mfiz MASTER 
 oftifc HOUSE 
 
 
 EDGAIC JAM 
 
 EDWARD MARSHAL
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT
 
 SHE THREW HER HEAD BACK SCORNFULLY. "YOU HUMILIATE ME BEFORE 
 
 EVERY ONE!'! Frontispiece p. 316
 
 THE MASTER OF 
 THE HOUSE 
 
 A Story of Modern American Life 
 
 ADAPTED FROM THE PLAY OF 
 
 EDGAR JAMES 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD MARSHALL 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS FROM 
 SCENES IN THE PLAY 
 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913 , Bf 
 G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY 
 
 The Master of the House
 
 FS 
 
 3 S3. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 MM 
 
 She threw her head back scornfully. "You humiliate me before 
 
 every onel" Frontispiece 316 
 
 "Mrs. Hoffman, let me tell you now, this minute, I won't take 
 
 any orders from that person." no 
 
 "You've drawn the strings into a hard knot." 150 
 
 Hoffman saw with indignation and surprise 156 
 
 "No one shall take you from me!" 218 
 
 "You don't understand me and you have never understood me! " 226 
 
 "Husbands never want to hear the truth." 237 
 
 "I've done with you. . . . Go!" 333 
 
 94C711
 
 The Master of the House 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE slim girl stood on the model's platform, 
 looking angrily at the gray-whiskered, stolid 
 painter who observed her without much ap 
 proval. 
 
 "Bettina," he said, almost angrily, "you're trying^ 
 to be knock-kneed. For God's sake treat the legs He 
 gave you with respect. Suppose they stayed bent !" 
 
 "I hate it !" was her answer, evidently meaning that 
 she disliked posing. 
 
 "Then why don't you quit it? I'm using you only 
 for your own sake. I don't want to see you hungry. 
 I'd much rather have a blonde nymph please be sure 
 of that!" 
 
 She looked at him with hot wrath in her eyes. 
 
 "I mustn't wink, I mustn't yawn, I mustn't stretch 
 a leg " 
 
 "Not when you know that at that very moment I 
 am studying that leg," he ventured. "You do it to 
 annoy me." 
 
 "Do you think I am not human, eh ? Do you think 
 I'm made of wood?" Bettina had a temper, plainly, 
 which was not made of anything like wood. 
 
 He let the hand which held his palette drop help 
 lessly before him, and his maul-stick clattered to the 
 
 5
 
 6 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "I suppose I'll have to let you keep on posing for 
 me. If I don't, why, you'll be posing for some of 
 the young fellows, and then God knows what will 
 happen." 
 
 "You're a mere beast. I'll never pose for you 
 again." She swept her scornful eyes about the studio. 
 "Dirt, and poverty, and temper!" she exclaimed. 
 "Give me my money!" 
 
 "What will your mother say to you?" he faltered. 
 Evidently he regretted his impetuous decision to have 
 done with her and, as evidently, he regretted it far 
 more on her account than on his own. "She'll be 
 angry and blame you." 
 
 "Beast!" 
 
 He slipped the money back into his pocket. "You'd 
 better come again to-morrow, but try not to break 
 the pose when you know I'm working nicely." 
 
 "Give me my money. I'll not come again. Mother 
 may say exactly what she pleases. Anyway, she sends 
 half the money I make to Arthur. He doesn't have 
 to work." 
 
 "The damned young gambling rascal!" The old 
 man's soft, big heart was touched. "Poor child!" said 
 he, his anger gone. 
 
 "Don't 'poor child' me ; give my money to me." 
 
 "No, come again to-morrow. I'll try to stand it." 
 
 "Give me my money." 
 
 "No; I won't." He shook his head. 
 
 For a moment she looked at him with bent head 
 and flashing eyes, even angrier than she had been. 
 "You won't ? I think you will ! Haven't I earned it ?
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 9 
 
 Well, I'll have it! If you don't give it to me I think 
 I know some one who will come and get it for me. 
 I think I know some one." 
 
 He laughed, but she had roused his wrath again. 
 "You mean that crazy young pianist ? Send him here. 
 I've had no lunch. I'd like to eat him up!" 
 
 "You'd not eat Theodore! Theodore Sevigny's 
 not the kind to let an old, gray-whiskered artist eat 
 him up an old, gray-whiskered artist with egg upon 
 his shirt-front, who tries to beat a model out of her 
 two dollars!" 
 
 Two details of this speech distressed the painter: 
 one was the implication that he possibly could stoop 
 to cheating a poor model, and the other was the state 
 ment that egg spots were upon his shirt-front. When 
 he looked down, in affright, and actually saw yellow 
 stains, he was undone. Without another word he 
 passed the crumpled bank-note to her. 
 
 "My God! I'll never eat another egg!" 
 
 "And I hope you'll never try to cheat another girl !" 
 
 "Bettina!" 
 
 "Call me 'Miss Curtis/ Don't you dare to " 
 
 She had gone across the wide old room and passed 
 behind a second screen handsome, if even shabbier 
 than its fellow behind which she had dressed. It was 
 angled at the door to hide the room's interior from 
 such as, knocking upon business, might otherwise have 
 looked in when the door was opened. 
 
 "The door is locked!" 
 
 The artist laughed. "Come back and sit down, 
 then, till the hour that you've been paid for is quite
 
 10 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 up ... Quite ... up ... It will give your tem 
 per time to cool ; and, anyway, I want to have a talk 
 with you." 
 
 She shook the door with vicious wrath. 
 
 "It's locked and strong," he counseled. 
 
 "Beast ! Come here ! Unlock it !" 
 
 "I'm not going to. I'm smoking." He sank into 
 a chair and lit his pipe. "You'll have to stay. You 
 might as well come back here and sit down." 
 
 After more futile shaking at the door and ten min 
 utes on her feet, she did as he suggested, for she 
 really was tired. But she did not look at him, or 
 speak to him. 
 
 She made a very charming picture as she flung her 
 self into the shabby rocker which he had swung into 
 position for her. Her wrath had doubled, but she was 
 dumb through consciousness of helplessness. She was 
 a little bit dismayed at thought of going to her mother 
 and explaining that this work had been rejected for 
 the future. She did not wish to pose for other 
 artists; there was some reserve about her. 
 
 Canny beyond her years, through the precarious 
 life provided for her by a stepfather who loved his 
 liquor far more than his adopted family, and a mother 
 who had driven him to this unnatural division of af- 
 'fection by the sharpness of her tongue and an ex 
 traordinary greed for bizarre self -adornment, the girl 
 already had begun to definitely regret the outburst of 
 her temper which might mean a break with the old 
 artist who had been a most important source of in 
 come to them all. Her brother either could not earn
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 11 
 
 or would not earn the former being his contention 
 and their mother's plea, while the latter was Bettina's 
 firm conviction. Money had to be discovered, some 
 how, with which to furnish his supplies, for until they 
 were secured her mother would use money for no 
 other purpose not even for household necessities. 
 Her claim was that the youth was most unfortunate, 
 that he continually met disastrous luck through no 
 fault of his own, that the whole world, including the 
 "old man" and Bettina, was strong against him. If 
 one called attention to his manifold shortcomings, 
 such as a tendency to bet upon the races, gamble else- 
 wise, spend upon boon companions money which 
 should have been devoted to the family or his own 
 board bills, she made excuses for him. That he was 
 young was her invariable plea when he did something 
 worthy of a criminal centenarian. 
 
 And Bettina knew that she herself did not actually 
 hate him, as she ought to. 
 
 From her earliest remembrance the family life had 
 been a battle for her mother's favor, between her 
 stepfather, on one side, and her brother and herself 
 upon the other. Had it not been for their coalition 
 against the "old man," she might have hated Arthur. 
 Sometimes she hated him, in spite of it, but the hatred 
 faded when their stepfather tried to punish him, or 
 even hamper him in the realization of some of his 
 extravagant desires, although, before the "old man's" 
 wrath arose she might have fumed with indignation 
 because Arthur's waste was curtailing her own spend 
 ing.
 
 12 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 As things stood, therefore, the daughter, mother 
 and son comprised a little human triangle surrounded 
 by a hostile world, and surrounding one poor wretch, 
 her stepfather. The triangle combined against them 
 both, determined to beat off the world and victimize 
 it, when that was possible, and equally resolved to 
 keep the old man in. While it kept him in it was an 
 easy thing to victimize him to a degree a small de 
 gree, for his income was small. If he escaped for a 
 few days sometimes he got away for a full month, 
 to lie in sodden liberty at a distance, or in hiding 
 indignation became general. But the family always 
 rescued, while it cursed him. 
 
 It was characteristic both of Bettina and her mother 
 that they had a sense of loyalty toward him, as well as 
 toward Arthur and each other, ready to be flaunted 
 in the public gaze, but showing shabbily, or being 
 utterly invisible when they were by themselves. Many 
 were the battles waged in their own privacy; even 
 fearsome were the tales they told to one another about 
 one another; but when it came to real attack on any 
 one of them from the outside then would they rise, 
 cohesive and repellent as the Three Guardsmen, to 
 combat the world only, when the fight was over, to 
 express with sizzling emphasis, not free from fierce 
 invective from the four male lips among them, their 
 violent opinions of each other. 
 
 Bettina, as she watched Murfree smoke, considered 
 all these things indefinitely, scarcely conscious that 
 she analyzed them. She knew that should the artist 
 try to harm her insult her, or abuse her, or reduce
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 13 
 
 her wages she would have the massed backing of 
 her family against him, and that if they could not 
 actually do him harm they would hate him till their 
 dying days; she also knew that if she left him, as she 
 threatened to, when all the fault was hers, and robbed 
 the family coffers of the money which he offered her 
 for posing, she would not readily be forgiven the sin. 
 
 The finances of the family always were at ebb ; just 
 now they were at lower ebb than usual; it would be 
 an especially bad time to stop the flow of even the 
 small stream with which her work was feeding them. 
 Her wrath at Murfree was not lessened; her wrath 
 at those at home became intense ; but she decided not 
 to throw away the source of income. She had not 
 the courage, now that she had stopped to think it over. 
 
 Murfree never smoked when he was painting, it 
 being his contention that the floating vapor round his 
 easel might affect his color- judgment. 
 
 "Well," she snapped, "you going to sit and puff 
 all day? Or are you going to work again?" 
 
 "You've decided to pose decently, have you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes ; I'll pose. I've got to pose. I'm in your 
 power enough for that. I suppose it's possible to hate 
 you just as much when I'm here posing as it would 
 be if I went outside to do it." 
 
 "Little cat!" 
 
 "Beast!" 
 
 Murfree burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 "Well, Bettina," he said genially so genially that 
 she felt the muscles of her own face softening "per 
 haps we'd better quit our scrapping and go on about
 
 14 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 our business. Hurry up, get off your duds, and take 
 the pose." 
 
 All the time she was behind the screen undressing 
 she railed at him in her heart, but suddenly she had 
 learned a mighty lesson. She had learned that there 
 were other ways to manage men than to abuse them 
 and desert them. She decided, then and there, that, 
 no matter how she might hate Murfree, she would 
 use him; she would manage him and use him. So, 
 although it wrenched her lips to do it, she was smiling 
 when she stepped up to the model's stand and took 
 her pose. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake !" said the astonished Murfree. 
 "Got your smiles back?" 
 
 "I've decided to be nice," Bettina answered. 
 
 Murfree looked at her with opened mouth. Here 
 was a new phase of the girl. "You've decided to be 
 nice to me?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Murfree." 
 
 He raised his eyes dramatically. "This must be a 
 dream!" Then to her: "Great God, child! Why?" 
 
 "I'll get the pose first, then we'll talk, if you're still 
 working on the legs. Are you?" 
 
 "Yes ; I'll work on anything you say. I'm dazed." 
 
 "Well am I right, now?" 
 
 "Turn your back a little. Right knee up a trifle, 
 please . . . There that's it, exactly." 
 
 "Well, I don't like to pose; but I guess the way to 
 stop it isn't just to quit." 
 
 " 'The way to stop it isn't just to quit?' It sounds 
 unintelligent. Just what is the idea ?"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 15 
 
 "I mean that, maybe, if I'm more careful and really 
 try to help you, perhaps you'll try to help me, Mur 
 free." 
 
 Now he let both maul-stick and palette fall. 
 
 "Bettina, I am down and out! Is it possible that 
 you are planning to control old Murfree through 
 sweet words of kindness? You?" 
 
 "I'm not planning to control you. It had just oc 
 curred to me, that's all, that if I want you to do fa 
 vors for me, I had best do favors for you, Murfree." 
 
 She broke the pose and turned toward him, with an 
 appealing gesture, singularly irresistible. She looked 
 very slim and childish; that she was posing for a 
 nymph did not seem shocking to him he had painted 
 nymphs, from one model or another, for the better 
 part of forty years ; he saw no allurement, but merely 
 lines and color values in the frank exposure. 
 
 "I'll be glad to help you, if I can," he said soberly, 
 quite as if the conversation was in progress in the 
 common-place surroundings and conventional cos 
 tumes of a flathouse sitting-room. 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Sure, Betty." 
 
 "Then you know a lot of people. Lots of people 
 buy your pictures. They must be prosperous, or they 
 couldn't buy them, for you know you get good prices, 
 Murfree." 
 
 "The deuce I do! Sometimes I do, sometimes I 
 don't but go on, please." 
 
 "Isn't there some work that I could do, for some 
 of them, that wouldn't be like this? Don't they
 
 16 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 sometimes need oh, governesses for their children? 
 Companions for their wives, to read aloud, and so on ? 
 I've read about such positions. I could be a governess 
 if they didn't ask too much." 
 
 "You'd choke the kids to death and throw them 
 off the roof the first time they bothered you," Mur- 
 free predicted, gloomily. 
 
 "Not if I had the job and wished to keep it," 
 she replied. "I've got quite a hold upon myself. See 
 how I've pulled myself together, now! I was very 
 angry, Murfree." 
 
 "When you get a hold upon yourself you'll really 
 be dangerous," he said, with shaking head. 
 
 "I'd be less dangerous to little children, wouldn't 
 I?" 
 
 "To little children, possibly, but Lord ! to adults 
 women. You would poison them, I think, if they 
 once crossed you." 
 
 "No, I wouldn't. My temper flares and dies away 
 I don't hate." 
 
 "But you don't care for folks. You can't. Not 
 in you." 
 
 "I care for my mother and my brother." 
 
 "That's mere habit, not affection." 
 
 "Why, Murfree, I even care for you. Wait, I'm 
 going to get that egg off." 
 
 "Glad to have you get the egg off, but you'll never 
 care for me, or, really, for anyone. Sometime you'll 
 think you are in love, but you won't be. It will flare 
 and pass. You'll pretend you are a hundred times. 
 Then will be when you will raise most hob !" 
 
 She was working with a palette knife at the coagu-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 17. 
 
 lated egg. He knew it was a bribe, rather than a 
 service, although she looked at him, with big eyes, 
 very prettily, so he desisted. 
 
 "I do care for you, and I care very much for my 
 dear family. And little children? I adore them!" 
 
 "I know a good sight better." 
 
 "You're wrong. I wouldn't poison them I'd man 
 age them." 
 
 He shook his head, emphatically doubtful; then he 
 took thought of existing things, and began to wonder 
 at them; wondering at them, he began to also won 
 der if she might not, even then, be proving her ability 
 to manage them. This thought he voiced, ere long. 
 
 "You're managing me, this minute, aren't you?" 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 There was a new appeal in the girl's eyes. He 
 doubted it, and yet believed it. Could it be possible, 
 he asked himself, that he was witnessing a human 
 metamorphosis? Was the "little cat," whom he had 
 known so long, maturing, there before his eyes, into a 
 charming, reasonable woman? He had hoped she 
 might, some day, but, lately, had begun to doubt the 
 possibility. 
 
 "Well, you are," he granted. "Now, exactly what 
 do you wish me to do for you?" 
 
 "Keep a lookout for a place for me. You know 
 what I mean. I couldn't be a servant not exactly 
 that." 
 
 "You might try clerking it. I could probably get 
 you a job in some art store. You know something 
 about pictures." 
 
 "No; no use of tempting providence, Murfree. I
 
 18 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 couldn't stand it. Even the control I've got upon my 
 temper, now, wouldn't endure the strain of talking art 
 to that sort which goes into picture stores to buy." 
 
 He nodded with approval. The girl had brains. 
 There was no doubt of that. 
 
 "Well, you know music. I might help you 
 with " 
 
 He. stopped short, suddenly. 
 
 "With whom?" she eagerly inquired. 
 
 "No; music would be a bad life for you," he said 
 slowly. 
 
 He was thinking of that Theodore Sevigny, of 
 whom he had expressed such deep contempt, the abom 
 inable young pianist who had daily come to get her 
 at the studio, until the artist had informed him 
 that next time he climbed the stairs he, personally, 
 would throw him bodily down them. Like others of 
 high art's pursuers, he believed that those who sought 
 her in another guise than that which he found so 
 alluring must invariably be fools or charlatans. Se 
 vigny, being musical, was, therefore, both unreliable 
 and dangerous. He put away from him the thought 
 which for a moment had flashed through his brain 
 of finding her a place with an impresario friend, who 
 needed someone in his office, to receive visitors. 
 
 "I just happened to remember that the chap whom 
 I was thinking of is dead," he lied. "I wouldn't 
 know exactly how to reach him with a letter intro 
 ducing you." 
 
 She dimpled to the joke. "I wouldn't care to take 
 the place, I'm sure, even if you could get it for me.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 19 
 
 I never liked the heat. But don't you know some 
 body who is still on earth, and who might be as likely 
 to like me?" 
 
 He laughed. "You're showing me a brand new 
 side, Bettina. And I thought I knew all of your 
 phases." 
 
 "You're seeing more of them, this minute, than 
 any other living soul except my mother ever saw. 
 But can't you think of someone who would like the 
 sober side ? The helpful, busy side ? I'm sure there's 
 one, and I should like to use it." She had a sense of 
 triumph. She was managing him. She knew, too, 
 that she was doing a neat bit of acting. 
 
 "I wonder if there isn't!" he exclaimed. "Well, 
 I'll tell you what. You take the pose again, while I 
 fix up that thigh a little, and as I work I'll think." 
 
 Almost she advised him not to risk a strain so 
 unaccustomed; but with new self-control she curbed 
 her tongue. 
 
 He worked rapidly and with few words until the 
 light failed. 
 
 "I haven't got it, yet," he told her, while she was 
 behind the screen, above which, as she dressed, there 
 now and then were flutters of swung garments. "But 
 I'll find someone. If you're really in earnest about 
 this you are, aren't you?" 
 
 It may have been pins in her mouth which made 
 her answer somewhat indistinct. He thought it was. 
 It may have been a tendency toward scornful laugh 
 ter for Bettina certainly was advancing in the wis 
 dom of this world by leaps and bounds, that after-
 
 gQ THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 noon. "Why, certainly," she said, at any rate. "Of 
 course I am, Murfree." 
 
 "Well, you bet I'll help you, then." 
 
 She came from behind the screen, gowned shab 
 bily, wrapped in an old cloak which she wore jauntily, 
 crowned by a wide hat which drooped with picturesque 
 effect, although a better light would have revealed 
 some gaps in its old feather's edging. 
 
 "And you'll forgive me, Murfree, for calling you 
 a beast to-day?" Again that sweet, appealing look 
 of upturned, wistful eyes exceedingly large eyes 
 dramatic eyes. 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Bettina!" He was utterly 
 dumfounded. "What a change of heart! Why, lit 
 tle girl, of course I have forgiven you, and I will 
 help you!" 
 
 She smiled very sweetly, longing, mightily, to 
 laugh instead. "It's nicer not to quarrel with people, 
 isn't it?" said she. "To-day has taught me a great 
 lesson, Murfree. I never thought it out before. 
 You're not a beast, at all, except when I make you 
 angry. And I made you angry quite intentionally. 
 So it has been my fault you have been a beast at all." 
 
 There was something almost fervent in the hand 
 which Murfree laid upon her shoulder. "My child, 
 I'll never be a beast with you again. It has been my 
 fault, not yours. My fault." 
 
 "No, mine and I'm so sorry!" she called back to 
 him as she left. 
 
 Long after her departure the bewildered artist sat 
 in the growing dusk, endeavoring to adjust himself
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 21 
 
 to this new girl. She had, for years, amused him; 
 he had loved to fight with her; it had been a real 
 divertissement in a somewhat colorless existence. He 
 had used her, sometimes, not because he liked her 
 flesh-tints for a certain picture, and when a more 
 mature figure would have been much better for the 
 work in hand, but because it so amused him to 
 observe her as she stuck her claws out, to listen to 
 her, as she hissed and sputtered. He had never had 
 much comfort from her purring. It had been far too 
 infrequent. 
 
 Contrition swept him. He felt that his had been a 
 vicious life. He had not done much harm, but had 
 he done much good? Was not this to be his oppor 
 tunity to benefit that world which he had hitherto 
 regarded merely as a thing to battle with, or scorn, or 
 laugh at and exact a living from? He supposed all 
 men should feel some sense of duty . . . obliga 
 tion. 
 
 As he considered things in this new light, which 
 so revealed the error of his own past ways, he saw 
 a new Bettina, rising, as it were, out of the fresh 
 paint (flesh tint) of the tempting and alluring nymph 
 which beckoned to him from his easel. Had he done 
 ill by her in letting her thus pose for him ? He could 
 not think so, for the posing had begun when she had 
 been a baby girl, and had always been a very serious 
 affair, frequently the cause of fights, never the cause 
 of anything more tender than cold business, or wild 
 verbal brickbats thrown through the studio with such 
 extraordinary plenitude and energy that had they been
 
 22 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 material the skylight would a thousand times have 
 lain in shattered bits about his feet. He knew that 
 she regarded him much as she looked upon her step 
 father only with some slight respect, regard, admira 
 tion, filial feeling. Truly he had been far more a 
 father to her than her mother's second husband had 
 and truly that had not been much. Was it not his 
 duty, now, to really play a part paternal with her? 
 The time had come when she must be removed from 
 certain influences principally the Sevigny influence 
 or suffer ardent and undoubted danger. He was con 
 vinced of that. Yes ; he must find a place for her. 
 
 Having reached this comfortable conclusion, he felt 
 most meritorious and went around the corner, to sit 
 at a small table in the restaurant of a prosperous 
 Italian, reading a month-old French newspaper, while 
 he ate his sausages and macaroni. 
 
 At about that time Bettina reached her home, which 
 was the third flat in a building cornered on a thor 
 oughfare named for the birthplace of some few of 
 New York's early settlers. There is no other street 
 in New York City quite like Amsterdam Avenue 
 compound of important traffic artery from the dense 
 downtown business city to the dense uptown dormi 
 tory town, residence street for some in moderate cir 
 cumstances and many of circuitous and doubtful 
 means of living, with ground floors given over, half 
 and half, perhaps, to flats and little retail businesses, 
 among which saloons predominate (of course, for it 
 is in New York), and among which the imported 
 delicatessen store shares honors with the native gro 
 cery.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 23 
 
 The hallway into which the young girl turned was 
 compressed between a delicatessen and a drug-store, 
 and, while it was not without pretensions in the way 
 of cut-stone and beveled glass, it sadly needed soap 
 and water on its intricately tiled floor. A tall and 
 slender youth, very, if somewhat cheaply elegant, so 
 long-haired that he might as well have worn a badge 
 proclaiming: "I am musical, oh, very temperamen 
 tal," drooped gracefully on the stone balustrade which 
 flanked its doorsteps. He had been glaring fiercely 
 at a grocer's helper, who had laughed loudly at his 
 hair; but he greeted her with smiles. 
 
 "Oh, there you are!" said she, a little sharply. 
 
 He answered with a foreign accent, which a stran 
 ger, hearing him, would have found it puzzling to 
 entirely identify. Truth was that it was compound of 
 an inborn twist gained from Alsatian parents, which 
 had been adamant against the public schools of the 
 East Side, and a mixture of the French and German 
 tendencies of newcomers to these shores, which he 
 had carefully devised, because he thought it made 
 him interesting to the pupils (whom he fought hard 
 to get) of his piano lessons. The musical instruc 
 tors' ranks in New York City are much overcrowded. 
 No man must let the lack of anything so slight as a 
 queer accent stand between him and the bare neces 
 sities of life. 
 
 Theodore Sevigny was sufficiently a Scotchman, 
 despite the actual mixture of his blood, to know this, 
 and to have invented a very fascinating way of lisp 
 ing, slurring, rumbling r's and complicating sentences.
 
 4 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Also he used these various abilities dramatically, roll 
 ing eyes and shrugging shoulders with a lavish gener 
 osity of gesture which was unsafe in mixed company 
 of those small New York boys who scorn affectation, 
 but which had often proved effective with young lady 
 pupils and their even more impressionable mam 
 mas. 
 
 "Bet-fmt-ah!" he now cried, dramatically, as if she 
 had arisen unexpectedly out of the tomb at a time 
 when he had quite abandoned hope that she could 
 ever come to life. 
 
 He did not himself know just why he practiced 
 all his arts with such unceasing assiduity upon Bet- 
 tina and her mother, Mrs. Curtis. He was by no 
 means sure that he was seriously anxious to impress 
 them ; he was by no means sure he was not. Perhaps 
 he loved Bettina. Certainly he wished to have her 
 think he did, for that would make her thrill with 
 love for him and Theodore was over-fond of being 
 loved admired regarded as a genius anything 
 which took him vividly into the limelight, no matter 
 of what slight importance might that limelight be. 
 
 "Poor Theodore !" said she. "Have you been wor 
 ried?" 
 
 "When you did not leave the ogre's den at six 
 o'clock," said he, "I was insane with fright, but finally 
 decided that you probably had told the wolf the 
 snake the wild hy-een-ah that you would no longer 
 pose for him." His hat was in his hand. He threw 
 his head about until his long hair flopped. "So I 
 came here, at once. Then, when your mother told
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 25 
 
 me you had not come home ah, Bet-te^n-ah! I was 
 frightened. If you had delayed another moment I 
 should have gone to the police!" 
 
 She laughed. He frequently amused her, even 
 when he most impressed her. 
 
 "You laugh at me you laugh at your own Theo 
 dore!" he cried, distressed. 
 
 She sobered. He frequently impressed her, even 
 when he most amused her. 
 
 "Nothing tragic's happened," she assured him. "I 
 had a row with Murfree. That was all. And it 
 took time. It was delightful!" 
 
