of his Pullman car was brushing all the dust

If you had seen him writing it (with a stubby little pencil that he occasionally brightened with the tip of his

tongue), you would not have dreamed him to be more profoundly disturbed than he had been in years. Nor

Translated into longhand, this reads: "See about the streetcar road, Marston (the superintendent) and Dane

(the lawyer). See Lossing, see Esther and Maggie, and remember about teaset. See about Lossing."

His memoranda written, he slipped the book in his pocket, reflecting cynically, "There's habit! I've no need of

Thirty odd years ago, Horatio Armorerthey called him 'Raish, then had left the town to seek his fortune

in Chicago. It was his daydream to wrestle a hundred thousand dollars out of the world's tight fists, and return

to live in pomp on Brady Street hill! He should drive a buggy with two horses, and his wife should keep two

girls. Long ago, the hundred thousand limit had been reached and passed, next the million; and still he did not

return. His father, the Presbyterian minister, left his parish, or, to be exact, was gently propelled out of his

parish by the disaffected; the family had a new home; and the son, struggling to help them out of his scanty

resources, went to the new parish and not to the old. He grew rich, he established his brothers and sisters in

prosperity, he erected costly monuments and a memorial church to his parents (they were beyond any other

gifts from him); he married, and lavished his money on three daughters; but the home of his youth neither

saw him nor his money until Margaret Ellis bought a house on Brady Street, far up town, where she could

have all the grass that she wanted. Mrs. Ellis was a widow and rich. Not a millionaire like her brother, but the

She was the bestnatured woman in the world, and never guessed how hard her neighbors found it to forgive

her for always calling their town of thirty thousand souls, "the country." She said that she had pined for years

to live in the country, and have horses, and a Jersey cow and chickens, and "a neat pig." All of which modest

cravings she gratified on her little estate; and the gardener was often seen with a scowl and the garden hose,

It was later that Mr. Armorer had bought the street railways, they having had a troublous history and being

for sale cheap. Nobody that knows Armorer as a business man would back his sentiment by so much as an

old shoe; yet it was sentiment, and not a good bargain, that had enticed the financier. Once engaged, the

instincts of a shrewd trader prompted him to turn it into a good bargain, anyhow. His fancy was pleased by a

vision of a return to the home of his childhood and his struggling youth, as a greater personage than his hopes

But, in the event, there was little enough gratification for his vanity. Not since his wife's death had he been so

harassed and anxious; for he came not in order to view his new property, but because his sister had written

Armorer arrived in the early dawn. Early as it was, a handsome victoria, with horses sleeker of skin and

harness heavier and brighter than one is used to meet outside the great cities, had been in waiting for twenty

minutes; while for that space of time a pretty girl had paced up and down the platform. The keenest observer

among the crowd, airing its meek impatience on the platform, did not detect any sign of anxiety in her

behavior. She walked erect, with a step that left a cleancut footprint in the dust, as girls are trained to walk

nowadays. Her tailormade gown of fine blue serge had not a wrinkle. It was so simple that only a

fashionable woman could guess anywhere near the awful sum total which that plain skirt, that short jacket,

and that severe waistcoat had once made on a ruled sheet of paper. When she turned her face toward the low,

red stationhouse and the people, it looked gentle, and the least in the world sad. She had one of those clear

olive skins that easily grow pale; it was pale today. Her black hair was fine as spun silk; the coil under her

hatbrim shone as she moved. The fine hair, the soft, transparent skin, and the beautiful marking of her brows

were responsible for an air of fragile daintiness in her person, just as her almondshaped, liquid dark eyes

and unsmiling mouth made her look sad. It was a most attractive face, in all its moods; sometimes it was a

beautiful face; yet it did not have a single perfect feature except the mouth, whichat least so Harry Lossing

told his mothermight have been stolen from the Venus of Milo. Even the mouth, some critics called too

The instant she turned her back on the bustle of the station, all the lines in her face seemed to waver and the

eyes to brighten. Finally, when the train rolled up to the platform and a younglooking elderly man swung

himself nimbly off the steps, the color flared up in her cheeks, only to sink as suddenly; like a candle flame in

Mr. Armorer put his two arms and his umbrella and travellingbag about the charming shape in blue, at the

same time exclaiming, "You're a good girl to come out so early, Essie! How's Aunt Meg?"

"Oh, very well. She would have come too, but she hasn't come back from training."

"Yes, dear, she has a regular trainer, like John L. Sullivan, you know. She drives out to the park with Eliza

and me, and walks and runs races, and does gymnastics. She has lost ten pounds."

