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 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
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 The Nut Cracker 
 
 FREDERIC S. ISHAM 
 
 •Author of 
 
 Nothing but the Truth, Three Live Ghost* 
 
 Aladdin from Broadway, This Way Out 
 
 Haifa Chance, Under the Rose 
 
 etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 STOCKTON MULFORD 
 
 027 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright 1920 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH a C0< 
 
 BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. V.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 2130956
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MR. HORATIO SLIPAWAY was worried. 
 Now there are various and different kinds 
 of worries. There are the worries of the heart, of 
 the mind and of the purse. There are worries 
 great, and worries small. There are worries real 
 and worries imaginary, Mr. Slipaway's worries 
 partook of all varieties and kinds. They were of 
 every shade and complexion. And as every worry 
 breeds another, so ten breeds ten until a few orig- 
 inal worries become an ever growing host. The 
 time had arrived when Mr, Slipaway's worries 
 seemed, to that unfortunate gentleman, like unto a 
 mighty Lilliputian army attacking him (Slipaway) 
 with javelin, sword, pincers, hammer, tongs or any 
 other weapon calculated to pinch, pain or annoy, 
 Mr. Slipaway mentally writhed ; outwardly a rather 
 forced smile played upon his naturally optimistic 
 features. 
 Mr. Slipaway was about thirty-five, and ordina- 
 
 1
 
 2 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 rily would have drifted through Hfe's troubled sea 
 with a smile and a twinkle of the eye, but events 
 had shorn him of the twinkle, and the smile, as 
 aforesaid, was more furtive, artificial and manufac- 
 tured than would have been the case had it sprung 
 from the erstwhile halcyon depths of Mr. Slipaway's 
 true sunny soul. Coming events cast their shadows 
 before. 
 
 The shadows traveling as harbingers of events 
 which were in pursuit of Mr. Slipaway were of 
 Stygian hue; there didn't seem to be a single silver 
 lining to the clouds that cast them. Mr. Slipaway 
 shuddered when he thought of the outcome. But 
 Johnnie Briggs grinned. Johnnie, as a constant 
 student of Horatio, had his reasons for feeling 
 satisfied. Of course, Johnnie didn't let his old 
 friend see him grin ; Johnnie was too diplomatic for 
 that. Good, dear, old, blithe, simple-minded Ho- 
 ratio was in a peck of trouble. This much Johnnie 
 divined by numerous signs and symptoms, before 
 Mr. Slipaway in sheer desperation confided a few of 
 the doleful facts to the seemingly sympathetic ears 
 of Johnnie. 
 
 Mr. Slipaway was a bookkeeper in a broker's 
 ofiice in the city; he had made one or two small 
 "investments" on the side that hadn't turned out
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 3 
 
 very well, but that was only the beginning of Mr. 
 Slipaway's worries. It never rains but it pours. In 
 sheer desperation, Mr. Slipaway breathed some of 
 his dire secrets in Johnnie's ears. Johnnie listened 
 attentively and respectfully; you would have 
 thought Johnnie was awfully sorry, but that was his 
 artfulness. And Horatio was as trusting as Johnnie 
 was artful. How could he fathom the Judas-like 
 depths of Johnnie's soul? How could he delve into 
 the devious and iniquitous motives that swayed the 
 latter's pusillanimous spirit? How could he know 
 that every worry of his (Horatio's) brought a secret 
 chuckle to Johnnie's despicable inner consciousness. 
 But Horatio was naturally trusting. It was that 
 identical quality that got him into trouble. His 
 mild blue eyes looked out with a kindly light upon 
 a sinful world. His was a whimsical nature ; he had 
 danced and made merry, in his day — but that be- 
 longed to the past. Now he was a hard-working, 
 fairly sober, married man. Johnnie was a bachelor 
 who held a position somewhat similar to Horatio's, 
 in a neighboring beehive for stocks and bonds. 
 Johnnie was dark and saturnine-looking; Horatio 
 was blond and sanguine. Johnnie's disposition 
 masked depths of cynicism; Horatio had been 
 cursed with buoyant qualities. The former would
 
 4 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 be naturally "short" on the market; the latter 
 "long." Not that they were ever real operators, 
 in the sense of the word. Oh, no; they were just 
 two-penny, four-penny clerks. Johnnie was about 
 the same age as Horatio, and once thay had had an 
 amatory interest, in common. But that is another 
 story. 
 
 "My, I've got troubles," said Horatio, the con- 
 fiding, to Johnnie who, with consummate guile, had 
 led the other to unbosom himself by slow but sure 
 degrees, late that afternoon, as the two met at a 
 near-by and congenial rendezvous, after the toil and 
 moil of the day's routine was a thing of the past. 
 "I wonder what I ever did to have so many trou- 
 bles?" And Horatio sighed plaintively. 
 
 "You?" said Johnnie. "Why, you've always been 
 a regular saint. You haven't done anything. Why, 
 if I'd ever been one-quarter as good as you, I'd ex- 
 pect to have wings." 
 
 "Don't make fun, Johnnie," pleaded Horatio. 
 
 "Fun?" said Johnnie indignantly. "I'm not 
 making fun. Believe me!" Earnestly. 
 
 "I know," said the other, with a sigh. "We've 
 been old friends too long."
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 5 
 
 "Of course," said Johnnie, without batting an 
 eyelash. "I should say we have." 
 
 "I know. From the time I left the little village," 
 murmured Mr. Slipaway. 
 
 "When he left the little village, he was shy," 
 hummed Johnnie. 
 
 Mr. Slipaway, pausing in lifting a mild beverage 
 to his lips, cast a rather reproachful glance at 
 Johnnie. The words sounded frivolous — too friv- 
 olous for such a serious moment. 
 
 "Yes, we have been old friends," Johnnie some- 
 what hastily put in. "Hearts of oak, eh?" And 
 Johnnie took a sip. 
 
 Mr. Slipaway muttered something about not feel- 
 ing like a heart of oak at that particular, precise 
 moment. 
 
 "Pooh, pooh! You trust me," said Johnnie. 
 "Haven't we always been friends?" 
 
 "There was once a time — ?" began Horatio rather 
 shyly. 
 
 An instant Johnnie's lips tightened. Then his 
 free-and-easy manner quickly returned. 
 
 "Don't know what you're referring to," he said 
 jovially, "Haven't an idea. And if I had, didn't 
 we shake hands ?"
 
 6 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Of course we did," observed Mr. Slipaway, "and 
 I thought that rather fine of you." 
 
 "Don't mention it," remarked Johnnie. "I'm 
 happy as a clam as I am," he laughed. "Not a care; 
 not a worry; no one to be responsible for — of course 
 if some one left me a pot of money — but" — Johnnie 
 shrugged — "why worry ?" 
 
 "That's all very well for you," sighed the other. 
 "But there are occasions — there are circumstances 
 — fearful — terrible — terrible — " 
 
 He repeated the word with fervent accent; his 
 shoulders drooped; his gaze grew far-away. "And 
 the worst is there is no use trying to drown trouble" 
 — referring to the mild beverage — "or to run away 
 from it. And — and" — ^his voice faltered — "it's just 
 awful to have to meet it, when it has so many aspects 
 and shapes — you know like those snakes on the head 
 of the Greek woman — I forget who she was — only 
 she carried around about a hundred snakes. Well" 
 — rather incoherently — "I feel as if I might meet 
 that identical woman almost any old time now — " 
 
 "Whew," whistled Johnnie. "You seem perfectly 
 sober." 
 
 "They aren't those kind of snakes. She only rep- 
 resents woman's wrath — the world's wrath — " 
 
 'What's it all about ?" said Johnnie. "Say, what's 
 
 «i
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 7 
 
 the use of having a true friend, if you don't confide 
 in him?" 
 
 "Believe I will," said Horatio. "Only there are 
 so many angles to my troubles. They are so dif- 
 ferent, diversified and manifold — " 
 
 "Begin just anywhere," observed the other. "I'll 
 trail along." 
 
 "That's awfully good of you," observed Horatio 
 gratefully. 
 
 "Don't mention it," said Johnnie just as if he 
 meant it. 
 
 "It's like this" — began Mr. Slipaway brokenly.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 SOME little bunch of gloom!" commented 
 ' Johnnie, when Horatio had concluded his 
 tragic narrative. 
 
 "But I wasn't conscious of doing a thing out of 
 the way," pleaded Mr. Slipaway. 
 
 "Do you know what is paved with perfectly good 
 intentions?" said the other severely. "And besides, 
 a jury always believes a woman before a man." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway murmured something miserably 
 about being aware of that pernicious fact. 
 
 "Why, she looked so pale and pallid," he ob- 
 served, "I was just sorry for her, that is all." 
 
 "All passionate sirens are pale," said Johnnie, 
 with the air of a connoisseur. "H you had come to 
 me, I could have told you." Severely. "Why, I've 
 known scores of women who'd make trouble for any 
 man, and all of 'em are pale. Red-lipped — dark- 
 haired — red-headed — but pale! Why, look at the 
 poets — isn't it always: 'passion-pale' — ?" 
 
 "She only looked hungry, to me," said Horatio. 
 
 "Hungry?" snorted the other. "A typist lady 
 with that complexion and shape — hungry?" 
 
 8
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 9 
 
 "Shape?" murmured Horatio dolefully. "I only- 
 thought of her as — as, well, thin — or skinny!" 
 
 Johnnie looked at him with positive pity, 
 
 "Say, don't you know anything?" he muttered. 
 
 "She made eyes at me like she was hungry," in- 
 sisted Mr. Slipaway. "I guess I'm out of practise." 
 
 "I guess you are. When Cleopatra looked at 
 Caesar, did he think she was hungry?" scoffed John- 
 nie. "When Helen cast those sheep-eyes at Paris, 
 did he rush off to buy her a ham-sandwich ? When 
 Juliet goo-goo eyed at Romeo did he beat it to get 
 her a plate of macaroni? Well, he did not. Those 
 guys understood that wasn't the way the dames were 
 hungry. They knew that passion-pale hunger when 
 they saw it. And so you took the dame to Child's ?" 
 
 "Frequently," confessed Horatio. "She just 
 looked to me like one of these poor girls that 
 couldn't make enough to live on. How was I to 
 guess that at heart she was one of those Shaw get- 
 a-man-at-any-price sort of women; pursue 'em; grab 
 'em? H the man belongs to another woman, all the 
 better ! Why, I never did more than to pat her hand 
 and to sympathize with her and all poor girls who 
 work for a mere pittance — not enough to keep body 
 and soul together." 
 
 "I guess you've been reading O. Henry," growled
 
 10 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Johnnie. "Better stick to Shaw. He understands 
 the sex. Or Kipling. Get that 'Female of the Spe- 
 cies' and tack it on the wall, where you can have it 
 constantly before you. And so she says you claimed 
 to be an unmarried man, and so on — etc. ? And she 
 is going to sue you, and hale you into court? — And 
 what will you do, when Mrs. Slipaway finds out?" 
 Johnnie eyed the other furtively. "A very charm- 
 ing woman, Mrs. Slipaway," he ruminated. "Charm- 
 ing, but with strong convictions," Mr. Slipaway 
 shifted uneasily. "Religious, too." 
 
 "Don't," said Mr. Slipaway hoarsely. "Why tell 
 all those things I already know?" 
 
 "I can see her when she finds out," said Johnnie, 
 shaking his head sadly. "Honestly, I'm sorry for 
 you, old man." 
 
 "I thought you might be able to help me some — 
 to — to advise me," observed Mr. Slipaway des- 
 perately. 
 
 "No advice can 'lelp you. Better look facts in 
 the face." 
 
 "I'm more afraid of looking her in the face," said 
 Mr. Slipaway. "You see, she gages my conduct by 
 that of Number One." 
 
 "Her first husband? Yes, she would. He was a 
 masterful man. Very pious; very puritanical;
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 11 
 
 wouldn't look a woman in the face — especially on 
 Sunday." 
 
 "Think I don't know that?" said Horatio ear- 
 nestly. "Haven't I always been trying to live up 
 to the proud standard he set?" 
 
 Johnnie almost smiled; there was a little gleam 
 of satisfaction behind his seeming sympathy. "Well, 
 he went with the widow," he said softly. Mr. Slip- 
 away looked startled. "That is," corrected Johnnie, 
 "the memory of him, and what it implies!" Sig- 
 nificantly. "Yes; I'm afraid she'll be comparing 
 you with him, when she hears about this. I'm not 
 saying it to be mean, Horatio, but as I said before, 
 look facts — " 
 
 "There are so many facts," said Mr. Slipaway. 
 "When I look at one and think how badly I feel, 
 another pops up and makes me feel worse. Debts — 
 breach-of -promise woman — and there's that rich 
 customer — " 
 
 "Yes; that's awful," said Johnnie. "Maybe 
 worse than the dame mix-up ! They'll hold you lia- 
 ble, sure." 
 
 "I suppose so," assented Mr. Slipaway pensively, 
 as if fairly exhausted with worrying. "You see, 
 Johnnie, I had just heard there would be a process- 
 server looking for me on account of her, and I was
 
 12 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 so worried I didn't know what I was doing. When 
 I took that telephone message from Mr. Vancourt- 
 land, who is one of our richest customers, to buy- 
 two thousand shares of steel, I put in the order by 
 mistake on a sell ticket. The firm hasn't yet called 
 upon Mr. Vancourtland to settle — " 
 
 "But when they do?" said Johnnie sympathetic- 
 ally. 
 
 "Why, he's out about fifteen thousand, instead of 
 being in that much, and all on account of me. I'm 
 liable — me — with more debts than cash — domestic 
 trouble brewing, and — and — oh, I wish I was some 
 one else !" Mr. Slipaway exclaimed fervently. 
 
 "Well, as long as you won't run away, or com- 
 mit suicide, why don't you go to one of those swami- 
 chaps, and get him to propel your soul into the in- 
 finite? Process-servers, pale, passionate dames 
 and their ilk, would have some job chasing you 
 through the blue empyrean. 
 
 "I came to you for comfort, Johnnie. Don't 
 joke," said Mr. Slipaway. 
 
 "My words may sound frivolous, but I'm think- 
 ing very seriously," said Johnnie. "I'm simply rack- 
 ing my brain. But the situation is so serious — " 
 
 "That's it. If I get out of one trouble, another 
 will swamp me."
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 13 
 
 "Oh, if I were only some one else," repeated Ho- 
 ratio. "I'd like to be anybody except myself — a 
 street-car conductor, a janitor — " 
 
 "A multimillionaire?" 
 
 "Yes; even that. But what's the use of wish- 
 ing? Though I did read a story the other day about 
 some one who exchanged places with some one else 
 — how his soul hopped — I forget how — into the 
 body of another man." 
 
 "Keep back," said Johnnie. "I don't like the way 
 you're looking at me." 
 
 "Oh, that couldn't happen," said Mr. Slipaway 
 resignedly. "But I'll tell you what you could do. 
 Come home with me — to supper. I may need you 
 — you know — that process-server — I have a present- 
 iment we'll find him waiting in front of the house, 
 or something like that. Anyhow, don't desert me, 
 Johnnie." 
 
 Mr. Briggs considered; so his dear friend Ho- 
 ratio wished to use him as a kind of buffer to stand 
 by, as it were. Well, there could be no harm m 
 "standing by" ; in fact, by so doing Johnnie might 
 find himself considerably edified. Perhaps Mrs. 
 Slipaway could get a divorce — the mills of the 
 gods grind slowly — 
 
 "Oh, all right, old chap, I'll go along," said John-
 
 14 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 nie generously. "I did have an engagement, but 
 it's all right." 
 
 "You're a true friend," observed Horatio with as 
 much gratitude as he was capable of, at the moment. 
 
 "Course I am," said Mr. Briggs modestly. 
 
 And they got on the car. Mr. Slipaway lived in 
 the suburbs.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MRS. HORATIO SLIPAWAY sat at the lit- 
 tle house-organ, playing Pull for the Shore, 
 Sailor. It was a favorite "tune" with the good 
 lady, and "awfully consoling." Whenever she felt 
 a bit "down," which was most always, she played 
 Pull for the Shore. Sometimes, by way of variety, 
 she indulged in Where Is My Wandering Boy To- 
 night f or some kindred melody of the good old 
 sort. Upon the wall were several "mottoes" — "The 
 Lord Will Provide," "God Bless Our Home," and 
 "No Cross, No Crown." 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway would have been a good-looking 
 woman, if she had condescended to study the fash- 
 ion-plates, but this she would not do, from consci- 
 entious scruples. They didn't have fashion-plates 
 in the time of Job and Martha, and why should they 
 have them to-day ; they represented a dangerous and 
 pernicious modern influence. So Mrs. Slipaway 
 attired a naturally rather good figure — for a woman 
 of her age — in garments that were certainly not se- 
 lected to fascinate and inveigle, dangerously, the 
 weaker, masculine sex. No one, by any stretch of 
 
 15
 
 16 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 fancy, would have accused her of vampirish designs 
 on man, in general. She had good features, a dis- 
 contented look, and a careless appearance. 
 
 On the wall, a stern, powerfully featured man, 
 abominably done in crayon, gazed down like a guar- 
 dian saint. It was Mr. Slipaway's predecessor. 
 While Mrs. Slipaway played she could gaze at this 
 coal-black semblance — a striking reminder of the 
 fact that all flesh is dust. 
 
 To-day Mrs. Slipaway found her inclinations 
 more indeterminate than usual. She had started to 
 read from the book of Job, but got only as far as 
 where Satan smote the good man with boils 
 from the sole of his feet to the crown of his head, 
 when she lost her place. She picked it up and got 
 to where the two friends came in and wept, when 
 once more her wandering fancies, or half- fancies, 
 led her thoughts into other channels. 
 
 Reproaching herself she arose and occupied her- 
 self at the house-organ, but not so felicitously as 
 usual. She pulled for the shore, but not with cus- 
 tomary vim and vigor; as a rule she was a Grace 
 Darling at the oars; and one felt no apprehensions 
 as to the fate of the little craft she manned — or 
 womaned. But to-day one suffered vague doubts; 
 the little craft seemed at the mercy of the merciless
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 17 
 
 waves. They reached out hke the terrible clutch- 
 ing fingers of the Japanese prints. Mrs. Slipaway 
 got up from the organ ; leaving the little craft mid- 
 way to the shore. For the moment she seemed to 
 forget all about it. Also, she gazed in the general 
 direction of the crayon on the wall and seemed to 
 forget all about him. 
 
 She stood in a brown study and even the entrance 
 of their one servant did not arouse her. 
 
 "Sure, the butcher's in the kitchen and he wants 
 his money," said the girl. 
 
 "Tell him to see Mr. Slipaway," said Mrs. Slip- 
 away absently. 
 
 "I have, and 'Much good that will do,' says he." 
 
 "We shall trade there no more," said Mrs. Slip- 
 away. 
 
 "And the grocer's boy wanted to know when his 
 father would get his?" went on the girl. "He asked 
 me to ask you." 
 
 "That will do, Bridget," said Mrs. Slipaway with 
 much dignity. "You will hold no further conver- 
 sation with these people. The door-bell, Bridget." 
 
 Bridget went to the door, leaving Mrs. Slipaway 
 greatly annoyed. For some time, Mr. Slipaway had 
 been very reprehensible in looking after certain little 
 household matters, and when she had called his at-
 
 18 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 tention to the fact, he had invariably dismissed the 
 matter with some light or vague excuse. "By jove, 
 he had forgotten — quite slipped his memory" — 
 "Hadn't the butcher been paid yet?"— "Well, that 
 was an oversight" — "It must and should be remedied 
 at once" — But the remedy did not seem to material- 
 ize; on the contrary, the situation, instead of im- 
 proving, became worse. Mrs. Slipaway tapped her 
 foot impatiently. She had a horror of bills. Num- 
 ber One — the saint on the wall — had nearly starved 
 her to death, but he had paid the bills, and she felt 
 it had been a joyous martyrdom. Mr. Slipaway, on 
 the contrary, was an eccentric, but liberal provider. 
 He rejoiced in surrounding her with luxuries of the 
 flesh-pot; no doubt about that. Only he couldn't 
 always pay for them. And latterly, the situation 
 had been growing more acute. From unpaid bills 
 to feminine recriminations, is but a natural step, and 
 for a time life became rather unpleasant at home 
 for that natural optimist, Mr. Horatio Slipaway. 
 
 He listened with somewhat of a pathetic smile to 
 Mrs. Slipaway's quite justifiable observations; he 
 felt they were deserved, no doubt, and so did not 
 seek to defend himself. Besides, Mrs. Slipaway al- 
 ways told the truth — he had an enormous respect 
 for her — and so he realized perfectly his own de-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 19 
 
 linquencies and numerous short-comings. He even 
 spoke blithely of the butcher and the baker and can- 
 dlestick-maker — but those gentlemen simply would 
 not be made light of. How different was their con- 
 duct now than it had been when they had solicited 
 Mr. Slipaway's trade ; then, his rather generous man- 
 ner of ordering had filled them with delight. Mr. 
 Slipaway had seemed a prince ; now he was a pariah. 
 As this continued, Mrs. Slipaway's disposition did 
 not improve — what woman's would have? She gave 
 Mr. Slipaway many a bad five minutes. Wherein 
 she was absolutely within her rights. Had Mr, Slip- 
 away asked her to starve with him — so that he 
 could pay the bills, she would cheerfully and gladly 
 have acquiesced. But Mr. Slipaway did not ask 
 that; no doubt, he didn't want to starve himself; 
 there are people built in that selfish fashion. 
 
 It was in the midst of a situation thus perilous 
 and complex for Mr. Slipaway, that those greater 
 worries which he had confided to Mr. Briggs, had 
 arisen. 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Slipaway!" Bridget returned 
 ushering in a dark clad figure — that of an old-fash- 
 ioned Baptist minister. And yet the minister was 
 not old; his dole fulness seemed more a habit than
 
 20 JHE NUT CRACKER 
 
 a natural garb. "My dear Mrs. SHpaway!" he re- 
 peated. "And how do you find yourself?" 
 
 "Poorly," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "You do look worried," he said, seating himself 
 on the edge of a chair. 
 
 "I suspect we all have our worries," observed Mrs. 
 Slipaway. 
 
 "Maybe they'll pass," said the caller. 
 
 "If they don't get worse," said the other. 
 
 "True; if they don't get worse," he assented. 
 
 "Well," he said perfunctorily, "if people didn't 
 have worries, there wouldn't be any need for pas- 
 toral calls." 
 
 "There's some consolation in that," said Mrs. 
 Slipaway mournfully. 
 
 "No matter how many worries we have, there's 
 always some one got more," he observed. 
 
 "That cheers a little," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "I haven't seen Mr. Slipaway at church lately," 
 he observed, 
 
 "No; he's shding." 
 
 "Seriously?" 
 
 "I'm afraid so. When a woman marries a man 
 to reform him — " Mrs. Slipaway paused; she felt 
 she was going too far. 
 
 "As a general proposition," said the visitor with
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 21 
 
 an accent, "a woman who undertakes that responsi- 
 bility, has her hands full. I am speaking only gen- 
 erally, of course." 
 
 "Of course." From Mrs. Slipaway. Perhaps 
 the minister had heard of all the debts. "Some peo- 
 ple are careless," she observed. 
 
 "Not criminally," he had the grace to put in. 
 
 "I hope not," said Mrs. Slipaway hastily. "I have 
 certainly been troubled," she murmured. "Seems as 
 if I must speak to some one — " 
 
 "Whom more appropriate than" — he tapped his 
 breast. 
 
 "True. Who more appropriate? Our pastoral 
 adviser! It's bills, principally. Whenever I speak 
 to Mr. Slipaway, he promises to pay, but he forgets. 
 Let us put it that way. Besides, he hasn't been act- 
 ing natural of late. There's something wrong — 
 more than butchers and bakers — only I can't fathom 
 it." 
 
 "You don't think there's another?" The minister 
 asked quickly and paused. 
 
 "Another?" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Of course not." 
 
 "You don't mean — woman?" said Mrs. Slipaway 
 tensely. 
 
 "No, no." Hastily. "Only, you see, I just came
 
 22 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 from Mrs. Garvey, who had to get a divorce, and 
 thinking of her — poor woman — the words slipped 
 out — ridiculous, of course." 
 
 "There's been a strange man walking up and 
 down in front," said Mrs. Slipaway. "I asked him 
 to leave the bill, and he said it wasn't a bill." 
 
 "No?" said the caller curiously. 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Slipaway. "I wonder what it 
 could have been?" 
 
 "Court-summons of some kind, do you suppose?" 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway started. "Horatio's been seeing 
 too much of that Johnnie Briggs," she observed. 
 
 "Mr. Briggs? — who used — " again he paused. 
 
 "Might as well say it," said Mrs. Slipaway firmly. 
 "Call on me. He did. And he did me the honor — " 
 She stopped. "Mr. Briggs' motives might some- 
 times be questioned," she observed. "I got my 
 opinion of him. He was always trying to get me 
 to invest." 
 
 "Invest?" said the caller curiously. These tit- 
 bits of gossip interested him keenly. Armed with 
 them, he could hope to make his pastoral visits to 
 others interesting. 
 
 "The insurance money from — " Mrs. Slipaway 
 lifted her eyes to the crayon picture. "A sacred 
 legacy."
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 23 
 
 "To be preserved — ?" 
 
 "Intact," said Mrs. Slipaway. "Yes; I wouldn't 
 touch that insurance money for any one." 
 
 "And quite proper," he said. 
 
 "Johnnie Briggs would have liked to have got 
 hold of it. He even — " 
 
 "But you preferred Mr. Slipaway," said the caller 
 softly. 
 
 "Dear me," said Mrs. Slipaway, fearing she had 
 been indiscreet. "You do draw one out so. It's 
 an art, don't you think, to draw people out?" 
 
 "Far be it from me, to claim — " he began mod- 
 estly. 
 
 "Yes, I regard it as a sacred souvenir," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. SHpaway. 
 
 "Well, I must be going." The caller arose. 
 
 "You certainly have cheered me up," said Mrs. 
 Slipaway. "Drop in again." 
 
 The caller said he would and was about to go, 
 when the bell rang again, and hardly had Bridget 
 time to open the door when a little man forced his 
 way in. "Are you Mr. Slipaway?" he demanded 
 rather belligerently. 
 
 "I ?" said the caller, offended. 
 
 "Don't deny it. Well, this is for you." And he 
 thrust a paper into the minister's hand.
 
 24 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Bless my soul!" said the latter, looking at it. 
 At that moment Horatio Slipaway and Johnnie 
 Briggs peered in a window at the side. They heard 
 the exclamations of the minister as he read from 
 the paper; they saw Mrs. Slipaway grab it — and 
 then Horatio fled the spot.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MR. SLIPAWAY walked hastily for several 
 blocks from the neighborhood of his own 
 domicile, with the sedulous Mr, Briggs at his heels. 
 His feelings were not easily described ; he was obliv- 
 ious of people and his surroundings; he saw only 
 the growing consternation on the minister's face as 
 he contemplated the document intended for him 
 (Horatio) and containing — what? — A fanciful re- 
 cital of Mr. Slipaway's amatory adventures, drawn 
 from the inimitable imagination of the fair lady in 
 the case. No doubt she had that "pale, passionate" 
 imagination of her class — female of the species who 
 make a habit of preying on gentlemen afflicted with 
 sympathetic inclinations. 
 
 The indignation and amazement depicted on the 
 ministerial countenance as he scrutinized that 
 damning but fraudulent document was burned on 
 Mr. Slipaway's countenance, but what Mrs. Slip- 
 away's face expressed after she had snatched the 
 paper from the caller's hand, Mr. Slipaway could 
 only divine. He had not remained to contemplate 
 
 25
 
 26 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 that picture ; but his imagination could paint it, with 
 all the embellishments of that New England con- 
 science — Mrs. Slipaway's heritage — as an awful and 
 lowering background. Horatio entertained the 
 greatest awe for that New England conscience ; he 
 had escaped the Pilgrim fathers, by inheritance, 
 himself; his ancestors were, no doubt, a more friv- 
 olous lot. 
 
 And this awful revelation of Mr. Slipaway's pre- 
 sumable marital waywardness was but the begin- 
 ning. That mere clerical error which made him re- 
 sponsible for the loss of so many thousands was 
 yet to be unfolded to the world's — and Mrs. Slip- 
 away's — startled ears. 
 
 Mechanically Mr. Slipaway got on a street-car, 
 and Johnnie — faithful Johnnie — followed. Mr. 
 Slipaway did not notice which way the car was go- 
 ing — whether toward the city, or from — what mat- 
 ter? Mr. Slipaway was at a loss where to lay his 
 head that night. The revelation had come at home 
 to-day; the other revelation might come at the office 
 to-morrow. His employers had that New England 
 conscience, too, and would "make good" so far as 
 the indignant customer was concerned, but where 
 would Horatio appear in the transaction? Maybe 
 several courts would be struggling for the posses-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 27 
 
 sion of his person at the same time! The divorce 
 courts would claim him and the criminal courts 
 would reach out a hand for his coat collar. 
 
 And the publicity ? — Ah, the publicity. That was 
 the terrible part of it all — or one of the most terri- 
 ble features of his horrible embarrassments ! A cer- 
 tain native shyness lurked behind Horatio's natural 
 care-free disposition. To have the finger of scorn 
 pointed at him — to know himself held up to public 
 opprobrium — to have his traits, his very soul, and 
 much that wasn't his very soul, analyzed by the 
 heartless scribblers of the press — all this was intol- 
 erable. But of course the worst of all was Mrs. 
 Slipaway, and that New England conscience of hers. 
 
 "Here, there — give me a newspaper!" Johnnie 
 nodded toward a newsboy as the car stopped. John- 
 nie didn't seem to feel very bad; perhaps he was 
 only trying to cheer up Mr. Slipaway by his (John- 
 nie's) cheerful countenance. Mr. Slipaway gazed 
 at him with mingled reproach and wonder. Johnnie 
 rattled the paper and, opening it, began to read. Mr. 
 Slipaway marveled that any one could read a news- 
 paper. For him, the world seemed coming to an 
 end. Oh, if it only would. Just shuffle them all 
 off, altogether — before he saw Mrs. Slipaway again 
 — ^and then have it all over. That would be a nice
 
 28 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 and comfortable way to settle everything — and 
 there wouldn't ever be anything for any one to 
 worry or care about any more. But the old world 
 wouldn't end ; it was bound to go on, getting more 
 complicated and perplexing every day. Mr. Slip- 
 away pondered mournfully — for an optimist. The 
 world wouldn't end ; he couldn't run away from his 
 fate. He always came back to a single wistful de- 
 sire. 
 
 If only he had been bom some one else? Sud- 
 denly Johnnie gave a low chuckle. 
 
 "Hello," he said. "Here's a rum go." 
 
 "What?" said Horatio, with his thoughts a thou- 
 sand miles away. 
 
 "Man fell off a railroad train, as Thomas Ryan; 
 picked up unconscious ; when he came to he insisted 
 he was Mart Sullivan. Total loss of identity!" 
 
 "What's that?" said Horatio quickly. 
 
 " 'Knocked unconscious as Thomas Ryan, a brick- 
 layer; came to as Mart Sullivan, a plumber. Total 
 loss of memory,' " read Johnnie. " 'And the strangest 
 part of the case is that while Mart Sullivan can 
 repair any old pipe, at the regular union rate per 
 hour, he can not lay bricks at all. Not only has he 
 emerged from his experience with a totally new per-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 29 
 
 sonality, but he has been born again with all the 
 skill and natural camouflage of his new trade. He 
 can idle longer and charge as much as any plumber 
 in the trade, and he is already agitating a union to 
 raise plumbers' wages three-quarters of a cent a 
 minute.' " 
 
 Johnnie put down the paper. "Marvelous," he 
 said. 
 
 Horatio sighed. "Some people have the luck. 
 Just think of it ! As Thomas Ryan he might have 
 owed everybody. He falls down. Presto! all his 
 bills are paid. For of course Mart Sullivan wouldn't 
 pay them." 
 
 "Naturally not," said Johnnie. 
 
 "Maybe he is co-respondent in some delicate af- 
 fair — fellow bricklayer's wife, sister, or mother-in- 
 law? On the verge of something awful ! Poor fel- 
 low worried to death ! At the psychological moment 
 tumbles off a train. Probably inebriated, trying to 
 forget his troubles. Wakes up blissfully uncon- 
 scious he ever had a single worry. Merrily he starts 
 making holes in lead pipes and repairing them. He 
 whistles at his work. He sends his helper back to 
 the shop for several tools. He waits idly and hap- 
 pily, his wage-speedometer working joyously all the 
 time. Lucky Mart! He never heard of the sister,
 
 30 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 wife or the fascinating mother-in-law. Who 
 wouldn't be a plumber?" 
 
 Mr. Slipaway's gaze grew more distant. "Now 
 why was fate so good to that fellow, and so un- 
 kind to me? If he meets any saloon-keeper he owes 
 he just gives them the gay 'Ha, ha !' Wouldn't know 
 the man from Adam! As Mart — what was his 
 name? — the plumber, he enters upon the primrose 
 path. Why—" 
 
 Mr. Slipaway paused; the vision was too bliss- 
 ful — annoyingly so. Then abruptly his expression 
 changed; his gaze became subtle and furtive. He 
 looked sidewise at Johnnie; then his look shifted 
 from the car to the pavement. Johnnie's eyes 
 turned to his companion; something in the latter's 
 gaze held him. 
 
 "Ha, ha !" said Johnnie suddenly. "What if—?" 
 
 "Don't!" said Mr. Slipaway hoarsely. "Some 
 people have the luck," he repeated weakly. "Little 
 bump — world of troubles — all gone — wake up — like 
 new-born babe — all joyous — rainbows — sunshine — 
 jazz bands — " 
 
 "I say?" said Johnnie significantly. 
 
 The two men looked at each other. 
 
 "Don't you dare suggest it," said Mr. Slipaway. 
 
 "Ha," said Johnnie. "It did occur to you?"
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 31 
 
 "I was only wishing — " began Mr. Slipaway once 
 more, and stopped. 
 
 Johnnie touched his arm lightly. "Why don't 
 you?" he said in soft sibilant tones. 
 
 Horatio breathed hard; Johnnie smiled; the car 
 began to stop. Mr, Slipaway arose. 
 
 He did not notice where he was or where the car 
 had stopped.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 HE hastened to the door ; the car again started ; 
 Mr. SHpaway got off — backward! He got 
 a rather hard bump; presumably, a bit harder than 
 he had intended so he had some excuse to lie there, 
 as if unconscious. Perhaps his head was going 
 round and he really did feel dizzy and found it more 
 comfortable just to lie there without motion. The 
 car stopped; the excited conductor approached; he 
 looked at Horatio and then appealed to the passen- 
 gers, taking a few names. They (the passengers) 
 had noticed, of course, the gentleman had got off 
 after the car had started, and that he had got off 
 backward, at that. The street-car conductor or 
 motorman were in no way responsible for the acci- 
 dent, nor could the company be held liable. If the 
 passenger was hurt, it was his own fault; no one 
 but a country-jay or a fool would get off a car like 
 that. 
 
