MILDEW 
 
 BELLE K- MANIATES
 
 \ 

 
 MILDEW MANSE
 
 I called them in and read the letter. FRONTISPIECE. 
 See page 198.
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 BY 
 
 BELLE K. MANIATES 
 
 AUTHOR OF " AMARILLT OF CLOTHES-LINE ALLEY," ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 WILLIAM VAN DRESSER 
 
 BOSTON 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1916
 
 Copyright, 1916, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Published, January, 1916 
 
 SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY THE PLIMPTON PRESS, NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A. 
 PRINTED BY S. J. PARKHTT.T. & CO., BOSTON, MASS., U.S.A.
 
 SRLF 5141101 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 I called them in and read the letter .... Frontispiece 
 
 Down went my head on the music rack and I 
 
 had the weeps hard PAGE 68 
 
 Learning to walk on the wavering fence with a 
 
 balancing pole 127 
 
 Haphiram had betrayed my retreat ... " 231
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 March 25th. 
 FATHER-DEAR: 
 
 HERE am I, Little Jumping Joan, as you 
 used to call me, in a city far away from 
 that four by nine place where you and Mark 
 left me. I can see your look of consterna- 
 tion and hear your guarded gutterals, but 
 read farther and you will see that I have 
 landed on my feet steady little feet, you 
 always said. You will also see that I am 
 better housed and homed than I was in that 
 halfway hamlet on the hillside. 
 
 You know I never could stay "put" any- 
 where. The wanderlust which sent you to 
 Northern Alaska to recuperate our fallen 
 fortunes brought me here. I'd rather be 
 an agile ashcat in an alley than a lonely lily 
 in the field, anyway; and then, too, daddy 
 dear, I want to be a help instead of the 
 hindrance I've always been to you.
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I couldn't let you split even with me when 
 you need so much money for our gold-dredg- 
 ing proposition, so I put three-quarters of 
 the amount you left for me in a package 
 and gave it to Mark to deliver to you after 
 leaving Seattle. 
 
 Right here let me tell you not to expend 
 too much sympathy on Mark. He didn't 
 go with you to the wilds of Alaska on ac- 
 count of a broken heart, but because well, 
 that is his story. And don't delude your- 
 self with the hope that absence will make 
 the heart grow fonder. It never does; not 
 a healthy heart, anyway. 
 
 No; you and I have feasted and famined 
 together for twenty years and lived in many 
 air-castles, but we have now come down to 
 earth I mean sand, and whether it sifts 
 gold or is only good for footprints, I want 
 no shining Mark only my dear young 
 daddy. 
 
 You know you promised that this was to 
 be our last flyer at a fortune and, win or 
 lose, you'd settle down with me to a hearth 
 and home life. 
 
 To return to my running jump: I made 
 up my mind to exchange the peace of the 
 [2]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 pastures for the turmoil of town and become 
 a little self-supporter. Inventory of my 
 qualifications towards this end was not en- 
 couraging. I am not of the one-talent kind, 
 you know, but "flutter in all ways and fly 
 in none." I can sew a little, embroider less, 
 play the piano improperly and run a type- 
 writer, but never made the word-signs in 
 shorthand and never shall, so I was in doubt 
 what to try my hand at, until I recalled 
 what you said to Mark the other day 
 that times are changing and that nowadays 
 people make a living more by their wits 
 than by brains or labor, so I set my wits to 
 working. 
 
 My light refused to shine; it seemed to 
 be a dark lantern until there came a flash- 
 light which showed me how to capitalize 
 my semi-speciality and I decided to open a 
 Bureau of Suggestions. Like you I am no 
 advocate of grass-growing, and I hastened 
 to come here where I knew just one person, 
 Mrs. Munk, our ex-housekeeper, sole sur- 
 vivor of that brief halcyon time when we 
 had "maids in plenty." Fortunately we 
 have always kept up a Christmas card com- 
 munication, so I knew her address. Like 
 [3]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the Little Old Woman called Nothing-At-All, 
 she lived in a dwelling exceedingly small, 
 but her door opened invitingly wide to me. 
 She looks just as she used to, plump and 
 billowy of form. Do you remember that 
 Mark always referred to her as the feather- 
 bed? 
 
 She couldn't grasp our change of fortune 
 and I had hard work to convince her that 
 our one and only prosperity period was a 
 thing of the past. I told her of your Alaskan 
 enterprise and she was quite impressed, 
 believing it to be a gold mine. When I 
 explained that it was in the sands you were 
 building your hopes, she thought I meant 
 something in masonry and told me a long 
 rigmarole about her son having taken the 
 third degree. Then I was the one that was 
 muddled, as I had a hazy idea that third 
 degrees had to do with the quizzing of wit- 
 nesses or criminals. Finally we got the 
 sand puzzle solved, though she is rather 
 pessimistic as to your prospects. Said she 
 had heard of people warding off the wolf by 
 sifting ashes but had never heard of sifting 
 sand. 
 
 When I told her of my plan, she looked 
 
 [4]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 upon it simply as one of the visionary fads 
 of the idle rich. The only thing about it 
 that appealed to her practicality was the 
 fact that it required no capital. She proph- 
 esied suspension of the "Bureau" within a 
 week. 
 
 The place to establish it, I told her, was 
 where there would be a great many people 
 coming and going. 
 
 "A railway station," she promptly offered. 
 
 "No"; I objected. "People going are in 
 a last minute rush, and those coming are 
 bent only on securing or dodging the 
 cabbies." 
 
 "A church, then." 
 
 "People don't spend much money on Sun- 
 days," I reminded her. "Besides they are 
 too lazy on the Seventh Day to care for 
 suggestions about anything." 
 
 At last I selected a restaurant as the 
 best locality. After eating, people are good- 
 natured and generous. Before eating they 
 are philosophical and inquiring. I could 
 get them both ways. 
 
 "If it is a restaurant you want, I know 
 the very place," she declared. "There is 
 a new one opened on First Street, and they 
 [5]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 have a vacant space to let across from the 
 cashier and cigar stand. It was to have 
 been a candy counter, but the proprietor of 
 the restaurant was afraid it might keep his 
 customers from ordering desserts. He said 
 they would buy candy instead of pie." 
 
 She went down with me to see the proprie- 
 tor. He had an Olympic name which I 
 cannot spell tonight, and he regarded my 
 proposition in the light of a joke, but as 
 Mark says, "Cash down talks," for when I 
 handed him a month's rent in advance, his 
 viewpoint was completely changed. 
 
 "She's a good looker," I heard him say 
 apologetically to his partner, also Olympic 
 who seemed to be hanging back on the 
 deal, "and it will be a novelty and so a 
 sort of ad for us." 
 
 "But," the partner further remonstrated, 
 "the Bureau will bust and she'll quit when 
 her month's up. We want to get some one 
 who will stick." 
 
 "She won't quit. The fat woman says 
 she can afford to lose." 
 
 That settled it and I was O.K.'d by the 
 firm. I went into my business venture as 
 you have done so many times with the sup- 
 [6]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 port of only my own convictions but with 
 plenty of wet blankets hurled at me. 
 
 From the restaurant I went to a printer's, 
 a sign painter's and a second-hand store. 
 At this last named place I bought a desk, 
 screen and two chairs, Mrs. Munk outjew- 
 ing the Jew in cinching the bargain. 
 
 The next morning the patrons of the 
 restaurant seemed interested and amused 
 two good omens in trade by the artistically 
 lettered sign above my desk: 
 "Bureau of Suggestions." 
 Some lingered to read the placards I had 
 conspicuously displayed : 
 
 "????? Answered while you wait." 
 "Suggestions given in business, personal 
 and domestic affairs." 
 
 "Ask and you shall receive answer, if 
 matter is within the knowledge of the Bu- 
 reau. If not, no fee." 
 "Hints are Handy." 
 "A Word to the Wise." 
 "A Step in Time saves many." 
 "Suggestions only twenty-five cents." 
 My first customer was a brisk young 
 business man whose object seemed to be 
 amusement rather than information. 
 [7]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I have just opened a tea and coffee 
 store," he announced flippantly. "Can you 
 give me a suggestion as to a good drawing 
 card to catch customers?" 
 
 "Where is your place of business located?" 
 I asked in as commercial a tone as I could 
 assume. 
 
 "Next to corner of First and High," he 
 replied, appearing somewhat discomfited at 
 my impersonal manner. 
 
 "What do you keep besides tea and coffee 
 anything?" was my next question. 
 
 "All kinds fancy crackers, cakes and 
 olives." 
 
 He spoke glibly, once more resuming 
 interest in his business affairs in spite of the 
 distractive charms my modish coiffure seemed 
 to hold for him. 
 
 I thought for a moment and then I said: 
 
 "I know the very thing for you to do- 
 but, will you pay the fee first, please?" 
 
 He looked sheepish and quickly produced 
 a quarter of a dollar. 
 
 "There is no cafe in the vicinity of your 
 
 store." (You see I had "done the town" 
 
 yesterday.) "Why not serve tea and coffee 
 
 with wafers at little tables through business 
 
 [8]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 hours? Many housekeepers would be glad 
 of a chance to sample your wares and re- 
 fresh themselves at the same time. You 
 will find it will be patronized by all shoppers. 
 There will be no expense except a slight 
 recompense to some one to serve, and there 
 will be no loss. Be sure to have thin, dainty 
 cups and saucers, and don't forget slices of 
 lemon for those who don't take sugar." 
 
 He looked positively beatific and added 
 three more quarters to the jackpot. 
 
 "That's such a simple and bully good 
 scheme I wonder I didn't think of it myself," 
 he exclaimed as he hurried away to carry my 
 plan into execution. 
 
 Mrs. Munk, who had come down with me, 
 had been a keen observer of my first deal. 
 
 "Miss Joan," she said, "you sure take 
 after your pa for business. How did you 
 ever come to think of such a first-class 
 scheme?" 
 
 "That was easy," I assured her. "Every 
 woman is daffy over a tea-room. I wish all 
 my questions might be as simple of solution." 
 
 I am not at all sure that I should have 
 accepted his "tip" of the three extra fees, 
 but then I guess he got his money's worth. 
 
 [9]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I picked up my four quarters with an odd 
 little sensation. The first dollar I had ever 
 earned, shame on me! 
 
 I think Mrs. Munk now felt that I was 
 equal to my job without any chaperoning, 
 for she left me, saying she must "hurry 
 home and see the butter girl." 
 
 An hour later a rosy-cheeked country lass 
 came up to the Bureau. She proved to be 
 the "butter girl" whom Mrs. Munk had 
 sent to me for help in securing a situation 
 in town as second girl. 
 
 I took down her name and qualifications 
 and told her if she'd call in the morning I 
 was sure I'd have something for her. If not, 
 I'd give back her quarter. 
 
 I decided to patronize my landlord for 
 luncheon and went to one of the tables before 
 the rush hour was on. I purposely picked 
 a table at which two well dressed women 
 were seated. They were drinking tea and 
 discussing the servant problem. One of 
 them remarked that she was going from the 
 restaurant to an intelligence office to get 
 a housemaid. 
 
 I butted in with apologies and told her it 
 would be to her advantage to stop at the 
 [10]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Bureau on her way out, as I could supply 
 her needs for twenty-five cents. 
 
 Then I returned to my place of business 
 where she soon followed me. 
 
 "Can you really secure me a good house- 
 maid?" she asked sceptically as she handed 
 me the fee. 
 
 "Certainly. Myra Lamb, country girl, 
 never worked out, anxious to learn, honest, 
 clean, capable, willing to wear apron and 
 cap, no city acquaintances. She will be 
 here tomorrow morning and I will send her 
 to you if you will leave your address." 
 
 "It sounds too good to be true, but I'll 
 take anything in the shape of a human form 
 that you produce." 
 
 Some Smart Alecks came up next and one 
 of them laid down a quarter and asked me 
 what color necktie I would suggest for his 
 style of beauty. I wanted to advise "green 
 with a streak of yellow," but I knew that 
 would not be good business, so I looked him 
 over with the appraising eye of a photog- 
 rapher and told him he should never wear 
 anything but grey or black. 
 
 Then came a lull and the proprietor saun- 
 tered up to my desk. I told him I had a
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 suggestion for his business which I would 
 give free gratis. 
 
 "I notice," I said, "that you have a 
 sheet of extras inserted in your printed menu. 
 It is in almost unreadable handwriting, and 
 the items are all jumbled in together. I 
 agree to keep you supplied with clean, type- 
 written sheets of extras for all your tables 
 if you'll give me my luncheon and dinner." 
 
 The bargain was closed at once. I brought 
 with me your old typewriter on which I did 
 all the gold-dredging correspondence, intending 
 it as a reserve trump in case the "Bureau 
 of Suggestions" didn't pan out. 
 
 I went to Mrs. Munk's that night with a 
 hop, skip and jump. Three dollars and 
 grub guaranteed was not bad for a first 
 day's assets. I shall turn most of my cash 
 now on hand into a nest-egg and maybe by 
 the time you come home, I'll have a snug 
 little sum to help build our home-house. 
 
 Mrs. Munk had just received a letter from 
 her third degree son who was on his way 
 home from the West. This meant that I 
 must find a room elsewhere. We looked in 
 the advertisements in the evening paper, but 
 found nothing that met with her approval. 
 [12]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I wish," she said thoughtfully, "that I 
 could get you into Mildew Manse." 
 
 "Mildew Manse!" I repeated. "What in 
 the world is that? An institution? It 
 sounds malarial and not very enticing." 
 
 "It's an old tumbledown house in the most 
 fashionable part of the city and some people 
 live in it who are unfashionable but as good 
 as gold, and you'd feel at home there. They 
 have loads of spare rooms. They're a nice, 
 jolly lot and you'd never be lonesome." 
 
 "Do they take lodgers?" 
 
 "No; they'd never do anything so prac- 
 tical as that. It wouldn't occur to them 
 and they need money bad enough, too. I 
 think, maybe, I can work it. They're 
 accommodating and when they know that 
 you're all alone here and your pa away off 
 in Alaska they'll take you in out of pity. 
 They're soft hearted. Every one that has 
 kittens to get rid of drops them in their yard. 
 I'll run up there in the morning and see if 
 I can't put it across. If they'll take you in, 
 Mrs. Haphazard would care for you like you 
 was her own." 
 
 "Haphazard! What a funny name!" I 
 exclaimed. 
 
 [13]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Their name is really Hazard but they 
 haven't gone by it since the day one of the 
 boys, Haphiram, was asked to write his 
 name on the board. He was in a hurry and 
 he cut it down to H. Hazard. The teacher, 
 who was a new one, asked him what 'H' 
 stood for, and a boy sang out 'Hap Hazard.' 
 He's always been called that since, and then 
 folks got in the habit of referring to them by 
 the nickname which seemed to fit them." 
 
 "But why such a dismal name for their 
 house?" 
 
 "Well, you see the place is mortgaged 
 clear up to the chimneys and the last time 
 they tried to get something on the furniture, 
 the man who called to look it over wouldn't 
 give anything. He muttered something as 
 he went out about everything being moth- 
 eaten and mildewed. One of the children 
 heard him and told the folks. They ain't 
 at all sensitive, except perhaps Jo, and they 
 make a joke out of everything, so they said 
 they had been trying to think of a good name 
 for the place and this had given them an 
 idea. So it's been Mildew Manse ever since." 
 
 The next morning I brought my type- 
 writer down to the Bureau and wrote out 
 [14]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the menu inserts. I had a few customers 
 and the tea and coffee man sent a reporter 
 to write me up for the Sunday edition. 
 
 After luncheon Mrs. Munk dropped in to 
 tell me that I had been promised admit- 
 tance to the coveted lodgings. I closed the 
 Bureau and went up there with her. 
 
 I was in love with Mildew Manse as soon 
 as I saw it. There seemed to be no door- 
 bell working, but Mrs. Haphazard saw us 
 coming and let us in. She had a reposeful 
 face and . manner with a comfortable and 
 almost childlike air of ease. She took us up 
 to the room I was to occupy a large, high- 
 ceilinged room big enough for a house with 
 lots of windows in it. There was not much 
 furniture, but the pieces made up in size 
 what they lacked in quantity. The bed 
 reminded me of the biggest one in the house 
 of the Three Bears. I do adore a great, 
 wide bed that I can lose myself in. I would 
 as soon sleep on a closet shelf as on one of 
 those terrible cots that the average roomer 
 clamors for. The bureau with many differ- 
 ent sized drawers, a washstand, two old 
 chairs a grandmother's rocker and a barrel 
 a round table and an old-fashioned lounge 
 [15]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 not a davenport or a divan or a sofa, but 
 a real lounge, comprised the furniture. 
 There was a dream of a closet with lots of 
 shelves, hooks and drawers. 
 
 I took it all in with one sweeping glance 
 and asked if I might come that night. "Any 
 time," she assured me. 
 
 Then I asked the price, at which she 
 seemed to be quite at sea. 
 
 "Oh, whatever you think it's worth," she 
 replied. "It doesn't make any difference." 
 
 It seemed so heavenly to meet just one 
 person without the bartering instinct fore- 
 most. I wished I were rich so I could put a 
 big price on it. I suggested Mrs. Munk as 
 appraiser. She is a good judge of values 
 and as she still believes me to be rich, I 
 knew she would not "do" them in my favor. 
 She named a sum which Mrs. Haphazard 
 thought entirely too high, but I_instantly 
 closed the bargain by handing over a month's 
 rent in advance. Then I asked her if she'd 
 mind if I got my breakfast, which would 
 consist only of toast and coffee, in my 
 room. 
 
 "Yes, I should mind," she said positively. 
 "I couldn't enjoy my own toast and coffee 
 [16]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 that's all we have besides marmalade 
 if I knew you were up here eating alone. 
 You'll come down and breakfast with us." 
 
 "Oh!" I cried. "May I? I'll pay you 
 any price for a breakfast at a home table." 
 
 "I wouldn't think of charging you for 
 that," she began, but Mrs. Munk cut in 
 and said in a decided, clinching tone: 
 
 "She'll pay you twenty-five cents a break- 
 fast." 
 
 "Whatever will I do with so much money!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Haphazard, looking really 
 quite overcome by her prospects. 
 
 "Do something you never did before," 
 counselled the mundane Munk. "Bank." 
 
 "Oh, we have a bank account," replied 
 Mrs. Haphazard half boastingly, half apolo- 
 getically. "Jo has made a rule the first 
 one we ever had in our house. We are to 
 keep a deposit of one hundred dollars in the 
 savings-bank for an emergency, or a wet day 
 fund, as Tippy calls it. Jo started it with 
 ten dollars, the rest of the children chipped 
 in and raised five dollars, we sold some old 
 mining stock we thought was worthless for 
 fifty dollars, and now I can soon make up 
 the balance." 
 
 [17]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 When we were outside I asked if Jo were 
 Mrs. Haphazard's husband. 
 
 "No"; she replied. "He is the oldest 
 son and the only one of the family who ever 
 shows a streak of common sense. His 
 streaks are thin and far between, like the 
 lean in bacon, though." 
 
 I shut up shop early and transferred my 
 trunk to my new home where I have been 
 writing to you all the evening and far into 
 the night. It will be many moons before 
 you read this, for you remember you said 
 to send all letters to Nome, as you didn't 
 know where you would stop for experimental 
 work. 
 
 I believe Mark does not intend to corre- 
 spond with me. He didn't want a sister or a 
 friend, and I don't want a husband. I am 
 glad it has made no difference between you 
 two. If it had, I should have jumped into 
 the river. There is no friendship in the 
 world, I think, like that between a young old 
 man and an old young man when they are 
 not related. It seems more intimate than 
 the relation between father and son. 
 
 Now that I've told you how homey I am 
 fixed, I'll say good night. I shall write 
 [18]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 often and you will have to take a day off to 
 read and reply when you reach Nome. 
 
 Hurry up and make your fortune, or else 
 lose all you have, so we can put out our 
 "at home" sign. 
 
 With lots and lots of love, I am 
 
 YOUR LITTLE JUMPING JOAN 
 
 [19]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 April 5th. 
 DEAREST DADDY: 
 
 YOUR postal cards en route and your 
 nice long letter from Seattle were for- 
 warded to me. Also Mark's picture card 
 of the Totem Pole, which reminded me very 
 forcibly of himself as I last saw him, towering 
 aggressive and sphinxlike. He didn't write 
 a single syllable save the address. He didn't 
 need to. That Totem Pole was a life-size 
 picture of him and expressed his attitude. 
 I shall send him at Nome a Kodak of the 
 restaurant (interior view). 
 
 The Bureau is right on the boom. Some- 
 times my ingenuity in devising ways and 
 means has been taxed to the limit and then, 
 too, it's rather strenuous to think things 
 right off the reel. The Answer to Corre- 
 spondents Column business must be a snap 
 with so much time for grinding out advice 
 instead of having to hand out Solomon stuff 
 ready made as I do. I didn't leave my 
 horseshoe at home, however, and I've de- 
 livered the goods in every instance with 
 [20]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 two exceptions, and even then I was able to 
 refer my customers to the proper place for 
 information. 
 
 It's astonishing how many people there are 
 in our Yankee country who "want to know." 
 
 My write-up in the paper gave me good 
 publicity (I wanted to add a notice, "Alaska 
 papers, please don't copy") and there has 
 been a run on the Bureau from every con- 
 ceivable class rich man, poor man, beggar 
 man, etc. I have laid out trips for travelers, 
 remodelled hats and dresses, encouraged 
 lovers, helped health and beauty seekers, 
 selected cotillion favors and told a girl "how 
 to get a philopena on Billy Lukes." 
 
 The people who come to question remain 
 to eat, so the Greeks are also securing a 
 thriving trade. By the way, the proprietor's 
 name is Goudolaris, and he has domestic 
 troubles. His wife comes down between 
 meals to read him the riot act. It isn't a 
 case of when "Greek meets Greek" either, 
 because she is Irish and when the tug of 
 war comes it is brief, Goudolaris falling an 
 easy victor. 
 
 So much for my business. Hereafter I 
 shall mention it but briefly, as I keep a 
 [21]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 cash book; also a ledger containing a history 
 of the cases, and you can read them on rainy 
 days when we sit by our hearthstone. I 
 have something of far more interest to write 
 about, and that is the happenings of the 
 Haphazard Family. Through my letter 
 you'll come to know them, I hope, and to 
 know them is to love them. 
 
 I'll begin by showing you over Mildew 
 Manse. The house is well back from the 
 street and is set in the midst of fruit trees, 
 bushes, flower and vegetable gardens with 
 barn and playground at the rear. 
 
 I am told that the fruit trees yield no 
 fruit; the vegetable garden is a lottery, as 
 the labels on the seeds are often misleading, 
 or maybe the little boys are not careful in 
 putting up the packages, but the Haphazards 
 don't mind such trifles. They find pleasure 
 in speculating as to whether the peas will 
 come up beans or something else. 
 
 What remains of the barn is an airy struc- 
 ture something like a pergola, but that 
 doesn't matter either, as they have nothing 
 to keep in a barn except stray cats. 
 
 The playground is all the name implies 
 and brings "days of real sport" at every 
 [22]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 season. There is a swing suspended from 
 a precarious limb of a rotten oak by a rope 
 that shows signs of giving, and you have 
 delightful thrills when you hear the ominous 
 squeaking of the limb and feel a little 
 ecstatic tug as one more strand of the rope 
 ravels. The teeter board is over a hogs- 
 head and it revolves at the same time 
 that it goes up and down, something like 
 the rotary movements of the earth; but 
 the little boys assure me that the grass is 
 seldom cut in this part of the yard and it 
 doesn't hurt much to fall. There is also a 
 tottering fence to walk with or without a 
 balancing pole. At present acquatic sports 
 are most in favor. The grounds are three 
 feet below the level of the street and the 
 adjacent gardens, and then the spring rains 
 have been heavy, so the little Haphazards 
 go about on home-made rafts, one of which 
 I helped them to build. In winter the yard 
 becomes a grand skating rink; in spring, a 
 pond. 
 
 Mildew Manse is very old, an heirloom 
 from bygone and more prosperous Hap- 
 hazards. When it became the habitation 
 of the present generation it was entirely 
 [23]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 colonial in style. Mr. and Mrs. Wilkie 
 Hazard came here bride and groom. At the 
 birth of their first child they mortgaged and 
 enlarged the house and at each succeeding 
 addition to the family there followed an 
 addition to the house; also a mortgage. 
 The children number six, and "three in the 
 churchyard lie," so you see there are nine 
 annexes, varied in shape, size, material and 
 style. It is really quite an exhibition of 
 the different eras of architecture. The mort- 
 gages are also varied. There is a first, a 
 second and a blanket and I don't know 
 what other brands. 
 
 In bygone days there was a disposition to 
 make payments on these mortgages, but as 
 the family increased, the interest on the 
 liens followed suit and has now assumed 
 alarming proportions. The Haphazards 
 cheerfully explain, however, that it is just 
 the same as paying rent. When I hint at 
 a future reckoning they have taken me 
 unreservedly into their confidence as they 
 have into their home Mrs. Haphazard 
 philosophically urges that there is no such 
 thing as a future. "You can't catch up to 
 it," she argues. "It's an illusion a will 
 [24]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 * 
 o' the wisp the message of the morrow. 
 
 Why bother about what never comes?" 
 
 We'll now go up the broad front steps 
 to the main entrance; that is, the main part 
 of the first part. We can't ring the bell, 
 because there is none. There used to be 
 one of the old-fashioned kind that begins 
 with a door-knob on the outside and runs 
 the length of the house by a wire ending in 
 the extreme back in a big bell. One day a 
 collector pulled it so violently that he and 
 the door-knob and a few rods of wire landed 
 in a flower bed. A door-bell is not needed, 
 for there is no lock, so we can walk right in. 
 For the interior of Mildew Manse you 
 really need a compass and a guide book to 
 steer you straight. It's more complicated 
 than that Maze Mark once took us into at 
 an Amusement Park. There are circular 
 halls and all sorts of connecting corridors 
 between the several additions. Some of 
 these links form a cul-de-sac and if you are 
 going fast, you bring up short against a wall. 
 I was a little ashamed at the quality of my 
 bump of locality until I heard a shouting 
 one day and following it up came across a 
 plumber. We were not more than ten feet 
 [25]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 % 
 apart, yet we were separated by an open 
 
 space inclosed by a circular railing. 
 
 "Excuse me, lady," he said shortly, "but 
 I'd like to know how I am going to get out 
 of this place!" 
 
 "Why-er-go down the stairs," I suggested, 
 and my ruling passion being strong, I had 
 hard work not to put out my hand for a 
 quarter. 
 
 "Sure thing!" he replied grimly. "If I 
 could find the stairs, you bet you I'd go down 
 them. I think they must have taken them 
 away when I come up here." 
 
 I reflected. 
 
 "Turn to your right," I directed, "and 
 go down that dark passageway till you come 
 to a small, unfurnished room. Walk through 
 that room into the main hall, and there 
 you'll find the stairs." 
 
 "Thanks, lady," he said as he turned to 
 the right and vanished. He presently re- 
 turned. 
 
 "You give me a bum steer," he said 
 shortly. "I found the dark hall all right, 
 all right, and one of them Katzen jammer 
 kids had strung a rope across it. I made 
 the empty room you spoke of, but nothing 
 [26]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 doing. No stairs; just more rooms. We 
 charge by the time, you know." 
 
 This reminder hastened me to action. 
 
 "I'll see if I can find some one," I ex- 
 claimed and hurried back whence I had 
 come, echoes of his allusions to "hellish 
 houses" and looking for "needles in hay- 
 stacks" pursuing me in my flight. I located 
 my room, went down stairs and sent a young 
 Haphazard to the rescue. 
 
 During the winter months the family 
 confine themselves to the original colonial 
 part of the house, but as navigation opens 
 (in the yard) and the season advances they 
 extend their territory. The first day I was 
 there I asked one of the little boys if his 
 mother was in the library. "The library," 
 he repeated vaguely. "Oh, you mean the 
 room the books are in. That's California." 
 I then learned that their rooms are all 
 named geographically in accordance with 
 temperature. Winnipeg is never entered in 
 winter, but in summer is a favorite sitting- 
 room. An east bedroom, abandoned in 
 summer, is The Needles. My pleasantly 
 tempered room is Oregon. 
 
 California is the shabbiest, cosiest, most 
 [27]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 livable and lovable room you can picture. 
 The carpet is raveled and faded, but of 
 pleasing pattern. The upholstery is thread- 
 bare, but the chairs easy. The books in 
 old, open cases are thumb-marked and worn 
 the titles tell you why. The couch is 
 shabby but covered with comfortable spreads 
 and real, not decorative, pillows on which 
 you are expected to lay your head. The 
 small, square piano is old and its frame 
 dilapidated, but its tone is still sweet, like 
 the voice of an old gentlewoman. There are 
 reading lamps with green shades the Gas 
 Company shut off the meter last month. 
 I have no apologies to make for the big 
 fireplace with its briskly burning, backlog 
 fire. All the wealth of Golconda could not 
 improve it. 
 
 And I am one of the "sisters of the Golden 
 Circle" who occupy this charming California, 
 for I only sleep and dress and write letters 
 in Oregon. 
 
 Now for the family: From Grandma 
 Haphazard aged eighty to the twins of nine 
 years, they have one thing in common - 
 a loyal love of Mildew Manse. 
 
 Grandma Haphazard is the real thing in 
 [28]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 grandmothers. She divides her time between 
 her bed and a wheel-chair, but she is sweet- 
 hearted and takes a lively interest in all the 
 affairs of the day. 
 
 Mr. Wilkie Haphazard, head of the house 
 
 or should be, though I guess it has none 
 
 travels for a thread firm. His commis- 
 sions are not large, but he says it is better 
 to sell a necessity like thread which hard 
 times cannot affect than to handle a more 
 fluctuating and luxurious commodity. People 
 must sew in all seasons. He is threadbare 
 (no pun intended) himself in appearance. I 
 cannot tell you much more about him, be- 
 cause he "went on the road" the second day 
 after I came. I noticed that he has a 
 pleasant low voice and a kindly manner. 
 
 Mrs. Haphazard I shall not attempt to 
 describe. You must get your description 
 from what she does and says. She is too 
 good and unselfish to put in words. 
 
