ACTON B^/IES .3JT ROMANCE "'LET ME BE GOOD!' SHE CRIED. 'LET ME BE GOOD!' ROMANCE A NOVEL BY ACTON DAVIES FROM THE DRAMA BY EDWARD SHELDON With Picture from thi Play NEW YORK THE MACAULAY COMPANY 1913 Copyright, 1913, by EDWARD SHELDON Copyright, 1913, by THE MACAULAY COMPANY THE SCHILLING PRESS NEW YORK CONTENTS PAGE PROLOGUE . . . n "THE TROOPS OF MIDIAN" 93 CHAPTER I MR. CORNELIUS VAN TUYL INCREASES THE NUMBER OF His GUESTS BY ONE 9$ II THE REV. THOMAS ARMSTRONG GIVES ADVICE TO A MAN AND RECEIVES SOME FROM A WOMAN . . 128 III SUSAN PROVES TO BE A BRICK AND A STOIC AT THE SAME TIME SHE ALSO TURNS SONGSTRESS, BY REQUEST 173 IV THE OLD YEAR GOES OUT IN A FLURRY OF SNOW AND OTHER THINGS 194 V TOM ARMSTRONG FINDS THAT LITTLE MINUTE WHICH WE CALL TO-DAY 216 VI LA CAVALLINI BIDS HER AMERICAN PUBLIC A FOND GOOD-BY 258 VII LA CAVALLINI POINTS THE WAY AND TOM FOLLOWS IT 279 THE EPILOGUE . . >. ..; >. .; . > . . . .3" 2135068 ILLUSTRATIONS Let me be good ! ' she cried, ' Let me be good ! ' " Frontispiece FACING FACE " She turned toward Van Tuyl, still laughing " . 138 "'You're crushing them!' cried Tom" . . . 166 "'Oh, don' be ang-ree!' cried Rita" .... 226 Good-by, madame I offer you the best of wishes '" 254 " ' I thank you from the bottom of my soul! ' " . . 290 ROMANCE PROLOGUE SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY TO THE BISHOP "A frog he would a-wooing go; 'Heigh ho!' says Roly" Old Nursery Rhyme I "SUSAN!" A whistle rang down the long hall of the old house on Washington Square, and young Harry Armstrong, his hands clutched nervously in the pockets of his dinner coat, gazed eagerly toward the closed door of the dining-room awaiting a reply. In a moment the door opened gingerly and a fair haired girl of sixteen poked her head out cautiously as though to get the lay of the land. " Is that you, Harry? Did you call? " asked the girl, closing the door behind her and coming toward him. II 12 ROMANCE * Yes, of course it's me," cried the young man ungrammatically. " Come along in here. I want to talk to you. It's important, too," he added as he led the way into his grandfather's study. " So shut the door behind you and come and sit down here. I'll have just time to tell you before Grandpa comes in. Promise, though, that you won't tell him a word about it. I'll do that later on myself. Only you can always do what you like with him so well that I thought I'd have you on my side first to make sure, don't you know? A fellow can't even be perfectly sure of his own sister when he starts to tell her a thing like this." " Well, what on earth is it, Harry? " exclaimed Susan apprehensively. " Don't tell me you've been sent down from college again ; because if you have it will simply break Grandpa's heart." " No ! no ! It's nothing like that," laughed the boy, rather enjoying the girl's suspense. Placing his hands behind his back and striking rather an important attitude as he stood on the hearth rug, he went on : " All I ask you is not to cry or do anything silly. Because it's really a grand piece SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 13? of news. I know you'll think so once you get used to it. You've always been such a bully pal to me, old girl, in all my scrapes that I know you're going to stick by me in this one. I just want you to break the ice for me with Grand- father." "Yes; that's all very well, Harry. But how am I going to break the ice if you don't tell me what's the matter? " " Oh, I'll tell you right enough ! " exclaimed young Armstrong. " Only promise me you won't make a fuss, Susan. And please, for heaven's sake, don't cry. For Grandpa will be in here in a moment, and then he'll see your nose is red and he'll want to know all about it and the fat will be in the fire before I get a chance to tell it to him properly and in my own way." " Don't worry about Grandpa. He's safe for ten minutes at least. Some of the deaconesses from the old church, St. Giles's, have just called to wish him a Happy New Year. And you know how it is when he gets talking with his old friends, Harry. They'll c reminisce ' for half an hour at least. What on earth is it, Harry? Tell me." i 4 ROMANCE " Well, Susan," young Armstrong began im- pressively, while he stroked his back hair with one hand, " perhaps I'd better break it to you in pieces. In the first place, Susan, I'm engaged." "Engaged! To be married! And to that girl to Lucille Anderson? Oh, Harry!" ex- claimed Susan all in one breath. "Why do you say 'that girl,' Susan?" asked her brother sternly. " Oh, I didn't mean anything by that, Harry really I didn't. Just give me half a second to get used to it. I think she's awfully pretty and the one time I met her, the day you introduced us at the skating rink, I thought her hair was perfectly lovely and she's got a pretty voice. In fact I liked her voice even better than her hair. It seemed more real." 11 Good Lord ! What cats you women can be to each other when you feel inclined. That's just your nasty way of insinuating that Lucille's touched up her hair. And why shouldn't she touch up her hair if she wants to? " he proceeded indignantly as poor Susan strove to put in a word of explanation. " That remark was just what I SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY ifl might have expected from any member of my family. I might have known! As a matter of fact she explained to me just why she ' touched up ' her hair. She did it because she thought it would help her in her stage career. Her father was one of the best known lawyers in Toronto, Canada. I told you that, didn't I? And until a year ago, when her father died and left no money, she had never done a stroke of work in all her life. Naturally she chose the stage as a career because she is ambitious and artistic and has a temperament. Just because you and I hap- pen to have been left plenty of money is no rea- son for us to jump on a poor girl who's had hard luck and is trying to earn an honest living. I know what you're really picking at. You're sore because I'm going to marry an actress." " No, I'm not that's not it a bit, Harry," expostulated Susan, getting indignant in her turn. " I can't imagine anything nicer than to have a real actress someone who's won great triumphs in Juliet or Camille or Zaza or even one of the mu- sical comedy girls such as the English nobility are always marrying a woman like that would be 16 ROMANCE worth while having for a sister-in-law. I should adore her. And it would be a splendid thing for our family too because as far as I can make out about our stock for the last hundred years or so we've had more bishops and deans and merchant princes on our family tree than is good for the blood. Simply because I'm not ' out * yet you needn't think, Harry, that I am not a woman of the world." Young Susan threw her head up and stared at her brother with an affronted, injured air Mrs. Grundy herself could not have excelled. " I'm not objecting to Lucille anyway," the girl protested. " And if I was it wouldn't be because she's an actress. That's just it, you see. She isn't one. She isn't an actress she's only a school of acting actress. You told me so your- self, Harry. You said she was taking a three months students' course. As far as I can make out she's just a sweet, nice girl, just as respectable and just as humdrum and uninteresting as all the rest of us. If I was a man I might make up my mind to marry an actress, but you bet she'd have to be a celebrity." SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 17, " Well, that's a nice point of view for you to take, I must say," said Harry sneeringly. " It's a lucky thing you weren't born a boy or you'd have disgraced the family even before you got a chance of being sent down from college. I was prepared for you and Grandpa to raise Cain about my mar- rying an actress," he added loftily, " but by God ! Susan, I never dreamed that a sister of mine would object to my marrying a woman wh'o is well born and comes of the best people." " That's just it, Harry. All the stupidest girls I know come from the best people. I may be an anarchist, Harry, but when I get a sister-in-law I want her to be someone worth while a woman who has lived and done things and can help me to entertain dear old Grandpa in the evenings." " Susan, you talk like a fool ! " shouted her brother. " I'm amazed at you. But if you think that I'm going to allow Lucille to give up her career just because she's going to marry me you're very much mistaken. Do you know what I'm go- ing to give my little girl for one of my wedding presents? The finest Shakespearian