 Horatio lay still; even when the conductor called 
 him a few more pet names he did not jump up and 
 try to punch the annoyed minion of the street- rail- 
 
 32
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 33 
 
 way corporation. His thoughts were otherwise 
 (and not unpleasantly) occupied. He was trying 
 to make up his mind WHO HE WOULD BE. His 
 head pained him; his brains were in a jumble, but 
 amid the confusion, this dominant idea stood forth. 
 It was not a disagreeable sensation, although his 
 head did ache somewhat, just to lie there, and pon- 
 der on a choice of personalities. Why, he could be 
 whom he pleased. Wasn't the thought great? 
 "Whom he pleased — " 
 
 Well, who should it be ? He couldn't quite make 
 up his mind on the instant. However, there was 
 time to decide. He was master of the situation. At 
 last he had his grip on fate. It might be nice to wake 
 up a baseball player, with a crowd of adoring fans 
 in the background ; or an actor — a matinee-idol with 
 a languishing train of love-lorn females in the back- 
 ground. Or a dancing-master — or a private secre- 
 tary, with nothing to do. Or — ? He could think 
 of a hundred agreeable kind of people he would like 
 to be, but he couldn't put his finger, at the moment, 
 on the precise person into whose shoes he was go- 
 ing to jump. 
 
 Let the cold world pity, or abuse him — after the 
 fashion of that street-car conductor; the joke was 
 on the cold world. He heard now Johnnie's voice.
 
 34 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Do you think he is really unconscious?" said that 
 snake-in-the-grass. 
 
 "Oh, no," some one answered ironically. "He's 
 just lying there for fun. He enjoys it." 
 
 "I wonder?" said Johnnie. 
 
 "Poor man," said a woman. "Is he dead?" 
 
 "I think not," said Johnnie. 
 
 But Horatio didn't mind anything Johnnie said. 
 He felt blissfully aloof from that gentleman. Of 
 one fact he was certain, whoever he decided to be, 
 he would be a stranger to Johnnie. 
 
 They now carried Horatio into a drug-store; 
 there was quite a bump on his head and they ban- 
 daged it. Then the hospital-wagon came up and 
 they took Horatio away. 
 
 "Does any one know who he is?" said the med- 
 ical man who came with the ambulance. 
 
 Johnnie did not answer; he reflected. Also, he 
 was a bit curious. He felt that Mr. Slipaway could 
 have answered for himself. Why didn't he? John- 
 nie decided to await developments. Possibly he also 
 thought: Give Mr. Slipaway rope enough, etc. 
 Maybe Mr. Slipaway was jumping from the frying- 
 pan into the fire. H that should prove the case, 
 Johnnie would be rather pleased. His liking for 
 that gentleman, after the latter had won the widow
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 35 
 
 and that sacred legacy, was not to be measured. 
 That sacred legacy Johnnie had coveted and re- 
 garded as his own special loot, when lo, and behold, 
 the blithe Horatio had carried off the prize. But 
 revenge was sweet. Johnnie wondered at Horatio's 
 bold daring. He divined his project. And divin- 
 ing, still held his peace, and his tongue. Before it's 
 over, he'll wish he hadn't done it, thought Johnnie, 
 with supreme satisfaction. Johnnie could see a heap 
 of unpleasant complications for Horatio. 
 
 But Mr. Slipaway saw only the world — ^his new 
 world — in roseate hues. He dreamed blissfully in 
 the ambulance. At the hospital he woke up. He had 
 decided upon a personality — a very agreeable per- 
 sonality. It came to him like an inspiration. He 
 knew just the person he wanted to be, and the best 
 of it was, he could be that person. 
 
 "He seems to be coming to himself," observed one 
 of the nurses, after Horatio had been tucked into a 
 warm, clean, white bed among a lot of other sick 
 people. 
 
 "Doctor didn't seem to think he was much hurt," 
 said another nurse. 
 
 "You can't always tell," replied the first. "I 
 once had a patient who had just touched his head on 
 the corner of a mantel, and he died."
 
 36 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Yes, there's heads and heads," agreed the other 
 nurse. 
 
 "And some nuts are thicker than others," senten- 
 tiously remarked the one who had spoken first. 
 "These cracked-nut cases are certainly very hard to 
 prognosticate." 
 
 At which precise moment, Horatio opened his 
 eyes and gazed around him. 
 
 "Where am I?" he murmured. 
 
 "Isn't he the original old dear?" whispered one 
 nurse to the other. 
 
 Horatio smiled sweetly. The nurse placed her 
 cool hand on his fevered brow. 
 
 "How does it feel?" she asked. 
 
 "Pretty good." 
 
 "Quite like yourself?" 
 
 Horatio started. "Yes ; I feel quite like myself." 
 
 "By the way, the doctor asked me to get your 
 name, when you came to." 
 
 "My name?" said Horatio. "Oh! William Car- 
 ter!" 
 
 "William Carter," she repeated, writing it on a 
 slip of paper. 
 
 "To my friends — Bill Carter. That's my name." 
 
 "And your residence?"
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 37 
 
 "South America." 
 "Oh!" 
 
 
 'You see I just came back." 
 
 "Came back?" 
 
 "Yes ; I've been away for years." 
 
 *So you are a stranger here?" 
 
 *A total stranger," said Horatio solemnly. 
 
 "That might account for it," she observed. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Your getting off a street-car backward. I sup- 
 pose you only ride mules and llamas where you come 
 from?" 
 
 "Our principal means of human transportation," 
 observed Horatio. 
 
 And then she felt his pulse. 
 
 "Almost normal." 
 
 "Can I get up now and go?" asked Horatio. Al- 
 ready he wanted to stretch his wings. But the nurse 
 shook her head. 
 
 "Oh, no, you couldn't get up yet. You must have 
 been hurt pretty bad, to have stayed unconscious so 
 long. And the doctor doesn't like to take any 
 chances with these cracked n — damaged-head cases. 
 He'll probably keep you here twenty- four hours at 
 least, to find out if any complications arise."
 
 38 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Complications?" said Mr. Slipaway. "What 
 complications could arise?" 
 
 "Oh, he might want to probe, or do something." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway stirred uneasily. 
 
 "He's such a conscientious doctor," said the nurse. 
 "But there ! don't worry. I'm quite sure you're all 
 
 right." 
 
 "I'm sure, too," said Mr. Slipaway heartily. 
 "Why, I don't feel as if there was a thing the mat- 
 ter with me." 
 
 "Remember everything?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "Well, that's a very good sign," said the nurse. 
 "Sometimes these damaged-head cases have queer 
 ideas." 
 
 "Mine's clear as a bell," said Mr. Slipaway. 
 "Didn't I tell you my name right off ?" 
 
 "You certainly did," she said reassuringly. 
 "Some damaged-head cases forget their names, but 
 you had yours right at your tongue's end. Now go 
 to sleep, and when you wake up, you'll be all nice 
 and perfectly well." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway closed his eyes, but not to sleep. 
 He was very busy planning. He and Bill Carter 
 had been boyhood friends in the little village, not
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 39 
 
 very far away. Bill had always been of a reckless 
 joyous nature. The little village hadn't been big 
 enough to hold his high spirits; so Bill had gone 
 away — to South America. Some people said he 
 had become a bold buccaneer in the cause of sundry 
 republics ; others that he had struck a mine, and be- 
 come rich, after which all information about him 
 had ceased. Report said he had been killed; at any 
 rate, he had completely disappeared. 
 
 As Bill Carter, a vista of adventure unfolded be- 
 fore Horatio's pleased vision. He liked to think 
 of himself as that bold dashing personality. And 
 had not Bill always been his boyhood idol? Already 
 he could feel the inspiration of Bill. The thought 
 of that gentleman's spirit and high buoyant tem- 
 perament was as wine to Horatio's soul. Why, Bill 
 was capable of great deeds; he, Horatio, had been 
 but a worm. He saw himself doing things as Bill 
 would do them. He would be a credit to Bill. He 
 could not imagine himself ever as Horatio Slipaway 
 again. Horatio, forsooth ! — who hardly dared call 
 his soul his own. Nothing timorous about him 
 (Bill) now. He kept calling himself Bill Carter in 
 his own mind, so as to get fully accustomed to him- 
 self as Bill Carter. He had once heard that if you
 
 40 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 repeat often enough to yourself anything that isn't 
 so, you gradually come to think the fallacy a verity. 
 That was the case with Horatio. 
 
 "My name's Bill Carter, and I don't give a d — 
 who knows it," he said to himself. 
 
 Even his way of expressing himself, to himself, 
 had become Bill's. That's the way Bill would talk. 
 Mr. Slipaway dozed happily.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 JOHNNIE BRIGGS awaited developments. 
 Johnnie was a good waiter. Also, he was a 
 good dissembler. In a way, he felt that Horatio 
 had robbed him, for Johnnie had once figured out 
 just the place where he meant to put the widow's 
 nest-egg, and it had been most annoying to have 
 Horatio come along and bear away that nice fat 
 insurance-pot, together with the fair possessor 
 thereof. For it had been the thought of that treas- 
 ure that had caused Johnnie once to propose to the 
 lady. That her declination had been frank and to 
 the point did not serve to dissuade Johnnie he had 
 been cheated out of something substantial, in a 
 worldly sense, by the quite inoffensive Mr. Slip- 
 away. 
 
 "No, Johnnie," the widow had told him firmly. 
 "It isn't I you want to marry; it's that sacred 
 legacy. That memory of a man who is now in a 
 happier sphere. And the worst is, Johnnie, I'm 
 afraid you might persuade me to part with it — you 
 and your glib tongue and smooth ways, if I accepted 
 
 41
 
 42 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 you. So for the sake of that tender memorial, I 
 won't marry you, Johnnie. Instead, I have con- 
 cluded to marry Mr. Slipaway. I can keep that sa- 
 cred trust from him. He might timidly suggest my 
 parting with some of it for expenses, but that is all. 
 I know my first husband's wishes in the matter, 
 Johnnie, and I am quite sure he would not approve 
 of your marrying that souvenir of his affections for 
 me. 
 
 The widow's words had a ring of finality about 
 them. Nevertheless, Johnnie felt that had Horatio 
 kept out of the affair, he (Johnnie) might have won 
 out. Anyhow, the more complicated grew Horatio's 
 troubles, the more, secretly, Johnnie rubbed his 
 hands. He even began figuring that if she and Mr. 
 Slipaway were divorced, that nest-egg might, once 
 more, be within his (Johnnie's) possible grasp. 
 Johnnie had in mind a zinc-prospect he could de- 
 velop with that nest-egg. Indeed, there were times 
 when Johnnie felt the only thing that separated him 
 from a dazzling fortune was the non-possession of 
 that nest-egg. The thought of it had become an ob- 
 session with him. 
 
 Mr. Briggs had a premonition that before very 
 long he would hear from the fair possessor of that
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 43 
 
 coveted nest-egg. Nor was he wrong. About 
 twenty-four hours after Mr. Slipaway's sad "acci- 
 dent," Mrs. SHpaway called up Johnnie Briggs at 
 his office. 
 
 "Mr. Briggs, I called you up to ask you about Mr. 
 Slipaway. Do you know where I can find him?" 
 
 "I would suggest calling him at his office," said 
 Mr. Briggs in his softest tones. 
 
 "I have," said Mrs. Slipaway, "but he hasn't 
 been there, to-day." 
 
 "No?" said Johmiie, in accents of well- feigned 
 surprise. 
 
 "And he didn't come home last night," said the 
 lady. 
 
 "Oh!" said Johnnie, as if endeavoring to mask 
 his deep disapproval. 
 
 "No," said the lady. Her voice was more om- 
 inous than apprehensive. It spoke volumes for 
 what Mr. Slipaway might expect when he did return 
 to his happy fireside. "It is quite unlike Mr. Slip- 
 away voluntarily thus to absent himself, and I am 
 therefore somewhat at a loss to understand the 
 matter." 
 
 Johnnie whistled. 
 
 "I know," continued the lady, "you see a good
 
 44 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 deal of Mr. Slipaway, and I thought, in consequence, 
 I would call you and inquire if you could give me 
 any information?" 
 
 *T am delighted to have you call upon me for any 
 service, my dear Mrs. Slipaway," said Johnnie in 
 his courtliest manner, "and I am sorry not to be of 
 any assistance in this — ah — delicate matter." 
 
 "I didn't know but what you might have been 
 with him," observed the lady succinctly. 
 
 "Me?" said Johnnie in a somewhat hurt tone. 
 "Out all night ? Me, a fireside body ! Why, I'm a 
 regular home-ptrson. I wouldn't stay out all night 
 for anything." 
 
 He heard a slight sniff at the other end of the 
 line. Mrs. Slipaway was not to be deceived by mas- 
 culine camouflage. 
 
 "It is certainly very strange," said the lady, re- 
 verting at once to the subject of Mr. Slipaway. 
 
 Johnnie smiled; things were beginning to get 
 most interesting, but still he volunteered no infor- 
 mation. He felt himself playing a very deep game. 
 
 "Have you — ah ! — reported the matter to the po- 
 lice?" he said non-committally. 
 
 "I have not," she returned. "Somehow, I do not 
 think he is locked up." 
 
 "No? I have heard of perfectly innocent persons
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 45 
 
 being locked up. I wouldn't imply Mr. Slipaway 
 had been really guilty of any crime, of course." 
 Yet Johnnie's voice implied that he wouldn't be ex- 
 actly surprised if his old friend Horatio had gone 
 out and done something that might have led to his 
 forcible incarceration. His manner was that of one 
 who would prepare Mrs. Slipaway for the worst. 
 "He did seem dreadfully worried yesterday after- 
 noon," continued Johnnie. 
 
 "No doubt!" From Mrs. Slipaway grimly. 
 
 "Mere little trifling financial difficulties," went on 
 Johnnie, making light — too light — of the matter. "I 
 don't like to suggest it, but — " Johnnie paused. 
 
 "No ; he hasn't made way with himself," said the 
 lady. "Some men might under the circumstances, 
 but — " It was her turn to pause. Johnnie coughed 
 discreetly — just as if he hadn't heard. 
 
 "You don't suppose any accident — " he now ven- 
 tured to suggest. 
 
 "Accident?" breathed the lady, with rising ac- 
 cents. 
 
 "Run over by an automobile — thumped by a thug 
 — sand-bagged — oh, one of those accidents that are 
 apt to happen to any one." 
 
 "Somehow, I don't think he has been seriously 
 injured," said the lady. There was a reason for
 
 46 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Horatio not wanting to come home — that thought 
 was more in her mind. 
 
 "Hope not," said Johnnie fen^ently. "Gee! 
 You're getting me worried — " 
 
 "I don't beheve I should worry — exactly," mur- 
 mured the lady. 
 
 "But, great Scott ! He may be — why — why don't 
 you call up the hospitals?" 
 
 "Think I shall," she said tranquilly, and rang off. 
 
 Johnnie hung up the phone. At that moment he 
 looked very well pleased with himself. Mr. Slipa- 
 way had come to, long before this, no doubt — and 
 he had not apprised his wife of his accident. Ergo! 
 — Johnnie did a dance-step. Perhaps the nest-egg 
 wouldn't be so unattainable, after all. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway called up the hospitals and in- 
 quired about the emergency cases. No; no one by 
 the name of Slipaway had been received during the 
 past twenty-four hours by any of the institutions. 
 At one of them, however, they had an unconscious 
 patient who had been shocked by an electric wire. 
 They had no idea who the man was, and if Mrs. 
 Slipaway cared to call ? — Mrs. Slipaway would call. 
 
 She did. She was led to a bed where a man lay. 
 He was a big, shambling figure of a man, with dark
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 47 
 
 hair. Mr. SHpaway had light hair and he was rather 
 small. 
 
 "No; that isn't my husband," observed Mrs. 
 Slipaway, when at that moment some one walked 
 down the aisle of the ward. Mrs. Slipaway gasped. 
 "That — that — " she began. 
 
 "That's Mr. Carter — William Carter, he calls 
 himself—" 
 
 "Carter?" gasped Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Yes; he was brought in yesterday. Fell from 
 a street-car. His injury, however, was very slight, 
 and now he's leaving — discharged. He's from South 
 America. Poor man! I don't suppose they have 
 street-cars down there — and he got off backward — " 
 
 "Why — why — " stammered Mrs. Slipaway, at 
 which precise moment the reincarnated Bill chanced 
 to turn his head, just before leaving the ward. His 
 gaze fell upon Mrs. Slipaway, and that good lady 
 naturally expected a swift response of recognition. 
 Instead, Mr. William Carter's face did not change 
 in the least; his expression was jaunty, debonaire. 
 His glance, in which there was no expression to 
 indicate he had ever seen Mrs. Slipaway before, 
 passed from that much amazed lady to the nurse. 
 
 "Adios!" He waved his hand with much gallantry 
 to the nurse; murmured more words which might
 
 48 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 have been Spanish; touched his fingers to his lips, 
 flicked them coquettishly to the white-robed attend- 
 ant, and then vanished. 
 
 "Well, I'm — I'm — " gasped Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Those South Americans are very polite, aren't 
 they?" said the nurse, obviously flattered by the re- 
 incarnated Bill's ardent manner of leave-taking. 
 
 "South Americans?" stammered the caller. 
 
 "Most persons, when they leave, just bark good- 
 by at you. Just as if they're glad to get away. Not 
 very polite, I call it." 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway breathed deeply. "Did he say he 
 was from South America?" 
 
 "Of course. He is. He told me all about his 
 life. I never met a more sympathetic patient." 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway's face was a study. 
 
 "You see, he's been there for nearly twenty 
 years," went on the nurse. 
 
 "Twenty years?" Mrs. Slipaway mechanically 
 raised her hand to her brow. 
 
 "He left home when hardly more than a boy." 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway gazed toward the door through 
 which the reincarnated Bill had vanished. 
 
 "And he's so glad to get back," continued the 
 nurse.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 49 
 
 "After twenty years?" murmured Mrs. Slipaway, 
 as if hardly knowing what she was saying. 
 
 "Twenty years of hardship and adventure," went 
 on her informant. 
 
 "Hardship — adventure — " muttered Mrs. Slipa- 
 way. 
 
 "Oh, he tells the most wonderful stories. You 
 see, he was in Patagonia, or was it Bolivia? I for- 
 get which." 
 
 "Say both," the other said mechanically. 
 
 "Yes ; I dare say. He has been a great traveler." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway had hardly ever left home. His 
 traveling had been confined to a very narrow cir- 
 cumference. Mrs. Slipaway vaguely began to won- 
 der if it was all a dream. 
 
 "You seem to have become — well, rather inter- 
 ested in your patient?" she murmured perfunctorily. 
 
 "Oh, yes. The doctors encourage us to. Study 
 their psychology, they call it. After you know a 
 little about a patient's psychology you can handle 
 the case so much more efficiently and intelligently. 
 The modern way! Encourage the patient; let him 
 talk about himself. Helps him get well." 
 
 "This — ah! — patient doesn't seem to have been 
 very badly hurt?" observed Mrs. Slipaway slowly.
 
 50 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Fortunately not. The doctor put him through 
 a memory test, and found the result perfect." 
 
 "My word !" exclaimed Mrs. Slipaway. She could 
 think of nothing stronger to say at the moment. 
 
 "Yes; the patient remembered every little detail 
 —all his past Hfe!" 
 
 "Did he ever mention having been married?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "Ah !" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "To a Brazilian lady — " 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "By whom he had three children — " 
 
 "Three?" 
 
 "Three lovely children — all dead !" 
 
 "How sad !" said Mrs. Slipaway, staring straight 
 before her, "And did he tell you why he had re- 
 turned to America?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. To revisit his little native town, where 
 he was bom." 
 
 "How touching!" 
 
 "You seem interested in him yourself," said the 
 nurse. 
 
 "He reminds me of some one — " 
 
 "You have known?" 
 
 "Slightly!" 
 
 "These chance resemblances do happen," said the
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 51 
 
 nurse psychologically. "Sometimes it's almost 
 startling." 
 
 "It is," said Mrs. Slipaway. "But I mustn't take 
 any more of your time." 
 
 "Too bad you didn't find him you came for!" 
 observed the nurse sympathetically. 
 
 "No use of worrying," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "You're sure that electrocuted case isn't him? 
 His face is twisted up a bit, and when the twist 
 comes out — " 
 
 "I'm quite sure," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Good day, ma'am." 
 
 "Good day!" 
 
 "Did you find him?" telephoned Johnnie Briggs, 
 later in the day. 
 
 "I did not," said Mrs. Slipaway. "His disappear- 
 ance is a sad mystery. Sad!" 
 
 But somehow, Johnnie thought her voice did not 
 sound full of grief. Johnnie wondered. Also, he 
 rejoiced. 
 
 "Is there anything I can do?" he said in well- 
 simulated sadness. 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "If there is, call upon me." 
 
 "Thank you. At present I want to think."
 
 52 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Well, don't brood," Johnnie cautioned her so- 
 licitously. 
 
 "I won't," she said, and there was determination 
 in her tone. 
 
 "Bully!" said Johnnie. "Keep up your nerve." 
 
 "I will." 
 
 "Promise," said Johnnie, with a world of anxiety. 
 He tried to make his voice a little shaky. 
 
 "I promise," said Mrs. Slipaway unemotionally. 
 
 "You don't know how much I admire your cour- 
 age," avowed Johnnie, but there was no one now at 
 the other end to answer. Mrs. Slipaway had, pre- 
 sumably, forsaken fruitless conversation for much- 
 desired reflection.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE reincarnation of Bill stepped blithely on 
 his way. He squared his shoulders and set 
 his pace in tune to his spirits. The world was full 
 of sunshine ; he didn't care much where he went or 
 what he did. If he had met the "passion-pale" 
 demoiselle of the typewriter, he would have gazed 
 into her hungry eyes with superb aplomb and total 
 lack of recognition. Even his walk had changed and 
 was now highly aggressive. He brushed rather 
 forcefully against some one; Horatio, of painful 
 memory, would have half-turned and shyly apolo- 
 gized. The reincarnation of Bill frowned loftily, 
 as much as to say : "Who the deuce you bumping 
 into? Have a care, fellow!" 
 
 In his new creation, Mr. Slipaway bought a big 
 black cigar, and, thrusting it between his lips, set 
 it at an upward and jaunty angle. Mr. Slipaway 
 that had been would have puffed away at a rather 
 mournful-looking, long, cheap cheroot, drooping 
 from his mouth; the new Mr. Slipaway — or rather 
 Bill Carter — carried his lighted weed clenched be- 
 
 53
 
 54 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 tween his teeth and tilted sportily skyward, as if 
 he didn't give a hang for the world, or a whoop 
 who knew it. The erstwhile Mr. Slipaway had his 
 moments of modesty, or self-depreciation; the made- 
 over Slipaway was gloriously shorn of all traits 
 that partook of bashfulness or shyness. No one 
 could have a better opinion of himself than the 
 renovated or transformed Slipaway. 
 
 But then, he wasn't really Slipaway. That en- 
 tirely distasteful person had slipped not into obliv- 
 ion but into his proper place. Yes; he did have a 
 place, albeit a humble one. In their boyhood days 
 Horatio Slipaway had been a hero-worshiping 
 friend of dashing Bill Carter. Henceforth Horatio 
 would not be totally forgotten, but would shine 
 dimly, in an obscure background, as a little "shaver" 
 who had enjoyed the proud privilege of having, 
 once upon a time, known Bill, 
 
 Of course, the reincarnation of Bill had not neg- 
 lected, in his mental calculations, the possibility — 
 nay, probability — of being hunted down, surrounded 
 and corraled by sundry and divers persons, inter- 
 ested in asserting or proving he was really Horatio 
 Slipaway, But even this contingency carried with 
 it many saving clauses. Mrs. Slipaway's reproaches 
 or evidences of disapproval, verbal or otherwise,
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 55 
 
 would lose most of their weight, bestowed upon one 
 who she knew considered himself an entirely dif- 
 ferent person ; indeed, a total stranger, to that good 
 lady. He could appear surprised; mildly interested 
 — but beyond that no emotion would assail him. 
 He would appear polite, of course ; maybe he would 
 wink at the good lady and ask her what was her 
 little game. Something new in the "badger" line? 
 
 And, knowing the reincarnation of Bill to be pro- 
 foundly and irrevocably possessed of the conviction 
 that he was Mr. William Carter, Mrs. Horatio Slip- 
 away would most certainly not wish to live with 
 that gentleman. To all moral intents and purposes 
 it would be quite wicked and improper to do so. 
 Why, it would be almost like living with another 
 man. Indeed, wouldn't it be just the same thing? 
 Besides, what would the reincarnation of Bill think 
 of her? What would the minister say? The neigh- 
 bors, too? No; Mrs. Horatio Slipaway could not 
 take the reincarnation of Bill home with her, to 
 give him a piece of her mind about the "passion- 
 pale" typist and sundry other little, and big, mat- 
 ters, in which that nincompoop, Slipaway, had been 
 such a poor fish as to become involved. 
 
 As to the "passion-pale" one, he (Bill) would 
 snap his fingers at her. He didn't know her, but
 
 56 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 he would just as soon get acquainted if she wanted 
 to. It was all one, to bluff old Bill Carter; all the 
 fair sex looked alike to him. Just as soon have a 
 sweetheart in every port! Hadn't he been a bold 
 sailor-boy in his early youth? You couldn't do 
 much to a man who didn't know and couldn't be 
 convinced he was the chap you were doing it to. 
 Even a pursuing passion-flower tripped and fell be- 
 fore such a devious and ungraspable proposition. 
 The edge of malice, the sharp point of revenge, 
 were alike dulled against the armor of the rein- 
 carnation of Bill. 
 
 Mr. Slipaway had once read in a fairy tale of a 
 man who was possessed of a magical veil, possess- 
 ing the quality of making the wearer thereof in- 
 visible to the world. The person who owned this 
 desirable veil could ironically chuckle at the impor- 
 tunities of designing females, importunate courtiers 
 and hordes of creditors. Mr. Slipaway had, in his 
 early childhood, often longed for this veil — as who, 
 indeed, has not ? Now you're here, and then you're 
 not. And you're not, when something disagreeable 
 is about to happen. 
 
 Now Mr. Slipaway didn't possess this wonderful 
 veil, but he had surrounded himself with an aura 
 of camouflage, by means of which practically the
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 57 
 
 same results were attained. Psychologically, he had 
 made himself invisible to the world; psychologically, 
 he could stay invisible as long as he pleased. How 
 long he would continue along the merry path of 
 illusion and mystification he did not know. He was 
 just gaily treading the primrose path of the felici- 
 tous present. Let the future look to itself; he, Bill 
 Carter, was going to enjoy a vacation free from 
 all worries. 
 
 He felt in his pockets to see how he (Bill) stood 
 financially at this memorable moment. Twenty dol- 
 lars — it was not much, but that was all he possessed. 
 Yet that did not worry him; he knew that Bill 
 would make that twenty grow; you couldn't keep 
 him down — not much. Twenty dollars, Bill would, 
 by hook or by crook, make to grow like a snow- 
 ball rolling over and over. Twenty dollars, with 
 Bill, would soon become two hundred, or two thou- 
 sand. The gentleman he (Slipaway) had become 
 had always had the luck of acquiring ready money; 
 that was one of the reasons he (Slipaway) had 
 selected Bill as an object for reincarnation. What 
 would Bill do first ? Probably play the horses. 
 
 The reincarnation of Bill did. He had no doubt 
 of the result, and so took a very long shot ; indeed, 
 he had such confidence in the luck of Bill that he
 
 58 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 was only sorry the shot wasn't "longer." He would 
 have been just as confident if it had been about 
 three hundred to one, instead of thirty to one. The 
 reincarnation of Bill wasn't even surprised when 
 he took the money. He was now in a position to 
 carry out the program he had evolved in his brain 
 while dozing, or seeming to, and listening to the 
 chit-chat of his nurse, at the hospital. Mr. Slipaway 
 took a street-car to the railway station and there 
 bought a ticket to a certain little village a few hours 
 distant. But, before boarding the train, he acquired 
 a small grip at a store near the station, and had 
 it marked with the letters, "W. Carter." After 
 which he shoved a few magazines in the grip, lend- 
 ing it weight and dignity. 
 
 "Have you heard Bill Carter's come back?" the 
 village postmaster observed to the local doctor of 
 Blinkum, as the latter dropped in the next day, at 
 the usual hour, for his mail. 
 
 "Carter — Carter — ?" said the doctor, peering 
 anxiously into his mail (one letter) for any stray 
 checks that might be — but were not — enclosed. 
 "Not that harum-scarum — " 
 
 "Been only one Bill Carter in this village since
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 59 
 
 I been here," said the postmaster, "and that's going 
 on fifty years." 
 
 "Well, well," said the doctor, concealing his dis- 
 appointment in his mail, "and so Bill's come back. 
 In my day, I've seen the whole family buried, ex- 
 cept Bill." 
 
 "Maybe you think he's come back to accommo- 
 date you" said the postmaster jocularly. "So you 
 could finish the job!" 
 
 "Mrs. Carter was the last that was taken," said 
 the other, ignoring a species of humor little to his 
 liking. "She went while Bill was away. And she's 
 up there in the little churchyard." 
 
 "She would be," said the postmaster irreverently. 
 "Yes; Bill's come back." 
 
 "What for?" asked the other. "Everything was 
 sold for the debts — not enough to pay the funeral 
 expenses. Old house was foreclosed — went to Dea- 
 con Jones. Bill isn't surely coming back in the ex- 
 pectations there is any estate to claim." 
 
 "No ; he ain't looking for any estate. He's come 
 back for sentiment." 
 
 "What?" said the doctor. 
 
 "Sentiment," repeated the postmaster. "Bill's 
 come back because he had a longing to. At least,
 
 60 THE ^'UT CR-\CKER 
 
 that's what he told the tavern-keeper, up the road, 
 where he's stopping. Says he longed to see some 
 of the old town folks — " 
 
 "Jest a few old relics of 'em left," said the other. 
 
 "Said he longed to roam around among the 
 sights of his happy childhood." 
 
 " 'Happy childhood'— did he say that?" 
 
 "He did." 
 
 "Well, it might have been happy for Bill, but 
 it weren't for anybody else. Bill could raise more — " 
 
 "Cain?" suggested the postmaster. 
 
 "That'll do!" 
 
 "Also come back just to show folks the report 
 of his demise was slightly exaggerated," went on 
 the other. "Been down in South America, and he's 
 done well. He's got a wad of money as big around 
 as your neck. Maybe we'd better organize one of 
 those 'Welcome Home' committees?" jocularly. 
 
 "I wouldn't mind acting as chairman," suggested 
 the doctor. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" laughed the postmaster. 
 
 But the other frowned. He didn't see the joke.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THERE was a species of fantastic logic about 
 Horatio Slipaway's one-role act entitled "The 
 Home-Coming of Bill." After recovering conscious- 
 ness he had professed to the world in general that 
 he was Mr. William Carter. No matter how ridicu- 
 lous his actions might appear to himself, knowing 
 he wasn't in reality that redoubtable gentleman, he 
 had to go through a certain performance with all 
 the seriousness that Mr. William Carter himself 
 would have displayed under precisely the same cir- 
 cumstances. What would William Carter have 
 done, on his return from South America, finding 
 himself in the near proximity, after many, many 
 years, of the little village where he had first seen 
 the light of day? Would he have turned his back 
 on the old town, with an indifferent shrug of the 
 shoulders ? No, no ! Mr. William Carter was a man 
 of sentiment; he would drop in on the old neigh- 
 bors, let them see him, and how he had prospered 
 — apparently — and exchange reminiscences. 
 
 Mr. Carter would — as the reincarnation of Bill 
 
 61
 
 62 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 did — spend money lavishly at the little tavern on 
 any one who remembered him and whom he re- 
 membered. As Horatio Slipaway had passed his 
 early childhood in the little village that had once 
 been honored by the presence of Bill, the reincarna- 
 tion of Bill had no difficulty in mingling and com- 
 muning with sundry choice spirits acquainted with 
 Mr. Carter's early experiences and certain more or 
 less reprehensible traits of character. Mr. Carter 
 did not, however, lavish much of his time on these 
 sociable souls who hung around the principal source 
 of village liquid refreshment; he mingled, indeed, 
 but with an indubitable consciousness of what was 
 due his own high dignity as a gentleman of means 
 and position. 
 
 When he departed they were singing his praises. 
 He tossed to the barkeeper, however, before going, 
 a bill of such goodly denomination, that they could 
 continue their sweet chortling in his honor. The act 
 afforded great satisfaction to that consciousness 
 of Mr. Slipaway which lurked somewhere in the 
 background of the reincarnated Bill. The pale 
 ghost of all that was left of Mr. Slipaway was 
 pleased he could do things in this large generous 
 manner. Why, he had chucked that bill at the bar- 
 keeper just like a grandee. As he walked out he
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 63 
 
 felt their concentrated and admiring gaze focused 
 on the small of his back. It lent lightness to his 
 step, but as he trod the shabby old streets of the 
 desolate old village his look grew soberer. 
 
 Here were signs of attenuation, not growth. The 
 village, instead of sprouting, looked like a withered 
 plant. There were no new buildings, no new houses, 
 no new barns, while those that continued to exist 
 seemed rather to endure by some gracious act of 
 providence than through any specific ability on their 
 own part not to fall down. The reincarnation of 
 Bill gazed around him mournfully. At that solemn 
 moment he might almost have sung with the poet : 
 "Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain." 
 
 He paused at the one general combination store 
 — which combination included, among other depart- 
 ments, a small and modest corner devoted to flowers 
 and plants. The proprietor looked as if he needed 
 sprinkling, he was so dusty and dry. The reincar- 
 nation of Bill at once introduced himself. 
 
 "Land's sakes! Bill Carter what threw a stone 
 through my window — ?" 
 
 "The same." 
 
 "And put sand in my sugar barrel?" 
 
 "Sure it was / put the sand in?" laughed the 
 caller.
 
 64 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 And so they went on reciting more of Bill's mis- 
 deeds, and Horatio felt he was having a real nice 
 time. Oh, if he, himself, had only done all those 
 things ! The deep inner consciousness that he hadn't 
 was the only secret pang he experienced. How he 
 regretted his comparatively quiet and orderly child- 
 hood! Who was the old dunderhead that said vir- 
 tue was its own reward? Well, that sad sobersides 
 Slipaway was now getting "some vacation" from 
 his former goody-goody self. It was such joy to talk 
 about these juvenile misdeeds! li he, Horatio Slip- 
 away, had come back in his proper person, what 
 would there have been to talk about? Hardly any- 
 thing ! Folks would only have yawned and said : 
 
 "Slipaway? Slipaway? Yes; there was some- 
 body here of that name. But we don't remember 
 much about him, except he was here. Went away 
 some time ago, but don't remember just when." 
 
 That was it; Horatio had never impressed him- 
 self much on the community, or any community. 
 He could slide out of it and not be much missed. 
 People would speak languidly of the fact that he 
 had once existed there; but when you mentioned 
 Bill's name they woke up. Mr. Slipaway felt that 
 in his new capacity he was acquiring much valuable 
 information and a brand-new kind of philosophy.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 65 
 
 Be good, if you can, but don't be a nonentity! He 
 began to feel it was almost a crime to be a nonen- 
 tity. 
 
 For some time he swelled and preened himself 
 with the borrowed plumage of Bill's bright and 
 disorderly deeds, and then his face grew soberer. 
 What would Bill do now? What he, Horatio, did. 
 
 "Touchingest thing you ever saw," said the com- 
 bination store man to the village doctor, who came 
 into the place later that day. 
 
 "Referring to Bill Carter that's got back? I 
 heard he'd been up to look at the old home — house 
 where he was born." 
 
