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I, ■ V-, ■5I ■::S ': ■.'l J? : ; I ■ 1 r'k- ^.\J I CONTENTS CHAPTili I 11 III IV. V. VI. VII. VVIII. ' IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. « XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. The Doctor's Daughter A Bad Twist . • • • ■ • . The Duke's Dressing-gown A Bit of Advice ... The Lady and the Cavalikr The Holly Sprig Inn Mrs. Chester is Troubled. ^ . Orso ... A Runaway . . The Larramie Family . The Three MoKennas • • • . « Back TO the Holly Sprig.- . ;a Man with a Letter . Miss Edith is Disappointed . Miss Willoughby . -. . An Icicle . . A Forecaster of Human 'Probabi Repentance Avails Not Beauty, Purity, and Peace , Back from Cathay . ' LITIES FAOB • 9 • 46 •58 . 66 • 77 •95 . io6 , 119 ' • 133 . 146 .157 • 1^72 185 195. 204 221 226 233 ■-*■.., ■ .it- 1: 1 ^, ■'■%' ■■ \ : ■,f| ■\,l -i'"''^ ILLtJST^ATIONS ,>N,.» '-/' THE doctor's daughter HALF-TITLE . . . . . " I PUT ON MY COAT " . . "THE RAiN WAS COMING DOWN HARD" "ON MY RIGHT A LIGHTED DOORWAY" A FEW THOUGHTS "THE BEAUTY OF HER TEETH" ^•i KICKED OFF MY EMBROIDERED SLIPPERS" "IT WOULD BE WELL FOR ME TO SWALLOW A CAPSULE" . ' •••••• "AS SOON AS I HAD "sPdKBN THiSE WORDS" " I DISMOUNTED AND APPROACHED THE WALL " "I THOUGHT FOR A FEW MOMENTS" "I WSNT OUT FOR A WALK " • •■•■•■.■■, MRS. CHESTER . , . . .> * ' • • • , , "SHE BEGAN TO TALK ABOUT WALFORD " "BUT WE WERE NOT ALONE"" .' . "TO MY LEFT 1 SAW A LINE OFTREES " . "HE WAS RUNNING AWAY" "HE SOON FELT THAT HE WAS UNDER CON- TROL" . ... , . "A LITTLE ARMY HAD THROWN ITSELF UPON ME", . . . ■ V FroHtu^iiet • • Pag* Vii Facing Pog* 14 • <• 16 .44 22 II 26 14 30 .11 42 14 44 41 50 41 , 58 41 64 44 72 44 74 41. :: ,78 ■ ' 4 4.- " 88 .41 ■ Io8 4 4 110 116 120 •i. ^\: M. :^' Illustrations ••WOULD IT BE EASfER TO MANAGE A BOY OR A BEAR?'". : . . . . 'I TAPPED MY LEFT PALM" THERE WAS A SUDDEN FLUSH UPON FACK". HKR Facing page J 22 146 MY MIND" ' " • : . . «« •'THE SCENE VIVIDLY RECURRED TO DECIPHERING THE DAGO's LETTER •• •! DON'T THINK YOU OUGHT TO TAKE THIS LETTER*" . '•*DO YOU THINK YOU COULD HIT IT WITH AN APPLE?'" -. "TALKING ABOUT BABV BEARS" " I H^LD THAT PICTURE A GOOD WHILE '' *" NO, SIR,' SHE SAID" ••cut LIKE THAT" . . . lUROPA ... • • • • • •••••....■ M. ;■ 166 173 180 188 192 300 332 338 Facing pagt J 22 - H _ 146 ' 166 173 -l8o 188- 192 200 222 238 ^i ii.'-'i*' r.W ^,, A :BlOtd]Lt 'O^OAf HAY f!^ !. 1 - rr ' ■ ■ ■■!«! r \m A BICYCLE OF CATHAY CHAPTER I. THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER • p was a beautiful summer morn- 1^ ing ^vhen slowly I wheeled my o^ way along the principal street oT m^ the village of Walford. A little i^A^M vahse vvas strapped in front of my bicycle; my coat, rolled into a small com- pass, was securely tied under the seat, and I was startmg out to spehd my vacation I^s the teacher of the village school, which useful mstitutipn had been closed for the season the day before, much to the gratification of ped- agogue and scholars. This position was not at alUhe summit of my youthful ambition. In fact I had been very much disappointed when I found myself obliged to accept it, but when X left coi: .-, A ■ T ■ ■ ^ A Bicycle of Cathay lege my firtftncial condition made it desirable for me to do somethim* to support myself while en- gaged m some o/ the studies preparatory to a professional career. I have never considered myself a sentimental person, but I must admit that I did not feel very tmppy that morning, and this state of mind was occasioned entirely by the feeling that there was no one who seemed to be in the least sorry that 1 was gomg away. My boys were so delighted ' to give up their studies that they were entirely satisfied to give up their teacher, and I am sure that, my vacation would have been a very lone one If they had had the ordering of it. My land- lady might have been pleased to have me stdy but if I had agreed to pay my board during my absence I do not' doubt that my empty room wbuld^haVe occasioned her no pangs of regret. I had friends in the yillage, but as (hey knew it was a matter of course that i should go away durmg the vacation, they seemed to be perfectly reconciled to the fact. '^ ^ - _ As I passed a small house which was the abode ot my laundress, my mental depression was in- crease(i> the action of her oldest son. This little fellow, probably five years of age, and the condition of whdse countenance indicated that I: ■f ■|- M ay desirable for elf while en- iratory to a sentimental lot feel very »f mind was it there was t sorry that o delighted ?re entirely 1 1 am sure very long Myland- e me staty, during my ipty room of regret. ly knew it go away i perfectly the abode n wasvin- )n. This , and the at'ed that The Doctor's Daughter his mother's art was seldom exercised Upon it, was playing on the sidewalk with his sister,' somewha.t younger and much dirtier. As I passed the little chap he looked up and in a sharp, clear voice, he cried t " Good-bye I Come baclsi»i^n I" These words 1:ut into my soul. Was it possible that this little ragamultin was the only one in that village who was sorry to see me depart and who desired my return ? And the acuteness of this cut was not decreased by the remembrance that on several occasions when he had accompanied his mother to my lodging I had given him small coins. I was beginning to move more rapidjy along the little path, well wpm by many rubber tires which edged the broad roadway, when I perceived the doctor's daughter standing at the gate of her father's front yard. As I knew her very wel^ and she happened to be standing there and look- ing in my direction, I felt that it would be the proper thing for me to stop and speak to her, and so 1 dismounted and proceeded to roll my bicycle up to the gate. As the doctor's daughter stood looking over the gate, her hands clasped the tops of the two central pickets. "Good-morning," said she, "I suppose, from *#" dtt. r A Bicycle of Cathay your cdrryiriK bajrgaprc, that you arc starting off for your vacation. How far do you expect to go on your wheel, and do you travel alone ?" - My only plan," I answered. " is to ride over the hills and far away I How far I really do not know ; and I shall be alone except Un- this good companion." And as I said this I patted the handle-bar of my bicycle. " Your wheel does seem to be a sort of a com pamon," she said ; " not so good as a horse, but better than nothing. I should think, travelling all by yourself in this way, you would have quite a friendly feeling for it. Did you ever think of giving it a name?" ;^ Oh yes," said I. " I have named it. I call it a Bicycle of Cathay.'" " k there any sense in such a name ?" she asked. « It IS like part of a quotation from T«myson, isn't it ? I forget the first of it " You are right," I said. " ' Better fifty vcars of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.' I cann;t tell you exactly why, but that seems to suggest a good name for a bicycle." « "^"^y«"r machine has two wheels," said she. Therefore you ought to say, ' Better one hun- dred years of Europe than two cycles of Cathay '" I bow to custom," said I. " Every one speaks .1 i I ay starting oft expect to go le?" ide over the ally, do not T this good patted the t of a com- horse, but travelling have quite ?r think of . I call it me?" she tion from of it." ifty years annot tell iuggest a said she. one hun- rathay.'" le speaks The Doctor's Daughter of a bicycle as a wheel, and I shall not introduce the plural into the name of tny good steed " "And you don't know whore your Cathay is to be?" she asked. \ I smiled and shook my head. "No," I an- swered, " but 1 hope my cycle will carry me Siifely through it." The doctor's daughter looked past me across the road. " I wi'^h I were a man," said she, " and could go off as I plea.sed, as you do I It must be delightfully independent.". I was about to remark that too much inde- pendence is not altogether delightful, but she suddenly spoke : .. ■ :" You carry very little with you for a long jour^ ney," and as she said this she grasped the pickets of the gate more tightly. I could see the con- traction of the muscles of her white hands. It seemed as if she were restraining something. ' "Oh, this isn't all my baggage," I rephed. "I ser^t on a large bag to Waterton. I suppose I shall be there in a couple of days, and then I shall ' »rward the bag to some other place." "I do not suppose you have packed up any medicme among your other things ?" she asked "You don't look as if you very often needed medicine." u I I r.i. .•■/• ijk' A Bicycle of Cathay I laughed a, I replied that in the course of my hfe I had taken but Ijltlc. , ' ; But if yonr oycic .starts off rdllinR early in the mcrnmg," she said, " „r keeps on Uc in thee '- nmg, you ought to be able to defend yourself agmnst materU. I do noNk leave me ^stance ahead of me J saw a woman on a wheel.* She was not going rapidly, and I was gaining on her. Suddenly, with no reason what- ever that I could see, her machine gaVe a twist, and, although she put out her foot to save herself, « H I I m \V ''i I "J '■■m^ nCJ- ^7 *-. )■, '■ »1 ■o \ A Bicycle of Cath ay she fcll to the ground. Instantly I pushed for then she slipped and stood still I^^TuJ, I ftiniie. It IS the old wav of thp"w^ri,i » t ^u , " WoiiU *»,o T? ^ 1 -^ ••^^^^^^"^ i thought. ^ Would the Fates have made that young woman ^11 irom her bicycle if there had LnuTmen commg along on their wheels?^' /^^ ^^n mewithouttheslightestemh^rr.* . ^ ^"^ lion. • /^ ■ '^""^^"^ssmentorhesita- -a^^^^T ■l'^'^ ««-- -ay/' she said and I do not kno V what I anrgoing to do r hurts me to make i sfpr. ^.^a t ^ ^ '^ ^^- " work my whW '^' '' ^''" '"'^ ^ ^«""«t J Have you far logon asked. ^ • 'P-httle^hl.el.nayt^^SloIS^f^'-^ I would not try to do that " said T « Wu / ever h.3 Happe„ed.to your 4:^ ankles •■ :'.-.■■■■■ . -,io .;' ." . ".. I 4 .1^ \ ■' y ;;.;;■<- ushed for- ch Itershe ivards her road, and ^ that she 5f inward thought, g woman two men broached le. She I. When : spoke to rhesita- le said, do. It cannot A Bad Twist ,: • would certainly make it very piueh Worse by walking such a distance. Perhaps I ca;n ride on and get you a conveyance T p * . ^ " You would have to go a long way to get one," she answered. ^ "We do not keep a horse and 1 ..really—".- - -:'\\_ -^iy,:;.- " Don't trouble yourself in the least," I said. " I can take you to your home without any difi&- culty whatever. If you will mount your machine I can push you along very easily." "^ 'IMui then you would have to walk your- self/' she saidi i^uickly^ " and push your wheel too."'. ■^■- : '^-■. '■.'■■■■.;"■:.■' ;.'".■■-' Of course it would not have been necessary for nle to walk, for I could have ridden my bicycle and have pushed her along on her own, but under the circumstances I did not think it wise to risk this. So I accepted her suggestion of walking as if nothing else cotild be done, " Oh, I do not mind walking a bit," said I. "I ani used to it, and as I have °been riding for a long time, it would be a relief to me." / She stood perfectly still, apparently afraid to move lest she should hurt her foot, but she raised her head and fixed a pair of very large blue eyes upon me. "^ " It is too kind in you to off^r to do this 1 But I do not see what else is to be done. • ' ^" ...■ 11^ ■ U i while you mg ,rp her b.cyck I brought it to her. She4ed. ill put'yo J childlike, : think It lis action, with the ;r to that I easily had laid e slowly eet from coasters ■ to have hat will ► it and >ri, and e pleas- foot to A Bad Twist keep it still. I do hope I haven!t sprained my ankle ! It is possible t^ give a foot a bad twist without spraining it, isn't it ?" I assented, and as I did so I thought it would not he difficult to give a bad twist to any part of this slenderly framed young creature. "How did you happen to fall ?" I asked— not that I needed to inquire, for my own knowledge of wheelcraft assured me that she had tumbled simply because she did not know how to ride, "I haven't the slightest idea," she answered. , " The first thing I knew I was going over, and I wish Iliad not tried to save myself. It would have been better to go down bodily. "^ As we went on she told me that she had not had much practice, as it had been but a few v^|€5ks since she had become the possessor of a wheel, and that this was the first trip she had ever taken by herself. She had always gone in company with some one, but to-day she had thought she was able to take care of jierself, like other girls. Finding her so entirely free from conventional embarrassment, I made bold to give her a little advice on the sabject of wheeling in general, and she seemed entirely willing to be instructed. Jn fact, as I went on with my little discourse I began to think tlmtl would much rather teach girls than :_p-. tir A Bicycle of Cathay boys. At first sight the young person under n.; charge might have been taken for a school-girl . but her conversation would have Soon removed'^ that illusion. We had not proceeded more than a mile wh^ suddenly I felt a very gentle tap on the end of ..W - nose and at the same moment the young lady turned her head towards me and exclaimed 'l/s gomg to rain I I felt a drop i" "I will walk faster," I said, "and no doubt I will get you to your house before the shower is upon us. At any rate. I hope you won't be much 'Oh it doesn't matter aboutrmc in the least " cl K :'^'''^'"-^"— ndcanputX dothes. but you will be soaked through and hav^ to^go on. You haven't any coat on 1" raiL^ \ 'r'' tr" "'*'■" "'^^ «"y probaVKty of rf t° ^™ P"' '^ ""y '•«' before I started llZ 'f't=<'""=»'^' tinusual method of travel- c^^T : T ™ ''^'P '"' ■' "°'^' ^nd all I could do was to hurry on. From walking fast I began to trot The drops were coming d<^vn quite frequently^ * '^nT'I ')fi f" y«" dreadfully ?" she said. Not at all/ t replied. M could run like this for a long distance." / c ims ■ ■ ■ '■"/:'■'■ H ■■'■■.:■'■: '';:'■•■':•■'■••'■. <\ ."■ .*■, ./■ ■■■•■ • T "'itf > J.' we.«iL ""iJ^ i ' 1 under my 5chool-girl, n removed mile whon' end of my >ung Jady lied : "It's doubt I , shower is be much le least, 'V Jt on dry md have ¥Hty of t started f travel- nd all I g fast I 1 down said, ke this 9 ' 4-'' ^ 'l:tafc ■■V A Bad Twist . - ' fl . ■ ■ She looked up at me with a little smile. I think she must have forgotten the^jainiir her foot. "It must be nice to he strong like that/' she said. Now the rain came down faster, and my coih- paniori declared that I ought to stop aind put on my coat. I agreed to this, and when I came to a suitable tree by the road-side, I carefully leaned her against it and detached my coat from my' bicycle. Bu:t just as I was about to put it on I glanced at the young girl. She had on a thin shirt-waist*, and I could see that the shoulders of it -were already wet. I advanced towards her, hold- ing out my coat. " I miist lay this over you," I said. " I am afraid now that I shall not get you to your home before it begins to rain hard." She turned to me so suddenly that I made ready to catch her if her unguarded movement should overturn her machine. " You mustn't do that at all ! " she said. " It doesn't matter whether I am wet or not. I do not have to travel in wet clothes, and you do. Please put on yeur coat and let us hurry!" I obeyed her, and away we went again, the rain now coming down hard and fast. For some minutes she did not say anything ; but I did not wonder at this, for circumstances were not favor- . ■<" A Bicycle of Cathay able to conversation. But presently, in spite of the rain and our haste, ^he spoke : • "It must seem dreadfuW ungrateful and hard- hearted in me to say to ^ou, after all you have done for me, that you must go on in the rain. Anybody would think that I ought to ask you to come into our house and wait until the storm is over. But, really, I do not see how I can do it." I urged her not lor a moment to think of me. I was hardy, and did not mind rain, and when I was mounted upon my wheel the .exercise would keep me warm enough until I reached a place of shelter, " I do not Uke it," she said. "It is cruel and in- human, and nothing you can say will niake it any better. But the fact is that I find myself in a very-^ Well, I do not know what to say about it. You are the school-teacher at Walford, arejrounot?" This question surprised me, and I assented quickly, wondering what would come next. " I thought so," she said. "I have seen you on the road on your wheel, and some one told me who you were. And now, since you have b^en so kind to me, I am goirtg to tell you exactly why I cannot ask you to stop^at our house. Everything is all wrong there toHday, and if I don't explain what ."-i. ■ . '■-. . M /: ■■ ■• ;. ■:, .:^'- ■■ ]■;, .^i 1 spite of nd hard- rqxx have the rain ; ikyou to storm is loit." »f me. I when I >e would place of larKiin- raiake it myself to say t^alford, ssented I ■ '. you on newho so kind cannot g is all a what ■•;': ^nii: K AINWAS lUM|M;:i,i.\v\; ||,\K|,' \i -M- ' /f' ^> ft. *..*■■:. v^ A Bad Twist «:*■ ■■'1 has happened, you might think that things are worse than they really are, and I wouldn't want anybody to think that." I listened with great attention, for I saW that she was anxious to free herself of the imputation of being inhospitable, and although the heavy rain and my rapid pace made it sometimes difli- cult to catch her words, I lost very little of her story. " You see," said»she, " my father is very fond of gardening, and he takes great pride in his vege-. tables, especially the early ones. He has peas this year ahead of everybody 'else in the neighbor- hood, and it was only day before yesterday that he took me out to look at them. He has been Watching them ever since they first came up out of the ground, and when, he showed me the nice big pods and told me they would be ready to pick*, in a day or two, he looked $0 proud and happy that you might have thought his peas were little living peeple. I truly believe that even at prayer- time he could not help thinking how good those peas would taste. "But this morning when he came in from the garden and told mother that he was going to pick our first peas, so as to have them perfectly fresh for dmner, she said that he would better not pick ^ ■':'f^ I- 1 n * .-/■ HI ^1 ■ '- ■'■ " " ■■ ■ ■- .."■!' . -L :'■ ^B A Bicycle of Cathay them to-day. because the vegetable man had been along just .after breakfast, and he had had such nice green peas that she had bought some, and therefore he had better keep his peas for some other day. 7 " IVow. I don't want you to think that mother isn't just as good as gold, for she is. . But she doesn't take such interest in garden things as father does, and to her allpcas are peas, provided they arc good ones. But when father heard what she had done I know that he felt exactly as if he had been stabbed in one of his tenderest places. He did not say one word, and he walked right out of the house, and since that they haven't spoken to each other. It was dreadful to sit at dinner, ' neither of them saying a word to the other, and only speaking to me. It was all so different from the way things generally are that 1 can scarcely bear it. ; "And I went out this afternoon for no other reason than to give them a chance to make it up between them. I thought perhaps they would do ^ It better if they were alone with each other: -But ofcourse I do not know what has happened, and thmgs may be worse than they were. I could not take a stranger into the house at such a time -they would not like to be found not ■ A.' '■■A': ■:* ■ .» ■■*■ A Bad Twist ■.t ■■^i'. Speaking to each other--and, besides, I do not know^ — " Here I interrupted her, and begged her not to give another thought to the subject. I wanted very much to go*on, and in every way it was the best thing I eould do. " ^. As I finished speaking she pointed 6tit a pretty house standing back from the road, and told me that was where she lived. In a very few minutes ^ after that I had run her up to the steps of her piazza and was assisting her to dismount from her wheel. \ "It is awful I" she said. " This rain is doming down like a cataract I" "You must hurry in-doors, " I answered . " Let me help you up the steps." And with this I took hold of her under the arms, and in a second I had set her down in front of the closed front door. I then ran down and brought up her wheel. " po you think you can manage to walk in ?" said I. "Oh yes !" she said, " If I can't do anything else, I can hop. My mother will soon have me all right. She kiiows all about such things. " She looked at me with an anxious expression, and then said, "How d6 you think it would do for you'to wait on the piazza until the rain is over ?" * Good-bye," I said,with a laugh, and bounding W\, \ A Bicycle of Cathay down to the front gate, where I had left ray bicycle, , I mounted and rode awaj\ The rain came down harder and harder. The rodd was full of little running streams, and liquid mud flew from under my whirling wheels. It . was not late in the afternoon, but it was actually getting dark, and 1 seemed to be the only Hving creature out in this tremendous storm. I looked from side to side for someplace into which I could run for shelter, but here the road ran between broad open fields. My coat had ceased to protect me, arid I could feel the water upon my skin. But in spite of my discomforts and violent ex- ertions 1 found myself under the influence of some verypleasurable emotions, occasioned by the inci- dent of the sfender girl. Her childlike frank- ness was_charming to me. There was not ^n- O^her girl in a thousand who woulcj^have told me that story of the peas. 1 felt glad that she had known who I was when she was talking %) me, and that her simple confidences had been given to me personally, and not to an entirestrartger who had happened along. I wondered if she resem- bled her father or her mother; and I had no doubt that to possess such a daughter they must both be excellent people. l:^-";. :■.■,/ :.: :'•■■..'■ .20- ■■. C':-:-:'': ■r ■ ■■■■■■(: ■4-' t - ; CHAFFER Iff THE PUKE'S DRESSING-GOWN ■ . ■ .'.'--■ ' ' • «> ■ ." . . 3HINKING thus, I almost forgot the storm, but coming to a slight descent w^re* the road was very smooth I became conscious that' my wheel was inclined to slip, and if I were not careful I might come to grief. But no sooner had I reached the bottom of the de- clivity than I beheld on my right a lighted doorway. Without the slightest hesitation I. turned through the wide gateway, the posts of which I could scarcely see, and stepped in front of a small house by the side of a driveway. Waiting for no permission, I carried my bicycle into a little covered porch. I then approached the door, for 1 was now seeking not only shelter n)ut an oppiortunity to dry myself . I do not be- lieve a. sponge could have been more thoroughly soaked th^n I was. ;; At the very entrance I was met by a little man in short jacket and top-boots. \ " f r ■» ,' ight 3nie Hi, iaiT lan ing he, 'Se. it I tie is he he )le he in n.. re le '.'"'" in I -^- n- ■•«..;■ ••'V & 1. t « > -», *. 'J ' ir *• I \ A H.\V rHOUGMTS ( » * , c » - \ ■/, "cf*^ '^- ■.#•* f ■ The Duke's DressTrlg- Gown you like a little nip of whiskey, ^ir, to keep the damp out ?" I declined the whiskey, and seated myself iij the neatly-furnished parlor; It was wonderful, I thought, to fall into such a hospitable household^ and then I began to ask myself whether pr not it would be the proper thing to offer to pay for my*. entei%inment. I thought I had quite properly divined the position in life of the little man. / This small house, so handsomely built and neatly" kept, must be a lodge upon some fine country > place, and the man was probably the head gar- ' dener, or something of the kind. . It was not long before my hostess came into the room, t)ut she did riot laugh !at my appearance, She was a handsome woman, erect and br6ad|^ with a free and powerful step. She siniled as she spoke to mei "■ ■ . %^ " • " You may think that that's an over-handsofne gown for such as us to be Wning. It was given to my man by the Duke of^adford. That wai before we were married, and. he was an under- gardener Uien. . The Duchess wouldn't let the Duke wear it, becduse it was so gay, and there wasn't iione ©Hhe, servants that would care to take it, for fear they'd be laughed ^t, until they offered it to John. And John, you must know. /■' :£_ ■ns. > V A Bicycle of Cathay he'd take anything \ But I came in to tellyou supper's ready ; and, if you like, I'll bring you something in here, and you can eat it on that table, or—" Here I interrupted mjrgoodiiSstess, and de- clared that, while I should be glad to have some supi)er, I would not eat any unless- 1 ujight sit down with her husband and herself ; and, as this proposition seemed to please her, the three of us were soon seated around a very tastefully fur- nished table in a dining-rbom looking out Upon a prettj^ lawn. The rain had now almost ceased, and from the window I could see beautiful stretches of grass, interspersed with ornamental trees and flower-beds. •""' The meal was plain but abundant, with ati appetizing smell pervading it which is seldom noticed in connection wilh the tables of the rich. When we had finished (supper I found, that the skies had nearly cleared and that it was growing quite light again, I asked permission to step out upon a little piazza which opened' from the dining-room and smoke a pipe, and while I was sitting there enjoying the beauty of the sunlight on the sparkling grass and trees I again heard, the little man and his wife talking to each other. * " It can't be done," said he, speaking very pos- ~ „ 28* ^ . '^ M The Duke's Dressing - Gown itively. * Tvc orc^ers about that, and there's no gettii^ round them." " Iti? &3\ to be done '".said she, " and there's an fibeTof itf The clothes won't be dry until morn- ^ ing, 'ATtd it won't do to put them too near thq stove, or they'll shrink so he can't get them on. And he c^n't go away tp hunt up lodgings wear- ing thfe Ehike's dressing-gown and them j'ellow breeches !^ - " Orj^ers is or-' // /r ■■ ■■/■■- -;;"<'; A Bicycle of Cathiy and then, as she seemed inclined to talk, I hei ged her to sit down if she did not mind the pij Down she sat, and steadily she talked, Sh^ congratulated herself on her happy thought tc light the hall lamp, or I might never have noticedl the house in the darkness, and she would have ' beeiv sorry enough if I had had id keep op the rio^jd for another half-hour in "that dr^adfu^l :rain.^- . On^she talked in the most cheerful and com- municative way, until suddenly she rose with a start; " He's coming himself, sir !" she said, "with Miss Putney." "Wh^s/he'T'Tasked. "It's the master, sir Mr. Putney, and his daugnter. Just stay here where you are, sir, ana make yourself comfortable. I'll go and sp^ak to them." '. Left to myself, I knocked out my pipe and sat wondering what would happen next. A thing happened which surprised me very mtich. Upon a path which ran in front of the little piazza ther6 appeared two persons— one, an elderly gentle- man, with gray side-whiskers and a pale face, attired In clothes with such an appearance of newness that it might well have been supposed this was the first time he had worn them ; the other, £^-young lady, rather small in stature, but 1 »!• tid his re, sir, ;o and md sat thing Upon a ther6 gentle- e face, nee of pposed 1 ; the re, but "', i S :;1 T gt y ^ y 1 ■ " V ■ X ■■»'•.• q -9 1 ^' '• , , . • Iffi ' _■',,■■■-■ —■ * - ■ ■ '" ■ , :-*^- .'■ .-•■-■ ■ -:■ ■■ - - _ V. / The' D uke's Dressing - Gown extremely pleasant to look upon. She had dark hair and large blue eyes ; her complexion was rich, and her dress of light silk was wonderfully well shaped. Air this I saw at a glance, and immediately afterwards I also* perceived that she had most beautiful teeth; for when she beheld me as I rose^fimn^py chair and stood in ihy elevated po- sftionSHp her she could not restrain a laugh ; but f ^^l^iiparent impoliteness 1 did not blame her a|all. But not so much as "^^mile came upon the countenance of the elderly gentleman. He, too, was small, but he had a deep voice. "Xjood- evening, sir," said he. "I am told that you are the school-master at Walford, and that you were overtaken by the storm." I assured him that these were the facts; and stood waiting to hear what he would say next. "It was very proper indeed, sir, that my gar- dener and his wife should take you under the protection of this roof, but as I- hear that it is proposed that you should spend the night here, I have come down to speak about it. I will tell you atpnce, sir, that I have given my man the most positive orders that he is not to allo^y any one to spend a night in this house. It is so i (!Q .B ■t- •; ■ ::? /,.^t-'-^ "■■■■-■-•• 'fe;^ ::::■: -^ A. Bicfycleef. Cathay ^ . ccan^veriiently near to the road that I should hot know what sort of persons were , being enter- tained here if I allowed liim any such privilege." ' As*he spoke theyouilg'lady stood silently gaz- ing at me. - There Was a remnant q{ a smile upon her face, but rcdul^ also see that she was a 'Httle' aanoyed. I was about , to make some ( sort of anindependen^ answer to thie gentlenliaij's remarks/but he anticipated me. ^,„-^ • " I do not want you lo Ihiidc, sir, on accoimt of what I have said,v that I Intend to drive you off my property at this hour of the evening, and in your inappropriate clothing. I« have heard of you, sir, and ypu dccupy alk)sition of trust and, to a certain degree, of honor, in your village. Tfierefore, while 1 cannot depart from my rule— , for I wish to make no precedent of that kind— I will ask ypu to spend theu night at my house;- You need not be annoyed by sthe peculiarity of your attire. If you desire to avoid observation' ' you can remain here until it grows darker, and then yo\} can walk up to the mansion. I shallhave ,^ bed-pom prepared for you, and whenever you chooseVou can occupy it. I have been informed that youijiave had something to eat, and it is as well, for perhaps vour dress wpuld prevent you from accepting an invitation to our evening nieal." 