 Jo, the eldest of the "children," is three 
 and twenty, but looks and seems older, yet 
 in some ways he is only an overgrown boy. 
 He is thin and dark and quiet, though his 
 smile is always ready. He doesn't have to 
 talk. You seem to know what he would say. 
 [29]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 His eyes are steady, but the lashes twinkle. 
 He is the only member of the happy-go-lucky 
 family who has any sense of responsibility. 
 It isn't really an inherent trait, but I think 
 because he is conscientious and feels that it is 
 his duty to be practical, he makes an effort 
 in that direction. He can be very decided, 
 I find. For instance, I had intended to put 
 in some evenings at the Bureau and a part 
 of my Sundays, but Jo said nay, that the 
 tide must ebb in order to flow and that it was 
 as wrong to keep at work perpetually as it 
 was to live in continual idleness. He said 
 very little but some way I felt worldly and 
 ashamed of my commercial instinct. You 
 know how determined opposition always 
 makes me. Maybe you don't, either, be- 
 cause you have never opposed your spoiled 
 darling; but Mark knows. There was some- 
 thing about Jo's nice, protective way of tell- 
 ing me I was wrong that quite won and 
 weakened me. I heard a commanding bugle- 
 call note in his voice like the one in Mark's, 
 only not so war stirring. You can tell him 
 so, if you like. 
 
 I told Mrs. Haphazard I was going to do 
 as Jo said and she replied earnestly: "Of 
 course you will. Everyone wants to do as 
 [30]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Jo says. I don't know why, but it is 
 so." 
 
 I don't know why either, but it is so. 
 Well, to sum up, Jo is a darling combina- 
 tion of boy, gentleman and man. ; 
 
 Next is Tippecanoe, commonly called Tip 
 or Tippy. He is twenty-one in years, but 
 one of the kind that Time will always touch 
 with thistledown lightness. He is of a sweet 
 disposition, quite irresponsible, and out- 
 hazards all the Haphazards in his utter un- 
 worldliness. He is in a chronic state of either 
 getting or losing a position. He does either 
 with equal facility. He has an alert air and 
 a pleasing personality which raises false 
 hopes in a new employer, for Tip's only 
 interest in work lies in the landing of a job. 
 Then his enthusiasm falls flat. When Jo 
 mildly remonstrates, his mother defends his 
 lack of stability, saying: "It's a good ex- 
 perience for him. He will be an all-round 
 man instead of a specialist." 
 
 "All-round doesn't lead anywhere," re- 
 plied Jo. "Tippy has never had two pay 
 days in the same place yet." 
 
 It doesn't make any perceptible difference 
 in the family exchequer whether Tip works 
 [31]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 or not. He spends all he earns on clothes, 
 and the family are very proud of their one 
 presentable member, whom they call their 
 figurehead. Jo is shabby, but with a neat, 
 gentlemanly, well-brushed shabbiness. 
 
 After Tippecanoe, the family grew allit- 
 erative in their christenings. Hally is a 
 pretty, soft-eyed girl of eighteen. She will 
 be graduated from the High School in June, 
 but is domestic in tendency and seems to 
 have no idea of self-support. 
 
 Then comes a lapse accounted for by the 
 "three in the churchyard lie." Grandma 
 says they were "disappointments rather 
 than, losses." Horace lived three days Hor- 
 tense, three hours and Huldah, three 
 minutes. 
 
 Haphiram, aged ten, is a shrewd, uncanny 
 little fellow. He has the smiling face of a 
 satyr with diabolically bright eyes and makes 
 such unexpected answers to questions that 
 I am learning to be wary in asking him any. 
 I should sure be up a stump if he ever 
 applied at the Bureau. 
 
 The twins, Hercules and Hector, known the 
 city over as "Herk" and "Heck," are nine 
 years old. They are regulation boys, "born 
 [32]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 with their boots on," as Grandma Hap- 
 hazard says, but at times Heck can be very 
 sweet and affectionate. 
 
 There is One Other who is not as yet a 
 Haphazard, but will be one some day if the 
 course of true love runs smooth. "Princess 
 Aline," they call her, and she is like your 
 idea of a princess; fair, slender, stately of 
 poise and with a shade of pensiveness in her 
 large hazel eyes. She is the only child of 
 the Irvings, fairly well-to-do people who 
 have always lived next door neighbor to the 
 Haphazards, but are their human antonyms 
 in every respect. I can easily comprehend 
 what a fairyland Mildew Manse must have 
 seemed to the conventionally cared-f or little 
 Aline. She would doubtless have grown up 
 into a prunes-and-prism sort of a girl if it 
 had not been for the counteracting influence 
 of the Haphazard mode of life. She is in 
 and out the house quite intimately. They 
 all adore her, but Jo loves her. He has 
 not yet told her so, not in words any- 
 way, but she knows. His reticence in this 
 respect is where one of his bacon streaks, 
 as Mrs. Munk calls them, comes in. He 
 is no doubt waiting until he has more to 
 [33]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 offer. He has been in a real estate office 
 for three years and gets fifteen dollars a 
 week. 
 
 When my first Sunday came and Jo so 
 gently said I must not go to the Bureau, 
 I went up to Oregon and shed a few tears. 
 It seemed so good to be with people who 
 cared what I did or didn't do. Not just 
 paid people like the kind you left me with 
 in Hay town. 
 
 I am up early mornings so as not to lose 
 one moment of the delightful breakfast-table 
 time. They linger over their meals which is 
 their time and place for confidences and dis- 
 cussions. There are no secret conferences in 
 the Haphazard household. Everything is 
 said and done in the open, and all their 
 pleasures are shared in unison. I have an 
 all-time invitation for their Sunday night 
 luncheons. There must be a Dutch strain 
 in their ancestry, for they lean to a menu 
 of "one dish but lots in it." We had 
 an old-fashioned, blue tureen full of corn- 
 meal mush and a big glass pitcher of 
 milk last Sunday night. Comfort comes 
 first at Mildew Manse. There are no 
 cut and dried disagreeable rules. No in- 
 [34]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 evitable Monday washday, and but one 
 daily, grand round-up of dishwashing. No 
 petty cares or jealousies or wrangles mar 
 the even tenor of their ways. Neither is 
 there a meum and teum method as to 
 possessions. "Help yourself," is the family 
 motto. 
 
 They are not a thrifty or a prosperous 
 family, but a very easy-going, happy one, 
 with no indebtedness to external conditions. 
 They bring to the sordid cares and petty 
 ills of life a touch of saving gayety, but the 
 day of reckoning which they ignore must 
 come, and I wish I might steer them away 
 from it. If I could only inculcate in them 
 a little thrift, a thought of preparedness, 
 a bit of method and system! I offered 
 them the free services of the Bureau, but 
 they are disposed to look on my occupa- 
 tion as one akin to fortune-telling, or as a 
 joke. 
 
 I wonder how Mark will regard my venture 
 in business. He looked so pleased and 
 so did you, Father Lynn when I was de- 
 posited in that little Haytown. I believe 
 you were fellow-conspirators; you thought 
 loneliness might turn to love. Well, I 
 [35]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 forgive you both, for I am very busy and 
 very happy, but looking forward to your 
 return. 
 
 Goodnight, daddy dear, 
 
 Your own 
 JOAN 
 
 [36]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 April 12th. 
 OH, DADDY DEAR! 
 
 SO many things have happened to the 
 Haphazards and to Little Jumping Joan, 
 too! I will begin with myself. Of all pre- 
 posterous things! Tippecanoe proposed to 
 me. Early in the week he asked me to go 
 to a vaudeville theatre with him. This was 
 the first time I had had occasion to dress 
 for any place except the Bureau and Cali- 
 fornia, so in deference to Tippy's devotion 
 to dress, I made a toilette fitting the finest 
 theatre in the city. The look of pleased 
 approval as his Irish-blue eyes ran the 
 gamut of my garments well paid me for my 
 pains. He was shaved, shined, pressed and 
 groomed to perfection. 
 
 "They make a fine-looking couple," said 
 Grandma approvingly, as we left the house. 
 
 It was evident that Tippecanoe thought 
 so, too. In fact, he was so permeated by the 
 consciousness of our smartness that the silly 
 stunts of the performers shone in the re- 
 flected roseate hue of his enthusiasm, which 
 you mustn't think was due to self-vanity. 
 [37]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 It was our combined harmony of fittings 
 a perfect team work in toilettes, a two-in- 
 oneness that appealed to him. This feeling 
 intensified during the hour and a half that 
 we sat in the theatre and by the time we 
 had reached the steps that led down into 
 the Manse grounds, it culminated in a 
 proposal. 
 
 In my surprise and confusion, I mistook 
 Haphiram's latest contrivance in floating 
 rafts for the stationary board walk, and in 
 another instant I had drifted beyond Tip- 
 pecanoe's prospective embrace. By the time 
 I had secured the steering pole that was 
 fortunately on board I was too far away 
 to shout back that I could never be 
 Mrs. Tippecanoe even if we were a fine- 
 looking couple. As I whirled swiftly by 
 the lilac bush I called to him that I would, 
 perforce, keep on by the waterway to try 
 to make a landing at the steps to Winni- 
 peg, and directed him to go via overland 
 route to the same place and help me 
 ashore. 
 
 We met at the harbor of the " stoop" as 
 grandma calls it, and as soon as I was 
 in dry dock Tippy renewed his offer. It 
 [38]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 was not until we had left Winnipeg that I 
 could find words in which to refuse him 
 coherently. He offered inducements, saying 
 he would get a steady job, and that we 
 could have all the rooms we wanted in 
 Mildew Manse. This time I said no very 
 negatively, and he grasped the fact that 
 he was refused much more quickly and 
 graciously than Mark did. He was very 
 sweet and sorry about it instead of being 
 offended. 
 
 I made a detour, bringing up at Oregon 
 while he went on to California, for I knew 
 that he would at once confide in the family. 
 They are so loyal and so united that I felt 
 as if in hurting one I had hurt them all. 
 I sat in my barrel chair feeling like a 
 criminal awaiting sentence and kept listen- 
 ing for the coming footsteps of the one 
 deputized to tell me that I must leave 
 this beautiful Mildew Manse, for under the 
 circumstances, of course, it would be very 
 uncomfortable for Tippecanoe and me to 
 meet. 
 
 At last I heard footsteps and by the sound 
 of little heel-clicks I knew that Hally was 
 the messenger. 
 
 [89]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 When I saw her, my fears fled. She looked 
 quite as apologetic as I felt. 
 
 "You mustn't mind Tippy," she said 
 quickly. "It was horrid in him to bother 
 you that w r ay. I never saw Jo so vexed. 
 He is afraid you won't wish to stay here now, 
 and we all want you to so much. Tippy 
 promises that if you will only forget it, he'll 
 never, never do it again." 
 
 "Oh, dear!" I said, smiling through my 
 tears, "and here I have been worrying and 
 expecting that you'd turn me out." 
 
 We both laughed, and then she said I was 
 to come down and help eat the corn the 
 boys had popped. 
 
 "Wait!" I cried, seizing a suggestion - 
 I mean an inspiration for the disillusion- 
 ing of Tippy. 
 
 I exchanged my tailor-made for a faded 
 house dress. 
 
 It worked. He looked foolish at first, but 
 in a few moments was cheerfully salting 
 corn and, I am sure, wondering how he ever 
 came to think me the half necessary for the 
 perfect whole. 
 
 Under cover of the noise made by the 
 munching of many corn-eaters, Mrs. Hap- 
 [40]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 hazard managed to whisper consolingly to 
 me: "He'll get over it. He takes and gets 
 over everything quickly." 
 
 This was comforting, if not flattering. I 
 could not help feeling a little flustered. 
 After all, a proposal is a proposal and, even 
 when it comes from a Tippecanoe, is a 
 great event in a girl's life. Aline, who, of 
 course, was present, drew me aside into 
 lower California, which is right over the 
 furnace. 
 
 "I wish," she said sweetly, "that Tippy 
 was older and different. It would be 
 nice for you and me to be sisters, I think." 
 
 I looked at her keenly, and something in 
 her eyes told me that she had changed from 
 a princess into a woman and a very sweet 
 one, too. 
 
 "Oh!" I gasped, "he has told you!" 
 
 "Yes;" she said flushing happily. "Jo's 
 salary was raised to-day eighteen dollars 
 a week. He is coming over to ask father 
 in the morning." 
 
 I told her how glad I was I don't know 
 that I really was, but I made up my mind 
 I'd try to be and how sure I had been 
 from the very first that they were lovers. 
 [41]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Oh, yes," she replied artlessly, "I've 
 always loved him ever since I can remem- 
 ber. 'Jo* was the first word I learned to 
 speak." 
 
 "Will it be a long engagement?" I asked. 
 
 "It depends upon what father and mother 
 think, I suppose," she said slowly with a 
 little sigh. "I'd like to be married now 
 and come here to live." 
 
 "You will live here?" I exclaimed in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Of course. I've always loved this old 
 place. I've had all my best times here. 
 No other place could seem more like home 
 to me. There are plenty of rooms unoccu- 
 pied, you know, and then Jo, too, could not 
 bear to live anywhere else." 
 
 I smiled, thinking of Tippecanoe's offer. 
 
 If the family all feel that way when they 
 marry, Mildew Manse will become a veri- 
 table House of Haphazards. 
 
 Jo came up, or rather, down, and took us 
 back to the popcorn pan. 
 
 I could scarcely sleep that night. Some 
 
 way what Tippy said made me think of 
 
 Mark and his complaint to you that I had 
 
 made light of a serious matter. I am be- 
 
 [42]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 ginning to understand how he felt just 
 as I do about Tippy's unconcern. Then I 
 thought of Jo and Aline, especially of Jo, 
 and what a tender lover and devoted hus- 
 band he will make. If it had been Jo who 
 proposed to me instead of Tippy, my heart 
 would have skipped a beat or two, I am 
 sure. Maybe it was a good thing that I 
 understood from the beginning that Jo was 
 spoken for. But I don't want to marry 
 anyone, daddy darling. I want to live with 
 you in a little house that is really and truly 
 ours. I'd so love to take root somewhere. 
 I feel like a traveling library, and I'd much 
 prefer to be shelved and labeled. 
 
 I arose quite late the next morning after 
 my proposal and when I put my head out 
 the casement window for a breath of the 
 soft spring air, I saw the raft. Haphiram 
 names all his watercraft, and evidently this 
 last one on which I took my little trip had 
 just been christened. Imagine my feelings 
 when I read from the banner flapping in 
 the breeze, "The Courtship." 
 
 I was late to breakfast. So was Tippy, 
 but being jobless, it made no difference to 
 him. Jo was just leaving the house with 
 [43]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 a new little look of grim determination about 
 his eyes and mouth a sort of buckling 
 on of armor look. I don't wonder. It must 
 have been an ordeal to approach a regulation 
 parent like Mr. Irving. 
 
 I overtook Haphiram lagging along to 
 school and told him if he would go back 
 and take that banner from the raft and 
 destroy it, I'd buy him a canoe. It was 
 wonderful what a little speedster he became. 
 
 "Hap," I called after him, "what will 
 you name it?" 
 
 "Tippy. Tippy Canoe!" he sang back 
 and we both went our ways. Mrs. Munk's 
 third degree son had paid me a quarter the 
 day before to put a sign, "For Sale. A 
 Canoe, cheap," in the Bureau, so I tele- 
 phoned him to deliver the canoe to Mildew 
 Manse and call on me for his pay. 
 
 I was kept busy that day. There was a 
 convention of grocers in the city and they 
 made a run on the Bureau. Twenty of 
 them came into the restaurant for lunch- 
 eon. They were a jolly lot of men, evi- 
 dently hailing from smaller towns, and with 
 the air of having " come-to-town-f or a Time." 
 They seemed mostly to be married men. 
 [44]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 They soon spied the Bureau and me. 
 
 "I want a suggestion, if you please," said 
 one of them promptly. He had a round, 
 rugged, tight-skinned face of dusky red that 
 made me think of a winter apple. 
 
 "What do you want a suggestion about?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "Any little suggestion," he replied. "I 
 leave it to you." 
 
 "You are a stranger in the city, I judge," 
 I remarked gravely. 
 
 'Spotted you for sure, Jeff!" chuckled 
 one of the group. 
 
 "You will probably want to take in a good 
 show to-night. Let me recommend the best 
 one to you." 
 
 This was "just what he wanted," and I 
 knew intuitively which one he would find 
 the most entertaining. 
 
 Realizing that I had legitimate informa- 
 tion up my sleeve, the other nineteen grocers 
 clamored for suggestions as to presents for 
 their wives, what shops to patronize and 
 what sights to see. Some of them were 
 facetious and asked all sorts of foolish ques- 
 tions, but I took them all seriously and 
 made five dollars. Hooray! It will put a 
 [45]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 plank in the house that Joan is going to 
 build. 
 
 One young grocer asked me what kind of 
 belts were stylish as he wanted to buy one 
 for his girl. When I recommended a certain 
 kind, he said: "Dear me! I don't know 
 what size she wears. Could you let me take 
 the measure of your waist?" 
 
 "It won't be necessary," I assured him. 
 "Just take the measure of your arm." 
 
 This put them all in a still better humor, 
 and they departed, telling the belt man 
 he'd have to set them up for the crowd. 
 
 I can just see Mark's face when you read 
 him this bit. For you always have read 
 him parts of my letters, Daddy Lynn. He 
 admitted it to me once. Mark has the 
 usual masculine idea about a woman's place 
 being in the home, but when she hasn't any 
 home, what is she to do? She has to have 
 something, you know, and I am really quite 
 proud of my little Bureau and very much 
 attached to it. I wouldn't have written 
 you all about it if I hadn't known my let- 
 ters were not to reach you until August and 
 at a place too far away for you to return. 
 If you had known when you were in Seattle 
 [46]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 or even when you were at some of your 
 first stopping- off places in Alaska, I fear 
 one or both of you would have come back 
 with designs upon the Bureau. 
 
 I left the restaurant very early that after- 
 noon without waiting for dinner, I was so 
 anxious to know how Jo's suit had prospered. 
 
 In front of a theatre I came upon Tippy 
 gazing yearningly at a full length picture of 
 an actor. I knew his longing was not for 
 the fame or for the fortune of the actor, 
 but for the evening clothes in which he was 
 portrayed. Poor Tippy! If I could have 
 a fairy wand waved over me for three wishes 
 they would be as follows: A little house for 
 you and me, the mortgage lifted from Mil- 
 dew Manse and a full-dress suit for Tippy. 
 
 He joined me and we walked on together. 
 I felt years older than he and I began to 
 give him some good advice about looking 
 for a position. 
 
 "I have one," he announced cheerfully. 
 "I am going to sell gravestones on commis- 
 sion." 
 
 It seemed very characteristic of a Hap- 
 hazard that he could find pleasure hi the 
 thought of so gruesome a pursuit. 
 [47]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "The Tippy Canoe has been launched," 
 he told me, "and the yard was full of boys 
 when I left. They were taking turns pad- 
 dling about. Haphiram told me how you 
 came to give it to him." 
 
 His eyes were dancing at the recollection. 
 I see his mother was right about his getting 
 over things quickly. 
 
 "The canoe's name fits all right," he 
 continued. "She's tipped over most every 
 trip. It's the first time Hap ever had any- 
 thing that wasn't home-made, and he's as 
 proud as a peacock." 
 
 "I must stop and get Herk and Heck 
 something," I exclaimed. "It isn't fair to 
 leave them out." 
 
 "They aren't left out," he said. "Hap 
 will let them take the canoe as often as he 
 does. They have all their things in com- 
 mon." 
 
 I stopped at a toy store, however, and 
 bought three Indian suits and three bows 
 and arrows. When we reached home the 
 yard was afloat with boys and Hap seemed 
 to be the only one who had escaped a duck- 
 ing. I delivered my packages and we went 
 on into the house. 
 
 [48]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I knew by the kind of cheerfulness per- 
 vading, like sun bursting through clouds, or 
 smiles through tears, that Jo's altar-path 
 was blockaded. 
 
 He had confided in his mother and asked 
 her to tell us all except the three youngest 
 members of the family, though I imagine 
 Haphiram with his sure sixth sense has 
 divined it. I had a glimpse of Jo as he went 
 upstairs. He looked very much as you used 
 to when stocks took an unexpected turn. 
 His head was up, and an odd little smile 
 was trying to deny the disappointment in 
 his eyes. I do love a game loser like you 
 have always been. 
 
 Mr. Irving had been primed with objections. 
 He asked Jo the first thing what he had to 
 offer. Jo admitted that he was shy on 
 worldly possessions, but casually mentioned 
 a few incidentals like youth, health, good 
 habits and an ardent love for Aline. Mr. 
 Irving maintained that these essential requi- 
 sites must be backed up by an income suffi- 
 cient to maintain a family and household. 
 
 Jo then proudly stated that he had the 
 munificent salary of eighteen dollars per week 
 and that he expected it to increase. His 
 [49]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 father-in-law elect insisted that "eighteen 
 per" wouldn't run a house. Jo's reply to 
 this rebuff was that Aline would live no- 
 where but at Mildew Manse. They could 
 have their choice of rooms and furniture. 
 
 Mr. Irving allowed that a home and 
 "eighteen per" would not be exactly pov- 
 erty, but the many mortgages of Mildew 
 Manse might any day take it from them 
 and that Jo would have to help take care of 
 the family instead of marrying. Jo argued 
 that Tippecanoe was self-supporting; that 
 Hally would soon be providing for herself 
 (I wonder how!); that his father was good 
 for at least ten years more on the road and 
 by that time the little boys would be wage 
 earners. This was some considerable look- 
 ahead for a Haphazard, but did not con- 
 vince Mr. Irving, who said that under the 
 circumstances, he could not give his consent. 
 
 Jo was undaunted and asked under what 
 circumstances he might hope to win his suit. 
 Mr. Irving named two conditions: first, 
 that Mildew Manse must be cleared entirely 
 of mortgages; second, that Jo must be 
 earning a salary of at least twenty-five 
 dollars a week. These were two most ap- 
 [50]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 palling obstacles. It would be at least five 
 years before Jo could expect such a magnif- 
 icent salary, and as for lifting the mortgage 
 nothing short of a miracle could do that. 
 
 Jo had come home crushed by the moun- 
 tain of mortgages on his shoulders, and with 
 his moneymoon as far away as if he were 
 looking through the wrong end of a spy- 
 glass, but Aline had come over to tell him 
 she would wait a lifetime for him. 
 
 They made me stay to their night meal 
 (I haven't discovered yet whether it is din- 
 ner or supper) and by the time we had 
 gathered around the table, they were again 
 almost normal in cheerfulness. As I went 
 into South Dakota, the dining-room, I 
 looked out the window and saw a small 
 army of boys trooping home to suppers and 
 scoldings, for they were all soaked and many 
 of them bore arrow wounds. I had my 
 doubts as to whether I had chosen wisely 
 in making my gifts. I didn't care whether 
 I had or not when Haphiram, Heck and Herk 
 came in. They wore a look of shining hap- 
 piness never seen in the countenances of the 
 race whose costumes they were wearing. 
 
 "We are going to have a play tomorrow 
 [51]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 afternoon," he said. "You can be Poca- 
 hontas." 
 
 By bedtime the family were positively 
 radiant in their horoscope of hope. When 
 Jo's employer returned from a business trip, 
 he was to be informed of the situation, and 
 it was more than probable that he would 
 raise Jo's salary to twenty dollars, and most 
 likely Mr. Irving would throw off a paltry 
 five. As for the mortgage, something was 
 quite likely to happen. Perhaps they could 
 sell some of the land. 
 
 I couldn't share this optimism and I went 
 to bed feeling very sorry for the young 
 lovers and so interested in their fate that I 
 had no more foolish raptures about Jo. 
 
 Marriage is certainly needles and pins and 
 makes more trouble and heart-aches than 
 anything else in the world. Me for a snug 
 little nest with you, daddy. How sensible 
 Elisabeth was to remain in her summer 
 garden existence. 
 
 Tomorrow night I am to meet the very 
 particular friend of the Haphazards. He 
 has been out of town ever since I came here. 
 His name is Barry Walters and he is two 
 years older than Jo. He owns any amount 
 [52]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 of property left him by his father, but he is 
 not idle. He is one of the rising young 
 manufacturers of the city. I am quite cu- 
 rious to see him, for his name is a household 
 word. Mrs. Haphazard speaks of him very 
 tenderly just as if he were her son. Grand- 
 ma's face lights up whenever he is mentioned. 
 As for Jo, he and this Barry are a second 
 David and Jonathan. Hally has a far- 
 away look when she speaks of him. Tippe- 
 canoe says he is a good dresser, and what 
 higher praise could Tippy sing? To the 
 young Haphazard hopefuls he is an oracle. 
 
 I am also anxious to meet him to learn if 
 by chance he is a relative of that Phil 
 Walters who was a college chum of Mark's 
 the one who went hunting with him last 
 fall. Something always prevented Mark's 
 bringing him to visit us, and when I went 
 to the hop at college that time, this , young 
 Walters was away. 
 
 It is very late and I will say good-night. 
 Your letter forwarded from the hamlet say- 
 ing you were about to sail made me lone- 
 some, but I must learn to be hopeful and 
 cheerful like the Haphazards. 
 
 Your own JOAN. 
 
 [53]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 April 14th. 
 FATHER-DEAR: 
 
 PHIL WALTERS is the Haphazards' 
 * Barry Walters. His whole name is 
 Barry Phillips Walters, shortened at college 
 to "Phil." He called last night, and in 
 spite of the risk I ran of giving Tippecanoe 
 a relapse, I made myself as presentable as 
 my wardrobe permitted. When I came into 
 California, Mr. Walters looked at me curi- 
 ously and before we were introduced, he 
 asked: "Aren't you Joan Lynn?" I told 
 him I was. "Little Jumping Joan," he then 
 said with a smile. 
 
 "Then you are Phil Walters!" I ex- 
 claimed, "and it was Mark who told you." 
 
 "You are a good guesser. We've come 
 near meeting so many times that we ought 
 to be warm friends." 
 
 "Do you know Mark Shelby?" chorused 
 the Haphazards excitedly. 
 
 "Do you?" I asked in surprise. 
 
 "Only by name," explained Jo, "but we've 
 [54]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 heard Barry speak of him so often we feel 
 as if we knew him." 
 
 "You haven't ever spoken of him," re- 
 minded Haphiram, giving me one of his 
 gimlet glances which are so disconcerting. 
 
 "You know," I defended myself. "I 
 told you father had gone to Alaska with a 
 friend. Mark Shelby is the friend." 
 
 I don't know whether it was the general 
 surprise or the twinkle in Barry Walters' 
 eyes, or a combination of both that made 
 me blush most furiously. 
 
 "Oh-oh!" came in enlightened tones from 
 Tippecanoe, "That is why you wouldn't 
 marry me!" 
 
 "Nothing of the sort!" I exclaimed grow- 
 ing redder and angrier, as I saw the amuse- 
 ment at Tip's foolish confession flashing into 
 Barry's eyes. 
 
 I hastened to explain. 
 
 "You see Mark Shelby and I were brought 
 up together from the time he was ten and I 
 was five just like brother and sister as 
 Jo and Aline were." 
 
 "But," persisted that wretched Haphi- 
 ram, "Jo and Aline have never been like 
 brother and sister. They're lovers."
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 His remark fortunately diverted attention 
 from me for a while for a laugh on Jo and 
 Aline, and I had time to collect myself. 
 
 I had an instant liking for Barry Walters 
 and I wasn't going to have our friendship 
 start with any wrong impressions. He is 
 a squarely-built, nice-looking chap with 
 flashing, white teeth, fun-loving eyes and 
 thick brown hair. He seems substantial 
 and wholesome, a sort of big-brother 
 man. 
 
 "Well," I supplemented, "like Tippy and 
 Aline then." 
 
 "Tell us all about him," urged Aline, who 
 loves narratives, "did you live next door to 
 each other like Jo and I?" 
 
 "Nearer than that," I replied. "His 
 parents died when he was ten years old, and 
 father was appointed his guardian. We had 
 no fixed home, so Mark went to a boarding- 
 school and afterwards to college, but no 
 matter where we might be located, when 
 vacation time came he always joined us. 
 He spent the last three years abroad. I 
 fear he got the wandering habit from us. 
 When father went to Alaska, Mark was 
 quite keen to go with him." 
 [56]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I had a letter from him from Seattle," 
 said Barry looking at me significantly, and 
 I felt sure that Mark had told him every- 
 thing. They must be friends for sure. I 
 believe men tell each other things just as 
 girls do. 
 
 "But how did you come to locate here in 
 this city?" asked Barry. 
 
 I told him about the Bureau, and it made 
 me a little tired to see that he didn't regard 
 my business with the respect its success de- 
 inands. I am a little touchy about the way 
 some people look at the Bureau, as if it 
 were a joke. I immediately proceeded to 
 give him the figures of profit to date. Sta- 
 tistics always appeal to a Business man, 
 and Barry instantly changed his views. 
 
 "It's a clever, ingenious idea," he ad- 
 mitted, "and I shall be glad to know the 
 Christian names of the 'extras' when I 
 drop in for a quick lunch at the Greek's. 
 But I am rather curious to know what your 
 father and Mark think of your business 
 venture." 
 
 "I don't correspond with Mark," I in- 
 formed him, "and father won't know about 
 it until he reaches Nome some time in Au- 
 [57]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 gust, so please don't mention it when you 
 write." 
 
 "Mark hasn't given me an address as yet. 
 But do you mean to tell me that you can't 
 get a communication to your father before 
 August? Suppose you should be ill?" 
 
 "He has given me the headquarters ad- 
 dress of the Gold-Dredging Company. They 
 have his itinerary and can wire or send a 
 letter at any time, but I shall only send a 
 message through them in case of an emer- 
 gency." 
 
 Later in the evening there was a tem- 
 porary dispersing of the Haphazards. 
 Grandma and the three little boys said 
 good-night. Mrs. Haphazard remembered 
 some needed repairs to the children's clothes 
 and went to the room where the sewing- 
 machine chanced to be. Jo and Aline 
 wandered down cellar in search of apples. 
 Hally and Tippy, who sings in a light 
 pleasing tenor, withdrew to the piano, in 
 an alcove, so I was left alone with Barry 
 in a remote part of Northern California. 
 
 "Mr Walters," I began. 
 
 "Why not call me Phil, since Mark does?" 
 he asked quickly. 
 
 [58]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I think," I replied pointedly, "I would 
 rather call you Barry since the Haphazards 
 do." 
 
 "I am so glad," he said, "for your sake 
 and their sake and my sake, that you 
 have come into this family. It is home 
 to me and I love them every one of 
 them." 
 
 "Then why don't you help them to a 
 different scheme of life and try to make 
 them more prosperous?" 
 
 "But they don't want to be more pros- 
 perous," he replied whimsically. "They are 
 happy as they are. Why give them ambi- 
 tions and worldly desires and make them 
 like every one else? It's their simplicity, 
 their fresh viewpoint of life that gives 
 them and this place the charm it has. 
 Would you like Mildew Manse if it were 
 modernized and furnished any differently? 
 
 "But you know perfectly well that unless 
 they acquire more thrift and earn more 
 money Mildew Manse will go to others. 
 There is a crisis right now." 
 