outfit that money can buy. She shall play Juliet and Lady 1 8 ROMANCE Macbeth and any other classics she wants to to her heart's content. And if she wants it she shall have her own theater, too. If she can't find one that suits her I'll build her one myself. Oh, I can afford it all right! You seem to forget that I come of age in February, and then not only Uncle Cornelius Van Tuyl's jolly old house but half his money comes to me." "Harry!" cried his sister, springing up and kissing him, " I believe you really do love her after all. I was only half in earnest in what I said I've always had such grand dreams of your mar- riage. I have always been so ambitious. But if you really love Lucille I don't care whether she's an actress or not. Take her off the stage and make even a fashionable woman of her if you like. We'll stand by you Grandpa and I. At least I will and I'll make Grandpa. As he gets older you know he gets easier and easier for me to manage. And I'll tell you something else about him, Harry something that I've never suspected until very lately. And it's true too. I'm sure of it." " What is it? " queried her brother. SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 19 " It's this don't laugh now ! " she leaned to- ward him half mysteriously and whispered, " Grandpa has got a past! " II " Come off, Susan ! You're talking through your hat! What! That dear old saint ever worldly or frolicsome? Don't you believe it. He was born good." " Well, even saints, Harry, occasionally break through the traces or hit the ceiling. If you'd ever read your Balzac or your Dickens, you'd know that. But then you never cared a rap for novels, did you? That's where I've got all my knowledge of the world. They're the only anti- dote for a girl who was born the granddaughter of a bishop and who has to live not only with him, but according to his lights." " Don't you believe it, Susan," said Harry in a superior tone. " You're an impressionable senti- mental little fool; you know nothing of the world. You're just young Susan that's all : just young. Try and live it down. I told 20 ROMANCE Grandpa that he should have forbidden you to read ' the Garden of Allah.' " " Oh, pshaw, Harry, don't be an idiot. I'd have read it anyway. But about Grandpa now just listen; what I've learned about him, I didn't get out of any book it's just from intui- tion. It's one of those things that every woman knows, Harry even when she's just a girl who's not * out ' like me. " And by the way, Harry," exclaimed Susan suddenly changing the subject. " You tell Lucille for me, with my compliments, that when you are married and have got settled in the Van Tuyl man- sion the very first thing which I'll expect her to do will be to give one grand terrific, * bang up ' coming out party for me. There's to be noth- ing diocesan or Girls-Friendly-Mothers'-Meeting about it, it's to be one magnificent grand splash with all the modern improvements, just the sort of glorious and magnificent affairs which old Great Uncle Cornelius Van Tuyl used to give two or three times a season. Grandpa went to one of his great parties once and even then, mind you, he was the rector of St. Giles. The only time SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 21; that he has ever spoken of it was one night when I started to read to him and there wasn't as much interesting foreign news as usual in the Evening Post. He was rather blue that night you know how he gets sometimes when he goes to his desk and gets that little box out. I wonder what there is in that little box. He'll never let me look in it. I've always been dying and aching to but I wouldn't do it for worlds. That's the most glori- ous thing of all the glorious things about Grandpa, his sense of honor. And he judges everyone in that respect by himself. Don't you remember, Harry, years and years ago when we were chil- dren, it was Grandpa's sense of honor which cured us both of our pantry habit of stealing jam. Well, it was something he said one night about Uncle Cornie which made me first suspicious of Grandpa's past. You can't tell me, Harry! but somehow and somewhere he and Uncle Cornie were rival sweethearts. Who the woman was I've never been able to find out and oh! Harry, if you only knew how I'd love to worm it out of him in an honorable way. At first I thought it was Adelina Patti. But I was wrong 22 ROMANCE there; I'm sure of that, for whenever he speaks of her wonderful voice there's always a ' but ' in his praise of her. No lover ever uses the word ' but ' when he's praising his lady love, Harry. You may have the advantage of me in being engaged; but at least I do know that; it wasn't Balzac nor Hichens taught me, in spite of all you say." " No," Susan went on reflectively and with an assumption of wisdom far, far beyond her years, " Grandpa's sweetheart wasn't Patti; that I'm sure of! But she was an opera singer. I'll bet any- thing you like on that! I'd stake my life on it. Because from the day you bought him the Victrola for Christmas I noticed that he only cares for the old grand opera records. Wagner and all the German new school composers are like a red rag to a bull to Grandpa. I only turn them on for him very occasionally, just for punishment, when he hasn't been letting me have quite my own way. Only this afternoon when I was out I bought him a new record for a New Year's present. It's Destinn in the aria from ' Mignon.' He's told me lots of times that ' Mignon ' was the opera he loved best. SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 23 " And there's something else I've found out about Grandpa lately, Harry," continued Susan as she curled herself up before the fireplace in the Bishop's big armchair. " You see, I've been keep- ing very close tab on him lately. He interests me tremendously, Harry, not only as the dearest old gentleman that ever lived, but as a curious speci- men of a bygone age." " Humph ! " exclaimed Harry somewhat con- temptuously. "What are you, anyway? An archaeologist or a Sherlock Holmes? I always thought there was a good deal of the detective about you, Susan," he added laughingly. " But what's this other mystery you've solved about poor old Grandpa? If he could hear us talking him over like this I believe that, big as we are, he'd box the ears of both of us and send us off to bed." " Well," replied Susan, " this is what I've dis- covered, Harry; I don't believe that his wife, Grandmama Armstrong, was really the great love of his life." " What makes you think that? " " Well, listen ! " pursued Susan. " He's al- 24 ROMANCE ways telling us what a good woman his wife, Susan, was. Now a man who's been madly in love with a woman never speaks of her in that way. He might talk of the love of his life as anything from an angel to a sorceress, but he would never harp on the point, as Grandpa does, that she was so very good. Then besides the family Bible bears out my suspicions, Harry." " Why, what's the family Bible got to do with it?" " Well, I just thought I'd like to look it over," said Susan, somewhat with the air of a Missou- rian, " so I dug it out of the library the other day and made a careful study of it. That's where I made my discovery. And remember what I'm telling you now, Harry, must never get outside the family. You mustn't even tell Lucille about it if she becomes your wife. We must just regard it as one of our family skeletons and keep it locked up in the Van Tuyl closet." " Great Scott, Susan I What was the scan- dal, " said Harry, eagerly. " You're talking about poor old grandmother as though she had been as immoral as those two awful Lady Georges SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 25 that Grandpa always speaks of in a whisper George Eliot and George Sand." " Oh, no, she wasn't a bit like them," exclaimed Susan quickly, as though anxious to save her Grandmother's escutcheon from any undue blot. " Grandma was a married woman. The only trouble with her was she didn't marry until she was a very old woman, Harry. The record of her marriage says that she was thirty-two, and that wasn't the worst of it. Grandpa, when he married her, was only twenty-nine." " Well, there's nothing immoral about that." " Immoral ! Of course not. Who said such a thing! But it's scarcely the sort of thing that one's grandparents would wish their younger gen- erations to talk about. One thing I'm certain of, Harry, unless some man marries me before I'm thirty-two I shall either take the veil or become a beauty lecturer and sell cold creams for relaxa- tion. However," continued Susan, becoming more