Home 
 
 EUGENE WOOD 
 
FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 BY 
 
 EUGENE WOOD 
 
 Author of Back Home 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE McCLURE COMPANY 
 MCMVIII 
 
Copyright, ipoS, by The McClure Company 
 Published, February, 1908 
 
 Copyright, 1899, 1900, 1901, 1903, 1906, by Ainslee s Magazine 
 Copyright, 1903, by The Frank A. Munsey Company 
 
 Copyright, 1905, by Harper & Brothers 
 Copyright, 1906, by Broadway Magazine, Inc. 
 
To my most critical appreciator 
 To my most doubting admirer 
 
 The most thoroughgoing 
 
 Sentimentalist and Realist 
 
 To the one who has lost all illusions 
 
 save that I am the greatest of all 
 
 Living Writers 
 
 in short 
 
 Co m? Witt 
 
 This book is dedicated 
 
 Ml 04381 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 3 
 
 THE LOST DAY 37 
 
 AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY . . . . 52 
 
 THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 76 
 
 M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 102 
 
 THE WARNING 129 
 
 THE ELOPEMENT 152 
 
 THE FICTIONAL MIND 184 
 
 THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 198 
 
 THE LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY . . .225 
 
 THE DAYS OF His SEPARATION 249 
 
 THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER . . . .276 
 STARS IN His CROWN 311 
 
FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 
 
 I 
 
 FOR a minute or two Mrs. Smith felt provoked 
 that Mr. Burns should have called just when 
 he did. She wasn t much of a hand to read; 
 she couldn t seem to get her mind on it, she said, 
 but she liked to have Clara read aloud, and they had 
 got to the place where it looked as if She wasn t 
 going to get Him after all. When Clara went into 
 the parlor, Mrs. Smith laid down her Battenberg and 
 read a few pages herself, but it kept looking more 
 and more as if He would never see that She was 
 just tantalizing Him and leading Him on. The next 
 chapter began with : " But let us return to our young 
 friends, Harry and George." Mrs. Smith did not care 
 two pins about Harry and George. She hesitated a 
 moment and then boldly turned over to the last chap 
 ter. Well, She got Him. It was quite a load off Mrs. 
 Smith s mind, but she felt like a child that has 
 peeped on Christmas eve. Her fun was spoiled now. 
 Clara would want to finish the book and would no 
 tice that she wasn t interested. She would ask ques- 
 
 3 
 
4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 tions. Clara despised to have people turn over to 
 the last chapter. 
 
 Mrs. Smith began to think up things to say, and 
 she had hardly got a good start when she heard the 
 parlor door open and Mr. Burns come out into the 
 hall. What, already? She heard him take his things 
 from the hat-rack and put them on, helped by Clara. 
 Both were very still. Usually they clattered away at 
 a great rate, but to-night . . . She wondered what 
 was up. She heard him ask something in a pleading 
 voice. In the silence that followed Mrs. Smith clair- 
 voyantly saw Clara shake her head. He sighed and 
 said, " Good night," in a subdued and humble voice. 
 Clara s "Good night" also betokened emotion. Then 
 came the departing footsteps on the brick walk and 
 the door shut. 
 
 Mrs. Smith wanted to jump right up and run to 
 her daughter to ask all about it. But something kept 
 her at her Battenberg. It seemed to take Clara a very 
 long time to fix the parlor fire for the night and to 
 straighten the room into its habitual decorum. When 
 she came out and took a chair in the sitting room 
 she seemed to have no more desire than her mother 
 to resume the interrupted reading. 
 
 After waiting a reasonable time for Clara to 
 speak, Mrs. Smith gave her Battenberg a turn on 
 her lap and began: " Mr. Burns didn t make a long 
 stay to-night." 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 5 
 
 Clara held her peace. 
 
 With something like a sigh for glories now for 
 ever past, Mrs. Smith complained: " Young folks 
 nowadays ain t what they was. In my time they 
 didn t use to think nothin at all o settin up till 
 two three o clock in the mornin when they was 
 sparkin a girl, but now they ain t more n good and 
 got their hats off before it s, Well, I ll be goin 
 along. It s no wonder they don t nobody get mar 
 ried any more hardly." 
 
 If this was intended to draw Clara out it failed 
 of its purpose, but it did draw Mrs. Smith out. 
 
 " I mind one time when John Van Meter was 
 courtin me that was before your pa s folks moved 
 here from Clark County John set up with me till 
 plumb four o clock Monday mornin . Pap, he was 
 always up and about at four, winter and summer. 
 He d set and read till it was light enough to see to 
 do the chores. He come in and ast John if he 
 wouldn t stay for breakfast. Well, sir, I thought 
 John would sink through the floor. . . . He quit 
 comin after that. . . . Pap says, Won t you stay 
 fer breakfast, Mr. Van Meter? and John, he 
 reached fer his hat arid lit out, and not a word out 
 o him. I never seen him ag in, except at meetin 
 and such places. ... He was the poorest hand to 
 carry on a conversation, John was. Two three times 
 I prett near went to sleep. I had a big wash to do 
 
6 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 that day, and not gittin my rest jist about finished 
 me. I went to bed right after I hung the clothes out 
 and never waked up till time to set the table for sup 
 per. I always knowed after that how it was with that 
 young couple over to Rum Creek. I told you about 
 them, didn t I, Clara?" 
 
 Clara roused herself to ask: What young cou 
 ple? " Not that she was much interested though. 
 
 " W y, he was settin up with her in front of a 
 open fireplace, and I guess he must a ben another 
 John Van Meter, fer they both went to sleep and 
 fell over into the fire and was burned so bad before 
 they was got out that the both of em died. She was 
 burned worse n he was. Course it s turrable to think 
 o folks burnin up alive. That s one thing I got 
 ag inst the Catholics. But, still, it s kind o comi 
 cal, too, one way you look at it. I tell you what, 
 they wasn t no noddin and gapin when your pa was 
 around. He was a great cut-up. . . . John Van Me 
 ter was lots older n me, anyways." 
 
 Mrs. Smith worked on in silence a little longer 
 and attacked the subject again: "You didn t say 
 nothin to Mr. Burns to hurt his feelin s, did you? 
 Because I know how you are, Clara. Whatever you 
 think you blat right out. The men don t like a girl 
 to be too outspoken. I sometimes think that s the 
 reason why you don t get a man." 
 
 Clara stirred impatiently. 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 7 
 
 " I don t know what s got into the young men 
 nowadays. So little sense. Now see at Elnora 
 Rhinehart, the humbliest bein I think the Lord 
 ever made, red hair and sandy complected, and as 
 freckled as a turkey egg, and a big nose, and a 
 mouth look like a whole double-handful o horse 
 teeth had jist ben shoved in anyways, and look how 
 well she done! And here s you that s a reel good- 
 lookin girl, I won t say pirty, but nice-\ookiri, and 
 stylish-looking and can make all her own things 
 Mrs. Perkypile wouldn t believe, the other day, but 
 what your winter hat was trimmed by a reg lar mil 
 liner and you can play on the instrument some and 
 reel well educated " 
 
 " Oh, pshaw, mother! " 
 
 " Aw, pshaw nothin ! You are so. You got to 
 be, a teacher in the High School like you are. And 
 you get to go to socials and all like that where the 
 men are, and I don t believe one of em has ever 
 ast you, and here you are, twenty-eight, goin on 
 twenty-nine. Your pa used to say, Oh, they ll all be 
 after her when she grows up, but, my land! I don t 
 believe you give em any encouragement whatso 
 ever." 
 
 " Maybe I don t want to get married." 
 
 " W y, Clara Smith!" 
 
 That s my name, mum," said Clara, with a little 
 quirk of the corners of her mouth. 
 
8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Yes, and it s likely to be your name, too." 
 
 " Well, bein as they s so many nice folks has got 
 that name, I dassent say nothin ag in it," said Clara, 
 with exaggerated dialect. " I jist as soon have that 
 name as Snigglefritz. I don t know but sooner. It 
 seems to be easier, anyhow, to keep what I have 
 than to get another." 
 
 " Tchk! You re jist like your pa. You couldn t get 
 him to talk seriously about anything." 
 
 " Well, ma am, I ll talk seriously with you, if 
 that s what you want. Why should I want to get 
 married? You own this house, and I s pose you ll 
 let me live with you as long as I behave myself, and 
 when you die (which I hope you won t till you get 
 good and ready) I s pose you ll will it to me, seeing 
 that John s got his share and is doing so well out 
 in Omaha. There s a roof over me all my days. I ve 
 got my place in the High School, and I guess I can 
 keep it as long as I want to. They don t pay as much 
 as they ought, but it s sure and it s enough to eat 
 and wear for you and me, and a little over. It s work 
 that I like to do, and the hours are from nine in 
 the morning till four in the afternoon, quarter of an 
 hour recess morning and afternoon, and an hour and 
 a half for dinner. Saturdays and Sundays, the Christ 
 mas and Easter holidays, and the summer-time I m 
 free. 
 
 " Well, now. If I got married that is, s posin I 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 9 
 
 could, mum I go to work for my board and clothes 
 and maybe not that, if anything happens to him. 
 If I want five cents I can t have it unless he is a 
 mind to give it to me. That s nice! I d like that! 
 There s no vacation, and the hours are from the 
 time you get up in the morning till you go to bed 
 at night and no recess. I don t mind helping you 
 with the housework, because it s a change, but it s 
 not the work I like, and to be tied to it forever and 
 eternally No, ma am, thank you. Not any for me." 
 
 " But s posin you got a man well enough off so s 
 at you needn t do the housework yourself." 
 
 "Yes, and what should I be to such a man? 
 Come, mother, look me in the eye and tell me what 
 I should be?" 
 
 Mrs. Smith reddened and did not look her daugh 
 ter in the eye. 
 
 " That s no way to talk, Clara," she reproved. 
 " It isn t ladylike to say such things." 
 
 "What things?" 
 
 " What you jist now said." 
 
 " I didn t say anything. Neither did you. You 
 were afraid to. But you thought it. And I tell you 
 something else. The woman that marries for a 
 home, do you know what I think of her? I think she 
 hasn t any cause to turn up her nose at Gentle Annie 
 and the other trollops up in Stringtown." 
 
 There was silence, which Clara broke by: "And 
 
io FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 why should you be so anxious for me to get mar 
 ried? What would become of you if I did? " 
 
 "Oh, I d get along all right!" This was said 
 rather faintly. 
 
 " Oh, you d do fine! Suppose he didn t want a 
 mother-in-law about, wouldn t I be happy wouldn t 
 I be tickled to death to know that you were staying 
 here nights all alone? Or maybe you would go out 
 to Omaha and live with John and Inez." 
 
 Mrs. Smith winced at both suggestions. 
 
 * You know you and Iny couldn t get along to 
 gether at all. It was as much as you could do to 
 hold in when she and John were here on a visit last 
 fall, and what would you do if you had to live in 
 the house with her? Iny s well-meaning, but laws-a- 
 my! it beats me to guess what John could ever see 
 in her, and yet he thinks she s the finest woman that 
 ever stepped. He d take her part against you. He d 
 have to." 
 
 " Yes," sighed Mrs. Smith, " the Scripture says 
 for a man to leave father and mother and cleave to 
 his wife. We dassent go agen Scripture, but I al 
 ways thought it was a kind o hard for the boy that 
 she s tended to ever since he was born to take and 
 leave her for some woman he s only knowed a little 
 while, especially when they re slack housekeepers, 
 and jist let them two little children go lookin like 
 distraction " 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT n 
 
 Mrs. Smith was on the point of crying when Clara 
 interrupted with: 
 
 " Well, there s no Scripture commanding old 
 maids to leave their poor lone mother to take up 
 with the first slick-head that comes along/ 
 
 " Now, Clara, you mustn t consider me," qua 
 vered Mrs. Smith. " I done my sheer. I bore the bur 
 den in the heat o the day and now it s your turn 
 and I ortn t to hender you. You ve ben a awful good 
 daughter to me, and you ll make some man a good 
 wife, A and it ain t right it ain t natural fer you to 
 say you don t want to git married." 
 
 " Who said I didn t want to get married? " 
 
 " W y, you jist this very minute said how much 
 nicer it would be fer you to go on teachin school 
 than to git married and have to do housework." 
 
 " So it would, but that isn t it. As far as getting 
 a living is concerned, I d be a fool to give up teach 
 ing at good wages and go as a servant for no wages 
 at all. But getting a living isn t all there is to life. 
 It s only half of it. If I were a sexless being, like 
 the worker bees I was telling the children about this 
 afternoon, I shouldn t think twice about whether I 
 was an old maid or not. But I m a woman, and a 
 woman isn t all of a woman unless she s a mother! " 
 
 " I hope you didn t say that before Mr. Burns!" 
 
 " No, ma am, I didn t. I was going to, but I 
 thought I d better not." 
 
12 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 "Clara Smith! You didn t think of saying it.! " 
 
 "Huh! Do you reckon I ve gone plumb crazy? 
 Either he d have been shocked into a faint or 
 else They re a low-minded lot, the best of em. 
 But, mother," she declared, passionately, " I m hun 
 gry for children of my own. When I go into Mrs. 
 Power s room and see the little things there I could 
 just eat em up, I love em so! " 
 
 "W y, Clara!" 
 
 " Oh-o-o-oh ! " she laughed, with a laugh that was 
 half a moan, " I know it isn t respectable to talk 
 about having children, and I don t know why, unless 
 it is too holy, too sacred to be spoken of; but you 
 can t reprove me. You re worse than I am. You ve 
 had em. Honest, now, ma, don t you wish you had 
 grandchildren that you could pet and spoil and 
 jaw with me about because I didn t do for them 
 right?" 
 
 The girl s eyes glittered with emotion too intense 
 for tears, but they instantly sprang into her mother s 
 eyes. " I didn t git no good at all o John s all 
 the time he was here," she whimpered. " Iny jist 
 watched em like a hawk, and begrutched me every 
 minute I was with em. And it s jist tantalizin to 
 me to see their pictures and know at they re so fur 
 away from me, and maybe their little underclothes 
 is all ragged. When you get married, Clara, you ll let 
 me be with your children, won t you? " 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 13 
 
 " Yes when I get married." There was a queer 
 note in her voice. 
 
 Her mother hunted for a handkerchief. " I wish t 
 you could get a man, Clara," she said, humbly. 
 
 " Well, maybe I could if I was to try right hard," 
 said Clara, dryly. " Let s see, now, who ll be the 
 lucky fellow? There s Henry Enright." 
 
 " Huh! You shan t take up with such trash as him 
 if I ve got anything to say about it." 
 
 " Well, then, there s Charley Pope." 
 
 " Charley d be an awful nice boy if he didn t drink 
 so. I wouldn t want you to have a drinking man." 
 
 " There s Frank Rodehaver." 
 
 " It ain t you he ought to be marryin ." 
 
 " No, from what I hear. Well, there s Charley De 
 Wees." 
 
 " Yes, and he s a lazy, triflin hound as ever 
 walked." 
 
 " I suppose you d object to Chet Miller because 
 he forged his father s name, and Jim Detwiler be 
 cause he s always stealing from his mother." 
 
 "Ain t it a pity! And the Detwilers so nice, 
 too." 
 
 " Well, there s Bert Palmer. He doesn t drink or 
 gamble or steal, and he isn t onry. 
 
 " No. He ain t got spunk enough to do anything. 
 I don t believe he s reel bright." 
 
 " Well, ma am, that s about all on this side the 
 
i 4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 tracks that ain t bespoke. On the other side, there s 
 Miky Ryan." 
 
 " The Ryans is Catholics. I wouldn t want you to 
 marry a Catholic. ... I don t know what s the 
 matter with the young men. So footy and no- 
 account. Stock s kind o runnin out, I guess." 
 
 " We ve only the leavings in this town, mother. 
 All the boys that amount to anything pick up and 
 go away." 
 
 " Like Dick Wambaugh. You used to think a 
 good deal o him, didn t you? Full of ambition, my! 
 Your pa thought a heap o him. Where is he now? " 
 
 " Chicago. Or he was, last I heard." 
 
 " What ever made you quit correspondin with 
 him? " 
 
 " Oh, it kind o dropped off. He owes me a let 
 ter now, let s see three years and four months." 
 
 " I s pose he seen some girl up in Chicago he 
 liked." 
 
 " I reckon so." 
 
 " Be nice if you could a got him. W y, Clara! " 
 Mrs. Smith suddenly recollected. " We forgot all 
 about pore Mr. Burns. And he was here jist this 
 evening. Wouldn t he do? He s educated and prin 
 cipal of the High School. He s got nice connections. 
 The Burnses is well thought of in Mechanicsburg. 
 He s reel nice in some ways. No bad habits nor 
 nothing." 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 15 
 
 " No," said Clara. 
 
 "Awful spindlin -lookin , though, ain t he? Your 
 pa was always so big and hearty till he was took 
 down with typhoid pneumonia. I always liked these 
 strong, hearty men." 
 
 " Yes," said Clara. 
 
 " Deliver me from these grunty men that s always 
 achin and ailin and fussin about draughts and 
 catchin cold. Miz Parker, where he boards, was 
 goin on about him the other day. She says he s a 
 reg ler old granny about things. There! That Bat- 
 tenberg s done at last. I m goin to have a piece o 
 bread and butter and go to bed. Did you hear about 
 Corinne Snively? She s Mrs. Perkypile s cousin, and 
 Mrs. Perkypile was invited up to her weddin up to 
 Radnor. She married Morgan Griffith, and they got 
 a whole lot o nice presents, Mrs. Perkypile said; 
 pickle castor and two sets o plated knives and forks, 
 and I don t know what all. And amongst em was 
 a pair o lace curtains, Battenberg, all hand-made, 
 every stitch. Mrs. Perkypile said they were the 
 loveliest things she ever laid eyes on. But she said 
 look like the burden laid on Corinne was greater n 
 she could bear, because her and Morg has got a 
 big bow window to their front room, and one pair 
 won t be enough, and other curtains wouldn t match, 
 and if Corinne don t put em in her front windows 
 so s folks goin by can see em, the lady that give 
 
16 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 em 11 think she don t appreciate em, and what 
 to do she don t know, and the lady that give 
 em said she wouldn t undertake a job like that 
 again for a thousand dollars, even if she had the 
 time, which she hasn t, because her brother s wife 
 died not long ago, and she s takin care of the chil 
 dren. We re most out o butter. I must think 
 to order some in the mornin . He didn t make 
 much of a stay to-night, did he? Well, what did 
 Prunes, Prisms, and Pyramids have to say for him 
 self? " 
 
 " Why, among other things," said Clara, tasting 
 the humor of the situation, " among other things, 
 he asked me if I d marry him." 
 
 " W y, Clara Smith! You set there and ca mly tell 
 me that!" 
 
 " Did you expect me to jump up and crack my 
 heels together? Yessum, it s the pine-blank facts 
 I m a-tellin you. Your daughter has had an offer 
 of marriage." 
 
 The poor lady s jaw dropped with chagrin at the 
 recollection of what she had just said about Mr. 
 Burns and with astonishment that Clara had not told 
 her sooner. 
 
 " And what did you say to him? " 
 
 " While you re up," said the young woman, with 
 half-dropped eyelids and a fine affectation of calm 
 ness, " I wish you d cut and spread me a piece, too. 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 17 
 
 Put a little sugar on it, won t you? I believe I d 
 like it." 
 
 " Well, you are the funniest-actin girl I ever saw. 
 What did you tell him? " 
 
 " What would you want me to tell him? " 
 
 " W y w y I I don t know." 
 
 " I didn t, either." 
 
 " Did you say that? " 
 
 " No. I said it was so sudden and you know 
 and I d like to have time to think it over. No. He 
 said that. He said I might have time in which to 
 consider it." 
 
 " You re goin to take him, ain t you? " 
 
 "Would you?" 
 
 Mrs. Smith sank down into a chair. 
 
 " W y ah " said she, and sat staring at nothing. 
 
 II 
 
 Mr. Burns was to come for his answer that night 
 a week. Clara had that much time to think it over, 
 or, rather, to talk it over with her mother. Between 
 them they canvassed the advantages and disadvan 
 tages of the alliance, now one favoring it and now 
 the other. 
 
 "Ain t it ridiculous?" snickered Clara once, after 
 she had been repelling her mother s contention that 
 Mr. Burns s complexion indicated that he might be 
 
i8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 liable to lung trouble. " A body d think we were 
 buying a horse and wanted him warranted sound in 
 wind and limb, gentle and broke to double harness. 
 If I ought to take him, why, I d want him so bad 
 I d be like that girl you were telling me about, oh, 
 what s her name? You know." 
 
 "What girl?" 
 
 " Why, that girl when the fellow asked her if she d 
 marry him and she squalled out : W y, ye-e-es, and 
 jump at the chance! You know." 
 
 " Oh, Priscill. Strayer. I wouldn t want you to be 
 like her. But you must consider, Clara," turning 
 right around to the fervent advocacy of Mr. Burns 
 when Clara attacked him, " it isn t every girl has a 
 chance to get as good a man. Now, where are they 
 a nicer one in this town than him? So refined 
 and " 
 
 " Always wears his rubbers and shuts the door 
 softly and " 
 
 " Hush up when I m talkin to you. And though 
 he ain t a member of any church, he s a moral man, 
 and I believe he s a good man, and he orta make 
 you a good husband." 
 
 " Yes, but will he? " 
 
 "Well, that they can t nobody tell till they ve 
 tried. Men is funny creatures." 
 
 " Well, I guess I won t try." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 19 
 
 " I don t like him well enough." 
 
 " Aw, now, yes, you do. You jist a little while ago 
 said he was good company and could carry on a 
 conversation lovely about Emerson and literatoor 
 and all like that. You said you liked him reel well." 
 
 " That isn t it. I don t isn t it funny how we hate 
 to say the word? I don t love him." 
 
 " Aw, well, now, Clara, that s foolishness. This 
 thing o bein crazy after a fellow, like they are in 
 the novels, is kind o green, I think. It don t last no 
 time. A girl got to be your age she don t git car 
 ried away with that. You like him, and you ll like 
 him better when you git used to him." 
 
 " Maybe." 
 
 " And another thing. He s the principal of the 
 High School and, if you didn t take him, he could 
 make it mighty unpleasant for you." 
 
 " Now, Ma Smith, that does settle it. I wouldn t 
 have him after that if he was the last man on earth. 
 I ve got as many friends on the school board as he 
 has, I guess, and if he tries to come any of his shen- 
 annigan on me, he ll find out a thing or two, I 
 shouldn t wonder." 
 
 Mrs. Smith saw her mistake in a minute, and after 
 that Mr. Burns never got a good word from her. 
 As for the married state, it was an affliction too 
 grievous to be borne and children children were a 
 terrible care. A body was just plumb worried out 
 
20 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 of their mind, what with scarlet fever and mumps 
 and chicken pox, and falling down on knives and 
 hatchets, and stepping on broken glass and getting 
 the lockjaw from it. John had her scared half to death 
 all the time when he was little. 
 
 " You got to walk softly with Clara," she told 
 herself. " Her pa used to call her Paddy s pig/ she 
 was so contrairy. He said she was jist fer all the 
 world like that pig that they got to Dublin only by 
 makin him think he was goin to Cork. She was as. 
 fat as butter then, anyhow." 
 
 As a result, when Mr. Burns called on the fateful 
 evening, Clara dodged into the sitting room from 
 the front window and whispered hoarsely, " Here he 
 is now. Do, for mercy s sake, tell me what to say 
 to him." 
 
 " Well, Clara, all I got to say is: If you don t like 
 him, don t have him." 
 
 " Well, I do kind o like him." 
 
 " You want to be right shore now." 
 
 " I guess I won t." 
 
 " All right. Suit yourself. They s plenty men in 
 the world." 
 
 " It seems so kind o mean to snap him off with 
 * No, " Clara mused, and then the loud clang of the 
 doorbell gong exploded. " Good land! " she scolded, 
 " I wish I d told him No, in the first place." 
 
 Mrs. Smith did not exactly listen at the keyhole, 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 21 
 
 but she made no more noise sitting still than was 
 necessary. She tried to forecast the result. It was a 
 funny kind of doings, Mrs. Smith thought. It wasn t 
 that way in her young days. 
 
 Mr. Burns stayed considerably later this time, but 
 as the week before, in the hall, just as he departed, 
 he preferred a request in a low tone of voice, and 
 as before Mrs. Smith clairvoyantly saw Clara shake 
 her head in refusal. He did not persist. 
 
 " Well? " said Clara, half defiantly, when she re 
 turned to the room and met her mother s inter 
 rogating glance. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well ah " Clara started to relate, and then 
 broke off to titter: " Strikes me that for so many 
 wells the conversation s pretty dry." 
 
 This was too much. 
 
 " Behave yourself. You re actin flighty. I want 
 you to quit your foolin and tell me what you said 
 to that man." 
 
 " Well, sir, ma, I fully intended as much as any 
 thing to tell that man/ as you call him, that while 
 I appreciated his kind offer and so forth and so forth, 
 he d have to excuse me because I didn t like him well 
 enough. But when I saw him standing there looking 
 so pleading and yet not meechin / either. He s 
 got awful pretty eyes. Did you ever notice them, 
 mother? Well, sir, I just couldn t. Now. And when 
 
22 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 he got to talking and said it would ruin his life if 
 I wasn t a part of it, I felt like a sheep-killing dog 
 to think that was just what I meant to do. You know 
 what an influence for good a woman can be in a 
 man s life, and I wouldn t want to take the respon 
 sibility of completely spoiling his whole career. If 
 he d got soft or sickening, I d have turned against 
 him right then and there, but he didn t. And yet 
 for all he was dignified about it, I could see that 
 he was er . . ." The sentence faded out unfin 
 ished. 
 
 " You think he likes you reel well? " 
 " Yes. I m sure he does. Yes, I know he does. 
 He s very nice, * she sighed, softly. 
 " You think you like him? " 
 " Yes, I don t know but I do." 
 " As well as if it had been Dick Wambaugh? " 
 Clara shot a glance at her mother, but said noth 
 ing. She divined a certain feminine jealousy in her 
 that another woman, though her daughter, had 
 found favor in the sight of a man. There may have 
 been some of that left over from youth, but Mrs. 
 Smith was then experiencing the disappointment 
 that attends the success of one s plans. She had 
 wanted Clara to accept Mr. Burns, and now that he 
 was safely landed he seemed a poor thing. The 
 Widow Parker had said he was a regular old granny. 
 He looked as if he might be. He was " kind o dili- 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 23 
 
 cate," too. Mr. Smith had been so hearty. And he 
 was so precise about his speech. He said " knaife " 
 and " laife " so staccato, so neatly. She sighed. 
 
 " I hope you done wisely, Clara," she grieved. 
 
 " You think I haven t? " was Clara s quick retort. 
 
 " No, oh, no. Not at all. I wouldn t say that ex 
 actly. He s a very nice man in his way, no doubt, but 
 still " 
 
 " But still what? " 
 
 " Well, of course, if the men won t ask you, w y, 
 you can t have em. If you think he ain t a-goin to 
 be consumpted, w y all right. I don t say but what 
 he s as good as you can do, all things considered. 
 Now, it s you that s got to be suited, not me, Clara. 
 Only " 
 
 " Well? " Clara was growing irritated. 
 
 " Well, if it was me, I think I d ruther have a man 
 that was more hearty-like, and (I s pose it s jist a 
 prejudice), but I ve always thought it wasn t a man s 
 place to teach school." 
 
 " Oh, now, mother! " Clara was on her high horse 
 in an instant. Her beloved profession was one worthy 
 of the highest capacities and endeavors. 
 
 Yes," said Mrs. Smith, when Clara had ended 
 her tirade. " Yes, I s pose that s all so, but I think 
 a man had orta be in better business." 
 
 "Look at you, mother!" stormed Clara. "You 
 were ding-donging at me night and day to take him, 
 
24 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 and now that I have taken him you turn right around 
 and run him down." 
 
 " I didn t, either, run him down. I was only tellin 
 you." 
 
 " Well, isn t what you said running him down? " 
 
 " No. I was thinkin , though " 
 
 " What were you thinking? Let s have it." 
 
 " I don t want you to talk to me in that sassy way, 
 Clara Smith. It ain t pretty of you. Your mother 
 knows what s best fer you. Now listen here. You 
 got to consider everything, and now s the time to 
 do it." 
 
 " Now? " 
 
 " Yes, now. S posin you d a said No to him 
 and he d a went away and you d a found out you 
 liked him, w y, you d V felt mighty flat, I guess, to 
 not git him. You re sure of him now, and s posin 
 you find out he isn t as nice as you think he is, and 
 somebody comes along at you like better, w y, you 
 can back out any time you want to, don t you see? " 
 
 "Why, Mother Smith! After I ve given him my 
 word, after I have promised him! " 
 
 " Oh, well, now, it don t do to be so particular 
 about your word especially in a case like this," was 
 Mrs. Smith s calm reply. 
 
 "Well, of all things! And you holding up my 
 father to me because he was a man of the strictest 
 honor in all his dealings. And I ve always been so 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 25 
 
 proud when people told me that Abner Smith s word 
 was as good as anybody s bond! " 
 
 " He was a man, Clara, and that s very different. 
 Come, now, you ve set up long enough. It s time 
 to go to bed." 
 
 Ill 
 
 Winter was loath to let go that year, and so, 
 though they had done some work in the unusually 
 mild January on the new trolley line that Abel Horn 
 had been instrumental in getting for Minuca Center, 
 the ground stayed so hard that it was not until the 
 first of April that the pick-and-shovel Italians made 
 their appearance. Even then there were many days 
 of wretched weather when they were compelled to 
 stay in the shanty on Mumma s lot, where they ate 
 and slept. The men that laid the rails and made the 
 connections were paid by the month, and took things 
 more philosophically than the pick-and-shovel men 
 that were paid only by day s work. 
 
 Minuca Center, all of a twitter because of the trol 
 ley line which was to connect it with Mt. Victory 
 and Pharisburg and, after a while, with Columbus 
 itself, was thrilled to hear that there was a strike on. 
 The first impressions of the Italians had not been 
 very favorable. Uncle Billy Nicholson went about 
 portending dire calamities to the nation that ad- 
 
26 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 mitted foreigners to take the jobs away from native- 
 born Americans. What avail was it to have a tariff 
 against the goods made by the pauper labor of 
 Europe when the pauper labor itself came right over 
 here, feet, feathers, and all? Yes, and they let em 
 vote after they had been here a while, though they 
 were Catholics and Democrats same thing and 
 wanted the Pope to get control of the govern 
 ment. The children mocked the " dagoes," as they 
 called them, and hallooed at them, " Matchicodatchi- 
 cobabble-a-ba-a-a-a! " sagging down the scale on the 
 final vowel in imitation of the descendants of Caesar s 
 legionaries. 
 
 " You stop that this instant! " their mothers cried. 
 " Don t you ever say that again. You don t know 
 what kind o naughtiness it might* be." 
 
 Fear followed hard after. People fastened their 
 front door when they went to bed and put a chair 
 against the kitchen door. They hid their wheel 
 barrows and gardening tools. They even took in 
 their washings nights, a thing unheard of before. For 
 Mrs. Perkypile had found one of the Italians tak 
 ing things off her line, right off the line\ And 
 she had to hit him with the clothes-prop before he 
 would go away. It was awful to see her bug her eyes 
 out when she told about it, and to hear her hoarse 
 reproduction of his, " Me-a .kill-a you!" 
 
 But when the strike came it was felt that there 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 27 
 
 was some good in them. Perhaps they might be men 
 and brethren, after all, for they had rebelled against 
 the oppression of a conscienceless corporation, and 
 had said they wouldn t do a tap of work unless they 
 too were paid by the month, so that they would not 
 lose money when it rained. 
 
 " Them dagoes had got the spirit o 76 in em 
 all right," declared Clarence Bowersox to his em 
 ployer, Otto Littell. 
 
 Yes," the grocer assented, a little gingerly, 
 thinking to himself that he paid the boy all he was 
 worth, anyhow. Then the American in him got the 
 upper hand of the employer. " I jox! " he said, " it 
 don t look right, now, does it, makin discrimina 
 tions that-a-way? Well, sir, I glory in their spunk. I 
 hope they ll win. Course, it keeps the streets all 
 mussed up, but they s no great loss without some 
 small gain. Cantrell, the foreman, he boards em, and 
 he buys quite a bill o goods o me. He says he d 
 put em out while they re strikin , only he s a-scared 
 to. He says they wouldn t think no more o stickin 
 a knife into him if he tried to put em out the shanty 
 than nothin at all. I jox! Ain t that turrable? " 
 
 "Aw, well, Cantrell!" sneered Clarence. "I got 
 my opinion o Cantrell. The chief ingineer s comin 
 to-day." 
 
 "What s his name?" 
 
 " Danged if I know. Comes from Chicago. 
 
28 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Drawed all the plans and specifications. Come on to 
 see how things is a-gittin along." 
 
 " I jox! Wonder how he ll like it to find there s a 
 strike." 
 
 Clara Smith and Mr. Burns were out walking that 
 afternoon and strayed over by the lot where the Ital 
 ians were loafing and dozing in the sunshine waiting 
 for a decision of the strike. Mr. Burns was talking 
 about whether it would be better to have the clay 
 modeling class transferred to the afternoon session 
 or left as it was in the morning session. It was very 
 difficult for him to come to a decision in a matter so 
 complex. Clara tried to help him, but as soon as she 
 advanced an argument in support of his position he 
 shifted position with, " But, on the other hand, Miss 
 Smith." She felt vaguely discontented when her at 
 tention was drawn to a buggy that drove up to the 
 lot with two men in it. One leaped out and walked 
 over to the shanty with such a businesslike, master 
 ful stride that she stopped to look. Mr. Burns s aca 
 demic murmur was broken into by the stranger s 
 snappy: " Here! why aren t you men at work? Get 
 busy, get busy! Lavore!" 
 
 A big Italian lifted his eyebrow, took his pipe out 
 of his mouth, and said something she couldn t make 
 out. The brusque answer came: " You weren t hired 
 by the month but by the day. You understood that 
 before you took on. ... No. No. ... If you don t 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 29 
 
 like it, get to hell out of here. Jump now. . . . Rail 
 road fare? Not on your life. You walk back if you 
 break your contract. Now, either get to work or 
 get out. . . . Oh, sure. Talk it over with the others. 
 Give you five minutes." He looked at his watch, 
 snapped it shut, and strolled easily toward the 
 buggy. 
 
 " Why, I know him," cried Clara. " That s Dick 
 Wambaugh!" 
 
 His name alone carried the distance, and the 
 stranger quickly turned to see who had spoken it. 
 He came to her instantly, his hat off, his hand out 
 stretched. 
 
 " Clara Smith! " he said. " Or is it? " He glanced 
 at her companion. 
 
 " Yes/ she laughed nervously, flushing a little. 
 " Still Clara Smith. Mr. Wambaugh, let me present 
 Mr. Burns, the principal of the High School." 
 
 She did not add: " The gentleman I have engaged 
 myself to marry." Be sure that of the two men it 
 was not Dick Wambaugh that noted the omission. 
 
 "And what brings you here?" she asked, wish 
 ing that instead she might make as pointed a query 
 of him as he had made of her. 
 
 He explained, and they were in the full flood of 
 chatter when the Italian to whom he had spoken 
 approached. " Excuse me," said Dick, and went to 
 meet the man. Clara saw him lean over to catch the 
 
30 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 man s first low words, and then his face darkened 
 and hardened as the workman, emboldened, poured 
 forth a torrent of words. 
 
 " What s that? Say that again. Oho! So that s the 
 milk within the cocoanut. . . . Yes. . . . Yes. . . . 
 He did, eh? Why didn t you? . . . Why didn t you 
 tell him? . . . Now, listen. You tell the men that 
 there won t be any more of that. The company 
 wouldn t have stood for it for a minute if it had 
 known. You go back to work, understand? What? 
 Cantrell takes his orders from me. I m in charge 
 now. Yes. Get to work. Pronto. Hustle now, and 
 you ll get a full day s pay for to-day." 
 
 Returning to Clara, he said: " Poor devils! 
 They ve been robbed right and left, and didn t know 
 how else to get redress. Well, how s all with you? 
 How s your mother? Has she ever forgiven me for 
 stealing those pumpkin pies she set out to cool? 
 Going to be home this evening? Tell your mother 
 I m coming up to see her. You, too. You ll excuse 
 me, won t you? I see the men are going to work. 
 See you to-night, Clara. Good-by, Mr. Mr. Burns, 
 yes. Pleased to meet you." 
 
 Clara walked away, the smile of parting still lin 
 gering on her face and warming her to the bone. 
 She came to herself to hear Mr. Burns say: "And 
 not only the matter of calling you by your first 
 name. I do not wish to seem exacting, Miss Smith, 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 31 
 
 but I do think you should have intimated to Mr. 
 Mister rah Mr. Wambaugh that you were my af 
 fianced, and ah so, not at liberty to receive gen 
 tlemen callers without in some sort receiving my 
 permission." 
 
 "Aw, fudge!" said Clara. "Dick Wambaugh 
 used to sit behind me in school and pull the ribbons 
 off my hair." 
 
 They had a famous time that evening, Dick and 
 Clara and her mother, gabbling away with, " Do you 
 remember? " and " Don t you mind? " and " What s 
 become of? " until Dick got to telling of his experi 
 ences trying to get a footing in Chicago; what hard 
 times he went through, and how once when he was 
 absolutely without a cent and hungry, he found a 
 quarter on the street and spent it in that restaurant 
 in West Madison Street that had the sign out: 
 
 FULL MEAL, 
 
 FIFTEEN CENTS. 
 
 A PERFECT 
 
 GORGE 
 FOR TWENTY. 
 
 They listened with lips parted and eyes that shone 
 as he told, what is the only story worth telling, the 
 
32 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 story of struggle and unsatisfied ambition. Once or 
 twice the tears came into the women s eyes. It was 
 tragedy to them, but the man smiled to recall the 
 experience. At the end when they smiled at the 
 happy denouement he was saddened. Success? There 
 is no such thing. So much more remains to be 
 achieved. Their hearts burned within them as it be 
 came real before them, this active, energetic life 
 that accomplishes things for which Minuca Center 
 were too cramping a field. 
 
 Clara drew a long breath. She dared not look at 
 her mother, whose eyes continually awaited her. 
 
 All at once Dick spoke up brusquely: " How 
 about those pumpkin pies, Mrs. Smith? " 
 
 " Dick Wambaugh! If you ain t the beatin est boy 
 that ever was! How d you know I cut up my last 
 pumpkin for pies and baked this very day? " 
 
 " Oh, I mean those I stole? " 
 
 " Well, I mean those I jist baked. Now you set 
 still and I ll run and cut one." 
 
 When she had gone, " Clara," he said, fastening 
 his eyes upon her, " I owe you a letter. Do you know 
 that?" 
 
 " Why, yes, I believe you do," she said, as flut- 
 teringly as any schoolgirl. 
 
 " Do you know why I never wrote it? " 
 
 The words should never have made her blush and 
 look down. The tone did. 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 33 
 
 " It was because I had something to say to you 
 that I couldn t write. I know, because I tried a 
 thousand times and tore up all the letters. At first 
 I wasn t in a position financially, and, after that, I 
 didn t write letters, I dictated them. This was some 
 thing I couldn t dictate. Always I meant to come 
 to you and say it by word of mouth. I am ashamed 
 to own that I have been too busy. But there is some 
 thing more in life than business. Getting a living is 
 only half of life." 
 
 She looked up at him. He had thought, then, the 
 same thoughts that she had. 
 
 " But all the time, busy or not, at the back of my 
 mind you stood. It was like the subconscious self 
 the psychologists talk about. Have I been in your 
 mind like that? " 
 
 A wave of blood drowned the pulse of her heart 
 and choked her voice. Her lips and breath formed: 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I love you, Clara," he said. " I want you to be 
 my wife. Will you? " 
 
 All else was forgot, all but the overtowering fact 
 that the man she had always loved and longed for 
 had told her that he loved and longed for her. She 
 looked up into his face. She could only wave her 
 head in solemn affirmation. 
 
 He kissed her. 
 
 " Well, Dick, here s your p Oh, excuse me!" 
 
34 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Mrs. Smith told Clara afterwards she thought she 
 should sink through the floor. She staggered to a 
 chair and sat down. When Dick had made an end of 
 speaking she stood the pie knife on the pie plate 
 and viewed its point judicially as she said: " Well, 
 Mr. Wambaugh, as far as I am concerned, 
 you know I think the world and all of you and 
 always did, and as far as Clara s concerned, I don t 
 know but what it ll be all right, but they s a gen 
 tleman that ah calls ah occasionally that 
 ah " 
 
 Dick looked at Clara. 
 
 " Mr. Burns/ she said, and went crimson. " I in 
 troduced him to you this afternoon." 
 
 " Oh, that? What s the Human Clothes-prop got 
 to say about it? " 
 
 " Why, you didn t ever write, you know," Clara 
 half wept, " and " 
 
 "And I don t know what he ll think about it," 
 pursued Mrs. Smith. " He considers that him and 
 Clara is engaged." 
 
 "Well, I don t. Now!" declared Clara, defiantly. 
 " He wanted me to kiss him, but I wouldn t. Oh, 
 Dick! I ve always loved you, and I just felt awful 
 when you stopped writing, and I was going to write 
 to you anyhow, only I w r as afraid you d think I was 
 too bold, and I didn t know where to direct it be 
 cause you said you were going to move, and Oh, 
 
THE SEAL OF THE COVENANT 35 
 
 what am I going to do about it? Mother, tell me 
 what to do." 
 
 " Well, Clara, you must decide for yourself." 
 
 " Well, if it comes to that Dick, as true as I 
 live, I never let him or anybody else ever kiss me! 
 Honest, I didn t! Only you." 
 
 " You regard the kiss as binding the bargain? " 
 he asked, quizzically. 
 
 " Well, kind o ." 
 
 " The Seal of the Covenant, eh? You witnessed me 
 kiss your daughter, ma am? " 
 
 Well ah " 
 
 " Oh, if there s any doubt about it " The doubt 
 was removed. "And once more. This time to bind 
 me." 
 
 ! 
 
 (That ought to express it, if type can.) 
 
 Some in Minuca Center thought poor Mr. Burns 
 had been treated shamefully. Others among them 
 Sarepta Downey said: " She done jist right. It s 
 different with a woman about keepin your word. 
 Specially in a case like that. He didn t lose no time, 
 did he?" 
 
 The following dialogue explains itself: 
 
 " Dicky, mamma told you twice to let that alone. 
 
 This time I m going to give you a good smacking. 
 
 See if you can remember that." 
 
36 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Now, Clara, now, now, that s no way to do. 
 Dicky didn t mean any harm, did you, Dicky? No, 
 o course not. You come upstairs with grandma and 
 see what she s got for you." 
 
THE LOST DAY 
 
 I DECLARE, I feel right sorry for the pore 
 boy," said Sarepta Downey, as she held aside 
 her front-room window shade so that she 
 might look out upon the agony of Garfield Lincoln 
 McKinnon, doing such penance in the streets of 
 Minuca Center as made the sufferings of his mar 
 tyred namesakes seem no more than growing pains. 
 With Indian cruelty a lot of children had gath 
 ered about the boy as he minded the team out 
 side Galbraith s store while his parents did their 
 " trading." The malicious youngsters were gleefully 
 chanting to the traditional melody: 
 
 -j>,i.<_>nN y j J i J j j.i 
 
 <Stame! 5Hame! Ev- ty-bo*cfy* knows your name! 
 
 Passers-by turned to look and spoke to each other, 
 and the lad could see them say: " Oh, that s McKin- 
 non s boy, is it? " 
 
 It is surely enough misery merely to be looked at 
 when one has reached the age when his Adam s apple 
 
 37 
 
38 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 sticks out in his throat and wabbles up and down as 
 his voice vacillates between treble and bass; when 
 one blushes at the indecent haste of his wrists to 
 grow out from under the cover of his sun-faded coat, 
 and the two clerks, with noses like a figure 6, loung 
 ing in the doorway of Morgenroth s New York One 
 Price Clothing House, make loud comments like, 
 " Geth onta da high-vater pence! " but to be jeered 
 at in the sight of all the town for what was not a 
 fault, and even if it were, was not his fault, seemed 
 to Garfield Lincoln McKinnon more than he ought 
 to be made to endure. Yet he must endure it. But 
 this was the last time. He was going away didn t 
 they wish they knew where? and when he came 
 back he would show them! 
 
 Indeed they did wish they knew. Every man, 
 woman, and child in Minuca Center was gnawed 
 with anxiety to learn where Alanson McKinnon, his 
 wife, and son were going, and when they were com 
 ing back. That they were coming back was certain. 
 All could guess pretty well why they were going. 
 It was to escape the persecution of John Mumma. 
 But why were they coming back? John Mumma 
 would be eager to renew his harassing the very next 
 Sunday after McKinnon s return, and if not John, 
 then some other one of the Mumma tribe, just as 
 keen to take up the old feud. 
 
 They had all tried to wheedle it out of Alanson 
 
THE LOST DAY 39 
 
 McKinnon, but he had bluntly bade them mind their 
 own business, if they had any. Mrs. McKinnon had 
 bridled and smiled, and dropped her eyelids, and 
 doddered her head while she answered that " she 
 didn t know as she had orta say; they better ask Mr. 
 Mac." And when this very Sarepta Downey had lav 
 ished her autumnal blandishments upon Garfy, he 
 hung his head and scratched one foot with the other 
 and gulped his Adam s apple up and down and said 
 not a word. " Acted like a perfect fool," she said, 
 with asperity, afterwards. 
 
 The limelight of publicity had shone on the Mc- 
 Kinnons for a long time, and that made the mystery 
 all the more irritating to the people of the Center. 
 Alanson McKinnon had interested them much. He 
 was a church all by himself, the last remaining frag 
 ment of the sect of the Baileyites, or " Searchers," 
 as they preferred to be called after their favorite text : 
 " Search the Scriptures." The founder, the Rev. 
 Jeremiah Bailey, had been put out of the Mt. Vic 
 tory Presbytery for refusing to hold meeting on 
 Sunday. He said it was nothing less than rank idol 
 atry, thus to honor the Sun by keeping his day holy, 
 and also defiance of the Almighty whose express 
 command was to observe the seventh. Starting out 
 for himself on this line, the Rev. Jeremiah Bailey had 
 gathered together a congregation, to whose mem 
 bership he was heartily welcome, as far as the other 
 
40 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 pastors were concerned. There was Marinus Moran 
 who wanted to boss every church he had ever joined, 
 and who could make more trouble than three choirs. 
 There was " Tepe " Armstrong, who proved every 
 thing by quotations from the works of his illustrious 
 namesake, Flavius Josephus, the Jewish historian; 
 Uncle Billy Roebuck, who said he saw visions; Zimri 
 Hollabaugh, who spoke by the hour in " tongues " 
 that nobody could understand, and who would not 
 be shut off for any sake; Aunt Betty Moore, who 
 could out-talk him and had been led out of more than 
 one church, and not always quietly. There were four 
 or five more of the same sort, and last of all came 
 Alanson McKinnon. He was chiefly noted for being 
 more " sot in his ways " than any other man in 
 Logan County. 
 
 It was a queer congregation and a queerer pastor, 
 for toward the last he became convinced that he was 
 the seventh angel with the seventh trumpet, and 
 went around climbing up on barns and smoke-houses 
 to blow a long tin horn, until the constable came and 
 took him to the county house. 
 
 After that the " Searchers " were scattered abroad 
 as sheep having no shepherd, all except Alanson Mc 
 Kinnon, who was really the only convert of the Rev. 
 Jeremiah Bailey s making. He held fast to the name 
 and the one doctrine that he had managed to get 
 clearly into his head, that the seventh day was the 
 
THE LOST DAY 41 
 
 Sabbath. He and his never set foot inside other 
 churches, but Alanson conducted a sort of service 
 in their front room, and passed a dull Saturday in 
 the strictest Sabbatical observance. At the first he 
 gloried in his oddity, and he and Garfy used to work 
 in the fields as close to the big road as they could 
 get on a Sunday when the neighbors were going to 
 meeting. It mortified Garfy to death to be seen 
 working in his old duds when the other boys were 
 all dressed up in store clothes; but the greatest cross 
 of all was laid upon his mother. Alanson made her 
 ring the bell for dinner just the same as if it was 
 a common day. Every time she went out to the pole 
 set in the ground close to the well and pulled the 
 bell rope, she got red in the face. It seemed to her 
 that she could see the whole countryside stop and 
 hearken, and that she could hear them say to one an 
 other: "That s Nancy McKinnon callin her man in 
 from work on Sunday." 
 
 If anybody said to Alanson, " I s pose it s all right 
 to keep Saddy for Sabbath if you want to, but why 
 can t you keep Sunday, too, luck the rest of us? " 
 he had an answer ready: " I got Scripter for it. Six 
 days shelt thou labor/ the book says." 
 
 " But it s agin the law of the land." 
 
 " Tain t agin the law of the Lord," said Alanson, 
 and after that the man would generally drive on. 
 
 But being a living epistle, known and read of all 
 
42 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 men, lost its attractiveness when John Mumma dis 
 covered that he had at last an opportunity to get 
 revenge for the land lost when the referees went 
 against him in the boundary-line dispute. 
 
 One Sunday morning just as all the folk were 
 going to meeting, and Alanson was out in the field 
 as large as life hoeing potatoes, up came Mumma 
 and Billy Belt, the constable, who arrested him for 
 performing servile labor on the first day of the week, 
 commonly called Sunday. He was fined three dol 
 lars and costs. Next Sunday it was the same thing, 
 and so it continued. McKinnon determined to work 
 on Sunday and Mumma determined to have him ar 
 rested if he did. There was one good thing about 
 this: Nancy McKinnon no longer had to ring the 
 dinner bell, for Alanson hid his work and went to 
 it with all possible concealment. But the Mummas 
 didn t have " Injun blood " in them for nothing, and 
 one or another of them always found him out. 
 
 Thus it was evident to all that the McKinnons 
 were going away to get shut of all this. But why 
 come back to enter again the furnace of affliction? 
 This was what disturbed the inquiring minds of the 
 people of Minuca Center. 
 
 Alanson had discovered a way out. A door had 
 been opened for him in a quarter least expected. In 
 the early days of his adhesion to the sect of the Rev. 
 Jeremiah Bailey, he had been set upon by the ortho- 
 
THE LOST DAY 43 
 
 dox and badgered into argument. In giving a reason 
 for the faith that was in him, he had had so decidedly 
 the best of it that he tasted the fierce joys of con 
 troversy, and after that he went up and down seek 
 ing them, as in his younger and unregenerate days 
 he had looked for a fight. One day he made up his 
 mind to attack old Dr. Cooper. From a tactical point 
 of view, this was an error. All Alanson s previous 
 victories had been won by flinging texts of Scripture 
 at men that recognized them as weighty missiles and 
 behaved accordingly. But Dr. Cooper, like Gallio, 
 " cared for none of these things." He was an infidel 
 and a spiritualist. His wife wore calico trousers to 
 her shoe tops, and skirts to her knees, devised in an 
 age that knew not bicycles. Her hair was short and 
 her " medium controls " were " Cyrus the Great," 
 and " Little Snowdrop," the disembodied spirit of 
 an Indian girl, that spoke partly in baby talk and 
 partly in something like an Englishman s notion of 
 negro dialect. When traveling mediums came to 
 Minuca Center they always stopped at the Coopers . 
 The fame of the mighty works they did was spread 
 far and wide, and children that had to go by the 
 house after nine o clock at night walked on the other 
 side of the street. 
 