32 % '4- V* N 11 '■"■'.'. \: ■'■ 1 '-,■ ' .1JL:_4 ■"'■ ^vr':.' '-■ • , "V ■;■ Hi V :.,(.,>■ » ' TT " "''• *. . ,1- ■ '■";>■;■■■ r *> '^Tbe' puke*s Dressing- Gown t m I still .held my brier-wood pipe in my "hand, and I felt inplihed to hurl it at* the dapper Jiead of the consequential little gentleman, .but with such a girl landing by it would have been im# possible'to treat him with any disrespect, and a,s I looked aihim I felt sure that his apparent su- perciliousness was prbbably the result of too much'moni^ and too.littIe iMreediiig. / sv "^ The young lady said nothing, but she turned and looked Steadily at her father, « ■ Hfer Counter "^ naiice was probably in the habit of very i»bmptly . ,, • expr^ssiiig. the state of her'mind, aind it now' seerp^ to ^ay to her fathe|:,' f I hppe^ that what you have said ^tU. not make him detli)ne wh^ ,/ '"/''" 'you-bffer!*" . .-:> ■;■■;■ V , '""..:V::r-^;.^ ,•' / .>- ♦ My irritation quickly (Ksappe^red,, r had now , / entered into my , (SJathay, gflld J must take things / as 1 found • them therie. A§,i could not Stay / ,- ' ■ whefje I' was, and could not cont^u^ my jbumeyr it would*be;a sensible thing to,pVerlook th^ man's , ' manner and accept his pffef» and, I accordingly i did sdl I think. he was' pleased more than he .'cared to express. ' , '- • / ♦; "Very good, sir!" sai^. he. "As soon ^ as "it gr6ws a little darker I.shall be glad to have you ;. walk up to my. house. As J said befor^, I am , sure you- Would not care to d'o so now) as. you • C. ' . 33 :- ■ ' - v^ * -t^ ^ % ■t. t* •:, ■ , ■ " . ' ' ' %:\'::. 1 ■ \ " ' t V ■■/■I ■. ■ ■-. -■ ». ".V ■■» ■.. w W A Bicycle of Gathay > might "provoke remarks even from tlie servants. Good-evening, sijr, ifhtil I see you again/' During all this time the yc^ung lady had not spoken, but as the two disappeared around the comer of the house 1 heard her voice, She spoke very clearly and distinctly, 'a^d she said, "It would have been a great deal more gracious if you had asked him to cctoie at once, without all that—" The rest of her remarks were lost to me. The little manahd hig wife presently came out on the porch, HW countenance exp'fessed a sort of resignation to thwarted hospitality. "It's the way of the world, sir I" she said. ■f The ups are always up and the downs are al- ways down I I expect they will be glad to liave company at the house, for it must be dreadfully lonely up there— which might be said of 'tjhis house as well." ^ It soon became dark lenough ifor me to wilk through the grounds without hurting th^ sensi- bilities of their proprietor, and as I arose to go the good wife of the gardener brought me my' 'cap.', f I dried that out for you, sir, for I knew you v^ould want it, and to-morrow mornirig my man will take your clothes up to the house:" I thanked her for her thoughtful kindness, and /^ 34 ■ir k: The Puke's Dressing -Gown "was about to depart, but the little man was not quite ready for me to go. , "if you don't mind, sir," saidhe^ * and would step bagk there In jthe light just for one minute, I would lilse to tal^e another look at you, I don't suppose I'll ever see anybody again wearing the DuM'fe iiressing-gown.j^ By George, sir, you do Ih look rieai roy all", " ' . His wife looked at me admiringly. * Yes, sir," said she, "and I wish it was the feshion f or gen- tlemen to dress something- like that every day. But I will §ay, sir, that if you don't want people . to ]^e staring at you, and will just wrap that gown round you so that the lining won't be seen, you wont look so niuch out of the ^ay." „ . As I w^ked along the smooth, hardtdriveway I adopted the. suggestion oi the gardener's .wife ;• but as I approached the house, and saw tbat even ^ • the broad piazza was lighted by electric lamps, , I was seized with the fancy to appear in all "my , • glory, and I allowed my capacious robe to* float . out on each side of nje in c'rirnson brightness.. . .The gentlem^ii stood at the top of the s\eps. ^ " I have been waiting fw you, sir," said he. vHe 1(Mpked as if he were about to offer me his hahd, but jjrobably considered this an u^ecessary cerern6hy under' the circuinstances. * Would, .' i'-^ «"'*^ 35 ':i . M^ ■J ■ A. Bicycle of Cathay - you like to.retire to your room, sir, or would yoi^ i^refer— prefer sitting out hcT^ to enjoy the cjool of the evening? Here armchairs and seats, sir, hd.,^pproached me with a tray on which were a cup.of cbffee and some cigkrs. I could npt refrain from smiling as I saw the man. '- „ : "The old fellow has been forced to conquer his prejudices," 1 said to myself, " apd to submit i' to the mortification of alfowing rr^e to be seen by with ntore respect. . , L-teaning back in a comfortable chair, 1 sipped ■ 'my cofl[0e' and puffed away at a perfectly,deHght- ful Havana cigar. ^ " Cathay is not a bad place," ^ said I,^tq myself. "Its hospitality is a little queer, but as to gorgeousness, luxury^and— " I ^ was about to add another quality whin my min4 *was.4iv^rted by a light step oatite piazza, and,' turning my head, I beheld the young lady I had seen before. Instantly I rose and laid aside my , ":■:. cigar. ■■ ■■:; ^ - v'--"", ■.■■ ;■■■■•■ /-^;^ ■ ; " Please do not disturb yourself," she said. " I simply came out to give a little message from my '37 . ' . (> > \y i \ \ -A A Bicycle of Cathay ■ * ' " ■ father. Sit down again, and I will take this seat for a moment. My father's health is delicate," she said, " and we ^o not like him to be out in the night air, especially after a ^ain. So I came in his stead to tell you 'that if you would like to come into the house you must do so without the slightest hesitation, because my mother and I do; not mind that dressing-gown any more than if it were an ordinary coat. -We are very glad to have the opportunity of entertaining you, for we know some people in Waif ord— not very many, but some --and we have heard you and your schooV spoken of vtry highly. So we want you to make your- self perf^tly at home, and come in or sit put here, just as your own feelings in regard to extraordi- nary fine clothes shall prompt you. ■' . • At this she reassured me as to the beauty of her .teeth. ^"^ As l(^g as you will sit out here," said I, to myself, " there will be no in-doors for me. '■'..■'.-■ She seemed to read my thoughts, and said : " If you will go on with your smoking, I will wait and ask you somejWpgs about Walfbrd. I dearly love the smell of a good cigar, and father never smokes. He always keeps them, how- ever, in case of gentlemenf visitors." She then went on to talk about some Waif ord ■I ■" 3* ■I ;; The Duke's Dressing-Gown people, and asked me if I knew Mary Talbot. I replied in the affirmative, for Miss Talbot was ^ membef of our literary society, and the young lady informed me tl»at Mary Talbot had a brother in my school— a fact of which I was aware to my sorrow— and it was on account of this brother that she had firs! happened to see me. See me \" I exclaimed, with surprise. ' "Yes," said she. "I drove over to the. village one day this spring, and Mary and I were walk- ing past your school-house, arid the door was wide open, for it was so warm, and we stopped so that Mary might point out her brother to me ; and so, as we were looking in, of course I saw- y \ vm-:^ A Bieycle of Cathay . At this momfent I distinctly saw his daughter punch him with her elbow, and as I had no de- sire to make an early start, and wished very much to enjoy a good breakfast in Cathay, I quickly declared that I was in no hurry, and that 'the family breakfast h6U| would suit me perfectly. • -. The young lady disappeared into the parlor, and I moved towards the butler; but my host, probably thinking that he had not been quite as attentive to me as his station demanded, or wishing to let me see what a fine house he pos- sessed, stepped up to me and asked me to look into the billiard-room, the door of which I was about to pass. After some remarks of depreca- tory ostentation, in which he informed me that in building his house he thought only of com- fort and convenience, and^ nothing of show, he carelessly invited my attention to the drawing- room, the librarjft the rtiusic-room, and the little sitting-room, all of which were furnished with as much stiffness and hardness and inharmo- nious coloring as money could command. When we had finished the round of these rooms he made me a bow as stiff as one of his white and gold chairs, and I followed the butler up the stair- case. The man with the light preceded me into '*^ v;. H r '•'-,■■, ' !>■ ? ■ i ■ T •J ■* ■ 7= into ._;/■,;. ■■•,■-■:■ ';',■■■■. ■'••,■■;. \ --:■■ .. /■ '■ ■■. **' ■- ' '-• "■ ■■■.■■, '■'"'... .. - .v*s? •■• -■■;■■.,■ ■t ■''':■■'■': ;i;4-.. ■""'"" •' ■ ■ .■■ ■ ' -■ , "■,.-■: y ' * ' . ,-::.,::;:s^.,.:-t:; ^ » . • ■ ■ - ■ 's ■'' -^ -K/. ■ •' . - ;-^^^" • ■ .-. '^'i' a t • ■■».', V -■.■■.■■■■■■ ■;■-•:,- • ii "^ !l ( « %■ .'# **■■.; '.v. w. ^i^ II: ! *'■ >^-: .^ I ■- H 1 ^H H ' J H i H HI , 1 '^H J. 't . The Duke's Dressing- Gown a rpom on the second floor, and just as I was about to enter after him I saw the young lady come. around a comer of the hall with a lifted candle in her hand. " Good-night/ she said, with a sn^j||| 'A ^ - -, ;. ? ' , ',.;■ •■•■;' 44 ?' '.« -1. -rr- ■ -/ ^ V -r , jt * \ ^ " H" WyU'lI* HK WEI.I. KrtR ME TO SWAUjOW A CAI'SULK" ' • -# / ■J" 1^ A t \ The Duke*s Dressine-Gown . I^fefore retiring, as many gentlemen do, you need. t*ot mind 'smoking here. These rooms are so well vi^ntilated, sir, that every particle of odor will be outirx'np time." Placing the tray upon a table, he retired. For an hour or more I sat sipping my wine,, puffing smoke into rings, and allowing my mind to dwell pleasirigly upon the situation, the most prominent feature of which seemed to me to be a young lady with bright eyes and white teeth, and . dressed in a perfectly-fitting gown. When at last I thought I ought to go to bed, I stood and gazed at niy Httle valise. I had left it on the porch and had totally forgotten it, but here it was upon a table, where it had been placed, no dgi^t,'1)y *he %©ughtf ul Brownster. I opened it ^ and took out the h^ cf capsules. I did not feel that I had taken cold in the night air ; this was ^ not a time .to protect mys^f against morning mists ; but still ItiKmght it would he well for me gl^^J did so. ■•\ ■>■ •:♦ . I ..J :__ CHAPTER IV A BIT OF ADVICE , ...r„ |HE next morning I awoke ^bput seven o'clock. My clothes, neat- ' ly brushed and folded, were on a chair near the bed, with .my brightly - blackened shoes near " by. 1 rose, quickly dtessed* mys«lf, arichjjfSi^'ent . forth into the morning air, 1 met no one in ' the house, and the hall door was open. : For - an hour or more I walked about the beau- tif ul groiinds. Sometimes I wandered near the house, among the flower-beds and sl^rubis; ' sometimes I followed the winding path • to a considerable distance; occasionally I sat down in a covered arbor ; and then I sought \ the shade of a little grove, in which there \^efe ^ hamnjocks and rustic chairs. But I met no,'6ney and rfeaw no one except some men working iiibar the stables. I would have heen glad to go cfcwnr to the lodge and say " Good-morning *' to^ny ^» : % i:- :/ lA^it of Advice « • ■-..■■ -^ 'iJ --:■■'■ '-y.^ : /.^^ .; , ' ••.'■• kind entertainers there,, bul for^some reason or other it struck me that that neat' little house was too much out of the way. When I had had enough Walking I retired to ' tl|e piazza and sat there/ until Brpwnster, with a bow, came and informed me that tjrekkfast was servedw-' " ■ : ■■.; ■ - :.'■ / :■' ,■.■:; :.'':■:::■: ^•':-; The ydung lady, in the freshest of summer cos-, tumes, met me at the door and bade me/' Good-; morning," but the greeting of her father was not by any means cordial, although his manner had lost some of the stiff condescension which had ^ so badly upon him the evening before; The mother was a very pleasant little lady of few words and a general air which indicated an iiiti-v mate acquaintance with back seats. The breakfast was a remarkably good one, When the meal was over, Mr. Putney walked with ' me into the me, sir," saic ceive my manager and firrange \^ith him for. the varied business of the day. Goojd-mornirig, sir. I wish you a very pleasant journey." And, barely givincjjjfejkchance to thank him for hi6 entertain- ment, iHllsappeared into the back part qf the house. • ' ' ' . The ypting lady was standing at the front of the / 47 11. " I must now ask you to exciise le, "as this is the |iour when I rc- b' t *., :"■ ■■*«;■ n .V ^ Bicy c;Ij&«iaA. Cathay/ - hall ; " Won ' t you please come in, " she said, " and see mother ? She wants to talk to you about Wal- ford." /■. V ■:./' -•■ . ■:-■■■•': ,■■:':■'./■ ■■■■■.■.;■ I found the little lady in a small ro6m opening from the parlor, and also, to my great surprise, I found her extremely talkatiye and chatty. She »|ktd me so many questions that I hi^d little chancfe to an$wer thapi, and shetold nie a great deal more about Walford and] its peo^Aand j^qitizens than I had learned during my nine nroaths'' residence in the Villa^;^ P was very ^ * gladTb give her an opportunity of talking, which was a^plea^vre, Limagined, she did not often en- joy; but as I fRw^o signs of ^dr stopping, I was obliged to ri«l andltalfe leave of ' Her. Th(||||burtiP lady liccornpariiedl me into the hall.j- " I mugt get my valise," 1 s^id, "and then I must yiNlf- And I assure yc . " No, da^ot trouble y^ursj^f about yrngTva^se,"*. she interrupted. •" Br^ifet^.will attend^thal —he will t^ke iygtovnia the lodge. "And as to riPRn^he will see^hatlhat is aU eous rg yourgorgi properly rltumec^o its owners." ^ I picfed up my cap, and she walked with me out ilpon thdjjiazza. "I suppose you saw every thing on our place," she asked, " when you were w^alk- ing a)x>ut this morning V- ' * ^ — # fm- , - ' ^F- ^' V A Bit of Advice id, "and mtWal- . - 1,. opening rprise, I ^ She id little a great ' ly nine is very:J.g- ■, which f ten en- I, I was ito the id then vaJise,'V ^ihat d as to at is all me out -y thing e walk- ■ \ ■ . • ■ ■ • ■ ■ .* ^w] A little surprised, I answered that I had seen a good deal, but I did not add thai I had not found what I was looking for., ^ We have all sorts J| hot-houses and green- houses," she said, " but they are not very interest'- ing at this time of the year, otherwise I would ask you to walk through them before you go. " She then went on to tell me that a little building which she pointed out was a mushroom-house. "And you #lll think it strange that it should be there when*! tell you that not one of our family likes ushrooms or ever tastes one. But the manager thi^K that we ought to grow mushrooms, and so we^^tit," , . As she was talking, the thought came to nie that there were some people who might consider this ^oung lady a little forward in her method flf entertaining a corriparative straflger, but I missed this idea. With such a peculiarly ' ituted family it was perhaps necessary for to put herself forward, in regard, at least, to the expression of hospitality, "Olis^thing I must show you," she said, sud- denly, " and that is the orchid-house I Are you fond of orchids ?" : " Undier certain circumstances," I said, vmr guardedly, "I could be fond of apple-cores." As i I ■-^; A Bicycle of Cathay soon as I had spoken these words I would have been glad to recall them, but they seemed to make no impression whatever on her. We walked to the orchid-hpuse, we went through 4t, and she explained all its beauties, its singulari- ties, and its rarities. When we came out again, Tasked myself : " Is she in the habit of doing all (his to cliance visitors? Would she treat a Brown or a Robinson in the way she is treating me?" I , could not answer my question, but if Brown and Robinson had appeared at that mo- ment I Should have been glad to knock their heads together. I did not want to go ; I would have been glad to examine every building on the place, but I knew I must depart; and as I was begin- ning to express my sense of the kindness with which I had been treated, she interrupted by asking me if I expected to come back this way._ ■ " No," said I, " that is not my plan. I expect to ride on to Walerton, and there I shall stop for a day or two and decide what section of the country I shall explore next," " And to-day ?" she said. " Where have you planned to spend the night ?" * ^ I have been recommended to stop at a little 1 5" (I #• ■:i t ■J . ■'■; J: uld have I to make ; through ingulari- it again« doing all treat a treating 1, but if that mo- ck their een glad e, but I J begin- ess with pted by ick this I expect lall stop n of the ave you tahttte :M;. m ■/^ >^r-'' •'>A£ii. ■< ' AS SOO>r AS.4 MAI. MOKKN iUKSK WURns" •jea :\ \ .V --t ■N V ^ . i A Bit of Advice inn call^ the ' Holly Sprig/ " I replied. " It is a leisurely day's journey from Walford, and I have been told that it is a pleasant place and a pretty coyntry. I do not care to travel all the time; and I want to stop a little when I find in- teresting scenery.". "Oh, i know the Holly Sprig Inn/ said she speaking very quickly, "and I would advise ^ you not to stop there. We have lunched there two or three times when we were out on long dnves. There 4^a much better house about five miles the other side of the Holly Sprig. It ^ls really a large, handsome hotel,- with good service and everything you want-where people go to spend the f jimmer." I thanked h^ for her- information and bade her good-bye. She shook my hand very. cor- dially and I walked away. I had*gone but a very few steps when I wanted to turn around ' • a.nd look back, but I did not. Before! hkd reached thejodge, where I had left my bicycle, I met Brownster, and when 1 ' saw him I put my hand into rny pocket. He- had certainly been very\ attentive. - .,' JI carried your valise,' sir,"' he said, ^^ t■."■. right, sir, artd the— other clothds will be pro^ erly attended to." ^ '^"^ I thanked him, andthen handed him som^ money. To my surprise, he did not offer to take it. He smiled a little and bowed. "Would you. mind, sir,'* he said, " if yoifdid not give me anything ? I assure you, sir, that I'd very much rather that you wouldn't give me anything." And with this he bowed and^rap idly disappeared, _^7r -" .^^_.-_^-- .-^. ,-^^^^^^ " Well/' said I, to myself, as I put my money i. baCi' into my pocket, " it is a queer country, thisi ' Cathay."-;.: ^ ■ [ ,y-'/ ■:■ ^'.r-'r- \- --'^^^ As I approached the lodge, I felt that perhaps •, I had received a lesson, but I was not sure.: >1 ; would wait and let OTCUmstances decide. The gardener was away attending to his duties ; btit his .wife -was there/,' and when she came for- - ward, with a frank,/ cheery greeting^JL instantly decided that I had had a lesspn^ - Tthanked her, as earnestly as I kriewliow, for what she had done fbr me,^.-aiid^hen I added : /' / ; You and your husband have treated me with such kind hospitality , that I am not goin§ to offer you anything in return for what yoii havedone." - "You would have hurt i^s,' sir, if you had;"' said she.' ■,;';':.. .,■',■■';'-':■ ■_ .', j-- ..■-'. .f^,.:'^" ■ 4^- «=.■ ■ > ■ ; " :h 1 ■ fi: '*.: fi-S?'^ «.: ' ;.„ ■■>*• \ ^-S^ ";r . « t f. X A Bit of Advice f* v; Then, in order to change the subject, I spoke of the honor which had been bestowed upon me ^ by being allowed to wear the Duke's dre$sin© gown. She smiled, and replied : " Honors would always be easy for you, sir, if you only chose to take them.'* As I rode ^way I thought that the last remart of the gardener's wife seemed to show a mental brightness above her station, although I did not ^?*'know exactly what she meant. " Can iFbe, asked n^yself, " that she fancies that good fam- ily, six feet of athletic rjiuscle, and no money would be considered sufficient to .make matrimo- nial honors easy on that estate?" If such an idea had come into Jier head, it cer4inly was a very foolish one, and \ cQtermin^ to ^ive it from my mind by thinking of soifiethin^ els^« „ 'Suddenly I slackened my spe^ I^top^ed ^Mrid put .one foot to the ground; |»|l^at a hard^ hearted wretch ^thought myself tojjel^^ffefe 1 was thinking of assorts of ^ionseqaeand speed- .irig; ^way without a^jihotight of tl^e young giri 'who had hurt>cfself the day before artd who had beef^^helped by me tS^her hpryf ,She lived Vbut a few miles back, and I had d^ermined, th©; 'evening before, to run down and see -how she wafe • -getting on before starting on my day's journey. ■r V " '53 •» )) "sr 1 r ■ ■ ■ '. t 1 1 1 ■■-*-•-- ,^' c^^H 1 HI r Vri^ V ' Hi't »i»v : 1 Rl ; -; -^^ifv:-"'^-. 1 i '' ^-^/v'-:-.^ r i. ■■■:-'"■■/ i '■ *'-''■.■ ; ] ; 1' !^-: ■'■-'■■; .-; ■■■; ■ ' ■i " * ' ' ' ■■ 1 I i 1! ■■■. . ; ■ .-■ li hi M \ 1 A Bicycle »of Cathay . I turned and went bowling back over the* road: on which. I had been so terribly drenched the previous afternoon. In a very little while my bicycle was leaning against the fence of the pretty house by the road-side, and I had entered the front yard. The slender girl was sitting on ^he piazza behind some vines. When she saw m€ she quickly closed the book she was reading, drew one foot from a little stool, and rose to meet mei There was more color on her face than I *,had supposed would be likely to find its way there, and her bright eyes showed that she was not only surprised but glad to see me. ^^ , "I thought you were ever so far on your jour- ney !" she said. '-And how did you get through that awful storm?" V - ' "I want to know first about youir foot," I said — • how is that r ' • • My own opinioin is," she answered, " that if is nearly well. Mother knew exactly what to do for it; she wrapped it in wet clolhs and dry cloths," and this morning I scarcely think of it; ^ But there is one thing I want to tell yo ■'^.•'r i-f- '■ft '<• ■''■■>■ ■::':;i' ■ -\, / A Bicycle of Cathay -gfff f * ill.* . ive been .impossible to keep me from going on, so certain had I been that I, could reach the little town of Vernon before the stp^ grew violent. Then I was obliged to tell them that I did not reach Vernon, and how I had spent they|^ht. " With the Putney s !" exclaimed ^hMiother. , " I am sure you could not hav^J>een entertained in a finer house !'* v '^ , . They asked me many questions and I told them many thipgs, and I soon discovered that they took a generous interest in the lives of other people. They spoke of the good this 'rich fam- ily had done in the neighborhood during the, building of their great house and the improve- ment, of their estate, and not a word did I hear of ridicule or scandalous comment, altlii|ugh in good truth there was opportunity enough for it. The young lady asked me if I had seen Miss Putriey, ana when I replied that I had, she in- quired if I did not think that she was a very pretty girl. " I do.not know her," she said, " but 1 have often Seetji her when she was' out driving. I do * not belieVe there. is any one in this part of the country ^;ho Presses bet^ter than she does." I laughdld' and told hqr that I thought I knew somebody who 'dressed much finer even than Miss Putney, find then I described the incident ^:' -v >»v. • ■--^.j^:" .. ; A Bit of Advice V of the Duke's dressing-gown. This delighted them all, and before I left I was obliged to give '. every detail of my gorgeous attire. \ , It was about eleven o'clock when a.t last I We myself awav from this most attractive little laW ily.. To live as tbey lived, to be interested in the things that intelested them— for the house seemel^ filled with/bi)ofijs and pictures— to iove nature\ to love each other, and to think well of their^, felJow-beings, even of the super-rich-rseemed^ i( ) jne to be an object fot which a man of my tem- p3rament should be willing to strive and tliank- ' fil to win. After meeting her parents I did not Wonder that I had thought the slender girl so honest-hearted and so lovable. It was true that I had thought that.. .^^' -;■', V'-.; V- ■ ' ' 1 ^' ■%^.-. t::' ^^ ^ ■ ,i-|^>"v ■/\. I I- i Ift' THE LADY AND THE CAVALIER « jHE day was fine, and ihe land- '^g scape l^y clean and sharply de- I i^ fined under the, blue sl^^ and ^ oPj white clouds* I sped along in i^M^S - a cheerful mood, well pleased -with what iny^oodicycTe^halff^Q far done for me. Again I passed the open g^jte of the Ptitney estate, and glanced through it at the lodga, I saw no one, and was glad of it— better plealed, perhaps, than I could h!ave given good reason for. Ayhen I had gone on a iew hundred yards I - was suddenly startled by a voice — a. female voice. • " Well I. well I" cried^soinc one ori^my right, and turning, Lsaw, above a low wall, the head and shoulders of 'the young lady with the dark eyes with whom I had parted an hour or so be- fore. A broad hat .shaded her fac^, her eyes were very dark and very wide open, and I saw some of^er beautiful teeth, although she was 'A Ml, } * 1 I ( . -l .-•• . 8 ■ ■. -■*--^:-:.v .. ■ _ , •■ •■. '..v--^" . J: ■ . "t • i Tfl ■.W:\ The Lady an ler t she ss ; she ntcd and not smiling or laughing, had not come down there was genuinely astonished ^approached the wall. * J thought you were miles and miles on your way*f" said she. It occurred to me that I had re- cently heard a remark very like this, and yet the words, as they came from the slender gj^ri and from this one, seemed to have entirely diflferfeni meanings. She ;was desirous, earnestly de- sirous, to know how I came to be passing this ' plaice at this time, when I had left their gate so long before, and, as I was not unwilling to grat- ify her curiosity, I told her the whole story of the accident the d^y before> and of everything which had followed it. " •; i~ ■ - v * And you went all the way back," she said, "to inquire after that Burton girl?" , . "Do you know her ?" I asked. * No," she said, "I do not know her; but I have seen her often, and I know all about her fapily. They seem to be of such little conse- quence, one way or the other, that I can scarcely understa^Jiow tlungs co^^^^ that you should consider it necessary to go back thiere this morning before you really started on your day's joui'hey," S .♦' I / " li ': his helmet the glove of his lady-lov(^ But I was not sure of it, and, seized by a sudden energetic excitement, I started off at a tremendous rate of speed. The ground flew backward be- neath me as if I had been standing on the plat- form of a railroa!» The Lady and th<^ Cavalier At the sight of this grcen-lcggcd Scorcher my blood rose, and it was with me as if I had heard the clang of trumpets arid the clash ol arms. I leaned slightly forward ; I struck out powerfully, swiftly, and steadily; 1 gained upon the Scorcher ; I sent into his emerald legs a thrill of startled fear, as if he had been a terrified hare bounding madly away from a pursuing foe. and I passed him as if I had been a swift falcon swooping by a quarry unworthy of his talons. On, on I sped, not deigning even to look bac The same spirit possessed me as that which fir the hearts of the olden knights. I would have been glad to meet with anotfter Scorcher, and yet another, that for the sake of my fair lady I might engage with each and humble his pride in the -dust. " It is true," I said to myself, with an inward laugh, 1 carry no glove &r delicate handker- chief bound upon my visor—" but at this point my mind wandered, I went more slowly, and at last I stopped and sat dqwn under the shade of a way-side tree. I thought for^a few minutes, and then I said to myself> * It seems to me this would be a good time to take one of those capsules," and I took one. I then fancied that perhaps I ought to take two, but I contented myself with one. .;:£■•■. ... ■■'■•■65:,-, •« * •V, ' ;-'v ."''•'•:. S ■k»j CHAPTER VI THE HOLLY SPKIG INN p the rtiiddlc of the day I stopped at Vernon, and the afternoon was well advanced vvhen I came in sight of ^*" little way -side house with a broad unfenccd green in front of it, and a swinging sign whtcfi told the traveller that this was the " Holly Sprig Inn." ff ' I dismounted on the opposite side of the road and gazed upon the smoothly shaven green- sward in front of the little inn ; upon the pretty upper windows peeping out from their frames of leaves; upon the qucerly-shaped projections* of the building ; upon the low portico which shaded the doorway ; and upon the gentle stream of blue smoke which rose froin the great gray chim- ney. ^ ; •■ ■- --.^ ■■.,.. Then I turned and looked over the surrounding country. There were broad meadows slightly 66 ■ The Holly Sprig Inn descending to a long line of trees, between which I could see the KliiniiicrinK of water. On the other side of the roiid, and extending back of the inn, there were low, forest-crowned hilts. Then my eyes, returning to nearer objects, fell u\Hm an old-fashitmcxl garden, with bright flowers and rows of box, which lay beyond the house. " Why on earth," I thought, " should I pass such a place as this and go on to the Cheltenham, with its waiters in coat tails, its nurse-maids, and its rows of ijeople on piazzas ? She could not know my tastes, and perhaps she had thought but little on the sub|||p'and hadjakcn her ideas from her father. He is just the man to be coa- tented with nothing else than a vast sprawl- ing hotel, with disdainful menials expecting tips." • '' I rolled my bicycle along the little path which ran around the green, and knocked upon the open door of Holly Sprig Inn. In a few moments a boy came into the hall. He was not dressed like an ordinary hotel attend- ant, but his appearance was decent, and he might have been a sub-clerk or a head hall-boy. ?; " Can I obtain lodging here for the night Tl asked. The boy looked at me from head to foot, and an -. ■.