serious, " the fact that Grandma was so much older than Grandpa proves conclusively to me that there had been some other woman in his life. My own opinion is that Grandma caught 26 ROMANCE him on the rebound. I don't suppose that we shall ever know the truth about it. But it's ex- ceedingly interesting all the same. Then there's another thing. Sometimes when Grandpa's sitting by the fire here at night after I've finished reading the Post to him he will gaze into the fire for half an hour at a time, looking at the coals as intently as though he were seeing all his life there in the fireplace. The other night when he was sitting like that my curiosity got the better of me. I couldn't stand the silence any longer. So I said to him: ' What are you thinking about, Grandpa? What makes you look so sad?' And what do you think he said to me, Harry? He turned to me and shook his head and smiled in a whimsical sort of way and then he said : ' I was thinking, my dear Susan, of what a dreadful young prig I used to be before I married your grandmother. It's a horrible thing to be a prig, my dear, much worse, to my mind, than to be a sinner. Your friends will always forgive your sins, but they'll never forgive your priggishness. I was even worse than a prig, I think. I had all the arro- gance and ignorance of youth combined with the SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 27 terrible, unquenchable enthusiasm of the fanatic. There were times in my youth, I fear, Susan, when both my family and friends must have found me a dreadful bore.' And then," continued the girl, " I thought he was going to open up and confide in me and tell me all about it. But instead he just closed those long, thin lips of his very firmly and smiled and shook his head. I couldn't get another word out of him. It was maddening. That's one of the things that most vex me about Grandpa, he never will quench my curiosity. But just as he was picking up his cane to start upstairs he did say this much, and he must have been thinking about the man all the time, for he hadn't mentioned his name for at least six months. As he stooped to kiss me good night he said: ' Susan, my dear, you and Harry have had at least one splendid ancestor. I am speaking of your grand- mother's uncle, Cornelius Van Tuyl. His was the biggest, noblest nature I have ever known; he was a man of the world. A man of the wide, wide world, my dear. There's a difference in those two phrases which some day, perhaps when you're older, you'll appreciate. But as for me 28 ROMANCE I shall always honor the memory of Cornelius Van Tuyl and blush each time and I am still able to blush, thank God when I remember how I misjudged him.' So you see, Harry, from those few remarks," concluded Susan senten- tiously, " I have gathered that at some time in their careers Grandpa and Uncle Cornelius must have had a frightful row. And it must have been about a woman, because after all, when you come down to it, women are the only things that men fight about really seriously. And now for me, Harry, as they say in the novels, it's a case of ' cherchez la femme.' And I'll find her too, even if I have to give dear old Grandpa the third degree." Ill " Susan, you talk like an idiot," exclaimed young Armstrong patronizingly. " However, when I take possession of the Van Tuyl mansion, if I find any ancient records in the safe I'll let you have a peep at them if they're not too scandalous. But shut up now about Grandpa's love affairs. Listen to mine. I've only told you half my news SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 29 and the old gentleman will be here in a minute." " Well, what on earth have you wasted all this time for, Harry? " retorted Susan. "That's the worst of you you never can keep to the point. What's the rest of it?" The boy hesitated for a moment; he waggled one of his legs nervously to and fro and avoided his young sister's eye. " Well, I told you that I was engaged to Lu- cille, didn't I ? We've settled that point." " Go on," insisted Susan. " Well I'm the sort of man, Susan, who doesn't believe in a long engagement. Father ran away and got married, you know, before he was twenty-one." " Yes, and by doing so he almost broke poor Grandpa's heart," rejoined the girl instantly. " It was perfectly shameful of him; I have never been able quite to forgive father for that. If you were to do a thing like that, Harry, I'd never speak to you again. Because you know, now that we're orphans, I really believe Grandpa loves you and me better than if we were children of his very own." 30 ROMANCE " Well, don't worry; I'm not going to break his heart again. That's why I'm here to-night. That's why I'm coming in later to have a talk with him. And that's why I want you, Susan, to use a little diplomacy in the meanwhile and get him into one of his gentlest and most benevolent moods. Because what I'm going to tell him is this Susan. I'm going to marry Lucille to- morrow afternoon at 4 o'clock." " To-morrow," cried Susan, springing to her feet. ;t Why, you're mad, Harry; what on earth's the hurry? Besides to-morrow's New Year's Day. Oh, you mustn't do it; if you spring a thing like that on Grandpa to-night why, it will spoil the whole new year for him. Only to-night he was saying that he would remember dear old 1912 as one of the happiest years of his life just because you and I have been so much with him and helped to keep him young. And now you'd go and kill 1913 for him by doing such a crazy thing as this. Grandpa's always said that thir- teen was his unlucky number anyway. I think you a beast, Harry, if you do. Wait until Feb- ruary anyway; give the poor girl time to get her SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 31 trousseau. If Lucille agrees to any such plan as this the least that I can say about her is that she's a little designing cat." " Leave Lucille out of this, if you please. This is all my doing," cried Harry, angrily. " Lucille's behaved like a perfect angel. Why, she even says that she won't consider herself en- gaged to me until Grandpa's given his consent." " Well, I don't care ! I think it's simply abom- inable of you, Harry. I won't raise a finger to help you now. I won't put in one good word with " Unheard by the brother and sister, the door of the study had opened noiselessly and the old Bishop, leaning on his walking stick, stood smiling at them both. "Why, what's the matter, youngsters? " he ex- claimed cheerily. " What's this, another war in the Balkans or merely a duel of the Armstrongs? Surely you're not coming to blows on New Year's." " It's nothing to be alarmed about, Grandpa," gasped Susan hurriedly. ' Just a little family tiff. You see," she added with a significant smile, which instantly brought a scowl of rage to the features 32 ROMANCE of young Harry, " we were rowing about a New Year's present which Harry insists on giving me. But I haven't made up my mind yet whether I'm going to like it or not. However, it was sweet of you to think of me, darling," she added as she kissed Harry. " Run along, now, for Grandpa and I have heaps of things to talk about, and we haven't read our Evening Post." " I won't be long, sir," said Harry, turning to his grandfather. " I'm just going to 'phone to Tyson's for some theater tickets for to-morrow night. The theaters are so crowded on New Year's I suppose I'll have to go to the speculators anyway." "For to-morrow night, Harry?" exclaimed Susan, taken unawares. " Why, I thought you and Lucille had another engagement." " Oh, but that's for the afternoon," retorted Harry. ;t That engagement is for four o'clock, Susan, and don't you forget it," he added mean- ingly as he walked toward the door. " Really! " exclaimed Susan, lifting her eye- brows. " Then in that case, Harry, let your little sister do another good turn for you." SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 33 She picked up an evening paper from the table and hurriedly turned to the amusement column. " Let me suggest an appropriate play for you two. Ah, yes, here's the very thing " as she ran her finger down the column. " * Years of Dis- cretion.' " " Thanks very much, old girl," cried Harry as he prepared to slam the door behind him. " But we've picked out our play already. We're going to the ' Honeymoon Express.' ' ;( Who is this Lucille Anderson that Harry is always talking about lately?" asked the Bishop as, hobbling across the room on his walking stick, he let himself down gingerly into his armchair. " Do you know her? " " Oh, yes indeed, Grandpa," replied Susan with well simulated enthusiasm; "she's