 "The ogre!" 
 
 "I don't think he ever really tried to eat me, but I 
 almost bit his head off!" 
 
 His eyes were big with horror. "But he 
 didn't " 
 
 "No, no, Theodore." She was annoyed by the stu 
 pidity of his imaginings. "Come upstairs. I'll tell 
 you all about it." 
 
 Theodore shrank slightly. "No; Bettina: no, I 
 won't go in to-night." 
 
 "Why? What's the matter? Is father home?" 
 
 "He came while I was waiting for you, and he 
 almost saw me." 
 
 The girl's face grew grave. She plainly wished to 
 hurry up the stairs; yet she paused long enough to 
 tell her story in a few short words. 
 
 "He got sorry afterward Murfree, I mean," said 
 she, "and while we quarreled I made up my 
 mind to quit that sort of thing the posing."
 
 26 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Bet-teen-ah !" the pianist cried with fervor and de 
 light. 
 
 Her work had always stirred him with a sort of 
 jealousy. He had not argued much against it, be 
 cause none knew better than himself how much the 
 money which she earned was needed by her family, 
 and none was less inclined than he to offer to re 
 place it with money of his own securing. He had 
 never risen in hot wrath against her posing, there 
 fore, yet he now felt a comfortable thrill of satisfac 
 tion at the thought that she would pose no more. 
 
 "Well, I told him I had made my mind up and 
 should stop it." 
 
 "Was that what caused the quarrel?" 
 
 "No; I think it was because he said I wiggled my 
 left knee that I exploded. I only thought of it while 
 I was standing by the door for half an hour, waiting 
 for him to unlock it." 
 
 "Did he unlock it?" 
 
 "No, he didn't; and I got to thinking. Then I 
 stopped asking him to let me out and went back and 
 sat down. We had a little talk, and when I began 
 to pose again " 
 
 "Oh, Bettina!" Sevigny made a gesture of de 
 spair. He made fine gestures of despair, and, know 
 ing this, made them quite frequently. And, as argu 
 ments against her posing, they could not be taken 
 very seriously they were mild protests, which he 
 knew would never make her cease her work, although 
 they put him upon record as objecting to it. His was 
 a facile, diplomatic mind.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 27 
 
 "When I began to pose again," the girl continued 
 calmly, "I told him I was going to stop." 
 
 "I suppose he got more furious than ever." 
 
 "No; you don't know Murfree. He did not at 
 all. He said he'd rather have a blonde. He was 
 very much astonished, for a while, but then he talked 
 the matter over with me nicely and decided, finally, 
 that he would help me find some other work which 
 would do just as well and which has not such disad 
 vantages." 
 
 "Some shop?" gasped Theodore. Should she 
 work in a shop, then his artistic soul, he knew, would 
 find itself unable to endure association with her. It 
 would be too tragic! 
 
 She caught this vagrant thought and went on 
 quickly with her explanation. "No; not a shop. I 
 told him that I couldn't possibly do that; but that if 
 some of his rich and fashionable friends he has a 
 lot of them, you know: old-fashioned, but a few 
 of them so rich that it is wicked should want me to 
 become companion to their wives or governess to their 
 small children, why I told him that the work must 
 be genteel ; but I told him that I wanted to stop posing. 
 And he's going to try to find a place for me. 
 
 "I've got to do it, Theodore, even if it's out of 
 town. As things stand, now, I'm getting on I'm 
 nineteen in a month or two and I'm not meeting any 
 er anyone with money." She had almost let slip 
 "any men", but had adroitly caught herself. 
 
 But her meaning did not escape him. He was 
 stirred.
 
 28 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Men with money!" he exclaimed, insulted. "Bet- 
 teen-ah! What of me?" 
 
 She smiled at him with admiration blended with 
 good-natured tolerance. "You know 'what of you'. 
 You haven't anything. If your opera is ever pro 
 duced and makes a fortune or, if oh, if anything 
 occurs, why then " 
 
 He dropped his head in resignation. "Ah, pov 
 erty!" 
 
 "You don't like it, Theodore, any more than I do." 
 
 "It grinds and crushes, stifling the artistic fires!" 
 he carefully admitted. 
 
 "And your artistic fires must not be stifled," she 
 said very earnestly. It was plain that even if Sevigny 
 sometimes was amusing to her, she still had real re 
 spect for his ability. Perhaps she loved him. Who 
 could say? Surely not Bettina, though Sevigny 
 thought she could. 
 
 "I suppose that we must call it Fate!" he mur 
 mured. 
 
 "It's common sense," was her matter-of-fact com 
 ment. 
 
 "Oh, Bet-te*n-ah, I " 
 
 Now he had a rival in the exclamation of her name. 
 Her mother called it from the head of the first flight 
 of stairs. 
 
 "You down there, Bettina? Your stepfather's 
 home and angry because dinner's waiting." 
 
 "Animal!" Sevigny growled. 
 
 "Theodore!" said Bettina sternly. 
 
 "How can you defend him?" he asked hopelessly,
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 29 
 
 and, giving her small and pleasant hand a rapid pres 
 sure, faded off into the nimbus an electric light was 
 building in the thickening fog which, now, was creep 
 ing upward through the sloping streets which led 
 across Broadway, across Riverside Drive and to the 
 Hudson. 
 
 After he had gone a block on Amsterdam, he 
 turned eastward until he reached the whang and clat 
 ter of Columbus Avenue, where surface cars and ele 
 vated railroad make the early evening sound like a 
 Titanic boiler-shop wherein fire-alarms are frequently 
 exclaimed by gongs.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Downtown in the studio, Murfree sat in a deep 
 revery. It was not definitely built of thoughts of the 
 young girl who recently had left him, clothed and 
 in her right mind, after having spent the day un 
 clothed, and most of it in anything but a right mind. 
 
 Principally he was dreaming of his past the old, 
 old past, which seemed so very far away that it was 
 scarcely real; the past when he had gone to college 
 in a lovely little city in the western part of New York 
 state, when through work which had seemed wonder 
 ful to him and had seemed good to others, he had 
 won a scholarship transporting him to Paris, when 
 he had strained and struggled in the Quartier, trying 
 to make ends meet and discovering new evidences 
 daily that even if the art which won the scholarship 
 was good, it yet was less divine than much which 
 concentrated there in the great schools. 
 
 Young Murfree had lost heart ere he had left the 
 Paris ateliers, and so he cared much less to dwell upon 
 his memories of those bleak days than upon memories 
 of the bright ones which preceded them, when, unso 
 phisticated, gallantly aspiring, egotistical and unaware 
 that other youths were able and as violently ambi 
 tious, he had dreamed himself the conqueror of the 
 artistic world. 
 
 30
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 31 
 
 Most of his friends in the western New York col 
 lege also had seen him in that light. It had been 
 a definitely commercial-legal class. He, almost alone, 
 had stood in it for art, and perhaps it had been be 
 cause of this that he, as well as others, had so sadly 
 over-estimated his abilities. The awakening had been 
 less tragic than it would have been if it had been more 
 sudden. It had been so gradual that it had brought 
 discouragement, not despair. And this discourage 
 ment had settled him into the rut which he had fol 
 lowed ever since a certain number of good pictures 
 every year, which sold with surety at fair prices, a 
 membership in such good art societies as he cared 
 to spend his scanty money on in unartistic, crude New 
 York. New York would ever seem to him new-built 
 and raw he could not see its grandeurs as some for 
 eigners of his own craft could see them when they 
 came to visit, fresh from their own soft wonders of 
 aged harmonies, softened picturesqueness. 
 
 He felt that he had been an artisan, rather than 
 the artist he had hoped to be, felt confident of being. 
 His pictures had not sold to multi-millionaires of pic 
 ture wisdom or able to buy picture wisdom; they had 
 not been sold to galleries; they had not even sold to 
 the hard-up, who, loving pictures, manage to pick up 
 a good one, now and then, at a low price. They had 
 sold to the banal who speak of pictures as "oil paint 
 ings", even, sometimes, to the stores which advertised 
 them as "hand-painted" that was the bitterest blow 
 of all. 
 
 Bettina's slim young nudity was nowhere hung in
 
 32 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 very honored company, though it was rarely hung in 
 really dishonorable company, for Murfree's nudes 
 were most respectable. Clubs did not buy them; cafe 
 proprietors turned on them jaded and uninterested 
 eyes ; they fitted only those who felt a little horror of 
 the nude, but enough of being out of fashion to make 
 purchases of the least nude of nudes because they 
 felt some sort of nude to be a necessary proof of 
 their emancipation. These things old Murf ree sat there 
 considering rather bitterly. 
 
 They had been brought to mind by a long letter, 
 received that day, from an old college friend. He 
 had sometimes wondered how it had been possible 
 for Alston to remain in the small western New York 
 state town, content with the career which he could 
 fashion from the law there, when he had been ac 
 knowledged in his college days to be so brilliant in 
 his promise. Was it possible that Alston, whom he 
 always had looked down upon a little, because he 
 had not made "the plunge" into the icy waters of 
 New York's professional struggle, had, really, shown 
 greater bravery, and, above all, better sense than he? 
 He knew that his old friend, up there in Belleville, 
 had waxed prosperous, and, although he had not mar 
 ried, had presumably been happy. Heaven knew that 
 he, himself, had been neither prosperous nor happy in 
 New York! Would it have been the better course 
 had he gone to the city of his birth and there worked 
 steadily for an important standing in a "little puddle" 
 rather than to have come to the metropolis, striving 
 for an unimportant eddy in the seething sea?
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 33 
 
 The only reason he had never married had been 
 that he had found the girl he first loved so unworthy 
 of him that he had then thrown the sex aside as 
 wholly worthless. He remembered with a good deal 
 of disgust the fervor with which he had adored the 
 pretty creature who had since become Bettina's 
 mother, after eloping with a worthless clerk, a race 
 track hanger-on, cheap soldier of small fortunes. 
 
 Had Alston had a similar experience? Could it 
 be true, as he had heard in some far, half- forgotten 
 gossip, that he had loved the girl "Fred" Hoffman 
 married? If so, then his chagrin and disappointment 
 must have been far deeper than his own, for she, if 
 he remembered rightly, had developed into really 
 notable importance in the little city, and had made 
 dear old "Fred" Hoffman how they all had loved 
 "Fred" Hoffman! the very best, most capable, most 
 sympathetic of wives. 
 
 Yet Alston had not soured because of this. He 
 had struck his gait in the small city, never faltered, 
 and had come to be the leader of the bar there. His 
 friendship for "Fred" Hoffman had not wavered. 
 Apparently he had submitted to his loss of Anna Mer- 
 rivale to "Fred", as, in the class, all the boys had 
 stood aside when "Fred" had wanted anything dis 
 appointed, very likely, but submissive and by no means 
 rancorous. 
 
 What a personality "Fred's" was ! He had been a 
 "grinder" at his studies, yet a very forceful "grinder," 
 and most "grinders" are not forceful. When he had 
 engaged in sports he had done well at them, in the
 
 34 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 debates he had invariably won through simple, ruth 
 less hammering at the opposition, in social life he 
 had been conqueror because he rode indifferent to, 
 even ignorant of, rivalries. No man in college had 
 caused anger oftener, none had had fewer enemies. 
 
 He wondered just what kind of husband "Fred" 
 had made to the delightful girl whom Alston lost to 
 him. He, himself, had known her slightly. He could 
 imagine Hoffman as her husband she was so femi 
 nine and yielding, he so dominant. They must have 
 been a happy pair; he thought she liked to yield, and, 
 certainly, "Fred" liked to dominate. But ah, poor 
 Alston! 
 
 From such thoughts his mind turned to his dinner, 
 which had been due half an hour, and the calls of 
 appetite were now insistent ; he lived a most methodi 
 cal existence. He looked at his big, somewhat bat 
 tered silver watch. Alston and "Fred" Hoffman, 
 doubtless, carried gold ones of great price. This was 
 the same watch which he had carried through those 
 long-past college years. And from his thoughts of 
 dinner came, again, quite naturally, thoughts about 
 Bettina's mother. How she had cooked, in those 
 days, long bygone ! She even then had had in her the 
 germ which, now, has brought about the angels of 
 the chafing-dish, who cast together with apparent care 
 lessness absurd concoctions, set them bubbling over 
 alcohol, and serve them smoking hot, and heavenly, 
 at midnight. 
 
 Her first husband had departed very promptly from 
 this world as soon as he had fathered three. Then
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 35 
 
 she had married Curtis. What a pity it had been! 
 Or, after all, had it been, really? As a woman, could 
 she possibly have been what he had thought she would 
 be ? Had she ever had the potentialities which he had 
 attributed to her? He wondered if he still cared for her 
 and decided that he did not, but kept the old illusion 
 living in his heart because there were so few illusions 
 there that, lacking it, that heart would have been far 
 too empty for his comfort. Still, he must do what 
 he could do for poor Bettina, although there lurked 
 within his breast a firm conviction that the girl was 
 really a little devil, that she did not genuinely de 
 serve the deep solicitude which he was giving her* 
 When he reproached himself for having let her pose 
 for him a smile of skepticism grew upon his face he 
 knew she had enjoyed it from the first, when, at the 
 age of three, she had held a tiny bow and arrow 
 loosely in her chubby hands and been a Cupid for a 
 set of valentines which he was painting for a litho 
 graphic house. Had it not been for him she would 
 have been upon the list of every artist in the street, 
 one of the sad and weary company of girls who 
 spend a good part of their waking hours in tramping 
 from one studio to another, seeking work. 
 
 No, when he carefully considered it, he could not 
 feel that he had done her any injury, and he was sure 
 that he had done her many services. He had helped 
 her red-hot temper in keeping vicious young men 
 clear of her, failing, only, with the marvelously ab 
 surd and doubly dangerous Sevigny; he had seen to 
 it that she had from his scanty earnings enough in-
 
 36 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 come so that her natural indolence prevented her from 
 seeking work at posing for younger and less scrupu 
 lous painters who might have been delighted, for 
 more reasons than would have been apparent on the 
 surface, to jot her name and address down in the 
 small books wherein they kept available young women 
 listed. 
 
 But still a duty rested on him the duty which he 
 had explained to her that evening. No one else was 
 looking after her; it was unquestionably his place to 
 do what he found possible to do. 
 
 He laughed. "I might have been her father!" he 
 reflected. 
 
 Alston would be just the man with whom to talk 
 the matter over. Undoubtedly, in a small place, like 
 Belleville, where well-educated girls were prosperous 
 and not likely to be looking for employment, there 
 was some old woman who wished to have books read 
 to her, some parents looking for a polished governess 
 for youngsters and Bettina spoke French, German 
 and Italian: spoke them well, for he, himself, had 
 taught her, and was fairly grounded in the common 
 rudiments of other knowledge, for he had seen to 
 it that she went through a New York grammar school 
 and then a high school. She had an uncanny trick 
 of learning and did not forget. Many and pathetic 
 had been the complaints made of her by her teachers, 
 but none had ever said she would not study, or was 
 stupid. She would make an ideal governess for little 
 children if it did not chance that she decided to 
 scratcji out their eyes or drown them.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 37 
 
 He pondered long upon these possibilities, because 
 to one who knew her as he did they were so obvious. 
 She had made a very strong appeal to him, when she 
 had been a little child, she had been the only little 
 child whom he had ever known except to viciously 
 dislike, but it was highly probable that parents might 
 object to having their young darlings martyred at 
 the hands of a cub tigress, even though he, Murfree, 
 wished to help that little tigress on to the fine and 
 competent young womanhood which circumstances, at 
 the moment, seemed likely to deny to her. No; he 
 would not try to find her a position as teacher of the 
 young; he would try to find her a position as com 
 panion to the aged, or assistant to midway-maturity. 
 
 And, just as he reached this sage decision, Alston 
 came. 
 
 "Well, well you dear old painter of good pic 
 tures ! how are you ?" the lawyer's voice was saying 
 before he really had entered. And as he entered he 
 laid both hands on Murfree's shoulders, held him off, 
 and contemplated him. 
 
 "Was your train late, or have you been starving me 
 for old-time's sake? You never cared for food, so 
 very much, if I remember rightly," Murfree grumbled, 
 as he shook his caller's hand with fervent joy, and 
 hustled him into the room and to a place before the 
 dusty, flickering gas-log. 
 
 "Train was late," said Alston. "No snow here in 
 New York City, but in the country why, the woods 
 are full of it six feet deep. We had a fight till two 
 o'clock this afternoon."
 
 38 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "You must be hungry, then." 
 
 "Can't stop thinking about food and drink, can 
 you ?" cried Alston happily. "You never could. How 
 well I remember when you smuggled chicken-pie into 
 the dormitory, hid it in my bed, and then, before you 
 could confide in me, got changed into the other wing 
 for some of your infernal deviltries painting ballet- 
 girls upon the chapel walls, I think it was. I knew 
 nothing of the chicken-pie, and when I went to bed I 
 found it unexpectedly. I sat in it." 
 
 "Yes," said Murfree, wrathily, "and spoiled it." 
 
 "Spoiled the pie? Of course I did. I thought it 
 was a nest of vipers. It's a sad and solemn moment, 
 Tommy, when one plunges one's bare body, at the 
 dead of night, into an unexpected chicken-pie! I 
 spoiled the pie, and spoiled the midnight silence and 
 the dormitory rules, and my own record." 
 
 "Heavens! I can hear you yet, you Indian! You 
 sounded like a bugle with hysterics." 
 
 "Everybody heard me, not excluding prexy. And 
 you remember what I got for it?" 
 
 "Yes; and served you right for yelling like a girl 
 who sees a mouse, when you were merely sitting in 
 delicious pastry. But, Alston, I'll say this for you, 
 old chap, you never told who put the pie there." 
 
 "Of course I never told." 
 
 "Some of the fellows would have." 
 
 "Not any of our crowd! Imagine old Fred Hoff 
 man telling!" 
 
 "No ; he would have kept it quiet, but not everyone 
 is a Fred Hoffman."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 39 
 
 "Not anyone but Fred is a Fred Hoffman." 
 
 "Tell me. How is Fred?" 
 
 "He's as grouchy, and successful, and dominant, 
 and egotistical, and good-hearted as he ever was." 
 
 "Happy, is he?" 
 
 "Why, I think so. He thinks not. To hear him 
 talk you would believe him miserable. He's always 
 finding that the times are worse than they have ever 
 been, his business is continually going to the dogs, his 
 son is frivolous and idle a fine boy, Murfree, Harry 
 is : just like his father; his daughter she's the dearest 
 girl ! more like her mother well, his daughter's being 
 educated in a convent, started a year and more ago, 
 and, while Fred declares it is a wild and idiotic scheme 
 to send a girl away from home, he really is very 
 proud of the fine fact that she will have a chance to 
 learn what he calls 'fripperies'. Oh, Fred's all right 
 if you don't listen to his stories." 
 
 "He's made money, damn him, and so have you." 
 
 "What does money count, old fellow? You, your 
 self, have preached to me, hours at a time, that money 
 is the root of evil and was made for one thing only 
 to be spent." 
 
 "I've learned some things since then." 
 
 As they talked Alston's eyes were roving round the 
 dimly lighted studio. There were not many decora 
 tions in it. None of the canvases on view were fin 
 ished. Murfree noted with a keen amusement that, 
 as they roved, his eyes shrank, somewhat, from the 
 cluttering, half -painted nudes. There was no false 
 modesty about him it was real embarrassment. He
 
 40 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 never mentioned that he felt it in the studio, but 
 Murfree knew of it, and joyed in the distress the 
 nudes occasioned. He was certain this could not have 
 been much more acute had all the undraped, uncom 
 pleted paint-and-canvas ladies been full born and made 
 of flesh and blood. 
 
 It was probably because he knew that, and because, 
 with Alston's presence, a bit of the old malicious 
 pleasure in another's keen embarrassment, which had 
 been so vivid in his college days, returned to him, that, 
 rising, he went from one great canvas to another, 
 seeking for the one which would most notably be 
 shocking to his friend. He found a wood nymph, 
 beckoning to a satyr and had placed his hands upon it, 
 ready to convey it to the small circle of good light 
 about the fire-place, anxious to observe his friend's 
 face as, politely but unwillingly, he looked at it, and 
 then to shout with loud, derisive laughter at his 
 shrinking, when he bethought himself that on this 
 canvas were Bettina's face and form preserved for 
 the frank study of the present and ensuing genera 
 tions of the world at large. As he wished, especially, 
 that Alston should think well of her, for her own 
 sake, he hesitated, turned the canvas to the wall, pro 
 duced another one which showed another model, and 
 .denied himself the joy of watching Alston. Instead, 
 while the latter was engaged trying to appreciate the 
 picture fairly, not to condemn it definitely and at 
 once, which it was his tendency to do, he casually 
 concealed all other canvases which happened to reveal 
 Bettina's face sufficiently so that later the old lawyer
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 41 
 
 might remember it and recognize her from Tt. Thus 
 he hid Bettina, thoroughly, as he believed, although 
 he quite forgot, in truth, a little canvas he had given 
 Alston, not more than six months before, which 
 showed the girl as Undine beautiful, alluring, beck 
 oning the responsive waves to rush to her, embrace 
 her. 
 
 "Fine, isn't it?" he said, at length, turning back to 
 Alston, who was still pretending to be looking at the 
 first painting he had called to his attention. In reality 
 his eyes dodged it. Such things actually hurt him 
 always had. He had even stood there with his eyes 
 closed tightly, pretending to be looking. 
 
 "Er wonderful!" said Alston. "Ah it seems to 
 me, old chap, that you are er improving year by 
 year." 
 
 "I'll bet your eyes are glazed by fright till you 
 can't see it," said the artist. "You may turn them 
 from it, if you like. You have gazed at it enough to 
 be polite." 
 
 "Really it's very lovely," Alston murmured. 
 "Only well, we won't go into that again. But the 
 world has spent a good share of its effort and its 
 income to devising and creating clothes for human 
 beings. The fact that they wear clothes is that thing 
 which most proves their high superiority above the 
 beasts. I never could quite understand why it was 
 thought especially good art to show them er espe 
 cially er females without any of the high result 
 of mankind's highest evidence of progressive eleva 
 tion."
 
 42 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "To the pure all things are pure, Alston that's 
 the reason, doubtless, why I see the beauty only and 
 no harm in it." 
 
 "And, by implication," Alston replied, laughing, 
 "that's the reason, in reverse, why I see " 
 
 "Exactly so. Exactly so." 
 
 The artist took the canvas off the easel and stood it, 
 face to wall, where the lawyer could not even see the 
 back of it Then he led him to a chair before the 
 fire and sank into one adjoining. But his malice was 
 not spent. 
 
 "YouVe found the law remunerative, haven't you ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "Why, yes; fairly so," said Alston. "Can't com 
 plain." 
 
 "Um and so pure!" breathed Murfree, with a 
 sigh as of regret that he had passed a sanctified pro 
 fession by and taken up such devil's work as painting 
 pictures. 
 
 Alston burst into a roar of laughter. "There 
 you've put it over on me," he cried heartily. "Can't 
 you call a truce ?" 
 
 "Divorce work, very largely, yours has been, old 
 fellow, hasn't it?" asked Murfree. 
 
 Alston threw his hands up. "Help! Help! I am 
 beaten!" he admitted. "Yes, I've handled many 
 cases." 
 
 But a little later, in a graver mood, he returned to 
 this especial detail of discussion. "I've not taken dirty 
 cases, Murfree. When a man's been tied to someone 
 who was very terrible, I've helped him out. Some
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 43 
 
 women, man, are horrid beyond power of words to 
 tell." 
 
 "But never men?" 
 
 "Some men are worse than any woman ever was," 
 said Alston, with finality. "I've helped more women 
 out than men." 
 
 Murfree laughed with boyish pleasure. "Same old 
 Alston. In your heart you're the identical kid who 
 licked Biff Dangerfield because he called the German 
 dining-room girl a 'fraulein'. Remember, do you? 
 You didn't know a word of German, and thought 
 'fraulein' must be some part of speech of 'frowsy'. 
 Thought he had insulted her. Beat him to a pulp." 
 
 Alston laughed. "Well, he deserved it, upon gen 
 eral principles." 
 
 "Sure enough, he did ! Are you as gallant now as 
 then?" 
 
 Alston looked up quizzically. "Try to be. But I've 
 not licked anybody lately, though I've heard far too 
 many vile things spoken about women." 
 
 "Anxious, as you ever were, to help them when 
 you can?" 
 
 "Every bit," said Alston heartily. "Every bit 
 and then some." 
 
 "That's why you get divorces for 'em?" 
 
 The lawyer's face was serious as he replied: "It 
 has been so more than once." 
 
 "Well, I think I've got a job for you." 
 
 "Divorce? Why, Murfree! Of course, if there is 
 any lady who wants to be divorced from you, I shall 
 be glad to give my services. God knows, if she can
 
 44. THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 be divorced from you, she needs my help. When were 
 you married ?" 
 
 "No; she's not in need of help as serious as that. 
 The woman who would marry me would not deserve 
 assistance. It's not a woman I am thinking of, at 
 all ; it's a young girl." 
 
 "Worse yet!" 
 
 "She needs help worse," said Murfree. Then he 
 settled in his chair and gave himself a little shake as if 
 he threw off some disinclination. "I'm going to tell 
 you the whole story it's a short one. Briefly the 
 sad tale is this : I was in love, once, and " 
 
 "You were in love one hundred and seven times 
 that I remember," Alston answered. "I " 
 
 "I mean really in love. The girl liked me, too, 
 but thought my art was foolish, decided that it never 
 could produce an income, in which estimate she was 
 exactly right, and threw me over, very justifiably." 
 
 "You probably were lucky to escape her if she'd 
 do that." 
 
 "I was. But, still, that doesn't matter. You'd have 
 fewer cases, probably, if young people thought more 
 about money before they rushed up to the altar." 
 
 "Go on. Don't stop to spout philosophy. Your 
 spoutings always are such twaddle." 
 
 "Well, she wouldn't marry me, when the pinch 
 came. She married someone else." 
 
 "Someone with money?" 
 
 "Someone everyone believed would be a rich man 
 early." 
 
 "And he wasn't?"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 45 
 
 "No; he turned out bad. Lost his bank job be 
 cause he speculated, then took to gambling, then to 
 drinking. Then he went down and out. He was ab 
 solutely no good in the world. Then she married 
 someone else. A worse one of the same sort. She 
 and her children I'll admit it is her children, mostly 
 have to buy his board and clothes." 
 