 "Wasn't just what I was referring to. Know 
 where he has gone?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Churchyard !" Succinctly. "You see, he and me 
 were talking and exchanging old-time anecdotes, 
 and I was calling him Bill and he was calling me 
 Hank, just as if he wasn't a millionaire and me 
 what I be, when suddenly his face gets sober-like. 
 *To think of me jesting here, and her up there!' 
 At first I didn't get his meaning. 'The little church- 
 yard,' he says. And then I knew what he was refer- 
 ring to."
 
 66 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Yes ; Mrs Carter died about ten years after Will 
 went away," said the doctor in a practical profes- 
 sional tone. "She survived Mr. Carter by about six 
 years. The cause of her demise was gin and certain 
 little injuries playfully inflicted upon her by Mr. 
 Carter when she and that gentleman had been in- 
 dulging too freely. Mr. Carter, no doubt, died 
 as he would have preferred, with his boots on, and 
 suffering from a rather strong attack of D. T.'s, 
 Mrs. Carter's end did not attain quite to the D. T. 
 heights of Mr. Carter's tumultuous finale; the in- 
 juries inflicted by Mr. Carter developed complica- 
 tions — internally — that interfered with her natural 
 desire to follow his glorious example." 
 
 "A mother's a mother for a' that," said the 
 storekeeper solemnly, paraphrasing the poet's line. 
 "And as I were saying, it was the touchingest thing. 
 'Make me up a wreath,' says Bill in a low deep 
 voice, 'and put in it the kind of flowers that us't 
 to grow alongside the old house.' Here his voice 
 kinda broke. 'Sweet-williams?' says I. And he 
 looked at me sorter sad-like. 'I believe they were 
 sweet-williams,' he says. 'Your own name, too,' 
 says I, trying to be jocular-like, he looked so sol- 
 emn. He breathed harder. 'You needn't mind about 
 the sweet-williams,' says he. 'Might look kind of
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 67 
 
 egotistical, putting them in. But there's those other 
 flowers that grew near the well — ' " 
 
 "With the moss-covered bucket! Moss would 
 grow on that bucket!" murmured the doctor. 
 
 " 'Daisies, simple daisies,' " went on the store- 
 keeper, raising his voice slightly. " *And geraniums 
 and pansies,' I reminded him. 'Yes; put them in. 
 Put them all in,' says he. And you should have 
 seen that wreath when I was through. It was the 
 most wonderful wreath. And all the time Bill stood 
 there, and telling me to spare no expense, and to 
 stick in another of this and that. I tell you there's 
 a son to be proud of." The storekeeper spoke louder. 
 He didn't quite like that professional, non-emotional 
 expression on the doctor's face. "Showed me there's 
 a lot of good in the world. Think of a man com- 
 ing back like that! And taking all that trouble! I 
 tell you he did me a lot of good — most as much 
 good as if I'd gone to church. And if I was a 
 minister, / could preach a sermon about it, and dash 
 it if I wouldn't! I bet I could just preach a ser- 
 mon that would bring tears to the eyes." 
 
 "No doubt," said the doctor dryly. 
 
 "When he spoke about the old well — " 
 
 "For which Mrs. Carter had no use !" Sotto voce, 
 from the doctor.
 
 68 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 " — his voice was shaky. 'The cool water from 
 those rocky depths ! — I shall never forget the taste 
 of it!' says Bill." 
 
 "Mr. Carter never knew !" said the doctor. 
 
 The other shook his head disapprovingly. "Even 
 you would have been moved, if you'd been there," 
 he said, "when I offered to take the wreath and 
 Bill wouldn't let me! No, sir; he was bound to 
 carry it there himself. And he did. He wouldn't 
 trust it to no one — " 
 
 "For fear a flower or two might fall out!" 
 
 The other gazed at the doctor reproachfully. "If 
 I didn't know, Doc, your bark was worse than your 
 bite, I'd think you kinda stony-hearted." 
 
 "Well, I haven't yet seen Mr. William Carter, 
 the returned wanderer, drinking from the old well," 
 laughed the doctor. "Though he was drinking some- 
 thing when I went by the tavern not long ago!" 
 
 "Jest dropped in to see what the old place looked 
 like !" said the other. 
 
 "No doubt! Old family memorial!" And the 
 doctor went out to his buggy and drove away.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 MRS. SLIPAWAY was a methodical woman 
 who seldom jumped to a conclusion. Her 
 mental processes were slow, but fairly logical where 
 they did not come in contact with a few inherited 
 predilections by which she, in common with the rest 
 of the world, was more or less subconsciously 
 swayed. 
 
 When first she had learned that an unknown man 
 had been injured by a live wire and was lying un- 
 conscious in a hospital, her initial emotions were 
 those of quick womanly sympathy; she feared for 
 Horatio. Forgotten for the moment were the 
 process-server and the "passion-pale" lady. Though 
 only for the moment ! Mrs. Slipaway had hastened 
 to the hospital, full of sympathy ; possibly hoping 
 the unconscious man was Mr. Slipaway, in which 
 event she would later point to a "lesson." Retribu- 
 tion! The wicked shall not thrive. And when the 
 lesson had sunk in — deeply — she would forgive and 
 forget — if she could. And no doubt she could — in 
 time! Yes, in time — plenty of time! 
 
 69
 
 70 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 What, then, had been her emotions when she had 
 seen that the injured unconscious patient was not 
 her husband, but had also, a moment later, observed 
 with her own startled gaze another patient, now 
 recovered, and who was the perfect image of Mr. 
 Horatio Slipaway, walk down the ward and out of 
 the door with a backward look of complete non- 
 recognition for herself? With what mental con- 
 fusion had she listened to the nurse elucidating all 
 about the recovered patient and eliminating totally 
 Mr. Horatio Slipaway and substituting therefor a 
 brand-new, completely distasteful stranger from a 
 far land, Mr. William Carter, who said "adios" 
 instead of the famihar "ta, ta!" and who threw 
 kisses in pantomime to forward hospital hussies. 
 
 When Mrs. Slipaway had told Johnnie Briggs 
 that she wanted to "think," she had conveyed to 
 that too sedulous gentleman her precise mental state 
 upon her return from her errand of mercy to the 
 hospital. At first she had struggled with the prob- 
 lem as a strange coincidence. Frequently people did 
 look alike, but hardly to this degree. That did seem 
 most unlikely. Moreover, there was the "adios" 
 and the phantom kisses to be accounted for; Mr. 
 Slipaway would hardly dare thus to comport him- 
 self before her very eyes, though he might be bold
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 71 
 
 as a lion with "passion-pale" dames on other occa- 
 sions. The doctor had said the memory test was 
 perfect. That meant that WilHam Carter ("Bill, to 
 his friends") had passed the test as William Carter. 
 His fall had not injured his brain. All of which 
 sounded very plausible, but — 
 
 Where was Mr. Slipaway? He did not come 
 home; she heard no word of him. Fortunately, the 
 "nest-egg" was large and ample, and she could very 
 well take care of herself if she wanted to. Also 
 there was a life insurance policy Horatio had left 
 behind him, but her thoughts did not linger on this. 
 She did not wish to have Mr. Slipaway pass on to 
 the land of shadows; on the contrary, she earnestly 
 desired him to reappear in the flesh. She had mar- 
 ried him to reform him, and that job was still in- 
 complete — by a long ways. You can't reform that 
 which has mysteriously disappeared. Nor can you 
 forgive — if not forget — the transgressions of some 
 one who has vanished into thin air. It was very 
 puzzling. Also it was very annoying. It was like 
 trying to find some particularly hard pieces in an 
 unusually elaborate picture puzzle. 
 
 The very audacity of Mr. Slipaway's plan baffled 
 her. Her simple brain did not delve into the subtle- 
 ties of that gentleman's complex mental apparatus.
 
 72 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 If Mr. Slipaway had had a twin brother — but the 
 brother's name would not be Carter. So she ran 
 up against a stone wall again. 
 
 She came back to "Carter." She had a vague 
 idea of having heard of a William Carter — or 
 was it "Bill Carter" ? — somewhere, sometime. She 
 racked her brain, but could not just recall. She 
 called up Johnnie Briggs. He was glad to hear her 
 voice; no doubt of that. 
 
 "No news of Horatio?" he asked quickly. 
 
 "No; but never mind about that now! What I 
 wanted to ask you, Mr. Briggs, is this: Did you 
 ever hear of a Wilham Carter?" 
 
 "Carter?" said Johnnie. "Carter? Lemme see. 
 Not's I know of. Of course, there's lots of Car- 
 ters. But what's Carter got to do with Horatio?" 
 
 "I didn't say he had anything to do with him." 
 Mrs. Slipaway was a woman quite capable of 
 keeping her own counsel. "I just asked you a ques- 
 tion—that is all, Mr. Briggs." 
 
 "Oh," said Johnnie disappointedly. 
 
 "Good-by," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Hold on," said Johnnie, but the lady was no 
 longer there. 
 
 For some time after the lady had rung ofif John- 
 nie sat pondering. "Carter?"— Mrs. Slipaway evi-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 73 
 
 dently had a clue of some kind she was working 
 on, though how important Mr. Briggs could not 
 divine. Suddenly Johnnie remembered — Horatio 
 had once mentioned a Bill Carter — a boy whom 
 he had known as a "kid" back in the old village. 
 What was the name of the village ? Johnnie couldn't 
 for the life of him recall. Still thinking, he went 
 out for lunch — a simple repast of beans and custard 
 pie, in keeping with the modest purse and the higli 
 cost of living. Johnnie had his theories, and he was 
 playing a waiting game; he would let others fuss 
 and stew and he would quietly sit back. At the 
 proper time, when Mr. Slipaway was fairly sus- 
 pended by the noose of his own making, Johnnie 
 would step in as a sympathetic friend — of Mrs. Slip- 
 away. 
 
 But the good lady had called upon him for in- 
 formation. It behooved him to furnish that in- 
 formation. Johnnie did not know what it portended. 
 At that moment a little old gentleman holding 
 guardedly — for the place was thronged — a plate of 
 what purported to be chicken pie in one hand, and 
 a cup of coffee in the other, sat down beside John- 
 nie. The latter recognized in his next-chair neigh- 
 bor a superannuated bookkeeper who had been in 
 the employ of Mr. Slipaway's employers for a pe-
 
 74 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 riod of years beyond the memory of such compara- 
 tively newcomers into the financial district as he 
 (Johnnie). 
 
 Mr. Briggs, after an exchange of commonplaces 
 with the superannuated gentleman, led the conver- 
 sation to Mr. Slipaway. Perhaps the superannuated 
 gentleman might know the name of the little village 
 from which Horatio had hailed. He did not ask 
 the question at once; he merely remarked that he 
 had had some conversation with Mrs. Slipaway 
 about that lady's husband and that Mrs. Slipaway 
 had seemed most anxious. 
 
 "Strangest case I ever heard of," observed the 
 old gentleman after he had devoured his chicken 
 (veal) pie and had further fortified his frugal re- 
 past by skipping over to the counter for a doughnut. 
 "No troubles — no worries — happy home — " 
 
 "Eh?" said Johnnie. Then — "I rather under- 
 stood Horatio was — well, a little bit worried about 
 — expenses," he stammered. 
 
 The old gentleman chuckled, but he said nothing. 
 His manner made Johnnie quite curious. 
 
 "I suppose you — ah! — are all very anxious he 
 should be found? Get back to work, I mean?" 
 observed Mr. Briggs with as much tact as he was 
 capable of.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 75 
 
 "One would infer that, wouldn't one?" said the 
 other, and he chuckled again. At the same time his 
 Adam's apple worked up and down, as if antici- 
 patorily, while he eyed the non-digestible dough- 
 nut. 
 
 "Of course he would," said Johnnie, with false 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 The superannuated gentleman eyed the doughnut 
 and then he eyed Johnnie. He seemed about to say 
 something, but he didn't. Mr. Briggs reflected that 
 was one of the chief and most annoying character- 
 istics of superannuated gentlemen; they appear 
 on the point of giving utterance to most interesting 
 bits of conversational chit-chat, and then they "peter 
 out." They arouse curiosity without satisfying it, 
 the while certain physical idiosyncrasies — like that 
 ascending and descending Adam's apple — make 
 themselves too pertinently, if not offensively, ap- 
 parent. Instead of unburdening himself of a choice 
 morsel of gossip, the aged one took a bite. Then 
 he got up, 
 
 "Going?" said Johnnie. "I should think you'd 
 sit a bit and let it digest." 
 
 The "old 'un" turned a twinkling eye on John- 
 nie. He knew Johnnie was not concerned about his 
 digestion.
 
 76 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Mr. Slipaway talked to me about financial anxie- 
 ties," observed Johnnie desperately. Perhaps that, 
 he reflected, would get behind the tough old skin of 
 this monument of discretion. 
 
 "Indeed? Financial anxieties? Quite so," said 
 the other, and with another chuckle walked out. 
 
 At that moment Johnnie quite hated him. He 
 had forgotten to ask if he knew the name of the 
 village Horatio had come from. The recollection 
 of that mysterious chuckle of the superannuated 
 bookkeeper got on Mr. Briggs' nerves that after- 
 noon. Horatio had told him he had made a mistake 
 and sold, instead of bought, thousands of shares for 
 some one. What if? — Johnnie suddenly whistled. 
 Then he sought a financial paper. A light burst 
 upon Johnnie. Mr. Slipaway's mistake, instead 
 of being a disaster, had ultimately netted the lucky 
 investor a small fortune. No wonder the superan- 
 nuated one had chuckled. Why, Mr. Slipaway 
 might be regarded as a regular mascot by the 
 wealthy Mr. Vancourtland — yes, that was the cus- 
 tomer's name. He might even divide the profits with 
 Mr. Slipaway, and intrust all his investing or spec- 
 ulating to Horatio. Whew ! Some luck for Horatio ! 
 Out of disaster had sprung victory. But he did not
 
 ,THE NUT CRACKER 17 
 
 know. Fortunately — not! And he (Johnnie) would 
 certainly not inform him. 
 
 Let him hide in his hole — wherever it might be 
 — with visions of lost fortunes, defalcations, breach 
 of promise suits, etc., floating before him! Let him 
 think the worst! Nor would Mr. Briggs breathe 
 of his suspicions of Horatio's stroke of luck at the 
 office to Mrs, Slipaway. He wouldn't for the world 
 enhance Horatio's reputation for financial shrewd- 
 ness or acumen in the eyes of that lady. But later 
 Johnnie ventured to call Mrs. Slipaway on the 
 phone. 
 
 "I've been thinking hard all day on account of 
 you," he said. "This morning you asked me a ques- 
 tion. I could not, at the moment, answer it. But 
 since then I've recalled I have heard of a William 
 Carter, or rather Bill Carter — " 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway murmured something about a rose 
 by any name. 
 
 "There was a boy in the little village where Ho- 
 ratio — poor Horatio! — came from. His name was 
 Bill Carter, I recall Horatio speaking of him." 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "But what connection Bill Carter, of those too 
 fleeting boyhood days of the past, could have with
 
 78 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 the vanished Horatio of the present moment, I can't 
 imagine," observed Mr, Briggs. 
 
 "Thanks," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "May I ask if you are making any progress in 
 your investigations, my dear Mrs. Slipaway." 
 
 "I don't know about progress," said Mrs. Shp- 
 away, "but I'm still thinking." 
 
 "Oh !" said Johnnie. "By the way, what was the 
 name of the little village Horatio came from?" 
 
 "Blinkum," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Blink — ?" said Johnnie, not quite catching it. 
 
 " 'Urn!" said Mrs. Slipaway.
 
 M 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 R. SLIPAWAY sat on a grass-plot and 
 gazed with a mournful and solemn expres- 
 sion at a wreath on a mound. The shadow of a 
 weeping willow fell upon him and it was an appro- 
 priate shadow for such an occasion, for Mr, Slipa- 
 way's mood was tinged with sad regrets. He had 
 never known a mother's tender care himself; an or- 
 phan asylum had received Horatio at a very youth- 
 ful age, and later he had been transplanted to the 
 none too loving care of an aunt at Blinkum. So he 
 had rather brought up himself, as it were, and — he 
 had often reflected — made none too good a job of 
 the undertaking. 
 
 Now, as Horatio sat there, he tried to think as 
 he would think if fate had been kinder to him and 
 he had really enjoyed those blessings of maternal 
 solicitude which had been Bill's. Mr. Slipaway was 
 not so well acquainted with Mrs. Carter's short- 
 comings as that disagreeably cynical person, the vil- 
 lage doctor. With the willow throwing long streaks 
 of shade over his drooping figure, Mr. Slipaway 
 
 79
 
 80 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 imparted mentally a thousand virtues and as many 
 gentle graces upon the defunct maternal authoress 
 of Bill. His imagination roamed to heights of 
 touching sentimentality; like a poet or an artist cre- 
 ating a wondrous feminine figure from a poor dull 
 slattern, Mr. Slipavvay moulded in fanciful outline 
 everything that the subject of his thoughts should 
 have been, and nothing that she had been. 
 
 Two or three villagers peered in on Mr. Slipa- 
 way; also a certain strange lady, that is, strange to 
 the villagers ; and a strange gentleman. The strange 
 gentleman peered in from one comer of the ceme- 
 tery, and the strange lady from another, and neither 
 knew the other was there. 
 
 Having prolonged his vigil quite in keeping with 
 the exigencies of the occasion, Mr. Slipaway arose. 
 Then he went over to the wreath and extracted 
 therefrom a simple flower, which he put in his but- 
 ton-hole. After which he gazed skyward, heaved a 
 deep sigh, and, with slow steps, moved from the 
 spot. By this time Mr. Slipaway felt quite well 
 acquainted with the late Mrs. Carter; so well ac- 
 quainted, indeed, that it was as if he had adopted 
 her, or a certain mythical personage symbolical of 
 all Mrs. Carter should have represented, in a ma- 
 ternal capacity, if she had not strayed from the
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 81 
 
 straight and narrow path of dignity and righteous- 
 ness into the more tortuous and pleasing byways of 
 bibulous irresponsibility and joyous forgetfulness. 
 
 As Mr. Slipaway left the little churchyard and 
 started down the road to the tavern, without look- 
 ing to the right nor the left, the strange gentleman 
 and the strange lady who had surveyed Horatio 
 from nearly opposite points of vantage without the 
 churchyard, now moved toward each other. The 
 strange gentleman rounded a corner, and, walking 
 briskly, came almost upon the strange lady stepping 
 from behind a thick barrier of shrubbery. 
 
 "Mrs. S— " 
 
 "Mr. B— " 
 
 They exclaimed simultaneously. For a moment 
 they stared at each other. The lady was the first 
 partly to recover herself. 
 
 "Well, goodness gracious!" she observed. 
 
 "Well, I'm hanged!" said Johnnie. 
 
 "How'd you come here?" 
 
 "I might ask that question, too." 
 
 They both eyed the departing figure. 
 
 "I got thinking about Blinkum," said Johnnie. 
 "Poor Horatio — I remembered he was born there." 
 
 "And you came for sentiment?" said Mrs. Slip- 
 away grimly.
 
 82 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 A faint grin swept Johnnie's face. "Something 
 like that," he said sheepishly. 
 
 "Mr. Briggs," said Mrs. Slipaway, "you're hold- 
 ing back something." 
 
 "Me?" said Johnnie guiltily, thinking of how 
 Horatio had made that fortune for the millionaire 
 customer and thereby probably incurred his eternal 
 gratitude. "Me?" repeated Johnnie. "I don't know 
 a thing I haven't confided to you," 
 
 "I'm not so sure," said Mrs. Slipaway, shaking 
 her head. "Why didn't you tell me you were com- 
 ing down here?" 
 
 "Well, you see, I had a theory," said Johnnie. 
 
 "The point is," said Mrs. Slipaway, "is it merely 
 a chance resemblance?" 
 
 "He parts his hair different," observed Johnnie 
 dreamily. "I noticed when he took his hat off as 
 he sat by the little mound." 
 
 "You mean when he wiped his eyes," said Mrs. 
 Slipaway in casual, emotionless tones. "Yes; Ho- 
 ratio used to part his hair in the middle. Mr. Car- 
 ter pushes his back like a pompadour. Makes him 
 look kind of piratical." 
 
 "Mr. Carter's growing something that might be 
 a luxuriant mustache some day," observed Johnnie. 
 
 "Some day," assented Mrs. Slipaway.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 83 
 
 "They wear mustaches down in South America," 
 murmured Johnnie. 
 
 "Maybe he forgot to bring his with him," replied 
 the lady musingly. "Some people are so forgetful." 
 
 Johnnie shot her a sharp look; her calmness was 
 miraculous; she seemed moving in a world of placid 
 unconcern. Johnnie did not understand; logically, 
 she should have been raging and tearing around, on 
 destruction bent. He had always understood that 
 a woman deceived, or wronged, or thinking herself 
 wronged — which was the same thing — was like a 
 Kansas cyclone ; Mrs. Slipaway appeared as tranquil 
 as a summer day. 
 
 "I remember Horatio speaking of Bill Carter, but 
 I don't recall his saying they looked almost as alike 
 as two peas," remarked Johnnie cautiously, 
 
 "Maybe they grew to look alike," remarked Mrs. 
 Slipaway, with a far-off look. "Maybe they weren't 
 so much alike when they were little boys together." 
 
 "That's so," said Johnnie, bestowing on her a 
 look of admiration for her acumen. "I never 
 thought of that." 
 
 "The question is," said Mrs. Slipaway, "does he 
 merely imagine it, or — is it pretense?" 
 
 "Great heavens!" said Johnnie, as if the full force 
 of her words assailed him like a shock.
 
 84 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Don't act so surprised," said Mrs. Slipaway, 
 eying him sharply. "Another question is: If it 
 isn't — ahem ! — pretense, or dupHcity — wouldn't it be 
 dangerous to — to try to — well, wake him up? If 
 he really thinks it" — Johnnie coughed — "why, he's 
 like a sleep-walker, isn't he?" 
 
 "Something like," said Johnnie hoarsely. 
 
 "And I've heard it's awful dangerous to wake 
 them up," went on Mrs. Slipaway tranquilly. "Gives 
 them too great a start; stops the heart, or causes 
 apoplexy! I knew of a sleep-walking woman once 
 they woke up, and she never was the same, and 
 ultimately she died of it." 
 
 Johnnie gazed at her with rapt attention. "What 
 is the treatment ?" he observed. 
 
 "Let 'em walk it off," said the lady. Johnnie 
 swallowed; he opened his mouth to say something, 
 but thought better of it and was silent. "Then they 
 come to, of their own account, and don't know what 
 they've been doing or where they've been gallivant- 
 ing." 
 
 Mr. Briggs looked down. There were depths to 
 Mrs. Slipaway — great depths. He wanted to speak, 
 but felt he might "put his foot in it" ; better reserve 
 and silence on his part, and that sympathetic helpful 
 attitude.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 85 
 
 "You got to give sleep-walkers, and people like 
 that—" 
 
 "Momentarily irresponsible," breathed Johnnie. 
 
 " — room to move around in. You mustn't bump 
 into 'em, or place barriers in front of them for them 
 to fall over. Let them roam a while ! And by and 
 by nature steps in — " 
 
 "Ah, nature is a great physician," said Johnnie 
 fervently. He felt as if he were walking on a nar- 
 row plank. Only platitudes from him! 
 
 "But, of course, that may all be based on a false 
 theory. Horatio may have been very fond of Mr. 
 Carter as a boy, and that may be the reason they 
 grew to look so alike." Sweetly. "What do you 
 think, Mr. Briggs?" 
 
 "I — I don't think," stammered Johnnie. These 
 were deep waters. "Is there — anything I can do — 
 to be of assistance?" he managed to stammer. 
 
 "We might have a bite to eat, and then you could 
 put me on the train," said Mrs. Slipaway. "I feel 
 that I have accomplished all that is to be done here 
 at present." 
 
 Mr. Briggs gallantly professed himself entirely 
 at the lady's service. The tavern was about the only 
 place where they could hope to satisfy those crav- 
 ings of hunger which the anxieties of the day had
 
 86 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 failed to stifle in Mrs. Slipaway, and thither John- 
 nie, in knightly fashion, escorted the good lady. 
 
 "Mr. John Briggs," he wrote on the register. 
 
 And, beneath it, "Mrs. Horatio Slipaway." 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Slipaway — or the reincarnation 
 of Bill — had sauntered from the churchyard to the 
 house where Mr. Carter was born. 
 
 "Pardon me, madam," he said to a woman hang- 
 ing out the wash, "but may I look at it?" 
 
 "Phat?" she said, with foreign accent. 
 
 "The old, old home," said Mr. Carter, quite aware 
 that several neighbors were watching him. 
 
 "It's old enough," she retorted coarsely. "It's 
 so old it leaks like a sieve. Roof's full of holes." 
 As she spoke she hung up a suit of underwear quite 
 in harmony with the roof in one respect. 
 
 But "holes" did not assuage Mr. Carter's interest 
 in the antique shack. "How many times have I 
 thought of it?" he observed. "Its simple outlines 
 — its homely contour ! Though since those days my 
 footsteps may have moved in palaces in far-off 
 chmes!" 
 
 "Phat the — " began the woman. 
 
 "This very gate — how many tim.es have I swung
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 87 
 
 on it when a boy? I wonder if now, for the sake 
 of *auld lang syne,' I might venture — " 
 
 "Don't do that. If you do I'll have the police 
 after you for breaking down the gate." 
 
 "Have you no sentiment?" said Horatio reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 "I have me washing to do." 
 
 "I was born in this house," said Horatio. 
 
 "Yez showed mighty poor taste." 
 
 "Madam, home is where the heart is," said Ho- 
 ratio with a courtly bow. 
 
 "Home is where the washtub is, you mane." 
 
 "Have you no poetry in your soul?" 
 
 "I have me washing to put out." As she spoke 
 she adjusted a pair of pulchritudinous stockings, 
 which, filled by the wanton breeze, flaunted them- 
 selves with the shameless abandon of the fat lady 
 in a burlesque show. 
 
 Horatio gazed modestly the other way. "How 
 many times have I tied a string to my big toe and 
 hung it out of that window," he murmured. 
 
 "See here," she said, with arms akimbo. "Phat 
 you mane, talking about your big toe to a lady? 
 If you think I'll be standing your insults — " 
 
 'Insults, madam?" said Horatio gently. 
 
 tn
 
 88 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "When a strange gentleman starts to talk about 
 ano-tomy to a lady — " 
 
 "I was only a little boy then, madam," said Ho- 
 ratio hastily. "Perhaps you have a little boy — " 
 
 Her face relaxed. She adjusted a pair of stock- 
 ings all out at the toes. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" said Horatio. 
 
 She thrust a finger through, where a big toe 
 would have protruded. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" said Horatio once more, idiotically. 
 
 "It's little devils they are," she said gently. 
 
 "Does he tie a string to his big toe?" 
 
 "He does that," she said grimly. "And when he 
 gets caught, he — " 
 
 "Same old big toe — same old string — same old 
 swimming-hole!" laughed Horatio, and departed 
 gaily. By this time he began to feel himself quite 
 an expert Ananias ; but when you've become a rein- 
 carnation you might just as well be an artistic one. 
 
 At the tavern he saw the register and had a shock. 
 
 "Eh?" he exclaimed, staring at the names of Mrs. 
 Slipaway and Mr. Briggs. 
 
 "Know 'em?" said the landlord. 
 
 "I used to know an Horatio Slipaway." 
 
 "They ate together, and then they left," said the 
 landlord.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 89 
 
 *'Ha!" said Horatio. He knew Mrs. Slipaway a 
 woman of unimpeachable rectitude, but what a dam- 
 aging document that page of the record might prove 
 — say in the hands of Mr. SHpaway ! Only, since he 
 was no longer Mr. Slipaway, he did not need any 
 such weapon. For him the "pale, passionate" lady 
 now was as not. He no longer feared her. But 
 Mrs. Slipaway! — And Johnnie Briggs! — To- 
 gether — on his trail? — No wonder Horatio said 
 "Ha!" and prepared to gird his loins. They might 
 possibly prove his body once to have belonged to 
 Horatio Slipaway; but his mind — his free, untram- 
 meled mind — that was Bill's. The thought revived 
 him. He squared his shoulders, while new visions 
 assailed him — visions of the future! The world was 
 his oyster ; now that he had made his little pilgrim- 
 age he would embark on larger undertakings. He 
 would show the world what Bill Carter could do. 
 He would "tackle" the oyster; insert a knife deftly; 
 open the bivalve, and find therein a treasure — a great 
 big pearl. Mr. Slipaway half closed his eyes. 
 
 Other men found the pearl; why shouldn't he? 
 Fortune beckoned him — and he was not afraid. 
 The reincarnation of Bill would have "tackled" the 
 original Chinese dragon — let alone a bivalve. Fig- 
 uratively Bill got out his knife. Now for the golden
 
 90 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 adventure! His thoughts were interrupted by a 
 sound of martial music. 
 
 "It's the town band," said the landlord. 
 
 "Indeed? Not bad," said "Bill" absently. 
 
 "Yes; there's five of 'em, and they do make quite 
 a noise." 
 
 "What's the cause?" said the guest. 
 
 "You," said the landlord. 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "It's a kind of welcome home. They've come to 
 serenade you." 
 
 The reincarnation of Bill swelled. 
 
 "Maybe you'll make 'em a little speech from the 
 veranda?" 
 
 "You bet I will," said "Bill." "I'll talk to them 
 like a Dutch uncle. Why, this — this is the proud- 
 est day of my life." 
 
 And he did talk to them. People afterward said 
 his silver-tongued effort would have made even the 
 great Wm. J. turn green with envy. Mr. 
 Slipaway — that had been — surprised himself; he 
 had never dreamed he had in him the makings of 
 a great orator. Pathos, bathos, tragedy, comedy — 
 were all one to him. The more he used his verbal 
 wings the greater became his confidence. Why, that 
 was all he had ever needed to be an orator — con-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 91 
 
 fidence. He'd been an unconscious orator all these 
 years. He might have been governor of the state 
 if he'd known it sooner. Blinkum said it was a 
 proud day. And Blinkum dubbed Bill Carter her 
 "favorite son," and a few local orators, including 
 the undertaker, had their "spout," after which Bill 
 asked all the crowd in to have a drink. 
 
 Altogether it was rather a festal occasion — the 
 homecoming of Bill Carter! The only cloud to mar 
 the eventful happenings of the celebration was the 
 announcement that he was leaving so soon. But 
 the little village reconciled itself to this sad fact 
 with the proud realization that a man of Bill's cali- 
 ber needed plenty of elbow-room. The wide world 
 itself was about the kind of a pasture necessary 
 for him to browse in. Anything smaller would make 
 such an intellectual giant feel as if he were sitting 
 in a straight-jacket. Only when the women brought 
 their babies to be kissed did Bill shrink; there are 
 limits to the condescensions of the great. But he 
 gallantly offered to kiss all the best-looking moth- 
 ers, and let it go at that. Altogether he had a bully 
 good time, to compensate him for those sad sober 
 moments in the little old churchyard. He received 
 a bouquet on departing, not — sweet-williams !
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 AS BILL CARTER, Horatio Slipaway was a 
 y\ good deal like Columbus after embarkation ; 
 he felt he simply had to go on. He didn't dare — 
 even if he had wanted to — turn back. There might 
 be wild seas before him, but he would have to breast 
 them. Better the seas than a divorce court and a 
 breach of promise suit, not to mention possible crim- 
 inal proceedings instituted by his former employers. 
 Yes ; best he should be lost to the world as Horatio 
 Slipaway. 
 
 But how bury Slipaway? And where? Next to 
 the late Mrs. Carter, mother of Bill? If he only 
 could! — right under that weeping willow! But the 
 reincarnation of Bill could think of no way by which 
 this most desirable consummation could be attained. 
 Why not bury Horatio in a watery grave — a note 
 on the bank of a little lake — an upturned boat — 
 weary of life — one more unfortunate? But he aban- 
 doned this expedient as trite and commonplace, quite 
 unworthy of the genius of Bill ! Besides, they might 
 drag the lake, and, finding nothing, conclude the 
 
 92
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 93 
 
 alleged drowning a hoax. Of course, it would be 
 nice for Mrs. S. if he could thus dispose of the 
 obnoxious and totally superfluous Horatio, in which 
 event that good lady could profit by the insurance 
 money and possess two little nest-eggs, instead of 
 one. But unfortunately, the scheme did not seem 
 practical, and Mr. Carter came to the reluctant con- 
 clusion that Horatio would simply have to join the 
 considerable army of people who never are ac- 
 counted for. He hated to leave Horatio like that 
 — "up in the air," as it were; but there didn't seem 
 anything else to be done. 
 
 Of the details of "Bill's" peregrinations and ad- 
 ventures the following month or two little need be 
 said. His luck was with him from the start; there 
 was little rhyme or reason to his exploits, but what 
 is the use of logic when you have a talisman, or 
 mascot, in a name ? For example, who but a corsair 
 like Bill would have walked into a bucket-shop and 
 bought something he didn't know anything about, 
 just because everybody said it was the worst ever, 
 never had a show and never would ? Sulphur Com- 
 mon; the kind of stuff a certain place is paved with; 
 the only way to touch it was with a pitch-fork, 
 and then not to Hft it, but to jab it! So said the
 
 94 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 boys, and Bill listened to those merry gibes with a 
 sympathetic smile. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "I feel kind of sorry for 
 Sulphur — seems so friendless. It don't seem to be- 
 long here at all. Sort of poor waif with a forked 
 tail everybody gives a kick to as it goes along! I 
 haven't much of the rhino with me — just a few 
 odd hundred dollars I was going to buy a dinner 
 with — but it seems more charitable to bestow it upon 
 the sulphur-and-brimstone orphan." 
 
 How little it takes to turn the tide of opinion 
 sometimes! A few sporty spirits who thought this 
 daring stranger must be possessed of special infor- 
 mation on the sulphurous product fell in line. Then 
 some one sent out a bulletin : Firm of So-and-So 
 buying Sulphur Common. This started another little 
 coterie going. Who the deuce is stirring up Sulphur? 
 folks began to ask. Then some one sent out another 
 bulletin. Ammunition factories short of sulphur. 
 By and by the lava began to boil. Bill sold all he 
 had and then sold some more he didn't have. In- 
 deed, he pressed his luck. By the time the young 
 volcano had ceased to sizzle and had settled down 
 to its natural state of innocuous desuetude he found 
 himself possessed of more ready money than Ho-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 95 
 
 ratio Slipaway had ever dreamed of having for his 
 very own. 
 
 But this didn't surprise the reincarnation of Bill 
 in the least. He settled down to a life of ease and 
 comfort, renting a bachelor suite in a suitable neigh- 
 borhood and taking unto himself a Jap servant to 
 look after the place and administer to his ("Bill's") 
 creature comforts. As a little cocktail mixer Saki 
 had no peer. Even his name suggested liquid re- 
 freshment. But before engaging the incomparable 
 Saki, Mr. Carter had an understanding with him. 
 
 "H any one asks you how long you been with 
 me, say six years, Saki," admonished Bill. 
 
 Saki promptly swore by all the Buddhas he would 
 comply with this request. 
 
 "You been with me — six years — down in South 
 America, Saki," said Bill impressively. 
 
 "What honorable part South America?" asked 
 Saki conscientiously. 
 
 "Make it Patagonia," said Bill. 
 