a perfect dar- ling. I'm crazy about her. She's such a sweet girl, with the loveliest voice and hair. And she's got such a splendid influence over Harry. He's sobered down tremendously since he met her. She's a girl of such high ideals. Her father was one of the greatest lawyers in Toronto, Canada. But he's dead now and poor Lucille is very poor 34 ROMANCE and has got to go out in the world and make her own living." "Humph!" said the Bishop. "I hope she's not a suffragette. You're a very subtle little per- son," he continued, smiling at her questioningly. " From a remark that you let fall just now I gathered that you consider either Lucille or Harry rather light headed." " What on earth do you mean, Grandpa? " said Susan, blushing furiously. " That play which you suggested they should go to. Tell me, my dear, why did you pick out 1 Years of Discretion '? " " Oh, just because the title sounded interest- ing," added Susan lightly. " It was the first one I saw in the list." Then, by way of turning the subject, she added quickly, " But come along, Grandpa, we haven't read the paper yet. Shall I begin?" " Very well, my dear, just as you like," said the Bishop placidly. Susan complied with a slight yawn. " * Regula- tion of Skyscrapers.' ' Drastic Measures to Be Taken by President Taft.' * Earthquake in Apia SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 35 Thousands Reported Killed.' ' Borough Pres- ident Gives to Board of Estimate the Report on Improvements.' Oh, dear ! it sounds awfully dull to-night, doesn't it? " said Susan, looking up from the paper for a moment. " That's the worst about newspapers. They're so uninteresting ex- cept in the society column or when there's an elope- ment or a divorce case. They never have any- thing about anything one knows. That's why I'd so much rather read novels. Because in a novel, you know, you always get to know everybody in it intimately before you are half way through the book. Were you ever fond of Ouida, Grand- pa?" " Ouida ! " repeated the old gentleman as though striving vainly to recall some memory. " I seem to recall the name. But what was it, my dear, a tooth powder? Ah, no; I recollect now. Let me see, wasn't he that automatic checker player that never lost a game? " Susan burst out laughing. " Oh, no, Grandpa ; you're all mixed up. That fellow was Ajeeb. He's still living. They've got him over in the Eden Musee. But Ouida was a 36 ROMANCE great novelist a great lady novelist, you know. Like those two women whose books you've forbid- den me to read, George Eliot and George Sand. Ouida wrote ' Under Two Flags ' away back in the '6os or '705 somewhere. The reason I asked you about her was because in that old diary of Grand- mamma's you showed me the other day there was quite a piece about her. Grandmamma was evi- dently quite as dotty about Cigarette and Bertie Cecil as I am. For in one place she writes : c It is now nearly four in the morning and I have just concluded reading Ouida's ' Under Two Flags,' surreptitiously, for the second time. I consider this book the most marvelous literary achieve- ment of our era. It has provided me with the greatest sentimental treat of my life. I only wish I could persuade dear Tom to read it. It would certainly broaden his point of view." " She was an omnivorous reader, your grand- mother, Susan," said the Bishop in a reminiscent tone. " We used to have many little squabbles about her books. I never approved of novels my- self, they seemed to me such a waste of time. But SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 37 as I say, your grandmother always took a much wider point of view of life than I. You see, for one thing she was brought up in a rather different world. She was left an orphan almost in her babyhood and lived with her uncle, old Cornelius Van Tuyl. She was brought up in the great house, which is soon to be Harry's now. Old Van Tuyl, you know, was a very famous person in his way; quite the Ward McAllister of his period, though to my mind a much more liberal minded man. His house was the meeting place, not of society alone but of all the noted men and women of his day. He believed in the aristocracy of brains, my dear. I have met Charles Dickens fre- quently at his house. Now, there was a real nov- elist for you, my dear. I have always found his books most interesting, for even when he dealt with the lowest types of life his works had always a moral and uplifting tone." " Oh, I shouldn't have cared a rap about meet- ing Dickens," remarked Susan loftily. " I think his whiskers, which you see in all the pictures of him, were simply hideous. But tell me, Grandpa, 38 ROMANCE you who are so fond of all the old operas, didn't you ever meet any of the great singers or actresses at his house?" " A great many of them frequented his house, my dear, but I met comparatively few. You see, Susan," continued the Bishop with a whimsical smile, " I was never what you young people call a society man. I was the rector of St. Giles's in those days and almost completely absorbed in my church and mission work, sometimes I think too much so for my own good. If I had my life to live all over again I should take a broader view, both of affairs and men. But we live and learn, my dear; we live and learn. I can see clearly now that in many instances my point of view was extremely narrow." " But, Grandpa," said Susan, " surely you can remember some of the names of these great wo- men that you met at Uncle Van Tuyl's. Did Adelina Patti ever go there? Did you ever meet her?" " Oh, yes, frequently. Uncle Cornelius's house was the only private residence at which she ever sang in New York. It was a great honor, to be SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 39 sure. I remember the night well. Your grand- mother did the honors. * His little Chatelaine,' Uncle Cornelius used to call her proudly. And she certainly made a charming hostess. Watch- ing you as you preside at my dinner table always makes me think of her, my dear. I'm so glad you bear her name of Susan. You have so many traits in common, though I must confess," he went on laughingly, " you are really prettier than my dear Susan ever was. Susan's hair was quite straight. She was never what one might term a beauty, but she had charm, my dear; incomparable charm. How she would have envied those crinkly little curls of yours, Susan," continued the old man smilingly as he ran his fingers playfully through his granddaughter's curls. " That was always a very sore point with my poor Susan my curly hair. She used to laugh and say that there ought to be a law against it, some law which would prevent men from being born with hair which curled naturally, while poor women had to keep their hair in curl papers half the night. And then it wouldn't stay crimped for more than an hour or two. It's a very small thing for an old 40 ROMANCE man to remember, I suppose, little Susan," sighed the Bishop. " But I was always secretly de- lighted at the pride which your grandmother took in my hair. It would have proved a severe trial to me had I ever grown bald." V IV The girl rose and went to her grandfather. There were tears in her eyes as she leaned lov- ingly over him and, stooping, kissed one of his snow white curls. " And if she could see them now she'd be prouder of them than ever, Grandpa. They were never so beautiful. I shall always pray that if I live to be an old woman I shall have just such curls as yours." " They were almost the only thing I was ever vain about," pursued the Bishop as he patted Susan on the cheek. " Otherwise I was never in the least a dandy. I was always so absorbed in my work that I never thought about my clothes. I was a dreadfully untidy person, I'm afraid. It used to worry Susan a great deal. I remember how she used always to be picking bits of fluff SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 411 off my shoulder. And sometimes even when I had remembered to do so I used purposely to leave my hair unbrushed because I always knew that at the first sight of me she would put my curls in place with her dear hand. She had such beau- tiful hands, Susan," the old man went on enthusi- astically. " They were her greatest beauty. Just now, when you touched me on the forehead, it gave me quite a little start, Susan. And your voice, too, it is so like hers." " Really, Grandpa, I'm so proud to know that. But you're just flattering me to evade my ques- tion. Tell me, didn't you ever meet any of the great actresses at Uncle Van Tuyl's? " " If I did I have forgotten their names, my dear. You see, I