Armorer wagged his head with a grin: "I dare say. I thought so when you began. Meg is always moaning and

groaning because she isn't a sylph! She will make her cook's life a burden for about two months and lose ten

pounds, and then she will revel in icecream! Last time, she was raving about Dr. Salisbury and living on

"She had Dr. Salisbury's pamphlet; but Cardigan told her it was a long way out; so she said she hated to have

it do no one any good, and she gave it to Maria, one of the maids, who is always fretting because she is so

"Precisely." Esther laughed a little low laugh, at which her father's eyes shone; "but you see she told Maria to

exactly reverse the advice and eat everything that was injurious to stout people, and it would be just right for

"I perceive," said Armorer, dryly; "very ingenious and feminine scheme. But who is Cardigan?"

"Shuey Cardigan? He is the trainer. He is a fireman in a furniture shop, now; but he used to be the boxing

teacher for some Harvard men; and he was a distinguished pugilist, once. He said to me, modestly, 'I don't

suppose you will have seen my name in the Police Gazette, miss?' But he really is a very sober, decent man,

"Your Aunt Meg always was picking up queer birds! Pray, who introduced this decent pugilist?"

Esther was getting into the carriage; her face was turned from him, but he could see the pink deepen in her

ear and the oval of her cheek. She answered that it was a friend of theirs, Mr. Lossing. As if the name had

struck them both dumb, neither spoke for a few moments. Armorer bit a sigh in two. "Essie," said he, "I guess

"I knew she would. She had compunctions of conscience letting him hang round you, until she told me; and

He continued in a different tone: "Essie, I have missed your mother a long while, and nobody knows how that

kind of missing hurts; but it seems to me I never missed her as I do today. I need her to advise me about

you, Essie. It is like this: I don't want to be a stern parent any more than you want to elope on a rope ladder.

We have got to look at this thing together, my dear little girl, and try toto trust each other."

"Don't you think, papa," said Esther, smiling rather tremulously, "that we would better wait, before we have

all these solemn preparations, until we know surely whether Mr. Lossing wants me?"

"Oh, he is in love with you fast enough," growled Armorer; but a smile of intense relief brightened his face.

"Now, you see, my dear, all I know about this young man, except that he wants my daughter which you

will admit is not likely to prejudice me in his favor is that he is mayor of this town and has a furniture store

"All right, manufactory, then; all the same he is not a brilliant match for my daughter, not such a husband as

your sisters have." Esther's lip quivered and her color rose again; but she did not speak. "Still I will say that I

think a fellow who can make his own fortune is better than a man with twice that fortune made for him. My

dear, if Lossing has the right stuff in him and he is a real good fellow, I shan't make you go into a decline by

objecting; but you see it is a big shock to me, and you must let me get used to it, and let me size the young

man up in my own way. There is another thing, Esther; I am going to Europe Thursday, that will give me just

a day in Chicago if I go tomorrow, and I wish you would come with me. Will you mind?"

Either she changed her seat or she started at the proposal. But how could she say that she wanted to stay in

America with a man who had not said a formal word of love to her? "I can get ready, I think, papa," said

They drove on. He felt a crawling pain in his heart, for he loved his daughter Esther as he had loved no other

child of his; and he knew that he had hurt her. Naturally, he grew the more angry at the impertinent young

man who was the cause of the flitting; for the whole European plan had been cooked up since the receipt of

Mrs. Ellis's letter. They were on the very street down which he used to walk (for it takes the line of the hills)

when he was a poor boy, a struggling, ferociously ambitious young man. He looked at the changed rows of

buildings, and other thoughts came uppermost for a moment. "It was here father's church used to stand; it's

gone, now," he said. "It was a wood church, painted a kind of gray; mother had a bonnet the same color, and

she used to say she matched the church. I bought it with the very first money I earned. Part of it came from

weeding, and the weather was warm, and I can feel the way my back would sting and creak, now! I would

want to stop, often, but I thought of mother in church with that bonnet, and I kept on! There's the place where

Seeds, the grocer that used to trust us, had his store; it was his children had the scarlet fever, and mother went

to nurse them. My! but how dismal it was at home! We always got more whippings when mother was away.

Your grandfather was a good man, too honest for this world, and he loved every one of his seven children;

but he brought us up to fear him and the Lord. We feared him the most, because the Lord couldn't whip us!