 Saki wrote down the name, and for several days 
 thereafter, at spare moments, might have been ob- 
 served at the public library, studying maps, books, 
 geographies, consular reports, shipping statistics, 
 histories, etc., pertaining to Patagonia. The litera-
 
 96 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 ture, poetry, public institutions, religious history, 
 political vicissitudes, changes of governments, the 
 habits and customs of the people, street-car statis- 
 tics, or lack of statistics, its business enterprises — no 
 information concerning the narrow strip of land so 
 far below the equator was too great or too small for 
 Saki, Soon he became a walking encyclopedia about 
 Patagonia, the country and its people. And while 
 manipulating Martinis, he imparted this information 
 and discoursed pleasantly and informingly in his 
 own quaint phraseology, much to the edification of 
 Bill. In Saki he had acquired a true treasure. 
 There were even times when Bill felt Saki was a 
 greater artist than himself; Mr. Carter had imag- 
 ination — plenty of it — but Saki went scientifically 
 about his mission of creating a Patagonian atmos- 
 phere of the past. This he did with child-like candor 
 and guilelessness. He knew the name of the street 
 where his honorable employer had lived; the club 
 he had attended; the church he was supposed to 
 have worshiped in; the dictator he dined with fre- 
 quently; the friends he knew; a few choice amours 
 he had had with lovely ladies — 
 
 Mr. Carter almost balked at the ladies, but Saki 
 looked so sad he let them stand, though sometimes, 
 being at heart a modest man, so far as gay sefioritas
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 97 
 
 were concerned, he inwardly blushed at the libidi- 
 nous character of these flights of Saki's poetic Ori- 
 ental brain. It was Saki who put Bill in business 
 in Patagonia, trimming wool from llamas, and ex- 
 porting same at enormous profits. 
 
 "Trimming llamas, eh?" chuckled Mr. Carter 
 "Sounds good! Like shearing the lambs down on 
 the little ol' street. Some class in llamas !" 
 
 "Yes; llamas honorable big lambs," said Saki with 
 a child-like smile. 
 
 "Regular rams!" murmured piratical Bill, as he 
 imbibed a perfect cocktail of Saki's exquisite handi- 
 work. 
 
 In the haunts of "business" frequented by Mr. 
 Carter that gentleman found his reputation per- 
 ceptibly enhanced when he casually let it be known 
 his former occupation had been trimming llamas 
 of their wool. A gentleman capable of trimming 
 llamas, which is a species of exaggerated lamb, was 
 surely some little trimmer. And Bill had shown he 
 wasn't afraid of fire and brimstone by his plunge 
 into Sulphur. 
 
 It was about this time Johnnie Briggs happened 
 in one of said haunts of the erstwhile Horatio — 
 now Bill. Whether Mr. Briggs came on a little va- 
 cation or on a quest is of no moment at this moment.
 
 98 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 He clapped his eyes on Horatio the first thing, but 
 that gentleman had so long forgotten he was Ho- 
 ratio, and had become so accustomed to being Mr. 
 Carter, that he failed to greet the appearance of 
 Johnnie even with a start of surprise. Mr. Briggs 
 knew one of the other men of the place — having 
 conducted at one time a clerical correspondence 
 with the firm of which this small up-town estab- 
 lishment was a branch — and in due time was intro- 
 duced to one or two customers. 
 
 "Want you to meet a most interesting chap," 
 said Johnnie's friend after a bit. "See that man 
 over there?" 
 
 "Chap with the cigar in his mouth at an angle 
 like the mustache of an unmentionable person?" 
 queried Mr. Briggs. 
 
 "Yes; rakish-looking, isn't he?" 
 
 "He is," said Johnnie, remembering the once 
 mild and unostentatious Mr. Slipaway. 
 
 "That's Mr. Bill Carter." 
 
 "Common name," said Johnnie innocently. 
 
 "Nothing common about him, though. Drifted in 
 from Patagonia — " 
 
 "Which?" observed Johnnie. 
 
 "Oh, one of those countries near the Canal," said 
 the man.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 99 
 
 "Of course," said Johnnie. 
 
 "Anybody who knows geography knows where 
 it is. But, as I was saying, he floated in, and the 
 first thing he did was to jump into the fiery pit." 
 
 "Pit ?" queried Johnnie. 
 
 "Sulphur! Did he bum his fingers? Not he!" 
 
 "Regular devil, eh?" said Johnnie, with a queer 
 look at the seemingly unconscious Bill, who sat gaz- 
 ing at the board as if he saw right through the 
 figures. 
 
 "Yes. Regular movie picture for the 'boy stood 
 on the burning deck' — no flames could hurt him." 
 
 "I wonder," said Mr. Briggs meditatively. 
 
 "Come on over." 
 
 Mr. Briggs did. 
 
 "Meet Mr. Carter," said Johnnie's friend. 
 
 "Carter?" said Mr. Briggs, with a slight inten- 
 tional emphasis. 
 
 "Of Patagonia," went on the friend. 
 
 Johnnie and Mr. Carter shook hands. The latter 
 looked slightly bored, as if Johnnie did not, at first 
 sight, quite measure up to the standard. 
 
 "Glad to know you," observed Mr. Briggs 
 blithely, as if he had never set eyes on the other 
 gentleman before. 
 
 "Thanks," said Mr. Carter languidly. "Ditto!"
 
 100 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 As he spoke he held his cigar between his teeth at 
 an even more offensively upward tilt; indeed, that 
 cigar looked quite insulting at the moment. 
 
 "Mr. Carter's business is trimming llamas," said 
 Johnnie's friend jocosely. 
 
 "What are they?" asked Mr. Briggs, who was 
 not well versed in natural history. 
 
 "Sheep with long necks," said the other, 
 
 "So they can swallow better," said Mr. Carter, 
 looking Johnnie full in the eye. 
 
 "Like some people," observed Johnnie pointedly. 
 "Who'll swallow anything!" 
 
 Mr, Carter looked puzzled. "Swallow? — swal- 
 low? — " Suddenly he brightened. "Oh, you mean 
 to ask us to swallow something — take a drink!" 
 
 And Johnnie had to buy. He did so with poor 
 grace, for Mr. Briggs was a most reluctant spender 
 — one of the species who always has to hurry away, 
 or catch a train, or meet his mother-in-law, when 
 his turn comes. Mr. Carter ordered the most ex- 
 pensive concoction; Mr. Briggs ground his teeth. 
 He gritted them harder when Mr. Carter said to the 
 man behind : "The real imported ingredients, please. 
 No imitation goods for me!" 
 
 "You don't like anything imitation f" said Mr. 
 Briggs through his teeth.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 101 
 
 "I do not," said Mr. Carter. "Only the simon- 
 pure genuine goods for me ! When I order a cham- 
 pagne cocktail I like the bursting bubbles of la belle 
 France. The real thing ! I want everything real — " 
 
 "Real men — " observed Johnnie. 
 
 "Of course! About the only kind we have down 
 in Patagonia! That open-air life — " 
 
 "Trimming llamas!" sotto voce, with a slight 
 sneer from Johnnie. 
 
 " — goes to make real men," went on Mr. Car- 
 ter. "I don't want to brag, but we certainly do have 
 the real, regular, eighteen-carat straight goods in 
 the male man line down our way. Not a make- 
 believe one in the whole lot!" 
 
 Mr. Briggs swallowed with difficulty. "Where is 
 Patagonia?" he asked, taking a new tack. 
 
 "Near the Canal, of course," volunteered John- 
 nie's friend. 
 
 "It is not," said Mr. Carter. And he proceeded 
 to exude all manner of geographical information, 
 gleaned from the industrious and indefatigable Saki. 
 He knew all about the rivers and the shores, the har- 
 bors and the channels, and the straits and peninsulas ; 
 the maritime history of the waters ; the adventures 
 of the mariners of the past, in this interesting part 
 of the world, and so on. Much of all this he had
 
 102 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 almost unconsciously absorbed from the quaintly 
 voluble Saki while the latter was tying his em- 
 ployer's shoes or adjusting his shirt-studs, and now 
 it welled forth from "Bill" in a trickling and en- 
 lightening stream. 
 
 "Like a regular travelog, isn't it ?" said Johnnie's 
 friend admiringly. 
 
 "Oh, travelogs are made to order," observed Mr. 
 Briggs in a nasty tone. 
 
 "That's so! When Mr. Carter talks, you know 
 it's the real thing!" 
 
 Johnnie curled his lip. 
 
 "Why, half those travelog fellows take their talks 
 from the encyclopedias, I believe," said Mr. Briggs' 
 friend. "But you can always tell." 
 
 "Always?" said Johnnie. 
 
 "You bet! The Chinese have a proverb: One 
 seeing is better than reading about anything twelve 
 times." 
 
 "In other words, you got to have been there," 
 observed Mr. Carter placidly. "Actual experience!" 
 
 Johnnie swallowed some of "his" the wrong way. 
 
 "Don't lose any of it," said the sedulous Mr. 
 Carter. 
 
 "I'll try not to," returned Mr. Briggs, glaring.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 103 
 
 "Just think of all those long necks going to 
 waste!" remarked Mr. Carter dreamily. 
 
 "Whose?" said Johnnie's friend. 
 
 "Llamas' !" said Mr. Carter. 
 
 Mr. Briggs, murmuring an excuse, started to 
 leave the place weakly. 
 
 "Going so soon?" murmured Mr. Carter. "Well, 
 when you drift around again, drop in." And he 
 handed Johnnie a card. 
 
 "Sure ; Mr. Carter will give us a party, Johnnie," 
 said Mr. Briggs' friend. 
 
 "That's very kind of him," remarked Johnnie 
 
 stiffly. 
 
 "No trouble," said Mr. Carter. "I like company 
 — real people, you know!" 
 
 "He means the kind without frills or affectation," 
 volunteered Mr. Briggs' friend. 
 
 "Sure ; a chap you can look in the eye and know 
 he's just what he seems !" 
 
 "Look out for Johnnie, then," observed the friend 
 of that gentleman. "He's full of duplicity." 
 
 "Is he?" said Mr. Carter, rather severely. "Never 
 mind!" Generously. "Friend of yours, friend of 
 mine!" To Johnnie's friend. "Bring him around. 
 I got a Jap boy who certainly knows how to mix
 
 104 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 them. Trained him myself ! He was six years with 
 me in Patagonia." 
 
 "Only six?" mumbled Johnnie faintly. 
 
 "Maybe going on seven." 
 
 Mr. Briggs fumbled for a watch. "Good gra- 
 cious !" he exclaimed, as if reminded of something 
 very important. "Excuse me!" And fled. 
 
 But as he left he seemed to hear Mr. Carter's 
 voice rambling on about llamas and "real men." A 
 determination to square accounts fairly burned in 
 Mr. Briggs' brain. But how? Johnnie thought and 
 thought.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MRS. SLIPAWAY listened to Johnnie Briggs' 
 recital with interest, but no evidence of ex- 
 citement. She remarked it was rather strange he 
 should be so well informed about Patagonia, if he 
 hadn't been there, and when Johnnie somewhat 
 heatedly explained his views, she shook her head. 
 Mr. Briggs was too much for rushing to conclu- 
 sions; Mrs. Slipaway did not believe in too hasty 
 deductions. At least, she believed in seeing and 
 thinking for herself. She examined her theories 
 carefully and weighed them. If Mr. Slipaway 
 really and truly believed he was Mr. Carter, his 
 conduct in one or two respects revealed slight incon- 
 sistencies. His actual knowledge of South Amer- 
 ican affairs — especially his dazzling familiarity with 
 matters Patagonian — pointed to premeditated prep- 
 arations for his new part. Of course, a bump on 
 the head may produce many strange results, but 
 how could a bump bring in its train a fund of new 
 knowledge concerning a place and conditions en- 
 
 105
 
 106 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 tirely without the ken of the victim of the bump 
 before said bump was inflicted? 
 
 The question arose: Is a bump an educator? 
 Could you, for example, fall off a house, in complete 
 ignorance of intimate little details about Liberia, 
 and wake up to find yourself a full-fledged edition 
 of "Things Liberian," just because you might imag- 
 ine you had once lived there? Of course people 
 used to believe that a good thumping and education 
 often went together, but that was different. If 
 people could get wise, and accumulate useful knowl- 
 edge, by getting a bump, a person might, by that 
 same theory, acquire a college education by falling 
 off a house. Thus Mrs. Slipaway argued with her- 
 self. She did not believe there was any such easy 
 road to learning. You've got to pick up education 
 by more toilsome means. At the same time, it was 
 not like Horatio studiously to acquire knowledge; 
 that gentleman had liked to glide through life, un- 
 worried by the musty pages of books and statistics. 
 That he could have deliberately and with malice 
 aforethought, done so now, seemed to the shrewd 
 lady just a bit out of character. 
 
 She had not yet come in contact with Saki ; hence 
 there was an important detail missing in the pros 
 and cons of the good lady's mental processes. Mrs.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 107 
 
 Slipaway felt there was something wanting — some 
 undiscovered stepping-stone in the logical trend of 
 her reasoning — but she couldn't put her finger, or 
 her foot, on the stepping-stone. However, she was 
 by nature patient, and would proceed slowly but 
 surely. Johnnie was more impatient; he wanted to 
 get hold of that nest-egg, right off; if he could have 
 had his way, he'd have seen Mrs. Slipaway divorced 
 to-day, and remarried (to him) to-morrow. Mr, 
 Briggs couldn't understand Mrs. Slipaway's irri- 
 tating calmness under these trying circumstances; 
 he tried by subtle means to arouse her to fiery ac- 
 tion, but Mrs. Slipaway insisted upon plodding 
 along in her own sweetly annoying manner. 
 
 "You say he's making a lot of money?" said Mrs. 
 Slipaway. 
 
 "Yes; he took a plunge in fire-and-brimstone, or 
 something like that," muttered Johnnie, discon- 
 tentedly. 
 
 "That doesn't sound like Horatio. He couldn't 
 make money at anything. Just plug along!" 
 
 "Well, you should see Horatio now," said Mr. 
 Briggs, with a slight sneer. "Looks like Captain 
 Kidd, come back, and sitting on his treasure-chest ! 
 Takes a plunge in sulphur and comes out as if he 
 were asbestos."
 
 108 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 'T suppose he's forgotten all about the house-or- 
 gan, and the little old home, with the mottoes on 
 the wall?" murmured Mrs. Slipaway, rather wist- 
 fully. 
 
 "The only mottoes he'd care for would be : Make 
 Every Prisoner Walk the Plank, or Swing 'Em at 
 the Yard-arm," said Mr. Briggs, viciously. 
 
 "Sounds rather picturesque," observed Mrs. Slip- 
 away slowly. 
 
 "You don't mean to say you approve?" began the 
 horrified Mr. Briggs. 
 
 "I can't believe it, hardly. Horatio, looking like 
 a pirate !" 
 
 "He sat there, smoking a cigar and looking as if 
 he were saying : Everybody be d — . You know !" 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway shook her head slowly once more. 
 "Doesn't seem possible it could be Horatio." 
 
 Mr. Briggs gulped. He was almost on the point 
 of confessing he had been with Mr. Slipaway on 
 that memorable day when Horatio had met with 
 his little accident ; but the same motives that had im- 
 pelled Johnnie to silence then now also closed his 
 lips. He had wished to give Mr. Slipaway all the 
 leeway he wished in that self-devastating role he 
 had assumed; if he (Johnnie) had told all he knew 
 in. the beginning, Mrs. Slipaway might simply have
 
 THE NUT CRACKER' 109 
 
 had Horatio detained somewhere in some nice Ht- 
 tle sanatorium, and after a few days he would have 
 been discharged, cured. As it was, look at the 
 lengths to which Horatio had gone, already; and 
 look at what new depths he would probably plunge ! 
 Besides, if Johnnie told all he knew now, Mrs. S. 
 might ask why he had not revealed these impor- 
 tant facts sooner, and Mr. Briggs did not know just 
 how he could answer that question, with credit to 
 himself. He wanted to rise, not sink, in the esti- 
 mation of the lady; he must continue to seem to 
 help her most disinterestedly, but sometimes he in- 
 wardly anathematized her prudence and caution. 
 Why couldn't she fly around more, or "off the han- 
 dle," with Johnnie in the sedulous and platonic part 
 of friend, murmuring "Calm yourself." Why 
 couldn't she be spirited and big and emotional — with 
 fire in her eyes — ready to stride up and down — with 
 Johnnie at her elbow, a strong masculine antidote to 
 her hysterical feminine emotion ? Mr. Briggs felt he 
 was being robbed of something. He strove for ways 
 and means to infuse a little more life into the pro- 
 ceedings. The trouble was, he wanted to be both 
 villain and hero, at the same time, and he didn't al- 
 ways differentiate exactly when he was one and 
 when he was the other. Probably he didn't know
 
 110 THE XUT CR-\CKER 
 
 himself- But then, even the world itsdf sometimes 
 mixes tip csie \rith the odier and calb a villam a 
 horo, and vice versa. 
 
 '*Yoa sav he s^ve voa his callinsr-card. with his 
 address on it?" condmied Mrs, Slipaway. 
 
 **A~es: here it is." And Johnnie handed over the 
 bit of pasteboard to die ladv. 
 
 ■^f he was jwctcnding. woold he have had Ae — 
 ah — effrontery to hand yon his card and address like 
 that?" nmsed Mrs, Slipaway. 
 
 "He'd have the nerve for anvthing." answered 
 ^ r- rrig^s- "A diap that ears sulphur — " 
 ^ Is sinfuL" mumrared the lady. 
 
 "V\Tiy. he could jnmp into — ^you know — and in- 
 stead of befng consamed, bring bad^ a handful of 
 bhie Mazes," ejaculated Tohrmie virulently. 
 
 **My Horatio was as gentle as a lamb," 
 
 Mr. 3r:g5s coughed discreetly. Far be it from 
 hfm tc re~ r i :hr r:rd lady of certs -'-' delinquencies 
 of Hrri: : ; his most rmlamh-lfke : : ' ;: "."ith a 
 "p:. 7 : ri:t" :t~2le typist, etc 
 
 "He 5 more like a now." mutte red Jaiasiie. 
 
 "I '. i t^) that animal." said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 "Tgn't it a f Tii uu beast ? '-: : ks as if z ir: of it had 
 forgot itself and wen: r. — : ir.^. v. . .z . e rest 
 of it stood stiD! I am -_r- llr. Slipaway never
 
 THE NUT CR.\CKER 111 
 
 heard of the creature, or at least, he wouldn't know 
 enotigh about it to capitalize it ! In wfaidi case, how 
 can Mr. Carter be Mr. Slipaway? He would never 
 dream of studying up aU those things you told me 
 about, either. I can imderstand his getting started 
 on something and not knowing just how to stop — 
 kind of perpetual motion — ^just got to keep on, as 
 Mr. Carter — but I can't understand this elaborate 
 education he must have taken infinite pains to ac- 
 quire. He's gone at it, just like a lawyer, building 
 up a case that isn't so, and Horatio never had the 
 patience to be a lawyer." 
 
 **Look how he acted at Blinkum," put in Joimnk: 
 **The pains he took to — " 
 
 "That was just acting. It was fjii: — for lum! 
 But this — this suggests work — lots of it f 
 
 *^\'hole town's ringing with his praises," grsurb- 
 t^d Johnnie. "Called him a Cicero." Disgusted. 
 
 "I never knew it was in Horatio," murmured 
 Mrs. Slipaway. "To sway the multitudes." Dreamily. 
 
 "Bamboozle 'em, you mean.'' said Johnnie. "Dis- 
 graceful performance, I should call itT' 
 
 *^ow I wonder what would happen if — ?" tbe 
 good lady suddenly stopped. 
 
 *'^^^lat^■' said Johnnie, 
 
 "Nothing much. I've been thinking — that's alL"
 
 112 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Mr. Briggs gazed at her expectantly. "When I 
 think how he's injured you — " he murmured. 
 
 "Ha, ha !" said Mrs. Slipaway unexpectedly, 
 
 "Meaning — ?" asked Johnnie. 
 
 "Nothing! Only you might leave that card with 
 me, Johnnie." 
 
 "All right," said Mr. Briggs, much mystified. 
 "When I think of what he deserves — " 
 
 "Don't worry," said the other. Did she mean: 
 "Dear Horatio will get his?" 
 
 Johnnie had a good deal of confidence in Mrs. 
 Slipaway's executive ability, but he felt hurt she 
 did not take him right into her confidence. So it 
 was that he arose rather stiffly, murmuring some- 
 thing about a woman needing a staff to lean upon 
 and making a great mistake in not utilizing said 
 moral prop, especially when it was near at hand, 
 but Mrs. Slipaway seemed to miss the purport of 
 Mr. Briggs' reproachful intimation, or invitation, 
 merely remarking casually, did he have to go, in a 
 tone which left Johnnie no excuse for dallying any 
 longer, at present. 
 
 So Mr. Briggs left, promising to look in again, 
 soon ; after all, the lady was no doubt right ; a little 
 prudence — ofT with the old, before on with the new ! 
 — Yes, yes; one had to remember the proprieties —
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 113 
 
 only Mr. Briggs himself experienced an ardent pre- 
 cipitancy ; in fact, his precipitancy was so precipitate, 
 as almost to verge on the improper. Johnnie re- 
 flected that daily Mr. Carter was fortifying his po- 
 sition as Mr. Carter, and that, too, if something 
 didn't happen, he would stand on an impregnable 
 pedestal — an heroic and life-size figure of Pata- 
 gonian Bill. In a measure, Johnnie had himself as- 
 sisted in the creation of that picturesque personality; 
 therefore it seemed now his duty to devise ways and 
 means to push the impostor from his pedestal, and 
 cast him to the dust. 
 
 But how? Several crude ways of bringing about 
 this result occurred to Mr. Briggs; he dismissed 
 them. He wished to accomplish his purpose with 
 finesse and art; to meet subtlety with subtlety; to 
 match the Briggs brain against that of Slipaway! 
 Bill's star was in the ascendent, but wait! — Mr. 
 Briggs cogitated and pondered darkly. He wanted 
 to scheme and devise; then he sighed and went to 
 bed. Maybe the solution would occur to him later. 
 And when it did, what a pitiable figure he would 
 make of the llama-trimmer — that big sulphur king 
 — that bombastic piratical humbug! — Johnnie 
 wouldn't just wipe his feet on him? Oh, no! He 
 just loved his old friend Horatio!
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MRS. SLIPAWAY and the Reverend Nehe- 
 miah Bodkins descended from the train. 
 The lady looked bright and cheery and the reverend 
 gentleman seemed in a sprightly mood. Mrs. Slip- 
 away had donned a new gown which fitted her nat- 
 urally excellent figure very well, indeed; she had 
 purchased a new hat; her dark hair was brushed 
 back becomingly from her broad brow, and her feet 
 looked trim and neat in a pair of high-heeled shoes. 
 Thus newly accoutered and caparisoned, Mrs. Slip- 
 away presented a prepossessing tout ensemble. In- 
 deed, the masculine fancy that inclines more to the 
 rose at its full than to the namby-pamby bud that 
 hides its shrinking beauty in maiden bash fulness, 
 would have nodded mental approval of the compara- 
 tively modish and renovated lady. Alas, be it said, 
 Mrs. Slipaway had fallen from grace. 
 
 She had encroached upon the sacred nest-egg. 
 She had nibbled at the edges of that tender me- 
 morial. What was the use of having money, she 
 told herself, if you didn't ever spend any of it? 
 
 114
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 115 
 
 Was it the voice of the World ; the insidious hissing 
 tongue of that serpent, Vanity, which ever Hes in 
 wait for the opportunity to breathe its sibilant lisp- 
 ings into the ear of all the fair sisters of Eve, of 
 the garden ? Not that Mrs. Slipaway really plunged 
 into the mad vortex of fashion and extravagance; 
 she merely was moved suddenly, almost unaccounta- 
 bly (save on the theory of the serpent) to "perk 
 up a bit." Did the reverend gentleman approve of 
 these backslidings of his fair parishioner? Did he 
 show a shocked countenance, or otherwise reveal 
 evidence of inward perturbation, as he became cog- 
 nizant of these reprehensible and worldly innova- 
 tions? He did not. 
 
 He might thunder on Sunday against the per- 
 nicious tendencies of fashion and the frivolous silli- 
 ness of its frail votaries, but six days of the week 
 he did not mind gazing covertly — not too boldly — 
 upon a woman properly caparisoned for the most 
 part for the avowed purpose of catching the mascu- 
 line eye. Probably an analysis of Mrs. Slipaway's 
 purpose might not reveal this precise motive ; indeed, 
 an exact analysis of her reasons for doing this and 
 that, at this period of her existence must be, neces- 
 sarily, rather vague. Surely she would not bestow 
 an extra touch or two upon her toilet for any co
 
 116 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 quettish reasons appertaining to Johnnie — or the 
 minister — who, then? — 
 
 It is to be hoped these fugitive improvements 
 wevQ not directed against the picturesque and pi- 
 ratical Mr. Carter. And yet Mrs. SHpaway — chap- 
 eroned by the minister — for appearance's sake — did 
 wend her way, at once — directly — upon her arrival 
 in town, to the lair of the devotee of sulphur. She 
 found the apartment-house by the number on the 
 bit of pasteboard, and went right up in the elevator 
 to Mr. Carter's luxurious suite. Saki received them. 
 
 "We're looking for — for Mr. Slipaway," said 
 the minister, who had received his cue from Mrs. 
 Slipaway. As he spoke, he gazed with ministerial 
 severity upon Saki. Are you converted? his gaze 
 seemed to say. For the moment, his mind drifted 
 from his present mission. Saki smiled blandly. 
 
 "Slip—? Slip—?" he said. "No Honorable Slip 
 here ! This home — Honorable William Carter." 
 
 "A rose as sweet — " began Mrs. Slipaway and 
 paused. "Carter?" she said. "That's strange! I 
 understood Mr. Slipaway occupied this suite." 
 
 Saki shook his head; also, he eyed his visitors 
 suspiciously. "This happy home, Honorable Will- 
 iam Carter," he reaffirmed. 
 
 "Perhaps that's only his nom de plume," said
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 117 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway sweetly. "But I should like to see 
 this— ah !— Mr. Carter!" 
 
 "Yes; we'd like to see him," said the minister. 
 "In fact we have important business with him." 
 
 "Very," observed the lady, compressing her lips. 
 
 "Honorable Master not home," said Saki. 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Hot Place," said Saki a bit sullenly. 
 
 "Hot Place?" said the minister, looking slightly 
 shocked. 
 
 "Johnnie said he was a regular sulphur king," 
 put in Mrs. Slipaway dreamily. 
 
 "Honorable Master go out when night was 
 young," said Saki doggedly. "He go to damn' Hot 
 Place." 
 
 "Oh !" said the minister. 
 
 "Can he mean — Turkish bath?" murmured Mrs. 
 Slipaway. 
 
 Saki nodded — still sullenly. He didn't like these 
 callers; some subtle Oriental instinct told him their 
 visit forebode trouble to his master, and with Saki, 
 loyalty was a religion. He was made of that stuff 
 the forty Romans were composed of. "Honorable 
 Master go out when night was young," he repeated. 
 "He have infant-paralysis." 
 
 "Paralysis?" repeated the callers, bewildered.
 
 118 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Saki resentfully reiterated the information. 
 
 "I have heard," said Mrs. Slipaway, in a deep 
 voice, "when the slaves of the wine-cup have im- 
 bibed not wisely, but too well, they are spoken of as 
 being 'paralyzed.' Can this be the kind of paralysis 
 Mr. Carter was suffering from, when he departed 
 for the Turkish bath?" 
 
 Saki again nodded. 
 
 "He may be expected to return shortly?" said the 
 minister, concealing his disapproval as best he 
 might. 
 
 "Maybe," said Saki. 
 
 "We will wait," said the lady. 
 
 Saki frowned. He seemed about to protest when 
 the lady walked in, followed by her chaperon. 
 
 "Ah, a luxurious apartment!" observed the lat- 
 ter, gazing around a lavishly furnished sitting- 
 room. 
 
 "Full of bric-a-brac!" observed Mrs. Slipaway, 
 eying ominously sundry Venuses, Hebes and Aph- 
 rodites, disporting themselves in bronze after the 
 elegant fashion of those attractive ladies of antiq- 
 uity. 
 
 "Mr. Carter appears to be a connoisseur," ob- 
 served the chaperon. 
 
 "He does,'^ said Mrs. Slipaway.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 119 
 
 "Have we been wise in coming?" said the other, 
 gazing dubiously at a table, whereon reclined an 
 empty bottle. 
 
 "You mean, in the event of Mr. Carter's not prov- 
 ing to be — ?" 
 
 "Quite so." 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway gazed at Saki. "You been work- 
 ing for Mr. Carter about a month, or so?" she said. 
 Now she was going to get at the truth. 
 
 Saki opened his innocent and guileless eyes. "Six 
 — most seven years," he observed. "Me work for 
 Mr. Carter in Patagonia. Mr. Carter, honorable 
 merchant — he have big ranch — ten — twenty thou- 
 sand llamas — " 
 
 "What is a llama?" 
 
 Saki described it. 
 
 "What are its habits?" 
 
 Saki gave a long dissertation of the animal in 
 question. In fact he was replete with intricate and 
 fascinating details. Mrs. Slipaway listened with a 
 queer look. 
 
 "What is the principal city of Patagonia?" the 
 lady next inquired. 
 
 Saki rattled off about three pages of encyclo- 
 pedia. The lady interrupted him just when he was 
 really getting under way.
 
 120 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "What is the principal cathedral of the town?" 
 
 Saki answered correctly. He then entered into 
 a history of the church in that far-away land, and 
 as a theological authority, he shone as brightly as 
 he did as a student of natural history. 
 
 "What are the social conditions of the country?" 
 As an expert observer of sociology, Saki was a 
 prize-winner. He had all the vices and virtues and 
 idiosyncrasies of the different classes at his tongue's 
 end. He dribbled on and on. 
 
 "That will do," said the lady. "I have satisfied 
 myself." Tranquilly. 
 
 "Of what?" asked the bewildered reverend gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 "I have found the missing link!" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "There !" Pointing to Saki. 
 
 "Still I do not gather your meaning." 
 
 "I knew Horatio never could study up all those 
 things by himself. There stands the master-brain." 
 
 "That little imp!" 
 
 At that moment Mr. William Carter walked in. 
 
 Did he start slightly? H so, he almost immedi- 
 ately recovered his self-possession. His position 
 was a trying one — even for one of Bill Carter's su- 
 perb assurance and aplomb. Would he have dropped
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 121 
 
 some of that assurance if Mrs. Slipaway had come 
 there alone — if he had not felt on him the fixed and 
 concentrated gazes of the reverend gentleman and 
 Saki ? The truth is Mr. William Carter might have 
 lost a little of his lofty insouciance if he had hap- 
 pened in upon the good lady, all by herself — for 
 had he not, as already intimated, in the past enter- 
 tained for her a tremendous respect? And had it 
 not been force of circumstances — a combination of 
 untoward events — that had driven him from his fire- 
 side out into the buccaneering world? Had it not 
 been an unkind fate rather than natural inclination 
 that had metamorphosed him into a sulphur king, 
 llama trimmer, and what not? Who, therefor, 
 shall say what might not have happened if he had 
 been precipitated into the solitary presence of the 
 renovated Mrs. Slipaway, instead of thus encoun- 
 tering that lady fairly and face-to-face, in the pres- 
 ence of witnesses? Even as it was, it seemed that 
 the piratical glance of Bill did soften slightly as it 
 traveled over the form of his fair and unexpected 
 visitor. Then he bowed politely. 
 
 "To what am I indebted — ?" he murmured with 
 true South American courtesy. 
 
 "A little mistake— I guess that's all," Mrs. Slip- 
 away murmured back in a hypnotized tone. 
 
 "Saki, did you not offer the senora a glass of
 
 122 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Patagonian wine?" said Bill, with a frown. "I 
 fear, senora, my boy's manners have not improved 
 since we left Patagonia." 
 
 "Yes ; the States do have a demoralizing effect," 
 returned Mrs. Slipaway, in that same hypnotized 
 tone. 
 
 "We do not drink wine," said the reverend gentle- 
 man quickly. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said Mrs. Slipaway unex- 
 pectedly, "when it's from South America." 
 
 Bill made a gesture and Saki returned with the 
 wine. Mrs. Slipaway examined the label. It might 
 have come from South America. 
 
 "An excellent wine, I assure you, seiiora," said 
 Bill, and at the "seiiora" Mrs. Slipaway looked hyp- 
 notized once more. Bill spoke with such real Span- 
 ish courtesy; he quite made Mrs. Slipaway think of 
 a cahallero or a contrahandista, or one of those gay 
 gallant matadors that jump over bulls' horns one 
 moment and salute the applauding multitude the 
 next. Indeed, just for the moment, Mrs. Slipaway 
 experienced a strange, irrational and entirely ludi- 
 crous and bizarre feeling of shyness or modesty 
 in the presence of the complicated personality of 
 her host. Confused, she touched her lips to the 
 glass; of course, she had only wanted to see the
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 123 
 
 label. And as the enormity of her conduct stole 
 over her she felt as if she, too, might almost be 
 courting that "infant-paralysis" whereof Saki had 
 spoken. 
 
 "Just where did we get this wine, Saki?" asked 
 Bill. 
 
 Saki mentioned the locality, and gave a history of 
 the wine industry of the place; where the grapes 
 grew; how many liters of wine they made; how 
 many were consumed locally; how many were ex- 
 ported. 
 
 "No wonder you don't want to part with him," 
 said Mrs. Slipaway. "After all these years !" 
 
 "Couldn't get on without. Why, I wouldn't know 
 how many llamas I own if Saki wasn't there to count 
 them." 
 
 "He seems to have a marvelous memory." 
 
 "Marvelous," said Bill solemnly. 
 
 "And now," said the lady, rising, "since I didn't 
 find him I came for I think I'll be going." 
 
 "Proud to have made your acquaintance," said 
 the other. "May I inquire your name?" 
 
 "Mrs. Slipaway." 
 
 "SHpaway? Ah, yes." Did his tone falter just 
 a bit? The lady gazed at him with weird fascina- 
 tion.
 
 124 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "You have never heard of it — I dare say?" 
 
 "But I have." Suddenly. "Why, I used to know 
 an Horatio Slipaway." 
 
 "Did you?" said the lady. 
 
 "Same little village where I came from." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "Fine chap, too!" Enthusiastically. 
 
 "You think so." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "You would," Mrs. Slipaway managed to mur- 
 mur. 
 
 "So it was as a friend of Horatio you called?" 
 
 "As a friend !" 
 
 "It all comes back to me now." 
 
 "Does it?" 
 
 "Why, we ate from the same apple." 
 
 "How touching!" 
 
 "Swam in the same old swimming-hole!" 
 
 "Tender recollections of youth!" breathed the 
 lady. 
 
 "Why, Horatio saved my life," said Bill. 
 
 "How brave !" 
 
 "Courage of a lion!" said Bill enthusiastically. 
 "I knew there was something missing when I went 
 back to the old town." 
 
 "What was it?"
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 125 
 
 "Horatio." 
 
 "You expected to see him there?" Mrs. Slipaway 
 was again speaking like a person in a mesmeric 
 trance. 
 
 Bill did not answer directly. "You knew my dear 
 old mnigo, Horatio, sefiora?" he inquired sedu- 
 lously. 
 
 "Slightly," said Mrs. Slipaway, with an accent. 
 "Only slightly !" 
 
 "And where is he now?" 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't add to your information on 
 that point." 
 