 And as I knew he was entirely in their 
 confidence I told him about Jo and Aline 
 and the edict of Mr. Irving. 
 [59]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I loved the look of interest and concern 
 that softened his merry eyes. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "Something should be 
 done for Jo. He's worth more than the 
 salary he's getting. I could, of course, give 
 him a good office position, but Jo wouldn't 
 be confined to a desk and four walls for a 
 fortune. He's a good real estate man, and 
 people have far more confidence in what he 
 says than they have in the representations 
 of old Rackney." 
 
 Old Rackney is Jo's employer. 
 
 "Then I should think he'd do well in a 
 real estate office of his own." 
 
 "No; nothing doing," he said emphatic- 
 ally. "I know dear old Jo. Although he 
 hasn't any personal ambition, yet he is so 
 conscientious that he works faithfully in the 
 interests of his employer; but if he were in 
 business for himself, he'd be gazing up at the 
 sky through tree tops instead of trying to 
 sell lots." 
 
 "But maybe now that he has Aline as an 
 incentive, he'll be more ambitious." 
 
 "That's true," he said thoughtfully. 
 Then, looking at me intently, he said: 
 "Such an incentive makes all the difference 
 [60]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 in the world with men most men. Take 
 Mark: the woman who loves him will have 
 it in her power to bring out the best in 
 him." 
 
 "Then I wish he'd hurry up and find her," 
 I told him, "for Mark has no aim in life 
 beyond having a good time." 
 
 "Joan," he replied gravely, "you don't 
 quite understand Mark " 
 
 "Oh, yes I do, and don't think for a mo- 
 ment," I said, "that I am not fond of him. 
 But after he left college and just went 
 pleasuring along, I was disappointed in him. 
 Why shouldn't he have a business, as you do, 
 even if he has lots of money? He went 
 hunting with you in the fall off to Can- 
 ada in the winter back here the last of 
 February and " 
 
 "And," he finished, "when he found he 
 couldn't have the one great thing in life he 
 wanted, he went to Alaska. He wrote me 
 about it." 
 
 "That wasn't why he went to Alaska, 
 though. He went because he had a 'hunch' 
 that father wouldn't make the gold dredger 
 a go, and he thought he ought to have some 
 friend near when disappointment came. It 
 [61]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 was the nicest thing I ever knew Mark to 
 do, and I appreciate it. He is the soul of 
 generosity, but he is selfish. He's been just 
 like a son no, a young brother to fa- 
 ther, and we three could have such good 
 times if he hadn't gone and spoiled it all. 
 He's grouchy because I wouldn't marry him 
 and he refuses to go back to our comfortable 
 brother and sister days." 
 
 "Mark never had a brotherly feeling for 
 you. The first year we were in college he 
 showed me your pictures and said that, 
 from the day he first saw you, he thought of 
 you as his sweetheart." 
 
 I was surprised at this. 
 
 "I can't imagine Mark's Saying anything 
 so sentimental as that," I exclaimed. 
 
 "And last fall," he continued, "Mark 
 told me he had traveled these last three 
 years waiting for you to grow up, and also 
 because he hoped that after a return from 
 so long an absence, you'd get rid of that 
 brother and sister idea. He found, how- 
 ever, that you still clung to it, so in despair 
 he went to Canada. Couldn't stand it 
 there, came back to propose to you " 
 
 I interrupted him. 
 
 [62]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Wait!" I cried laughing. "I've heard 
 Mark work himself to such flights once or 
 twice before. The fact is, that all his life 
 he has never been denied a desire. He has 
 had everything he wanted, so he was con- 
 fident I would say *y es -' I didn't and he 
 was peeved and went away angry with me. 
 It was good for him to find out that there 
 was at least one thing that could not be his 
 for the asking." 
 
 "All's well that ends well," quoth Barry. 
 
 "This is ended for me." 
 
 "Are you sure?" he asked a little breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 I read something in his eyes as they held 
 mine; that if by chance he should come to 
 care for me, loyalty to an absent friend 
 would never let him reveal that fact. 
 
 I do wish Mark hadn't been quite so con- 
 fiding. Not that I am in love with Barry 
 Walters. I am not so susceptible as that. 
 In traveling about with you so much, I've 
 met a good many young men, and as they 
 pass in mental review before me, I can se- 
 lect but three who at all attract me. Mark, 
 Jo and this Barry Walters, and yet I am 
 not in love with any one of them. Mark is 
 [63]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the typical elder brother; generous, bossy, 
 grumbling when demands are made on him, 
 yet in the end, yielding and ready to back 
 you up or fight for you, if needed. Jo, the 
 ideal lover; tender, loyal, unselfish, devoted. 
 Barry, the comfortable husband; protective, 
 practical, broad-minded, companionable; but 
 if I ever have a husband, I want one who is 
 the ideal brother, lover and husband com- 
 bined. Don't want much, say you? Yes; 
 I do. Maybe there isn't such a combina- 
 tion in the land of the living. Then I'll 
 have none. 
 
 I am writing all this to you, daddy, dear, 
 because I want to get it straightened out 
 with myself. I hadn't thrashed the Mark 
 matter thoroughly since he asked me to 
 marry him and there wasn't time or op- 
 portunity to explain to you how I felt about 
 him. I knew you were disappointed and I 
 saw that it was what you had always hoped 
 for, but you want your Little Jumping Joan 
 to look before she leaps, don't you, and then 
 besides, / don't love Mark. 
 
 At first I didn't mean to tell you why he 
 went to Alaska with you, but by the time 
 you read this, you will know whether the 
 [64]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 dredger is a go or not, so it makes no dif- 
 ference. 
 
 But back to the main track where I 
 switched off to give a dissertation on suitors. 
 
 "Yes," I said to Barry. "I know it is 
 ended." 
 
 He looked * half exultant and half sad. 
 Then the Haphazards came back. Mother, 
 from the machine; Jo and Aline from the 
 cellar where they found no apples, the boys 
 having distributed them all to the Marine 
 Corps that afternoon. Tippy ceased sing- 
 ing and asked Hally to play for us to 
 dance. 
 
 Tippecanoe is a divine dancer, and there 
 is a long hall with a smooth floor lead- 
 ing from California. Jo and Aline, Tippy 
 and I danced while Mrs. Haphazard and 
 Barry sat in the doorway and watched 
 us. Finally Mrs. Haphazard pulled Tippy 
 away from me and said it was Barry's 
 turn. 
 
 Tippecanoe may be the poetry of motion 
 and the most graceful partner I ever had, 
 but Barry well ! I felt as if I had lost 
 all sense of volition and was willing to go 
 wheresoever he listeth. I had the sensation 
 [65]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 of being up in an aeroplane without any 
 fear of danger, only an overwhelming desire 
 to go higher and higher. I can outdance 
 the daughters of Shiloh, Barry says, so if 
 the Bureau fails, here will be my field. 
 
 Jo dances in a dreamy, drifting way that 
 is very pleasant, but belongs to the old-time 
 waltz. I wonder how Mark would dance if 
 he should ever consent to learn. I can see 
 him now as he used to sit, scowling and 
 sulking, against the wall at dancing school. 
 Do you know it's odd, but one of the things 
 I think I like best in Mark is that he 
 wouldn't learn to dance. 
 
 I wish Barry were poor; then we could 
 open a school of the dance and emulate 
 the Castles. I had just reached this point 
 when the music stopped. Why do music 
 and pleasant things always stop suddenly 
 at the very topnotch of enjoyment? 
 
 I looked up at Barry. I was thinking 
 only of how perfectly we danced together, 
 but he well, I saw in the way he nar- 
 rowed his eyes and set his shoulders that he 
 wasn't going to forget that Mark cared for 
 me. I am tempted to try to overcome that 
 resolve. 
 
 [66]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 At that moment I turned and saw Hally 
 standing in the doorway watching us. 
 
 "I only wanted to rest my hands a min- 
 ute," she said in defense. 
 
 "I'll rest my feet while you are resting 
 your hands," I said. "I'll play for you 
 and Barry to dance." 
 
 So I went to the piano and played until 
 all but Tippy were too tired to dance any 
 longer. If there were only a Victrola there 
 would be just three couples and no one left 
 out. But there won't be one. There are 
 so many things wanted that the Haphazards 
 say it's no use getting anything. 
 
 "Won't you sing?" Barry asked me. 
 "Mark told me you had the true contralto 
 voice." 
 
 "And you never told us," said Jo 
 reproachfully. 
 
 I sang two or three songs and then, oh 
 my dear! Mrs. Haphazard asked me if I 
 knew "Backward, turn Backward, oh Time, 
 in your flight." 
 
 "It's very old," she said apologetically. 
 
 I told her that it was your song the 
 one I always sang for you just before we 
 said good-night. 
 
 [67]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I began it without the slightest warning 
 of what was going to happen. I didn't get 
 very far. I felt my voice shaking, tried to 
 swallow a sob, and then down went my 
 head on the music rack and I had the 
 weeps hard. And yet I didn't shed a 
 tear when we parted, did I daddy? 
 
 Well, they all came to the piano, sorry and 
 scared, I guess. The Haphazards never cry; 
 not even the little boys. 
 
 Jo begged me to stop. Barry asked if I 
 didn't want some water. Tippy told his 
 mother to make some tea. Hally suggested 
 camphor, but it was Aline, little Aline, who 
 sat down on the bench beside me and put 
 her arm about me and told them all com- 
 mandingly to go way back to lower Cali- 
 fornia and sit down. 
 
 "Don't stop," she whispered, for I was 
 trying with all my might to brace up. "A 
 cry is a good clearing house." 
 
 But I did stop. She was very sweet and 
 sympathetic. I don't wonder Jo worships her. 
 
 When I was quite normal again, I was 
 
 awfully ashamed of my breakdown. I hate 
 
 making a sensation, and just when I 
 
 wanted to make a good impression on Barry! 
 
 [68]
 
 Down went my head on the music rack and I had the 
 weeps hard. Page 68.
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Aline," I said suddenly, "you can surely 
 tell me how is a girl to know when she 
 is in love?" 
 
 "Oh!" she cried with a little gasp. "You 
 can't mistake it, Joan. You'll know it the 
 same way you know when you like music." 
 
 "When your backbone gets the tremolo?" 
 I asked, interested. 
 
 "Exactly," she replied. "He may be a 
 different man from anyone you thought 
 you'd fancy. You may not agree with him 
 on any subject, but if you have the little 
 thrill when he speaks, or you feel there is 
 nothing in the world you wouldn't do for 
 him, and that the more you had to give up 
 for him, the more you would love him 
 then he is the man." 
 
 "Is this the way you feel towards Jo? 
 Then you must indeed love him." 
 
 "I love him so much," she said, her eyes 
 dilating, "that if he lost his position, his 
 home and everything, I'd be glad, because 
 then I would be so much the more to him 
 and try to make up for all he had lost." 
 
 I was relieved. I knew then I wasn't 
 the least in love with anyone. I never had 
 a thrill like that for Mark or Jo or Barry, 
 [69]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 and I would never marry one of them if 
 he should lose all he had. I'd love you all 
 the harder, though, daddy, if you lost your 
 all. 
 
 "Let's go to them," I said, rising. 
 
 Half-way to Lower California, we met 
 Barry coming toward us. He stopped, and 
 Aline slid by to rejoin her Jo. 
 
 "I am awfully ashamed that it happened," 
 I said. 
 
 "And I," he replied emphatically, "am 
 awfully glad 'it happened' and that I saw 
 'if* 
 
 "Why?" I asked in surprise. 
 
 I always supposed men detested weeping 
 women. Mark does. 
 
 "Because," he said. "I was afraid you 
 were always normal and practical and level- 
 headed, and I like to know there are depths, 
 even if I don't want to disturb them." 
 
 Well, Daddy Lynn, the song and the 
 tears seemed to bring you nearer, if they 
 did make me sad and lonely. 
 
 Good-night, and one hundred and one 
 kisses from 
 
 YOUR JOAN. 
 
 [70]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 April 19th. 
 DEAREST OF DADDIES: 
 
 THAT nice long letter you wrote while 
 on the Gulf of Alaska came the next 
 day after I cried for you, and I have read 
 it more times than I could count. I felt 
 like crying again when I received a check 
 for the money I sent you by Mark. I so 
 wanted you to have it. You may need it, 
 and I don't. I know you wouldn't take a 
 cent from Mark if you were penniless. I 
 have put the money in our building and 
 loan fund, so it is ready to send to you if 
 you need it, or to build us a barracks. 
 
 You say that it made Mark mad; that if 
 he had known what was in the package he 
 would never have carried it. That made 
 me mad until I read that you thought his 
 anger assumed to hide other feelings. I 
 know you are very sorry that things are as 
 they are between Mark and me, and it's 
 all the sweeter in you to say so little about 
 it. I know Mark. He'll round to comfort- 
 ably in time and we'll be back in our little 
 en famille routine when you both return. 
 [71]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I wish he would not be so grouchy. I miss 
 his letters. 
 
 The next day after I met Barry I came 
 home earlier than usual from the Bureau 
 to play my role of Pocahontas. 
 
 Spring rains have ceased and the sun and 
 wind are getting in their drying work, so 
 the pond will soon be a yard and the canoe 
 out of business, prospects which make the 
 little boys feel bad. 
 
 I dressed for my part by letting my hair 
 hang in two braids, donned a very short, 
 fantastic skirt, moccasins, a beaded jacket 
 and a gorgeous improvisation of an Indian 
 maid's feathered headgear, and went down 
 to the water-front. I was unprepared for 
 the large number of performers engaged for 
 this impromptu drama and a little embar- 
 rassed at finding myself surrounded on the 
 banks of the Chickahominy by a band of 
 boys. They gave me an ovation befitting 
 the costume of my star part and I soon 
 ceased to feel like a fish out of water and 
 became interested in staging the play. My 
 memories of that part of our early history 
 are a bit hazy, but I assured my prompters 
 that dramatists never stuck to the truth 
 [72]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 any more than historians did, so we impro- 
 vised and improved, I think, upon the origi- 
 nal. At last the parts were all given out, 
 stage directions issued and the play was 
 on. 
 
 Haphiram as Captain John Smith went 
 down the Chickahominy in a canoe accom- 
 panied by one of his Indian guides famil- 
 iarly known as "Chilblains." As they came 
 shooting down the stream, they were at- 
 tacked by the hostile Indians. Hap played 
 his part most realistically, leaping from the 
 canoe and wading (he wore rubber boots) 
 to the marshlands, often referred to as the 
 "onion bed." At last he was overpowered 
 and led to a fire which refused to blaze. 
 Then John Smith, or "Cap" as he was more 
 frequently and intimately addressed, asked 
 to be taken to the Chief Opechanaugh, 
 strenuously portrayed by Herk. After some 
 parley which carried me back to the days 
 when I, too, spoke Hog Latin, the prisoner 
 was bound to a tree by one of his garters 
 which was conveniently hanging. He was 
 about to be shot when Opechanaugh inter- 
 vened, and they laid down their arms 
 bows and arrows and sling shots. 
 [73]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 In Indian file they led the Captain the 
 length of the onion bed to an old apple-tree. 
 Here he was confined in a chicken coop 
 while the Chief and his followers engaged 
 in a war dance. Food, consisting of a pan 
 of popcorn and a bottle of licorice-water, 
 was passed in to Smith, who made such a 
 vigorous and wholesale onslaught upon his 
 rations that the hostile demonstration of 
 resentment became very realistic and cries 
 of "pig" and "cheat" rang out. 
 
 For three days (stage space of time) they 
 continued their orgies and incantations ac- 
 companied by a tin-pan orchestra. Echoes 
 of the hideous din still ring in my ears. 
 
 Finally to my relief the prisoner and his 
 captives moved on to the seat of Powhatan, 
 played by Heck. (The family, of course, 
 had the principal parts as they furnished 
 the settings and the costumes). His wig- 
 wam, constructed by putting a bedquilt 
 over a clothes-line and pegging it down with 
 clothes-pins, was on a rise of ground destined 
 to give forth potatoes if they didn't come 
 up something else. 
 
 A horrible yell went up on the arrival of 
 Captain Smith. He was again feasted, 
 [74]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 sparingly this time, the pan being held out 
 long enough for only one grab and the 
 licorice-water bottle jerked away with a 
 suddenness that nearly choked the remon- 
 strating "Cap." 
 
 After another consultation in Hog Latin, 
 stones were piled up and Smith rudely 
 thrown across them. As he was about to 
 be slain, I Pocahontas, plead with Father 
 Heck for his life, but to no avail. I made a 
 hit by using the Indian words Mark had 
 taught me when we used to play this ab- 
 sorbing game. Then at the risk of my life, 
 I clasped the prisoner's head in my arms 
 and bent my face to his. I quickly drew 
 back; he was so very redolent of licorice- 
 water. 
 
 Powhatan relented and consented to let 
 Captain John live, on condition that he 
 send him two guns, tobacco, and numerous 
 other things. All hands then gained the 
 stoop by means of the Isthmus of Lettuce 
 Land. Here we were surprised by the sound 
 of vigorous applause, and Barry Walters 
 appeared in the doorway to Winnipeg. 
 
 Alas for the Judge and the maiden! Alas 
 for my hope to make Barry forget Mark! 
 [75]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I was a fright and looked altogether too 
 much like the real thing in Indians to charm 
 a suitor. I had not expected an audience 
 even of grown-up Haphazards, as all the 
 family save Grandma, who was napping in 
 her room, were away. 
 
 "It would make fine moving pictures," 
 cried Barry, as I scudded past him. He 
 came in pursuit, but, thank goodness, got 
 lost in the shuffle and was stranded near 
 the Needles. 
 
 I changed my costume and remained in 
 Oregon until the hour for dinner (the night 
 meal is dinner) to which I had been 
 asked. 
 
 When I came down Barry was still there, 
 the delivery of three quarts of ice cream 
 announcing that he was a self-invited guest. 
 I have learned that this is a common custom 
 of his. Sometimes he sends a fowl or roast, 
 pleading that he can't get one properly 
 cooked at the hotel, or, maybe, some out 
 of season luxury which he says tastes so 
 much better at a home table. He does 
 these things so easily and so delicately 
 that the Haphazard pride is not wounded. 
 
 "As Pocahontas," he said to me, "you 
 [76]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 looked very much like that picture taken 
 when you were fourteen." 
 
 "Which one was that?" I asked. 
 
 "The one Mark has always carried in his 
 watch." 
 
 Think of our gruff Mark doing anything 
 like that! I wonder if he has taken it out 
 of his watch now? 
 
 "I still don't know which one you mean," 
 I told him. "I didn't know he had any 
 picture of me in his watch." 
 
 "It's the one where you are wearing a 
 big picture hat and are holding a kitten in 
 your arms. You looked no older than that 
 in Pocahontas attire when you were plead- 
 ing with Heck I mean Powhatan and 
 I'll venture to say you felt no older." 
 
 I entirely ignored these remarks. 
 
 "I inspected your Bureau today," he re- 
 marked, trying again to get a rise out of me. 
 He succeeded. 
 
 "You did! I didn't see you." 
 
 "No; it was at the hurry-up lunch hour, 
 and the place was crowded. You seemed 
 quite busy yourself at the Bureau, and I 
 took observations. I thought I owed it to 
 Mark to see that everything was all right." 
 [77]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 So you see, father, that with my gentle 
 mastiff, Jo, and my watchdog, Barry, I am 
 as well protected as if you and Mark were 
 with me. I rather resented Barry's pre- 
 sumption in "seeing that everything was all 
 right," and I asked him sarcastically if 
 things met with his approval. 
 
 "Entirely," he said gravely. "I saw you 
 had a cool, impersonal, business-like way 
 with you that kept your customers at the 
 conventional angle of trade. I know Gou- 
 dolaris, too, and he is a nice, respectable 
 fellow, so I am well satisfied." 
 
 I am writing you this, because I know you 
 will feel better if my assurance is indorsed 
 by a man and one who is a friend of 
 Mark's. 
 
 Every time Barry looked at me during 
 dinner and throughout the evening his eyes 
 danced and his mouth twitched. I suppose 
 he was thinking of my outlandish appear- 
 ance as Pocahontas. However, as he was 
 taking his departure he made amends by 
 asking Hally and myself to go to the theatre 
 and to supper afterwards the following 
 Thursday night. 
 
 I wonder if he invited me to chaperon 
 [78]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Hally, or asked her to help him sustain his 
 role of the faithful friend? 
 
 Hally was simply in the seventh heaven. 
 All the Haphazards adore the theatre. As 
 Mr. Irving is one of the owners of the prin- 
 cipal opera-house, Aline always has two 
 tickets at her disposal. This, of course, 
 takes care of Jo. Tippecanoe ushers his 
 way in. Barry often sends matinee tickets 
 to Mrs. Haphazard and Hally. All the 
 nickels the little boys can lay their hands 
 on are invested in picture-show admissions. 
 
 "What will you wear, Hally?" asked 
 Tippy suddenly, his ruling passion bringing 
 the first little cloud to his sister's blue sky. 
 
 "I can fix up a white waist for her," said 
 Mrs. Haphazard, "and that's all that will 
 show." 
 
 "She will need a white dress for her gradu- 
 ation," said Jo thoughtfully. "She might 
 as well have it now. You buy one for her, 
 mother, and I will pay for it." 
 
 "No," refused Hally flatly, "I can get 
 along without a new dress for graduating, 
 because the class has voted to wear caps and 
 gowns." 
 
 "No, Jo," agreed Mrs. Haphazard. "It 
 [79]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 was the first time I had ever heard her speak 
 so emphatically. : 'You gave me your entire 
 salary this week, and you are not going 
 to spend a cent on any of us again this 
 month." 
 
 I had been working my suggestion faculty 
 ever since Barry asked us, for I was deter- 
 mined Hally should have a new dress and 
 some fixings without poor Jo putting up for 
 it. She is much taller than I, so I couldn't 
 lend her any of my gowns. I suddenly had 
 an inspiration and I ran from the room after 
 Tippecanoe who was going upstairs. I meant 
 to take him by the collar, if necessary, and 
 make him buy Hally some finery for the 
 
 occasion. 
 
 tt 
 
 Tippy," I asked, "have you any money?" 
 
 "Sure!" he answered, putting his hand in 
 his pocket. "I haven't spent my last week's 
 salary yet. "How much do you want?" 
 
 "I want enough to buy material to make 
 Hally a new dress." 
 
 He looked quite staggered by this demand. 
 
 "You've no idea," I cajoled, "how per- 
 fectly charming your little sister will look 
 when she is furbished up a little, and it isn't 
 fair, you know, for Jo to do it all, especially 
 [80]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 now that he ought to be saving up to get 
 married. 
 
 Tippecanoe's hand was coming out of his 
 pocket now, and he handed me his last 
 week's wages and his all. 
 
 It was sad, but then it would be good for 
 him. You used to say something like that 
 when you persuaded me to take bad medicine. 
 
 I hurried back to California. 
 
 "Rally," I cried triumphantly. "Tippy 
 has given me the money to buy you a new 
 gown." 
 
 "Oh!" gasped Hally incredulously. "Poor 
 Tippy! He's been saving up to get a spring 
 overcoat." 
 
 "Well," he can get it in the fall," I said. 
 "I saw some lovely white sheer stuff today 
 marked down. Mrs. Munk can cut and fit 
 like a professional, and we will all pitch in 
 and make it." 
 
 Rally's eyes were shining as we began to 
 discuss the fashioning of the new gown. 
 
 "Make it long sleeves, Joan," she re- 
 minded me. . J* You know my gloves are 
 short." 
 
 "No;" I replied. "You'll have short 
 sleeves. Mark brought me two dozen pairs 
 [81]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 of long white gloves and two dozen silk 
 stockings when he came home last fall. So 
 you see I can easily spare a pair of 
 each." 
 
 "You shall wear my evening coat and 
 slippers," offered Aline eagerly. "Jo and I 
 are going to the matinee performance, so 
 I won't need them." 
 
 For the next four days we sewed like mad. 
 I took the sleeves and the girdle to the 
 Bureau to make between suggestions. 
 
 Thursday we had an early dinner and right 
 away afterwards I began to prepare Moses 
 for the fair. Hally wears her hair, which is 
 long and golden, in a looped-up braid and 
 adorns it with a big perky bow in little- 
 girl fashion. The things I did to that wealth 
 of hair! Her head was perfectly regal when 
 I had coiled the golden bands about it and 
 secured them with the jeweled pins Mark 
 gave me last Christmas. 
 
 "Now, look at yourself!" I commanded, 
 and turned her around to the mirror. 
 
 "Oh, Joan! I don't know me!" 
 
 "You're never again," I declared emphat- 
 ically, "to wear that eight-grade braid 
 down your back. I'll do your hair for you 
 [82]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 every day until you learn how to manage it 
 yourself." 
 
 The poor child was so delighted she could 
 hardly wait to get into her dress. When 
 she was arrayed in all her glory I left her 
 staring in the mirror quite overcome by her 
 grandeur. 
 
 I was in the hall when Barry came. 
 'You look very sweet, Joan," he said 
 approvingly. 
 
 Then, Hally appeared. From the tip of 
 Aline's Cinderella slippers to the jeweled 
 tops of my Christmas pins she was a dream 
 a vision in white. Her cheeks were 
 flushed, her eyes radiant. 
 
 We hadn't told Barry a word about our 
 elaborate preparations, meaning to surprise 
 him. We did. 
 
 "Why, Hally!" 
 
 He really couldn't stop staring. The 
 family all came into the hall to see us off. 
 Tippy looked more pleased than he would 
 have looked if he were wearing the coveted 
 coat. 
 
 "The finer the feathers, the finer the bird," 
 he said. "I didn't suppose our little Hally 
 was such a stunner." 
 
 [83]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "But, Hally, how did you come to grow 
 up over night?" asked Barry. 
 
 "She's been grown up," I told him, "for 
 some time, but none of you discovered it." 
 
 "She has put the kibosh on you, Tip," 
 laughed Barry. 
 
 "It was Tippy," said Hally quickly, "who 
 gave me this beautiful dress." 
 
 "Good for you, Tip," and Barry's hand 
 came down in surprised approval on Tippy's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Joan suggested it to me," confessed 
 Tippy, "and she made most of the dress." 
 
 "Aline loaned me her slippers and coat," 
 added Hally gleefully. 
 
 It's simply impossible for the Haphazards 
 to have any family secrets. 
 
 "And," she continued, "Joan gave me 
 these long white gloves and my silk stock- 
 ings." 
 
 "No; Mark Shelby gave you those," I 
 said with a short laugh. 
 
 "Well, Tippy," said Barry, "I never can 
 take care of two such good-looking girls. 
 Meet us in the lobby after the play and go 
 to supper with us." 
 
 Tippecanoe looked as pleased as Hally 
 [84]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 and hurried on to the theatre, where we 
 followed later in Barry's car. You should 
 see the pride with which Tippy led us down 
 to our seats and handed us our coupons and 
 programs. I managed to have Hally sit 
 next to Barry, and he was very nice and 
 attentive to her. I think I enjoyed watch- 
 ing her naive air of childish pleasure more 
 than I did the people on the stage, and I 
 am sure Barry did. 
 
 When we were home I went into Rally's 
 room to help her out of her dress. 
 
 "Oh, Joan!" she sighed. "Tomorrow I'll 
 be back in the ashes again a Cinderella. 
 Barry won't want to look at me or talk to 
 me the way he did tonight. It was my 
 clothes." 
 
 "No, it wasn't," I said. "It was simply 
 that you felt the moral support that comes 
 with the knowledge of being well-dressed, and 
 you lived up to the clothes. It takes the 
 right kind of a frame, you know, to show 
 off the picture." 
 
 She looked at me wistfully. "I want to 
 ask you something. Do you like Barry?" 
 
 "I should say I do," I replied heartily. 
 "I think he's a peach." 
 [85]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Oh," she said joyfully. If you loved 
 him, you wouldn't say it that way. I 
 thought if you cared " 
 
 She paused again, blushing. I looked at 
 her keenly. This was no schoolgirl's first 
 adoration, no hero-worship. She really cared. 
 I knew that until tonight Barry had looked 
 upon Hally about as he did upon the twins. 
 He wasn't susceptible to clothes as Tippy 
 is, but every man likes to see a girl trig and 
 taut, and I had often observed him looking 
 in dismay at Rally's run-down heels and 
 knee-sprung skirt. 
 
 "Hally," I said gravely, "I don't care 
 for him in the way you mean, I'm heart- 
 whole and fancy free. But if you want to 
 win him, you've got to turn over a new 
 leaf. Will you?" 
 
 "Yes; I'll turn over any number of leaves 
 if it will make him grand to me like he was 
 tonight. What must I do?" she asked 
 wistfully. 
 
 "You must look your best for one thing. 
 It isn't altogether clothes. Even shabbiness 
 can be ship-shape. You can fix your hair 
 as it is now, and keep well groomed, and 
 we must manage for a few more new things. 
 [86]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Wouldn't you like to earn some money? 
 Enough to dress yourself?" 
 
 "Oh, yes! If I only could! I don't 
 wonder Tippy spends all his money for 
 clothes. I didn't know it felt so nice to be 
 dressed up. Of course when I am graduated 
 I plan to do something. Maybe I can learn 
 typewriting." 
 
 "You mustn't wait until then," I said. 
 "If you're going to do a thing, don't put it 
 off a minute." 
 
 "What can I do?" she asked in helpless 
 appeal. 
 
 "You wait," I told her, "until I get to 
 the Bureau where I left my thinking cap. 
 That's where my suggestions come to me. 
 Now, good-night." 
 
 I went to bed, but not to sleep. First of 
 all, I had to readjust my own program. I 
 had thought to have at least a mildly pleas- 
 ant little flirtation with Barry, but of course 
 now I must cut that out. I can't hurt 
 another Haphazard, for Tippecanoe does 
 care in his little-boy way. Hally shall have 
 her chance and I must work to keep her up 
 to concert pitch. I found I couldn't wait 
 until morning. I must do night work along 
 [87]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the suggestion line, so I lay awake until 
 suddenly came a Bureau-born thought. 
 
 I put on negligee and slippers and sped 
 down the hall to Rally's room. The light 
 was still shining under her door, so I knocked 
 and told her I was coming in. She was 
 sitting before the mirror, and she blushed 
 vividly when she saw me. 
 
 "I've been practising on my hair. See! 
 I've learned how to do it." 
 
 So you see love can teach hairdressing. 
 
 "I just ran in to tell you that I've thought 
 of a way for you to earn some money at 
 once." 
 
 "Tell me, Joan!" she cried, dropping the 
 comb and spilling half a pound of hair pins. 
 
 "No; not until I've worked out the 
 details. Come to the Bureau tomorrow after- 
 noon when you are out of school and we'll 
 go shopping." 
 