 Dr. Cooper jumped at the chance for a debate. 
 He, too, was born in Arcadia. Blandly waving aside 
 all the familiar texts, he took his stand on natural 
 
44 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 philosophy. He maintained that there couldn t be 
 one day in the week that should be kept holy, be 
 cause while it was Saturday here, it was Sunday on 
 the other side of the world. He explained that some 
 where in the Pacific there was an imaginary line 
 where the day began. If you sailed around the earth 
 keeping Sunday, when you got back to your starting 
 point you would find the folks keeping Sunday on 
 your Saturday, or your Monday, according to which 
 way you went; providing, of course, that you did not 
 follow the common practice of adding or dropping 
 a day to keep on good terms with the calendar. 
 
 Alanson sat so still that the doctor thought he 
 had made a convert. Never was man more mistaken. 
 It was all news to McKinnon, and he came and came 
 again, getting Dr. Cooper to go over the same ar 
 gument each time. One day he asked, for he was 
 not quick on the uptake: "You re sure that if a 
 man was to sail East around the world, a-keepin 
 the seventh day as the Sabbath and still a-stickin 
 to it, regardless of other folks a-munkin with the 
 days of the week, when he got back, he d still be 
 a-keepin the Sabbath and they d be a-keepin Sun 
 day? " 
 
 Dr. Cooper was so constituted as to be certain of 
 everything that he said, and able to disprove any 
 thing that anybody else said. He affirmed that his 
 statement was absolutely correct and could be 
 
THE LOST DAY 45 
 
 proved by the globe. Alanson rose with a smile on 
 his face and thereafter came no more. Next day the 
 old doctor was disturbed by an impression that he 
 wanted to see McKinnon about something. But he 
 was getting old and forgetful, and it passed out of 
 his mind. 
 
 Alanson had once heard the Sabbath called " the 
 Pearl of Days," and so that night, when at family 
 prayers, he lighted upon the parable of the merchant 
 that found the pearl of great price and sold all that 
 he had and went and bought it, the tears came, and 
 his voice quavered and broke. Without doubt what 
 he had been thinking of was a " leading." The 
 drowsing Garfield Lincoln opened his eyes with as 
 tonishment, but he widened them still more when 
 his father shut the book and told what was in his 
 heart to do. They were not done stretching with 
 amaze three weeks later, when the Eastern Emperor, 
 a British tramp steamer with a mixed cargo in its 
 hold for Hongkong and Manila, steamed past Sandy 
 Hook with Garfield Lincoln McKinnon on board, 
 articled as cabin boy, his mother as cook, and his 
 father rendering such assistance as a strong, active, 
 and willing man can who has never seen salt water 
 before. 
 
 For many months Minuca Center had ceased to 
 excite itself about the McKinnons and their where- 
 
4 6 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 abouts. War bulletins were its meat and drink now. 
 There was hardly anybody at the station when Alan- 
 son, his wife, and Garfy got off the 12.55 tra i n fr m 
 the West. They walked up Main Street, which was 
 all aflap with American flags and another kind that 
 looked like a piece of cranberry pie on blue-and- 
 white bed ticking. Across the street hung a banner 
 bearing this device: 
 
 REMEMBER THE MAINE 
 
 THING IS TO BUY YOUR 
 
 GROCERIES AT CAMPBELLS. 
 
 Highest Prices Paid for Country Produce. 
 
 Some few of the populace rushed upon them with 
 outstretched hands and remarked how well they were 
 looking. Alanson seemed strangely diffident. 
 
 " W y whur y all be n f r so long?" asked Henry 
 Peters. 
 
 " Traveling" said Alanson shortly, and made as 
 if to move on. 
 
 "That so? Whur to?" 
 
 " Oh, all round," which was strictly true, but 
 hardly informative. 
 
 As they passed on, who should meet them but old 
 Dr. Cooper. McKinnon apparently did not see him, 
 but the doctor called out: 
 
THE LOST DAY 47 
 
 "Alanson! Look here a minute. I must have 
 missed you every time you come to town here 
 lately. I been a-meanin to tell you that I was 
 wrong about sailin around the world from East 
 to West " 
 
 " Yes," said Alanson, not giving him a chance to 
 finish the sentence, " I have sence found out you 
 was," and passed on with so chill an air that the old 
 man did not know what to make of it. 
 
 Garfy was a changed boy from what he was when 
 last the Center saw him. He who had been so pain 
 fully bashful, now looked at the girls with a con 
 quering eye. The misses, that aforetime had tittered 
 at his embarrassment when they teased him, felt a 
 flutter under their organdie waists as his gaze fol 
 lowed them from under Campbell s awning where 
 he was being quizzed by the boys. 
 
 " Whur all you be n, Garfy? " 
 
 " Oh, jist around the world," says Garfy, non 
 chalantly putting out the tip of his tongue and 
 squinting up his eyes as if to look at something far 
 away. 
 
 " Jeeminently ! " chorused the others, their eyes 
 sticking out in amaze. 
 
 Then doubt arose. 
 
 "Yes, you have. Like hen!" 
 
 " Oh, all right. Whurj s pose I got these? " He 
 pulled out a handful of curiously carved nuts. 
 
48 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 * These I bought in Hongkong and these here is 
 from Manila." 
 
 " Oh, was you to Manila? " 
 
 " Well, I guess yes." 
 
 All were silent, stunned by the presence of a great 
 truth. Then spoke up "Turkey-egg" McLaughlin: 
 
 " Whadge go fur? " 
 
 Garfy spat a very small drop and brushed an imag 
 inary shading of dust from his leg before he an 
 swered: 
 
 " Pap s idy," he said. " He was jist bound and 
 determined to keep Saddy for Sabbath and work 
 Sunday. Doc Cooper told him if he d sail round the 
 world to the east ard he d git back here still 
 a-keepin Saddy whilst you was a-keepin Sunday. 
 So he done it. Mumma persecuted him so." 
 
 " Mumma s dead," piped in little " Bunt " Rogers. 
 " Be n dead bout a month now. Horse kicked 
 him." 
 
 " Well, he orta die," replied the unfeeling Garfy. 
 " Anybody act the way he did. Well s I was goin 
 to tell you, we d jist got into Manila Bay one night 
 and was anchored out waitin for mornin . The skip- 
 per " 
 
 "The what?" 
 
 " The skipper. The old man." 
 
 " Oh, your daddy." 
 
 " Naw. The captain. Cap un Prunk his name was. 
 
THE LOST DAY 49 
 
 Look here, if you country jakes is a-goin to put in 
 your oar all the time, I won t tell you a doggone 
 thing." 
 
 The boys exchanged a frightened and awed look. 
 Was this really Garfy? 
 
 " We was a-layin there and Cap n Prunk come 
 and shook me. Tumble out, boy/ he says, all ex 
 cited. Tumble out and go run and tell your daddy 
 to come aft/ he says. Got somepin to show him. 
 Pap come and the old man give him his spyglass. 
 1 There, you Yankee/ he says, tell me if that ain t 
 nice/ Pap started to say, I ain t no Yankee/ and 
 all of a sudden he began to holler. He got shoutin 
 happy. Glory! he says, it s our ships and they re 
 a-goin to pitch right into them Spanishers over 
 yan/ he says. 
 
 " Right you are/ says the skipper, and they 
 ain t a-goin to wait till Monday, either. Pap looked 
 at him kind o funny and says, Monday? 
 
 " Yes/ says the skipper. To-day s Sunday. We 
 gotta drop a day, you know/ he says. You d a 
 thought it was pap that dropped, he looked so flab 
 bergasted. But pretty soon we seen somepin white 
 squirt out of the side of one o our ships and then 
 I heard somepin go Bump! like you was kickin 
 on the door of an empty room, and then, Ar-r-r-r! 
 like a coffee mill, and then, Ker-boong! Shell 
 a-bustin ." 
 
50 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Garfy made a rhetorical pause in order to let his 
 weighty words sink in. 
 
 " Bunty " Rogers seized the opportunity. " I was 
 to Clumbus on the Fourth," he shrilled, " an I 
 heard em shoot off a cannon. Oo-oh, wasn t it loud? 
 A real cannon it was, like they use to the war." 
 
 "Huh!" sneered Garfy, "one o these here little 
 footy fieldpieces. I ve seen em. What I m a-talkin 
 about is these here great guns, long s from here 
 acrost the road. They don t shoot no cannon balls. 
 They ve got great, big, long steel things that they 
 shoot out of em. Tail s you are and shaped like a 
 cigar. The Spaniards was layin over by Cavite. 
 S posin this was Cavite." Garfy laid out his war map 
 on the gravel walk. " They come right back at old 
 Dewey, and I jis tell you things was a-poppin 
 around there. Look luck pap he had the dumps for 
 a spell, but twa n t long fore he was a-whoopin an* 
 a-hollerin luck a crazy man. One o these here little 
 torpedo boats come a-scootin out to blow up our 
 ships an pap yelled: l Head her off! 
 
 " They did. Twa n t but a minute fore she broke 
 for the shore an run aground. Pap was jist a-dancin . 
 Old Dewey, he knocked off for breakfast an all that 
 time them Spanish ships was a-burnin an a blowin 
 up worse n any old Fourth o July you ever see. 
 When they s rendered, pap he was jist so tickled he 
 clean fergot all his own trouble." 
 
THE LOST DAY 51 
 
 "Why, what was his trouble?" asked "Turkey- 
 egg " McLaughlin. 
 
 " Why, dad blame it!" snapped the impatient 
 Garfy. " Didn t I jist tell you we went around the 
 world a-purpose to gain a day? An here we went 
 an lost one. We come acrost to Frisco an home 
 by the cars, an now pap he ll have to keep Friday 
 for Sabbath, r else do jist luck the rest o folks. I 
 d know which he s a-goin to do. He ain t said." 
 
 " Look luck you had your trip for nothin ," com 
 mented " Turkey-egg." 
 
 " Well," said Garfy, " that was some of a disap 
 pointment. We lost a day, but we seen Dewey win 
 one. The way I look at it, that kind o evens things 
 up." 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 
 
 WELL, now, if I was you, S repty, I 
 wouldn t bother my head about it one 
 second," declared Mrs. Parker. " It s all 
 right. He s a very nice man, this Mr. Frizzell " 
 
 " Frazee," corrected Sarepta. 
 
 " Frazee, then. I m the poorest hand for names. 
 I jist can t keep em in my head. Very nice and quiet. 
 I put him at that little table over there in the cor 
 ner by the window and you don t hardly hear a word 
 out of him. At first I thought him and me wasn t 
 goin to get along at all. He couldn t drink this here 
 ten-cent coffee that comes already browned. Went 
 all around town lookin for good coffee. Otho Littell 
 was tellin me how he showed Mr. Fusee " 
 
 " Frazee." 
 
 " Frazee. I know. Ain t it ridiculous I can t remem 
 ber it? The very best they was in town Otho showed 
 him and he jist run his hands through it and smelled 
 of it and says: Huh! jist like that, and turned on his 
 heel and walked out. Well, I says to myself, if 
 that s the way And then he sent off and got a bag 
 o* some kind of coffee he told me the name of it, too 
 
 5* 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 53 
 
 ker-boom or ker-slam I don t know. Anyhow he 
 wanted me to brown it for him. Well, now, I says 
 to myself, my days o brownin coffee in a pan in the 
 oven is past and gone too long ago to talk about. 
 But he was so nice and said he d pay me for my 
 trouble that I jist couldn t say no to him. It s awful 
 nice flavored, the way he has me make it for him, 
 but la me! if I was to drink it as strong as Mr. Frazer 
 drinks it " 
 
 " Frazee." 
 
 " As Mr. Frazee drinks it I jist can not keep 
 names in my head why, I couldn t sleep a wink. 
 Why, it s as black as tar. Yes, sir. I don t believe it s 
 good for the health to drink it as strong as all that." 
 
 " But don t you think " 
 
 " But that s the only thing, and as far as your 
 givin yourself one minute s uneasiness for fear 
 folks ll talk about you because you got this Mr. 
 What-you-may-call- im for a roomer and you all by 
 yourself, why I wouldn t think of it. Why, do you 
 s pose if I thought they was anything wrong about 
 it, I d ha sent him over to your house to get a room 
 when I was all full up? Why, no. And wasn t it provi 
 dential now that he come along jist when he did, and 
 you worried out o your life and soul with that old 
 Jerusalem cricket, Sister Sister-rah Oh, what s 
 her name now? " 
 
 " Sister Pennypiece." 
 
54 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " I do know whatever possessed you to go and 
 invite her to stay with you a few days after camp 
 meetin when you might a knowed she was jist one 
 o them deadbeats and lookin for somebody that 
 she could sponge off of and stay the whole fall and 
 winter. And thinks I: There s a good chance o 
 helpin her out and me, too, so I says to this Mr. 
 
 , I says to him: You can get a room, like 
 
 enough, at S repty Downey s, I says, and he looked 
 at me so funny. And he went right over and you 
 rented the room to him. I thought that was too 
 killin . I bet she jist raved and caved when she come 
 back and found out." 
 
 "Well, no. She didn t, but Aunt Betty Mooney 
 that was with her " 
 
 " There s a pair of em for you." 
 
 " Aunt Betty about raised the roof. She talked 
 awful to me. Said it was easy to see what I was up 
 to." 
 
 "She didn t!" 
 
 " Oh, yes, she did. She told me I was one of them 
 that thinks it ain t ever too late to get a beau " 
 
 "Oh, good land! You!" 
 
 " I felt awful, and if he hadn t paid me in advance 
 I don t know but I d have " 
 
 " Now, don t you go and be foolish. Why, my 
 grief! Here you ve lived here all your life till you re 
 gray headed and not a word against you in any 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 55 
 
 shape, manner, or form, and people thinks the world 
 and all of you. Don t you s pose folks has got some 
 sense?" 
 
 " Yes, but you know what Aunt Betty and Sister 
 Pennypiece are to talk." 
 
 "And don t everybody know that? And this Mr. 
 Fusell " 
 
 " Mr. Frazee." 
 
 " Yes. He s an old man, too, ain t he? " 
 
 " Well, I don t know as you d call him old." 
 
 " He s about your age, ain t he? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so, but you don t think I m old, 
 do you? " 
 
 " Well, you re no spring chicken, S repty; but I 
 will say that for a woman o your age, you re mighty 
 trim and well preserved. It s a pity you ever got 
 that notion into your head about bein engaged to 
 Sam Coulter. You might a got married a dozen 
 times over and not be left alone the way you was 
 when your pa died. I expect that was more n half 
 the reason you had that old Jerusalem cricket come 
 up and stay with you, bein so lonesome. I blame 
 your pa for breakin it off with Sam in the first 
 place." 
 
 " No, now that was my fault. I oughtn t to have 
 quarreled with him about Sallie Mumma. Then he 
 wouldn t have enlisted." 
 
 " Well, we won t talk about that now. Anybody 
 
56 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 that knows how you could have had your pick o the 
 men when you was young ain t goin to believe 
 you re after em now. He don t bother you none, 
 does he? Comin in and settin , I mean." 
 
 "Who? Mr. Frazee?" 
 
 " Urn." 
 
 " Oh, no. Not at all." 
 
 "Well, then, why should you fret?" 
 
 " I don t know as I do fret. But here lately every 
 Wednesday evening when I come out of prayer 
 meeting, he s waiting to see me home. He said it 
 didn t look right to him to see a lady alone on the 
 street at night and " 
 
 " Urn," assented Mrs. Parker. " I say so, too." 
 
 " And if I didn t have any other company and 
 didn t object he had just as lives come by for me 
 as not. I told him I was used to it. Pa never would 
 go with me, you know. But he said it wasn t any 
 bother and he would unless I objected, and I couldn t 
 very well say I objected, but " 
 
 " But what? " 
 
 " Well, I didn t want people to think he was going 
 with me." 
 
 " And wouldn t it be terrible if they did! Wouldn t 
 it be just terrible! Now look here, S repty, if you 
 want to know, I think it s all foolishness for you to 
 think you dassen t look at a man just because Sam 
 Coulter never come back from the war. I d put on 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 57 
 mournin for him and be done with it and not punish 
 myself the way you do." 
 
 Sarepta shook her head. 
 
 " If people should say that I was going with Mr. 
 Frazee I d have to tell him to go. I couldn t stand 
 it. I d hate awful to tell him to go, but that s just 
 what I d have to do if people said that." 
 
 " Now don t you worry. They won t nobody talk 
 about you unless it is old Aunt Betty and the Jeru 
 salem cricket, and if they do, why people won t pay 
 one bit of attention. They ll jist consider the source." 
 
 And this was exactly what people did. 
 
 The romantic story of Sarepta Downey was one 
 of the traditions of Minuca Center. The little old 
 maid with the glow in her cheeks, like the Indian 
 summer of a girl s blush, would have been dear to 
 all because of her devotion to the memory of her 
 old sweetheart even if she hadn t been the good soul 
 she was. 
 
 Old Aaron Downey was a quarrelsome old man. 
 In war time he was a Vallandigham Democrat, as 
 much to be contrary as anything, and when Sarepta 
 became engaged to Sam Coulter, the boy old Adam 
 Coulter took to raise, who lived out on the Pharis- 
 burg road next to Mumma s and was a black Aboli 
 tionist, he fairly pawed up the ground. Old man 
 Coulter didn t like it either. He wanted Sam to have 
 Sallie Mumma, and when Sam, to please him, took 
 
58 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Sallie to a couple of places, old Aaron taunted Sa- 
 repta so that in a passion of jealousy she quarreled 
 with Sam. She had no idea he would take it to heart, 
 but he did, and the next thing was, he had enlisted 
 and gone to Camp Chase. 
 
 Pa Downey strictly forbade her to write the 
 scratch of a pen to any " Lincoln hireling," and if 
 Sam ever wrote to her she never got the letter. No 
 body would have put it past Aaron Downey to have 
 kept the letters from her, but if Sarepta thought so 
 she never accused her father of it. She blamed her 
 self for it all. She knew Sam liked her and was en 
 gaged to her, as witness the little set ring he had 
 given her, which she had worn to paper thinness. 
 She knew he didn t care for Sallie Mumma. When 
 he came back she was going to take all the blame 
 on herself. But he didn t come back. She had not 
 even the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that he 
 was dead. Among her scanty treasures, an old da 
 guerreotype of Sam in a square case lined with red 
 velvet, a dried flower he had picked for her, and 
 a basket he had whittled out of a peach stone, 
 there was a frayed and yellow clipping from 
 the Weekly Examiner giving the list of casualties 
 among the Logan County boys in one of the skir 
 mishes before Richmond. One item was: " Private 
 Samuel Coulter, missing." That was all. The rest 
 was silence. 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 59 
 
 But though Sam never came back, she still con 
 sidered herself engaged to him. Fellows would start 
 in to keep company with her, well-off fellows, too, 
 but she gave them to understand that she considered 
 herself engaged to Sam Coulter, and after a while 
 they would stop going with her. 
 
 " You act like a fool, S repty," her father would 
 snarl at her, " a regular, cussed fool. Who was he, 
 anyhow, to make so much fuss about? Old Ad. Coul 
 ter s bound boy. Lord knows what kind o low trash 
 he come from." 
 
 But with the obstinacy of the timid she held her 
 course. It was no more than right that she should 
 do as she did after the way she had treated Sam. 
 Almost the last thing her father had said to her 
 was that she had been a " cussed fool " to stay single 
 when she had so many chances to marry and do well. 
 He was going to die and she d be all alone in the 
 world, and whose fault was it? Why, hers, because 
 she had been such a " cussed fool." 
 
 But she tended him lovingly and mourned him 
 sincerely and even missed him when he was gone. 
 Even his rasping voice was good to hear. It was the 
 voice of a man, and man is the fountain of authority. 
 Though he was old and feeble, she did not know 
 what it was to be afraid when she padlocked the cel 
 lar door at night and shut the shutters and locked 
 up the house. 
 
60 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 This Sister Pennypiece that had fastened herself 
 on Sarepta at the Urbana camp meeting and had 
 proved such a bore that she was glad to get her out, 
 was almost worse than nobody at all. For she used 
 to sit and tell the most awful tales of people living 
 alone and being found in the morning with their 
 throats cut, and then she would grab Sarepta and 
 whisper: " Sh! Did you hear that? " After a long and 
 breathless pause she would whisper: " It sounded 
 like somebody walkin around upstairs." 
 
 Since this Mr. Frazee had come to take Sister 
 Pennypiece s room she had not felt afraid at all. If 
 burglars got in there was a man in the house, some 
 body that could attend to their case. But if people 
 were going to talk about it, she would have to tell 
 him to go. 
 
 Now there is no denying that Aunt Betty Mooney 
 did go around town declaring that it was scandalous, 
 simply scandalous, for Sarepta Downey, a member 
 of Center Street M. E., to be living alone in the 
 house with a man and that man beauing her around. 
 It ought to be brought up before the officiary and 
 she ought to be rebuked. And that man Frazee, pub 
 lic opinion ought to attend to him. Who was he, 
 anyhow? Where d he come from? What was he 
 after? Why didn t he go to work or do something, 
 like he d ought to? Wasn t there anybody had spunk 
 enough to up and ask him? 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 61 
 
 " I jox I d know, Aunt Betty," said Otho Littell. 
 " Seems not. Why don t you? " 
 
 " Yes, and have him tell me to go long about my 
 business. I see myself talkin to that man. The looks 
 of him is enough for me." 
 
 " Aw, now, Aunt Betty, he s a very nice-lookin 
 man, with that big beard o his, tall and not too 
 fleshy, and straight as a candle. Tain t often you 
 see a man like that when he s gittin gray." 
 
 " Struttin along the street, as if he owned it, and 
 puffin his filthy tobacco smoke in people s faces. 
 Well, mebby not right in their faces, but poisonin 
 the very air they breathe. Nobody can be a pure man 
 and use tobacco. Now that s so, Brother Littell. 
 You know what the Scripture says about layin aside 
 all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness. Tobacco 
 wasn t invented in them days, I know, but if that 
 ain t it to a t-y, ty, then I don t want a cent and 
 you needn t think I don t see you tryin to hide that 
 there quid o tobacco in your cheek, Brother Lit 
 tell, because I do, and the Lord sees it too, and, 
 come Judgment Day, you ll hear from Him, now, 
 sure s you re a foot high." 
 
 " All right, Aunt Betty. Now what else was it you 
 wanted to-day? Tea, sugar, coffee, canned peaches 
 we got some nice canned corn." 
 
 " Well, you might send me up a can o corn and 
 about three pounds o sugar and a quarter of a 
 
62 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 pound o tea, and if the officiary don t do nothin 
 about S repty and that man Frazee How would 
 you like some dried beef, Sister Pennypiece? About 
 half a pound, Otho. Thin, now. Jist as thin as you 
 can Why, then, the citizens had ought to take em 
 in hand." 
 
 Sister Pennypiece apparently tried to check the 
 fury of Aunt Betty s accusations, but it was as Clar 
 ence Bowersox, Mr. Littell s clerk, said after the 
 two had gone out: "And all the time, all the time, 
 mind you, a-gittin in her mean little insinuendos." 
 
 " Oh, she s got it in for S repty, no two ways 
 about that," said Mr. Littell. " I jox! It ain t no 
 snap to live at Aunt Betty s, even if you do gitch 
 board for nothin . She had it easy at S repty s. 
 They tell me she wouldn t even make her own bed. 
 I bet old Aunt Betty makes her stand around. I 
 jox!" 
 
 Part of Aunt Betty s animosity to Frazee was due 
 to the fact that nobody had found out much about 
 him, and she resented it. People that were so still 
 about themselves must be up to some devilment or 
 other. But while Minuca Center was as curious as 
 she, there was something about Frazee that forbade 
 catechising. From his ordering Coban coffee; from 
 his getting letters with a long-tailed bird on the 
 postage stamps, and from his talking Spanish with 
 old man Sanchez, the cigar-maker, they inferred that 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 63 
 he must have lived in Mexico or South America or 
 some such place. 
 
 Sarepta was finding out more about him than any 
 body, but so fearful was she that folks would think 
 she was going with him that she never mentioned 
 his name, but kept all these things in her heart. 
 
 Coming home from prayer meeting began to be 
 an event she looked forward to all week. She had 
 always liked geography, and it was most interesting 
 to talk with Mr. Frazee, who had lived where they 
 had palm trees and bananas and vanilla and all that. 
 He had had a coffee plantation in San Rafael, prov 
 ince of Coban, Guatemala, and he told her all about 
 raising coffee; how they had to be so careful of the 
 young plants and shade them with bananas; how the 
 coffee berry was something like a cherry, only in 
 stead of having a pit it had these two seeds. He 
 told her about the people down there and how the 
 young fellows courted the girls and never got a 
 chance to speak to them. He told her about bull 
 fights and all such, but most interesting of all, he 
 told her how he had come to go there right after 
 the War of the Rebellion, when he was just a boy, 
 as you might say, and with all a boy s love of the 
 adventurous life whetted, not satiated, with the few 
 months soldiering he had had; how sick he was of 
 it in a little while, and how he wanted to go back 
 home, only he couldn t, because he didn t have the 
 
64 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 money, and then when he did get the money, how 
 he had become a little better used to it and, finding 
 a good opportunity for investment, he had started 
 in to raise coffee. He had done pretty well, he didn t 
 say how well, but pretty well. And then a man came 
 along and offered him his price, or near about, and 
 he felt a great longing to get back to God s coun 
 try. Sometimes he thought he ought never to have 
 left it. He ought to have gone back North after the 
 war was over. 
 
 "And why didn t you?" 
 
 " Oh, well, all my folks were dead, and there was 
 nobody that cared for me, so I thought." 
 
 They walked on and presently Frazee broke out 
 with: 
 
 " I m just about wild to see snow, snow on the 
 ground, snow that you can go sleighing on. I used 
 to dream about snow. First good snowstorm that 
 comes along, do you know what I m going to do? 
 I m going to have a sleigh ride and I m going to 
 take you with me, that is, if you ll go. Will you? " 
 
 " Why, I should be pleased to accept your kind 
 invitation," she answered with old-fashioned polite 
 ness. 
 
 And then she remembered that she had not been 
 sleigh riding since the time she and Sam Coulter 
 had the spat about Sallie Mumma. The more she 
 thought about it the more she felt that she ought 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 65 
 
 not to go. It worried her so that the next day she 
 waylaid Frazee in the hall to tell him so. 
 
 " Mr. Frazee," she said, and twisted the little old- 
 fashioned ring on her finger, as she did when nerv 
 ous, " I don t know as it would be right for me to 
 go sleigh riding as I told you I would. I thank you 
 for your kind invitation, but " 
 
 "Not right?" 
 
 " Well, of course it wouldn t be wrong exactly, but 
 now, I don t want you to think that I ve got any 
 thing against you, for I haven t. I don t know as 
 there s anybody I like better of course, you know, 
 I don t mean in that way." She blushed to think how 
 clumsily she was doing it. 
 
 He seemed to leap at an opportunity. 
 
 " And don t you think you could like me in that 
 way? " he demanded, bending over her and look 
 ing into her eyes. She blushed still deeper and 
 dropped her lids. " Perhaps I go about it all too 
 bluntly, but this is Indian summer with you and me. 
 We have no time to lose in our love making. Don t 
 you think, from what you have seen of me, that you 
 could l like me in that way enough " he swallowed 
 " enough to marry me? " 
 
 She winced and caught her breath with a sob. 
 
 "Oh!" she quavered, "I couldn t! I couldn t! It 
 wouldn t be right. I do esteem you. I do 1-like 
 you as well as anybody I ever saw, I don t know 
 
66 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 but better. But it wouldn t be right." Her voice 
 strengthened as she got on familiar ground. " I am 
 engaged to Mr. Sam Coulter." 
 
 " Coulter? " 
 
 " He was a young man I kept company with, and 
 he went and enlisted in the war, and I am waiting 
 for him to come back." 
 
 " Why, my dear, that s forty years ago." 
 
 " No. Only thirty-eight. It was in the fall of 64 
 he enlisted. But that s no difference. He didn t break 
 the engagement and I mustn t. As long as I don t 
 know he s dead or married to some other girl it 
 wouldn t be right for me to have anybody else, no 
 matter how much I liked him. I expect you think 
 it s kind of foolish in me," she added piteously. 
 
 " No, no. Not at all. This man that you speak 
 of " 
 
 "Mr. Coulter?" 
 
 " Yes. Hasn t he written to you in all these 
 years? " 
 
 " That don t make any difference. I couldn t have 
 anybody else unless he broke the engagement or 
 died." 
 
 " And this is the ring he gave you? " he asked, 
 taking her hand gently. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " It s all worn thin now, but 
 it was a right pretty ring when he gave it to me. I ve 
 never taken it off only when I washed my hands, 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 67 
 
 and one time I lost it for pretty near a week 
 and " 
 
 She broke off her prattle in surprise. He raised 
 her hand to his lips and kissed it. It was an un 
 familiar caress. 
 
 " I have not known such faith, " he quoted. 
 " * No, not in Israel. Then, after a moment, he 
 said: "But what if he s dead?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " If I should prove it to you that he was dead, 
 would that " 
 
 " How could you prove it now? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, that s so. It s a long time ago." 
 
 He forbore to press home the point he might have 
 made that she had tacitly confessed that in her heart 
 she knew her lover was long since dead, and that 
 this pretended waiting for him was the fiction with 
 which she concealed even from herself that she was 
 doing penance for a girlish fault, her hasty words 
 spoken a generation ago. She thanked him for it 
 inwardly. 
 
 4 Yes," she echoed, and drew a long, quivering 
 sigh. " It s a long time ago." And just that tender 
 sadness that we feel whenever we think of days gone 
 by turned the pent-up tide of emotion into the chan 
 nel of tears. She fled from him into her own rooms. 
 She could not bear that he should see her cry. 
 
 She heard him go out a little later. When she had 
 
68 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 recovered herself somewhat she determined that she 
 must tell him when he came in again that it wouldn t 
 do for him to stay in the house. She knew that he 
 was honorable and all that, but now that he had be 
 come a suitor why, it wouldn t do, and that was 
 all there was about it. It would be terrible to have 
 to tell him. She might better have had Sister Penny- 
 piece stay on. And yet, the verses came into her 
 mind: 
 
 Twere better to have loved and lost 
 
 Than never to have loved at all. 
 
 But something in her resented that. You couldn t 
 say that she had " never loved at all " before he 
 came. She had loved Sam Coulter, hadn t she? Yes, 
 and loved him still. And she ought not to say that 
 she loved Mr. Frazee as long as she was engaged 
 to Sam Coulter. But that was a girl s love, a jealous, 
 flaming love, while this was calmer, more placid, 
 more beautiful, as Indian summer is more beautiful 
 than it is in August. 
 
 No, no. She must not think of loving him. He 
 ought to look for somebody else, some younger 
 woman. He might just as well as not, he being right 
 in the prime of life, as you might say. She tried to 
 think who would do for him, but it horrified her 
 to find how to think of him as married to another 
 woman was like a knife struck into her heart. If it 
 was going to be like that, Mr. Frazee would cer- 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 69 
 
 tainly have to go. She was engaged to Sam Coulter. 
 She must remember that. And yet, for the first time, 
 she almost regretted that vestal troth of hers. 
 
 She did not hear him come in that night. She did 
 not hear him go out in the morning. She waited 
 till a reasonable hour and then, since the matter was 
 so instant, she nerved herself to go up and knock 
 upon his door. There was no response. A cold fear 
 came over her. If he should have died in the night! 
 To be a second time bereaved of yes, of a lover. 
 She tried the door. It opened. The bed had not been 
 slept in. 
 
 He did not return that day. The house was lonely 
 that night, and she dared not go to a neighbor s or 
 have a neighbor in. It was important that she should 
 speak to him the very first opportunity. It was very 
 lonely. Sarepta quaked at every rattle of the win 
 dow. Every step she hearkened to and every step 
 passed on. The next day and the next night and still 
 no sign of him. Stepping over to Mrs. Parker s for 
 news, she encountered that lady stepping over to 
 her house for news. Why had not Mr. Frazee come 
 to his meals? Sarepta plainly showed anxiety and 
 more, which Mrs. Parker notified to all and several 
 she knew. 
 
 As Frazee s absence lengthened into a week and 
 then into a fortnight, the whole town, instructed 
 by Mrs. Parker, observed and commented upon Sa- 
 
70 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 repta s appearance, not wholly without amusement, 
 since everybody else s love affair is of necessity 
 comic, and yet not wholly without pity either. Ex 
 cept, of course, with Aunt Betty Mooney and Sister 
 Pennypiece. This latter lady said, in a voice like cold 
 cream, that she hoped this would be a lesson to dear 
 Sister Downey and teach her to set her affections 
 on things above not on things on the earth. 
 
 "I jox!" said Otho Littell. " Whadda you think 
 o that? Ain t that gall for you!" 
 
 But a day came whereon Frazee did return, and 
 Sarepta s joy at seeing him was dashed with bitter 
 ness as she thought of what she had to say to him. 
 She stammered out a beginning, but he hushed her 
 with : 
 
 " Wait. Wait till to-night. I have invited Mr. and 
 Mrs. Longenecker over and Mr. and Mrs. Lester 
 Pettitt. They re your most intimate friends. I want 
 them to be here. I have a surprise for you." 
 
 Sarepta received her pastor and his wife with 
 a nervousness that the commonplaces about the 
 weather did not assuage. 
 
 " Mr. Frazee ll be down in a minute," she flut 
 tered. " He said for me to entertain you till he 
 came." 
 
 " He s been away, I believe," said Mrs. Longe 
 necker, by way of making conversation. 
 
 " Yes, he just got back this afternoon." 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 71 
 
 They rocked in uneasy silence for some minutes. 
 Then Sarepta began: 
 
 " Brother Longenecker, I just wish t you d tell 
 me what I ought to do. Yes, and you, too, Sister 
 Longenecker. You were so good to me when pa 
 died. I ve been going to ask you a dozen times, but 
 I couldn t quite spunk up to it." 
 
 She was interrupted by the doorbell announcing 
 the Pettitts. During the amenities convention has 
 prescribed, Sarepta and the Longeneckers visibly 
 fidgeted. 
 
 " Would you wish to discuss that little matter in 
 private, Sister Downey? " at length inquired the 
 minister. 
 
 " No," sighed Sarepta. " Not particularly. I 
 wouldn t want the whole town to know it, but Mr. 
 and Mrs. Pettitt here, they re just like kinfolks to 
 me, and I don t know but more so. It s this way: 
 Mr. Frazee wants me to marry him." 
 
 She looked up, expecting to find shocked surprise 
 upon their countenances, but they bore the news 
 with resignation. 
 
 " Well? " inquired Brother Longenecker, hard 
 ened by his calling to matrimony as butchers are to 
 bloodshed. 
 
 " Well, I wanted to know if you thought it would 
 be right for me to have him." 
 
 " My dear sister," said the minister, " that s for 
 
72 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 you to say, not me. He seems to be a very nice man, 
 what I ve seen of him, but it s you that must be 
 suited. Do you love him? " 
 
 " Well, but that ain t it. I " 
 
 " Well, but I think that is exactly it." 
 
 Mrs. Longenecker compressed her lips and sol 
 emnly nodded, assenting to her husband s views. 
 
 " No, I gave Mr. Coulter my promise I d marry 
 him, and he hasn t let me off or broke the engage 
 ment. They tell me he is dead, but supposing he ain t 
 and he should ever come back, ain t I bound to wait 
 for him? " 
 
 " Supposing it was proved to you that he is dead, 
 do you like Mr. Frazee well enough to marry him? " 
 
 " I don t know but I do. Yes, yes, I do know that 
 I do. But my promise to Sam? " 
 
 " Then it s the vow that keeps you back. It is a 
 matter of conscience with you, then? " 
 
 " Yes, I s pose it is." 
 
 " A vow whose result is for good and not for evil 
 is a vow to be kept, but a vow to punish yourself, 
 and not yourself alone but another, cannot bind be 
 cause it is it is " The minister hesitated. 
 
 " Void as against public policy," prompted Lester 
 Pettitt. 
 
 " Exactly. Now, if you love Mr. Frazee " 
 
 " I do, I do," burst out Sarepta, " but I can t bear 
 to give up Sam. I ve been engaged to him so long. 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 73 
 
 Oh, why did I ever talk so to him? Why did I drive 
 him away?" she cried hysterically. " O Sam! Sam! 
 Come back to me! Tell me whether you re alive or 
 dead!" 
 
 " There, there, Sarepta," soothed Mrs. Pettitt. " I 
 wouldn t take on so. I don t know as I ever saw you 
 so excited. You must be calm." 
 
 " I ll try," she whimpered, and then suddenly 
 broke out with: " Why can t they come back and tell 
 us? Why can t they? Why can t they? " 
 
 The door opened. 
 
 Sarepta screamed and stared with bulging eyes. 
 There stood a soldier in the cape overcoat and 
 baggy forage cap of the period of the Civil War. His 
 pale, smooth-shaven visage smiled faintly at her. She 
 staggered to her feet, deathly white. The figure held 
 out its arms. 
 
 " Sam! " she cried with a choking gasp, and would 
 have fallen but Mrs. Pettitt caught her. 
 
 " Lie right flat down on the floor," she com 
 manded, " that s the best way. It s the most awful 
 sickening feeling when you re going to faint. Lie 
 right flat down, dear, and you ll soon be over it. My 
 goodness, Mr. Frazee, you scared me, too, for all I 
 knew just what was coming. I never would have 
 known you with your beard off." 
 
 " Sam! " whispered Sarepta. 
 
 " Yes, Sam," said Frazee, kneeling beside her and 
 
74 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 taking the hand that wore the little old set ring. " I 
 knew you the minute I saw you, but when you didn t 
 recognize me I thought I d court you all over again 
 and see if you could love me as myself and not 
 as the memory of your old sweetheart. I have 
 come back. Sam Coulter has come back to claim 
 you." 
 
 " But, Mr. Frazee " began Sarepta. 
 
 " Frazee is my true and legal name. Adam Coul 
 ter only brought me up. I have come back to claim 
 you. Will you have me, after all? " 
 
 She reached her arms around his neck and kissed 
 him. 
 
 " Well er er," Mr. Longenecker began, wiping 
 his glasses and then his eyes. " Brother Frazee, I 
 would suggest that if you er had a license now 
 we might er go ahead, as it were." 
 
 Frazee fumbled in the pockets of the overcoat. 
 
 " Here are the proofs that I was born Frazee. 
 Here s my honorable discharge from the army. Here 
 is a certificate from the jefe politico of San Rafael, 
 province of Coban, Guatemala, that I am still a 
 bachelor that s why I was so long away and, ah, 
 yes, here it is here is a license from the county 
 clerk of Logan County " 
 
 " Sister Pettitt, will you stand over there? And 
 Brother Pettitt, you stand right here." 
 
 "What! Get married right now?" cried Sarepta, 
 
AN INDIAN SUMMER LOVE STORY 75 
 
 scrambling to her feet. " Why, we ll have to wait till 
 I can get my wedding things ready! " 
 
 " Not a minute longer, deary," said Frazee, tak 
 ing her hand. " It is Indian summer with us. We have 
 waited too long already." 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 
 
 THAT the very existence of the Second Pres 
 byterian Church of Minuca Center, as a 
 corporate body, was soon to come to an 
 end was a foreboding that the elders, deacons, and 
 trustees were no longer able to keep either from or 
 to themselves. There were not too many Presby 
 terians in the Center, anyhow, and some of the 
 young people openly said it was just foolishness to 
 keep up two churches. They had forgotten, if they 
 ever knew, what it was that made the Second Church 
 split off from the First. They liked to hear Mr. Hall, 
 the pastor of the First Church, preach, and here 
 lately nearly all of those who had no battleground to 
 look back upon, and those, too, in whose memories 
 that battleground had been grassed over, had taken 
 to going to the First Church Sunday evenings, 
 where they had an organ and a choir. John Snod- 
 grass, the precentor of the Second, with his tuning 
 fork and his " down, left, right, up," was very much 
 opposed to such heathenish carryings on in the 
 house of God; it was too much like the Catholics, 
 and he had heard that the doctrine was none too 
 
 76 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 77 
 
 scriptural; " and yit," he admitted, scratching his 
 chin and screwing up his face, " and yit they is sech 
 a thing as bein a leetle mite too scriptural." The men 
 of the congregation thought so, too, but the women 
 folks, trained for centuries to think no evil of the 
 reverend clergy, said: " Well, I believe Mr. Bailey is 
 a good man, and there is a great deal in his sermons 
 that it d be well if we d all take to heart." Whereat 
 the men, wise in their day and generation, simply 
 shifted their chewing tobacco to the other cheek, and 
 looked away off yonder somewhere. 
 
 And then came the famous sermon on the man 
 found picking up sticks on the Sabbath day. 
 
 " If," said the preacher, " the Lord that made 
 heaven and earth, the sea and all that in them is and 
 rested the seventh day, wherefore He blessed the 
 seventh day and hallowed it, if He, whose property 
 it is always to have mercy, yet condemned to death 
 the sinner, just out of idolatrous Egypt, to whom 
 the command was hardly yet familiar and lacking the 
 authority of long-continued hearing, what shall our 
 portion be, brethren and sisters in the Lord, who 
 have heard from our youth up the solemn words: 
 The seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God ? 
 The man found picking up sticks might say he had 
 forgotten; he would not dare to set up another 
 authority against the word of the Almighty thun 
 dered from Sinai, but what have we done? We have 
 
78 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 made His commandment of none effect and have 
 substituted another day, on whose authority, fellow- 
 sinners and dying souls? On the authority of our 
 heathen ancestors, in their blindness worshiping the 
 greater light of heaven instead of Him who set it 
 there; on the authority of antichrist himself, that 
 is to say, the Pope of Rome with all his pagan idol 
 atry and soul-destroying mummeries!" 
 
 The elders and pillars of the church fidgeted in 
 their pews, and Horatio Southard got up and 
 " stomped " out, followed by Mrs. Southard, red and 
 embarrassed, mincing and bridling as she pushed 
 ahead of her little Johnny, who kept whimpering all 
 the way down the aisle, "What for, ma? What for? 
 Meetin ain t out yit. What for, ma? " She never for 
 gave Rashe for putting her in such a predicament, 
 and worst of all, that he had prevented her from 
 hearing at first hand the announcement of Mr. 
 Bailey that hereafter, God willing, there would be no 
 more preaching on the heathenish Sun-day, but that 
 on the coming Sabbath that is to say, Saturday 
 there would be divine service at the usual hours, 
 10.30 in the morning and 7.30 in the evening. 
 
 After church the congregation gathered at the 
 doors and felt in the clear air and familiar scenes that 
 they were once again in a sane and reasonable world 
 where things \vere as they always had been. There 
 was Judge Rodehaver s house across the way, there 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 79 
 
 was the horse block. Yes, it was just the same as 
 ever. But inside, under the spell of that wild, im 
 petuous eloquence, the former things seemed to 
 have passed away and all things to have become new. 
 Though they all knew what the Shorter Catechism 
 said about the Christian Sabbath, yet even now they 
 were so bewitched that they never even thought 
 of it. 
 
 " It did certainly seem reasonable/ declared the 
 Widow Parker with her Teacher s Bible, ragged 
 from long and hard usage, " if you run up the refer 
 ences, like what he give you. Most of em I got, and 
 they was jist like what he said, but laws! I don t be 
 lieve I could get my bakin done in time for meetin 
 Saddy. W y, Saddy s my busiest day!" 
 
 " Ain t it everybody s busiest day? " demanded 
 Cal Hubert, bobbing his head at Mrs. Parker, scowl 
 ing and wabbling his long, loose forefinger at her, as 
 if he were going to eat her up. " Ain t I got to stay 
 down at the store till way late Saddy night, ten, 
 leven, twelve o clock? Ain t I? Ain t I? Well, I tell 
 you the Sabbath was made for man. Yes, sir, the 
 Sabbath was made for man, so it was. Yes, sir. Not 
 man for the Sabbath. No, sir. Made for man." He 
 canted his head to one side and brought it back as if 
 he had said the word that ended the dispute. 
 
 " Well, but, Calvin," began Mrs. Parker, " I don t 
 see as that text " But Marinus Moran cut in with 
 
80 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 his deep, slow voice to demand: " To go buggy 
 ridin on?" Mr. Moran felt called upon at all times 
 and in all places to point out to others wherein they 
 erred and came short. 
 
 " Oh, well, now, Mr. Moran, don t you go to git- 
 tin pers nal. That ain t the question. That ain t it 
 at all. What I done ain t the question. No, sir. It was 
 away last summer, anyways. It ain t the question. 
 You show me chapter an verse where it says not 
 to go buggy ridin on Sunday. You jist show it to 
 me. Point it out to me. You show it." Cal was ex 
 citedly bobbing his head at Marinus and shaking his 
 forefinger at him and overpowering the boom of his 
 heavy artillery with the rattle of his rapid-fire gun. 
 
 "Sh!" said several others all at once, and the 
 groups parted silently and left a clear way down the 
 brick walk. The preacher passed, making slight im 
 personal bows right and left. His black eyes blazed 
 with excitement, his lips moved, and his fingers 
 worked. Lean and lank he lurched along, his coat 
 tails flying as he swung his arms. His wife, a pale, 
 sandy-haired woman as lean as he, but with a more 
 " peaked " look because of her long nose, followed 
 leading little Eunice and Ira, her eyes on her hus 
 band as if he had mesmerized her. 
 
 Center Street M. E. let out about the same time, 
 and of course the Second Presbyterians could not 
 keep their own affairs to themselves, but had to tell 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 81 
 
 it, and so the Center Street folks had plenty to talk 
 about that afternoon. Perhaps they were rather glad 
 of it. All the other churches in town had had their 
 troubles, but not Center Street, no, not Center Street. 
 " A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand 
 at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee." 
 The day of Center Street was not yet come, but 
 when it did Let us not talk about it. There are 
 some things many things it were better not to 
 think about, let alone to put into words. 
 
 At the preacher s house, Mrs. Bailey took off her 
 things without a word and hung them up. She went 
 out into the kitchen, and into her pale, bulging eyes 
 the tears came as she got ready the dinner of steak, 
 cut thin, pounded, scored, and fried very well done, 
 mashed potatoes, and dried-apple pie. Ira and Eu 
 nice put their things away, too, and pushed them 
 selves up on chairs in the parlor, where they sat with 
 their hands folded and watched their father pace up 
 and down with his hands behind him and mutter 
 ing to himself. They cowered as he came near 
 them once. The motion attracted his notice. He 
 stopped and looked at them and then resumed his 
 walk. 
 
 " Innocent children! " he declaimed, in his preach 
 ing voice. " Not yet blighted with sin. Not yet. Ira, 
 do you feel your calling and election sure? You do, 
 don t you, Eunice? " 
 
82 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Yeththir," she answered promptly. 
 
 " And don t you, Ira? Don t you, my son? " 
 
 The boy dug his toe into the faded carpet and re 
 plied doggedly: " I do if Eunice does," and stole a 
 look at her. 
 
 " Oh, yes, oh, yes," the preacher went on rhapsodi- 
 cally, " their angels do always behold the face of my 
 Father which is in Heaven. ... Of such is the 
 kingdom. . . . Unspotted from the world and yet 
 how soon to be exposed to its temptations and to 
 lose their primal innocence." He stopped and put his 
 hand on Ira s head. The boy moved his head as if a 
 little scared, and the hand slid down on the child s 
 neck at the corner of his jaw and then was snatched 
 away. The preacher had begun to say: " It was ac 
 counted unto Abraham for righteousness " When 
 he resumed his natural voice and said to them quite 
 gently: "You can run out and play." As he saw 
 them hesitate, he urged them: " Go on; go on. You 
 can play all you want to and have a nice time." They 
 darted out eagerly. 
 
 The mother opened a side door and whispered 
 to them: " I wouldn t make any noise if I was you. 
 It s Sunday, and people might think it was strange." 
 
 " We ll be real thtill, ma," lisped Eunice. 
 
 Ira waited till the door shut, and then continued 
 what he had been saying: "And you know they s 
 these here false-face things they put on and he could 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 83 
 
 easy get clothes like pa s and false hair and whiskers 
 like his." 
 
 " Where do you thpose our real pa ith, then? " 
 asked Eunice. 
 
 " I don t know. Mebby he s dead. Mebby this 
 other man toled him off summers and killed him and 
 got his clothes, and could talk like him and then got 
 the false face and put it on. I tell you, Eunice, next 
 time he hugs you you feel and see if you can t find 
 the string where the false face is tied on." 
 
 " O Ira, you. I m afraid." 
 
 " Huck-uh. He never hugs me. Say, I wonder if 
 he ain t lookin for the string to my false face. He s 
 always feelin at my neck." 
 
 Mrs. Bailey overheard part of their talk and 
 groaned aloud. " O my Lord! They ve noticed it! 
 What shall I tell them? " As she leaned over to poke 
 the frying steak with a fork she whispered: "Why 
 has this affliction come upon us? Was it because I 
 made an idol of him? " 
 
 At dinner Mr. Bailey made a long and wandering 
 prayer when he asked a blessing. He paused for, it 
 seemed, a minute and said " Amen! " quite suddenly. 
 Then he resumed his natural voice and began help 
 ing the plates. He took a sup of the thin coffee and 
 a bite of the soggy bread and sat staring at his plate. 
 
 " Mr. Bailey," said his wife, " you ort to eat more 
 dinner. You don t seem to have no appetite here 
 
84 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 lately. You don t eat enough to keep a bird alive. 
 Take some of the meat." 
 
 He took up the carving knife, looked at it, felt 
 of the edge, and started up, flinging down the knife 
 and crying: " No, no! I can t make the sacrifice. I 
 love them too much; I love them too much!" He 
 ran upstairs, waving his hands over his head, and 
 Mrs. Bailey heard his study door slam. She and the 
 children ate on in terrified silence, and when they 
 had finished she sent them out to play in the back 
 yard. " Very softly now," she cautioned them. " It s 
 Sunday, you know, and folks might think strange." 
 
 After they had gone, she listened at the stairway 
 and heard him groan: " O my Father, if it be pos 
 sible, let this cup pass from me." This was some 
 thing new. She wondered what it was. It couldn t 
 be this about the Seventh Day, because he had 
 talked that all over with her and had overborne her 
 feeble resistance. It had been a great cross, but her 
 back was fitted to that burden now. It had called 
 for all the economy she was mistress of to provide 
 for the family and keep Ira and Eunice looking nice 
 for school on the small salary, and here lately the 
 congregation hadn t liked Mr. Bailey s preaching. 
 Of course now they would take it to the Presbytery 
 and Mr. Bailey would be put out, and what they 
 should do then she did not know. But that was not 
 what was worrying Mr. Bailey. He had told her the 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 85 
 
 Lord would provide for all their temporal wants, but 
 what was this that had come over him? She did not 
 know, but she feared for the worst. She would have 
 to wait, and she would have to keep it to herself. 
 