 "No?" said Bill. 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Slipaway, and arose, about to 
 depart, when the door-bell rang. 
 
 Saki answered the summons. 
 
 "Does Mr. Slipaway live here?" said a voice with- 
 out. 
 
 "No; this happy home of Honorable William — " 
 began Saki, when a lady pushed right by him and 
 came in.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE lady was tall; and there were several 
 sharp angles in her figure, but she moved with 
 a slidey, glidey undulation that lent a certain fasci- 
 nation to the angles. One felt instinctively she was 
 full of temperament; indeed, she might have stepped 
 out of the canvas of one of those impressionists who 
 seek character in the ultra, rather than in the clas- 
 sical, or conventional, old-fashioned ideas of 
 beauty, handed down from the academic epoch of 
 the Parthenon. She was not a Diana, and she 
 gloried in the fact. Every angle was a protest 
 against the sweet, soft roundness characterizing the 
 mythological conception of feminine loveliness. In 
 fact, she was up-to-date. Not that she was "scraw- 
 ney" ; oh, no ! Just temperamentally thin ! She was 
 pale — "passion-pale" ; also there was a freckle or 
 two on her nose ; those freckles were rather interest- 
 ing — little flecks against a field of white. Her eyes 
 held an unsatisfied expression — that might have 
 been crudely interpreted — by the unsophisticated 
 Horatio — as indicative of "hunger." Her lips were 
 
 126
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 127 
 
 like a reddish splash ; a sentimental gentleman might 
 find pleasure in feeding them bon-bons, or liquid 
 refreshment that sparkles. She was dressed fairly 
 well, and carried herself like a lady who had a 
 grudge against the world — or some one in it! 
 
 Did Bill quail at the sight of this vision? Not 
 at all! After the first shock of her entrance, his 
 eyes expressed a questioning, courteous pleasure. 
 Mrs. Slipaway examined the newcomer, with cold 
 appraising calculation. Perhaps she divined at once 
 who she was ; also, a quick suspicion may have shot 
 through her brain; if so, it was quickly dispelled 
 by Mr. William Carter's manner. The latter still 
 gazed upon the fair visitor as if she was a stranger 
 — not an unwelcome one — nor a welcome one — 
 just a stranger! He smiled upon her. 
 
 "A chair for the senorita, Saki," he observed, 
 with a wave of his hand. 
 
 "Seiiorita?" ejaculated the visitor, and the 
 freckles quivered on her nose. Bill gazed at them 
 interestedly. 
 
 "Caraccas!" muttered Saki, as protesting against 
 the visitor's unladylike manner of thus forcing her 
 way in. 
 
 Whereupon Patagonian Bill wheeled upon him, 
 quickly, and said something sharply and disapprov-
 
 128 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 ingly, in Spanish. It sounded like "Montevideo" — ' 
 or some other capital — cut up into syllables, with 
 the accent in the wrong place, but Saki seemed to 
 understand, for he bowed very deeply, and humbly 
 enough placed the chair for the lady. 
 
 "You see," explained Bill, "my boy has not yet 
 become accustomed to the ways of this fair and free 
 republic. We call them republics where I come 
 from — South America — but there's no freedom for 
 women there. Really" — with a bold, dashing smile 
 — "they are dynasties as far as your sex is con- 
 cerned" — beaming upon the quivering, befreckled 
 nose — "cruel dynasties ! Cruel dynasties ! A trav- 
 esty upon freedom, I might say. Would a charm- 
 ing young woman dare, however innocently, enter 
 a gentleman's rooms in one of those benighted re- 
 publics, unless accompanied by a duenna? She 
 would not! But here — ah !" — expansively — "it is 
 different. Here woman is free ; she goes where she 
 pleases, does what she pleases, and says what she 
 pleases. No speck of blame shall smirch her fair 
 fame. You come; you go; you depart; your rep- 
 utation is safe. The good Dios be praised." 
 
 Bill spoke with fervor ; he clasped his hands. Saki 
 beamed like a cherub ; obviously, his master's words 
 seemed inspired to him. Mrs. Slipaway listened with
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 129 
 
 polite attention; the minister, with his head cocked 
 sidewise Hke a bird that wasn't quite sure what 
 kind of a branch he was perched on. Upon the face 
 of the typist lady — for it was she, of course — a flut- 
 ter of bewilderment came and lingered; it seemed to 
 ripple the "pale-passionate" composure, 
 
 Mr. Carter threw out his arms. "Yes; I was 
 glad to get back — after twenty years of wandering!" 
 
 "You see, Mr. Carter's a great traveler," observed 
 Mrs. Slipaway, tranquilly to the other lady. 
 
 The other lady did not answer. She, too, seemed 
 as if she were momentarily hypnotized. 
 
 "Mr. Carter has a ranch and he raises llamas," 
 went on Mrs. Slipaway. "Sometimes he trims them 
 for their wool. And when he isn't trimming wool, 
 he's raising blue-blazes out of sulphur." 
 
 Still the other lady sat as if unable to move. Pat- 
 agonian Bill's eyes gleamed now like those of a big 
 cobra. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Carter is a friend of a — well, an 
 acquaintance of mine," went on Mrs. Slipaway, 
 softly, sibilantly. "Mr. Carter is very well-known 
 in the little village of Blinkum." 
 
 "You heard about the home-coming I had there ?" 
 cried Bill. "Whole town turned out to greet me !" 
 
 The eyelashes of the impressionistic lady moved
 
 130 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 up and down, like the wings of an agitated moth. 
 "Whole town?" she stammered. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway absorbed her appraisingly. Did 
 she place her in the class of "dangerous" women? 
 What were Mrs. Slipaway's own thoughts at that 
 moment? Mrs. Slipaway could probably not have 
 analyzed them herself — they were so chaotic ! Only 
 she knew she did not like the impressionistic lady ; 
 that at least was a dominant emotion. Her finger- 
 nails were so long and so beautifully manicured and 
 sharp. They looked like very "scratchy" nails. 
 
 "Whole town !" repeated Bill, with enthusiasm. 
 "That was worth coming back for, after being gone 
 twenty years ! And they made me make a speech. 
 Some little speech! And every one knew me at 
 once, and clapped me on the back — good old Bill 
 Carter—" 
 
 The typist lady seemed to relax a little in her 
 chair; her attitude was rather limp; that mental 
 tension which had showed itself in the expression 
 of her face, on her entrance, seemed now to have 
 left her. One might have labeled her now : "Pas- 
 siveness," or "A Restful Moment After a Turbu- 
 lent Day." She looked rather Whistlery at this 
 particularly artistic, felicitous moment. The cobra- 
 glance of Bill took in the picture she made with gen-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 131 
 
 tie approval; it seemed to say, how varied are the 
 charms and moods of woman — lovely woman! In 
 action, she fills our minds with admiration; qui- 
 escent, she steals over our senses with tender, in- 
 sidious force. 
 
 He did not ask his fair visitor her mission. In 
 her case he showed himself a South American. 
 Curiosity — idle curiosity — ah, that is a "Yankee" 
 trait, and Bill, though a "Yankee" by birth, had pre- 
 sumably acquired true Spanish circumlocution and 
 indirectness in his verbal dealings with people — 
 especially the fair sex. His manner now implied it 
 was sufficient she had called; the pleasure of her 
 company was enough without the immediate why 
 and wherefore of her coming. Maybe, the lady 
 had seen him somewhere and been attracted by 
 him, Mr. Carter's attitude might have implied; 
 she had shyly, but irresistibly, been drawn to his 
 retreat; naturally she might feel a bit embarrassed 
 at first; it was his task to make her feel at home. 
 He smiled reassuringly. 
 
 "Will you not partake of my poor hospitality, 
 seiiorita?" he asked politely. "You see, you are 
 properly chaperoned." 
 
 "Yes; isn't it nice?" observed Mrs. Slipaway, in 
 faint, far-away tones.
 
 132 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 A small bunch of forget-me-nots on the typist's 
 dress moved slightly. 
 
 "Some still wine?" urged Mr. Carter. 
 
 *'Patagonian," murmured Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "More wine !" said the minister disapprovingly. 
 
 The pale, passionate face expressed a faint, me- 
 chanical negative. 
 
 "How about a glass of champagne?" said Mr. 
 Carter blithely. 
 
 "Honorable Pop-pop?" breathed Saki expect- 
 antly. 
 
 "Gaily effervescing?" said Mr. Carter. 
 
 "Tickle-drops," murmured Saki, as anxious to 
 be of service. 
 
 "Heathen!" said the minister, looking at Saki. 
 
 "I have a rather good vintage champagne," went 
 on Mr. Carter ingratiatingly, "with which we might 
 honor this occasion. It is an old wine. Saki calls 
 it 'Honorable Grand Pop-pop,' indeed, in conse- 
 quence of its antiquity. But though ancient, in a 
 sense, it is still quite lively — " 
 
 Saki squirmed. Apparently he was trying to ex- 
 press in pantomime those vinous qualities which his 
 master professed to find in the old but far from de- 
 crepit "Grand Pop-pops." Also, his wriggles 
 seemed to imply the effect which the "Grand Pop-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 133 
 
 pops" might produce upon those who partook of its 
 ingratiating "tickle-drops." 
 
 "Little monster!" murmured the minister, com- 
 ing to life once more, and eying Saki with open 
 disapproval. 
 
 "I gotta go," said the typist suddenly. 
 
 "If the fair seiiorita must — ?" The Honorable 
 William Carter spread out his hands. 
 
 "Yes; I gotta go," she repeated, as coming out of 
 a dream. 
 
 Again Mr. Carter made an eloquent gesture that 
 seemed to say : "I am desolated" — or to that effect. 
 
 The iady strode toward the door ; her movements 
 were less glidey and slidey. Mr. Carter politely 
 held open the door; she went out, but before she 
 departed she gave him one swift look; then, sud- 
 denly her shoulders straightened and she walked 
 quickly away. 
 
 "You forgot to introduce me to the lady," mur- 
 mured Mrs. Slipaway. "What did you say was her 
 name?" 
 
 But Mr. Carter was not to be caught. "I believe 
 I forgot to ask myself," he said innocently. 
 
 Then Mrs. Slipaway went. And the minister 
 thought it was quite time. That good gentlerrati 
 had entirely lost track of what it was all about.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE HONORABLE BILL had reason to feel 
 he had emerged from the dual encounter with 
 due credit to himself. It is possible that, had he 
 paused for profound reflection, he might not have 
 experienced unadulterated satisfaction at the out- 
 come of his first interview, and he might even, in 
 the wee sma' hours, have felt a twinge or two of 
 conscience. But in the case of the second 
 interview, his after emotions were of a pleasing, 
 possibly jubilant nature. Just how the impression- 
 istic manipulator of the typewriter had come to 
 discover his whereabouts Bill did not know or care ; 
 sufficient he had dealt with her as she very well 
 deserved. He now saw her only in the light of a 
 viper who would nip the hand that had fed her — at 
 Child's. His perfectly innocent intentions had been 
 totally and outrageously abused, and a big crop of 
 ingratitude was the only harvest she had planned 
 for him in return for sundry thirty-cent vegetarian 
 luncheons and a few other purely Platonic atten- 
 tions. Hereafter any poor girl who looked hungry 
 could die of starvation, for all of Horatio. 
 
 134
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 135 
 
 She had come Hke a serpent; she had departed 
 like a limp rag. The reincarnation of Bill chuckled. 
 
 "I think I'll have to raise your salary, Saki," he 
 observed. 
 
 Saki did not object. 
 
 "Or I could make you a partner in the llama- 
 trimming business," went on "Bill." 
 
 Saki murmured something about preferring the 
 "honorable raise," and the other, after promptly 
 promising the same, departed, on "business" bent. 
 Thus several days passed and the Honorable Bill 
 continued to prosper; to Saki's salary as valet, etc., 
 he added another stipend. The precise amount of 
 this additional salary was determined upon by a 
 long and honorable debate, as Saki was scrupulously 
 particular in monetary matters and would receive 
 only such an amount as the ethics of the situation 
 demanded. For extra services as — what? 
 
 "Tutor," said Bill. "Private professor to the sul- 
 phur king! Kings have private tutors, don't they?" 
 
 "Professor of what?" asked Saki gravely. He 
 wanted no sinecure ; only just what he earned. 
 
 "Oh, professor of any old thing! Say — llama- 
 anthropology !" 
 
 Saki thought that sounded dignified enough and 
 looked pleased.
 
 136 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Or professor of South American sociology — " 
 
 "And criminology — " from Saki. 
 
 "And criminology, with special reference to Pata- 
 gonia." 
 
 They wrestled with that for a while; Saki liked 
 this title, which, as he expressed it, had an honor- 
 able prolongation; but then, professor of llama-an- 
 thropology had a poignant crispness that was also 
 appealing — so professor of llama-anthropology Saki 
 became. There was a certain mystery about "an- 
 thropology," in reference to "llamas," that carried 
 its own especial recommendation; it might mean 
 anything. From that time on, when they were alone 
 together, "Bill" called Saki "professor," and Saki 
 began reading up on "anthropology," which he dis- 
 covered was a very exhaustive subject, and most 
 illusive in its application to "llamas." Indeed, Saki 
 could never quite discover the connection, but he 
 kept on reading, investigating and hoping; perse- 
 verence was his forte. 
 
 It was about this time Johnnie Briggs took a hand 
 in the attempted unmasking of Horatio. Mr. Briggs 
 had gleaned from Mrs. Slipaway a fragmentary re- 
 port of what had happened on the occasion of that 
 good lady's visit to the apartments of "Patagonian 
 Bill," and Johnnie had almost frothed at the mouth
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 137 
 
 with indignation at her words, although Mrs. SHp- 
 away had seemed very cahn and thoughtful, while 
 thus permitting Johnnie partially to glimpse the sit- 
 uation. 
 
 "Monstrous!" groaned Johnnie. "I don't believe 
 another man lives who could have done that — to 
 you!" 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway shook her head slowly. 
 
 "I never knew he had the moral courage," she 
 breathed. 
 
 "Moral !" snorted Mr. Briggs. 
 
 "Or genius!" sighed Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 Johnnie gazed at her with amazement and dis- 
 approval. 
 
 "I should find another word," he snapped. 
 
 "The folks at Blinkum said he swayed them with 
 his genius," she observed. 
 
 "Blinkum!" said Johnnie sneeringly. "Little old 
 one-horse — " 
 
 "They said people just listened and were carried 
 
 away — " 
 
 "Been drinking, probably," said Mr. Briggs in a 
 
 disagreeable tone. 
 
 "I can understand it," she observed. 
 "Oh, you can !" Johnnie stared. 
 "He just carried her away!"
 
 "^"FrTT^rinyiwaaKiQeoiwi^aiiaHgaiffiigirf 
 
 138 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "The breach of promise woman!" 
 
 "Poor girl!" breathed Johnnie fervently. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know's I'm feeling specially sorry 
 for her," remarked Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Victim of man's brutal — " breathed Mr. Briggs, 
 as if not hearing the good lady's last words. 
 
 "She looked as if she could take care of herself 
 — and some other people, too," observed Mrs. Slip- 
 away. 
 
 "Good heavens!" remarked the horrified Mr. 
 Briggs. "You're not defending him — " 
 
 "The way he sent her about her business was 
 masterly," said Mrs. Slipaway in a reminiscent tone. 
 "My! he was so polite butter wouldn't melt in his 
 mouth. And the words she had come to speak she 
 couldn't say. I tell you, Johnnie, you would have 
 been proud of him at that moment." 
 
 Johnnie looked and looked at her. What man 
 knows woman? "Proud of him!" he managed to 
 ejaculate. "The man that deserted you — his happy 
 home — its attendant treasures — ^ Mr. Briggs was 
 thinking of the nest-egg once more. "When I think 
 of a man who could do that, no words in the dic- 
 tionary can be found to express what I would say 
 of such a man. And when I sit here and listen to
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 139 
 
 you — you" — Mr Briggs' voice shook — "using that 
 adjective — that commendatory adjective — in con- 
 nection with one who has sunk — sunk — to depths 
 no depths can reach — when, I say, I Hsten to you 
 — you, a paragon of your kind — neglected — aban- 
 doned — left to weep in solitude! — " 
 
 "Don't know as I've shed any tears, Johnnie," 
 she observed tranquilly. 
 
 "That's your fortitude," breathed Johnnie. "Your 
 Roman nature! Your tears are not visible; they 
 are inward. Your pain is inward ; you are like the 
 Spartan lad who had the fox beneath his wes'-coat 
 and who smiled and smiled through all his pain. 
 But I know what you are suffering — you can't de- 
 ceive me. You can't deceive one who understands 
 and appreciates you as well as I do." As he spoke 
 Johnnie tapped his chest. 
 
 "No?" said Mrs. Slipaway softly. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Briggs firmly. "Why, I know 
 you better than you do yourself." 
 
 "Do you?" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "I do," said Johnnie. "It is time something 
 should be done — something very emphatic!" 
 
 "If you only would, Mr. Briggs," said Mrs. Slip- 
 away, with suspicious meekness. 
 
 "I will. I will take it upon myself as a — friend.
 
 MHS 
 
 140 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 There is a weakness somewhere; I will find it; I 
 will pierce it. I will shatter his abominable alibis 
 — his village homecoming as Bill Carter ! — Blinkum ! 
 Patagonia! Huh! And when he is revealed in all 
 his true colors — his hideous colors — then — then — " 
 Johnnie paused. 
 
 "Then?" said Mrs. Slipaway expectantly. 
 
 Johnnie muttered something about legal proceed- 
 ings, and — and — later — At this point Mrs. Slip- 
 away shyly changed the conversation. But she 
 wished Johnnie good luck when he departed. Mr. 
 Briggs hinted of some plan he had in mind, but 
 he did not say what it was, and Mrs. Slipaway did 
 not press her inquiries in the matter. Indeed, that 
 lady exhibited almost superhuman patience and 
 self-control at this stage of her decidedly vi- 
 vacious matrimonial adventure with Horatio. She 
 had thought when she had married that gentle- 
 man that she could twist him around her fin- 
 ger — and here she was, not knowing where she 
 was. The would-be twister had become the twistee. 
 It was quite a new experience and certainly 
 kept her guessing. It was better than going to a 
 church sociable and having charades and riddles. 
 Anyhow, Mr. Carter had the most charming man- 
 ners — ^manners so lofty and distinguished they had
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 141 
 
 engendered in her a funny little sensation bordering 
 on bash fulness. She would never have believed 
 it; it was as if she had made a great voyage of 
 discovery; fancy her never having dreamed of those 
 polished and masterful qualities in Horatio! Of 
 course, she would make him suffer and repent in 
 sackcloth and ashes yet, because this was due him, 
 and you can't dodge the retributory climax that 
 comes with wrong-doing. Yes ; Horatio would have 
 to sit down and throw dust in his hair, the way Job 
 did; but all the same, meanwhile, Mrs. Slipaway 
 permitted a faint thrill of approval to permeate the 
 innermost recesses of her being at the recollection 
 of the superb manner in which he had received and 
 dismissed the "passion-pale" lady in the case. 
 
 Mr. Briggs' pernicious activities in the affair were 
 soon once more made manifest to the reincarnation 
 of Bill, The latter gentleman had returned one aft- 
 ernoon from his arduous business activities in the 
 little blackboard shop which was an adjunct of the 
 Busiest Little Street, when he noted the face of his 
 faithful attendant wore a sad and melancholy look. 
 He manipulated the Martini mournfully; he pro- 
 duced the comfortable fireside slippers as if that 
 duty had now become but a mechanical detail of the
 
 fflnjBtMi^Mtoj 
 
 142 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 daily routine; the twinkling light in his eyes had 
 become extinguished ; upon his face regret had 'laid 
 its darkening shadow. 
 
 "Well, Professor," said "Bill" with customary 
 blitheness. "Anything new? Anything stirring? 
 Have you traced that word yet, back to its furthest 
 derivation, and dug its deepest roots out of the re- 
 motest antiquity?" 
 
 Of course, he was referring to "anthropology," 
 and his tone was calculated to bring an answering 
 smile to the engaging features of the faithful Saki; 
 but to-day that smile did not appear. Saki sighed. 
 
 "Man try to get me to tell dishonorable untruth," 
 he bemoaned. 
 
 "Eh?" said Bill, interested at once. 
 
 "He offer me dishonorable cash." 
 
 "Ha!" said Bill. 
 
 "Which, when I spurn haughtily, he offer me 
 more!" lamented Saki. 
 
 "Raised the ante, eh?" said Bill. 
 
 "Three times he say more !" 
 
 "Some little Oliver Twist! And what did you 
 do?" 
 
 "With scomfulness I quote immortal line : 'Rags 
 are royal raiment' — " said Saki with flashing glance.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 143 
 
 "Good! What was it this insect wanted you to 
 tell an untruth about?" 
 
 Saki breathed hard. "He want me to tell dis- 
 honorable untruth about never having been in Pata- 
 gonia." 
 
 "What?" ejaculated Bill. "The scoundrel! The 
 worm !" 
 
 "He want me to tell dishonorable untruth I enter 
 your honorable service here!" 
 
 "Can you beat that?" said Bill. "And what did 
 you do then?" 
 
 "I raise the ante," said Saki, still with flashing 
 glance, 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I tell dishonorable worm I serve honorable mas- 
 ter not six, but sixteen years — " 
 
 "How's that?" said Bill quickly. 
 
 "In Patagonia !" 
 
 "But — see here — " The reincarnation of Bill be- 
 stirred himself on his comfortable couch. "I appre- 
 ciate your loyalty, Professor; only, don't you see — 
 why, we're committed to six years. We can't go on 
 raising the ante indefinitely. Why, the next time, in 
 your indignation — well founded, of course — you 
 might say sixty years — "
 
 144 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Saki looked dreadfully downcast. 
 
 "That's all right, old chap, this time," said "Bill" 
 hastily. "I wouldn't hurt your feelings for any- 
 thing. And I don't blame you for raising the figures 
 once, like that. Your — your loyalty made six seem 
 sixteen — that is all — which I take it is most flatter- 
 ing to me. Mighty glad they do seem sixteen, and, 
 on second thought, we'll make them sixteen. Pro- 
 fessor. You started in my service when a very little 
 boy — llama-trimming errand boy! Sixteen sounds 
 like six. Any one says we said six, we'll say their 
 hearing misconstrued the word. Get out of that 
 easy enough. Only — with all due respect — and not 
 wishing to put a curb on your loyalty — when dis- 
 honorable worm comes next time, don't make it 
 sixty, or six hundred." 
 
 Saki promised faithfully. 
 
 "And now," said "Bill," "not as a reward, but 
 just as a mark of appreciation, will you let me be- 
 stow upon you an amount equal to the last sum the 
 invidious insect offered you?" 
 
 But Saki shook his head. "Honorable truth is its 
 own reward," he said. 
 
 "Ha! Yes? Oh, so it is. By the way, what did 
 this slimy apology for a human being look like?" 
 
 Saki described the tempter.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 145 
 
 "Might have known it," said the reincarnation 
 of Bill. "Johnnie Briggs! Well, I fancy he won't 
 come crawling around here any more." 
 
 "I see strange man dodging on the fire-escape," 
 said Saki. "See me, and he dodge back pretty blame' 
 quick." 
 
 "Well, maybe he was only a burglar," observed 
 "Bill" languidly. "Don't mind a little thing like 
 that! And say, Professor, wouldn't you like some 
 festivities — evening off — vacation — ^you work too 
 hard—" 
 
 Saki beamed with pleasure. "Honorable master 
 no want, I enjoy to-night wild hilarity and festiv- 
 ity-" 
 
 "Some roof garden, eh?" 
 
 "Public library," said Saki. 
 
 "Awh!" Bill looked disgusted. "Instead of rev- 
 eling with gay 'skirts' he's going to plunge into a 
 mad debauch with — " 
 
 "Anthropology," with gleeful anticipation. 
 
 Bill made a gesture. "Sounds like a new kind 
 of 'booze'! All right, Professor! Go and intoxicate 
 yourself." 
 
 Saki departed with a deep bow, but, before go- 
 ing, he looked carefully after the fastening of the 
 fire-escape.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MRS. SLIPAWAY'S visit to the apartment 
 of Mr. William Carter had been productive 
 of at least one satisfactory result from the stand- 
 point of that good lady. She had satisfied herself, 
 beyond doubt, that Horatio was not suffering from 
 mental delusion, superinduced by a bump on the head, 
 as to his identity with the Patagonian llama trim- 
 mer. Duplicity like a serpent nested in his breast 
 and effrontery sat on his brow. With the discovery 
 of the "missing link"— the indefatigable "professor" 
 — to account for Horatio's abundance of encyclo- 
 pedic information concerning South America, the 
 bump-on-the-head theory, with its extraordinary 
 mental after-afflictions and abnormalities, vanished 
 in thin air. That Horatio had deliberately designed 
 and plotted, set his stage, and proceeded with mas- 
 terly precision in the marshaling of every detail was 
 now satisfactorily established in her mind beyond 
 peradventure. She arrived at the conclusion slowly 
 but surely ; she was very conscientious in her desire 
 not to do Horatio an injustice. She wanted to be 
 
 146
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 147. 
 
 quite fair and strictly honorable as to future pro- 
 ceedings. At the same time that idea of retribution 
 — of paying the fiddler if you dance (and hadn't 
 Horatio danced?) — had deep root in her brain. 
 
 She did not take the ever-willing Mr. Briggs into 
 her confidence; she might use, or employ Johnnie, 
 if he came in handy, but to reveal to that gentleman 
 the inner workings of her brain was quite out of the 
 question. There was, however, another she felt she 
 might trust — one whose advice would carry weight 
 — one who could say just what was right and proper 
 — and what wasn't. Had he not accompanied her 
 that memorable day when she had betaken herself 
 to Mr. Carter's lair, and had he not comported him- 
 self on that important occasion with dignity, pru- 
 dence and discretion ? Indeed, he had hardly spoken 
 a word, but the moral force of his presence had 
 carried weight — great weight ! 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway accordingly once more sought the 
 support and aid of this reverend gentleman in her 
 moment of feminine weakness and indecision. She 
 found him in, and he received her in the pastoral 
 parlor with a certain eagerness and expectancy. He 
 was plainly glad to see her; in fact, the sight of Mrs. 
 Slipaway promised both weird entertainment and 
 relief from the ordinary monotony and humdrum of
 
 148 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 his daily duties. He cocked his head. Memories of 
 an atmosphere replete with impressionistic woman, 
 revelry, sulphur kings, Patagonian still wine, hon- 
 orable pop-pops, and a wiggling young heathen, as- 
 sailed him. He drew out a chair for the good lady. 
 
 "Well, where is the wanderer to-night?" he said 
 as airily as he could. Time enough to be lugubrious 
 later on ! 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway shook her head. "I've been think- 
 ing," she began. 
 
 "Serious thought is good for all of us," said he. 
 
 "The point inexorably settled is," she observed 
 slowly, "he knows what he's about." 
 
 "I fear he does," said the other. And sighed. 
 
 But Mrs. Slipaway did not sigh. She went on 
 practically : "Having got that far, it may be easier 
 to determine what to do next," she remarked de- 
 liberately. 
 
 "So it will be," he said, but offered no sugges- 
 tions. 
 
 "Of course, as I now see it, Horatio has got 
 himself tied up into a knot and doesn't know how 
 to untie himself. Maybe he's longing to untie him- 
 self at this blessed moment, but doesn't know how." 
 
 "No?" said the minister with slight skepticism.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 149 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Slipaway. "He's tied the knot 
 so tight it won't come undone. There are some 
 knots you just give up — your fingers simply can't 
 do anything with them — and you end by breaking 
 the string, letting the knot be. Maybe that's the 
 kind of a knot Horatio has tied himself up into. 
 One of those hopeless kinds of knots." 
 
 "I am sure your — ahem! — ^knot theory is both 
 interesting and charitable in its — ahem! — applica- 
 tion to the subject of our conversation," said the 
 minister cautiously. 
 
 "Maybe," observed Mrs. Slipaway pensively, 
 "there are times when he sits there and wishes he 
 could untie that knot." 
 
 "Maybe," said the minister, with still greater res- 
 ervation in his tones. 
 
 "Sometimes, perhaps, he thinks of the little old 
 one-time despised mottoes," pursued the lady, in the 
 same tone. 
 
 "Hum!" said the minister. 
 
 "Maybe mottoes do have a bad effect on — on cer- 
 tain subjects — I mean, people," ruminated the lady. 
 "Be that as it may, poor Horatio, what with that 
 designing female of the species, and some other 
 troubles Johnnie Briggs has intimated he had, didn't
 
 150 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 hardly know what he was doing, and then came the 
 temptation — this way out — and he took it, not see- 
 ing what it would lead to, and, as I was saying, he's 
 got himself tied up into so many kinds of knots 
 and double knots — with Patagonian llamas, and sul- 
 phur—" 
 
 "And heathens!" 
 
 "He's just like a prisoner tied to a stake. Can't 
 get away ! No matter how he might like to !" 
 
 "Like?" repeated the minister, with faint irony. 
 
 "Like !" said Mrs. Slipaway firmly. "I think, at 
 heart, Horatio is a great home-body." 
 
 "The supposition does you credit, at least," ob- 
 served the minister politely, recalling a vision of 
 empty "pop-pops" and Saki's allusions to "infant- 
 paralysis" and a certain kind of a hot place, fre- 
 quented by the blithe Mr. Carter. "Great credit!" 
 
 "I have faith that Horatio, secretly, may be 
 pining," continued Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Eh?" said the minister. 
 
 "Pining," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Quite so," said the other, but he added something 
 about the divine faith of woman; how beautiful it 
 was, and — 
 
 "The point is," interrupted Mrs. Slipaway, "how 
 to help him untie those knots. His poor, dear fin-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 151 
 
 gers are too weak; they are beyond him; shouldn't 
 we help?" 
 
 "Would he — ah! — welcome assistance, think 
 you?" observed the pastor, 
 
 "Of course he would." Promptly. 
 
 "Oh !" said the minister. 
 
 "Of course, consciously, there is a possibility he 
 might think he wouldn't, but subconsciously he 
 would surely receive our aid gladly." 
 
 "Kind of an emancipation !" remarked the other, 
 still with a tendency to be skeptical. 
 
 "That's it! Like freeing the slaves! Horatio's 
 a slave to Bill Carter." 
 
 "A fire-eating sulphur king!" groaned the min- 
 ister. "If he had to jump into somebody's skin, why 
 could he not, at least, have picked out somebody re- 
 spectable, like a Sunday-school superintendent, or 
 a missionary, or a — a secretary of the Y. M. C. A., 
 or—" 
 
 "I think Horatio wanted to be somebody who 
 would do things," murmured Mrs. Slipaway dream- 
 ily. 
 
 " *Do' everybody, more like !" returned the other. 
 
 "He wanted to be a force — a power !" 
 
 The minister stared at Mrs. Slipaway incredu- 
 lously.
 
 152 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "He was tired of being just a whipper-snapper," 
 went on that good lady, in the same tone, "He 
 wanted to come out of his shell — to ascend — " 
 
 "Sulphur!" muttered the minister. 
 
 " — to great heights ! To show the world ! And he 
 has done well, hasn't he?" 
 
 "Well?" said the other. 
 
 "In a worldly sense!" 
 
 "If you call taking a plunge in fire-and-brimstone 
 and getting away with it — doing well — " 
 
 "Oh, I'm not defending him," said Mrs. Slipaway 
 quickly. 
 
 "I should think not," said the other. 
 
 "Far be it from me !" 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say that! Sin, iniquity 
 and deception — " 
 
 "Must be punished !" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Now we're getting back to where we should have 
 started," said the minister. "Without punishment 
 deception would prosper; it would reach out its 
 tentacles; it would embrace — yes, stifle — the whole 
 world in its clutches !" 
 
 "It would," assented Mrs. Slipaway, "and that's 
 why we've got to 'jar' Horatio." 
 
 "Only 'jar'?" said the minister severely.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 153 
 
 She smiled gently. *T think it might suffice, if — 
 properly administered." 
 
 He gazed at her quickly. Her smile became know- 
 ing. The minister moved his chair a little closer. 
 
 *T've been thinking," said Mrs. Slipaway, a sec- 
 ond time that day. "There's only one way to res- 
 cue Horatio — to save him from himself — " 
 
 "Yes?" said the other expectantly. 
 
 "The question is, would it be right?" 
 
 "Right to rescue? — to throw him a life-line?" 
 
 "I mean the means we should have to employ! 
 The question is, could we meet deception with — well, 
 deception? Would it be strictly moral?" 
 
 "Hum?" ruminated the pastoral adviser. "I have 
 heard something about fighting the devil with his 
 own weapons." 
 
 "That's so. The end would justify the means. 
 I'm so glad you approve. I never could have gone 
 ahead with it without your approval." 
 
 "Ahead with what?" 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway rapidly elucidated her plan. 
 
 "Then you think it will be quite moral and 
 proper?" Mrs. Slipaway asked anxiously. 
 "I should say the end quite justified — "
 
 154 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "And you will help?" 
 
 "Hum?" Dubiously. 
 
 "What was that you said about fighting the devil 
 with—" 
 
 "I think I can conscientiously proffer my serv- 
 ices in the matter," said the minister slowly. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway arose gaily. "We've got the bat- 
 tle as good as won !" 
 
 "Have we?" His eyes began to shine. 
 
 "We'll rescue poor Horatio — in spite of himself!" 
 
 "In spite of himself!" said the minister. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway moved toward the front door ; her 
 step was light, and at the moment she looked quite 
 youthful and handsome. She wore her new hat, and 
 there wasn't a worry-line on her face. The min- 
 ister regarded her with approval as he held her soft 
 hand the fraction of a moment at parting. Quite a 
 wonderful woman, he told himself; she seemed to 
 thrive on trouble. So capable — and yes, so good- 
 looking; yes, positively good-looking. 
 
 "Of course, I wouldn't like Horatio to lose all 
 those new qualities he's acquired as Bill Carter," 
 she observed. "In a way, he's found himself, and 
 maybe I've expanded a bit, too. Maybe, we didn't 
 quite understand each other. You got to go through 
 a little fire sometimes, haven't you ?"
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 155 
 
 "Are you referring to sulphur?" said the minister, 
 puzzled, 
 
 "I am not," she answered, with an enigmatic 
 smile. "I hate to do what we're going to, to Hora- 
 tio, but I guess we've got to. You see, I can't let 
 him stay away from home like that, can I? Why, 
 think of the things that might happen to him !" At 
 the moment her tone almost verged upon being ten- 
 der. 
 
 "That probably would," observed the minister. 
 "That most likely have !" 
 
 "A man of Horatio's character and attainments 
 needs careful looking-after !" she murmured. 
 
 "He certainly does," said the minister. 
 
 "I mean — attention, and all that," she returned. 
 
 "You speak as if he were going to have a — com- 
 fortable time?" said the minister severely, even 
 chidingly. 
 
 "Not immediately," said Mrs. Slipaway. "Not 
 immediately!" she repeated, and tripped away.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MR. TIMOTHY TREADWAY pondered 
 darkly on the future and how to pay your 
 landlady twenty-seven dollars when you haven't 
 twenty-seven cents in your pocket. Who is this Mr. 
 Tread way who propels himself thus abruptly, almost 
 startlingly, in the vortex of these eventful happen- 
 ings? Mr. Treadway is an actor; at present he 
 is out of an engagement, and the prospects of be- 
 ing able to employ his talents, profitably, in the im- 
 mediate future, are not bright. Mr. Treadway 
 has plenty of talent, but he has a weakness; he 
 sometimes looks upon the wine when it is red, 
 which reprehensible and sometimes too persistent 
 habit led certain managers to look upon Mr. Tread- 
 way with disfavor. Mr. Treadway said the world 
 was in a conspiracy against him, while as a matter 
 of fact he was only conspiring against himself. 
 