He never whipped us when we did anything, but waited until next day, that he might not punish in anger; so

we had all the night to anticipate it. Did I ever tell you of the time he caught me in a lie? I was lame for a

"I think he was cruel; I can't help it, papa," cried Esther, with whom this was an old argument, "still it did

"Oh, no, he wasn't cruel, my dear," said Armorer, with a queer smile that seemed to take only onehalf of his

face, not answering the last words; "he was too sure of his interpretation of the Scripture, that was all. Why,

that man just slaved to educate us children; he'd have gone to the stake rejoicing to have made sure that we

should be saved. And of the whole seven only one is a church member. Is that the road?"

They could see a car swinging past, on a parallel street, its bent pole hitching along the trolleywire.

"Pretty scrubbylooking cars," commented Armorer; "but get our new ordinance through the council, we can

save enough to afford some fine new cars. Has Lossing said anything to you about the ordinance and our

"He hasn't said anything, but I read about it in the papers. Is it so very important that it should be passed?"

The horses turned again. They were now opposite a fair lawn and a house of wood and stone built after the

"Very handsome, very fine," said the financier, who knew nothing about architecture, except its exceeding

expense. "Esther, I've a notion; if that young man of yours has brains and is fond of you he ought to be able to

get my ordinance through his little eight by ten city council. There is our chance to see what stuff he is made

"Oh, he has a great deal of influence," said Esther; "he can do it, unlessunless he thinks the ordinance

"Confound the modern way of educating girls!" thought Armorer. "Now, it would have been enough for

Esther's mother to know that anything was for my interests; it wouldn't have to help all outdoors, too!"

But instead of enlarging on this point, he went into a sketch of the improvements the road could make with

the money saved by the change, and was waxing eloquent when a lady of a pleasant and comely face, and a

It was after breakfast (and the scene was the neat pig's pen, where Armorer was displaying his ignorance of

swine) that he found his first chance to talk with his sister alone. "Oh, first, Sis," said he, "about your

birthday, today; I telegraphed to Tiffany's for that silver service, you know, that you liked, so you needn't

"Oh, that's all right," said Armorer, hastily, and began to talk of the pig. Suddenly, without looking up, he

dropped into the pigpen the remark: "I'm very much obliged to you for writing me, Meg."

"I don't know whether to feel more like a virtuous sister or a villanous aunt," sighed Mrs. Ellis; "things

seemed to be getting on so rapidly that it didn't seem right, Esther visiting me and all, not to give you a hint;

still, I am sure that nothing has been said, and it is horrid for Esther, perfectly HORRID, discussing her

"I know you always said you didn't want Esther to marry; but I thought if she fell in love with the right

manwe know that marriage is a very happy estate, sometimes, Horatio!" She sighed again. In her case it

was only the memory of happiness, for Colonel Ellis had been dead these twelve years; but his widow

"If you marry the right one, maybe," answered Armorer, grudgingly; "but see here, Meg, Esther is different

from the other girls; they got married when Jenny was alive to look after them, and I knew the men, and they

were both big matches, you know. Then, too, I was so busy making money while the other girls grew up that

I hadn't time to get real well acquainted with them. I don't think they ever kissed me, except when I gave

them a check. But Esther and I " he drummed with his fingers on the boards, his thin, keen face wearing

a look that would have amazed his business acquaintances"you remember when her mother died, Meg?

Only fifteen, and how she took hold of things! And we have been together ever since, and she makes me

think of her grandmother and her mother both. She's never had a wish I knew that I haven't grantedwhy,

"That's why you are become so welldressed, Horatio; I wondered how you came to spruce up so!"

"It has been so blamed lonesome whenever she went to visit you, but yet I wouldn't say a word because I

knew what a good time she had; but if I had known that there was a confounded, longlegged, sniffy young

idiot all that while trying to steal my daughter away from me!" In an access of wrath at the idea Armorer

wrenched off the picket that he clutched, at which he laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Why, Meg, the papers and magazines are always howling that women won't marry," cried he, with a fresh

sense of grievance; "now, two of my girls have married, that's enough; there was no reason for me to expect

"But if she loves the young fellow and he loves her, won't you let them be happy?"

"He is a very good fellow, truly and really, 'Raish. And he comes of a good family "

"I don't care for his family; and as to his being moral and all that, I know several young fellows that could

skin him alive in a bargain that are moral as you please. I have been a moral man, myself. But the trouble

with this Lossing (I told Esther I didn't know anything about him, but I do), the trouble with him is that he is

chock full of all kinds of principles! Just as father was. Don't you remember how he lost parish after parish

because he couldn't smooth over the big men in them? Lossing is every bit as pigheaded. I am not going to

have my daughter lead the kind of life my mother did. I want a soninlaw who ain't going to think himself

so much better than I am, and be rowing me for my way of doing business. If Esther MUST marry I'd like her

to marry a man with a head on him that I can take into business, and who will be willing to live with the old

man. This Lossing has got his notions of making a sort of Highland chief affair of the labor question, and we

Mrs. Ellis knew more than Esther about Armorer's business methods, having the advantage of her husband's

point of view; and Colonel Ellis had kept the army standard of honor as well as the army ignorance of

business. To counterbalance, she knew more than anyone alive what a good son and brother Horatio had

always been. But she could not restrain a smile at the picture of the partnership.