 Saturday morning all hearkened for the bell of 
 the Second Presbyterian. It was a little late, but it 
 sounded. Mr. Bailey rang it himself, and the town 
 applauded the spirit of Dicky Tomlinson, the sexton, 
 in rebelling against the preacher. It was well adver 
 tised that he had said he d be jiggered if he rung 
 that bell or opened the church. He was paid to do 
 that Sundays and Wednesday evenings. That was 
 the understanding when he took the job. Sunday 
 and Wednesday evenings he d open up and ring the 
 bell, and all, same as ever, but he d be jiggered if 
 he would on Saturdays. What did the Bible say? 
 Didn t it say: " Cursed be he that removeth his 
 neighbor s landmarks "? And when he had made all 
 his arrangements, and anybody, preacher or who, 
 come along and upset em, wasn t that just the same 
 as removing landmarks? Well, he guessed. He saw 
 himself ringing that bell on a Saturday; he just saw 
 himself. Charley Pope said that was the spirit of 76. 
 
 There were only a few of the regular congrega 
 tion out, some of the real old people that had no 
 other way to pass the time, and a few children. But 
 there was a full attendance of certain of whom all 
 the town thought when the Epistle of Jude was read: 
 
86 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Clouds they are without water, carried about of 
 winds; trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, 
 twice dead, plucked up by the roots; raging waves 
 of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wander 
 ing stars to whom is reserved the blackness of dark 
 ness forever." They were there, and they seemed 
 to Mrs. Bailey to be vultures gathering around the 
 dying. 
 
 There was Marinus Moran, who had gone a pil 
 grimage of all the churches in the Center, looking, 
 as he said, for one where there was " heartfelt " re 
 ligion, but in reality seeking a place where he could 
 lord it over everybody. He had been known to pray 
 fifteen minutes on a stretch, and a giggle went up 
 from the back seats at prayer meeting whenever his 
 trumpet-toned address began: " High! Holay! Al 
 mighty! Everlasting Ngon! " He was a terrible old 
 man, and all that decent people wanted buried out 
 of sight and forgotten, as it must be if this world is 
 to be lived in at all, he delighted to bring up, espe 
 cially in his long prayers. 
 
 Aunt Betty Mooney was there. She used to get 
 to shouting during the sermon, and from shouting 
 she went on to exhorting while the preacher had to 
 stand and look at her. They had a terrible time with 
 her at St. Paul s once when Brother Breen was 
 preaching. She started in, for he was a powerful man, 
 and stirred folks up considerably. He stood it as 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 87 
 
 long as he could, and then broke in with: Let 
 your women keep silence in the churches. 
 
 " I don t hold by everything that Paul said," she 
 answered him. " He owned up that sometimes he 
 spoke as a fool, and this was one o them times." 
 
 " Put her out! " said Brother Breen. 
 
 " I won t be put out ! " she screamed, and hung 
 onto the pew while the men tugged at her and 
 nearly tore the clothes off her back. They got her 
 out into the aisle and there she flung herself flat on 
 the floor, kicking her heels and squalling: " For so 
 persecuted they the prophets which were before 
 you. " Four of the stewards had to pick her up bod 
 ily and carry her out, locking the door after her, 
 which she pounded till she saw Constable Halloran 
 coming. Poor old Aunt Betty! She was the best 
 soul when there was sickness. 
 
 There was Zimri Hollabaugh, not so litigious as 
 these two, but none the less a disturbing element, 
 so that the sextons of all the churches had orders 
 to keep him out. For while he often behaved with 
 exemplary decorum, no one could tell when he 
 would get " the pay-wer " and display what he was 
 so proud of, the apostolic gift of tongues not under- 
 standed of the people. Right in the middle of the 
 minister s most impassioned period, he would jump 
 up and, clinging to the pew in front of him, would 
 close his eyes and sway back and forth, chanting: " O 
 
88 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 yay! O yay! Losh-cum-aloshity wa-wa. Rascumtoo- 
 leroo, bullallop, bullallop! " never ceasing till he was 
 led out. 
 
 There was " Tepe " Armstrong, who proved things 
 out of the works of his illustrious namesake, Flavius 
 Josephus, and Alanson McKinnon, and a few more 
 of those who delighted in theological disputations 
 and whom the present rebellious attitude of the 
 Rev. Jeremiah Bailey attracted as a rubbed comb 
 attracts light bodies. These gathered around him 
 after service to congratulate him on his stand for 
 true Gospel religion. Mrs. Bailey s heart sank within 
 her as she saw him talking to them eagerly, taking 
 them at their own valuation. 
 
 Next day Dicky Tomlinson rang the bell as usual, 
 but Mr. Bailey did not appear. He had told the ses 
 sion he would not, and they got old Mr. MacFarlane, 
 the stated clerk of the Presbytery, to officiate. There 
 was a meeting of the congregation after the sermon 
 at which an overture was made to Presbytery to 
 constitute the court of Christ to try the Rev. Jere 
 miah Bailey for heresy, to sever the pastoral rela 
 tion heretofore existing between him and the Sec 
 ond Church, and to take such steps as might be 
 necessary to reunite with the First Church. 
 
 Then there came a day when the Baileys had to 
 move out of the parsonage and into a little house 
 up on Mad River Street, where on Saturdays the 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 89 
 
 little congregation of " Searchers," as these recal 
 citrants called themselves, met in the front room, 
 till they should need a larger edifice. The collections 
 had a weekly average of fifty-three cents. Once they 
 took in fifty-eight cents. On that the family of the 
 Rev. Jeremiah Bailey was supposed to exist. 
 
 But if that had been all that Mrs. Bailey had been 
 called upon to suffer, she would have borne her bur 
 den with a light heart. Mr. Bailey was sleeping very 
 little nights now. She could wake up at any time 
 and hear him groaning: " O my Father, if it be 
 possible, let this cup pass from me! O my Father, 
 if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ! " and then 
 he would repeat long passages from Revelations. He 
 was preaching a series of sermons on the seven an 
 gels with the trumpets. Let her drop off to sleep, 
 wearied with her cares, when she might and wake 
 when she might, she would always hear that agon 
 ized plea, "O my Father, if it be possible, let this 
 cup pass from me! " 
 
 The explanation of his distress of soul came one 
 night when she awoke with a sudden chill on her 
 neck. It was the carving knife laid against her flesh. 
 
 " Lucy! " he whispered. " Lucy! the hour is come. 
 It is the Father s will. I dare resist no longer." 
 
 She gave a leap of animal terror and caught his 
 hand. "O Mr. Bailey!" she gasped, "what is it?" 
 
 " Be calm, be calm," he told her. " I have taken 
 
9 o FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 all the blankets and the comfort off the spare bed 
 and spread them out on the floor of the kitchen so 
 as not to spot the floor. It s so hard to get out of 
 woodwork. You take Eunice, and I ll take Ira. Be 
 careful and don t make any noise. Don t wake them. 
 Sh! then they will go right from their innocent 
 sleep to the glories of heaven where their angels 
 do always behold the face of the Father. They are 
 innocent as yet, but how soon, oh, how soon to be 
 contaminated by this world of sin!" 
 
 " Why, why, Mr. Bailey, what do you mean to 
 do? " she gasped. 
 
 " I ll cut their throats, real quiet, real quiet. I ve 
 got the knife so sharp, so-o sharp they ll feel no 
 pain at all. And the bedclothes will soak up all the 
 blood. Yes, that s the best way. I ve thought it all 
 out. Now don t you say a word. But, O Lucy! I 
 would fain this cup had passed from me. It is so 
 hard to make the sacrifice." 
 
 Fear clutched at her heart, not for herself but for 
 her children. With a heroism such as nerves heroes 
 on the battlefield, she stilled the tremor in her voice 
 and set herself to reason with him and coax the knife 
 away from him. It would be presumptuous sin in 
 them to interfere with the Almighty s plans. The 
 children s lives were in God s hands. He knew it 
 was a world of sin when He sent them into it, and 
 what were they to interfere and call Him to account 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 91 
 
 with, " Why do ye so? " Whom He did predestinate 
 them He also called; and whom He called them He 
 also justified; and whom He justified them He also 
 glorified, so that without human let or hindrance all 
 could work out to the greater honor and glory of 
 God. She urged him to consider the matter further 
 and do nothing without her. She talked with him 
 till he quieted down and said, " I guess you re right, 
 Lucy," and settled himself to sleep, but it was only 
 a little while and he was walking the floor again 
 and groaning: " O my Father, if it be possible, let 
 this cup pass from me!" 
 
 Day after day and especially night after night it 
 was her task to devise new arguments and new ex 
 cuses for delay. She had to be vigilant about the 
 carving knife and take care not to let him be alone 
 with the children for a moment, at the same time 
 keeping it from them and from every one else, too. 
 Why didn t she tell some one? Why didn t she 
 tell the doctor and have her husband put where he 
 could receive proper care and perhaps recover his 
 mind? 
 
 In those days in these days, insanity is less a 
 disease than a disgrace. The afflicted are no longer 
 regarded as possessed of devils, but they are tried 
 and convicted by the same machinery as a thief and 
 a murderer, and it was only the other day that we 
 ceased treating them more cruelly than any felon. 
 
92 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Fearful stories were told about the county house 
 where the lunatics were kept; how they were fed on 
 butchers scraps stewed up; how they beat the poor 
 things that didn t know any better. They used to 
 pound the ends of old Charity Newton s fingers so 
 that she couldn t pick up the pins she was forever 
 trying to swallow, and they broke in the roof of old 
 Mrs. Newsome s mouth with an iron spoon when she 
 wouldn t eat. Mrs. Bailey could not bear to think of 
 exposing her husband to the ridicule of the loafers 
 around the courthouse. She could not bear to think 
 of his being locked up with that silly boy of Makem- 
 som s that used to beg for tobacco by pointing to 
 his mouth and saying: " Ub-bub-bub-baa ! Ub-bub- 
 bub-baa! " If it had to come, it had to come, but till 
 then she would have to wait. If anything happened 
 to the children, why, why it would happen to her, 
 too. 
 
 Some days he was just like his old self and Eunice 
 said to Ira: " Pa th come back. And thay, Ira. I felt, 
 and they wathn t nothtring like you thaid." 
 
 "Well, then, he s got the false face pasted on," 
 maintained Ira. " It ain t pa at all." 
 
 " Oh, yeth, he ith, too," declared Eunice. " Look 
 how nithe he wath to-day." 
 
 " He was jist a-actin like pa, that s all. My real 
 pa, he never used to feel how big my neck was or 
 put his finger on that place where it beats right by 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 93 
 
 my jaw. Say, Eunice, did you know it beats there 
 jist like it does on your wrist? Well, it does. Now 
 you feel. Don t it? A-ah, what did I tell you? " 
 
 It was not so long to wait. Th6 sermons on the 
 angels with the trumpets were growing more and 
 more fantastic in their imagery. The Searchers 
 were amazed into silence. Only Brother Hollabaugh 
 preserved his gift, but exercised it in so subdued a 
 fashion that his low murmur, " O ya! O ya! Losh- 
 cum-a-loshity wa-wa ! " fitted itself to the high- 
 pitched oratory of Mr. Bailey as the drone of a bag 
 pipe fits the chanter. 
 
 It was the Monday before the Saturday when he 
 was to preach the last of the series on Revelations 
 x, 7: " But in the days of the voice of the seventh 
 angel, when he shall begin to sound, the mystery of 
 God should be finished, as He hath declared to His 
 servants the prophets." Mrs. Bailey heard him de 
 claiming: " Maranatha! Maranatha! The Lord com- 
 eth! And shall He find faith in the earth? Shall He 
 find the Sabbath sanctified and remembered? Yes, 
 there is a remnant which hath not bowed the knee to 
 Baal " And then the front door slammed and still 
 ness followed. It was time for the children to come 
 home from school. Suppose he should meet them! 
 She wrung her hands out of the wash water, let down 
 her skirts which she had kilted up, threw her shawl 
 over her head, and started out to seek them. She 
 
94 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 went clear down to the Union schoolhouse and saw 
 no signs of either parent or children. Miss Munsell 
 said Ira and Eunice had both gone home, but search 
 as she might she could not find them till she got to 
 her own gate, when she saw them coming from the 
 corner of Chillicothe Street. 
 
 " Why, where have you been? " she demanded. 
 " You most scared the life out of me." 
 
 " Oh, jist down by Patterson s," said Ira and 
 looked at his sister. 
 
 " What were you doing down by Patterson s? 
 That s not on the road home. Did you see anything 
 of your father? " 
 
 " You tell her, Euny," said the boy. 
 
 Eunice shook her head. For the first time, Mrs. 
 Bailey noticed that the child was crying. 
 
 " What s the matter, Eunice? Has anybody been 
 mean to you? " 
 
 The child shook her head again and catching hold 
 of her mother s frock began to cry hard. 
 
 " Tell me what s the matter, Ira." 
 
 " When we was comin home from school we seen 
 a who lot o people runnin into the alley back o 
 Patterson s, and they was laughin like everything, 
 and all the other children run there, and we run, too, 
 cause we wanted to see what they was laughin at. 
 And this here man that pretends he s our pa, he was 
 up on top the barn with a big, long tin horn in his 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 95 
 
 hand a-blowin on it and hollerin that he was the 
 seventh angel with the seventh trumpet, and every 
 body was makin fun of him." 
 
 " Yes," whispered Mrs. Bailey, " and then what? " 
 
 " And the constable, he had a ladder up ag in the 
 barn and was goin to climb up it when pa you 
 know, this man that pretends to be our pa he com 
 menced to flap his arms, makin out he was flyin , 
 and jumped off. He lit on a pile o trash and stuff, 
 and the crowd all hollered: Here he is! and 
 the constable got around there and took him off 
 to the calaboose, and Mr. Horn, he said for God s 
 sakes for somebody to take them little young 
 ones " 
 
 " O Ira! You thwored! " reproved Eunice. 
 
 " I didn t, either. I was jist tellin ma what Mr. 
 Horn said. He said for you know sakes to take 
 them poor little young ones home, somebody, and 
 not to let em see their daddy drug off to jail, and 
 I told him he wasn t our real pa; that he was jist 
 somebody with a false face on that looked like our 
 real pa, and Mr. Horn said, O my Lord! ain t it 
 awful? and for us to run along home. And he ain t 
 our real pa, is he? " 
 
 They were in the house now. Mrs. Bailey sank into 
 a chair and threw her apron over her head, while she 
 rocked to and fro, shaken by the billows of her grief. 
 The children stood and looked at her while Ira per- 
 
96 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 sisted in his query: " Is he, ma? Is he our real pa? 
 Ma, is he? O ma, is he? Tell me, is he? " 
 
 As always in life, the blow when it fell was less 
 terrible than the fear of it. Mrs. Bailey found that 
 she could draw a long breath once more. The chil 
 dren were safe at least, there were only the ordi 
 nary perils of being run over in the street or of 
 catching the scarlet fever or diphtheria. Then the 
 people were so kind, even the elders and the deacons 
 who had been so hard on Mr. Bailey when he was 
 tried by Presbytery, did everything they could for 
 her. When it was known how miserably poor she 
 and the children were they sent her groceries and 
 coal and warm clothes to make over for Ira and Eu 
 nice and would not take " no " for an answer. She 
 was a beautiful washer, too, and people from all over 
 town sent her things they wanted done up carefully, 
 and paid her well for it, so that, altogether, she made 
 out right well. The " Searchers " kept far aloof, 
 though. They had had a poor opinion of her from 
 the first, as being out of sympathy with her gifted 
 husband, and when it came out that he was insane, 
 they were too much mortified to have anything to 
 do with her. Even Aunt Betty Mooney tossed her 
 head and held her peace for once. Alanson McKin- 
 non was the only loyal one. He still kept the seventh 
 day, and whenever he came to town he always 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 97 
 
 brought her something, a bushel of potatoes or tur 
 nips or a barrel of apples. Hog-killing time he fetched 
 in some spareribs. It didn t do any good for her to 
 say that she had no claim on him and that she could 
 not take his presents. He was the " settest " man in 
 his ways in Logan County. He had made up his mind 
 that he ought to give her these things and that 
 ended it. 
 
 Neither was Mr. Bailey s existence so terrible as 
 she had feared. Every two weeks she went out to 
 visit him at the county house and took him things 
 she thought he would like to eat. Otho Littell drove 
 out there with a load of supplies, and she rode on 
 the seat with him going and coming. Once Ira and 
 Eunice went with her, but only once. Whenever she 
 asked them after that if they didn t want to go and 
 see pa they whined, " No-o, no-o." Now that he had 
 his long hair cut close to his head with clippers and 
 his beard shaved off he looked less like their pa than 
 ever, and they would not go to him, though he 
 begged them to. He jumped up and began to walk 
 the floor of the long room, crying: " Unspotted from 
 the world as yet, but, oh, how soon, how soon to 
 be contaminated! Their angels do always behold the 
 face of my Father which is in heaven." 
 
 A big, thin negro slipped up to little Ira and mut 
 tered into his ear: " Boy, do you know who I am? " 
 
 " No, sir," whimpered Ira. 
 
98 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Why, I m Jesus Christ. Didn t you know that? 
 Hell, yes. Been him for ever and ever so long. That 
 feller over there thinks he is too, but he s a fraud. 
 He s no good. Say. Want a million dollars? Do 
 you?" 
 
 " Go on away from there, Zeke," said Mr. Herkel- 
 rode, the poormaster. " Go on, now," and the 
 negro slunk away, grumbling to himself. The silly 
 boy twitched Eunice s apron and pointed to his 
 mouth, babbling: " Ub-bub-bub-baa ! Ub-bub-bub- 
 baa! " In one corner of the room a man walked up 
 and down with his hands pressed together in prayer, 
 repeating over and over again the same words, and 
 over and over again blessing himself: " O mairci- 
 ful God, I beg of you notta let this day pass with 
 out saving my soul. In the name of the Father and 
 of the Son and of the Holy Ghostamin. O mairci- 
 ful God! I beg of you notta let this day pass with 
 out saving my soul. In the name of the Father and 
 of the Son and of the Holy Ghostamin." 
 
 " I guess, if you don t mind, Miss Bailey," said 
 the troubled Mr. Littell in response to a motion of 
 the head and a grimace from Mr. Herkelrode, " I ll 
 take the children out to the wagon. You make out 
 your visit to Mr. Bailey. I ll wait for you." 
 
 Mrs. Bailey satisfied herself that her husband 
 had enough to eat and wear and a clean bed to 
 sleep in. She had his library sent out so that he 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET 99 
 
 might not lack for reading matter, but he pined for 
 freedom. 
 
 " Woe is me, " he quoted, " that I sojourn in 
 Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar. My soul 
 hath long dwelt among them that are enemies to 
 peace. . . . Free among the dead, like the slain that 
 lie in the grave, whom Thou rememberest no more; 
 and they are cut off from Thy hand. Thou hast laid 
 me in the lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps. . . . 
 Thou hast put away mine acquaintances from me; 
 Thou hast made me an abomination unto them. I am 
 shut up, and I cannot come forth. . . . Aw, Lucy, 
 won t you take me out? Aw, Lucy! I think you 
 might. Please, Lucy, won t you? Aw, please? Why, 
 Lucy, the people here are crazy. Folks ll think I m 
 crazy if I stay here. You don t think I m crazy, do 
 you, Lucy? I have so much to do before the mystery 
 of God is finished. You know, I m the angel with 
 the seventh trumpet. You know that, don t you? 
 And say. They won t let me have a knife to cut my 
 nails with. Couldn t you get me a come closer 
 couldn t you get me a little knife, a little, little one, 
 and slip it to me, slip it to me when they ain t look 
 ing? You know that without the shedding of blood 
 there is no remission of sins, and this is a dread 
 fully wicked place." 
 
 She had to put him off and quiet him the best she 
 could. She knew how to talk to him. 
 
ioo FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 One morning Mr. Bailey did not come out of his 
 room when it was unlocked. In some way he had 
 wrenched the wire grating loose from his window 
 and had climbed down a rope made from his bed 
 sheet. 
 
 Mr. Herkelrode had one of the paupers hitch up 
 the big wagon and drive to town with him right 
 after breakfast. He pulled up in front of the little 
 house where Mrs. Bailey lived. Little Curg Emer 
 son, with his books under his arm, was at the front 
 fence yodeling for Ira to come out. Mr. Herkelrode 
 knocked at the front door, but there was no answer. 
 He hearkened. There was a sonorous, masculine 
 voice within reciting something. Between verses 
 there was stillness. Mr. Herkelrode came down from 
 the front porch very quietly and tiptoed around to 
 the side window. He peeped in and stood staring. 
 Then he sat down very suddenly with his head in his 
 hands and gulped hard. Two or three times he tried 
 to get up before he succeeded. When he came to 
 the front fence he was as white as a sheet. 
 
 " Bub," he whispered to little Curg, " run down 
 to the courthouse and get Constable Halloran. 
 Tell him to come right quick. Tell him to bring 
 his revolver. Tell him something awful has happened. 
 When you go past the blacksmith shop, ask Mr. 
 Perkypile if he won t hurry right up. Run now." 
 
 Then he went over to the pauper sitting in the 
 
THE SEVENTH TRUMPET !\%Via# J /rJ 
 wagon and nodded. " Drive across to that hitching 
 post yan and tie up and come over here. Easy now." 
 When the pauper came in at the gate Mr. Herkel- 
 rode said: " Don t make no noise. He s in there. You 
 can look in if you want to. I don t. I got enough. 
 Don t let him see you." 
 
 The man peeped in and came away trembling. 
 " He had a chopping bowl full of something," he 
 whispered, " and he was dipping his finger in it and 
 sprinkling it on a kind of pulpit thing by the door. 
 I heard him say something about the altar at the 
 door of the tabernacle of the congregation." 
 
 "Lord!" groaned Mr. Herkelrode, shaking his 
 head. " He must have had a terrible time with her 
 before he finished her. Prints of her hands all over 
 the wall and he s jist covered with it. I bet she 
 fought with him to keep him from the children. 
 Did you see em? O my Lord! Hear him now." 
 
 " Accept, O Lord," the oratorical voice rang out, 
 " this sacrifice of blood for the remission of sins. 
 Bring these Thy servants into Thine everlasting 
 habitations where " There was a silence, and then 
 a long, whimpering wail: " O that this cup might 
 , have passed from me! " and then the terrible sound 
 of a man sobbing. 
 
 Mr. Herkelrode sighed: "I woosh t them men d 
 hurry up and come." 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 
 
 HARLEY RODEHAVER was walking down 
 Center Street with the prettiest girl in 
 Minuca Center. Her name was M ree 
 Hutchins. It was in the afternoon, and a warm June 
 shower had just cleared away and left the sky a 
 purple blue. In the spoonlike hollows of the red 
 brick sidewalk little pools of water shuddered and 
 made widening O s when sparkling drops fell from 
 the clean, wet leaves above, where hid a robin sing 
 ing ecstatically of love. The low-slanting rays of 
 sunlight tangled in the spreading meshes of the girl s 
 brown hair. The scarlet ribbon of her mouth parted 
 in a flattered smile from her white incisors that 
 crossed ever so little. She turned her head up to 
 look at the tall young fellow who walked beside her, 
 her firm-fleshed cheeks glowed with a color like 
 azaleas, and her big, long-fringed eyes had the blue 
 of gentian blossoms in them. Her skirt just showed 
 her trim-set ankles and her pretty feet. Something 
 about her, delicate but wholesome, made you look 
 well at her while you might, as you look well at 
 cherry trees in bloom. 
 
 102 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 103 
 
 The robin overhead sounded the perfect octave of 
 their mood. What they said we need not listen to 
 his labored compliments, her pouting, self-conscious: 
 "Aw, yes, you! You tell that to every girl, I reck 
 on." The words of love never do quite go to the 
 tune of it. 
 
 She was Tom Hutchins daughter. He owned the 
 linseed-oil mills down by the depot, rich as cream, 
 and thought the world and all of her. She had a 
 younger brother, Sam, but he was such a wild, 
 healthy, noisy creature that nobody in the house had 
 a minute s peace while he was in it, whereas old 
 Sallie, the housekeeper, and Nanno, the upstairs 
 girl, worshiped and adored Miss M ree and put up 
 with all her bossy ways without a murmur. Such is 
 the power of beauty. But she was a good-hearted 
 little thing, too, and, for all her pa was well off and 
 they kept two girls, she could cook and run the 
 house as well as any poor girl, and her Battenberg 
 was renowned. 
 
 In a pure democracy all the marriageable youths 
 would have been her suitors, but Minuca Center is 
 a strict plutocracy, so only those that were already 
 of the nobility or that gave promise of " being 
 somebody " some day dared approach. And not 
 always these. There were worthy youths that sidled 
 up to her at church socials and stammered out: 
 " Please, may I be your company home? " only to 
 
104 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 have her turn away from them with a light titter 
 at their presumption, while they slunk back with 
 the sweat oozing from their palms and a prickling 
 in the roots of their hair. 
 
 Mrs. Hutchins implanted these principles in her 
 daughter s bosom as she had striven to implant them 
 in her husband s. Both Tom and she had originally 
 been Baptists, but as soon as he began to rise in the 
 world she made him take a pew in the Episcopal 
 church. She had very high ideas, Mrs. Hutchins 
 had. She was an invalid. She suffered from a " com 
 plication," if you know what that is. The doctors 
 couldn t tell what was the matter with her, and she 
 had tried them all, even to that man down in Colum 
 bus that tells what will cure you just by holding a 
 lock of your hair in his hand. They all did her good 
 for a while, but not permanently, and she came to 
 see that she was doomed to live a " shut-in " life. 
 She bore her lot with patient resignation, though 
 there were those that said she was just as well able 
 to get up and go about her work as they were, only 
 she was too plagued lazy to do anything but lie 
 around and read novels and have people make a fuss 
 over her. But nobody ever said that to Tom Hutch 
 ins. Every time he came into the house he went up 
 to her room first thing and asked: " How you feel 
 ing, ma? " 
 
 Whatever she said or did was all right, and the 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 105 
 
 only time in his life he ever crossed her was when 
 he insisted that the baby should be named Mary, 
 after his mother, who died when he was little, and 
 his sister Mary, who had raised him. Mrs. Hutchins 
 had chosen Genevieve there was such a lovely 
 character by that name in " The Earl s Pro ud 
 Daughter," which she had just finished but Tom 
 said no, it would have to be Mary, and that ended 
 it. Mrs. Hutchins softened the asperity of the old- 
 fashioned name into Marie, pronounced with the ac 
 cent on the last syllable" M ree." That was the 
 way they called it in French, Mrs. Hutchins said. 
 
 M ree had been calling on Minnie De Wees when 
 Harley met her. She showed Minnie a diamond ring. 
 Ed Coffinberry had given it to her. Yes, it was an 
 engagement ring. Minnie is dreadfully plain-spoken 
 at times. She asked M ree right out: " M ree, do you 
 love him? " and looked at her very seriously. M ree 
 said: " W y-y-y, course I do, goosie. Isn t it lovely? 
 Cost eighty dollars. He bought it down to Colum 
 bus." 
 
 " Well, I reckon she does," Mrs. De Wees said, 
 when Minnie told her about it " much s she kin 
 anybody. But laws! I pity the man that gets to be 
 M ree Hutchins husband." 
 
 Now, Ed Coffinberry was not only ten years older 
 than M ree in age, but he was forty years older than 
 her in his ways. He was the cashier of the Farmers 
 
io6 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 National Bank, and was already looked up to by all. 
 He was solemn and serious enough to be President 
 of the United States. He dressed well, but with a 
 punctilious sobriety that captured confidence and 
 held it as a magnet captures and holds a needle. He 
 was smooth-shaven, rather lean about the jaws, 
 parted his ashy-blond hair smoothly on one side, and 
 had a clear, steady eye, a thin, straight nose, straight 
 eyebrows, and what is called " a noble forehead." 
 He rarely smiled. He was a listener of the first order 
 of merit, and a man of few words, but those well 
 chosen and extremely sensible. People liked to get 
 his opinion of things. It was plain to see he was 
 destined to rise in the world, to " be somebody." 
 
 What Ed Coffinberry saw in M ree was a mystery 
 to some. I know. A man is not always wise. Under 
 that cold exterior lurked a passion fierce, intense. 
 Others had looked upon Tom Hutchins daughter 
 and wished for her; Ed Coffinberry set his teeth and 
 vowed to possess her. Something of his purpose 
 looked out of his steel-blue eyes and fascinated her 
 with a sense of his power. They say the women like 
 a man that can boss them. He was just that kind 
 a faithful husband, but the one to rule his own 
 house. 
 
 Now, M ree also ruled her own house. She did 
 not think it all out in so many words, but there were 
 moments when she felt a sort of rebellion. When Ed 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 107 
 looked at her she just had to do as he said, and she 
 wasn t sure she was going to like that always. And 
 then the love making had been so pitifully brief and 
 uneventful. Of course she liked him, and all that, 
 and he liked her, but she wished she had left him 
 dangling a while, and had not said " Yes," quite so 
 soon. It seemed kind of an imposition to ask her to 
 settle down to housekeeping without going around 
 more, seeing more fellows, and all like that. She 
 had been to the governor s inauguration ball down 
 at Columbus the year before, but that was so long 
 ago; she was only a girl then. A subtle discontent 
 assailed her. 
 
 She didn t show her engagement ring to Harley 
 Rodehaver. She liked him; he was real nice, so tall 
 and strong, and he had such pretty eyes. Dark eyes 
 they were, kind of sad and mournful, although he 
 was a regular cut-up. They reminded her of er of 
 er oh, you know! That fellow in " Strathmore." 
 
 Harley had been graduated from Otterbein Uni 
 versity the year before there is a university every 
 four miles in Ohio and had come to Minuca Cen 
 ter to read law with his Uncle John, Judge Rode 
 haver. He had been very diligent and had delighted 
 the old gentleman with his intelligence and his in 
 dustry, but it was summer now and he was relax 
 ing somewhat. He was a fine tennis player, and he 
 could pick a banjo and sing college songs to per- 
 
io8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 fection. But it was when he turned his full and 
 vibrant barytone to songs like " Because I Love 
 You, Dear," that the cold shivers ran all over you 
 and you felt sort of sorry about something, you 
 didn t know what, unless it was that your life was 
 empty and that more was coming to you by rights 
 than you ever would get. Mrs. Hutchins often in 
 vited him to come and sing for a poor " shut-in." 
 He used to go up and visit her, and once she kissed 
 him for his poor, dead mother, whom she had never 
 seen or heard tell of before. 
 
 Ed Coffinberry did not like it very well that Har- 
 ley called so often, but what could he do? They 
 had two or three little tiffs about it, but Ed always 
 got M ree s eye, and she made it up with him. But 
 the grand flare-up came when the younger crowd 
 got up a straw ride and dance out at Silver Lake and 
 invited M ree. Ed was invited, too, though it wasn t 
 quite his set, but when he heard Harley was to be 
 there he told her she shouldn t go a step. Anyhow, 
 his people were strict Methodists, as are most of the 
 inhabitants of Logan County, and as cashier of the 
 bank it wouldn t do for him to attend. 
 
 " What s the reason I can t go? " demanded M ree 
 angrily. " What have you got to say about it? Since 
 when did you get to be my boss? " 
 
 Ed s eyes looked very serious as he answered: 
 " I m not trying to boss you, dearie. I am only say- 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 109 
 
 ing that I don t think it proper for you when you 
 are engaged to me " 
 
 " Think I m going to poke round home all the 
 time and never go any place or see anything just 
 because I m engaged to you? Well, I guess not. I 
 guess not. I think you re a little previous with your 
 authority, Mr. Coffinberry. I d like to know what 
 there is about a little dance among the young peo 
 ple that isn t proper as you call it." 
 
 Remembering what he had heard the preachers 
 say about the unabashed and shameless license of 
 the ballroom, Ed began: "Don t you think it s 
 wrong for a girl to let herself be hugged by a fellow 
 while they go capering around a room, away out 
 there at Silver Lake at all hours of the night " 
 
 "Who are you talking to?" she stormed, scarlet 
 with rage at the prurient prudery the man displayed. 
 " Do you think I d let anybody hug me? In public, 
 that is. You don t know what you re talking about. 
 You think " 
 
 " That s what they do at dances. They " 
 
 " No, they don t, either now. In the square 
 dances and in the two-steps and waltzes the gentle 
 man " 
 
 " Well, M ree," he said, " we won t discuss it. I 
 don t think a girl with any self-respect would " 
 
 " Do you think my pa would let me dance if he 
 thought it wasn t respectable? My ma taught me to 
 
no FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 dance when I was a little thing, before she took 
 down sick. I guess they know as much about what s 
 respectable and what isn t as you do. Oh, I m dis 
 gusted with you!" 
 
 " M ree -" he began. 
 
 " If you think I m the kind that would act the 
 way you said, what do you want to marry me for?. 
 And, furthermore, if you re going to make a fuss 
 every time there s any little party or anything, why, 
 we ll just consider the engagement at an end, Mr. 
 Coffinberry." 
 
 She made her mouth a straight line, lifted her 
 eyebrows, and almost shut her eyes as she slowly 
 turned her head from him and his magnetic gaze till 
 she steadfastly regarded the Rogers group, " Weigh 
 ing the Baby," on a stand by the front window, in 
 full view of the street when the shades were up. 
 
 " Do you mean that, M ree? " he asked solemnly, 
 vainly trying to catch her eye. 
 
 She tapped her tiny foot impatiently, just like 
 Bessie in " Bessie s Secret," but made no other an 
 swer. 
 
 " M ree, do you mean that? " 
 
 " Please address me as Miss Hutchins. Yes, I do 
 mean that." 
 
 He rose. " Good-by, M ree," he said. 
 
 " Good-by." 
 
 He walked out in the hall very slowly. He ex- 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND in 
 
 pected her to call him back. With grave delibera 
 tion he put on his hat and moved toward the door. 
 He turned the doorknob. She spoke. He listened. 
 She said: "Hope I never see you again!" He 
 couldn t see her, but as the door slammed she made 
 a face at him. 
 
 She was provoked at herself, though, the next 
 second. It was such a spiteful thing to say. And to 
 make a face at him! Well, she told her mother, she 
 knew it was awful to act that way, but she was so 
 mad at him. Talk like that to her. Huh! Well! 
 
 " You ll have to give him his ring back," said Mrs. 
 Hutchins. 
 
 " Laws! I never thought about it. I don t care. I 
 don t want his old ring if I ve got to take him with 
 it. My heavens! " 
 
 " It s a real nice ring." 
 
 " Yes, kind of." She looked at it as it bristled with 
 spikes of particolored light. " I oughtn t to talk to 
 you, ought I, ma? Gets you all upset and nervous. 
 Well, I m not going to bother my head any more 
 about it. Just dismiss it from my thoughts. Good 
 night, ma. I m going to take the ring off and send 
 it back to him to-morrow if I think of it." 
 
 The next day she met Harley at Palmer s, playing 
 tennis. He asked her if she was going to the dance. 
 She said she was afraid not. She d like to, awfully, 
 but she couldn t go alone very well, and 
 
ii2 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Quite a crowd went out to the lake; rode over in 
 two big wagons, and had a gay time. Never got 
 home till daylight. There was a big talk about it, 
 for most of the girls and some of the boys belonged 
 to Center Street M. E. Old Uncle Billy Nicholson 
 went about like a roaring lion, demanding that the 
 offenders be " churched," every last one of them. 
 He said it was just awful, the way Methodists were 
 getting so worldly. They didn t pay any more atten 
 tion to the " Discipline " than if there wasn t such 
 a book. But it was generally agreed that the easiest 
 way was the best way. It would have about de 
 populated the Epworth League if the dancers had 
 been put out of the church. Uncle Billy was all right, 
 but he was kind of old fogy. He didn t believe in 
 letting the women folks wear feathers or artificial 
 flowers; he was against an organ and a choir in the 
 church; he didn t believe in Christmas trees or oys 
 ter suppers or strawberry festivals or anything. Oh, 
 religion, of course. He believed in that. You know 
 what I mean. 
 
 People were so busy talking about it, though, 
 that they quite overlooked how constantly Harley 
 Rodehaver was with M ree Hutchins the week after 
 the dance, calling every evening and walking with 
 her afternoons. 
 
 One day they went over to the B. & I. depot just 
 about the time the south-bound accommodation was 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 113 
 
 due. They stood at the far end of the platform, Har- 
 ley talking very earnestly and pleadingly, and M ree 
 poking at a crack in the boards with her parasol. 
 Finally, just as the train whistled, she looked up and 
 said: "Well, all right," and Harley bought two 
 round-trip tickets to Marysville, the county seat of 
 Knox, which is the next county to Logan. 
 
 Now, Henry Wolf, the county clerk of Knox, was 
 a great political friend of Tom Hutchins, and when 
 Harley gave M ree s name when he applied for the 
 license, Henry asked: "Tom Hutchins daughter?" 
 
 Harley said: "Yes." 
 
 " How old is the lady? " 
 
 " Nineteen, aren t you, M ree? " scowling at her 
 and nodding ever so slightly. But M ree was look 
 ing at a real handsome fellow across the hall in 
 the recorder s office, and she answered: " Why, 
 no; I won t be eighteen till the fourteenth of next 
 month." 
 
 " Just excuse me a moment," said Henry, and 
 stepped into the next room, closing the door after 
 him. There was a long-distance telephone in there. 
 
 " Why didn t you tell him you were nineteen? " 
 whispered Harley. 
 
 " Well, but, Harley, I m not." 
 
 " But you could have said you were, couldn t 
 you? " 
 
 " O Harley, and tell a story? " She opened her 
 
ii 4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 big eyes, as if all her life she had done nothing but 
 tell the truth. 
 
 After a long time Mr. Wolf came back. He stood 
 at the counter, upending his pencil and pushing 
 it through his fingers and then upending it again. 
 " If I was you two," he said finally, " I d go talk it 
 over with the old folks. You got lots o* time. You 
 don t need to be in no hurry. You re both young 
 yet." 
 
 Harley said they wanted to get married right 
 away. 
 
 " Well, I don t know how you kin," said Henry. 
 " Not in this county, anyways. Because they won t 
 marry you without a license, and I ain t agoing to 
 give you one." 
 
 " Why not? " demanded Harley. 
 
 " You don t want no secret marriage. It looks 
 awful green, really it does. And it makes all kinds 
 of trouble afterwards when " He stopped and 
 looked at M ree. She turned her back to him and 
 began to blush. Harley got red, too. " Why not? 
 Well, I tell you why not. Because her pa says No/ 
 and for you two to come right straight back home. 
 Tom Hutchins is my friend, and for that reason, if 
 for no other, I wouldn t give you the license. Now, 
 you take my advice, and " 
 
 " Come on, M ree," said Harley, and pushed her 
 out of the office. 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 115 
 
 "Better go on back home!" Henry called out 
 after them, and as they got out on the sidewalk they 
 could hear him laughingly evading the questions of 
 the clerks as to what was up. 
 
 At the depot Harley asked what the fare was to 
 Mechanicsburg, the county seat of Miami, the next 
 one to Knox. When he came to count up his money 
 he found that by the time he had bought two tickets 
 and paid for the license he would not have more 
 than $1.80 to pay the minister with. Besides, they 
 .wouldn t get to Mechanicsburg until after the clerk s 
 office had closed for the day. 
 
 The situation was awful. Harley walked up and 
 down the platform, scowling and biting his lips. All 
 of a sudden M ree began to cry. He took her to 
 his bosom and patted her back soothingly. 
 
 " Pa ll scold me," she sniffed. " I just know he 
 will." 
 
 " Never mind, my darling," Harley said, in his 
 deep, tender voice. " Never mind. I will be there to 
 protect you, your husband " she thrilled " your 
 husband in the sight of Gawd." He expelled his 
 breath and drew it in again through his clinched 
 teeth: " Ah! Shee-ee-ee! This is terrible! To have the 
 cup of happiness pressed to one s very lips and then 
 to have it dashed away! Gee!" He shook his head 
 in the bitterness of his anguish. 
 
 "O Ame! Say, Amos!" yelled the station agent 
 
ii6 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 to a man rattling by on a wagon. " When you go by 
 Hoover s, tell him they s a " 
 
 "Whoa, John! Whoa, Molly! Whoa, there! So! 
 Stand still, can t you? What say?" 
 
 " W y, I said for you to stop and tell Jim Hoover 
 when you go by there they s a kag o bolts come 
 up from C lumbus for him on Thirty-three." The 
 station agent s voice rapidly sank from a bellow to 
 a parlor tone as he walked over to the wagon. He 
 gave a sharp backward twitch of his head to call 
 Amos s attention to the young couple on the plat 
 form. He put his foot up on the hub of the front 
 wheel. 
 
 " Got it bad, ain t they? " said Amos. 
 
 "O laws! Y ort to hear em. Don t cry, darlin , 
 don t cry. I ll purtect ye! " 
 
 "Git out!" 
 
 " Honest to God. Oh, sick nin , jist sick nin ." 
 
 " I jing! I woosh twas me she had hugged up 
 thataway!" And Amos cackled the falsetto laugh 
 that men use at certain times. 
 
 " Know who she is? " whispered the station agent. 
 " That s Tom Hutchins girl, up to the Center. 
 From what I could gather, him and her has run off 
 to git married and kind o slipped up on it. I m goin 
 to telefoam up to Hannigan on the Examiner and 
 put him onto it." 
 
 Three long-legged boys in big, droopy, straw-pile 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 117 
 
 hats, barefooted, wearing hickory shirts and brown 
 apron-front overalls with straps over the shoulders, 
 sidled up and stared at Harley and M ree. From time 
 to time they shut their mouths to swallow, and then 
 let them fall open again. 
 
 " We have our love for solace in this trying hour," 
 said Harley, blind to all else but the girl on his 
 bosom. " Haven t we, dearest? Say that you love me, 
 won t you, pet? Say it again! Go on away, you! 
 Skip, now! " Scared by the peremptory stamp of 
 his foot, the boys retreated a little space and then 
 halted, staring and inching nearer, lured by the fas 
 cinating sight. 
 
 " Let s get away from this rabble," said Harley, 
 with stinging emphasis, and they went into the sta 
 tion. Some of the boys went around to the back 
 and built up a precarious pedestal of brickbats, on 
 which they took turns standing and peering through 
 the grimy window. Others stayed on the platform 
 about the door. Part of a head and one glaring eye 
 would stealthily grow out from the door jamb and 
 then swiftly vanish, only to grow again. Other boys 
 came. The couple, sitting far apart, could hear them 
 whisper. 
 
 It was very still. 
 
 The roosters crowed a great deal. 
 
 The mob of boys, soft-footed and silent, attended 
 them to the train and watched them to their seat. 
 
n8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 When the train drew out, a shrill, derisive chorus 
 followed. It was a mile before Harley laid his arm 
 along the back of the seat, and two miles before 
 M ree got a cinder in her eye. 
 
 Mr. Hutchins was waiting for them with a closed 
 carriage. He took them home in silence. After din 
 ner they all went into the library. Harley braced 
 himself when Mr. Hutchins began: "Now, young 
 man." It was what he expected to hear. How was 
 he going to support a wife? He had no trade, no 
 profession. He could not reasonably expect to sup 
 port himself, let alone a wife, by practicing law for 
 three years at the very least calculation. Better say 
 five years. And if he thought if he thought for one 
 minute that Tom Hutchins was going to keep him 
 in idleness, why, the sooner he got that notion out 
 of his head the better. To all of this Harley had one 
 all-sufficing answer: He loved M ree and M ree 
 loved him, didn t she? Yes. Well. And what was life 
 without love? Harley made a most eloquent address. 
 He was even moving Tom Hutchins a little when 
 the bell rang. Starched skirts rustled away from 
 the library door, and presently Nanno announced: 
 " Misther Hannigan, of th Examiner, have called 
 for oo, son" 
 
 When Mr. Hutchins returned from a rather ex 
 citing interview, he found the two demurely seated 
 on opposite sides of the room. Harley laid aside 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 119 
 "The Royal Path of Life" and looked up inquir 
 ingly at Mr. Hutchins as he entered. 
 
 " Well, you re in for it now," said Mr. Hutchins 
 surlily. " Since you were so keen to get married in 
 a hurry and without any flubdub, that s the way it ll 
 be. To-morrow evening, in the house here, seven- 
 thirty, by Mr. Courtney. Take the nine o clock train 
 to Niagara Falls and back here in a week. After 
 that " he drew his hand over his eyes thoughtfully 
 " well, we ll see." 
 
 Harley shook his hand in a transport of delight, 
 and M ree kissed her father, who was more moved 
 thereat than she was. 
 
 Mrs. Hutchins lamented that there was to be no 
 grand public function and no chance to prepare 
 M ree s trousseau, but for the second time in his life 
 Tom Hutchins was inexorable. Only two or three 
 girl friends of M ree s, Aunt Hannah and Uncle 
 George, Judge and Mrs. Rodehaver, and Mr. Court 
 ney and his wife. (She always went along to fix his 
 surplice for him.) M ree could wear that mousseline 
 de sole of hers. It might be a little longer and not 
 hurt any, but it would have to do. She could wear 
 her confirmation veil. Mr. Hutchins would see about 
 getting the license and telling the rector. 
 
 It occurred to M ree the next day, while she was 
 packing her trunk, that to slip off and get married in 
 a hurry was one thing, and to be made to get mar- 
 
120 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 ried in a hurry by her pa was quite another thing. 
 Harley was the ideal romantic lover, but those awful 
 boys down at Marysville! And there right before her 
 in the bureau drawer was Ed Coffinberry s ring, that 
 she had forgotten to send back to him! 
 
 With her eyes still wet and her chest still jumping 
 convulsively from her hard crying spell, she sat down 
 and wrote a note to Ed, returning the ring. She 
 could not keep it, as she was to be married to Harley 
 Rodehaver that night. Swimming in a wave of re 
 curring tears, she added : " Forgive me. Good-by, 
 forever! " and I am not sure but a drop or two fell 
 on the paper. It seemed to her a very solemn and 
 responsible thing, and she was quite sharp with Sam 
 when he whined about carrying the note, protesting 
 that he had been running " urnts " for her all morn 
 ing, and he was just sick and tired of being her " nig 
 ger." But he went, and in an astonishingly short 
 space of time was back, breathlessly informing her 
 that Ed had given him a dollar to run all the way 
 home with an answer. " Did, too. Every step or 
 prett near every step. Is he comin* to your wed- 
 din ?" 
 
 The answer entreated, adjured, pleaded, implored 
 that MVee should come down to the bank at once. 
 Only he and Jerry, the messenger, were there; all 
 the others were gone to lunch; so he couldn t leave, 
 and he couldn t wait till the bank closed to see her, 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 121 
 
 to beg her pardon for the way he had acted two 
 weeks ago Sunday night. He never thought she 
 would take it so to heart. Oh, he had been a brute 
 to act so! But would she not come and say one last 
 word of forgiveness? It was the last time. (All the 
 tender pathos that is in that phrase, " the last time," 
 overflowed her soul as she read.) The awful tidings 
 had fallen upon him like a thunderbolt. Oh, forgive 
 him! Oh, please, please come at once! 
 
 " Poor man! " she sighed, and put her thumb un 
 der her chin and her forefinger tip against her teeth. 
 Then she roused herself and got her hat. 
 
 " I m just going down to Galbraith s for some 
 thing, ma," she called out, at the foot of the stairs. 
 " I won t be but a minute." 
 
 " Well, hurry right back. You know you ve got 
 lots to do, and Sallie and Nanno have all they can 
 tend to. And / can t do anything. O me! I wish 
 your pa had put it off for a month. So many things 
 to look after! " But the door had shut, and Mrs. 
 Hutchins returned to her novel with a sigh. 
 
 Ed took her into the directors room. She meant 
 to say only a few words, but before she knew it all 
 the details of that horrid Marysville trip were out. 
 She was so thankful that Ed didn t see anything to 
 laugh at in it. If there had been one twinkle in those 
 grave, reproachful eyes when she sobbed out how 
 the boys had piled up brickbats to peep in at them, 
 
122 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 she would have just hated him. Ed might not be so 
 romantic as Harley, but he would never do anything 
 ridiculous. There was something so protecting in 
 Ed, and then he looked at her so, and the next thing 
 was, Jerry was off to Judge Rodehaver s office with 
 a note for Harley, saying that it was all a terrible 
 mistake. She could never marry him. And for him 
 please not to call. 
 
 Dr. Avery had gone away, and Mrs. Hutchins 
 was resting easier. M ree had locked herself up in 
 her room. The storm of Mr. Hutchins anger had 
 spent itself, and he sat by his wife s bedside rocking 
 and reading over and over again the account in the 
 Evening Examiner from the pen of the gifted Han- 
 nigan, telling how " the hand of the beautiful and 
 accomplished Miss Marie Hutchins, the acknowl 
 edged belle of Minuca Center, had been won by one 
 of the most talented young limbs of the law, Mr. 
 Harley Rodehaver, who has recently come into our 
 midst." The Marysville trip was there, tricked out 
 in all the tawdry splendor of Laura Jean Libbey and 
 Bartlett s " Familiar Quotations." At the end was 
 the announcement that " the nuptial ceremonies 
 were to be consummated this evening by Reverend 
 Courtney, rector of St. John s P. E. Church, at the 
 palatial residence of the bride s father, on South Mad 
 River Street, Colonel Thomas P. Hutchins." All that 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 123 
 
 was bad enough, but now He groaned and looked 
 at his wife, who was quietly sleeping. Sulphonal had 
 brought surcease of sorrow for her. Everybody 
 would read that and crow over it, and the next day 
 they would find out what M ree had done, and they 
 would crow more than ever. He would be ashamed 
 to look people in the face. And then he remembered 
 with a jerk that Hannigan was the Enquirer cor 
 respondent and would just spread himself. It wasn t 
 often he got such a chance. The red and sullen flush 
 of shame mantled his face and met upon his neck 
 as he thought how not only his own townsmen but 
 all that knew him commercially and politically in 
 Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky, would read the flam 
 ing story. He was able to see, clairvoyantly, low, 
 lecherous sots bandying his daughter s name in bar 
 rooms and cackling the falsetto laugh that men use 
 at certain times. His fists clinched. She was a good 
 girl, kind to her mother and all that. Nobody could 
 say a word against her character. Not a word. And 
 that she should have brought this humiliation upon 
 his name! He had been so proud of her. What pos 
 sessed the girl to go and act that way? 
 
 And now he had to get up some kind of a lie 
 to tell the folks when they came. He wasn t much 
 used to lying, and a cold sickness assailed the pit 
 of his stomach as he thought of himself standing be 
 fore those prying, doubting eyes, eager to put the 
 
i2 4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 worst construction on everything. He knew they 
 would not believe him then; he knew they would 
 find him out when the Enquirer came up on No. i 
 and everybody bought it. But he couldn t tell them 
 the truth now. He couldn t face them and say what 
 a fool his daughter had made of herself and of 
 him. 
 
 He heard Uncle George and Aunt Hannah come 
 in, Uncle George with his loud, boisterous voice, and 
 Aunt Hannah telling Sallie she had brought her 
 apron so she could help with the things. He heard 
 Minnie De Wees explain to Nanno that she had 
 come early so as to run over the wedding march on 
 their piano, and a stray note or two floated up the 
 stairs as she fingered the keys with the soft pedal 
 on. He tried to think what he should say, to learn 
 it by heart. He had just thought it might do to 
 tell them that, on account of her ma s delicate 
 health, M ree had decided not to leave her for the 
 present, when he heard the shrill chirrup of girls 
 voices and the ponderous orotund of Mr. Courtney s 
 Anglo-Buckeye accent in all its " powurrrrr and 
 commaundment," choiring antiphonally their mu 
 tual surprise at meeting at the gate. Then Nanno 
 called up: " Misther Hootchins! Oo re wanted, 
 plase." 
 