 The next noon, instead of having my 
 luncheon at the restaurant, I went to the 
 tea and coffee store for my refreshments 
 and suggested to the proprietor that he serve 
 marmalade and toast with his tea. 
 
 "Marmalade! What is that, now, and 
 where could I get some?" 
 [88]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I know someone," I told him, "who can 
 make marmalade to the queen's taste. You 
 can serve it and sell it, for every woman 
 who tastes it will want to buy some to take 
 home." 
 
 "I'll try it," he replied promptly. 
 
 Hally came in after school and was sur- 
 prised that anyone should want to buy 
 marmalade. The Haphazard credit was good 
 so we bought some patent pumps, a tailor- 
 made suit, hat, material for blouses, some 
 blue stuff for a house dress that made her 
 eyes a heavenly blue, and a few accessories. 
 
 These purchases were all nails in my 
 coffin, but I enjoyed driving them in. We 
 went home and started on a job lot of 
 marmalade. The next morning, Saturday, 
 she went with me to the tea and coffee store. 
 I stopped in again at night to learn the result 
 and found he had sold out and wanted all 
 she could make. 
 
 The family were quite excited and inter- 
 ested in this new source of revenue. I told 
 them that the tea and coffee man wanted an 
 original name for the marmalade. 
 
 "Mildew Marmalade," suggested Hap- 
 hiram with his funny little giggle. 
 [89]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Or Marmalade from an old Manse," 
 offered grandma, and that was all I could 
 get out of them, so I told the tea and coffee 
 man he would have to do his own christening. 
 
 The spring planting is finished and the 
 Haphazards have sown a yard-full of stuff. 
 Roller-skating season is now at its height, 
 but Hap, Herk and Heck can only look 
 on wistfully. They manufactured a pair of 
 skates, using big empty spools for rollers, and 
 there are three very black and blue and 
 bruised Haphazards as a result of home 
 industry. 
 
 Tomorrow will be my birthday, and I feel 
 sure I shall have something from you. It 
 will be my first since I was six years old 
 that Mark has let pass, as I feel sure that 
 he will do. This is where I ring off, but 
 look out for the next car. 
 
 YOUR OWN JOAN. 
 
 [90]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 April 26th. 
 MY OWN DEAR FATHER: 
 
 THE birthday letter and the beautiful, 
 beautiful presents were forwarded here, 
 but I'll begin with the morning of my anni- 
 versary. I had been very careful not to tell 
 the Haphazards what an eventful day it 
 was, for I didn't want them to give me any- 
 thing, but it seems Hally found it out from 
 the fly-leaf of one of my books, so when I 
 came down to breakfast, there was a little 
 pile of presents at my place. The Hap- 
 hazards make a great deal of birthdays and 
 holidays. There were six knitted wash- 
 cloths from Grandma, some bedroom slip- 
 pers from Mrs. Haphazard, a new song from 
 Jo, a girdle from Tippy, a hand-stitched 
 handkerchief from Hally, and the three little 
 boys had put together and bought me a 
 bottle of quadruple extract of tuberose 
 perfume. 
 
 I was so surprised and overcome I couldn't 
 
 speak, so I jumped up and beginning with 
 
 Grandma kissed each and every Haphazard. 
 
 When I came to Tippy, he drew back and 
 
 [91]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 said: "Wait! I want my turn to come last, 
 after Heck." Heck is ten minutes younger 
 than Herk. This was somewhat embarras- 
 sing and made me feel conscious when I 
 came back to embrace him, especially as he 
 gave me one extra "to grow on." 
 
 When I reached the Bureau I found 
 another surprise in a box of American 
 Beauties from Barry. I haven't made much 
 progress yet in heading him off and Hally- 
 ward. He pays tribute to her tailor-made 
 style, her "done-up hair" and the dress of 
 beautiful blue, and he treats her with the 
 homage born of theatre night, but he con- 
 tinues to flutter about me, probably because 
 he thinks I am forbidden fruit. 
 
 Barry, Aline and I were invited to 
 dine at the house in honor of my birthday. 
 When I came home Hap, Heck and Herk 
 chorused: "We've got three surprises for 
 
 you." 
 
 The "first surprise" was that their father 
 had come home. He is a nice, quiet gentle- 
 man and yet not so meek as that description 
 sounds. He was very sweet in his greeting 
 of me. 
 
 "We've always wanted one more little 
 [92]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 girl to come to us," he said smiling, "and 
 now she has. So we have three.". 
 
 "Three!" I repeated stupidly. 
 
 "Aline," he explained, looking at her 
 something the way Jo does, and she in- 
 stantly slipped into his outstretched arms. 
 
 The second surprise was a cake with 
 twenty candles. My first birthday cake! 
 And my first party, too, I told them. 
 
 Hally was so sweet about the roses Barry- 
 sent me, and not in the least envious. When 
 he came to dinner, he brought her a lovely 
 bunch of violets, the favorite flower of 
 flowers for me. That was one thing I didn't 
 scold Mark for being so lavish with. 
 
 I kept looking for the third surprise and 
 finally after dinner asked for it. 
 
 "We couldn't let you have it before din- 
 ner," explained Mrs. Haphazard, "because 
 we notice that you don't eat when you are 
 excited." 
 
 She brought out two packages one very 
 large and one very small. 
 
 "They came by express this afternoon," 
 she said. 
 
 "It's like Christmas," said the little Hap- 
 hazards, jumping about while I hurried to 
 [93]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 take the wrappings from your present. Oh, 
 you duck of a daddy, where did you find that 
 lovely, Japanese-imported kimono with the 
 delicate, exquisite tints, and the slippers to 
 match? The darling letter was the best of all. 
 
 I tried on the kimono at once and let them 
 "oh" and "ah" until Heck called my atten- 
 tion to the little package. I opened it with 
 misgivings. I was so glad Mark had not 
 let my birthday pass without a remembrance 
 of some kind, but I feared and expected to 
 find one of those expensive pieces of jewelry 
 he is so fond of giving to me. 
 
 Well, Daddy Lynn, when I opened the 
 box and saw! Oh! I just danced up and 
 down and cried and laughed and kissed it 
 over and over, while the Haphazards grew 
 nervous. You see they never had any downs 
 so they can't have any ups. They always 
 keep to that mid-channel of safe serenity 
 that cheerful people travel. Me for the 
 showers so you can have rainbows; the 
 winter, so you can have summer. 
 
 "See here, little Jumping Joan," said 
 Barry finally, "suppose you come down to 
 earth long enough to show us what you have 
 there." 
 
 [94]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "The loveliest thing in the world," I said, 
 and I held up that darling picture of you in 
 the beautiful little oval frame what I have 
 always begged you for, but never succeeded 
 in dragging you to a studio. Mark must 
 have manacled you. 
 
 "He looks just like a father," said 
 Grandma when your picture was being 
 passed around. 
 
 "That's just what he is," I said, and then 
 I picked up Mark's card from the box. It 
 read: "To Little Jumping Joan from Mark." 
 
 In my delight I kissed that too, and 
 looked up to meet Barry's ardent gaze. In 
 a flash I knew what to do for Hally's 
 sake. I handed him the card. 
 
 "If he were here this minute, I'd eat him 
 alive," I said. "Wasn't it darling in him?" 
 
 "You do care for him," he said in a low, 
 tense voice. 
 
 "More than I knew," I replied unflinch- 
 ingly. 
 
 He was silent for a moment and then he 
 told me seriously how very glad he was. 
 
 Now, daddy, don't let this give you any 
 wrong impressions, or raise any false hopes. 
 It wa the gift, not the giver, that made me 
 [95]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 so gushing and it atones for many of Mark's 
 shortcomings. When I went up to Oregon 
 that night, I put the picture before me and 
 under the spell of your dear eyes which look 
 right into mine, I wrote Mark a little note 
 of thanks and sent it to him at Nome. 
 Everything goes to Nome. I hope it will 
 thaw the ice and bring my brother back 
 again. Do you know, daddy, some way I 
 didn't like Barry's calling me by the name 
 you and Mark gave me so long ago. Be- 
 cause I've known him such a short time. 
 Maybe (I try to be honest with myself) 
 I resent the knowledge that he was so easily 
 swayed to Hally. Still, I really want my 
 nickname to be for you and Mark solely. 
 
 The next evening as I was coming home 
 after my lonely restaurant dinner, Barry's 
 car shot by. He was driving, and Hally, 
 resplendent in Aline's motoring coat and hat, 
 sat beside him. It was the first time he had 
 taken her anywhere without a chaperone. 
 A little farther down the street Jo and Aline 
 passed, so absorbed that they did not see 
 me. I went on home feeling very lonely 
 and sure that no one loved me except my 
 old daddy who is so far away. 
 [96]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Mildew Manse seemed to be empty, 
 though I knew Grandma must be there 
 somewhere. I sat down alone in California. 
 It was very quiet. The placid ticking of 
 the big clock sounded awfully loud. It pays 
 no attention to time, as we understand it, 
 but has a system all its own. Grandma likes 
 to hear it strike, so it is regularly wound up. 
 When it struck nine and twenty times, I 
 got up and went outside. I sat down on 
 the doorstep and felt that I wanted to do 
 something desperate, something that would 
 make Barry write to Mark or bring a sorry 
 look to Jo's kind eyes. I understood then 
 how some men men with natures like 
 mine go on a "bat" when things go wrong. 
 
 Then along came my saviors. 
 
 "We've got a bat!" they cried. "Come 
 on to the barnyard." 
 
 I did, and they made the astonishing dis- 
 covery that I could throw a ball "just like 
 a boy." 
 
 I wish Mark would come back and fall 
 in love with Hally. They would make an 
 ideal couple. 
 
 [97]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 April 29th. 
 
 DADDY: When I got this far I was too 
 sleepy to write any more, and the next night 
 I was too sad to finish. Something tragic 
 happened. Jo lost his position which every- 
 one supposed to be as fixed as the evening 
 star. It happened in this way: When Old 
 Rackney came back Jo announced his en- 
 gagement and asked if he might not expect 
 a raise when he was married. Old Rackney 
 hemmed and hawed and finally said he was 
 sorry, but he had decided to make a change 
 in the business. He had a smart young 
 chap on the string who had some capital to 
 put in the concern, and so he wouldn't need 
 Jo any more. The old Mutt! Here Jo has 
 slaved and built up the business, and this 
 was what was handed him as a reward! 
 
 Jo was gritty and resigned on the spot 
 which wasn't what Old Rackney expected 
 or wanted. He was counting on Jo to break 
 in his raw recruit, the piker with the pile 
 of money. I hope he'll lose every cent he 
 puts in and that Old Rackney will be put 
 in jail, and then some. 
 
 Jo came home rather disconsolate, though 
 [98]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the rest of them did not let loose their cheer 
 creed. 
 
 " You'll get another position, Jo," Tippy 
 assured him. "It's easy enough." 
 
 Mrs. Haphazard said things always had 
 to get worse to get better, and she had no 
 doubt but what this would be the means of 
 getting a higher salaried position with a 
 chance to rise. 
 
 Hally said it was so fortunate it didn't 
 happen before her father went out on the 
 road, so he needn't know until Jo had gotten 
 something else to do. 
 
 Aline lived up to her theory of what she 
 was going to be to Jo in trouble, and 
 Grandma said how nice it was that it hap- 
 pened at just this particular time, because 
 now Jo could spade up the garden which 
 would save hiring someone to do it. 
 
 The next day something else happened. 
 Tippy lost the tombstone occupation. The 
 family were so accustomed to Tippy's losing 
 a position that the occurrence was never 
 noticed, but this time it was worse than 
 usual. The firm he was working for failed 
 and couldn't pay Tippy a cent, and he had 
 actually sold a broken shaft column and five 
 [99]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 markers. For the first time in his career, 
 he showed he could stand his ground. He 
 demanded his pay. 
 
 "You can't get blood out of a stone," said 
 the senior member doggedly. "There isn't 
 a copper in the coffers. You might take 
 what's coming to you in granite. There's 
 one or two of those defective 'To the mem- 
 ory of that weren't inventoried." 
 
 The man was joking, but Tippy instantly 
 picked him up on it. 
 
 "All right!" he declared. "I'll take that 
 square slab of a stone marked 'Little 
 Willie' the one the folks wouldn't take 
 because it should have been spelled W-i-1-l-y, 
 and then the dots to the i's were too large." 
 
 "Whaddy' want that for?" demanded the 
 man. 
 
 "For pay," reiterated Tippy. 
 
 "Take it," said the debtor grimly. "I 
 only wish we could liquidate all our indebt- 
 edness so easily." 
 
 So Tippecanoe had j it sent up to the 
 house. 
 
 "Whatever are you going to do with it?" 
 I asked. "Start a graveyard somewhere?" 
 
 "The floor," he explained, "in front of the 
 [100]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 fireplace in California is all rotted away, and 
 I am going to have this nice stone laid 
 in." 
 
 And here I had been thinking that Tip- 
 pecanoe had no thought beyond clothes! 
 
 There was a man who did all-round 
 tinkering jobs for the Haphazards, and he 
 was summoned to "set the stone." He set 
 it all right, but he got it wrong side up, or 
 rather right side up, and it was rather de- 
 pressing when we sat around the firet hat 
 night one of those cold, rainy, November- 
 April nights to stare at "Little Willie" in 
 the flickering twilight. 
 
 When I commented on the fact, Haphiram 
 went out to the barn and brought in Peter 
 Paul, one of the donated cats who haunted 
 the pergola-barn, and stretched him out 
 across the lettering, but Peter Paul was not 
 to the hearthstone born and he fled in fright 
 to his more familiar environment of back 
 fences. Seeing him stretched out there in 
 that brief instant, however, gave me an idea 
 and I went upstairs and brought back a 
 small leopard skin, relic of Mark's wild- 
 game hunting days, and laid it protectingly 
 over "Little Willie." 
 
 [101]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "The sparks will set fire to it," they ex- 
 claimed in protest. 
 
 "There are enough of us to put them 
 out," I retorted. 
 
 When Barry came home he said he was 
 very glad Jo had cut loose i rom old Rackney 
 and he offered Tippecanoe a position in the 
 office of his factory as assistant bookkeeper. 
 
 "Tippy can't keep books," I told Barry. 
 
 "I know it," he admitted. "I wouldn't 
 have offered him the position only I was 
 sure he would be tired of it in a week and 
 quit. Tip's gone up in my estimation though 
 since I heard of his taking Little Willie for 
 reimbursement. I think your Italian hand, 
 Joan, is remodeling this family." 
 
 "I suppose you mean the marmalade 
 scheme. Maybe you don't approve of hard, 
 cash ideas for Hally's little head?" 
 
 "No; I approve of women's earning money 
 in domestic pursuits. It's the commercial at- 
 mosphere of offices that goes against the grain." 
 
 "How very sordid my little Bureau must 
 seem!" 
 
 "That won't last long," he predicted. 
 ''You'll be having a home of your own be- 
 fore another year." 
 
 [102]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I didn't tell him I should never marry. 
 I am boosting for Hally, but sometimes it's 
 hard work. 
 
 Nothing seemed right with my world that 
 afternoon, so I put an "out" sign on the 
 Bureau and went for a walk to the place I 
 love, a high bluff overlooking the river. I like 
 to stand in the open space and look up at a 
 faraway sky and down into the lonely river. 
 
 Whom should I meet there but Jo, stand- 
 ing, looking just looking, as I had planned 
 to do. 
 
 It was a little slipped-in-summer day and 
 we sat down on a knoll and contemplated 
 the beauties of nature together. 
 
 "It's the most beautiful place in town," 
 I said. "Why don't people build here?" 
 
 "The property has been in litigation for 
 some time and couldn't be sold. It belongs 
 to Barry, or will, when the clouds roll off 
 the title." 
 
 "Speaking of angels and clouds " I 
 said, as an automobile stopped. 
 
 In another moment Barry came up to us. 
 
 "Good!" he said to Jo. "I was planning 
 to find you on my way from here. What are 
 you two people plotting?" 
 [103]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "We met by the usual way," I told him, 
 "and Jo was telling me the reason no one 
 had built on this beautiful place." 
 
 "The reason is removed," he said. "I 
 can read my title clear to the whole Walters 
 Subdivision now. That is why I wanted to 
 see you. I don't wish such a lovely resi- 
 dence district as this would make to be 
 mutilated by factories and working men's 
 homes. I want it platted and put on the 
 market, improved, for homes for the best 
 class of people." 
 
 "Why not go to the Bureau of Sugges- 
 tions?" asked Jo with his sweet smile. 
 "Joan will surely 'ken a wy." 
 
 :< Yes," I replied promptly. "At what 
 hour this afternoon may I expect you? It 
 is three o'clock now and I am going back 
 to the Bureau soon." 
 
 He didn't take me seriously of course. 
 
 "I'll drive you back in my car and you 
 can hand me suggestions en route. But, 
 Jo, I mean what I say." 
 
 "So do I," I replied quickly. "And I 
 
 don't care to ride, thank you. I came for 
 
 the walk. And I have something to tell 
 
 Jo, so you ride away and call at five and I 
 
 [104]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 will tell you a whole lot about lots. Then 
 if you don't like my suggestions, I will give 
 you back your money and you can see Jo. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 He left reluctantly, and Jo and I sat in 
 silence for a moment. Such a big idea had 
 flashed into my head when Barry told 
 us about the land, and the big idea was 
 followed by a whole train of little supple- 
 mentary ideas like sparks that radiate from 
 a fire. 
 
 "Jo," I said, and something in my voice 
 must have conveyed to him that it was an 
 auspicious thought, for he sat up straight 
 and looked expectant, i 
 
 "Yes," he encouraged. 
 
 "Cross my palm with a silver quarter, 
 please," I pleaded. 
 
 He laughed and handed me a quarter." I 
 hope it wasn't his only one, but I had to 
 have it, as you will see. 
 
 "Barry will come to me at five, and I 
 shall tell him that this is one of the instances 
 when I refer my clients to some one more 
 qualified to issue information on the subject. 
 I shall refer him to you." 
 
 "Then why," asked the bewildered Jo, 
 [105]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "didn't you tell him to talk to me about it 
 when he was here?" 
 
 "Why, you see," I explained, "I get a 
 quarter in this way from both you and 
 Barry." 
 
 "No," he spoke decidedly, "that isn't 
 your reason." 
 
 "Well, Jo, you haven't any suggestion 
 aside from the usual method of real estate 
 men in selling the lots, have you?" 
 
 "Why, no." 
 
 "I thought not. I have, and I wanted the 
 time to put you wise, so when I send Barry 
 to you, you'll be primed for him. That's 
 why I took your quarter so you would be 
 entitled to give the idea as your own." 
 
 It's a long idea, daddy, and I am going 
 to save it for another letter. You'll not be 
 left in suspense, you see, because you'll get 
 the next letter at the same time as this. I 
 kiss your picture. 
 
 Good-night, 
 
 JOAN 
 
 [106]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 May 3rd. 
 FATHER-MINE: 
 
 YOU are a darling to write me such a nice 
 long letter when you are so very busy. 
 I am glad the experiments are working out 
 satisfactorily and sorry for delay in engine. 
 
 Now to resume my real estate deal. I 
 suggested to Jo that he should advise Barry 
 to advertise extensively throughout the city 
 and country that he would give a lot free 
 to the person submitting the most convincing 
 article on "The advantages of a home on the 
 river bluff." The contestants would then 
 come out here for their local color; as would 
 the usual land-lookers and the follow-the- 
 flock crowd, so there would be plenty of 
 publicity. 
 
 ''That's about the best scheme I ever 
 heard of," praised Jo. "It's worth a good 
 many quarters to Barry, and he will cer- 
 tainly give you a fat fee for the suggestion." 
 
 "Me!" I cried. "I am going to send him 
 to you, and you are to hand out this line 
 as your own." 
 
 "But it isn't," he objected. "It's yours." 
 [107]
 
 "You bought and paid for it. That's 
 why I collected the fee in advance, so you 
 couldn't make that objection." 
 
 "No," he persisted. "You must tell Barry 
 your plan." 
 
 "I won't tell! I don't care a rap whether 
 he sells his old lots. I only thought of it 
 for you." 
 
 "That was nice of you, Joan; but Barry 
 will think as highly of my ability as a real- 
 estate man as though the brilliant idea were 
 mine." 
 
 Another scheme came to me. I am full 
 of schemes. This one is for us; but of that 
 later. 
 
 I handed Jo back his quarter. 
 
 "Take your gold. I do not want it," I 
 sang. 
 
 From the "welcome home" look he gave 
 it, I know it was his last quarter. 
 
 "Tell Barry to come up tonight, and I 
 will add some details to your plan," he said 
 as we parted. 
 
 At five o'clock Barry appeared at the 
 Bureau. We found a table built for two and 
 he ordered some light refreshments. 
 
 "Now for the suggestion," he said face- 
 [108]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 tiously, laying down a quarter of a dollar 
 which the waiter pounced upon, thanking 
 Barry most obsequiously as he departed for 
 the kitchen. 
 
 The blank expression on Barry's face sent 
 me into peals of laughter. 
 
 "He certainly has his Greek nerve with 
 him," he said indignantly. 
 
 "It's just as well," I said when I could 
 speak. "My suggestion is too valuable, Jo 
 says, to be handed out for a quarter." 
 
 I could see a look of interest come into 
 his face at mention of Jo. How much one 
 man's approval means to another! 
 
 "If Jo approves, go ahead with it," he 
 said. 
 
 I told him my proposition, going more 
 into detail than I had with Jo. He was 
 instantly quite keen about it, and so 
 enthusiastic he scarcely noticed the light 
 refreshments the waiter brought. I do 
 like enthusiastic men. Mark just lifts 
 an eyebrow slightly and drawls out: 
 "Really!" when I tell him some hair-raising 
 thing. 
 
 "I should say it was worth more than a 
 quarter," he finally exclaimed. 
 [109]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "All right! May I name my own price.'* 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 The waiter now produced the check for 
 our tea and Barry ordered another supply. 
 He also handed him another quarter. 
 
 "That other wasn't yours," he said. 
 
 The man left with a bewildered but 
 wealthy expression on his face. 
 
 "Well, let me see," I mused aloud, "there's 
 the streets to be cut through, lots platted, 
 water piped, walks built, shade trees set 
 out, advertising signs put up, titles and 
 deeds and so forth. All this will have to be 
 looked after." 
 
 "Say, Joan! Were you ever in the real 
 estate business?" 
 
 "No; but I heard two real estate men 
 talking about the preliminaries to such a 
 deal at this table about a week ago and I 
 learned the dope. Make Jo your agent. 
 Let him handle the whole business and give 
 him a commission on lots sold." 
 
 "Joan, I take off my hat to you. It's 
 just the job for Jo. I'll come up tonight 
 and we will go over the whole thing with 
 him." 
 
 He came up after dinner and the "three 
 [110]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 bluffers," as Hally calls us, sat down at a 
 table that was covered with plats and draw- 
 ings which Jo had prepared for the occasion. 
 He took the initiative with that air of know- 
 ing his business which always inspires con- 
 fidence. 
 
 "First of all," he said, "you must get a 
 name for your subdivision, one that will 
 appeal to desirable purchasers." 
 
 "Give Joan a quarter," piped up Hap- 
 hiram, "and she'll name it." 
 
 "She can name it, but I won't pay her a 
 cent for the name^" laughed Barry. 
 
 "On that condition I'll name it * River- 
 side Bluff.' It's rather trite, but the general 
 run of homeseekers don't care for originality." 
 
 "The name goes," declared Barry. 
 
 We then wrote out an advertisement which 
 in descriptive powers discounted any railroad 
 literature on the market. We decided to 
 have three judges for the literary contest, 
 and Barry chose a prominent newspaper 
 man, the mayor, and the principal of the 
 high school. 
 
 Then Jo and Barry turned to their map 
 and began a line of talk about so many feet 
 front and some silly stuff about the north- 
 
 cm]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 east by southeast which was very unintelli- 
 gible and uninteresting to the rest of us, so 
 we withdrew to the Gulf after I had pro- 
 posed to Barry that he locate Jo's office at 
 Riverside. 
 
 "You can buy a portable office," I said, 
 "and set it up on one of the lots." 
 
 "Some location," he approved. 
 
 Barry belongs to the "do it now" class, 
 so by noon of the next day the office was 
 established and equipped with furniture and 
 supplies. Maybe Jo wasn't the proudest 
 man in town! In the afternoon I went out 
 there and found him and Barry in a heated 
 discussion. 
 
 "It sounds almost as if you were quarrel- 
 ing," I said. "Let me be the arbitrator." 
 
 "It's Jo's salary," explained Barry. "I 
 have offered him twenty-five dollars a week 
 and commission on each lot he sells and he 
 balks." 
 
 "Not enough, Jo?" I asked innocently. 
 
 "Enough!" he echoed.'' :" It would be high- 
 way robbery. Twenty-five dollars is too 
 much without the commission." 
 
 "I'll act as referee and adjuster. Give 
 him twenty-five dollars a week, Barry, and 
 [112]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 instead of commission present him with a 
 deed to a lot." 
 
 "You bet I will," said Barry, "unless you 
 prefer the price of the lot, Jo. You'll need 
 cash soon for wedding bells, you know." 
 
 Jo blushed overwhelmingly. 
 
 "I'd rather have a lot here than anywhere. 
 Aline and I love the river/ 1 ' 
 
 "There will be no taxes for a year," said 
 Barry, "and by that time you can sell it 
 for a good price or " 
 
 "When do you open business?" I asked. 
 
 "Jo's salary starts to-day," said Barry. 
 
 "Good! I came out here on business." 
 Now, daddy, sit up and take notice for this 
 is where you come in. "I came to buy one 
 of your lots. Show them to me, please." 
 
 They laughed, thinking it a joke. Then I 
 told them of your promise and my longings, 
 and what I was working and planning for. 
 Finally they were convinced that I was in 
 earnest. 
 
 "I'll give you a lot, Joan," declared Barry, 
 "for your banner scheme. Then it will be 
 a good advertisement to say that the * Bureau 
 Lady* was the first purchaser." 
 
 "I won't take it," I said promptly. 
 [113]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "You see it's to be father's home and paid 
 for with the money he left me. That will 
 be the first big payment, and the balance 
 I can pay in monthly installments. Father 
 wouldn't live on a lot that was given him. 
 He's awfully independent." 
 
 "All the Lynn family are," said Barry. 
 "I wonder how Mark will like it out here." 
 
 "Let's get down to business," I remarked 
 hastily. "Come with me, and I'll show you 
 where I want my 'sold sign' staked." 
 
 We walked along the bank until we came 
 to a beautiful bend in the river where the 
 view is something to dream of. 
 
 "These four lots along here are the choice 
 ones," I told them, "and I'll take this one 
 with the trees in the back." 
 
 "And I am going to reserve the one next 
 to yours for myself," replied Barry, "and 
 build here some time. How will you like me 
 for a next-door neighbor?" 
 
 "Oh, you are going to be married?" I 
 asked innocently. 
 
 "Maybe," he replied, his eyes twinkling; 
 "anyway I can keep bachelor's quarters, if 
 I can't win a wife." 
 
 "Then, Jo, you take the lot on the other 
 [114]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 side of mine and we'll have a neighborhood 
 that can't be beaten." 
 
 "I'd like to locate near you, but I am not 
 going to take one of the most desirable lots. 
 I'll choose one farther on." 
 
 "I'll buy," I said, "only on condition that 
 you take the lot next to me." 
 
 "That's right, Joan. It takes you to 
 manage him. I shall enjoy watching you 
 try to do anything with Mark, though." 
 
 "I think the fourth one, the one next to 
 Jo's, should be reserved for the prize lot," 
 I advised, ignoring his Markism. 
 
 "Great!" replied Barry. "Then there will 
 be four distinguished citizens in a row." 
 t We all went back to the office and I wrote 
 a check for a bonus. The next morning the 
 red tape business was all attended to and, 
 daddy, we own a yard! If I could have but 
 the one, I'd prefer a yard to a house. I've 
 spent all my spare time drawing plans for 
 a house, and I am inclosing some of my 
 efforts. No. 1 is the colonial we are going 
 to build if the dredger dredges, and No. 2 
 is the story and a half cottage, English style, 
 that we'll have if you make just a little 
 money. No. 3 is the little bungalow to be 
 [115]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 erected in case you lose all and we build 
 from future profits of the Bureau and your 
 venture. No. 4 is the portable four-room 
 snuggery of a shack we'll live in while we 
 are earning enough to put up No. 3. 
 
 This afternoon we all went out to inspect 
 "Jo's Job," as Herk and Heck call it. Mrs. 
 Munk came over to sit with Grandma while 
 all the Haphazards, Aline and I (though we 
 really are Haps) went out to Riverside Bluff. 
 You can believe a thrill of pride went 
 through me when I beheld the little sold 
 sign on our lot. I expect I shall soon stake 
 another sign, "Keep off the grass." Tippy 
 rather took off the glamour by calling the 
 signs "markers," for the vernacular of his 
 tombstone days hangs around him still. 
 
 "I shouldn't think you'd want to live out 
 here so far away from us," said Hap re- 
 proachfully, as we gazed at my "marker." 
 
 "But" I argued, "some of you will always 
 be next door. Jo can put up a portable 
 house or move his office there on his lot, and 
 it can be a branch of Mildew Manse, and 
 you can take turns living out here. Camp 
 out in summer and skate in winter." 
 
 The little Haps sent up a yell of delight. 
 [116]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Aline said she'd come out there to read and 
 sew. Tippy suggested having a dance pa- 
 vilion on the lot. 
 
 "And this," I said significantly to Hally, 
 "is Barry's lot where he is going to build." 
 
 She blushed beautifully. Love is certainly 
 a developer. Barry isn't quite in love with 
 her yet, but he is hovering near the little 
 danger signal. And do you know, father 
 dear, my evidences of a business ability 
 seem to have chilled the little bud of romance 
 he was inclined to cherish. I believe even 
 if Mark should woo and wed some Alaskan, 
 Barry would be too disillusioned to become 
 my suitor. A man of his type turns to the 
 domestic woman as a sunflower to the sun. 
 Goodness knows I'd be domestic if I had the 
 chance, but I should always be interested in 
 the details of my husband's business same as I 
 am in yours. How I hate the word " husband." 
 It's so homely and meaningless. Wife, now 
 sounds more interesting and poetical. 
 
 You see, daddy, if you should need more 
 money for the dredger I can raise some on the 
 lot. Maybe I'll get the mortgage habit, too. 
 
 With love, 
 
 JOAN, 
 [117]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 May 10th. 
 MY DEAR DADDY LYNN: 
 
 EVERY letter from you is postmarked 
 from a different town, and I can't find 
 any of your stopping places on the map. 
 Hope you are always making Homeward. 
 You didn't mention Mark in your last. 
 What does he do for amusement? I wonder 
 if he will answer my note? I can't figure 
 out how long it takes to get an answer from 
 there. 
 