■/■•■■:.. >7 .;■ . .-■■• ■ A Bicycle of Cathay cxpreaaion such as iiiifeht be f>roduccd by loo much lemon juice came upon his face. "No," Httid he; "we don't take cyclers." This recer)tion was something novel to me. who had cycled over thousands of miles, an ^ I was not at all inclined to accept it at the hands of the boy. I stepped into the hall. * Can I see the master of V this house ?" said I. • There ain't none," he answered, gruffly. ' Well, then, I want to sec whoever is in charge." He looked as if he were about to say that he ^as in charge, but he had no opportunity for such im- pertinence. A female figure came into the hall and advanced towards me. She stopped in an attitude of interrogation. " I was just inquiring." ^ said, with a bow^ for I saw that the new-comer was not a servant— * if I could be accommodated here for the night, but the boy informed me that cyclers are not re^ ceived here." " What !" she exclaimed, and turned as if she would<^peak to the boy. but he had vanished. " That is a mistake, sir," she said to me. "Very few wheelmen do stop here, as they prefer a hotel farther on, but we are glad to entertain them when they come/' It was not very light in tte ball in which we .y- The Holly Sprig Inn stood, but I could see that thiA lady was f oung, that she was o( medium stxe, and good-lHbktr^. " Will you walk in, sir, and reRiatcr ?" she said. •I will have your wheel taken around to the back." I followe great book on it. As I stowl before this desk arid she handed me a pen, her face was in the full light of the window, and glancing at it, the thought • struck me that I now knew why Miss Putney did not wish me to stop at the Holly Sprig Inn. I almost laughed as I turned away my head to write my name. 1 was amused, and at the same time I could not help feeling highly complimented. * It cannot but be grateful to the feelings of a' young man to find that a very handsome woman objects to his making the acquaintance of an ex- tremely pretty one. When I laid down the pen she stepped up and looked at my name and address. ':^.. "Oh," said she, "you are the schoolmaster at Walford ?" She seemed to be pleased by this dis- covery, and smiled in a vexy engaging way as sl^e said, " I am much interested in that school, for t received a great part of my education there." 69 * p* J • 'is > ^ '? I .' • ~. *■■-'' * ■ ■ ■ « * » ( '•• to ' • ^ • / > * , • •v 3 J 4 ■ * i T ■s > - i -■■*. v' '■ a ■ ii ^ - 4 ^ ' *» ■ ( ■ ■^ - *< tf 'V ^ _.: ; \l A Bicycle of Gathay ' ' * Indeed !"«aid I, very much surprised. " But I do not exactly understand. It is a boys' school.^' " I knoAY that/' she Answered, " but both l^ys And girls used to go there. Now the girls have a school of their own." _As she spoke I could not help contrasting in t# . mind what the school must have been with what it was now. She stepped to the door and told a woman who was just entering the room to show me No. 2. The woman said something which I did not hear, although her tones indicated surprise, and then conducted me to my room. ^This was an exceedingly pleasant chamber on the first floor at the back of the house. It was -furnished far better than the quarters generally ^Hotted to me in country inns, or, in fact, in ' hostelnes of any kind. There was great comfort and even simple elegance in its appointments. . I would have liked to ask the maid some ques- * tions, but she was an elderiy woman, who looked as if she might be the mother of the lemon- juice boy, and as she said not a word to me while she made a few arrangements in the room, I did not feel emboldened to say anything to her. When I left my room and went out on the little porph, I soon came to the conclusion that this was The Holly Sprig Inn not a house of great resOrt , I saw nobody in front and I heard nobody wijpn. There seemed to be an air of quiet greenness about the surround- ings, and the httle porch ^-as a charming place in which to sit and look upon the evening land- scape. Altera time the boy came to tell me that supper was ready. He did so as if he were informing me that it was time to take medicine and he had just taken his. Supper awaited me in a very pleasant \oom> through the pptn windows of which there came a gentle breeze which made me know that there was a flower-garden not far away. The table was a small one, round, and on it there was sui> per for one person. I seated myself, and the elderly woman waited on me. I was so grateful that the boy^vas not my attendant that my heart warmed towards her, and I thought she might not consider it much out of the way if I said some- thing. " Did I arrive after the regular supper-time ?" I askoi, "I am sorry if I put the establishment to any inconvenience." "What's inconvenience in your own house isn't anything of the kind in a tavern," she said. "We're used to that. But it doesn't matter to- .■■.v-.-\, / ■:,^ n ■ . "'■.m.\ w- , "i^ rW A Bicycle of Cathay day. You're the only transient ; that is, that eats here," she added. - I wanted very much to ask something about the lady who had gone to school in Walford, but I thought it would be well to approach that subject by degrees. "Apparently," said I, "your house is not full/' " No," said she, " not at this precise moment of time. Do you want some more tea?" 'The tone in which she said this made me feel stire she was the mother of the boy, and when she had given me the tea, aijd looked around in a general way to see that I was provided with what else I needed, she left the room. After supper I looked into the large room where I had registered ; it was lighted, and was very mnfortably furnished with easy-chairs and a lounge, but it was an extremely lonely place, and, lighting a cigar, I Went out for a walk. It was truly a beautiful country, and, illumined by the sunset sky, with all its forms* and colors softened by the growing dusk, it was more charming to me than it had been by daylight. As I returned to the inn I noticed a man stand- ing at the entrance of a driveway which appeared to lead back to the stable-yards. " Here is some one who may talk," I thought, and I stopped. - ^' 72 •i ■■ :■#■- ■; '-^> :" -•. ■■ 1 . /..;;;: - ' ■' j' ■ ' '. / ■- _ .■ WK.NI i>| f KOR A UAI k' « The Holly Sprig Inn " This ought to be a good country for sport," I said— " fishing, and that sort of thing." " You're stoppin' here for the night ?" he asked. I presumed from his voice and appearance that he was a stable-man, and from his tone that he was disappointed that I had not brought a horse with ■me. ■ I assented to his question, and he said : "I never heard of no fishin'. When people want to fish, they go to a lake about ten miles furder on;" " — — ^ — ^"—rr^^^^ — » " Oh, I do not care particularly about fishing," I said, "but there must be a good many pleasant roads about here." . "There's this oiie," said he. " The people on wheels keep to it." With this he turned and \yalked slowly towards the back of the house. " A lemon-loving lot 1" thought I, and ^s I ap- proached the porch I' saw that the lady who had gone to school at Walford was standing there. I did not believe she had been eating lemons, and I stepped forward quickly for fear that she should depart before I reached her. "Been taking a walk?" she said, pleasantly. There was something in the general air of this young woman which indicated that she^hould have worn a little apron with pockets, a*id that ^ : 73 ■•'■ V ...jf^ v: •>,. I*- - A Bicycle of Cathay her hands should have been jauntily thrust into those pockets ; but her dress included nothing of the sort, v The hall lamp was now lighted, and I could see that her attire was extremely neat and becoming. Her face was in shadow, but she had beautiful hair of a ruddy brown. I asked myself if she were the " lady clerk " of the establishment, or the daughter* of the keeper of the inn. She was evidently a person in some authority, and one with whom it would be proper for me to converse, and as she had given me a very good opportunity ta op€fn conversation, I lost no time in doing so. "**" And so you used to live in Waif ord ?" I said. "Oh yes," she replied, and then she began to speak of the pleasant days she had spent in that village. As she talked I endeavored to discover from her words who she was and what was her position. I did not care to discuss Waif ord. I wanted to talk about the Holly Sprig Inn, but I could not devise a courteous question which would my purpose. ently our attention was attracted by the sound o^^nging at the corner of the little lawn most distantv^rom the house. It was growing dark, and the foin:^ of the singer could barely be discerned upon a ben^ under a great oak. The i.-Ki-: , •-V (*'- u VI 5 MRS. CHESTKR ^ rr V li ii w hi a] ai b< ai - in he tu Cl( ■ _"> A th lo< to The Holly Sprig Inn voice was that of a man, and his song was an Italian air from one of Verdi's operas. He sang in a low tone, as if he were simply amusing him- self and did not wish to disturb the rest of the world; , "That must be the Italian who is stopping here for the night," she said. " We do not gener- ally take such people ; but he spoke so civilly, and said it was so hard to get lodging for his bear—" "His bear!" I exclaimed. "Oh yes," she answered, with a little laugh, * he has a bear with him. I suppose it dances, and so makes a living for its master. Anyway, I said he might stay and lodge with our stable- man. He would sing very well if he had a better voice- -don't you think so ?" " We do not generally accommodate," " I said he might stay"— these were phrases which I turned over in my mind. If she were the lady clerk she might say "we"— even the boy said "we "—but " I said he might stay " was different. A daughter of a landlord or a landlady might say _that. . ;..,;.■.■:■:■ I made a remark about the difficulty of fi^fcng lodging for man and beast, if the beast happened to be a bear, and I had scarcely finished it when :■ . 75 ■ .■■.■■ ■ • I?' rll ;l A Bicycilc of Cathay from the house there cane a shrill voice, flavored sugar, and it said, ^ Mrs. with lemon without any, Chester!" " Excuse me," said tie young lady, and im- mediately she went in-daors. Here was a revelation ! Mrs. ChestetJ grange to say, I had not thbught pt-her^ as a mar- ried woman;, and yet, now that I recalled her manner of perfect self-possession, she did suggest the idea of a s/atisfied young wife. And Mr. Chester — what of him ? Could if be pos- sible ? Hardly. Tl^ere was nothing dbout her to suggest a widow. \ 1 ^ CHAPTER VII MRS. CHESTER IS TROUBLED SAT on that porch a good while, but she did not come out again. Why should she ? Nobody came out, and within I could hear no sound of voices. I might cer- tainly/ recommend this inn as a quiet place. The Italian and the crickets continued singing and chinking, but they only seemed to make the scene" rrioi/e lonely. went in-doors. On the left hand of the hall wa(s a door which I had not noticed before, but wiiich was now open. There was a light within, aiid I saw a prettily-furnished parlor. There fas a table with a lamp on it, and by the table sat the lady, Mrs. Chester. I involuntarily stop, ped, and, looking up, she invited me to come in. Instantly I accepted the invitation, but with a sort of an apology for the intrusion. "Oh, this is the public parlor," she said, " al^ 77 -■ :> ' I X 'm-' , »%♦ -W.A 1 ^^>:^m:: A Bicycle of Cathay ♦«*JI W^ though everything about this house seenfMtpri- vate at i)rescnt. Wc generally have families staying with us in the suintner, but last week I* nearly all of them went away to the sea-shore. In a few days^ however, we expect to be full Again." XiS^ She immediatwy began to talk about Walford, for evidently me subject interestfcd her, and I an- swered all her questions as well as I could. "You may know that my husband taught that school. I was his scholar before I became his wife." , \ I had heard of a Mr. Chester who, before mjB, had taught the school, but, althouA^J^ infor- mation held not iidkBrested me at tl^flBHuduw it did. I wished very much to ask wf/l/f^B^flacs- ter was doing at present, but I waited. " I went to boarding-school after I left Wal- fqrd," said she, " and so for a time lost sight of . ge, although I have often visited it since." w lohfe is it since Mr, Chester gave up the ool thej^t asked. This proved to be a very good question indeed. "About six years," she said. "He gave it up just before we were married. He did not like teaching school, and as the death of his father put him into the possession of some money, he 'mi^ y '■ . / m , : • . ■ " ■ ■■*.■■■. a • ■ / '■. ■ - ...■• ['-'■''-^ : -^r ■ . ■ . . '■ ':,. ■ '' 1* : :*.:■.; « \ : M » •■•"-■. ■;':' ■ ":;^ \ V ■ ■ . '. '-■ » ■<■ .::■ V H j-''-^' ^ ^ ■ ^ ■ ■" i ft A Bicycle of Cathay remark, but I gazed out upon the situation as if it were an unrolled^ map. " When you wrote your name in the book/',^he. said, "it seemed to me as if you had brougg^ note of introduction, and I am sure I am ^^ glad to be acquainted with you, for, you know, you are my husband's successor. He did not like teaching, but he was fond of his scholars, and he always had a great fancy for school-teach- ers. Whenever one of them stopped here— which happen^ two or three times— he insisted that he should be put into our best room, if it happened to be vacant, and that is the reason I have put you into it to-day." This was charming. She was such ah ex- tremely agreeable young person that it was de- lightful for me to think of myself in any way as her husband's successor. There was a step at the door. I turned and saw the elderly servant. " Mrs. Chester," she said, " I'm goiri'.up," and every word was flavored with citric acid J " Good-night," said Mrs. Chester, taking up her basket and her work. " You know, you need not retire until you wish to do so. There is a room opposite, where gentlemen smoke.** I did not enter the big, lonely room. I went to 80 ■»*. ':"iM Mrs. Chester is Troubled my own chamber, which, I had just Jb^n infcmn- ed, was the best in the house. I sM down in an ^sy-chair by the open window. I looked up to the twinkhng stars. . ; Reading, studying, fishing, beautiful country arKl alUhat. And he did not like schooU^^^ mg I No wonder he was happier here tha^mr^ • ^^^^b^n before! My eyes wandered around , the tastefulb^ furnished room. T Her husband's successor, I said to myself, pondering." He did not l^e school-teaching, and fte was so happy here. Of course he was happy. " Died and left him some money." There was no one to leave me any money, but I had saved some for the time when I should devote myself entirely to my profession Professiori-I thought. After all what IS there in a profession ? Slavery ; anx- iety. And Jie chose a life of reading, studying, fishing, and everything else. ^ h' I turned to the "window and again looked up ^ mk, the sky. There was a gn.at star up thei^ and It seemed to wink cheerfully at me as the " ^^ came into my mind, « her husband's sue- f When I opeid my little vahse, before going ^ to bed, I saw the box the doctor^s daughtc^ had ': given me. P P> 8i \ ■\ - - A Bicycle of Cathay After sitting so long at the open window, thought I, it might be well to take one of these capsules, and I swallowed one. When I \vas called to breakfast the next morn- ing I saw that the table was laid with covers for two. In a moment my hostess entered and bade me good-morning. We sat down at the table ; and the elderly woman waited . I could now see that her face was the color of a shop-worn lemon. As for the lady who had gone tp school at Wal- ford— I wondered what place in tfie old school- room she had occupied— she was more charming than ever. Her manner was so cordial and cheer- ful that I could not dotbt that she considered the entry of my name in her book as a regular intro- duction. She asked me about my plan of travel, how far I would go in a day, and that sort of thing. The elderly woman was very grim, and somehow or other I did not take very much in- terest in my plan of travel, but thfe meal was an extremely pleasant one for all that. The nafural thing for me to do after I finished my breakfast was to pay my bill and ride away, but I felt no inclination for anything of the sort. In fact, the naturalness of departure did not strike me. I went out on the little porch and gazed upon the bright, fresh morning landscape, and S2 '■:.-..'■: ■.•;■>-■■■ Ifp Mrs. Chester is Troubled ■ •■ as I did so I asked myself why I should mount my bicycle and wheel away over hot and dusty' roads, leaving all this cool, delicious beauty be- hind me. What could I find more enjoyable than this? Why should I not spend a few days at this inn, reading, studying, fishing? Here I wondered why that man told me such a lie about the fish-- ing. If I wanted to exercise on my wheel i felt sure there were pretty roads hereabout I had plenty of time before me— my whole vacation.. Why should I be consumed by this restless de-' siretogeton? I could not help smiling as I thought of my somewhat absurd fancies of the night before; but they were pleasant fancies, and I did not . wonder that they had coine to me. It cfertainly is provocative of pleasant fancies to have an ex- ceedingly attractive young woman talk of you in any way as her husband's successor. I could not make up my mind what I ought to do, and I walked back into the hall. I glanced into the parlor, but it was unoccupied. Then I went into the large room on the right ; no one was there, and I stood by the window trying to make up my mind in regard to proposing a brief stay at the irm. ; 83 ,m ■ ft ^^ A Bicycle of Cathay \^ It really did not seem necessary to givtf tl^e matter much thought. Here was a place of pub-\ lie entertainment, and, as I^MSas dne of the public, why should 1 not be entertained ? I had stop- ped at many a road-side hostelry, and in each one of them I knew I would be welcome to stay as long as I was willing; to pay. Still, there was something, some sort of an un- ■ defined consciousness, which seemed ft) rise in the way of' an off-hand proposal to stay at this inn for several days, when I had clearly stated that I wished to stop only for the night. While I was still turning over this matter in", my mind Mrs. Chester came into the room. 1 had expected her. The natural thing for her to do was* to cdtoe in and receive the amount I owed her for her entertainment of me, but as I looked . at her I could not ask her for my bill. It seemed to me that such a thing would shock her sensi- bilities. Moreover, I did not want her bill. It was plain enough, however, that she ex- pected me to depart, for she asked me where I proposed to stop in the middle of the day, and \ she suggested that she should have a light lunch- eon put up for me. ^he thought probably a wheelman would like that sort of thing, for then ; he could stop and rest wherever it suited him. . .■ . 84- ■ - ■ ■ ■• ' - . . . ■ ■.■■•. • ~ 2SK. - ■ ■ ■ ■ 11 .# t- Mrs. Chester is Troubled * Speaking of stopping," said I, "I am very glad that I did not do as I was advised to do and go on to the Cheltenham. I do not know anything about that hotel, but I am sure it is not so charming as this delightful Httle irin with its picturesque surroundings." " I am gla^-you did not," she answered.' " Who advised you to go on to the Cheltenham ?" "Miss Putney," said I. " Her father's place is between here and Waif ord. I stopped there night before last." And then, as I was glad of an opportunity to prolong the interview, I told her the history of my adventures at that place. Mrs. Chester was amused, and I thought I might as well tell her how j came to be delayed on the road and so caught in the storm, and I related my experience with Miss Burton. I would have been glad to go still farther back- and tell her how I came to take the school at Waif ord, and anything else she might care to listen to. When I told her about Miss Burton she sat down in a chair near by and laughed heartily. " It is wonderfully funny," she said, "that you should haye met those two young ladies and should then have stopped here." " You know them ?" I sjaid, promptly taking another chair. A Bicycle of Cathay " Oh yes/' she answered. " I know them both ; and, as I have mentioned that your meeting with them seemed funny to me, I suppose I ought to tell you the reason. Some time ago a photog- rapher in Walford. who has taken a portrait of me and also oi Miss Putney and Miss Burton, took it into his head to print the" three on one card and expose them for sale with a ridiculous inscription under them. This created a great deal of talk*, and Miss Putney made the photog- rapher destroy his negative and all the cards he had on hand. After that we were talked about as a trio, afnd, I expect, a good deal of fun was made of us. And now it seems a little odd-— does it not?— that you have become acquainted with all the members of this trio a^ soon as you left Walford. But I must not keep you in this way." And she rose. " Now was my opportunity to make known my desire to be kept, but' before I could do so the boy hurriedly came into the rooin. ^ ^^ " The Dago wants to see you," he said. " He's in an awful hurry." " Exquse me," said Mrs. Chester. " It is that Italian who was singing outside "last night. I thought he had gone. Woidd you piind wait- ing- a few minutes ?" ' ■^- J. ... ..-' ■ ^ -''■■-'-■■■ ■..-;• Mrs. Chester is Troubled It was getting harder and harder to enunciate my proposition to make a sojourn at the inn. I wished that I had spoken sooner. It is so much easier to do things promptly^ _^ j ■ ■ .,- ' ^ :■;;:" While I was waiting the elderly woman came in. * Do you want the boy to take your little bag out and strap it on ?" said she. Evidently there was.no want of desire to Speed the departing guest. "Oh, I will attend to that myself/' said I, but I made no step to do it. When my hostess came back I wanted to be there. Presently she did come back. She ran in hur- riedly, and her face was flushed. "Here is a very bad piece of business," she said. "That man's bear has eaten the tire off one of your wheels!" "^ " What!" I exclaimed, and my heart bounded within me. Here, perhaps, was the solution of all --my troubles. If by any happy chance my bicycle had been damaged, of course I could not goon. ' ;■" :j- .■ .- ■ . ■. .' ■;■ ' " Come and see," she said, and, following her through the back hall door, we entered a large, enclosed yard. Not far from the house was a shed, and in front of this lay my bicycle on its side in an apparently disabled condition. An Italian, greatly agitated, was standing by it. I ■■7 m- I I ■■■"'■ ■ • . • . - A Bicycle of Cathay * ">i- He was hatless, and his tangled black hairJIlig over his swarthy face. At the other end of 'tJ\e yard was a whitish-brown J)ear, not very large, and chained to a post. I approached my bicycle, eamesfljir hoping that the bear had been attempting to^ide it/ but I found that he had been trying ti^^&b something very different, tie had tofn the pneumatic tire from one of the wheels, and "nearly the whole, of it was lying Scattered aboutjn litUe bits upon the ground. ' • /■•,-■ Thprt i\u> triAn ftni^Aitrr /toWAi*rlct itip atifi APixfil - ■:■■ ■}'-■' the injured wheel. " See !" he exclaimed. " He v;-l ■■ ' ■-■ I' - ' . . >■ *■'. \ eat your Injer-rub, but He i)0 break your ma- l!hmel" . ■ ■ 'r - This was very tnie. The wheel did not seem . . . to be injured, but still I could not travel without. ■". .■ ■ '. ' ' '■■:•" a tire. This was the most satisfactory feature of .■ '■' " ** ■ ■ ■ i *: ' ■ ■ ■" " - V , ■ ■ ^ the affair. If he and 1 had been alone together 1 I would have handed the man two dollars, and '■ ■ 'i told him to go in peace with his bear and give ! ' . ' himself no more trouble. ^ * 1 ■■■■■ '■ ■:•■' / . But we were not alone. The stable-man who '.:';:■ 1 had lied to me about the fishing was there ; the '^ .4 ■ boy who had lied to me about the reception ofe - "^ ' 1, ■'V. ' ■ cyclers was there ; the lemon-faced woman was ■....■■ there, standing close to Mrs. Chester ; and there ... .-.! were two maids looking out of the window of the _-- '-/—;- i ,- ■.kitchen--^ ::\ "'-:"': I " This is very bad indeed 1" said Mrs. Chester, ' . ■ ",■. I 1 ■. . .addressing the Italian. " You have damaged ^^ / this gentleman's wheel, and you must pay him '' "'\ /■'■/■;;fbrit:"--:'; -^ _'•:.- : /• ■ 'r I - 7 ^ Now the Italian hecrah to tear his hair Never c^ - .;;.■ "^^ * . ■ •' '■ . ■ ■ ■■ / befwe had I seen any one tear his hair. More ! ■ ■ i . \ ■r' ■ : .••;89 ■•■,-•■ ■ "• ■■'".■' \\ "■ ■ ■#.7.-. ■ J • 1 ■'■:■■'. ■ -■•'■ -' ' ' " ■■' ' . ■ ■ ■>■■ ■ .■:.:■■ -r' "■:-"■:' S^'' ' ■■--:■■ ■ -.■•^ ,■•• ■■^' ' ■■■-: '" •. ■ ■ " ■ x . ' ■ ~ i.i ii- J \ J^i. ' A Bicycle of Cathay than that, he shed tears, and declared he had no money. After he had paid his bill he would not have a cent in the world. His bear had ruined him. He was in despair. rr , " What ar^you going to do ?" said IVIrs. Chester to me. " You cannot use your bicycle " Before I could answer/ the elderly woman ex- claimed*: "You ought to come in, Mrs. Chester I This is no place for you ! Suppose that beast should bredk loose again 1 Let the gentleman settle it with the man." I do not think my hostess wanted to go, bujt she accompanied her grim companion into the house. '--;'■;■;;■ ^ ■■'.■■• ■■ y':---:""- "''^.,^ "I suppose there is no place neiir here where I can have a new tire put on this wheel ?" said I to the stable-man. ' " " Not nearer than Waterton," he replied ; " but we could take you and yoUr machine there in a •wagon." ./•■•.:.. :'/■■. ■ ' ' • ■' '^'- „#■■ -' " That's so," said the boy. " !'!{ drive." I glared upon the two feltows as if they had been a couple of fiends who were trying to put a drop of poison into my cup of joy. To be dole? . fully driven to Waterton by that boy ! What a picture! ^ How different from my picture 1 -The Italian sat down on the ground and era- 90 ■>, ,'-:i^ Mrs. Chester is Troubied braced his knees with his arms. He moaned and > . groaned, and decla;red over and over again that he was ruined; that Jie had no money to pay. ^ Jn regard^ him my mipd was made ilp. I would foi^iveM^ with my blessing; eVen if I, found no opportu- nity of rewarding him .!or his great service ' .; ■ to:me. . ,:.: '.y ■■■":•.. '':"':''■■ ■■:,.-■ ^ I would gain and speak to Mrs. Chester about it. Of course it would not be right to do any- thing without consulting her, and now lurould boldly tell her-that it would suit me very well to stop at the inn until my wheel could brgent away- arid repaired. ^' " 7^^ As I entered the large room the elderly woman came out. She was plainly in a bad humor. Mrs. Chester was awaiting me with an anxious Qpuntenance; evidently much more troubled about thedamage to my bicycle than I was, I hastened to relieve her mind. ' " It does not matter a bit about the damage done by the bear," I said. " I should riot wonder if that wheel would be a great deal better for a ,new tire, anyway. And, as for that doleful Italian, I do not want to be hard on him> even if • Ije has a little money in his pocket." "^But my remarks did not relieve her/while my ly 'ii' J ' ;*-i. A Bicycle of Cathay cheerful and contented tones seemed to add|io her /anxiety. , ■ .: _ -..-*^--". .■ .^- -■-■;'.■, ■ " But you cannot travel," she sajd, " and' there is no place about here where yoi^i could get a new :':tire." .--•;;•■-:. -..r--.;---.-^- It was very plain that no one in this house entertained the idea that it would b^a good thing ' for me to rest here quietly until my bicycle could be sent away and repaired. In fact; my first statement, 'that I wished to stop but for me night, was accepted with general approval.- 1 I did not deem it necessary to refer to the man's oflfer to send me and my machine to Waterton in a wagon, and I was just on the poidt'of boldly an- nouncing that' I was in no hurry Whatever to get on, and that it would suit me veify well to wait here for a few days, when the boyj burst into the room, one end of his little neck-tife flying behind him. - "The Dago's put I" he shouted. "He's put ^off ;and gone 1" -^ ^# : We looked at him in amazement. "Gone I" I exclaimed.^ /' Shall I go after him? Has he paid his bill?" ; - " li|> you needn't do that," said the boy. "He cut across the fields like a chipmunk— skipped right over the fences ! You'd never ketch him, ■■■■■-:■ .;•■:■::,,..•■ ;.-,l;. 92 ' :^ ^■' <' ■"-::-:■ aw&y," sbe sai(^ "We can't havea bear here. . He must be taken away some way or other. Isn't there ^ny placfc where he could b^ put until ihe Italian comes back?"^ Couldn't he A tame be^r V ' ; -1 "rso " That Dago's never comin' bafck," said tlie boy, solemnly.' " If yiou'd a-seen him scoot, you'd- a-knowed "that he was dead skeered, and Would never turn up here no more, bear or no bear." Mrs. Chester looked . atime. She was gretatly worried, but she was also amused, and she could not help laughing. ' " Isn't this a dreadful predicament ?" she said. * What in the world, am I to do?" At this mo- ment there was an acidulated voice from the kitchen. " Mrs. Whittaker wants to" see you, • Mrs. Chester," it cried, "right away !" ,*0h, deAt !" said she.^ " Here is more trouble ! Mrs. Whittaker is an invalid lady who is so ner- \ yous that she could not sleep one night because she heard a man had killed a snake ajt, the back of the^bam, and wha^i she will s^y when she hears that we have a bear here without a master I do not know. I must ^o to her, and I do wish you could think of something thsU I can do;" as she said this, she looked at me as if it were a nati^ral thing for her io rely upon me.