 A cold sweat broke out on him. He nerved himself 
 and went down the stairs as one goes to the gallows. 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 125 
 
 " How do I look, John? " asked Mrs. Rodehaver, 
 when the judge came home. " Do you think this old 
 black silk will do to go in? They re such bigbugs. 
 I got kind of a cold piece ready. I thought it 
 wouldn t do to go there ravenous hungry. Set up, 
 now, and then hurry and get yourself ready. W y, 
 what s the matter? What makes you look at me so 
 funny? " 
 
 "Didn t Harley tell you?" 
 
 "W y, no! Tell me what? He come in and went 
 right up to his room. O John, is anything wrong? 
 Has he been doin anything? O John, if he has, I ll 
 never git over it. He s been like my own son to me." 
 
 " Harley s all right. It s her." 
 
 " Why, what do you mean? " 
 
 " She s backed out." 
 
 "Aw!" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Says it s all a turrable mistake, and she 
 don t want to see him no more. Harley showed it 
 to me." 
 
 "Well, I m jist glad of it. Now! She d a never 
 done for him. Never." 
 
 " Dad-blamed little hussy! I d like to smack her! " 
 
 " Oh, well, now, John, mebby it s all for the best. 
 She never would V done for him. I seen that from 
 the start." 
 
 " Don t I know that? It s the best thing could V 
 happened. But " 
 
126 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " I thought he looked turrable downhearted when 
 he come in, but, thinks I " 
 
 " Vine, I want you should go talk to him. I was 
 goin to, but it ain t no jury case, and I d git it all 
 hindside before. You better do it." He began to 
 walk the floor with his hands behind him. " Viney," 
 he said, " it s the turnin -point in his life, if he only 
 can see it. He was a boy yesterday; he s a man to 
 day. He s ben a-dreamin ; he s awake now. He thinks 
 his heart is broke because she won t have him. 
 Well, now, that ain t it at all. No, sir. He s ben actin 
 the gilly, with all this calf love, and now he sees it, 
 and jist because he s got the real, high-strung na 
 ture in him, he s mortified to death. Ah! These here 
 men that never act the fool and never do anything 
 to be ashamed of, I got no use for em. I wouldn t 
 give a damn for em! " 
 
 "John!" 
 
 " No, sir, I wouldn t. Viney, do you know, I was 
 afraid he wouldn t git into a scrape like this till it 
 was too late! It s like the measles goes hard with 
 you if you ketch it when you re growed up. W y, 
 Viney, I never see anybody with such a head for the 
 law business as that boy has. Wonderful! I knowed 
 he d do well enough when it come to office practice, 
 but I wanted him to be strong before a jury. Now 
 he kin be. He s suffered. I ackshilly worried about 
 him for fear he d git to be thirty-five or forty and 
 
M REE HUTCHINS HUSBAND 127 
 
 then git struck after some fool girl like this one. 
 Oh, it s the best thing could V happened! Bless the 
 Lord! I m damn glad of it!" 
 
 " W y, John! I don t know what s come over you, 
 talkin like that!" 
 
 " You tell him, jist as easy as you kin, Vine, at 
 he don t want no pretty poppet for a wife. He wants 
 a woman." He drew her withered bosom to his and 
 kissed her wrinkled forehead. " He wants a woman 
 that s got good sense and a faithful, lovin heart; 
 that ll be to him what you ve ben to me all these 
 years, Viney." 
 
 " Oh, I " 
 
 " What u d a ever become o me, only for you? " 
 he asked. His chin trembled. The lovelight of by 
 gone years relumed his eyes. " Lord! " he said chok 
 ingly, and stroked her thin locks. 
 
 " Do you mind how we looked up your verse, 
 Viney? You know you was born on the eleventh of 
 the month. She shall do him good and not evil all 
 the days of her life. Well, you have, you have. I d 
 kind o like Harley to git a wife like that." He stood 
 silent awhile, and then said, as steadily as he could: 
 " Don t he ever make you think o Johnnie, or what 
 he d a ben if we d a raised him? He does me." 
 
 " O pap ! " she cried, and trembled all over. 
 " Had you noticed it, too? " 
 
 " Well, mother," he said, when he had drawn a 
 
128 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 long, quivering breath they had not used those 
 names to each other for many a year " well, moth 
 er, I expect you better go up and talk to him. Kind 
 o kind o go easy with him, I would. Jist the same 
 as if he was Johnnie." 
 
 He heard her climb the stairs, slow and clumsy 
 with age. She entered the room where the young 
 man sat at the table in the gloom, with his cheek dis 
 torted by the pressure of the hand he leaned against. 
 The judge heard the fluty notes of her old voice, and, 
 after a long talk, a plangent word or two in the deep, 
 vibrant notes of the youth. His answers came more 
 frequently as the soft voice went on. Then there was 
 the bell-like tone of the pitcher striking the wash 
 bowl, and the plash of water. The old judge smiled. 
 
 " I put the teakittle on for you, mother/ he said, 
 when they came downstairs. " I see the s preme 
 court has reversed the ruling of the lower court in 
 the Lohmeyer case. I thought twould be about that 
 way. You see" and he went on, as if the Lohmeyer 
 case was the only thing on earth, 
 
 But at bedtime he put out his hand to Harley and 
 said: " Your career s all before you now. By George! 
 I woosh twas me. S posin you d a got her, what 
 Vd you a ben? Nothin in the world but M ree 
 Hutchins husband." 
 
 I hear she has been engaged to four or five since 
 she broke off with Ed Coffinberry the last time. 
 
THE WARNING 
 
 WELL, I don t know," said Almeda Carey, 
 as she bit off the end of the thread and 
 twisted it into a point for the eye of her 
 needle; " they s a good many things at we can t ac 
 count for, but I don t know. I ain t one o them that 
 says that when you re dead that s the last of you, 
 but I believe that if a body s gone to the Good 
 Place, look like to me they wouldn t want to come 
 back, and if they re gone to the Bad Place, why, 
 they couldn t git back. How was you thinkin o 
 havin it made? " 
 
 "Why, I don t know. How would you? I b lieve 
 I ll have the front of it shirred. I seen old lady 
 Parker with her new waist that way, and I thought 
 it looked right becomin . I priced that black-and- 
 white taffety down to Galbraith s a week ago yes 
 terday when I was gettin the wrapper I sent to 
 Molly. A dollar a yard it was. Twould take about 
 five yards, I s pose." 
 
 " No," responded Almeda, " not now no more. I 
 should think about four yards would do you. Four 
 
 129 
 
130 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 and a quarter would be full as much as you d need. 
 Stripe or check? " 
 
 " Check," said Mrs. Coulter, pausing in her medi 
 tative rocking to look around. " Your fashion paper 
 come yet? I thought mebby if it had you could show 
 me about how you d make it; but never mind. You 
 know bout what I want something kind o stylish 
 and yet not too flirty. Pa he alwus wants me to dress 
 real gay, but I tell him anybody that s a grand 
 mother, or as good as one " 
 
 " How is Molly? " 
 
 " I got a letter from her yesterday, and she said 
 she was real well, but very anxious for me to get 
 down to Columbus so as to be there in good season. 
 And I thought if you could get the waist done in 
 time I d wear it down there. I feel awful worried for 
 the poor child. Night before last I had a ringin in 
 my ear, and you know they used to say that was a 
 sign they d be a death in the family before long, 
 and I just wondered if that was for Molly. Wouldn t 
 it be terrible if she was to be taken away right now? 
 I believe it would just about kill Jim. He thinks the 
 world an all o her." 
 
 "Aw, pshaw! Elnora, you ain t at yourself!" re 
 proved the dressmaker, hitching her chair closer to 
 the window. " The days is gittin lots shorter, ain t 
 they? " 
 
 " Yes," sighed Mrs. Coulter. " I alwus dread to 
 
THE WARNING 131 
 
 have fall come. It s so gloomy. Dark days this time 
 o year gives me the blues the worst way. Look like 
 the sky kind o glowers at you, much as to say: 
 Whutch you doin hyer, anyways? Whut right a 
 you got to look up? I feel kind o like hunchin up 
 my shoulders to dodge the lick." 
 
 " Aw, well, now, I wouldn t give way that way, 
 Elnora," said Almeda soothingly. " I wouldn t borry 
 no troubles, i I was you. We re all in the hands of 
 the Good Man and He knows what s best fer each 
 an all of us. Molly s a strong, healthy girl and she ll 
 be all right. If I was you I wouldn t worry one speck. 
 Don t you think that s a pretty tol able high price 
 for that taffety? I seen some black-and-white check 
 in to Rosenthal s fer eighty-nine cents." 
 
 "Yes, I looked at that, but it s so kind o slazy; 
 and, anyways, if I go down to Columbus I want to 
 go lookin nice and feelin nice feelin as if it was 
 good goods I was wearin ." 
 
 " Well," said Almeda Carey, and bit off another 
 length of thread, " we ve all got to go when our 
 time comes, warnin or no warnin . I ve heard a 
 heap about folks appearin to their friends fur away 
 just as they was leavin the body, and to hear old 
 Mis Doctor Cooper talk you d think it was an 
 everyday occurrence for them that s gone before to 
 come back; but I take notice they hain t none of em 
 come back for me. I woosh t they had. I d just give 
 
i 3 2 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 anything if he could V come back and told me what 
 ever became of him, whether he was killed on the 
 field of battle or died in one o them prisons, or what. 
 Seems like, for a while there, I jist couldn t hardly 
 stand it to be kept in suspense with nothin to do 
 but wait and wait and wait, not knowin anything 
 about him but jist what the Republican said Miss- 
 in . I used to beg and pray the Good Man to let 
 him come back to me, if it was only for a minute. 
 But he never did. Seems like it wasn t to be/ 
 
 The withered old mantuamaker leaned back in 
 her chair and looked out into the gray November 
 landscape. Its shadows darkened fast, but she looked 
 back to youth, where it is always sunny, and beheld 
 again that morning in the spring of 62 with its 
 light winking and glittering on the bayonets of the 
 Ninety-seventh Ohio, swinging to the tune of " The 
 girl I left behind me," on its way down to the old 
 B. & I. depot, and one bright, smiling face with shin 
 ing brown hair curling out from under a jaunty cap. 
 She had an old daguerreotype of him in his soldier 
 clothes and a lock of that curling hair, three letters, 
 and a clipping containing the words, " George D. 
 Batchelder, missing " and that was all, all except 
 the memory of a great grief. 
 
 " And the night before old Squire Nicholls died," 
 she wakened to hear Elnora saying, " you know Mis 
 Nicholls telegraphed to the two boys to come, and 
 
THE WARNING 133 
 
 Jennie come up from Dresden, and the old squire he 
 was so provoked at them fer comin and spendin all 
 that money on railroad fares. He said he was all 
 right, only a little under the weather, and ackshilly 
 got up and out o bed and smoked a cigar with Hen 
 to show how well he was. And after they went to 
 bed and Mis Nicholls was settin up with him, long 
 about twelve o clock there come three raps 
 sounded like it was on the foot of the bed and she 
 says, Pap, did you hear that? And he was kind 
 o dozin , but he opened his eyes and says: Yes, 
 he says, I did, Lizzie. They ve come for me. Call 
 the children. And long about four o clock he died. 
 And Emerson s dog howled all night long right un 
 der their window. They say it was terrible." 
 
 The white eyeballs of Marilla Andrews, Miss 
 Carey s apprentice, shone in the gloom. In the 
 silence that followed the two women could hear the 
 girl fetch a long breath and let it go in a trembling 
 sigh. 
 
 " Marilla, I woosh t you d light the light," said 
 Almeda, " and whilst you re up you might go out to 
 the coal house and bring in a bucket o coal. The fire 
 is gittin low. Take the kitchen lamp with you; I 
 would." 
 
 After the girl had gone out Almeda said to Mrs. 
 Coulter: " She s the scariest thing I ever saw in my 
 born days. She s plumb afraid of the dark as any 
 
134 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 little young one. Course I had to have somebody 
 with me, livin all alone this way, but, lawsadaisy! 
 come good and dark she s all on strings. Might as 
 well have nobody at all. You didn t want a high col 
 lar to that waist, did you, Elnora? " 
 
 " Land! How d I look with one on? Never did 
 have any neck to speak of, and now t I m gittin 
 My Lord! Mede, what s that?" 
 
 The outer door of the sitting room in which they 
 were opened slowly and swung inward. Mrs. Coulter 
 sank back in her chair with an " Oh! " Almeda got 
 up and shut the door. 
 
 " Plague the thing!" she said. " Jist here lately 
 it s taken to actin up. Least little jar it flies open. 
 Every time I think I ll shorely have that ketch fixed 
 and I keep forgittin it. Shirring you said you wanted 
 across the front, didn t you? Why, what s the mat 
 ter, Elnora? Ain t you feelin well?" 
 
 " I had a kind of distress right here," answered 
 Mrs. Coulter, putting her hand to her heart and 
 leaning back with her eyes closed. 
 
 " Don t you want I should get you something? I 
 got some real good whisky in the house. Mebbe if 
 you was to take a little sup you d feel better." 
 
 " No. No. No, thank you. No, I ll be over it in 
 a minute. It never lasts but a little while. There. It s 
 gone now. Well really I must be gettin along. It s 
 most supper time now and pa ll be home, and that 
 
THE WARNING 135 
 
 hired girl o mine ain t worth her salt. You know 
 that china sugar bowl o mine that Aunt Emmeline 
 gimme? Oh, yes, you do too; the one with the gilt 
 flowers on it. Well, sir, she broke it all to flinders and 
 I wouldn t have had it happen for a pretty. Oh, yes, 
 I m lots better." 
 
 The two friends moved to the front door and lin 
 gered there chatting for a while, the poor little old 
 dressmaker and Silas Coulter s wife, she that was 
 Elnora Potter. From some trivial thing, Mrs. Coul 
 ter broke off to say: " Almeda, you an me has been 
 thicker n Cherry an Brindle ever since we was little 
 girls and played keep house together. Of course 
 I got Silas, but he s a man, and now, since Molly s 
 married and gone to live at Columbus, seems like 
 they ain t nobody so near to me as what you are. 
 Le s make it up that whichever one of us is called 
 first shall come and tell the other." 
 
 " Why, what made you think of that, Elnora? " 
 
 " I don t know. It just kind of come into my head. 
 Will you? I will, if you will." 
 
 " I will if I can," promised Almeda, and gave her 
 hand upon it. 
 
 " Well, then, it s a bargain," said Mrs. Coulter, 
 and, moved by a sudden impulse, she pulled the 
 mantuamaker to her and kissed her. 
 
 "Why, Elnora! Look out what you re doing! 
 Now, what if you should ha knocked that lamp out 
 
i 3 6 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 o my hand! We might both of us Marilla ll 
 think I got a beau. When did you want the waist 
 done? " 
 
 " Lemme see. This is Thursday. If I should bring 
 you the goods to-morrow d you s pose you could get 
 it made up in a week? " 
 
 " In a week," mused Almeda. " There s that suit 
 of Mrs. Avery s I promised for Thursday, and that 
 dress o but that can wait. Yes, I guess so. A week 
 from to-day. All right. Can you see the steps? Well, 
 good night." 
 
 She held up the lamp so that Mrs. Coulter could 
 see to get down the ten steps to the street level, and 
 then shut and locked the parlor door. As she came 
 out into the sitting room the side door slowly swung 
 open. 
 
 " Plague take that door! " she said peevishly, as 
 she slammed and bolted it. " Marilla, remind me of 
 it to have that ketch fixed. It gives me the all-overs 
 flyin open that way. I think sure it s somebody corn- 
 in* in. Well, what ll we have for supper? " 
 
 Next afternoon Mrs. Coulter brought the taffeta 
 and Almeda cut out the lining, basted it together, 
 and fitted it. 
 
 " Now I can have it ready to try on you Mon 
 day," she said. " When you goin to Columbus? " 
 
 " I wrote I d be down Friday morning, no pre 
 venting Providence. I sent her a piece of the goods. 
 
THE WARNING 137 
 
 Now I don t want you should overwork on my ac 
 count, but if you could get it done so s I could wear 
 it Friday, why Looks right nice, don t it? " 
 
 " Well, you be in on Monday to try on. How you 
 feelin ?" 
 
 " Why, I m well enough." 
 
 But when Monday came, Lide Strayer, and her 
 mother from DeGraff, called and stayed to tea, and 
 Mrs. Coulter could not leave. Almeda was going to 
 send Marilla up with the waist, but old Aunt Libby 
 Nicholson brought in a dress pattern, and she was 
 so particular and such a talker that she took up the 
 whole afternoon of both women. Mrs. Avery sent 
 word to be sure and have her suit ready by Thurs 
 day, as George was going to the meeting of the 
 Ohio State Medical Society up to Cleveland and 
 wanted her to go along; so if the dressmaker s lamps 
 burned far into the night there was good reason 
 for it. 
 
 When Mrs. Coulter came next day she said she 
 had received a letter from Molly and she thought 
 the goods was just lovely and that they looked for 
 her Friday morning sure, and for her not to fail 
 them. Jim would be at the Union Depot to meet 
 her. 
 
 " But do you know I declare I m gettin kind 
 o foolish I m jist bound I won t go without that 
 waist. Ain t it pretty? That shirrin 11 set it off, too, 
 
138 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 won t it? Do you think it s jist right in the back? 
 Seems to me it s kind o " 
 
 Marilla was a first-rate girl, or would have been 
 if she didn t get to talking sometimes and do things 
 wrong end to and never find it out till she was nearly 
 done, and then have to rip it all out again. There 
 were a good many little annoyances of one kind 
 or another, so it was just at dusk Thursday even 
 ing that Almeda got around to Mrs. Coulter s 
 waist. 
 
 " I wish Elnora hadn t set her heart so on that 
 shirrin ," she said to Marilla. " It s such slow work. 
 If it was tucks, now, I could do it on the machine 
 in no time. Ah! " She bent herself backward to rest 
 her tired muscles. " This settin up every night and 
 every night ain t what it s cracked up to be. I wish 
 you d light the other lamp too, Marilla, whilst you re 
 about it. I want all the light I can git on this fine 
 stitchin . You needn t do any more now. You done 
 enough for one day. See what kind of a supper you 
 can get up. And, Marilla, make the tea extry strong. 
 I got to set up till this thing s done." 
 
 As she sat stitching away, the brilliant contrast 
 of the black and white made her tired eyes burn as 
 if for sleep. She passed her hand over them, and was 
 just gathering up the goods anew upon her needle 
 when the side door suddenly opened and Mrs. Coul 
 ter stepped in. 
 
THE WARNING 139 
 
 " Why, Elnora Potter! How you scared me!" 
 cried Almeda. 
 
 " I ain t got but a minute to stay. I must hurry 
 right home. Mercy! Comin up them steps o yourn 
 just about finishes me. I dropped in to see how you 
 was gettin along with my waist. Why, you ain t 
 got it near done, have you? " 
 
 " O my, yes. They ain t much more. They s just 
 this shirrin , an* some finishin up to do around the 
 bottom, and put the sleeves in, an a few little things. 
 I was held back a good deal by Mrs. Avery s suit. 
 When do you start? " 
 
 " I was going on the 10.40, but if you " 
 
 " Oh, well, now, don t you worry. I ll finish it if I 
 live, and if I don t live I ll come and tell you. I ll 
 send it up to you by Marilla the first thing in the 
 morning. Before nine o clock, anyhow." 
 
 " Now, you ll be sure? " 
 
 " Oh, I ll set up till I git it done." 
 
 " I hate to think of you doin that on my account. 
 I could go on the afternoon train, but I told them 
 to look for me But we could telegraph em! " 
 
 " No, I wouldn t do that. If Molly was to see a 
 telegram and get a sudden scare, you don t know 
 what might happen. No, I ll set up and finish it. 
 Why, they ain t hardly nothin to do! I ve set up 
 many s the night before this, an will, I guess, as 
 long s I can see to thread a needle." 
 
i 4 o FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Well, all right, if you can. I ll run along now. 
 Land! Don t it get dark quick now? Good night!" 
 
 After supper, Almeda set to work with all her 
 might, once in a while dropping a word to Marilla, 
 but for the most part silently attacking the task, 
 which was greater than she had given Elnora Coul 
 ter to suppose. 
 
 " Well, I should say you did make the tea extry 
 strong, Marilla. Twould take the bark off a white 
 oak. . . . My! This black and white hurts my eyes 
 like all get-out. ... I guess I ll leave the shirrin 
 to the very last, and if it comes to the worst, I ll do 
 it the first thing in the morning by daylight." 
 
 " Can t I help you, Miss Carey? " asked Marilla. 
 
 " No. You done enough for to-day. Why don t 
 you go to bed? Settin up this way! You ought to 
 be ashamed of yourself, an you dead for sleep." 
 
 " Up there in the dark all by myself? " whined 
 the girl. 
 
 " O fudge! What is there to be afraid of?" 
 
 "Hark!" whispered Marilla. 
 
 " That s only Mumma s dog howlin ," sniffed Al 
 meda, and returned to her work. 
 
 " They say it s a sign somebody s goin* to die 
 when a dog howls that way." 
 
 " Well, I guess that s so. Somebody s dyin* every 
 minute. You oughtn t to pay any attention to such 
 foolishness." 
 
THE WARNING 141 
 
 The girl made an inarticulate protest and curled 
 herself on the lounge. Presently, overcome by fa 
 tigue and the late hours for the three nights previ 
 ous, she fell asleep, and Miss Carey, looking up as 
 she threaded her needle, forbore to waken her. It 
 was some company to hear the tired girl s regular 
 breathing. 
 
 As it grew late the footsteps of passers-by became 
 rarer and rarer, and finally ceased. The sounds of 
 daylight and human activity hushed, and in their 
 stead came the sounds of the night and that activity 
 which we fear is human, either in the flesh or out 
 of it: the furtive snapping of the woodwork yielding 
 to the pressure of an unseen foot; the creak of the 
 shutter crying lonesomely; the squeaking of the 
 leafless boughs chafing one another in the night 
 wind that now wailed pitifully through a chink in the 
 door, and now hushed as if hoping for an answer; 
 that frightened scurry and shriek of the mice scram 
 bling behind the plastering; the rattle of a bit of 
 mortar falling down the chimney. The lights in the 
 houses about disappeared. Here one vanished, there 
 another, until at last the only radiance in all Minuca 
 Center shone through the window of the house 
 where one woman slept, and another thudded with 
 the machine or whipped her hand out rhythmically 
 with the sure movement of the deft seamstress, fend 
 ing off momently the wolf that momently returned. 
 
142 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Each hour the bell of the flax factory sounded more 
 clearly as the watchman told the passing night. As 
 the twelve strokes began, the seamstress paused. 
 
 " I don t believe but what I could get that shirring 
 done to-night, after all," she said softly to herself, 
 leaning back and looking at her work. Stepping 
 noiselessly, she tiptoed out into the kitchen and got 
 a tumbler from the cupboard, slipped the bolt of the 
 side door, and went out to the well. She let the 
 bucket down and, while it rilled, stood looking at 
 the night. It was strangely dark and still. No star 
 shone. The sky hung low and sullen, and as her eyes 
 relaxed themselves she could see a deeper black was 
 stealing up the heights to mid-heaven from the 
 west. A faint breath fanned her cheek a moment, 
 and then died away. There seemed to be something 
 in the hush that waited expectant. Far, far off yon 
 der somewhere a dog howled a long and dreary 
 howl. A cold chill went over her. " Somebody is 
 walkin over my grave," she said, and drew up the 
 bucket of cold water, the chain clucking as it rolled 
 up on the windlass, and the bucket swung on the 
 stone curb. 
 
 "My! that s right out o the northwest corner," 
 she said, after she had drunk. 
 
 She shut the door, put the glass away, and tip 
 toed back to her work. Manila moved uneasily from 
 time to time and muttered in her sleep. At last Al- 
 
THE WARNING 143 
 
 meda was on the last row of the shirring. The black 
 and white stung her eyes, but it was almost done 
 now. She would send Marilla up The door opened 
 suddenly. She looked up. There, with her hand on 
 the doorknob, stood Elnora Coulter. 
 
 " Why, Elnora Coulter! What brings you " 
 
 And even as she spoke there was no one, no one 
 but herself and the sleeping Marilla. Was Elnora 
 trying to scare her? She waited, but there was noth 
 ing. She hearkened. There was no sound of foot 
 steps. There was nothing but the dog howling far 
 off yonder somewhere. A chill crept over her, an 
 awful fear of something. Mastering it, she rose, took 
 the lamp in her hand, and went to the door. There 
 was no one. The whole world seemed to be holding 
 its breath, intently listening. 
 
 "Elnora!" she called. 
 
 There was no answer. She stepped out by the well 
 and held the lamp over her head. She hearkened. 
 She could hear the wick sucking up the oil. The hair 
 of her head prickled. 
 
 " Elnora! " she called again. 
 
 But none answered. A sudden gust of wind puffed 
 out the lamp she held. A blinding flash of lightning 
 flickered through a scud of clouds flying athwart the 
 sky, and the unseasonable thunder cracked above 
 her head. The lamp fell from her hands and shivered 
 into bits on the brick walk. The tall trees bowed 
 
144 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 themselves under the fierce gale, and with a shriek 
 she fled into the house. 
 
 " Marilla! " she cried, and shook the girl roughly. 
 "Marilla! Wake up!" 
 
 The apprentice moaned: "Don t let them bury 
 me. Oh, don t, Miss Carey. . . . Oh, I m so glad 
 you waked me. I had such a terrible dream. I 
 thought they were putting me into a grave, and it 
 seemed like " 
 
 "Marilla! Did you see her? " 
 
 " See who? " 
 
 " Elnora Potter." 
 
 " Elnora Mrs. Coulter? Why, was she here? No, 
 I didn t see her. Why, it s nearly one o clock! What 
 was she " 
 
 " Listen to me. I was sewing on her waist, as wide 
 awake as I am this minute, and the door opened 
 and there she stood, and I says to her: Why, El 
 nora! What are you doing here at this time o 
 night? and just as I spoke to her she was gone. I 
 thought at first she was trying to play a joke on 
 me, and I took the light outdoors, but there wasn t 
 anybody there." 
 
 " O Miss Carey! It was a warning! " gasped Ma 
 rilla, and clutched Almeda frantically. " Oh, I m so 
 afraid! I m so afraid! " 
 
 "Hark! What s that?" 
 
 It was the first pattering downfall of the raindrops. 
 
THE WARNING 145 
 
 The storm broke that had menaced all night. The 
 whole world no longer held its breath and waited, 
 expectant, eagerly listening. And now the furtive 
 silence was filled with thronging noises. Mysterious 
 footsteps tracked through the house; beckoning fin 
 gers tapped on the window and, as the startled 
 women swiftly turned, as swiftly withdrew into the 
 darkness; unseen watchers, spying on their terror, 
 whispered and tittered. Clutching each other, rigid 
 with fear, the two women sat till fatigue overpow 
 ered them, and the gray dawn struggling through 
 the watery skies made them look livid as corpses 
 tumbled in a heap in the dull yellow light of the 
 dying lamp. 
 
 A rapping at the sitting-room door aroused them. 
 Almeda answered the summons. There stood Silas 
 Coulter. 
 
 " Elnora s dead," he said, and his chin quivered. 
 
 " O my Lord!" gasped Almeda, her knees shak 
 ing. " I knew it! I knew it! " 
 
 " Why, Meda, how could you? You re the first 
 person I seen. I come right here, first thing." 
 
 " I seen her as plain as I see you right now. Come 
 in, come in. I declare I m just so upset I don t know 
 what I m about, keepin you waitin out in the rain. 
 I ll take your umbrella. r 
 
 " How do you mean you seen her? " 
 
 " It was a little before one o clock." He made a 
 
146 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 movement. " I was settin up sewin on her waist 
 that she was goin to wear to Columbus to-day." 
 
 Mr. Coulter choked and moved his head slowly 
 from side to side. 
 
 " No, poor girl! she won t never wear it any place, 
 an her heart was plumb set on it. Well, sir, the door 
 opened and there she stood. Now, Silas, you know 
 I never was one o them that goes around tellin 
 such things, and I never believed one speck in em, 
 but it s as true as I m settin here, an I says to her, 
 Why, Elnora, what are you doing up this time o 
 night? No, I didn t, either. Now let me tell the 
 truth about it. I was just goin to say that, but I 
 didn t get it all out, and she was gone. Tchk! tchk! 
 tchk! Tell me about it. Did she suffer any? " 
 
 " I don t know, I don t know," he quavered. 
 " Here lately, you know, she has been havin them 
 spells and was doctorin fer em, but I didn t think 
 they was nothin specially dangerous. It didn t seem 
 possible. I was awful tired last night when I went 
 to bed, an all I know is that I waked up long about 
 twelve I remember hearin the bell over to the flax 
 factory strike, an I counted. She was up then, but 
 I must a fell asleep. Long toward five I waked up 
 again, an when I found she wasn t there I felt kind 
 o uneasy an got up an went to look for her. She 
 was in the spare room, layin on the floor. I called 
 to her, but but she " something swelled in his 
 
THE WARNING 14? 
 
 throat as if to strangle him; he drew in a long, shak 
 ing breath " but she didn t answer me. She ll never 
 answer me ag in. Oh! Oh! O my Lord! O my 
 Lord! what shall I do? What shall I do without her? 
 Thirty-seven years, Almedy thirty-seven years." 
 The sobs burst through his cramped throat like 
 coughs. After a little he said: "Poor Molly! Poor 
 Molly! I m afraid to let her know. I m afraid it ll 
 kill her." 
 
 Almeda sat with her hands clinched together. The 
 tears rising slowly in her under lids dripped down her 
 withered cheeks and splashed one by one on her 
 knuckles, white with the intensity of her grip. 
 
 " Ever since we was little girls we ve been the 
 closest friends. Silas, I hope you won t think it hard 
 that she should come to tell me she was gone, but 
 last week she said to me, Le s make it up that 
 whichever one of us is called first shall come and tell 
 the other. She kept her word, Silas, she kept her 
 word." 
 
 The waist lay where it was until after the funeral. 
 Almeda could not bear to touch it, or any other 
 work, until then. The story of the apparition of El- 
 nora Coulter spread over the town, gathering the 
 most marvelous additions as it went. Almeda sent 
 for Brother Longfellow, the pastor of the Center 
 Street M. E. Church, which she attended. 
 
i 4 8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " I want you should hear the straight of it just 
 the way it was," she said to him, when he came, 
 " with nothin added to it, ner nothin took away. 
 It s no small thing to tell the truth; it s no small 
 thing, Brother Longfellow; but as near as I can I m 
 goin to do it. And, Manila, if I make it the least 
 bit different from what I told you that night, I want 
 you should correct me. I was sewin on Elnora Coul 
 ter s waist the night she died, she expectin to wear 
 it down to Columbus the next mornin . It was close 
 on to one o clock and I was settin by this work 
 table. I had the big lamp on it, the one I dropped 
 when the wind blowed it out when I was outside by 
 the well. 
 
 "The door opened there! jist like it s openin 
 now. They s somethin wrong with the ketch, and it 
 comes open itself. I don t lay no stress on the door 
 openin , because a spirit could go right through em. 
 Now, Marilla, you stand right there. That s where 
 Elnora was when I looked up. I says to her Wait 
 a minute; I ll get the waist and show you exactly 
 how I was." 
 
 As Almeda picked up the garment she said: " I 
 was as broad awake as I am this minute. See? Here s 
 the needle stickin where I took the last stitch." 
 
 She stopped and was silent for a long time. The 
 hand that held the waist dropped by her side. The 
 other went up and clutched her chin, the knuckles 
 
THE WARNING 149 
 
 resting on her lips. The preacher and the apprentice 
 waited fixedly for her to resume. She came over and 
 sank down into a chair. 
 
 " Manila, you come here a minute," she said at 
 length. " Do you see anything about them last few 
 stitches? " 
 
 "Why, Miss Carey! The last four or five are all 
 every which way." 
 
 " Do you, Brother Longfellow? " 
 
 " Why, yes, Sister Carey," he said, after he had 
 adjusted his glasses. " They look uneven as com 
 pared with the others." 
 
 " Well, now, there it is," said the dressmaker. 
 " That was the fourth night I had set up late and 
 that black and white is very hard on the eyes. The 
 last time I seen Elnora alive she come in without 
 knockin at that side door, and stood there where 
 Marilla stood a while ago. ... It must a be n the 
 door blowed open. . . ." 
 
 Her voice dwindled into silence, the others star 
 ing as mazed as she yes, as dismayed as she at the 
 inevitable inference. For it was not the explication 
 of Elnora Coulter s ghost alone they saw unfolded, 
 but the explication of all questionable shapes that 
 have been seen since time began; seen with the 
 mind s eye from within outwardly, and not the other 
 way around; when the soul lies tranced in the middle 
 state between the sleeping and the waking. 
 
150 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Manila s disappointed superstition first awoke. 
 She cried in pettish anger: " Then it wasn t a spook, 
 at all? O fiddle! " Determined, though, to have it so 
 in spite of everything, she argued: " But it must 
 have been! It just must have been! How could you 
 been a-dreamin setting up there sewin ? " 
 
 The preacher hushed her with a gesture of his 
 hand. " This is God s doings," he reproved her, " and 
 no small matter. He would have us know the truth 
 concerning them that sleep. How any one particular 
 ghost came to be seen is less to be considered than 
 how ghosts came to be believed in; Your experi 
 ence, Sister Carey, your most wonderful experience, 
 shows plainly how they came to be believed in." 
 
 He spoke of the coincidence of Mrs. Coulter s 
 death, and how such instances, rare though they 
 might be, were yet frequent enough to keep alive 
 the ancient heathen doctrine that the dead are rest 
 less and unsettled. Deep within her heart Almeda 
 Carey mused on things the preacher never dreamed 
 of. It had torn her soul with anguish that, since it 
 seemed that, after all, they could come back, the 
 single visitant from Behind the Veil should be El- 
 nora, and not that nearer one by far to her than 
 ever Elnora was, her one and only lover in the days 
 of youth when it is always sunny, her one and only 
 lover, whose dear face through all these years still 
 smiled upon her from beneath his jaunty soldier cap, 
 
THE WARNING 151 
 
 whose curly locks still glistened in the light of that 
 spring morning long ago. Even were the darling 
 vision to vanish in a moment, why had it not come? 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep," she heard the 
 preacher say, " not weary wanderings to and fro." 
 And on the instant disappeared forever all the haunt 
 ing discontent, the queryings and questionings, and 
 the calm peace of disillusionment reigned in their 
 stead. 
 
 She rolled the garment up whose last four stitches 
 held so much for her. In David s certitude she spoke 
 the words that David spoke: "I shall go to him; 
 but he cannot come to me." 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 
 
 I DECLARE, if it wasn t for the looks of it, I 
 wouldn t go one step." 
 The man standing outside the day coach 
 of the north-bound train said nothing. It did not 
 seem necessary to him to say anything now. He 
 had responded to that sentiment too many times 
 before. 
 
 " But, of course, now that I got my ticket bought 
 and everything," reasoned the woman leaning out 
 of the car window as if to convince herself. " Cousin 
 Jabez invitin me so particular and all. And then I 
 hain t be n back to York State for thirty year. You 
 was with me then. You mind how I took you along 
 with me? I woosht you was goin along now. I don t 
 feel right about leavin you all alone. It dooz seem so 
 kind o heartless." 
 
 "Oh, I ll get along all right," said the man 
 calmly, and looked to one side. 
 
 " Well, you must write and tell me how every 
 thing is. I know I ll feel awful worried about you. 
 You ll write now, every week." 
 
 " Yes, ma am. Hullo, Johnny. How re you? " 
 
 152 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 153 
 
 " Be sure and lock up everything when you go 
 way from the house." 
 
 " Yes, ma am. That s Johnny Mara." 
 
 " Is it? And do up your dirty clothes every week 
 in a bundle and take em over to Longbrake s so s 
 Miss Bennett kin git em when she comes for their 
 wash. Laws! I feel awful worried about your socks; 
 you jist go right through em and nobody to darn 
 em for you. Well, you ll jist have to git new ones. I 
 got the biggest notion not to go at all. If it wasn t 
 for the looks of the thing, I d back out right now. 
 Don t forget to change the under sheet once a week. 
 You know where the clean ones is, in the lower bu 
 reau drawer. And put the top sheet in under you and 
 the clean one on top. Tchk! I ll bet the bed won t 
 be made once the whole time I m gone. I got a 
 good notion not to And mind, you water them 
 plants. If it should turn real cold, you better come 
 home once in a while and look after the fire and 
 see how things is gittin along. I wouldn t have 
 them plants git froze, especially that pineapple gera 
 nium 
 
 "All aboard!" called out the conductor. 
 
 The man outside the car brightened up and cried, 
 "Well, good-by, ma!" 
 
 " Good-by, Augustus," she answered, gripping the 
 hand he gave her. "Write reg ler. Put the milk 
 bucket out every night on the back porch. The 
 
i 5 4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 tickets is in the blue cup on the second shelf of the 
 pantry cupboard, and when they give out you must 
 remember and git more Mercy! " The train gave 
 a jerk as it started. She held on to her son s hand. 
 " Well, good-by, Augustus. Don t track in any more 
 mud n you can help when it rains. I expect the 
 place ll look like distraction. Pity sakes! I woosht 
 I hadn t V come. Well, good-by, Augustus." 
 
 The train was going so fast that Augustus was 
 forced to let go. His mother shouted, " Oh, say! 
 Wind the clock Saturdays " But the car swept 
 past the linseed-oil mill and she sank back in her 
 seat, saddened by the consciousness that he had not 
 heard her and now it was too late to tell him. She 
 just knew there would be something she would for 
 get at the very last minute. For half a cent she 
 would get out at Mt. Victory and take the next train 
 back. But when the brakeman opened the car door 
 and first inquired and then answered his own ques 
 tion, " Ma-oun Vict ry? Ma-oun Vict ry," she sat 
 still. She might as well go on now that her ticket was 
 punched. It would look kind of green for her to get 
 off after having gone so far, but still 
 
 Augustus went back to the coal office at once de 
 pressed and elated, but a little more elated than 
 depressed. He was lonesome, but he was also free. 
 It was a new thing for him to do as he pleased, 
 though he would be forty on his next birthday. All 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 155 
 
 of us have had mothers; few of us had so much of 
 a one as Augustus Biddle had. She took entire 
 charge of him, his goings out and his comings in, his 
 downsittings and his uprisings. All that the proverb 
 about the hen with one chick hints at was exem 
 plified in her treatment of the only surviving mem 
 ber of her family. She was too strong-minded to be 
 his slave, but all that she did was for his temporal 
 and eternal welfare. Realizing that letting him 
 " piece " between meals, sit up till all hours, eat 
 candy and cake and such trash were but species of 
 the Higher Cruelty, she was yet among the first to 
 revolt against the doctrine that sparing the rod 
 meant spoiling the child. Nevertheless, she held that 
 when a child was naughty it ought to be punished, 
 and the way she did it was now part of the history 
 of Logan County. It was a byword in Minuca Cen 
 ter, " Augustus! if you do that again, I ll stick you 
 with a pin!" Yet it must have been that the pin 
 was mightier than the rod, for the young ones that 
 used to take doses of " peach-tree oil " and were 
 slapped halfway across the kitchen when they were 
 naughty, were always whining, " Aw, I don t want 
 to," and, " Cain t I stay out a little longer? " while 
 Mrs. Biddle had only to come out on the back porch 
 and chant: 
 
156 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 And Augustus promptly answered, "Hoo!" 
 
 "Come!" 
 
 " Yes, ma am," and dropping everything, the boy 
 ran to see what his ma wanted. 
 
 It is always a surprise to parents to find that their 
 children are growing big. They see them by interior 
 vision as perpetually only about four years old. So 
 when the perilous season of life comes, father and 
 mother are taken unawares. But they think, anyhow, 
 it is only the girls that need watching. Not so with 
 Mrs. Biddle. She knew that it is a time when all the 
 ordered universe of a boy s life melts and dissolves 
 away and that in its fumes are pictured iridescent 
 phantasmagoria of the strenuous life, battle and hero 
 ism and deeds of high emprise. Vague ambitions stir 
 the heart. One does not know for certain whether 
 he will dip his hands in Indian blood or be a detec 
 tive, whether he will find a gold mine or brake on 
 the railroad, but he will go far away, maybe clear to 
 Galion, and be rich, and when he comes back people 
 will say, "That s him!" It seems as if his beard 
 would never come, and he gets red in the face when 
 his father asks, " How did you cut your lip so, 
 Eddie? " It still mortifies him almost to death to be 
 made to sit with the girls in school, but, somehow, 
 he begins to look at them with more interest, and 
 if he is very bold, he may slip the fairest of them a 
 note that reads: " Dear Gracie I thought I would 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 157 
 
 write you a letter I love you so good-by from Eddie 
 Johnson." 
 
 We think this is most amusing, but in our hearts 
 we know that we are only trying to carry it off with 
 a laugh, while inwardly we tremble for the children. 
 We remember our own lives, and we fetch a sigh 
 and say, " Ah, Lord ! What they ve got to go 
 through with!" And yet what can we do? It is as 
 if they were at the crisis of a deadly fever. It seems 
 as if we can t sit still and wait; we must be doing 
 for them. And yet what we do, though with the best 
 intent, may be only murder of body and souf. The 
 time is come when they are no longer ours; they 
 are partly their own. With a girl, the problem is 
 simpler, but the boy is like the fisherman in the 
 Arabian tale that finds the leaden bottle in which 
 is sealed up an Afreet. Very potent is the Afreet, 
 very potent for good let us hope, for good but 
 also very potent for evil, as we cannot forget. We 
 would not have our sons miss finding the bottle, and 
 yet who of us but has seen the day when the Afreet s 
 cruel shape darkened the heaven over our heads 
 and menaced our lives, when we wished we knew 
 the magic word that could conjure the evil Djinn 
 into the vase again, that we might hurl it far, far 
 out to sea? And no such word exists. 
 
 The widow Biddle was not taken by surprise when 
 her son s time of peril came. The leaden bottle was 
 
158 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 found, but never was unsealed. She knew that what 
 Augustus needed was a mother s tender watch care. 
 That watch care was not relaxed one moment in 
 thirty years. She meant him to marry some day, but 
 that day was like the moon that the little child won 
 ders to see go about as it does. It was always off 
 yonder. She looked about her and saw the foolish 
 matches and the wrangling homes, and resolved that 
 her boy should not throw himself away if she could 
 help it. There was no need for hurry, because a man 
 can always get married, no matter how old he is. She 
 knew that while in theory it is the man that asks, 
 in practice it is the woman that arranges conversa 
 tion so that the man must say, " Will you marry 
 me?" or else feel like a natural-born slink. She did 
 not propose to have her Augustus crowded up in a 
 corner that way. When she found the right kind of 
 a girl she would do the arranging of the conversa 
 tion; she would secure the propinquity that provokes 
 love. She had not yet found the right girl; of late 
 years she had not prosecuted the search with much 
 diligence. It seemed to her that Augustus was just 
 about as well off as he was. He had a comfortable 
 home. She looked after him and took care of him, 
 laid out his clean linen, and told him when to go 
 and get his hair cut. There were no children whoop 
 ing and howling around and tracking up the house. 
 Augustus appeared to be satisfied. Probably a tiger 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 159 
 
 brought up on the bottle, kept in a cage and fed 
 on mush and milk, would never regret the absence 
 of butcher s meat. But leave the door open 
 
 Worried for fear he would not wind the clock, but 
 otherwise calm in her mind, Mrs. Biddle went on a 
 visit to her folks back in York State. If a man is 
 not steady and settled down when he is going on 
 forty years old, when will he be, I should like to 
 know? So the tiger s cage door was left on the 
 jar. 
 
 Alas for men! They need watching all the time, 
 even when they are past forty. In a town like Minu- 
 ca Center they generally get it, too. There is no 
 lack of interest in other people in such a place. The 
 Center hummed like a beehive when it saw Augustus 
 Biddle taking the girls out buggy riding, some of 
 the old maids, too, who the men folks were sure 
 were fairly eating their hearts because they were not 
 married and working hard every day and Sunday, 
 too, for board and clothes. Along in the latter part 
 of January, when Mrs. Biddle had been gone a 
 month or so, it was generally agreed that the situ 
 ation was critical and that something ought to be 
 done about it. 
 
 " W y, if his ma knowed the way he was a-actin ," 
 vowed Sarepta Downey to Mrs. Lester Pettitt, 
 " she d jist about go up." 
 
 "Well, I don know s I blame him much," de- 
 
160 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 clared Mrs. Pettitt. " Anybody that s be n kep un 
 der the way he has all his life. If I was a man, I d fly 
 round amongs em, too, come a good chance." 
 
 " Oh, he ain t a-flyin round amongs em now 
 no more," corrected Sarepta. " Huh-uh. Not now. 
 He s got all through with that. I don t know where 
 your eyes are at that you hadn t seen that. He s got 
 her all picked out, bless your soul." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "W y, Carrie Pollock!" 
 
 " Carrie Pollock? W y, I thought Frank Wood- 
 mansee was goin with her." 
 
 " Well, so he is and so s Augustus." 
 
 " If he gets her away from Frank Woodmansee 
 he s a dandy," put in Mr. Pettitt, who laid down his 
 paper to listen to the gossips. " Why, Frank Wood- 
 mansee d tole a bird down out of a tree with his 
 talk. Best man ever Blackwell had on a tin wagon. 
 He could get more eggs and butter from the farm 
 ers wives for less tinware than any man goin . 
 Blackwell kicked like a steer when Frank got too 
 big feelin to drive a wagon and wanted to come 
 in and be in the store, but he just had to give in to 
 him. Terrible ambitious, Frank is. And now Black- 
 well don t do nothin but brag how smart Frank is. 
 He jist about runs the whole concern. He s a little 
 too daggon smart, I think. You mark now if he 
 don t eucher Blackwell out o everything and have 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 161 
 
 it all to himself in about two years. Oh, he s bound 
 to rise." 
 
 " Carrie ll do well to get him then," said his wife. 
 
 "Well, I don* know about that. Frank s terrible 
 selfish, and outside o business they ain t a great 
 deal to Frank. He s the best one of the whole tribe. 
 The rest is jest common on ry." 
 
 " Carrie thinks a lot of Augustus," said Miss 
 Downey. " He s real well educated, Augustus is, and 
 knows a lot o poetry. He s good to his ma and 
 handy around the house, always doin something to 
 help the women folks. Oh, Frank ll have to git his 
 feet in under him if he s goin to keep her. Augus 
 tus is rushin her for all he s worth. Hadn t a be n 
 for him, Carrie and her ma wouldn t ever a went 
 no place. Frank wouldn t never think of it, but now 
 since Augustus got to comin" around w y Carrie 
 and her ma has be n to more places than they ever 
 was in their born days before. Reg lar foot race it 
 is; whichever one o them gits there first the other 
 one takes her ma some place." 
 
 " So s to keep in with Carrie," suggested Mrs. 
 Pettitt. 
 
 " Well, I don* know," answered Sarepta. " Look 
 like to me, Frank, he d like to git Carrie, she s so 
 pretty, and he d like to git her ma, she got such a 
 good head for business. Why, law me! if it hadn t 
 a* be n for her, Jim Pollock wouldn t amounted to 
 
162 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 anything, and after he died she got more out o the 
 farm on sheers n he ever did workin it himself, and 
 here they re livin in town and havjn everything 
 nice. Yes, sir, Frank wants her, too, and " Sarepta 
 leaned over and laughed against the back of her 
 hand " look like to me that since Augustus started 
 in to cut out Frank with Carrie, he thought he 
 might as well make a good job of it and cut him out 
 with her ma, too." 
 
 "Tchk! The land!" ejaculated Mrs. Pettitt. 
 
 " Carrie s a right pretty girl," mused Mr. Pettitt. 
 " I be n havin my eye on Carrie this good while 
 now." He looked at his wife out of the corner of 
 his eye. She was very busy with an apron of Janey s 
 she was hemming. She was painfully jealous-hearted, 
 and Lester Pettitt loved to tease. " But if I was to 
 be left a widower right sudden, I don t know but 
 I d kind o shine up to Ma Pollock." 
 
 "O you!" burst out Mrs. Pettitt, unable to re 
 strain herself. 
 
 " Yes," pursued Mr. Pettitt, " she d suit me bout 
 as well as any of em. Good lookin , too, she is. 
 Women like Caroline Boyce don t no more n git 
 good and ripe till they re along about forty. Now, 
 ma, here, when she s forty, you know what she ll 
 look like? Why, a two weeks washin done up in 
 a bedspread." He winked at Sarepta, who knew that 
 if there was one thing that Mrs. Pettitt dreaded 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 163 
 
 worse than death itself it was fat. She was just a 
 plump little body now, but her sister Polly Ann was 
 considered "a sight!" She weighed three hundred 
 pounds, and always used to hop over the hot-air 
 registers in the aisle of Center Street church. She 
 was afraid to step on them lest she break through. 
 
 " Caroline Pollock s more n forty," said Mrs. Pet- 
 titt, with much asperity. " Look at that big, grown 
 up daughter." 
 
 " Oh, no, she ain t," corrected Sarepta. " She mar 
 ried Jim Pollock when she wasn t but eighteen, and 
 Carrie s only nineteen now. She ain t a day over 
 thirty-nine. She s jist about Augustus Biddle s age." 
 
 " Gus ort to let Frank have the girl and him go 
 for her ma," said Mr. Pettitt. " Man like him, raised 
 by hand, as you might say, ud never git along with 
 a young girl. You know what Caroline Pollock is, 
 but Carrie, law! she don know what she is herself. 
 Man marry her, he s got to take her sight unseen 
 and trust to luck. My! my! How many of em gits 
 fooled. Now, me, f r instance But what s the use? " 
 Mr. Pettitt sighed and sadly shook his head. 
 
 Mrs. Pettitt speared him with a look, but he pre 
 tended not to notice. Sarepta saw that it was time 
 to make a diversion. 
 
 " My land! " said she, " if Augustus Biddle should 
 marry Caroline Pollock, his ma would just naturally 
 paw up the ground! W y, them two ud no more git 
 
164 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 along together than I don* know what. Mercy! 
 What a time they d have. I sh d think somebuddy d 
 up and let that pore woman away off yan in York 
 State know what kind o doin s they was goin on 
 around here. Wouldn t she come home jist a-flukin ? 
 My! Well, I must be gittin along. Here tis most 
 bedtime and me settin here runnin on about my 
 neighbors as if I didn t have anything better to do. 
 Well, good night, all. When you comin over, Mis 
 Pettitt? You hain t come to see me in a long time. 
 You, too, Mr. Pettitt. Oh, I can see; you needn t 
 bring the light. Snow s goin awful fast, ain t it? 
 Well, good night." 
 
 The door had no more than shut on her when Mrs. 
 Pettitt exploded with pent-up fury. "WHAT did 
 you go and talk like that for before that woman 
 when you know when you kno-o-o-ow that she 
 runs and tells everything that she hears? " 
 
 Mr. Pettitt threw up one arm as if to shield his 
 head and cried in mock terror, " Help! help! help! " 
 
 She was determined not to let him see her smile. 
 " Oh, it s nothing to laugh at. I declare! you re more 
 of a child than Janey is right now. I don t know 
 what possessed you to say such a thing before 
 her." 
 