 There was a vibrant tone of sympathy in Alston's 
 voice as he spoke now. Finding that the tale which 
 all their banter had led up to very intimately touched 
 the life of this dear friend, he instantly regarded it 
 with real respect. It was a trait of his one of the 
 many traits which made men love him. "And you 
 want to help her?" he inquired. "Is there something 
 I can do?" 
 
 "No," said Murfree, "I don't want to help her. 
 She's become a rather terrible old woman not so 
 very old, perhaps, but very terrible. I guess I was a 
 lucky dog." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "But she's got a daughter, Alston," Murfree said, 
 not very comfortably. 
 
 He was planning, he had suddenly become aware, 
 to play it rather low on his friend. 
 
 "She's got a daughter; and it's the girl I want to 
 help." He wondered if he could be doing violence to 
 friendship by refraining from the revelation that 
 the daughter was a model. "I've sort of watched her, 
 and she needs to get out of the city." 
 
 "Health bad, eh?" 
 
 "Er it's not exactly that."
 
 46 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Murfree did not know just what to say. He was 
 asking Alston to introduce the girl into some friend's 
 house and he must be very careful. He, himself, 
 did not believe a model to be necessarily undesirable 
 he had known many whom he fondly thought to 
 be good girls. This may have been because of his 
 superior discernment; it may have been because of 
 heaven-sent innocence and trustfulness and blindness. 
 
 "It's not exactly that," he said again. "It's that I 
 think she'd better get away from well, there's a 
 young musician a pianist, sort of a composer, whom 
 I think " 
 
 "Ah, unmaking matches, are you? That's what 
 you criticized me for." 
 
 "I'm trying hard to do it before it is too late to do 
 it thoroughly. I'm preventing. Prevention's worth 
 a pound of cure, you know." 
 
 "Well, what about the girl?" 
 
 "I wondered if you didn't know some place there, 
 where you live, where she could earn an honest living 
 as companion, or er something of that kind. She 
 knows a sort of housekeeping the poor kind that 
 girls learn in little flats; she can sew some for she 
 has to make her own clothes, and they're always rather 
 pretty; she can read aloud quite well and knows 
 French and German. I taught her French, myself." 
 
 "Then she speaks it well, old man." 
 
 "Yes, she really does. And she can play and sing. 
 This chap that I'm afraid she'll marry he's no good, 
 in the world, you know but he's rather a high-class 
 musician and she keeps up with him I heard him 
 say."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 47 
 
 "What a paragon!" 
 
 "Oh, she's not a paragon! She's got a temper, 
 sometimes, that would make the fiend himself go 
 into some still room in Hell and sob with envy; but 
 she only shows it to close friends like me. She'd 
 never let it slip its leash. before a stranger." 
 
 "Only bites the hand that feeds her, eh? Well, 
 that's like all women good and bad. The trait is 
 feminine." 
 
 "Shut up ! I'm not a woman-hater, please remem 
 ber, though I've had it rougher, far, than ever you 
 did." 
 
 "It proves you to be truly of the art artistic, as 
 we used to say in the old days. One who is of the 
 art artistic never does have sense." 
 
 "Piffle!" 
 
 "Wisdom! Wisdom is the lawyer's stock in trade, 
 you know." 
 
 "Keep such wisdom for your clients. They'll pay 
 fees for it and never know you're cheating 'em. But 
 I'd like to have this girl get some sort of a show, 
 in life." 
 
 "I don't think of any chance for her, at present; 
 but if you say she is worth helping, why, I'll try to 
 help. I like to help!" 
 
 There was a strangely sweet, benevolent expres 
 sion on the aged lawyer's face, as he said this, and 
 Murfree caught it. 
 
 "You damned old fraud! Of course you like to 
 help! Don't you suppose I know it?" 
 
 "Well, now that that is settled now that I've
 
 48 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 agreed to find a job for your old sweetheart's daugh 
 ter if I can where composers don't corrupt nor yet 
 musicians burglarize and steal, let's go to dinner. 
 I'm half-starved. You probably did not intend to 
 feed I have the thought that artists often don't; 
 but " 
 
 "It's not so bad as that," said Murfree, grinning. 
 "I've never capitalized my genius as a liar, as the 
 men in some professions do, but I've not gone neces 
 sarily hungry since I left the Latin Quarter, twenty 
 years ago." 
 
 "Then why do you starve me?" 
 
 Murfree went to get his hat and coat, feeling 
 rather satisfied with what he had accomplished. He 
 was glad Alston had not asked him if the girl had 
 ever worked, and, if she had, at what; if he had 
 told him she had posed for him like that! He ar 
 gued with himself, convincingly, that Bettina was a 
 good girl so far as the essentials went; that he had 
 not imposed upon his old pal's friendship in asking 
 his assistance for her; he was glad that he had hid 
 den all the canvases which she had posed for. 
 
 "Come on and eat," he said, when he returned. "I 
 know a place where they can actually make bouilla- 
 baise a heavenly stew, of which, as you have never 
 been in Paris, you have never known the joys." 
 
 Next morning, when he had told Bettina what he 
 had been planning for her, that beautiful young per 
 son showed scant gratitude. She was crouched upon 
 an old bearskin, close by the radiator, waiting for the
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 49 
 
 steam to get sufficient head to make the airy costume 
 of the nymph she was to personate less tempting to 
 pneumonia. 
 
 "What, I ?" she cried, in that high treble to which 
 her voice rose when she was excited. "I off there 
 in the country reading to some deaf old woman, or 
 or stewing lamb!" 
 
 "Bettina," Murfree answered kindly, "I'm going 
 to tell you why I hope you'll go if the chance 
 comes." 
 
 "You'll have to do some telling!" 
 
 And he did do some telling, but without great ef 
 fect. His arguments that her present life could not 
 lead her to successful, happy womanhood were fu 
 tile; his statements that he feared her marriage to 
 Sevigny would result in tragedy provoked her 
 laughter. 
 
 "Poor Theodore! We've never even talked of mar 
 riage!" 
 
 Murfree was nonplussed. "You've never talked of 
 marriage! What have you talked about?" 
 
 She flared at him. "Marriage! Marriage is all 
 right if it means money; but what is it if it does not? 
 My mother's marriage shows! Her certificate was a 
 through ticket to you know the place!" 
 
 "I loved your mother once, Bettina. That's why I 
 have endeavored to be kind to you." 
 
 "Yes; she told me. Are you glad, or sorry, that 
 she didn't marry you? Would you have been a 
 happier man if she had married you? I don't believe 
 you would ! Would she have been a happier woman ?
 
 50 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 How could she have been? If you'd had a wife and 
 family to support on what you've made out of your 
 pictures, you'd not have done much better by them 
 than poor dad has, in spite of all his gambling and 
 drinking. Dad's a bad lot. I know that. But he has 
 raised us somehow!" 
 
 "You don't propose to marry, then?" 
 
 "I didn't say that. I only said I never thought of 
 marrying Theodore Sevigny, and he never thought of 
 marrying me." 
 
 "Then you're too much together." 
 
 "Bah! In the first place I know the wisdom of 
 really being careful. You needn't fear I'll not throw 
 my life away that way. But wait till I get mar 
 ried!" 
 
 There was a gleam of sophistication in her eyes 
 which almost scared him. 
 
 "You will be safer, then, eh ?" he suggested sourly, 
 disapprovingly. 
 
 "Don't be a beast to-day. Still, that's true enough." 
 
 "I want too many things to think seriously about 
 Theodore," she went on, slowly, tapping her bare 
 foot upon the floor. She had pulled the bearskin 
 up about her and sat at ease before him. "He knows 
 I want too many things. He couldn't get them for 
 me unless he sold a comic opera, and he won't try 
 comic operas he writes better things the things 
 that never bring returns." 
 
 "You're only building misery for you and him, 
 then, by being with him, always." 
 
 She sat in gloomy silence. 
 
 "I'm afraid you're one of those unfortunates who
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 61 
 
 must have money if they are to enjoy life," he pres 
 ently went on. "You might get it if you took some 
 chance like that which I am planning to discover for 
 you." 
 
 "How might I?" The lovely lips curled skepti 
 cally; the robe which she had caught around her 
 silken shoulders slipped as they relaxed, and she had 
 to catch it to her tightly; her big eyes^ looked up at 
 Murfree with real interest. 
 
 "By making a good marriage. There are pros 
 perous young men out in Alston's town whom you 
 might make happy." 
 
 She laughed, somewhat scornfully. 
 
 "Who might make you happy, then, if that's the 
 better way to put it." 
 
 "Is it a rich place Belleville?" 
 
 "The richest little city in the state." 
 
 The steam had warmed the room and she took 
 the pose, without a word from him, which was un 
 usual, and held it without slanging him, without pro 
 test from him, which was still more unusual. Dur 
 ing the rest periods she sat in moody, studious 
 silence. When they lunched together she said very 
 little. When the light began to fail and he laid down 
 his palette she went behind the screen to dress with 
 out a word. It was while she was engaged there 
 that she reached her great decision, calling out to 
 him: 
 
 "All right; Belleville for mine if you can get it 
 for me. But I warn you if I go there, I shall own 
 it; I shall steal it. I just won't be poor I"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 Next day, as Alston bustled about town, his mind 
 continually reverted to his various talks with Mur- 
 free. He was very fond of Murfree. 
 
 "The man is lonely," he reflected. "That is why 
 he's bitter." 
 
 And he, himself, was lonely. They, two lonely 
 single men, had much to say about the failure of the 
 modern marriage to supply actual happiness to other 
 men and women, but what else did? It had been 
 lack of it which had left their own lives barren. 
 
 On street corners, everywhere about town, stood 
 collectors for the Salvation Army, each garbed in 
 the red, fur-trimmed coat and long white whiskers 
 of a Santa Claus, ringing a little bell, pointing to an 
 iron pot hanging from a tripod and covered with 
 wire netting of coarse mesh. Through this mesh the 
 public was invited to drop coins to be used in pur 
 chasing a mammoth Christmas dinner for the city's 
 poor. The counterfeit saints represented the great 
 Christmas spirit, which is particularly that of family 
 life, and so they emphasized the gloom of his reflec 
 tions. 
 
 As he glanced resentfully at one of these pic 
 turesque and lawful mendicants a tiny girl ran up 
 to the gay beggar and held her hand out while she 
 
 52
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 53 
 
 gazed into his face with wondering, trustful eyes. 
 
 "Mr. Sandy Claus, will you s'ake hands wiz me?" 
 she asked. 
 
 Santa, being more intelligent than most, did so 
 with alacrity and a bright smile, asking her, more 
 over (while her parents stood close by, smiling some 
 what doubtfully), what she would like to have for 
 Christmas. She told him confidentially, whispering 
 into his ear when he bent over. The parents waited, 
 after having dropped a quarter through the wires 
 into his pot to "keep it boiling." 
 
 They had not gone far, after she had left the saint 
 and joined them, when the child's mother hurried 
 back and held a hasty conversation with the Santa 
 Claus. 
 
 Alston could see the father up the street, keeping 
 the child's attention focused on the gay display in 
 a store window. He caught a word or two of the 
 brief conversation between the mother and the beg 
 gar. She had run back to find out what the child 
 had asked for, and "Santa Claus" revealed that the 
 little girl's petition had been for a china tea set and 
 a baby brother. 
 
 The mother smiled a little, blushed a little, as if 
 this stranger in a red coat had surprised a family 
 secret, gave a final quarter, not to the greedy pot, 
 but to the ready hand of "Santa Claus," and went 
 her way. 
 
 The lawyer felt singularly futile, singularly lonely, 
 as he hurried on, after he had watched the trio till 
 they vanished in the merry crowd of Christmas
 
 54 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 shoppers up the grimy avenue. Theirs was a happi 
 ness which he could never know. Even in his child 
 hood he had been denied the joys the little girl was 
 even then experiencing, for he had lived in the deep 
 country with a strict, unsentimental uncle, who had 
 not let him "believe" in Santa Claus. Not having 
 married, because Anna had decided upon Fred, not 
 him, since he had reached maturity he had also been 
 denied the joys of parenthood. How he envied the 
 fond father whose big hand had clasped the crumpled 
 rose-leaf fist of this dear child as they had stood at 
 that shop window ! How he envied Hoffman ! How 
 he envied happiness! 
 
 Ah, what he and poor old Murfree had missed out 
 of life! It was with a solemn face that he passed 
 into the entrance to the tunnel, which would take 
 him to the station whence his home train would de 
 part, and, although he had not previously made the 
 startling trip beneath the Hudson, he was scarcely con 
 scious of the details of the unique journey. The wide, 
 electric-lighted, cement-floored cars, with their white 
 metal rods for the "standees," and their wholly use 
 less windows, offering a continuous panorama of 
 close and dripping tunnel walls; the sparse crowd of 
 returning Christmas shoppers, bundle-burdened, and 
 most of them tired out, would have closely held his 
 interest had he been less absorbed by his grim 
 thoughts. Now he scarcely noted them. Yet it was 
 a variation of the Christmas spirit that presently be 
 gan to work in him. He was too healthy-minded to 
 waste time upon self -sympathy. His own life had
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 55 
 
 gone wrong; now what could he accomplish to save 
 other lives from a like fate? How full existence is 
 of misses! How infinitely hard should strong hearts 
 strive to lift the gloom a little for other weaker hearts 
 who cannot help themselves! 
 
 Murfree, in telling him the story of the girl for 
 whom he sought employment, had omitted much and 
 emphasized everything which would be likely to make 
 sympathy for her, although, of course, Alston did not 
 know this. And so his altruism now turned naturally 
 to her. And by assisting her he also might help Anna. 
 
 His first hour in the smoking-room of the westward 
 speeding Pullman was devoted to consideration of this 
 case. He wanted to give Christmas presents wanted 
 to with something which amounted almost to a pas 
 sion. He longed for someone to imbue with joy 
 someone all his own but, lacking someone of his own, 
 could he do better than to help this girl to whom Mur 
 free had referred, than to help Anna, in whose service 
 he ever was so ready to enlist ? 
 
 He would speak to Anna of her, as soon as he 
 reached Belleville. The situation in the Hoffman 
 family would be ideal for her, and Anna, his friend's 
 wife, his lost sweetheart, needed someone. She was 
 getting old. They all were getting old. He was, him 
 self, past fifty; Fred was a year his senior; Anna must 
 be forty-five, or more, and her hair, like Fred's and 
 his, was whitening. Yes, he would help the girl, and, 
 helping her, help Anna and himself. It did help him 
 helped everyone to do kind deeds. It had been 
 kind of Murfree to suggest it Murfree who also
 
 56 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 looked back on a wasted life! He sighed and called 
 the porter to make up his berth. 
 
 Snow was falling steadily when he awoke, and the 
 train was hours behind time. The slowly whirling 
 landscape was smothered in its coverlet of white; at 
 one stop he watched with interest the operations of 
 a lineman's gang as they repaired "down" wires, 
 sagged and broken by the weight of moist, clinging 
 snow. Scheduled to reach Buffalo before early break 
 fast time, the train was without a diner and no break 
 fast was obtainable, although it was close to nine 
 o'clock. He had had an early dinner the preceding 
 day, so he would have been uncomfortable enough 
 even had the car been rightly warmed, but it was not. 
 He felt forlorn and continued his reflections, casting 
 on them even deeper gloom than yesterday's. Yes, 
 his life was wasted; Murfree's life was wasted. What 
 did all this conservation folks were talking of amount 
 to? Forests? Water-power? The coal supply? 
 Bah! They were unimportant. What men must try 
 to save were their own lives! 
 
 And instantly his lawyer's mind caught up that 
 answer which it had just given itself, and called it 
 into sharp analysis. It was not their lives at all that 
 men should save. Why labor for the preservation 
 of so poor a thing as the average man's life? Life? 
 Life? What did life mean frankly, honestly and ana 
 lytically to him, for instance? Nothing very joy 
 ous, that was certain; yet his was an existence in 
 finitely happier than that of the majority. What did 
 life mean for Murfree? Less than it meant for him!
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 57 
 
 What might life mean for the girl whom Murfree 
 spoke of, if she did not speedily have help? What 
 did life mean for Anna? Much it had meant, doubt 
 less; little it meant now, he feared. 
 
 Nothing could be truer waste than the salvation of 
 some lives ; their preservation was extravagance ; they 
 meant nothing after they were saved. True conser 
 vation would entail the giving to them of a meaning.' 
 To preserve comfort and save self-respect was bigger 
 than to salvage life. He must make this the thesis 
 of one of his jabberous arguments with Hoffman, who 
 would not agree with him. 
 
 Yet what was Hoffman getting out of life, although 
 much there was which he might get from it? De 
 spite the blessings which had showered upon him a 
 perfect wife (had not he striven for her himself?); 
 prosperity, a manly son and charming daughter 
 Fred became grouchier with each succeeding year, ap 
 parently less satisfied, readier to find fault. What 
 ailed him? Had he no appreciation? How infinitely 
 he was really blessed above most men! How richly 
 had he been endowed, compared, for instance, to him 
 self and Murfree! 
 
 When the train had finally crawled into Belleville, 
 nosing through the snow, hours late, and losing time 
 with every revolution of its wheels, he gathered all 
 his Christmas packages together and alighted heavily. 
 He felt older than he ever had before, and his ap 
 petite for breakfast had departed. He determined to 
 send everything to the hotel he lived at the hotel, 
 and how he hated thought of it that morning! and
 
 58 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 go straight to his office. He hoped things would run 
 smoothly there. He was in no mood for a hard day. 
 
 There was no hack in waiting, the trolley tracks 
 were blocked by the deep snow, and so, on foot, he 
 'struggled through the narrow and far from continu- 
 f ous pathway which already had been shoveled along 
 the main streets of the little city incongruously 
 fronted, now by a block of business buildings, now 
 by a block of residences, left from the old village 
 days, and, invariably, upon this street, very solid, very 
 ugly, very elegant. Most of them were square, of 
 brick, topped by equally square cupolas, suggesting 
 large and comfortable rooms within, but vile offenses 
 against beauty, despite their spacious lawns, whereon 
 the habitual evergreens were weighted almost to the 
 breaking point with snow, and the cast-iron deer were 
 almost buried. 
 
 As he neared the largest of these cubical and solemn 
 residences he glanced at it with a new curiosity. Much 
 of his speculation on the train had been devoted to 
 its occupants, for it was "Fred" Hoffman's residence, 
 had been his father's and his grandfather's before 
 him, and would be Harry's, doubtless, after "Fred" 
 had gone. It looked grave, respectable and compe 
 tent, but, Alston decided, remarkably thick-headed. 
 It suggested only comfort, yet he felt certain that 
 when the master of that house had left that morn 
 ing he had done so with a frown, after having found 
 fault with the weather, with his breakfast, with his 
 son, with business, very likely with his absent daugh 
 ter, and almost surely with his wife. Such had be-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 59 
 
 come Fred Hoffman's way. What, therefore, was 
 the use of the great house and spacious lawn with 
 evergreens and two cast-iron deer? The lawyer 
 smiled somewhat wryly as he realized the pessimism 
 of his thoughts and tried to charge them to his lack 
 of breakfast, although he knew quite well that they 
 must rightfully be charged to other lacks, more 
 serious by far. 
 
 As he passed, "Barbie," who, with a mammoth 
 broom, was struggling to remove the snow from the 
 brick pathway leading from the street gate, saw him 
 and ran, lurching, down to greet him. Barbie was 
 a character with many privileges. She had been a 
 servant in the Hoffman household long before its 
 present master married. 
 
 The snow was deep and falling steadily, but she 
 was not dismayed by it ; shod in mighty rubber boots, 
 she floundered by the shortest cut to the stone fence 
 and smiled across it at him. 
 
 "Hello, Barbie!" he cried, trying to be genial. 
 
 "Morning, Mr. Alston. Why don't you come right 
 in to breakfast? Poor thing! Know you haven't had 
 any. Come in! The old gentleman has gone down 
 to the office, and Mr. Harry's gone with him, but the 
 coffee's hot, and I'll have some eggs and bacon ready 
 in a jiffy. You'll like it better, probably, than Mr. 
 Hoffman did. He almost snapped my head off!" 
 
 He wavered, yielded. He knew that she could safely 
 take such liberties as asking him to breakfast, and he 
 wanted to secure an opportunity for talk with Anna. 
 He admired no woman more. The love which he
 
 60 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 once had felt for her had been modified into the fine 
 respect a man should feel for his friend's wife. 
 
 "Good morning, Anna," he said cordially, as she 
 came forward, greeting him. "Barbie has asked me 
 in to breakfast." He smiled whimsically, as if he 
 wished to have the invitation confirmed. 
 
 "Barbie is always right," she indorsed cordially. 
 
 "Humph! I wish Mr. Hoffman thought so," Bar 
 bie ventured, evidently filled with bitter memories of 
 some unappreciative comment. 
 
 Anna Hoffman was a striking figure as she stood 
 and smiled at Alston, ignoring the complaint, while 
 Barbie took his hat and coat, fur gloves and heavy 
 muffler. 
 
 Anna's graying hair and finely lined, aristocratic 
 face, her tall, carefully groomed figure, plainly, but 
 exceedingly well dressed, were indicative of a very 
 definite personality. Her slim, peculiarly white hands, 
 rare among the residents of small American cities, 
 were as aristocratic as her finely chiseled countenance ; 
 and she was graceful. 
 
 Alston looked at her with a fresh interest, due pos 
 sibly to mere absence for a week from town and 
 sight of her, more likely to be properly attributed to 
 the talks which he had had with Murfree about olden 
 days and his reveries upon the train. Anna had been 
 the detail which had made Fred's life superior to his 
 and Murfree's. Why wasn't the man happier? He 
 loved Hoffman with that undemonstrative man's 
 affection which sometimes lasts from college days, 
 extending through maturity, and, when it does, be-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 61 
 
 comes one of the finest types of human love; but 
 there had been times when he had envied him almost 
 enough to really affect that friendship. Everything 
 had been his from the start. In college he had had 
 more money than any of the boys; when his college 
 days had ended he had stepped from them into the 
 business which had become his own upon his father's 
 death, a few years afterward. This business he had 
 settled down to with a dogged resolution, doubling 
 it and trebling it until it had become a really great 
 enterprise. 
 
 Everything, it seemed to Alston, as he thought 
 about it, had gone smoothly with Fred Hoffman 
 he had won the woman whom he loved; his circum 
 stances had been more than comfortable; he had two 
 lovely children, a fine, manly boy and a sweet girl; 
 he was a man of eminence in his part of the state; 
 he had nothing to look back upon with much regret; 
 he had never sown wild oats he had never had a 
 chance to. Yet he doubted if his annual balance sheet 
 of happiness and sorrow showed a higher profit than 
 his own. Why? Why? 
 
 Wherein had the world gone wrong with him ? He 
 wondered if it could be that the world had offered 
 him monotony a monotony of money-profit, cer 
 tainly, and a monotony of domestic happiness, of 
 steady, ceaseless, notable achievement. Nothing had 
 come easily to him, but nothing had presented such 
 great difficulties that by the exercise of able persever 
 ance he had not been able to attain it. He had had 
 no downs. .That the up had been a gradual rise may;
 
 62 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 have robbed it of some interest; perhaps the man's 
 life had lacked drama. He wondered if it could be 
 that wondered as he sat opposite the woman he, 
 himself, had hoped to marry, and watched her as she 
 drew his coffee from a silver urn belonging to an 
 other man. 
 
 "Of what can you be thinking so intently?" Anna 
 asked him, as she handed him his coffee. "I hope 
 your New York trip was not a disappointment to 
 you." 
 
 "On the contrary," said Alston, smiling back at her, 
 "it was successful. I did everything I went to do, 
 and one thing which I did not even think of doing 
 till I had begun the journey. It was a very pleasant 
 trip. I must confess that I was tempted to remain 
 another day or two when I read in the newspapers 
 of the deep snow here at home." 
 
 "The deepest we have had for years," she answered 
 placidly. It was plain, and Alston made a mental note 
 of it, that deep snow or no snow at all made little 
 difference to her. Hers, at least, was a contented 
 mind, even if he felt assured that Hoffman's was 
 not. 
 
 "They must be snowed in in the country districts." 
 
 "They have had to send out teams with plows 
 to break the roads." 
 
 "Didn't you tell me that you thought of having 
 some young woman here to help you, if you could 
 find the right sort, Anna?" 
 
 "Yes; I have been thinking of it, but I scarcely 
 know just where to look."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 63 
 
 "Humph!" said Barbie, who was listening, and in 
 stantly intensely jealous. "Don't I help enough?" 
 
 "You're as good as fifty, Barbie," Anna answered, 
 smiling with her comfortable calm, "but we both need 
 help." 
 
 "Needn't get me any!" Barbie left with a tremen 
 dous sniff. 
 
 Alston laughed. "Perhaps I've made myself un 
 popular with Barbie," he suggested. "I hadn't thought 
 of that. But I remembered you were talking about 
 getting someone someone who could read aloud, who 
 knew something about music, and who could help the 
 youngsters, when they were at home, with one of the 
 various languages in which it is considered necessary 
 nowadays that youngsters become proficient" 
 
 "Yes; but I want such a paragon! I doubt if I 
 shall find one." 
 
 "I rather think I have discovered the very paragon 
 you're looking for. Old Murfree dear old chap, 
 he's not got much, but still is always helping someone ! 
 told me of her in New York. He takes an interest 
 in her because he used to love her mother. She threw 
 him over for a worthless stick, and now the family 
 is in some straits, I understand. I imagine that he 
 tries to help them variously." 
 
 "How very nice of him!" 
 
 "Old Murfree has a sweet and mighty soul. He's 
 worried about her. He fears she's falling in love 
 with someone he does not approve of. I think he 
 called him a musician that is, I know he called him 
 something more emphatic, but I think he said the
 
 64 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 man is a pianist and composer. Murfree seems to 
 think that if the girl remains in New York City she 
 may marry him, and that her life will be a miserable 
 existence if she does." 
 
 "Did you see her?" 
 
 "Yes; and she seemed rather ladylike quite well 
 bred, indeed. She speaks German and French, plays, 
 sings, reads aloud divinely, Murfree says, and has 
 learned such housekeeping as careless mothers teach 
 their daughters in those little, bandbox, New York 
 flats. Not much, I guess. What homes! Like cells 
 in a honeycomb or penitentiary. But she could take 
 a good deal off your hands, and she would be amus 
 ing, Anna. I thought of you at once when Murfree 
 spoke of her." 
 