- For a moment it made me think of the star that had ^winked the night before. v ,/ - Mrsl Chester -hurried -into the house, and in' company with the stable-man I crossed the yard -towards the bear. . • ,, ^ i^ G 97 / ' ?i • 1 ■- * You are sire he is gentle ?" said I. "Mild as milk I" said the man. " I was a- play in' with him last night. He'll Ijpt you do .anything ^ith him ! If you box his ears, he'll lay over flat down on Jiis side !" When^ we were within a few feet of the bear he sat upright, dangled liis fore paws in front of ,.( . hini, and, with his head on one side, he partly opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue. "I guess he's ]?eggin' for his breakfust," said John. "C^n't you get him soniething to eat ?" I asked. "lie ought to be fed, to begm%ith." ^ *' ■* The man went back to the kitchfen, and I walked • . - slowly around the bear, looking at the chain and the post, and trying to see what sort of a collar vWas almost hidden under his shaggy hair. Ap- parently he seemed securely attached, an^ then —as he was at the end of his chain— I went , up to him and gently patted one paw. He did not ob- ject to thi^, and tujning his head he let his tongue loU out on the other silie, fixing his little blacky eyes upon me with much earnestness. -'When the man came with the pan of scraps from the . kitchen I took it from him and placed ii; on the " .ground in frorit of the bear. Instantly the animal dropped to his fedt and began to eat with earnest rapidity. " ; "* ^- - 98 . -t-r. "T^-*"^- • "I wonder haw much he'd talic in for one jne^l," said! John^ " if ypu'd give hitrfall he want- ed ? I gi/ess thAt Dago never let kii^iiave any l§=r more'n he could help." -^ U' As the Ifcar was .licking the tin paiiM stood and looked at him. " I wopder if he would Jlje tattle with strangers ?" said.1 . "Do you suppose we cdmd take him away from this post if .we ■wanted to ?""'':^^^^^^^^^^^ ? ■ ,/: ' " "Gh yes/' said* Joiin;!^^^^^ to lake him anywheres/ only th«^k^^^^^^^^^ any place to take him to." He then stepped quite close to the bear!. " Hey, horsey !" said iie. " Hey, voki horsey I Giood ol4 horsey!" . '^Is that his ^me ?'' L asked. * That's what the Dago called him," said John. "Hey, horsey ! Good horsey 1^ And he stooped ' and unfastened the cjiain from the post. I jnagined that the Italian had called the bear "Oi-so," perhaps with some diminutive, but! did not Care to^iscuss this. I was v^ry much interested to see w;]iiat' the man was going to do. With the end of the chain in his hand, John now stepped in- front Jf the bear and said, " Come along, horsey !" and, to my^ surprise,, the bear ■ began to sfeamble after him as quietly as 'if he - had been^ following his old master. "Seel" ' V ,---^ A Bicycle of Cathay cried Johft. " He'll go anywheres I choose to take him 1" and he began to lead him about the yard. '.■■■'■..■■-.■■. ■• /"" A& he approached the kitchen there came a fearful scream fromrthe open window. "Take him away I Take him away 1" I heard, in the shrillest accents. ) .' "They're dreadfully skeered/' said John, as he led the bear back; " but he wouldn't hurt no- body ! It would be a good thing, though; to put his muzzle on; that's it hangin' over there by the shed ; it's like a halter, and straps up his jaws. The Dago said there ain't no need for it, but he puts it on when he's travellin' along the road to keep people from bein' skeered." "It woidd be well to put it on,." said I. "I* wonder if we can get him into it?" / I guess he'd let you do anything you'd a ^ mind to,"; replied John, as he again fastened the chain to the post. 77^ V^--^ . „ _^^^^^^^v I took down tUe muzzle and approached the bear. He did not growl, but stood perfectly still and looked at me. I pSt the muzzle over his V head, and, l^blding myseli^ in readiness to elude a sudden sbap; I strapped up his jdws. The creature made no snap— he gazed at me with mild resignation. , . . 100 _4 i_ *- .'>*^ / '0t X Orso " As far as he goes," said John, " he's all right ; but as far as everything else goes — especially hprses^ — they're all wrong. He's got to be got rid of s^e way.*^ r . - . ^-,---^-^^,^ I m.d nothing more to say to John, and I went into the house; I met Mrs. Chester in the hall. "I have had a bad time up-stairs," she said! " Mrs. Whittaker declares that she will not sta^;' an hour in a house where there is a Bear without a master; but as she has a terrible sciaticaand cannot travel/ 1 do not know what she is going to do. Her trained nurse, I believe, is now putting on her bonnet to depart," -' ii As she spoke, the joyful anticipation of a few days at the Holly S^rig Inn begap to fade away.* I did not blame the bear as the present causrti of my disappointment. HeXhad done all he. could for me. It was his wretched master who had done the mischief by running away and leaving hdttQ. But jio matter what had happened, I saw : itny duty plainly \)iBfore me. I had not been en- coijraged to'TSCay>)but it is possible'fliat I might have done so without encouragement, but now I saw that r must go. The Fates, who, as I had hoped, had compelled^my stay, now compelled my departure. , f v. . "Do not give yourself another thought upon 101 V A Bicycie of Gathay •^ the subject/ I said. Twill settle the whole matter, and nobody need be frightened or dis- turbed. The Cheltenham Hotel is only a feW miles farther on, and I shall have to walk there anyway. I will start immediately and take the hear with me. I am sure that he. will allow me to lead him wherever I please. I have tried him, and I find that he is a great deal gentler than most children.". v_ She exclaimed, in Tiorror : * You must not think of it I He might spring upon you and tear you to pieces !" "Oh, he will not do that," I answered. " He is not that sort of a bear— and, besides, he is se- curely muzzled. I muzzled him myself, and he did not mind it in the least. Oh, ybu need not be afraid of the be^r ; he has had his breakfast and he is in perfect good-humor with the world. It will not take me' long to reach the hotel, and I shall enjoy the walk, and when I get there I 7 will be sure to find some shed or out-house where the beast can be shut upufitil it can be decided what to do with him. I can leave him there and have him legally advertised, and then — if noth- ing else can be done — he can be shot. I shall be very glad to have his skin; it will be worth . enough to cover his bill here, and the damages ' 102 ^-.7 ■yft •^ ■*> Orso A- " I said, " for I ought to start immediately." «* "Oh,! will send that I" she exclamied. . "No," I answered ; " it does not weigh any- thing/ and I can sling it over iny shoulder. By- ihe^way," I said, turning as I was about to leave the room, " I have forjgotten something." I put my hand into my pocket; it would not do to forget that I was, after all, only a departing guest. ■. ■; . "No, no," she replied, quickly, "^ I am y^ur debtor. When you find out how much diamage you have suffered, and what is to be done with the bear, all that can be settled. You can write to me, but I will have nothing to do with it now." With my valise over my shoulder! returned to the hall to take leave oi my hostess. Now she seemed somewhat contrite. Fate and she had conquered, I was goirig-away, and she was sorry for me. " I think it is wonderfully good of you to do all this>" she said. " 1 wish I could do some- thing for you." ; ' I would have been glad to suggest that she might ask me to come again, and it would also have pleased me to say that I did not believe that her husband, if he could express his opinion/ : ■,.;.y'.:-..^; ■-,:., 104 ■ ^ ^'■■^,- *.■ *. Orso would commend her apparent inhospitality to hiis successor. But I made no such remarks, and offered my hand> which sjje cordially clasped as if i were an old friend an4 jv^ere going away ;^ settle in the Himalayasv ' -^^^.-^---^-^■-^-—~^^~^-~-^ I went into the yard to get Orso. He was lying down when F approached him, but I think he knew from my general appearance that I was prepared to take the road, and he rose, to his feet as much as to say, " I am ready." I unfastened the chain from the post, and, with the best of wishes tt good-luck from John, who now seemed to be very well satisfied with me, I walked around the side of the house, thejjear following as sub- missively as if he had been used to my leadership all his life. I did not see the boy nor the lemon-faced wom- an, and I was glad of it. I believesthey would have cast evil eyes upon me, and th^re is no khowing what that bear might have done in con- sequence '- A Mrs. Chester was standing in the door as I reached the road. " Good-bye 1" she cried, "and good fortune go with you !" I Vaised my hat, and gave Orso a little jerk with the chain. ■m r »**.. .J - ill V- ■ ' ■ ■ ^■^1 -s^ * Hfl '- ■.-. -•■* ■ =-: -. ;. / - 'St-' N ■« •^ V ■ V .' ■ i- U^l f •":■..,■ ■:"' ■^H'- ^ -' ' H S ■ ■' V- ■■ • , -^; ;.:■;■ 1 ,...„., . . » ., .'. .. ■■.. : 'li N , ■ "1; CHAPTER IX 'A RUNAWAY _j«»iiroo«rot JE was a very slow walker, that J*l 1^ would havie been out of sight of j|jao||io^ the inn in less than five min- l^i^^ utes. As it was, I looked, back after £^ considerable time to see if I really were out of 4ight of the house, and I found 1 was not. She wa s still standing in the doorway, and when I turne i she waved her handkerchief. Now that I had /truly Jeft and was gone, she seemed to be wiMing td let me know ^better than before a chaiftning woman she was. I took off my jiat again and pressed forward. • a couple of miles, perhaps, I walked thought- ly, and I do not believe I once thought of the shambling silentl^behind me. I had been dreaming a day-dream— not building a castle in the air, for I had seen before me a castle al- ready built. J hcvl simply been dreaming my- io6 ., V ... ■ -^ ■ .. •■ •>, t: -mi: ■ , ; g*i \ A Runaway seJf into.it; into its life, into its possessions/into the possession of everything which belonged to it. ^had been a fascinating visiori.'It had suited ]ancy better than any vis^n of the future & I had ever had. I w^is not ambitious ; I loved the loveliness of life. I was a student, and I had a dreai^f life which Would not inter- fere with the society of my lx)oks. I loved all rural pleasures, and Thaddreamedof a life where • these were spread out ready for my enjoyment. , I was a man formed to love, and there had come ' to mq dreams of this sort of thing. , My dreams had even taken practical shape. As I was dressing myself that morning I had/ puzzled my brain to find a pretext for taking the first step, which would be to remain a few days at the inn. . The pitetext for doing this had appeared to me. For a nioment I had snatched at it and shown tny joy, and then it had utterly disappeared— the vision, the fancy, the anticipations, the plans, the vine-covered home in the air, aH were destroyed as completely a&if it had been the tire of my bi- cycle scattered about in little bits upon the ground. ^/ ■■■■>;:■ ■ '■" ■ /■■■'.'■.• ■■^■■■:^': ■-■•;. ^ " Gome along, old Orso !" I exclaimed, endeavor- ing toNjnend my pace, and giving the bear a good ;. ,.107 ' V-.;.;:- -.-,,,, ■•..,;; /?*^ ^v ■ ■*;■/•■.. I -. ■ It V BicYtW A fiicyfre of Cathay piill updn his chilli: But the ugly greature did . ^'-notivalk any faster; he simply looked at me With ; an air as if he Would say. that if I kfept Ibrtg upon ^ the road I would learii; to take it easy, arid mainr tairied thfe deliberate sloUch of ms demeanor. Presently I sjto|>ped,^ndOrso was very wilKng ; to ^tate me in that action. > I found, to my surprise, th?tt I was not walking upon a mao adamized' road: such vWas the higjiway which passed the inii and led, Ihadbee^ told, to the,, s ,' Ghettenham. I was now upon a road of grayel , and clay, smooth enough and wide enough, but of a different character from that on which I had started that morning., L looked .about me. Across a field to my left I saw a line of trees whith seemed to indicate '.a road. I/had a dim recoUec- . tion of having passed a road which seemed to • tucn to the left, but I had been thinking very earnestly, and had paid little attention to it. Probaj)ly that road was the main road and this the one vvhich turned off. T^ ^ ' I determined^to investigate. It would not do to wander out of my way with my present en- cumbrance. ' It was now somewhat after noon; the country people were eating their dinners or engaged about their barns ; there was nobody upon the road. Al some distance ahead of me \ -sA.., I08 - , /' r - ,4. is \ % r /^■^ "--■ 9 . ■ ■; ■ ■ : • r ■■ ■ ■ ■ i ■• ■■ . "■** ■ '.* ■ ■ -V : w -"' ■'. ■■;a <. -r QL r#/ y :.-■'.";> '■y-^w -■-*-I: ■ >:--:6 ■'■■:•■■'■■ S. :-v\-:p ■ «, r. . ■' ■ . . ,■■■■'■ : A Runaway* " •:■■:■- ■■ '■ ■ 4 J ,■ / ^ ■.-.-•.■ ^ ■■.:.. ." ■'■■. , ■' "■ i ■■' • <•■ " . ■••- ■ ■ ■. was a small hLOUse standing well back behind a little group of trees, and I decided to go there - and make inquiries, u And as il would not do at idl to throw a rjiral establishment, into a state of wild confusion by leading, a bear up to its, door, I conducted Or^o to the side>of the road and chained him to a fence-post. He was perfectly satisfieiand- lay down, his nose upon his fore-, paws. ■■ '■■■"'■■■ * I found three women in the Uttle |iouse. They were in a side kitchen eating their dinner, and I wondefed what the bear would have .done if he had :toielled that dijlner. .They told me tfi^t 1 was not on the main road, and would have to go back more thaA half a mile in order to regain it. When I was put On the road again I said to my- - self that if i could possibly niake Orso step along at a little more lively pace! might get to the hotel .in> time for a yery late luncheon, and I was "begin- ning to think that I had not' been wise in declin- \ing portable refreshment, ^Svhen I heard a Aoise ahead of nie. At a considerable distance along ' the 'road, and. not far from where I had left the • bear, I saw jrhtjrse attached to a vehicle approach- . ing me atl a furious speed. He was running -away! THb truth flashed upon me— he had, been frightlned by Orso ! ^' rect attitude .a,nd to let^tip the horse the occupant of the vehicle • was- on the ground She' had skipped down . with won^erfu! alacrity on Ihe side opposite to me^ and was coming round by the back of the cart. The horse was, now standing qn his foui; legs, trembling in every fibre, and with eyes that were still wild and staring Holding him firtnly, I -faced the lady as. she stopped inear me. , She. V '■ ■■ im } /• ■■ i fling I the tall A, t leart mecf' me. :hat. fhis vard 3cles over rise Fore-. , [tail his /^ ■■ 1^ .4 4 ; t ii 1 ' '■ ^ .\^ ■' . ;*v -■ .^- H \ ' ' ^■- ,■;'=■. ;. ■ ■» '••.•■■• w « ' r— ^*"*^ ' ~~ S. 11 . ■.. . -\,.-:„ « ' .-'l ■• I H " ' : ^ ■ /■ ■ / ' 1 ■/ ■' -' ■ -r- ,■■/■■. - , . ' .; \ / , ' ■*" 1 .'•.'■■ . v\-' '■ '/■:"■/' : ' "' ; q 1 ■ '. ' ' ■ ■ .'-ifS,' .:.' ' ■ o >> ■■ ■ .•*-■; ■ ■. :_ P H ■ ■ ■■ ■ ■■ •^■T-H(|».->^- - - ' .. ., , , • I ' .■ ■"' ' "'\ .. " ■- ' .'.;■""■ .; • '■'■ V ■.- r:° ' r b I ■■■ ■"■ , .. " ■ ■ ■ - ■ „ . , ■ " ■ ■ .' . o , • . - a I k '■■'■■' ' •■ '. .-■■■■ ■ ,' ' _:*./' ^ ;■ ^''V- ■..■>.>;-;■■■■ ";' ,-$i I 1 . ■■ \ ''■■ - ' :'>■' . ■ •'"'-'' '■ ** ■ ■■/.■n"'" . ■'* • 1 ' ;^ »■ . ../././;;:;■■.;.> ■.;;.:■■: J;..'' :)■ " ' ' ■'■ .'•'.ai .. ■ " .■«.' ■'■■.. ■' ■ . ■ ;/ , C. 1 - "■:■■ . f . .■ ■ V •:. ■ •.'■■-• " ' ■ " V . ■"■ ' ' " '.,,<■■ ^' 'r ■ • ' ■■-*■; ^^' ; "-■ ■■ ' ■'■ ■■ - ■■-£■■■ '■• "--'>' '. .,';.■■•; ".■'/■■■■- ■■'■^- ■ ''^ '.■'..*■■"■ ^' 1 -'■••: ;■■! *. ■ —■ ■■' .-■■ ■ '> ■ 7 ■ b< 1 1! * ' . ' ;V \'':''i':-'-\:,' :,::_■■:'■ /.;' ^v';.:.-^. 5 .r-^ . /: 1 1 ji . '/ • ■ :;-':.'/^ ^ ' hs dc , '/'■: ./,.Kv.r>|:'^^'^*^'r/%;" ■;■■'.. './.'": • 1 ■■■■ > • ■'.-".'- *■"■'..'■■ . ■ ■ . . I at 1 ' w . \- '-■■■.'■ ■ ■ ' ' ■ * : . ■ ' ■ ! ■ V. * ■th ii . *. , , ■ ° . . ' ■ ■ • //'.^^ ; : si< 1 ' a\ I ■ ' ' ■ : ■" ■ ■ ■ ' ■ ■•' . ■ _■ ■ - ■ ' J , ■■ ' «!> / . . . ■ f 1 "'■' *■ ■ v ".'■ /■■■ - — / ' .' ':.■■■•-' .'.: . ; ■'■■ :■[■ :■;: r '^, -^;M^■/^■^;:"■^':..:• : '-^i ! . -^■' .rt - -^^ — ^ .— - ■' ' ■ - - . ■ ■"•_■-' ,..._;,..& i ''■■'■■■' '.' ■ "■■'■■ ■ • ■■'■ '" ■- ■■- ' ' ■ ' . .'' . ■"■ ■ .'. ' :. . ■ *■■.'"■-■". ■'-" ■ * .■.'■'■;.■ ■ . ■ . ■ ^ ' ■■'*-'a' ■-•■■-■■'■■' ■ •■ .; .■..--;« 1 *" '^ ^i--'k:\ . ■"• ...'•-■■ ",'■.■.■.•'■■ . ■ 1 i ■ : ■■ ■ ; ■ - - . - '„ ■, ■■ -\-: ■ .. . . ■ V :_;.■-.... ;, ■ -■.- . ' ■ '■ ■ ■ -■;■.' ■ .v^£f ;'•,•■• ■ ^ ■-"-.■: !• t ■ ' ' ''^^ '' *"*■'""-■■' ■' " ■ ' ■"■ '■" ■ ' ■ ■■"■--- ■■"•' A '■ . ■'2^r' V /•,: -^ •. .■■'■.■ ' pi r ^ i 1 .■■-'/■-■';•.;" • '. ■■■:. ;;. *■■ -.•^' ..-:-;#:-. -:, ;..-■:-•:. ;;■ ; y: :.■ ' , '^ •■.;;, 7^ ', ^^ ' ; i ■ '-■' • • '■ '"■'■■^^^Vo---:':^* ■ .■-'••'. •TTSflSp .A Runaway was a young worildn in a jaunty summer costume and a rou»d straw hat. She did not seem to be quite mistress of herselt ; she was riot pale, but perhaps that was because her face was somewhat browned by the sun, but her sfep was not steady, and she breathed hard. Under ordinary circuii^ stances she jvould have been assisted to the side of the road, where she might sit down and re- cover herself, aild have Water brought to hea-. But 1 could do nothing of that sort. I could not ' leave that shiVering horse. ; , "Are you hurt?" I asked. " Oh no," she said, " but I am shaken up a bit. I cannot tell' you how grateful I ami I don't believe I ever can tellyouj" " Do not speak of that."! said/quickly. * Per- haps you would feel better if you were to sit down somewhere;" •" 0h, I don't want to sit down," said she. * I am so glad to have my feet on the solid earth again that that is enough for me. It was a bear that frightened him— a bear lying down by the sideof the road a little way back: Heneverran away before, but when he saw that beat he gave a great shy and a bolt, and he was off . I just got a glimpse of the beast." __ I was very anxiousto change the conversation, f III " V I -*-■ '-£ ^ ..• :r t\ ?SC< '■\ •),. A Bicycle of Cathay sn and suggisted that I lead the horse into the shade, for the sun was blazing down upon us. The horse submitted to be led to the side of the road, but he was very nervous, and looked evei^rwhere — |^-^ for the approach of shaggy bears. - * It is perfectly dteadf ul,* she said, when she again approached me, " for people to leave bears about in that way; I suppose he was lastened, for it could not have bc«j a wild beast. They do not lie down by the side of the road. 1 do not say that 1 was rattled, but 1 expected every second that there would be a smash, <|n^ there would have been if it had not been for—" "It is a wonder you were not thrown out," I interrupted, " those carts are so tall." "Yes," she answered, " and if I hadn't slipped off the driving-cushion at the first shy I would have been out sure. I never had anything hap- pen like this, but who could have expected a great bear by the side of the road ?" _ ^_: ■-- -;' " Have you far to go V I asked. * Not very—about three miles. I made a call this morning on the other road, and was driving home. My name is IViiss Larramie* My father's place i^ oh this road. He is Henry Esmond Larramie." I had heard of the gentleman, but hiid never met him. " I ant not afraid o^f horses," ;/:;.•:'■■'■■■/■. - 112 :':'J ;.,■.'■:".■. e' ■» ' A Runaway -■■■:/ ■■-'•■ ' ■•■•■■■■ :. ■ ■■;■■ ■ ■•■ ■■ . V< she continued, " but I do not know a!x)ut driving this one now. He looks as if he were all ready to bolt again." -r — "Oh, it would iiot do fbr y6u to drive him,'T^ said. " That would be extremely risky." " I might walk home," she said, "but I could not leave the horse." ''Letmethinkaminute,"saidl. Theti^jresently I asked, " Will this horse stand if he is hitched,?" "Oh yes," she answered ; " I always hitch him when 1 make calls. There is a big strap under the seat which goes around his neoj^jmid then through a ring in his bit. He has «Knd7-he can't get away." ..'';'■' .• ' -/.. 7 " Very well, then," said I ; " I will tfell ydy what 1 will do. I will tie him to thi* k^. I thmk he is quieter, and if you will stand by hjkn and talk to him— he knows you ?" /^ v' "Oh yes," she answeredv^arfe J can feed him with grass. But why do you want to tie him? What are you going to do?" ^ / As she spoke she brought me the tie strap, and I proceeded^to fasten the horse to a tree. "Now, then," said I, " I must go and get the bear and take him away somewhere out of sight. It will never do to leave him there. Some other~ horse might be coming along " » j< .* •/ / - / •Ik 1.. X • '^ «r*«W' '-(. ~*;^- A Bieycle pi" Cathajr " You get the bear 1" she said, surprised. " Yes/' 1 answered ; " he is my bear; and— " She stepped back, her eyes expanded and her lower jaw dropped. " Your bear !" she cried, and with that her glance seemed to run all over me as if she were trying to find some resemblance to a rnan who exhibited a bear. "Yes," 1 replied ; " I left him there while I went to a^k my way. It was a dreadful thing to do, but I must leave him there na longer. I will tell you all about it when I come back." 1 had decided upon a plan of action. I ran down the road to the bear, 4&ok down some bars of the fence, and then, untying him, I led him overafieldtpapalchofwoodland._ Orso shuffled along humbly as if it did not make any difference to him where >he weht, and when I reached the woods I entered it by an old cart-road, and soon struck off to one side among some heavy under- brush. Finding a spot where it would be im- possible for the beast to be seen from thcrtOad, 1 fjastened him securely to a tree. He looked after me regtetfully, and I think I heard him whine, but I am not sure of that. I hurried back to the road, repl^ced^the baris, and very soon had joined the youn| lady. ^ "Well," said she, "never in this world would I* }■:-: ' . A Runaway ■ v have thought that was your bear ! But what 'is to be done now ? This horse gave a jump as soon as he heard you running this way," ,» ^ " Now," said 1, " I will drive yoii th your house, or, if you are afraid, you can walk, and Iwill take' hiin home for youlf you will give me the direc- tions." - " , • "Oh, I am not a bit afraid," she $aidr "lam sure yop can manage hhn— you seejyti to be able to managfe animals. But will not this be a great inconvenience to you ? Are you going this way ? And won't you have to eome back after your bear? I can't believe that you are really lead- ing a bear about. "^- I laftghed as I unfastened the horse. " It will not take me long to come back," I said. . " Now, I will get in first, and, when I have him prop- erly in hand, you can mount on the v other side." . .,-..'^:,. .:•■-,. .;.;' ■'■'■' 'The young lady aj^pearejl to have entirely re- covered from the effects of her fright, arid was by my side in a momaj^- J^he horsQ danced a little as we started and tried to look behind him; but he soon felt that he was under control, and' trotted off finely. I now thought that I ought to tell her who I was, for I did not want to be taken for a travelling ■^)t- I ® e oi 4':' A Bicycle^ of Cathay * » " - ■ ■■"*■"■ showman, although 1 really did not suppose that , > sl^e would make such a mistake. "So you arc the school-master at Walford!" --s»dshe. "I have heard about you. LiUle Billy ^ Marshall is one of your scholars." . I admitted that he was, and that I was afraid he did not'do me very much credit. -"Perhaps not," she said, " b^^P is a good boy. ' His mother sometimes wortcs^^ us ; she docs quite heavy jobs .of sejving, and^ Billy brings them up by/rain. He was here a little more than >' a week ago, and I asked him how he was getting on at school, and if he had a good teacher, and he .s^ the man was pretty good^ But 1 want to know about the bear. Ho^*^ the world did you '• h^p^ to be leading a bear ?" 1 related the ursine incident, which amused her very much, and, as she was a wheelwoman herself, she commiserated with me sincerely on the damage to my machine. "So you stopped at the Holly Sprig?" she said. "And how did you like the mistress of that little inn?" 1 replied thail had found her very interesting. . "Yes, she is an interesting woman," said my companion, " and a very pretty one, too. Some people wonder why she continues to keep thie inn, ■'■■.•' V -■.• ■ii6--. -■ -. v^ .'■ f '■ ^v '--/• T" / W:'. ■ *.: .I'.-.- .<'. vT ♦ ; . •F r ^ 1 IP sf ■ ■ ■ :* A Runaway ' but perhaps she has to. {You know, her hus- band was murdered." ' .f V" No, I did not l" I exclaimed, in surprise. * I Imew he was not living— but ijiurdered.t That ■ isdreadfuh How did that happen r ~ 77 "i^obbdy knows," she answered; " They had . not been married very, long,-! do not know how lohg-^heir he was Ifilled.- He went to New York on business by himself, and did not come back. ^Xhey were searching for him days and ^ys-4^r so long, and they could find no clew. At laStMtmayhavebeena month afterwards— or ^ perhaps it wafe more— itVas found that he had been murdered. His body had been discoveg ' and wa^suppos^^ be that of somebody ^ and had been b\m& ift whatever place the au- tfcities buried people Jn 'such cases. Then it • wk too late to get it orHjiidentify it, or to do anything. Wasn't that perfectly awful |^ » This, stor|« gave me apeculiar shock" could not have imagined that that charming and ap- parently light-hearted young wornan at the Holly Sprig ii^d ever been crushed dowi*by such a forroW as this. But I did not ask any more 'Questions. The young girl by my side probably knew" no more than she had already to\d me. mo5^ Besides, I di4 \t^ 117 ^^l- UA ^?f- .■■f^.■^ ■■■■ : K < : \ ' .:--■ 1 ^ 1 " * '}^ ■* . . •■ • 1 . . ■ ■ ■ ■ / 7 . ■■ . * ^ » ■■ '\' m i- , :\k. i'*>b l-fii " , :^^'' ■■'■' ^S'- «A.''>*- '^Ip* '•■ kiMi^^ along just j^ iplifflftmg hdd C s^id, ^ admiringl3^^garding the wj i Wonder if it wilMk^ safe for jne "^^i ;.'=; >^iiPl^^^'i--slT(oviid be- very ^rry>;^;I-finmi:ed, '" if my * V ' * ' tlSiVi^htlessrtess had rjendered lilJn;iiM^fe for you ; iS|{jp » but.i|h^jeo»l4beledup;andd<^ •where Be^siftW the bear until he f^bmes con- „ -; J vinci^th^i|hi(^Fei!5now • spoti»he|i|[ai^s';;.' ■^s.yoti:4idr :,. ".-,■■,.• ■'' ^- V:''^L; '■ M|t^■' ■ ^^ %- ! * I la|i|^hed' and ^ssujred her tha| t ' ^iiew there • i' ; \ w;ere a^ great many things in the world which x^^ ' •' it would! be much" better for her to do- than, that.. . 7 " Nothing woul(f please me so --^•sA*- "'"i"- -"J^' * de9isiy||y, " npt oi?>e single', splita o\xr jjjj^ku ..Xurri inhere, pi; re up a.wiridi|ig roa [g among trees on "Please let mfe out here," s! ed the eiid of the porch, to take the horse.". she sai^; 1 There's. i^oahou^ ,t elevation, eri I reach- d a man'fe* jfEi *^#: ■*";■:'.■ 'X ■; .r •■\ ■^■^ / ■ 9 ,,*% ion. 1 ach- nan'te* \ ■S^l •< ' ""^^^1 i,.-l.. ■ !l9 t dlfr ^ '- '"fl ^ CHAPTER X THE LARRAMIE FAMILY THINK I did not have to wait ten , seconds after her departure, for a stable-man had seen us ap- proach and ininiediately came forward. I jumped down from th6 cart 'lmd» looked in the direction of the road, i^ J thought if I were to make a cross^ cut over the lawn and some adjacent fields I sjiould get^J^^ck to my bqar much quicker than ke, way i had come. But this icdj^y^ shaped, it$elf in my Wind j0e approach of hurrying feet,\and in tfife ft^xt niiotaent ajittferfannf fi^ throw^^ itj, self ^pon me. ' ^j "^ ^ •. *^*ii, ^i*'** «, 1^ There yvas^ a tall, bright-^^ed\ipan, with side whiskers £^n4 a „Abwing "fSbkei] who came '"f or- w^tl with long steps^und ou^tfetched "hanicj^,* ^' ^yas a lady behiri^ him^withiittt«iqurls oh ^ -fi^^ '*^ of her head •; and ther^% mie. * The bear will be all right if you tied him well, "^u have just time to get ready for din- ner. And noticing a glance I had given to my ga^ents, he continued : " You need not bother about your clothes. We are all in field costume. Oh^did hot see yOu had a vaUse. Now, hurry in,™ of you I* . —v- That dinner was a most lively meal. Every- body seemed to be talking at once, yet they all found time to eat. The father talked so m that his daughter Edith took the carvmg-fi from liim and served out the mutton-chops self. The mother, from the other end of tne table, with tears in her eyes, continually asked me Jf I would not have something or other, and hov^l could ever screw up my courage to go about with an absolutely strange bear. There was a young msui, apparently th^ oldest son, with a fine, frank manner and very broad shotdders. He was so wonderfully developed about the bust that he seemed almost deformed, his breast projecting so far that it gave him the appearance of being round-shoiddered in* front. ■. ^ ;..;.;: \ '■ : ■ 121 ■.■■■■; •■■■■J-'*-- • 'liib :•!**■ i A Bicycle of Cathay This, my practised eye told me, was the result of utidue exercise in the direction of chest-expan- siQn. He was a g6od-natured fellqw, and over^ looked my hot answering several of his questions, owing to the evident want of opportunity to do so. There was a yellow-haired girl with a long plait down her back; there was a half -grown boy, AVjgaring a blue calico shirt with a red cra- vat; th^e was a small girl who sat by her mother ; and there was a young lady, very ujv right and slender, who did not seem to belong to the family, for she never used the words "father " and " mother," which were continually in the mouths of the others. This young lady talked incessantly, and fired her words after the mah-, ner of a Gatling gun, without taking aim at any- body in particular. Sometimes she may have been talking to me, but, as she did not direct her gaze towards me on such occasions, I did not feel b^ound to consider any suppositions in regard to the matter. I, of course, was the prin^pal object of gen- eral attention, They wanted, to know wlhat I really thought of Billy Marshall as a scholar. They wanted to kijow if I would have some more. They wanted to know if I had h|td any previous experience with bears. The father asked, which . 122 . V "S 'WOin.N 11 liK KAsltR 'lo MANAf.K A IIOY OR A BK\R?' *>/ ! i^ U: > S .- ' ;N V e''-i ♦ "i 1 < \ ' i 5 *l I It t y :;."