 " Say what? " inquired the innocent Mr. Pettitt. 
 
 " Oh, you know very well. That about you gittin 
 fooled in me, for one thing." 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 165 
 
 "Well, didn t I? Didn t you promise the preacher 
 you d obey me? Well, do you? No, you don t. Didn t 
 I command you last night to sew that button on 
 my vest? Yes, I did. Is it sewed on? No, it hain t. 
 You don t care if I go round town lookin like a 
 scarecrow and people pointin the ringer o scorn 
 at me. I ll bet my second wife won t " 
 
 " Oh, hush up and gimme that vest. I forgot all 
 about it as slick as a whistle. I ll sew it on now while 
 I think of it. Well, land of love! Did you ever hear 
 the beat o them two fellows tryin to cut each other 
 out with two women at once? The idy! " 
 
 " What I want to know is what Ma Biddle ll do 
 with Augustus. He s gittin most too big now to 
 be stuck with a pin." 
 
 " I hope she won t come home till he gets mar 
 ried." 
 
 " Oh, somebody 11 write to her before." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Who? W y, anybody. I know fifty that ud ask 
 for nothin better. I wouldn t put it past you, for 
 one." 
 
 " ME? Me tell her? W y, Lester Pettitt, you re 
 the meanest white man that ever lived! W y, I d no 
 more think o doin such a thing Go on away from 
 me. Go on, I tell you. I m mad now. The idy of 
 sayin Go way, now-ah. Come a huggin and kiss- 
 in around me after sayin Lester-rah! If you do 
 
166 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 that again, now I ll I ll stick you with a pin. Sh! 
 You ll wake up Janey." 
 
 Somebody did write and tell Mrs. Biddle, and it 
 wasn t Augustus, either. It just goes to show how 
 if you escape Scylla you fall into Charybdis. Be too 
 lax with children, and they run wild and terrify the 
 neighborhood; be too strict with them and they be 
 come expert dissimulators, preserving the form of 
 truth, but denying the power thereof. So it was that 
 Augustus s letters, while professing to give all the 
 news of the Center, omitted that which would have 
 been even more interesting to her than it was to 
 her neighbors. Who it was that sent the postal card 
 on which was written: " When the cat s away, the 
 mice will play," is not certainly known, for it was 
 not signed. When it got to Mrs. Biddle it had much 
 the same effect upon her as the appearance of the 
 fingers of a man s hand that came out of the wall 
 and wrote upon the plaster had upon the revelers at 
 Belshazzar s feast. It put a stop to all her enjoy 
 ment. She worried and worried about what it could 
 mean. Then came a letter signed which gave her 
 the interpretation. Her kingdom was about to be 
 divided and given to another. She packed her trunk 
 after she answered the letter. 
 
 It may be regarded as significant that Frank 
 Woodmansee should have met her at the train. They 
 had a long conference together. " Wootsy " Morton, 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 167 
 
 the depot operator, saw them talking and called up 
 Augustus on the telephone. 
 
 " Say, Biddle! " he said, his hand making a tube 
 over the transmitter, " is that you, Biddle? This is 
 Morton at the depot. Say, your ma came in on No. 
 4. Why didn t you Yes, on No. 4. Why, Frank 
 Woodmansee met her. Him and her is holdin a 
 confab on the platform now. Didn t you know she 
 was comin ho Hello! Are you there yet? Hello, 
 Central! What did you cut us off for? You did, too. 
 Huh? Well, he don t answer. Say; ring em up 
 again." 
 
 Bzzzzzinngt! 
 
 "Hello, Biddle!" 
 
 " Don t answer," said Central in her prim, flat, 
 far-away voice. 
 
 The hand phone in Augustus s office swung vio 
 lently on its double cord as Augustus slammed the 
 door shut and locked it, after taking a paper from 
 a desk drawer and thrusting it into his pocket. His 
 horse and buggy were in the shed, and he drove up 
 Columbus Street, looking behind him fearfully. 
 
 " She ll most likely walk over," he said to himself, 
 " specially if she s got somebody to carry her grip 
 sack. She ll go to the office first and then she ll go 
 to the house, and if I ain t there, w y, then her and 
 Woodmansee ll go on up to Tain t quite as much 
 time as I d like to have, but still I laid out to 
 
i68 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 go easy about it and not plunge in headlong this 
 way." 
 
 He jumped out at the Pollocks house, hurriedly 
 tied his horse, and went around by the side door, at 
 which he knocked. Mrs. Pollock answered the sum 
 mons. 
 
 "Where s Carrie?" he gasped and pushed his 
 way in. He felt a kind of goneness in his insides. 
 
 " W y, she s I don t know where she is, Mr. 
 Biddle. Some girl come along a while ago and pirted 
 for her and she put on her things and went out. I 
 guess she won t be gone long." 
 
 " How long? " 
 
 "W y, I don t really know; half an hour, mebby, 
 or mebby an hour." 
 
 Augustus sank down into a chair apathetically, 
 his hands drooping between his knees, and his head 
 bent forward. He had not counted on her being from 
 home. 
 
 " Don t you think you could find her? " he asked, 
 after a while. 
 
 "W y, I don t know as I could." Then as she 
 noted the expression in his face, Mrs. Pollock cried 
 out, "Augustus Biddle! What is the matter? You 
 look like you d lost every friend on earth." 
 
 " Ma s come home," he said, and licked his lips. 
 " She didn t send me no word she was comin . 
 * Wootsy Morton telephoned me he seen her and 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 169 
 
 Frank Woodmansee holdin a confab on the depot 
 platform. I ll jist bet you anything " He got up 
 and walked the floor. " If he has now if he has, I ll 
 break his neck, I will, by Godfrey!" 
 
 "W y, Mr. Biddle!" 
 
 " I don t care. Tattlin on me. Consarn his pic 
 ture!" 
 
 " You ain t saw your ma yet? " 
 
 " No, I hain t." He paused. " I don t know as I 
 jist exactly wanted to see her till till afterwards. 
 You don t know where Carrie is? " 
 
 "W y, no, I don t. She started out What did 
 you want to see her about? " 
 
 " Why-ah," said Augustus, turning his hat in his 
 hands, " I kind o thought mebby she d like to take 
 a ride over to Sunbury with me." 
 
 " To Sunbury? And your mother jist come back 
 home?" 
 
 Augustus nodded as he looked into her face with 
 a sort of pitiful smile and a doglike wistfulness. It 
 was as much as to say, " Don t you understand 
 why? " Mrs. Pollock stooped to pick a raveling off 
 the floor and rose up red in the face. " I was over 
 to Sunbury Friday and stepped into the county 
 clerk s office " He broke off suddenly and his 
 mouth hung open as if he had just thought of some 
 thing. " Would you be willin " he said, gulped, 
 flushed, and went on " would you be willin to go 
 
1 70 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 for a little ride with me summers out of the way 
 till I got kind o cammed down? Ma comin home 
 this away kind o upset me. I woosht you would 
 
 now." 
 
 " W y ah " The widow hesitated. 
 
 " I woosht you would now," he persisted. " I d 
 ah I d like to talk to you about somepin." 
 
 "Wy ah, I expect mebby I could," said the 
 widow slowly. " If you didn t go too far." 
 
 To Augustus, who looked every minute to see 
 Vengeance coming around the corner of the house, 
 it seemed an age before Mrs. Pollock got herself 
 ready for the drive, but, terrified as he was, he could 
 not help but recognize the fact that she had put in 
 the time well. She was a fine-looking woman and 
 no mistake, but Augustus could not tarry to ad 
 mire, so anxious was he to flee from the wrath to 
 come. The neighbors noticed when he drove away 
 that he kept looking around all the time. Minnie 
 De Wees said to her mother, " I jist bet you they s 
 somepin up. Now, you mark; they s a hen on, sure 
 as shootin ." Afterwards she bragged no little of her 
 gift of prophecy. 
 
 Mrs. Biddle and Frank Woodmansee stopped at 
 the coal office. It was locked up. They knocked on 
 the door. There was no answer. Mrs. Biddle went 
 to the window and shaded it with her hand so as 
 to see in. The objects within looked familiar to her, 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 171 
 
 even the paperweight carved out of a piece of 
 cannel coal. They made her homesick for the sight 
 of her son. But the hand phone dangling on its cord 
 and the books left lying open, fretted her; it looked 
 so slack and careless. She wanted to get in and 
 straighten things up. He used to be so particular, 
 but now, since that woman had got after him, he 
 was letting everything go. 
 
 " Well, he ain t h-yur," said Frank Woodmansee. 
 He noticed people stopping to look at him carry 
 ing Mrs. Biddle s gripsack and smiling so knowing. 
 He told himself again that everything was fair in 
 love and war, but he wasn t so sure of it as he had 
 been. 
 
 " No, he ain t h-yur," assented Mrs. Biddle, with 
 a sigh. " I reckon we d better go on around to the 
 house, and if he ain t there I can leave the gripsack 
 with Mis Longbrake I expect you re kind o tired 
 luggin it around and then we ll go up and see 
 that woman." There was a cluck in her voice as she 
 spoke the last words. 
 
 But the Biddle house was as deserted as the Bid- 
 die coal office. When the widow realized with a cold 
 sickness at her heart that she was locked out of her 
 own house, she sighed and went next door. Mrs. 
 Longbrake had been watching her and came to meet 
 her with, " W y, I declare if it ain t Mis Biddle! My! 
 how well you re lookin ! It done you lots o good to 
 
172 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 go away fer a spell. Come in, won t you, and set a 
 while." 
 
 " No, thank you. I got to go right on. I d like 
 to leave my gripsack here, if you don t mind." 
 
 "W y, certainly. Clarence, take Mis Biddle s 
 gripsack and set it over there by the bureau. Take 
 your han kerchief, Clarence. How many times have 
 I got to speak to you about snufflin that way? I 
 s pose you come fer the weddin , Mis Biddle." 
 
 "What weddin ?" snapped Mrs. Biddle. 
 
 " W y, Augustus and Carrie Pollock. I says to 
 Mr. Longbrake when he come home and told me 
 about it, It s funny, I says, that " 
 
 " Is he married? " demanded Mrs. Biddle of Mrs. 
 Longbrake and of Frank Woodmansee, turning first 
 to one and then the other. 
 
 " I says to Mr. Longbrake, W y, what does he 
 want to git married over to Sunbury fer? I says. 
 Well, he says, that s whur he got the license out, 
 he says." 
 
 "It ain t so!" cried Frank Woodmansee. "It 
 ain t so! Carrie Pollock?" 
 
 " Carrie Pollock," asserted Mrs. Longbrake, bow 
 ing her head, closing her eyes, and primming her 
 lips. " Nineteen years old. That s what the license 
 said. Mr. Longbrake seen it when he was over to 
 Sunbury, and Mr. Curl, the county clerk of Union 
 County, he ast him if he knowed them parties, and 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 173 
 
 Mr. Longbrake he said he did, and " The sentence 
 dwindled into nothing, for, with one look of mutual 
 rage, Mrs. Biddle and Frank Woodmansee turned 
 and hurried down the front walk. They would go 
 up to Carrie Pollock s and have this thing straight 
 ened out. 
 
 " I reckon he feels right bad to git the mitten that 
 way," said Mrs. Longbrake, as she watched them 
 go up the street. " It kind o s prised him, pears 
 like. I don t reckon Mis Biddle likes it any too well, 
 either, looks o things. Clarence, I declare I don 
 know what I ll do to you if you behave that way 
 before people again. I was mortified to death at 
 you." 
 
 Frank Woodmansee rang the Pollock doorbell 
 and rang and rang. They seemed fated to be 
 shut out on all sides. All the neighboring windows 
 that gave on the Pollock house concealed each an 
 anxious watcher. Minnie De Wees, who lived in the 
 third house, and could not see very well from there, 
 actually went out on the front porch to look, but 
 her boldness was condemned by all. They said that 
 was a little too much. Mrs. Biddle and Frank Wood 
 mansee talked very earnestly together in low tones, 
 and Minnie De Wees nearly went out of her mind 
 because she could not hear them. They gave one 
 more ring and stood waiting. Then they heard the 
 gate latch click; turning around, they beheld Carrie 
 
174 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Pollock entering the yard. Woodmansee gave her a 
 
 searching look. 
 
 "Why, how do you do, Mrs. Biddle? " said the 
 girl, and then turned demurely to greet the man. 
 " How do you do, Mr. Woodmansee? I thought you 
 were in New York State, Mrs. Biddle. Aren t you 
 home rather unexpected? " 
 
 Mrs. Biddle glared at the girl. "What have you 
 done with my son?" she demanded. "Ain t you 
 asha-a-med of yourself to stand there talkin to me 
 in that way after the way you ve be n a-actin ? And 
 you dare " she gulped " you dare to look me in 
 the face, you you Oh, for half a cent, I d 
 Where s your mother? To take advantage of my ab 
 sence in such a way when you knowed I was away 
 from home and couldn t take care of him. It s a pity, 
 it s a pity I couldn t leave home a minute to go and 
 visit the only relations I got an some of em I 
 hadn t saw for thirty years, but you must go and 
 Where s your mother? Can t you talk? " 
 
 (You ought to hear Minnie De Wees get that off. 
 She can do it to perfection.) 
 
 Carrie Pollock looked at the mother in amaze 
 ment. 
 
 " Why, what s the matter? " she gasped. 
 
 " They re tellin it around that you re goin to 
 marry Augustus Biddle," said Frank Woodmansee. 
 
 " Who s tellin it around? " demanded Carrie. 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 175 
 
 " I d thank people to mind their own business and 
 not go round with a whole pack o lies about other 
 folks. It ain t so. Now!" 
 
 " I s pose you don t know nothin at all about his 
 gittin a marriage license over to Sunbury to marry 
 you," sneered Mrs. Biddle. " I s pose you didn t hear 
 nothin at all about that." 
 
 " No, I didn t; not till you jist now told me I 
 didn t hear one word about it." Frank Woodmansee 
 looked as if a great load had been taken off his mind. 
 Mrs. Biddle was still suspicious. 
 
 " I s pose you want me to think Augustus went 
 and got that license and you givin him no encour 
 agements whatever." 
 
 " Who, him? " Miss Pollock bridled angrily. " I 
 don t care what you think. I guess I don t go round 
 tellin folks I m a-goin to marry em before they 
 ask me to. I wish t you d go on away from here. 
 Mr. Woodmansee, won t you make her go way? I 
 don t know anything about your old Augustus! Ma! 
 Where s ma? Botherin the life and soul out o me 
 with her old Augustus! The idea! Ma!" And Miss 
 Pollock burst into a fit of crying and begged to be 
 taken into the house; she never was treated so in 
 her life; the key to the side door was under the 
 kitchen step, if ma was out; she couldn t help it if 
 Augustus Biddle took out forty marriage licenses; 
 regular old Molly he was, anyhow; she wouldn t 
 
176 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 have him if he was the last man on earth. She wished 
 she had never laid eyes on him. 
 
 Mrs. Biddle walked out of the front gate, but 
 turned to see the tearful Miss Pollock being sup 
 ported on Mr. Woodmansee s arm and led into the 
 house, comforted by him in words that she could 
 not hear, but whose substantial import she could 
 imagine as well as the rest of the neighborhood. It 
 gave her pride a rude shock to hear her son charac 
 terized as a " regular old Molly, * and indignantly 
 rejected as a possible husband by a snip of a girl 
 that wasn t fit to black his shoes for him. He was too 
 good for her, so he was, if she only knew it. She d 
 tell her so too the next time she saw her. The very 
 idea! 
 
 Mrs. Biddle went back to her own house and got 
 little Clarence Longbrake to come over and crawl 
 through the cellar window and open the back door 
 for her. This was her homecoming; this her wel 
 come. She went through into the parlor and opened 
 the shutters. The plants she had prized so highly 
 stood yellow and rigid. She plucked a leaf and it 
 crackled in her grasp. Papers were scattered all 
 about. The bottom of the stove seemed bursting 
 with ashes which had spilled out on the carpet. The 
 bureau drawers were half pulled out, and from them 
 poured a cascade of soiled collars and rumpled 
 shirts. All the lessons of neatness which she had 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 177 
 
 taught him for years were forgotten the minute her 
 back was turned. No; she would not do him that in 
 justice. He would have been all right if he hadn t 
 been led away. But that the tender watch care of 
 a mother all these years should have been as a dream 
 of the night as soon as a silly girl with a doll s face 
 looked at him Oh, that was hard, that was hard 
 to bear! This was her homecoming; this her wel 
 come. She sank into a chair and crumbled the 
 dry leaf in her fingers. Her eyes burned. She won 
 dered at it a moment, for she was a woman not 
 used to weep. All of a sudden, she caught an inward, 
 quivering breath and the tempest of her grief and 
 loneliness burst forth. Like Jeremiah amid the ruins 
 of Jerusalem, she wept as she mused on the former 
 things. 
 
 But when the storm had overpast, she roused her 
 self and set about straightening up the house. She 
 went out to the grocer s and the butcher s and got 
 materials for supper. She expected Augustus home 
 by then. The potatoes and the coffee she set on the 
 back of the stove to keep warm for him. She would 
 not fry the steak until he got home. As it grew 
 later and later she went oftener to the door to listen 
 for him. Once she was sure she heard him open the 
 front gate, but it was only her imagination. At last 
 she cooked the meat herself and sat down alone to 
 eat what she could. 
 
178 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 As it came on to nine o clock, his bedtime ever 
 since he was twelve years old, she remembered that 
 his bed had probably not been made for the day. 
 One glance showed her that it had not been made 
 or the linen changed since she had left, and she had 
 been so particular to tell him about it. Something 
 saddened her as she stripped off the sheets, wrinkled 
 and twisted into ropes. For thirty years he had not 
 slept away from home, not since the time he had 
 gone with her to York State on a visit. How many 
 times had she heard him say his prayer at that 
 bed and had called out to him from the sitting 
 room: 
 
 " Good night! Sleep tight! " 
 
 She turned the covers back all ready for him and 
 sat down to wait. It was very late for him. The town 
 clock struck ten. She went into the sitting room and 
 wound and set the old clock on the shelf. Overcome 
 by an impulse she could not restrain, she went out 
 on the back porch and, looking into the blackness 
 of the night, called out as of old time: 
 
 
 But only an echo came back to her. Slowly she 
 turned and went inside. 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 179 
 
 " The preacher didn t appear to notice where 
 you changed that one into a three, did he, Augus 
 tus?" 
 
 " No," said Augustus. 
 
 " At any rate, he didn t say anything about it, 
 huh? " 
 
 " No," said Augustus. 
 
 "But, laws! I won t be thirty-nine till November. 
 I was jist about Carrie s age now when she was 
 born." 
 
 "That so?" 
 
 " Uh-huh. How old are you, Augustus? " 
 
 "Who? Me? I ll be forty the last of Septem 
 ber." 
 
 They sat before the grate fire in the bridal cham 
 ber of the Eagle Hotel in Sunbury after a supper 
 at which the landlord had surpassed himself. There 
 were four kinds of cake and eight kinds of preserves 
 on the table, not " boughten stuff," either. The land 
 lord s wife had put up all the preserves herself, they 
 had so much fruit on the lot. 
 
 "What makes you so still, Augustus?" 
 
 " Oh, I don t know." 
 
 A long pause. 
 
 " You ain t sorry, are you? " 
 
 " Huh? " 
 
 " I say, you ain t sorry, are you? " 
 * " W y, no. Oh, no, no." 
 
i8o FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Another long pause. 
 
 " W y, what made you think I was sorry? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing, only you was so kind o still. You 
 right sure you ain t, now? " 
 
 " W y, of course not." 
 
 Augustus sat looking at the soft-coal fire from 
 which now and then a cinder fell. The woman rocked 
 in the rocking chair slowlier and slowlier. She 
 stopped. Then she spoke as one determined to settle 
 the matter once and forever. 
 
 " Because if you are," she said, " you ve only got 
 your own self to blame, for it won t be my fault if 
 you don t have a happy home. Mr. Pollock, he says 
 to me, Carrie/ he says them was pretty near the 
 last words he said to me, that is sensible, for toward 
 the last he was kind o flighty and light-headed 
 Carrie, he says to me, you ve be n a faithful, true, 
 and lovin wife to me, you have, he says. And so 
 I was, and so I ll be to you, Augustus. For I could 
 have got married many s the time before this, as I 
 told you this afternoon when we was goin apast 
 Mumma s place, but seem like I didn t want to while 
 Carrie was little, but now that she s growed up and 
 likely to git Frank Woodmansee now any day, I 
 don t deny but what I was lookin around some, and 
 I don t care; I don t think twas no more n right 
 that I should, me not bein thirty-nine till next No 
 vember, and jist in the prime of life, as you might 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 181 
 
 say, and what ud I do if Carrie was to git married 
 and me all alone in that great big house? And I al 
 ways did like you, Augustus. Seem like you had 
 such nice ways about you and understood a woman 
 so well. Mr. Pollock, he was real good to me, that 
 is, as good as he knowed how, but he was a kind o 
 roughlike sometimes. And then ag in you ain t like 
 some o these men that s raised careful. They re apt 
 to be dilicate and Nancified, as I told Carrie. And 
 I knowed all the time that Carrie was jist plumb 
 distracted about Frank Woodmansee, only he was 
 kind o half after me for a while there, and she only 
 took up with you to make him jealous. Now, that s 
 jist the pine-blank facts I m a-tellin you. You mind 
 I told you that when we first started out this after 
 noon so s to kind o git away from your ma till 
 you got things straightened out like. And I told you 
 then jist like I tell you now that Carrie s a nice 
 enough girl, for all she s my daughter, and I wouldn t 
 say a word ag in her for the world, but she ain t 
 no kind of a girl to marry a man that s be n brought 
 up for so long by a woman that s as good a house 
 keeper as your mother is, because I know she s a 
 good housekeeper, for everybody says so, and as 
 near as I can find out, she does jist exactly as I do 
 in everything, except I always cook a little car 
 rots with my peas. They taste so much better that 
 way. But I kin cook em the other way. Now, your 
 
i8a FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 ma s punkin pie is jist mine to a T, because I tasted 
 hern at a social at Center Street one time. And you 
 said you got the notion you wanted to git married, 
 and now was your only chance while your ma was 
 away, and if you d a* sispicioned she was a-goin to 
 come back to-day you d a spoke to Carrie before, 
 and you thought if you got the marriage license it 
 ud kind o bluff her into takin you, but it wouldn t, 
 because I know that girl too well, and still you 
 didn t want to git it in Minuca Center, because if 
 she didn t have you after all how flat you d feel and 
 all like that and what should you do, now that you 
 had paid a dollar for the license, and it seemed like 
 a waste o money not to make some use of it, and 
 you ast me yourself now, didn t you? if I wouldn t 
 marry you, and I said you could change that one 
 into a three so s nobody d ever notice it, and it 
 would be all right, for my name is Carrie Pollock 
 as well as Carrie s is, and you put your arm around 
 me and hugged me and kissed me. Now, ain t that 
 so?" 
 
 " Yes, that s so," said Augustus. 
 
 " Well," she said, and began rocking again. She 
 seemed a little inclined to cry, but she stopped when 
 she heard the big clock downstairs in the empty 
 dining room strike slowly and hoarsely. 
 
 "Ten o clock," she said. "My! it s late, ain t 
 it?" 
 
THE ELOPEMENT 183 
 
 Augustus sat silent for a minute, and then he cried 
 out: "Hoo!" 
 
 " I didn t say nothin ," she said. 
 
 " Oh . . . oh, . . ." Augustus seemed like one 
 waking from a dream. " I thought I heard ma callin 
 me. Ho-hum! I m sleepy, ain t you?" 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 
 
 THERE is no such thing as realism in fic 
 tion," declared Lippincott, even more dog 
 matically than if he thoroughly believed 
 what he was saying. " It is a contradiction in terms. 
 It is the marvelous that interests, and no man can 
 tell a marvelous tale and tell the truth. The people 
 won t have a true story. They want the mirror held 
 up to Nature, yes, but at such an angle that the 
 sedate old dame appears another Nini Pattes-en-Vair. 
 The fictional mind is at enmity against reason, for it 
 is not subject to the law of reason, neither indeed can 
 be." 
 
 Scrimgeour sat still, making lines on the table 
 cloth with his fork. He was not cynical, for he was 
 but three-and-twenty, and nothing ailed him. The 
 red in his cheeks clustered about a white spot just 
 over his newly cut wisdom teeth. That white spot 
 is the sigillum wherewith Nature certifies the bache 
 lor s degree of Golden Optimism. Lippincott, on the 
 other hand, was entitled to be a destructive critic 
 of the universe, for he had reached the mature age 
 of thirty-five, and in that gray November light one 
 
 184 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 185 
 
 sees, if ever, the things of life in their true values. 
 Having no more of his own to dissect, he was ruth 
 lessly ripping open Scrimgeour s dolls and scatter 
 ing their sawdust all about. 
 
 Scrimgeour thought on or thought he was 
 thinking and presently came out with: "Truth is 
 stranger than fiction." He said this with the air 
 of a man that has driven at least one hen into the 
 coop. 
 
 " It is seldomer met with," admitted Lippincott, 
 with that superior smile that made his friends often 
 wish to wring his neck, and proceeded: "But the 
 saying itself is an illustration of the workings of the 
 fictional mind. That was what made Tertullian say, 
 Credo quia impossibile est. It uses the paradox as 
 astronomers use the parallax." 
 
 " For instance " prompted Scrimgeour. 
 
 " For instance, the case of Judge Blymire. He was 
 a prominent lawyer of Palmyra, and had been 
 county judge of Tadmor County. He had a son. We 
 were boys together. The first Mrs. Blymire, a deli 
 cate, romantic woman, lived long enough to give 
 the baby a name out of the last novel she had read. 
 She called him Percy. The Palmyra boys democra 
 tized that to Skinner. Skinner Blymire," mused 
 Lippincott, dreamily letting his eyes relax their fo 
 cus, and in that blur, as in the magician s drop of 
 ink, he saw again the picture of the dusty streets 
 
i86 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 of an Ohio town, and the foolish, happy, bare 
 footed boys playing there, as if the years had never 
 passed. With a sigh, he recalled himself and went 
 on: 
 
 " The judge married again when Percy was four 
 years old. A stepmother for the boy. I can see your 
 fictional mind prepare itself for a tale of petty per 
 secutions and small cruelties. Since the days of Cin 
 derella this is what is expected of stepmothers, and 
 yet I never knew of one that was not scrupulously 
 just. Mrs. Blymire was fairer to Percy than his own 
 father. He used to give the boy the most terrific 
 beatings for the least failings, and was perpetually 
 checking him with, * Don t do this/ and Let that 
 alone. He was a precise man, and his love for his 
 son expressed itself in the effort to make the lad a 
 perfect specimen of grave deportment. Percy idol 
 ized his stepmother. He loved her drolling and her 
 keen sense of humor, but his father It is pretty 
 hard when a son hates his father. 
 
 " There is an old saying: * If you have the name, 
 you might as well have the game/ and when Skin 
 ner found that his father was bound to believe noth 
 ing but bad of him he apparently did what he could 
 to justify the belief. And yet I know now that there 
 was no evil in the boy, only mischief. He began to 
 run with a wild crowd of quacking-voiced young 
 fellows, and sometimes they were out till as late 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 187 
 
 as ten and eleven o clock at night. One Saturday 
 evening, he and four or five other hobble-de-hoys 
 that had been swimming at the Copperas Banks, be 
 low town, came through the deadly still streets of 
 Palmyra, cutting up and singing after the fashion 
 of their kind. It is exasperating, I grant you, but 
 it is not the greatest sin. Bill McPherson, the police 
 force of the town, checked them in his bossy, im 
 portant way. They sauced him, and he arrested 
 Charley Payne. Took him by the collar and tore it 
 off. The boy struck at him in anger. Then Bill 
 clubbed him, and Skinner and the rest interfered. He 
 declared them all under arrest, and those that didn t 
 get away he charged with rioting, disorderly con 
 duct, resisting an officer pretty nearly every mis 
 demeanor on the books, I think. 
 
 . " Word was sent to the parents, and they came 
 and bailed out their sons. All except Judge Blymire. 
 He let Percy stay in jail. Depend upon it, before the 
 last bell rang for church next morning, the whole 
 town knew all about it, and how the judge had said 
 to Mrs. Blymire: If he d been home at nine o clock, 
 like I told him to, this wouldn t have happened. I 
 hope it will be a lesson to him. 
 
 " We all looked at the Blymire pew, but only the 
 judge and his wife stood up at the * Dearly beloved 
 brethren, the Scripture moveth us in sundry places. 
 We hoped that something would move the old man, 
 
i88 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 but he stiffened himself with anything but an hum 
 ble, lowly, penitent, and obedient heart/ He knew 
 that the people were looking at him and whisper 
 ing, but he was sure that he was doing the right 
 thing for his son s temporal and eternal welfare. I 
 watched Alice Prouty, for she and Percy were boy- 
 and-girl sweethearts as all Palmyra knew. It was 
 plain that she had been crying. 
 
 " I remember going past and looking at the un 
 responsive jail windows that hot Sunday afternoon 
 and wondering what was happening to Skinner. A.s 
 I lingered, Bill McPherson came along, dragging a 
 drunken woman he had arrested over across the 
 tracks. She had been fighting, and she was scream 
 ing out such words as made all the windows of the 
 houses near the jail come down in a hurry, stifling 
 though the day was. After she was locked up, I 
 could hear her yelling, the bare walls of the cala 
 boose making her voice sound hollow, as if some 
 one were speaking in a cistern. 
 
 " I have often pictured the boy lying on the bare 
 board in his dark cell, weeping himself to sleep 
 that Saturday night, rousing at intervals to weep 
 again at the thought that he alone of all his com 
 panions was left to endure its shame. I can fancy 
 him waking at the first blush of day, sore on his hips 
 and shoulders from his hard bed, alive again to his 
 misery which merciful sleep had removed far from 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 189 
 
 him for a few hours. The jailer gives him his half 
 loaf of sour bakers bread and the long tin cup of 
 water. Then he sits and waits. He hears the church 
 bells ringing, and he knows that the other boys are 
 out on the streets talking about him and his 
 throat swells again and his eyes smart with the salt 
 tears. Then comes stillness, broken only by the buzz 
 ing of the bluebottles against the high-up, immov 
 able windows. He watches the streaks of sunlight 
 slide slowly along the wall; he reads what pred 
 ecessors have written on the plaster, and his soul 
 gags at it. Is he such as that? The loneliness is un 
 bearable, and then comes this yelling woman he 
 thought it was his father relented at last and, as 
 he hears her cursing for hours together, how gladly 
 would he have back that loneliness! v 
 
 " When I think of all this, I cannot see how Judge 
 Blymire could have let his son stay there one hour. 
 Yet he thought it was for the boy s good. He suf 
 fered, too, but it was as the Roman father suffered. 
 Never was there a juster judge on the Tadmor 
 County bench. It was Mrs. Blymire that saved Percy 
 from working out his fine on the stone pile. When 
 she saw that persuasion would not soften that hard 
 old heart, she put her foot down/ and the judge 
 went to the mayor s court Monday morning and 
 brought Percy back with him. 
 
 " Take off your coat, sir, he said sternly. 
 
190 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " What are you going to do, father? asked Mrs. 
 Blymire. 
 
 " I m going to give this young man the soundest 
 whipping he ever had/ he answered. 
 
 " * No. He has been punished enough. If you beat 
 him, you must beat me, too. And the judge, as he 
 looked into her eyes, saw that he was a conquered 
 man. 
 
 " From that day Percy treated his father with a 
 cold deference that was more insolent than words. 
 There was a lot of the Blymire in him, too. His 
 mother hoped for the best and tried to smooth 
 things over, but one morning something went 
 wrong in court, and the judge came home to his 
 midday dinner cross. Percy declined some dish, and 
 the judge snarled at him: I suppose it ain t good 
 enough for my gentleman. He s more used to bread 
 and water/ 
 
 " The right kind of a father wouldn t have left 
 his son to taste the bread and water, impudently 
 declared Percy. 
 
 " Don t you answer back to me, you young jail 
 bird. Are you going to eat that? 
 
 " No. 
 
 " Then get away from my table. If you don t like 
 what s set before you, provide for yourself. 
 
 " * Father, you don t mean that, protested Mrs. 
 Blymire. 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 191 
 
 " I do. Every word of it. But he knew in his 
 heart that he was more in anger than in earnest. 
 
 " Percy flung out of the room, ran upstairs, and 
 a few minutes later, as they sat in silence, they heard 
 the front door slam. The father ate stolidly, pretend 
 ing not to hear. When he had gone, Mrs. Blymire 
 found on her dressing table a penciled note from 
 Percy, bidding her good-by, thanking her for her 
 kindness to him, but wishing never to see his father 
 again in life. That wish came true. They never 
 looked into each other s face after that day, for one s 
 eyes had closed in death when the other bent over 
 him. 
 
 " Poor Alice! She and Mrs. Blymire mingled their 
 tears as she told how Percy had said to her he was 
 going away; he didn t say where, but she was never 
 to forget him. 
 
 " The judge refused to believe that the boy had 
 run away for good. He expected to smile trium 
 phantly at the ragged, frowzy wanderer creeping 
 back after dusk and humbly tapping at the kitchen 
 door. It hurt him more, though, than he could own, 
 even to himself, that his son should leave him so, and 
 often his heart stopped to hearken to the cracking 
 of the woodwork in the far-along stillness of the 
 night, but it was only a tired beam stretching itself, 
 and not the knuckle of the returning prodigal. 
 When it was too late, he obeyed Mrs. Blymire s ad- 
 
i 9 2 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 vice to employ detectives, but no word ever came 
 from the wandering boy, not even a line to his 
 mother. I don t see why she should have been made 
 to suffer for another s fault, but then women have 
 been doing that since Time began. 
 
 " The chill nights lengthened into the frozen 
 nights, and their house was still left unto them 
 desolate. In my memory there is a silhouette of the 
 judge standing at his library window, blue against 
 the orange light of the soft-coal fire. Overhead, the 
 moon shone fitfully through the clouds, torn by the 
 bleak wind that made the big pines in the Blymire 
 dooryard moan and whisper to themselves. He 
 peered out as if watching for a slim young figure 
 that never darkened the snows. 
 
 " Neighbors noticed that there was always a light 
 in the kitchen of nights, and once Abby Lumbart, 
 who had been help at the judge s ever since Percy 
 was born, let it out accidentally that she had to set 
 out a * cold piece every night. She was so embar 
 rassed and made such haste to explain that it was 
 for the judge, who had a way of waking up hungry 
 along about two or three o clock in the morning, 
 that the neighbors pounced down on the news, like 
 a hawk on a pullet, and it was not very long be 
 fore all Palmyra knew about the cold piece, and 
 guessed it was for Percy, in case he should return 
 unexpectedly late at night. 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 193 
 
 " It was Mrs. Blymire s constant task to combat 
 the judge s notion that the boy had taken to a life 
 of crime. It clung to the old man with the per 
 sistence of a fixed idea. But nobody outside the 
 family dreamed of it until after he began to sub 
 scribe for the Enquirer. He had long abhorred it 
 with the intense hatred of a war-time Republican 
 for a Copperhead newspaper. He made some excuse 
 at the time about reading what the Democrats had 
 to say for themselves, but that was universally re 
 jected as being unsatisfactory. Elmer Cox, who was 
 reading law in the judge s office, observed that he 
 did not look at the political articles at all, but pored 
 over the criminal news, which is very fully given in 
 that paper. One day the old man nearly fainted at 
 the sight of a paragraph. He read it again and again. 
 Finally he cut it out and put it in his pocketbook. 
 He seemed so distressed that Elmer Cox rested not 
 till he got Henry Enright s Enquirer and found, in 
 the place that the judge had scissored out, a dis 
 patch under a Muncie date about a burglar named 
 Blimeyer breaking into a citizen s house and being 
 wounded by the man s shooting a load of bird shot 
 into his legs. The second day s story corrected the 
 name to Bill Meyer, and added that the man was an 
 old thief and second-story crook/ Elmer Cox no 
 ticed what a load was taken from the old judge s 
 mind, and it was the sentiment of the whole com- 
 
i 9 4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 munity, to whom Elmer Cox reported all that he 
 saw and much that he imagined, that Blymire con 
 fidently expected all kinds of onriness of Skin 
 ner, and that he had nobody but himself to blame 
 for it if the boy did go wrong and wind up behind 
 the bars. 
 
 " One day, about nine or ten years after Percy 
 had disappeared, the judge was called up to Marion 
 to try a case, and in the afternoon, too late to bank 
 it, quite a large sum of money was paid to him in 
 settlement of account of an estate for which he was 
 administrator. He was stopping at the Johnson 
 House, but fell in with two old cronies, and forgot 
 to put the money in the hotel safe. It was a warm 
 night in the early June, so unseasonably warm that 
 the judge found it hard to go to sleep, and so lay 
 awake for some time, musing on what had happened 
 in court during the day and trying to forecast what 
 was to come on the morrow. Whether he slept or 
 woke, he suddenly became conscious of another 
 presence in the room. Rousing to full sense, he saw 
 against the pale square of the open window the 
 black shape of the stranger. The faint clink of silver 
 told the judge that the thief was fumbling in the 
 pockets of the trousers hung over the chair back. 
 He smiled grimly in the darkness to think that the 
 pickings would be but scant, and put his hand un 
 der the pillow where his pocketbook, with the 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 195 
 
 widow s money in it, neighbored with his revolver. 
 The touch of the cross-hatched butt suggested the 
 question of his legal right to kill the burglar, and 
 his hand closed around the conformable shape. All 
 men would justify his act, and the jury would acquit 
 him without leaving the box. But why slay a man for 
 thirty-five cents? 
 
 " The click of his watch guard reminded him that 
 he stood to lose something prized highly, a gold 
 watch that cost $120, presented to him by the Tad- 
 mor County bar at the expiration of his term on the 
 bench. 
 
 " Drop that! he shouted. 
 
 " The burglar wheeled quickly, and the next in 
 stant there blazed a dazzling light, there came an 
 ear-splitting crash, and something struck the pillow 
 a vicious blow. The thief waited an instant to see 
 if his shot had taken effect. 
 
 " That instant was the one that the judge, a squir 
 rel hunter of renown in his younger days, chose to 
 aim at the figure between him and the velvet sky, 
 powdered with faint stars. His shot was followed 
 by a coughing grunt and a long whimper. Then the 
 figure toppled out of the window to the ground with 
 a dull thump, and lay there a formless blot in the 
 gloom. 
 
 " In another second the whole hotel was alive. 
 Guests came thronging in, buzzing with inquiries. 
 
196 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Through a back door, suddenly jerked open, 
 streamed a yellow trapezium of light illuminating 
 the man bubbling his life away on the grass. 
 
 " That s the man I shot! cried the judge. I did 
 it in self-defense. He shot at me first. Before God, 
 it was not murder! 
 
 " He hurriedly dressed and ran down the stairs. 
 
 " As he reached the little group, the dying man s 
 legs drew up and extended tremorously, and then 
 lay still forever. 
 
 " I guess he s dead all right/ said the night clerk, 
 and set the lamp down on the ground while he rolled 
 the body so that the light shone on the face. As the 
 features appeared, the judge groaned, reeled, and 
 fell heavily." 
 
 Lippincott paused and then added: " He never 
 regained consciousness. They took him home, and 
 a week later he died. Toward the last they heard 
 him say: I killed him I didn t know The rest 
 was silence." 
 
 "Killed his own son!" whispered Scrimgeour, 
 pallid with horror. 
 
 "Strangely enough," continued Lippincott, as if 
 he did not hear, " within an hour after the judge s 
 death, who should drive up to the door but Percy 
 and his wife and baby? It was a hard blow to him 
 that he could not show to the old man his grandson 
 and namesake, the pledge of filial forgiveness." 
 
THE FICTIONAL MIND 197 
 
 Scrimgeour stared at him in amaze and then burst 
 out with: " But you just now said that the judge 
 killed Percy. Shot him." 
 
 " Not I. The man the judge killed was named 
 Shafer." 
 
 "But how could Alice marry Percy without " 
 
 " Alice didn t marry Percy. She is Mrs. Charles 
 Douthirt. Who ever knew child lovers to mate in 
 mature life? Don t you see that you are the victim 
 of the fictional mind? It was the most unlikely thing 
 in the world that the judge should slay his own son, 
 but that was the only thing you believed could 
 hap " 
 
 " Oh, dry up! " interrupted the angry Scrimgeour. 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 
 
 DIDN T I tell you!" said Brother Otho Lit- 
 tell to his clerk, Clarence Bowersox. " I 
 jox, if he don t beat the Dutch, that feller." 
 
 Clarence had removed his apron and was getting 
 into his overcoat. It was cold out, remarkably cold 
 for the middle of December, and he was hungry for 
 his breakfast after opening up and getting the gro 
 cery ready against Mr. Littell came down. He 
 paused to get a good grip on his coat sleeve and 
 to prepare the torn lining of his overcoat sleeve 
 before he inquired: " What feller? " 
 
 " W y, Abel Horn." 
 
 " What s he Well, dod blast the daggone thing, 
 anyhow! I got to get married or git a new overcoat, 
 I do know which. What s he up to now? " 
 
 " W y, you know that there Christmas-tree cele 
 bration we re goin to have to our church " 
 
 " Is he goin to be Santy Claus? " 
 
 " Urn," assented Brother Littell, taking a chew 
 of fine cut and masticating it mournfully. Brother 
 
 198 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 199 
 
 Littell had had hopes of being struck by lightning 
 himself. He had not more than hinted his ambition 
 to his wife and to Clarence, but he was a prominent 
 member of Center Street M. E.; he had taught in 
 the Sunday school for years; he had given twenty 
 pounds of candy and a box of oranges to be divided 
 up among the children, and he was, as he said, 
 " about the right build and heft for old Santy," so 
 he had thought that perhaps he might be recog 
 nized. He felt it something of a slight that though 
 he was a member of the committee nobody had 
 even so much as mentioned his name, but the 
 prize had been given to Abel Horn as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 " W y, that little sawed-off, dried-up, peaked end 
 o nothin ! " snorted Clarence, this time succeed 
 ing with his sleeve and donning the overcoat by a 
 series of humps and jumps. "What call has he to 
 be Santy Claus? How d they ever come to pick on 
 him?" 
 
 " I jox, I d know," said Brother Littell. " They 
 did, though. Told me once, he did: I never growed 
 a inch tell I was sixteen, and then I shot up luck a 
 weed. Huh!" Mr. Littell could not talk two min 
 utes about Abel Horn without repeating this joke, 
 for Abel s shortness was proverbial. 
 
 "Well, Judas priest! don t you folks to Center 
 Street git about enough o him every Sunday, lead- 
 
200 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 in* the singin , startin in before everybody and 
 hangin on after everybody gits through? " 
 
 " I d know s we re any worse n some others. 
 Comp ny K don t appear to be any ways capable of 
 throwin off the yoke," retorted Brother Littell. 
 Clarence was a corporal in Company K, and when 
 they got up " The Drummer Boy of Shiloh " he had 
 entertained hopes of being chosen to play the hero. 
 He also had his little ambitions. He had studied 
 elocution and was a subscriber to The Dramatic Mir 
 ror, but when that thrilling drama of the Civil War 
 was presented at Melodeon Hall the best part he 
 could get was Orderly to General Grant, while Abel 
 Horn was cast for the hero. When Company K had 
 the walking match and Private Lafe Henderson, 
 amateur, walked against Miss Elsa von Baum, pro 
 fessional pedestrian, Clarence was to have been the 
 announcer, but Abel Horn got in ahead of him there, 
 too. 
 
 Remembering these things, Clarence took his 
 thumb off the latch and returned to Mr. Littell. 
 
 " How does he do it? That s what I want to 
 know," he demanded fiercely. " He don t ever think 
 o* things first. He don t hustle round and git up 
 su scriptions or advertisements for the programmes. 
 He don t see to the printin or do one formed haet, 
 as fur as I can see, to make the entertainment a 
 sucksess, and yit his name is always first on the list 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 201 
 and he crowds in to be head man in everything. You 
 tell me how he does it." 
 
 Apparently Brother Littell refused to divulge the 
 secret. He pursed up his lips, opened the stove door, 
 and spat genteelly on the coals. 
 
 " Tain t as if he was a big, fine-lookin feller, like 
 Mose Tuttle," persisted Clarence, " or spoke his 
 words nice like Well, like Henry Miller, though 
 he ain t never studied elocution; or was a comical 
 actor like Mr. BoZenta, or could play the piano like 
 Charley Pope, or sing nice like Doc Avery. He ain t 
 got any accomplishment, only jist gall. Folks laugh 
 at him, but they let him ride over em, jist the same. 
 Now, why is it? " 
 
 " I jox, I d know," said Mr. Littell thoughtfully. 
 He was remembering what his wife had said to him 
 the night before when he came home and told her 
 what the committee had decided upon. " Huh! " she 
 said. " Huh! And you set there and Well, if I was 
 a man I d be a man and not let myself be led around 
 by any such Johnny-fly-up-the-creek as Abel Horn. 
 I d a told him. No, sir, he couldn t run the whole 
 shebang all the time, and from everlastin to ever- 
 lastin . Why, pa, whatever possessed you? " Mr. 
 Littell said then as he said now: " I jox, I d know." 
 
 " Pity he couldn t do somepin with all that natch- 
 erl ability o his n for blanneyin folks into doin 
 what he wants em to," sneered Clarence, forgetting 
 
202 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 how his breakfast was cooling at the Widow Par 
 ker s, where he boarded. " Pity he couldn t go into 
 business and make his everlastin fortune." 
 
 " I jox! I bet you he could if he was to try once/ 
 said Brother Littell. " He ain t never got around 
 to it, though. Two or three times when he was a 
 boy he wanted to quit school and go to work, but, 
 no, sir! she wouldn t have it. She wasn t goin to 
 have her Abel ordered around by common folks. She 
 was goin to bring him up a gentleman. He wanted 
 to go into business, but they was so much hemmin 
 and hawin about her lettin him have the capital 
 that it all fell through." 
 
 " Cuts everybody out o everything," Clarence 
 jawed on, " but I take notice he can t git married. 
 The girls don t want to take up with no sech little, 
 insignificant-lookin thing." 
 
 " Aw, now, don t you fool yourself, Clarence," 
 corrected Mr. Littell, taking his foot down from the 
 fender. " They ain t no man, Clarence, I don t keer 
 how insignificant-lookin he is or how onry he is, 
 that can t git married to a good woman if he wants 
 to." 
 
 " Then how come Abel don t? He flies around 
 amongs em enough to be a marryin man." 
 
 " On account of his ma, I tell you. She made him 
 promise her he wouldn t git married whilst she was 
 alive. Oh, don t you tell me what you d do and what 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 203 
 you wouldn t do. You don t know that woman. For 
 all she s so giggly and gushy she makes him walk 
 a chalk when he s with her. He can ride over other 
 folks, but he don t dass to say his soul s his own 
 around home, ner his pa, either, when he was alive. 
 Abel flies around amongs em, yes, but not stiddy 
 with any one girl, if you take notice. 5 
 
 "Lide Burkhart" 
 
 " Oh, well, Lide. He s be n goin with Lide now 
 sence she put on long dresses. Went with all her 
 sisters, too. Looks like Lide s elected to stay at 
 home. Darn shame, too. Pick o the whole tribe, I 
 say. Pretty girl and a good girl." 
 
 " Right old for a girl," commented Clarence 
 dryly. 
 
 " O pshaw! O pshaw! She don t look a day over 
 twenty-nine. I d know s she is much either. She 
 took off that part in The Drummer Boy reel nice, 
 didn t she? " 
 
 " Aw, say ! She was all right, now, I tell you ! " 
 declared the enthusiastic Clarence. " No discountin 
 her. She s got reel ability. You know that place 
 where she comes in an says " 
 
 " Folks talked it around that that was about the 
 first time her and Abel ever got a right good chance 
 to make love like they wanted to," interrupted 
 Brother Littell, with more meaning in his words 
 than Clarence appreciated. 
 
204 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Her actin in the love scenes was all right. But 
 he was rotten. W y, when he come back from the 
 war, you know, and everybody thought he was dead, 
 and he throwed his arms around her fine situation. 
 I wisht I d a had that part w y, the top o his 
 head didn more n come up to her chin. Jist killed 
 the scene. No heart interest. It was jist funny." 
 
 " You run along now and gitch breakfast. Sist 
 Parker ll be in my wool lettin you keep the break 
 fast dishes standin so long." 
 
 " Better order in some more sugar. We re about 
 out, and they ll be a big call for it for their pies and 
 puddens and things." 
 
 " I jox! I meant to do that yesterday. Them s nice 
 cranberries, ain t they? I d know s I ever seen any 
 nicer. You run along now and gitch breakfast and 
 hurry right back." 
 
 In one way it would have made Abel Horn feel 
 bad to know what people said about him. Nobody 
 likes to be laughed at. In another way, it would have 
 pleased him. Everybody likes to be envied. He had 
 good enough opinion of himself to be able to treat 
 the talk of some " with silent contempt," as the 
 phrase goes, or to " take it from whence it came," 
 as another phrase goes. As for the other people, he 
 knew that they liked him. Nobody could help doing 
 that, for Abel was as good as wheat. He would have 
 known that if they resented his officiousness it was 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 205 
 
 just as we resent the officiousness of a police officer 
 and yet we would not be without the policeman. 
 
 Abel was popular with the " younger crowd," and, 
 even if old Marinus Moran declared that he had for 
 got more religion than Abel Horn ever knew, and 
 Uncle Billy Nicholson and a few more of them up 
 in the Amen corner were opposed to him for having 
 the choir sing voluntaries before meeting took up, 
 the " older crowd " recognized the fact that Abel s 
 membership in Center Street M. E. was no occa 
 sion for stumbling, and his loud and tireless leading 
 of the singing at protracted meeting time was a 
 great help. Brother Nicholson was a little behind 
 the times, anyhow. He was opposed to oyster sup 
 pers in the church parlors, and just now was going 
 about like a roaring lion raging against having a 
 Christmas tree and Santa Claus. 
 
 On the other hand, Abel was thought to have be 
 haved badly in regard to Lide Burkhart. At one 
 time everybody was sure he was going to marry Lide 
 whether or no, but as time went on the town settled 
 down to the belief that Abel had let his mother bluff 
 him out of it. He still went with Lide, and always 
 saw her home from choir meeting, but he went with 
 other girls, too, so it was concluded that he was 
 not even engaged to her. 
 
 Everybody said: "Look at it in a business way, 
 of course Abel d be foolish to take a wife to sup- 
 
206 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 port when he didn t have no way of purvidin for 
 her. He never learnt a trade and never had no busi 
 ness experience. And it u d be Jerush Horn all over 
 to turn him out with jist the clothes to his back. 
 She ll have her own way if she busts a hamestring." 
 
 Nevertheless, lovers are expected to do rash 
 things, and if Abel Horn had defied his mother all the 
 town would have " gloried in his spunk," even if 
 they had not found employment for him. Jobs are 
 scarce in Minuca Center. 
 