 While Mr. Treadway was lying in bed one fine 
 morning and mentally seeking to multiply said twen- 
 ty-seven cents by nothing and make the "answer" 
 
 156
 
 JHE NUT CRACKER 157 
 
 twenty-seven dollars, there came a tapping at his 
 door. 
 
 "Come in," he said, and the Reverend Nehemiah 
 Bodkins entered. 
 
 "Mr. Treadway?" said the gentleman. 
 
 "The same," said Mr. Treadway, sitting up in 
 bed. A faint expression of surprise rested upon 
 Mr, Treadway's classic features. He was not used 
 to receiving pastoral "calls." 
 
 "My name is Bodkins," said the caller, seating 
 himself. "Reverend Nehemiah Bodkins!" 
 
 "Odds — bodkins!" Mr. Treadway murmured be- 
 neath his breath. "Haven't you made a mistake, 
 sir?" 
 
 "No ; it's quite all right," said the caller. "I have 
 just been to what you call, I believe, an 'agency,' 
 and I have been told you are out of an engagement." 
 
 "The information, though sad, is quite true," said 
 Mr. Treadway. "No one regrets it, sir, more than 
 myself. But lamentations do not alter conditions, 
 hence I am not complaining. I am, sir, making the 
 best of it." 
 
 "Bravely said," observed the reverend gentleman, 
 cocking his head shrewdly at Mr. Treadway. "And 
 allow me to add that it is the fact that you are thus 
 unfortunately placed that has led to my calling."
 
 158 .THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "You aren't a manager in disguise ?" muttered the 
 incredulous Mr. Treadway. 
 
 "Hardly ! Nevertheless, I have come to offer you 
 an engagement. I am told your specialty is imper- 
 sonations — I believe you call it. I am not exactly 
 sure just what that implies, but it seems to — shall 
 we say? — rather fill the bill." 
 
 "Yes, I have been very successful along that line," 
 said Mr. Treadway modestly. "Make up before the 
 mirror with your back to the audience, and turn 
 around as George Washington, Honest Abe, U. S. 
 Grant, Napoleon, and Sousa, all in quick succes- 
 sion!" he explained. "In the skill and rapidity of 
 the make-up I have been considered rather at the 
 top in that sort of thing, if I do say so myself." 
 
 "How interesting!" said the caller. "Do you 
 think you would be as successful as an impersonator 
 away from the — ah! — footlights, as before them?" 
 
 "Me?" said Mr. Treadway. "We don't meas- 
 ure our abilities by the yard-stick, in our profession. 
 I take it, from your question, you have some mov- 
 ing-picture proposition to put up to me ? Something 
 in the amateur line, with a few real actors to lend it 
 eclat?" 
 
 "Not exactly."
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 159 
 
 "I thought you implied it was an outdoors prop- 
 osition?" said the puzzled Mr. Treadway. 
 
 "So I did, but there is no camera attachment." 
 
 "I don't get you," said Mr. Treadway. "You 
 mean I just waste a lot of good stuff on the desert 
 air?" 
 
 "Not waste," answered the caller. "You utilize 
 your — ahem ! — talents in a good cause." 
 
 "Oh, it's some garden-party stunt — I get you! 
 Little rich girls — birthday-cake — pink lemonade — 
 funny-man entertains the pampered pets with inter- 
 esting and instructive representations of historical 
 characters !" 
 
 "L'm afraid," said the reverend gentleman, "you 
 don't 'get' me. This is no garden-party entertain- 
 ment upon which I desire you to embark; in fact, 
 it would hardly be called an entertainment, at all. 
 It is more in the nature of a — solemn occasion; and 
 should lead to sackcloth and ashes — lamenta- 
 tions — " 
 
 "Aren't you looking for a tragedian?" suggested 
 Mr. Treadway. "Your plot suggests to me Othello 
 or Richard the Third." 
 
 "The tragedy, sir," observed the caller, "is not a 
 written one."
 
 160 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "No? Don't I have lines to speak?" 
 
 "You do. Lines you improvise yourself, on the 
 inspiration of the moment!" 
 
 "Sounds good," ruminated Mr. Treadway, "I 
 always wanted to be an author. Do I get a royalty?" 
 
 "Lump sum," said the minister. 
 
 A shadow of disappointment flitted across the 
 visage of Mr. Treadway. "Oh, very well," he ob- 
 served. "Though I should have preferred five, 
 seven and a half, and ten of the gross." 
 
 "I fear I shall have to ask you to impersonate a 
 very reprehensible person," said the minister. "Have 
 you — may I ask? — ever impersonated a very repre- 
 hensible person?" 
 
 "On sundry occasions," said Mr. Treadway sol- 
 emnly. "I don't know as I ever tied the hero to a 
 railway track, or in front of a buzz-saw, but I 
 turned my wayward daughter out-of-doors, on a 
 wintry night, four hundred and seventeen times. 
 The play ran that long. And every time I appeared 
 before the curtain I was poohed and booed, in a 
 most flattering manner." 
 
 "Dear me !" said the minister. 
 
 "Those long-run thrillers are, more or less, a 
 thing of the past," murmured Mr. Treadway regret- 
 fully. "What's the salary?"
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 161 
 
 "One hundred dollars." 
 
 "What?" Indignantly. "Only—?" 
 
 "For one performance," said the caller, putting 
 up a finger. 
 
 "One?" said Mr. Treadway, dazed. 
 
 "One." 
 
 "Is it as bad as that ?" said Mr. Treadway mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 "It is as good as that. One performance will suf- 
 fice — quite !" 
 
 "Sounds as if you expected to kill your audi- 
 ence !" grumbled Mr. Treadway. 
 
 "Not kill," said the pastoral visitor softly. "Shock, 
 perhaps — plant a dart or two — but not kill." 
 
 "You mean paralyze, not annihilate, the audi- 
 ence ?" said Mr. Treadway ironically. 
 
 "Something like that." 
 
 Mr. Treadway ruminated moodily. "Why don't 
 you hire a gunman ? You don't want an actor." 
 
 "It will take both an actor and a great artist for 
 the part," said the Reverend Mr. Bodkins impres- 
 sively. 
 
 "As it sounds like murder, make it one hundred 
 and twenty-five," said Mr. Treadway. 
 
 "One hundred and fifteen," countered the cler- 
 ical visitor shrewdly. /
 
 162 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Oh, well!" said Mr. Treadway carelessly, "I 
 never was one to haggle. When — how — and where 
 — does this murder take place?" 
 
 The caller explained. Mr. Treadway listened 
 with growing interest. 
 
 "Can I do it?" he said. "Can I?" 
 
 "Can you?" said the caller. 
 
 "Can me, if I can't!" he replied enigmatically. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Bodkins looked puzzled; the 
 horrible pun was lost upon him. He took out a roll 
 of bills. "Half now," he observed. "The other 
 half when — " 
 
 "The dire deed is done," said Mr. Treadway 
 brightly. 
 
 And thereafter, for a long time, the reverend gen- 
 tleman coached him. Mr. Treadway dived in his 
 make-up box, and extracted a long black mustache. 
 "This should do the trick," he said, and, adjusting 
 the mustache, scowled fiercely. "How's it look?" 
 
 "I should hate to meet you on a dark night," said 
 the minister with a smile. 
 
 "So will some one else," said Mr. Treadway. 
 
 "Well, did you engage him ?" said Mrs. Slipaway 
 later that day to the Reverend Mr. Bodkins. 
 "I did," said the gentleman, settling himself com-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 163 
 
 fortably in an easy chair in that lady's home. "An 
 excellent actor, they told me at the agency. But I 
 had to exceed the sum we agreed upon; he de- 
 manded one hundred and twenty-five dollars; we 
 compromised on one hundred and fifteen." 
 
 "I'm sure he's cheap at the price," said Mrs. 
 Slipaway. "When you do something, you want to 
 do it well. It'll be money well spent — though it does 
 make a hole in the — ah ! — " 
 
 "Sacred legacy?" suggested the minister. 
 
 "Yes. Somehow, I don't feel as if I needed that 
 quite so much as I used to," she went on dreamily. 
 "Not since Horatio's demonstrated he's such a 
 money-maker. I used to think I just had to hang 
 on to it, but that was before Horatio woke up." 
 
 "Woke up ?" said the minister blankly. "I should 
 hardly call it — " 
 
 "The fact remains, he's suddenly so full of *pep' 
 you can't hold him down. And that — in a mone- 
 tary way — gives me such confidence — " 
 
 "Confidence — in him?" gasped the caller. 
 
 "In a monetary way!" repeated Mrs. Slipaway. 
 "Of course! His morals must be shaken up, and 
 he must be made to realize — " 
 
 "Of course I He will be made to realize," said the 
 caller with exceeding firmness.
 
 164 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Fully!" said Mrs. Slipaway, just a shade less 
 firmly. 
 
 The caller looked around him; he was naturally 
 very observant, and for the first time, felt something 
 was wanting. 
 
 "One of the mottoes," said Mrs. Slipaway, read- 
 ing his thoughts quickly. 
 
 "Which one?" said the caller, with a slight uphft 
 of the brow. 
 
 " The Lord Will Provide,' " said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 "When Horatio was just skimping along and didn't 
 seem to have any gumption at all, that motto seemed 
 helpful. Not that I don't think it would decorate 
 fittingly any home, even now, only there did seem 
 others that needed it more. I know it used to make 
 Horatio rather nervous; seemed a sort of reflection 
 on his ability, when he wasn't getting along very 
 well. He used to stand and stare at it. So I sent 
 it to Mrs. Flattery anonymously." 
 
 "Why Mrs. Flattery?" said the caller rather 
 stiffly. 
 
 "Haven't you heard ? Her husband is down with 
 delirium tremens; her children have the measles, 
 and she's broken her working arm. Poor dear, if 
 anybody needs that motto," said Mrs. Slipaway
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 165 
 
 sympathetically, "or any stray comfort it conveys, 
 it's she. Seemed like doing good to send it !" 
 
 *T dare say," said the minister absently. 
 
 "But speaking about Horatio," said Mrs. Slip- 
 away, "I've been thinking." 
 
 "Indeed?" said the minister. 
 
 "There's Johnnie Briggs — he v^ants to be help- 
 ful, you know. He's so fond of dear Horatio and 
 hates to see him slipping from the path of rectitude." 
 
 "Well?" said the caller expectantly. 
 
 "I'm planning to use Johnnie, too. Just a small 
 part! I have it all figured out beautifully — just 
 where he would fit in. And he'd just love to do it, 
 I know — he's so fond of Horatio !" 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Bodkins regarded her admir- 
 ingly. Why, she was a regular stage-manager. 
 Pretty soon she'd have everybody playing a part. 
 
 "I'm sure Johnnie would be lonesome, if we 
 didn't give him something to do," said the lady. 
 And then, looking at a blank space on the wall : "I 
 wonder if Horatio will miss it?" 
 
 "You speak with certainty of our experiment — of 
 his returning home?" said the caller. 
 
 "Of course," said Mrs. Slipaway. "I'm sure, in 
 the bottom of his heart, he's just longing to."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MR. CARTER lolled languidly on his couch 
 of ease. He had dined excellently but not 
 too fulsomely at a high-priced place; he had par- 
 taken of a modest pint of claret, and then gone to 
 a "show." But the play had seemed dull, flat and 
 profitless, to one of his active brain; why, his own 
 life was full of more incident and variety than that 
 piece. He could devise far more interesting situa- 
 tions in his daily existence than the dramatist could 
 conceive for these people on the stage who just 
 imagined they were in a peck of trouble all the time, 
 while as a matter of fact, the audience knew they 
 could straighten it all out ever so easily, if only 
 they would. So after yawning a good deal, Mr. 
 Carter got up and went out. 
 
 He returned to his apartments at once, and put- 
 ting on a dressing-gown, lighted a cigar, stretched 
 himself out and prepared to spend the balance of 
 the evening engrossed in light literature of the ad- 
 venturesome variety. A good smashing novel of 
 action was especially what he yearned for — pearl- 
 
 166
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 167 
 
 hunting in the South Seas, or gold-seeking in the 
 Incas — but he sought, in vain, to-night, for some- 
 thing up to the high standard he demanded along 
 those lines. The story-writers, like the playwright 
 whose work he had partly listened to, seemed to 
 have lost the punch. Maybe Mr. Carter, whose 
 own life was now lifted to a rather lurid plane, de- 
 manded too much of the creators of fanciful epi- 
 sodes. At any rate he soon found himself yawning 
 once more. Then the last magazine he had essayed 
 in vain to interest himself in, slipped from his fin- 
 gers, and gradually he fell into a half-doze. 
 
 He dreamed he was chasing a llama up the Andes, 
 and it was "some chase." Up — up — he was like the 
 youth in "Excelsior!" Now he almost had the 
 pesky beast, and then he didn't. "I'll get you yet," 
 said Horatio — or Bill — in his dreams. It was a 
 particularly woolly beast, the pet of his flock, and no 
 real llama-trimmer likes to lose his choicest llamakin. 
 But the llama turned around and seemed to grin at 
 "Bill" ; now a llama has naturally a most unprepos- 
 sessing visage ; in fact, its head looks like a Mistake, 
 fastened upon a bigger Mistake, its body. It was a 
 regular mis-fit grin — worse than a hyena's — and 
 it steeled the faithful shepherd to greater effort. 
 Up — up — now they had reached the highest alti-
 
 168 JHE NUT CRACKER 
 
 tudes, and Horatio — Mr. Carter — was plunging 
 madly from peak to peak, when suddenly he missed 
 his footing and fell — thousands and thousands of 
 feet — landing with a crash in the rocky canyon be- 
 low. 
 
 Mr. Carter sat up; likewise, he rubbed his 
 eyes. He was sitting on the floor ; he gazed around 
 him expectantly as if thinking to behold the illusive 
 and diabolical phantom llamakin, but instead, he be- 
 held a man. This person stood with folded arms 
 and was gazing at Mr. Carter, with an expression 
 at once belligerent and puzzled. 
 
 "Hello," said Mr. Carter. 
 
 "Hello," said the man. 
 
 "I didn't expect to see you^' went on Mr, Carter. 
 
 "No?" observed the man. 
 
 "Something else," remarked Mr. Carter. "Whew! 
 That was some chase. I feel all tired out." 
 
 "Do you?" said the man, shooting out his chin. 
 
 "H you would only grin," observed Mr. Carter, 
 "it — it would seem more natural — what I expected !" 
 
 "Would it?" said the man. "Well, I don't feel 
 like grinning." His tone was ominous. 
 
 "Anyway, I'm not killed," said Mr. Carter cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 "Yet!" said the man succinctly.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 169 
 
 If Mr. Carter heard the ominous accent his vis- 
 itor imparted to the word his manner did not 
 show it. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" he said. 
 
 "You find it funny — my being here?" said the 
 man, putting out his chin again. 
 
 "Oh, no. I wasn't thinking about you. In fact, 
 I was hardly noticing you." 
 
 "No," said the man, his eyes beginning to gleam. 
 
 "Did you ever see a llama grin ?" 
 
 "What's that ?" The man stepped forward a foot 
 or two, menacingly. 
 
 "Llama — grin," said Mr. Carter mirthfully. 
 
 "What's the game ?" said the man. 
 
 "I suppose now you're going to be tiresome," 
 said Mr. Carter. "I yawned over a quarter of a 
 play and fell asleep over a novel, and now I imagine 
 I'm going to be bored with you." 
 
 "Who do you think I am ?" said the man. 
 
 "Burglar — common burglar — you came in there" 
 — pointing to the fire-escape. "All very common- 
 place !" he yawned. "Devilish dull night ! Nothing 
 more commonplace than a burglar. Burglar-plays; 
 burglar-stories, galore ! Fell asleep over one of them 
 just now! Wake up" — reproachfully — "only to 
 find you here."
 
 170 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Oh, you won't find me so dull," said the man. 
 
 "After all I've been through," said Mr. Carter, 
 "the vicissitudes and adventures I've had, here, and 
 in South America, you seem trivial to me. There 
 isn't a thrill in you." 
 
 "Isn't there?" said the man in a strange tone. 
 
 "Now if you were only a llama, and could jump 
 over peaks — " 
 
 "What's that?" exclaimed the visitor with much 
 fierceness. 
 
 Mr. Carter refused to be awed. He waved his 
 hand idly. "Take them, and go," he observed. "The 
 little Venus over there. She's a cutey, and by a 
 top-notch artist. And there's the rest of those bric- 
 a-brac females. Tell you the truth, I'm tired of 
 them. They aren't what they pretend to be. Lot 
 of humbug about art! What's the fun of looking 
 at something that never changes her position. Some- 
 times I've been tempted to stand the whole lot of 
 'em on their heads, so's to make 'em look different. 
 You'll find a flour-bag out in the kitchenette to cart 
 'em away in, if you didn't bring one along." 
 
 "Say, if you think I'm going to stand being 
 called a llama — ?" began the man with terrible ag- 
 gressiveness. 
 
 Mr. Carter leaned his back against the couch and
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 171 
 
 lighted a cigar. "Oh, I didn't call you one," he ob- 
 served wearily. *T only remarked, regretfully, if 
 you only were one, which, unfortunately, you are 
 not—" 
 
 "Seems to me," said the man, poking his face 
 nearer Mr. Carter's, "you mean to insult me." 
 
 "Not at all," said Mr. Carter airily. "If you were 
 a llama, I would enjoy the felicity of trimming you 
 — as it is, the boot seems on the other leg, and it is 
 you who are going to trim me. Go ahead! The 
 only thing I stipulate is, you spare my young and 
 tender life. Please" — imploringly — "don't 'biff me 
 on the bean.' " 
 
 "Say, you got it all wrong," said the fellow. "I'll 
 overlook your insults for the moment, pending the 
 adjustment of more serious matters. I didn't come 
 here because I'm a burglar." 
 
 "No?" said Mr. Carter. 
 
 "No," said the man. "I came here because you 
 got me puzzled." 
 
 "Puzzled?" repeated Mr. Carter. 
 
 "Plumb, clean puzzled," said the man. 
 
 "You say you didn't come here as a burglar. That, 
 at least, lifts you out of the commonplace — " 
 
 "Aw, cut it!" said the man roughly. "Do you 
 know who I am ?"
 
 172 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 «T'. 
 
 'Vm very curious." 
 
 "I'm Mr. William Carter," said the visitor. 
 
 A few moments before Horatio had been long- 
 ing for a real sensation — something different — 
 something that would lend spice and variety to the 
 evening. He had now got rather a larger measure 
 of new thrills than he cared for; an overdose! As 
 a genuine thriller, Mr. William Carter (himself) 
 was a large pill to swallow. Horatio gulped 
 weakly; he stared at the real Bill with incredulous 
 gaze. 
 
 The latter regarded him fiercely. "Say, mister, 
 what's the 'lay' ?" 
 
 " 'Lay'?" repeated Horatio, trying to collect him- 
 self. 
 
 " 'Lay' !" ejaculated real Bill. "I don't get your 
 game — that's all. I've been some crook myself, 
 but—" 
 
 " 'Crook' ?" repeated Horatio with an almost im- 
 perceptible start. 
 
 " — But this is a new one on me!" observed the 
 visitor. 
 
 "I know it was a slight liberty, Bill," remarked 
 Horatio, "but — " he paused. He wanted to spar for 
 time — to think. Fancy Bill coming back like that! 
 And at such an inauspicious time! "You stayed
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 173 
 
 away so long, Bill, why couldn't you have stayed 
 away a little longer? And how did you — ah! — 
 happen to know I was here ?" 
 
 "Because I trailed you," said Bill in an awful 
 tone. "When I got out of jail — " 
 
 "'Jail'?" repeated Horatio, a shiver running 
 down his spine. 
 
 "I had a longing to go back to the old village — " 
 
 "You?" said Horatio. 
 
 "Can't even a crook have feelings?" said Bill. 
 
 "I suppose so," said Horatio. "But you don't 
 really mean to tell me you — Bill Carter — have been 
 in jail?" 
 
 "Sure ! I don't mind telling you" — with a slight 
 sneer — "a gentleman of your type!" 
 
 "How — how long were you in jail, Bill?" said 
 Horatio. 
 
 "Oh, I've been in the cooler lots of times." 
 
 "Indeed," said Horatio, "This is rather interest- 
 ing. Bill Carter — ^perennial jailbird! What have 
 I done?" 
 
 "That's what I want to know," said Bill. "As I 
 said before, you got me puzzled. I've seen some 
 queer deals in my day, but this is the queerest." 
 
 "So you, too, went back to the old town, Bill?" 
 said Horatio. "How odd!"
 
 174 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Maybe Bill had visited the old churchyard ? "Did 
 you," said Horatio, "visit her grave?" Hoarsely. 
 
 "I did," said Bill. "That's one of the things that 
 took me back — the longing to place a wreath — " 
 
 "A wreath?" said Horatio in a funny tone. "Did 
 you — ah! — do it?" 
 
 "I did not. When I got there some one else had 
 preceded me. Some poison rattle-snake." Bill 
 breathed deeply. Mr. Slipaway endeavored to ap- 
 pear unconcerned. 
 
 "And what did you do then. Bill?" 
 
 "The longing came over me to visit the old home." 
 
 "It did?" said Horatio in hushed tones. 
 
 "It did," said Bill. 
 
 "And you did?" 
 
 "I did," said Bill. 
 
 "How odd !" said Horatio once more. "And did 
 you want to swing on the same old gate?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "And did she stop you?" 
 
 "She did," said Bill. "And then I learned some 
 one who had called himself Bill Carter had been 
 there before me." 
 
 "And what did you do then, Bill?" 
 
 "Nothing — then ! But everywhere I went I heard 
 people singing the praises of Bill Carter, and me
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 175 
 
 standing there like an interloper. I tell you that 
 made me mad. Here I'd come back with kindness 
 in my heart : probably the first time I'd had a good 
 impulse in years. *I will sit by her grave,' says I to 
 myself, 'and maybe it'll make me a better man.' 
 What happened ? Ostentatious wreath ! — bought by 
 her loving son, Bill Carter, says the flower man to 
 me. I tell you, pardner" — bitterly — "every good 
 impulse I had turned to sour milk. I saw red. I 
 felt like I was an outcast. Well, says I to myself, 
 I'll act like one." 
 
 "And did you?" said Horatio. 
 
 "I did," said Bill. 
 
 "What did you do?" said Horatio. 
 
 "I robbed the old home." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Stole every cent there was in the place — and a 
 few cheap gee-gaws to boot," said Bill fiercely. 
 
 "You mean to say — you stole, perhaps, from the 
 very room where you were born?" said Horatio. 
 
 "Worse than that, pardner," said Bill. "A man 
 tried to stop me. I beaned him. I don't think he's 
 dead. Don't much care ! Felt like an outcast, any- 
 how!" 
 
 "Great heavens !" said Mr. Slipaway. "And what 
 did you do then ?"
 
 176 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Tapped the post-office !" 
 
 "Did you — ah ! — 'bean' any one there ?" In awed 
 tones. 
 
 "Naw! Just squeezed his gullet. Old fool — " 
 
 "And then you left town?" 
 
 "Not at once. I passed the parsonage. Remem- 
 bered that old missionary-box — " 
 
 "Great Scott. You got it ?" 
 
 "I usually get what I go after," said Bill modestly. 
 
 "I — I trust that was all," observed Mr. Slipaway 
 weakly. 
 
 "Well, I passed the little red schoolhouse — " 
 
 "You couldn't carry that off." 
 
 "No ; but when I saw it, and got thinking how I 
 was an outcast, and how many whalings I had got 
 there, as a little guy — when I got thinking of all 
 that—" 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "I kept getting madder'n madder. And then it 
 come over me how I'd do one good deed anyhow — 
 how I'd save other little kids from all I'd suffered 
 in the little red schoolhouse, so I — " 
 
 "Yes, yes — you — ?" 
 
 "Touched a match to it !" 
 
 Mr. Slipaway ran his hands through his hair. 
 "You mean, you burned it down ?"
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 177 
 
 "Every sliver," said Bill. "And rejoiced to see it 
 burning!" 
 
 Horatio groaned. "What a home-coming ! And 
 did you — ah! — visit the old swimming-pool?" 
 
 "No," said Bill. 
 
 "Heaven be praised !" said Mr. Slipaway. "You'd 
 probably have poisoned it if you had." 
 
 "That's all very well, mister," said Bill, with the 
 old menace in his eyes. "But now you and me has 
 got to have a reckoning." 
 
 "A reckoning?" faltered Mr. Slipaway. What 
 could a gentleman of the real Bill's attainments call 
 a "reckoning"? 
 
 "What I want to know first is what kind of a 
 graft it is? Who are you" — fiercely — "and where 
 do I come in?" 
 
 "Don't you know me. Bill ?" said Horatio, in ac- 
 cents that were intended to be assuaging. "Look 
 closer." 
 
 "Seems as if I had seen you somewhere once be- 
 fore," ruminated the aggrieved real Bill Carter. 
 
 "Of course you have," said Horatio quickly. 
 "Don't you remember how your dear old father — 
 God bless his soul — while in his cups, which was 
 nearly all the time, got us mixed up once and gave 
 me a licking, by mistake, instead of you?"
 
 178 
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 Bill gave a great start. "Do I remember?" he 
 said. And then — "Little Horatio Slipaway !" 
 
 "The same," said Horatio eagerly. Affairs were 
 turning out rather better than he hoped. Maybe 
 he could appeal to Bill's old friendship and get rid 
 of him? Maybe Bill would consent, with a little 
 persuasion, to obliterate himself once more? Mr. 
 Slipaway diplomatically opened his arms. 
 
 "Hold on," said Bill Carter, holding off from 
 that fraternal embrace. "You and me have got to 
 have a little talk." 
 
 "Good," said Horatio. But he felt it was very 
 bad.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE while Mr. Slipaway had endured rather 
 than enjoyed this novel and animated little 
 scene with his old friend Bill, his active brain had 
 not been idle in seeking ways and means to extricate 
 himself from the embarrassing and unexpected sit- 
 uation into which unkind fate had plunged him. Mr. 
 William Carter's return brought with it a weight of 
 problems and troubles. It had been extremely pain- 
 ful for Mr. Slipaway to learn that his old friend had 
 been in durance vile; the reincarnation of Bill had 
 thrown a glamour of respectability, even greatness, 
 around the name of Carter; Bill had come back in 
 person, to cast to the earth the illustrious figure 
 which was the creation of Mr. Slipaway 's genius 
 and talent. 
 
 If he could only get rid of Bill — buy him off — 
 have him shanghaied? — oh, for the good old days 
 when they shanghaied men and sent them off for 
 five years or so, into the polar regions on a whaler. 
 Horatio would have dearly loved to consign 
 the real Bill to latitudes near the pole — the nearer 
 the better — and he wouldn't have shed a tear if the 
 
 179
 
 180 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 real Bill had been snowed in and forever lost to 
 civilization. What did he mean by coming back — 
 how dared he? And with all that disreputable rec- 
 ord. Ah, there was the rub — that record ! To what 
 great pains, with what infinite care had Mr. Slip- 
 away gone to establish his own identity with that of 
 — yes, a jailbird. What a fatal mistake he had 
 made in picking out Bill for his little reincarnation- 
 act! But — ah, blissful hope! — perhaps Bill had 
 dropped his old name during his long career of 
 crime. Criminals very often do. 
 
 "Have you. Bill?" he said eagerly. And breathed 
 his hope to that person. 
 
 Bill shook his head. "I've always been proud of 
 my name," he said. "Besides, there isn't any use 
 trying to hide behind an alias. The 'bulls' always 
 get you just the same." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway made a slight movement. "There's 
 only one way out of it. Bill," he said. "You got to 
 go and give yourself up." 
 
 This seemed to strike the real Bill as very funny. 
 
 "Would you get your old friend, Horatio, into 
 trouble?" appealed that gentleman. "Why, the po- 
 lice would get us so mixed up, they might not be able 
 to tell us apart." 
 
 "Just what I was thinking," said the unwelcome
 
 . THE NUT CRACKER 181 
 
 visitor with a grin. "You certainly have gone to 
 some trouble to prove you're Bill Carter." 
 
 "Of course, I have plenty of money and could 
 make it an object for you to do what I want you 
 to," pursued Horatio, taking no notice of Bill's 
 disagreeable and suggestive last remark. "And 
 think of what a time you could have when you got 
 out." 
 
 "Think what a time I'd have when I got in !" ob- 
 served Bill, with another annoying grin. "It's just 
 occurred to me you've gone and established for me 
 the best kind of an alibi," 
 
 "But" — said Horatio eagerly — "I can prove we're 
 two people, can't I ?" 
 
 "Do you want to?" said the real Bill shrewdly. 
 
 And Horatio was silent. The same reasons for his 
 not desiring to be Horatio Slipaway still existed. 
 No ; Horatio did not wish to stir up any unpleasant 
 inquiry. His brief return to Blinkum had been 
 marked with rank deception ; he would be held up as 
 an impostor — if nothing worse. The situation was 
 very perplexing; Bill gazed at him wickedly, his 
 very glance seeming to say he felt some revenge was 
 due him (the real Bill) and that he intended to take 
 it. Indeed, Bill at the moment looked like Shylock 
 whetting his knife for that pound of flesh.
 
 182 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Made me feel like an interloper, didn't you?" 
 muttered Bill. "I tell you when I went to the little 
 old churchyard and thought of you sitting there, 
 gazing at that wreath, I was mad." 
 
 "That was for old friendship's sake, Bill," pleaded 
 Horatio. 
 
 "Oh, it was," sneered Bill. 
 
 "I was just thinking I was you, and how you'd 
 feel." 
 
 "Liar!" hissed Bill, and Horatio was silent. He 
 was becoming very uneasy. It did not occur to him 
 to doubt Bill or his story. The Bill of his (Hora- 
 tio's) juvenile days had been a small edition of this 
 monstrous grown-up Bill. The little Bill was ram- 
 pageous, eccentric and very revengeful. H some 
 farmer had given the little Bill a walloping for steal- 
 ing cherries, that little Bill would just as soon (per- 
 haps sooner) set fire to the farmer's barn. As Ho- 
 ratio reviewed little Bill's past he recalled numerous 
 pranks performed by little Bill just to be "mean." 
 Mr. Slipaway was now seeing little Bill in a new light 
 — in the light of the recent actions of the grown-up 
 Bill at Blinkum — and all that early hero-worship 
 dropped from his (Horatio's) soul. Why, little Bill 
 had been just a mean, vicious, unscrupulous little 
 village rat — and through all these years Horatio
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 183 
 
 had been looking up to him — wishing he had been 
 Hke old Bill — a feeling of great distaste for his vis- 
 itor now overwhelmed Mr. Slipaway. He felt as 
 if there was hardly room enough in the world for 
 the two of them. 
 
 "Were you let out of jail, Bill, or did you 
 escape?" 
 
 "Escaped," said Bill hoarsely. 
 
 A sudden gleam shot from Horatio's eye. 
 
 "You see, it was like this," said Bill, "every 
 night, lying in my lonely cell, I got thinking of that 
 little old churchyard, and how I'd never stood along- 
 side of that little mound. So I made up my mind to 
 get out, by hook or crook, and I did. Guard tried 
 to stop me. But he wished he hadn't !" 
 
 "What did you do to him, Bill?" said Horatio 
 softly. 
 
 "Beaned him," said Bill. That seemed to be his 
 specialty, "beaning" people. "Tried to monkey with 
 me, so I gave him one with a monkey-wrench I'd 
 picked up in the machine-shop. Settled old scores ! 
 When I've got a grudge against any one" — looking 
 at Horatio — "I always settle." 
 
 But Mr. Slipaway was not listening; a faint smile 
 was on his lips. A plan had suddenly occurred to 
 him; to entertain Bill; treat him well, and then.
 
 184 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 when old Bill was dead to the world — Mr. SHpaway 
 glanced toward the phone. Already he could in fancy 
 hear himself saying: "Hello, police, are you look- 
 ing for an escaped convict. Well, come right over. 
 I've got him. Yes ; I'll hold him. Glad to make you 
 a present of him. Good-by." 
 
 Animated by this amiable and friendly purpose, 
 Mr. Slipaway rang his bell ; he didn't know whether 
 Saki had yet returned from his dissipations at the 
 public library or not. To his satisfaction, the little 
 "professor" answered his employer's summons. He 
 showed no surprise at the sight of the real Bill ; Mr. 
 Slipaway frequently brought some one home with 
 him, to help while away the weary moments, though 
 the real Bill wore rather shabby clothes for one pre- 
 sumably a friend of Saki's dashing master. 
 
 "Well, did you have an hilarious time?" said 
 Mr. Slipaway blithely to the little servitor. 
 
 "Dizzy time," answered Saki. "I chase Honora- 
 ble Anthropology to his uttermost lair." 
 
 "What the — " began the real Bill, bewildered. 
 
 "Good," said Horatio. "Now listen, Saki. This 
 is an old friend — a very old friend — a very dear 
 old friend — I want to treat him white — to give him 
 the best there is." 
 
 "Pop-pop?" said Saki.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 185 
 
 "Special pop-pop! That old, old pop-pop!" 
 
 "What the—" began Bill again. 
 
 "Venerable Grand Pop-pop !" said Saki with pro- 
 found deference. 
 
 "Say— what's it all about?" said Bill. 
 
 "Wait!" said Horatio. 
 
 " 'Grand Pop' !" repeated Bill. "I don't want to 
 see anybody's grand-pop. No Rip Van Winkles 
 for me !" 
 
 "Wait," said Horatio once more. "It isn't that 
 kind of a grand-pop. This grand-pop doesn't wear 
 whiskers." 
 
 An hour or so later the real Bill lay on the cozy 
 couch, snoring blissfully, Horatio stood over him, 
 like another Brutus at Caesar's bier. "So? — old 
 friend ? — dead ? — but yesterday he might have ruled 
 the world — now lies he there — ha !" A few bubbles 
 were dancing in Mr. Slipaway's brain. He prodded 
 Bill blithely with his foot. "Put one over on me, 
 will you? I guess not." He started for the phone. 
 "Now for the reincarnation — 1 mean the incarcera- 
 tion of Bill!" he muttered, when the door-bell rang. 
 
 "Mr. Carter live here?" said a brisk voice. 
 
 "He does," said Saki, answering the summons. 
 
 "William Carter?" 
 
 "The same."
 
 186 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Then I want him." 
 
 A man in uniform pushed in. 
 
 "Eh ?" said Horatio, trying to clear his brains of 
 the bubbles, for it had been at some personal self- 
 sacrifice he had put the redoubtable "Bill" to sleep. 
 
 "Which is Mr. William Carter?" said the man. 
 
 Saki promptly pointed to Horatio. "Mr. Will- 
 iam Carter — Patagonia — llama-trimmer — sixteen 
 years at — " he went through the whole formula. Too 
 late Mr. Slipaway realized what his faithful servant 
 was doing. His poor dazed brain was reeling. 
 
 "No, no," he muttered. 
 