"Precisely, you see yourself," said Armorer. "Meg"hesitating "you don't suppose it would be any use to

"Horatio, NO!" cried Mrs. Ellis, tossing her pretty gray head indignantly; "you'd insult her!"

"Take it the same way, eh? Well, perhaps; Essie has hightoned notions. That's all right, it is the thing for

women. Mother had them too. Look here, Meg, I'll tell you, I want to see if this young fellow has ANY

sense! We have an ordinance that we want passed. If he will get his council to pass it, that will show he can

put his grand theories into his pockets sometimes; and I will give him a show with Esther. If he doesn't care

enough for my girl to oblige her father, even if he doesn't please a lot of carping roosters that want the earth

for their town and would like a street railway to be run to accommodate them and lose money for the

stockholders, well, then, you can't blame me if I don't want him! Now, will you do one thing for me, Meg, to

help me out? I don't want Lossing to persuade Esther to commit herself; you know how, when she was a little

mite, if Esther gave her word she kept it. I want you to promise me you won't let Esther be alone one second

with young Lossing. She is going tomorrow, but there's your whistparty tonight; I suppose he's coming?

And I want you to promise you won't let him have our address. If he treats me square, he won't need to ask

Mrs. Ellis's sympathy had gone out to the young people as naturally as water runs down hill; for she is of a

romantic temperament, though she doesn't dare to be weighed. But she remembered the silver service, the

coffeepot, the teapot, the tray for spoons, the creamer, the hotwater kettle, the sugarbowl, all on a rich

salver, splendid, dazzling; what rank ingratitude it would be to oppose her generous brother! Rather sadly she

answered, but she did answer: "I'll do that much for you, 'Raish, but I feel we're risking Esther's happiness,

"That's all I ask, my dear," said Armorer, taking out a little shabby notebook from his breastpocket, and

"The silver service was a good muzzle," he thought. He went away for an interview with the corporation

lawyer and the superintendent of the road, leaving Mrs. Ellis in a distraction of conscience that made her the

wonder of her servants that morning, during all the preparations for the whistparty. She might have felt

more remorseful had she guessed her brother's real plan. He knew enough of Lossing to be assured that he

would not yield about the ordinance, which he firmly believed to be a dangerous one for the city. He

expected, he counted on the mayor's refusing his proffers. He hoped that Esther would feel the sympathy

which women give, without question generally, to the business plans of those near and dear to them, taking it

for granted that the plans are right because they will advantage those so near and dear. That was the beautiful

and proper way that Jenny had always reasoned; why should Jenny's daughter do otherwise? When Harry

Lossing should oppose her father and refuse to please him and to win her, mustn't any highspirited woman

feel hurt? Certainly she must; and he would take care to whisk her off to Europe before the young man had a

chance to make his peace! "Yes, sir," says Armorer, to his only confidant, "you never were a domestic

conspirator before, Horatio, but you have got it down fine! You would do for Gaboriau"Gaboriau's novels

being the only fiction that ever Armorer read. Nevertheless, his conscience pricked him almost as sharply as

his sister's pricked her. Consciences are queer things; like certain crustaceans, they grow shells in spots; and,

proof against moral artillery in one part, they may be soft as a baby's cheek in another. Armorer's conscience

had two sides, business and domestic; people abused him for a business buccaneer, at the same time his

private life was pure, and he was a most tender husband and father. He had never deceived Esther before in

her life. Once he had ridden all night in a freightcar to keep a promise that he had made the child. It hurt

him to be hoodwinking her now. But he was too angry and too frightened to cry back.

The interview with the lawyer did not take any long time, but he spent two hours with the superintendent of

the road, who pronounced him "a little nice fellow with no airs about him. Asked a power of questions about

Harry Lossing; guess there is something in that story about Lossing going to marry his daughter!"

He was on the ground, and Marston lifting the whip to touch the horse, when he asked: "Say, before you

Marston was raised on mules, and he could not overcome a vehement distrust of electricity. "Well," said he,

"I guess you want the cold facts. The children are almighty thick down on Third Street, and children are

always trying to see how near they can come to being killed, you know, sir; and then, the old women like to

come and stand on the track and ask questions of the motorneer on the other track, so that the car coming

down has a chance to catch 'em. The two together keep the conductors on the jump!"