 But what about Lide Burkhart? The women folks 
 said that if she was left an old maid it was her own 
 fault, and they didn t pity her one bit. She always 
 did think herself a little above anybody else. If she 
 didn t have any more pluck than to Well, what 
 was the use? It was her own affair, and if she didn t 
 care any more than she let on to, why, it wasn t 
 any hide off their backs as far as they could see. But 
 still . . . 
 
 And that " but still " meant a great deal, please 
 remember. As Minnie De Wees said: "These here 
 long engagements, you needn t tell me. There s a 
 nigger in the woodpile, somewheres or somewheres 
 else. Now you mark." 
 
 II 
 
 It was a curious fact that Abel should take so 
 much less interest in being Santa Claus than his 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 207 
 mother. Wouldn t you think, now, that a spare, wiry, 
 little man would regard his selection for such a part 
 as the highest possible tribute to his powers of per 
 suasion? His mother did and chuckled over it no 
 little, but Abel did not seem to care much. She 
 dragged it out of him bit by bit, what he said to 
 them and what they said to him, how Brother Lit- 
 tell had asked if it oughtn t to be a kind of " pussy," 
 heavy-set man, because Santa Claus was kind of 
 " pussy " and heavy-set in the pictures, and how 
 Abel had said, no, it would be better to have an 
 active, light man to climb down on the scantlings 
 of which the scenic chimney was to be built at the 
 back of the pulpit platform. 
 
 " He was hintin ," said Mrs. Horn, winking as 
 she bit off her thread. " He was puttin in a good 
 word for himself there. What they goin to do with 
 the sofy?" 
 
 Abel said nothing, but stared at the stove. 
 
 " What they goin to do with the sofy, I ast you? " 
 
 " What sofy? " 
 
 " What sofy? W y, the sofy Brother Longenecker 
 sets on, o course. What they goin to do with it? 
 Take it into the study? " 
 
 "Oh, the sofy. W y ah " 
 
 " W y what? " snapped his mother after waiting 
 long enough for Abel to come out of his trance. 
 
 " W y, they re goin to leave it there and build 
 
208 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 the chimney around it. They re goin to cover it up 
 with red tinsel and stuff so s to look like a bed o 
 coals. Be easy to light on, too." 
 
 "Laws! I don t believe any o them young ones 
 ever seen a old-fashioned fireplace. I s pose they 
 won t have no crane nor nothin to hang a kittle on." 
 
 Abel was silent. 
 
 "What s got into you here lately?" she de 
 manded. " I don t know what ails you. Set there 
 and set there and never open your head. Ain t you 
 well?" 
 
 " W y, yes, I m all right." 
 
 " Well, you don t act all right. Don t you go to 
 gittin sick now, not till after Christmas, anyways. 
 I wouldn t miss that for a pretty. Stand up. I want 
 to try this here Santy Claus suit on you. It s goin 
 to look awful cute. Go easy, now; it s only basted. 
 Now, if it binds you in under the armholes you must 
 tell me," she said, with her mouth full of pins, turn 
 ing him around and pulling him this way and that as 
 if he were a dummy. " You needn t to mind if it s 
 too full in front. I got to low for the stuffin ." 
 
 "Put a pillow in?" 
 
 " W y, no, child. I thought some o usin excel 
 sior. Don t forget to remind me to get some to 
 morrow. Hold still. I ain t done marktin yet. I m 
 goin to trim it all up with cotton battin to look 
 like white fur. I was thinkin o swan s-down, but 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 209 
 
 they s no use goin to that expense. I ll make you 
 a pointed cap and sew in some wickin for hair, and 
 I got a false-face nose with whiskers to it that you 
 can tie over your ears. I picked it out down to Cox s 
 to-day." 
 
 Abel put it on to please her and cut up a few 
 monkey shines, but his heart was not in it. He sat 
 around a while, and at last he said he believed he d 
 go out for a walk. His mother said she d sit up for 
 him, but he told her not to. 
 
 As she sewed she smiled. She was as pleased to 
 dress him up as if he were a doll, and she a girl 
 again. In none of his other public performances had 
 she had the making of his costume. Though he was 
 getting bald in front, he was her " baby " yet, a 
 kind of plaything, not to be seriously regarded. She 
 had done her duty by the four girls by Mr. Horn s 
 first wife, but Abel had been her pet. She could 
 hardly wait till the girls got married and moved 
 away to enjoy life with her own son. She was rather 
 glad he had not grown up to be a tall man. Little 
 men were cuter. Abel was always so cute. 
 
 Other people besides her were noticing that Abel 
 was very quiet here lately. Sometimes he would 
 laugh and cut up as usual, and then again they said 
 that he " acted as if somepin was kind of on his 
 mind." They wondered what. 
 
 Clarence Bowersox told Brother Littell the Satur- 
 
210 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 day morning before Christmas (it came on Wednes 
 day that year): " Say, whadda you s pose? " 
 
 Mr. Littell was feeling frisky that morning so he 
 made answer: " I can s pose most anything you like, 
 Clarence." 
 
 " Aw, now, I ain t foolin . I m in earnest. I was 
 comin along in front o Burkhart s last night, and lo 
 and behold you there was Abel and Lide a-holdin 
 a close confab over the gate " 
 
 " He always takes her home from choir meetin s. 
 That don t signify nothin ." 
 
 " Wait till I tell you. We was walkin along 
 slow " 
 
 "Who s we?" 
 
 " W y, me and this party I was escortin home. 
 And jist as we " 
 
 " I thought you and Gertie had broke it off? " 
 
 " Well, so we did, but we made it up ag in. I jist 
 ignored her, let on I didn t know she was alive, but 
 when I went there yisterday morning for the order 
 she come out, and first thing you know we was good 
 friends ag in, same as ever, and I ast her if I could 
 call for her in the evenin you know they re trim- 
 min up the Prispaterian church, her an a lot more 
 an " 
 
 " What s that got to do with Lide and Abel?" 
 
 " Well, I d tell you if you d only keep still long 
 enough to let me. We was standin still, kind o , 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 211 
 
 and all of a sudden I heard Lide speak up: I jist 
 can t stand it this way no longer! she says, her 
 voice all trimbly and excited, like she was a-cryin . 
 Or, It jist can t go on this way no longer. I won t 
 be sure which. And Abel ketched sight of us and 
 says: Ssh! Here comes somebody, and we come 
 on past and didn t hear no more. But I seen her 
 wipe her eyes or leastways she put her handkerchief 
 up. Now what about that? " 
 
 " I jox! I wonder! " said Mr. Littell, half whisper 
 ing. 
 
 " Well," said Clarence grimly, looking to one 
 side. " There you are. There s somepin up now, sure 
 as you re a foot high." 
 
 Mr. Littell meant as much as anything to tell this 
 to his wife when he went home to dinner that noon, 
 and to ask her what she thought about it. But it 
 was a very busy morning and he forgot. That night 
 at supper he knew there was something he wanted 
 to say, but he had to hurry back to the store and 
 he never did think of it until the cat was out of the 
 bag entirely. Mrs. Littell told him then she was just 
 provoked at him, so she was. She never saw such a 
 man. 
 
 Ill 
 
 I don t know what gets into the days before 
 Christmas to make them drag along so, but even 
 
212 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 the longest days will pass, so that finally seven-thirty 
 Christmas eve did come around and the Center 
 Street M. E. children, and a lot more that began to 
 go to Sunday school about that time, found them 
 selves packed in the pews, not in the regular places 
 for their classes, but the infant class in the front 
 seats, and so on back to the older members of the 
 congregation. In the right-hand Amen corner were 
 the children from the "Barefoot " church up in 
 Stringtown (Faith Mission was the right name for 
 it). The shabby little young ones in quaint, bunchy, 
 made-over clothes were the guests of Center Street 
 for this occasion. Lide Burkhart had them in charge, 
 because Clara JoHantgen, who had drilled them, had 
 suddenly taken a bad sore throat. Little Rosetta 
 Smith, one of old Very Dirty Smith s thirteen or 
 fourteen, sat next to Lide, and kept looking up into 
 her face. Lide smiled down at her. She was a pretty 
 little thing. She made signs she wanted to whisper to 
 her. Lide bent down. She put her arms around 
 Lide s neck. 
 
 " Teacher," she whispered. " Are they any Santy 
 Claus? " 
 
 " Why, yes," answered Lide. " You just wait and 
 you ll see him." 
 
 " Aw, now, you re kiddin ." 
 
 " Honest," said Lide. " Cross my heart." And she 
 did. 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 213 
 
 The child gave a happy sigh. It was all right if 
 teacher crossed her heart. 
 
 The left-hand Amen corner was where the choir 
 sat. Right by them was the door that led down 
 stairs to the pastor s study. A row of screens masked 
 the approach from the study to the back of the 
 scenic chimney down which Santa Claus was to 
 climb. Arching above it on the wall, tacked on 
 the mackerel sky that showed between the pillars 
 of the marble temple painted on the plaster, was 
 the motto: "GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGH 
 EST," made of cedar. I need not tell you that 
 the N and the S were hind side before. They 
 always are. 
 
 But the main thing was the Christmas tree, twin 
 kling and glittering with its candles and fruitage of 
 gilded glass. Yards and yards of strung popcorn 
 looped from branch to branch whereon hung hun 
 dreds of red mosquito netting bags of candy. The 
 air was spicy with oranges, and though the children 
 from the Barefoot church swallowed and swallowed, 
 their chins were wet most of the time, the smell of 
 candy and oranges was so strong. 
 
 Everybody was on the broad grin and the chil 
 dren jumped and fidgeted and whispered, and little 
 Selma Morgenroth, who had never been to Sunday 
 school in her life until the week before, got so ex 
 cited when she saw another little girl she knew that 
 
214 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 she cried: " O Maggie! Oo-hoo! " and fluttered her 
 hand at her. 
 
 The nervous tension was very near the breaking 
 point when Mr. Perkypile, the superintendent, came 
 forward and stood by the Christmas tree to say: 
 " The school will now come to order. We will open 
 the exercises by singing number thirty-seven. Num 
 ber thirty-seven. Now, children, you all know this, 
 and I want you to sing out now. Don t be afraid 
 to let the people hear how nice you can sing." Num 
 ber thirty-seven was " Merry, Merry Christmas 
 Bells/ and in their efforts to sing out the children 
 scowled and twisted their jaws, and almost tore the 
 lining out of their throats. If you had not known 
 they were singing you would have thought they 
 were being skinned alive, by the sound of it. 
 
 Brother Longenecker offered prayer, which he 
 had the grace to make a short one, and then he 
 talked about the first Christmas that ever was. 
 
 How beautiful that story is! When our first par 
 ents peered through the guarded gateway of the 
 Eden they had lost forever, how sadly lovely must 
 have seemed that glowing sward, those waving 
 branches in whose pleasant shade they nevermore 
 might walk again. Something of their longing makes 
 our hearts ache as we turn backward for a moment 
 to the shepherds abiding in the field keeping watch 
 over their flock by night. The soft Judean heaven 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 215 
 bends above them, vast, silent, patterned with far- 
 off shining stars. On the dim sky line rise formless 
 blots of shadow, hills and clumps of trees by day. 
 The dried grass whispers in the gentle wind. A 
 sheep bell tinkles softly. A lambkin s fluttering cry 
 arises and is hushed. A twig snaps loudly in the 
 stillness. 
 
 O shepherds, drowse not! This is the Holy Night 
 of all that were and shall be. This is the solemn 
 moment round which, as round the polestar, circles 
 the vast perimeter of all time. The world awaits it, 
 breathless, hushed. 
 
 On the instant the dark shadows on the horizon s 
 rim leap into their day s likeness in a flood of light. 
 The dazzled shepherds shade their eyes. A radiant 
 stranger stands before them, his wings a-quiver with 
 arrested flight. " Fear not," he says, " for, behold, 
 I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be 
 to all people. For unto you is born this day in the 
 city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 
 And this shall be a sign unto you: ye shall find the 
 babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a man- 
 ger." 
 
 There is a moment of silence. The shepherds hear 
 the blood thudding in their ears, and then the 
 heavens flash with rosy light. The sky is thronged 
 with rank on rank of quiring angels singing, " Glory 
 to God in the highest and on earth peace, good will 
 
216 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 toward men." Rank on rank they swim in the still 
 air, each glistening chanter bearing his part, treble 
 and counter, tenor and bass, sweeter their voices, ah, 
 sweeter far than any cathedral choir! The floating 
 skeins of melody weave in and out in heavenly po 
 lyphony, twining and intertwining till they knot at 
 last in sevenfold amen. The light fades slowly as 
 the music dies. The shadows on the sky line creep 
 nearer and nearer till once more only the pale stars 
 twinkle overhead. The shepherds hearken, but they 
 hear only the tall grasses whispering in the night 
 wind, only the tinkling of the sheep s bell, only the 
 lambkin s fluttering cry that rises and is hushed 
 again. The shepherds sigh and we sigh with them. 
 So soon those angel visitors are gone and gone from 
 earth forever! It is in vain we stretch our hands be 
 seeching: 
 
 Angels, sing on, your faithful watches keeping, 
 Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above. 
 
 Ah, happy shepherds! Would that we, too, might 
 now go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing 
 which is come to pass! But our Eden is closed to 
 us. From among the thorns and thistles we peer 
 through the guarded gateway of our childhood s 
 faith and mark how lovely are the waving branches 
 in whose pleasant shade we nevermore may walk 
 again. 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 217 
 
 Well, that wasn t the way Brother Longenecker 
 told it. He rocked back and forth on heels and toes, 
 his finger tips joined together and a smile s corpse 
 coming and going on his mouth. " Dear children," 
 said he, " who can tell me what is this day we cele 
 brate? " 
 
 " Christmas! " They all knew that. 
 
 " Christmas. Yes, it is Christmas. And why is it 
 the gladdest and happiest day of all the year? " 
 
 A confused babble out of which one might pick 
 the shriek of, " Cause we get Christmas gif s." 
 
 " Yes. We get Christmas gifts and we give Christ 
 mas gifts. And why do we give Christmas gifts? In 
 memory of the greatest Christmas gift the world has 
 ever had. Now what is the greatest Christmas gift 
 in all the world?" 
 
 Silence at first and then one little boy pipes up: 
 "A pair o skates!" 
 
 In the laughter that followed Brother Longenecker 
 could be seen rather than heard to say: " No, no." 
 One little girl stuck up her hand and snapped her 
 fingers till she got the floor, primly squalling: 
 " Jesus Christ was born on Christmas Day," switch 
 ing the tail of her dress to one side as she bounced 
 down again. 
 
 That was the way that Brother Longenecker told 
 the Bethlehem story. 
 
 After he got through, Miss McGoldrick read off 
 
2i8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 a whole lot of poetry that she made up herself and 
 little Curg Emerson spoke a piece about: 
 
 Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house 
 Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse. 
 
 Maybe you have heard it. It is a nice piece, but 
 poor little Lycurgus was so scared he didn t know 
 what to do with himself and he completely forgot 
 all the gestures his ma had taken such pains to teach 
 him. He kept opening and shutting his hands and 
 trying to swallow a terrible lump in his throat. 
 
 I can t begin to tell you all the things that they 
 put in to prolong the agony and keep the children 
 waiting. But finally the screens that masked the way 
 from the study began to wabble and then the chim 
 ney shook and there! down bounced Santa Claus 
 on the fiery sofa and out on the floor, the funniest 
 little, fat, red-nosed man that ever was, with white 
 whiskers and a red suit all trimmed with white fur. 
 
 A shrill scream of joyous welcome greeted him, 
 and even the solemn-faced bunchy little " Barefeet " 
 with the knit hoods clapped their skinny hands. It 
 made Lide catch her breath to see them. In an 
 excess of motherly feeling she hugged little Rosetta 
 to her. The child looked up smiling. It was all true 
 about old Santy, " no kiddinV But when he came 
 over to where they were, to hand them each the little 
 bag of candy and the orange, they shrank from him. 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 219 
 
 It is not good to come too close to supernatural 
 beings. They feared the Greeks even bearing gifts. 
 But only for a moment. And then what a crunching 
 of candies and ripping open of oranges! For that 
 matter, the whole church was soon a shambles of 
 sweets, and when the sexton came to clean up he 
 had no words to express his detestation and hor 
 ror of the whole wretched business. 
 
 "Jist look at that there carpet!" he quivered. 
 "Look at it! Now, ain t that " But he could say 
 no more. 
 
 Little Rosetta sucked her candy stingily, but 
 saved her orange, she told Lide, for her sick ma. 
 She watched Santa hopping around in comic haste, 
 her eyes round with wonder. Suddenly she dropped 
 her orange and clutched the top of the partition that 
 masked the front pew in which she sat. She stood 
 up and screamed. But the hubbub was so loud that 
 her shrill voice was unheard. 
 
 "Oh, look at Santy!" she cried. "Oh, look at 
 him! Looky! looky! " 
 
 Everybody else had said that hours before. In 
 a transport of rage at being ignored the child 
 began slapping her neighbors and jumping up and 
 down. 
 
 " Here, here! " corrected Lide. " Behave yourself, 
 little girl." 
 
 " Look at Santy! look at Santy! " she sobbed, and 
 
220 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 flung herself into Lide s arms frantically. " Teacher, 
 teacher, look at Santy!" 
 
 Lide gave a look and then, placing her hands on 
 the partition, vaulted over it as she had not done 
 since she was a girl. She rushed into the altar tear 
 ing off her coat as she ran. 
 
 A pale blaze flickered on the cotton trimming of 
 Abel s suit. 
 
 It spread like fire in powder. He was all aflame 
 in an instant. He tore wildly at his garments. The 
 children laughed to see his antics, and then their 
 laugh died in horror in their throats, and they rose 
 to their feet gasping. 
 
 Lide was fighting with the wild creature trying to 
 muffle him in her coat, while he threw her away 
 from him writhing in agony. 
 
 A big hobbledehoy sitting next to Clarence 
 started up bawling, " Fi ! " But Clarence clapped 
 his hand over his mouth, snarling, " Shut up, you 
 damn fool! Do you want everybody tromped to 
 death? Set down and keep quiet, or I ll knock your 
 head off." 
 
 " Keep your seats, everybody! " cried Mr. Longe- 
 necker. " There is no danger! " 
 
 But the word " danger " frightened them and with 
 one impulse the packed pews strove to empty them 
 selves at once. The men clambered over the seats 
 and trod on shrieking women and children. Clarence 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 221 
 
 leaped into the aisle and bellowed, " Ladies first! 
 Git back there, you! Easy, now. No crowdin ! 
 Ladies first!" 
 
 Henry Myrice came bursting down the aisle yell 
 ing: " Lemme out! lemme out!" Bang! went Clar 
 ence s fist on Henry s jaw. The man toppled over 
 against a pew. 
 
 " What s the matter with you? " he whimpered. 
 
 "Ladies first!" shouted Clarence. "Next man 
 gits it jist the same. Ladies first!" 
 
 Over in the other aisle Lester Pettitt caught up 
 the word. " Ladies first! " he kept crying, and pres 
 ently the men and boys recovered their senses and 
 waited their turn to get out. 
 
 Dr. Avery, who had sung a solo that night and 
 was near the altar, ran to Lide s assistance. 
 
 " Don t try to take his things off here," he said 
 to her. " Let s get him out. Here, somebody take 
 a hold." But nobody heeded. The librarian of the 
 Sunday school could think of nothing more instant 
 than blowing out the candles on the Christmas tree 
 and went hopping around puffing at them. Mr. 
 Perkypile stood perfectly still, fear-mazed. Lide 
 gave one look around, then stooping she lifted the 
 shoulders of the groaning man and kissed him on 
 the mouth. 
 
 " Come on, doctor," she said, as she rose stag 
 gering with her burden. " You take his feet. I can 
 
222 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 manage. Over to my house. We live across the 
 street." 
 
 When Mrs. Horn came out of her faint they led 
 her down into the study. She stopped her little cries 
 of "Oh, oh, oh!" to look through the open door 
 at the crowd on Burkhart s veranda. With swift 
 accession of strength she ran thither. 
 
 When she entered the room, Dr. Avery looked 
 up from the work of stripping the charred costume 
 from the sufferer. " Don t let anybody in," he said 
 imperiously. 
 
 " I m his mother," cried Mrs. Horn. " I guess I ll 
 come in if I want to. O my boy! O Abel, Abel, 
 you ll be all scarred up if you ever do get well! O 
 dear! O dear! Why didn t you take him home? 
 Home s the best place. Yes, home s the best place 
 for my poor, poor boy! " 
 
 " Madam, you ll have to keep quiet or I can t 
 have you in here," said Dr. Avery. 
 
 "She s in here!" screamed Mrs. Horn. "Pretty 
 thing if I can t be with my own boy. What right has 
 she got here? I should think if she had any decency 
 about her " 
 
 " I have every right in the world here," said Lide 
 quietly, " I am his wife. Just a second, doctor," and 
 she went on deftly scissoring away the smoldering 
 fabric. 
 
 His wife! Abel looked at his mother and nodded 
 
THE MAKIN S OF ABEL HORN 223 
 
 painfully. She gave a low cry and tottered out of 
 the room. 
 
 It never rains but it pours in Minuca Center, and 
 the excitement over the panic in the church was 
 hardly greater than the discovery that Abel Horn 
 and Lide Burkhart had been married for more than 
 two years, and had kept it a secret. 
 
 " I wouldn t a put it apast Abel Horn to do sech 
 a fool trick," said Sarepta Downey, talking it over 
 with Lester Pettitt and his wife, "but la me! I did 
 think Lide had more sense. Now if it was me gittin 
 married I d want everybody to know it." 
 
 Mr. Pettitt kept a straight face. 
 
 " A man s natcherly romantic, anyhow," continued 
 the little old maid, " and then his ma bein so set 
 on him stayin single while she lived. But mercy! 
 It s different with a woman. She s got to " 
 
 Mrs. Pettitt frowned and shook her head, giving 
 it a little jerk toward Janey, who was listening 
 eagerly. " What s Miz Horn goin to do about it? " 
 she asked by way of diversion. " I mean old Miz 
 Horn. Sounds funny to call her old Miz Horn, 
 don t it? " 
 
 " Oh, she says he s made his bed and he s got 
 to lay in it. She found out he was goin to git well, 
 though, before she said it. Say. Do you know, they 
 say he won t be marked up hardly a bit when his 
 
224 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 hair and eyebrows grows out? Yes, sir, she s done 
 with him, his ma is. So she says. Not a cent will she 
 give him. Ain t that green, though? " 
 
 " Abel ll come out top o the heap," said Lester. 
 " I ll bet on Abel." 
 
 So he did. The event was, as everybody said, " the 
 makin s " of him. About then folks began to talk of 
 a trolley road. Abel undertook to secure the prop 
 erty owners consent and engineer the franchise. 
 If he never again appeared in any entertainment it 
 was because he was too busy bullyragging and 
 " blanneying " people into giving him rights of way 
 for nothing or the next thing to it. He is something 
 of a magnate in that line of business and making 
 money hand over fist. 
 
 His mother? Oh, she s quarreled with Abel and 
 Lide a dozen times since then. There was a grand 
 flare-up when they wouldn t name the baby Abelina 
 Jerusha. Yes, it s a girl; born the latter part of the 
 next April after. Sweet little thing, too. 
 
THE LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 
 
 IT was hard that Bob Prouty should have been 
 dismissed just at the beginning of the dull sea 
 son, when it was useless to look for employ 
 in his line; but a calamity that brought him home 
 from New York for a good long visit, the first in 
 years, was not one to grieve over very much. 
 
 The difficult question: " What do you do with all 
 your money? " had been answered as well as it ever 
 can be, the question being from the standpoint of 
 Minuca Center, the answer from the standpoint of 
 New York. Followed the next important query 
 did Bob " go " with anybody there? Mrs. Prouty 
 concluded that it must be a very queer place indeed 
 if it was as hard there for a young man to get 
 acquainted with nice girls as Bob made out it was. 
 
 " Don t you go to church, ever? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, sometimes. No, not regularly to any one 
 place. Well, to Trinity as often as anywhere. They 
 had good singing there." 
 
 " Well, now, I tell you what you do," advised 
 
 225 
 
226 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Mrs. Prouty. " When you go back in the fall you 
 go call on the pastor what s his name?" 
 
 "The rector of Trinity? Dr. Dix." 
 
 " Why, is he there yet? " interjected Mr. Prouty. 
 " He is, eh? They must like his preaching pretty 
 well." 
 
 " You go call on this Mr. Dix, and tell him you 
 attend his church, and then you take in their so 
 ciables and oyster suppers and whatever doings they 
 have in the parlors of the church in the long win 
 ter evenings. If I was you, I d go to the young 
 people s meetings, and join the choir. Why, you d 
 be acquainted with lots of nice girls in no time, 
 scarcely." 
 
 As Bob dramatized these suggestions, they 
 seemed pathetically comic. His mother divined his 
 smile rather than saw it. 
 
 11 Oh, whatever church you like," she made haste 
 to add. " There s plenty of nice girls in all of them. 
 I just worry and worry about you, away off there 
 with nobody to look after you and see that your 
 socks aren t one mass of holes. You ought to get 
 married. It would be the making of you, if you 
 could get the right kind of a wife. And you could, 
 too no bad habits, and strong and healthy and fine 
 looking oh, you needn t say Huh! for you are; 
 I don t care if you are my boy. You could take your 
 pick of them." 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 227 
 
 " Yes, I s pose," scoffed Bob. " Just walk up and 
 say, I choose you, and she d come right along." 
 
 " Oh, now, you know what I mean. It ain t right 
 for you to stay single, and you going on twenty- 
 seven." 
 
 "Yes," jeered Bob; "I d look well with a wife 
 right now, wouldn t I?" 
 
 " O fiddle! " replied his father. " You ll find some 
 thing as good as you had, as soon as business opens 
 up again in the fall. On the wages you were getting 
 you could easy keep yourself and a wife, and lay 
 up money. See here!" 
 
 And with a pencil and the back of an envelope, 
 Mr. Prouty demonstrated again the ancient para 
 dox that what will just about do for one is an ample 
 competence for two. 
 
 II 
 
 The shame of being idle and living off his father 
 for a whole summer Bob Prouty found more tol 
 erable than he had imagined. It was not such a slow 
 little town, after all. There were the annual lawn 
 fetes of the various churches, each of which was at 
 tended by the members of the other churches with 
 an evangelical charity beautiful to behold. There 
 were all kinds of picnics, whereat assisted many 
 young women who remembered him much better 
 than he remembered them. Some of these young 
 
228 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 women were pretty. Marie Hutchins was an un 
 doubted beauty, and none of them was as provincial 
 and countrified as he had feared. 
 
 Miss Hutchins beauty had dazzled him at first, 
 but not for long. Beyond the limit of an extrava 
 gant compliment from him, a flashing of her big, 
 blue eyes, with " Oh, yes, you say that to every 
 body/ and his succeeding protest, he found it diffi 
 cult to extend a conversation. Jennie Lineacre was 
 beautiful, too, in a graver, more statuesque way; but 
 she was so patently affected that her hour was brief. 
 Grace Hoover was the jolliest little thing, " the life 
 of the party," as they say, but to be always on the 
 lookout for a witticism and to be obliged to cap 
 it with another was too great a strain. 
 
 That was the worst of most of them, Bob found 
 they thought they had to exert themselves to en 
 tertain. Perhaps it was because she wasn t eternally 
 clacking away at him that he often found himself in 
 the company of Alice La Fetra. He had known Alice 
 since he was a boy, for his mother and hers were 
 old friends. They swapped patterns and recipes, and 
 were always running back and forth. Bob and Alice 
 had never known much of each other, for she was 
 younger than he, and a girl. The last time he was 
 at home she was gangling and awkward. Since then 
 she had improved, and was now not bad looking, 
 though he would not call her beautiful. But, he ad- 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 229 
 
 mitted to himself, he had very seldom seen a woman 
 that he would call really beautiful. What was most 
 in Alice s favor was that she didn t make him tired. 
 What she said was sensible and well expressed; but 
 if she didn t say anything, she was company, just the 
 same. She was going to teach a kindergarten in the 
 fall, having finished her preparatory studies. She 
 was musical, though not a wonderful player or 
 singer. She was a musician rather than a performer. 
 There is a difference. 
 
 Bob s mother delighted to pretend that he was her 
 little boy still. It saved her so many steps for him to 
 " run over to Mrs. La Fetra s " and do this, that, 
 and the other errand. Mollie and Sue La Fetra were 
 away for the summer, and Alice was the only one 
 that Mrs. La Fetra had to send on errands to Mrs. 
 Prouty s. Both families belonged to the same Meth 
 odist church, and, naturally enough, Alice and Bob 
 walked home together on Sunday mornings with 
 their parents. It was the custom there for the young 
 people to attend other churches in the evening; and 
 if Bob asked Alice to go with him, it was because 
 it was less trouble to do that than to hunt up an 
 other girl. Then there were these picnics and lawn 
 fetes, and walks to the Sulphur Spring. He liked 
 to row, but it was a bore to go alone, so he took 
 Alice, because she didn t squeal and wiggle about 
 and dabble her hands in the water. 
 
2 3 o FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Most of Bob s schoolmates had gone away from 
 Minuca Center. Those who were left, while good- 
 hearted and all that, were rather limited in their 
 ideas. Out of sheer inability to pass the time in any 
 other satisfactory way, he got into the habit of go 
 ing over to the La Fetras in the evening, instead 
 of downtown. 
 
 When Frank Woodmansee told Bob that Harry 
 Allgire had asked if he was " going with " Alice La 
 Fetra, it first angered and then amused him. He 
 told his mother about it. 
 
 "Harry Allgire? Isn t he the fellow that s going 
 with that De Wees girl?" 
 
 " Going with her? Why, it s the worst case you 
 ever saw. She walks down to meet him coming home 
 to dinner, and walks back with him after. We meet 
 them every place, Alice and I." 
 
 " Oh, well, I wouldn t pay any attention to it, if 
 I was you," said Mrs. Prouty. " Alice is a nice 
 enough girl, but " 
 
 " Why, that s just it. Of course she s nice, and I 
 like her immensely, but as far as going with her 
 is concerned, why, I never thought of such a thing. 
 And I don t suppose she has, either." 
 
 " No, I reckon not," said Mrs. Prouty, but she 
 did not seem to be so positive about it as her son. 
 " Her mother was saying I don t know as I ought 
 to tell you." 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 231 
 
 " Oh, go on, tell me. What did she say? " 
 
 " Well, come to think, I don t know as I can tell 
 just in so many words; but the amount of it was that 
 she thought Alice thought a good deal of you." She 
 eyed him sharply to see how he took it. He looked 
 very grave. Then she added: " She said Alice said 
 there was something to what you had to say. I think 
 myself she thinks you re just about right." 
 
 Bob was troubled in his mind. He hadn t sup 
 posed that Alice would attach any more importance 
 to their friendship than he had. It was a funny thing 
 if a fellow couldn t be civil to a girl without her 
 going and falling in love with him. It just spoiled 
 everything. He was in no position to pay serious 
 attentions to any woman. He was not employed, and 
 Lord knew when he would be. It was no easy thing 
 to get a place as good as the one that he had given 
 up because he would not submit to be talked to 
 as Maxwell had talked to him. Even so, the salary 
 was none too much for one, let alone two, he didn t 
 care how his father figured. 
 
 Anyhow, he meant to look around a little before 
 settling on a final choice. On the train coming 
 West with him there was a girl. She was with 
 her father, so he had not But he had caught 
 her looking at him once. Now, a girl like that, for 
 instance! 
 
 Alice was nice, no doubt about that. He would 
 
232 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 like to take her and show her around New York. 
 She would appreciate it all, because she had such 
 sensible ideas. He d like to take her to the Metro 
 politan Opera House. It was something pathetic to 
 think that a girl with her taste in music, and her 
 understanding of it, had never even heard " Faust." 
 It would be a pleasure to watch her pleasure. And 
 he would be proud to be seen with her, for, though 
 she wasn t exactly a beauty, she looked about as 
 well as any girl he was acquainted with. She was 
 distinguished in a way, and her face was so express 
 ive. She was stylish, too, and what she wore was 
 in good taste. A man might do worse than marry 
 her. In fact, the fellow that got her would be dis 
 tinctly lucky; but it was out of the question for Bob 
 to think of that, because he didn t love her. 
 
 He thought a great deal of her, it was true. She 
 was such good company. She didn t make him tired, 
 as other girls did. But if she was going to fall in 
 love with him, why he wished he hadn t said he 
 would be over that evening. But he had said so, 
 and she would be disappointed if he didn t call. 
 
 " Ah, Bob, going courting? " gayly inquired his 
 father as his son came out on the veranda after sup 
 per. " I see you re all togged out." 
 
 " No, indeed," replied Mr. Robert Prouty gravely, 
 determined to put an end to such nonsense. " No, 
 just making a call." 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 233 
 
 "Well, give her my love/ returned his father 
 with ready wit. " And say ! Tell La Fetra I can 
 beat him a game of cribbage if he ll come over." 
 Mr. Prouty turned to confront his wife s disapprov 
 ing visage. "Why, what s wrong now?" he asked 
 guiltily as soon as Bob was out of earshot. 
 
 "Henry Prouty! For a man of your age, I do 
 think you have as little judgment as anybody I ever 
 saw tow-row-rowing at the boy that way, so all the 
 neighbors can hear you!" 
 
 "Well, what of it?" 
 
 " Good land! Can t you see? " 
 
 " Why, do you think " Mr. Prouty finished his 
 question by inclining his head toward the La Fetra 
 residence. 
 
 " Think? I don t think anything about it." 
 
 Ill 
 
 Bob and Alice were talking, with the gate between 
 them, when Mr. and Mrs. La Fetra returned from 
 spending the evening at the Proutys . 
 
 " Well, sir, I beat that dad of yours four straight 
 games out of five. He can t play cribbage a little 
 bit," was Mr. La Fetra s loud boast, synchronous 
 with his wife s reproof of Alice for standing out in 
 the night air with nothing around her. 
 
 Bob and Alice both essayed at once to unlatch the 
 
234 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 gate. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand, and 
 lingered the fraction of a second longer than in- 
 stantaneity. The nerves there, commonly so dull, 
 leaped into alert consciousness. Fire and frost 
 thrilled his back, a sensation strange but delightful. 
 
 It puzzled him, for nothing could be surer than 
 that he was not in love with Alice La Fetra. He 
 knew what love was, both by reading and by ob 
 servation. He had once roomed with a fellow named 
 Kirke, who " had it bad " for the fifth time, and who 
 was destined to have it three times more before he 
 married the woman who afterwards divorced him. 
 The fellow, who had once been jolly, moped and 
 sighed and shook his head. He sat for hours with 
 his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand, so 
 that his lips were all pushed out of shape. He used to 
 sing " Call Me Thine Own," in a voice like a gang- 
 saw going through a knot. Nothing like that ailed 
 Bob; hence he was not in love. 
 
 He decided that the thrill he had experienced was 
 due to nervous apprehension that it was a sign that 
 she loved him. If she did, why, then, he ought in 
 honor to marry her. He would keep it from her that 
 he did not love her, and never let her find it out. 
 Supposing, though, that after they had been mar 
 ried some time, he should one day meet a woman 
 with whom there would be no question of esteem 
 and admiration, but of love itself, the kind you read 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 235 
 
 about, the kind that makes you crazy after the 
 adored one then what? Wouldn t he wish then that 
 he had waited for the grand passion, and not have 
 contented himself with a feeble imitation of it? His 
 life would be blighted, and not his alone, but this 
 other woman s and Alice s. He felt a pale regret for 
 the other woman, but a sorrow for Alice s fate that 
 amounted to a blushing shame. It would be dog 
 mean of him if, in this future madness, he should 
 be tempted to desert her and and perhaps her 
 children. 
 
 What could he do? Perhaps she had not gone such 
 lengths in love of him that to retrace her steps was 
 impossible. If he should leave for New York to 
 morrow but he had made an engagement to take 
 her for a drive to-morrow. And what was the use 
 of going to New York so long before the season 
 opened? 
 
 He resolved to let the affair die out. It ought not 
 to be broken off suddenly, for that would make talk 
 and wound her; but gradually, little by little. 
 
 IV 
 
 " Well, Alice, child, I can t advise you. Every 
 time we talk it over, it comes to the same thing. 
 If you think he s the best you can do " 
 
 " Mother! " Such commercialism was revolting. 
 
236 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 You needn t fly up at me that way. You know 
 what I mean. If you like him " 
 
 " Oh, I like him, but that isn t it." 
 
 " Well, then, what is the trouble? Don t you think 
 he likes you? " 
 
 " Well, of course, he hasn t said, but " 
 
 Mrs. La Fetra smiled with compressed lips, and 
 waited in silence. 
 
 " If I was right sure I loved him that is, loved 
 him as much as he loves me O mother, I know he 
 loves me, I just know he does! If I really loved him, 
 I wouldn t hesitate one second about giving up my 
 career. And I can t bear to! " 
 
 " Well, Alice, if I was you, I wouldn t cross the 
 bridge till I got to it. You ll do as you please any 
 how, so I don t see as there s much use of my saying 
 anything." 
 
 The breaking off was indeed gradual so gradual 
 as to be imperceptible to any but Bob. It was so hard 
 to begin without wounding Alice s feelings; and he 
 could not bring himself to do that in the least. If he 
 left off calling, she would think she had offended 
 him, and would torture herself trying to think how. 
 So in the morning he felt obliged to ask her: " What 
 are you going to do this afternoon? What do you 
 say if we go boating? " or walking or whatever it 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 237 
 
 might be. In the afternoon he found himself making 
 an appointment for the evening, and in the evening 
 for the next day. 
 
 But though the breaking off was thus gradual, it 
 was not to be understood that there had ever been 
 any " going with " her. It made him furious to see 
 the knowing way Harry Allgire and that De Wees 
 girl grinned when they met Alice and him. If they 
 could see how silly they looked! 
 
 " Isn t it sickening? " he said to Alice after they 
 had passed the two spoons. " Isn t that the worst 
 case of puppy love you ever did see? " 
 
 " Awful," she agreed. 
 
 He remembered her saying that, because the next 
 instant she clung wildly to him for protection. 
 Brown s big St. Bernard bounced out upon them, 
 barking furiously. Bob had only to pretend to pick 
 up a stone, and the mere gesture scared the foolish 
 young dog, who dropped his tail and fled. 
 
 "Oh, he frightened me so!" 
 
 Alice sighed and clung to him, and looked up into 
 his eyes gratefully. He took her hand in both his 
 and petted it. It was lucky that they came out im 
 mediately from under the thick beeches in front of 
 Brown s into the bright light of the electric in front 
 of Hill s, for Bob felt the most insane desire to 
 crush her against him roughly, so that she should 
 cry out: " Bob! You re hurting me! " 
 
238 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 The momentary madness left him trembling. His 
 heart hammered, and he had to keep swallowing. It 
 was an impulse at once exultant and regrettable. 
 He flushed to think how she would scorn him if 
 she had dreamed that he was even tempted to 
 " hug " her. A vulgarian like Harry Allgire probably 
 bragged about " hugging " his " girl." It was a 
 shame to think of such a word in the same hour with 
 Alice. 
 
 VI 
 
 " You re not going out to-night, are you, Rob 
 bie? " pleaded his mother. 
 
 " Why, yes, I thought I would," he answered 
 guiltily, halting on the bottom step of the veranda. 
 " I told I said I d be over this evening for a little 
 while." 
 
 "The very last evening!" she said reproachfully. 
 " We haven t seen hardly anything of you all sum 
 mer, and I laid out to have such a nice long visit 
 with my boy. And you re going away to-morrow 
 noon! Dear knows when I ll ever see you again 
 maybe never." Her voice quavered as she dramatized 
 the worst. She came down the steps so as to put her 
 hand on his farther shoulder and let her wrist lie 
 against his neck. Bob looked down and stirred the 
 gravel with his toe. " You re the only boy I ve got," 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 239 
 
 she added, and Bob could tell there were tears in 
 her eyes. He dared not look to see. They even began 
 to come into his own eyes. What a hypocrite he was, 
 he thought! How heartless in him, after that appeal, 
 still to wish to go and leave her! 
 
 " I won t stay but a little while," he said to his 
 mother, but not less to his conscience. 
 
 She suddenly bent down and kissed him. She 
 thrust his face against her bosom and gripped it 
 there. 
 
 " My boy! " she half whispered, half groaned, then 
 released him and fled up the steps and into the 
 house. 
 
 Bob knew he ought to have followed her. He said 
 so to himself. He said he must be void of natural 
 affection to be so selfish, so unable to make ade 
 quate response to love lavished upon him by his 
 mother and Alice. 
 
 His progress to the La Fetra house, though, was 
 as steady as if none of these thoughts had entered 
 his mind. His excuse was that he was going to stay 
 only a few minutes; then he would return and spend 
 the last evening of his visit with his parents. 
 
 VII 
 
 Mr. Prouty s ear noted a little quivering sigh as 
 his wife cleared the supper table. He looked up from 
 
2 4 o FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 the Cincinnati paper and saw that she had her under 
 lip bitten fast and that her chin was trembling. 
 
 "Why, what s the matter, mother? What s the 
 matter? " 
 
 He rose to meet her as with a whimper she ran 
 to him and flung her arms upon his shoulder. 
 
 "There, there!" he soothed her, and patted her 
 softly. As he bent his neck to kiss her, his glasses 
 slid off, and his awkward stooping for them made 
 her titter hysterically. He drew her down into his 
 lap in the Morris chair, where she made him under 
 stand. 
 
 " It s foolish of me, I know," she fluttered, " to be 
 so jealous-hearted, but I can t help it." 
 
 " I know, I know," he said, and stroked her hair; 
 " but, deary, it has to be that way. You know that. 
 He s got to make another place and call it home. 
 He must forsake us and cleave to her. Ah me! It 
 seems only yesterday since we " He kept silence 
 and stroked her hair a long time, then: " Say, do 
 you know what he asked me the other day? I 
 thought there was something up. He said: Father, 
 what did you say to mother when you proposed to 
 her? " 
 
 Mrs. Prouty mused smilingly, and then asked: 
 " What did you tell him? " 
 
 " I told him I didn t remember. Been so long ago. 
 What did I say? " 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 241 
 
 "Laws, I don t know!" 
 
 " And what did you say? " 
 
 " You know well enough what I said." 
 
 " Did you tell me you loved me? " 
 
 " I don t know. I reckon so. I was green enough 
 in those days to say most anything. Let me up. 
 I ve got to clear away the supper things." 
 
 " Oh, they can wait. Do you love me now? Tell 
 me." 
 
 " Oh, behave yourself! Don t be so soft." 
 
 But she kissed him and twined a lock of his thin 
 hair about her fingers. 
 
 " But do you? Tell me." 
 
 " Of course I do. Do you think I d have put up 
 with you all these years if I hadn t? " She was remi- 
 niscently silent for a time, and then she sighed: " I 
 don t believe you ever loved me as much as I loved 
 you." 
 
 It was more a question than a reproach; but he 
 felt the reproach, and made haste to declare: 
 
 " Oh, yes, I did. Yes, I did. Maybe I wasn t as 
 demonstrative. I never was much of a hand to make 
 a display, but " 
 
 In the pause that followed he asked himself, had 
 he ever loved his wife as much as she loved him? 
 Did he really love her now? Was it love, or had they 
 grown together so that wrenching them apart would 
 deal a pang so terrible, so agonizingly terrible, as 
 
242 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 barely to escape being mortal? If he should lose 
 her! O good God, avert it! He shuddered at the 
 thought. 
 
 The same idea in her mind made her sigh deeply. 
 Eager to dismiss a subject so disquieting, she rose 
 and went about her work, while her husband took 
 up the Cincinnati paper. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Bob stayed only a little while. Soon after he ap 
 peared, her father and mother went to bed at an 
 astonishingly early hour for them. He and Alice 
 chatted a few minutes, as it seemed, and then he 
 rose to go. 
 
 On opening the front door, the world without was 
 stiller than common. He took her hand in his to 
 bid her good-by. He felt strangely sad and lonely. 
 To-morrow he was to return to New York and try 
 for his life to find a finger hold upon the face of that 
 sheer precipice. It is a thing to make a cold sick 
 ness at the heart. The pleasant summer idleness was 
 ended. This was the last of it, and there are few 
 things of which we can say without emotion: " This 
 is the last!" 
 
 It was the last time, too, that he should talk with 
 Alice. Perhaps he did not love her, but he would 
 miss her terribly. It cut him cruelly to think how he 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 243 
 
 would miss her, and he tightened his grip upon her 
 hand, which lingered still in his. 
 
 Her gaze suddenly dropped before his eyes, and 
 her bosom rose and fell in labored breathing. There 
 recurred the wild desire to crush her roughly to his 
 breast roughly, so that she should cry out. He 
 could not withstand it. As he seized her brutally, she 
 turned her face upward to his, and he kissed her 
 again and again and yet again, unnumbered times, 
 frantically, blindly. The hot blood thumping in every 
 artery dizzied him. His chest panted as if with sob 
 bing. He choked. His ears rang. His fingers shud 
 dered violently as he twined them feverishly in hers. 
 
 "I do love you! I do love you!" he muttered 
 hoarsely. "Do you love me? My darling! My dar- 
 ling!" 
 
 "Yes!" she whispered, and her soul looked 
 through her eyes at him. What beautiful eyes she 
 had! " Yes, yes, I do love you! " 
 
 Entering his own gate, he heard the town clock 
 strike the hour. The bell sounded once but there 
 was no second note. Hearkening, he heard the crash 
 of freight cars in the yards a mile away. He could 
 even distinguish the words of the night yardmaster 
 bawling an order to the pony engineer. But he heard 
 no second bell stroke. Astonished, he looked at his 
 watch. It was one o clock! He had thought it might 
 be ten, surely not eleven. 
 
244 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 IX 
 
 Bob found New York even lonelier than he had 
 feared. He had taken a hall room and in a cheaper 
 boarding house, and had shunned his old acquaint 
 ances, that he might the better husband his little 
 capital. It proved harder than he thought to " catch 
 on." It is a long story, this looking for work, long 
 and heartbreaking. But for Alice s letter coming 
 every day, he could not have stood it. How they 
 bore him up! How full of vivid promise was the 
 assurance in her writing that the darkest hour was 
 just before the dawn! 
 
 He missed her more than he could tell. She was 
 the dearest girl! He wished it was in his nature to 
 be more loving than he was, to love her as she loved 
 him. That burst of passion the night he parted from 
 her he knew now for what it was. He was glad that 
 her pure spirit had not guessed it. If he could get 
 a little bit ahead, so that he could marry, he would 
 marry her. It would be terrible, though, if, after all, 
 another woman should appear and he should fall in 
 love with her in genuine love, this time. It would 
 break Alice s heart. He might better go to his grave 
 not knowing what real love was than that he should 
 break the heart of such a girl as Alice. 
 
 He must get something to do, even if it was 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 245 
 not in his line. For Alice s sake, he would sink 
 his pride. They made money selling books, he had 
 heard. It could be no harder than asking for 
 employ. 
 
 Just below Twenty-second Street, on his way 
 down Fifth Avenue to a subscription book house, he 
 noted Maxwell coming toward him. He pretended 
 not to see him; but Maxwell walked up, stuck out 
 his hand, and said: 
 
 "Hello!" 
 
 Bob answered and took the hand. There was no 
 sense in being rude. If Maxwell had been in the 
 wrong, Bob had not been wholly in the right. 
 
 " Where you been all summer? In your yacht? " 
 
 Bob smiled grudgingly. 
 
 " Out in Ohio," he said. " Just got back a couple 
 of weeks ago." 
 
 " Doing anything? " 
 
 Bob winced. Maxwell noted it as he revolved his 
 cigar in his mouth and shut his left eye to exclude 
 the smoke. 
 
 " Well, not exactly." 
 
 " Now, look here," said Maxwell, taking Bob by 
 the arm and leading him to a store front, out of the 
 tide of travel. " There wasn t any need for you to 
 get your back up the way you did. You might know 
 I had to call you down about that Camden order. 
 I never thought you were going to fly off the handle 
 
246 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 and quit. I was mighty sorry about that. I always 
 liked you and liked your ways." 
 
 He stopped and looked steadily at Bob, who swal 
 lowed and picked at a roughness in the painted iron. 
 He had been a fool. He saw it now. Maxwell had 
 been in the right, or not enough in the wrong to 
 make a fuss about it. He was just going to say so 
 when Maxwell spoke: 
 
 " Well, I must run along. Glad to see you again. 
 Oh, by the way, Robbins is sick. Went home yester 
 day. Think you could take charge of his department 
 for him till he gets back? All right! See you to 
 morrow morning, then. So long! I ve got to run." 
 
 Many, many verses of the old air indifferently 
 known as " Rousseau s Dream," " Days of Absence," 
 "Go Tell Aunt Rhody," and "Greenville," all 
 to four syllables repeated over and over again, 
 had been sung and sung. They had been followed 
 by long-drawn susurrations, by silence, and by a 
 stealthy withdrawal from the room with the white 
 iron crib in it. 
 
 On the front stoop Rob and this Mr. Maxwell, a 
 friend of his, were talking as they smoked their 
 after-dinner cigars and admired one of the sunsets 
 for which Long Island is so justly famed. She could 
 
LOVE STORY OF ROBERT PROUTY 247 
 
 hear most of what Rob said, but Mr. Maxwell had 
 a more muffled way of speaking. 
 
 "Oh, that s all my eye!" Rob said. "I used to 
 be afraid of the same thing myself, but I tell you 
 this other woman won t come along unless you re 
 looking for her. And if this certain party you speak 
 of is as fond of you as you say " An interval, and 
 then: " I understand. I understand. We were just 
 supposing. If she really loves you, you simply can 
 not take any interest in another woman. That is, if 
 this certain party you speak of is as sensible and 
 good a little woman as my wife. Say, do you know, 
 I ve got one out of a thousand yes, one out of 
 a million! I m the luckiest man alive. I don t de 
 serve it. When I think that she loves me me, mind 
 you do you think I d look at another woman? I 
 couldn t. I couldn t! It would be dog mean!" 
 
 The baby stirred just then, and Alice missed what 
 came next. He had lowered his voice. But this is 
 what he said: 
 
 " You don t have to have this wild, passionate, 
 story-book love. I think that s kind of kiddish. There 
 never was any of it in my case. Just esteem, that s 
 all. She was the only woman I ever met that didn t 
 make me tired. She s company, if she doesn t say a 
 word." 
 
 The baby was sound asleep. 
 
 " Oh, it s the only way to live," Rob went on. 
 
248 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Why, I m as happy as happy " he searched for 
 a comparison " as happy as a hen in a flower bed. 
 Hush! There she comes. Here, take this rocking 
 chair, honey. Well, he fought against it as long as 
 he could, didn t he, the little rascal!" 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 
 
 JIMMY DARLING stood in his sock feet be 
 fore his bureau, combing out his long red hair 
 and braiding it for the night. As he braided, 
 he noticed for the first time one or two threads of 
 white. At such a time, if ever, a man casts up ac 
 counts with life, the earnest of that final accounting, 
 plainly not so very far away. 
 
 He had come home that night, as he had come 
 home any night since his sister married and moved 
 to Kansas, to a dark and cheerless home. He had 
 lighted the lamps and made the fires; had cooked 
 and eaten his lone supper; had washed the dishes and 
 tidied up. He was a neat housekeeper for a man. 
 To-morrow he would cook and eat his lone break 
 fast, do up his lunch, and go to work in the carriage 
 factory. To-morrow and the next day and so on, as 
 he had done yesterday and the day before and so 
 on. And what was the good of it all? 
 