never approved of the theater. And there was only one very short period in my life, when I frequented it, and even that was under protest. I went there simply to oblige a very charming woman to whom the theater was a great source of rest and recreation. " Susan was now hot on the trail. " What was her name, Grandpa? Do tell me." " Let me answer your question first, my dear," 42 ROMANCE smiled the old gentleman evasively. " You were asking me about the theater and what I knew of it. So I'm going to tell you a little story about the first time I ever stepped inside of one. It was in the gallery at Niblo's Garden in let me see; let me think " and the Bishop cudgeled his brains for a moment. " Yes, it was in '66. A very notorious play was running there then. They called it ' The Black Crook.' " Susan jumped from her perch on the arm of her grandfather's chair and clapped her hands. " Why, Grandpa ! " she cried, unable to restrain her delight. " Do you mean to tell me with your own lips that you were a gallery god and went to see ' The Black Crook ' ? Why, even I've heard about how awfully broad it was. I was reading about it only the other day in an old book in your library called ' Sunlight and Shadow.' ' The Bishop began to explain hurriedly. " I was only there for a very short time. To be exact, not more than four minutes. I went there, not out of curiosity but with a very laudable purpose. I left the very moment that I had achieved it. I had discovered, by accident, one SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 43 Saturday afternoon that two of my youngest and most promising choir boys, who had had their imagination excited by the flaming posters and the inflammatory articles in the daily newspapers, which, while they were supposedly denouncing, were in reality exploiting ' The Black Crook ' I heard by accident, I say, that these two young- sters had expended their pocket money in gallery tickets for the performance. I had a meeting of the deaconesses at the rectory that afternoon, but I lost no time in dismissing them and I hurried to the theater. If those young lads had been inside a burning building I could not have rushed to save them at any greater speed. I tore up the gallery stairs; and just as I entered for one brief moment I caught my one glimpse of the stage. I must confess, to be fair, that the scene I saw was very beautiful and not at all demoralizing. If the rest of the performance, which, of course, I did not see, was of an equal artistic caliber, I should have always claimed that ' The Black Crook ' had been misjudged. But from all I heard and gathered afterward it appears to me that I must have arrived at the one psychological 44 ROMANCE moment when the play was above reproach. The stage was empty except for one figure a beauti- ful young woman dressed in very short white tarla- tan ballet skirts. She was standing apparently on one toe. Her arms were waving gracefully in the air above her head, and as I stood, entranced and forgetful of my boys for the moment, she executed the most graceful series of postures imaginable. She was, I discovered afterward what is called the ' premiere danseuse absoluta.' Her name was Louise Bonfanti." "What! " cried Susan, in amazement. "You don't mean the little, graceful, fat, old, Italian dancing teacher, who still gives lessons uptown! Why, Grandpa, I've met her. Why last year when we got up the kirmess for the working girls' home she stage managed all our dances for us. I know her well." " And so do I," replied the Bishop, looking his granddaughter smilingly in the eye : " that's the reason I told you the story. But let me finish it; it's got a moral. Well, I caught my boys, dragged them home, gave them a sound scolding and set them to reading ' Tales of a Grandfather ' SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 45 for punishment. That I thought was the end of the matter, but it wasn't by a very long way." And the Bishop wagged his head deprecatingly at the reminiscence. " The next morning to my amazement, the newspapers were ablaze with the story. I remember some of those headlines even yet, my dear. The Herald ran, * Fervid young rector plucks two boyish brands from the burning.' The Sun said, ' The Rev. Thomas Armstrong defies the gods and rescues two of his choir boys from the wiles of Bonfanti.' Even the Evening Post, which you're holding in your hand now, my dear, devoted several lines to the matter, and was the only paper in all New York which entirely upheld me in my peremptory action. The other papers as a rule rather favored the boys. Persons who understand theatrical matters always insisted afterward your Uncle Van Tuyl in particular, I remember that I was the inno- cent cause of the success of ' The Black Crook.' However, I think that was an exaggeration," smiled the Bishop. " I should scarcely like to have that crime upon my conscience. But from all I read of theatrical performances to-day, my 46 ROMANCE dear, I think that by comparison the poor old ' Crook ' would seem quite insipid. But to my story! Mme. Bonfanti achieved a world-wide reputation, as you know. I had not heard her name mentioned for more than thirty years, when only a few months ago, when I was attending a meeting of the working girls' home, it happened that a number of the young women were rehears- ing for some sort of benefit. They seemed to be learning a dance of some kind, when suddenly I happened to hear one of them refer to their in- structress as Mme. Bonfanti. I turned and looked at her closely. There was no mistake. It was she. I recognized her instantly. The youth was gone and the tarlatan skirts, but from behind her spectacles there still gleamed those wonderful eyes. There was still a fire and an elusive charm in them. And though, to be sure, she was stout, she was still graceful in her move- ments. And then her gestures! Each time she moved her little gloved hand it was the epitome of grace. And then I thought of my sciatic back, my dear, and my old creaky knee joints, and I groaned inwardly and I said to myself : ' There SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 47 must be some hidden secret of youth, known only to the stage, which keeps its votaries so young. I wish we poor, crippled old clergy could fathom it. 5 " " But didn't you speak to her? Didn't you even say how d'ye do? Why, how rude, Grandpa, after all these years! " " But, remember, we had never met before. How could I speak to her? We had never been introduced. But at all events she forestalled me. The moment the young women whispered who I was she turned upon me beamingly and held out both her hands. The curtsey which she dropped me, Susan, was exquisite in its grace. Bowing's a lost art in these days, it seems to me. And as she held her hands out and smiled so radiantly she said, in her pretty broken English I have al- ways been very fond of broken English when it is spoken by a woman with a musical voice ' My dear Bishop,' she cried. * All my life ever since the time I was eighteen year old and played in " The Black Crook " at Niblo's Garden I have prayed and hoped for the great honor of meeting you. I have watch your career with the 48 ROMANCE ver-ry greta interest, and when many, many year ago they made you a Bishop I was oh, so proud, so proud! Without you, my dear Bishop, La Bonfanti might have become just only a memory, instead of as I am now, an institution.' Then we laughed and chatted for some moments and finally as we shook hands and said good-by she laughed and called after me, ' Remembair, Bishop, I have those newspaper cleepings yet.' ' V " I merely mentioned this little incident to you, my dear, to show you how, with the best intentions in the world, one may misjudge another in this life," pursued the Bishop. " My one short actual meeting with Mme. Bonfanti completely upset all my mental conceptions of her. All her life she had probably been thinking of me as some mad, intolerant, religious fanatic, while to me she had always remained that radiant young creature in the tarlatan skirts, standing on one toe. I may, in my arrogance, have regarded her as a lost soul, but now that we have met I think we both know better. Each has changed the estimate of the SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 49] other somewhat, perhaps. Old age levels many prejudices. But I should like to know how she keeps so young." 