■ ^ ■ *• " ' ■ 1 « It a pi av ' ba : ' ;■■ th so *i^. / ou ^" • . CD 1\ .- *;■ '■ al > ^.. tei CO T .' > . €0 xbe W( ke w Sl( ch If u .■ ^ ^' X ■v.'ij;,»: V \« ■0. ^*■;;i■i; The Larramife Faiiiiily I thought it would be easier to manage, a boy or '^ a bear. The boy Percy wanted to know how I placed my feet when I stood up infront of a run- away horse. Others asked yi I intended to go ' back to my school at Walfc/rd, and how 1 liked the village, and if 1 were pyfesident of the literary society there, which IWifi. Larramie thought I ought to be, on account of my scholastic position. . - But before the meal was over the' bear had come to be the absorbing subject-^of'conversaction. ^ I waf-^sked my plans about him, and they were all disapproved.. -' - , ' " It would be of no use to take him to the Chel- tenham," said Walter,' the oldest, son. "They , couldn't keep him there. They have too many horses— -a" livery-stable.- They wouldn't let ypu come on 4;he place with him." v ' ■ "Of course not," said - Mr. "Larramie. " And, ^besides, why shoulcl you take "him there ? It would be a poor place anyway. They wouldn't keep him until his bxy^er turned iipj * They WouidnH have anything to do with hirni." What you want to do is to bring your bear here. We^ have, a hay-barn out iii the fields. He could sleep in the hay, and we could giye ^ni a long chain so that he couldhaVe a nice ratigc.'*/;' The younger members of tljeiairiily Were dc- * ■ » ; J. f . . V 'r -"/. V. S'~-^ ■ . ■^„.: ■i;-.^':-: M *.. i tr^ I - ,:b.' A Bicycle of Ga^hay lighted with this suggestion. Nothing would please them better than to have a bear on the place. E^ch ohe of them was ready to take en- tire charge of it,. and Percy declared that he would go into the woods and hunt for wil#bee honey with which to feed it. Even Mrs. TLarra- mie assured me that if a bear wfere well chainec| at a suitable distance, she would have no fe^fs whatevei; of it. I accepted the proposition, for I was 'glad to get rid of the animal in a way which would please so many people, s^ after dinner, was over, and I had smoked a cigar with 'my host and,his=son Walter> I said thatiit was time for mp to go and. get the bear. ' ; ' , ; ' *But you won't go by the main toad," said Mr. Larramie. "That makes a great curve be- lo^pv^ here to avoid a hill.' If I understood you properly, you left the bear not far from a small housp inhabited by three women?" » . " They're the S/IcKenna sisters/ added Walter. .'.-.■. ' . . . • -I ; ■' Yes," said the father, "and their house is not • more than two mijes from hereby a field rba^. I Will go with you;" . • ' . 4 "?' I exclaimed tlial i Woujd riot put him to So much trouble, but my words \i^ere'wseless. 'Ther, Walter son declared that h0 wotild go ateo, that' ■ ■'Vi . ■ . .. : ♦ . ' ..-..■ •.,.-"-.■.. * ■: ':\ Ir^ <-'; .< • •^ ..' ■ 'r •K. • I. ^:T^ ■r^ y. .■# •t The Larfamie Family ^^^^ '# .-jn ... he would like the walk ; the Percy son declared^ he was going if anybody went ; andGenevieve, the girl wiCh thq yellow plait, said that she wished . she' were a boy so that she could go too, and she wished she could go any way, boy or no bc>y,.»n4 as her father said that there was no earthly rea- son why she should riot go, she ran for her hat. Miss. Edith looked as if she would like in go, but she did not say so; and, as for me, I agreed to every proposition. It would certainly be great fun to do things with this lively hoSseiiold. We started oflf withoutlfhe boyl^utit^vas noV long before he came running after us, ^d to-my ihorror^ perceived that he carri^ rifll^ , ; "What are you going to do wft^ that, Percy ?" ' exclaimed his father. " I don't expect jp do anythiiig -wjjth it," the boy ^ reified, "but I thought it Wuld& a godd thirtg to bring it along— especially as Gj^ievieve is wjth , us. Nobody knows Ayhat mightj^p»e'n." " That.'s true," exclaimed Waltfr, " and the fatt that.Genevieve is along is the best reason in the world for your not bringing a gun. You better go take it back."' ,tf /)* ' To this Percy strongly objected. He was go- ing out on a sort p'f a bear-hunt, and to him half the pleasure wou^ be Igst if he did ,not carry a . :¥- 125 ., ■If /■ ' I. < I -i-r -r?* "Njr 'S*^;^ iv ■■'■■■■. ■%4r- It \ {^ I i 'I 1 '3 ill- ■yt- -hp^: A Bicycle of Cathay ^un. I am not a coward, but a boy with A gun - is a terror to me. My expression may have in- timated my state of mind, for Mr. Larramie said to'me thtit we had now gone so far that it would be a pity to s'end Percy baclc, and that, he, did not „ thinR there would be any danger, for his boy had been taught how to carry a gun properly. "We are all out-of-door people and sportsmen," h6 said,v " and we begin early. But I suppose what you are thinking about is the danger of some of us ending soon. But we heed not be af|raid otthat; 'Walk in front, Percy, and keep the barrel pointed downward." " \ When we came in sight of the house of the three McKennas, Walter proposed that we maice a detour towards the woods. "For," said he, " if those go6d women see a party like^this with a gull among them, they will be sure to think it is a case of escaped' criminal, or sc««iething 'of {hat kind, and be frightened out of their wits." „^ ■'.. We skirted the edge of the trees until We came to the opening of "tl\e wood road, which I recog- nized iminediately« and^ asking Percy and the . others to keep backj, I went on by^ myself; , " I don't thifik people would frighten that sort of a bear)" I ftieard Genevieve say. "HemuStbe iu|ed to crowds aroutid htm wjhen he's daijcin^i" .l'<.:^. 'j>r^- i .:■- H 1 ■': i ^k ■\ .^> •;•-■. .v, . ' ■ . < ' ■ ■ ■ >S/ The Larramie Family \ I presently reached the place whercJ had turn- V ^irom the road. It was a natural break in'the i^pod^. There was the tree to Which I had tied the bear, but there was no bear; --: I stood aghast, and in a moment the rest of the. . party were clustered around me.""^ this who^ you left him?" they cried. "And is he gone? Are you sure this is the place ?" ♦ " / ' " Yes, I was sure of it; I have an excellent cyfi for locality, and I knew that I had/hained the bear to the small oak m front of m^. At that mo-' ftient there A^s a scream from Ge^ievieve. '' Look ! Look I" she ^ied.. \ There )ie is, just ready to : ^spring !'*^ :. :_: ^^ . / ^ We all lookedWp, and^re enough, on the low- ,er branch.of tlie oalj, half- enveloped in foliage we sawthebe^r extended at full length and blink- ing down at ^s^ I gave a shout of ^delight. ,'NQw,keeprhack,allofj^oul"Icried. "Bears don't sprij% from trees, but it' will be 4)etter for you to'he out of Ihe-way while I try to get' him dowij?:':' -. ■■• ■•,..;::._ /, ; ^^!i!^yx^ to thepa^-tree, and then I found that the bear 'was still firmly attached to It. - His * chain had l»eeh fastened loost^ly arcmnd the trunk- he had climbed Up toUe branch arid pulled tlib cham vyith him. ./' . '. \ 127 "V , r • *\ t i ^, ■ »«: V> — , '-.-„n» .' A Bicycle of^thay ': I now called lipon Orso to come d(»^, but ap- parently he did not understaitid Ei^ll^l* and lay quietly upon the branch, his head towards the trunk of the tree. 1 expend® my hand up tow- •ards the cham, and found that 1 could liearly ^^ reach it. ", Shall 1 giverypu a lift ?" cried Walter, and 1 accepted the off er. It was a hard piece of work for him, but he was ^professed athlete, and he^would have lifted me if it had cracked his spine. 1 reached up and unhooked the chain,*)^^'*' It was then long enough for me to stand on the ground and hold the end of it. Noiy i began to pull "Come down 1" I said. " Come down,^ Orso 1" But Orso did not move;; ^ " Bears don't c^me down head-foremost," cried Percy ; " they tiim around and come down back- wards. Yojn ought to have a chain to his tail if youli^ntto pull him down."; ; *^ I&gi^'t got any tail 1" exclaimed Genevieve. I W^$ in^ quandary. I might as well try to V break |h^ branch as to pull the bear down. " W, we had only -thought of bringing a bucket of • meatTcriedPercy,. . "Would you mind holding jlhe chain," I said , to falter, ." while 1 try to driveiiim down T' Ot .. course the developed yoang man was not afr^ ■ ■ ,i , . ■ ■ , *^i», , . . ■.-..■ --..■,<. ■ .-^ -, .■ V (> >:-^i^^. ■:■'■ ,:?:-:- ■ y-:- .::-■>, « %, - ■ " -m% V The Lar ramie Kamilj ^ took the chain, ^here was a pint-tree gr<^- ^i^ near the oak, and, mounting into this, I foun^ that with a long stick which Mr. Larramie hanl ed ine I could just reach the 6ear. iCo down 1'^ ^1 said, tapping him on the haunches/ but he did not move. "Gan't you speak to him m Italian ?" said Genevieve. " Tame bears know Italian. Doesn't > anybody know the Italian for ' Come down out of a tree?'" But such knowledge was absent from the party. _ - Try him in Latin," cried Percy! " that inust be a good deal like Its^iian, anyway " To this suggesUon Mr, Larramie made no answer; he had left college before any of the party present had ten born • Mr. Walter looked a little corifused ; he had graduated several years before, and his classics were rusty. I felt that my pedagogical position made it incumbent upon me to tdke immediate action, but for the life of me I could not think of an appropriate phrase. ' >. ^ ,/ Give him high English I" cried Mr. Larramie. • That's often classic enough I Tell him to de- scend !" , " Orso, de^ceod I" Icried, '^virtg* 4ittle foreign * tjvang to the words. Immediately the hear b^ ^ • . 129 . /^ -■"i. *'i^' \'- :;\V ikx. V ■ I*.- ^ ^ — - .- ' ■^ f ■ ■ I" , I ' ■ A Bicycle of Cathay gan to twist like a caterpillar upon the limb, he extended his hind-legs towajrds the trui^, he seized it with hiis fore^paws. He began slowly to move downward. • ^ " Hurrs^ !". cried Percy, rthat hithim like a rifie^^ball ! ^urrah for high English I That^s good enough\for me I" .. " Look at l^s hind hands !'■ cried GenevieVe. *He has worn all the hair off his palms l" ^r I hurried from the tree and reached the ground before the bear. Thcin taking the end of the chain, I advised the others to move ou^ of the woods while I followed with the bear. S'hey all obeyed except Gehevieye, who wanted very, much to linger behind and help me lead him. But this I would not permit. I ^ ' The bear followed "me with hfs usuaJ^ docility \ until we had emergM from the woods. Then he \ gave a little 'start, and^xed his eyes upon Percy,; who stood at a short distance, his rifle in l?is hand. I hiad not supposed that this bear was - afraid of anything, bu|. now I had reason to be- lieve that he was afraid of guns, for the in- stant he ,saw the armed bpy he made the little start I have mentioned, and followed it tip by a great bolt which jerked the chain from my han^L and Jhg next instant Orsp was boundi^g^^ 130 '■■'■/ and at the top-^ get between the %, extent we im The; Larrantie Family away in great lopes,' his chaih rattling behind ■.■■him,- ■ ' ■ ' ■ .. _ ■ ■ / ... Promptly Percy brought his rifle "to his sliofl^ der. . " Don't yoii fire 1" I shouted. " "Put down yotir gun and leave it here. It frightens him !" And with that we- were all off in hot pursuit. \.», v." Cut him off from the woods 1" shouted Mr. Waiter, who was irt advance. " If he gets in the wdods we'll losdkf]|> guVe I" ' . We followed this good ad ' of our speed we endeavored' be^st and the trees. To succeeded in our object, fpr some yf us were fast runne^rs, and Orso, perceiving that he might be cut^^ff from, a woody retreat, turned almost at /right angles and madl, directly for the hoiise. ■'-"•■■> -■.>>:^-'^- -V.-. ",■■'.;■■ r He's aftef the* three McKennas !" screamed yGenevieve, as she turned to follow the bear, and from Ijeif^g somewhat in the rJb^she was now in* adtanc^of us, and dasljed acrols the field at a mp:^ wonderful rate for a girl. ■■:..■■■-■■ The rest of us soon passed her,vbut before We reached the house thed||^ttdisappeared behind some Out-buildings. " 'fli^^ ^vr him again. He dashed through the g^Mfca back yard. He sfcmed to jttow himself ^gafflk the house. He ; -■* • ■/■ \\ ■% " ■ I. ^AX^: '% .: »* **■ 11 ■^ : • ir''"' - A Bicycle of Catliay disappeared through fi door-wAy. There was a great crash as of crockery and tin. There were screams. There was rattling and banging, and then all was still. When we reached the house we heard.no sound. -% -i*«. .^ > their dinner, about in a ^CHAPTER XI THE THREE McKENNAS WAS in advance, and as I entered the door-way through which the bear had disappeared, I found myself in the kitchen where I had seen the three women at Wild confusion had been brought second. A table had beeh over^ turned, broken dishes and tin things were scattered on the flooi", a wooden chair lay upon its back, and the room seemed deserted. The rest of the party quicjcly rushed in behind me, and greSt were their exclamations at the scene ■ of havoc.'" ■7^;"' "■;:^' .—,:-^^^_ .■^•- ;^:;'"" r. :--"7"" ■ "I hope nothing has happened to the McKenna sisters," cried Mr. jLarramie. " They must have been in here I" ,v - ' ; v Y I did not suppose that anything serious had occurred, for the bear's jaws were securely strap- ped, but with anxious haste I went into the other^ .133 r • ii MKROeOPV MSOUITION TBT CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. ^) 1^ ■^ ISA ifi Warn u 1^ ■ 2.0 vs. u Ui. ■» ■ i /1PPLIED IM^E Inc 1653 Eait Moil) Straet RochMter. Nm York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phoiw (716) 288 -5989 -Fox ^ ■. : ./, I was in the room in a moment;, arid the others crowded through the door-wa^ behind me ,j,It was a good-sized bedroom, probably the "*^^re* room" gf the first floor. In on^ cornet was^ tall and wide high-posted bedstead, and in the very middle of it sat an elderly woman drawn up into the smallest compass into which she could pos- sibly compress herself. Her eyes were closed, her jaws were dropped, her sjJeCtacles hung in front of her mouth, her gray hair straggled over her eyes; and her skin was of a soapy whiteness. She paid no attention' to the crowd of -people in the room. Evidently she was frightened out ,of her senses. Every moment she emitted a dole- ful wail. As we stood gazing at her,' and before we had time to speak 40 her, she seemed to be seized by an upheaving spasm, the influence of which was so great that she actually rose in the air, §nd as she did so her Wail intensified itself into a shriek, and as she came down again with a sudden thump all the breath in her body seemed to be bounced out in a gasp of woe. "It's Susan McKenna 1" exclaimed Walter. *4 / ^' The Three McKenna$ " What in the world is the matter with her ? ' Miss 'Susan, are you hurt ?" She madeno g^nswer, but again she rose, again she gave vent to a wild wail, and again she came down wit-h a -thump. Percy was now on his knees near the bed. _ " It's the bear !" he cried. " He's under there, and he's humping himself 1" " Sacking bottom !" cried the practical Gene- vieve " There isn't room enough for him !" * Stooping down I saw the bear. under the bed; now crowding himself back as far as possible into a corher. No part of his chain was exposed to view, apd for a mjj^iflint I did not see how I was going to get him out ' But the first ftiing was to get rid of the woman. " Cctoie, Miss Susan," said Mr. Larfamie, "let me help ^ou off the bed> and ;jrqu can go into another room, and then;w€L%ill attend to this • ai^maf You need not jae afrp^^to get down. He won't hurt y^H^, j But the McKenna sister paid no attention to these remarks. , She keij)t her eyes closed; she moaned and wailed. SiHong as that horrible /demon was under the bed she would not have y put^s much as one of her toes over the edge for mix the money in tW!''\^6rld 1 135 .*■ I' I ' A Bicycle of Cathay In every way I tried to induce the bear to come out, but he paid no attention to me. He had "been frightened, and he was now -in darkness and security. Suddenly a happy thought struck me. I glanced around the ,room, and then I rushed into the hall. Genevieve followed me. " What do you want ?" she said. ^ ** I am looking-for some overshoes 1" I cried. * India-jubber ones ,!'• Instantljgjfckevieve be^an to dash around. In a few mPl^ts sh(^ had: opened a little closet which I Had hot noticed. " Here is one !" she cped, " but it's torn— the heel is nearly off I !^«rhaps the other one— " "Give me that !" I exclaimed. " It doesn't matter about its being torn !" With the old overshoe in my hand I ran back into the room, where Mr. Larramie w;as still imploring the Mc- Kenna sister to get .down from the bed. I stooped and thrust the shoe under as far as I could reach. Almost immediately I saw a movement in the shaggy mass in the corner. I wriggled the shoe, and a paw was slightly extended. Then I drew it away slowly from ^under the bed. Now, Miss Susan McKenna rose iii the air higher than she had yet gone. A maddening wail went up, and for a moment she tottered on ;-.. , ■• -■ - . '- ■ ;i36 ■ <: ■•■.■-• . Jiv • f*! >,-."*J , .r^' The Three McKennas . the apex of an elevation like a wooden idol up- heaved by an earthquake. Before she had time to tumble over she sank again with a thump. The great hairy bear, looking twice as large in that room as he appeared in the open air, came out from under the foot of the bed, and as I dangled the old rubber shoe in front of his nose he would have seized upon it if his jaws had not been strapped together. I got hold of the chain and conducted him quietly outside, amid the cheers ^i^^ hand-clapping of Percy and Genevieve. I chained Orso to a post of the fence, and, re- , moving his muzzle, i gave him the old rubber shoe. , ^ " Shall I bring him some more 1" cried Gene- vieve, full of zeal in good works. But I assured her that one would do for the present. I now hurried into the house to'find out what had happened to the persons and property of the McKenna sisters. "Where are the other two ?" cried Genevieve, who was darting from one room to another; " the bear can't have swallowed them." It was not long before P^rcy discovered the two missing sisters in the cellar.. They were seated on the ground with their aprons over their- heads. It was some time before quiet was restored in ^^j ^'.;. 1 A Bicycle of Cathay that household. To the paralyzing terror occa^ * sioned by the sudiien advent of the bear suc- ceeded wild lamentations over the loss of property. I assured them that I was perfectly willing to rtiake good the loss, but Mr. Larramie would not allow me to say anything on the subject. " It is not your affair," said he. " The bear would have done no damage whatever had it not been for the fplly of Percy in bringing his gun —I suppose the animal has been, shot at some time or other— and my weakness in allowing him to keep it. I will attend to these damages. The amount is very little, i imagine, principally cheap crockery, and the best thing you can do is to start off slowly with your bear. The women will not be able to talk reasonably until it is off the premises. I will catch up with you pres- ently." When the bear and I, with the rest of the party, were fairly out of sight of the house, we stoppe^ and waited for Mr. Larramie, and it was not long before he joined us. When we reached the hay-bam we were met by the rest of the Larramie family, all anxious to see the bear. Even Miss Edith, who had had one gUmpse of the beast, was very glad indeed to assure me that she did not wonder in the least :^- "The Threfe McKll^n as that I had supposed /there would be np harm in leaving such a mild /creature for a little while by the side of the road/ and I was sure from the ex- clamations of the /rest of the f airily that 0rso would not suffer for want of care and attention during jiis stay ih the hay-barn. I was immensely relieved to get rid of the bear an- • ..■ ■142 ■■ The Three McKennas "1 like starlight better than moonlight," said Miss Edith, " ifor it doesn't pretend to be any- thing more than it is. You cannot do anything by starlight except simply walk about, and iJ there are any trees, that isn't easy. You know this, you don't expect anything more, and you're satisfied. But moonlight is different. Some- times it is so bright out-of-doors when the moon is full that you are apt to think you could play golf or croquet, or even sit on a bench and read. But it isn't so. You can't do any of these things— at least, you ca^'t do them with any satisfaction. ^ p[nd-yet, :^ontlk after month, if you live in the countrj^, tlje moon deceives you into thinking that for a great many things she is nearly as good as the sun. But all she does is to make the world beautiful, and she doesn't do that as well as the sun does it. The stars make no pretences> and that is the reason I like them better. "But I did not bring you out here to tell you all this," she continued, offering me no oppor- tunity of giving my opinions on the stars and moon. "I simply wanted to say that I am so glad and thankful to be walking about on the surface of the earth with whole bones and not a scratch from head >to foot"— at this point my heart began to sink • I nevei; do know what to "■■-'-'. '■ .:.■ 1,43 -■■•■■■'■ ■ -^ :7 • ■er'T~ i--— ' — - , i -!• 1^ !' ir N.. 'A Bicycle of Cathay say when people are grateful to mc — " that I am going to show you my gratitude by treating you as I know you would like to be treated. I shall not pouijout my gratitude before you and make you say things which are incorrect, for you arc bourrd to do that if you say anything— " " I thank you from the bottom of niy heart," I said ; " but now let us talk some more about the stars." "Oh, bother the stars!" said she. '"But I will drop the Subject of gratitude as soon as I have said that if you ever come to 'know me bet- ter thari you do now, you will kriow tBat in re- gard to such things I am the right kind of a girl." I had not the slightest doubt that she was en- tirely correct. And then she began to talk about golf, and after that of croquet. "I consider that the finest out-door game we have," she said, " because there is more science in it than you find in any of the others. Your braifis must work when you play croquet with intelligent opponents." " The great trouble about it is," I said, " that it is often so easy." ' ^ "But you can get rid of that objection," she replied, "if you have a bad ground. Croquet needs hazards just as much as golf does. The The Three McKennas' finest games I have ever seen wc^l^ played on a bad ground." '*; ^' So we t^(jjl ^d walked untif^me of the lights in the*upper windows of Igiyiouse had' gone out. We ascended to ^p por^, and just before entering the front door she turned to me. " I wish I could go to sleep to-night with the same right to feel proud, self-confidient, superior, that you have. Good-night." And she held out her hand and gave mine ^ strong, hearty shake. . : ' i I smiled as she left me standing on the porch. This was the same spot on which her sister Gen- evieve had felt my muscle. " This is an appre- ciative family," I said, and, guided by the sound of voices, I found Mr. Larramie and his son Wal- ter in the billiard-room. ' ;-^- .^: ^» CHAPTER Xll BACK TO tllE HOiLY SPRIG Sfev • ■f. EFORE goitl^ to bed that night I did not throw myself iiito. an easy-chair and gaze musingly out into the night. On the con- trary, I stood up sturdily with my back to. the mantel-piece, and with the f oire- .finger of my rightiiand 1 tapped my left palm. " Now, then," said I to myself, " as soon as my bicycle is put into working order I shall imitate travellers iii hot countries— I shall ride all night, and I shall rest all day. There afe too many young women in Cathay. They turn up one after another with the regularity of a continu- ous performance. No sooner is the curtain rung down on one act than it is rung up on another. Perhaps after a while I may get out of Gathay, and then again I may ride by day." In taking my things from my valise, I p^4 ^ut the little box which the doctor's daughter 146 w :\ -TT^ ,v^«r*.. at night iiito aii lusingly the con- lily with the foire- L ip^alm. m as my [I imitate ill night, DO many t up one continu- ain rung another. : Cathay, d^^ughter ^ WiSlv-- .\v Back to the Holly Sprig- /■ had given tne, but I (Jid not open it. " No/' said I, "there is no need whatever that I should take a capsule to-night." After breakfast the next day Mr. Larramie came to me. " Do you kftow," said he, " 1 feel ashamed on account of the plans I made for you." 1 did not know, for I could see no earthly rea- son for such feeling. * 'VI arranged,'^ said he, " to send to the Holly Sprig for your machine, and then to have you and it driven over to Waterton.-. No^ this I con- sider brutish. My wife told me that it was, and I agree with her perfectly. It will take several days to repair that injured wjtieel— Walter tells me you carmot expect it in less th^n three days — andwhat will you do in Watierton all that time? It isn't a pretty country, the hotels are barely good enough for a night's stop, and there isn't anything for you to do. Even if you hired a 'wheel you would find it stupid exploring that country. Now, sir, that plan is brushed entirely out of sight. Your bicycle shall be sent on, and when you hear that it is repaired and ready for use, you can go on yourself if you wish to." " My dear sir," I exclainied, " this is entirely too much r . He put His hands upon rny shoulders and #: , ,.• A Bic3rcle X)f Cathay looked me squarely in the face. 'Too much 1" said he; "too much I That maybe your opinion, but I can tell you you have the whole of the rest of the world against you. That is, you would have if they all knew the circumstances. Now you are only one, and if you want to know how many people are opposed to you, I have no "^ doubt Percy can tell you, but! am not very well posted in regard to the present population of the world." ,j ir^ There was no good reason that I could offdr why I should go and sir solitary in Waterton for threedays, and if I had had any such reason I know it would have been treated with contempt. So I submitted— not altogether with an easy mind, and yet seeing cause for nothing but sat- isfaction and content. " Another thmg," said Mr. Larramie; "I have thought that you would like to attend to your bicycle yourself. Perhaps you will want to take it apart before you send it away. Percy will be glad to drive to the Holly Sprig, and you ean go with him. Then> when you come back, i will have my man take your machine to Water- ton. I have a young horse very much in need erf work, and I shall be glad to have ^ excuse fos giving him some travelling to do." Back to the Holly Sprig i stood astounded. Go back to the Holly Sprig I This arrangement had beei> made with- out reference to me. It had been supposed, of course, that 1 would be glad to go and attend to the proper packing of my bicycle. Even now, Percy, running across the yard, called to me that he would be ready to start in two minutes. When I took my seat in the wagon, Mr. Laf- ramie was telling me that he would like me to inform Mrs. Chester that he would keep the bear until it was reasonable to suppose that theown- er would not come for it, and that then he would either sell it or buy it himself, and make satis- factory settlement with her. I know I did not hear all that he said, for my mind was wildly busy trying to decide wh^t I ought to do. Should I jump down even now and decline to go to the Holjy Sprig, or should I go on and attend to my business like a sensible man?' There was certainly no reason why I should do anything else, but when the inipatient Percy started, my mind was not in the least iiiade up; I remained on the seat beside. him simply be- cause I was there. ' ' Percy was a good driver, and glad to exhibit' his skill. He was also in a lively mood, and talked with great freedom, "Do you know^" ■■■'t;-;-- ■'■-;.. -,■■■;:; 149 ■■ ^ ' \ ■•. 'i'-f n\\ m A Bicycle of Cathay said he, " that Edith want to the inn ? Think of that ! cut and dried that I shoul( going to Usten to any sue 'to dti\i y Buiithfk you over 'Bui it HW all been go, and I was not nonsense. Besides, you might want somebody/to help you take your / machine apart and pack/ it up." I was well satisfied to Aie accompanied by t^ie boy and not by his sister, and with the wl>eels and his tongue rattting' along together, w^soon reached the inn. / Percy drove past /t and was about to turn into tlie entrance <^'f the yard, but I stopped hiHLi *^i suppose y6ur wheel is back there," he said.' ^' : ■ V 1 ^- ■■;■■,; / •:,...■ .;. > Yes," said I, " but I will get out her^." " All right," he replied, " I'll drive around to the sheds." ; At the open door of the large room I m,et Mrs. Chester, evidently on her way out-of-doori She wore a wide straw hat, her hands were gloved and she carried a basket and a pair of large shears. When she saw me there was a sudden flush upon her face, but it disappeared quickly. Whether this meant that she was agreeably suip^rised to see me again, or whether it showed i:hat she re- sented my turning up again so ^on after she thought she was finally rid of me, I did not know. -^ I if:| ■■" /■ t;^-*""-^ '■;. v/ ■ , ■ . . ^'■■A ■ A. Vv ..*L-^ ■/fct H. ^■. W »■.> Back to the Holly Sprig It does not do to predicate too much upon the flushes of women. I hastened to inform her why I had come, and. now, haying recovered from her momentary sur- prise, she asked me to walk in and sit down, an invitation which I willingly accepted, for I did not in the least object to detaining her from her garden.. V Now she wanted to know how I had managed to get on with the bear, and what the people at the Cheltenham said about it, and when I went pn to tell her the whole story, w%h I did at con- siderable length, she was intently interested. She shuddered at the runaway, she laughed heartily at the uprising of the McKenna sister, and she listened eai-nestly to everything I had to say about the Larramies. "You seem to have a wonderful way," she ex- claimed, " of falling in with—" I think she was^ going to say " girls," but she changed it to " peo- ple." " Yes," said I. " I should not have imagined that I could make so many good friends in such a short time." Then I went Q^^ give her Mr. Larramie's message, and to say more things about the bear. I was glad to think of any subject which might .'