 It might have been very different with him. He 
 thought how it would be if, when he clicked the gate 
 latch, he might have seen the cheery lamps shining 
 for him; if, when he trod the narrow brick walk by 
 
 249 
 
250 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 the side of the house, he might have seen through 
 the window the white cloth gleaming and the glass 
 and silver gayly twinkling at him; if, when he opened 
 the back door, the warm and savory kitchen air 
 gushed in his face; if some one had said, "Well, 
 Jimmy," and put her mouth up to be kissed, and 
 romping children had flung themselves against him. 
 There is a fatherhood as well as a motherhood, and 
 they tell me that a bachelor when he sees his first 
 gray hair thinks of these things. 
 
 She who would say, " Well, Jimmy," was no 
 vague abstraction of the feminine. Ever since he be 
 gan to " take notice of ? em," she was Hetty Funk 
 that was, now Mrs. Chris Hyams. Clairvoyantly 
 Jimmy saw that no such welcome waited on Chris 
 Hyams homecoming, and that the children trem 
 ulously shadowed in the background until they knew 
 whether pa was "all right." Poor Chris! Once a 
 dashing sort of fellow, and a first-rate workman, 
 he was now " his own worst enemy," if you know 
 what that means. 
 
 All that the Bible says about the Nazarite, how 
 he never tasted strong drink, and how, while his 
 vow lasted, no hair of his head was shorn, was 
 known by heart to Jimmy Darling. The sixth chap 
 ter of Numbers was worn and tattered to a brown 
 flake. To-night as he beheld the threads of white 
 in his thick red braids, he found himself repeating 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 251 
 
 the words, "And this is the law of the Nazarite 
 when the days of his separation are fulfilled. . . . 
 When the days of his separation are fulfilled." Ful 
 filled? They never could be now as he dreamed 
 they would. It was as if those white strands had been 
 the filaments of electric lamps that shed light into a 
 dark place. His vow that had been his stay so long 
 against the smile of those to whom he had been 
 pointed out as a " character "... Why, it was no 
 vow at all! 
 
 In his youth when, like the rest of us, he sought 
 a reconciliation of what is with what ought to be, 
 he had lighted upon what seemed to him to be the 
 Cause of All the Trouble. It was Whisky. Nothing 
 could be a plainer duty than to abolish Whisky. And 
 that could be done as soon as ever the decent men, 
 who certainly outnumber all the vile and reckless, 
 should vote to have it done. On a November day, 
 range all the wolves on one side, range all the sheep 
 on the other; give the word, " One. . . . Two. . . . 
 Three. . . . Go!" and the sheep would butt the 
 wolves to death. Ended the miserable past; begun 
 the golden, happy future. It had seemed to him so 
 sure a thing that he had made it up with old Jake 
 Reinhart that, from that day and date, he, James M. 
 Darling, party of the first part, would not cut his 
 hair, or have it cut, until there was a Prohibition 
 President of these United States; and to make it a 
 
252 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 fair bargain, for his part, he, Jacob S. Reinhart, 
 party of the second part, covenanted and agreed not 
 to cut his hair after there was a Prohibition Presi 
 dent of these United States. 
 
 It was no solemn vow only an election bet. He 
 saw that now, and wondered he had not seen it 
 sooner. It was no solemn vow, but his days had been 
 " days of separation," without a doubt. He had been 
 keeping company with Hetty Funk, but when he 
 explained to her his vow, she mittened him in hot 
 temper. She said she wasn t going to be made a 
 mock of by nobody, and if he liked her as well as 
 he said he did, he wouldn t think of such a fool 
 caper. Why, the very idea! She didn t deny but 
 what she liked him, but if he thought if he thought 
 she was going to marry a man that went around 
 lookin like a Taw-way Injun, with his hair a-flyin , 
 why he was mighty much mistaken, that was all! She 
 stood there a minute, burst into a loud fit of crying, 
 and ran out and slammed the door behind her. There 
 would be no Prohibition President of these United 
 States. He knew that well. Year by year the vote was 
 dwindling. Jake Reinhart was long dead, so that even 
 if victory would come, it would bring no triumph. 
 He might as well absolve himself of his vow if it 
 was a vow. But it had gone so long now and peo 
 ple would think it strange if He smiled that he, 
 of all men, should consider what " people thought." 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 253 
 
 A faint shudder thrilled his spine. Standing there 
 in his sock feet so long, he probably had taken cold. 
 He must attend to it at once. It was the policy of 
 his life never to neglect the beginnings of a cold. 
 He went to the cupboard and took down a bottle 
 of Dr. Hooker s Celebrated Chil-e-na. 
 
 Chil-e-na is one of the finest medicines ever put 
 forth. It is good for almost every chronic ailment 
 that almost everybody has. It is a sovereign remedy 
 for catarrh, colds, consumption, and pneumonia. It 
 cures dyspepsia in all its hideous forms. Also, rheu 
 matism and neuralgia. It repairs the ravages of ma 
 laria, nervous prostration, and general debility. For 
 " that sinking feeling " it is a positive specific. It 
 tones up the system, and makes rich red blood. For 
 sale at all druggists at one dollar a bottle. As it 
 is better to be always well than to get sick and be 
 cured again, it is earnestly advised that all should 
 keep their systems toned up by regularly taking two 
 tablespoonfuls of this invaluable remedy before each 
 meal and upon retiring, also when feeling particu 
 larly exhausted, and to ward off colds. Many a time, 
 on coming home from the carriage factory all tired 
 out, Jimmy had taken a dose for " that sinking feel 
 ing," and it had toned up his system and made rich 
 red blood right away. He could notice the difference 
 immediately. 
 
 It had been in the Enquirer about his vow not to 
 
254 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 cut his hair until there was a Prohibition President, 
 but Jimmy had not been much set up by this no 
 toriety. He didn t think much of The Cincinnati 
 Enquirer anyhow. But he felt right proud to know 
 that his signed testimonial to the healing and pre 
 serving powers of Dr. Hooker s Celebrated Chil-e- 
 na, accompanied by a large line-and-dot portrait of 
 himself with his braids hung in front, nicely done 
 up with ribbon bows, had been spread broadcast 
 throughout the land, in the illustrious company of 
 admirals, statesmen, the reverend clergy, and people 
 who had lived to be a hundred and five years old. To 
 have convinced one person of the merits of Chil-e-na 
 was to have done some good in the world. The 
 testimonial had convinced Jimmy at least; for there 
 after he bought Chil-e-na by the case and kept it in 
 the cellar. 
 
 As he replaced the bottle in the cupboard he 
 heard a rap on his front door. Visitors were rare 
 enough, but who could it be at this hour? He hoped 
 not that Christian Science fellow come to tell about 
 curing the cat of fits by reading to it out of a book, 
 or Daniel the Second come to explain what Daniel 
 the First meant by " a time, times, and a half time." 
 What possessed crazy folks to come trailing after 
 him so? 
 
 He tried to make out the features of the man 
 standing timidly on the verge of the front porch. 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 255 
 
 " Don t you recognize me? " asked the stranger, 
 coming a little nearer. " I m Chris. Th-n-n-n! Chris 
 Hyams." 
 
 " Oh, how do you do? " said Jimmy with some 
 embarrassment. 
 
 The man waited an awkward moment. 
 
 " Are are you busy? " 
 
 " Why, no, I was just going to bed." 
 
 " I er could I come in an set a while? " 
 
 "Why, certainly. Certainly. Walk in. Walk in." 
 Jimmy blushed to think that he was forgetting how 
 to act when company came. 
 
 Mr. Hyams entered, flickering his eyes at the 
 light. He sat down on the edge of the first chair he 
 saw. Coming inside seemed to satisfy him. He sat 
 there and flickered his eyes in silence for some min 
 utes. He needed a shave, had needed it for about 
 a week. His hair was tousled, his linen was black 
 ened at the edges, and his clothing had patches of 
 dried mud upon it. At times he trembled so vio 
 lently as to alarm Jimmy. He looked to be kind 
 of run down in health, and as if his system needed 
 toning up. That did not seem to be an auspicious 
 opening for conversation though, and Jimmy had 
 about decided to begin with, " To what am I in 
 debted for the honor of this visit? " when Mr. Hyams 
 announced: 
 
 " Twa n t no way to act." 
 
256 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " What say? " 
 
 " Huh? Oh er I said it wa n t no way to act. 
 Lockin up the house on me that way/ 
 
 Jimmy wrinkled his brows at this cryptic state 
 ment. Locking him up? 
 
 " But you got out," he ventured. 
 
 " Huh? " 
 
 " I say you got out." 
 
 " I was out," said Hyams ruefully. " I couldn t git 
 in." 
 
 He flickered his eyes for some minutes longer, and 
 then proceeded. 
 
 " I went round to the back door, an it was locked. 
 So I tried the side door. It was locked. So I couldn t 
 git in there. So I went round and rung the front 
 door bell. Two, three times I rung it. Nob dy come. 
 So I tried to git in the pantry window, but they 
 was a case knife stuck in so s it wouldn t hyste. I 
 could of broke in the window, but I thought I bet 
 ter not. So I didn t. Would you? " 
 
 " No," replied the mystified Jimmy. He felt that 
 it was safe to say that. 
 
 " No. Me neither. So I went to the suller door to 
 git in that way. Suller door was padlocked. Yes, sir. 
 It was padlocked! Never heard o such a thing be 
 fore. So so I clomb up to where I could peek in at 
 the window. Not the sign of a livin soul about. Not 
 a livin soul! " 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 257 
 
 He sighed, and stopped short as if he had fin 
 ished. 
 
 " Er whose house did you say this was? " 
 
 " Didn t appear to be nob dy s," replied Mr. 
 Hyams with an engaging smile. 
 
 " Looks o things. So so I went over to the old 
 lady s. I knocked, an she come to the door. Go 
 on away from here/ she says to me, jist luck that. 
 Go on away now/ An I says, Hold on a second/ 
 I says, I want to ast you somepin/ I says. Well, 
 she ain t here/ she says, if that s what you re after/ 
 she says. Well/ I says, I m a-comin in to see if 
 she ain t/ I says. I wasn t goin to let her bluff me 
 that way. Aw, no! Aw, no! Deed you ain t/ she 
 says, deed you ain t. You git right out of my yard/ 
 she says. These is my premises/ she says, an you 
 git, right this instant/ she says. You dass to make 
 a move to come into my house/ she says, without 
 I ast you/ she says, an I ll take an mash your 
 head in with the ax/ she says. You lazy, good-for- 
 nothin , triflin , on ry, drunken hound/ she says. An 
 I wasn t drunk at all. Jist as sober as what you see 
 me right now." 
 
 " Who was this that you had this conversation 
 with? " inquired Jimmy. 
 
 " Miz Funk." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Funk. Hetty s mother." 
 
 " Miz Mary Ann Funk said them very words to 
 
258 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 me. To me, mind you, her own lawful son-in-law, 
 by jing! Aw, she talked to me meaner n a dog." 
 
 " And what had you done? " 
 
 "Me? I hadn t done nothin . Not one thing." He 
 paused and reflected. 
 
 "An 9 I ain t likely to do much of anything now 
 for quite a spell." 
 
 " How so? " 
 
 "Lost my job." v 
 
 " Lost your job? " 
 
 " M m. Got the sack. Went round this mornin* 
 think it was this mornin what day s to-day? " 
 
 " To-day? To-day s Friday." 
 
 "Friday! Aw, git out! Aw, quitch foolin . Tain t 
 Friday." 
 
 " Certainly it s Friday." 
 
 " Honest? Well, mebby tis. I kind o lost track. 
 Anyways, I went round. So so Kearney, he seen 
 me hanging up my hat, so he says to me, Nixy. 
 Your services is no longer required, he says. 
 You re through, he says. * You got the bounce. 
 Fly away, pretty bird! Say! He s too fresh, that 
 man is. I don t like to see a man too fresh. Specially 
 a foreman. A foreman a foreman had orta have 
 more more dignity about him than to go an git 
 fresh. Aw, go on, I says, * I gotta go to work an 
 earn a few pennies, I says. Not here, he says. * Aw, 
 now, Mike/ I says, I need the money/ I says. * I 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 259 
 
 ain t got a sou markee/ I told him. That don t in 
 terest me none, he says. We don t want no more 
 drunken bums around this shop, he says, a-holdin 
 up a hurry job while they re off on a toot, he says. 
 We re all through with em, he says. Aw, he talked 
 to me meaner n a dog. * Well, I says, * give us the 
 price till Saddy night, I says. I ll give you a poke 
 in the eye/ he says, if you don t walk out o here/ 
 he says. I was mad then. I was. I jist up an told 
 him what I thought of him. Looky here/ I says, 
 < you 
 
 " You needn t repeat what you said to Kearney," 
 interrupted Jimmy hastily. 
 
 " Well, all right. I give it to him strong an plenty, 
 you bet. So so one word led to another, an the 
 first thing I knowed he ketched a holt of me an 
 throwed me downstairs. You know how steep them 
 stairs is to the paint shop. Well, sir, he throwed me 
 down em. I like to broke mun neck." 
 
 Jimmy hardly knew what to say. After a few more 
 flickers of the eyes, Mr. Hyams resumed his tale. 
 
 " So from there I went over to Oesterle s. Was 
 it Oesterle s or Ryan s? Well, anyway. So Oesterle, 
 he ordered me out. So I went over to Ryan s. Yes, 
 that s right. I went to Oesterle s first. Tom Haley 
 was tendin bar at Ryan s. Soon s he seen me, he 
 sung out. Nix. No more here. Beat it. So I went 
 to Miller s. Same thing. I went all round. I even 
 
260 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 went to Slattery s. He gimme a shell o beer and 
 chased me." 
 
 This was familiar ground to Jimmy. In all the 
 temperance stories it tells how the drunkard is made 
 welcome so long as he has money in his pocket, 
 but when he is stripped of everything 
 
 " Well," interrupted Mr. Hyams, " I don t know s 
 they stripped me exactly. I guess I got about all my 
 clothes. I hain t missed nothin yet. They gotta pro 
 tect themselves. I don t blame them; I blame her" 
 
 11 1 don t understand." 
 
 " Why, it s as plain as the nose on your face. No 
 offense, you understand. They was two weeks pay 
 comin to me Saddy night. Are you right sure this 
 is Friday? Well, sir, it don t seem possible! So so 
 I was goin to pay the grocery bill an a few other 
 little things me an her had had words about that 
 the last pay day so I stopped in at Oesterle s to 
 have a little somepin first, an they was quite a 
 crowd around, an Th-n-n-n! the first thing I 
 knowed I was layin over by the brick yard, or mebby 
 a hundred yards this side the brick yard, right flat 
 on the ground. Yes, sir, right smack dab on the 
 ground. An not a sou markee in mup pocket. So 
 I went round to the shop." 
 
 He checked off the items on his fingers. 
 
 " So I went round to all the s loons. I told you 
 that. So I went round to the house. I told you that. 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 261 
 So I went to Miz Funk s. I told you that. So there 
 I was. No place to go, not a sou markee in mup 
 pocket, an she s been all round an told em not to 
 let me have anything more, or she ll prosecute em. 
 So, thinks I, What m I goin to do? So I walked 
 around, an walked around. Shamed to go to any 
 of muf Mends, don t ye understand? So thinks I, 
 There s Jimmy Darling. Him an Het used to be 
 pretty thick one time. She would a took up with 
 him if he hadn t commenced to wearin his hair long. 
 So I seen the light. So I knocked on the door. So " 
 His voice dwindled into a feeble smile, which he 
 turned on Jimmy. 
 
 " You want me to go to her and intercede for 
 you? " 
 
 " W y, yes, that might not be a bad idy. It s git- 
 tin* pretty late though, now. To-morrow will do as 
 well." 
 
 " But do you think it would be right for her to 
 take you back unless you reformed? Supposing you 
 should go to drinking again." 
 
 " Me? Never. Not another drop passes my lips. 
 Never touch it again the longest day I live. W y, 
 look what it s done for me. You know me, Jimmy. 
 You know I m a good hand. You know they ain t a 
 neater, prettier striper in the State of Ohio than 
 what I am when I m at musself. You re a pretty good 
 hand, Jimmy, but you ain t nothin to me when I m at 
 
262 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 musself. Ever see any of my imitation burl walnut? 
 I m a Hickey at burl walnut. An Kearney throwed 
 me out, ears over apple cart. Was it Kearney? No! 
 It wasn t Kearney. Twas Rum. Rum done it, Jim. 
 Here I am, on the hog, not a sou markee in mup 
 pocket, no job, wife gone back on me, mother-in- 
 law says she ll mash my head in with the ax, an 
 I need a shave the worst way, an what done it? 
 Rum done it. My pore wife! Jimmy, when I think 
 o what that pore woman has underwent for my 
 sake, I could set right down an cry, I could, for 
 a fact, all jokes aside. I could set right down and 
 cry. Nice woman, Jim. Bully woman in many re 
 spects. Darn shame you didn t git her. You would 
 have, too, if it hadn t of be n for your wearin your 
 hair long. I ve heard her say so. She s got her good 
 points, Jim, same as you an me. But, Jimmy. Was 
 it any way to act? Lockin up the house on me that 
 way? An then for her to go round an tell em not 
 to let me have anything or she ll prosecute em. En 
 tirely unnecessary. Utterly uncalled for. Because I ve 
 quit. You know that, Jim. You re my witness that 
 I ve quit. Lockin up the house on me, an not the 
 scratch of a pen or a pencil. No note under the door 
 mat to say where the key was. Nothin . Because I 
 looked, Jimmy. So help my God, I looked in under 
 that door mat; if I looked once I looked twenty 
 times. Not the scratch of a pen or pencil. Nothin . 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 263 
 
 An me on the streets, Jim. Everybody gone back 
 on me, all but Slattery, an* he gimme a bowl o suds 
 an chased me. Friendless an alone, an needin a 
 shave! My God, it s awful! 
 
 No one to love me, none to caress; 
 No one to pity me, no one to bless. 
 Fatherless, motherless, sadly I roam 
 
 See. What comes after that? Funny I can t think. 
 Well, anyways, 
 
 Fatherless, motherless, sadly I roam, 
 Tol-tde-rol-idle-dum, out any home. 
 
 An what done it? Rum done it, Jim. An I m done 
 with Rum, henceforth an f revermore! " 
 
 " Brother Hyams, your hand upon it! " 
 
 Hyams looked into Jimmy s face with brimming 
 eyes, and grasped his hand. 
 
 " But, my brother, you cannot get the victory in 
 your own strength. Er suppose we have a word of 
 prayer." 
 
 There are some who presume to doubt if the old- 
 time faith still lives among men. It does. When 
 Jimmy Darling poured forth his fervent supplication 
 for help for his brother sinner, he no more doubted 
 that the Kind Father, the Maker and Governor of 
 all things, both in heaven and earth, hushed the 
 quiring angels that he might the better hearken, 
 than he doubted that the tremulous, broken man be- 
 
264 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 side him heard the same petition. The tragedy of 
 a great grief struggling to express itself in the 
 drunkard s slangy babble Jimmy could faintly real 
 ize; perhaps it was as well he did not realize its 
 comedy. It is not so much godless education that 
 undermines belief as a too ticklish sense of humor. 
 
 When they had risen from their knees, Hyams 
 was weeping. He shuddered horribly. 
 
 "There! There!" soothed Jimmy, laying his hand 
 upon his penitent s arm. " You re all unstrung." 
 
 " I guess you re right. I am unstrung. But you 
 know how it is, Ji Brother Darling. When you hit 
 it up as hard s I have, you feel mighty rocky after 
 wards. I ain t never going to touch another drop of 
 the accursed stuff. D ye understand? Not another 
 drop. Well, mebby now an ag in No! No! Not 
 another drop, if it kills me. Only if I jist had a 
 little small hooker now to " 
 
 " Hooker? " 
 
 " Yes, jist a little small hooker to tone me 
 up " 
 
 "Oh, Dr. Hooker s Celebrated Chil-e-na. The 
 very thing! Why, yes. That ought to tone you up 
 fine." 
 
 He rose and went toward the cupboard. Hyams 
 eyes followed him with an insane glitter. 
 
 " Let me see what it says. Hum-ah. For general 
 debility " 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 265 
 
 " Yes, yes." 
 
 " Nervous prostration 
 
 "Oh-oh-oh!" 
 
 " That sinking feeling " 
 
 "Aw, Brother Darling! Give it to me! Aw, pleasel 
 Aw, if you only knowed how I suffer! Aw, please, 
 Brother Jimmy! Aw, pleasel" 
 
 He ran and fell on his knees, and clasped Jimmy 
 by the legs, sobbing and pleading. "Aw, do! Aw, do 
 give it to me! " 
 
 " Dose, two tablespoonfuls to be taken before 
 each meal, and 
 
 Hyams broke down and cried like a child. It was 
 something to drink, no matter what. Indeed, what 
 had led him to go back to the paint shop had been 
 the hope that he might get to steal a little shellac 
 to quench his unnatural thirst. 
 
 "Aw, God bless you, Brother Darling! " For 
 Jimmy was measuring out the dose. An instant 
 longer and Hyams would have throttled him to get 
 it. He grabbed the cup with shaking hands, and 
 swallowed its contents with a gulp. " Nectar! " he 
 whispered and gave a contradictory shudder. Then 
 he looked up at Jimmy with a quizzical air. A slow 
 wink crept out, but finding no encouragement in 
 Jimmy s innocent face, stole shyly back, and was 
 as if it had not been. 
 
 " Feel any better? " 
 
266 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Oh, a heap. A heap. Say! That s great stuff." 
 
 " I think so," answered the unsuspecting Mr. 
 Darling. " I find it beneficial. I take it regularly 
 three times a day." 
 
 " You do, eh? " 
 
 " Yes, and when I m exhausted and all played out 
 it does me a wonderful sight of good. I don t know 
 how I d get along without it." 
 
 " Yes, I can understand that." 
 
 " I m satisfied it s saved me from many a hard 
 spell of sickness. I buy it by the case and keep it 
 in the cellar." 
 
 "In the cellar, eh?" 
 
 " It s a vegetable compound " 
 
 " Oh, sure." 
 
 " Composed of roots and herbs, discovered by 
 Isaiah Hooker, D.D., M.D. He s a returned medi 
 cal missionary, you know. It says here: Prepared in 
 a suitable vehicle. Now that always puzzled me. I 
 always thought a vehicle was a wagon or a car- 
 riage." 
 
 " Perfectly correct use of the word, Brother 
 Darling. It went down my throat like it was on 
 wheels." This time the wink came boldly forth. 
 Jimmy paid no heed. When a man s nerves are all 
 unstrung, it doesn t do to take notice of every little 
 thing. 
 
 " You think it did you good? " 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 267 
 
 " I know it did. One more would fix me so s I 
 could get a good night s rest. Pour me out another 
 little hooker, won t you, Brother Darling? " 
 
 " Well, I don t know. It s a powerful medicine, 
 you understand, and I m no doctor." 
 
 " Why, Brother Darling," explained Hyams. 
 " You don t suppose a saved man like Brother 
 Hooker would put out a medicine that was rank 
 poison, do you? Why, certainly not. Certainly not." 
 
 The second dose was even more beneficial than 
 the first, and Jimmy returned the bottle to its place 
 with an easy mind, and showed Brother Hyams 
 where he was to sleep. 
 
 Solitary living is likely to be plain, not to say 
 skimpy living, and on his way home from the car 
 riage factory the next evening, Jimmy stopped in 
 at the butcher s and the grocer s. If Brother Hyams 
 was to be made a useful member of society once 
 more, his system must be built up by nourishing food 
 as well as a regular course of Chil-e-na. Mingled 
 with the joy over one sinner that repenteth was the 
 anticipation of having somebody to welcome him 
 with lighted lamps, the fires going, and the tea 
 kettle on. 
 
 As he neared his corner, quite appropriately he 
 heard the tune of "Throw Out the Life Line." 
 Could it be possible? It was even so. Brother Hyams 
 
268 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 was singing that gospel hymn, rather too boister 
 ously, rather too slowly, not quite in tune, but sing 
 ing, " Throw Out the Life Line." Whose was that 
 other jarring voice? 
 
 There were people gathered about his gate. Was 
 anything wrong? He heard some one say, " Here s 
 Mr. Darling now." 
 
 "Well, I think it s about timel " he heard the 
 voice of Mrs. Pritchard scold. 
 
 "The lives scared plumb out of us. It s just per 
 fectly awful! I would of went in myself, only I have 
 such a time with my heart, and thinks I " 
 
 Jimmy flung open the sitting-room door. 
 
 "Cheese it! Cheese it!" a voice muttered in the 
 gloom. 
 
 " Some one is sinking tooooo-dayeeeee. For that 
 sinking feeling take Dr. Hook Why, hello, Jim 
 my, old boy! How are you? What s the best word? " 
 Thus Mr. Hyams, as his eyes flickered at Jimmy s 
 flaring match. The other man got up awkwardly as 
 Jimmy lighted the lamp. Frowzy old Very Dirty 
 Smith stood revealed, rightly nicknamed. 
 
 " Why, what are you doing in my house? " 
 
 "That s all right, Ji Brother Darling, I should 
 say. Friend o mine. Shake hands with Brother 
 Smith, Brother Darling. Singing and making mel 
 ody in our hearts, Brother Darling, singing and 
 making mel Twas this way. I got kind o lone- 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 269 
 
 some. So I seen Brother Smith a-goin past. So I 
 hollered at him. So " 
 
 " You re intoxicated." 
 
 "Who? Me? Why, Brother Darling, how you 
 talk!" 
 
 " Bringing liquor into my house " 
 
 " Who brought liquor into your house? Not me. 
 Brother Smith, did you bring liquor into this gentle 
 man s house? Says he didn t bring no liquor in." 
 
 " After your solemn promise last night never to 
 touch another drop " 
 
 " Yes, I said that. I meant it too! " cried Hyams 
 with tense and sudden earnestness. " An who set 
 me a-goin ag in? Hay? Who put it to my lips? Hay? 
 Who was it?" 
 
 "Cheese it! Cheese it!" huskily counseled Very 
 Dirty Smith out of one corner of his mouth, as 
 Hyams thrust his chin almost in Jimmy s face, who 
 drew back stammering. " Why why " 
 
 " You\ you hypocrite! You did. Where d I git 
 my liquor? Out o your cellar. In the case over by 
 the puttaters. That s where I got it. Where you keep 
 it so s you can soak it all by yourself. You ain t got 
 the manhood to stand up to the bar, like a ge l man 
 should. You gotta sneak it." 
 
 " I never had a drop of liquor in my house! " cried 
 Jimmy hotly. " I do not know what liquor tastes 
 like." 
 
270 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Oh, you don t, hay? You don t, hay? Well, any 
 body asts you what liquor tastes like, you tell em 
 it tastes like Dr. Hooker s Celebrated Chil-e-na, 
 on y more so." 
 
 The room gave a sudden dip and swung dizzily. 
 Jimmy caught a chair back to steady himself. 
 " You want to know where I got mul load? " 
 For answer, Hyams made a gesture toward the 
 table, where stood some dozen bottles once full of 
 the great vegetable compound, now empty. 
 You drank all that!" gasped Jimmy. 
 " Me an Brother Smith here, between us." 
 " Why, it will kill you! It s a powerful drug!" 
 " You kin git it in any s loon twicet as powerful 
 for half the money. Dollar a bottle! Gee! They 
 soaked you for fair. Th-n-n-n! " snickered Hyams. 
 Then he rolled up His eyes, and began to mimic Jim 
 my. " ( Help our dear brother to overcome this ter 
 rible temptation, says you, an the very first crack 
 out of the box you hand me out a snifter of the oh- 
 be-joyful. You re a Hickey. You are, for a fact." 
 
 " I didn t know I didn t dream " 
 
 "Come off! COME OFF!" 
 
 Hyams leered at Jimmy, but something in those 
 honest eyes made him shrug his shoulders and say: 
 " In that case, Dr. Hooker is the greatest discov 
 erer of the age. Why so? says you. Well, I tell 
 you. He discovered a way so s a prohibitionist can 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 271 
 git his toddy regular, an nobody find it out, not even 
 himself \ Well, now that you know, suppose you join 
 me an muf friend here in a social glass to the health 
 of Isaiah Hooker, D.D. and M.D., the greatest dis 
 coverer of the age." He leaned over and lifted a 
 bottle that was still nearly half full. 
 
 "No!" cried Jimmy, fiercely striking the flask, 
 and sending it hurtling across the room, where it 
 gurgled itself empty. 
 
 "Ah! What did you go an do that for?" snarled 
 Hyams. "That s the last they is in the house!" 
 
 " That s the last there ever will be in this house! " 
 
 " M-hm. M-hm. I hear you say so. I ve said the 
 same thing musself, many s the time. Mebby you ll 
 find it ain t so easy to quit it after all these years 
 of steady soakin . Mebby you ll find you re jist like 
 me, and Brother Smith here, an a lot more round 
 town we know. You gotta have it. If it ain t Rum 
 open an above board, it s patent medicine, or mor 
 phine, or some other kind of dope for that sinkin 
 feelin . Some folks don t need it. Others has to have 
 it, one way or another, the folks that ain t quite 
 right, the no-goods, the botch jobs of men, like you 
 an me, an Brother Very Dirty Smith here." 
 
 Jimmy s flesh crawled at the thought of such com 
 panionship. 
 
 " You folks thinks you re a whole lot, don t ye? " 
 sneered Hyams. " You think you re smarter n God- 
 
272 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 dlemighty. You ll show Him how to do. A-ah! You 
 can t learn Him nothin . He knows His little book. 
 Don t you reckon I know Rum s makin a mock o 
 me? It s made me lose my job; it s lost me the love 
 of my wife, an made my young ones so s they re 
 afraid o me. An I can t quit it. Why not? Why 
 can t I? He won t let me! He s got it in for me!" 
 He shook his fist at heaven and cursed his Maker. 
 
 Jimmy drew in a horror-stricken breath. Smith 
 fidgeted. 
 
 " He s got it in for me. He wants to kill me, an 
 He wants to fix it so s no girl but a fool girl that 
 He wants to kill too will ever marry a drunkard. 
 He s got it in for you too, Jimmy Darling, let me 
 tell you that." 
 
 " Come on, Chris," muttered Smith. " We better 
 be movin ." 
 
 " In a minute. Be right with you. I wonder where 
 I left my hat at. Summers round here. Oh, here- it 
 is. Yes, sir. He s got it in for you too. He don t want 
 none o your get. You re cracked, that s what you 
 are. An He knows it. An when He seen at you an 
 Het was goin together, He took an put it in your 
 head for to let your hair grow long. She wouldn t 
 have you. No other girl would have you. He fixed 
 you all right. All the no-goods He gives the notion 
 that they re different. That s His way of fixin them. 
 What He wants is folks that s like other people. An 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 273 
 
 we ain t. You, an* me, an Brother Very Dirty 
 Smith." 
 
 The clock ticked loudly. 
 
 " Well/* he said, and crammed his hat upon his 
 head, and started for the door. With the handle in 
 his hand, he turned. " Brother Darling, I m obliged 
 to you for your kind hospitality, but seein s the 
 liquor has kind o gin out, why " 
 
 " Where are you going? " cried Jimmy, remem 
 bering that the man was homeless, penniless, and 
 without work. 
 
 "To hell! Where else?" 
 
 He slammed the door behind him. Jimmy heard 
 the two shuffle down the walk and out the gate. He 
 stood dazed. The whole fabric of his life had been 
 dissolved in ruins. 
 
 He a Nazarite? For years he had been tippling 
 steadily. That he had not known that he was tippling 
 might excuse his guilt; it could not ablate the fact. 
 It could not loose him from the habit. A low moan 
 crowded its way through his clinched teeth. No! He 
 could not yield to it though every pang that flesh 
 could know should torture him. And yet, what harm 
 had it done him? He had said it did him good, had 
 proclaimed it to the world. Like enough that testi 
 monial of his was even now making secret drunk 
 ards. He would warn the people. But who would 
 publish the warning? 
 
274 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 At any rate he would no longer bear the mark of 
 those whom God would destroy, and in whose veins 
 He injects the germs of sterility; eccentrics, trees 
 whose fruit withereth, without fruit. He would no 
 longer wear the badge of the barren fig tree cum 
 bering the ground. His braids seared his scalp, as 
 if each hair had been a white-hot wire. He tore them 
 down, and as the shears crunched through them, a 
 wild elation filled his soul. 
 
 It was done now! It could not be undone. 
 
 He stepped about in getting his supper as if his 
 feet were as light as his head felt. He whistled and 
 hummed an air he had not thought of in many a long 
 year, " Villikins and his Dinah." He used to sing 
 that when he was courting Hetty. Supposing just 
 supposing she should get a divorce from Chris, and 
 ... ah, then he might see the lamps lighted against 
 his coming home. The tablecloth would gleam at 
 him through the window as he came along the nar 
 row walk by the side of the house; the warm and 
 savory air would gush forth upon him as he opened 
 the back door. She she would come to kiss him, 
 and say, " Well, Jimmy," and romping children 
 would fling themselves upon him, hers now, his very 
 own later. It was not too late. He was a young man 
 yet. 
 
 For a moment, that sadness which we all feel in 
 parting from the past, even the terrible past, came 
 
THE DAYS OF HIS SEPARATION 275 
 
 over him. He went to get a newspaper wherein to 
 wrap up the thick braids of hair and put them away 
 for a keepsake. But the words came forth from the 
 chambers of his memory. "And he shall take the hair 
 of the head of his separation, and put it in the fire 
 which is under the sacrifice of peace offerings." He 
 lifted the stove lid and crammed the sizzling braids 
 in upon the coals. 
 
 Poking the frying steak with a fork in one hand, 
 he put the other up to feel of the jagged locks the 
 shears had left. He chuckled to think how he must 
 look. 
 
 " Guess I ll have to take in the barber shop to 
 night/ he said to himself, " just like other people." 
 It pleased him, so he said it again. " Just like other 
 people." And took up the gay tune: 
 
 Tooma-tooral-i-ooral, i-ooral-ullay, 
 Tooma-tooral-i-ooral, i-ooral-ullay, 
 Tooma-tooraH-oo 
 
 Whoa, there, coffeepot! Want to put the fire out, 
 boiling over that way? 
 
 -ral, i-ooral-ullay, 
 Tooma-tooral-i-ooral, i-ooral-ullay. 
 
 The days of his separation were ended. 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 
 
 MRS. HORNBAKER looked out of her 
 window and called to her daughter: 
 " Laury, there s Dr. Avery. Run out and 
 ask him how Mrs. Moots is. Don t go bareheaded. 
 You are the foolishest child. Here, take my old 
 broche shawl." 
 
 After a little, Mrs. Hornbaker went quietly into 
 the front room and curled the edge of the window 
 shade just enough to let her see Laura still talking 
 to the young man in the buggy. He was carrying on 
 a lively conversation. Every time the little brown 
 mare that hated to stand still in the cold would start 
 to go, he would stop her. Laura had her shawl 
 pulled tight over her head, her shoulders hunched 
 up, and her hands tucked into her armpits. She 
 swayed her weight from one foot to the other. It 
 was cold in the parlor and once or twice Mrs. Horn- 
 baker started for the warm sitting room, but it was 
 only the little brown mare that was minded to end 
 the conversation. Finally the doctor seemed to come 
 to his senses and note that Laura was shivering. He 
 ordered her into the house and drove off, looking 
 
 276 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 277 
 
 back until he got around the corner of Chillicothe 
 Street. Laura ran up the front walk with a fine pre 
 tense of not watching anybody from the angle of her 
 eye, but she knew as well as Dr. Avery when Lear s 
 house came between her and the buggy. 
 
 Mrs. Hornbaker seemed not to have stirred, but 
 Laura knew well enough that her mother had been 
 watching, and her mother knew that she knew. Both 
 played out their little comedy. Laura spread her 
 hands to the stove and shuddered " Wooh! " before 
 she took off her shawl and threw it on the ma 
 chine. Then, as she drew a chair up to the stove 
 to warm her feet, Mrs. Hornbaker hitched her rock 
 ing chair over, too, merely to be near her while she 
 talked. 
 
 " He says Abel Horn s going to play the hero in 
 The Drummer Boy of Shiloh. " 
 
 "The which ?" 
 
 " Why, that war play the Company K boys are 
 getting up. He s to be Lide Burkhart s lover." 
 
 " Huh! " sneered the mother. " He won t have to 
 practice up much. How long s he be n goin with 
 her now? The idy o* him playin hero! He ll play 
 Whaley. The little runt! I s pose he ll wear a wig 
 to cover up his baldness/ 
 
 " Oh, well, he s Abel Horn, you know," said 
 Laura philosophically. " It is his nature to. You 
 might know he d jam in to be first and foremost in 
 
278 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 everything. I believe in my soul he d ask Gabriel on 
 the Resurrection Morning to lend him his trumpet 
 to blow on a while." 
 
 "Laura!" 
 
 " He would. And he d get it, too. I don t know 
 what possesses the men to let him ride over em the 
 way he does unless it is that they are all as 
 gone gumps as he is." 
 
 " How d the doctor say Mrs. Moots was? " 
 
 " Why, he said she might live through the night." 
 
 " Mercy! Why, the poor thing! " 
 
 "Oh, I don t know!" answered the unfeeling 
 Laura, " as they s any call to pity her. She s going 
 where there ll be no Amzi Moots. I should think 
 she d say, Welcome death ! after living with that 
 old skinflint for eleven years." 
 
 " Now, Laury, you oughtn t to talk that way 
 about your neighbors." 
 
 " Well, ma, you know as well as I do that he s the 
 meanest man in Logan County. Dr. Avery says that 
 if he had been called sooner he might have saved her, 
 but he says she don t seem to have any vitality. I 
 told him she hadn t had enough to eat for eleven 
 years, and what could he expect? He says that 
 Moots tried to get him to agree that the whole 
 thing, medicines and all, shouldn t come to more 
 than fifteen dollars." 
 
 "Why, Laura Hornbaker!" 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 279 
 "Ain t he the stingiest? Laws! I wouldn t marry 
 Amzi Moots if he was the last man on earth! " 
 " You like Dr. Avery pretty well, don t you?" 
 Laura could not have heard her, for she went right 
 on: " Moots won t even hire anybody to cook the 
 victuals or help wait on her and look after Luella. 
 The doctor says the house just looks like distrac 
 tion. Mrs. Lucius Lybrand was in yesterday a while, 
 he says. He wanted Moots to hire a trained nurse, 
 but he says the man looked like he was death-smit 
 at the idea of spending so much money." 
 
 " What else was you and the doctor talking about 
 so long? " 
 
 " Oh, he was telling me about his practice." 
 " I guess he hain t got much of a one." 
 " He says he d do right well if people was to pay 
 him what they owed. He says he d be all out of debt 
 and have consid able over. You know he borrowed 
 money to study on up to Cleveland. He says there s 
 more n three hundred dollars of his outstanding. He 
 says it seems like people wait till the last day in the 
 afternoon to pay the doctor." 
 
 " Your pa says it s awful hard to get folks to settle 
 up their grocery bills, too," sighed Mrs. Hornbaker, 
 who came to this topic with the vivid interest one 
 has in a chronic ailment. " I declare I don t know 
 what we re going to do. I don t see how your pa 
 can pay off that mortgage on the house. Your pa 
 
2 8o FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 was very good about it. He didn t urge me any. . . . 
 I did say that come what might, let go what must, 
 I d never put a mortgage on the house after I 
 bought it with that $3,400 that pap willed me. . . . 
 But when he was so pushed for money, and it looked 
 as if the grocery would have to go up, I just kind 
 of had to let him borrow that $2,200 and give the 
 mortgage as security. . . . Your pa was very good 
 about it, though. . . . And now it s as much as he 
 can do to meet the interest. . . . And if they was 
 to foreclose, I don t know what on earth we d do. 
 . . . And there s that note of Rosenthal s, that ll be 
 comin due before long " 
 
 " Well, I just get real provoked at pa sometimes," 
 burst in Laura. " He won t let me do anything 
 and " 
 
 " You mustn t talk that way about your pa," re 
 proved Mrs. Hornbaker. " You know he don t be 
 lieve in girls workin out. Yes, yes, I know it ain t 
 the same as goin* into somebody else s kitchen, but 
 he thinks it is. And I don t know what I d do with 
 out you, now that I m so poorly. We d have to keep 
 a girl, and her board and wages d come to more n 
 what you could make. And laws! I don t want any 
 of em round under foot. Lazy, triflin things!" 
 
 " It ain t that, ma," persisted Laura. " It s his not 
 applying for a pension when he might just as well s 
 not." 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 281 
 
 " Well, Laury, you know how he is about that. 
 You know he says as long as he s able to work he 
 ain t goin to live off o charity." 
 
 " Tchk! " clicked Laura in despair. " I do think a 
 man is the biggest f-double-o-1. Every last one of 
 them has got some cranky notion or other in his 
 head. Why, looky here. Old man Frizzell, the presi 
 dent of the National Bank, that never had a day s 
 sickness in his life, and never went a step nearer to 
 the war than Camp Chase, drafted at that, and just 
 wallerin in money drawin a pension just the same. 
 And here s pa, that fought all through I declare I 
 just get heartsick sometimes when I see him down 
 at the store working so hard, getting up them bar 
 rels of sugar " 
 
 "Now, I told him to let Rote do that," inter 
 rupted her mother. 
 
 " Yes. Well. You get Eurotus Smith to do any 
 hard work if you can. He s another one of your men. 
 Laziest mortal that ever drew the breath of life! 
 I m just going to take charge of this pension busi 
 ness myself. I m going down to see Mr. Lovejoy 
 about it to-morrow morning, and when it comes 
 to having pa examined, I m going to get Dr. Avery 
 to do it and just keep at pa till he gives in." 
 
 " I don t know; your pa is very firm." 
 
 You mean, he can be mulish like all the men 
 when you corner em, and they know they re wrong 
 
282 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 and won t give in. I ll get around him all right. You 
 see if I don t." 
 
 " I s pose you think your Dr. Avery is jist perfec 
 tion," sniffed Mrs. Hornbaker. 
 
 " Oh, hush up about Dr. Avery. He s as big a fool 
 as the rest of them, if all was known." Yet in her 
 heart but who knows what s in a woman s heart? 
 
 There was a silence, and then Mrs. Hornbaker, 
 who from thinking of Dr. Avery had gone on to 
 thinking of Lucy Moots, said: " I reckon we d ought 
 to go over there after we get the supper dishes 
 washed up." 
 
 " Why, what are you talking about? " demanded 
 Laura, sharply turning on her mother. " We don t 
 know his people at all." 
 
 " Why, what are you talking about? " retorted her 
 mother. " I ve knowed Lucy Edwards ever since she 
 was a little girl." 
 
 " Oh," said Laura. " All right." 
 
 Laura Hornbaker and her mother were so close 
 akin mentally that often after a long silence one 
 would say something which was just what the other 
 was thinking of. But it wasn t so this time. 
 
 II 
 
 Two months after Mrs. Moots funeral, Minuca 
 Center was still talking about the way Almeda Ed- 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 283 
 
 wards, who married Jim Hetherington after she 
 couldn t get Amzi Moots, was acting. Word had 
 been sent to her at six in the morning that she must 
 come right away if she wanted to see her sister alive. 
 She got to the house at half past ten; she said she 
 didn t get her housework done before. She was so 
 sorry she had not seen Lucy alive, and wanted to 
 know if she was resigned to go, and if she had said 
 anything about that cameo pin that used to belong 
 to their mother. (Everybody said she was the one 
 that ought to have got Moots; then there would 
 have been a pair of them.) Moots wanted her to take 
 little Luella to raise, but when she found out that 
 Lucy hadn t left her the cameo pin, she wouldn t. So 
 Moots got an old woman from the county house to 
 look after the child and take care of the house. All 
 she cost him was her board and keep. She was what 
 they called, " kind of be-addled," harmless enough, 
 though when anybody knocked at the door she 
 would always grab up the poker and greet the vis 
 itor with, " You let me alone and I ll let you alone." 
 It made Laura feel so sorry for poor little Luella 
 that she had the child come over to her house when 
 there was no school. Luella had never had a doll, 
 and when Laura gave her the one she had kept from 
 her own girlhood days Mrs. Hornbaker cried to see 
 the look that came into the little thing s eyes as she 
 took it into her arms and went to play " keep house " 
 
284 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 out in the grape arbor with a few broken pieces of 
 crockery. 
 
 Mr. Moots always came after her and asked every 
 time, " Has she been a bother to you?" and Laura 
 always told him she was more of a comfort than a 
 bother, for a quieter and more affectionate child 
 never lived than Luella Moots. She would twine her 
 arms around Laura s neck and say, " I love you jist 
 e same as if you was my own ma. I woosht you 
 was my own ma, don t you? Oh, looky, Aunty Horn- 
 baker! How red Wally s gettin round her ne.ck! 
 Yes, and on her face, too. What makes you get so 
 red, Wally?" 
 
 People talked about it, and that made Laura and 
 her mother feel a little uneasy, but what could they 
 do? They couldn t tell Luella she mustn t come any 
 more, could they? It would break her heart, and be 
 sides, they liked to have her. Mr. Hornbaker almost 
 always had a stick of candy in his pocket for her, 
 and would hold her by the hour and tell her stories 
 about a little curly dog named Pino he had when 
 he was a little boy. If Luella came, then her father 
 would have to call for her. Mrs. Hornbaker simply 
 would not have old Jane Ann about the place. Once 
 she came, and when Mrs. Hornbaker went to the 
 back door, old Jane Ann grabbed up the hatchet 
 they chopped kindlings with and muttered, " You 
 let me alone and I ll let you alone. I come for 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 285 
 
 Luella." Mrs. Hornbaker didn t get over it all that 
 evening, but shook like she had a hard chill. So 
 Amzi Moots had to call for Luella, and folks might 
 talk if it did them any good. 
 
 One day Mr. Hornbaker came home to dinner 
 with, " Who do you s pose I seen a-prancin down 
 Main Street, as large as life, all diked out in a new 
 suit and a plug hat and a red necktie, steppin as 
 high as a blind horse? " 
 
 " Laws, I do know," said his wife. " Who? " 
 
 "Amzi Moots!" 
 
 "Good land! Oh, pa, you re foolin ! " doubted 
 Mrs. Hornbaker. 
 
 " Amzi Moots, I tell you. Head up and tail over 
 the dashboard. He s beginnin to take notice." 
 
 " He better let his poor wife get good and cold 
 first," observed Laura, somewhat sourly. 
 
 " I kind o mistrust he has his eye on you, Wally," 
 teased Mr. Hornbaker, using the nickname little 
 Luella had given her. 
 
 "Huh! He better not." 
 
 " Well, now, Laura, if he was to come a-castin 
 sheep s eyes at you " 
 
 "Quit now!" 
 
 " And tellin you how much he loved you, and 
 would you take the place of his dear compan 
 ion " 
 
 " Quee-yut, pa!" 
 
286 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " And be a mother to little Luella and for you 
 to not pay no attention to that young whiffet of a 
 Doc Avery " 
 
 "QUEE-YUT-TA! Ma, can t you make him 
 stop? " 
 
 " Better to be an old man s darling than a young 
 man s sla " In the playful scuffle that followed Mr. 
 Hornbaker got a crumb crosswise and began cough 
 ing so hard that they all sobered down in a moment, 
 fearful that his old wound might break out. Dr. 
 Avery had told mother and daughter, after the ex 
 amination, that Mr. Hornbaker would have to be 
 very careful of himself. 
 
 "O dear me!" he sighed, after he had got his 
 breath back, " if they don t hurry up with that there 
 pension o yours, Laura, I m afraid your poor old 
 pappy won t get much good of it." 
 
 " I don t think you ought to tease me about old 
 Moots that way." 
 
 " He s not old, Laura," corrected her mother. 
 " He told me he had all his own teeth, and he s not 
 a day over fifty-three. I m sure you might do worse n 
 to marry a steady man like Mr. Moots. Well off he 
 is, too." 
 
 " M-yes," admitted her father. " Means to stay so, 
 too." 
 
 " And little Luella just loves the ground you walk 
 on," persisted her mother. 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 287 
 
 " Good land, ma! Do you think I d marry that old 
 coot?" 
 
 " Tut-tut, Laura! What kind of talk is that about 
 your neighbors? It ain t pretty a bit. If he comes to 
 see you, I want you to treat him like a lady." 
 
 " He s no lady; he ain t hardly a " 
 
 " You know what I mean. Now I want you to 
 behave yourself." 
 
 That very evening who should appear but Mr. 
 Moots in all the splendor described by Mr. Horn- 
 baker, leading little Luella by the hand and inquir 
 ing if Miss Hornbaker would not be pleased to step 
 down to Plotner s with them and partake of some 
 ice cream? Mr. Hornbaker s jaw dropped, and his 
 nose glasses fell off, but Mrs. Hornbaker was as cool 
 as a cucumber and made answer: " Why, yes. Laury, 
 go get your things on," before that young woman 
 could say aye, yes, or no. She gave one rebellious 
 look at her mother and then consented for the sake 
 of little Luella. 
 
 Mr. Hornbaker waited till he heard the gate latch 
 click behind them, and then he said, " Well, if that 
 don t beat the Dutch!" 
 
 " I don t see anything strange in Laury s being 
 asked out," replied Mrs. Hornbaker primly. * 
 
 " Why, of course not, but Amzi Moots buyin ice 
 cream! G for jerks! And yit they talk about the age 
 o miracles a-bein past ! " 
 
288 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Laura met Dr. Avery just outside Plotner s, and, 
 as she told her mother afterwards, she thought she 
 would sink through the sidewalk. Her mother said 
 she didn t see why. Dr. Avery was abashed, too; it 
 hadn t occurred to him that Moots might be in the 
 running. He hadn t recovered his self-respect when 
 he went into Josh Riddle s a little later to buy a 
 cigar. Josh said: "Aha! I see old Moots is cuttin 
 you out, Doc." 
 
 " Cuttin me out with who? " Dr. Avery asked, 
 with apparent indifference. 
 
 " Why, Laura Hornbaker. I seen Moots takin 
 her and his little girl into Plotner s a while ago to 
 treat em to ice cream. I reckon they had one dish 
 an three spoons." 
 
 The physician said, " Huh! " and walked out with 
 much dignity. He did not choose to continue the 
 conversation. Josh winked at the two Longenecker 
 boys, who had stopped playing the mandolin when 
 Josh went behind the counter. It was all over Mi- 
 nuca Center the next day about Moots cutting Doc 
 Avery out. Emerson may be correct about all the 
 world loving the lover, but at the Center it was the 
 best " rig " you could get on a fellow to find out 
 that he was in love. 
 
 Mr. Moots, having made a beginning, saw no 
 need of making an ending just yet. He took her to 
 " East Lynne " and the Mrs. H. M. Smith concert 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 289 
 
 company. He told her he thought she sang full as 
 well as Mrs. Smith. Laura had taken three terms of 
 Professor Minetti, and was the only paid member of 
 Center Street M. E. choir. She got $50 a year, and 
 a dollar for every funeral. Mr. Moots appreciated 
 good music. Almost his only weakness was for " The 
 Bluebells of Scotland." Once he cried when she sang 
 it. It put him so in mind of his mother. It was such 
 a favorite of hers. To tell the truth, the worst thing 
 about Moots was his appalling stinginess, and he 
 seemed to have laid that aside as one puts off a 
 garment. When Dr. Avery tried to outstay him, it 
 was always Mr. Moots that asked if the doctor 
 would not favor the company with a little music. He 
 told Laura he thought the doctor had a right nice 
 tenor voice, light, of course, but, my! how sweet! 
 Sometimes you d think it was a lady singing. Mr. 
 Moots sang bass himself. 
 