"Is that so?" said Armorer, musingly; "well, I guess you'd better close with that insurance man and get the

Armorer ran his sharp eye over the buildings of the Lossing Art Furniture Manufacturing Company, from the

ugly square brick box that was the nucleusthe egg, so to speak from which the great concern had been

hatched, to the handsome new structures with their great arched windows and red mortar. "Pretty property,

very pretty property," thought Armorer; "wonder if that story Marston tells is true!" The story was to the

effect that a few weeks before his last sickness the older Lossing had taken his son to look at the buildings,

and said, "Harry, this will all be yours before long. It is a comfort to me to think that every workman I have is

the better, not the worse, off for my owning it; there's no blood or dirt on my money; and I leave it to you to

"Now, wasn't he a d fool!" said Armorer, cheerfully, taking out his notebook to mark,

And he went in. Harry greeted him with exceeding cordiality and a fine blush. Armorer explained that he had

come to speak to him about the proposed streetcar ordinances; he (Armorer) always liked to deal with

principals and without formality; now, couldn't they come, representing the city and the company, to some

satisfactory compromise? Thereupon he plunged into the statistics of the earnings and expenses of the road

(with the aid of his notebook), and made the absolute necessity of retrenchment plain. Meanwhile, as he

talked he studied the attentive listener before him; and Harry, on his part, made quite as good use of his eyes.

Armorer saw a tall, athletic, fair young man, very carefully, almost foppishly dressed, with bright, steady blue

eyes and a firm chin, but a smile under his mustache like a child's; it was so sunny and so quick. Harry saw a

neat little figure in a perfectly fitting gray check travelling suit, with a rose in the buttonhole of the coat lapel.

Armorer wore no jewellery except a gold ring on the little finger of his right hand, from which he had taken

the glove the better to write. Harry knew that it was his dead wife's weddingring; and noticed it with a little

moving of the heart. The face that he saw was pale but not sickly, delicate and keen. A silky brown mustache

shot with gray and a Vandyke beard hid either the strength or the weakness of mouth and chin. He looked at

Harry with almondshaped, pensive dark eyes, so like the eyes that had shone on Harry's waking and

sleeping dreams for months that the young fellow felt his heart rise again. Armorer ended by asking Harry (in

his most winning manner) to help him pull the ordinance out of the fire. "It would be," he said, impressively,

"And you must know, Mr. Armorer," said Harry, in a dismal tone at which the president chuckled within,

Harry swung round in his chair, his clinched fists on his knee. He was frowning with eagerness, and his eyes

"See here, Mr. Armorer," said he, "I am frank with you. I want to please you, because I want to ask you to let

me marry your daughter. But I CAN'T please you, because I am mayor of this town, and I don't dare to let

you dismiss the conductors. I don't DARE, that's the point. We have had four children killed on this road

"We have had forty killed on one street railway I know; what of it? Do you want to give up electricity

"No, but look here! the conductors lessen the risk. A lady I know, only yesterday, had a little boy going from

"She ought to have sent a nurse with a child five years old, a baby!" cried Armorer, warmly.

"That lady," answered Harry, quietly, "goes without any servant at all in order to keep her two children at the

kindergarten; and the boy's elder sister was ill at home. The boy got on the car, and when he got off at the

crossing above his house, he started to run across; the other traincar was coming, the little fellow didn't

notice, and ran to cross; he stumbled and fell right in the path of the coming car!"

"There was no accident. A man on the front platform saw the boy fall, made a flying leap off the moving car,

fell, but scrambled up and pulled the boy off the track. It was sickening; I thought we were both gone!"

"I was the man; and don't you see, Mr. Armorer, why I feel strongly on the subject? If the conductor had been

"Well, sir, you may be assured that we will take precautions against any such accidents. It is more for our

interest than anyone's to guard against them. And I have explained to you the necessity of cutting down our

"That is just it, you think you have to risk our lives to cut down expenses; but we get all the risk and none of

"Then there is nothing more to say, Mr. Lossing," said Armorer, coldly. "I'm sorry a mere sentiment that has

no real foundation should stand in the way of our arranging a deal that would be for the advantage of both the

Harry rose also, but lifted his hand to arrest the financier. "Pardon me, there is something else; I wouldn't

mention it, but I hear you are going to leave tomorrow and go abroad withMiss Armorer. I am conscious

I haven't introduced myself very favorably, by refusing you a favor when I want to ask the greatest one

possible; but I hope, sir, you will not think the less of a man because he is not willing to sacrifice the interests

of the people who trust him, to please ANYONE. II hope you will not object to my asking Miss Armorer

to marry me," concluded Harry, very hot and shaky, and forgetting the beginning of his sentences before he

"Well, Mr. Lossing," said Armorer, wishing that something in the young man's confusion would not remind

him of the awful moment when he asked old Forrester for his Jenny, "I am afraid I can do nothing for you. If

you have too nice a conscience to oblige me, I am afraid it will be too nice to let you get on in the world.