11 And the two choir boys, Grandpa ? " inter- rupted Susan. "What became of them? Did they survive * Tales of a Grandfather,' or did they live unhappy ever after from being thus deprived of 'The Black Crook'?" " Strangely enough a year or two later, my dear child, these very boys, unknown to them- selves, saved your grandfather from a far worse fate than would have befallen them if they had witnessed a score of performances of ' The Black Crook.' They were still in my choir at St. Giles's and oddly enough to-day is the anniversary of the occurrence. It took place on New Year's eve, 1868. In those days we celebrated the coming of the new year more quietly than you do now. The chimes were always rung at old Trinity and the streets were thronged with merry-makers as they are now. But the whistles and the tin horns were not so much in evidence. You see we followed more the fashion of the old English * Waits.' 1 he choirs from the different churches 50 ROMANCE would, in long procession, march through the city streets singing carols. It was a pretty old custom and it ushered in the new year with a greater show of respect and reverence than usually greets it now." "But what happened that night, Grandpa?'' " My dear," said the Bishop somewhat shortly, " it's not a story for your pretty little girlish ears. You asked about the choir boys and I mentioned this incident just to show you, as the old hymn says, that ' God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.' Come, now, let us have some music." " The incident is closed," sighed Susan to her- self. Then aloud she asked, " What record shall we start with, Grandpa? ' Caro Nome?'" " Anything you like, dear, so long as it isn't too sad," said the Bishop. Susan adjusted the record and opened wide the two little doors of the Victrola. " Listen, Grandpa ! " cried the girl as she stood aside to listen. " Isn't that a splendid record? " "Yes; it is rather a fine voice," said the old gentleman. "Who is the singer?" SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 51 " Why, Grandpa 1 Do you mean to say you don't recognize that voice? It's Tetrazzini" an- swered Susan and her voice took on a tone of al- most reverence. " She has a good method and some fine notes," said the Bishop, turning musical critic for a mo- ment. " Ah ! my dear, you should have heard Adelina Patti sing it at the Academy in '72. That was a marvelous voice of hers; she was a wonderful artist, Mme. Patti; with one exception the most wonderful singer I ever heard." "And who was that, Grandpa?" asked his granddaughter eagerly. " Oh, don't think I am decrying Patti for a moment," replied the Bishop, quite ignoring Su- san's query. " From a technical point of view I suppose her singing was perfect, but, to my mind, there was a certain tenderness and warmth lack- ing in her voice which always made the singing of Margarita Cavallini quite incomparable to me." " Oh, but, Grandpa," protested Susan with some fire, " you don't mean to tell me, young as I am, that our Melbas and Destinns and Farrars aren't every bit as fine singers as your Cavallinis 52 ROMANCE and your Pattis and your Crisis. While as for Caruso now you must know perfectly well, Grandpa, that there never has been such a tenor since the world began. Everyone admits that! " The Bishop smiled and shook his head with an air of unconverted pride. " My dear," he said, " you must remember / have heard Mario." Susan, squelched for the moment, had no word to say. Experience had taught her that there were certain subjects upon which it was just as well not to argue with her grandfather. So for a few moments the old man and the girl listened to " Caro Nome " in silence. The clock on the study mantelpiece chimed the half hour after ten and the Bishop in his easy chair gave a deep sigh as though the striking of the chimes had just recalled to him how fast the old year, 1912, was hurrying to its close. As the record wheezed its way into silence the Bishop sighed again and said : " What a pity it is, Susan, that Thomas Edison could not have been born fifty years earlier. Think, my dear, of the voices which this great in- SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 53 vention of his might have preserved imperishable for all posterity. There were vocal giants in my day, Susan golden nightingales now silenced forever or, more tragic yet, cracked and broken with the rust of age. I remember once some fif- teen or twenty years ago, when the phonograph was first perfected, reading in some newspaper a very pretty little story about one of your new singers Emma Calve, I think it was. She had left the man she was engaged to behind in Paris when she came here and every week when the mail boat came in she shut herself up in her hotel apartments just to listen to his voice. For, you see, they corresponded entirely by phonograph; they talked and sang all their love letters to each other week by week. And ever since I read that newspaper paragraph I have thought what an in- estimable joy it would have brought to an old man like me if by just opening the two little doors of that Victrola and adjusting the waxen scroll I could have heard once more those dear dead voices of my youth. I don't mean only the great dead voices; I mean the voices which were near- est and dearest to me your grandmother's, for 54 ROMANCE instance. How I should love at this very mo- ment to hear her singing her favorite hymn ! She had a very sweet contralto voice, had Susan; but she played wretched accompaniments, poor dear. I suppose that was because she studied at that Springier Institute, of which I never approved." " What was the hymn, Grandpa ? " asked Su- san gently. " It was one of the old Ancient and Modern, and it had a low setting, which suited her voice extremely well. I can almost hear her singing it now." The Bishop drew a long breath and began to hum as though half to himself: Christian, dost thou see them On the Holy Ground? How the troops of Midian Prowl and prowl around? Christian, up and smite them, Counting gain but loss; Smite them by the merit Of the Holy Cross. The Bishop's voice died away slowly. Pres- ently Susan turned to him and asked: "What were the troops of Midian, Grandpa? That's SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 55 one of the strange things about hymns to me. I've known them so long and I've sung them so often that I never know what I'm singing about. Tell me! Who and what were the troops of Midian? For honestly, Grandpa, to tell you the truth, ever since I was about nine years old and you taught me that hymn I've always thought of them as being a sort of Old Testament comic opera company which Moses or Methuselah or some other old patriarch had told to keep off the grass." The Bishop burst out laughing in spite of him- self. " To tell you the truth, Susan, when I was a youngster that was just about my opinion of them, too. Later, of course, when I grew older and more bigoted, we'll say, the troops of Midian came to mean any group of worldly people or even those theologians who differed with my re- ligious points of view." " That means about everybody who wasn't an Episcopalian, eh, Grandpa?" remarked Susan. "At one time perhaps, my dear," admitted the Bishop. " But as I grew older and came 56 ROMANCE more and more under the influence of your grand- mother I learned to take a wider and more altru- istic point of view." " And now, Grandpa," cried Susan, springing up gayly, " it seems to me it's about time I gave you my New Year's present. I didn't know what on earth to get you, so what do you suppose I got? And do you know why I got it for you, Grandpa?" she went on unheedingly. "I tried to think of something which would make you very, very soft and sentimental something that would put you almost in a Bavarian cream sort of mood." " My dear child, I assure you," laughed the Bishop, " that's almost my condition. I'm just running over the sides of the dish, little Miss Twentieth Century." " That's a new name I Why do you call me that? " and Susan forgot all about the present for the moment. " Because, my dear, you have always repre- sented the twentieth century to me. That was the first name I ever called you. You probably don't remember it, Susan, but you were the first living SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY '57 thing I laid my eyes on New Year's morning, 1900. You must have been a little over two, Su- san, just able to toddle about comfortably by your- self and show your old grandfather the way he should go in this new century to which he doesn't seem quite to belong." " But do you mean to say, Grandpa, you never saw me until I was as old as that? And Harry why, Harry must have been seven by then, at least. Do you mean to say you had never