 Saki thought he must mean more. He had 
 coached and coached himself for just such an emer- 
 gency. His master had partaken of a glass or two 
 and did not quite realize what he was saying. Saki 
 would protect him; he ran through a yard or so 
 more of the stuff. He described their life in detail 
 in South America; Horatio tried to stop him. He 
 wouldn't be stopped; the faithful fellow would save 
 his master in spite of himself. He rambled on and 
 on, while Mr. Slipaway listened distractedly; noth- 
 ing could stay the current of Saki's devoted words. 
 
 "I guess that'll about do," said the officer. And 
 then — "Come along!" to Horatio. 
 
 "What — what for?" stammered that individual.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 187 
 
 "Murder — arson — a few other things — that's 
 
 all." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway was too dazed to answer. As in a 
 dream — a hideous nightmare — he accompanied his 
 latest caller. It had been an eventful evening. On 
 the sofa Bill (Mr. Timothy Treadway) slumbered 
 on. Poor Saki stood in the center of the room — a 
 discouraged, disconsolate picture of woe. 
 
 What had happened and why had it happened? 
 The faithful little professor felt that somehow he 
 had been at fault ; perhaps he had not spoken his les- 
 son at sufficient length. For the moment, the un- 
 happy Saki seriously contemplated hari-kari, but 
 he was deterred from that desperate expedient at 
 the sight of the still slumbering guest of the even- 
 ing. Under the circumstances, it would not be good 
 etiquette to "change his state" ; rather was it his 
 duty to remain, watch over his master's guest, and, 
 especially, guard his absent employer's belongings 
 from the too ready fingers of vandal hands. Saki 
 went to bed.
 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 HERE they go." Mrs. Slipaway dodged 
 around a corner of the apartment building 
 and watched the figures of the officer and the luck- 
 less Mr. Slipaway, as they came out of the main en- 
 trance and passed down the shadowy street. "The 
 actor-gentleman must have played his part very well, 
 to have deceived poor, dear Horatio !" 
 
 "Well, that was because we rehearsed it several 
 times; I acted up to him as Horatio," observed the 
 minister. "Mr. Treadway said I was a natural actor 
 and complimented me very highly." 
 
 "Did he?" said Mrs. Slipaway absently, "Do 
 you know, I feel almost now as if we had done 
 wrong." 
 
 "Don't let that worry you," observed her compan- 
 ion quickly. "Mr. Slipaway needed a lesson — and a 
 good one. He will emerge from the experience a 
 chastened and, I trust, a better man." 
 
 "That's just it," said the lady. "Will it take the 
 spirit out of him? And how 'chastened' will it make 
 him?" As she spoke she sighed. Was that sigh a 
 
 188
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 189 
 
 confession of weakness for the erstwhile dashing 
 and bold — if reprehensible — reincarnation of Bill? 
 "A woman doesn't like a man too 'chastened,' does 
 she now ?" 
 
 "I should not call a proper admixture of spiritual 
 exaltation, in the nature of man, as calculated to 
 make him 'too chastened' to appeal to your sex," 
 responded the good man rather stiffly. 
 
 "1 don't know," said Mrs. Slipaway, still gazing 
 in the direction Horatio, under official guidance, had 
 taken. 'T was reading the other night about one of 
 those terrible buccaneers of the Spanish Main, and 
 how attractive he was to so many lovely ladies ! A 
 beautiful duchess was among them. The story said 
 she left her husband, six lovely children and her an- 
 cestral halls just to roam and roam with him." 
 
 "And can you understand that?" said the Rev- 
 erend Mr. Bodkins in a still small voice. 
 
 "Maybe she just got tired of being hum-drum," 
 said Mrs. Slipaway, still regarding the void that had 
 swallowed up Horatio. "We had a dog once, and 
 every so often he ran away from home. We had a 
 cat, too, and it did the same thing. Wanted to get 
 out of a rut, I guess !" 
 
 "And do you venture to compare your sex — 
 your gentle sex — with domestic animals f
 
 190 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Didn't you ever feel that desire to roam?" con- 
 tinued Mrs. Slipaway in that same far-away tone. 
 
 "Me?" said the startled minister. 
 
 "Just to jump out of your pulpit into the — ^the — 
 well, the Somewhere Else?" 
 
 "I trust such a thought has never entered" — be- 
 gan the minister indignantly. Then he stopped. 
 "Hum?" he said. "I should say if such a thought 
 had ever entered my brain, I trust I — I — well, 
 would never mention it to any one." 
 
 "Of course not," absently. "You know I feel 
 a mite uneasy about Johnnie." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "When I asked him wouldn't he make up as an 
 officer of the law, and pretend to arrest dear Hora- 
 tio, he acted willing to be of help. Indeed, he al- 
 most 'fell over himself telling me how he'd just 
 love to arrest Horatio. And what he'd do if Hora- 
 tio resisted an officer of the law. Somehow, his tone 
 made me think he wouldn't be sorry if poor Ho- 
 ratio did resist, so he could use that club he car- 
 ries. You see, Johnnie likes Horatio so much he 
 mightn't resist the temptation to find a pretext 
 for using that club. I told Johnnie I didn't exactly 
 see any need of his carrying a club, but he only said : 
 'You've got to carry a club to be an officer of the
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 191 
 
 law. If I'm going to act this part I'll have to be con- 
 sistent, I stand for being the real thing.' And he 
 wouldn't give way. So I had to, knowing that I 
 couldn't find anybody better for that particular role 
 than Mr. Briggs." 
 
 "Yes; he has a natural talent for the part, I 
 should say," observed the minister. "Did you notice 
 how he gave Horatio an unnecessary jerk, as they 
 came out? And how rough he spoke, telling him 
 what he'd do, if he didn't go along quietly." 
 
 "Did I notice?" said Mrs. Slipaway. "I should 
 say I did. And when I see Mr. Briggs I'll just tell 
 him what I think. He said something about being 
 an artist, and how he'd merge into the role like a 
 regular genius. I suppose he thought those jerks 
 he gave poor Horatio signs of genius, but I thought 
 he over-acted." 
 
 "Too brutally realistic to be really fine acting," 
 commented the minister. 
 
 "Well, I'll have the satisfaction of telling John- 
 nie so, at any rate," observed Mrs. Slipaway with 
 a certain satisfaction. "He'll come to me, expecting 
 to be slathered all over with compliments, and won't 
 it cut his pride to be criticized? He was so con- 
 ceited when he talked about how he could act the 
 part. Talked about the 'third degree' and how he'd
 
 192 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 love to administer it to dear Horatio. In fact, I 
 don't like Mr. Briggs' manner at all in the matter !" 
 
 "Possibly, Mr. Briggs is not altogether disinter- 
 ested," suggested the minister slyly. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway professed not to understand. "I 
 wonder where they are now ? And has Mr. Briggs 
 let Horatio escape yet as planned?" 
 
 "That was the program," observed the minister. 
 "I wish we could have rented a police-station to have 
 taken him too, but that was out of the question. I 
 should have liked to see his face when Mr. Tread- 
 way pretended to be the real Bill." 
 
 *T don't know," said Mrs. Slipaway. "Seems al- 
 most like taking a mean advantage, doesn't it ? And 
 think of the poor dear when Mr. Briggs lets him es- 
 cape. A fugitive from justice^ — that's what he'll 
 think he is." 
 
 "Give him time to meditate, reflect and repent!" 
 
 "Yes; he'll be like those bold buccaneers of the 
 Spanish Main," said Mrs. Slipaway. "But isn't this 
 Johnnie ?" As a figure uncertainly approached them. 
 
 "It is. What can have happened to him ?" 
 
 "What have you done with your club, Mr. 
 Briggs?" said Mrs. Slipaway sternly. 
 
 The remnants of Mr. Briggs leaned against the 
 wall. His hat was dented and he groaned. "This
 
 JHE NUT CRACKER 193 
 
 for you!" he said, addressing Mrs. Slipaway re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 "Did you frame it up so he could escape, John- 
 nie?" said the minister. 
 
 "I didn't need to frame it up," groaned Johnnie, 
 removing his now superfluous whiskers. "I was 
 just telling him my opinion of him — and all those 
 different crimes he had committed — when suddenly 
 he grabbed my club — biff! Never have I seen so 
 many stars before! Whole constellations of them! 
 Biff! When I recovered he was gone." 
 
 "That was smart of him, anyhow, wasn't it?" 
 said Mrs. Slipaway, a faint accent of admiration in 
 her tones. 
 
 "At any rate, it made his escape seem more nat- 
 ural," said the minister. 
 
 "Much better than Mr. Briggs just letting him 
 go," said Mrs. Slipaway. "He might have seen 
 through that." 
 
 "Well, everything has turned out very well," ob- 
 served the Reverend Mr. Bodkins. 
 
 "Has it?" said Mr. Briggs in an ugly tone. 
 
 "Of course," said Mrs. Slipaway smoothly. "I 
 was afraid Mr. Briggs might not act natural enough 
 in permitting him to get away — that he might be too 
 open about it. But Mr. Slipaway's taking the sit-
 
 194 ,THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 uation into his own hands, was quite a happy coin- 
 cidence." 
 
 "Was it ?" said Johnnie Briggs in that same tone. 
 
 "It was," said the lady. "I didn't aUogether hke 
 the way you played that part, Johnnie." Severely. 
 
 "No?" said Mr. Briggs with a baleful glare. 
 
 "No," repeated Mrs. Slipaway severely. 
 
 "What was the matter with my acting?" snapped 
 Mr. Briggs, holding his head. 
 
 "It was quite too unnecessarily — rough!" said 
 the lady. 
 
 What Johnnie said matters not.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 FOR several days they saw nothing of the fugi- 
 tive, and during these days a patched-up Mr. 
 Briggs called frequently upon Mrs. Slipaway. Os- 
 tensibly, he called first after the escape of Horatio 
 to apologize for a certain remark he had made on 
 that memorable evening, after the good lady had 
 accused him (Johnnie) of having been "unnecessa- 
 rily rough." Mrs. Slipaway had parted very coldly 
 with Mr. Briggs on that occasion — indeed, so coldly 
 as to give the impression that henceforth Johnnie 
 might consider himself a total stranger to her. This 
 did not suit Mr. Briggs at all. Never had the image 
 of Mrs. Slipaway appealed to him so strongly as 
 now. 
 
 Newly gowned, hatted and shod, it was as if a 
 new and more engaging vision of her had arisen to 
 dazzle his attention. Mrs. Slipaway dug into the 
 nest-egg with reckless abandon; clothes had a sud- 
 den charm for her ; the heels of her shoes kept get- 
 ting higher and her hats bigger. She made the 
 
 195
 
 196 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 discovery she wore her clothes well; that her nat- 
 urally good figure was well-adapted to exhibit the 
 wares of the up-to-date modistes. Also, she made 
 the discovery that men looked at her on the street, 
 but this did not displease her. With the new clothes 
 came sundry changes in the house ; a bright rug ani- 
 mated the floor; sundry etchings replaced the mot- 
 toes. Other innovations followed. 
 
 "You see, when Horatio comes back he may like 
 it better," said Mrs. Slipaway quite frankly to the 
 minister. 
 
 "Puts an idea in my head," said the latter thought- 
 fully. "Maybe I ought to 'spruce up' a bit, too." 
 
 "You?" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "At the church," he explained. "You see, the at- 
 tendance is falling off." 
 
 "I read about a minister who gave moving-pic- 
 tures in his church, and now he's turning them 
 away," said Mrs. Slipaway absently. 
 
 The minister started slightly. Then he absently 
 took his leave. It was after this visit that Johnnie 
 Briggs dropped in for the first time since his his- 
 trionic triumph. He wore a rather hang-dog 
 expression ; he just couldn't stay away, although he 
 was certainly greatly put out, and felt himself ill- 
 used. He had told himself he would set the image
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 197 
 
 of the lady and the accompanying nest-egg out of 
 his mind and heart forever, only to discover that 
 was easier said than done. As he added up col- 
 umns of figures and performed other menial tasks 
 appertaining to the routine of his daily duties, said 
 image, with all its fresh and matronly charms, 
 danced ever before his mental vision. Mr. Briggs 
 had fully determined never — never — to call upon 
 that lady again, under the pretext of being of service 
 as a friend of Horatio; nevertheless, in due course 
 of events, he found himself wending his way slav- 
 ishly to her bower. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway received him — coldly, albeit — but 
 she received him. Possibly Johnnie might have 
 some word of the fugitive. Mr. Briggs' face as he 
 found himself in the lady's presence was that of the 
 knight of the sad and mournful countenance. One 
 eye was slightly discolored, which added to his fu- 
 nereal and lugubrious appearance. He was not the 
 same gentleman who had used the naughty word so 
 savagely and explosively when accused of having 
 been "unnecessarily rough" ; indeed, he looked as 
 if the sky had fallen down and hit him, and wicked, 
 peppery ejaculations had been banished from his 
 vocabulary forever. Mrs. Slipaway did not ask him 
 to sit down at first; and Mr. Briggs, standing awk-
 
 198 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 wardly, conscious of the unprepossessing aspect of 
 his right optic, murmured disconnected words of 
 apology and regret, and then disjointed reiterations 
 of said words, humbhng himself to the dust, as it 
 were, and then rolling over. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway listened with perfunctory and 
 lady-like dignity. "I know I shouldn't have said it," 
 breathed the mournful knight of the disfigured 
 visage, "and I'm sorry. Of course, no gentleman 
 should say what he thinks before a lady." 
 
 "A gentleman shouldn't think what he ought not 
 to say before a lady," responded Mrs. Slipaway 
 with unbending coldness. 
 
 "Of course he oughtn't," assented Johnnie 
 eagerly, "but man is gross. And — I guess I was a 
 little upset — such a wallop! Whew!" 
 
 "What did you expect — after handling him so 
 roughly?" observed Mrs. Slipaway sweetly. 
 
 Mr. Briggs swallowed. "Was — was I rough?" 
 he said miserably. 
 
 "You were." Severely. "You showed very 
 plainly you have an inherent cruel streak in your 
 disposition." 
 
 "Me cruel ?" said the miserable Mr. Briggs. "You 
 — you don't know what a — a really tender nature 
 I've got. Why, when I think of — some things — I
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 199 
 
 ' — I just seem to melt all over. Besides, there was 
 the provocation — " 
 
 *T am sure he was going with you as meek as a 
 lamb," said the lady. 
 
 "A lamb ! Him, a lamb ! Why, when I think how 
 he's treated you — it was the thought of that made 
 me speak a little sharp to him — it was the thought 
 of his misconduct to you — his cruelty — the decep- 
 tion—" 
 
 "And it was that made you forget how fond you 
 always were of him?" said Mrs. Slipaway with 
 slight irony. 
 
 "It did !" cried Johnnie. "Much as I like Horatio, 
 your — your image must come first. Woman — gen- 
 tle woman — isn't it a man's part always to protect 
 her? Why, when I looked in the mirror this morn- 
 ing, you know what I felt? Exultation!" pro- 
 claimed Johnnie. "That I got it" — touching his eye 
 — "in your service. Yes, sir; when I see the finest 
 woman in the world ground down — trod beneath 
 foot — humiliated — scorned — when I behold all that, 
 I say any scars received by my poor humble person 
 in the upholding of — of — " 
 
 "Won't you sit down, Mr. Briggs?" Johnnie did 
 — gladly. Had his eloquence secured for him this 
 slight concession?
 
 200 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "I'm proud of that eye," he repeated. 
 
 "Are you ?" said the lady. "It isn't much to be — " 
 and smiHng sHghtly she left the sentence unfin- 
 ished. Mr. Briggs lolled back, more at his ease ; the 
 ice was broken — the Goddess of Love be praised! 
 He eyed Mrs. Slipaway's extra-high-heeled little 
 shoe with tender emotions. How well that daintily- 
 shod foot would look on the fender of his (John- 
 nie's) domestic fireplace. Of course, Horatio 
 wouldn't come back now, with all those crimes hang- 
 ing over him, thought Mr. Briggs, and the charming 
 lady could find many and ample reasons for untying 
 the holy knot that doesn't bind, or shouldn't. Then 
 Johnnie noticed the bright rug. 
 
 "You've been making some changes," he ob- 
 served. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Slipaway. "What's the use of 
 having money if you don't spend it?" 
 
 This gave Johnnie a slight shock. "Referring to 
 that — ah ! — sacred legacy ?" he observed in a tone 
 he endeavored to make playful, but which never- 
 theless conveyed a slight note of anxiety. 
 
 "I am," said the lady brightly. "Only it isn't 
 sacred any more." 
 
 "No?" said Johnnie, still striving to mask his 
 deep disappointment. The sacred nest-egg dwind-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 201 
 
 ling away? — Intolerable thought! Mr. Briggs 
 twisted uneasily. "Is it wise ? — Is it prudent ? — We 
 have to think of the future," he observed. "That 
 rainy-day, you know!" he added, heroically strug- 
 gling to speak in his most disinterested tone. 
 
 "I've been thinking," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "No?" said Johnnie once more, with a deeper 
 sinking of spirits. Whenever Mrs. Slipaway slipped 
 into that "thinking" silence Johnnie had noticed 
 something usually happened afterward. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Slipaway. "Maybe nest-eggs 
 are like other eggs. Don't do to keep them too 
 long." 
 
 "The Chinese keep eggs for ever and ever so 
 long," remarked Johnnie, thinking of no better ar- 
 gument on the spur of the moment. 
 
 "True ; but who would be a Chinese ?" murmured 
 Mrs. Slipaway. "I've heard they treat their women 
 something shameful. I'm sure I wouldn't want to 
 belong to a country that treats its women shame- 
 fully." 
 
 "You — you wouldn't have to," murmured John- 
 nie weakly. "I — I was just referring to their — their 
 custom of keeping eggs." 
 
 "Eggs should be used when they're fresh," re- 
 marked Mrs. Slipaway.
 
 202 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Ordinary eggs," said Johnnie. "But nest-eggs 
 — the Chinese custom might apply to nest-eggs!" 
 He thought that rather clever. "Not hens' !" 
 
 "I wouldn't like to do anything the way the Chi- 
 nese do," remarked the lady. 
 
 "Of course not," said Johnnie subtly. "But nest- 
 eggs can't spoil, like hens'," he laughed, endeavor- 
 ing to appear as if the subject was of no moment 
 whatever to him. "Quite to the contrary! Left 
 alone, they get bigger and better. And when the 
 rainy-day" — jocularly — "does come — " 
 
 "There isn't going to be any rainy-day," said Mrs. 
 Slipaway. "I made up my mind to enjoy myself a 
 httle." 
 
 "Of course," said Johnnie, visions of a vanishing 
 nest-egg floating darkly before his brain. 
 
 "I've been frugal. Now I'm going to be a 
 spender," said Mrs. Slipaway. "Why should some 
 people be the spenders and others not?" 
 
 "Why, indeed?" murmured Johnnie mournfully. 
 
 "I've been thinking of that motto I gave away. 
 The Lord Will Provide.' What's it mean ? Is it an 
 invitation to be frugal ? It is not. It just tells you to 
 go right ahead — to have faith. Seems to me I've 
 been misinterpreting that motto all these years. I've 
 been sinfully lacking in faith."
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 203 
 
 "Say not so!" mumbled Mr. Briggs. 
 
 "Now I got it — and I'm not afraid." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "I'm beginning to learn that fear's what makes 
 most people too frugal and skimpy. It keeps them 
 back ; it's bad for them. Seems like I'd just begun 
 to wake up and have faith." 
 
 At this distorted and perfectly irrational philo- 
 sophical conclusion, or sophistry, Mr. Briggs could 
 but preserve a painful and distressed silence. He 
 went home — to his lonely room — to meditate darkly 
 upon the perversion of fortune, in general, and 
 woman, in particular. The worst was, he couldn't 
 get the image of Mrs. Slipaway out of his mind, 
 with or without the nest-egg. And then Johnnie 
 came to a very reckless and generous determination. 
 He would marry her anyhow — without the nest-egg. 
 Although he had hardly enough to support one, still 
 would he court the expenses of two. He, also, 
 would have "faith," and thus thinking he felt quite 
 heroic; indeed, as he looked at himself in the mirror 
 he thought his figure had expanded into new and 
 more noble proportions. He was no longer the 
 knight of the sad and doleful countenance. The dis- 
 coloration of his optic was like a gorgeous badge of 
 merit.
 
 204 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "I've been thinking," he told the good lady, one 
 day not long thereafter. 
 
 "You?" said Mrs. Slipaway rather incredulously. 
 
 "Me," said Johnnie. "It's that faith-stuff. Go 
 ahead and spend it. What's the difference?" 
 
 The lady looked at him sharply. Johnnie, at 
 the moment, appeared in a mood of undue exhilara- 
 tion. 
 
 "Only I'd— I'd just like to have a little talk." 
 
 "Yes?" said the lady. 
 
 "About—" Johnnie flushed deeply. "Well, 
 after—" 
 
 "After?" she said. 
 
 "After you get it from him — " 
 
 "It? Oh, you mean a d — " 
 
 "Of course," said Johnnie. "I — I'd just like to 
 say, I — I — wouldn't be afraid to — you know — ?" 
 
 "Marry me?" said the lady quietly. 
 
 "That's it," exclaimed Johnnie. 
 
 "Without the nest-egg?" said she. 
 
 "D the nest-egg!" cried Johnnie. 
 
 She gave him rather a queer look. 
 
 "There! I've gone and used one of those words 
 again!" said Johnnie. 
 
 "Never mind !" said she.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 205 
 
 *T know it isn't strictly proper to — well — " 
 
 "It is rather premature," she observed. 
 
 *T don't want you to give me your answer now, 
 of course, based on that — contingency — your — " 
 
 "Oh, I'm not afraid," said the lady unexpectedly. 
 "Why shouldn't we have a perfect understanding? 
 Especially after the noble — shall we say disinter- 
 ested — character of your — proposal?" Johnnie be- 
 gan to swell. "Of course, I realize it is a proposal, 
 based on a certain contingency. A little irregular, 
 or premature, still — its very disinterestedness — its 
 flattering and somewhat surprising assurance that 
 it is I, and not the nest-egg — " Her voice trailed 
 away. "Here is your answer, Mr. Briggs." 
 
 "Oh!" said Johnnie, as if almost overcome with 
 too much joyful anticipation. 
 
 "In the event of my divorce from Mr. Slipa- 
 way — " 
 
 "Which you will procure, of course." Sotto voce 
 from Mr. Briggs. 
 
 " — I promise to be yours!" 
 
 "Oh !" said Johnnie again. 
 
 The lady smiled. 
 
 "This is too — too great joy!" breathed Johnnie. 
 
 'Try to bear up under it," murmured the lady. 
 
 tc
 
 206 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "I will," said Mr. Briggs. 
 
 "Now go," said the lady, and Mr. Briggs stag- 
 gered blissfully from the house. 
 
 True, a few doubts and misgivings did crop 
 up later to assail him, but it was too late to 
 draw back now; he had committed himself inex- 
 orably to the future financial upkeep of a lovely 
 lady, quite a responsibility! But then — a com- 
 forting thought did insinuate itself in Johnnie's 
 brain — perhaps Mrs. Slipaway could force a com- 
 fortable sum from Horatio, as a little consolation 
 for all she had suffered in his hands. Perhaps said 
 sum would be as large as the dissipated nest-egg, 
 and, once married, Johnnie could look after this 
 little titbit from his dear friend Horatio's pocket- 
 book. Johnnie even began to plan how he would 
 invest that titbit. As Bill Carter, Horatio had made 
 money. While figuring in a noble disinterested role, 
 Johnnie began mentally calculating how much Ho- 
 ratio could be made to disgorge. From this premise 
 Mr. Briggs soon began to estimate the fortune he 
 would build up, with the little titbit from Mr. Slip- 
 away's pocketbook as an inspiring "starter," and 
 it wasn't long before the now elated Johnnie saw 
 himself possessed of vast means, with the charming 
 Mrs. Slipaway — that was — by his side to assist him
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 207 
 
 in maintaining his various establishments in the 
 country and in town. This picture suggested to 
 Johnnie a species of poetic justice for the indignity 
 — damaged optic — he (Johnnie) had suffered from 
 his dear friend Horatio. Love and revenge! — the 
 consummation of both! Mr. Briggs hugged the 
 thought to his heart. Mrs. SHpaway had promised 
 to be his after she had divorced dear, dear Horatio 
 — and Mrs. SHpaway was a lady of her word.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A SHADOW that had been Horatio Shpaway 
 approached warily the Shpaway home sev- 
 eral nights later, hesitated, walked by without en- 
 tering, then, stealing in the darkness to the side of 
 the house, gazed furtively within. What he saw 
 surprised him greatly ; a renovated interior — dainty 
 pictures, in the place of mottoes ; a bright rug where 
 the old rag carpet had been ; new wall-paper — cheer- 
 ful wall-paper — think of it! And Mrs. Slipaway 
 herself! — bright and cheery-looking! — her neat foot 
 encased in a coquettish slipper — her trim ankle set 
 off with gay hosiery — yes, gay ! Where the house- 
 organ, with its doleful memories of Pull for the 
 Shore, In the Sweet By-and-By, and kindred de- 
 pressing ditties, had stood, there was now a victrola 
 grinding out a fox-trot. The mournful likeness, or 
 libel, in funereal crayon of that erstwhile saintly 
 man, Horatio's predecessor, had disappeared — and 
 the whole place seemed cheered and illumined 
 by his absence A lamp with a pink shade threw a 
 rosy light upon the happy scene. The outcast 
 
 208
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 209 
 
 breathed deeply. What an attractive little home! 
 Oh, if he only could — dared — enter it! Mrs. Slip- 
 away was speaking; the minister was listening. He 
 looked changed, too; his face was more cheerful; 
 he acted as if he no longer cherished a pessimistic 
 attitude toward original sin, and human perversities 
 in general. 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. Slipaway was saying, "I put his pic- 
 ture in the attic. It didn't seem to fit in with the 
 general harmony of the other effects. Black doesn't 
 go very well with pink; do you think so? Also, it 
 and that light kind of music didn't seem to get on 
 very well in the same room. So I put it safely away 
 in the attic. It's nice and quiet and a kind of re- 
 ligious atmosphere up there. I do hope Horatio 
 won't mind — when he comes back, not finding it 
 here. He used to tell me how he used to look up to 
 that picture. Ah, me!" Mrs. Slipaway sighed; 
 outside, Mr. Slipaway had a funny feeling some- 
 where in the neighborhood of his heart. 
 
 "Besides," went on Mrs. Slipaway, "when I got 
 that new kind of faith about not worrying over the 
 future, and seeing how nest-eggs were made to 
 spend, the sight of IT on the wall began to be some- 
 what disconcerting. You can't convert some one 
 who has passed on, to the new faith, can you?"
 
 '210 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Not very easily," said the caller. 
 
 "Knowing which," resumed Mrs. Slipaway, "it 
 seemed we would agree better with him in another 
 place, where he wouldn't ruffle the atmosphere. Of 
 course, when Mr. Slipaway returns, if he wants him 
 back, I suppose I couldn't refuse, but I hope he 
 won't insist." 
 
 "Let us hope not," observed the minister. "Odd, 
 how one's opinions undergo a transformation!" 
 
 "You're thinking of your church?" 
 
 "Yes; after the congregation fell off, so there 
 weren't any people to speak of left, the trustees 
 intimated I had to fill the church or pass on to other 
 pastures. So I introduced moving pictures of sacred 
 subjects, with incidental religious remarks. Now 
 there aren't enough seats ; my salary has been raised 
 twice — and all from a chance remark of yours !" 
 
 "Well, there isn't any use of being a back num- 
 ber," said Mrs. Slipaway decisively. "Dear Horatio 
 got tired of being a back number; I guess that's 
 all was the matter with him." Mr. Slipaway listened 
 more attentively. Mrs. Slipaway's tones were al- 
 most too soft and caressing. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" The minister laughed. "I sup- 
 pose he's lurking in allies and sleeping in dry-goods 
 boxes and begging hand-me-outs to eat and shiver-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 211 
 
 ing at the sight of his own shadow !" At this touch- 
 ing picture of his presumably miserable situation, 
 Horatio shook his fist in the darkness. And they 
 could discuss him thus, and laugh ! 
 
 "I suppose it's good for him," said Mrs. Slipa- 
 way with a sigh. "Probably his poor feet are out 
 at the toes, from running away, by this time." 
 
 "Most unfortunate the real Bill Carter should 
 have come back, wasn't it?" chuckled the minister. 
 
 "Wasn't it?" said Mrs. SHpaway, laughing too. 
 "Poor dear Horatio should have thought he might 
 come back." 
 
 Poor dear Horatio began to quiver with rage. So 
 they were laughing at him, and his misery? 
 
 "Yes; he left the real Bill out of his calculations 
 altogether." 
 
 "A criminal I" 
 
 "A fugitive from justice!" 
 
 "A murderer!" 
 
 Horatio began to feel like a murderer. Why, 
 they were actually enjoying his sad plight. "Hand- 
 me-outs" — "shivering at his own shadow" — "sleep- 
 ing in dry-goods boxes" — was there anything funny 
 in that ? How true, the world likes to laugh at one's 
 miseries! Make a man unhappy enough, and you 
 have a farce! Make him more and more miserable
 
 212 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 every minute, and you have a whooping success of 
 a farce! Horatio's chest arose and fell with ve- 
 hement protest. And this laughing, rejuvenated 
 woman had once been his wife — indeed, was his 
 wife now. Ah, the pity of it; the tragedy of it! 
 Clad in her new finery, she scoffed at his woe. Why, 
 she was a regular Delilah ! Should he spring forth 
 and confront them? Of what avail? 
 
 "How do you explain Mr. Slipaway's absence to 
 the neighbors?" asked the minister after a few more 
 perfectly intolerable chuckles. 
 
 "Why, I gave out Horatio had gone to Florida, 
 and was basking with the millionairesses on the 
 beach. Then sometimes I tell them about the fish 
 he is catching." 
 
 "Oh, he's catching fish." And once more they 
 enjoyed themselves. "But do you — is it quite right 
 — prevarication can never be excused, you know." 
 
 "Well, this was sort of true," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 "After Horatio used his own better judgment and 
 did just the opposite to what Mr. Vancourtland 
 wanted him to, and made, instead of lost, thousands 
 for that gentleman — " Mr. Slipaway, at the listen- 
 ing-post, started violently. 
 
 "Mr. Vancourtland can't do too much for Hora- 
 tio. He phoned me saying what a financial genius
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 213 
 
 he'd showed himself to be. And he wanted Horatio 
 and me to take a trip on his yacht." 
 
 "Yes; Mr. Slipaway showed what he could do, 
 as Bill Carter. Why, if the real Bill hadn't come 
 back, he'd have been a millionaire by this time." 
 
 "Poor fellow ! It was a shame to nip him in the 
 bud," said Mrs. Slipaway. *'But it had to be." 
 
 Their commiseration was worse than their laugh- 
 ter to the lonely outcast without. With what a 
 shock had he heard of Mr. Vancourtland's good for- 
 tune; why, that gentleman, instead of wanting to 
 have Horatio arrested, had only been desirous of 
 tying bouquets to him. And he (Horatio) had been 
 running away from bouquets instead of constables. 
 He hadn't had nearly as much reason for his psychic 
 disappearance as he had supposed. He might even 
 have stayed and defied the breach - of - promise 
 woman and sundry annoying creditors. Too late 
 Mr. Slipaway realized he had been running around 
 in a circle. If he wasn't Bill Carter, and he wasn't 
 Horatio Slipaway, who was he? He felt more like 
 a squirrel in a cage. 
 
 "I hope they won't find him and electrocute him," 
 breathed Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "If they did, you would have to — " The minister 
 shook a playful finger at her.
 
 214 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "You mean Mr. Briggs?" Mrs, Slipaway spoke 
 the words with a positive giggle. Horatio ground 
 his teeth. Such outrageous levity! 
 
 "Then you wouldn't have to divorce Mr. Slip- 
 away — " 
 
 "To marry Mr. Briggs?" Yes; she spoke the 
 words. Jklr. Slipaway could hardly believe his ears. 
 Divorce him, to marry Johnnie Briggs — that miser- 
 able, crawling Uriah Heep — oh, Horatio saw 
 through him now. Pretended to be his friend — so 
 as to get rid of him — then — 
 
 "Yes," said ^Mrs. Slipaway, with another shame- 
 less giggle, "I had to promise I'd marry Mr. Briggs 
 after I had divorced Horatio !" 
 
 And the minister, too, seemed to see nothing in 
 this fearfully depraved statement of a reprehensible 
 character. WTiy, they were like two conspirators 
 sitting there! 
 
 "After you divorced Mr. Slipaway!" laughed the 
 caller. "Weren't you afraid to make that promise?" 
 
 "Me?" said Mrs. Slipaway. "Not a bit." 
 
 "Hussy!" muttered the man at the window. 
 
 "You see, Mr. Briggs is so noble — generous — 
 disinterested. A woman couldn't make a mistake 
 with him, could she?" 
 
 "I don't think you would make a mistake, as far
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 215 
 
 as Mr. Briggs is concerned," said the caller gal- 
 lantly. 
 
 Horatio almost groaned. Why, it was hardly 
 proper — and he a minister — talking like that — 
 marry some one else, before she was divorced — 
 Never before had Mrs. Slipaway looked so gay and 
 frivolous ; also, so — yes, attractive ! These light and 
 wayward fancies seemed to have given her a new 
 youth fulness; her cheek had a bloom like unto a 
 peach. 
 
 "Of course, if he were electrocuted it would make 
 it very simple," guffawed the caller. 
 
 "Much simpler," assented Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 From heights of baffled rage Horatio descended 
 to depths of sorrow and reproach. They could talk 
 of his demise thus — lightly — casually — Not that 
 Horatio had the slightest fear of being electrocuted ; 
 the real Bill would probably be found some day 
 and the shadow lifted from him (Horatio), only 
 meanwhile, it was deucedly inconvenient dodging 
 around with those things fastened on to you. Why, 
 he couldn't even draw from the very considerable 
 bank-account he had in one of the city institutions 
 in William Carter's name ; nor dared he return to 
 his comfortable apartments where the faithful Saki 
 still kept mournful vigil. That was the worst of
 
 216 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 it; he, the erstwhile energetic "live wire," now con- 
 signed to a spineless and inert existence. He, Ho- 
 ratio Slipaway, in whom had been discovered new 
 forces, a roaming, idle fugitive, the while his dear 
 friend Johnnie had been undermining the peace of 
 his fireside. For the moment Mr. Slipaway was at 
 a loss just what to do. Should he go away or stay ? 
 He heard the front door-bell ring. He determined 
 to wait just a little longer; something interesting 
 might happen; it did.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A REJUVENATED Bridget went to the front 
 door. Formerly Bridget had been careless 
 of her attire and her appearance ; but Mrs. Slipaway 
 had, apparently, not only done over her house (and 
 in a measure) herself, she had likewise done over 
 her maid-servant. A becorseted Bridget greeted 
 the gaze of the watcher at the window; in fact, 
 Bridget was so tightly becorseted that she stuck out 
 in places in great bulges, reminding the rather star- 
 tled gazer of an overgrown Venus. Bridget re- 
 turned with the caller — or rather the callers — and 
 Mr. Slipaway had the surprise of his life. 
 
 Real Bill Carter entered the room, and by his 
 side was the breach-of-promise woman! Horatio 
 felt impelled to run away, to lose himself in the 
 abysms of night, but he seemed frozen to the spot. 
 Mrs. Slipaway greeted the visitors cordially; Ho- 
 ratio gasped. The real Bill held himself debonairly. 
 