"Stop a minute," said Harry; "if it is only my ability to get on in the world that is the trouble, I think "

"It is your love for my daughter," said Armorer; "if you don't love her enough to give up a sentimental notion

for her, to win her, I don't see but you must lose her, I bid you goodmorning, sir."

"Not quite yet, sir"Harry jumped before the door; "you give me the alternative of being what I call

dishonorable or losing the woman I love!" He pronounced the last word with a little effort and his lips closed

sharply as his teeth shut under them. "Well, I decline the alternative. I shall try to do my duty and get the wife

Harry held out his hand, saying, "I am sorry that I detained you. I didn't mean to be rude." There was

something boyish and simple about the action and the tone, and Armorer laughed. As Harry attended him

"Miss Armorer and Mrs. Ellis have promised to give me the pleasure of showing them to them this

afternoon," said Harry; "can't I show them and part of our city to you, also? It has changed a good deal since

The remark threw Armorer off his balance; for a rejected suitor this young man certainly kept an even mind.

But he had all the helplessness of the average American with regard to his daughter's amusements. The

humor in the situation took him; and it cannot be denied that he began to have a vivid curiosity about Harry.

In less time than it takes to read it, his mind had swung round the circle of these various points of view, and

he had blandly accepted Harry's invitation. But he mopped a warm and furrowed brow, outside, and drew a

prodigious sigh as he opened the notebook in his hand and crossed out, "See L." "That young fellow ain't all

He found Mrs. Ellis very apologetic about the Lossing engagement. It was made through the telephone;

Esther had been anxious to have her father meet Lossing; Lossing was to drive them there, and later show Mr.

"Mr. Lossing is a very clever young man, very," said Armorer, gravely, as he went out to smoke his cigar

after luncheon. He wished he had stayed, however, when he returned to find that a visitor had called, and that

this visitor was the mother of the little boy that Harry Lossing had saved from the car. The two women gave

him the accident in full, and were lavish of harrowing detail, including the mother's feelings. "So you see,

'Raish," urged Mrs. Ellis, timidly, "there is some reason for opposition to the ordinance."

Esther's cheeks were red and her eyes shone, but she had not spoken. Her father put his arm around her waist

and kissed her hair. "And what did you say, Essie," he asked, gently, "to all the criticisms?"

"I told her I thought you would find some way to protect the children even if the conductors were taken off;

Harry drove a pair of spirited horses. He drove well, and looked both handsome and happy.

"Did you know that ladythe mother of the boy that wasn't run over was coming to see my sister?" said

"I did," said Harry, "I sent her; I thought she could explain the reason why I shall have to oppose the bill,

At the shops he kept his eye on the young man. Harry seemed to know most of his workmen, and had a nod

or a word for all the older men. He stopped several moments to talk with one old German who complained of

everything, but looked after Harry with a smile, nodding his head. "That man, Lieders, is our best workman;

you can't get any better work in the country," said he. "I want you to see an armoire that he has carved, it is

Armorer said, "You seem to get on very well with your working people, Mr. Lossing."

"I think we generally get on well with them, and they do well themselves, in these Western towns. For one

thing, we haven't much organization to fight, and for another thing, the individual workman has a better

chance to rise. That man Lieders, whom you saw, is worth a good many thousand dollars; my father invested

"You are one of the philanthropists, aren't you, Mr. Lossing, who are trying to elevate the laboring classes?"

"Not a bit of it, sir. I shall never try to elevate the laboring classes; it is too big a contract. But I try as hard as

I know how to have every man who has worked for Harry Lossing the better for it. I don't concern myself

Just then a murmur of exclamations came from Mrs. Ellis and Esther, whom the superintendent was piloting

through the shops. "Oh, no, it is too heavy; oh, don't do it, Mr. Cardigan!" "Oh, we can see it perfectly well

from here! PLEASE don't, you will break yourself somewhere!" Mrs. Ellis shrieked this; but the shrieks

turned to a murmur of admiration as a huge carved sideboard came bobbing and wobbling, like an intoxicated

piece of furniture in a haunted house, toward the two gentlewomen. Immediately, a short but powerfully built

man, whose red face beamed above his dusty shoulders like a full moon with a mustache, emerged, and

"That's Cardigan," explained Harry, "Miss Armorer may have told you about him. Oh, SHUEY!"