 "It was very nice of you. Have you her address?" 
 
 Alston copied it for her from his vest-pocket note 
 book. 
 
 "I shall write to her at once. Fred thinks the plan 
 of having some one who is not definitely a servant is 
 quite silly ; but I tell him that I'm getting old, as well 
 as he, and that he has young Valentine, down at the 
 works, for just about what I wish some one for, here 
 at the house. And he will soon have Harry also." 
 
 "Don't let him bulldoze you," said Alston, laughing. 
 "All men are selfish. Really, we are beasts. I've been 
 feeling it acutely since I've been away." 
 
 "I shall never think that either Fred or you could 
 be a beast," said Anna. "How different you are from 
 other men!" 
 
 "Yes, Fred with his grouches, which mean nothing,
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 65 
 
 and I with my wishes, which accomplish nothing ! We 
 are very useless!" He rose. "It was a delightful 
 breakfast. Thank Barbie for me. Shall I write old 
 Murfree that you'll give his protegee a trial?" 
 
 "Tell him that I'm writing to her," Anna answered. 
 
 Christmas Eve was always an occasion at the Hoff 
 man residence. This year Anna and Barbie for the 
 first time in their lives called in help to raise the dec 
 orations, but, when they were completed, sank wearied 
 into two chairs to view them. Barbie looked at them 
 with jaundiced eye. She had not approved of the as 
 sistance, although she had admitted that her legs were 
 "breaking off where they grew on" after she, herself, 
 had tried an hour upon the stepladder. 
 
 "Bells ain't in the middle of either of them 
 wreaths at the two sides of the piano," she said 
 wrathily. "Looks cross-eyed. Where'd she put that 
 ladder?" 
 
 Anna smiled at her and put a hand upon her arm. 
 "Never mind them, Barbie. They're quite right 
 enough. Save your strength for all the cooking. You 
 say you'll have no help but Ann Eliza, in the kitchen, 
 and she's so incompetent. You'll need all your en 
 ergies and the wreaths are straight enough." 
 
 "Think so?" said the old and privileged servant. 
 "Wait till Mr. Hoffman sees 'em! Wait till the old 
 gentleman gets sight of 'em! Next thing to taking- 
 money from nis safe, late years, is to let anything 
 hang crooked. Did she take the ladder downstairs, 
 Mrs. Hoffman?" 
 
 "Never mind them, Barbie. They're all right. Mr.
 
 66 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Hoffman won't say anything about them. You must 
 get over the idea that he is so cross." 
 
 Barbie looked at her with some astonishment. "Get 
 over the idea that he is so cross !" said she. "How's 
 a body to get over the idea that he's cross unless he 
 stops being cross. Cross! My knees begin to tremble 
 before he turns in at the gate. Let me get the lad 
 der " 
 
 Anna made a gesture of amused despair. "Well, if 
 you wish to, Barbie, but you mustn't be afraid of Mr. 
 Hoffman. He barks a little more than he once did, 
 but he " 
 
 "Doesn't bite?" asked Barbie, starting for the lad 
 der. "I ain't sure he won't bite me some day. Mrs. 
 Hoffman, I wish you'd seen him stick his head out 
 toward me at the breakfast table! I nearly dropped 
 the coffee-urn. And all I'd done was let the toast 
 [fall!" 
 
 "You have too much to do," said Anna, smiling. 
 "That's why I have been thinking about having some 
 one here to help a little. Don't you see." 
 
 "But, Mrs. Hoffman, I " ' 
 
 Anna laughed. "You old, jealous thing! She shan't 
 go near the kitchen ever. But / need some one. I 
 am getting old, Barbie, and " 
 
 "Well, if it's for you, all right, if you want any 
 body. If you're willing to admit you're getting old; 
 but as for me well, Mrs. Hoffman, I won't have any 
 one around my kitchen bothering! I think I've got 
 the right to say; been in that kitchen thirty years: I 
 won't, Mrs. Hoffman."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 67 
 
 "All right, Barbie; all right. And she hasn't come 
 yet. She may not care to come; if she comes I may 
 not like her. I've only just this moment written. The 
 letter's not yet in the mail." 
 
 "Better keep it out, then, I say." 
 
 In the thrill of worry over this new enterprise, 
 through which might come encroachment on her 
 kitchen, Barbie forgot about the straightening of the 
 wreaths, as she went about the work of hanging other 
 Christmas greens. Then came the tying up of pack 
 ages with holly ribbon, and their arrangement on the 
 hat-rack, ready for delivery when the boy came from 
 the mills to run about with them, and the prepara 
 tion at the kitchen door of another, larger pile, of 
 bulkier gifts a pile from which tied feet of turkeys 
 bristled, to be delivered on a wagon to chosen work- 
 ingmen and the few otherwise uncared-for needy of 
 the prosperous little town. Mrs. Hoffman always gave 
 this matter closer thought than any one else in the 
 small city; so elaborate were her Christmas benefac 
 tions of this kind that the church charities had only 
 their own poor to look after. And this pile grew as 
 Barbie and the negress worked steadily and well. It 
 may be mentioned that the negress did this under pro 
 test, and that Barbie met her plaints with continually 
 increasing vigor. Finally came dusk, and then the 
 early darkness of the short winter day. 
 
 Suddenly a door slammed. At the moment Ann 
 Eliza was bound on a cross-kitchen journey, bearing 
 in her arms a tower of tinware. Barbie started at the 
 slamming of the door as if an electric shock had
 
 68 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 thrilled her, paused where she was, half -appre 
 hensively, and then turned sharply upon Ann Eliza, 
 with a warning finger raised. Seeing the tin tower 
 toppling, she warned hissingly, impressively, accu 
 singly : 
 
 "Don't you let one fall! Don't you dare to drop 
 'em! The old gentleman has just come in. The old 
 gentleman!" 
 
 Startled, Ann Eliza paused, standing with a droop 
 ing lower jaw, spellbound by fright. "Why, Miss 
 Ba'bie, Ah wuz " 
 
 The tin tower swayed every second in a wider arc, 
 and its guardian's eyes were rolling, noting every 
 thing but that. 
 
 "They're falling!" Barbie hissed. "They're falling. 
 Stop 'em. The old gentleman " 
 
 Crash ! went the tins upon the floor. 
 
 "Oh! mercy, mercy, mercy!" exclaimed Barbie, flut 
 tering with apprehension. "Mercy, mercy, mercy!" 
 
 "Well, now, Miss Ba'bie." 
 
 Barbie scarcely looked in the direction of the 
 frightened negress. "Wait !" was all she said. 
 
 Nor was the waiting long. Within a moment the 
 kitchen door swung open and in it there was framed 
 the angry, florid features, the tall, rigid form of the 
 master of the house. 
 
 "What's this infernal racket!" he said bitterly. 
 "This place sounds more like a boiler-shop than like a 
 kitchen." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hoffman," Barbie explained nervously, 
 "you see, she why she just let 'em fall."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 69 
 
 "I didn't see, I heard," said Hoffman. "Such a 
 racket! Try to be more careful, can't you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, yes, sir, Mr. Hoffman!" 
 
 " 'Yes, sir, yes, sir, Mr. Hoffman !' " he mimicked 
 angrily. "It's always *y es > sir, yes, sir, Mr. Hoffman,' 
 but the racket keeps on just the same." 
 
 "Yes, sir, yes, sir, Mr. Hoffman!" Barbie mur 
 mured in distress, but the door had closed behind the 
 angry man. 
 
 "The old gentleman's so touchy these days!" wor 
 ried the aged servant. "No matter what a body 
 does " 
 
 Her trembling hands, in raising one of the fallen 
 tins, lost grip on it and let it fall again. Terrified, 
 she sank into a chair, her eyes fixed apprehensively 
 upon the door, but he did not return. 
 
 She was just serving up the dinner when she heard 
 his voice again, and again stopped her work to stand 
 in tremulous apprehension as it called from the dining- 
 room: 
 
 "Barbie! Barbie!" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hoffman," she said timidly, as she 
 opened the swinging door to answer him. 
 
 "Who hung those wreaths ?" 
 
 "Oh, land's sakes alive !" she cried, in new distress. 
 "If they didn't slip my mind! Mrs. Hoffman said to 
 me that you'd be angry ; but when you flew at me out 
 in the kitchen when Ann Eliza dropped them pans, 
 I why, Mr. Hoffman why, you see " 
 
 He looked at her with smoldering annoyance in 
 his eyes and his broad forehead seamed with frowns.
 
 70 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "I see that they have not been straightened," he re 
 plied. "Now straighten them!" 
 
 "Fred," said Anna quietly. "Fred, dear!" She was 
 evidently making some reminder. 
 
 "If you please," he added fiercely. "If you please." 
 
 "Yes, sir, Mr. Hoffman; yes, sir," Barbie worried, 
 and started toward the wreaths. 
 
 "We will have dinner first, Barbie," said Anna very 
 quietly, her calm unruffled. "You can straighten the 
 wreaths afterward." She turned to her husband. 
 "There is a good deal of extra work just now," she 
 said, not apologetically, but in explanation. "Barbie 
 has been very busy getting all the Christmas cooking 
 done." Then, to Barbie : "Bring in the dinner, Barbie, 
 when it's ready." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Hoffman," said the flurried servant. 
 "But, my, I'm so flustered now I'll likely drop the 
 roast." 
 
 "Very likely," Hoffman commented discontentedly. 
 
 "Fred !" said his wife reprovingly. 
 
 When Barbie had gone out and let the swinging 
 doors fall to behind her, Anna told him quietly and 
 unexcitedly of what she had been planning. 
 
 "Mr. Alston ran in here for breakfast," she began. 
 
 "Ran in here for breakfast!" exclaimed Hoffman, 
 plainly much surprised. 
 
 "Yes ; his train was late and Barbie saw him going 
 by. He thinks he may have found some one to help 
 me." 
 
 "Help you to do what?" 
 
 "And help Barbie."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 71 
 
 "Help her throw the tinware in salute when I come 
 in?" 
 
 Anna Hoffman paid .no heed to his grumpiness. 
 "We're a little overstrained. We need help." 
 
 "Well, if you need help, then why don't you get 
 help?" he demanded. "Where's Harry?" The boy 
 was on vacation from Columbia Law School. 
 
 "He'll be along. We won't keep dinner waiting for 
 him. He went downtown to buy Christmas presents. 
 And he's young, you know." 
 
 Her husband looked at her in new annoyance. 
 " 'He's young !' of course he's young. Is that any rea 
 son why he shouldn't be here promptly for his din 
 ner?" 
 
 "He said he might have dinner with Mr. Valentine. 
 I rather hope that Valentine may interest him in 
 Belleville affairs. He finds it hard to care much for 
 them very naturally. And in two more years he'll 
 have to." 
 
 "Well, it won't be such a great misfortune. Any 
 way, he'll have to !" 
 
 "Yes ; poor boy ! He'll have to." 
 
 " 'Poor boy !' Nobody 'poor boyed' to me when / 
 had to settle down." 
 
 "Perhaps you might have understood a little better 
 if some one had, Fred. You missed it, didn't you?" 
 
 "It made no difference, if I did." 
 
 "Well, if you missed it, then you wanted it; it would 
 have helped to make you happy. Let's do what we can 
 to give the children all the happiness we did not 
 have."
 
 72 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "There are other things than happiness to be con 
 sidered in this world!" 
 
 "And, Fred, they'll be considered, whether we wish 
 them to be or whether we do not." 
 
 "You're having your own way with Beatrice. She's 
 getting fancy learning at that convent she's getting 
 quite enough for the whole family. This law school 
 for Harry is mere foolishness." 
 
 "He'll settle down, dear, when he has to." 
 
 "It's already time he started in to. What he needs 
 to learn is not a lot of fancy law stuff, but the busi 
 ness the business I have built up for him." 
 
 "Well, Fred, he will, when the time comes." Her 
 heart thrilled with worry when the talk took channels 
 of this sort. She was constantly afraid her husband 
 would take Harry out of Law School. 
 
 They ate dinner in a silence somewhat grim, and it 
 was not cheered when Harry called up by the tele 
 phone rather late, plainly as an after-thought, to say 
 that he had gone to dinner with Valentine, his father's 
 superintendent at the mills. 
 
 Hoffman heard the news with discontent. "Valen 
 tine is as flighty as Harry is himself!" he grumbled. 
 
 "They're not either of them really flighty," his wife 
 urged. "They're not as old as we are, Fred. Valen 
 tine works hard enough, and Harry's time will come." 
 
 " 'As old as we are !' " he quoted almost angrily. 
 "You'd think I was a grandfather, to hear you talk!" 
 
 "Well, Fred, it probably won't be very long before 
 you are a grandfather and I a grandmother. Beatrice 
 will finish school this year, and Senator Stevenson
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 73 
 
 came in this afternoon he's home for the Christmas 
 adjournment to laugh with me about his ward, 
 Dorothy Mason, and our Harry. He's delighted with 
 the prospect. Aren't you?" 
 
 The mention of the Senator gave her husband some 
 thing to consider of which he evidently very much ap 
 proved. 
 
 "A fine old statesman," he said unctuously. "A 
 gentleman of the old school. He was just becoming 
 eminent in the law when Alston and I began at col 
 lege." 
 
 "Yes ; he is a fine old gentleman." 
 
 "There," said Hoffman with some satisfaction. 
 "You may call him old. But I wish you wouldn't 
 constantly refer to me or to yourself as 'old.' We're 
 not old, Anna." 
 
 "I feel old sometimes, Fred." 
 
 There was a sudden peal of the front door bell 
 and then another and another. Anna started up, al 
 most frightened. Hoffman rose annoyed. 
 
 "Some of Harry's friends!" he grumbled. "Young 
 ideas of humor " 
 
 Anna was gazing curiously after Barbie, who had 
 hastened from the kitchen, and turned to smile at him. 
 
 "There! You see, Fred? We are getting old. 
 What you said then granted it." 
 
 "Nothing of the sort." 
 
 Barbie's cry of joy came to them through the 
 opened doors which she had left behind her. 
 
 "Who can it be?" said Anna. 
 
 "Well, why don't you go and see ?"
 
 7* THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 But there was no opportunity. A lithe, delighted 
 girl flashed from the hall and clasped her arms round 
 Anna's neck. 
 
 "Mother !" she cried. "You never dreamed that I'd 
 come home for Christmas, did you?" 
 
 "Beatrice!" said Hoffman, his face breaking into 
 smiles. "How you've surprised us !" 
 
 "Dear old father!" She left her mother's arms and 
 clung to him. 
 
 A youth rushed in from the hall, bearing bags in 
 each strong hand. 
 
 "Isn't it great?" he cried. "I saw her from the 
 hotel window as she stood upon the station platform 
 looking for the hack, and I left Valentine and din 
 ner with a rush. He can eat mine, if he wants to. It 
 was me for home and little sister as soon as I saw 
 her." 
 
 "You're a dear old Harry!" Beatrice approved. 
 "I'd been begging to come home, and when they finally 
 decided that I might, why, / decided that I would sur 
 prise you all. Sister Gertrude wished to telegraph, 
 but I just wouldn't let her. How are you, Barbie 
 dear old Barbie! give me another kiss. Oh, every 
 body kiss me ! I'm so glad to be here and I can stay 
 until the thirty-first. Can't stay for New Year's day, 
 but why don't you kiss me? I don't believe you're 
 glad to see me !" 
 
 Hoffman watched her with a face changed utterly. 
 For the moment the grim, critical, complaining look, 
 which had been habitual with him, of late, gave way to 
 an expression of delighted joy. Jlis erect and youth-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 75 
 
 ful figure, which strikingly contradicted the pro 
 nounced gray of his hair, towered over her, and he 
 held her to his breast again, and looked down at her 
 with fine pride. 
 
 "Well, that convent doesn't seem to have kept you 
 from getting tall !" he said, with a father's exultation. 
 "You're almost a button higher on my vest. How you 
 have shot up!" 
 
 She threw her head back, laughing at him. "I was 
 standing on my tiptoes because I am so glad. Dear 
 daddy, I'm through growing long ago. I'm a young 
 lady now. You really must remember that ! They're 
 very careful at the convent. They never call us seniors 
 girls. We are young ladies!" 
 
 "Young fiddlesticks!" said he, and pressed his arm 
 about her. 
 
 Anna looked at them with keen delight. No joy 
 could have been greater than that she felt at seeing 
 her dear daughter; but that her presence seemed sure 
 to quell her husband's irritable moods, at least momen 
 tarily, gave her a certain additional satisfaction which 
 she might have been unwilling to acknowledge, even to 
 herself. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the New York studio, old Murfree 
 was having with Bettina a difficult half -hour. 
 
 "I'm not going!" she had just declared, tapping her 
 foot upon the model's platform, from which she had 
 been sufficiently long absent to have assumed her street 
 costume. "I'm not going not a step. What? Into 
 that wilderness ? I think not !"
 
 ff6 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "But, Bettina, it will be a fine thing for you! 
 .Think ! You won't have to pose." 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind posing." 
 
 "But you're always grumbling over it." 
 
 "What if I am?" She turned large eyes upon him, 
 full of amazement because he should have dreamed 
 that grumbling meant dissatisfaction. "A woman has 
 a right to grumble." 
 
 "Well, it will be better for you, anyway. It's not 
 good for you to pose. It hasn't hurt you, probably, 
 to pose for me " 
 
 She laughed, rippingly, contemptuously, and her 
 eyes snapped. "To pose for you! Oh, you? No; 
 it hasn't hurt me any, I suppose, to pose for you. 
 Wasn't it lucky mamma didn't marry you?" 
 
 He looked at her bewildered. 
 
 "Lucky? How?" 
 
 "Because you would have been my father. And 
 you are so stupid ! I never could have stood it." 
 
 "Bettina," he said slowly, "if I had married your 
 mother our our child would never have been you, or 
 anything like you." 
 
 She laughed again insultingly she could be amaz 
 ingly insulting and turned slow, affronting eyes on 
 him. 
 
 "I'm going to go, though, if they want me," she 
 admitted. "I was tormenting you. I've got to meet 
 some men whom I can marry. Theodore's waiting 
 for me downstairs, now, I think, and I must hurry to 
 him " 
 
 Murfree raised his hands in wrath. "He'd better
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 7Y 
 
 wait downstairs!" he cried. "He'd better not come 
 up! Pianists! How I hate them! Bettina, that 
 man " 
 
 "You do hate them him don't you?" she said 
 calmly. "Well, I can't marry Theodore. I wish I 
 could. But, Murfree, I will not be poor!" Her mood 
 went through one of its quick changes. Quick 
 changes, in Bettina's moods, were frequent. She be 
 came almost impassioned, speaking with fierce em 
 phasis. "I won't be poor! I won't! If there are 
 rich men up there, then I'll go !" 
 
 "After that, I ought to write and tell them not to 
 have you." 
 
 "You won't, though. You're too afraid I'll marry 
 Theodore, if I stay here. You don't understand how 
 utterly impossible it would be. But if I had a rich 
 husband from the country " 
 
 He burst into wrath. "You little devil! If you 
 had a rich husband from the country ! I suppose you 
 mean that then you might be able to afford your Theo 
 dore afford him on the side, eh? You've as much 
 conscience as a cat!" 
 
 "Don't be insulting, please. Still " 
 
 "God, Bettina! If " 
 
 A heavy step outside the studio door, a rustling un 
 derneath it and the shrill trilling of a whistle an 
 nounced the mail's arrival. Murfree, shaking his head 
 wrathily, went to the door, picking up the letter. 
 
 "It's from Alston," he announced, as he examined 
 it. After he had read it he continued : "They'll ex 
 pect you. Fred Hoffman's wife has written to you.
 
 78 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 He has fixed it for you. When I write the introduc 
 tion for you, shall I teH them that you wish to marry, 
 there in Belleville a rich man so that you can ah > 
 afford your Theodore Pianosmasher ?" 
 
 "You won't," she said confidently. "You're too 
 anxious to get me out of New York City and away 
 from him. Sometimes I think you're jealous of 
 him." 
 
 "Jealous of him! God Almighty!" He raised his 
 hands in helpless wrath. "Because I was an ass, so 
 many years ago that I've forgotten just how many, 
 and loved your mother, who preferred a drunkard; 
 because I've tried to help you, for the sake of that old 
 love ; because I wish to save you from destruction and 
 give you a fair chance in life, although I know you'll 
 never take the right advantage of it; because I'm try 
 ing, really and honestly, to help you, you insult me by 
 declaring that I'm jealous of that damned pianist! I 
 suppose you mean that I'm in love with you. I'm as 
 much in love with you, you little satiny she-devil, as 
 I am with any other pretty snake !" 
 
 The outburst did not in the least impress her. In 
 stead she gazed at him, as he stood, shaken by his 
 wrath, and laughed delightfully. Her merry trills 
 were quite extraordinary. 
 
 "Well, I must hurry down to Theodore. He gets 
 angry if I keep him waiting!" 
 
 "Your Theodore! I'd like to choke him! I wish 
 you'd marry him! Heavens, he deserves it!" 
 
 She paid no attention to this vicious shot, but ran 
 gaily from the room.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 79 
 
 It was hours before old Murfree could sufficiently 
 compose himself to write to Alston, saying that his 
 protegee would leave New York, as the lawyer's letter 
 had suggested, so that she would reach Belleville early 
 on the first day of the year.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Snow, snow, and still more snow marked Christmas 
 Day at Belleville. Each of the plows which made 
 the streets a possibility for traffic was hauled by four 
 strong horses, few of the sidewalks had been cleared 
 by noon, house yards communicating through slender 
 paths with the narrow cuttings in the roadways, which 
 had been provided with occasional niches in which 
 pedestrians could take refuge when sleighs passed. 
 
 And sleighs were passing on Main Street con 
 stantly, in time to the music of chimed bells jingling, 
 and the even merrier lilt of laughter. All morning came 
 bobsleds, laden with brisk parties from near rural dis 
 tricts, the women bundled into balls of woolens, the 
 men red-cheeked, with steaming breath, each driving 
 his weary horses with one hand while he slapped the 
 other on his mighty coat to warm it. As the forenoon 
 progressed, sleighs of a fancier shape and glossier 
 emerging from the city barns, bore as elaborately, al 
 though less uncouthly bundled, town parties toward 
 the country parties wrapped in furs, rather than in 
 woolens. But whether they were wrapped in furs or 
 woolens, all were laughing, singing, the women and 
 girls screaming at the "thank-you-ma'ams," the men 
 and boys intensely busy with brisk animals enlivened 
 by the frosty air, or engaged in husbanding of robes 
 
 80
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 81 
 
 which, now and then, masked sly but earnest hugs of 
 waists slim underneath their multitudinous wrappings, 
 but so guarded against cold that it now required long 
 arms to get about them. Arms long enough were 
 ready for the task. 
 
 In the houses of this prosperous little city merri 
 ment reigned supreme. There were poor in Belleville, 
 but that dire poverty which in the greater cities makes 
 the Christmas season saddest of all times to those who 
 know and understand was here so rare, so understood 
 and so well-cared for, that it nowhere swung its som 
 ber flag of misery upon the open highways. Ann 
 Eliza's pickaninnies were wrapped in so many tatters 
 that they did not mind the cold ; they had sumptuously 
 breakfasted; they knew that in the oven a great tur 
 key, gift of Mrs. Hoffman, was already hidden, and 
 would be ready early, so that their mother might pre 
 sent it to their greedy little paunches before going to 
 assist in serving dinner at the big house on Main 
 Street; their black hands were muffled in brand-new 
 red mittens from the A. M. E. Church Christmas tree, 
 which had glittered bravely the night before, and their 
 pockets bulged with Christmas fruits and nuts and 
 sweets. In a town like Belleville the American Christ 
 mas shines its brightest ; there, really, "peace on earth, 
 good-will to men" seems somewhat actual; frowns of 
 discontent, harsh voices, sorrow, are all rarities upon 
 the holiday. 
 
 Yet in the big house on Main Street where the Hoff- 
 mans lived, where reigned prosperity, where, in the 
 early morning, shouts and laughter had rung out as
 
 82 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Beatrice and Harry, held by their mother to be still 
 children on this day, discovered what their gifts were, 
 where Barbie worried over countless goodies in the 
 kitchen and the pantry, where no material thing was 
 lacking to make the day a feast of plenty, there was 
 apparent, none the less, a taint of discontent. The 
 master of the house was finding it a difficult matter to 
 present a smiling face to those who greeted him, his 
 voice rasped a little, his smile was not invariably quite 
 genuine. 
 
 It is highly probable that had he been required to 
 make a statement of his reasons for his lack of Christ 
 mas feeling, he would have found the task beyond his 
 power. Probably he would have passed it off as the 
 involuntary expression of his worry over a bad busi 
 ness year, as the first of January, with its balance- 
 striking neared; but such an explanation would have 
 touched but the surface of reality. 
 
 In fact, his discontent was outgrowth of the ac 
 cumulated dissatisfaction of a lifetime spent at effort 
 far too concentrated. It was the bitter, deep dissatis 
 faction of the business man who, having won, finds 
 that he has paid a great price for his victory, half 
 realizes that in his constant fighting there has been lit 
 tle time for living, and, as the years advance inexor 
 ably, discovers that his taste for play, even his ability 
 to really enjoy, has lessened, as he has won the means 
 and opportunity for its indulgence. 
 
 As he had sat at breakfast, with his charming 
 daughter at one side of the table, his bright and ener 
 getic son upon the other, and, across the board, his
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 83 
 
 quiet, placid wife smiling, even though his nervous 
 grouchiness toward her was constant he found it 
 necessary to continually battle with his growing and 
 insistent dissatisfaction. He, himself, was somewhat 
 appalled by the emotions which distressed him. He 
 did not try to analyze them; he did not stop to tell 
 himself that if his life had been largely barren of ev 
 erything but effort, the fault had been his own, born of 
 an overmastering ambition for success which had not 
 tolerated leisure moments, which had rushed through 
 the years, wrapped in an absorption so complete that 
 it had scarcely vouchsafed to himself the time to learn 
 how to enjoy. 
 