■■■■'■■ 151 % ,! * A Bicycle of Cathay prolong the conversation. So far she was inier- ested(\and all, that we sAid seemed perfectly natural to thel occasion, biit this could riot last, and 1 felt within me a strong desire to make some better use of ihis interview. I hadj^Wected to see her ^gain, certainly noTso soon, and here I was alone withlter, free to say what, I chose ; but wjiat should I say ? I had not premedi|ated anything serious. In fact, I was riot sure that I wished to say any- thing which should be considered absolutely serious and definite, but if I were ever to do any- thing tonite-and the more I talked with this bright-eyed and merry-hearted young lady the stronger became the longing to say something definite— now was the time to prepare the way for what I might do or say hereafter. I was beginning to grow nervous, for the right thing to say would not present itself, when Percy strode into the room. " Good-morning, Mrs. Chester." said he, and then, turning to me, he de- clared that he had been waiting in the yard, and began to thinki might have forgotten J had come fc^ my wheel, , Of course I rose and she rose, and we followed Percy to the bafck door of the house. Outside I saw thiuhe boy of the inn was holding the horse. ■■#^. ■/ Back to the Holly Sprig and that the wheel was already placed in the back part of the wagon. " I've got everything all right, I think," said Percy. "I didn't suppose it was riccessary to wait for you, but you'd better take a look at it to see if you thiink it will ttavel without rubbing or damaging itself.". I stepped to the wagon and found that the bicycle was very well placed- " NoW; Ihen," said Percy, taking the reins and mounting to his seat, "all you've got to do is to get up, and we'll bie •off." - . • ■ \\ ■■■■' I turned to the back door, but she was not there. " Wait a minute," said I, and I hurried into the house. She was not in the hal|. I looked into the large room. She was not there. I went into the parlor, and out upon the front porch. Then I went back into the house to seek some one who'might call her. I was even willing to avail myself of the services of citric acid, for I could not leave that house without speaking to her again. In a moment Mris. Chester appeared from some inner room. I believe she suspected that I had something to say to her which had nothing to do with the bear or the Larratnies, for I had been conscious that my' speech had been a little ram- ■^ 153 ''Mk;' ■a- f^ "J w ^ I. A Bicycle orC^th^y- bling, as if 1 were elmestly thinking of something else than what I was saying, and that she de- sired I should be taken dfway without an op- portunity to unburden my mind ; but now. hear- ing me tramping about and knowing that I was k)oking for her, she was obliged to show herself. As she came forward I noticed that her ex- pression had changed somewhat. There was nothing merry about her eyes ; I ttoik she was slightly pale, and her brows^were a, little con- tracted, as if she were doing something she did not wantjto do. « 1 ho(i|y|ytound every tiling all right," she > : I iooilBTliSsleadily. " No? said I, " every- thiiig is not all right." ^ . , A slight shade of anxiety came upon her face. "I am sorry to hear that," she sai4 " Was your wheel injured more thai| y^ thought?" , . I " Wheel I" I exclaimed. " I was not thinkmg of wheels 1 I will tell you what is not all right 1 It is not right for me to go away without saying to^ that I— " ' ~ . At this moment there was a strong, shrill whistle from the front of the house. A i?iost •>■ # T-* r ■,^ ,»t^v'- H,'^-*-!*" ■A: ^•■*. •■■:?^: Back to the Holly Sprig unmistakable sense of relief showed itself upon lier face, She ran to the front door, and called out,'^esi he is coming." Ther^ was nothing lor me to do but to follow her. I greatly disliked going away without ^ saying what I wanted to say, and I would have been willing to speak even at the front door, but she gave -me no chance, v " Good-bye," she said, extending her hand. It was gloved. It gave no clasp— it invited none. As I could not say the words which were on my tongue, I said nothing, and, raising my cap, I hurried away. , To make up for lost time, Percy drove very rapidly. "I came mighty near having a fight while you.were in the house," said he. " It was that boy at the inn. He -s a queer sort of a fellow, and awfully impertinent. He was talking about you, and he Wanted to know if the bear had hurt you. He sa(id he believed you were really afraid of the beasiand only wanted to show off before ^the womeri. -^i. . "I stood up for you, and iMd him about Edith'sl runaway, and tlien he said, fair and .square, that he didn't believe you stopped the horse, He said he guessed my sister pulled him up herself, and that then you came along and grabbedliim. ■■■' ■•• :'■ '''::'ri ^155.;. ■':■■■■■'■' '-X'-r-' ■•■:' y%' ■■#■ i^:; 1^:^i m !l li' J.J ; A Bicycle of Cathay and took all the credit. Hyaid he thought you were that sort of a f elloWy^Bp- "That's the time^^^^oirig to pitch into him, but then 1 thouglii'piitrould be a prietty low- down thing for me to be fighting a country tavern- boy, so I simply gave Km my opinion of him. I don't believe he'd have held the horse, only he thought it would make you get away quicker. He hates you. Did you ever kick him or any- thingr I laughed, and, telling Percy that I had never kicked the boy, I thanked him for his champion- ship erf ine. :^ .' / iv^ ;« ,'■- :|| I- I .:' ,' ' - . ->-' 'W^,: \- .'' A^ \:- CHAPTER XIII A MAN WITH A LETTER .>*- IHEN my unfortunate bicycle had been started on its way to Water- ton, I threw myself into the fam- ily life of the Larramies, deter- mined not to let them see any perturbations of mind which had been caused by the extraordinary promptness of the younger son. If a man had gone with rne instead of that boy, I would have had every opportunity of saying what I wanted to say to the mistress of the Holly Sprig. I may state that I fre- quently found myself trying *ttf determine what it was I wanted to say. * . I did my best to suppress all thoughts relat- ing to things outside of this most hospitable and friendly house. I went to see the bear with the younger members of the family. I played four games of tennis, and in the afternoon the whole family went to fish in a very pretty mill-pond '4 ^57 ""^^ A Bicycle of Cathay about a mile from the house. A good many fish were caught, large and smaU, and not one of the iemale fishers, except Miss WiUoughby, the ■ nervous young lady, and little Clata, would ^ allow me to take a fish from her hook. Even Mrs. Larramie said that if she fished at all she thought she ought to do everything for herself, and not depend upon other people. As illuch as possible I tried to be with Mr. Larramie and Walter. ^I had not the slightest distaste for the company of the ladies, but there was a consciousness Upon me that there were pleasant things in which a man ought to restrict himself. There was nothing chronic about this consciousness. It was on duty for this occasion only. That night at the supper^able the conversa- tion took a peculiar turii. Mr. Larramie was the chief speaker, and it pleased him to hold forth upon the merits of Mrs. Chester. Hesaidi and his wife and others of the company agreed with him, that she was a lady of peculiarly es- Umable character ; that she was out of place; that every one Mio knew her well felt that she was out of placeV but that she so graced her position that she ^most raised it to her level. Over and over again her friends had said to her ■ 158' ■ ■■..»■'■.. ■ .. * T - A Man with a Letter .',,:' -•■"■'.■ " ,#■ ' ■■ that a lady such as she was— still young, of a good family, well educated, who had travelled, and moved in excellent society— should not con- tinue to be the landlady of a country inn, but^ the advice of her friends had had no effect upon her.. ■. " It was not known whether it Was necessary for her to continue the inn-keeping business, biit the general belief was that it was not necessary. It was supposed that she had had money when she married Godfrey Chester^ and he was not a poor man. Then came a strange revelation, which Mr. Larramie dwelt upon with considerable earnest- ness. There was an idea, he said, that Mrs. Chester kept up the Holly Sprig because shq, thought it would be her husb^id's wish that she should do so. He had probably said something about its being a provision for her in case Of his death. At any rate, she seemed desirous tb maintain the establishment exactly as he had ordered it in his life, making no change what- ever, very much as if she had expected him to come back, and wished! him to find every thing as he had left it. *0f course' she doesn't expect him to come back," said Mr. Larramie, " because it must now :".'' '■:-■■•■■'■■.'■.. ■.'■159 ■£:-■■' :' .' '. r tr* f' I I'-' : A Bicycle of Cathay be four years since the time of his supposed murder—" : ^ « Supposed 1" I cried, with ^uch more excited interest than 1 would have shown if I had taken , proper thought before speaking. "Well," said Mr. Larramie, " that is a fine# point. I said ' supposed ' because the facts of the case are not definitely known. There cai;i be no reasonable doubt, however, that he is dead, for "' even if this fact had not been conclusively proved by the police investigations, it might how be considered proved by his continued absence. It would have been impossible for Mr. Chester alive to keep away from his wife for four yearsr- they were devoted to each other. Furthermore, the exact manner of his death is not known— although it must have been a murder— and for these reasons 1 used the word ' supposed/ But, "really, so far as human judgment can go, the whole matter is a certainty. I have not th^ ' slightest doubt in the world that Mrs. Chester so considers it, and yet, as she does not positively know it— as she has not the actual proofs that her husband is rio longer liviftg-^she refuses in certain Ways, in certain ways only, to, consider herself a widow." / *And what ways are those?" I asked, in a ''-.'-■ ■ . ■;■ i6o ■ & '' A Man with a Letter .-f , •"*• i voice which, I hope, exhibited, no undue emo^ ■tion.. ■■■': '"■•'■■'■"' ".' "She decHnes to marry ^ again," said Mrs. Larram^, now taking up the conversation. " Of course, such a pretty woman— ^-I may say, such a charming woman — would have admirers, and I know that sheikhas had some most ex- cellent offers, but she has always refused to consider any of them. There was one gentle- man, a man of wealth and position, who had proposed to her before she marri^ Mr. Chests, who came on here to offer himself again, but she cut off everything he had to say by telling him that as she did not positively know that her hus- band was not living, she could not allow a word of that sort to be said to her. I know this, be- cause she told me so herself." There was a good deal more talk of the sort, and of course it interested me greatly, although I tried not to show it, but I could not help wonder- ing why the subject had been brought forward in such an impressive manner upon ihe present occasion. It seemed to me that theiie was some- thing personal in it— personal^ to me. Had that boy Percy been making reports ? In th^ evening I found out all about it, and in ia very straightforward and direct fashion. I 1 ■ .(: t A Bicycle of Cathay discovered Miss Edith by herself, and asked her if aU that talk about Mrs, Chester had been m- tended for my benefit, and, if so, why. She laughed. "I expected you to come and . u ..1 ihot " ihe said. " for of course you ask me about that, sne saia, could see through a good deal of it. It ,s all father's kindness and goodness. Percy was a , littie out of temper when he came back, and he spun a yam about your bemg sweet on Mrs. Chester, and how he could hardly get you away fromher, and all that. He had an .dea hat you wanted to go there and live, at le^t for the sum- mer. Something a boy said to h,m made him think that. So father thought that .f you had any notions about Mrs. Chester you ought to have the matter placed properly before you wrth- out any delay, and I expect his reason for men- tioning it at the supper-table was that it might then seem like a general subject of conversation, whereas it jB.uld have been very pointed in- deed if he had taken you apart and talked toyou ■ ^'^tadlld U would," said I. "And if you will allow me, I will say thyt boys are ""•""'g^^^ nuisances ! If they arinot hearing what hey ; ought notto hear, they areimagimng what they ought not to imagine— " . : , 162 ,' : '•■ ■ . ( ' • .% ■•■■« ■ ■-/..,>-.-v. -V * ..\ A Man with a Letter "And telling things that they ought not to tell," she added, with a laugh. " Which is an extremely bad thing," said I, " when, there is nothing to tell." For the rest of th^t evening I was more lively than is my wont, for it was a very easy thing to be lively in that family. I do not think I gave any one reason to suppose that I was a man whose attention had been called to a notice not to trespass. , As usual, I communed with myself before going to bed. Wherefore this feeling of dis- appointment ? What did it mean ? Would I ' have said anything of importance, of moment, to Mrs. Chester, if the boy Percy had given me an opporlftanity ? What would I have said ? What could I have said ? I could see that she did not wish that I should say anything, and now I knew the reason for it. It was all plain enough on her side. Even if she had allowed herself,, any sort of emotion regarding me, she did riot wish me to indulge in anything of the kind. But as for myself. I could decide nothing about myself. r smiled grimry as my eyes fell upon the little box of capsules. My first thought was that I should take two of them, but then I shook iny JT i I % A"^icyelc of Cathay head; " I(»»^^ld' be utterly useless," I said; "they wbuld°&o.me ne good." In the course pf the next morning I foynd my- self alone. I put on my cap, lighted a pipe, and started down the flag walk to the gate. ° In a few j|u)ments I heard running steps behind me, and, lirtiiijg, I saw Miss Edith. " Don't look cross," she said. " Were you going for a walk ?" I scouted the ideja of crossness, and said that I had thought of iaking. a stroll. " That seems funny," said she, " for nobody in this house ever goes out for a lonely Walk. But you cannot go just yet.^ There's a man at the back of the Hbuse with a letter for you." " A letter I" I exclaimed. " Who in the, world could have sent a letter to me here ?" i " The only way to find out," she answered, * is togoandsee." Under a tree at the back of the house I found a young negro man, very warm and dusty, who handed me a letter/which, to my surprise, bore no address. " How do you know this is for me ?"^ ^said I, He was a good-natured looking fellow. " Oh, I know it's for you, sir," said he. " They told me at the little tavern-^the Holly something— that I'd find you here. You're the gentleman ■■■,164. 4- A Man with a Letter that had a bicycle tire eat up by a bear, ain't your • •■: ^ .^ ■ I admitted that I was, and Still, without open- ing the letter, 1 asked him v^ti^e it came from. " That was given to me in New ^rk, sir," said he, " by 21 Dago, one of these 1-talians. He gave me the money to go to Blackburn Station in the cars, and:Hheri I walked over to the tavern. He said he thought I'd find you there, sir. He told me just what sort of a lookin' man you was, sir, and that letter is for you, and no mistake. He didn't know your name, or he'd put it on." . " Oh, it is from the owner of the bea;-," said I. " Yes, sir/' said the ^n, " that V him. He did own a bear — he told ine-— that eat up ypur tire.* I now tore Open the blank envelope, and found it containetl a letter on a single sheet, and in this was a folded paper', very dirty. The letter was apparently written in Italian, and had no signa- ture. I ran my eye along the opening lines, and soon found that it would be a very difficult piece of business for me td* read it.' I was a fair French and German scholar, but my knowl- edge of Italian w|is due entirely to its relation- ship with Latin. I told the man to rest himself somewhere, and went to the house, and, finding Miss Edith, I informed her that 1 had a letter 165 ■ A . i i ■\i ,v>. A Bicycle of Cathay , from the bear man, and asked her if she could read Italian. " 1 studied the language at school," she said, " but 1 have not practised much. However, let us go into the library— there is a dictionary there \ ^and perliaps we can spell it oht." ^ We spread the open sheet upon the library-tabl^, and laid the folded paper near by, and, sitting side by side, with a dictionary before us, we went to woi. It was very hard work. "(I think," said my companion, after ten min- ute^' application, "that the man who sent you this .letter writes Italian aljout as badly as We read it. 1 think 1 could decipher the meaning of his words if I knew what letters those funny scratches were intended to represent, But let us stick to it. After a while we may gpt a little used to the writing, and I must admit that I have a curiosity to know what the man has ib say about his b^r." / \ After a time the work became easier. Miss Edith possessed an acuteness of perception which enabled her to decipher almost illegible ^ords by comparing (hem with others \^ich were better written. We were at last enabled tt) translate thie letter. Thcrsubstance of it was as follows : T he writer came to New York on a ship. There — 106 — / ■I %> .1 ■ le could ^c said, ;vcr, let ry thcrd v ■y-table/ ing side weiji to" eii niin- cnt you y as We iieaning e funny utlet us ttle used L have a ly about <-r- r. Miss m which Vords by re better islate thie VS : : 3. There ->*■ A Man with a Letter ■ :\ -' ' ".'■■■- .-■-;.•■-■«. f' ■ . , ■ ,^ was a man on the ship, an Italian man, who was very wicked. He did very wicked things to the writer. When he got to New York he kept on being wicked; lie was so wicked that the writer made up his mind to kill him. He waited lQt_ him one night for two hours. At last the moment came. It was Very dark, and the victim came, walking fast> The^enger sprang from a door-way and plunged his knife into the back of the victim. The man fell, .and the moment heiell the writer of the letter knew that he was not the man he had intended to kill. The wicked man would not have been killed so easily. He turned over the man. He was dead. His eyes were used to the darkness, and he could see that he was. the wrong man: '^^ The coat of the murdered man had fallen open, and a paper showed itself in an inside pocket. .The Jtalian waited only long enough to snatch *■ . , ' Wly what we are about." And s© saying she took the paper and opened it. j ^ It was nothing but a grocery bill, but it Was imadeout to-Godfrey Chester, Dr. Evidentty it was for goods supplied to the inn. It Was re- ceipted. J ii. f " For a lew moments I said nothings and then I exclaimed, in tones which made my companion gaze very earnestly at me : « I must go to her immediately! I must take the^e papers ! She must know everything 1" * ." Excuse me," said Miss Edith, " «tt don't you think that something ought to be done about ap- prehending this man— this Italian? Let, us go and question his messenger." We went out to; gether, she carrying, tightty clasped, both the letter and the bill " " * The black man could tell us vety little. An Italian he had never seen before had given him the letter to take to Holly Sprig Inn, and give to the gentleman who had ha^ his tire e^ten by a bear. If the gentleman was not thete, he was to asjc to have it sent to him. That was werything /he knew. ' i ) . • ^ Did the Italian give you money to go back with?" asked Miss Edith, and the «ian rather ' reluctantly admitted that he did. ^ • u /* A Man ^ith a Letter "Well, you can keq) that for -yourself," said she, " and we'll pay your passage back. But we would like you to w^it here for a while. , There may be some sort of ah answer." The .man laughed. "'Taint no use sendin*^ no answer," said he : " I couldn't find that Dago again. They're all so much alike. He said he was goin* away on a ship. You see it was yes- terday he gave me that letter. I 'spect he'll be a • long way^ut to sea before I get back, even if I did know who he was and what ship hie was goin' on. But if you want meto wait, I don't mind waitin'." " V^ery good," said Miss Edith ; "you can go into the kitchen and have something to eat." And, calling a maid, she gave orders for the man's entertainment. •' ' . '. 7 Now," said she, turning to me, " let us take a wilk through the orchard. I w^nt to talk to you." /No,'* said I, "I can't talk at present. I must go immediately to the inn with'those papers." It |s right that not a moment should be Id^t iri de- iiveriilg this most momentous messaige which has .been intrusted to me." " Bu]t I must speak to yovi first," said she, and she walked rapidly towards the orchard. As she still held the papers in her hand, I \vas obliged to f ollpw her. . ' ' v , :.,cj J, • -_v_4 '■'.•-^.■'■- ,fr,-t ■\ '.' :i t- I ■!• i \''W< CHAPTER XIV j / MISS EDITIi IS PISAPPOINTED r 3& soon as we had begun to walk under the apple-trees she turned to me and said: "I- don't think you ought to take this letter an4 P'v^ji^ra the bill to Mrs. Chester. It would 'S*^ rigSr* There would be sctoething cruel . about it,Y / ' \ .- > "What do you mean ?" I exclaimed. * Of course I do not know exactty the state p! >ihe case," she answered> " but I wiU tell you whatv \l think about it as far asl know. You must not be offended at «vhat I say. r If I am a fnend to Aflybody— and I would be ashamedif I were not a friend tJyou-I must tell him just what I think ■ about^hings, and this is what I thii^k about this • thing : lo^ghtto take thesepaperato Mrs. Ches- ter. I know her well enough, and it isA wopi^ who ought to go'to her^ such a tini^''. >^ . '« That message, was ihtrusted;^^ me, VI said. ^ -:.:r:-t,,. ^■.■■■"^^•■- > walk turned think eran4 would ; cruel fate of u what'- ustnot lend to J eire not Ithiiik 3Ut thi» tChes- woman ' I said.. •i ■■■ - '■ -;■ • '■ ■ % ,' f - «■ * • . " ■». 1 '- .■ 1 ,' ■ o\ ■ ' J ! *-':)nv -■■:"■'■--: ■■■•'•/•.•: ■ ■■••:■■ ■■■: ::::. ■... ,.:^-'%;... ■■'■:;" V .■■.,:■;■: ■■■■.;:-■■./,;.;:■.:■ ^Iss fidlth is Disappointed "Of iqjurse it was," she answered, " but the bear man i^id not know what- he was doing. He >. did not uncferstand the circumstances." " Whatcireomstances ?" I asked. 7^ She gave me a look as if she were going to take aim at me and Ayarited to be sure of my position. Then she said: " Percy told us he thought you were courting Mrs. Chester. . That was pure im- pertinence on his part, and perhai|s what father saicj at the table was impertinence too, but I know he sai4 itXbecause he thought there might bel something m Percy's; chatter, and that you ought to understand how t^ngs stobd. Now, you may think it impertinence on my part if you choose, •but if? really does seem tp me that you ^jre very' ipuch interested in Mrs. Chester. Didn't you in- tend j»^ walk dowri to the Holly Sprig when you were starting out by yourself this morning ?" . ' " Yes," said I, " I did.1 : / V * I thought so," sh6 replied. " That, of course, was your own business, and what father said about her being unwilling^ to marry again need * not have made any difference to you if you liad chosen not to mind it. But now, don t you think, if you look at the matter fairly and squa^ ly, it would be pretty h^rd on Mrs. Chester if you 7 were to go down to herNand make her understand ^^ '■■■■■■■■, ,-■:•, :.■-■■ sJ--': i7S '■ : ..:•,-■- .. N i : ;■■•■ %.: \: ♦. i . I /• '^: i *■:, A Bicycle of Cathay !. t % that she really is a widow, and that now she is free to listen to you if you want to say anythinR to her ? 'This may sound a little hard and cruel, but don't you tliink it is the way she would have tolookatit?" I ^ She stopped as she spoke, and I turned and stood silent, looking at her. ." My first thought was," she said, " to advise you to tell father about all this, and take his ad- vice about Celling her, but I don't think you would like that. Now, would you like th^t ?"» "No," I answered, " I certainly would not. " *' And don't you really "think I ought to go to her with the message, and then come back and tell you how ^he took it and what she said ?" ; For nearlj/a niinute I did not speak, but I knew she was righty and at last I admitted it. ; ; ^ ^ " r am glad to hear you say so !" s^e exclaim- ed. "As soon as dinner is over t shall drive to -^e Holly Sprig." ' ' x. ^:- A ^ 7. .: We still walked on, and she proposed that w^» ^ . shouW go to the top of a hill beyond the (»-(^aT:d>V where ther^ was a pretty view. ' / *'you may think me a strange sort of a girl" she said, presently, " but I can't help it. I sup; pose I am strange. I have often thought I would ^ like very much to talk freely and honestly with a ' '. ■''■.. . ' ■ : ' 174 . ■ ^ '■ .'*">& \l ' *. Miss Edith is Disappointed man about the reasons which people have for fall-i ing in love with each other. Of course I' could not ask my father or brother,, because thej'^ would simply laugh at me and tell me that falling iri love was very tnueh like the springing up of weeds — generally without reason and often^ob- jectionable. But you would be njort likely to tell me something whipli woulcl be of advantage to me in my studies." i' ' j ," Your studies \"l eJcckimed. " What in the world are yoit studying'T" . ' ■, " Well, I am studying human nature— not as a whole, of course, that's too large a subject, but certain phases of it— Aind I particularly want to know why such queer people come together and get married. Now I liave great advantages in such a study, mu(^greAl*r than most girls have.*' " What are they ?" I a§ked. The principal one is that I never intend to marry ,^ I made up my mind to that a good while ago. There is a gteat deal of work that I want to do in Uus world, and I c^uld not do it properly if I were tied to attian. I would either have to submit myself to his ways, or he would have to submit himself to my ways, and that would not suit me. In the one case I should not respect him, and in the other I should not tespe(;t myself ."- I n ; ' ■^^ ^-f i Iff: J 1 A Bicycle of Cathay -But suppo?e," said I, "you should meet a man who should be in perfect harmony with you in all important points?" —"Ah,'* she said, " ihftt sort of thing never hap._ pens. You might as well expect to pick up two pebbles exa■ '/;•-■ Miss Edith is Disappointed "Affection !" said I. "Have I said anything about affection ?" J! No. you have not," she replied ; " arKd if there isn't any affection, of course that en ds thi s s pec i al study on my part." We reached the top of the hill, but I forgot to look out upon the view. " I think yoii arc a strange girl." Isaid, " but I like you, and I have a mind to try to answer your question. I have not been able quite to satisfy myself about my feel- ings towards Mrs^ Chester, but now I^thinkl can say that I have an affection for her/* " Good I" she exclaimed. " 1 like that \ T:iiat is an honest answer if ever there was one. But tell me why it is that you have an affection for her. It must have been almost a case of--%)vc at first sight." , " . :/; " It isn't easy to giveJipasons for such feelings," I said. " They spring up, as your father would say, very much like weeds." "Indeed they do," she ihterpofeted ;" some- times they grow in the middle of a gravel path where they cannot expect to be allowed to ' •* •I ■ ■ stay." ■■ " ':'-l' : I reflected a moment. "I don't mind talking ■ , ■ . / ■■• v , /' > A Bicycle of Cathay -That is a compliment I appreciate/' she said, "Andnowgoon. Why do you care for her T " Well," said I, " in the first place, she IS very handsome. Don't you think sq?" - ^^^ , « Oh yes I In fact, I think she is almost what might be called exactly beautiful." i ' , • _ "Then she has such charming manners, 1 _ conUmied. -Andsheissosensible-althau^ > ^u may^ thinkl had much chance to find out that. Moreover, ther^ is a certain sympathetic cordiaUty about her^' / _^ ; « ^hich,of course," interrupted my companioi*f- "you kppose she would not show to a^y |pi but ydu." r , ^ « Yes" said I. "i am speaking honestly now,, and that's the way it strikes me. Of course 1 may be afpoi; but 1 did think that a sympathy had arisen between us which would not arise between her and anybody else:" _ Miss Edith laughed heartily. "I am getting to know a grdat tol about one side'of Uie su^ ject," she said. "And now tell me-is that^in I don'tlielieVeUis." ^ ^^^^^^^ -^ V# ^ "No "I answered, " it is not. There is some- thing w)re which makes her aUractive to me I cannot exactly expl^iin it except by saying that it is her surrounding atmosphere-it is every- T7& "^ i. * tiough > ■ ndout ^ B athetic ^fl )anioftf ■ H y #•■;■;■ ynow,- 1 ourse I ■ upathy 1 )t arise |H ■•' "■', . getting ■ the sub- 1 hat all? ■ is some- , B ' 2 to me. 1 ing that 1 s every- I , Miss Edith is Disappointed thing tliat pertains to her. f It is the life slie lives, it is her home, it is the beauty and peace, the sense of charm which infuses her and everything that belongs to her." " Beautiful 1" said Miss Edith: -^^I expected an answer like that, but not so well put. -"Now let me tranglat^t into plain,simple language. What you want is to give up your present life> which must be awfully stupid, and go and help Mrs. Chester keep the Holly Sprig. That would suit' you exactly.