Cardigan approached and was presented. He brought both his heels together and bowed solemnly, bending

"Pleased to meet you, sir," said Shuey. Then he assumed an attitude of military attention.

"Take us up in the elevator, will you, Shuey?" said Harry. "Step in, Mr. Armorer, please, we will go and see

Mr. Armorer stepped in, Shuey following; and then, before Harry could enter it, the elevator shot upward

Shuey was tugging at the wire rope. He called, in tones that seemed to come from a panting chest: "Take a

Armorer grasped the rope viciously; Shuey was on the seat pulling from above. "We're stuck, sir, fast!"

"Divil a bit, saving your presence, sir. Do ye think like the waterworks could be busted?"

"Well, you see there's a deal of noise of the machinery," said Shuey, scratching his chin with a thoughtful air,

"Best try, anyhow. This infernal machine may take a notion to drop!" said Armorer.

"And that's true, too," acquiesced Shuey. Forthwith he did lift up his voice in a loud wailing: "OHH,

Jimmy might have been in Chicago for any response he made; though Armorer shouted with Shuey; and at

every pause the whir of the machinery mocked the shouters. Indescribable moans and gurgles, with a

continuous malignant hiss, floated up to them from the rebel steam below, as from a volcano considering

eruption. "They'll be bound to need the elevator some time, if they don't need US, and that's one comfort!"

"Don't you think if we pulled on her we could get her up to the next floor, by degrees? Now then!"

Armorer gave a dash and Shuey let out his muscles in a giant tug. The elevator responded by an astonishing

"Stop her! stop her!" bawled Shuey; but in spite of Armorer's pulling himself purple in the face, the elevator

"Well, sir, I'll try. Say, don't be exerting yourself violent. It strikes me she's for all the world like the

wimmen, in exthremes, sir, in exthremes! And it wouldn't be noways so pleasant to go riproaring that gait

In fact, by slow degrees and much puffing, Shuey got the erratic box to the next floor, where, disregarding

Shuey's protestations that he could "make her mind," Mr. Armorer got out, and they left the elevator to its

fate. It was a long way, through many rooms, downstairs. Shuey would have beguiled the way by describing

the rooms, but Armorer was in a raging hurry and urged his guide over the ground. Once they were delayed

by a bundle of stuff in front of a door; and after Shuey had laboriously rolled the great roll away, he made a

misstep and tumbled over, rolling it back, to a tittering accompaniment from the sewinggirls in the room.

But he picked himself up in perfect good temper and kicked the roll ten yards. "Girls is silly things," said the

He had the friendly freedom of his class in the West. He praised Mrs. Ellis's gymnastics, and urged Armorer

to stay over a morning train and see a "real pretty boxing match" between Mr. Lossing and himself.

"And why on earth would he groanlike?" wondered Shuey to himself. "He does that, sir," he continued

aloud; "didn't Mrs. Ellis ever tell you about the time at the circus? She was there herself, with three children

she borrowed and an unreasonable gyurl, with a terrible big screech in her and no sense. Yes, sir, Mr. Lossing

he is mighty cliver with his hands! There come a yell of 'Lion loose! lion loose!' at that circus, just as the

folks was all crowding out at the end of it, and them that had gone into the menagerie tent came atumbling

and howling back, and them that was in the circus tent waiting for the concert (which never ain't worth

waiting for, between you and me!) was ascrambling off them seats, making a noise like thunder; and all

fighting and pushing and bellowing to get out! I was there with my wife and making for the seats that the

fools quit, so's to get under and crawl out under the canvas, when I see Mrs. Ellis holding two of the children,

and that fool girl let the other go and I grabbed it. 'Oh, save the baby! save one, anyhow,' cries my wifethe

woman is a tinderhearted crechure! And just then I seen an old lady tumble over on the benches, with her

gray hair stringing out of her black bonnet. The crowd was WILD, hitting and screaming and not caring for

anything, and I see a big jack of a man come plunging down right spang on that old lady! His foot was right

in the air over her face! Lord, it turned me sick. I yelled. But that minnit I seen an arm shoot out and that

fellow shot off as slick! it was Mr. Lossing. He parted that crowd, hitting right and left, and he got up to us

and hauled a child from Mrs. Ellis and put it on the seats, all the while shouting: 'Keep your seats! it's all

right! it's all over! stand back!' I turned and floored a feller that was too pressing, and hollered it was all right

too. And some more people hollered too. You see, there is just a minnit at such times when it is a toss up

whether folks will quiet down and begin to laugh, or get scared into wild beasts and crush and kill each other.