 It may have been the realization that his son and 
 .daughter were approaching real maturity which made 
 him suddenly compute how many years had passed, 
 how few remained to him; it may have been an un 
 expected visualization of the gray in his wife's hair, 
 or the fact that, rising very late for him and dressing 
 with unusual leisure, he had stared long and earnestly 
 into the mirror in the bathroom, and for the first time 
 fully realized that time's flight was becoming plain on 
 his own head. 
 
 Whatever had occurred to flood the knowledge on 
 him, it had come with an overwhelming rush, and, 
 coming, had dismayed him, angered him. Ever since 
 then he had been fighting it away, denying it, and this 
 futile struggle against fact had put him in no placid 
 frame of mind. 
 
 He seemed to see, that morning, with an unusually 
 clear vision, and what he saw was principally age
 
 84 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 his own and Anna's more Anna's than his own. If 
 the youngsters' youth impressed him, it was to annoy. 
 Even while he railed at fate for having rushed him out 
 of childhood to maturity, pausing for no intermediate 
 period, he railed at his own young for their indul 
 gence in that very inconsequentiality which he re 
 gretted having missed. 
 
 The spirits of his children, however, were too viv 
 idly alight with youth to be extinguished, or even seri 
 ously dimmed by their father's gloomy and forbidding 
 mood; indeed they were not definitely conscious that 
 his face was more severe than usual, that his laughter 
 came more grudgingly, holding a rasping note, that his 
 words to Barbie were less gracious than they had been 
 of old. They did not realize that his fitful study of 
 their mother's face was not once not for an instant 
 > smiling. Absorbed by youth's fine egotism, filled 
 with the wonder of their own development, busy with 
 their own bright gossip, they did not dream that as 
 they talked of all the joys they knew which he had 
 never known, their father, who, to them, was inter 
 ested only in important, grave affairs, and, so far as 
 they knew, always had been somber, stern, never 
 yearning otherwise, was, in truth, filled with a cer 
 tain envy of them, even with a certain feeling of of 
 fense that they enjoyed, upon his bounty, such gaiety 
 as his life had had far too little of. And had any one 
 told Hoffman that at that Christmas breakfast he was 
 jealous of his own offspring, angry with his wife for 
 having aged, his denials would have been not less 
 than vehement ; yet these things were exactly true.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 85 
 
 That there were those among the lines in his wife's 
 face which had been put there by his own unceasing 
 dominance, not always too considerate ; that there were 
 others there, born of her share in that struggle for suc 
 cess which he believed had been entirely his own 
 herculean effort; that had he given her an easier life 
 there might have been far fewer silver strands among 
 the rich brown of her hair, he did not dream, far less 
 acknowledge. That poor Barbie's awkwardness, 
 tremulous fears of his complaints, slow service were 
 manifestations of the same advance of years which 
 made him notice them did not occur to him. 
 
 Far from being filled with the right spirit of the 
 day, therefore, he found it difficult to share at all in 
 the fine happiness of the young people; his wife's 
 veiled glances of reproach when he spoke crabbedly 
 did not reprove him, but exasperated him ; he was un 
 consciously a little pleased that Anna was undoubtedly 
 aware of his unpleasant state of mind; he found 
 Barbie's fear of his sharp grumbling almost an agree 
 able tribute to his power; he was indefinitely angered 
 when he saw that Beatrice and Harry were alike un 
 conscious and unaffected by his dissatisfaction. 
 
 Before the first meal of the holiday had really ended 
 he rose abruptly from the table. 
 
 "I'm going to the mills," he muttered, as the others 
 raised their eyes in question. 
 
 "What? On Christmas day?" said Anna mildly, 
 but astonished. 
 
 "Yes; on Christmas day." His voice was pettishly 
 ill-natured.
 
 86 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "But, Fred " 
 
 He was indefinitely ashamed ; and the shame further 
 angered him. "It's been a vicious year a vicious 
 year," he said, half in excuse. "And with this fine 
 young lady and this fine young gentleman eating off 
 their heads in fashionable schools " 
 
 "But, Fred, you, yourself, have always said that 
 they should have the things which we " 
 
 "Yes, yes; I know, Anna," he exclaimed, now on 
 the defensive. "Of course, I've always said that they 
 should have the things we did not have. They're hav 
 ing them, aren't they ? But the very fact that they are 
 having them makes it doubly necessary that the mills 
 should grind their grist of profit, doesn't it?" 
 
 "But Christmas day!" 
 
 "On Christmas day a business man must think about 
 the first of January. I must telephone to Valentine." 
 
 "Fred," said Anna, now definitely protesting, "go 
 to the mills yourself, if you are sure you must, but 
 don't make Mr. Valentine give up his Christmas day to 
 business. He's young " 
 
 "Am I so old, then?" He stood looking at her 
 frowningly. 
 
 Beatrice and Harry hushed their badinage and 
 reminiscences of convent and of college. They were 
 worried. This was a false note in what they had been 
 certain would be a day quite perfect. What ailed 
 father? 
 
 "We are no longer young, Fred," Anna answered 
 quietly, with that harried look which had been coming 
 to her face of late with an increasing frequency.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 87 
 
 "All the more reason, then," said he, "why I must 
 make the most of the few years of life before me 
 make the most of them, so that these young folks" 
 again he spoke almost with bitterness "may lead the 
 fancy, idling lives that young folks live in these days." 
 
 Harry started from his seat to protest, but Hoffman 
 strode out of the room. 
 
 The boy stood looking after him in sheer amaze 
 ment. 
 
 "I don't know what's the matter with your father 
 lately," said his mother almost hopelessly. 
 
 "Well, if he wants me to stop law school I don't 
 care much about it anyway. Mr. Alston's got all the 
 really big practice he and Senator Stevenson." 
 
 She smiled. "But you're of another generation, 
 Harry. It will bring its business with it." 
 
 "But father is so grouchy." 
 
 "Don't, Harry!" his mother begged. Her nerves 
 were all on edge. 
 
 Beatrice gazed at her with a girl's quicker sympathy 
 and caught her off her guard. Since her arrival Anna 
 had been careful to be cheerful, had made constant 
 efforts to conceal from the bright eyes of her daugh 
 ter the fact that life in the old home had complicated 
 in the last two years, was complicating now with a be 
 wildering rapidity. 
 
 "Why, mother !" the girl cried, almost alarmed and 
 very definitely shocked. "You look so tired! Aren't 
 you sleeping well?" 
 
 Anna smiled at her. "Yes, Beatrice; quite well." 
 
 "But you do look tired."
 
 88 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Harry made a rough guess at the reason and his 
 soul began to strut as boys' souls will. "Mother," he in 
 quired, "you needn't try to say it isn't so, father's 
 wearing you to a mere frazzle. What's the matter 
 with him?" 
 
 Anna rose in horrified protest. "Why, Harry, what 
 a thing to say ! I'm a little overtired, perhaps that's 
 all." 
 
 "Well, you let me know what I can do to help things 
 out," said he, not realizing in the least that the one 
 thing which might be done to help things out was not 
 within his power of accomplishment and seemed be 
 yond the ken of the one person who might do it. 
 
 She smiled at him. "Dear boy!" 
 
 He went to her and put his hand upon her shoul 
 der. "You know you can count on me, momsie." He 
 was trying to be comforting. 
 
 "Of course I can, dear." 
 
 But as she tried to smile at him her eyes filled, and 
 she made an errand to the kitchen. 
 
 There Barbie caught the glint of tears upon her 
 lashes. The old servant was up in arms at once. 
 
 "Mrs. Hoffman, has the old gentleman been saying 
 more mean things to you?" 
 
 "Why, Barbie!" Her mistress' tone was one of 
 shocked reproof. 
 
 "I know," said the servant sagely. "Cooks can keep 
 their ringers out of broth that they're not cooking if 
 they want many friends, but Mr. Hoffman why he 
 snips at me and snaps at you ! No wonder to me, Mrs. 
 Hoffman, that your eyes are getting pretty well washed
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 89 
 
 out and your mouth is running down-hill at both 
 ends." 
 
 "Barbie!" said Anna, quite aghast "Please never 
 let me hear another word of that sort " 
 
 "Mrs. Hoffman, to-day's Christmas. You can't be 
 cross with me on Christmas." The old servant looked 
 at her with a grim smile. 
 
 It conquered, and Anna gave her back one full of 
 real affection. The time had long since passed when 
 the ordinary discipline with which servants may be 
 threatened could be even hinted at with Barbie. 
 
 "But you must stop your grumbling about Mr. 
 Hoffman," Anna answered. 
 
 "Stop my grumbling about Mr. Hoffman!" Barbie 
 cried, as if this thought was new. "It's the old gentle 
 man that does the grumbling !" 
 
 Anna dismissed the subject with a question about 
 dinner; but as Barbie started toward the kitchen, her 
 mistress was reflecting with some melancholy that this 
 Christmas dinner would lack many elements which 
 had been ever present at such feasts in days gone by. 
 
 It did, as did the evening which succeeded it, and 
 the days which followed that. 
 
 When, at the little early party gathered at the house, 
 partly to watch the old year out and partly in the way 
 of farewell merriment for Beatrice, who was to leave 
 for the far convent school at n o'clock, Hoffman 
 flared somewhat vividly at no less a personage than 
 Senator Stevenson, up from Washington for the 
 holidays, and bent upon the exposition in the district 
 of his party's services to commerce, she was almost
 
 90 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 frightened, for she saw Dorothy Mason, his ward, 
 whom the Senator had brought, look up at Hoffman 
 worried, even shocked, and saw that this was worry 
 ing Harry. It was among the darling projects of her 
 mother's heart that Harry and this charming girl 
 should marry. 
 
 It was a real relief to her when Harry pranced in, 
 very handsome in his evening clothes, and whirled 
 Dorothy away into the drawing-room, where Beatrice 
 was playing old French waltzes. The Senator went 
 after them, a smile upon his face, and stood in the 
 wide doorway, watching them with satisfaction. 
 
 "Fred," said Anna carefully, "this is New Year's 
 Eve, you know, and " 
 
 "Well, what of it, Anna?" His voice was sharp, 
 annoyed. 
 
 "Good nature is a part of hospitality." She was 
 looking at him with more bewilderment than disap 
 proval. 
 
 For a moment he was really abashed. "Yes, I 
 know," he said at length, "but all these politicians want 
 is " 
 
 "You would not class the Senator among mere poli 
 ticians, would you?" 
 
 "No; not exactly that; but " 
 
 "Fred, I don't know what has come over you. It 
 is true that we are growing old, but one may grow old 
 gracefully." 
 
 "That's it!" he said, aroused anew. "I wish you 
 wouldn't constantly talk age !" He looked at her with 
 out much favor.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 91' 
 
 "It is a thing which cannot be denied," she answered. 
 
 "I can deny it," he protested. "Look at Stevenson ! 
 He's fifteen years older than I am, and " 
 
 "He is beginning to get feeble," Anna commented 
 with a matter-of-fact accuracy which maddened him. 
 
 The Senator returned, bringing with him Alston, 
 who, although he was Hoffman's junior by not more 
 than a year or two, belied his age with his geniality. 
 He had been dancing with the young folk, but even he 
 was glad now to let his aging muscles rest. 
 
 "Why haven't you been in the other room and dan 
 cing?" he asked Hoffman. 
 
 "Dancing ? Why, I haven't danced in years !" 
 
 "Getting old, eh?" said the genial lawyer. "Well, 
 we all of us " 
 
 "Old? No," said Hoffman with some emphasis. 
 Then, in complaint: "There seems to be a real con 
 spiracy on foot to make me think I am Methusalem. 
 Anna has been saying to me " 
 
 "Why don't you take her in, and show these young 
 sters the real art of dancing?" said the lawyer, not en 
 tirely in fun. He had been watching Anna's face. 
 
 Hoffman shook his head as if the very thought were 
 an absurdity. "Oh, Anna wouldn't care to dance." 
 
 Alston wondered, with a sharp dismay, if the glance 
 his friend had thrown toward his wife's face could 
 possibly be one of critical dislike. 
 
 "Wouldn't she? That's where you're wrong. 
 Chat's where you're making a mistake, Fred." 
 
 The lawyer's eyes were full of real distress. He 
 loved these two, as if they had been of his family.
 
 He could see that things were going wrong between 
 them; he felt that all the blame, or most of it, at least, 
 was on the man's part. 
 
 "Why don't you take the real success that God has 
 given you, old man, and make the most of it?" 
 
 "If God gave me success, He made me work for it." 
 
 "Of course, otherwise it would not have been your 
 own success. Why don't you enjoy it?" 
 
 Hoffman hunched his shoulders discontentedly. 
 "Oh, I enjoy it, I suppose. But it's so full of petti 
 nesses !" 
 
 "Life is made up of little things, old man of very 
 little things." 
 
 Again Hoffman shrugged his shoulders discon 
 tentedly. 
 
 Alston smiled quizzically at him. "I believe you're 
 getting discontented in your old age, Fred. Discon 
 tented with the very things for which you have so 
 striven." 
 
 Hoffman turned upon him angrily. "There it is 
 again 'old age !' I tell you I'm not old I I won't be 
 old!" 
 
 "Well, have it your own way, Fred. I'm old. Lord, 
 how that polka made me puff!" He looked at his 
 watch. "If I could stay two hours, Fred, I would be 
 able to wish you happy New Year as the year comes 
 in; but that's impossible. I must move along. It's 
 the devil to be unattached. I have no excuse for re 
 fusing invitations that I don't want to accept." 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 "Half-past nine."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 93 
 
 "And they're still dancing! Beatrice must catch 
 that train at eleven !" 
 
 "Well, there's an hour and a half." 
 
 "An hour and a half ! For her to dress and to say 
 good-by in? Alston, you don't know women. Why, 
 it takes ten minutes to drive down to the station!" He 
 went to the door which opened on the drawing-room. 
 "Beatrice," he called, "it's time for you to dress." 
 
 In a moment she came running toward him. "Is 
 it ten so soon?" 
 
 "No; but it's half-past nine." 
 
 "But I don't have to dress till ten." 
 
 "What, with your train going at eleven?" 
 
 "Just one more dance, daddy. I have promised it." 
 
 "Well, make it a short one, then," said Anna, com 
 ing near. 
 
 "I believe you're anxious to get rid of me!" 
 
 "My dear!" Anna's voice was full of fond re 
 proach. "Run in and have your dance then; but, 
 really, it must be the last. You must not annoy your 
 father by delaying." 
 
 "Annoy me !" said Hoffman. "I only want to have 
 her make her train." 
 
 Anna sank into a chair, a cold chill about her heart. 
 
 Somehow the girl's words had rung curiously true. 
 It was a fact that she felt little sorrow at the thought 
 of Beatrice's going this time, when, in previous years, 
 the nearing of the hour for her departure had bit 
 terly distressed her. What could be the reason? A 
 dozen times she multiplied the question in her mind, 
 fighting off the answer, and then, finally admitted it.
 
 94 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 It was the change in the girl's father, her own hus 
 band, which she feared to have her daughter remain 
 long enough to see. A subtle, mystifying change, it 
 was, but terrible. 
 
 When had it begun? What had given birth to it? 
 What would it lead to? She would not let her 
 stunned and weary brain formulate in words the truth 
 of it; she would not let it formulate it even in emo 
 tions. But her heart knew it, shrank from it, grieved 
 over it with such a grief as she had never known be 
 fore, although that heart had been torn by the mighty 
 sorrow of the loss of a first born. Now, when her 
 husband and herself should be upon their placid way 
 down the first gentle slopes of the declining years of 
 their companionship, the clasp of their two hands was 
 loosening. She could feel this very definitely almost 
 as definitely as if the relaxing clasp had been material, 
 as if his actual fingers had been slipping from the de 
 spairing clinging of her own. 
 
 All this ill-temper, all his criticism of himself, poor 
 Barbie, Harry, Beatrice, meant one thing only he 
 was somehow separating from her and the children, 
 growing out of the old home. She knew perfectly that 
 he had no other interest, yet the old interests now 
 failed to satisfy. It made Beatrice's going far less 
 tragic. How much more so would her staying be, if 
 it were to reveal to her this grim and dreadful situa 
 tion? It made the fact that Harry must return to 
 college a relief to her. 
 
 As she sat there in the dim library and watched 
 the young folk in the brilliant drawing-room whirl-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 95 
 
 ing in that final, romping dance, listened to their chat 
 ter, sensed the growing beauty of her daughter, gloated 
 fondly on the manly good looks of her son, her eyes 
 filled with tears born of a new emotion. She desired 
 above all things to have them go to have them go 
 before they gathered any inkling of the dreadful, if 
 utterly intangible, metamorphosis which seemed to 
 have been worked in the psychology of life within the 
 comfortable, square brick house behind the evergreens 
 on Belleville's Main Street. 
 
 What was the change in Fred which was so evident 
 to her scared eyes ? Could others see it ? Did Barbie 
 see it that is, did she see more than the increasing 
 bitterness of temper which so worried her? Had 
 Harry noted it ? Had Beatrice been in the least aware 
 of it? 
 
 She could not think the children had really been 
 conscious of it. They had suffered from it, but their 
 discomfort had been vague. She knew that once or 
 twice their father's manner toward her had a little 
 shocked them, for once when Hoffman had spoken 
 sharply to her Beatrice had laid her hand upon hers 
 comfortingly in passing, and once her son had clasped 
 her in his arms as soon as Hoffman had gone out, 
 after an outburst of irritation; but she hoped they had 
 not fully realized. 
 
 Still, it had been marked. They had been much 
 away from home while they had been passing from 
 childhood's age of calm acceptance into the beginning 
 of the analytical stage of their development. And 
 in their childhood days of calm acceptance, there had
 
 96 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 been nothing for them to accept. Fred, in those days, 
 had been different, ah, so different ! Absorbed in busi- 1 
 ness he had always been, but ill-natured, overbearing, 
 unjust, never. Now . . . There was so much for 
 them to see, if really their eyes were opened ! 
 
 Her husband called her as he stood in the dining- 
 room door, far down the hall. 
 
 "Well, Anna, are you ready? We don't want that 
 child to miss her train !" 
 
 No, alas! she did not want that child to miss her 
 train and remain another day to hear her father use 
 that tone in speaking to her mother. She hastened 
 to make ready for the sally out into the cold. 
 
 It was late when they returned and she was weary 
 both in mind and body. Worse, she was weary in her 
 soul. Harry, unfretted by his sister's going, had 
 started for the watch-night services at the Presby 
 terian church, with some misgivings as to their prom 
 ise of entertainment, but determined to sap Belleville 
 of the most it had to offer of excitement for the young, 
 and she had been glad to have him leave them. 
 
 "I am really very tired, Fred," she said, as he turned 
 up the light in the front hall. Barbie, of course, was 
 at the watch-night meeting. Her Presbyterianism was 
 devout. 
 
 He looked at her with plain surprise and some dis 
 pleasure. How pale and drawn her face was ! What 
 had she been doing to herself? Why hadn't she pre 
 served her looks, as other women did ? He had noted 
 those among their neighbors who had not allowed
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 97 
 
 themselves to fall away in their appearance as she 
 had. That the earlier years of these, her first rivals 
 in his mind, had been less strenuous than hers, he did 
 not stop to think. That while she had been helping 
 him build up his fortune they had been at ease on 
 fortunes won already, or had remained at ease, con 
 tent to see their husbands struggle without aid, did 
 not recur to him to-night, although there had been 
 days, in times gone by, when he had not lacked full 
 appreciation of it and thought of them with grim 
 contempt. 
 
 "Too tired, I suppose, to have a little talk," he 
 grumbled. 
 
 She looked at him with something close to fright. 
 What was it that he planned to say to her? Was it 
 something about Harry ? The mysterious intuition of 
 a mother urged her to make inquiry, to protest if 
 Fred was planning to let Harry leave the Law School 
 and go into the business. Could he not realize that 
 his son's circumstances and his own at his son's age 
 were very different? His father had been struggling 
 to build up an enterprise ; his help had been imperative 
 to its success. Now that enterprise was well-estab 
 lished and most prosperous, it in no way needed 
 Harry. But did he plan to thrust him into it? 
 
 She could not argue with him that night. She 
 would start the struggle, if there was to be one, in the 
 morning. 
 
 "I am very tired," she said dully, "but if you wish 
 to talk I shall be glad to listen, certainly. What is 
 it, Fred?"
 
 98 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "I've been thinking about Harry," he said definitely. 
 
 Her heart throbbed almost wildly. So her worst 
 fears were confirmed. 
 
 "Yes, Fred; what about him?" 
 
 "This Law School idea. Three years more of it. 
 Don't you think it's rather silly?" 
 
 "I hadn't thought so. I supposed we had agreed 
 on it." 
 
 "Well, yes ; we had. I will admit that. But had we 
 thought it over carefully enough? I had to go into 
 the business. He ought to go into the business." 
 
 "But in the law he might build a career. Senator 
 Stevenson feels sure he would. He has the inclina 
 tion. Why not let him follow out the plan?" 
 
 "I know he has the inclination !" His voice was al 
 most rough. It seemed to triumph, as if he had found 
 out a secret which they all had tried to keep from him. 
 "He has the inclination to stay there in New York 
 City and have a gay and easy time of it for a few 
 years. I " 
 
 'Oh, Fred no ! You know Harry isn't- 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course he isn't. I'm not saying any 
 thing against the boy especially. But Valentine " 
 
 "I thought Valentine was doing very well." 
 
 "He has no judgment not a particle. I'm not say 
 ing anything against him, either; but when I was of 
 his age " 
 
 "Times were so different! Fred, too much was 
 thrust on you when you were of the age of Mr. Val 
 entine. Too much had been thrust on you when you 
 were of Harry's age. But your father was less active 
 than you are older, far, even than we are."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 99 
 
 It was a slip, and she had had fair warning ; but she 
 had not learned to look for warnings in her long mar 
 ried life. The Frederick Hoffman she had known in 
 bygone years had not made it necessary that she 
 search words and looks for omens of the things she 
 must and must not say. She could not adjust herself. 
 
 " 'Older, even, than we are !' You talk as if we had 
 a foot apiece hung in the grave ! Anna, I wish you'd 
 stop that. I won't be old. I won't have it, Anna !" 
 
 She had no conception of the depth of feeling which 
 was hidden at the back of this remark; she had no 
 conception of the storm of protest which was rising 
 in this strong man's soul against the ruthlessness of 
 Fate. She thought he must be playing with her, mak 
 ing a grim sort of game with her. How could he 
 deny that he was growing old ? She did not deny that 
 she was. 
 
 "Who was it? King Canute? He tried to make 
 the tide stop at his feet !" she said, trying to be gay. 
 
 ,To her surprise he turned toward her a face on 
 which deep annoyance very plainly showed. 
 
 "There is a difference between attempting to com 
 bat a law of Nature and refusing to be misled into 
 foolish error by a wrong conception," he said almost 
 fiercely. "It's this miserable life here in this dead- 
 and-alive, one-horse-power city, this ceaseless grind at 
 thankless tasks, this never-ending slavery to outworn 
 tradition " 
 
 Puzzled beyond words, unwilling even to sit listen 
 ing to him, she rose, perplexed, almost in despair, un 
 dreaming of the bizarre climax which was approaching 
 in his hitherto conventional career.
 
 100 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "I'm sure I don't quite know what you are talking 
 about, Fred." Her voice was dull and weary. 
 "If you'll excuse me, I'll go up to bed. I'm very 
 tired/ 1 
 
 "By all means go to bed," he answered, with no at 
 tempt to finish out his interrupted sentence. 
 
 She heard Harry, when he came in late, and knew 
 his father had been sitting up for him, for, after the 
 door closed, the murmuring of voices came up from 
 the library for three-quarters of an hour. When, at 
 last, her son came up the stairs in stocking- feet, so 
 that he might not awaken her, she threw a wrapper 
 over her night robe, slipped her feet into soft slippers 
 and went down the hall to meet him. 
 
 He looked very glum in the flickering light which 
 spread about his head from the candle in his hand. 
 
 "Did you have a good time, Harry?" 
 
 "Aw, mother!" he exclaimed disgustedly. "A nice 
 time! It was a funeral! They watched the old year 
 out, all right they watched it down and out!" 
 
 "But it was a watch-night meeting, Harry!" 
 
 "It was as cheerful as it would have been if they 
 had had it in a coffin, with candles at its head and feet, 
 and had been waiting for the new year with a sponge 
 of chloroform to suffocate it, too! Did you ever see 
 such whiskers as there are in Belleville, mother? If I 
 had had a set like Doctor Whipple's, in college, when 
 I played the grave-digger in 'Omelet' " 
 
 "In 'Hamlet,' dear?" 
 
 "No, 'Omelet' ; it was a parody on that Shakespeare 
 stuff. If I'd had a set of whiskers like the parson's,
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 101 
 
 the managers would have been after me with offers 
 for the Winter Garden." 
 
 She was curiously sensitive. After Fred's com 
 plaints of Belleville, and their life there, which she 
 had supposed had been so full of satisfying effort, and, 
 therefore, had been so happy, to have her son com 
 plain of it, as if he, too, hated the old home, was al 
 most more than she could bear. 
 
 "Harry, dear!" she cried. "I am so sorry! Oh, I 
 hope " 
 
 "Why, momsie, darling," he exclaimed, "what is the 
 matter? You're not crying, are you? I didn't mean 
 to make game of it. Is the deacon an old friend? 
 Only after college and Law School and then 
 what father said to me to-night " 
 
 She put her hands upon his shoulders, definitely 
 frightened. "What did he say, Harry?" 
 
 The boy's face was dark with discontent. "Hasn't 
 he told you?" 
 
 "No; but I have been afraid to-night " 
 
 "I'm not going back to Law School. He wants me 
 in the factory. He says I've got to buckle down with 
 Valentine and learn the darned old business !" 
 
 "Oh, Harry?" Her voice was almost a despairing 
 mother's cry, but she quickly found her self-control. 
 She must not oppose his father to her son. What she 
 had to say about this she must say to Frederick him 
 self. "Well, he probably knows best." 
 
 "I hope he'll give me a strong anaesthetic, so that it 
 won't be so very painful," said the boy, and, kissing 
 her, went on to bed.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The winter's second unusual storm swept the land 
 scape which loafed slowly past the windows of the 
 sleeping car. Miss Bettina Curtis watched it now and 
 then with languid interest. She only watched it now 
 and then, for the conductor of the train, the sleeping- 
 car conductor, a traveling salesman of silk petticoats, 
 a college boy and a venerable surgeon of great note, 
 who was journeying to Buffalo to attend a consulta 
 tion in connection with a merchant prince's innermost 
 activities, were the car's other passengers and they 
 scarcely saw the storm at all. Their eyes were mostly 
 fixed on Miss Bettina Curtis. She knew it. 
 