 We've all been busy this week, and you 
 say to be busy is to be happy. Whenever 
 I am inclined to be lonely now I go out to 
 our lot and look up at the sky or down into 
 the water or across the bank into a beautiful 
 wilderness of green. Then I feel as if I 
 owned all the space between the water and 
 the sky. It amuses Barry because I go 
 out to Riverside so often, and he tells me it 
 isn't necessary to homestead out there to get 
 a clear title. 
 
 Jo has surveyors, walk-makers and water- 
 pipers at work. His correspondence about 
 [118]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the contest is most voluminous. We were 
 very explicit in wording our advertisement 
 so that all the conditions would be under- 
 stood, but no one could foresee such ridicu- 
 lous questions as come in by every mail. 
 Here are a few of them, and I am ashamed 
 to say most of them are from women: "Will 
 the winner have to live always on the lot? 
 Does the river overflow the bluff in the 
 spring? Will the lots be sold to only writers? 
 Can married women try?" These letters 
 are mostly from the rural districts. Of 
 course, the townspeople flock out to the 
 office to ask their foolish questions but Jo 
 is sweet and patient with them all. He says 
 it's good publicity to have them come out 
 for any reason. He has already sold three 
 lots and I have been offered a good price 
 for mine. 
 
 Tippecanoe has resigned his position; quite 
 a novel experience for him, because hitherto 
 he has always been fired. He said he wanted 
 to feel the sensation of letting loose of a job. 
 I was inclined to be impatient with him, but 
 when I saw how pleased and relieved Barry 
 was at the loss of an assistant bookkeeper, 
 I felt differently about it. Yesterday Tippy 
 [119]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 secured a two weeks' engagement at a mov- 
 ing picture house. The regular soloist went 
 away on a vacation and hired Tippecanoe as 
 a substitute. We all went to hear him last 
 night. I had my misgivings about his light 
 voice being adequate to fill a theatre, but it 
 was a small building. He was not troubled 
 with stage fright. His good looks, natty 
 style of dress and his up-to-date selection 
 of music made a decided hit and the Hap- 
 hazards nearly clapped their hands off. We 
 stayed through two performances. The re- 
 muneration is small but the hours appeal to 
 Tippy. 
 
 "Has bookkeeping skinned by a mile," 
 he said. 
 
 I have unearthed a plot. One corner of 
 my little Bureau space I've screened off 
 for a retreat where I can remove the shine 
 from my nose and fuss up before going out 
 on the street. On the other side of the 
 screen is a small table, remote from the 
 others and patronized extensively by sweet- 
 hearts and men who have secrets^ up their 
 sleeves. 
 
 The other morning I was in my little rest 
 nook, prinking up for luncheon, when I 
 [120]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 heard the voice of Aline's father on the other 
 side of the screen saying: 
 
 "I just dropped in here for a quick lunch 
 and then was going to your office, but now 
 we've met here, I guess this will do as well 
 as any place. I want to put you on to a 
 gilt-edged deal." 
 
 I want to be in on "gilt-edged deals" 
 myself, and as I have a hunch that Mr. 
 Irving is out for mischief, I deferred my 
 beauty making and sat down to listen. 
 
 "You know that land out on the river 
 road that Jo is putting on the market for 
 Barry Walters?" continued the conspirator. 
 
 "Yes," said a strange voice. "They've 
 got a big thing there." 
 
 'Well, now, I want to tell you, Hackney " 
 
 Rackney! Now I* did know there was 
 something doing. I'd find out what these 
 two old frauds were up to. 
 
 "Of course," said Old Fraud No. 1, "I 
 want Barry Walters to sell his lots, but I 
 don't want him to drive the old residents 
 away from my part of the town. I under- 
 stand he is going to put up a fine place for 
 himself, and naturally the young blood will 
 be apt to follow his example. He is a leader 
 [121]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 of his set, you know. I like Barry Walters, 
 and I don't mean to hurt the sale of his lots, 
 but he will be making just as much money 
 selling to the working class. The land across 
 the river from his sub-division is not built up." 
 
 "Yes; I've been wanting to get my fingers 
 on that piece, but some out-of-town parties 
 own it. It will boom as soon as people 
 begin building on Walters' Subdivision and 
 I'd like to get it before the jump in prices 
 comes." 
 
 "I've found out who owns it, and I want 
 you to write and get an option on it." 
 
 "You bet I will! It will cost a lot to put 
 it in shape for marketing, though. All 
 those woods to be cleared, the marshy places 
 drained and that underbrush burned out." 
 
 I almost groaned audibly. Those beauti- 
 ful woods, the marshy places and the "under- 
 brush" burned out and wiped off my 
 landscape ! 
 
 "I know some parties who will buy the 
 whole place as it stands and clear it them- 
 selves," said Mr. Irving. 
 
 "What do they want of it?" 
 
 "Site for a new factory that is coming 
 here. You can buy and then later sell to 
 [122]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the factory people at your own figures. 
 You see when the better class of people 
 understand that a factory is to be so near 
 they won't locate out there. Just as soon 
 as you get your option on the place, I'll 
 put a notice in the paper about the factory. 
 It will be all right for Walters, too. The 
 factory hands will want their little homes 
 handy." 
 
 By this time my hat was on. I left the 
 Bureau and beat it to Barry's office. He 
 was just getting into his car, and I followed 
 suit before he quite grasped who I was. I 
 told him breathlessly all I had overheard. 
 
 "Some sweet, little, old father-in-law Jo 
 has on the string! Never worry, Joan, we'll 
 block their game, thanks to you. I know 
 how to find out who owns that land, and I'll 
 wire myself for an option." 
 
 "Good!" said I. "Just drop me at the 
 Bureau and then get busy." 
 
 I saw Barry again that night and he said 
 he had wired very fully, following it up by 
 a letter, and he seemed to feel confident he 
 would get first chance. Three or four days 
 elapsed and he didn't hear. I was shivering 
 for fear the Irving-Rackney combination 
 [123]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 had beaten us, but one noon I was called 
 to the telephone in the restaurant. 
 
 "Three rousing cheers!" cried Barry's ex- 
 ultant voice. "I just received a message 
 from the owner. He was away from home 
 which accounts for his delay in answering. 
 I have an option on your scenery all right, so 
 let old Irving do his worst." 
 
 I could have danced a jig for joy. As I 
 turned away from the telephone I found 
 myself facing Mr. Irving who was buying 
 a cigar. 
 
 "You look as if you had heard some good 
 news, Miss Lynn," he said cuttingly. 
 
 "I have," I replied. "Mr. Walters just 
 telephoned me that he had secured an 
 option on all the land across the river from 
 his Subdivision, so nothing objectionable 
 can be put up there." 
 
 As I went into the Bureau, he looked 
 startled. He evidently had not known of 
 my occupation. The papers that night had 
 an article in a conspicuous place stating 
 that Mr. Barry Walters had bought up all 
 the land across the river from his new Sub- 
 division. 
 
 Only two months more and you'll be at 
 [124]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Nome and then what a lot of letters you will 
 have to read and answer. I am counting 
 the days until then. Good-bye until my 
 next letter. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 [125]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 May 17th. 
 DADDY-DARLING : 
 
 IT is blossom time and the flower beds, the 
 fruit trees, the bushes, and the gardens 
 send forth a spicy sweetness. It is hard to 
 exchange the fragrance of Mildew Manse for 
 the Grecian and garlic odors of the Gou- 
 dolaris kitchen. 
 
 In the later afternoon and on Sundays I 
 go out to Riverside Bluff and pick wildflowers 
 from "our lot." I send you one herein. 
 
 Spring is in its heydey. There's no denying 
 it, and everyone seems to be in the bill and 
 coo stage save Hap and myself. I don't 
 know, father, but what I shall have a chance 
 to make the May grade too, but I haven't 
 come to that part yet. Jo and Aline are 
 the lovingest lovers you ever saw. Barry 
 and Hally are near-lovers. Tippecanoe, fickle 
 one, is hovering about the girl who plays the 
 piano at the vaudeville. I saw Herk with 
 a pig-tailed girl at the sodawater fountain 
 yesterday and Heck carries apple blossoms 
 to a chubby little schoolmate. Oh, it's the 
 "marry month of May" all right a man 
 [126]
 
 
 Learning to walk on the wavering fence with a balancing pole. 
 Page 12 7.
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 and a woman the world over. Haphiram 
 looks on with a sardonic glance and scoffs 
 at these springtime fancies. 
 
 There is a nice long stretch of time now 
 between my half-past five dinner hour and 
 dusk, and I am allowing myself a Saturday 
 half holiday like other workers. Then, too, 
 the Haphazards are not very strict Sabbath 
 observers. All this lovely, idle time I pass 
 in play, real childhood play with the three 
 young Haps and their,," gang." 
 
 Mildew Manse is my first actual contact 
 with a yard, and I simply have to make up 
 for that cheated childhood. Play calls to 
 me and I must get it out of my system. 
 
 I was initiated into the popular pursuits 
 of the neighborhood by learning how to 
 manage a raft. From that I passed to mar- 
 bles in the mud. Tag, duck on a rock 
 (grandest game ever devised), still pond, 
 prisoner, Pom, pom, pull away, one-old-cat 
 (kindergarten to baseball) all followed, and 
 now I am learning to walk on the wavering 
 fence with a balancing pole. This last 
 named sport brought me an adventure, a 
 promise of romance, as I intimated. Last 
 night as I leaned, not out of window, but 
 [127]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 on my balancing pole, which I used as a 
 staff, it struck a stone and I struck the long 
 deep grass in someone's back yard. The 
 house belonging to the back yard faced on 
 the street parallel with ours. 
 
 I lay very still, not because I was hurt 
 but because I was surprised, and then, too, 
 it was rather pleasant to lie in the soft, 
 sweet-smelling grass and look up into the 
 misty sky while I wondered how I was 
 going to climb the wobbly fence from this 
 side. 
 
 I heard a voice not a Haphazard's, 
 say: "Are you hurt, little one?" 
 
 I jumped to my feet and looked into blue 
 goggles! They were worn by a man who was 
 tall and slender and straight. He had a very 
 nice mouth, but I couldn't tell the color of 
 his eyes on account of the blue glasses which 
 gave him a sort of sad, pensive expression. 
 Goggled eyes always have a fascination 
 for me. They seem so mysterious, so un- 
 fathomable. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said quickly, 
 "but my eyes are troubling me, and your 
 short skirt " 
 
 Ye Gods! To think how near I had come 
 [128]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 to wearing just the bloomers to my old rid- 
 ing habit. 
 
 "And my pastime," I finished for him, 
 "but you see I never had a chance to walk 
 a fence until just lately, and I am making 
 up for lost time." 
 
 "I believe," he said, and his mouth curved 
 into an adorable smile, sweet like Jo's, only 
 stronger, "you are still young enough for 
 me to ask your age?" 
 
 "Twenty," I replied proudly. 
 
 * Indeed! You don't seem so aged." 
 
 **I don't always walk fences," I told him. 
 "I am in business, and I have bought a 
 lot and I have a bank account " 
 
 "Such thrift as that," he declared, "doesn't 
 seem to belong to the Hazard family. I 
 wondered if you could possibly be Hally. 
 I haven't seen her for three years." 
 
 "Oh, no! Hally is tall and golden-haired. 
 I am Joan Lynn." 
 
 "And I am Roger Kane. Are you visit- 
 ing the Hazards?" 
 
 "No; I live with them. And is this 
 where you live?" I asked pointing to the 
 house in the distance. 
 
 "I am only visiting the Coverleys. I was 
 [129]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 on my way to renew my acquaintance with 
 the Hazards. This fence used to be easy to 
 climb, but 
 
 "It would take a Zouave to scale it from 
 this side," I told him. "It has a Pisa-like 
 lean. I don't see how I am going to get 
 back. Maybe I could do a vaulting stunt. 
 Hap could." 
 
 "Suppose we walk around the block and 
 go in by the front entrance," he proposed. 
 
 "In my short skirt and this cap of Hap's!" 
 I exclaimed. 
 
 "Then say we wait here in the pergola 
 until it is darker." 
 
 A pergola, a twilight and an air full of the 
 fragrance of May blossoms are not poor 
 settings for getting acquainted with a fas- 
 cinating stranger. 
 
 We sat down on a rustic bench and talked 
 about the Haphazards. He looks at them 
 from the same viewpoint as I do and adores 
 Mildew Manse, so there was at once a bond 
 between us. 
 
 Finally I told him I must return before 
 
 Jo began to be troubled. I took off Hap's 
 
 cap, thinking it would look better in my 
 
 hand than on my head. My hair came 
 
 [130]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 tumbling down and he held my hairpins and 
 handed them to me as I wanted them. He 
 said that he liked curly hair. I told him 
 he wouldn't if he had to comb it and try to 
 keep it pinned up. 
 
 We walked around to the front of Mildew 
 Manse and surprised the Haphazards by our 
 entrance. They were delighted to see Mr. 
 Kane again, and Aline asked me how long 
 I had known him. 
 
 "Not long," I answered evasively. Then, 
 seeing Tip's disapproving survey of my 
 fence-walking costume and the amused 
 twinkle in Barry's gray eyes, I felt moved to 
 continue: "You see I was walking the back 
 fence and I fell over and landed at the 
 feet of Mr. Kane. We had to sit in the 
 pergola until it was dark enough to come 
 home." 
 
 "Oh, that we two were Maying,'" sang 
 Haphiram. "You said you wouldn't get it, 
 Joan." 
 
 "Get what?" asked Mr. Kane curiously. 
 
 "The May mania," replied Hap. 
 
 "WTiat is that?" he asked, more puzzled 
 than ever. 
 
 "Don't you know that folks some 
 [1311
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 folks " explained the enfant terrible "get 
 spooney in May?" 
 
 It did me good to hear Mr. Kane's mellow 
 laugh, so good-natured and mirthful. I 
 love laughs. Jo only smiles. Barry shouts. 
 Tip grins. Mark simply shakes like jelly, 
 and you wouldn't know he was laughing 
 except from the little quirk to the corners 
 of his mouth, but this man has the real 
 charming laugh, the laugh that is like 
 music. 
 
 "I think," said Barry significantly, "I'd 
 better write to Mark." 
 
 "Who is Mark?" asked Mr. Kane quickly. 
 "I wondered if there wouldn't be a Mark. 
 You didn't tell me." 
 
 "She never tells of him," said Hap. 
 
 "If Mark had seen you trying to walk that 
 crazy fence," quoth Barry, "he wouldn't 
 have waited till dark to walk you around 
 the block. He'd have picked you up and 
 put you over." 
 
 "Yes," I admitted. "And Jo would have 
 gone and fetched two chairs and put one on 
 each side of the fence so I could step over 
 in ladylike manner. You would have kicked 
 the fence down. Mark would have pitched 
 [132]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 me over in his impetuous way and growled 
 about my doing such fool stunts." 
 
 "Mark seems rather formidable," said 
 Mr. Kane. 
 
 "His bark's worse than his bite," I told 
 him, "but I think your way was the wisest 
 and nicest, Mr. Kane." 
 
 We had a most delightful evening. He is 
 a writer, not of fiction, but of articles, scien- 
 tific stuff. He spends some of his vacations 
 here. 
 
 Today being Saturday I had my half 
 holiday allowance, and when Mr. Kane came 
 over the Haphazards were scattered far and 
 wide. On account of the trouble with his 
 eyes, the oculist has forbidden his using them 
 for a time, so I read aloud to him. I 
 haven't read to anyone since you went to 
 Alaska. I enjoyed it so much, and so did 
 he, he said. Then we had a nice long talk. 
 He is older in years and experience than Mark 
 or Barry or any of the men I have been used 
 to playing about with, and he has a reflec- 
 tive, tolerant way of regarding life that ap- 
 peals to me. Though he is terribly well 
 informed (so they tell me) he doesn't adver- 
 tise it by talking learned stuff, but is inter- 
 [133]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 ested in all the little frivolities. I bet he'd 
 even play paper dolls if I suggested it. 
 
 Soon after dinner Mr. Kane had to leave 
 to attend to some function the Coverleys 
 were giving. Tippecanoe went to the thea- 
 tre. I pleaded my letter to you so that 
 the coast might be clear for the quartette 
 of lovers. 
 
 I have sat up late to write you a long 
 letter. As much as I have enjoyed Mr. 
 Kane, I am glad he had to leave early so I 
 could write to you. Here are one thousand 
 and one kisses, dearest daddy, from, 
 
 YOUR JOAN. 
 
 [134]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 May 18th. 
 FATHER-DEAR: 
 
 MY letter didn't reach the postman be- 
 cause I kept forgetting to buy stamps, 
 so you'll get a postscript. Your pamphlets 
 and postals of Alaskan scenery are so entic- 
 ing I shall be glad to take the future pleasure 
 trip out there that you promise me. Isn't it 
 great the way the dredger behaves? It must 
 be working out well if that skeptical Mark 
 is enthusiastic. He has always shrugged 
 his shoulders at your schemes. 
 
 Mr. Kane I can't seem to call him 
 Roger, although he says Joan very easily 
 is here two or three times a day and almost 
 every evening. We went to a ball game 
 together this afternoon. Sometimes when I 
 come home early I slip over to the pergola 
 (Jo has improvised a stile) and read to him. 
 
 Aline came over to Mildew Manse one 
 afternoon when Jo was away for the day and 
 asked Mrs. Haphazard to drive out to River- 
 side with her. She had several parcels with 
 her. Two hours later she telephoned me to 
 come out there. I never beheld a more 
 [135]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 foolish, fussed-up, little office. White mus- 
 lin curtains looped back with blue ribbons, 
 rugs, two or three pictures on the wall, a 
 fancy spread for the table and several 
 knickknacks. 
 
 "You forgot the plants and a bird-cage," 
 I reminded her. 
 
 "Isn't it lovely?" she asked delightedly. 
 "I'll come and fix your Bureau up for you." 
 
 "No, thank you," I declined. "It is 
 sweet in you to offer but you see Mr. 
 Goudolaris wouldn't like it." 
 
 "He wouldn't!" she exclaimed. "Why 
 not?" 
 
 "Well, you see, being Greek, he likes 
 things plain and undecorated, something 
 like the architecture of his classic country, 
 you know." 
 
 Daddy, this letter ends right here. By 
 the way, Mr. Kane loves to sit just outside 
 one of the French windows of California at 
 twilight time and hear me sing. I've never 
 attempted "Backward, Turn Backward," 
 again, and won't until I sing it to you. 
 
 Again good-night. I hope that I dream 
 of you. 
 
 YOUR OWN AND ONLY JOAN. 
 [136]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 May 20th. 
 FATHER-DEAR: 
 
 NO one but Mrs. Munk and Goudolaris 
 gives the Bureau its due. The Hap- 
 hazards, as I wrote you, view it from their 
 regular joke-angle of vision. They call me 
 "The Junior Lady from Philadelphia," "Solo- 
 mon's Successor," "A Second Portia," etc. 
 The business doesn't exactly appeal to Barry. 
 He squirms between his domestic instinct and 
 his commercial theories. As for Roger Kane, 
 well, he is too gallant to tell me he is shocked, 
 but he is a Virginian. Enough said. Any 
 reference to the Bureau brings to his mouth 
 a wistful droop that he intends for a smile. 
 He doubts very much your approval. So do 
 I. He thinks that when you reach Nome I 
 will receive closing-up orders, but it's a long 
 ways to Nome, or from Nome. I shall be 
 interested in Mark's comments. He will prob- 
 ably want to break the Bureau. No! Break 
 is too mild an action for Mark. He will 
 want to smash it. To the aforesaid, above- 
 mentioned backers of the Bureau, however, 
 [137]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 anything that pays goes, and the Bureau 
 certainly pays. 
 
 The Bureau, however, sinks into insig- 
 nificance compared with what has happened 
 since my last letter. In the first place, it 
 rained torrents that finally settled into a 
 steady downpour, lasting two days and as 
 many nights. The morning it slackened I 
 was late to breakfast and Jo was leaving 
 the house, carrying a suitcase. Hap said 
 he had gone away on business. That noon 
 as I was on my way home to change my 
 dress, I met Aline. When I asked her where 
 she was going she evaded my question. 
 
 When I returned at night, Mrs. Irving was 
 at Mildew Manse asking for Aline. None of 
 the Haphazards had seen her since break- 
 fast, but I explained that I had met her 
 that noon. Mr. Irving then came in to find 
 Jo's whereabouts, but no one knew where 
 he had gone. 
 
 "I'll telephone Walters," he said. "He 
 will know." 
 
 I knew he would not know where to 
 
 locate Barry, for Goudolaris had telephoned 
 
 him that afternoon that he was going to 
 
 have some frogs cooked as he liked them. 
 
 [138]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 So I slipped out to join him. I had a theoiy 
 of my own about Aline. She has quite an 
 imagination, and she has become very fond 
 of the little office. She might have gone 
 out to revel in air-castles, which are the 
 nearest approach to a home she and Jo have 
 been able to build. When she is absorbed 
 in anything or in one of her make-believe 
 moods, she has no idea of the flight of time. 
 
 I found Barry feasting on frogs. He was 
 as certain as I was that we would find her 
 at Riverside Bluff, and we motored out there. 
 When the car stopped at the sign of "Joseph 
 Hazard, Agent for Riverside Bluff Sub- 
 division," Barry looked at me and I looked 
 at Barry. There was no vestige of an office 
 in sight. 
 
 "It was portable," I suggested, giggling 
 hysterically. "Jo is so attached to his 
 office he must have taken it with him. Took 
 up his house and walked, or, maybe, Aline 
 has stolen it!" 
 
 Barry was silent. He jumped from the 
 car and ran toward the river. I followed. 
 
 "Look here, Joan," he said excitedly. 
 "Jo told me yesterday that the river was 
 rising rapidly and he thought maybe the 
 [139]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 office had better be moved back. It was 
 here this morning, though, on the very- 
 edge of the water. It's a pretty sure thing 
 it has gone down stream." 
 
 "Well, then Aline - 
 
 My knees began to tremble at the con- 
 clusion. 
 
 "Barry," I continued," she is lost to every- 
 thing when she reads or dreams! Do you 
 suppose she sat here in the office and never 
 noticed when it slipped away? We'd better 
 telephone all the towns below." 
 
 "Nonsense, Joan," he replied. "No one 
 could be as daffy as that, but we must find 
 Jo. If Aline had planned any expedition 
 she would have told him. I didn't pay any 
 attention to the name of the place he was 
 going, but after I take you home, I will 
 hunt up a man that was talking to him 
 about some new process for walks." 
 
 When we stopped at Mildew Manse, the 
 Haphazards, Irvings and Roger Kane stood 
 on the front steps in consultation. Mr. 
 Irving had just received a telegram from 
 Jo which read: "Aline safe. Meet her at 
 interurban station at 8:40 tonight." 
 
 As it was now near that hour we all re- 
 [140]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 paired to the station, where we made quite 
 an imposing line-up. 
 
 Aline, smiling and serene, got off an inter- 
 urban train but would not answer any ques- 
 tions until we were in California. 
 
 "I'd been shut in so long," she began her 
 narrative, "that I was desperate, so when it 
 cleared a little this morning, I went out to 
 Jo's office. I had been there some tune 
 when I happened to look up from what I 
 was doing, and you can imagine my surprise 
 when I found that the office was shooting 
 down stream. It almost took my breath 
 away at first, but when I remembered that 
 there were no falls below, I didn't mind so 
 much, and made up my mind to enjoy my 
 ride, so I brought a chair out on the porch 
 and sat down comfortably, pretending it was 
 my houseboat and that I was taking a little 
 trip." 
 
 The three young boys gave a sigh of 
 ecstasy and envy at the thought of such a ride. 
 
 "All kinds of wreckage floated past me, 
 but I saw nothing I wanted until an oar 
 came along. I managed to secure it, hoping 
 I might be able to guide the office ashore 
 when I came to a bend or a narrow part. 
 [141]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I went a great many miles seeing no one on 
 the shore to call to for help. At last I saw 
 I was nearing a town and I was sure I would 
 be rescued. When I came to a sharp bend 
 and I was driven nearly inshore, I tried to 
 help with my oar, but I didn't know how to 
 use it, and I went the wrong way. I had 
 given up hope, when suddenly a man ap- 
 peared on the bank nearest me. It was Jo. 
 He had a pole and he pulled the house- 
 boat" 
 
 She paused. By the look in her eyes I 
 saw she was living over again the happiness 
 of their meeting. We kept still as long as 
 our curiosity would allow, and then began 
 a volley of questions, all of which she an- 
 swered fully. She said Jo had walked down 
 to look at the river and see if it were still 
 rising as he was worrying about the office, 
 and that was the first thing he saw when 
 he came out of the grove to the bank. The 
 pole? It just chanced to be lying on the 
 ground luck-sent. He would have swum 
 out if he hadn't managed with the pole. 
 
 "Didn't you notice when you first went 
 into the office that the river was right on 
 a level with it?" asked Barry. 
 [142]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "No; I didn't look at the river until the 
 moment I noticed the office was afloat." 
 
 "But, Aline," asked her mother, "what were 
 you doing that you were so lost to the world? " 
 
 It was the question I had been wanting 
 to ask. 
 
 "I will give you each one guess," she 
 replied. 
 
 These were our guesses: Barry, reading; 
 Tippecanoe, sewing; Hally, dreaming of Jo; 
 Hap, drawing plans for another annex to 
 Mildew Manse; Mrs. Irving, studying the 
 cookbook; twins, playing solitaire; Joan, 
 writing to Jo. She told us no one had 
 guessed, though Hap and I were lukewarm. 
 
 I am glad, daddy, that our lot is above 
 any possible water line. Whoever buys 
 that one low lot had better build a Noah's 
 ark for a home. 
 
 After the Irvings had gone home, Roger 
 Kane and I went into Lower California, 
 where there was a very dim light. We 
 talked over the latest Haphazard happenings 
 and then for the first time I saw his eyes. 
 He took off his goggles for a moment. Such 
 beautiful, soft eyes like brown velvet! I 
 love them. There is a little air of aloofness 
 [143]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 and sadness about him that is very fascinat- 
 ing. He told me I reminded him sometimes 
 of one who was very dear to him. I im- 
 agine he loved a girl and she died young, 
 and he is faithful to her memory. You'd 
 like him very much, father. How I long 
 for you to meet all these people who are so 
 near and dear to me. 
 
 I am glad Mark is developing business 
 instincts, and looking into the dredger busi- 
 ness. I liked your description of your little 
 snuggery. Wasn't it grand you found such 
 a place and did not have to stay at a hotel? 
 You say if you were to be there permanently 
 instead of being obliged to move on to wild 
 parts, you'd send for me. Much as I long 
 to see you, I couldn't come now because I 
 think you'll hurry the work faster if I am 
 at this end of the line. And I couldn't give 
 up my Bureau which is earning a home for 
 us. Anyway, since Mark has assumed the 
 attitude of utter silence toward me, I think 
 we'd not be comfortable together just now. 
 
 I must finish this letter so I can begin 
 another to you. 
 
 Your very own, 
 
 JOAN 
 [144]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 P. S. The other day I saw Heck's chubby- 
 faced little sweetheart trying to jump the 
 rope backward. She tripped about every 
 third jump. My ruling passion of long ago 
 revived. I took the rope from her and was 
 having a blissful time alternating forward 
 and backward skips when I chanced to glance 
 toward the house. There was Jo snap- 
 shotting me! Later when he showed me the 
 result, developed, I felt that it would be 
 best appreciated by Mark, so in trifling re- 
 turn for the darling picture he sent me, I 
 mailed it to him. I trust it may soften his 
 sulkiness toward his little sister and bring 
 her a message from Nome. 
 
 J.L. 
 
 [145]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 May 30th. 
 FATHER-DARLING : 
 
 DO you remember when Mark was a 
 little boy he called this day the "Day 
 of Decorations"? Every holiday except this 
 one seems to change with the years. The 
 Christmas tree hangings, lights, and toys are 
 different; New Year celebrations have grown 
 more festive and cabaretish; Fourth of July 
 fireworks are more brilliant and wonderful. 
 But today the parade is an exact counter- 
 part of the first one I ever saw. The same 
 carryall of white-frocked, blue-sashed chil- 
 dren, the same fife and drum, the same 
 Grand Army veterans or remnant of them. 
 The bands play the same tunes from the 
 jerky strains of the Star Spangled Banner 
 down the line to Columbia, Gem of the 
 Ocean, and on to the inspiring Hot Time of 
 the Spanish-American war soldiers. 
 
 It has always seemed a depressing holiday 
 to me and I was telling Roger Kane so as 
 we stood under the old flag that floated from 
 the front of Mildew Manse. 
 
 He made no reply and I began to wonder 
 [146]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 at his silence, he is so responsive and sym- 
 pathetic. I turned and looked up at him. 
 His hat was off in deference to the day and 
 the parade. Just then he removed his 
 goggles and I saw him wipe away a tear. 
 Do you know, I liked it in him and I liked 
 it that he didn't seem in the least ashamed 
 of his emotion. And he is a Southerner, too. 
 I think they have more sentiment than we 
 Northerners. $ 
 
 As we went into the house together, he put 
 his arm about me and said gently: "Poor, 
 little girl, this has been a hard week for 
 you!" 
 
 It has, daddy; that is why there has been 
 a longer lapse than usual between my 
 letters. 
 
 The very next day after I wrote you, 
 Heck, the younger and more delicate of the 
 twins, had a match with Tyke Donnelly to 
 see who could sit the longest on a big cake 
 of ice. Herk was referee and timekeeper, 
 and the contest came off in the Donnelly's 
 woodshed, witnessed by a favored few of the 
 Fourth Grade Athletic Club, admission one 
 cent, proceeds to pay for the ice. Tyke 
 won by fifteen and one-half seconds and 
 [147]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 received the cross of the club awarded only 
 to victors. 
 
 The victory was a surprise to all. Heck 
 was not susceptible to cold and was possessed 
 of a great amount of pluck. I think it was 
 defeat and disappointment as well as the 
 exposure that brought on a fever that night. 
 He was out of his head and raved and 
 mourned about the cross. Herk hovered 
 about the sick-room, and I expected he'd 
 be ill from sheer sympathy. 
 
 On the seventh night the doctor looked for 
 a crisis. Mrs. Haphazard, Hally, and Jo were 
 worn out, but each one begged to stay with 
 Heck that night. The doctor wouldn't have 
 one of them. "You are all too worn out 
 and unstrung," he said. "I want a level- 
 headed" 
 
 His eyes fell on me. 
 