And Mr. Lossing he caught the minnit! The circus folks came up and the police, and it was all over. WELL,

"We run away from ye, shure," said Shuey, grinning; and he related the adventure. Armorer fell back with

Mrs. Ellis. "Did you stay with Esther every minute?" said he. Mrs. Ellis nodded. She opened her lips to speak,

then closed them and walked ahead to Harry Lossing. Armorer looked suspicion of a dozen kinds gnawing

him and insinuating that the three all seemed agitatedfrom Harry to Esther, and then to Shuey. But he kept

He heard Harry tell Mrs. Ellis that the city council would meet that evening; before, however, Armorer could

"He is certainly the coolest beggar," Armorer snarled, "but he is sharp as a nigger's razor, confound him!"

He thought it more times than one during the evening, and by consequence played trumps with equal

disregard of the laws of the noble game of whist and his partner's feelings. He found a few, a very few,

elderly people who remembered his parent, and they will never believe ill of Horatio Armorer, who talked so

simply and with so much feeling of old times, and who is going to give a memorial window in the new

Presbyterian church. He was beginning to think with some interest of supper, the usual dinner of the family

having been sacrificed to the demands of state; then he saw Harry Lossing. The young mayor's blond head

was bowing before his sister's black velvet. He caught Armorer's eye and followed him out to the lawn and

the shadows and the gay lanterns. He looked animated. Evening dress was becoming to him. "One of my

daughters married a prince, but I am hanged if he looked it like this fellow," thought Armorer; "but then he

was only an Italian. I suppose the council did not pass the ordinance? your committee reported against it?" he

"I wish you could understand how much pain it has given me to oppose you, Mr. Armorer," said Harry,

"I don't doubt it, under the circumstances, Mr. Lossing." Armorer spoke with suave politeness, but there was

"Esther!" repeats Armorer, with an indescribable intonation. "You spoke to her this afternoon? For a man

with such hightoned ideas as you carry, I think you took a pretty mean advantage of your guests!"

"It was while I was in the elevator, of course. I guessed it was a putup job; how did you manage it?"

Harry smiled outright; he is one who cannot keep either his dog or his joke tied up. "It was Shuey did it," said

he; "he pulled the opposite way from you, and he has tremendous strength; but he says you were a handful for

"You seem to have taken the town into your confidence," said Armorer, bitterly, though he had a sneaking

inclination to laugh himself; "do you need all your workmen to help you court your girl?"

"I'd take the whole United States into my confidence rather than lose her, sir," answered Harry, steadily.

Armorer turned on his heel abruptly; it was to conceal a smile. "How about my sister? did you propose before

"I had to speak; Miss Armorer goes away tomorrow. Mrs. Ellis was kind enough to put her fingers in her ears

"I asked her only to give me the chance to show her how I loved her, and she has. God bless her! I don't

pretend I'm worthy of her, Mr. Armorer, but I have lived a decent life, and I'll try hard to live a better one for

"I'm glad there is one thing on which we are agreed," jeered Armorer, "but you are more modest than you

were this noon. I think it was considerably like bragging, sending that woman to tell of your heroic feats!"

"Oh, I can brag when it is necessary," said Harry, serenely; "what would the West be but for bragging?"

Armorer was a quick thinker, but he had never thought more quickly in his life. This young fellow had beaten

him. There was no doubt of it. He might have principles, but he declined to let his principles hamper him.

There was something about Harry's waving aside defeat so lightly, and so swiftly snatching at every chance

"Tell me, Mr. Armorer," said Harry, suddenly; "in my place wouldn't you have done the same thing?"

Armorer no longer checked his sense of humor. "No, Mr. Lossing," he answered, sedately, "I should have

respected the old gentleman's wishes and voted any way he pleased." He held out his hand. "I guess Esther

thinks you are the coming young man of the century; and to be honest, I like you a great deal better than I

expected to this morning. I'm not cut out for a cruel father, Mr. Lossing; for one thing, I haven't the time for

it; for another thing, I can't bear to have my little girl cry. I guess I shall have to go to Europe without Esther.

Harry wrung the president's hand, crying that he should never regret his kindness.

"See that Esther never regrets it, that will be better," said Armorer, with a touch of real and deep feeling.

Then, as Harry sprang up the steps like a boy, he took out the notebook, and smiling a smile in which many