 And she gloried in it. Not because she cared a rap 
 for them : she was informed about the man who wants 
 to flirt, and wise enough to take him very lightly; but 
 it was an omen it was an omen that she might suc 
 ceed in the great enterprise on which she had em 
 barked the enterprise of making her companionship 
 to Anna Hoffman (whom she in advance despised) 
 entirely incidental to securing for herself for life the 
 luxurious companionship of some rich man. 
 
 It was most exciting and encouraging. She was 
 young ; her definite sins had been almost unimportant ; 
 but now, although the car was most inadequately 
 heated, the explorer's spirit thrilled in her until it 
 
 102
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 103 
 
 almost helped her to forget cold toes. She did not 
 sense it as a fact, but when she had embarked upon 
 that train she had become a real adventuress. Why 
 should we laud "gentlemen adventurers" and tell their 
 tales of gentlemanly slaughter, gentlemanly swindling, 
 gentlemanly highwaymanship in lilting and inspiring 
 song, while we turn our noses toward the ceiling at 
 the word "adventuress"? "Lady adventuress" I 
 never heard the term. 
 
 It does not quite describe Bettina she was neither 
 quite a lady nor quite experienced enough to fit the 
 meaning of that hard, although potentially romantic 
 descriptive word "adventuress"; but stirring in her 
 breast, beneath the snug and shapely, if most inex 
 pensive, tailor-made which covered it, thrilled a de 
 lightful curiosity, unterrified, determined and likely 
 to remain so. This uncomfortable journey across the 
 snow-bound landscape, which had stretched through 
 twelve long hours and would stretch all through twelve 
 more, to more than double normal limit, was destined, 
 she felt sure, to take her into areas of new and ful 
 some opportunity and opportunity, she was de 
 termined, would never need to make two knocks upon 
 her door. 
 
 She had not much heart. The reflection, for ex 
 ample, that old Murfree had probably condemned him 
 self to weird, half-dollar dinners for two weeks in 
 order to secure for her her railway ticket and the 
 privilege of riding in a sleeper did not fill her soul 
 with gratitude. Instead she smiled maliciously as she 
 considered him a victim of the restaurant which she
 
 104 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 knew very well indeed and knew he hated. She al 
 most resented the intrusion of the skirt-salesman with 
 coffee, at this moment, for his coming interrupted 
 visualization of old Murfree searching with disconso 
 late fork for rare chicken livers in the fifty-cent 
 spaghetti. 
 
 The skirt-salesman told her of his "line" as she 
 sipped the hot coffee. 
 
 "I got th' neatest little petticoat you ever seen yet 
 in my 36 sample trunk," said he. "I'm going to get it 
 out at Buffalo for you." 
 
 "But," sighed Bettina, tempering the sigh with 
 smiles. "I'm not going on to Buffalo." 
 
 The salesman seemed depressed, then he seriously 
 pondered. "Might I could get it from the baggage 
 car already; this train ain't going none." 
 
 "How lovely if you could !" Bettina granted. 
 
 It took him a good hour to do this, for his No. 36 
 sample trunk was at the bottom of a pile, and when 
 he went back to the sleeping car with the beruffled 
 garment, Bettina was engrossed in conversation with 
 the celebrated surgeon, who frowned upon the sales 
 man as he handed her the petticoat. She gave its 
 donor a rare smile and tucked the skirt into her bag; 
 but that smile, as it left the salesman, swept the col 
 lege boy into its orbit, and the college boy went after 
 magazines. The surgeon was annoyed ; but he did not 
 rise and leave. He racked his brain for plans by 
 means of which to utterly outshine the salesman and 
 the college boy. He finally made purchases of candies. 
 
 Therefore, even if Bettina's toes were cold, she was
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 105 
 
 having a good time, which she felt certain was pre 
 cursor of many good times in the future. Very defi 
 nite ideas were in the small but shapely head of Miss 
 Bettina Curtis, as the train poked slowly westward. 
 She was a creature of her rearing, or her lack of it, 
 and viewed life from the standpoint, half-furtive, half- 
 aggressive, of the man or woman who turns naturally 
 to tricks, ignorant of the manner or the joy of per 
 fectly fair fighting for a worthy object. 
 
 If Bettina cared for any one it was for Theodore 
 Sevigny, but her self-love was far greater than her 
 love for Theodore, and perhaps she shrewdly estimated 
 the composer when she assumed that his self-love was 
 greater than the passion for her which he had so fre 
 quently assured her burned within his soul. But not 
 withstanding the plain limitations of her love for him, 
 and notwithstanding the presumable limitations of 
 his love for her, she did not in the least intend to live 
 her life without him, and if she had him in her life 
 it was as clear as day to her that some one other than 
 himself would have to furnish funds; he never would 
 be able to. That duty, all too clearly, would be hers. 
 
 She had no developed talents. But she was very 
 beautiful of face, and more beautiful of form than 
 face. Thus far in life's journey she had used these 
 assets, meagerly reserving them for old Murfree, who 
 observed and copied them on canvas, paying her for 
 this great privilege (cold, despite its seeming inti 
 macy) a small sum per hour. Not thus had the 
 world's greatest beauties capitalized their charms. 
 There was one way only to achieve her Theodore,
 
 106 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 and that was to get money ; there was one way to get 
 money, and that was to get men. 
 
 Her experience with these men on the train assured 
 her that she would not find this task too arduous when 
 she began to operate in Belleville. Reflecting thus she 
 laughed a full and throaty little laugh, a charming 
 gurgle, which brought the celebrated surgeon, the 
 skirt-salesman and the college boy quickly to atten 
 tion. The Pullman car conductor, who was standing 
 near, glared at them with wrath. The train conductor 
 elbowed him aside. But company rules do not permit 
 conductors, train or Pullman, to cut in with their flir 
 tations in advance of amorous passengers. The public 
 has some rights. The surgeon, the salesman and the 
 college boy proceeded in their adoration of her, inter 
 rupted only by each other. 
 
 And thus the day passed with Bettina, who felt cer 
 tain she was going to her fate, or part of it. The night 
 was blank and comfortable, for she was a healthy ani 
 mal. The morning dawned with three squires eager 
 to buy breakfast for her in the dining-car, and the sec 
 ond day began the first day of the glad New Year. 
 
 We may leave her, for the moment, very merry, 
 turning from the wintry landscape, dimly seen through 
 snow-flecked windows, to the surgeon, the skirt-sales 
 man, the college-boy, or the conductors all of whom 
 were at her service. 
 
 In Belleville, at the house toward which she jour 
 neyed, the temperature was slightly higher, but the 
 merriment was at a lower pressure. It was, indeed, 
 almost with sorrow, surely it was with a very definite
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 107 
 
 gravity, that Anna Hoffman replaced the old year's 
 calendar with a new one Beatrice had brought her as 
 a Christmas gift (it was ornamented by a water-color 
 from her own deft brush) and tore off the cover leaf 
 of the small pad of days. The leaf beneath bore, in 
 addition to the mystic "January I," which so im 
 presses all of us, a quotation, starting with an illumi 
 nated "I." 
 
 Anna looked at it with casual eyes eyes heavy 
 from a night which had included little sleep. 
 
 "I shall not pry into Time's closed book," she read, 
 and her attention concentrated, "Whatever there may 
 be in store for me of joy or sorrow, into Thy hands, 
 O Lord, I lay my destiny." 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 The closed book of Time! Ah, when the past 
 twelvemonth's leaves had opened they had revealed 
 some unexpected and unwelcome passages! Would 
 the year to come prove less fecund of threats, more 
 prolific of bright realizations? It had torn her heart 
 to say good-by to Beatrice, yet was she, really, sorry 
 to have the dear girl go? It had indefinitely chilled 
 her to learn that Harry was to leave Law School, yet 
 she never favored law for him as a profession. She 
 .had always hoped that he would settle down in Belle 
 ville, taking up his father's business and marrying 
 some nice Belleville girl. The scheme of things was 
 working out in that direction, yet she was distressed 
 by it. Ah, why ? She knew. 
 
 She had been glad to have her daughter go back to 
 the convent, she was reluctant at the thought of hav-
 
 108 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 ing Harry there, at home, because of the great change 
 which had occurred in Frederick Hoffman. 
 
 The New Year was beginning badly ; how badly she 
 could not yet prophesy. 
 
 She slowly went into the hall, secured her hat and 
 great fur coat, and slowly went into the dining-room 
 for Barbie's help with them, thinking deeply, and not 
 brightly, every second. Barbie stood by the sideboard, 
 counting silver, as she entered, and through an open 
 window a veritable gale was blowing. 
 
 "What in the world, Barbie " 
 
 "Oh, this old stove's been smoking. Getting cranky 
 in its old age, Mrs. Hoffman." 
 
 Was that it? Was that what ailed Fred, and her 
 self, and even Barbie, just as she had told him? Or 
 was it was it something far more dreadful ? 
 
 An intense chill was in the air. She shivered, and 
 her morbid reverie was broken. 
 
 "Whew, Barbie! Close the window, please; it's 
 very cold. We're having a real blizzard. I'll have a 
 time in getting over to Mrs. Miller's." 
 
 Barbie, after having closed the window, stood look 
 ing at her deprecatingly. "Oh, Mrs. Hoffman! 
 iYou're not going out in all this storm !" 
 
 "Yes ; I must. It's rather a serious case. Poor lit 
 tle woman!" Her face was most expressive when it 
 mirrored sympathy. It showed as plain on it as mirth 
 or sorrow could. There are such faces. "It's her first 
 baby." 
 
 Barbie evidently had forgotten this emergency of a 
 poor neighbor; when it was recalled to her she made
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 109 
 
 no further protest, but nodded understand ingly and 
 prepared to help her with her wraps. 
 
 "You know all about the dinner?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Hoffman of course." This was spoken 
 almost with reproach. 
 
 "Be sure to give the turkey two full hours. Mr. 
 Hoffman thought the last one was a little tough." 
 
 Barbie understood. No wonder if her mistress wor 
 ried in these days of criticisms, grumblings, general 
 dissatisfactions from the master of the house! 
 
 "Oh, the old gentleman's always kicking," she re 
 plied, presuming on her privileges, as she often did, 
 with Anna. "Nothing suits him nowadays. For 
 twenty-five years I did everything right, and now, all 
 of a sudden, do what I can, from morning until 
 night, he's always grumbling. And he hollers at me 
 so!" 
 
 Anna looked at her a little puzzled as to whether or 
 not she ought to scold her for her criticism of her hus 
 band. Her face, her little sigh, plainly told her mental 
 processes when she decided that she need not do so. 
 
 "Barbie," she said slowly, "the trouble with us all is 
 that we are getting old. Mr. Hoffman is, and so am I 
 and so are you." 
 
 "Well, suppose a body does forget a little !" Then, 
 suddenly, Barbie was stricken with a light of memory. 
 "Oh, Mrs. Hoffman, let me take your things away. I 
 plain forgot to tell you that the doctor sent word over 
 that you needn't go to Mrs. Miller's. Mrs. Valentine 
 is going to stay with her. She used to be a trained 
 nurse, didn't she ? They're such nice young people !"
 
 110 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Anna shook her finger at her solemnly. "There! 
 See ? We're getting old !" She slowly doffed her hat 
 and cloak and handed them to the old servant, moving 
 somewhat wearily. "I realize it when I find myself 
 so tired, so willing to shirk duty. I am worn out at 
 the end of every day." 
 
 "And no wonder." Barbie spoke a little crossly, but 
 there was a depth of real affection in her voice. "If 
 you'd only spare yourself a little, instead of thinking 
 of everybody else first the old gentleman and Mr. 
 Harry and me, too, for that matter." 
 
 Anna sank into a chair, again sighing deeply. "I 
 mean to take things much more easily when that young 
 woman comes to help me. I expected a letter from her 
 to-day, but from what Mr. Alston tells me, it is very 
 likely that she's on her way here now." 
 
 Barbie's softness vanished. She was intensely jeal 
 ous of this newcomer, even in advance of her arrival. 
 "She needn't help me" she declared. "Mrs. Hoffman, 
 let me tell you now, this minute, I won't take any or 
 ders from that person. Not me, Mrs. Hoffman! 
 Not me!" 
 
 Anna smiled wearily at her, placating her. She had 
 expected her to be a little bitter over what she would 
 be certain to consider an invasion of her rights. "Don't 
 let that worry you, Barbie. The young lady comes to 
 assist me." 
 
 She emphasized the "lady" slightly so that there 
 could be no error. She had not written for the girl 
 because she wanted a new servant ; she wanted a com 
 panion, some one to cheer and to talk to her. She had
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 111 
 
 gained a wholly wrong idea of the sort of person who 
 was on the way, because Alston had had a wrong idea 
 given him by Murfree. 
 
 "No one shall interfere with your affairs," she 
 promised Barbie, looking at her with real affection in 
 her eyes, and smiling more fully as she saw the squat 
 old woman, gray-haired, her lips set firmly in her abso 
 lute determination, one foot tapping the floor firmly 
 beneath her stiffly starched and spreading calico, her 
 eyes glaring into elevated space. "You old grumbler !" 
 
 "All right, so long's that's understood," said Barbie. 
 She was making no concessions. "But, Mrs. Hoffman, 
 we've managed to get along all these years. I believe 
 in letting well enough alone." She shook her head, 
 like an old bird of ill-omen with plumage of gray 
 print. "Those puffed-up city girls they're not much 
 of a help." Then, a new thought occurring to her, 
 after an instant's dissatisfied silence : "And, Mrs. Hoff 
 man, you may be sorry, you may be sorry in particu 
 lar, now that Mr. Harry is to stay at home !" 
 
 Anna smiled. Rising, she went to the sideboard, 
 her fingers automatically seeking some employment, 
 picked up a doily, folding it. As she placed it in a 
 drawer, she looked at Barbie as if the crabbed servi 
 tor's final statement had been too silly to be seriously 
 considered. "Barbie! Harry is not so empty-headed 
 as all that !" 
 
 The pessimistic look with which the croaker met this 
 made her definitely laugh. 
 
 "The young woman is not even in the house yet, 
 and you have the whole romance done and ready to
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 serve !" She handed her the bunch of keys which was 
 ever at her belt when she was considering household 
 matters. "Get some preserves for dinner." 
 
 "Cherries?" 
 
 "Yes ; and pears for Harry." 
 
 A ring at the front door announced a messenger 
 with news that Mrs. Miller was, after all, in need of 
 her. 
 
 "It is too bad that I've delayed. Will you help me 
 with my wraps?" 
 
 Harry entered, whistling, while this process was in 
 progress. He had come in from out-of-doors by the 
 kitchen way, a habit born of prior years, when the 
 kitchen way had meant doughnuts and other dainties 
 held for him in sacred trust by Barbie. If he had 
 seemed very much the elegant young gentleman, in 
 his evening clothes, the night before, he now seemed 
 as much the vital, sturdy and worthwhile young man, 
 dressed for the fierce storm, as he was, in sweater and 
 heavy jacket, with his trousers caught in sportsman's 
 shoes, lacing nearly to the knee. Anna stopped to 
 gaze at him with secret pride, pretending, meanwhile, 
 to be buttoning her long seal coat, which Barbie had 
 already buttoned a mother's subterfuge. 
 
 "You aren't going out, mother, in such weather?" 
 he exclaimed, solicitously. 
 
 "Yes ; I'm going over to see Mrs. Miller." 
 
 He knew what was happening at the Miller house, 
 and his voice hushed with the instant delicacy of a 
 clean-souled youth when considering with innate re 
 serve the woman's mysteries of such a time. His sub-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 11$ 
 
 dued voice, as he answered, pleased Anna as much as 
 his appearance did. How she worshiped him ! 
 
 "Oh, yes. I see." He made no further protest. 
 "I'll walk with you. The snow's knee-deep. You may 
 need me to break the way." 
 
 "Oh " 
 
 He smiled at her and stopped her protest. "I want 
 to go down to the post-office, anyway." This brought 
 back his sorrows of the night before, his disgust with 
 Belleville. "No letters, no papers in nearly two 
 days!" 
 
 The mother's understanding caught quickly at what 
 was in his mind. She deeply sympathized with him, 
 but, inasmuch as his father had sent forth the ukase, 
 she must not encourage him in his dissatisfaction. 
 Criticism of Belleville was akin to an expression of 
 dissatisfaction with the paternal plans. 
 
 "What can you expect in such a storm?" she said 
 guardedly, as if she urged him to be fair to Belleville. 
 
 But he could not be fair to Belleville. His disap 
 pointment was too bitter and the wound too raw. 
 
 "Wouldn't this town kill you?" he exclaimed de 
 jectedly. "If it snows for a couple of hours you're 
 cut off from the world!" He dropped his eyes, 
 abashed before her steady and reproachful gaze, then 
 raised them, suddenly gazing full at her. "Mother, 
 do you know what the boys at college call this place ?' r 
 
 "No, dear; what?" 
 
 " 'Good-night," said he explosively. 
 
 "Harry, it's our home. You will appreciate it more 
 and more as you grow older."
 
 114 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "I know, but great heavens, mother! I can't help 
 being young, and it's no place for a young fellow !" 
 
 She moved, as if, perhaps, to delay going until this 
 matter had been talked out, once for all. It was hard 
 for her this listening to his protests. Possibly, she 
 felt more keenly than he did himself, the tragedy of 
 making him give up his Law School and settle down 
 to humdrum study of his father's factory, its output 
 and the distribution of the wares. "Dear!" she said, 
 half in reproach, half in keen sympathy. 
 
 He was quick to catch the slight note of distress and 
 instantly endeavored to absolve her of responsibility 
 and show her that he could look on the situation's 
 bright side. 
 
 "In the summer it's all right. There's good golf, 
 some pretty girls at the Country Club and a chance to 
 run down to Buffalo to see a ball game, now and then. 
 But in the winter ! Oh, it's so dead lonesome ! Can't 
 do a thing! And writing out inventories and looking 
 after a million dull things in the factories is going to 
 get on my nerves." 
 
 A moment's pause, while she was striving to find 
 words and he was glooming at the carpet, was fol 
 lowed by an instant's burst of hopefulness on his part. 
 
 "Say, mother," he demanded eagerly, "don't you 
 think father might let me have a few weeks in New 
 York before I settle down? Can't you work it for 
 me?" 
 
 She shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Harry." 
 
 He threw himself into a chair. "Just think almost 
 all my friends are there ! I don't especially know these
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 115 
 
 chaps in Belleville. I don't say they're not all right, 
 but you know, mother! And as for Belleville girls 
 and think of the fellows at the Law School, now 
 getting back to work in the old hall, while I mope here 
 beside the stove ! And no more hops !" 
 
 She shook her head, almost discouraged. "How 
 like your father! But, Harry, we have very nice en 
 tertainments here, too. There is a concert and dance 
 at Masonic Hall on Saturday evening, and " 
 
 He rose, protesting. "I'll stake you to it, mother. 
 Do you think I'd put on a dress suit for the Belleville 
 cream of society? What a chance!" 
 
 She saw the plain futility of arguing with him and 
 gave it up. "Come, Harry, a little walk will do you 
 good." 
 
 "Anything for movement even if it's walking." 
 He tucked the scarf in close about her neck. "I don't 
 blame you, mother. Where's father?" 
 
 "He has come in. I think he's taking a nap." 
 
 "That's all you can do here sleep. There's a 
 chance that you may dream. Mother, this sameness 
 here will kill me!" 
 
 The mingled tragedy and comedy in the boy's man 
 ner, its fretful childishness, in contrast to his manly 
 stature, made her smile and broke the growing tension. 
 
 "Come along, you big boy !" She drew him to her 
 and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm sure you 
 will enjoy the dance." She smiled at him. "And 
 there's Dorothy, you know!" 
 
 He nodded with approval. "Yes, she's all right, 
 Dorothy Mason! Isn't she a wonder?"
 
 116 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Anna was delighted. "And she's the heiress of the 
 Senator, you know! Senator Stevenson is one of the 
 richest men in this part of the state, and one of the 
 most distinguished men in Congress." 
 
 Harry made a gesture of mock fright. "He won't 
 be at the dance, will he?" 
 
 "Come on, Harry and if he were to be, you know 
 you'd have a better time because of it. The Senator 
 is full of fun." 
 
 "And seventy that's the age of most of Belleville's 
 fun ! I tell you, mother, a man can stand almost any 
 thing that comes along in life, but when it happens to 
 be one of those Belleville dancing affairs brrrr ! not 
 for muh ! Well, there's no use kicking, I suppose. 
 Come along!" He started toward the hall door just 
 as that which opened to the library swung open. 
 "Hurry! Here comes father!" With a look of ap 
 prehension, half in earnest, half ir r un, he hastened 
 from the room. 
 
 Anna turned to greet her husband "You up al 
 ready?" 
 
 His sleep evidently had not cheered his temper. 
 "Already!" he snapped sharply. "Why already? 
 How long did you think I'd sleep? Haven't slept, 
 anyway. Barbie throws the dishes around like mad. 
 No one could sleep through such a noise." 
 
 Anna offered no defense of Barbie, did not criticize 
 her husband for his temper, did not yield to him. She 
 merely looked at him kindly, tolerantly, not in the least 
 astonished. "Well, well, I'll have to speak to her." 
 
 The day was waning and the falling snow, outside, 
 had dimmed the light a little further. It was not dark
 
 N 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 117 
 
 within the room, but the daylight was not brilliant. 
 "Why don't she turn on the lights ?" he snapped. 
 
 "It is still daylight." 
 
 "Daylight ?" he snarled, as he went across the room 
 toward his small smokers' table. "Call this daylight? 
 I call it pitch dark !" 
 
 Anna went calmly to the door. "Come, Barbie," 
 she called. "Turn on the lights." 
 
 "Do you want me to turn the light on now before 
 it's dark ?" said Barbie, coming in, astonished. 
 
 "Yes!" said Hoffman angrily. Then, seeing on his 
 wife's face an expression of reproach, he added: "If 
 you please!" 
 
 Barbie was distressed and fluttered helplessly. "Mr. 
 Hoffman hollers at me so !" she cried, upon the verge 
 of tears. 
 
 "What more can I say than 'if you please ?' " the 
 master of the house demanded. 
 
 After one frightened look at him Barbie hurried 
 out to turn the switch. 
 
 Anna went to her husband slowly, calmly, not at 
 all upset. Perhaps it would have been more soothing 
 to the rasped man's temper had she shown some ten 
 dency to worry as a tribute to it. 
 
 "You are not in a very good humor," she suggested. 
 "What has vexed you, Fred ?" 
 
 He stood glooming, silent. 
 
 "Have you had trouble at the factory ?" 
 
 "No," said he, as finally the lights flashed on. 
 
 She made no further reference to his outburst, but 
 stood a moment looking at him puzzled. "I should 
 like to go over to Mrs. Miller. She may need me."
 
 He turned nervously on her. "Well, if you'd like 
 to go, why not go ?" 
 
 "Perhaps you'd rather I stayed here." 
 
 He made a gesture of impatience. "It makes no 
 difference to me, one way or the other." Then, as 
 Anna started toward the door, he shot a nervous glance 
 about the room. "Of course she has forgotten to 
 draw the curtains!" He made a step or two toward 
 the door which led into the dining-room. "Barbie! 
 Barbie!" 
 
 "Never mind I'll do it," Anna urged him, and 
 pulled down the shades and closed the hangings. 
 
 "She forgets everything lately!" Hoffman grumbled. 
 He found a cigar and lighted it, while Anna lingered 
 at the door, apparently not worried, but much puzzled. 
 
 "Has Valentine come ?" he asked her. 
 
 "No; but he surely will," she answered soothingly. 
 
 "I didn't ask you if he surely would; I asked you 
 if he'd come." 
 
 "No ; he's not been here." 
 
 "Did Beatrice send a telegram?" 
 
 "None has come. But the wires are very likely 
 down, you know, Fred. Such a storm " 
 
 "A nice fix to be in ! Not even a newspaper ! The 
 whole world might have come to an end and we'd 
 know nothing of it!" 
 
 "They'll have things opened by to-morrow. This is 
 most unusual. We'll get everything, letters, papers, 
 telegrams, to-morrow. I've been anxious to hear 
 something from that young woman Mr. Alston found 
 for me."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 119 
 
 This apparently was a sore spot with him. "Was it 
 necessary really necessary to burden yourself with 
 a companion ?" 
 
 "Not necessary, possibly, but wise, I'm sure. I'm 
 not as young and strong as I used to be, Fred, and 
 there's really too much in this big place for me to look 
 after. I shall be glad to have some one to assist me, 
 at least till Beatrice has finished school and can stay 
 here at home." 
 
 "Well, I don't care, as far as I'm concerned," he 
 said, indifferently. "You can engage ten 'companions,' 
 if you like. As for Beatrice you needn't count on 
 her for much assistance! I wish I'd asked her I'll 
 bet that in the year she's been away she's forgotten 
 what a kitchen looks like! Did she go out to the 
 kitchen once while she was home ?" 
 
 "I don't remember, Fred. I am sure I would have 
 much preferred to keep my girl at home and not send 
 her off to school. You thought it best, as well as I, 
 you know. And things here would have been dull for 
 her. The young woman Mr. Alston found for me 
 comes with good recommendations. She will be a 
 companion for Beatrice when she comes home again 
 as well as an assistance to me. Harry, too, is feeling 
 rather badly. It has made him gloomy to give up his 
 Law School. He's lonesome and dejected." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course !" her husband said sarcastically. 
 "The young gentleman! In the summer it suits his 
 taste well enough to be here; but in the winter oh, 
 then he prefers New York!" 
 
 "It came rather suddenly to him, Fred. He says
 
 120 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 there are a lot of loose ends there that he would like 
 to straighten up." 
 
 "Debts ?" Hoffman's voice was instantly suspicious. 
 
 "Oh, Fred! Harry? You know better! Social 
 things. He makes friends so swiftly. He'd like to say 
 good-by to them. Perhaps you'd let him go down 
 for a week or two " 
 
 "Not for a day! He'll have to get used to Belle 
 ville life. He can make friends here, as we have done. 
 I had to get used to Belleville, didn't I ? I didn't even 
 finish college, did I ?" 
 