 "This is her," he said. "We did the trick all 
 right." 
 
 217
 
 218 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 «T»- 
 
 Tm sure I congratulate you and wish you every 
 happiness," said Mrs. Slipaway sweetly. 
 
 The impressionistic lady curved her body into a 
 new angle. 
 
 *T'm sure you're very kind," she said. *T just fell 
 in love with Mr. Treadway the first thing, and I 
 couldn't help it." She spoke in jerks — emotion, no 
 doubt. Bill (Mr. Treadway) gazed at her proudly. 
 "It was all so romantic ! Don't you love romance, 
 Mrs. Slipaway?" That lady told her she did. Ho- 
 ratio listened with commingling emotions — amaze- 
 ment — wonder — awe — struggling in his breast. 
 
 "Well, you not only got an engagement — you got 
 a wife, didn't you?" said the minister to Mr. Tread- 
 way. 
 
 "Some little girl," said the proud Bill. 
 
 "I don't yet know quite how it happened," said the 
 minister. 
 
 "Looks as if I'd done the proposing," said the 
 "passion-pale" lady with another twist of her lithe 
 form. "Seems kind of forward, on my part!" 
 
 "Don't let that worry you," said the happy "Bill." 
 
 "How'd you say it was?" said the minister. 
 
 "Well, you see," said the groom, "the last I re- 
 member up in your husband's room, ma'am" — to 
 Mrs. Slipaway — "was taking a strangle-hold on a
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 219 
 
 Grand-pop, and wrestling with the contents. It was 
 a villainous plot against my fair fame. I, can see it 
 all now. They deliberately conspired to put me 'to 
 sleep.' The Jap boy was ever at my elbow — ever 
 there, with his insidious smile, and another pop-pop. 
 How many Grand-pops popped I do not know. 
 'Nice tickle-drops!' urged the little fiend. 'Drink,' 
 said his master, with a slimy, treacherous smile. 
 
 "When I awoke, I was alone, but on my breast 
 was a paper — a summons in a breach-of-promise 
 case ! The process-server, it seems, had entered, and 
 finding me there, concluded I was this villain, Ho- 
 ratio Slipaway. So he served me. When I read 
 that paper, I felt moved. 'Poor little girl, how have 
 you been treated?' says I to myself." The lady in 
 the case shifted her body into a new posture — sym- 
 bolic, no doubt, of Desolation, or Desertion. 
 
 "I made up my mind to call upon her," said Mr. 
 Treadway. "That paper seemed like a sort of sum- 
 mons to do so." 
 
 "Seemed kind of forward on my part!" repeated 
 the impressionistic lady. 
 
 "I found her in. We just looked at each other, 
 and knew it was to be. It certainly was a sizzling 
 love-affair. She forgot about the other chap right 
 off; never had cared for him. Just a bit of innocent
 
 220 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 flirtation on her part; that was all. Besides, she 
 was gifted with imagination; seemed it would be 
 rather exciting to get into court; maybe it would 
 attract attention to her and she could get into the 
 movies." 
 
 "Of course, I can quite understand," said Mrs. 
 Slipaway. 
 
 "It really was a very innocent affair," observed 
 the impressionistic lady. 
 
 "Don't bother to explain," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 "I absolved dear Horatio of all blame when I first 
 saw you." 
 
 The impressionistic lady looked at her; honey- 
 sweet was Mrs. Slipaway's smile. You wouldn't 
 have thought there was a double twist to her words. 
 
 "A very happy culmination," observed the min- 
 ister. "I am sure Mr. Treadway has well-earned 
 his salary for impersonating one very wicked jail- 
 bird." 
 
 "Impersonating?" Outside, Mr. Slipaway held 
 his head. He began to understand — a frame-up? — 
 ah! — what a hideous conspiracy. 
 
 "Yes; we had to create a real Bill to rout poor 
 dear Horatio," put in Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "And wasn't he easy?" remarked Mr. Treadway.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 221 
 
 "Or your acting was unusually good, dear," com- 
 plimented the breach-of-promise lady. 
 
 "Anyhow, he just ate up my story," laughed Mr. 
 Treadway. "How I'd escaped from jail; how I'd 
 *beaned' some one in the house where I was born, 
 and burned down the little old schoolhouse! — swal- 
 lowed it all!" 
 
 "It was your convincing ways," said the bride. 
 
 "Maybe ! And then he sat planning how he could 
 get even; feed me tickle-drops, and then hand me 
 over to the police ! Ha ! ha !" 
 
 "Yes; he certainly treated William very well," 
 said the bride. "But you won't drink like that again, 
 will you?" 
 
 "Never," said Mr. Treadway promptly. "I don't 
 expect ever to be tempted like that a second time. 
 Such things don't happen to a man more than once 
 in a lifetime." 
 
 "I like to hear you say that," said she. 
 
 "Did you marry him to reform him, dear?" said 
 Mrs. Slipaway in a funny tone. 
 
 "Why, perhaps that was it," she returned with a 
 jerk. 
 
 "Well, here I stand waiting to be moulded," said 
 the happy Mr. Treadway. And his expression, at
 
 222 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 the moment, was as inanely blissful as a happy piece 
 of dough, eagerly awaiting the fair hand. 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway passed Mr. Treadway a check. 
 Mr. Treadway accepted it with satisfaction. "It 
 will help for the honeymoon," he said. "I suppose 
 he made his escape as per schedule?" 
 
 "Hardly," said Mrs. Slipaway. "You see, John- 
 nie Briggs, dressed up as an officer — " 
 
 "Johnnie Briggs !" muttered Mr. Slipaway, with- 
 out. 
 
 "And Horatio, I suppose, got rather impatient, 
 and as you, Mr. Treadway, would say, 'beaned' 
 him." 
 
 "Ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Treadway, "I told you 
 he would mess it up somehow. These amateurs al- 
 ways do. But good night, madam, and thank you 
 for the job." 
 
 "Seems as if we ought to throw a few old shoes 
 after them," exclaimed Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Aw !" said the bride bashfully. 
 
 "I think I could find a few old pairs of Hora- 
 tio's," said Mrs. Slipaway. "And wouldn't that be 
 romantic?" 
 
 "What?" said the minister. 
 
 "To throw a pair of old shoes of Horatio's after 
 her!"
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 223 
 
 "I did step in his shoes, in a way," said Mr. 
 Treadway. 
 
 "In a way," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Good day," said the bride. 
 
 *'Good-by," said the others. 
 
 "God bless you," added the minister. 
 
 Only Horatio said nothing. He was stricken 
 dumb as well as frozen to the spot.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 AS Mr. Slipaway groped his way uncertainly 
 /~\ from the spot he tried to think, but his brain 
 seemed befogged, A "frame-up!" There wasn't 
 any real Bill. What a master-stroke on the part of 
 Mrs. Slipaway! He recalled the shivers of appre- 
 hension with which he had gazed upon that colossal 
 humbug, real Bill, who was none other than an im- 
 personator from stageland. And to think Mrs. 
 Slipaway — the seemingly guileless one — had "put 
 this over" on him — the resourceful, bold and orig- 
 inal reincarnation of William Carter! Amid his 
 resentment lurked a feeling of vague admiration 
 for that good lady. Why, his wife was clever — ^pos- 
 itively clever — devilishly so ! And he had never 
 known it before. He had learned a great deal since 
 his little adventure in another man's skin. 
 
 What an unsophisticated ass he had been. Espe- 
 cially to have trusted Johnnie Briggs ! As he 
 thought of that false friend — that wolf in sheep's 
 clothing — a queer feeling ran down Mr. Slipaway's 
 
 224
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 225 
 
 spine. Mrs. SHpaway had promised to marry John- 
 nie, when she had divorced him (Slipaway). Not 
 the Mrs. Slipaway that had been, either, but a rejuv- 
 enated, most attractive-looking Mrs. Slipaway — a 
 charming matron who, since she had shed trouble 
 and worry, seemed to have been drinking of 
 the fountain of youth! As Horatio now mentally 
 reviewed her attractions, he told himself with a feel- 
 ing of satisfaction how glad he was that he had 
 clubbed Johnnie good and hard that ill-omened night 
 of the arrest. His only regret was that he had 
 not struck harder; if he could only have repeated 
 that blow now there would be left no Johnnie, he 
 told himself. He should have struck that gentle- 
 man hard enough so that he would have lost all sense 
 of his identity forever. 
 
 The problem of the future was now with Mr. 
 Slipaway; there no longer existed any reason why 
 he should continue that ridiculous fugitive-from-jus- 
 tice performance. The breach-of-promise lady was 
 happily disposed of; his financial misadventure with 
 Mr. Vancourtland's money had made a hero instead 
 of a felon of him. He could remain Bill Carter, 
 or he could once more resume the even tenor of his 
 way as Horatio Slipaway, thereby thwarting that 
 treacherous Johnnie's double-faced plotting. Should
 
 226 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 he tamely resign the rejuvenated Mrs. SUpaway to 
 that paltry little worm, Mr. Briggs ? To remain as 
 Bill Carter might lead to this unthinkable catas- 
 trophe. On the other hand, to return to his old 
 self involved fearful humiliation and a gruesome 
 confession of his own duplicity, which was also un- 
 thinkable to his proud and sensitive soul — and Mr. 
 Slipaway, after all he had endured, as a hunted and 
 tortured fugitive from justice, was not in a mood, 
 either humble or repentant. How they had laughed 
 at him; that old blackbird of a minister had posi- 
 tively chuckled ! 
 
 No man likes to be made a fool of; nor does he 
 desire to bend before those who have stricken his 
 sensibilities to the core. Mr. Slipaway was deeply 
 hurt; that fehcitous description of him skulking like 
 a hobo ; sleeping amid ash-barrels and tomato-cans ; 
 devouring odd scraps handed out from back-doors — 
 that gibing picture of his supposed misfortunes, into 
 which he had been thrust by the machinations of the 
 vivacious Mrs. Slipaway and her conspirator of the 
 cloth, was profoundly mortifying to one who had so 
 recently been a haughty conqueror of finance and bold 
 trimmer of llamas. Animated by these emotions of 
 indignant resentment, Mr. Slipaway suddenly 
 turned and walked to his own front door. He rang
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 227, 
 
 the bell boldly; Mrs. SHpaway answered it herself, 
 Bridget having just gone out — to the movies. 
 
 "Oh," said Mrs. Slipaway, with no signs of sur- 
 prise, "so you've come back, I was expecting you. 
 Walk in. The Reverend Mr. Bodkins is there. He, 
 too, will enjoy meeting you." 
 
 "Madam," said Mr. Slipaway impressively, "I 
 have called as the friend of your husband, Mr. Slip- 
 away. I used to know Horatio well." 
 
 "Oh !" said Mrs. Slipaway. "Well, sit down any- 
 way. So you've only just come for a little social 
 call?" 
 
 "Quite so," said Mr. Slipaway easily. He felt 
 that now his turn had come. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Slipaway, exchanging a look 
 with the minister, "I am sorry he is not here to re- 
 ceive you." 
 
 "Yes ; that would be a joy," said Horatio coolly. 
 Nothing like rubbing it in! (They would humili- 
 ate him, would they?) 
 
 "I've been expecting him along almost any time 
 now," observed Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "He's been away and you're expecting him to 
 return?" observed Horatio languidly. 
 
 "Almost any time," repeated Mrs. Slipaway 
 lightly.
 
 228 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "Maybe, if I wait a little while, I might meet 
 him?" 
 
 "You might," she said with a sweet smile. 
 
 For a time he talked about commonplace topics, 
 just as if he were real Bill Carter, and the lady re- 
 sponded in kind. But Horatio could see she was 
 puzzled ; a fugitive from justice should act nervous, 
 and Bill Carter, with all those crimes she had 
 planted on his shoulders, should seem worried to 
 death. This Bill Carter just crossed his legs easily 
 and descanted eloquently and annoyingly about that 
 exasperating subject — Patagonia. He plied them 
 with Patagonia until the minister's head was whirl- 
 ing and the good lady had gradually lost most of her 
 vivacity. Then he started in and repeated himself. 
 He told them of adventures — fictitious — he had had. 
 
 "And speaking about adventures," he observed, "I 
 had rather an odd experience the other night. Chap 
 dropped in, pretending he was me." 
 
 "Did he?" said the lady, studying the visitor. 
 
 "What could have been his object?" said the min- 
 ister slowly. 
 
 "At first I thought he was — " Horatio tapped his 
 head. 
 
 "Then, when a fake ofificer arrested me, I saw it 
 was just a little practical joke."
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 229 
 
 "Joke?" said the lady. 
 
 "On the part of some of my broker- friends. 
 They're awful jokers, those brokers ! We're always 
 playing tricks on one another." 
 
 "Are you?" said Mrs. Slipaway faintly. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. But they didn't fool me, in the 
 least. Because, you see, I recognized the fake-offi- 
 cer. Met him once in the broker's office. Homely 
 little fish called Boggs or Briggs or something." 
 
 The expressions on their faces rewarded the nar- 
 rator. "I'm afraid I treated poor little Boggs 
 rough," he said softly. "I really must write him 
 a letter of apology." It was Horatio who now 
 chuckled. Humble him to the dust, would they? — 
 make him eat crow? — he laughed long and loud. 
 "Joke's certainly on them !" 
 
 "Is it?" said Mrs. Slipaway in a very strange 
 tone. 
 
 Horatio leaned back, delighted. Once more he 
 felt like a conqueror — a llama-king. "They have to 
 get up pretty early to put one over on old Bill Car- 
 ter," he bragged. "But I am sorry for that insig- 
 nificant little Boggs." 
 
 "Are you?" said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Poor chap ! I fear I gave him a headache. But 
 you wouldn't know him, of course."
 
 230 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "No," said Mrs. SHpaway. "I don't know any- 
 one by the name of Boggs." 
 
 "Well, you don't miss much," said the conde- 
 scending Horatio. Then he glanced at a watch. 
 "Bless me, how time flies in pleasant company. I 
 really must be going." 
 
 "You won't wait on a chance of Horatio's return- 
 ing?" she asked slowly. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Slipaway. "I have several other 
 very important engagements. I trust I have not 
 bored you with my meanderings about the country 
 of my early choosing?" 
 
 "No; you haven't bored me," she answered me- 
 chanically. "I shouldn't call it that." 
 
 "So pleased !" said the visitor, and with extreme 
 grace and courtesy eliminated himself. 
 
 "What do you think of that?" 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway and the minister regarded each 
 other. 
 
 "Of course, there is only one explanation," said 
 the lady. "He has learned all about it and has 
 turned the tables rather neatly." 
 
 "Too bad, after all the pains we took !" murmured 
 the minister. "The pains and the expense !" 
 
 *Yes; it is too bad, and I am dreadfully disap- 
 
 <o
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 231 
 
 pointed," she confessed, "but at the same time, 
 wasn't it clever of him ? You know I'm beginning to 
 think he has a master-mind." The minister did not 
 look enthusiastic. "And how I once thought I un- 
 derstood him ! Him, with all that deep perception !" 
 
 "The question is," said the minister dryly, "how 
 did he find out?" 
 
 "How ?" said the lady absently. "Intuition! He 
 doesn't have to find out things in ordinary ways. 
 He just knows them." As she spoke she sighed. 
 "And isn't he a wonderful talker !" 
 
 "Liar, you mean," the minister nearly said, but 
 managed to check the words. There was no use 
 of disturbing Mrs. Slipaway's exalted mood. 
 
 "I certainly never appreciated Horatio," she now 
 ruminated, almost sadly. "I suppose there are a 
 lot of us like that — don't appreciate our blessings 
 until they take wings and fly away." 
 
 "Hum?" said the minister. "Now I wonder?" — 
 He was looking toward that side window. "Slightly 
 open — ah! — and one standing outside might look 
 in. May I ? — a candle ?" 
 
 The lady procured one for him, and going to the 
 side of the house, the minister investigated. 
 
 "Foot-prints — in the soft earth!" he announced, 
 returning to the sitting-room a few moments later.
 
 232 ,THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "He stood there and heard every word we have 
 been saying. That explains all." 
 
 Mrs. Slipaway still maintained that pensive air. 
 
 "I've been thinking," she said. "There's some- 
 thing just come to me, but it's terrible." 
 
 "If it's efficacious, I don't think we need hesitate 
 for any ethical reasons." 
 
 "We've just got to save him now, haven't we?" 
 said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "How?" Curiously. 
 
 She explained. 
 Masterly!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Maybe," said Mrs. Slipaway, almost plaintively, 
 I'm not doing it for strictly moral reasons ? Maybe, 
 I don't want to force him to return to the fold be- 
 cause of conscientious motives? Maybe, I'm will- 
 ing to go to terrible extremes for a very selfish rea- 
 
 (C 
 
 son 
 
 A woman's reason?" he said softly. 
 Mrs. Slipaway blushed. Or was it just the reflec- 
 tion from the pink shade? The minister left her in 
 a brown study. Then going down the front steps 
 he chuckled. He was thinking of Mr. Briggs' (or 
 Boggs') chances.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 MR. SLIPAWAY returned to his apartments. 
 He wasn't altogether satisfied with himself ; 
 true, he had won a technical victory over those who 
 had conspired against him, but he felt no great sense 
 of elation as he meditated over his triumph. Some- 
 how, the thought of that conspiring Johnnie Briggs 
 annoyed him more than he confessed to himself. 
 Then there were moments when a picture of the 
 new cozy sitting-room arose before his mental 
 vision. Had Mrs. Slipaway "cozied up" the place 
 in anticipation of a future nuptial arrangement with 
 the iniquitous Johnnie? Detestable thought! Ho- 
 ratio sighed. Would he have dropped back into his 
 old self and environment, if he could have? Prob- 
 ably. But how to do so — gracefully — and without 
 lack of dignity? — the problem was not easy. 
 
 Saki welcomed his master with exuberant glad- 
 ness. 
 
 "Honorable Mr. William Carter not go, then, to 
 dishonorable execution?" he said. 
 
 "Naw! Just a little pleasure-jaunt," said Ho- 
 
 233
 
 234 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 ratio with a yawn. "You see, Saki, it was all only 
 a little bit of fun. Whenever you want to have a 
 little fun with a friend you just frame up something 
 like that." 
 
 "Japanese fun no like that," said the puzzled 
 Saki. 
 
 "That's just it. Every nation has its own kind 
 of fun. And American humor is in a field all of 
 its own." 
 
 Saki took out a note-book. "American fun: 
 When you arrest friend and lead him to execution." 
 
 "Of course, there's other varieties of fun, too," 
 said the blithe (once more) reincarnation of Bill. 
 "When you shake down a friend and get all the 
 money in his pocket — that's what we call giving him 
 the merry *ha ! ha !' It's always a good joke when- 
 ever you trim a friend." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway went to his broker's office and was 
 warmly greeted, but he didn't take any plunges; 
 instead, he asked a check to "bearer" for his bal- 
 ance; just why he wanted it made out that way he 
 could hardly explain to himself. The amount was 
 considerable; once, it would have quite frightened 
 him; now he regarded the little scrap of paper non- 
 chalantly. It didn't seem very much to him, pos- 
 sibly because he knew he had acquired the money-
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 235 
 
 making habit which, being a very bad habit, no 
 doubt, is not easy to be gotten rid of. At the mo- 
 ment he was thinking what a stunning dress he could 
 buy for Mrs. Slipaway, if he wanted to — that is, if 
 he could see his way to doing so with consistent 
 grace. But he couldn't; it wouldn't be proper for 
 Bill Carter to purchase elaborate wearing ap- 
 parel for the charming Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 That afternoon, passing a milliner's shop, he 
 stood and gazed at sundry amazing creations. Here 
 was another deprivation; what was the use of all 
 this money if he couldn't go in and pick out the 
 most smashing one in the bunch and toss it her way? 
 Very exasperating situation, he told himself ! Scan- 
 dal to buy hats for his own wife? Positively ridic- 
 ulous! Positively, he repeated, disgustedly. Ah, 
 and there were some furs! Wonderful furs! At 
 least, how wonderful they would look on a person 
 who could wear them to advantage, and the rejuv- 
 enated Mrs. Slipaway was that kind of person. 
 The costliest furs weren't any too good for her. 
 No man need be ashamed of her, in the most select 
 company; why, Mr. Slipaway wouldn't have been 
 afraid to introduce her to a duchess. 
 
 From furs to diamonds was but a step, and Mr. 
 Slipaway could hardly resist the temptation of pur-
 
 236 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 chasing a nice big brooch, or a ring or two. But he 
 had to smother the incHnation. Too confounded bad, 
 he thought to himself. She ought to be "orna- 
 mented up a bit"; when a woman can rejuvenate 
 herself that far all by her own efforts, it's her due 
 — her just due — that some one who takes an interest 
 in her should be permitted to help her along in the 
 beautifying process with a few extraneous gee-gaws. 
 Mr. Slipaway felt as if he were being cheated out of 
 something. 
 
 And there, too, were those motor-cars! A fine 
 woman ought to have a car. Huh ! Wasn't she be- 
 ing cheated out of something if she didn't have one? 
 It certainly wasn't right ; there was something rotten 
 in Denmark, when Mrs. Slipaway was being de- 
 prived of — say — a nice, jaunty little town-car, in 
 which she, and the furs and the big hat, etc., etc., 
 would look very well indeed. By this time Horatio 
 was becoming a regular cynic; money brought no 
 pleasure; it was only a nuisance and an aggrava- 
 tion. It reminded you of so much you wanted to 
 do, and you couldn't. 
 
 He returned to his lonesome apartments, gloomy 
 and downcast ; there wasn't a single little joy-bug in 
 a glass of Martini; even the quaint Saki had lost 
 some of his charm to interest him. He listened
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 237 
 
 moodily to the encyclopedic dissertation on "Fun" ; 
 it seemed Saki was painstakingly tracing the topic 
 to its most hidden sources, at the library, extracting 
 therefrom much curious lore appertaining to the 
 causes of the risibilities of the different peoples and 
 tribes who, more or less amusingly, inhabit this 
 globe ; and Saki had found that what was very funny 
 to some people was just the opposite to others ; and 
 he was going to trace why this was so, later on, if 
 there existed wisdom enough to tell him. He had 
 embarked upon a nice little essay about what can- 
 nibals found most amusing to laugh at, tracing an 
 analogy between cannibalistic fun with the protest- 
 ing missionary and the pot, to the American idea, 
 bounded by the irresistible desire to arrest "friend 
 and lead him to execution," when the telephone 
 rang. 
 
 Saki went to the instrument; it was a summons 
 for Mr. William Carter. The latter went to the 
 phone. He had been gloomily thinking of her, and 
 now he heard her own voice. It gave him quite a 
 start. 
 
 Would Horatio's old friend, Mr. Carter, honor 
 them by dropping in for supper, to-morrow night? 
 A simple little repast ; maybe the minister would be 
 there. They had enjoyed Mr. Carter's last call SO
 
 238 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 much a repetition of the pleasure would, the lady 
 said, be much appreciated, Mr. Carter promptly- 
 said he would come ; he spoke on impulse. He asked 
 the lady how she was and several other personal 
 questions, and she told him how very well she was 
 feeling, at which the gentleman expressed his great 
 gratification. Then Mr. Carter, after a rather lin- 
 gering good-by, hung up the phone. He didn't ask 
 himself at the moment whether he was doing wisely. 
 In fact, he didn't care. He didn't know what he was 
 going to do, or what might happen. He was in a 
 strangely reckless and dare-devil mood. 
 
 "Mr. William Carter," said Horatio to the maid 
 at the front door of his own home, the next day, 
 at the proper hour, and entering, was greeted by a 
 rather disconcerting company. The little sitting- 
 room, moreover, had undergone a change. There 
 was a piece of furniture in the center that looked 
 like an operating table. Near it stood a small pro- 
 fessional-looking man, and beside him another man 
 of rather powerful build. The minister sat in a 
 corner. 
 
 "This is the patient, doctor," said Mrs. Slipaway 
 with a wave of her hand toward Horatio.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 239 
 
 "1 
 
 Patient?" said that gentleman, with a start. "I 
 — I came to supper." 
 
 "Oh, no, you didn't, Horatio dear; you came for 
 something else," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "Who — who you calling Horatio ?" said that gen- 
 tleman weakly. 
 
 "Isn't that your name?" said the little profes- 
 sional man. 
 
 "None of your — business," said Horatio hoarsely. 
 "I don't know you, and I don't want to know you." 
 
 "Perhaps we'll get better acquainted presently." 
 
 "Not if I have anything to say about it," observed 
 Horatio testily. He now noticed the large man had 
 moved over between him and the door. 
 
 And then they began to talk about operations. 
 Mr. Slipaway sat down and eyed them warily. Mrs. 
 Slipaway talked about him just as if he hadn't been 
 there ; she kept referring to him as the sufferer. The 
 doctor took out a lot of instruments; Horatio did 
 not like the looks of them; the little man had some- 
 what of a ferocious appearance he thought. Was it 
 just another frame-up? Horatio rocked back and 
 forth nervously in the big chair in which he 
 was seated. He frankly didn't like the looks of 
 things. Of course, it must be a frame-up, but the
 
 240 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 question was how far would they proceed? There 
 was an expression of determination in Mrs. SHp- 
 away's eyes he didn't reHsh. 
 
 "Go as far as you Hke, Doctor," that lady said. 
 "Only my dear Horatio must be restored to me." 
 
 "That, madam, is as it will be. I have told you 
 the operation is a dangerous one." 
 
 "Operation?" said Horatio. 
 
 "A very pronounced depression," said the med- 
 ical man, reaching over and passing his fingers 
 around Horatio's head. "It will be necessary to bore 
 through the bone, then follow the duct channel, 
 skirting the edge of the brain. As I say, the opera- 
 tion is dangerous, but if it is successful the patient 
 will recover his sense of personal identity, and that 
 queer delusion of which you speak will vanish into 
 thin air." 
 
 "Better he should die on the operating-table," said 
 Mrs. Slipaway with a determined look, "than be run- 
 ning around thinking he is somebody else." 
 
 "Then, madam, I'll do my best," said the doctor. 
 
 "Hanged if you will!" said Horatio. "I've got 
 something to say about that." 
 
 "No, you haven't," he observed with a smile. 
 
 "It's for your good, Horatio," said Mrs. Slip- 
 away.
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 241 
 
 "Yes; he makes a specialty of boring into the 
 damaged heads of poor sufferers and restoring them 
 to their normal selves," said the minister, folding his 
 hands. "And many of the sufferers have lived to 
 bless him." 
 
 "You see, Horatio, you've just been taking a little 
 mental outing, but now vacation-time is over," said 
 Mrs. Slipaway soothingly. "Or it will be, when he 
 has finished with you." 
 
 "Not finished with," said Horatio, endeavoring 
 to be jocular. "You mean, finished me!" 
 
 "I trust not," she said. "We'll hope for the best." 
 
 "This may be my lucky day," said the doctor. 
 
 "Do you have unlucky ones?" said the patient. 
 
 "We all do, my friend," gravely. "We never 
 can tell when we are going to grope through path- 
 ological darkness — in a word, what we are going 
 to be *up against!' The path of surgical explora- 
 tion leads often to strange and insurmountable ob- 
 stacles. The human brain is a very delicate thing. 
 One little slip of the knife, and — " 
 
 "Maybe we'd better open with prayer," said Ho- 
 ratio, trying to look upon the affair as a joke. "We 
 have a minister here." 
 
 "It is no jesting matter, sir," said the doctor 
 gravely. "We have to cure you of a strange
 
 242 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 hallucination. We have come to bury Mr. William 
 Carter." 
 
 "I don't think you're a doctor at all," said Mr. 
 Slipaway. 
 
 "I trust, when I am done with you, that remark 
 will be retracted by you," observed the other pleas- 
 antly. 
 
 "Do you think such a statement — well, tactful, 
 under the circumstances?" asked the minister. "In 
 a few moments you will be lying here, under the 
 influence of chloroform, and this gentleman, with a 
 knife and other instrument, will be performing in- 
 cisions in your head." 
 
 "You mean, I ought to make him feel nice and 
 good before he starts? Well, I won't." 
 
 "A very obstinate patient," said the doctor, "The 
 operation may be more difficult than I anticipated." 
 
 "Oh, Horatio, don't make it harder," pleaded 
 Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "My name's William, and I came here to have 
 supper." 
 
 "Lock the door," said the doctor to the assistant. 
 "I trust the patient will not resist." 
 
 "I'd like to punch — " began the patient. 
 
 "Horatio — don't — " exclaimed Mrs. Slipaway. 
 "Please don't — make him angry."
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 243 
 
 "I will be patient," said the little man, feeling the 
 edge of a sharp instrument with his thumb. 
 
 In spite of himself, Mr. Slipaway shivered. 
 
 "Looks like a butcher to me !" he said, glaring. 
 
 The doctor smiled icily. "Remember he is not 
 accountable for his words," observed Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "He will be more accountable afterward, madam," 
 said the surgeon very coldly. "I promise to be very 
 thorough. I will leave no stone unturned, to get at 
 the ro8t of the trouble." 
 
 Mr. Slipaway moved uneasily ; likewise, he looked 
 at the doctor more closely ; no, he wasn't Mr. Tread- 
 way, that famous impersonator who had imposed so 
 outrageously on him (Slipaway) on that other occa- 
 sion. He was presumably some other impersonator, 
 but even so, Mr. Slipaway little relished the idea of 
 having chloroform administered to him by a novice. 
 Why, they might give him too much, and that would 
 be as bad as being carved up. 
 
 Or, was it possible Mrs. Slipaway did really think 
 to restore him to his proper self by these heroic 
 means? That good lady might well think his little 
 hallucination real. The doctor, thought Mr. Slip- 
 away, looked like a regular, bona fide "carver" ; he 
 looked as if he might go a long way in the interest 
 of science. He might even indulge in a little experi-
 
 244 JHE NUT CRACKER 
 
 meriting on him (Mr. Slipaway) so as to get data 
 for a paper for some medical convention. He might 
 entitle said paper, "Hallucinations, Real or Sim- 
 ulated." He regarded Horatio with a cold calm eye 
 that betokened an uncanny interest. 
 
 Mr. Slipaway began to think more rapidly; it 
 was quite up to him to do something. How thwart 
 that blood-thirsty little man? Pride forbade he 
 should yield and confess himself openly an arrogant 
 impostor! Mr. Slipaway, in his agitation, rocked 
 faster and faster. Suddenly, amid the turmoil of 
 his thoughts, a ray of light seemed to steal; 
 at the same time he rocked so hard he went over 
 backward with a bang. His head hit the floor; also 
 his closed knuckles ! Judging by the noise he must 
 have received an awful bump. Indeed, for some 
 moments, he lay perfectly still — quite unconscious, 
 apparently. 
 
 "Is— is he dead?" said Mrs. Slipaway, looking 
 really startled. 
 
 "I trust not," said the doctor, "for the sake of 
 the operation ! Perhaps if we lift him to the sofa — " 
 
 The doctor and the strong man did so. Mr. Slip- 
 away opened his eyes. "Where am I?" he said. 
 Then he looked around. "The same old room," he 
 murmured, "but what's become of the mottoes?"
 
 **1 
 
 *t^ 
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 245 
 
 "They're gone, dear," said Mrs. Slipaway in her 
 happiest tone. 
 
 "Gone," he repeated blankly. "And the old 
 organ ?" 
 
 "Gone, too," she murmured. 
 
 He looked at her. "But you're here," he said. 
 
 "Of course I am," she answered. 
 'My head hurts," he said. "I don't understand." 
 'Don't you?" said the doctor in a queer tone. 
 'You fell over, dear," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 'Who are these people — that ugly little man and 
 the big guy?" 
 
 "You never saw us before?" said the doctor. 
 
 "Don't know you from Adam," replied Horatio 
 promptly. "What's that for?" pointing to the op- 
 erating-table. "Is some one sick?" 
 
 "Some one was, my dear." 
 
 "Mr. William Carter," said the doctor. 
 
 "Carter?" said Mr. Slipaway, as if puzzled. 
 
 "You didn't know him?" 
 
 "Never heard of such a person," said Mr. Slip- 
 away unblushingly. 
 
 "What did you say your name is?" said the 
 doctor, putting out a hand as if seeking to get ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 "Horatio Slipaway."
 
 246 THE NUT CRACKER 
 
 "What's that?" said the other as if a little deaf. 
 
 "The gentleman's a little hard of hearing," put 
 in the minister. 
 
 "My name's Horatio Slipaway," said Mr. Slip- 
 away, louder. Then he added : "And I don't give 
 
 a—" 
 
 "Ahem," said the minister. 
 " — who knows it !" 
 
 "I say !" The voice was that of Johnnie Briggs, 
 who some time later when shown into the room had 
 found Mrs. Slipaway seated with Mr. Slipaway's 
 arm thrown casually and compromisingly about her 
 shapely waist. 
 
 "It's quite all right, Johnnie," she said, rising 
 quickly. 
 
 "But — your — your promise?" stammered the 
 dumfounded Mr. Briggs. "To — to — you know- 
 after you — after — " 
 
 "What does the fellow mean?" said Mr. Slipaway 
 haughtily. 
 
 "She — she said — " stammered Johnnie. 
 
 "I said I'd marry you, Johnnie, after I had a 
 divorce from Horatio," spoke up the lady herself. 
 "And I will," she added merrily. "Only, I'm afraid 
 you'll have a very long time to wait — "
 
 THE NUT CRACKER 247 
 
 "You mean, you never meant to — to — " 
 
 "Isn't it the best joke?" said Mrs. Slipaway 
 gaily. 
 
 "Aw !" said the disgusted Johnnie. 
 
 "Where's that club I hit him with last?" said Ho- 
 ratio. 
 
 "He isn't worth bothering with," said Mrs. Slip- 
 away. 
 
 "Fade away !" said Horatio to Johnnie, and John- 
 nie obeyed. 
 
 "Of course, I knew you only wanted some good 
 pretext to come back and buy me things," whis- 
 pered the now thoroughly happy Mrs. Slipaway, 
 when they were once more alone. "And it was 
 awfully clever of you to fall over backward and 
 biunp your poor dear head again. I really felt you 
 wouldn't force the issue." 
 
 "Did you? And what would you have done if I 
 had?" said Mr. Slipaway accusingly. 
 
 "They'd have had to cut me up first before they 
 touched you. I guess you knew that, and acted gen- 
 erous, just to spare my feelings." 
 
 "Maybe," said Mr. Slipaway enigmatically. "But 
 how about that supper I came for? And what do 
 you say if we dine out and have a real feast?"
 
 248 THE NUT CR.\CKER 
 
 " 'Tickle-drops' ?" she said coquettishly. 
 
 *T don't know just what that is," he answered 
 demurely, "but if it's anything you want, just call 
 for it." 
 
 "You're sure you're not going to get tired buying 
 me lots and lots of things?" 
 
 "Never," said Horatio. 
 
 She gave a happy sigh. "I don't want things," 
 she said. "Or — only one thing, really !" 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 "And I don't have to want that, any more." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because I've got it." 
 
 "Me, too !" said Horatio gruffly. 
 
 And then they sallied forth giddily. 
 
 "I don't know what's happened, or how it hap- 
 pened, but it's just happened," said Mrs. Slipaway. 
 
 "That's the way I feel," said Mr. Slipaway. "As 
 — as if I could jump over the moon !" 
 
 "I guess that's — that's love," said Mrs. Slipaway 
 timidly. 
 
 "Guess it is," said Horatio. 
 
 THE EXD
 
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