seen either of us when we were real babies? " " Never, dear. That has been the bitterest punishment of my life, Susan the loss of both your babyhoods. That's one reason why I've tried so hard to make up to both of you since, my dear. I have never spoken of this matter to either of you for fear it would make you hate me. Sometimes I think that Harry suspects the truth, Susan. Bear with me and forgive me as well as you can." For censure the young girl snuggled on the arm of his chair and kissed his white curls reassuringly. Clearing his voice the Bishop went on slowly: " I was sitting in this very chair, Susan, when one 58 ROMANCE night, my Harry your father that was to be rushed in here and without any preparation told me that he had run away and got married. I was furious. There was a quarrel in which I know now I was entirely in the wrong. Harry went out of the room slamming the door behind him and declaring he would never enter my home again. He never did, poor boy that was all my fault too. He and your mother went to New Orleans, where he got employment. Little Harry was born there and so were you. But even the coming of you children did not melt the frost which had gathered round my heart. It was not until the yellow fever carried off your father and your mother within three days of each other that I realized the enormity of what I had done. I sent for you at once. I was very ill when you ar- rived on New Year's eve. Remorse, contrition and the righteous wrath of the Almighty had laid me low. That afternoon, ill as I was, I made the nurse carry me from my bedroom into the study here, for every new year since my mar- riage I had seen dawn in this old room. They made a bed for me on the couch and the nurse SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 59; left me. I was sleeping soundly long before the old year had passed out and when I woke the sun was shining in the windows and the new cen- tury was just six hours old. Before I could move or even mentally salute the new year there was a gentle tap at my door. ' Come in,' I said. The door was opened just a chink and I saw the nurse's hand push you gently inside. The door closed to and there you stood, dear, with one fin- ger stuck debatingly in your mouth. For a mo- ment we two looked silently at each other, and there was such a look of unconscious mercy and of tenderness in your sweet eyes that I always felt that, all unconsciously, perhaps, you knew all and forgave me everything even then. * I'm your lit- tle Toosan,' you said by way of introduction, and feeble as I was I limped from my bed toward you and I gathered you into my arms, crying, ' You're my little New Century, my dear! ' " And ever since," continued the Bishop, " for twelve years now you have guided this poor relic of an older era through the mazes of your new century. I feel like a stranger within your gates. And I have watched you grow and bios- 60 ROMANCE som, dear, and thanked God that I had you here to keep me within your gentle leading strings. For what should I do without you, Susan; what should I do without you? You are my eyes when I tire of reading; it is you who soothes my ears at night with all the old songs I love for even if you do not actually sing them to me you manipulate the Victrola better than anyone else can. But it's when I'm out, at large in this great maelstrom which they call New York now it's then that I miss and appreciate you most. It's then that I feel lost and all at sea. The taxis make me nervous, the rush and the swirl of Broadway bewilders me completely. And then the old landmarks all gone, my dear, all gone ! Look at Union Square ! Tiffany's, Brentano's, both flown uptown; Spring- ier Institute vanished completely; the old Everett House has been razed so long four or five years at least! that you young people have forgotten that there ever was such a famous hostelry, just as you are quite unconscious of the fact that once upon a time Union Square boasted a high iron railing. Only the other day, just before Christ- mas, I walked slowly up Fifth avenue and turned SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 61 west at Fourteenth street to go to Macy's to buy my gifts as I have done for nearly fifty years Macy's was gone, my dear. There was no trace left of the old shop. I should have remembered that they had moved uptown years ago. But I had forgotten. It gave me almost a shock when I realized it. I felt that I had lost still another old friend and, walking home again, feeling quite disconsolate, the one sight which was left to glad- den my heart was the old Van Buren mansion, standing serene and staunch, like some stately dowager, oblivious of all its commercial neighbors and its dingy surroundings. I clutched the iron fence with a vigorous clasp. It was like shaking hands with an old comrade whom I hadn't seen since the war. And then when I turn my eyes heavenward those dreadful skyscrapers obliterate all the dear old spires. St. Giles's steeple still holds its own but its contemporary, St. George's, has been shorn of both its old brown towers. You can't see the time of day on Stuyvesant Square any more unless you have a watch ! Then when I go to Staten Island it's the same story. Why, it's all that my poor old eyes can do to iden- 62 ROMANCE tify the Produce Exchange building once the proudest edifice on the water front from the forest of skyscrapers that surround it." " But there's Liberty, Grandpa," exclaimed Su- san. " Don't forget our Lady of the Eternal Torch." " Quite true. She is still there, my dear and the sea! God bless the sea. It has its moods and tenses; but it's always there. It does not go in for innovations." " Grandpa, I don't think it's good for you to 1 look back ' so much. What do you say to hear- ing my present. I had almost forgotten it. It's the latest Destinn. You know, as I told you just now," pursued Susan, " I've got some news to tell you, and before I break it to you I want you to be very, very soft. I have an idea this will make you so." Susan began to hum " Connais tu le pays," very softly to herself as she adjusted the record. Then as Destinn's voice swelled out in the Ger- man version of the song the girl paused to watch the melody's effect upon her grandfather. " Kennst du so wohl?" SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 63 " Please, please, Susan ! not that song," he cried almost irritably. " It's been running in my head all day for some reason or other. Stop it, Susan please! It makes me sad. I may be very foolish, but I would rather not hear it to-night." Susan stopped the record abruptly. " I'm so sorry. I thought you'd like it, Grandpa. I picked it out especially for you, be- cause you've always said you were so fond of { Mignon.' I went to the trouble, too, of looking it up in ' The Prima Donna's Album ' just to learn what it meant in English. But the words are aw- fully stupid translated, don't you think? Knowest thou that fair land Where the oranges grow Where the fruit is of gold And so fair the rose? Now to me that sounds awfully flat, perfectly as- inine. I don't wonder it makes you melancholy. But who was it used to sing it in your day, Grandpa? " went on the girl inquisitively. " Let me see now! What was her name? Sounds something like our own Cavallera? Ah! yes, 64 ROMANCE Cavallini; that was it. Was she very wonder- ful, Grandpa? " " Matchless. Incomparable," said the Bishop rather shortly. " Suppose, now, for a change, my dear, we have a little of Harry What's-his- name. You know the man I mean the Scotch- man." "Harry Lauder? Certainly," said Susan, dis- carding the hapless " Mignon " record and put- ting the Scotchman's most famous ditty in its place. " This ought to cheer you as well as a cocktail, Grandpa. Listen I " I love a lassie, A bonnie, bonnie lassie, She's as pure as the lily in the dell: She's as sweet as the heather, The bonnie purple heather, Mary, my Scotch bluebell! The swing of the song, its lilting rhythm and the quaint side remarks of the Scotchman between the verses worked marvels with the Bishop's dol- drums. They vanished like a mist before the sun. Susan sighed to herself profoundly as one who had accomplished something in the way of a mir- SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 65 acle as she saw the smiles breaking out on the old man's happy face. The Bishop kept time to the music with his cane and also with his least rheumatic foot. Presently he grew bolder and joined bravely in the chorus. At his request Susan turned the record on for the second time. " And you a Bishop of the