 He was not obtrusive in his courtship, only per 
 sistent. He was thoroughly dependable. From being 
 resigned to his coming, Laura grew to expect it 
 and to look forward to a day when a question should 
 be asked of her by him. 
 
 " What shall I do? What shall I do? " she asked 
 of her mother. 
 
 " Why, Laury, child," her mother answered, " I 
 don t see as there s any call for you to do anything. 
 Has he said anything yet?" 
 
290 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " Well, no; nothing in particular. He kind o hints 
 about getting his house repainted and papered, and 
 what color had he better have it, and how lonesome 
 it is for Luella with nobody to take care of her but 
 old Jane Ann, and how fond Luella is of me and 
 and all like that." 
 
 " Nothin more n hintin , I s pose? " 
 
 " No, but it s pretty plain hinting." 
 
 " He s never asked you right out if you d be a 
 mother to Luella, has he? " 
 
 " Not right out." 
 
 " Guess you better wait till he does. Doctor said 
 anything? " 
 
 " No m; nothing in particular. He kind o* hints, 
 too. Says how lonesome he is." 
 
 " Why, he s got a mother and a sister." 
 
 "Yes; but he says that s different." 
 
 " Does, eh? Ain t asked you if you d be his com 
 panion? No; I s pose not." 
 
 " Not yet." There was a long silence. " He says 
 collections are so bad." 
 
 This was like speaking of indigestion to a dys 
 peptic. " Laws! I don t know what will become of 
 us. There s that mortgage and that note of Rosen- 
 thal s, the wholesale man. Mr. Lovejoy say why the 
 pension didn t come?" 
 
 " He says there is always more or less delay about 
 such things. So much red tape, he says." 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 291 
 
 " Don t you like Mr. Moots? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, kind o ." 
 
 " Your pa says he guesses Dr. Avery was pretty 
 gay when he was up to Cleveland studying medi 
 cine." 
 
 A long pause. 
 
 " Well, ma, I tell you what. If I marry that old 
 skeezicks, I m going to have ten dollars a week to 
 run the house on. That s got to be in black and 
 white. Now. He ain t going to starve me to death." 
 
 Though she knew the question was coming, when 
 it did come, she was speechless. At four-and-twenty 
 it is hard to let the head rule the heart. Maybe, after 
 all, the heart has the more wisdom at that age. Mr. 
 Moots was very nice about it. He said she might 
 want to think it over. As she still sat silent, he went 
 on to tell her that he had happened into the bank 
 the other day and had learned about the mortgage. 
 While he knew that nothing could make up for the 
 loss of such a daughter though it wouldn t be los 
 ing her, because she would be only four squares 
 away from them still, it would be a comfort to her 
 pa and ma to know that their home was safe and 
 that their daughter had saved it for them. And then, 
 as a man who has looked too long over a precipice 
 casts himself headlong, she said " Yes," and he 
 kissed her. 
 
 After he had gone she said to her mother: " I hope 
 
2 9 2 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 you re satisfied now/ and ran up to her room. Her 
 mother followed and found her crying. She stroked 
 the girl s hair and tried to tell her how well she had 
 done; the doctor hadn t asked her, anyway. Maybe 
 he hadn t meant to; from all she could learn he was 
 pretty wild, and Mr. Moots was a good, steady man, 
 and 
 
 "Oh, hush up!" snapped Laura. "You don t 
 think I m going to back out of it now. I want to be 
 alone." 
 
 "What s the matter with Wally? " asked Mr. 
 Hornbaker when his wife came downstairs. 
 
 " Mr. Moots has asked her and she told him * Yes. 
 She s kind of unstrung, I guess." 
 
 Mr. Hornbaker looked troubled. " I thought her 
 and the doctor was all so thick." 
 
 " Oh, the doctor! I guess she d find when it come 
 to payin the meat man the doctor wouldn t be much 
 account. He s head over heels in debt now, and 
 his mother and sister to keep. Love s a nice thing 
 in the story books, but what s wanted is a good pro 
 vider." 
 
 " Amzi Moots ain t noways celebrated for bein 
 that," Mr. Hornbaker observed. 
 
 " He ll find Laura s no Lucy Edwards, weak as 
 water. She ll spunk up to him. She can manage him. 
 I don t think much o young doctors anyways. They 
 know too much about people s insides, and I don t 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 293 
 
 think it s very nice. Rob graves and cut folks up is 
 all they like to do. Then George never goes to 
 church. And you said yourself he was pretty gay 
 when he was up to Cleveland." 
 
 " Oh, get out! I didn t, either. No more n what 
 any fellow is. They ain t a speck of onriness in 
 George Avery. Why look how nice he is to his 
 mother and his sister, and how hard he has worked 
 to get himself ahead. Why, he was the honor man 
 of his class, and he s the best doctor in Minuca 
 Center, young as he is. Why, he s the pick o the 
 town." 
 
 "Huh!" doubted Mrs. Hornbaker. "Mr. Moots 
 has bought the mortgage and is going to give it to 
 Laury for a wedding present." 
 
 Mr. Hornbaker was dumb. 
 
 The next evening after that, Laura came in from 
 the side porch all excited. " Mother! " she gasped. 
 " There s George in the buggy, and I do believe 
 he s coming to take me out riding! " 
 
 " Well, honey," said her mother placidly, " you ll 
 just have to ask him to excuse you." 
 
 " But what ll I tell him if he asks me why not? " 
 
 " Why, tell him you re engaged to be married to 
 Mr. Moots." 
 
 " O mother! I can t, I can t." 
 
 " Well, Laury, you ll have to. It s so, and it ll have 
 to be known some time. Might as well be now as 
 
294 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 any other time. Tell him now, don t get to cryin 
 
 and go in there with your eyes as red as Pharaoh s." 
 
 Being in the sitting room, which was next to the 
 parlor, Mrs. Hornbaker could not help hearing Dr. 
 Avery when he got to talking loud and excited. 
 
 " You sold yourself! You sold yourself! That s 
 what you did! " he cried. " Oh, you are just like the 
 rest of them. Lead a fellow on to think they re an 
 gels out of heaven and then sell out to the highest 
 bidder. And I was going to ask you to be Do 
 you know what you are? I know. I know what you 
 are. You re just as bad as Liz Donheimer. That s 
 all s he " 
 
 Mrs. Hornbaker flung the door open. " You 
 get!" she menaced. "You get right out of that 
 door! Right now! You dare to talk to my daughter 
 that way! You dare! Compare her to such a creature! 
 If you ever open your head to speak to Laura again, 
 I ll have your horsewhipped. Don t you talk to me! 
 You " She was so choked with rage she could say 
 no more, but advanced toward him, her forefinger 
 like a pistol. He backed out of the house and down 
 the front walk. Two or three people passing stopped 
 to listen and to look. " You ever speak to her again, 
 and I ll have you horsewhipped!" she shouted as 
 the humbled physician drove off. 
 
 " What s the matter, Mrs. Hornbaker? What did 
 he do? " asked Josh Riddle. 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 295 
 
 "Oh, go on about your business!" she snapped 
 and went into the house. 
 
 " Now you see," she said to Laura, " now you see 
 what kind of a man your doctor is. Don t you mind 
 saying to me that he was as big a fool as the rest, 
 if all was known? Well, now you know." 
 
 " But it s so, mother," sobbed Laura. " I I am 
 what he said I was." 
 
 " O Laura, Laura, you re enough to try the pa 
 tience of a saint." 
 
 Ill 
 
 That winter the Company K boys got up the can 
 tata of " Esther, the Beautiful Queen." It was not 
 able for many things, not the least being that for 
 once there was something going on that Abel Horn 
 was not head man in. Mordecai, the leading part, is 
 written for a tenor, and Abel sang bass. He finally 
 consented to play Haman, with the stipulation that 
 he might introduce " The Heart Bowed Down." 
 Charley Pope, who got the whole thing up and 
 played the piano, said, " All right." The first night 
 they gave it two nights to crowded houses, be 
 cause it was scriptural the first night, Abel cleared 
 his throat, swelled out his chest, and took the cen 
 ter of the stage, but Charley Pope never let on. He 
 went right ahead with the music cue for something 
 else, and the others had to go on and Abel was 
 
296 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 crowded back. He glared at Charley all the time he 
 was on, but Charley never saw him. He waited for 
 Charley after the curtain came down, but that act 
 Charley did not go back. He sat on the piano stool, 
 chewing his jaws and occasionally smiling a very 
 dry smile. Everybody else in Melodeon Hall saw 
 Abel pull the curtain back and beckon to Charley. 
 Everybody else wondered what for. After the per 
 formance he declared to Abel that he had mislaid 
 the music for the introduced number. 
 
 " Aw, well, now, looky here," said Abel, " that s 
 too thin. You ve played that for me too many times 
 to need the notes. Anyhow, it s a simple thing, just 
 tum-ty-tum, TUM-ty-tum, tum-ty-tum, TUM-ty- 
 tum." 
 
 " That s all right," Charley told him. "I ain t 
 takin no chances in a reg lar opera. I got to have 
 the score before me." 
 
 " Well, I ll see at you have it to-morrow night. 
 
 I ll look out for that. It won t do to disappoint the 
 
 if 
 
 All right," said Charley, and clapped his hands. 
 "Ladies, attention, please! Miss Harmount, will you 
 to-morrow night Attention, please. To-morrow 
 night, won t you all please remember where it goes, 
 la-lull-la-lee/ that the altos have A flat against the 
 sopranos B flat? Some of you to-night I wish 
 you d go over it now. No, it s la-lull-la-lee. Once 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 297 
 
 again. That s all right. Remember that to-morrow 
 night. Oh, fine! Went fine! Yes, yes, Abel, run along 
 now. I heard you." 
 
 The next night Abel cleared his throat, swelled his 
 chest, took the center of the stage, and Charley 
 Pope went right on. The people wondered what 
 made all the Persians snicker so. Even the heart 
 broken Jews were on the broad grin. Abel glared 
 savagely at the musical director. After the per 
 formance he wanted to argue with Charley, who 
 brusquely said, "Aw, go to grass! Where s Josh 
 Riddle? Say, Josh, tell me that about Laura Horn- 
 baker." 
 
 The Company K boys had asked Laura to play 
 Esther because she looked the part and had such 
 a lovely voice. They had wanted Dr. Avery to be 
 Mordecai, but knowing what had happened, were 
 obliged to take Frank Hutsinpillar, who was even 
 more stupid than the run of tenors, if such a thing 
 can be. Even the indefatigable Charley Pope could 
 not hammer the music into his head, and as an actor 
 he promised to be awful. Just the week before the 
 production he got mad about something and backed 
 out. It looked as if the whole thing would have to 
 be given up unless it could be arranged for Dr. 
 Avery to sing the part. Charley Pope had gone over 
 it with him, and was sure he could do it if The 
 committee wanted Josh Riddle to negotiate the 
 
298 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 transaction, but remembering how he had been told 
 to go on about his business, he enthusiastically de 
 clined. Then they put the job off on Charley Pope. 
 He assumed such a plunged-in-a-gulf-of-dark-de- 
 spair expression that Mrs. Hornbaker felt sorry for 
 the poor man, and consented to let Laura sing with 
 Dr. Avery after Charley had shown her in the Bible 
 that Mordecai was only Esther s uncle. Charley went 
 away radiant with hope and devising stage busi 
 ness for Mordecai that should be the limit of avun 
 cular affection, while Mrs. Hornbaker comfortably 
 reflected that Mr. Moots, from being Laura s at 
 tendant at the rehearsals, had graduated into the 
 chorus. He could keep an eye on things, and besides, 
 she was going to marry him in the month. 
 
 Laura never looked at the doctor during the re 
 hearsals, although they had to stand side by side 
 to sing their duets. Once she dropped her score, and 
 as he picked it up and gave it to her their hands 
 touched. Both of them lost their breath control for 
 a few bars. 
 
 The men hired their costumes from Columbus; the 
 girls made their own. Abel Horn being so short, 
 a deep tuck had to be taken all around in his robe. 
 The first dress rehearsal he had to go around hold 
 ing his gown up in front of him, so that he should 
 not step on it. When he let go of it to hold up both 
 hands to salute the king, it looked as if he were play- 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 299 
 
 ing " Ring-around a-rosy, squat upon a posy." Mr. 
 Moots had a long yellow robe with wide sleeves, 
 and a tall, peaked hat, with a turban wound round 
 it. It troubled Laura s conscience that she could not 
 look at him without wanting to laugh. He was to 
 be her husband in three weeks, and a wife ought to 
 respect her husband, but still 
 
 She and Mordecai had to act out their parts that 
 night. She had dreaded it, but when he came on in 
 his somber robes and flowing gray beard, carrying 
 his long staff and looking so majestic, he seemed 
 quite another person. 
 
 " Now you stroke her hair," said Charley Pope. 
 " Tum-ty-tum. Now you kiss her forehead." The 
 chorus giggled hysterically. Rat-tat-tat! went Char 
 ley s stick. " Ladies and gentlemen of the chorus 
 will please preserve order. A leetle a leetle more 
 so, doctor," said Charley. " Now again, please. 
 That s better. That s good. Now the look, Miss 
 Hornbaker. Ah, that s elegant. Now: * Go thou unto 
 the king. Your cue, doctor." 
 
 The chorus applauded the acting. They did not 
 sense the tempest that swept over the two. Mad 
 dened by the contact of her bare arms, Dr. Avery 
 forgot himself. The chorus could not hear him mut 
 ter: " I love you! I love you! O my God, how I 
 love you!" nor feel the thrill of passion that quiv 
 ered in his hand as it passed over her streaming 
 
3 oo FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 hair. But she did. For them the look she turned on 
 Mordecai was but simulation; for her, it was oh, 
 what ineffable longing! 
 
 Her conscience made her more than commonly 
 gracious to Mr. Moots as they walked home that 
 night. The red blood burned her face when she re 
 called the rehearsal. But she lingered over it in spite 
 of herself. Still, when she met Dr. Avery in the 
 street next day and bowed to him she could do 
 no less she passed on, though she could see that 
 he made as if to stop, and she felt in her back that 
 he had turned to look after her. She dreaded the 
 first performance, and yet she longed for it, longed 
 to thrill under the touch of his hand on her hair. 
 Would he say again but, no, no, she must not think 
 of that. 
 
 IV 
 
 Melodeon Hall was on the third floor. The tiny 
 dressing rooms off the wings were enough for only 
 a few of the principals. The others had to dress with 
 the chorus in the rooms on the second floor, ladies 
 in Judge Rodehaver s law office, men in Henry Mil 
 ler s. The hall between had a front stair on Columbus 
 Street and a back stair, leading up to the stage from 
 Mad River Street. The offices were locked up before 
 the performance so nobody could get in to steal the 
 street clothes. 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 301 
 
 Of the production of the Logan County Republican 
 said: " We predict a glowing future for Minuca Cen 
 ter s talented young cantatrice, Miss Laura Horn- 
 baker, who took the part of Esther. She was indeed 
 queenly in her every act and move and added to her 
 personal charms that of a loud and beautiful voice 
 which has been trained for three terms by our 
 esteemed fellow-townsman, Prof. Vincent Minetti, 
 the accomplished organist of St. Bridget s R. C. 
 Church." 
 
 The Examiner, which came out one day later, and 
 ought to have had the news feature of the produc 
 tion, but didn t, said: " Miss Laura Hornbaker, who 
 assumed the role of Queen Esther, sang the morceaux 
 allotted to her with sweetness and with power. Her 
 staccato passages were given with great purity and 
 clearness, and both the coloratura and the legato 
 movements were worthy of her excellent maestro, a 
 true exponent of the old Italian school of bel canto; 
 we refer to our genial fellow-townsman, Prof. Vin 
 cent Minetti, the accomplished organist of St. Brid 
 get s R. C. Church. Miss Hornbaker was especially 
 fine in the scenes with Mordecai, ably portrayed by 
 Dr. George P. Avery." 
 
 Hannigan wrote that himself. When he went 
 down with Professor Minetti to Slattery s between 
 the acts he was already at the stage where the Eng 
 lish language seemed to him utterly inadequate as 
 
302 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 a means of expression. Minetti filled him up with 
 musical phrases and other things, and this may ex 
 plain how the news feature got nothing except this: 
 " But for the unfortunate contretemps on the con 
 cluding evening, the whole event reflected great 
 credit on the musical abilities of our home talent." 
 
 The morning after the first night Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hornbaker had meant to let Laura sleep late, but 
 when the postman brought the letter announcing 
 that at last the pension had been granted with back 
 pay amounting to $2,600, they had to waken her and 
 tell her the good news. 
 
 "O Laura! The house is saved! the house is 
 saved! " cried Mrs. Hornbaker, the tears running 
 down her face. " And your pa can pay off Rosen- 
 thai now. Oh! I am so happy!" 
 
 "The house is saved, anyhow, isn t it?" asked 
 Laura, still a little dull with sleep. 
 
 " I mean if anything should happen." 
 
 If anything should happen 
 
 Mr. Hornbaker could not speak. He was choked 
 with a throng of emotions. He sat on the bedside. 
 Suddenly he got up and walked the floor. Yes, he 
 was an old man now. He had always made a living 
 for himself and his family, and looked down on the 
 deadbeats that lived off charity. But he was one of 
 them himself now. A vague uneasiness came over 
 him, a feeling that he had not done right by Laura in 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 303 
 
 some way. He looked at her and saw how thoughtful 
 she had suddenly become, how little jubilant over 
 the success of her efforts. 
 
 " I expect we better let Laura rest, mother. She s 
 pretty well tuckered. We got lots of time to talk 
 this thing over." 
 
 Laura did not sleep. She lay staring at the ceiling. 
 If she had only waited then she needn t have sold 
 herself. Yes, that was what it was, just as George 
 said, regular bargain and sale to the highest bidder. 
 She had made the agreement and she supposed she 
 would have to keep her word. And yet 
 
 She recalled the performance of the night before. 
 As she kneeled at his feet with her hair let down, she 
 had thrilled at the touch of his hand; she had waited 
 to hear those passionate words, " I love you! O my 
 God! how I love you! " but Avery had himself bet 
 ter in hand, and all the people were looking. And 
 then she knew how her heart hungered to hear them. 
 If she could only see him to talk to him; to tell him 
 how she had always loved him, but he had not asked 
 her; tell him about the mortgage and how Mr. 
 Moots had put them under obligations Oh, if she 
 could only back out of it now Collections were 
 better now, her father said, and it might be so that 
 George could Suppose he did ask her, what should 
 she say? Her face burned at the thought. 
 
 All that day she was hardly herself. Her mother 
 
3 o 4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 said: " You better go out for a walk, Laura. You re 
 not looking very peart. I m glad to-night s the last 
 of this staying up late and singing so much." Laura 
 said " Yes," but she wished it might go on forever, 
 if only for the chance that once again she might 
 hear him whisper, " I love you! " 
 
 She could not help herself, it seemed as if she had 
 to walk through Center Street past the doctor s of 
 fice. She was ashamed that she should show she 
 cared so much for a man. What would people say 
 if they knew? What would Mr. Moots say? And poor 
 little Luella? Even now she was calling Laura " my 
 new mamma." Rebellion rose in her heart. She didn t 
 care! She couldn t be sacrificing herself to other 
 folks young ones when she might she turned 
 around quickly to see if anybody had overheard her 
 secret imaginings. 
 
 She tried not to seem to linger as she looked at 
 the gold letters on the black sign. It seemed to her 
 that Avery was the most beautiful name in the whole 
 world. She tried to herself how " Mrs. Laura Avery " 
 would sound. Then she tried " Mrs. Laura Moots." 
 Brrrr! 
 
 Eternity ended at last, and once more the time 
 was evening; the place, Melodeon Hall. Once more 
 the piano jingled on the yon side of the canvas wall, 
 which presently rose and disclosed the line of fire 
 and the misty faces beyond it. Once more Haman 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 305 
 
 strutted along with his retainers and hated Mordecai 
 sitting in the gate. Once more the Jews, blinking in 
 the bright light, bewailed Israel s low estate. Once 
 again she kneeled at Mordecai s feet, and he stroked 
 her hair and bade her go unto the king and make 
 supplication for her people, defying all convention 
 alities. Once again she protested the danger, and 
 still Mordecai insisted that it was her duty. The lines, 
 " I ll go unto the king, though not according to the 
 law, and if I perish, I perish/ took on a new signifi 
 cance, personal, present. 
 
 Between the acts the little stage hummed like a 
 hive with the laughter of the ancient Jews and Per 
 sians. Abel Horn was declaiming against the injus 
 tice of Charley Pope, Josh Riddle, the stage man 
 ager, was bossing the job of moving the throne, all 
 the boys and girls rattling away for the bare life. In 
 this Babel, Laura and George suddenly met face to 
 face. It was as if a solitude surrounded them. He 
 gazed at her fixedly. She opened her mouth to 
 speak. The words stuck in her throat till she drove 
 them out. She must tell him. 
 
 " George," she said and stopped, scared at herself. 
 What if he should not extend to her the golden 
 scepter? He took both her hands in his. 
 
 " It was true, what you said I was " 
 
 " O my darling, I was crazy I I but I did 
 love you so, I do love you so! " 
 
3 o6 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 She drew in a long, quivering breath. " I want to 
 say," she persisted as if it were a task she had 
 set herself, " I want to say that it sounds so bold, 
 but I must say it. If I perish, I perish/ " she quoted 
 with a little smile. " It wasn t because I didn t 
 didn t like you. I always but we were so worried 
 about the house, and Mr. Moots bought the mort 
 gage, but we ve got the pension now, and if you ll 
 
 forgive me " 
 
 "O Laura!" 
 
 " Wait." She eluded the arm that sought to em 
 brace her. " And you never asked me " 
 
 " I ask you now. Will you marry me? " 
 She inclined her head. " Don t, George," she whis 
 pered the second after. " They ll see you." Much he 
 cared. 
 
 " When shall it be? To-night? " 
 " Oh, no, oh, no! I couldn t get ready." 
 "Just excuse me for a moment." With masculine 
 masterfulness, he left her and whispered to an an 
 cient Persian: " Billy! Jump into your street clothes 
 and run over to Tom Moran s, the county clerk, and 
 get a marriage license. Who for? For me and Miss 
 Hornbaker. I m twenty-eight and she s twenty-four. 
 Here s a dollar. And say. See if Elder Brown s at 
 home. Keep still about it. Skip now. O Laura! you 
 make me the happiest man on earth." 
 
 "All down for the third act!" cried Josh Riddle, 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 307 
 and they could only clasp hands and murmur, " After 
 the show." 
 
 Billy Reinhart meant to keep still as he was bid, 
 and he only told one man in the strictest confidence, 
 but presently the whole company buzzed with the 
 news except two. Moots for obvious reasons was not 
 told, and Abel Horn was notorious for not keeping 
 a secret. The others hushed when he came near, but 
 he finally cornered one man and said: " Look here, 
 there s a hen on. What is it? Something about Doc 
 Avery and Laura Hornbaker, isn t it? Coin to run 
 off and get married, ain t they? Gosh! Won t that 
 s prise old Moots! Where to? Canton, eh?" Any 
 kind of a yarn would do to tell Abel. " On the ten- 
 thirty. Well, how s that? Sa-ay! Won t old Moots 
 be crazy? Oh, sure not. Oh, I wouldn t let on for the 
 world. Ain t it great, though! " 
 
 Everybody said it was the greatest possible mis 
 take to let Abel Horn get even a hint of it. The 
 secret gnawed him like a consuming fire. He could 
 not keep away from Moots, who had begun to no 
 tice that people were either watching him closely or 
 conspicuously avoiding him. What was this grin 
 ning ape of an Abel Horn tagging him about 
 for? What was up? Where was Laura? Where was 
 Doc 
 
 " Oh, they ve skipped, they ve skipped ! " crowed 
 Abel Horn, who could not hold in any longer, being 
 
3 o8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 a small cup and soon filled. "They flew the coop! 
 Off for Canton on the ten-thirty! Tra-la-loo!" 
 and he waggled his hand as if " shaking a day- 
 clay." 
 
 After him buying that mortgage for her sake! He 
 had ten minutes to get to the B. & I. depot. He 
 might catch the fugitives yet. As he clattered down 
 the back stairs to the men s dressing room for his 
 street clothes only to find the door locked, Billy 
 Reinhart, who was on the lookout, whispered, 
 " Chur-roo! Here he comes! " 
 
 They fled down the front stair. There was Char 
 ley Wells coupe across the road. Why wait till after 
 the show? 
 
 "To Elder Drown s!" commanded George. 
 "Drive like hell!" 
 
 Queen Esther never blanched at the bad word. As 
 they rattled up Columbus Street to the minister s, 
 Amzi Moots was holding up his yellow skirts and 
 making for the ten-thirty as hard as he could pelt. 
 
 Over and over again Charley Pope played the 
 curtain cue of the fifth act and wondered what was 
 the matter. The audience began to stamp. Josh Rid 
 dle appeared before the curtain and in the sudden 
 hush was heard with painful distinctness. " Ladies 
 and gentlemen," he said, " owing to an to an 
 Aw, be still, can t you? It ain t either an accident," 
 
THAT ABOUT LAURA HORNBAKER 309 
 
 he muttered to some one behind the curtain trying 
 to prompt him, Abel Horn, of course, " owing to 
 an " 
 
 " Ufforshnit cong-tong! " shouted Hannigan from 
 the fourth row back. " Ufforshnit cong-tong. Ai 
 that it? Huh? Thass whash mean, ain it? Huh?" 
 
 "Oh, dry up!" the people next him said. "We 
 want to hear." 
 
 " Ufforshnit cong-tong, ain t it, Josh? I leave it 
 to you, Josh. Ain it? " half rising from his seat. 
 "Huh? Eh, Josh? Say! sa-ay! Them clothes o 
 yourn " 
 
 "Down in front! Down in front! Shish!" came 
 from all parts of the hall, and Professor Minetti took 
 hold of the coat tails of the gifted Hannigan and 
 pulled him down. 
 
 " Well, I don t know, Mr. Hannigan, whether it s 
 that there whatyoumaycallum or not," laughed Josh. 
 (Nothing ever feazed that man. Poor fellow! He s 
 dead now.) " But it ain t exactly unfortunate. Ladies 
 and gentlemen, we shall be obliged to ask your kind 
 indulgence for the last act of the cantata, and Pro 
 fessor Pope will kindly omit the solo numbers of 
 Mordecai and Esther, for the reason, ladies and gen 
 tlemen for the reason get out of the way, Abel " 
 he was arranging the curtain for a quick exit 
 "that they have RUN AWAY TO GET MAR 
 RIED! Let her go, professor." He bowed himself 
 
3 io FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 off in a storm of applause that drowned Charley 
 Pope s loudest tinkle on the old piano. 
 
 " Ufforshnit cong-tong, jis same," suspired Han- 
 nigan, his chin sunk in his shirt front. 
 
 Just as Elder Drown shut the book and leaned 
 over to kiss the bride, a wild hooting arose from 
 outside. Through the window they beheld Constable 
 Halloran struggling with something in a yellow robe 
 and a tall peaked hat that clung to the elder s gate 
 post. A mob of boys from across the tracks squealed 
 like a hog-killing, but through it all could be heard 
 Constable Halloran s bellow: " Ye ll do nahthing of 
 the kind. Ye ll go wit me paceably to the callyboose 
 or I ll break the face of ye, ye yallow lunatic!" 
 
 George laughed gleefully, but Mrs. Avery Mrs. 
 Avery sighed and said: "Poor little Luella!" 
 George looked at her as if he did not understand. 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 
 
 WE had put down our name for Elder Brey- 
 fogle and his wife as our guests for the 
 annual conference, and right glad we 
 were when the bus drove up in front of the door 
 and the elder got out in his linen duster, his thick 
 stogy boots, wrinkled around the ankles, up which 
 his trousers made undiscouraged efforts to climb, 
 his rusty " plug " hat, and his Brussels carpet grip 
 sack, bloated with clean shirts and collars and things. 
 He wouldn t hear to my paying Charley Wells 
 for bringing him up, but laboriously unstrapped a 
 leather pocketbook, clicking his porcelain " store 
 teeth " together while his horny forefinger chased 
 a smooth quarter into a corner whence it could flee 
 no farther. That pocketbook! Never very plethoric, 
 it was sure to go back home after conference re 
 duced to incredible limpness by appeals for foreign 
 and home missions, church extension, Freedmen s 
 Aid Society, brethren in distress, and all the heart- 
 stirring and heartrending pleas poured upon the fa 
 vored that sit " within the pale of the conference." 
 " No. Sister Breyfogle felt as if she wouldn t be 
 
 3" 
 
3 i2 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 able to attend this conference," he sighed, as I took 
 the gripsack from his hand and we went up the front 
 walk and into the house. " No. She ain t sick jest 
 now, although she has be n porely all this last win 
 ter and part of the spring. The plumb facts of the 
 matter is, Brother Billy, it has be n borne in on me 
 that I had orta take the superannuated relation, and 
 while I m resigned to the Lord s will, I d know she 
 is. Not that she s any ways rebellious, but I kind 
 o sispicion she thinks I m tollable young to be 
 givin up the active exercise of my ministry, espe 
 cially as they are others older n me still a-continuin 
 on. And furthermore m-well, I says to her, Moth 
 er/ I says, it seems to me you be n a Methodist 
 minister s wife long enough, I says to her, to not 
 expect riches. We have always got along/ I told her, 
 by the Lord s help, and I have faith to believe His 
 arm ain t shortened the least little mite/ I says to 
 her. Well/ siss she, Jeremiah/ siss she, I think 
 I ll stay at home and pray over it/ siss she. I don t 
 believe but what I could kind of bear up under it 
 better. It was under your preachin in Hanks s 
 schoolhouse/ siss she, that I first made up my mind 
 to give my heart to God and my hand to the church, 
 and your sermons have be n a means of grace to me 
 all these years/ she says, an it jest seems to me I 
 can t stand it to think o you a not preachin any 
 more, but jest only exhortin / and with that she 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 313 
 
 began to cry, and I Well, how air ye all, any 
 how? " he broke off, with well-feigned cheerfulness. 
 
 " Sister Jackson, you re renewing your youth like 
 the eagle. Laws, nol This ain t Jinny? W y the last 
 time I seen you, you wa n t knee-high to a duck, and 
 here you air a great big lady. Got ny beaux yet? 
 Well, twon t be a great while now before yer maw 
 and yer paw will be a-complainin about you burnin 
 so much coal oil, the fellows is settin up with you 
 so constant." 
 
 He laughed so loud at his own joke that his up 
 per set fell down, and " Jinny " she is trying to 
 get herself called " Virgie " now that she is sixteen, 
 and we think sweet sixteen at that went as red as 
 the peonies out in the front yard. 
 
 " When she gets married, elder," her mother put 
 in, " we ll have you to perform the ceremony." 
 
 " So do," said he, " so do. The fee ll come in 
 mighty handy to a superannuated. Only don t be too 
 long about it, r else you ll have to get somebody 
 else. And look here, Jinny, don t you go to gittin 
 too stylish and have somebody to assist, because 
 that means splittin the fee. Say " he interrupted 
 himself " who d you s pose I married last Wednes 
 day evening? " 
 
 " Anybody we know? " 
 
 "W y, of course, er I wouldn t a ast you. Nup. 
 Not Em Shaw. Em s never goin to git nybody. Too 
 
3 i4 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 fond of saying smart things and too curless o 
 whuther they hurt or not. Well, I ll tell you. Twas 
 Emmeline Shelby. She got a fellow by the name of 
 Pearson. Not the Pearsons you know over by Sun- 
 bury, but Connecticut folks. His mother and sisters 
 live with him and I jest tell you they re the salt of 
 the earth. Oh, she s doin well to git him. He s the 
 superintendent of the trolley line. W y, ye-es, bless 
 your heart, we got a trolley line, too; they re as 
 thick as fleas on a dog now. He gets good pay, and 
 her pa deeded her a house and lot up on Fountain 
 Avenue, all fixed up s fine s a fiddle. She s got every 
 thing that heart could wish, excepting children." 
 The old man s eyes twinkled, and he tugged at his 
 long, square-cut beard, shaved away from his ex 
 pressive mouth to give it room according to its 
 strength. He made a grimace toward Virgie, who 
 pretended not to notice his last sentence. 
 
 " Emmeline s a right good girl, though she s 
 never pressed forward for the blessing of perfect 
 love, like I expected she would. But in the prayer 
 I offered after I had made her Mrs. Pearson, I asked 
 the good Lord to make her the means of grace to 
 her husband that she had be n to her father. 
 
 " Well, sir, it jest about filled my cup to over 
 flowing when I come to that part where it says: 
 Who giveth this woman to be married to this 
 man? to see Brother Shelby step up and say, I do, 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 315 
 
 a-lookin so prosperous and jest as proud s a body 
 kin righteously be of bavin sech a daughter. I felt 
 so happy I come purty nigh shoutin , only you know, 
 it was the Episcopal service and that don t make any 
 allowance fer shoutin . 
 
 " Well, I says to him when we set down to sup 
 per and I want to say right here that Sister Brey- 
 fogle and me have be n to a good many weddin s 
 in the course of our earthly pilgrimage, but I do 
 know s we ever set down to a more bountiful repast. 
 Laws, Brother Billy, if I could a had some o that 
 good eatin when I was a-tryin to get my growth, 
 I don t believe but what I d be a bigger man than 
 what I am Well, I was a-goin to tell you. I says 
 to him, * Brother Shelby/ I says, if that girl hain t 
 be n the Lord s angel to you, I says, from the very 
 day she was born, I says, l and you cross and dis 
 appointed because she wasn t a boy, I says, then 
 there never was any angels and I dassent deny 
 them, I says, because we got Scripture for them, 
 I says. 
 
 " Look like to me it wa n t more n a week sence 
 I saw her standin up on the seat a-holdin onto his 
 forefinger while he give in his first experience, that 
 is, as fur s he d got, and ast us all to pray for him 
 that he might ever prove faithful. It was tollable 
 airly fer revivals, summers along about Thanksgiv 
 ing time it was, but his experience started one of 
 
316 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 the most powerful p tracted meetings I most ever 
 went through. We had a gracious outpouring of the 
 spirit, and many precious souls were gathered in. 
 
 " Brother Shelby is as good as wheat now and a 
 saved man. The Lord has prospered his goings out 
 and his comings in, but they was a time when he 
 was regular right down in the gutter, but the 
 Lord snatched him out of it took and drug him 
 out, as you might say. He takes His own way 
 praise His name! but He gits there. The promise 
 is: And a little child shall lead them/ and it s so, 
 too. 
 
 " I married him and Huldy Kenyon, and I tell you 
 I was mighty juberous about whether I had orta do 
 it or not. The words kep a-comin into my head: 
 Whom God hath joined together whom God hath 
 joined together ( Lord/ I says, air you a-joinin 
 them together er is it Huldy Kenyon s plegged stub 
 bornness? 
 
 " She was an awful pretty girl, and a good girl, 
 too, and could a had the pick o the whole Lewis- 
 ton circuit fer a good man, and who should she take 
 up with but Ed Shelby? A wild, harum-scarum, 
 drinkin , dancin , card-playin sort of a feller, smart 
 as tacks, but, dear me, how wild! She could V had 
 Henny Simmons as well as not, and he had a splen 
 did farm, all in his own right, and would V pro 
 vided well fer her, but no, she was jest plumb dis- 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 31? 
 
 tracted after Ed Shelby. Have him she would, and 
 have him she did. 
 
 " I says to her one time, Sister Huldy/ I says, 
 * do you feel called of the Lord to be yoked un 
 equally with this unbeliever? I says. 
 
 * He ain t an unbeliever, siss she, spunkin right 
 up. That s the way with these black-haired girls. 
 Flare up like tow. Talk about the red heads. They re 
 meek as Moses, longside o the black heads. I mar- 
 rid a red head myself, and I orta know. 
 
 " He ain t an unbeliever, she says. He don t 
 come to church now, but he says he will when we 
 get married. 
 
 " Well, Huldy, I says as ca m as I could, if 
 he don t come now when he s still a-courtin and 
 ain t shore o gittin you, do you s pose he will when 
 they ain t no doubts about it? 
 
 " She set her lips and tossed her head. He ll 
 come, siss she, and though I m not a prophet or 
 the son of a prophet, I could look ahead and see 
 trouble and heartbreak fer her and contentions and 
 strife fer him. 
 
 Well, I says, I s pose you know he s a drinkin 
 man, I says, ( and you know what that means. 
 
 He drinks some/ she owned up, gittin as red 
 as fire. 
 
 Some! I says, and I tell you my heart bled 
 fer her. Some! It s more n some. He runs with them 
 
3i8 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 Allen boys and cuts up and carries on scandalous. 
 Unless he turns to the Lord right quick/ I says, 
 they are a heap o trouble ahead o him and you. 
 
 " Well/ siss she, I m a-goin* to marry him, if 
 he ll have me/ she says, as pert as you please. I m 
 a-goin to marry him to reform him. In them days 
 that wasn t sech an old saying as it is now, but I 
 had seen sech a plenty of it that I jest got heart 
 sick fer the pore girl. * Well, Lord help! I says, and 
 hushed right up. 
 
 " I thought over it and thought over it, and, 
 somehow, it was borne in on me that the Lord was 
 goin to join them together, if not by my hand, by 
 some other s, and m well, I needed the fee right 
 bad then anyhow. I disremember what it was that 
 Sister Breyfogle wanted with it, but I married them 
 and made them the subject of special prayer. 
 
 " What I said to Huldy, she must a took to heart, 
 for Ed come to meetin right regular before they 
 was married, but it turned out just as I thought, he 
 kind of dropped off afterwards. He stayed sober as 
 a judge fer quite a spell. Oh, I guess it must a be n 
 nine or ten months before he broke out ag in. I 
 could see pride stickin out all over Huldy, as much 
 as to say, Didn t I tell you I could reform him? 
 
 " I knowed it would be only a question of time, 
 and, sure enough, when the bust-up did come, it 
 was a terrible one. Horse run away with him, little 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 
 
 bay mare she was, could go like the wind and nerv 
 ous as a witch. Throwed him out about half a mile 
 below Mumma s place. Broke his leg, he did. I hap 
 pened along providentially and took him home in 
 my buggy. I didn t want any of the neighbors to 
 know about it, so I jest packed him into the house 
 on my back. Pore Huldy, she was so t she couldn t 
 do anything. I could lift a big man like him in them 
 days, but I m afraid it would be a little too much 
 fer me now that I m a-going to take the superan 
 nuated relation. The grasshopper is shore enough a 
 burden now, jest like Scripture says. 
 
 " Poor Huldy cried, and took on terrible when she 
 first see him, but she held herself in as soon as she 
 smelled the liquor on his breath. She didn t want 
 me to see that she was conquered. Oh, she was 
 plucky! So I went for the doctor as soon as I could 
 and then hunted up the little bay mare and what 
 was left of Ed s buggy. 
 
 " He was laid up fer six weeks right in the middle 
 of harvest, and had a big doctor bill and all. He was 
 mighty penitent, and Huldy pitied him so much 
 that she felt like stickin up fer him more n ever. I 
 do know as I blamed her much fer that. Little while 
 after that, Emmeline was born, and I got right pro 
 voked at the man, the way he acted. You see, he 
 wanted a boy the worst way, and went to town and 
 got tight because it was a girl. 
 
320 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " That annual conference, I was appointed to the 
 Minuca Center charge, and I kind of lost sight of 
 Ed and his wife, but I heard of them often. His 
 farm got to runnin down, as you might suppose, 
 and on top of it all he had to get into a scrape when 
 he was drunk, that cost him a pile of money to set 
 tle up. I don t know exactly what it was, but I know 
 that he had to put a mortgage on his farm to pay 
 it. But that didn t scare him, and he kep on till 
 finally he didn t come up with the interest, and then 
 things began to look right doleful for Huldy. 
 Course, she would never have admitted that she was 
 sorry that she married Ed, p ticularly as it was 
 Henny Simmons that held the mortgage; but it kind 
 o looked to me as if the thought had poked its 
 head in the door of her mind, as you might say, and 
 that although she had ordered it out, it still kep 
 on hangin around and peekin in at the winder. 
 
 " I was three years at Minuca Center. You know 
 that was before they let us stay five years in one 
 appointment. The breaking up of the itineracy. Yes, 
 sir, the breaking up of the itineracy. Well, I was 
 made presiding elder of the Minuca Center district, 
 and I tell you it jest about give me the all-overs 
 when I saw Ed Shelby again, all so bloated up and 
 his face as red as a comet. Tchk! I tried to talk to 
 him, but though he was civil and all that, I could 
 see that it was jest like pouring water on a duck s 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 321 
 
 back fer all the good it done him. Huldy, she held 
 her head up as well as she could, but she stayed 
 away from meeting, and I surmised it was because 
 she didn t have clothes fit fer her and little Emme- 
 line. Sweet little young one, she was, and if ever 
 they was a child jest naturally marked with love fer 
 her pa, that child was. Seemed like she was all 
 wrapped up in him, and he in her, too, fer all he 
 was disappointed because she wasn t a boy. She was 
 the very spit an* image of him and that s a com 
 pliment they ain t nobody can stand. They got to 
 give in to that. A body d think the sight o* her 
 would a kep him away from whisky if anything 
 could, but what Ed Shelby needed was saving grace, 
 and plenty of it. It s to be had, bless God! 
 
 " First good chance I got, I drove out to the 
 Shelbys . Huldy was right smiley and churful, but 
 her eyes was red, and it looked to me as if she was 
 a-tryin to carry it off bold and peart. But I looked 
 her plumb in the eye an I says: Huldy Shelby/ 
 I says, you re in deep trouble. What is it? What s 
 Ed been a-doin now? I want you should tell me! 
 W y, elder/ siss she, with a nice, easy laugh, noth- 
 in p tic lar. What makes you run on Ed that away? 
 They hain t a better man in Logan County than Ed 
 Shelby, when She caught herself jist in time. 
 Now, look here, Huldy Shelby/ I says, I don t 
 want you to think I m a-runnin on Ed, because I 
 
322 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 ain t/ I says. l They s the makin s of a good man in 
 him. I feel the burden of souls with regard to him/ 
 I says, and I know and you know that he s a-goin 
 to perdition as fast as the wheels of time can carry 
 him. I know you love him so that you d ruther 
 go to the bad place with him than be up in heaven, 
 you and Emmeline, and look down fer all eternity 
 and see him in torment without one drop of water 
 to cool his parched tongue/ I told her. I m re 
 sponsible, under God, fer you both/ I says, fer I 
 married you. What ll I say when the Lord asks 
 me what I done with them two precious souls 
 fer whom Christ died? I want you to tell me all 
 about it/ 
 
 " Well, sir, she busted right out a-cryin . I let 
 her have her cry out and when she had kind of 
 ca med down a little she up and told me how he d 
 be n a-drinkin so steady and so much that his nerves 
 was all unstrung, and he couldn t sleep none at all, 
 er at least, none to speak of, and his appetite was 
 all gone, and how he was so ashamed of himself and 
 the way he d be n a-actin and so sick and tired of 
 fallin so many times and him a-tryin so hard, all 
 in his own stren th and not a-leanin on Him who 
 is mighty to save to the uttermost Praise His 
 name! Oh, glory to God fer full salvation and how 
 he d set there and argue with her by the hour that 
 it was his duty to go and make an end of himself, 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 323 
 
 and how she would talk to him and try to persuade 
 him out of it, and to try once more to reform and 
 call upon the Lord to help him, and how if he was 
 gone, the farm was sure to be taken away from them, 
 and then what would become of her and little Em- 
 meline, and fer him not to talk that away before 
 other people er they would think strange of it, and 
 how she jist couldn t live if he was to be taken away, 
 and how pitiful it would be fer little Emmeline to 
 be pointed out by everybody: That s the little girl 
 that her father killed himself/ and how bad his folks 
 would feel. Oh, I don t know what all she didn t tell 
 me. She jest opened her heart to me, and I know 
 it done her good to tell it to somebody. 
 
 " Well, I see right plain that this wa n t no case 
 fer counsel ner advice. It called fer help from on 
 high. So we knelt down and had a word of prayer. 
 I was real plain spoken with the Lord. I said to Him 
 plump and plain: Lord, you ve just got to do some 
 thing fer Ed Shelby. I claim the promises fer him. 
 Do something. I don t cur what it is, so long as 
 it brings him to call upon Thee. Well, sir, we 
 both got up from our knees, sure I know that He 
 heard us. 
 
 " Long about Thanksgiving time I think it was 
 the Sunday before. Yes, I know it was now long 
 about Thanksgiving time, I got around to Lewis- 
 ton again for quarterly meeting. I was jest getting 
 
324 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 up to give out the hymn, when who should walk 
 in but Brother and Sister Shelby, a-leadin little 
 Emmeline. They took a seat away up forward, and 
 I never saw Ed Shelby look so much like a saved 
 man as he did that morning. His eye was clur, and 
 his face said Salvation in every line of it. Huldy 
 was jist a-beamin , and I felt sure, if I never did 
 before, that there was a prayer-hearing and a prayer- 
 answering God. Hallelujah! I noticed, too, that he 
 didn t jist bow forward on the seat, come prayer 
 time. Billy, I do despise that. No, sir, he got down 
 on his knees with his face to the back of the seat 
 he was in, in the good, old-fashioned Methodist 
 way, like a man should that s put all upon the altar. 
 I was so anxious to hear all about it that I could 
 hardly keep in. I was a-goin to preach a doctrinal 
 sermon that morning against the Babtists, showin 
 how if the Israelites was babtized to Him in a cloud, 
 they must a be n sprinkled, fer they couldn t a 
 be n dipped, that is, so s to get em wet all over, 
 but I jest let that go by the board and preached on 
 the Prodigal Son and how there is more joy in 
 heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over 
 the ninety-and-nine that went not astray. I had a 
 message from the Lord that morning, and I deliv 
 ered it straight at Ed Shelby, and I could see him 
 a-gettin so happy he didn t know what to do, and 
 not havin much experience with the ways of meet- 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 325 
 
 inghouses, he didn t know any better than to holler 
 Hooray! when he meant Hallelujah! 
 
 " As soon as I got through with the sermon, I 
 wanted to hear what the Lord had done fer his soul, 
 so I announced that there would be a sort of prelim 
 inary love feast, so as to get het up for the one in 
 the afternoon. Sister Breyfogle shook her head at 
 me, fer we was to take dinner at the Curls and 
 Sister Curl was very particular about having din 
 ner on time. She was another Martha, curful and 
 troubled about many things. Gone to glory now 
 these twenty years, and I ll bet she s the neatest- 
 looking angel there. I never let on I see Sister Brey 
 fogle shake her head at me. I went right ahead. The 
 dinner may get cold/ I says, * brethren and sisters, 
 and especially sisters, but I feel that the Lord is 
 present with us, and that to bless, and He ll warm 
 our hearts so s to make up fer the cold dinners, I 
 says. Old Brother Littell he s gone to his rest, too, 
 but do you mind how he could shout, Billy? He let 
 out an A-a-A-Amen ! that you could hear from 
 here to the courthouse, and Brother Ed Shelby 
 stood up on his feet, the first one, all of a trimble, 
 as I could see, and a-holdin onto the back of the 
 seat in front of him. Just then Brother Darrow 
 started up, Hn-I ve listed din the howly mwar, 
 battling for the Lord! You mind how he used to 
 sing through his nose and Ed had it in his mind 
 
326 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 to set down, but no, sir, he stuck it out. And there 
 stood little Emmeline on the seat beside him, hold 
 ing onto his forefinger with her little hand, the Lord 
 bless the child! 
 
 " Well, he told us all about what a sinner he had 
 be n, and how he had fooled away his youth and 
 stren th and brought trouble and heaviness on his 
 pore old mother and his faithful wife, and all the 
 time he was talkin I could see him as he was when 
 he was an innocent boy, so clur-eyed and strong and 
 her such a hearty girl that orta never had a day s 
 trouble if it hadn t of be n fer him, and looked at 
 them both, and seen how whisky had brought him 
 low, and wore her to a shadow of her former self, 
 and I says to myself, If the devil ain t in whisky, 
 what makes it do so much harm? 
 
 " It jest come to that pass/ says Brother Shelby, 
 4 that I knowed I couldn t get shut of this Rum 
 Demon by my own stren th, and I didn t think they 
 was any power that could help me. I jest knowed it 
 would be one trouble after another, and me a-sinkin 
 lower and lower and a-draggin my pore wife and 
 innocent child after me. So I made up my mind/ 
 he says, that I d end it all. I d resk an eternity of 
 hell fer myself if only my wife and little girl could 
 have peace and comfort here on earth a spell. I got 
 down my razor last Wednesday morning, and made 
 out I was goin to shave myself. I honed it and 
 
STARS IN HIS CROWN 327 
 
 honed it, till I got it as sharp as I could, and all 
 the time I was thinkin how this was the last time 
 and me wantin to say good-by to them, but not 
 dastin to fer fear my wife would sispicion what I 
 was up to. Finally/ says he, I slipped out o the 
 house and over to the woods back of the barn. I 
 got out o sight of everybody 
 
 " Not God s/ put in Brother Darrow. 
 
 " No, sir/ says Brother Shelby, and sech a 
 clamor of hallelujahs you never heard. I set down 
 on a log to cut my throat. I thought/ said he, of 
 how twould be when Huldy missed me, and begun 
 to holler fer me, and git the neighbors to search fer 
 me, and I thought/ said he, of them a-findin me 
 a-layin behind that log on them wet leaves, all in 
 a puddle of my own blood, and it made the cold 
 chills come over me/ he says. But it seems like he 
 was determined to do it. 
 
 " Then he went on to tell how it come across his 
 mind about Abraham a-sacrificin Isaac, and the pic 
 ture about it in the big pictorial Bible of the angel 
 a-reachin down his hand to hold back Abraham s 
 knife, and how he jest thought, Huh! The Lord 
 won t bother His head enough about me to send 
 no angel/ and drawed his razor and jest as it nicked 
 his skin he felt a hand holding him back, and he 
 turned, scared like and half expecting to see the 
 silver feathers of an angel s wing. 
 
328 FOLKS BACK HOME 
 
 " It was little Emmeline here, he says, that had 
 follered me out and ast me: " Pa, whutch you goin 
 to do?" but she was jest as truly the Almighty s 
 messenger as if she had come right straight on her 
 ernt from the Great White Throne. 
 
 The elder sat silent for a few seconds softly pat 
 ting his hands together with such a look on his face 
 as they must have who behold the Beatific Vision 
 of the King in His glory. Then he heaved a long 
 sigh. " Yes," he said, at length, " I m a-goin to ap 
 ply for the superannuated relation. I m getting along 
 in years now, and they want younger men and men 
 that s better educated than what I am. I ve borne 
 the burden and the heat of the day, and though I 
 have been an unprofitable servant, I have gathered 
 in some sheaves for the Lord of the Harvest when 
 He comes. ... It won t be long now." 
 
 THE END 
 
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