* A charming wife, charming sur- roundings, charming sense pf living;, a life of absolute independence ! But don't think," she added, quickly, " that I am imputing any sordid motives to you. I meant nothing of the kind. ^*^u would do just as much to make the inn popular as she would. I expect you would make her rich." "Miss Edith Larramie," S£^ I, "you are a heartless deceiver 1 It makes my blood run cold to hiear you speak in that way." "Nevermind that," she said, " but tell me, didn't you think it would be just lovely to live with her in that delightful little inn ?" I could not help smiling at her earnestness, but I answered tliat-I did think so. She nodded her head reflectively. " Yes," she #- 'W '9 ' M: A Bicycle of Cathay ;^ said> "I was right. I think you ought to admit that I am a good judge of human nature-at , least, in some people and under cert^ circum: stances."- ■■ ' '- 'r" ' ■" -.^IfiMBiM -ivt '' -You are," said I> M/admi«ft Now answer me a question. WhatdoyodP^^Ht.^^ • "I don't like it," she said. "And d with a sort of a bump. A great deal happened in &n instant I formed high ideas of you, and. among them were ideas of the future. You can t help that when you are thinking of Peop^^^« interest you. Your mind will run ahead. Whenl found out about Mrs. Chester I was disappointed. • It might be aU very delightful, but you ought to do better .than that!" l8o ? , . ■» ■ .A i. /) •- * " *^0 YOU THINK VOU COIJI.I) HIT If Wlllt AN APPLE?" cm tar « •,. ( f ,ea( ^ sai an .*>Jbi i> ' •.". bj • fii • : . , 'CO th re '■:/ - ■ ; . '. I "^ ■ ' Si ''■■■'•''" 1 1 • * I .-- f ■ »»J '^■. ■ If*'' :*:> ,':t Miss Edith is Disappointed ' I How old are you ?" I asked. ■ . Twenky-two last May," she replied. . • Isn^that the dinner4)ell I hear^ih the dis- tance ?." I said. ,. ...1 • ' . - *,YeSi" she answered, " and we will go down.". .,^ On the way sh^ stopped, and we' stood facing . each oiiier. *'I am greatly obliged to you," she f said^? lot g;iving n;ie yoXtJ«.'confidence in this way; . ■ =^d I wa;^!t.you to believe' that I^ shall be,thor- .Qughly loyal^ to'ybii, and tl^itl nqver will breathe ■ ' anythiftg ^[ou have said. But I also want you ^ to know that ^ iio pot change any of -hiy opin- / Jons. Now we^ uifid^rstand eaclj -other, don't ri " Yes," I answered^ <• but I think I understand ' ' you better than you understand me." . '" Not a bit of it," she jeplied ; " that's nonsense!. Do you see that fl6w6r-p6t on the top of the stump •;. by the Uttle;hiU over 4here.? Per^Mwi been ^ firing at it with his air-gun. Do you think you ; 'could hit it- with an apple? Let's ^ch take three apples and try. . ♦ * It was Jate in the afternoon when Miss Edith .' returned from the" Holly Sprig, where she and Gehevieve. hail driven in a pony-cart. I was ' with the rest of the family on the ^oif links a ' short difetj^:e' from th<^ ];iouse, 4nd it was .some ,.'••« " ' * aSi , .' < . I / ■;> ." i I ■;i- ;;■'■■ f - A Bicycle of Cathay /.;* time before she g6t a chance tp^p^t» me, 1^ she managed at last. * , v j ^ HoW did she tak^he news?" I eagerly asked. The girl hesitated. « I don't think 1 ought to^ tel| you all she said and did. It was reaUy r private interview between' us tvo, and I.kno^ khe woiild not want me to say much abowVit^ And 1 doii't think you would want to hear ev^ry- ,:thihg.'';-^ '■^.-v ■-■... ■:-^ :-:.:-'-^ V^'-iii "i ^i-- Ihastened to assure her that I would ij^t ask for the particulars of the conversation^^ only , wished to know the general effect of the^^essage •upon her. Thkt was legitimate enou^/ as, m fact, she received & niessage through ^■^.. " Well she was very much affected, and ,rt would have l?een dreadful if you had gone. <)ii the whole, however, I cannot help jhmking that the Italian's Ifetter was a great reto to her, par^ ticularly because she found tW her husband had been killed by mistake, S^^ that one of the greatest loads upon her >ul had been thferr feeling that he had had an enetnywhtf hated him , enough to kill him. But noVthp; case is very di^ f erent, and it is a great comfM toher to kno^ " And about the murder^ ?" I said. " Did ^u ask her if she wanted st^ps taken to apprehind :' .him?" '.' • ' V .■ ." ' t. i82 h./y ..' ^« Miss Edith is Disappointed * Yes," she said, " I did speak of it, and she.is venr anxious that nothing shall be done in that direction. Even if the Italian should be caugl^t/ she would not have the affair again publicly dis-- cujBsed and dissected. *She believes the mari's story, and she never Wmts to hear of him again. Indeed, I think that if it should be proved that the Italian- killed Mr. Chester on purpose, it would be the gripatest blow that eould be inflicted upon her." , ." Tlien," said I, " I might as weU let the negro 'man go his way, 1 have not paid him his pas- sage-money to the city." I knew he would w^it until he gpi it, and it might be desirable to/take hrni into qustody, . ^ ' ^ V * Glr no," . §he siaid. "Mrs. Chester spoke about that. .She d6esh't \irant the man troubled in any way.. He knew nothing of the m6ssagej he carried. Now I am goirvg to tell father about it— she asked me to do it." '< That evening was a merry one.' We hSd charade^, and a good jmany other things were going dn. Miss Willoughby was an admirable actress, and Miss 'Edith wAs hot ba^, although she could never get rid of her personality. I was in a singular state of mind. , I felt as if I had been relieved from, a weight! My spirits were actually buoyant. • . , 183 ' .' • Y. / , •^.. 1 A Bi<^yclc of Cathay You should not be so unreasonably gay," said Miss. Edith to me. " That may be ypur way when you get better acquainted .with people, but I am afraid some of the family ^frUl think ^ that you are in such good spirits because Mrs. thesternowknows thatsheisa\n^w.^ > ♦ r « Oh, thete is no danger of their thinking i&ny- thjng of that sort," I said. - Don^ you suppose they will attribute my good spirits to the fact that the man who took m^^icycle to Waterton brought baclf my big valise, so that I am fnabfedto look like a gei?ileman in the parlor? And tKen, as he also brought word that niy bicj/ck \vill^be all ready for me to-morrow, don't you think itis to be expected of me that I should try to make myselfas agreeable as possible on this iny last evening with all you good friends?" 'ihe shook her head. " Those excuses will not pass. You are abnormally cheerful. My study of you is extremely interesting, but not altogether satisfactory." \ r4 f t^*' H , \ A' ; 4 ^ ^ . CHAPTER Xy MISS WILLOUGHBY T was- decreed the next day that I should rtot leave .until 2tfter din- ner. " They would send me over to 3lackburn Station by a cross- ' road, and I could then reach' Wa- tertpn ih.less than an hour, '•'' There is another gooif^ng about this arrangement," said Miss Edith> iorit was she who announced it to me, i" and that is that you can takechaJferof Amy." I gazed at her mystified, and she said/ " Don't ypu know that Miss WilloUghby is going in the siime train/with ydii ?" ^^ ^ /" What r I^xciaimed, far t6o forcibly. ff " Yes. 'Her visit ends to-day. She lives in Waterton. But why should that affect, .you so wondierfully ? I ani sure you cannot object to an hour in the„ train with Aniy Willoughby. She may talk a good deal, but you must admit that she talks well.". • " . V ' ;i85 « ■ ) wffi?/5ii; fl^ . fvA Bicycle bf Cathay " Object 1"1 said. " Of course 1 don't objecU She tklks very well indeed,, and 1 shall be glad to have the pleasure of her company." - - No one WQuld have thought so/' she said, looking atme with a criticising eye, " wiio had seerfyou when you heard she was going." / " It ^as the suddenness,";! said. " - -^Oh yes," she replied, "and your delicate nerves.- " ■ ." ,:>.,. ^ ,.' t "■'■ ■ In^my soul I cfifed out to myself : " Am I ever; to break free from young women 1 Is there to be a railroad apcident between here and Waterton!' If so, I shall save the nearest old gentleman !"sr.. I believe the Larramies were truly sorry td have me go. Each one oi them in turn told me so Mrs. LArramie again said to me, with tears in her eyes, that it made her shudder to thiiik ^ what that home might be if it had not been for me: ' Mr Larramie and Walter promised to get up : somefineexcursionsifl^oulcl stay a little longer, and Genevieve made me sit down beside her un- der a tree. " r . ' „\ ., "I am awfully sorry you arc goiftg, she saia. >I always wanted a gentleman friend, and t ' believe if you'd stay a little longer you'd be one.' You see, Walter is really too old for me to con- fide inVand Percy thinks he's too old-and that's r86 .'■f Miss Willoughby a great deal worse. But you're just the age I - like. There arc so many things 1 would say ^ to you if you lived here." -y • . , ,.>-" tittle Clara cried when she heard I was going, ^^ and I felt myself obl^ed to commit the shame- ful deception of talkmg about baby bears and my possible return to this place. 4' " Miss Edith accompanied us to the station, and when I took leave of her on the platform she gave me a good, hearty handshake. " 1 believe that we shall see each other, again," she said^ "and when we meet I want you to uiake a report, and 1 hope it will be a good one 1" " About what?" I asked. She smiled i» gentle derision, and the con- ductor cried, "All aboard !"\ ' - -*.. I found a vacant seat, and^ side by side. Miss Willoughby and I sped on t^^ards Waterton. For some time I had notic^4 ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ *^' loughby had ceased to look past me vfhm she spoke to me, and now she fixed her eyes fully upon me and said : - |^; ■ • "I am always sorry when I go away irOm that house, for I think the people who live there are the dearest ia the world, excepting my own moth- er and aunt, who are nearer to me than anybody . else, although, if I needed a mother, Mrs. Lar- m. 187 ■^ i ■*"f \ T' iiM; 9 AiBicycle of Cathay ramie would take me, to her heart, I am sure, Just as if I were her own daughter, and I am not related to theni in any Way, although I have -always looked upon Edith as a sister, and I don't believe that if I had a real sister sh^ could pos- sibly have been as dear a girl as Edith, who is so lovable an^toider and forgiving— whenever there is anything to forgive— and who, although she is a girl of such strong character and such a very peculiar way of thinking about things, has never said a hard word to me in all her life, even when she found that our opinions were dif- ferent, which was something she often did find, for she looks upon everything in this world in her own way, and bases all her judgments upon her own observations and convictions, while I am very willing to let those whom 1 think I ought to look up to and respect judge for me— at least in a great many things, but of course not in all matters, for there are some things which we must decide for ourselves without reference to other people's opinions, though 1 should be sopry indeed if 1 had so many things to decide as EditlT has, or rather chooses to have, for if she would depend more upori other people I think it would not only be easier for her, but really make her happier, for if yciu could hear some of the won- ■ ■ ■ ■ . 188.-. -,-:-■■■- '^^ 'TALklNc; AllOl|f BAHY HEARS " f < - TT^ t i_l J Miss Willoughby derfui things which she has discussed with me after we have gone t<^ bed at night it would really ^ make your Head ache— that is, if you are sub- 7 ject to that sort of things, which i am if I am kept awake too h?ng, but I am proud to say that I don't thiiik I ever allowed Edith to suppose that I was tired of hearing her talk, for when any one is as lovely as she is I think she ought to be al- .. lowed to talk about what she pleases and just as long as she pleases?" Su^risirig as it may appear, nothing happened on that railroad journey. No cow of Cathay " blundered in front of the locomotive ; no freight- train came around a curve going in the oppor • site direction upon the same track; everything Went smoothly arid according to schedule. Miss Willoughby did not talk aril the time. She was not the greatest talker I ever knew ; she was not even the. fastest y she >yas always willing to wait until her turn came, but she had Won- derful endurance for a stead^"«tretch. She never made a bad siaii, she never broke, she went steadily over the track until the heat had been run. • " » When the time came for me,to speak she listened ^*~^th great interest, and sometimes at my words ' her eyes sparkled almost as much as they did ^«9 / i : ! ¥^ If .1 1 :i| I 11 at 'I 1 ■( li j, ■ ft tfi H a, A Bicycle of Cathay when she was speaking herself. She knew^a great many things, -""i ^ --^ f "=^^1 1 .1^ ■ but that she was especially in erested m fte- ^ go.4 qualities 6{ the people s^e knew. I never heard so many gracious senUments in so short a time. ' ^ .,'■ ^i,_-a «^fas Willoughby's residence was but a short '»ce from the staUon a' Waterton; and as . she*hought it entirely unnecessary to take a cab, I attended to ber baggage, <^'f^^ Wk with her to her home and carry her Uttlc V w I was about to leave her at the door, but tJiUshe positively forbade. T must step in for •^ Tminute or two to see her mother and her aunt tZ had heard of me, and would never forg.v her if she let me go without their seeing mp As the door opened immediately, we went in. ^ ; Miss Willoughby's mother and aunt were two ■ „ost charming Elderly ladies, immaculately dainty in their dress, cordial of manner, bright of eye, and diminutive of hand, producing the impression of gentle. goodness set off by soil white muslin, f elded tenderly. . They had heard of me. to the few -lays m V which I had been wtth the Larramies, \hss W- loughby had written of me. They insisted ttot " I should stay to supper, for what good reasoB 190 u 'I 4 i:i' • I < \v V:.- m- Miss Willoughby could )(pift be for my taking that iheal at the hotel— not a very good one— when they would be so glad to have me sup with them and talk about our miitual friends ? I had no reasonable objection to dfTeryand, re- turning to the station, I took my baggage to the hotel, where I prepared to sup with the Willough- by family. They were now a Kttle family of three, although there was a brother who had started away the , day before on a bicycling tour very like my ow:n, and they were both so delighted t^r^feAmy visit the Larramies, and they were-q^^o de- lighted to have her come back. ' ■' i. The supper ivas a delicate one, suitable for canary birds, but at an early stage of t^e meal a savory little sirloin steak was brought ^ which had been cooked especially for me. Of course I could not be e3^ected to be satisfied witft thin dainties, no matter how tasteful they might be.^ This house was the abode of intelligence, cul- tivated taste, and opulence. It was proljably the finest mansion of the town. In evei;y room there were things to see, and after supper we looked at them, and, as I wandered from pictures to vases and carved ivory, the remarks of the two elder ladies and Miss Willoughby seemed f ■:.«' ■" ;? I', A Bicycle of CathayN^ me a harmonized cWuS aceompanying the rest of the performance. Each spoke at the right time, each/ifnSturn said the thing, she ought 4p say. It was a rare exhibition pf hospitable enthusiasm, tempered by sympath4ic consid- eration for me and for each other. * I soon discovered that many of the water-color drawings on the walls were the work^of,Miss Willoughby, and^hen she saw I ^as interested in them she produced a portfolio of Ijer iifetches I liked her colonng very much. It was somt times better than.her drawing. It was damti delicate, and suggestive. One picture attracted me the moment my eyes fell upon it ; .it wa| one of the most carefully exerted, and itrepre^nted the Holly Sprk Inn- C^ , / - You recognize that l" said Miss^Willoughby, evidently pleased. " You see that light-cblor^ spot m the portico? That's^s. Chester ; ^ stood there wftBtv^ was making thfedrawmg. ^It i^ ndthing but two or three little d^bs, but that is the way she looked at^ a distance. Around; on this side is the comer of the^ yard where th^ bear tried to eat up the tire of your bir cy^e" ^ ■ ' ■".^.•■■■v';. ■:■..: ^'' i* gazed and' gazed at the little light-colored ^pot In the portico. I gav^t form, light, feehng. 192 ' * . .-• .-•.I V • ig the le right ! ought ipitablc consid-^ er-color of .Miss terested ^tche^ s some daint5 ttracted was one re^nted Bughby, L-cblor^ Ler ; p\^ ing. It but that Around- d where your bi- it-colored , £eehiig. i '- -'f- .-■ ,'... .. "■ l\'^ :&;:■: ■f.. ■ . ■; 'V- • WJiP \w ■ ■ef'[ % nr \r * vm l^Iiss Willoughby I could see perfect features, blue eyes which look- ed out at me, a form of simple grace. I held that picture a good while, saying little; and scarcely listening to Miss Willoughby's words. \ At last I felt obliged to replace it in the portfolio. If the artist had been a poor girl, I would have offered to buy it ; if I had known her better, I would have asked her to give it to Aie ; but I could do nothing but put it back. Glancing at the clock I saw that it was tit^ie lor me to go, tiut when I announced this fact the ladies very much demurred. Why should I go to that uncomfortably hotel ? They would ser\d for my baggage. There was not the least reason . in the world "why I should spend the njght in thkt second-rate establishment. < ''See," said Mrs. Willoughby, opening the door of a ropiji in the rearbf the parlor, * if you will stay with us tp-night we will lodge you in the chamber if %^ lafbffed gflest, ' ^ the pictures oh the fe % my daughter. ; r Iiooj|e4 into the room, It was the rtiost cHarm- ing^<«ipd luxurioiis bedroom^%ad ever seen. It s lighjjpdf :and.th^ harmony^ of itfe furnishings * .■■\ ■\ ' But^v«|^<^^rin jn ^^purpose to depart. I #ou|4oiiQt<«pend the night in that house. There 'ff^ ■''■.,., * ■{■■■■ \' ■\'-'- ^ ^' V ^ :\;v life 'A--:^^-^^- :\.\\ ■'^^■■•'■■;.- \ ■•**'•'•■;. \ ■■;■ i * I ■■'-■■ . " -■':;■ V'' - . ■■-.- -V- ',\ _J\ i .: ■■ ■■ ■ - ■ -A ■ V ■ r ¥ " Al Bicycle ojft Cathay^ • wouia be a fire,, burglars, I kifew not wbatl^ Against all kind entreaties I urged the absolute^/ necessity of my starting away by the very break of day and I could not disturb a^rivate family : by any kuch proceeding. They saw that I was , determined to go, and they allowed me to depart. :^- I'll' -i t^ii \m ■A- *-^fc - W^' • t . \ '■J ^ ■;f-. .'.AN ICICiidfcs' ** "';- . ^^ .'."• ■ ^^ r9om at the hotel was as dreary * as a stuhble-field upon a Novem- bfer eveijing.. The whole house '" was ;iew, varnished, and Jiard, My liedroom was smalji* A piece of new ingrain carpet ^covered part of the h^rd varnished floor. • Fouifl|M||v'alls and a ceiling, ■ de|adly white, surroundeST ijae. The h^rd var- ' nifehed bedstead (the mattress felt ;as if it wl^ varnished) nearly filled the Ifttle room. Two stiff chairs, and a yellow window- shade/which looked as if it were made of varnished wood, glit- tered in the feeble light of' a glass lamp, while the ghaistly grayish pallor of 'the ewer and basin on the wash-stand was thrown" into bold relief by the intens^r whiteness of tHe wall my light 'as soon ;as possible reiB3luJeljftpsed.my cye.^, for a«trcet nj^ oppi; Jiind it. * >i»put / / % H * ''^■' , • . ■ . .. • \a ■■■'■■■ ■ 'A Bicycle of Cathay site my window would not all^v the room to fade into obscurity, and, as long as (he hardness of the bed prevented me irgm sleeping, my thoughts ran back l|^he chamber?^ the favored guests :oireci but my coiScience stood country, where it i^ neoessa' riA tl me. Cattiasstis a .o be vety careful. In '<»- ^i" I ^ ' It i did not leave Waterlonunt^tcr nine o clock • the next day, for, although f^s early at the . ^ shop to whic#my bicycle had beer^t, it uas / '*; hotquitereadyforme.andIhadto«..^rtu- ^ ^ wately no Willoughby cahie that way. ' But when at last I mounted my w^cel I sped ^ay rapidly towards the north. I had ordered ' " Ihy ba'ggage expressed to a town fifty miles awayffndniopcd that if I rode steadily and kept ". my eye^'sfraight in front of me I might safely get out of Cathay, for the boundaries 944hat fateful territory could not extend themselves indefinitely. Towards the close of the afternoonlWw a fe- male in front of me, her back to me, walking, and pushing a bicycle. . ■ _ " Now," said I to myself, " she is domg that because she likes it, and it is none of my bu.si- ness;/'. I gazed over the fields on the other side of tl*^ road; but as I passed her I could not lielp ^ giving a glance at her machine. The air was gone from the tire of the hind wheel. 196 .#■ ^ H- :x Il to fade J of the oughts ■' : 1 " ■ guest, ^^ • . '^^ 5MS a :aref ul. o'clock 'I ■ ■ i at the 1 : it\v%s ■ ■ "- *'^"--::;,: i I specl ordered jr miles * nd kept ielygct t fateful finitely. aw a f c- ",■■' ■■ valking, ?'•'- ■ ing that / Tiy busi- , ther side ^ not help air was - An Icicle "Ah," said I to myself, " perhaps her pump js out of order, or it may be that she docs not loiow how to work it. It is getting late. She may have to go a long distance. I could pump it up for her in no time. Even if there is a hole in it I could mend it." But I did not stop. I had steeled my heart against any more adventures in Cathay. But my conscience did not stand bjsv Ine. I could not forget that poor woman plodding ^long the weary road and darkness not far away. 1 went slower and slower, and at last I turned. ",It would not M^fi iiie five minutes to help her,'* I said. "I mu^ IS^trcful, but I need not be a churl." And l^P^rapidly back. I came in sight of her just as she waj^ turning into the gateway of a- pretty house yard^ Doubt- less siic lived there. I turned again and spun away faster than I had gone that day. " For more than a month I journeyed and so- jouraed.in a beautiful river valley and among the low foot-hills of the mountains. The weather was fair, the scenery was pleasing, and at last I came to believe that I had passed the boundaries of Cathay. I took no tablets from my little box. I dicl not feeAhat I had ne^ of them. : s . . In the course of time I ceased to travel north- 197 P:--- ! • '■'f •> ' * • U ( j-sj 1 ^1 A Bicycle of Cathay ward. My vacation was not very near its end, but 1 chose to turn my face towards the scene of my coming duties. I made a wide cincuit, I rod^ _ slowly, and Istopped often. One day 1 passed through a village, and at the outer edge^f it a little girl, about four yedrs old, tried to cross the road. Tripping, she fell down almost in front of me. It was only by a powerful and sudden exertion that I prevented myself from going over her, and as I wheeled across the road my machine came within two feet of her. She lay there yelhng in the dust. I dismounted, and, picking her up I carried her to the other side of ' the road. There I left her to toddle homeward while I went on my way. I cpuld not but sigh as I thought that I was again in Cathay. Two days after this I entered Waterton. There was another road, said to be a very pleasant one, ^ which lay to the westward, and which woulf ave taken me to WaUord through a country ^w to me, but I wished to make no further ex- *piorations in Cathay, and if/one journeys back upon a road by which he caine he wUL find the scenery very different. t I spent the night at the hotel, and after break- ^ fast 1 very reluctantly went to call upon the ^Vil- *loughbys. 1 forced myself to do this, for, con- ^98- ^ ^ An Icicle . sidefing the cordiality they had ishown me, it would have required more incivility than T pos- sessed to pass through the town without paying my respects. But to tny great joy none of the ladies Was at hpra^^I I hastened from the house with a buoyartt, step, and was soon siMieding away, and away!» and away. The road wias dry and hard, the sunAvas bright, but there was a frei^h ^breeze in my face, and I rolled along at a swift and steady rate. On, on I went, until, before the sun had reached its high- est point, I wheeled out of the main road, rolled up a gravel path, and dismounted in front of the Holly Sprig Inn. ^ ■ L leaned my bicycle against a tree and went^ in-doors. The place did not seem so quiet a when I first saw it. I had noticed a lady sittin under a tree in front of the house. There wq(s a nurse-maid attending a child who was pi ing on the grass. Entering the hall,! glanced into the large room which I had called the / of- : fice," and saw a man there writing at a table. ; Presently a maid-servant came into th^hall. She was not one I had noticed before. l/asked if I could see Mrs. Ghestcr7\and she salid she would go atid look for her. There were chairs, in the hall, and I might have \«r|iited/ f or her 199 A. Bicycle of Cathay there/but I did not. I entered the parlor, and was pleased, to find it unoccupied. I went to the upper end of the room, as far as possible from the (Joor. /^ " ^^ in a few mihutes I heard a stepin the hall. I kriew it, and it was strange how ■ soon 1 had learned to know it. . She stopped in front of the office, theif she went on towards the porch, and turning she came into the parlor; first looking tbwards the front, of the room and then towards the place where I stood.^^ The light from' a window near me fell directly uppn her^s she dppi'oached^e, and I could see thatthere w^f a shght flush on her face, but be- fore she reached me it had disappeared. She did not greet me. She did not offer me her Jiand. In fact, , from what .afterwards happened, I be- lieve tliat she did not consider me at that moment , , a fit subject for ordinary greeting. . She stood up in front "of me. She gazed steadfastly into my lace. Her features wore, something of their ordinary pleasant 'expression, butto this there ,wasvac|.df4 K certain determination which I had *^ i^^^iJicre before. She gave her head a ), sir r, she said; . ,' . . re- :>r^'r.:^ ^00- 1 *\- V 7i:7:T I v.. >' ■ W. 'N^ >^ '■^^' ■ ',' - * ^ '. ' . V. •/■ .\ U' "'-'■■:.■■ :'- ■ * ,-,-:■- ■ .■' / ■■' '.t- ■ ■■" ','■■■ "■ ■ i-i',-' ■ V ■- ■■ ' ' •■ - ■ ' ~ . ■.,- ■'' ■. ; "''■'^■*, ■ ,-.■■■-, ' '■ ■■■■■ ,■' ' ■ " '■'■■.. ■ ■■■■ ■'•'i ./': "• V '■' .' ■- ■ /■' :■ T':"- ■' ■■"■■■. ■ ■' -■>'■ ^''- ;■- ;;j ^■m ^■:-^:::vr:V--^:-^:.-^^,?-':' ;'>::!--,,•;:,-: ■' ■' * ■ (1 .- • , I '■-■-■■-: ^ '-• r '' / i ■ . ' . . v 1 ■ ':/'•.:: ' ■ •"■"■'■.''. -''.■■"■■•'■- . ' ..■ ■i"- #-.- -■ ■ -.i '.. -'■. * ■'■ ,..n,v ■■■]■ ':. . :■'■/■''.:/ **'''■■''■ • ' ,1 ■ A /. ■ - mm sary bacfe :m^ ;''-:it,eiB ' and :,:-.: IN can rap erg : am " OUJ '"/ •»<(' ., < \ '. i >' '»•# <, \','> An Iticl 1 "l^- agitated afe I iieard hi^in^oaeh, intmm over in my mind what I should lirst say to her.^feu^ ^ .now 1 forgot ,cv€^rythigg 1 had prqpa>re4.. " J^^ * " what ?" /I- exclaimed* ' •«". "'No' means that I wiltlwjt mmff^S^^^ "^ \ I stood speeciik'SS. " 0{ r^)urse you aie thiu}c- - ^' ing." she coi^jiirtued, " that y * -u have ii^ver a&k^^ . me to, marry yow But thAt isn't at all neces- r sary. Afe spon as 1 saw ^ou standing tllere,, back two |weeks before your vac&tioft is over, '>^nd whip 1 got a goo4 look at .y . and for^irte?" * ,, *.' ^^^ij Now I could restrain m|rself no longer. Wliy ^ ' can't I many you?" I' asked, speaking vory rapidly e and, 1 am afraid, with. imprudent en-' ■■ efgy. '* Is it any sort of condition or circum- ste^nce which prevents? Do you think that I am forcing myself upon you at a time when I ' ought not to doit? If ^, you have mista^cen r 201' . -■ / '■■,// '^ -■*^v -^'■\-^,^^y A Bicycle of Ci|^ay ;-• me. Ever since I left here I have\thpught ol scarcely anything but you, and I haVe returned thus early simply to tell you that I love you I I had to do thati iobuld noflwfiitl But as to •-1 all else/i cab wait; and wait, and wait, as long as you please. You can tell me to go away and come back at whatever time you think it will be right for you to give me an answer." v " This is the right tinie,*' she said, " and I ^ve given you your answ:er. Byt, unfortunately, I did not prevent you from saying what yo^ came to say. So how I will tell you that the^ conditions and circumstances to which you al-\ lude have nothing to do with the matter: I hav^ ;\ a reason for my decision which is pi so mucji f more importance than any other jreason thai it is the only one which need be considered." /f ; " WJjfet is /that ?" I asked, quickly; : o ° " It K because I keep a tavern," she answered. " It would be Wrong and wicked for you to marry a woman whoiceepsa tavern." ' Now my face flushed. I could feel it«buming. "Keep a tavern 1" I exclaimed. "That is a ' horrible way to put itl But why should you think for aii instant- that I'C^red for that? Do , .you suppose. I consider* that a dishonorable calling? I woul4 b^ only too glaid^ to' adopt ■> ^ • ' / 202 ■ \ '' .... I- 'J^ ^r ^ / , ^ t"J An Icicle * it myself and help ^ou keep a tavern, as you call it.". ' • . ^ " That is the trouble I" she exclaimed. -* That is the greatest troubje. I believe you would, I believje^^^t you think that the life would just suit you." , • . • . I * Th« sweep awly the tavern f" I exclainied.' ; " Banish it; " Leave it. Put it out of all thought^ ior consideration. 1 pan wait for- you. I can make a place ahd a position for you. I caji— " " No, you cannot," she interrupted. "At least, not foi: a long time; unlqfes one of your, scholars dies and leaves you a legacy. It is the future that I axn thinking about. No matter what you*' •' might sweep aw^y, and to what position you . might attain^ it could always be saii ' He mar- . ried a woman who used to keep a tavern.' Now, tvery one who is a friend to you, who knows ivhat is before you, if jfoju^ cjioose to try for it, ihould do everything that can °be done to pre- sent such a thing ever being ^ict of yoij. I am a friend to you, and' I am going to pre- \ vent it." ^ ...»/..' ^ I stood unable to say one word, Jier voice, her \eyes,.even the manner in which she stood before me, assured me that she meant everything she said. .It was ahnost impossible to believe that f > ( '^XK ■. \ ^J „■,.' Vl-' .'