Episcopal Church applauding a Presbyterian like that I Why, Grandpa, I'm amazed at you." " It's a very good song and it's very well sung. I should like to shake hands with Mr. Lauder one of these days. It seems to me that he must be a man of a very liberal nature and jovial disposi- tion the Tony Pastor of Scotland, as it were." " Well, there's a new one on me ! " exclaimed Susan. " I never heard his name before. Who was he, Grandpa, this Tony Pastor? A basso or a pantomime man?" The Bishop shrugged his shoulders as one with- out hope. " Oh, my dear. Are you really serious? And he not dead ten years! Is it possible that the 66 ROMANCE children of this generation don't know the name of Tony Pastor? Such is fame! " VI " Never mind telling me about him now, Grandpa," interrupted Susan, as the Bishop was about to explain. " I have something to say to you, dear something which I'm afraid you are not going to like very much, Grandpa. I've been trying to break it gently to you all the even- ing." The Bishop smiled and looked at Susan rather curiously. " I like everything. It's my greatest fault ! " " Well, I like that! " laughed Susan. " What about Wagner? " u Ah ! yes. Everything, except Wagner. You are quite right, Susan. Wagner I cannot stand." " Well, I doubt if you can stand this either." " Suppose you give me a try." Well it's about Harry." " Harry ! " echoed the Bishop. " What about Harry? " " He's gone and done it." SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 67 Susan decided to rush matters. She poured out the balance of her information without paus- ing once for breath. " I mean, Grandpa, he hasn't really gone and done it, because he naturally won't do anything without her and she says she won't do a thing un- til you have given your consent and told them that it's all right, so that's why Harry wanted to speak to you to-night and you mustn't breathe a word about my telling you you see he wants to do that entirely himself; but I thought I'd better break it to you gently." Susan paused for breath and then, still gasping, she added as quickly as she could: " Don't you think I was wise, Grandpa to break it to you gently? " The Bishop patted her hand tenderly and smiled anew. " You haven't broken it at all, my dear. I haven't the remotest idea what you are talking about." " Why, grandpa," exclaimed Susan in astonish- ment. " I've just told you Harry's engaged to a girl named Lucille Anderson." 68 ROMANCE " Ah I I must be getting deaf. Dear me ! I begin to see light on many things now. That is why you were suggesting that they should go to * Years of Discretion.' Who is Lucille Ander- son? Is she so very young in your opinion that she doesn't know her own mind?" " Well, that's just it, you see. She is quite young just about Harry's age, I should think. And then there's another thing, Grandpa. Lu- cille's an artist." "You mean she paints?" asked the Bishop. " No, she doesn't exactly paint," explained his granddaughter. " You know there are all sorts and kinds of artists, Grandpa ; and Lucille's art is er a very beautiful art. It's the art of ^-er " "Well, my dear?" queried the Bishop. 11 The art of er impersonation on the stage." " An actress I " exclaimed the Bishop quickly, though not in a hostile tone. He seemed a little taken aback, that was all. It was Susan who ap- peared nervous. She kept clasping her hands to- gether and blinking her eyes incessantly. SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 69 " Yes," she replied nervously. " She's an actress but a very young one, Grandpa. And then," she continued in a more reassuring tone, " after all it makes very little difference nowa- days. Heaps of nice girls have gone on the stage." " An actress ! " repeated the Bishop in a gentle, ruminating tone. " Strange how. history " he stopped abruptly and looked at Susan. " Did I understand you to say you liked her, my dear? " "Oh, yes, Grandpa; immensely," Susan plunged into rhapsody without a qualm. Wouldn't Harry have done just as much for her under the same conditions? " Don't you remem- ber, I told you only a few minutes ago. She's charming; perfectly lovely, and and her in- fluence over Harry is really the finest thing I've ever seen. He really begins to think sensibly about serious things now. And it's all due to Lucille, every bit of it. And think, Grandpa! She has positively refused to consider herself en- gaged to him until you've given your consent. Once you see her I know you'll love her dearly. And then, remember," she went on coaxingly, 70 ROMANCE " even if she wasn't everything we wanted Harry's wife to be which she is, mind you, for already I love her still, even if she wasn't, Harry loves her and we've just got to stand by him, Grandpa, haven't we? Because, remember, dear, he's our own Harry, isn't he? And well, you know as well as I do he's all we've got." This impassioned plea was a little too much for Susan. She buried her head on her grandfath- er's shoulder and all of a sudden and very much to her own disgust she began to cry. As for the Bishop, much to Susan's secret aston- ishment, he had never appeared more placid, more completely serene. It was this amazing attitude on the Bishop's part which caused Susan to get a grip on herself. " That's just what I am remembering, dear," said the Bishop, drily. " Harry always did have very little sense." Susan raised her head reproachfully from the handkerchief with which she had been surrepti- tiously mopping her eyes. !< Why, Grandpa ! I don't see how you can say such a thing as th^t about Harry. I'm SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 71 amazed at you ! " she went on reproachfully. " Didn't he play quarterback on the varsity? And didn't you say yourself that that took a whole lot of brains? " "Did I?" smiled the Bishop, patting Susan affectionately on the shoulder. " Well, this proves that I was mistaken, doesn't it, my dear? " " Well, even if you are ! You're not going to desert me now and go back on Harry, are you? You simply couldn't do it, Grandpa. It isn't in you." The Bishop drew her to him ardently. " Desert you ! " he cried, and the tears stood in his eyes. " My little Susan, why, what in the name of common sense do you take me for? Lis- ten, dear. Let me make a confession. I am not such an old fool as I look. Do you think I haven't been watching Master Harry? Do you imagine for a moment that I don't know all the symptoms? Don't you credit your old grand- father with just the least little bit of ' gumption,' my dear? I love that dear old New England word ' gumption,' ' said the Bishop suddenly, changing his tone and speaking as though to him- 72 ROMANCE self. " It may be slang; I don't know, but at all events there's no other word in the English language which at this moment expresses just what I mean so well. Don't you think in spite of the fact that I'm a Bishop and have lived for seventy-two years that I still know just the least little bit about life? And do you think in spite of everything, even if Lucille Anderson should prove to be the original Witch of Endor, do you think that I could desert you now, you, my little cicerone, my wisdom cap who has led me by her gentle hands all through the years and pitfalls of this bewildering new century? Why, I'd be a renegade, Susan, a deserter, a Judas, something to be taken out and shot at dawn, if I left you now. No matter what Master Harry has done or intended to do, why, Susan, my dear, if it were necessary there would be only one thing left for me to do perjure myself like a gentleman, as the late King Edward did, and look pleasant about it too. That particular branch of quixotry belongs to your grandmother's side of the family rather than mine, my dear. But I think on some strenuous occasion I might imitate it," continued SUSAN BREAKS IT GENTLY 73 the Bishop, smiling volubly. " Because once, a very long time ago, your great grand-uncle Cor- nelius Van Tuyl set me a superb example. I heard it with my own ears and ever since, in spite of all our differences, I have always mentally coupled King Edward and Cornelius Van Tuyl together. They perjured themselves like gentle- men." VII Susan was bewildered. Her grandfather, for all her much vaunted wisdom, might as well be talking Greek to her. She marveled at the change which had come over him the fire which had come into his eyes, the enthusiasm and vigor which his manner and his gestures showed. Two decades at least in his excitement seemed to have fallen from him like a garment. For the first time in her short career Susan found herself com- pletely nonplussed.