 Anna looked at him without comment. The bell 
 rang and she went to the window, looking out. "Mr. 
 Valentine has come." 
 
 "At last he shows up !" 
 
 With a helpless gesture Anna left the room. She 
 said nothing when she found Harry waiting in the 
 hall. She could scarcely blame the boy for wishing 
 to avoid his father. 
 
 In the meantime the young manager went in, some 
 what timidly. Hoffman turned to him less grouchily, 
 but with little greeting in his "How do you do, Val 
 entine?" And he gave him not the slightest New 
 Year greeting. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Hoffman?" 
 
 "Did you finish up those statements ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Let me see them." As he took them he waved the 
 young man to a chair, but did not look at him. His 
 eyes were on the papers. 
 
 Barbie came in with a tray on which a claret-bottle
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 121 
 
 stood. She liked Mr. Valentine and was afraid that 
 Hoffman would forget his hospitality. He would 
 have had she not attracted his attention to his duties 
 as a host. 
 
 Noting her reminder he glanced at her somewhat 
 resentfully, but accepted the hint with reasonable 
 grace. 
 
 But there were no glasses on the tray. "Glasses! 
 . . . If you please!" he snapped. 
 
 She started violently. "Well, can't a body be a little 
 forgetful once in a while?" she said in desperation. 
 She found the glasses on the sideboard and out them 
 on the tray. "I never " 
 
 "Don't annoy me," Hoffman snarled at her. 
 
 She was very nervous. "Yes, sir I mean no, sir." 
 
 He paid no attention to her. "Have a drink, Val 
 entine ?" 
 
 "Thank you." The young man took the glass of 
 claret, but did not lift it to his lips. He was evidently 
 worried. He watched Hoffman's face with nervous 
 eyes. 
 
 Hoffman did not look at him. He was studying the 
 papers. "What an awful statement! Simply awful! 
 ,The worst I ever saw." 
 
 Valentine made no direct reply, but held his glass 
 up. "My best wishes for the new year, Mr. Hoff 
 man!" 
 
 "That has nothing to do with this statement," his 
 employer answered grumpily, and Valentine put down 
 his glass again, the wine in it untasted. 
 
 "Sales ten per cent, short of last month's," con-
 
 122 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 tinued his employer. "Expenses seven per cent. 
 
 greater !" 
 
 "Trade is always dull during the holidays," said the 
 
 manager apologetically. 
 
 "Last year we managed to keep up the average." 
 
 "But times are hard just now, Mr. Hoffman." 
 
 "I am looking for results, not for excuses!" His 
 
 employer rapped the table with his knuckles. "I've 
 
 relied too much on you, that's been the trouble. You'll 
 
 have Harry now to help you. I guess he's needed if 
 
 he proves to be of any use." 
 
 "We'll do our best, sir. Of course, no one can ever 
 
 be to the business what you are, Mr. Hoffman. We 
 
 
 "That is no consolation. I am getting tired, Valen 
 tine. You must take hold and accomplish things. And 
 I want you to see that Harry fits himself to step into 
 my shoes." Again he rapped the table almost angrily, 
 as if he fancied that the task of fitting Harry to be 
 useful would be difficult. 
 
 "I've had some success, as you know " 
 
 "Yes, but you don't keep at it. The trouble with 
 you young fellows, the trouble with this whole genera 
 tion, is that you haven't had the old-fashioned train 
 ing. There was my father. Look back at him! He 
 came over to this country with just two strong arms, 
 a sound body and a good brain, but he worked 
 worked hard! He worked until his business had 
 spread over the whole state. But all that did not 
 give him the idea of making life easy for me. He 
 took me out of college at nineteen and made me
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 123 
 
 learn the business from the ground up. He gave me 
 plenty of work and ten dollars a week! You ' 
 and that young gentleman son of mine with your 
 modern ideas!" 
 
 Valentine was squirming most uncomfortably. He 
 was glad that Harry was to stay at home and help. 
 He felt that his employer's constant dissatisfaction 
 was getting beyond him. "Well, sir " 
 
 As he had not the least idea what he possibly could 
 say to stem the flood, he was glad that at that moment 
 the bell rang. 
 
 Hoffman, distracted from his criticism, turned 
 sharply toward the door. "Is that someone for me? 
 . . . Barbie! Barbie!" 
 
 The grateful Valentine went to the window and 
 looked out to the porch. "It's Mr. Alston, sir." 
 
 Hoffman was appeased. "Well, that's good of him! 
 To come here in this storm!" 
 
 Barbie had reached the door and Alston entered, 
 rubbing his cold hands. "Brrrrr ! A regular blizzard ! 
 You can't see five yards in front of you. Hello, 
 Fred." 
 
 Hoffman went to him with outstretched hands, 
 genuinely pleased. "Hello, Alston. How's my dis 
 tinguished friend and attorney? Get that muffler off." 
 
 Barbara was standing, smiling, ready to receive it. 
 Plainly Alston was a favorite with her. 
 
 "Well, now; thank you, Miss Barbara," he said 
 merrily, as he passed it to her keeping. 
 
 " 'Miss Barbara!' Oh, Mr. Alston!" 
 
 "I mean Barbie."
 
 124? THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 She smiled at him and went off with the muffler 
 and his coat and cap. 
 
 Hoffman poured a glass of wine. "Here, have some 
 claret. It'll warm you up. It's good 1904." 
 
 Alston nodded and then turned to Valentine. "Mr. 
 Valentine, how do you do?" 
 
 "Fine, thank you, Mr. Alston," said the much- 
 relieved young man. Then, with a glance of his em 
 ployer: "I think I must be going." 
 
 "All right, Valentine," Hoffman consented, cheerily, 
 and handed him the glass, which the worried youth 
 had not had the heart to touch his lips to. "Here, 
 finish up your drink." 
 
 "Thank you. Mr. Alston Mr. Hoffman a happy 
 New Year to you!" 
 
 Within a moment he had bowed himself away, 
 feeling that, by going, he might be dodging dire 
 disaster. 
 
 Hoffman found cigars and offered them to Alston. 
 
 "Thanks," said the lawyer. "I thought I'd just run 
 over for a little visit. Felt like seeing you before 
 the first day of the new year passed both of you!" 
 
 "Too bad Anna isn't here but some woman's hav 
 ing her first baby and she's gone to see what can 
 be done. You'll stay for dinner, though?" 
 
 "No; sorry, but I can't." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "A New Year's night party at the Bachelors' Club." 
 
 "From which you should have resigned long ago." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Alston, making himself com 
 fortable, "but it's too late now. No woman I would
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 want would have me, and the ones who'd have me I 
 don't want. There you are !" He settled comfortably 
 into the easy chair. "Fred, it's about time that 
 we realized we're no longer spring chickens you 
 and I." 
 
 "You're right, Alston. It is sad but true. Why, 
 only last year they still called me 'Mr. Hoffman,' but 
 the minute word was passed around that Harry was 
 to stay at home, why, I became the 'old gentleman.' 
 I heard it twice this morning. It sent me home to 
 take a nap to sleep it off." He took his cigar from 
 between his lips and looked at it reflectively. "Ah, 
 Alston it hurts!" 
 
 Alston nodded. "I hope Harry will do well." 
 
 "Oh, he'll do well enough. He's young, and, 
 naturally, he'll find things dull here. But he'll settle 
 down as I did and some day he'll fill my place." 
 
 "It's a worthy ambition a leading citizen of the 
 state to whom we all point with pride." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said his old friend, smiling 
 with satisfaction as a cat purrs under stroking. "I 
 was brought up to do the things I had to do and to 
 do them well. I've tried. I'm a little rough, perhaps > 
 impulsive. I've always been a man of impulse, 
 and " he looked up briskly, with firm self-assur 
 ance, "experience has taught me that my impulses 
 are generally right. It's always so. So once my 
 mind is made up, I see it through to the end. But 
 I was very much like Harry at his age. I, too, thought 
 I could never stand the sameness of it here. I wanted 
 to go out into the world and do great things. But
 
 126 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 I was chained here, first by my father, then by my 
 business, then by my wife." 
 
 "She should have consoled you, Fred." 
 
 "Well, you know how young I was when we were 
 married. It was my father's wish." 
 
 For the first time Alston sensed that there were in 
 the conversation hints that Hoffman had not really 
 been happy, a hint, even, that he had not found in 
 married life just what he had looked forward to, 
 or, at least, hoped for. "Fred!" he said reproach 
 fully. 
 
 Hoffman was quick to feel the veiled reproof. "Oh, 
 I don't mean to say a word against my wife. She 
 is really the best. Why, Alston, when I read about 
 some of the women, nowadays their whims, their 
 fancies and caprices and, above all, their extrava 
 gance and then look at Anna, always the same, calm, 
 practical, careful " 
 
 "Sounds like a servant's recommendation," Alston 
 commented dryly. 
 
 "Well, now you know what I mean. Oh, we get 
 on well enough together. Years of association, habit 
 they'll do much, you know, Alston. And the chil 
 dren. There's the strongest tie of all." 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "But there are times, Alston " 
 
 Alston was a little shocked, indefinitely, but per 
 ceptibly. He hastened with an interruption, which 
 might mean much or nothing. 
 
 "Luckily, Fred, you've never had much time to 
 squander."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 127 
 
 Was it that Alston thought that if he had had 
 more time he might have been less happy, even than 
 he now seemed willing to admit? Or was it that he 
 thought that if he had had more time to squander, 
 feeling as he did, he might have put that time to 
 questionable use? 
 
 Hoffman did not catch the point at all. "No, you're 
 right there," he went on. "Work, nothing but work, 
 all my life. Ever since I left college and I left 
 in my junior year. Remember?" 
 
 "Yes ; in your junior year." This brought reminis 
 cence into Alston's mind. "My, my! How sorry all 
 the fellows were to see you go!" He smiled fondly. 
 "We certainly did love our big, kind-hearted Fritziel 
 You were kind-hearted in those days, Fred." 
 
 If there, again, criticism lay veiled and hidden, 
 Hoffman did not catch it, and Alston hurried on : 
 
 "Fritzie! You remember? Everybody called you 
 'Fritzie.' " 
 
 Hoffman nodded, real smiles on his face now not 
 merry possibly, but comfortable, pleasant, thoughtful 
 of old days, old joys. 
 
 "How time flies! It seems like yesterday . . , 
 the boys going down to the station with me . , : * 
 you, Harry Black " 
 
 "And 'Skinny!' You remember 'Skinny?'* 
 
 Hoffman laughed aloud. "Yes; Charlie Williams. 
 All good fellows ! I can see the train as it pulled in 
 the train I was to go away on! We shook hands 
 and" (his voice softened) "I never saw most of them 
 again."
 
 128 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 The present had no power to draw up from his 
 heart into his eyes such sentiment as had the olden 
 days that was plain. 
 
 "And say, Alston," he went on, "when they started 
 in to sing for the first time in my life I cried !" 
 
 Alston nodded and the tears came to his eyes. It 
 was the sentiment in him, perhaps, which had made 
 him a good jury-lawyer. Smiling through the rising 
 mist he softly hummed the old, dear song: 
 
 "Should auld acquaintance be forgot 
 
 And never brought to mind? 
 Should auld acquaintance be forgot 
 
 And the days of auld lang syne." 
 
 In the middle of the verse Fred joined him, singing 
 second, as he had in college. His voice was resonant, 
 and the chords were true college glee-club harmony. 
 It made both men smile with rare enjoyment; and 
 it brought tears, now, to Fred's, as well as Alston's 
 eyes. 
 
 "Ah, those were the happy days of our youth," said 
 Alston. 
 
 "For a few years after they were over," Hoffman 
 granted, "I suffered tortures here, but I have grad 
 ually grown calm resigned." He rose, somewhat 
 nervously, wholly needlessly, and re-arranged a chair 
 or two. "And now," he said, in a full voice and 
 with a wry face, turning again to Alston, "I am the 
 'old gentleman.' Harry, I suppose, will have to sow 
 his wild oats while he is the 'young' one, but, after
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 all, the sooner he, too, marries and settles down, the 
 better it will be for him, of cou/se." 
 
 "May he fare as well as you did, Fred," said Alston, 
 with real feeling, and, raising his glass slowly, drank 
 to this wish this wish which he considered the best 
 of all that he could offer the young son of his old 
 friend. 
 
 "I hope so," Hoffman answered somewhat dully. 
 
 "In the meantime I will propose him at the 
 Bachelors' Club," said Alston, laughing. "That will 
 fit him for all that's coming to him." He raised his 
 glass again. "For the new year! I drink to a 
 happy and a graceful old age!" 
 
 Hoffman touched his glass to his, but did not at 
 all endorse the toast. "May it be a long way off!" 
 he said instead. "Here's to you!" 
 
 When the glasses were again upon the table, Alston 
 held out his hand and his host gripped it. "May we 
 always be the same old friends, Fred you and I." 
 
 "You and I." 
 
 After a long, strong pressure, the lawyer started 
 toward the door. "Well, I must be off. My best 
 regards to your wife. Also to the 'young gentle 
 man.' " 
 
 "I hope you'll have a good time, to-night, Alston, 
 but I'd rather you'd stay here and play me a few 
 games of poker or pinochle anything you like." 
 
 "No; I can't." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 'I'm ashamed to take the money." He laughed 
 heartily at his old joke. "Happy New Year, Fred!"
 
 130 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Crying "Same to you, and many of them," Hoffman 
 followed him to the door and closed it after him. 
 
 The geniality which his face had shown while 
 Alston had been there fell from it, mask-like, as soon 
 as he had gone. Returning to the library he frowned 
 stormily above the statements Valentine had brought. 
 
 "Such management!" he growled at length. "De 
 crease, decrease! What an awful statement! The 
 worst I've ever seen." 
 
 He paced the room excitedly. The consciousness 
 was in him that he was blaming Valentine for condi 
 tions of the trade, that his wrath was rising against 
 Harry in advance, on the assumption that he would 
 not take good hold of the business; but he did not 
 swing his mind into more reasonable channels. In 
 stead, he let his spleen accumulate and found a cer 
 tain joy in it. It was ready for the most elaborate 
 explosion of the day when Barbie entered, after there 
 had been another ring at the front door, but her 
 manner was mysterious and ominous. 
 
 "Mr. Hoffman, Mr. Hoffman!" she mysteriously 
 hissed, her face plainly showing her excitement. 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "She's here." 
 
 "Who's here?" 
 
 Barbie, quivering with jealous wrath, found words 
 difficult. "That young woman!" There was the 
 force and meaning of an expletive in the two innocent 
 words. "That Miss " 
 
 "Oh, my wife's aide-de-camp." 
 
 "If that's what they call 'em. Anyway she's 
 here."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 131 
 
 "How did she get here? No one has been to the 
 station." 
 
 "She says she wrote a letter from New York day 
 before yesterday saying she'd be here last night. But 
 she was snowed in 'most froze." There was a hint 
 of exultation in the twist which Barbie gave these 
 words a twist of exultation because the interloper 
 had so suffered, and a hint of disappointment because 
 she had survived the suffering. "She says she 
 wrote." 
 
 "Very likely. We've had no mail for two days." 
 
 "Walked from the station through snow half way 
 to her waist, she says." Again the hint of exultation. 
 "What shall I do with her?" 
 
 The question angered Hoffman. "Do with her? 
 What do I know about it? I suppose my wife has 
 assigned her a room somewhere in the house." 
 
 Barbie was quite helpless. "But there's no fire 
 in it!" 
 
 This was too much. Hoffman whirled on her. 
 "Shall I make the fire? You've been in the house 
 twenty-five years and don't know what to do ! What 
 do you want of me?" 
 
 Barbie, in that terror with which Hoffman's tan 
 trums always filled her, looked at him and gasped. 
 Finally she managed to articulate: "I only wanted 
 to ask if if she can't wait in here, while " 
 
 Hoffman turned away disgustedly. "Oh, don't 
 bother me!" 
 
 Barbie's face was twisting, making ready for a 
 burst of nervous tears. Of all things he could endure 
 that with least complacence^ so he yielded.
 
 132 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Let her come in." 
 
 Barbie for the moment was incapable of movement, 
 for he had roared permission at her as if she had 
 been deaf. 
 
 "Well?" he exclaimed, in desperate exasperation. 
 "What are you standing around for ? You may bring 
 her in, I said." 
 
 Now the flurried woman's tears came. Here was a 
 fine beginning of the new young woman's stay! How 
 she hated her. "On account of that that thing I 
 have to be hollered at again!" she moaned and went 
 to get her. 
 
 Really rather cold, and possibly somewhat dis 
 mayed, although that might have been questioned by 
 those who knew her best, Bettina, in the hall, had 
 heard part of the dialogue. As Barbie returned to 
 her she accelerated her shivering, merely as a matter 
 of general policy. To play for sympathy is always 
 a safe game for women. It won, even with the 
 worried Barbie. 
 
 "You're cold, ain't you? I'll make you a cup of 
 tea." She motioned to the library. "You can go 
 right in there for a while. I'll make a fire up in your 
 room." 
 
 "Thank you," said Bettina gently. 
 
 "You heard him hollering?" said Barbie confiden 
 tially. "That's Mr. Hoffman the old gentleman. 
 He's got an awful temper. But you can wait in there 
 with him." 
 
 Bettina nodded and moved slowly toward the door. 
 "In there?"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 133 
 
 "Uh-huh. He probably won't say much to you till 
 he knows you better. When you know him as well as 
 I do then he'll talk and when he does look out! 
 And poor Mrs. Hoffman " 
 
 "Shall I go in?" Bettina shivered yet more 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Yes ; I'll hurry up your tea." 
 
 With that, unable to endure the thought of waiting 
 to see what would happen, Barbie hurried toward the 
 kitchen. 
 
 Then Bettina, slowly, diffidently, as a maiden terri 
 fied by venturing in new, repellent worlds went in. 
 
 Hoffman was standing by his desk examining some 
 papers, but he looked toward her with sullen curiosity, 
 offering no greeting. 
 
 She waited, plainly expecting some sort of a wel 
 come, and made a picture of affrighted diffidence as 
 she did so. It had no effect on him, except to make 
 him look away, but he glanced up at the end of a 
 short interval. She nodded the second time. 
 
 "I am Bettina Curtis," she now ventured in a thin, 
 small, panic-stricken voice.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Hoffman looked at her askance, and growled, rather 
 than replied in words. He disapproved of this idea of 
 his wife's. Heavens! Anna would soon have a pay 
 roll as long as his down at the factory! The house 
 would be a mere hotel for servants and companions, 
 hired at fancy prices to do what it seemed to him 
 required but little effort ! A "companion !" What did 
 Anna want of a companion? Had he not been enough 
 companion for her all these years? What would she 
 think of him if he engaged some New York youth to 
 come to Belleville and draw wages as "companion" 
 to him? What would he do with such a young man 
 if one came? Knock him in the head and send for 
 someone to come for the remains, he thought. Of 
 all the mad ideas 
 
 "I am Bettina Curtis " the plainly very timid girl, 
 repeated. 
 
 He nodded curtly. "Glad to see you." 
 
 His voice was a mere growl. He did not more 
 than look at her. 
 
 He hoped she didn't mind tobacco smoke ah, there 
 it was! With a hired person of the class to which 
 she evidently belonged for her modest, quite well 
 made clothes, extremely pretty face and somewhat 
 refined manner had made him place her, instantly, 
 outside the realm of servantdom one never would 
 
 134
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 135 
 
 feel free to do as one felt most like doing. It would 
 be a fine arrangement to pay a salary to someone 
 who would act as a restraint upon him in his own 
 house ! 
 
 Bettina, after ne had turned away, stood in an 
 attitude as near to one of consternation and impending 
 flight as was possible to her, nor was this wholly 
 histrionic. 
 
 Apparently, he was even grumpier than old Mur- 
 free, plainly Barbie's warnings were quite justified, 
 and she was far away from Theodore, and wet, and 
 very tired. 
 
 She was not afraid of this fine looking, but irascible 
 old gentleman, but she was doubtful of the wisdom 
 of the effort she had undertaken, or, if not doubtful 
 of its wisdom, at least doubtful of the fun of it. 
 Of course, she knew that she could handle this old 
 man in time; the idea that a little-city resident a 
 gray-haired little-city resident, at that could per 
 sistently flout her was too absurd rather ! But it 
 would be tiresome work. And if his ideas and fortune 
 were as dowdy as this comfortable old house seemed 
 to her city eyes, whose conception of true elegance 
 had been born of the New York shop windows, hotel 
 lobbies, restaurant interiors and a few fine flats, into 
 which by chance she had adventured, she rather 
 thought old Murfree must have been insane when he 
 told her that the man was rich. 
 
 Still hadn't Murfree said there was a son? 
 
 At any rate, if she was to remain there, this ancient 
 party must be taught to treat her very differently,'
 
 136 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 and she thought she knew the way to do that. She 
 had tried it on her stepfather, on Theodore and on 
 divers other males of her acquaintance with success. 
 It had failed with Murfree, but with him alone, and 
 he was very wise. Murfree had learned women on 
 the "other side," in Paris; he had taken a post 
 graduate course in New York City, a course of twenty 
 years' duration and this countryman, of course, was 
 not to be compared to him. She believed the simplest 
 ruse would bring this man to terms a ruse which 
 she had tried on Murfree, more than once, with no 
 success whatever. And she rather felt like crying, 
 anyway. 
 
 After a marked pause, devoted to reproachful, 
 frightened looks towards him, she sank suddenly upon 
 a chair close by the stove (she really was very chilled) 
 and began to sob convulsively. They were not imita 
 tion sobs. There were in her enough discomfort from 
 the cold, weariness from the long journey, nervous 
 ness born of the strangeness of these entirely un 
 congenial and, to her bizarre surroundings, to make 
 her sobs quite genuine. 
 
 Hoffman, dumfounded at first, looked at her with 
 annoyance and then yielded to that combination of 
 disgust and distress which every man must feel when 
 a pretty woman starts to weep when he is by. 
 
 "What's the matter, Miss?" His tone was not un 
 kindly. 
 
 Her answer came reluctantly through choking sobs. 
 It was almost inarticulate. "I feel so miserable!" 
 she gasped jerkily.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 137 
 
 "What's that?" said he. 
 
 "I feel so miserable !" The girl's sobs re 
 doubled. 
 
 He did not know what to do. Here was a weapon 
 Anna never once had used against him. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Anna never had used any 
 weapon against him. Since the habit of his churlish 
 ness had fastened itself on him, she had met it with 
 a growing calm, amounting, in the end, not to in 
 difference, precisely, but to that tolerance with which 
 a cripple, for example, bears his lameness as some 
 thing so inevitable that discussion of it, battling against 
 it, would be futile. She had not shed a tear so far as 
 he knew. 
 
 He would have gasped in wonder had he suddenly 
 been made cognizant of the sleepless nights which 
 she had spent because of his unkindness and indiffer 
 ence, of the long hours which she had passed upon 
 her knees, praying to that God whom he acknowledged, 
 but did not really conceive, of the puzzled, desperate 
 days of striving, ever with indifferent success, to meet 
 his wishes and so bring back to their home the old 
 Fred, who had vanished with such a gradual dis 
 appearance that the new Fred did not know that he 
 had a predecessor differing from himself. Perhaps 
 he would have pitied, perhaps he would changed. 
 Perhaps ... but speculation is so idle in regard 
 to these domestic metamorphoses. 
 
 He was exceedingly annoyed and the sobbing maiden 
 did not answer, further than to state her misery. 
 And her sobs had told of that already.
 
 ft38 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Are you ill?" he asked, and then, remembering 
 crudely some hint of woman's wiles which had come 
 to him from the outside world, never from his patient 
 wife: "Are you ill, or are you hurt?" 
 
 He even went to her and paused quite close to her 
 spasmodic shoulders. Indefinitely he had meant to 
 show this interloper interloper, though she had been 
 bidden what her true position was; he had not 
 definitely meant to make her weep, for he had surely 
 not intended to make himself uncomfortable, and this 
 tearful outburst did, somehow. 
 
 Between her sobs she answered, broken-heartedly : 
 "Oh, sir, when one has to leave home and go among 
 strangers to earn a living and and is given not 
 one friendly word is offered no warm hand of wel 
 come oh oh ' ' 
 
 He was both exasperated and a little terrified. What 
 if Barbie, or his wife, or Harry, should come in and 
 find the poor girl weeping into her wadded handker 
 chief, as the result of his first words ! 
 
 "Well, well, you must not give way like this." He 
 did not wish to seem a brute to any stranger. 
 
 She looked up at him with what she definitely meant 
 to make effective eyes. "But, sir," she said piteously, 
 "it is all so hard ! so hard for a poor girl !" 
 
 Inasmuch as he said nothing, she burst into new 
 storms of tears and sobs. 
 
 "Miss," he urged at this, his tone betraying his 
 anxiety, "will you please stop crying?" She made no 
 reply and he went on, explanatorily : "You'll not have 
 a bad time with us. My wife is goodness, itself, 
 and I I'm not a cannibal."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 139 
 
 This was what she had been waiting for, if not 
 definitely, then sub-consciously; the first sign of 
 weakening upon the part of this man who must be 
 early conquered if she hoped to carry out the little 
 plan of action which was outlined in her mind. Now, 
 having mildly humbled him, she must placate him; 
 she must enlist him on her side to serve in her behalf, 
 should battles come with others. 
 
 "I believe you, sir," she murmured gratefully. Her 
 eyes went up to his with a sudden and pathetic gaze 
 which almost startled him. 
 
 He had not previously noted what large eyes they 
 were. He knew of no eyes like them in all Belleville. 
 Surely they were very different from Anna's. He 
 found them curiously attractive. 
 
 And they looked straight into his own. Further 
 more they made a careful note of what they saw 
 when they thus gazed, for her reply was augmented 
 by the quite unexpected comment: "You have such 
 good eyes!" 
 
 While he stood nonplussed by these unexpected 
 tactics, she was stricken with a sudden inspiration. 
 What shrewdness was it in her woman's soul which 
 read his man's soul with such accuracy as to discover 
 in it vanity of personal appearance? Not a resident 
 of Belleville would have endorsed her estimate, made 
 thus upon the moment's spur. 
 
 "But the old gentleman," said she. "Is he hard to 
 get along with?" 
 