.? Bicycl6 of Cathay . such^trWmiable creature could turn into such ri icicle. ■:-',■ ;•:■■:; -.:^:;;,-/;' ■:■.■"';:/■■•;• ■^'V V " I do not w^nt you to feel worse than you can " help," she said> " but it was necessary for me to - speak as firmly and decidedly as 1 could, and now it is all settled." I knew it was all settled. I knew it as well as if it had been settled for years. But; with my eyes still ardently fiied on lier, I remembered the little flush when she came into the room. , "Tell me one thing," said 1, "and I will go. ' If it werp not for what you say about your positipn in life, and all that— if there had not been such a" plac^ as this inn— then coulgrin. The thought rustjed irtto. -^."-^--/^^ •>. 'ry ■■■-(."*. IX A\n Icicle; \7 my mind that he might have peen standing be- neath the parlor window. Instinctively I made a movement towards \hini, btttJs^^cCd^^t rjat-^ turned my eyes away\from him and mounted. I could not kill a boy in the pre^en^ce of a nurse- maid. \ \ \ ■V ,iA ^ V h w 1 1 1 I '•-Ik--''*'' "' ' '. ' . ■■■• ■ -v., ■■ ' '■ -^ ' "7/ ■■•■/ .■"■" '.' '■ ■* ■■' ■ .' ' - . By: ./•\'■■t.■..■ 1 . ■''' - ' ,»■ X- ■ .■f ■ff Ml ' J . CHAPTER XVn - ' • A FORteCASTER OF HUMAN PROBABILITIES WAS about- to turn in the direc- tion of WMford, but then intomy. - trouble-tossed niind there came th^ ' recollection that I had in- " u.^ ^^a^— tended, no matter "what h^i> *p^ed7*to^cair on the Larramies before I Wfen^. home. 1 owed it to them, and at this moment their .house seemed, hke a port of refuge. The Larrainies received me with-v^ide-opened eyesand outstretched hands. They were amazed to see me beior^ the end of my vacation, for no member of that family had ever come back froi^ a vacation before it was over; but they showed that they were delighted -to have me'with them, be it sooner or later than they had expected, and I had not be'en in the house ten minutes before 1 received three separate invitations td niake that house my home ui;itil school began again. ; The house was even livelier, than when 1 left it. - 2o6 '\ •".I 'A Forecaster of Human Probabilities There /yas a married couple VieiUrig there, en- thusiastic devotees of golf ; one of Mr. Walter's collide fHends was* with him; and, to my sur- dse, Misis Amy Willoughby was there again. . Genevieve recdved me with the greatest ' #^tTnth;^nd I could &ee that her hopes of a g|entle- manfiien(i revived. Little Clara demandVd to be kissed afe soon as she saw me, aijd I thintt she ^ now looked' upon me as a [)ermancnt uncre or soifittiing of that kind. A& soon as possible I ' waS9ij:orted by the greater part of the family to se(^he bear.', •/ Mis^Edith had welcomed me as if I had. been an old friend. It warmed my hpart to receive the fraiik and cordial handshake she gave me. She ^^^said^very little, but there was a certain interroga- * tion in her e^es which assured me thai she had ' much to a^k when the time came. As for me, 1 wasgli no hurry for that time to come. I did not fed lil^ip' answering questions, and with as nmch animation as I could assume I talked to every- , body as we went t<>.see the bear. This animal had grown very fat and super- tinted, but I found that , the, family were in ondition of Gentleman \taife in Bulwer's and were now wondering what they would it. _ , . ^ ^ ' /\ r "' ' 207. . / / 1 ¥ ,^il W §' A Bicycle *( CatEay' " You see," cried Percy, whp was the, principal showman, " the neighbors are all on pins and needles about him. Ever since the McKenna sisters spread the story that Orso was irt the habit of getting under beds, there isn^t a person wit^iin- five miles of here who can go to bed without look- ing under ifto see if there is a be^r there. There are two houses for sale about a mile down the road, and we don't know any reasoii why people should want to go away except it's the bear/ Nearly all thedogs around here are kept chained up for fear that Orso will get hold of them, and there is a general commotion, I can tell you. At first it was great fun, but it Is -getting a little tire- / some now. We have been talking about shool- ' ing him, and then I shall have his bones, which I am going to set up as ^ skeleton, and it is my opinion that you 9Ught Ao have the ^ skin." « ' y\ " Several demurrers now arose, for nobody seem- ed to think that I would want such an ugly skin as that. /' ",'',.•:■::■■'. r- ■;■ ' ;■•- " Ugly 1" cried Percy, who was evidently very anxious to pursue his study of comparative anatomy. " It's a magnificent skin. . Look al ^ that long, heavy fur. Why, if you take that skirt and have it all cleaned, and combed but, 268- './'•■ ■■■:■:■; A Forecaster of Human Probabilities and dyed som^ nice CQlor/it will be fit to put into apy room/V ;, '^' ' Geneviovp w4? in- favarof combing and clean- ' ing, oiling and^dyc ing the hide of the h^r with- out taking it off. ^ *^ ; * If you would do' that," she declared, "he would be a beautiful bear, and we would give him- away. They would be glad to have him at Central- Parfc;"'.,. 'i- ; ■ Kr'^y' -^ ■»---^'"-. :•'' ■ The Lacramies would not listent to my leaving • tha^ day . There Were a good many people in the hou^e, but there was rooin enough for me, and, when we had left the bear without solving the, problem of his final disposition, there were m. many things to be done and so many things ux be said that it was late in the afternoon before Miss Edith found the opportunity of speaking to me for which she had been waiting so long. ' " Well," said she, as we walked together away from the golf links, but not towards the housei "what have you to report ?" ^ - v-'y,-' " Report ?" I repeated, evasively. ' * Yes, you promised to do that; and I always . expect peoj5le to fulfil their promises to me. You came here bjj the way of the Holly Sprig Inn, didn't you?" -■■'.; :*: ,. ' /y ■..■''■:.■'■. %:'^ ^ I assented. "y\. very roundaboiut way^" she 'v f^^ '.«■ r- M •v« MiaOCOPY RISOUITIbN TEST^ CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 125 IM ■li U t32 14.0 25 2.2 1^ t.8 III 1.4 1.6 .•.; /■- J /APPLIED IIVMGE Inc —■^ t653 £:ast Main Street ^^S Rochester. New York U609 USA ' S (716) 482 - 0300 - Phtine S (716) 288 -5989- Fq* .■■■iV.*' 4^r-- Mi ./ A Bicyct^^pf Cathay said. * It would have been seven miles nearer if you had come bj*" the cross-road. ' But I suppose you thought you must go there first." , "That is what I thought," I answered. , " Have you been tliinking about her all the tim^ you have been awav ?" a*^ ^ __ ^ _ V Nearly all the*time."\ • ^ '' And actually cut off a^g slice of your va- cation in order to see her ?" - ■ I repUed that this was precisely the state of the .ease. ■: ■ "But, after all, you weren't successful. You need not tell me anything about that— I knew it as soon as I saw you this morning. > But I will ask you to answer one thing: Is the decision final?" I I sighed— I could not help it, but she did ftot even smile. " Yes/' I said, " the affair is settled definitely." For a minute, or so we walked on silently and then she said : " I do not want you to think I am hard-hearted, but I must say what is in me. I congratulate you, and, ^t the same time, I am sorry for her." At this 'amazing speech I turned suddenly towards her, and we both stopped. "^^Yes," said she, standing before me with her ! I Ik liii? A Forecaster of Human Probabilities dear eyes fixed upon my face, "you are to. be copgratulatou. I think it is likely she is the most charming young woman you are ever likely to meet — and I know a great deal rtiorc about her than you do, for I have known her for a long time, and your acquaintance is a very short one —she has qualities you do not know anything about ; she is lovely'l But for all that it would be very wrong for you to marry her, and I am glad she had sense enough not to let you do it/' " Why do you say that?" I asked, a little sharply. "Of course you don't like it," she replied, " b; it is true. She may be as lovely as you thi: her— and I am sure she is. She may be of good family, finely educated, and a great many more things,* but all that goes for nothing beside the fact that for over five years she has been the land- lady of a little hotel." I do not care a'siiaiifor that !" I exclaimed. " I like her all the l^er for it" I—" " That makes it worse," ^e interrupted, and as she spoke 1 could not but recollect that a similar remark had been made to me before. " I have not the slightest doubt that you would have been perfectly willing to settle- down as the land- lord qf a littlertpbtel. But if you had not^even [ 1 w ' ! I A Bicycle of Cathay if you had gone on in' the course which father h^s marted out for yOu^ and you ought to hear him talk ahout you-you might have become famous, rich, nobody knows what, perhaps Pres- , ident of a college, but still j everj^body wpuld have known that your wif6 was the young woman who' used to keep the Holly Sprig Inn, aM asked the people who^- camethere if they^ objected to a back room, and if th«hited tea or . coffee for their breakfast. Of co^l^rs.Chester- thought too much of you to h:0(m consider any such foolishness." ' ^ I made no answer tW this remark. I thought the young woman was taking a great deal upon herself. ,, t "Of course,:': she continued, " it would have been a great thing for Mrs. Chester, and I honor, her that she: stood up stiffly and did the thing she ought ta do. I do not, know what she said when she- gave you her final answer, but what- ever it was it was the finest compliment she could have paid you." ^^ I smiled grimly. "She likened me to a bear, I said. " Do you call that a compliment?" \ Edith Larramie looked at \ne, her eyes spark- ling. "Tell me one thing," she said. "When she spoke to you in that way weren't you try- ■ 212 ■ ■A.:- :', - A Forecaster of Human Probabilities ingtb find out how she felt about the matter exdusive of the inn ?" 1 could not help siiiiling agtiin as I assented. " There !" she exclaimed. " I am beginning to have the highest respect for my abilities as a forecaster of human probabilities. It was like you to try to find -^iit that> and if was like her to snub you. But let's walk ori. Would you like me to give you some advice." " I am^.^fraid your advice is not worth Very much," I answered, ''but I will hear it." " Well, then," she Sc^id, " I advise you to fall iri love with somebody else just as soon as you can. That is the best way to get this affair out of your mind, and until you do that you won't be worth ariything." ' > . I felt that I now knew this girl so well that I could say anything to her. " Very well, then," said I ; " suppose I fall in love with you ?" " That isn't a very nice speech," she said. " There is a little bit of spitef ulness in it. But it doesn't mean anything, anyway. I arrf out of the competition, and that is the reason I can speaW to you §0 freely. Moreover, that is the reason I know so much about the matter. I am not biassed. But you need have no trouble— there's Amy." ; ■ ..213 . "■":■' " ■ y- '■ 1 A Bicycle of Cathay " Don't say Amy to me, I Ijcg of you !" I ex- claimed. " Why not ?" she persisted, " She is very pretty. She is as good as she can be. She is rich. And if she were your wife you would want her to talk more than she does, you would be so glad to listen to her. 1 might say more about Amy*>ut I won't." "Would it be very impolite," said I, " if 1 whistled^?" " I dont know," she said, "but you needn't do it. I will consider it done. Now I will speak " of Bertha Putney. I was b^nd to mention Amy first, because she is mydear friend, but Miss Putney is a grand girl. And I do not mind telling yoV that she takes a gre^t interest in you." - " How do you know that ?" I asked. "l ^ave seen her since you ^vere here— she lunched with us. As soon as she heard your name mentiorted— and that was bound Ho hap- pen, for this family has been talking about you ever since they first knew you— she began to ask questions. Of course the bear came up, and she wanted to know every blessed thing that hap- ' pened. But when she found out that you got t)iebear at the Holly Sprig her manner changed. 1-, 41- A Forecaster of Human Probabilities and she talked no more about you at the table. " But in the afternoon she had a great deal to say to nie. I did not know exactly vyhat she was driving at, arid I may have told her too much. We said a gredt many things— some of which I remember and some I do not— but I am sure that I never knew a woman to take more interest in a man tlian she takes in you. So it is my opinion that if you would stop at the Putneys' onyour way home you might do a great deal to help you get rid of the trouble you are now in. It makes me feel something like a spy in ax:amp to talk this way, but I told you I was your friend, and I am going to be one. Spies are all right when they are loyal to their own side. " I was very glad to have such a girl on my side, but thik did not seem to be a very good time to talk about the advantages ot a call upon Miss Putney. In spite of all the entreaties of the Larraraie family, I persisted iii my intention of going onto Walford the next morning, and, in reply to their assurances that I would find it dreadfully dull in that little village during the rest of my vacation. I told them that I should be wy much occupied and should have no time to be lull. Iw^sgoing * , ■ )■•-■ ■ ■ V- ■-..■ 'i'>>f. I^;'i. * « ^'•ili: m-. pail, t A Bicycle of Cathay seriously to work to prepare myself for my pro- / fessioft. For a year or two I had Keen deferring this important matter, waiting until 1 had laid by enough money to enable me to give up school- teaching and to apply myself entirely to the studies which would be necessary. All this would give me enough to do, and vacation was the time in which I ought to do it. The distractions of the school session were very much in the way of a proper contemplation of my own affairs. '♦ That sounds very well," said Miss Edith, when there was no one by, " but if you cannot get the Holly^ Sprig Inn but of your mind, I do not believe you will do very much 'proper contem- plation.' Talte my advice and stop at the Put- neys'. "It can do you no harm, and it might help to free yotir mind of distractions a great deal worse than those of the school." " By filling it with other distractions, I sup- pose, you mean," I answered. " A fickle-minded person you must think me. But it pleases me so much to have you take an interest in me that r do not ref^t any of your advice." She lawglied; "I like to give advice," she said, " but Ittiust admit that I sometimes think better of a person i! he does not take it. But I will say— and this is all the advice I am going to ■:■'•'■.■■■.., ,--;,.2i6:.-'., .•/■... .■''■■■*• ^ A Forecaster of Human Probabilities give you at present— that if you want to be suc- cessful in making love, you inust chaniiy^ your methods. Yoii cannot expect to step up in front of a girl and stop her short as if she were a run- away horse, A horse doesn't Uke that sort of thing, and a girl doesn't lilie it. You must take more time about it. A runaway , girl doesn't hurt anybody, and, if you are active enough, you can jump in behind and take the, reins and stop her gradually without hurting her feeling^ and then, most likely, you can drive her for aM the rest of your life." " You ought to have that speech engraved in uncial characters on a slab of stone," said I. "Any museum would be glad to have it." '' I had two reasons besides the one I gaVe for wishing to leave this hospitable house. In the first place, Edith Larramit troubled me. I did not like to have any one know so much about my mental interior— or to think she knew so much. I did not like to feel tliat I was being managed. I had a strong belief that if anybody jumped into a vehicle she was pulling he would find that she was doing her own driving and would allow no ■ interferences. I liked her very much, but I was sure that away from her I would feel freer in mind. The other reason for my leaving was Amy v. A Bicycle of Cathay i:-i ;»,; ;:!- i m. -u'^ Willoughby. During my little visit to her house my acquaintance with her had grown with" great rapidity. tCow 1 seemed to know her very well, and the more I knew, her the better I Hked her. It may be vanity, but I think she wanted me to hke her, and one reason, (gx believing this was the fact that when she was with me — and I saw a great deal of her during the afternoon and evening I spent with the Larramies— she did not talk so much, and when she did speak she in- variably said something I wanted to hear. „ . Remembering the remarks which had been made aboyt her by her friend Edith, I could not but admit that she was a very fine girl, combin- ing a great many attractive qualities, but I re- belled against every conviction I had in iregard to her. I did not wqnt to think about her ad- rnirable qualities. I did not want to believe that in time they would impress me more forcibly than " they did now. I did not want people to imagine that I would come to be so impressed. If I stayed there I might almost lojok upon her in the light of a duty. The family farewell the next morning was a tumultuous one. Invitations to ride up again during my vacation, to come and spend Satur- days and Sundays, were interrningled with "■218' ■''-.;■■"- I ■'. A Forecaster of Human Prolvabilitics ■a- * " . ■ • _ . earnest injunctions frbtri Genevieve in regard to a correspondence which she wished to open with me for the henefit of her nvind, and declarations from Percy that he Would let me know all ahout the bear as soon as it was decided what woidd be the best thin^ to happen to him, and entrcjities from little Clara that 1 would n6t go away with- out kissing her good-bye. y But amid i\i» confusion Miks Edith found a chance to say a final word to i^ie. "Don't you tr\%" she said, as I was about to mount my bi- cycle, " to keep thof^l^i' sprigs in your brain until Christmas. Tk0y are .awfully stickerj-, they will not last, and, besides^ there will not be any Christmas." "And how about New- Year 's Day ?" 1 asked . "That is the way to talk," said she. "Keep your mind on that and 3-ou will bo all right." As r rode along I could not forget that it would be necessary for me to i>ass the inn^ I had made inquiries, but ther<3 w,erc no byways which would serve my piurpose. There was nothing for me to do but keep on, and on I kept. I should-pasS -^ so noiselessly and so swiftly that I did not be- lieve any one would notice nie, unless, indeed, it should be the boy: I earnestly hoped that I should'liot see the boy. ; . "- .;•'■■./■ . . ■219 ■ ■ .■■' ■]/ . r ■■ ■ ■•'■■■ *,„ A Bicycle of Cathay Whether or not I vVas seen from the, inn as 1 passed it I do not know.. In fact, I did not know when I passed it. No shout of immature diabo- lism caught my car, no scent of lemon came into my nostrils, and I saw nothiog but the line of road directly in front of me. ■ i/f • .i-»Wf.-r- CHAPTER XVUI ^ REPENTANCE AVAILS NOf roalllo liOO HEN I was positively certain that I had left the liUlc inn far be- hind me, 1 slackened my siK'ed. and, perceiving a spreading tree by the road-side, I dismpuntcd Iiid sa't down in the sbade. It was a hot day, and unconscious y I had been working very hard. Several persons on wheels passed alonf^ the road, and every time I saw one approaching I was afraid that it might be somebody 1 knew, who might stop and sit by me in the shade, f v^^as now near enough to W^foi-d to meet with people from that neighborhopd, and I did not want to meet with any one just now. I had a great many things to think about and just then 1 was busy trying to make up my mind Whether or not it would be well for me to stop at th^ Putneys'. If I should pass without stopping, some one ■ ■-■:■. ■ 221 ■^._ - ■ ■ .--.■■.■..■ \ f: .%V ^l| ?'i'w^"i ■■■/ ik. 0!: r • ■■'■■■ ■■' ' ■•-■'■>'"-.,",■ •■ . -■ A Bicycle of Cathay iri the lodge would probaWy see me, and the fam- ily would know of my discourtesy, but, although it would have been a very sWple thing to do, and a very proper thing, I did not feel sure that I wanted to stop, If Edith Larramie had never said anything about it, I think I would surely have made a morning call upon the Putneys. After I had cooled off a little I rose to remount ; I had not decided anything, but it was of no use to sit there any longer. Glancing along the ro^d towards Waif ord, I saw in the distance some one approaching on a wheel. Involuntarily I stood still and watched the on-coming cyclist, who I saw was a woman. She moved steadily and rapidly on the other side of the road. Very soon I recognized her. It was Miss Putney. As she came nearer and nearer I was greajjy impressed with her appearance. Her costume was as suitable and becoming for the occasion as if it hadijeen an evening dress for a ball, and ^e wheeled better than any woman cyclist I ever saw. Her head was erect, her eyes straight before her, and her motion was rhythm of action. With my hand on my .wheel I moved a few steps towards the middle of the road. I was about to take off my cap when she turned her eyes upon me- ' She even moved her* head a little so as to / ;■• . . 222 n. TT ice some ■.-:*• /ttgM; ■■■--■■ ,■- U : ■i-'' '^xm ■% -■ --.-^-r/ ■'',./■■_. t, A. ■ . ■ ^ V . ... ■>...•!'■■ as ■ ■ l ■ %' - i^ \ ■ \ ■ Repentance Avails Not gaze upon me a" few seconds longer. Iler face ^ was quiet and serene, her eyes were large, clear, and observant. In them was not one gleam of recognition. Turning them again upon the ro^d in front of her, she sped on and away. •For some minutes I stood looking* after her, ■ utterly astonished ■ I do not think in all my life I had ever been cut like that. What did it mean ? Could she care enough about me to re- sent my stopping at the Holly Sprig ? Was it possible that she could have known what had : been likely to happen there, and what had hap- pened there ? All this was very improbable, but in Cathay people seemed to know a great ^ mrfnf things. Anyway, she had solved my problem for me. I need give no further thought toa stop at her father's mansion, 1 mounted and rode on, but not rapidly. I was very much moved. My soul grew warm as I thought of the steady gaze of the eyes which that girl had fixed upon me. For a mile or so I moved steadily and quietly in a mood of in- censed dignity. I -pressed the pedals with a hard and cruel tread. 1 did not understand, j could scarcely believe. Soon, however, I began to move a little faster. • Somehow or o^er I became conscious that there I'!'!!!!^ A Bicycle of Catjiay was a bicycle at some distance l^ehihd me. 1 pushed on a little faster. I did n^t wish to'be overtaken by anybody. Now I was sMre there was a wHeel behind me. I could not hear it, but I knew it was there. ^ - Presently I became certain that my instincts had nol deceived m^ior I heard the quick sound of V bicydebeit. This was odd, for sure- i^lidon^, would ring for me to get out of the way. Then there was another tinkle, a little nearer; ^ Now I sped faster and faster. 1 heard the^ bell violently ringing. Then I thought, but L 3im not sure, that I heard a voice. I struck out with the thrust of a steam-engine, and the earth > slipped backward beneath me like the water of a mill-race. I passed wagons as if they had been puffs of smoke, and people on wheels as though they were flying cinders. In some ten minutes I slackened speed and looked back. For a long distance behind me not a bicycle was in sight. I now pursued my hpmewarct way with a warm body and a laifcerated heart. I hated this region \yhich I had called Cathay. Its inhabitants were not barbarians, but I was sufferiAg from their barbarities. -1 had come among them clean, whole, with an up- ■, ■ 224, : - ■• ■ . ■■ .J \ ■ Y- ■! 1 ' .t ;*!.. ^^•:i Repentance Avails Not right bearing. I was going away tbm, bloody, and dovyrncast. If the last words of the lady of the Holly Sprig meant the sweet thing I thought they meant, then did they make the wOrds which preceded them all the more bitter. The more friendly and honest the counsels of Edith jLarramie had grown, the deeper they had cut into my heart. Even the more than regard with which my soul prompt- ed me to look back to Amy Willoughby was a pain to. me. My judgment would enrage me if it should try to compel me to feel as I did not want to feel. But none of these wounds would Imve so pained and disturbed me had it not been for\he merciless gaze which that dark-eyed girl had\iixed upon me as she passed me standing in the road. And if she had gone too far- and had done more than her own nature could endure, and if it were she who had been pursuing me, then the wound was more cruel and the smart deeper. If she belifeved me a man who would stop at the ringing of Is^er bell, then was I ashamed of myself for having given her that impression. f ■ 1 ' 1 '1 ■ ■■-:■- 1 ii ■# |i • V CHAPTER XIX BEAUTY, PURITY, AND PEACE ' NOW proposed to wheel my way in one long stretch to Walford. 1 took no interest in rest or in re- freshment. Simply to feel that .. i^^j^ I had. done with this cycle of Cathay would be to me rest, refreshment, and, perhaps, the beginning of peace, the feun was high in the heavens, and its rays were hot, but still 1 kept steadily on until 1 saw a female figure by the road-side waving a handker- chief. I had not yet reached her, but she had stopped, was looking at me, and was wavmg en- ergetically. \ I could not be mistaken. I turned and wheeled up in front of her. It was Mrs. Bur- ton, the mother of the young- lady who had in- jured her ajikle on the day when I set out for my journey through Cathay ^ _ , « I am s' ^^"^^^ : women in the world the D-'"^^^-"^"^^''^^ the one for me, and when I told her so she did Z try to conceal that this was also her own opinion. Ihadseenthemosfchanmnsqua^ ties in other women, and my somewhat rapid and enthusiastic study of them had^ojamdiar. ized me with them that I was enabled^r^ddy to perceive their existence in others. I found them all in the Doctor's daughter. . Her father was very well Pl««^^ '^''^ V^ - iJeard of our compact. It was plain that he had been waiting to hear of it. W"furt1^™»- heard that I had decided to abandon all thought of theiaw.and to study medicine instead, his ■ satisfacUon was complete. He arranged ev- Irefhing with affectionate' prudence. I.should read with him,.beginning ™™«»i«';^y' f ^^^ fore I gave up my school. I should attend the necessary liUical courses, and we need be i^^no hurry to marry. We were both young and wh«i \ZZ ready to become his assistant it would be time enough for him to give me his daughter. 237 V' / \ '^ .-•.».. M ': ... „s - ■ ■ , ■ ,, . . ■ . A Bicycle of Cathay _ We were sitting together in the Doctor's «. brarr and had been looking over some rf .h; papers of the Walfoni Literan, sjielv ^f 1*,! . we were both officers whm I^JT'f.^* hersignkture: "8^3 Ik '"^"^ "' teU me one thing WW J; ^^^"^ """'^ ^-^myour^ given to me by my mother's sister, who was « romanfc young lady. It is EuroJ A^d I only hope," she added.quicklv " fZT have fifty years of it.'*^ ^' "»'?<>" ""y * * * * jk eal'T/Tr."' *''^fif*5"'«™ now passed, and each one of the young women I met in CatC nas married. The iir.:* on- < „ >->Knay Larramie Sh. . ^° "* ''"^ Edith 1.. ^ r - "^'"^ *e college friend of tt^m me ," ":?' '"^ """^ when r ^fit:,' iJT ,T engagement, she took me aside m her old way and told me slie wanted me alwayl to^opk upon her as my friend, no matt^ ^X circumstances m.ght change with her or me .oyS^id'^:^""*'''"'''''''-^'-^- you shouW r I •' '^ ""' ^ "" necessary - you should know. But I will say that wheni EL'ROPA Back from Gathay saw you getting into such a dreadful snarl in our part of the country, I determined, if there were no other way to save you, I would marry you myself 1 But I did not do it, and you ought to be very glad q|.it, for you would have found that a little of me, now and then, would be a great deal more to your taste than to have me always." Mrs. Chester married the man who had courted her before she fell in love with her school-master. It appeared that the fact of her having been the landlady of the Holly Sprig made no difference in his case. He was tod rich to have any pros- pects which might be interfered with. Amy WiUoughby married Walter Larramie. That was a thing which mi^ht well have been expected. 1 was very glad id hear it, for I shall never fail to be interested in the Larramies. About a year ago there was a grand wedding at the Putney city mansion. The daughter of . the family was married^o an Italian gentleman with a title. I read of the affair in the newsr papers, and having heard, in addition, a great • many details of the match from the gossips of Walford, I supposed myself to be fully informed in regard 'to this grand alliance, and was there- fore very much surprised to receive, personally, an annoviticement of the marriage upoii a very ■ i - ■ ' < •■/- ■....■ ■,' I A Bicycle of Cathay large and stiff card, on which were given, in full, the various titles and dignities of the noble bride^ groom. I did not believe Mr. Putney had sent me this card, nor that his wife had done so ; cer- tainly the Count did not send it. But no matter how it came to me, I was very sure I owed it to the determination, on the part of some one, that by no mischance should I fail to know exactly what had happened. I heard recently that the noble lady and her husband expect to spend the summer at her father's country-house, and some people believe that they intend to make it their permanent home. The Doctor strongly advises that Europa and I should go before long and settle in the Cathay region. He thinks that it will be a most excel- lent field for me to begin my labors in, and he knows many families there who would doubtless give me their practice. THE END 10 V /f