 "You'll do," he said, and he took me up 
 to Heck's room and gave me directions for 
 the night. It was a fairly good-sized room 
 with east and west casement windows 
 through which a soft, fragrant breeze swept. 
 The only furnishings were the little white 
 bed, a chair and a table. The floor was 
 bare, no curtains at the window the kind 
 [148]
 
 of a room to meet with professional ap- 
 proval. 
 
 The doctor said he looked for no change 
 for a few hours and he would snatch a little 
 sleep while he could, as he meant to spend 
 the night there. He gave me explicit di- 
 rections for emergencies and told me to call 
 him if Heck rallied from the torpor that had 
 succeeded his ravings. I sat there for about 
 three hours. The house was deathly still. 
 I was not sleepy; my mind was alert. I 
 lived over my whole life from the time Mark 
 came to us. As I looked back it occurred 
 to me that he must have been very fond of 
 me in those days to put up with my bul- 
 lyings and bickerings as he did, for he had 
 a good hot temper himself. He told me 
 once he loved to have me abusive because 
 I was so sweet and sorry afterward. When 
 I had re-lived those days and come up to 
 the present, it seemed incredible that in 
 two months time these people could come 
 to mean so much to me. Then I grew cold, 
 thinking of what might happen this very 
 night, and I grew afraid awfully sick- 
 afraid. Suppose the change came quickly 
 before I could summon anyone in this im- 
 [149]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 mense house? Suppose Heck died, and I 
 had to tell them? Yes, I was afraid. Afraid 
 of the stillness, of Death whom I had 
 never met. If anyone, even Herk, had 
 stayed with me! I longed for Jo's sweet, 
 sustaining strength, for Barry's cool effec- 
 tiveness, but most of all for Roger Kane's 
 absolute sureness. I turned coward and 
 pretended to see an approaching change as 
 an excuse to call the doctor. And then - 
 the change came. There was a stirring in 
 the little white bed. A small form tried to 
 sit up and fell back. Two big eyes stared 
 into mine. 
 
 "Joan," a feeble little voice wailed, "he 
 won Tyke won the cross." 
 
 I forgot all the doctor's directions. I just 
 felt that he must know, before he died. 
 
 I went to the bed, put my arms about 
 him and raised him up. 
 
 "Heck," I said, "you did win. Tyke 
 Donnelly cheated. He stuffed a book open 
 at 'The Boy stood on the Burning Deck,' 
 in the seat of his trousers. He confessed 
 when he heard you were sick. They took 
 the cross away from him and sent it to 
 you. Here it is." 
 
 [150]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I took it from the drawer of the table 
 where it had been put in readiness for him, 
 and laid it in his hand. 
 
 His head sank on my shoulder. His eyes 
 looked into mine with the contented look of 
 one who wants no more. A feeble smile, a 
 clutch of the cross and he fell back into a 
 deep, quiet sleep. 
 
 The doctor miraculously appeared. I 
 didn't move, but I felt his hope. In an- 
 other moment pillows were propped against 
 my back. A light coverlet was placed 
 around Heck and another around my shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 I didn't stir from then on. I knew what 
 Heck's sleep would mean toward recovery. 
 At dawn I looked over my shoulder out the 
 eastern window. I saw the rising sun. I 
 looked straight ahead through the western 
 window and saw a dying moon. The best 
 omen in the world, you know, to see the 
 two at the same time. I knew then Heck 
 would recover. 
 
 It was eight o'clock in the morning be- 
 fore he awoke. He looked at me, felt the 
 cross, remembered and smiled. The doc- 
 tor sent me away. I met Mrs. Haphazard. 
 [151]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I shall never forget the look in her eyes 
 when I told her Heck was going to get well. 
 How Mark and I used to long for a mother! 
 Neither of us could remember one. 
 
 Heck's road to recovery has been swift. 
 Yesterday the doctor let Jo carry him down 
 to California to spend the day on the 
 sofa. 
 
 He was a little petulant a splendid 
 sign in the afternoon, and Hally, who 
 adores the twins, was the only one who 
 could soothe him. She took him in her 
 arms and was singing softly to him when 
 Barry came in unseen by her. She had on 
 a summer dress with short sleeves, and 
 Heck's fair head was pressed against one of 
 her soft white arms. The tender mother- 
 look was in her eyes. Altogether she looked 
 divine. I heard a little gasp from Barry, 
 and then he went quickly to her. I slipped 
 from the room. I knew what would happen. 
 It did. He asked her then and there to be 
 his wife. Heck repeated the proposal accu- 
 rately to us all. They are to be engaged 
 for a year. Then Hally will be nineteen and 
 will have made enough marmalade to buy 
 a trousseau. They will go abroad for a 
 [152]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 brief honeymoon and afterwards live on 
 the Bluff next to our lot. Surely by that 
 time we'll be living there too, Daddy? 
 
 Wilkie Haphazard came home for a day 
 when he heard about Heck. He couldn't 
 quite grasp the state of affairs when Barry 
 asked him for Hally, as he still thinks of her 
 as his little girl and doesn't want to give 
 her to anyone. That was what you said, 
 daddy, but you added that it had to be 
 some day, and that was why you wanted 
 to give me to Mark, because you would not 
 feel quite so parted from me as you would 
 if I married a stranger. You'd adore Roger, 
 father. He has been so dear to me through 
 Heck's sickness. 
 
 The day after the crisis I passed in most 
 needed slumber, so the poor little Bureau 
 was left alone with the Greeks. Yesterday 
 I went down again and trade was brisk. 
 Goudolaris with Grecian simplicity informed 
 me that he had a son and insisted on my 
 going to his house to see the Graeco-Hiber- 
 nian product. He is a funny-looking baby 
 with hair as red as his face, a straight little 
 Grecian nose and dark, long-lashed eyes. 
 His name is, honest truth, daddy, his 
 [153]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 name is, Bureau! Mrs. Goudolaris quite 
 insisted on Mike. Goudolaris stood out for 
 Christakis. The priest was called in coun- 
 sel and tactfully proposed neutrality in 
 name, but after protracted maneuvers and 
 skirmishes they could not fix on a preferred 
 nationality so the priest again came to the 
 rescue and suggested a coined name a 
 name that was not a name. Goudolaris re- 
 called the Bureau and its prosperity. I 
 suggested (without charge) that they spell 
 it Euro. I told the mother confidentially I 
 thought that spelling gave it an Irish flavor, 
 and I told the Greek head of the house that 
 it was more like any country than Ireland. 
 This is the first time I have ever had any- 
 one named after me. I shall give my name- 
 sake a silver cup. 
 
 I am going to begin embroidering for 
 Hally. She told me last night that she 
 owed Barry's love to me, but she doesn't. 
 I only gave her a little shove in the right 
 direction, that was all. I see one thing 
 plainly. Even if neither had cared for the 
 other, I couldn't have loved Barry not 
 in a thousand years. So all's well that 
 ends well. 
 
 [154]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Here I've written about every one but 
 Tippy. Of course he has a new job. He 
 is collecting for a firm. Imagine a Hap- 
 hazard urging anyone to "settle!" If Tip 
 ever lands a job where I think he has 
 the slightest show of sticking, I shall put 
 weights on him. He seems to be living on 
 starts, and his life is a series of starts and 
 stops. 
 
 In a little more than six weeks, you'll be 
 in Nome and reading all these letters. I 
 give you fair warning now that if Mark 
 influences you to the point of ordering me 
 back to that solitary confinement place 
 where you left me, I'll rebel even if I have 
 to regain my independence by marrying 
 Tippecanoe. I have a fetching gown of 
 peachbloom with pink-plumed hat to match, 
 and he'll sure propose if I wear them. I 
 can make enough from the Bureau to pay 
 our board at Mildew Manse and I'll sell 
 your lot besides. So watch your step. 
 But you won't do anything like that, daddy. 
 Not after you read all my letters, I am sure, 
 Mark or no Mark. For you love your little 
 daughter, even if she doesn't always act as 
 she'd orter. 
 
 [155]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 It must be the last day of May by this 
 time, and I'll kiss you good-night in your 
 little round frame and forgive Mark a lot 
 of things for sending you to me. 
 
 I have a picture of Mark, too, on my 
 table. The one where he is twelve, and 
 all arms and legs. I showed it to Roger 
 one day and he said: "He's a homely little 
 tyke." I rushed to Mark's defense with 
 that grand one taken in Paris. I think he 
 was impressed, though it's hard to tell what 
 expressions pass behind those impenetrable 
 blue goggles. When I showed him the only 
 typical picture Mark ever had taken that 
 one in hunting clothes, he said: "This 
 must be the real Mark." Then he added 
 very gently he always addresses me in 
 the tone one would use to a very young 
 child "May I give you a picture of my- 
 self and may I have one of you? Because 
 in another week I shall be going away, and 
 I don't want you to forget me." 
 
 I told him his picture wouldn't be neces- 
 sary to keep him in mind. I dread to think 
 how much I shall miss him, but I shall 
 have his letters, for I have promised to 
 write to him and he is coming back in 
 [156]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 August. Everything seems to be coming 
 in August. 
 
 Here is my last good-night, and do you 
 still love me a lot? And will you promise 
 never to leave me again? 
 
 JOAN 
 
 P. S. Maybe Mark would rather I kept a 
 recent photograph of him on exhibition, but 
 if he only knew it, I truly loved him in 
 those days. Up to date I am heart whole, 
 but if ever I come under the shadow of 
 Cupid's' wings, I shall still maintain that 
 there is no affection quite so pure, so strong 
 and so tender as that of a little girl for her 
 chosen companion in play days. 
 
 I once worked myself up to a tearful 
 state over Mark's kinless condition and I 
 told him I wished he were truly my brother. 
 He muttered somberly that he didn't; he 
 had never wanted a sister; was glad he 
 didn't have one; that if I had been a sissy 
 and not known enough to play boys' games, 
 he should never have had anything to do 
 with me. 
 
 J. L. 
 
 [157]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 June 6th. 
 FATHER-DEAR: 
 
 r I ^HE prize lot has been awarded. And 
 A who do you suppose won it? You 
 would never, never guess. Aline Irving! 
 That was what she was doing the day the 
 office slipped down stream with her on 
 board. She didn't mean that Jo or any of 
 us should know she was a contestant. After 
 all it wasn't surprising that she won. She 
 loves the river and she put her whole heart 
 into picturing the charms of a river-home. 
 Then, too, she must have had a tremen- 
 dous inspiration or she would have seen 
 that she was afloat. 
 
 "You must have written some hot stuff, 
 Aline," commented Haphiram admiringly, 
 "seeing it took the house off its feet." 
 
 "You can sell it for a good profit, Aline," 
 I suggested, "and use the money to help 
 build a little cottage on Jo's lot." 
 
 "I like a big yard, Joan, and so we will 
 
 build a cottage on the dividing line between 
 
 the two lots where we can all go and camp 
 
 out; for, of course it will be only a summer 
 
 [158]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 cottage. I wouldn't live anywhere else but 
 in Mildew Manse." 
 
 Oh, dear! Why won't some of them face 
 the issue of the numbered days of Mildew 
 Manse? 
 
 Poor Tippecanoe is out of the collecting 
 business. He didn't rake in a cent from 
 the debtors. I feel quite certain that he 
 never asked one of them to settle, but he 
 had a lovely time visiting with them and 
 receiving presents of cigars which he brought 
 home to Jo. He believed implicitly all their 
 little, lame excuses for the non-payment of 
 their debts and even tried to argue in their 
 favor with the firm for which he was collect- 
 ing. In fact, I don't know but it would 
 have been a clever idea for the creditors to 
 form a union and engage Tippy as agent 
 to show why they could not or should not 
 settle their accounts. He has several things 
 in view. He glibly enumerated them to 
 me and I told him that he had too many 
 irons in the fire, and I was afraid he would 
 put it out. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon I read Roger Kane 
 the letter I had just received from you. He 
 said something very nice to me after I fin- 
 [159]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 ished, and I am repeating it because it was 
 about you, too. He said: "That letter 
 explains you. With such a father a fa- 
 ther who takes time to write you such let- 
 ters you couldn't be otherwise than what 
 you are." 
 
 Oh, Daddy, Daddy Lynn, you always 
 have taken time to write me letters and to 
 do everything for me. Haven't we had the 
 dearest times together? And the times that 
 are yet to come will be still dearer. Do you 
 know what I once overheard you say years 
 ago when some old fusser was advising you 
 to marry? You said: "Joan is the dearest 
 little housewife in the world, and she is 
 never going to have a stepmother." How I 
 loved you for that! 
 
 I have something wonderful to tell you. 
 One evening Barry came up when we were 
 all sitting out on the west veranda. 
 
 "Some one," he began earnestly, "and 
 I am not at liberty to tell who, has asked to 
 be allowed to contribute in a slight way to 
 your pleasures. He is a man without rela- 
 tives and he says it will be a great kindness 
 to him if you will let him follow his fancy 
 in remembering you." 
 
 [160]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "What is it he wants to do?" asked Jo 
 abruptly. More than any Haphazard Jo 
 shrinks from donations. 
 
 "He merely wants to send trifles over for 
 the general enjoyment. He is especially 
 fond of boys and interested in their sports. 
 The first thing he wants to send is a tent." 
 
 I was somewhat disappointed in hearing 
 this gift mentioned. I had indulged in a 
 moment's wild hope that some millionaire 
 lover of Mildew Manse was planning to 
 buy the place and hand it to the Hap- 
 hazards on a gold platter. I knew at once 
 who the philanthropist was. Roger Kane! 
 The description fitted him precisely. He 
 loves the three young Haps, and it was only 
 the other day he was quizzing them about 
 the different kind of tents. 
 
 "Why," demanded Jo, "can't he come out 
 in the open and give the youngsters a tent 
 without this mystery?" 
 
 "Because he is rather peculiar in his way 
 of doing things. He is modest, too, and 
 dislikes being thanked." 
 
 "You know, Barry," objected Jo, "it 
 makes a difference from whom you accept 
 things." 
 
 [161]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I know it does. He foresaw this objec- 
 tion and told me I might select you as con- 
 fidant on condition that it was kept secret 
 between you and me." 
 
 "Oh, Jo, don't object!" cried the little 
 boys standing in pleading line-up before 
 him. 
 
 "I don't want to put a feather in the 
 path of your good times, boys," he said 
 earnestly, "anti I'll manage somehow to 
 buy you a tent." 
 
 Barry pulled Jo away out of hearing. I 
 felt sure that when Jo learned the name of 
 the would-be gift-giver, he would be satis- 
 fied, for he admires Roger Kane immensely. 
 
 One look at Jo's face was sufficient to 
 show that all his doubts were removed. 
 
 "It's all right, kiddies. He may give you 
 the tent." 
 
 In the wild whoopee that went up from 
 the trio, Jo's eyes sought mine whimsically. 
 I read his thought that Roger -Kane was 
 doing this as much for me as for the boys. 
 
 "I don't have to guess who the donor is, 
 I said in an aside to Barry. "I know." 
 
 "I thought you would," he said in signi- 
 ficant tone, and as if he were not altogether 
 [162]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 pleased, "but remember I am not indorsing 
 your surmise, and one of the conditions is 
 that nothing is to be said to him." 
 
 When Barry and Jo went inside to dis- 
 cuss Subdivision matters, we all speculated 
 on our unknown fairy godfather. All except 
 Aline were positive it was Roger Kane. 
 Aline thought he was an elderly man who 
 lived a hermit life in a house cloistered by a 
 wall and hedge that shut it completely in 
 from the street. She had often, she said, 
 noticed him, in his daily walks which he 
 took just before twilight time, stop and 
 watch the little boys at play. Once on her 
 way through the grounds to Mildew Manse 
 she had seen him outside the window of 
 California looking wistfully within and lis- 
 tening to Tippecanoe's ballads. 
 
 Herk and Heck said whoever the giver 
 might be, he was a good old scout, and they 
 didn't care a hurrah what his name might be. 
 
 The next morning I loitered after break- 
 fast and was rewarded by seeing a delivery 
 truck stop in front of the house. The boys 
 shouted: 
 
 "She's come already! It's the Linden 
 Tent Company's Truck.", 
 [163]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 It seemed to me there was enough canvas 
 and paraphernalia for a circus. When I 
 came home at noon, the yard looked like 
 an encampment. There was a very large 
 tent with a fly in front and a smaller tent 
 in the rear, and from a pole a beautiful flag 
 flew. 
 
 I stood speechless, quite overcome by the 
 magnitude of our martial glory. 
 
 "Come inside, Joan," chorused the trio. 
 
 I followed their lead. If there is any 
 equipment pertaining to soldiery omitted, 
 it is because it isn't obtainable. 
 
 "Look at this once, Joan!" 
 
 Hap awesomely lifted a lid to a camp 
 chest and I beheld three complete khaki 
 uniforms all for the grade of captain. He 
 thrust a bugle before my eyes and then 
 blew a blast that nearly raised the roof 
 I mean the fly. 
 
 The three young captains informed me 
 that I was to be Joan of Arc. Haphiram 
 wanted me to ride the Donnelly's white 
 calf as a near-approach to a white steed, 
 but I am doubtful. Calves have a burro- 
 like way of kicking up their heels, and I 
 don't want to risk my new white suit. 
 [164]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "This is surely the joy-zone!" declared 
 Roger Kane when he came over to witness 
 the camp. 
 
 "We will give you a mess-tent banquet 
 the night of your return," I promised. 
 
 "That will sustain me," he said, "through 
 the next two months when I shall be busy 
 dictating to my stenographer." 
 
 "Is she pretty?" I asked quickly and 
 felt how inane the inquiry was when he 
 replied gravely: "My stenographer is a 
 young man who wears lavender shirts and 
 smokes cigarettes." 
 
 I couldn't resist saying insinuatingly: "It's 
 simply grand for the boys to have that 
 glorious tent. I am so glad for them." 
 
 "I am thinking," he said trying to speak 
 casually, "that Joan of Arc will enjoy it as 
 much as her three little captains." 
 
 Then he quickly changed the subject and 
 I didn't venture to say more. 
 
 He was going to leave on the train that 
 night, and when he came to bid us good-bye 
 he shook hands with all the Haphazards, 
 but when he came to me, to my surprise 
 he stooped and kissed me very gently, al- 
 most reverently. I was not at all embar- 
 [165]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 rassed, strange to say. Some way I had an 
 odd little feeling that he was in reality 
 kissing the little sweetheart who died. 
 
 After he had gone I was too lonely to 
 write. I sat down before the pictures of 
 you and Mark and added one of Roger to 
 my little group. I have missed him today, 
 but he is coming back, and oh, daddy, as 
 glad as I shall be to see him again, it will 
 be as nothing compared to the joy of seeing 
 you once more. Just as soon as you have 
 dredged just a little gold, let the rest stay 
 in the sands and come home to me. 
 
 The only solace I shall find in your getting 
 peeved about the Bureau business is that 
 it may hurry you back. If you knew how 
 hard I hit the trail of the postman watching 
 for your letters! 
 
 I kiss you good-night. 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 [166]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 June 13th. 
 DARLING DADDY LYNN: 
 
 THINK of having Christmas for a 
 straight week and in summer, too! 
 Three days after my last letter to you, one 
 of the big music companies delivered a Vic- 
 trola at Mildew Manse! It is a godsend to 
 shut-in Grandma, and Mrs. Haphazard says 
 it makes the dishwashing seem livelier and 
 when she has something to be done in a 
 hurry, she puts on a double-quick-time 
 record. It is lovely for dancing, as we are 
 now just three couples. Roger Kane adored 
 to watch us dance, though like Mark, he 
 doesn't dance himself. 
 
 The following day came the very latest 
 invention in wheel-chairs for Grandma with 
 all conveniences attached electric flash- 
 light, reading desk, lunch tray, thermos 
 bottle and book-holder. 
 
 And of all the gifts that the Magi could 
 bestow this is the loveliest and the best! 
 
 When Jo and Barry were out of hearing, 
 I declared: "Whoever he is, Roger Kane, 
 or another, I love him for this!" And 
 [167]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the Haphazards all cried: "So do I! So 
 do I!" 
 
 "It's no use," I announced, "whether he 
 likes it or not, I am going to write to him. 
 I'll not call him by name, and I'll carry 
 out the farce of giving it to Barry or Jo to 
 mail." 
 
 "I could say my prayers more fervently 
 if I thanked some one besides Providence," 
 said Grandma. 
 
 "You bet your neck I'll write him," cried 
 Herk. 
 
 "Me, too," chimed in Heck. 
 
 Haphiram was already blotting his cheeks. 
 He is nearsighted and his eyelashes scratch 
 the paper. Here are the letters we wrote 
 our "unknown" friend, alias Roger Kane: 
 
 FROM GRANDMA: 
 
 "Dear kind Friend, For such you are 
 to me to us all. It's a heart of gold that 
 thought of such a gift to me, and that you 
 may have your Heart's Dearest Desire, is 
 the wish of 
 
 "GRANDMA HAZARD." 
 
 [168]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 JOINT LETTER FROM HAPHIRAM, HERCULES 
 AND HECTOR: 
 
 "TT7HOEVER you are, you're a bully 
 VV good scout and we want you to let 
 us tell you so some day. We're awfully 
 much obliged, specially for Grandma. And 
 it's great to hear the Victrola, but we can't 
 help being gladdest about those ripping good 
 tents and all the things that went with them 
 We'd like to do something besides thank 
 you. 
 
 "Signed: 
 
 "HAP 1 
 
 "HERK > Captains Three" 
 "HECK ) 
 
 MINE: 
 "DEAR SUMMER SANTA CLAUS: 
 
 [ T'S hard to write to you, for there are no 
 
 -I words I know that can express at all 
 
 how we love you and love your way of 
 
 remembering us. You must know boys and 
 
 soldiers from A to Izzer to have thought of 
 
 sending that tent and all its equipment. 
 
 You must love music to send us such a 
 
 [169]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 beautiful Victrola and the fine selection of 
 records. As for Grandma's chair, well! if 
 you had committed the blackest sin on 
 earth, that one gift would have blotted it 
 out forever. 
 
 "You won't let us thank you personally, 
 but you can't prevent our loving you and 
 we do all of us not for the gifts you 
 sent, but for the dear thought and kindness 
 that suggested them. Anything we have 
 that you want is yours. 
 
 "Jo AN OF ARC. 
 "In behalf of the Mildew Manse Militia." 
 
 WE gave our letters to Barry, who prom- 
 ised to see that the right party received 
 them. 
 
 Later that evening when I was sitting 
 alone in the hammock, Barry left Hally to 
 join me. 
 
 "Joan," he said, "Summer Santa Glaus 
 wants to give you something just for you, 
 yourself." 
 
 "No," I refused. "That's why I adore 
 his presents and himself, because he is 
 doing things for the Haphazards." 
 
 "That's just the point. Affection for the 
 [170]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Haphazards is the bond between you. A 
 loves B, C loves B; ergo, C ' 
 
 "Oh, Barry," I interrupted impatiently, 
 "don't let any more unknown quantities 
 enter into this gift problem. Besides the 
 tent is for me as well as for the boys; I 
 occupy it as much as the Captains Three. 
 And I'd like to know what I could enjoy 
 more than I do the Victrola! No; Summer 
 Santa Claus has done enough for me." 
 
 "Joan," he asked abruptly after a little 
 silence, "have you forgotten Mark?" 
 
 He's always harping on Mark. 
 
 "No," I replied lightly. "I have not 
 forgotten Mark, but I am of the opinion 
 that Mark has forgotten me." 
 
 "You don't think that," he said gravely, 
 "and you know you don't mean it. If you 
 knew what love meant, you'd know that a 
 man like Mark would want all or nothing 
 that it is adding insult to injury to offer a 
 sister's love in lieu of a lover's." 
 
 This from commercial Barry. I suppose 
 he knows more about love than I do. I 
 remember the look in his eyes when he came 
 into the room and saw Hally holding Heck. 
 
 The night was full of June smells and 
 [171]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 sounds. Oh, I'd like to be in love on a 
 night like this I think I would ! 
 
 "Barry, what is it Summer Santa Claus 
 wants to give me for 'just me'?" I asked. 
 
 "Only something that you could accept 
 from anyone violets ! " 
 
 Only something I could accept from any- 
 one ! Violets the flower that has the 
 nameless charm for me, a charm so different 
 from any other flower. Roger Kane knows 
 how I love them. He said he always asso- 
 ciated me with them. I care very very 
 much for Roger Kane, but violets seem to 
 belong to the memories of other days days 
 with you and Mark. Then," there's the 
 chance that he may be the hermit. Violets 
 from him from anyone but you and 
 Mark?" 
 
 "No, Barry," I replied emphatically. "I 
 don't want any unknown giving me violets. 
 As you truly say I don't know what love 
 means; but, still I have a certain amount of 
 sentiment in me, and I want violets to stay 
 in the background with my old days." 
 
 "Forgive me, Joan. I did you wrong. 
 You have not forgotten Mark!" and with a 
 tantalizing, little laugh, he strolled away.
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Barry!" I cried. 
 
 He stopped. 
 
 "Changed your mind about the violets?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "No; I merely wanted to tell you that I 
 could no more forget Mark than you could 
 forget Aline; but you needn't jump to 
 wrong conclusions just because I said what 
 I did." 
 
 "All right!" he replied lightly. "I'll 
 tell Summer Santa Glaus that you don't 
 want violets from him because they are 
 associated with another man!" 
 
 "If you do, Barry Walters," I said, "I'll 
 write him myself. You know perfectly well 
 that I know who he is. I'll tell him that 
 if he wants to send me flowers or anything 
 else he can do so openly and not anony- 
 mously, that I won't have it. He'll know 
 then that you let me surmise who he is." 
 
 "All right, Joan. I won't. I'll just tell 
 him you want no personal gift.", : 
 
 I had a letter from him Roger Kane, I 
 mean. It had to be, he wrote, either a long 
 one dictated to the lavender-shirted man or 
 else a scrawl of a few words, because his 
 eyes are troubling him again. I am glad 
 [173]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 he chose the latter way. It was a darling 
 little note. 
 
 The next day Barry delivered a dozen 
 pairs of gloves for Hally from Summer 
 Santa Claus. He said that Tip's turn had 
 also come. I looked for this remembrance 
 to be in the form of silk socks, ties, or maybe 
 a scarf pin, or something for personal adorn- 
 ment. 
 
 "Summer Santa Claus," said Barry, 
 "thinks, Tippy, that you ought to start in 
 some business that will be worth while - 
 a place where you will stick. And he ad- 
 vises that you turn to account your unerring 
 taste in clothes." 
 
 "Dear me!" I thought, "is Roger Kane 
 going to advise Tip to turn valet or some- 
 thing in the man-tailor line?" 
 
 "He knows," continued Barry, "of a 
 young chap with a modest capital who is 
 anxious to start a little business and he has 
 proposed to him to take you in with him, 
 on a salary at first, but with a view to 
 working up to a junior partnership. The 
 business is an exclusive haberdasher's shop, 
 and your inherent knowledge of styles should 
 stand you in good stead. You will meet
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 your future partner at my office tomorrow 
 and arrange matters." 
 
 Why in the world had no one ever thought 
 of this business for Tippecanoe? He has 
 always been a square peg in a round hole in 
 every position he has held, but this will be the 
 line of lines for him. Roger Kane, alias Sum- 
 mer Santa Claus, is wise as well as generous. 
 Tip's shiftfulness used to disturb him. 
 
 Today came Mrs. Haphazard's present, a 
 camera. So every nook and cranny of 
 Mildew Manse will be snapped, as will the 
 Haphazards en masse from Grandma in her 
 new chair to the twins and Peter Paul and 
 a few of Little Jumping Joan thrown in. 
 You will get one each of all the pictures, 
 and so will Roger Kane. 
 
 Your last letter had a good deal to say 
 about Mark. I am glad to hear that he 
 seems "older and steadier," and that he is 
 "quieter and more reserved." You rather 
 intimate that it is because of what happened 
 before he went to Alaska. Daddy, I acted 
 for the best. 
 
 Euro Goudolaris came down to the res- 
 taurant in a brand-new baby cab today and 
 was placed on exhibition. He blinked out- 
 [175]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 rageously at his namesake, and squirmed like 
 spaghetti when his papa gurgled Greek to him. 
 As I sat by my window in Oregon tonight, 
 I could see between tree tops a few lone 
 stars. I wondered if you could see them, 
 too. Thoughts of you brought remembrance 
 of Mark and then you were both obliterated 
 for a few moments as I fell into a revery 
 about Roger and all he had done for the 
 Haphazards for me, and our pleasure. It 
 isn't a matter of the money he has lavishly 
 spent, but the subtle, Christmas, gift-love 
 spirit that comes to us so fervidly on the 
 eve of the three hundred and fifty-eighth 
 day of the year when we see the muni- 
 cipal Christmas tree silhouetted against a 
 misty background of white space with its 
 illuminating, electric messengers of colored 
 lights, or when we look at the eager faces of 
 little children clustered at toy shop win- 
 dows. The keynote he had struck in his 
 impromptu selections made me long to put 
 in words, though he would never read them, 
 my appreciation of his sweetness, so I wrote 
 with the freedom and fullness with which 
 we write only when we know that our pro- 
 duction will be torn into bits. 
 [176] 

 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "YOU DARLING SUMMER SANTA ClAUSI 
 
 WISH you were not of flesh and blood, 
 A but were really the old mythical Saint 
 Nicholas of childhood days so I could write 
 this letter impersonally and with that child- 
 ish trust of long ago, put it up the chimney. 
 For you have lifted these gifts far above the 
 usual donations. 
 
 ' ' By their presents (excuse the homonym) 
 ye shall know them' is surely true in your 
 case, and be you young or old, man or 
 superman, I love you not for your generosity, 
 for any man of affluence can be generous, 
 but for putting yourself in the place of the 
 ones who are to receive. You may be old 
 in years but you are young in heart, young 
 in years, but old in your knowledge of the 
 hunger in the hearts of those less liberally 
 provided for than yourself. In either case 
 I am yours, now and forever, and may the 
 happiness of the Haphazards be thenceforth 
 thine. And, with Grandma Haphazard I 
 wish for you the fulfillment of all the desires 
 of your heart. 
 
 "Trustingly, 
 
 "JOAN LYNN" 
 
 [177]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 After I wrote this gushing appreciation, 
 daddy, I leaned back in my chair and 
 dreamed until I was too sleepy to do any- 
 thing but get into bed. In the morning I 
 was too late in arising to do anything but 
 slip into clothes and make one grand rush 
 for breakfast and the Bureau. At noon I 
 recalled my midnight effusion and went home 
 to destroy it, but could find no trace of it. 
 Investigation revealed the mortifying fact 
 that the methodical Herk had been the 
 chambermaid in my room that morning and 
 he discovered the letter on my table, sealed 
 it and delivered it to Barry who forwarded it! 
 
 There was nothing I could do. And yet 
 somehow, Roger Kane is so sweet and under- 
 standing he will draw no wrong conclusions. 
 I asked Barry to explain that it was not 
 intended to be sent. Barry's high glee 
 jarred some way. 
 
 I had another letter and a book from 
 Roger Kane today. I am so happy that 
 all these nice things have come to the Hap- 
 hazards. If the mortgage were only lifted! 
 But we can't have everything. I don't 
 want everything, father. I just want you 
 with all my heart. Good-night and pleas- 
 ant dreams; may they all be of JOAN. 
 [178]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 June 19th. 
 
 OH, father, father! It has come! Like 
 a bolt from the blue. Mildew Manse 
 can hold out no longer against the mort- 
 gages. The owner of them lived in the far 
 west, and his agent here has always collected 
 the rent when he could and when the 
 Haphazards ever gave the matter any 
 thought at all, they concluded that he 
 would, doubtless, be content with always 
 just holding the mortgages until he came to 
 own the place and then he would rent it to 
 them. But he died quite suddenly, and his 
 heir at once began to convert all securities 
 into ready cash. He sent on word to the 
 agent to take over the property here at 
 once and sell it, or foreclose, or something 
 like that. 
 
 When the agent called to break the news 
 to us, he caused a panic all right. You see 
 you get used to a suspended sword as time 
 goes on, and when it does finally fall, it 
 brings as much of a shock as though you 
 had never suspected that it was dangling. 
 
 It was the first time I had ever seen the 
 [179]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Haphazards downcast. When the agent 
 came back and put up a "For Sale" sign, 
 it was just as though the undertaker had 
 been here and hung a streamer of crepe 
 from the door. 
 
 By dinner time we had rallied sufficiently 
 to talk it over and see what could be done 
 to save the ship. One conclusion was in- 
 stantly reached. It could not be bought by 
 the Haphazards. To be sure the wet day 
 fund, which by this time had reached the 
 one-hundred dollar proportions insisted upon 
 by Jo and which the revenue from my 
 room rent and breakfasts had greatly helped, 
 was available. The little boys at school 
 bragged loudly of their bank account, but 
 Jo quickly disillusioned us as to any air- 
 castles we had been building on this re- 
 serve. It wouldn't be sufficent, he said, to 
 make even a first payment, and any one of 
 the solicitous candidates for a residence on 
 "the" street could pay spot cash. 
 
 It was unanimously agreed that Father 
 Hazard was not to be told of the calamity 
 until his return. No sense in speeding ill 
 news. 
 
 Aline was away when the agent called. 
 [180]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 As she came home she saw the sign and it 
 was as startling as handwriting on the wall. 
 She rushed into the house, but instead of 
 being stunned as the rest of us then were, 
 the sign seemed to arouse a fighting spirit 
 in our dreamy young princess. 
 
 "I won't live in any other house!" she 
 declared with a gleam in her eyes. "Jo 
 Hazard, you've got to save it!" 
 
 "How can I, Aline? ""he asked sorrowfully. 
 
 "How? Somehow, anyhow!" 
 
 "That doesn't tell me how to raise the 
 money to buy the place," he said with a 
 half smile, a touch of the Haphazard levity 
 returning. "I see no way, Aline." 
 
 "Make a way, Jo!" she demanded. 
 
 "Yes, Jo; there must be some way," 
 observed Mrs. Haphazard hopefully and 
 Grandma remarked confidently: "Jo always 
 has found some sort of a way out of every- 
 thing for us." Hally contributed to the 
 cheerful reminder that things always did 
 work out right in time. 
 
 Herk and Heck came in with air triumphal, 
 and announced that they had fixed things 
 by tearing down that "measly old sign," 
 and told Jo he could do the rest. 
 [181]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Poor Jo! It was hard on him to have the 
 burden shoved entirely on his young shoul- 
 ders and to know that he was not equal to 
 producing the result they expected. He 
 found a moment's respite in sternly ordering 
 the twins to restore the sign at once. 
 
 "The sign isn't ours, you know," he said 
 a little bitterly. "Nothing is ours. It's a 
 good thing that man wouldn't mortgage our 
 furniture." 
 
 "There's no mortgage on the tents," said 
 Haphiram, speaking for the first time since 
 the disaster. "We can pitch them on the 
 Bluff and live in them." 
 
 "It wouldn't be a bad idea," observed 
 Mrs. Haphazard reflectively. 
 
 "I should think you might give us a sug- 
 gestion, Joan," said Hap reproachfully. 
 
 "I wish father had some money," I re- 
 plied, "but he hasn't yet. I'll sell my lot 
 and Jo and Aline can sell theirs, and there's 
 the wet day fund and - 
 
 "Only a drop in the bucket," appraised Jo. 
 
 "We can surely borrow of some one," I 
 persisted. "I'll write Summer Roger Kane. 
 He- 
 
 " Roger Kane," said Jo, "is very lavish 
 [182]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 with his money, but this would be too big 
 a debt for anyone, and Joan, I won't let 
 you ask anyone to advance the money. 
 We could never pay it back." 
 
 California was in mourning that night. 
 We all went early to bed for want of any- 
 thing else to do. 
 
 The next morning Jo walked down town 
 with me. The look in his eyes as he kissed 
 his mother on leaving the house kept me 
 silent, and we went down the street without 
 speaking. We had not gone very far when 
 a burly, red-faced man stopped us. 
 
 "Oh, Hazard," he called. "I was just on 
 my way to see you. I have bought the 
 place where you live!" 
 
 "You have bought it!" exclaimed Jo in 
 consternation. 
 
 He had been hoping against hope, I sup- 
 pose, for a reprieve a little longer lease. 
 
 "Yes; I've just paid over the money for 
 the whole shebang, and Tomlin says I can 
 have immediate possession." 
 
 "You wouldn't care to sell it, I suppose," 
 asked Jo faintly. 
 
 Poor fellow! He couldn't let go the last 
 clinging straw. 
 
 [183]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I should say not!" declared the horrid, 
 red-faced man. "I've always had my eye 
 on that old place for a home. I am going 
 to put up the finest mansion in town." 
 
 We walked on still silent. I looked down 
 a side street and I saw oh, daddy, what 
 I saw saved the day. 
 
 I left Jo and ran after the red-faced man. 
 I heard Jo call after me, but it didn't halt me. 
 
 "What are you going to do with the old 
 house?" I asked breathlessly, when I had 
 overtaken the brute. 
 
 "Tear it down, of course," he replied. 
 
 I beckoned wildly to Jo who was waiting 
 for me. 
 
 "He is going to tear down Mildew Manse," 
 I informed Jo when he had come up to us. 
 
 "Well, what of it?" he asked stupidly. 
 
 "What are you going to do with all the 
 material?" was my next inquiry. 
 
 "Pay some one to haul it away, I sup- 
 pose," he replied. 
 
 Jo got me then, a little gleam of the 
 Haphazard hope creeping into his troubled 
 eyes. 
 
 "Will you give me the house if I agree to 
 get it off the premises at once?" he asked. 
 [184]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I should say I would and throw in a 
 few thanks besides. But what in the 
 world can you do with all that old, rotten 
 timber, Hazard? It's not fit to use again." 
 
 "I can use it," Jo assured him. "Will 
 you come into a lawyer's office with me 
 now, Mr. Payne, and have it put down on 
 paper?" 
 
 "That won't be necessary, Hazard. I'm 
 only too glad to get rid of the old stuff so 
 easily." 
 
 Jo's insistence prevailed and they left me 
 to go to a lawyer's office. Jo called after 
 me to come home to luncheon. 
 
 On my way to Mildew Manse at noon I 
 met Barry and when I told him the sad 
 news he went with me. We were the last 
 arrivals, and the little air of suppressed 
 elation * in Jo's demeanor had brought a 
 pleasant stir of expectancy to the family. 
 
 When we had gathered about the table he 
 announced : 
 
 "Ed Payne has bought this place and he 
 says that he is going to put up the finest 
 house in town." 
 
 It was quite evident that his news had 
 fallen short of expectation. 
 [185]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "And," he pursued, working up to his 
 climax, "he's given me this house, if I will 
 take it off his hands." 
 
 "I suppose you mean," drawled Haphi- 
 ram, "that he'll give it to you if you'll take 
 it off the lot, not off his hands." 
 
 "The timber is too old, I suppose, to use 
 in rebuilding," observed Mrs. Haphazard. 
 "Still it would be a sort of satisfaction to 
 tear it down ourselves instead of being ob- 
 liged to look on and see it demolished by 
 strangers." 
 
 "We are not going to tear it down," re- 
 plied Jo. "Hap was right. The condition 
 to the gift is that I take it off the lot. I 
 went to the street commissioner this morn- 
 ing and got a permit and I have engaged 
 a house-moving company to come tomorrow 
 and move Mildew Manse." 
 
 There was no doubt now about his creat- 
 ing a sensation, and all tongues fell to wag- 
 ging at once. 
 
 "Where will you move the house to?" 
 asked Tippecanoe. 
 
 "Why, just move around in it," said Herk. 
 "We can bivouac the way soldiers do." 
 
 "Silly!" cried Haphiram. "We'll move 
 [186]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 it on Jo's lot, of course. Gee! It will be 
 handy to go in swimming and skating." 
 
 "It must be on my lot, too," pleaded 
 Aline. "Isn't it grand that the two are 
 adjoining! We'll put it on the dividing line. 
 Then we'll have a yard all around it." 
 
 "And the cellar, Jo," reminded Mrs. 
 Haphazard anxiously. "I must have a 
 cellar." 
 
 "The men are out there now digging it 
 right on the dividing line between the lots 
 as Aline wants it. It will be slow work 
 moving, you know, so the cellar will be 
 ready to receive the Manse when she 
 
 arrives." 
 
 "But where, Jo," asked Mrs. Haphazard, 
 "are we to live while Mildew Manse is en 
 route?" 
 
 "Why, right here in the house, of course," 
 replied Jo. "Just as Herk proposed. The 
 moving men said all you would have to do 
 would be to take the pictures off the wall 
 and pack away brick a brae and topply 
 things, and that you'd be just as comfort- 
 able as though the house was stationary." 
 
 Now he had scored a hit. I should never 
 thought of so simple a solution. 
 [187]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "It will be cheap and convenient," ap- 
 proved Mrs. Haphazard in relieved tones. 
 " I shouldn't know how to pack and move all 
 our stuff." 
 
 "What a splendid opportunity for me to 
 see the city!" exclaimed Grandma excitedly. 
 "I'm tired to death of looking at High Street, 
 Mildew Manse grounds and the Coverley's 
 back yard." 
 
 "It'll be just like taking a trip," cried 
 Hally delightedly. "We'll call it our sum- 
 mer vacation." 
 
 "And the woodshed will be the observa- 
 tion car!" announced Haphiram. 
 
 "We'll blow the bugle at every street 
 crossing," chimed in Herk. 
 
 "The bugler," planned Heck, "can sit on 
 the roof and the color-bearer can wave the 
 flag. Gee! It will be great." 
 
 "I am wondering," observed Tippecanoe, 
 "how the grocer, the butcher and the post- 
 man can ever keep track of us. We'll have 
 to send out an itinerary for the trip to all 
 our tradesmen and friends. I am glad it's 
 not near election time, for we wouldn't 
 know in which ward to register." 
 
 "Jo," said his mother admiringly, "you 
 [188]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 certainly are the mainstay of this family. 
 What would we do without you?" 
 
 "It was some clever idea, Jo," approved 
 Barry. 
 
 "What makes you think it my idea when 
 the Lady of the Bureau of Suggestions sits 
 right here in our midst!" 
 
 "I didn't get this suggestion at the Bu- 
 reau," I said after the applause. "When 
 that red-faced Ed Payne said so brutally 
 that he was going to tear down the house, 
 and I was having ghastly visions of Mildew 
 Manse reduced to a pile of wreckage, I 
 looked down Zenith Street and saw a house 
 being moved. My mind's eye then conceived 
 our house on rollers. I only wish we could 
 take the yard, too." 
 
 "You want the earth, Joan," said 
 Hap. 
 
 "Certainly, I want Mildew Manse earth," 
 I retorted. 
 
 I wrote Roger Kane all about it today, 
 and I know how he will feel. They are 
 going to ask him to stay at Mildew Manse 
 when he comes in August. The Coverleys 
 always claim him, but they will be away at 
 their mountain home by that time. I am 
 [189]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 quite sure, daddy, that he will prefer to 
 come to us. 
 
 When I left California tonight, Haphiram 
 quite embarrassed me by calling out: "Good- 
 night, Mrs. Summer Santa Glaus." 
 
 They were all very mirthful because I 
 blushed. When will I overcome that fright- 
 fully young habit? Aline diverted attention 
 from me by remarking: "I wonder why noth- 
 ing is ever said about Mrs. Santa Glaus? 
 Such a kind, merry, old man couldn't be a 
 bachelor. Anyway, Joan, I should love to 
 be the wife of such a generous man as - 
 Summer Santa Glaus." 
 
 "Do you know," said Jo, looking at me 
 meditatively, "I feel sure that some day 
 Joan will be that happy woman." 
 
 Then I did blush. You should have seen 
 Barry's scowl. Mark certainly has two firm 
 friends, you and Barry. He might have 
 three, if he wished. 
 
 I wonder if Jo's prophecy will come true. 
 I don't know yet. I think I rather like 
 to think so. 
 
 I was again taking my leave, when Barry 
 told me he had brought up a new record he 
 wanted me to hear. 
 
 [190]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Oh, dear me, daddy! The record was an 
 old hunting song that Mark used to sing 
 and that you liked so much. Barry said 
 Mark sang it at college until the boys 
 wouldn't stand for it. I managed to keep 
 back the tears, but it made me homesick for 
 old days and you and Mark. The man 
 that sang for the record had a broad bari- 
 tone and a rollicking quality in his voice 
 like Mark, and it was almost as though I 
 were listening to him. Please don't read 
 him this, daddy. 
 
 I will keep you posted while we are on the 
 move. 
 
 With all my love, 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 [191]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 June 
 MY DADDY-DEAR: 
 
 WE'RE off! The next day after I last 
 wrote you, we made preparations for 
 the journey. We took down the pictures 
 and wall decorations and carried them over 
 to Mrs. Irving's. We made quite a proces- 
 sion, each laden with a pile of pictures and 
 some passers-by remarked: "What in the 
 world is that?" Haphiram impudently re- 
 torted: "It's moving pictures." 
 
 The three boys begged to be allowed to 
 stay at home from school and watch the 
 "start," but when the House-moving Com- 
 pany appeared they informed us that it 
 would take a couple of days to get ready. 
 
 "One to make ready, two to begin, and 
 I hope three's a go," said Hap disconsolately. 
 
 I met the teacher of the Fourth Grade 
 that afternoon and she said she had had her 
 hands full intercepting notes and muzzling 
 whisperers, but that in spite of her vigilance, 
 long before recess every boy in the school 
 room knew that the "Haphazards' house 
 was moving and the folks still living in it." 
 [192]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 There are so many different kinds of ad- 
 ditions to Mildew Manse, you know, that it 
 required a lot of preliminary work, and it 
 was a problem to keep the parts all coupled 
 together like a railway train. Anyway, I 
 judged so when I heard one of the workmen 
 say what kind of a job he thought it was. 
 They are evidently not used to moving 
 families, and sometimes their language is 
 "painful and free." 
 
 "It's a good thing we haven't a parrot," 
 mildly commented Grandma. 
 
 Today they brought the merry-go-round 
 horses and the ropes and told us they were 
 all ready to be off. 
 
 Hally said it seemed as if we ought to 
 put on our hats and gloves. I looked for a 
 little display of emotion when the first tug 
 should come and we would be "foot-loose" as 
 Grandma called it, but the Haphazards are far 
 too matter-of-fact for any mock heroics. Jo 
 has the most sentiment of any of them; odd, 
 too, since he is the most practical. 
 
 As the house is as broad as the entire 
 street and pavements, I asked the "head 
 guy" as Herk calls him, if traffic would have 
 to be held up. 
 
 [193]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Oh, we ain't goin' to take her out broad- 
 sides," he replied, "but end-to, when we 
 are once out in the street." 
 
 We looked something like a freight train 
 when we pulled away. 
 
 I didn't blame the boys for open rebellion 
 when school-time came. Their teacher was 
 at the Goudolaris restaurant for luncheon, 
 and she told me that in the first hour when 
 Haphiram went to the blackboard she was 
 conscious of a general stir of excitement. 
 Her eyes moved swifter than the eraser, and 
 she saw written in big letters: "She's 
 started." 
 
 After school Haphiram came down to the 
 Bureau to invite me to dinner. Barry, 
 craving a "real shortcake," had sent up a 
 whole crate of strawberries. 
 
 We started out in search of Mildew Manse 
 and finally overtook it. They were all very 
 much interested and entertained by their 
 mode of transit. Grandma sat in her 
 wheel chair on the platform of the wood- 
 shed because it made her dizzy to watch the 
 horses go around. She was a whole block 
 away from California. 
 
 I opened the front door and sat back in 
 [194]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the hall, as I felt a little conspicuous on the 
 front steps. Moreover, they were occupied 
 by a galaxy of youth. 
 
 One of Mark's and my dreams used to be 
 to travel by caravan. Those pictures of the 
 forty-niners crossing the desert in their 
 covered wagons always thrilled us. Once 
 when we were in a small town over night 
 and saw some gipsy wagons, Mark planned 
 for them to steal me, so he could dash after 
 me in mad pursuit and be captured before 
 he effected a rescue. Alas! The gipsies 
 would have none of me and set their dogs 
 on Mark. To travel with a circus would 
 have been the zenith of bliss. We never 
 once thought of traveling by house. It 
 beats every method of touring I ever heard 
 of for cheapness and comfort. Everything 
 I used to wish for seems to be coming to 
 me this year. But, oh, daddy, daddy! I 
 am not happy. Not really happy. I love 
 the Haphazards and Barry and Aline and 
 Summer Santa Claus, but I'd trade them 
 all off for you. I wish I hadn't been "a 
 good little Joan" like you told me to be and 
 stayed behind. As if I would have minded 
 the rough life! It doesn't seem to have 
 [195]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 been as rough as you expected it would be, 
 either. 
 
 At night when the workmen left, Mildew 
 Manse was "switched" for the night. We 
 drew all the shades and sat down to a dinner 
 for which Mrs. Haphazard made apologies. 
 She said she found it very distracting to 
 perform her household duties in the midst 
 of such fascinating diversion. 
 
 Grandma is quite rejuvenated by the 
 novelty of the passing sights. Everyone 
 seemed happy and perfectly at home save 
 Peter Paul, who is the only one of the 
 animals taken into our Noah's Ark. He 
 evidently misses his boon companions of 
 his pergola home. 
 
 After dinner we sat out on the side porch 
 of Winnipeg, that being the most incon- 
 spicuous place. We observed the conven- 
 tions by foregoing the pleasure of listening 
 to the Victrola as we didn't want to attract 
 any more attention to the house than neces- 
 sary or have an applauding street audience. 
 
 Barry brought a gift to the boys from 
 Summer Santa Claus of a season ticket to 
 the ball games. 
 
 "And Joan, if you will call at Jo's office 
 [196]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 tomorrow, you'll find a peach of a canoe 
 ready to be launched. The giver thought 
 you would not think it too personal." 
 
 I couldn't remember that I had ever told 
 Roger Kane how Indian-like I was in the 
 management of river craft, but Hap ^admitted 
 having described the prowess I attained when 
 the yard was afloat. 
 
 "He's a Jim Dandy!" chorused the boys. 
 "Why don't we give him something?" 
 
 "We surely ought to, but how can we?" 
 I asked, "unless we know his tastes. Give 
 us a wee hint, Barry." 
 
 " He'll be sure to like anything you give 
 him," evaded Barry. 
 
 "Let's give him something money can't 
 buy," I proposed. 
 
 "I'll tell you what we can do," suggested 
 Hap. "We can give him a good time. 
 We'll write and invite him to visit us." 
 
 "Hap Hazard, you are a genius!" I 
 cried. "He'll have to answer such a letter. 
 Shall it be a joint one?" 
 
 They all agreed that it should be and that 
 
 I was to do the writing. I told him how 
 
 much we all wanted him to pay us a visit 
 
 and if he would come at any time after we 
 
 [197]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 were settled at the end of our present jour- 
 ney, we'd do anything in our power to give 
 him a good time. When I had written this 
 much, I called them in and read the letter, 
 and they dictated their messages. We all 
 signed it and I added "R. S. V. P." in the 
 corner. 
 
 Herk explained it meant "Remember, 
 some vacation promised!" 
 
 When Barry came to' go home, he thought 
 some one must have stolen his car, and great 
 excitement prevailed until Haphiram re- 
 membered that Barry had come before 
 "quitting time," and the house had "gone 
 some" after his arrival. 
 
 It will seem odd to sleep in the street 
 to-night. I wonder in what little Alaskan 
 town my daddy sleeps? I hope his Little 
 Jumping Joan will creep into his dreams. 
 I wish he might know in what safe keeping 
 she is. 
 
 A fond good-night to him from his 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 [198]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 June S5th. 
 FATHER-DEAR: 
 
 WE are "going some" now. We are 
 way down in the business portion of 
 the city to-night and are all perfectly in love 
 with this unique way of moving and living 
 combined. 
 
 It is somewhat difficult for such of us as 
 go out by the day to find our happy home 
 at night. The "head_ guy" tells us each 
 morning about where they think they will 
 be by "quitting time." Sometimes the fore- 
 cast is more or less non-committal. To-day 
 he said: "If it ain't down to Madison it'll 
 be about by Sixth, unless some of the props 
 give out. Of course if everything goes with- 
 out a hitch, we might make Quincy." 
 
 The other night when I came home at the 
 corner of Main and First Streets where a 
 turn was to be made, I found Mildew 
 Manse swung half way round, the woodshed 
 resting impudently upon the lawn of the 
 court house in utter defiance of the little 
 wooden warnings to grass trespassers. Hally 
 had wheeled Grandma down a plank to 
 [199]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the paved walk and across the lawn, and she 
 was enjoying to the utmost her twilight 
 hour 'neath the judicial oaks watching the 
 passers-by and the roller skaters. 
 
 Our nights aren't especially restful since 
 we have come down near the business 
 district. 
 
 There was a night of horrors as harrowing 
 to me as those in Kipling's La Nuit Blanche 
 Mark was so fond of. Has Mark a volume 
 of Kipling with him? I miss the one from 
 which we used to read aloud and mark. 
 We always did agree on books and writers. 
 Come to think of it, we think very much 
 alike on most things except dancing and the 
 use of face powder. 
 
 I'll try to describe the "dreadful night." 
 It began with some joy-riders crashing into 
 the front porch between the hours of twi- 
 light and street light. They shattered our 
 nerves and their headlights. The jar was 
 so great we feared Mildew Manse would 
 come off her rollers, but she withstood the 
 attack valiantly. 
 
 Haphiram went to the front door and 
 informed them this was no garage, but a 
 house. 
 
 [200]
 
 The next disturbance was a head-on col- 
 lision with a hook and ladder truck which 
 came around the corner in a crack-the-whip 
 style. 
 
 Soon after this excitement there was a rear 
 end attack from a runaway milk wagon from 
 which disaster Peter Paul made profit. He 
 has lapped milk steadily ever since, and was 
 more thorough than a mop would have been. 
 I guess he thought he had found the land of 
 Canaan. 
 
 They are moving the house the long way, 
 and fortunately Grandma's room is near the 
 middle, so she didn't get but slight returns 
 from these various collisions. 
 
 I was awakened from my next nap by 
 some hilarious marauders who had found a 
 convenient lodging on the steps. A police 
 ambulance came clanging down the street 
 to the delight of the captains three who 
 nearly fell out of the window in their ex- 
 citement of watching the "cops yank the 
 boobs," as Herk expressed it. So you see 
 we don't lack for adventures. 
 
 When Barry came in to-night he told us 
 he had received an answer in the form of a 
 day letter from Summer Santa Claus. 
 [201]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Summer Santa Glaus," it read, "will be 
 most happy to accept the hospitality of 
 Mildew Manse and, if convenient, should 
 like to set the date of his arrival for the 
 twenty-fifth of July. He earnestly hopes 
 that each member of the household, includ- 
 ing Miss Lynn, will fulfill the promises made 
 in the letter of invitation." 
 
 This was certainly good news. It will 
 be like looking forward to Christmas, and 
 wasn't it cunning in him to choose the 
 twenty-fifth of the month? 
 
 When Barry was leaving he slipped into 
 my hand a sealed note. 
 
 "For you, alone," he whispered. 
 
 I hurried up to Oregon to read my own 
 little letter from him. It was typewritten. 
 If he only knew how needless it was for him 
 to try to conceal his identity. I have been 
 of two minds as to whether I wanted him 
 to answer the letter that was not intended 
 for his eyes. Sometimes I resented his 
 entirely ignoring it, and again I told myself 
 his silence was due to his inherent delicacy; 
 but when I held it in my hand I knew I had 
 wanted it all the time really, daddy, it is 
 the dearest letter I ever read. At first I
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 thought I would not send you a copy, but 
 would keep it for you to read after you have 
 met him. I can't wait, though, so here it is 
 
 MY WEE JOAN: 
 
 "Not one of the little remembrances I 
 have made could have given one-tenth of the 
 joy that was mine when I read your little 
 letter which but for that blessed boy, would 
 have been 'the letter that never came.' 
 
 "I feel, somehow, that you think you 
 have guessed who I am. Your guess, then, 
 is wrong. For you do not know me and I 
 am yet a worshipper from afar. But on the 
 midsummer Christmas day I hope to see 
 you and tell you something that has been 
 in my heart for many years something 
 I thought buried, but you have revived old 
 memories and the witching sweetness of your 
 letter has made them most vivid. 
 
 "I love the name of Summer Santa Claus 
 which you gave me. I am fortunate to be 
 allowed the pleasure of giving and above all 
 to be held, though most undeservedly, so 
 generously in your thoughts. 
 
 "I am glad I am of flesh and blood; but, 
 please, please keep for me the childish trust, 
 [203]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 like the one that made you believe in the 
 stocking and the chimney. 
 
 "If I am young in heart, what difference 
 make my number of years. I am old in 
 my hunger of heart. 
 
 "I pray for the granting of your wish for 
 me ' the f ulfillment of the desire of my 
 heart.' I have but one. 
 
 Yours now and forever, 
 
 "SUMMER SANTA CLAUS" 
 
 Don't you love it, daddy? He has not 
 deceived me with his little mask of pretend- 
 ing he is a stranger and a worshipper from 
 afar. I know what he wants to tell me on 
 the twenty-fifth of July the story of his 
 young life and the sweetheart who died and 
 of whom I remind him. I wonder, do I 
 want to hear it? I shrink from sad stories. 
 
 I adore his letter and I hadn't half guessed 
 the sweetness and depth of his nature. 
 
 Write me as often as you can. I need 
 your letters and you, my father. 
 
 YOUR OWN LITTLE JOAN. 
 
 [204]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 June 29th. 
 
 A WHOLE week, father! But it makes 
 no difference to you how far apart the 
 letters are, of course. It's getting near 
 Nome-time, though. Summer vacation, and 
 the little boys are like young colts in a pas- 
 ture. The last day of school found them so 
 far away from Mildew Manse they had to 
 take a street-car home. 
 
 I must tell you how we spent Sunday 
 en route. The moving men left us on Satur- 
 day night tied up between two churches. 
 I don't know whether it was intentional, for 
 our convenience or theirs. 
 
 To avoid publicity and the curious gaze 
 of churchgoers, the shades were kept drawn 
 and Grandma remained indoors. 
 
 "We don't need to go to church," said 
 Hally. "We can easily hear two services 
 from here." 
 
 "Those," announced Haphiram, "who pre- 
 fer the Episcopal service can seat themselves 
 at the east window; and those who want 
 the Baptist service can take the west 
 windows." 
 
 It was the first time in years that Grandma 
 had heard an organ, and I think it made her 
 [205 ]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 a little sad. At sermon time, she left the 
 east window and was wheeled to the 
 west one, so she had "a small piece of 
 each." 
 
 The passing of Mildew Manse and the 
 Haphazards is really harder on poor little 
 Aline than on anyone. Changes are always 
 so much more of a trial for the one who is 
 left. Poor little me! Daddy, I'd have 
 died of homesickness if it hadn't been for 
 my home with the Haphazards. 
 
 The novelty of moving has worn off and 
 we shall all be glad to anchor. We have 
 managed to see every part of the town from 
 the fashionable residences to rented houses, 
 business blocks, factory precincts and settle- 
 ments. We are now in the stretch of open 
 beyond which the better class of houses 
 suburban residences begin. 
 
 I had a darling letter from you to-day. 
 Also a letter and a book, which we are dis- 
 cussing, from Roger Kane. We had a piece 
 of good news. The man who owns the 
 property across the river has written that 
 he has associations with this city that makes 
 him desirous of doing something for the pub- 
 lic service, so he is going to give land along 
 [206]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the river for a boulevard and park. Think 
 of that, daddy! Our lot will double in 
 value. 
 
 It is very warm tonight, dear, and I will 
 write some more soon, if not before. 
 
 [207]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 July 2nd. 
 
 WE'RE here, daddy! Backed on to the 
 double lot and the new cellar to-day. 
 I think the moving men got tired of the long 
 trip, too, and were impatient to intern Noah's 
 Ark. I didn't know but what we would be 
 arrested for speeding the last two days. The 
 horses went around so fast they met them- 
 selves coming back, and we all rolled along 
 sniffing the river air, and eager to get into 
 dry dock. 
 
 "It does seem good to be on terra firma 
 once more," sighed Grandma, and Heck 
 repeating her remark to Jo said Grandma 
 was "so glad to get on vice versa." 
 
 Oregon looks on the river, and I know 
 I shall enjoy the night, but oh, how I wish 
 it were in our own home nest we were 
 snuggling tonight ! I'm homesick homesick 
 for you, daddy. Come soon to your 
 
 LITTLE JUMPING JOAN. 
 
 [208]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 July 4th. 
 DADDY: 
 
 THIS letter is on the installment plan, 
 but I'll finish it up to-night, though it 
 will be very late. We lost a couple of 
 blinds, two window screens, a flower box and 
 a few other things en route, which kept the 
 boys busy going back to hunt up the missing 
 parts and put them in place. 
 
 Wilkie Haphazard arrived on an early 
 train this morning. Jo planned to meet 
 him at the station and tell him the property 
 had been sold and then surprise him by 
 bringing him to the old home in its new 
 settings. 
 
 But the plans of mice, men and Haphaz- 
 ards gang aft aglee, and things conspired 
 to prevent a scheduled program. A street- 
 car blockade made Jo ten minutes late in 
 reaching the station and there was no 
 sign of Wilkie, so he hurried to the old 
 home where he found his father looking 
 dazedly at the crumbling remains of the 
 cellar. 
 
 "Was it a cyclone, Jo?" he asked. 
 [209]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "In a way, yes; Merkell foreclosed with 
 the swiftness of a cyclone or an earthquake." 
 
 "And we lost all, Jo? ,When did it 
 happen?" 
 
 "June nineteenth. Ed Payne bought it." 
 
 "He lost no time in pulling down the old 
 place. Did you find a house with a reason- 
 able rent." 
 
 "We are all moved and settled, father," 
 Jo said leading the way to the cab followed 
 by his dazed father. 
 
 On the way out here, Jo tried to question 
 his father about his trip, but Wilkie had 
 but one thought the loss of Mildew Manse. 
 
 "So the old home is in ruins," he sighed 
 for the tenth time. 
 
 "Not much! Look out here, father!" 
 
 The taxi had stopped and they got out. 
 
 "You see," explained Jo. "Payne gave 
 us the old house and we moved it on to 
 Aline's and my lots." 
 
 Something shone in Wilkie's eyes as he 
 came up the front walk where we stood in 
 a row in front of the house, just as if we had 
 been grouped for a kodak picture. 
 
 When the last skyrocket had gone up, we 
 had the Victrola music. And father, their 
 [210]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 father, said how many good things had come 
 to him and his in the last few weeks, and 
 Haphiram exclaimed: "Our run of good luck 
 started when we got Joan." 
 
 And Wilkie put his arm about me and 
 said I'd have to be his littlest daughter now 
 his own little girl was going to leave him. 
 
 I don't want to be his " littlest daughter," 
 daddy. I want to be just yours. 
 
 Barry told us he had a message from 
 Summer Santa Glaus to Wilkie. That he 
 hadn't sent him anything, because he already 
 had so much a dear mother, a loving wife, 
 a bonny daughter, fine sons, a home and 
 Joan Lynn! What more than these could a 
 man want? 
 
 And Wilkie's voice shook as he echoed: 
 "What more, indeed!" 
 
 Oh, father, it was a beautiful message, 
 and it was sweet in him to include me. It 
 sounded like you, and you'd have done all 
 these things that my Summer Santa Glaus 
 has done if you had had the money, wouldn't 
 you, father dear? 
 
 Around about Christmas time when I was 
 a little girl and when I was kindly disposed 
 to everyone, I used to feel so sorry for Santa 
 [211]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Claus, because he was always giving things 
 and getting nothing in return. But this 
 Santa Claus, this flesh and blood Santa 
 Claus, shall have anything I can give him. 
 
 I am going to bed now. I just went to 
 my window and saw a lone skyrocket shoot 
 across the sky. It made me think of a 
 falling star. And falling stars recall August. 
 August means Nome, and Nome means you 
 will read my letters and know my friends. 
 
 Wilkie's homecomings always make me 
 homesick. And I could cry this minute, 
 but I won't. I'll kiss your picture and say, 
 Good-night, 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 [212]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 July llth. 
 DADDY-MINE: 
 
 THE ground is being broken for Barry's 
 house and two bungalows are being 
 built beyond Mildew Manse. So, you see, 
 things are moving. I wonder when our 
 house will be started? 
 
 Jo called again upon Mr. Irving and in- 
 formed him that his conditions were now 
 fulfilled. Mildew Manse was theirs to have 
 and to hold without encumbrances, and 
 they had all taken a solemn vow to forego 
 the mortgage method of meeting expenses. 
 Rally's future was provided for. Tip was 
 contributing to the family support. As for 
 the salary proviso, Jo told him he had had 
 an offer from a real estate firm at a salary 
 of thirty dollars per week. 
 
 Mr. Irving is a man of his word, and of 
 course he had to yield to Jo, now that he 
 has made good; but the strange part of it 
 is that he yielded gracefully. Since the 
 day of Aline's river adventure he has shown 
 a different attitude toward Jo. Then, too, 
 [213]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 he realizes how necessary Jo, the Haphaz- 
 ards and Mildew Manse are to her happiness. 
 
 The two betrothed couples are having an 
 aftermath of sparking. I don't want to be 
 de trop, and am getting quite skilful in 
 effacing myself gracefully and frequently. 
 I am very much in the background these 
 days, for Tip cohorts with an extremely 
 stylish sister of his partner. The three boys, 
 my former playmates, belong to a "River- 
 side Nine." So I am alone, very much alone. 
 However, it's only two weeks to the second 
 coming of Santa Glaus. 
 
 Suppose I love to suppose he isn't 
 Roger Kane, but really a "stranger who has 
 worshipped from afar!" It makes my heart 
 thump a little to think of it. Anyway, he 
 will be a man a Heaven-sent man. Life 
 is lonely especially life in the summer, 
 moonlight time without a man. His visit 
 will tide me over until you come home. 
 
 This is only a note compared to my pre- 
 vious ones, but there's no more to tell, and 
 I am sleepy. I am not very happy to-night, 
 maybe because it is such a lovely summer 
 moonlight night and everyone around here 
 but your little Joan is "roamin' in the 
 [214]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 gloamin'." That is not the reason. It's 
 because there is a letter overdue from 
 you. 
 
 Good-night, daddy, 
 
 YOUR LOVING AND LONELY JOAN. 
 
 [215]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 July 24th. 
 DADDY-DARLING : 
 
 I HAVE sent you only cards this last 
 fortnight because there was nothing to 
 tell. Every day looked alike to me, and 
 there's nothing more to happen to the Hap- 
 hazards, I guess. 
 
 I still love it way up here on the river 
 bluffs and the nights are simply heavenly, 
 but the moonlight on the water is so beauti- 
 ful it makes your heart ache when you are 
 all by yourself. The lovers politely urge me 
 to accompany them on their rides and motors 
 and river excursions, but they adore me, I 
 know, because I don't accept their invitations. 
 
 Do you know, Father Lynn, that I have 
 enough saved toward our house to take me 
 to Alaska and back? Sometimes I have a 
 great mind to join you just for a little visit. 
 I would if it were not for Mark. He doubt- 
 less is still peeved and I might drive him 
 away and I shouldn't want to do that when 
 he is such a help to you. I think he might 
 have sent me a line or a message some- 
 thing besides the totem pole card from 
 [216]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Seattle last spring. I mustn't forget the 
 birthday present though. 
 
 I don't even hear from Roger Kane lately, 
 except dictated letters which don't mean 
 anything. His eyes are bothering again and 
 he doesn't dare use them. Poor Roger! 
 He is lonely, too! 
 
 Tomorrow! Who will he be? Here's the 
 last dip of ink in this bottle. 
 
 [217]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 July 25th. 
 
 THIS has been too exciting a day to 
 think of buying ink, but I must tell 
 you everything, so here goes with a pencil 
 or two. Daddy, daddy, I don't know 
 whether I'd scold you, or hug you, or laugh 
 or cry if I saw you right this minute. Well, 
 you know in part, and there's some you don't 
 know, so I shall begin at the beginning and 
 tell you all. 
 
 This morning I awoke with my heart 
 beating expectantly. We had an unusually 
 elaborate breakfast, for how could we tell 
 when he might come, or how by train, 
 motor, launch, street car, wheel-barrow or 
 cart? We made up our minds we'd all 
 stay at home throughout the day so as 
 to be in readiness, but Jo told us that we 
 were very foolish and that we should all go 
 about our affairs in the usual way and take 
 him "when or how he comes." Jo had a 
 hunch that it would be at twilight, or maybe 
 he'd stick to his role and come at midnight. 
 I rather hoped myself that he would 
 [218]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 wait until night; it would seem a little 
 more interesting. I never did like 
 matinees. 
 
 I went to the Bureau and had been there 
 but a short time when what do you suppose 
 arrived? Summer Santa Glaus? No! a 
 beautiful, huge bunch of violets. They were 
 delivered by a local florist without a card. 
 There was no doubt in my mind but that 
 they were from "the coming man" and I 
 fancied that he had arrived and was perhaps 
 even then at Mildew Manse. Goudolaris 
 let me have some finger bowls and I 
 spread my violets out in them. They 
 brought back old days, old memories, 
 so closely! My heart came up into 
 my mouth and the tears into my eyes. 
 Every time any one came in the door, I 
 expected. Every time the telephone rang, 
 I expected; but nothing doing! And the 
 violets kept right on getting in their rem- 
 iniscence work. 
 
 I was leaning on the counter, my eyes 
 shaded by my hand, planning to act on a 
 sudden, wild impulse to leave this very 
 night for Alaska and let Roger Kane think 
 me an ingrate, when suddenly a quarter was 
 [219]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 shoved into my line of vision. I looked up 
 quickly into the eyes of Mark ! And yet 
 they weren't at all like his eyes. There was 
 something strange in them something that 
 held me breathless. 
 
 "I want a question answered," he said 
 quietly, yet in the old, Mark way. "Do 
 you love Roger Kane?" 
 
 How did he know about 'Roger Kane! 
 
 "Mark," I gasped faintly. "Come in." 
 
 I opened the little railing gate. 
 
 "Tell me! When did you come? Where 
 is daddy and " 
 
 He came in and took my hand, and some 
 way I felt that I must talk very fast and 
 very hard. 
 
 "I came at three o'clock this morning," 
 he replied. "I went to a hotel and told the 
 clerk to call up a florist and have some 
 violets sent to you; also to call me at nine 
 o'clock. I see he remembered the violets, 
 but he forgot the call. Your father is in 
 Fairbanks and But, Joan, my quarter? 
 I've paid for an answer." 
 
 "When did you see Barry?" 
 
 "I haven't seen Phil since last fall." 
 
 "Then how did you know about the 
 [220]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Bureau and how much I charged- for answers? 
 And Roger Kane?" 
 
 "From your letters." 
 
 "My letters?" 
 
 : ' Your letters to your father which we have 
 read and re-read until they are in tatters." 
 
 "Why when did you go to Nome?" 
 
 "We haven't been to Nome. But, Joan, 
 I want my question answered. Now!" 
 
 Here was the old Mark with his same 
 dictatorial way, barking up the wrong tree 
 and arousing my antagonism. 
 
 I picked up the quarter from the counter 
 and handed it to him. 
 
 "We are going up to Mildew Manse now," 
 I said, "and when we are there, I will answer 
 your question maybe. 
 
 I put on my hat, restored the violets to 
 their box and handed it to Mark to carry 
 for me. 
 
 "Now, tell me," I said, as we went out- 
 side, "how you got my letters that were 
 addressed to Nome." 
 
 "Is it too far to walk to Mildew Manse?" 
 he asked, "or is there a street-car line out 
 there? I can't talk when I am zipping along 
 in a taxi." 
 
 [ 221 ]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I hailed a car. There were very few pas- 
 sengers aboard and none near us. 
 
 "Tell me!" I said impatiently. 
 
 "You see I didn't know about your 
 absurd arrangements for letters to go to 
 Nome until we were in Seattle. I told your 
 father there was no sense of our waiting 
 until August to hear from you, and he said 
 he had begun to realize himself that it was 
 a crazy plan. He sent a message to the post- 
 master at Nome to forward all mail to our 
 first landing place, so we found two letters 
 waiting for us when we landed." 
 
 "And you have had them all, right along?" 
 I asked faintly. "And how much did daddy 
 read to you from them?" 
 
 . "He gave them all to me to read, natur- 
 ally. He was wild when he read that first 
 one about your coming here and opening 
 this Bureau, but I persuaded him to 
 cool down to the extent of cabling instead of 
 returning. Then I advised him to read the 
 second letter before cabling. When he 
 learned how pleasantly you were located and 
 that you were protected by a home, he felt 
 quite different about the matter. Finally I 
 persuaded him to leave things as they were."
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "That is strange. I thought you would 
 be the one to object strenuously; not 
 father." 
 
 "Joan, when we left you in that tame 
 little town, I was so completely obsessed by 
 my own misery I had no thought for any- 
 thing or anyone else, but after we had 
 started west* and I thought of lonely little 
 you in such a place, I felt remorseful and 
 selfish. I was really glad to find you had 
 taken French leave, and I was glad you had 
 chosen this city on account of good old 
 Munk and Phil living here. So I further 
 appeased your father by writing Phil to 
 look after you and let me know if there 
 was anything distasteful about the Bureau. 
 And he answered so satisfactorily we had no 
 more objections." 
 
 "And never told me that you were receiv- 
 ing my letters! Why in the world didn't 
 daddy write me that you were having them 
 forwarded and let me send them direct?" 
 
 "We talked it over and decided not to, 
 because we loved your letters and we became 
 so interested in the Haphazards, we feared 
 if you knew we were reading them, you 
 wouldn't write so freely or fully." 
 [223]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "Of course I wouldn't have," I replied. 
 "Mark Shelby, daddy had no more right 
 to let you read all those letters than 
 he would have had to let you read my 
 diary!" 
 
 "But Joan, you always let me read your 
 diary, you know, when you kept one." 
 
 "Let you! You took it away from me 
 forcibly and read it. That was why I 
 stopped keeping one. But tell me about 
 daddy and the dredger, and why you came 
 and if you are going back and when - 
 
 "Joan, I've only asked you one question, 
 and you refused to answer. Yet you are 
 reeling them off to me by the yard." 
 
 "Tell me!" 
 
 "I came to Seattle to fix up some busi- 
 ness for your father. I've been back there 
 twice. This time I came on to see you. 
 You said this Roger Kane was coming, so 
 I thought I'd beat him here. Of course I 
 am going back. Your father is well, and the 
 dredger is working much better than any- 
 thing else your father has invented. I am 
 afraid there isn't a fabulous fortune in it, 
 though." 
 
 "I don't care. I can make money enough 
 [224]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 to build a little house. I am glad since you 
 have come on that you know all about the 
 Haphazards, so they won't seem like strang- 
 ers to you. Don't you love them?" 
 
 "Well," he answered slowly. "I didn't 
 just love Jo, at first, but I liked him better 
 when I found he was really engaged to 
 Aline. I wanted to kick Tippy! Impudent 
 young cub! But I forgave him when I saw 
 you didn't care for him and that he was 
 only a kid. You gave me a scare about 
 Phil for a letter or two. He was too good a 
 friend to steal you from me, and I don't 
 believe you ever really meant to encourage 
 him. Your father said not. We both felt 
 that you meant nothing by what you wrote 
 about those three; but we both noticed 
 something different in your attitude to 
 Roger Kane. There was a reserve your 
 father didn't like. That was the real reason 
 I came, if you want to know." 
 
 "And by what right, Mark Shelby, do you 
 come to find out anything about Roger Kane 
 or any one else?" 
 
 "By the right of your father's having sent 
 me for just that purpose. He is naturally 
 interested and determined to know what 
 [225 ]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 kind of a man you were writing so much 
 about." 
 
 "Why didn't you ask Barry?" 
 
 "You know, Joan, that if I were going to 
 do any prying, I'd come right to headquar- 
 ters and find out for myself." 
 
 We had come to the end of the street-car 
 line, and a walk of a block brought us in 
 sight of the river and the Bluff. Mark was 
 very enthusiastic over the scenery. 
 
 "Look!" I said as we came up the hill, 
 "do you see Mildew Manse?" 
 
 "I should have known it from your de- 
 scription, Joan. Sometimes, remembering 
 your vivid imagination, I used to wonder if 
 you weren't drawing on it for your pictures 
 of the house and family. I was afraid it 
 might all turn out to be another case of 
 Marjorie Daw." 
 
 "I wonder," I remarked irrelevantly, "if 
 he has come yet!" 
 
 He stood still. 
 
 "I suppose by he you mean Roger 
 Kane!" he growled. 
 
 "I don't know. I mean Summer Santa 
 Glaus. I suppose they are the same." 
 
 "If Roger Kane is here at Mildew Manse, 
 [226]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I am not coining in, not unless you answer 
 my question." 
 
 "I will tell you when we are in the house 
 and not a moment sooner," I answered, 
 hedging for time. 
 
 Just then Hap, Herk and Heck came run- 
 ning to meet us. 
 
 "Joan! He has come! He is here!" 
 
 "And he is Roger Kane?" I asked. 
 
 "We don't mean here at the house. He 
 is down town with Barry. He " 
 
 Mark interrupted. 
 
 "You are Hap, I am sure. Tell me which 
 is Herk and which Heck." 
 
 "I am Herk." "I am Heck," came in chorus. 
 
 "I know you from your picture," quoth 
 Hap. "You are Mark." 
 
 "Yes," I answered. "He is Mark, and 
 he knows all about you, for he read my 
 letters. But tell me, Hap, who is Summer 
 Santa Claus?" 
 
 "Barry wouldn't tell us. He is going to 
 bring him up to luncheon and Hally is 
 creaming chicken. You'll stay too," he 
 added, turning to Mark. 
 
 "That depends upon whom Phil brings 
 up and something else." 
 [227]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 We all went into the house and Mark - 
 I adored him for it stooped and kissed 
 Grandma so sweetly, and then he kissed 
 Mrs. Haphazard and looked as if he would 
 like to greet Hally and Aline in the same 
 manner. 
 
 "Did he kiss you, Joan, down at the 
 Bureau?" asked Haphiram curiously. 
 
 "No;" I responded without even a blush. 
 "He barely shook hands with me. He didn't 
 seem at all glad to see me." 
 
 Mark came to me. 
 
 "I'll not kiss you now, either, Joan; not 
 until you answer my question." 
 
 I couldn't dodge the issue any longer. I 
 must tell him. 
 
 "Well," I said, taking a photograph from 
 the mantel, "I don't care whether you kiss 
 me or not, but maybe this picture of Roger 
 Kane will answer your question." 
 
 He stared at the photograph, and then 
 read what was written across it. I might 
 as well 'fess up to you, now, daddy. 
 
 Roger Kane is seventy -three years old, 
 and the picture was of himself and his wife 
 and daughter who are now abroad. The 
 inscription was "From the Kane family." 
 [228]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Mark came to me slowly with a look in 
 his eyes that made my heart beat. 
 
 "Joan, you little witch, why did you do 
 it?" 
 
 "I don't know why," I replied. 
 
 And I don't, daddy, honest. 
 
 Then he did kiss me on the mouth 
 before them all. I was mad. 
 
 He told the Haphazards how I had 
 "strung" you and him about Roger Kane, 
 and the laugh was on me. I never will 
 stand for that, you know. I felt for a mo- 
 ment that I hated him. 
 
 "I don't see," I said, "why father couldn't 
 have come on the business instead of you." 
 
 The Haphazards all looked shocked and 
 sorry, but Mark, of course, didn't mind hi 
 the least. 
 
 "Luncheon is ready, and we are going to 
 sit right down and eat it," said Mrs. Hap- 
 hazard, quickly going out to the dining- 
 room. "The boys and Barry's friend can 
 have theirs when they come." 
 
 I sat across the table from Mark, and he 
 
 appeared to be in high glee. Every time he 
 
 looked at me, he had an amused, exultant 
 
 look that made me furious. It is always 
 
 [229]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 the way; when I am almost near loving 
 Mark, I find I hate him, and when I think 
 I really hate him, he does something that 
 makes me almost love him. 
 
 I hoped now that Summer Santa Glaus 
 would be a young man so I could flirt with 
 him and avenge Mark's proprietary airs. 
 
 After luncheon we went out on the steps 
 just as Jo came up. When I introduced 
 him he laughed and said: "I know you 
 better as Summer Santa Glaus. Barry is 
 looking everywhere for you. He missed you 
 at the train this morning. Finally found 
 you were registered at the Vincent, but you 
 had left - 
 
 "Is he Mark, are you I gasped 
 faintly. 
 
 'Yes, Joan," he said quite humbly. "I 
 am Summer Santa Glaus. Do you mind?" 
 
 I turned and fled into the house. He 
 followed a little ways, but of course got 
 lost and by the time Hap came to act as 
 his guide I was out the back door, down the 
 bluff and in my canoe. I crossed the river 
 and landed at a lovely little cove I had 
 discovered the day before. Then I made 
 my way up the bank and into a little thicket. 
 [230]
 
 ' 
 
 - w- 
 
 
 
 
 Haphiram had betrayed my retreat, 1'age 231.
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 I simply had to be alone and adjust things. 
 Not once had I even dreamed of connecting 
 Mark with these beautiful presents to every- 
 one. He has always been generous, of 
 course, but never thoughtful. And how 
 could I guess that he had read my letters. 
 Then I tried with tingling shame to recall 
 all the things I had written about Summer 
 Santa Claus and my feelings toward him. 
 I was burning when I thought of that last 
 letter and the gushing way I had promised 
 to do anything for him and love him. 
 
 I heard a splashing of water and looking 
 through the bushes I saw Mark coming on 
 a raft. Haphiram of course had betrayed 
 my retreat. 
 
 Mark landed and soon found me. 
 
 "You might have known I came here to 
 get away from you," I began. 
 
 "Surely Joan," he answered innocently, 
 "a man is licensed to come over and in- 
 spect his own property. I thought you'd 
 give me some suggestions about the boule- 
 vard." 
 
 "Mark!" I cried. "Are you the man 
 who owns all this land? Is there anyone 
 else you'll turn out to be?" 
 [ 231 ]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "I hope so, Joan. I hope I'll turn out to 
 be the man you love. But tell me why you 
 ran away when you heard I was Summer 
 Santa Glaus. Didn't you want me to be 
 the bidden guest?" 
 
 "Yes, Mark. I am glad you are the one 
 who did all those sweet things for the Hap- 
 hazards. It was darling in you." 
 
 "Thank you, Joan. That's the first nice 
 thing you have said to me since I came." 
 
 "But, Mark, I had to be alone and think 
 it all over and try to .remember what I 
 wrote. I " 
 
 "Never mind, Joan, I wouldn't take an 
 unfair advantage of what you wrote while 
 under a misapprehension, believing the giver 
 to be an old man to whom you might say 
 such things without being misconstrued." 
 
 Really this was quite decent in him. 
 
 In spite of my facial efforts I looked 
 guilty, I suppose, for he said quickly: "See 
 here, Joan, did you think all the time, up 
 till now, that Summer Santa Glaus was 
 Roger Kane?" 
 
 "N-no; not all the time!" 
 
 "When did you doubt?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 [232 ]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 "When you wrote that letter you didn't 
 mean to send, did you think 
 
 "Yes," I interrupted, "I did think so 
 then. And that was why I didn't mind so 
 awfully much his reading it." 
 
 "When you received his answer " 
 
 "No; I knew then it wasn't; but I never 
 dreamed for a moment that you could write 
 such a letter." 
 
 "Why, Joan." he asked wistfully. "Was 
 it so difficult to think I could write a letter 
 that meant what you said it meant to 
 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes; it was, Mark. You were never 
 real with me before not since we're grown 
 up, anyway." 
 
 "I never had the chance, Joan. You 
 would not let me. You always stopped any 
 display of feeling by laughing at me. You've 
 been different since you came here. But tell 
 me, when you felt that Roger Kane didn't 
 write the letter, who did you think ' 
 
 "I shall have to read it over again." 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 "I really was quite at sea. I fancied it 
 might be some unknown friend of Barry's 
 and Jo's. I was upset and came near run- 
 [233]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 ning away to Alaska. You must remem- 
 ber, Mark, I couldn't possibly think it was 
 you, for I supposed you were ignorant of 
 the existence of the Haphazards." 
 
 "That's true," he admitted. 
 
 "Tell me," I asked, "how you ever came 
 to think of doing just the right and nicest 
 thing for each of us?" 
 
 "Well, you see, Joan, your letters were 
 quite a revelation to me, and to your father 
 too. Until we read them we didn't know, 
 being stupid as men are, how much you had 
 missed in your life or what home life meant 
 to you. Your father really wept when he 
 read about your first birthday cake. Your 
 letters were equally enlightening to me and 
 did me good, even if they did hit pretty 
 hard sometimes. Your dear little note of 
 thanks for the birthday present was my sol- 
 ace though, and I shall always keep it." 
 
 "You didn't answer it." 
 
 "No, Joan. For once I was wise and 
 didn't answer. When you sent me the pic- 
 ture of 'Little Jumping Joan,' the space be- 
 tween our long ago and now was bridged and 
 nothing could have kept me from coming 
 back to try again. I curbed my impatience 
 [234]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 until I could follow out a course of action 
 instead of words and my new siege to your 
 heart via the Haphazards of Mildew Manse. 
 They had been nice to you; you cared 
 for them. I was interested in them. I 
 was 4 lonely off there, it helped pass 
 the time; I saw a way to please you. 
 Oh, hang it all, Joan, I did it because I 
 love you!" 
 
 "And," I said, aloud, though really speak- 
 ing to myself, "I love you because you did 
 it." 
 
 I think you can guess what happened then, 
 daddy. You know Mark how impetuous 
 he is and how quick to seize an opportunity. 
 I was the opportunity. 
 
 And do you know, daddy mine, my oppo- 
 sition to Mark as a lover, must have been 
 of as delicate and gossamer a nature as as- 
 bestos for when I was well, seized, it 
 crumbled, no evaporated. 
 
 A straightening out of tangles followed and 
 I learned that Mark had written Barry 
 what to buy and sent a check to cover. 
 He felt that Jo, friend to all lovers, would 
 under the circumstances consent to let him 
 be the unknown benefactor. Mark was in 
 [235]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 Seattle when Barry wired about the property 
 and also when he received the invitation 
 and you forwarded him my last letter to 
 you. Somehow he managed to extract hope 
 from my letters except from the parts 
 pertaining to Roger Kane. He came pre- 
 pared to kidnap me, if necessary. After 
 explanation came future plans, all hurry-up 
 ones, of course, as his always are. These 
 are the plans and he said you would ap- 
 prove them: To be married at once and 
 join you at Nome, and to build a house for 
 three on the Bluffs and live happily ever 
 afterward. He says you are too much of 
 a rover to stay in one place all the time, 
 and that you can come and go. You'll 
 come, and not go, won't you, daddy? 
 
 It took some time to file my objections 
 and have them overruled. I was quite 
 dumbfounded, though, when the bugle-call 
 for "mess" sounded from across the 
 river. 
 
 "Tip must be home, but it can't be din- 
 ner-time," I exclaimed, as I took Mark's 
 watch from his pocket. I opened the wrong 
 side and saw therein my picture the one 
 taken with the kitten. Then there had to 
 [236]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 be more delay. When I did look at the 
 time-face, I saw it was six o'clock. 
 
 We returned home in the canoe and towed 
 the raft. 
 
 "Hap," I said to the little grinner, as we 
 came into California, "you told where I 
 was!" 
 
 "Sure!" he acknowledged. "Didn't we 
 promise to give Summer Santa Glaus a good 
 time and entertain him when he came? I 
 think he's a brick!" 
 
 "You'll marry him, won't you, Joan?" 
 asked Heck anxiously. 
 
 "Of course she will," assured Herk. "Any 
 girl would marry a man that will make it 
 Christmas for her the year around." 
 
 "That's just what I'll do, Joan," prom- 
 ised Mark earnestly. "I'll give you any- 
 thing that you wish, every day." 
 
 Barry arrived in time to laugh at these 
 remarks. It was good to see their mutual 
 pleasure. While they were having a small 
 reunion, I managed to slip away to dress 
 for dinner. When I came down stairs it 
 was to the music of the Wedding March 
 which those awful little Haphazards fhad 
 put on the Victrola. The whole family 
 [237]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 surrounded us with congratulations, for 
 Mark had told them everything. He has 
 already caught the Haphazard habit of 
 telling. 
 
 They all, except Tippy, approved Mark's 
 plans for an impromptu wedding. 
 
 "You never can get a trousseau ready so 
 soon," he said discouragingly. 
 
 Mark told him a trousseau would be 
 wasted where we were going and that that 
 far away country would best furnish what I 
 needed. 
 
 It is near sunrise of another day, but I 
 had to tell you all, darling daddy, before I 
 could sleep. Happy as I am, it makes me 
 a wee bit sad to think that when I see you, 
 I won't have your name any more, but 
 you'll be just as near and dear. Mark isn't 
 jealous of our love. If he should be, I will 
 get a divorce. It doesn't seem as if I could 
 be married and not have you here, but 
 Mark declares it is your wish. I suppose 
 you thought he had better take me before 
 I changed my mind. We are going to be 
 married at Mildew Manse, and Wilkie will 
 be here to give me away oh, Daddy! 
 Barry will be best man and Hally, brides- 
 [238]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 maid. They all planned it for me. The 
 only outside guests will be Mrs. Munk and 
 Roger Kane. 
 
 A whole lot of kisses and good morn- 
 ing. 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 P. S. When did I know I loved Mark? 
 I think when he sent me your picture. 
 Maybe I really did love him all the time, 
 and that is why I couldn't fall in love with 
 Jo, Tippecanoe or Barry. I do love him, 
 daddy! I simply adore him. 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 P. S. No. 2. I told Mark it seemed a pity 
 to close up so remunerative and helpful a 
 business as the Bureau, but he argues that 
 the influence of the Bureau is not good; 
 that it keeps people from thinking and act- 
 ing for themselves. If I stayed in the 
 business, he said, the public would have 
 fatty degeneration of the brain, and that it 
 was just as harmful as Latin and Greek 
 ponies at school. I hadn't thought of this 
 viewpoint before. Maybe he is right. 
 Barry just shouted when he heard him say 
 [239]
 
 MILDEW MANSE 
 
 that. He said the men at college always 
 declared Mark should have taken a legal 
 course. 
 
 Again, good morning. 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 P. S. No. 3. I forgot to tell you that after 
 I had come up to my room, those three little 
 wretches stood outside my door and sang: 
 " Every day will be Christmas by and bye." 
 
 JOAN. 
 
 [240]
 
 By the author of "Mildew Manse." 
 
 AMARILLY 
 OF CLOTHES-LINE ALLEY 
 
 By BELLE K. MANIATES 
 Illustrated. 12mo. $1.00 net. 
 
 A book for the many who are weary of problem novels. 
 How prosperity came to the Jenkins family, how Amarilly 
 got an education, how the Boarder married Lily Rose 
 and built the Annex, and the adventures of the rector's 
 surplice, are told in a wholesome little story, between 
 whose covers await many laughs, and a tear or two as well. 
 
 Amarilly is blessed with a large family and amiable neigh- 
 bors, and their doings are amusing, but her fancies and devices 
 are captivating. . . . The little heroine is all right. New 
 York Sun. 
 
 The sort of story which pulls at the heartstrings of all 
 readers who like a real and genuine character. ... No one can 
 afford to miss the sweet humor and helpful cheeriness which 
 the author serves in generous measure. Boston Globe. 
 
 "Amarilly of Clothes-Line Alley" is a dear companion for 
 vacation days and comes deservedly under the books of real 
 amusement. . . . Dear Amarilly! she brightens every hour 
 spent with her. Buffalo News. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 
 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000778712