 At first he was not won by this thin subterfuge. 
 At first it angered him. Somewhat worried by the 
 unexpected problem which had thrust itself upon him,
 
 140 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 feeling the need of some slight stimulant, he had 
 stepped to the sideboard and poured himself a glass 
 of claret, after she had said his eyes were "good.'* 
 Now he turned and looked at her investigatively. If 
 she was making game of him! . . . 
 
 But Bettina's tear-dewed eyes were innocent of 
 guile he thought. Big, lustrous and appealing, they 
 gazed at him with real query in them. Truly the 
 girl did not conceive that he, himself, was the "old 
 gentleman!" He set down the glass of claret and 
 turned fully toward her, considering her with new 
 approval. 
 
 " 'The old gentleman ?' " he quoted, wishing to make 
 certain he had heard aright. 
 
 "Yes," said she with lightning thought. "I have 
 been already warned that no one can do things right 
 for him. I'm dreadfully afraid of him." 
 
 Now he was thoroughly aroused. "And what 
 frightful stories have you heard of the 'old gentle 
 man?' " he asked, nonplussed and suspicious but im 
 pressed. 
 
 She hastened to administer some slightly soothing 
 words. "Nothing exactly frightful," she admitted, 
 "only that he is always in such bad humor excitable 
 and shouting at everybody." She paused to let this 
 take effect. "And I am not accustomed to that," she 
 went on briskly, lying wonderfully. "Papa and 
 mamma have always been so good to me !" 
 
 "Papa," lurking, at that moment, in a saloon's back 
 room in Jersey City, where he had flown, after an 
 angry session with his wife because this sweet girl
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 141 
 
 had departed without consulting him, or arranging 
 to send back her wages to him, would have been 
 especially amazed to hear this from her lips. Even 
 "Mamma" might have been a little startled, although 
 their battles had been less pronounced. They quarreled 
 with each other, but together stood firmly against the 
 balance of the world. 
 
 But Hoffman was impressed. Had he really been 
 so brutal? "Come, come, Miss," he exclaimed, almost 
 apologetically. "It won't do to be so so absurdly 
 sensitive. We must take people as we find them. The 
 'old gentleman' may be a little rough that is his 
 nature. But why, he's not a bad sort at heart. You 
 can take my word for it." 
 
 "Really?" said she, as if much relieved. 
 
 She did not feel at all like laughing in his face 
 because she had so easily fooled him; she was in 
 terested in her art absorbed in the delicate bit of 
 acting, the fineness upon which she was skilfully en 
 gaged. 
 
 "Yes, really," said he. "I know, for er / am the 
 'old gentleman !' " 
 
 She rose and stared at him incredulously, her large 
 eyes fully opened, wonderingly. "Oh, no!" she pro 
 tested as if the thing was unbelievable. 
 
 "Oh, yes," said he, convinced that she was very 
 genuine, and now that he believed this, very pleased 
 that she had not identified him with the aged. 
 
 She stood, stammering as with astonishment and 
 fright. Her manner said, as plain as words could: 
 "What if he is angry because I have repeated such
 
 142 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 wild gossip?" Her lips said: "How can that be? 
 ,You are not a bit old?" 
 
 His satisfaction was increasing. Plainly she was 
 most intelligent. Perhaps Anna had not erred so 
 greatly after all in sending for her. 
 
 "Thank you for the compliment," he said, now very 
 genially. "But I have a son and he is the young 
 gentleman. Obviously, therefore, I am the old one." 
 
 "Oh, how funny!" she exclaimed, bursting into 
 that extraordinarily captivating laugh of hers. "And 
 I said such terrible things about you!" 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind that," he reassured. 
 
 Now she spoke very prettily. "Won't you forgive 
 me, please?" Looking straight into his eyes with a 
 petitioning smile upon her lips she stood a second and 
 then advanced with hand outstretched as if to call 
 a truce and cement friendship. 
 
 He scarcely knew just what to do. There was 
 about him somewhere the uncomfortable feeling that 
 he was being managed, and he hated that ; but in her 
 eyes there was no trace of guile. After an instant's 
 hesitation he took the outstretched hand somewhat 
 awkwardly and foolishly, but took it. 
 
 "I will," said he, and made a further and a great 
 concession by inquiring graciously : "But why haven't 
 you taken off your hat and coat?" 
 
 "Because nobody has asked me." Her voice was 
 full of soft reproach. 
 
 "I'm really as polite as a bear!" 
 
 This, for him, was an amazing venture toward 
 apology, and, as she removed her heavy coat and her
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 148 
 
 large hat, he took them from her. The manner in 
 which he tossed them to a chair revealed the fact 
 that he was unaccustomed to the performance of such 
 small services for women. 
 
 She moved to the stove with hands outstretched. 
 The fire had died down in it and it threw off little 
 heat, although the room was comfortably warm. He 
 noted this and fumed. 
 
 "Barbie has forgotten again to look after the 
 stove!" he cried complainingly, and moved toward the 
 hall as if to call. 
 
 This, for some reason, he did not do. Instead he 
 turned back to the stove and set to work. Was it 
 that he did not wish the entrance of old Barbie to 
 interrupt this interview just yet? "I'll attend to it 
 myself." 
 
 Her attention drawn to it by his brief, effective 
 work about it, she commented on it as well she might, 
 for it was one of those rare articles, in the United 
 States, a German stove of porcelain. "What a 
 fascinating old stove!" 
 
 "My father, when he built this house, had it built 
 as they build them in Germany; he loved old country 
 customs." 
 
 As he threw in wood and arranged drafts, she 
 moved about the room, and in one corner, stopped, 
 really attracted and astonished. There was fixed a 
 strange, old shrine a shelf of brass, upholding a 
 sweet Virgin, with her child, and sconces upon either 
 side. "How very quaint!" 
 
 He rose from his prostration at the stove and
 
 144 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 moved toward her. "Almost everything here is just 
 as my parents left it. Sometimes I've thought of 
 tearing the old house down and putting up a new one r 
 but my wife likes it as it is." 
 
 "Mrs. Hoffman is old-fashioned? That is, prefers 
 the old ideas ?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, not with complete approval. Then, 
 wondering himself at his unusual graciousness : "I 
 hope you'll soon feel at home with us." 
 
 She surely was a most unusual young woman, and 
 a person of good sense. She had instantly given him 
 the feeling that she judged him at his true worth, and 
 at the same time had impressed him with the thought 
 that he had recently been sadly underestimated, there 
 in his own home. 
 
 "I hope so," she replied, smiling charmingly and 
 falling into one of her best attitudes. She knew the 
 attitudes; experience on the model's throne teaches 
 values in such matters. 
 
 He was additionally impressed. "As you stand 
 there," said he, "you remind me of a painting." 
 
 "Oh, yes; I know; I've often been told that." 
 For a moment her heart thumped. Was he struggling 
 to remember some startling study Murfree had made 
 of her? If he was, and should identify her as a 
 model, what " 
 
 "Let me see," said he, trying to remember. 
 
 She was really rather nervous. She did not wish 
 him to remember. "And you," said she, a little hur 
 riedly, aiming to distract his mind. "You have such 
 a strong face!" She tilted her own countenance, as
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE U5 
 
 if examining him critically. "Really a classic head." 
 
 It was fulsome, crude, but yet it carried. "You 
 flatter me." 
 
 "Oh, indeed you have!" Her insistence was em 
 phatic, for she saw that he was not disgusted, but im 
 pressed. It gave her courage and her feet were wet. 
 She stamped one upon the floor. "If I could only 
 take my wet shoes off " 
 
 He seemed concerned at once. "Are your shoes 
 wet?" 
 
 "Of course they are." She smiled as if suggesting 
 something to him. If he yielded then woufld she feel 
 certain she had wholly conquered in the battle with 
 which he had greeted her. "I walked for nearly an 
 hour in all that snow. There wasn't a sleigh, or a 
 conveyance of any kind in sight. The ticket agent 
 directed me here, but I missed my way." 
 
 "We'll send for your baggage the first thing in the 
 morning. But you mustn't keep those wet shoes on. 
 You might catch your death of cold." He was really 
 concerned. When had he worried over Anna's 
 dampened feet! "I'll get you a pair of my wife's 
 slippers." He smiled at her Frederick Hoffman 
 actually smiled at this invader whom his wife had 
 invited so absurdly (as he had declared) to share 
 their home. "Can't let you risk your health on the 
 first day you are here." 
 
 With that he hurried into his wife's sewing-room, 
 which opened from the library. 
 
 Barbara, while he was absent, brought a tray with 
 tea and crackers, which she set down somewhat grimly.
 
 146 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Here's your tea, Miss." Then, not seeing Hoffman : 
 "The old gentleman's not here?" She smiled wisely. 
 "Ah, I thought he would skip out!" She looked 
 with slightly greater favor on the newcomer. "Help 
 yourself, Miss. There's a good fire in your room, 
 now, and you can go up." As an afterthought she 
 started toward the stove. "Might as well look after 
 this one while I'm here." 
 
 "Mr. Hoffman attended to it," Bettina told her 
 quietly. 
 
 "Attended to it? The old gentleman?" Barbie was 
 surprised. "That never happened before," she mur 
 mured, and, with shaking head, stood a moment 
 pondering this strange thing. 
 
 At length, abandoning it as quite beyond her powers 
 of analysis, she urged Bettina not unkindly: "You'd 
 better drink your tea, Miss, while it's hot," and left 
 the room. 
 
 Now, alone, Bettina looked after the quaint figure 
 with a smile of high amusement, then took advantage 
 of her solitude for the arrangement of her hair before 
 a mirror, and, after a careful search of the room, its 
 entrances and windows with her eyes, to make cer 
 tain no one saw her, took from the little handbag at 
 her belt a powder puff, with which she dabbed her 
 face, and then a bit of chamois, with which she made 
 the distribution perfect. 
 
 As she was thus engaged the footsteps of the absent 
 Hoffman sounded near the door through which he 
 had departed, and she hid the puff and chamois with 
 a cat-like swiftness. When he entered she was stand-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 147 
 
 ing, as if lost in study, before a large oil-portrait of 
 him, painted in his younger days. 
 
 He saw what so absorbed her and was pleased. He 
 had a pair of Anna's large and comfortable knit 
 slippers in his hand, but before he called attention to 
 them, he approached the girl and looked across her 
 shoulder. 
 
 "That's how I looked once on a time." 
 
 She turned to him as if surprised to find him there. 
 "Ah, you see I was quite right about the classic 
 head !" She swung her eyes to a companion portrait* 
 "And this is Mrs. Hoffman?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "A good face," she said a little patronizingly. 
 "Denotes an even disposition. 
 
 "I'm not at all that way," she then cried impulsively, 
 as if by saying this she might be laying herself open 
 to harsh criticism, but yielded to an irresistible, frank 
 impulse, which forced full confession of her most 
 heinous sin. Her words came rapidly, vivaciously. 
 "I am different every day every hour." She seemed 
 child-like and sincere, not too apologetic, but not self- 
 assertive. "I just can't help it. I was born that way." 
 
 "I like that," he said admiringly. "Anything but 
 that everlasting sameness !" 
 
 She threw him a quick glance, but he plainly did 
 not realize how brilliant was the light which he had 
 cast upon the situation existent in that house. Had 
 he informed her, in so many words, that he was! 
 feeling rather far from satisfied with the woman at 
 whose portrait she had just been looking, he could not
 
 148 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 have made his meaning clearer. Had he frankly de 
 clared himself open to the influence of any fascina 
 tions she might have to offer, he could not have made 
 his meaning clearer. 
 
 He himself had not the least idea that he had re 
 vealed himself so generously; indeed, he was not 
 aware of the real contents of those hidden mental 
 recesses which he had just exhibited. 
 
 But she saw all these things and smiled in her 
 extraordinary depths, her face remaining grave. 
 From that very moment she was sure that any clever, 
 reasonably interesting woman who wished to divert 
 Frederick Hoffman from the loyalty which he had 
 sworn to keep inviolate might do so. 
 
 She had no wish to. Of what use was he to her, 
 save as the means to an end? Too simply managed 
 by but fairly clever methods to be genuinely interest 
 ing, bound to another woman old enough to be her 
 mother, as he was old enough to be her father, his 
 weak armor did not tempt her javelin. Where was 
 the young man? She must ingratiate herself with the 
 old gentleman, so that her real task might be the 
 easier, but it lay with the young man. She turned 
 from her companion and looked up at the portrait of 
 the youth who filled her mind, though she had never 
 seen him. 
 
 Hoffman followed her cleverly expressioned eyes. 
 His reasoning had not advanced as far as hers had. 
 The thought that he had been dissected mercilessly 
 did not once occur to him. 
 
 "That's my son Harry," he exclaimed with pride.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 149 
 
 He might snarl at Harry when they were together; 
 he might complain of him to Alston or to the mother 
 of the boy, but really he felt a fine paternal pride 
 in him. 
 
 She recognized this and pandered to it. "Isn't he 
 handsome!'' she exclaimed enthusiastically. Then: 
 "And how much he looks like you !" 
 
 Flattered, he bowed, pretending to accept the tribute 
 as a joke, really accepting it at a high value, and 
 definitely impressed by her excellence of judgment. 
 "That's very nice of you." He crossed the room and 
 took a photograph from the piano-top. 
 
 "And that's your daughter?" she inquired, all in 
 terest. 
 
 "Yes; that's my daughter Beatrice." 
 
 "She doesn't look like Mrs. Hoffman, either." She 
 gave him a quick glance. "She's beautiful." 
 
 "You think so?" The man was beaming with self- 
 satisfaction. "She's just gone back to the convent. 
 But take your shoes off and slip into these." 
 
 He held out Anna's slippers to call her attention to 
 them, then dropped them to the floor by the piano 
 stool. He was not squire of dames enough to hand 
 them to her, even in the midst of the warm glow with 
 which she had surrounded him. 
 
 She found a seat and, rather obviously careful to 
 conceal her ankles, began to work at her wet shoes. 
 The notion flashed into her mind to try her power 
 with him. Her shoes were truly very wet, but she 
 had mastered them alone when they had been far 
 wetter. Now, though fumbling with them, she pre-
 
 150 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 tended to be helpless, and cast an appealing glance 
 or two in his direction. Unguessing, he had crossed 
 the room and stood looking from the window at the 
 still determined storm. 
 
 "I can't get them off," she murmured, not too 
 loudly, almost as if she might be talking to herself. 
 
 He did not turn from contemplation of the whirling 
 snow. 
 
 "I say I don't seem able to get them off," she 
 ventured further, and a little louder. 
 
 "I heard you I heard you," he commented with 
 a brief return to his old gruff ness; but he looked 
 around, and, after he had watched her seemingly 
 hopeless struggles for a moment, made his way to 
 her. "May I help you?" he asked curtly. 
 
 "Oh, I don't want to bother you." 
 
 "It's no bother," he said gallantly, and, to his own 
 amazement and her deep delight, dropped to one knee 
 before her, took one of her feet in his two hands 
 and started at the task. 
 
 "You've drawn the strings into a hard knot," he 
 commented, fumbling clumsily. "But a little patience 
 ah, there's one! Now the other." 
 
 She held the other foot out to him, and, after a 
 moment's worry, he released that too. 
 
 "Thank you so very much !" she cried. 
 
 He ignored her gratitude, but crossed the room and 
 placed the wet shoes on one of the queer shelves 
 ornamenting the outside of the old stove. "They'll 
 dry there." 
 
 Bettina, watching him with satisfaction, slipped her
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 151 
 
 dainty feet into the large, knitted slippers. They were 
 very large, indeed, and instinctively, she shuffled in 
 them, making them appear even looser than they really 
 were. Her rich laugh gurgled out, and he turned to 
 look at her, his own face smiling. That laugh was 
 definitely contagious. 
 
 "Just see how they fit me!" she exclaimed, and held 
 out a foot. 
 
 He was not blind to the trim ankle which her 
 slightly raised skirt showed. The slipper surely seemed 
 tremendous, caught, as she held it, on the toe of her 
 small foot. 
 
 "They'll not pinch you," he said genially, in a 
 way that subtly praised her tiny feet, and subtly 
 criticized the feet for which the slippers had been 
 knitted. 
 
 "Hardly! Regular life-boats, aren't they?" She 
 looked at him archly, but trembled in her soul, wonder 
 ing if she might have gone too far in the implied 
 criticism of his wife. 
 
 It was a relief and something of a revelation to 
 her a revelation which sKe did not fail to file away 
 in her wise, malicious, selfish little head when she 
 made sure that she had roused no emotions of resent 
 ment in him. 
 
 But she sobered as the smile died from his face. 
 He had caught it after all and was annoyed by it. 
 Instantly she made a little reparation with: "But 
 they're so nice and warm!" 
 
 The diversion was successful. It distracted his 
 attention. "I hope you haven't taken cold."
 
 15 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Oh, no ; I'm feeling very comfortable . . . now. 
 You have been so kind! And the cook brought me 
 some tea while you were out. May I drink it?" 
 
 "Of course you may." His tone was quite aston 
 ishingly fatherly. 
 
 "And will you keep me company?" She sat down 
 at the table. 
 
 "I will with pleasure," he assented, although he 
 had not taken tea at that time of the day in all his 
 long career. "Would it annoy you if I took a few 
 whirls at my pipe?" He was getting on so com 
 fortably with this charming creature that he asked 
 this question in experiment. 
 
 She did not answer him in words, but instantly 
 sprang from the table with a quick glance about the 
 room, spied the little smoker's table, hurried to it, 
 found his pipe, took the cover from the tobacco- jar 
 and began to fill the bowl. 
 
 "Let me fix it for you. Dear papa taught me just 
 how to do it. You don't mind?" ("Dear papa" had 
 really never smoked a pipe. ) 
 
 "Why, no." Really he was very pleased and 
 watched her deft fingers at their work with a broad 
 smile. "You seem to be expert." 
 
 "I have always done it for papa." There was a 
 charming hint of daughterly devotion in the way she 
 said this. 
 
 "I dare say he enjoyed his smoke just twice as 
 much." 
 
 She approached him prettily with the filled pipe, 
 and in one hand a match ready for the lighting. "Do 
 you really think so?"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 153 
 
 What appealing, innocent eyes the girl had, to be 
 sure! 
 
 "Indeed I do." 
 
 "Then try this and see if I have spoiled the flavor." 
 
 He took the pipe and she held the lighted match 
 above it while he puffed. "I think / like it better, 
 too," he said. 
 
 "How very nice! It is as if we two were smoking 
 the pipe of peace together." 
 
 He grunted a comfortable assent between puffs and 
 she sat again, sipping her tea slowly. He smiled. 
 "Let me ask you a question, Miss Miss " 
 
 "Curtis." 
 
 "Thank you. Is your father living?" 
 
 Here was her chance to be effective. "Ah, no; 
 papa is dead." Her voice was low and sad. After 
 having claimed performance of such various services 
 to him she scarcely could acknowledge that his death 
 had happened when she was a two-year infant. She 
 determined that she would not mention her step 
 father. 
 
 "Then it was that we discovered that he had lost 
 everything," she went on pathetically. "Something 
 had to be done. My brother Arthur is at school." 
 She did not explain that the school which he had 
 chosen was the racing stable and the betting-ring on 
 southern tracks. "My sister is too young to help, 
 and so I've had to " 
 
 That she had had to make the bitter sacrifice of 
 consenting to assist his wife was cleverly implied, but 
 was not stated. 
 
 "It is brave of you very brave. I'm sure you will
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 make your way in the world. You're bright, have 
 nice manners and a pretty face, and if you but have 
 courage " 
 
 "Yes," she admitted, her voice full of pathos. 
 "That is what I need courage. With the new year 
 I intend to begin a new life I shall try really to be 
 brave; I shall try to never murmur at a sacrifice; I 
 shall oh, Mr. Hoffman, won't you drink with me to 
 the new life in the new year?" She raised her tea 
 cup and stood. 
 
 "Certainly I will." He also rose and held his glass 
 of claret up. They clinked the glass against the tea 
 cup. 
 
 "To the new life!" she exclaimed earnestly. 
 
 "To the new year!" said he. 
 
 She laughed again that maddening, fascinating 
 laugh. 
 
 "Eh?" said he inquiringly, much entertained. 
 
 "How funny tea and wine!" 
 
 As they were laughing at the humor of this unusual 
 combination, Harry entered, saw them as they were 
 engrossed in their own matters, withdrew, amazed 
 and puzzled, and then reapproached and knocked. 
 
 He had never seen his father in such spirits. Who 
 was the young woman? She could not be the person 
 whom his mother was expecting. Surely his staid 
 father 
 
 "Come in," called Hoffman. 
 
 The boy entered almost shyly. "Father oh, I beg 
 your pardon! I didn't know you had a visitor." 
 
 Hoffman presented him. "My son the er
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 155 
 
 young gentleman." He smiled. "Harry, this is Miss 1 
 Bettina er er " 
 
 "Curtis," she relieved him. 
 
 "Whom your mother has engaged as an assistant to 
 the lady of the house." 
 
 Harry's lips were smiling and his eyes examined 
 her with pleasure. He acknowledged the introduction 
 and stood smiling at the newcomer. 
 
 "But you must not neglect the master of the house," 
 said Hoffman playfully to her. "Little delicate at 
 tentions like filling his pipe " 
 
 Bettina caught his eye and laughed and he laughed 
 with her. 
 
 "Father, you're in a splendid humor," said Harry 
 in surprise. 
 
 Hoffman looked at him rather sharply. "Yes er 
 Valentine brought up some very er er cheerful 
 statements." 
 
 Then, seeing how earnest Harry's regard of the 
 newcomer was, and wondering, possibly, if his youth 
 might so attract her that his elders would be likely 
 to have small attention: "By the way, son, your 
 mother tells me that you want to run down to New 
 York for a few weeks." 
 
 He did not know just why he said this whether 
 it was because he wished to make Bettina think him 
 generous and kind, or whether he was finding her so 
 fine a playfellow that he did not wish to share her, for 
 the present, even with his son. 
 
 Harry stood nonplussed. 
 
 "I've decided that you ought to have the chance,"
 
 156 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 said Hoffman. "Go ahead. Enjoy yourself." He 
 spoke with hearty generosity. 
 
 But Harry had no mind to leave at just the moment 
 when this radiant being had appeared upon the 
 horizon. He drew nearer to the table. "Oh, never 
 mind, father. I'd just as soon stay here," he coun 
 tered with a hint of magnanimity on his own part, 
 "and er buckle down to business. Life er in 
 the country is not so bad, even in the winter." 
 
 "I don't want to have you think me a tyrant," 
 Hoffman urged. "Take a little vacation. We can 
 afford it." Surely he did not wish to have this charm 
 ing girl think him a stingy person. 
 
 Harry was put to it for a weapon against this. 
 
 "I really have gotten so I don't care much for the 
 noise and rush of city life," he said, abjuring gaiety as 
 might a monk. 
 
 His father gave him a long look of vast surprise, 
 not wholly without irony. 
 
 "I find it so er restful here," said Harry. 
 
 "Well, just as you like, my boy." Hoffman's tone 
 was really reluctant; then, still more hesitantly: 
 "Won't you sit down with us?" 
 
 To his distress Bettina made a place for the pleased 
 youth beside her, and the boy leaned toward her 
 eagerly, with interested, even fascinated eyes. Hoff 
 man saw with indignation and surprise that the 
 youngster had a very pretty way with him. 
 
 "You're from New York, Miss Curtis?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Won't you feel lonesome here?"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 157 
 
 She gave a quick glance at his father first, and 
 then at him, followed by a gesture of content. "I 
 think not. I'm beginning to look forward with real 
 pleasure to my new duties." 
 
 "There's always a lot to do here," said Hoffman 
 the same man who had pooh-poohed his wife's com 
 plaint that she found her strength overtaxed. "I hope 
 it won't prove too much for you." 
 
 "Oh, no; I can do a whole lot if I want to." 
 
 "You'll have to. But I think life in the country 
 will do you good." 
 
 "In the spring," said Harry with enthusiasm, "in 
 the spring and summer you will love it here." 
 
 "Indeed you will," endorsed his father. 
 
 "Everything in full bloom," the son went on 
 ecstatically. "And " 
 
 The dazzled males were leaning forward on the 
 table, vying with each other in their efforts to assure 
 Bettina that the Belleville life would not be dull when 
 Barbara came in. Catching sight of this extraordinary 
 spectacle, she paused in the doorway, thoroughly 
 astonished. Recovering control she ventured, "Miss, 
 your room is ready for you," and then stood, again 
 absorbed in wonder, gazing. 
 
 Hoffman glanced up crossly. "What's the matter 
 now?" he asked. 
 
 Barbie drew back and threw up her hands, fright 
 ened as she always was, by that particular phase of 
 his demeanor, offended, upon the defensive. "Good 
 ness gracious! I only wanted to tell the young lady 
 that her room is warm now "
 
 158 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Thank you," said Bettina very sweetly, and pointed 
 to her hat and coat as might one born to command. 
 "Take my hat and coat upstairs, please." 
 
 This shocked Barbara. Was this young woman to 
 be chummy with the master and the scion of the house, 
 to give her casual orders as easily as Mrs. Hoffman 
 could, to step into a position of command, when, as 
 a matter of fact, she was a servant as she was herself ? 
 In a pettish rage she went to the big chair into which 
 Hoffman had tossed the garments when he had re 
 lieved their owner of them and yanked the coat from 
 it with such brisk violence of wrath that the hat 
 and gloves fell to the floor. 
 
 HoJffman, watching her, was infuriated. He struck 
 the table with his fist. "Can't you be careful?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 Her offense increased. "My, my! Can't a body 
 
 drop something once in a while without " Her 
 
 grumbling trailed off down the hall. 
 
 Bettina watched this episode with interest, but made 
 no comment on it. When it ended she took up the 
 conversation where it had been dropped. She was 
 thoroughly enjoying Belleville as she found it. 
 
 "When I arrived here my heart was very heavy, but 
 not now no ! I feel I am with really good people." 
 
 "You are very welcome," Hoffman cordially assured 
 her. 
 
 "Most welcome," Harry echoed, and had a dis 
 approving look from Hoffman as reward. 
 
 Bettina turned her eyes toward Hoffman and then 
 again toward Harry very sparklingly, most gratefully,
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 159 
 
 delightfully. "You shall not regret having taken me 
 in," she fervently assured them both, "for I am young 
 and strong and have a happy disposition." Filled 
 with the joy of this adventure and now wholly un 
 afraid, she raised her sweet, young voice and thrilled : 
 
 " 'My heart is young, my spirits gay.' ' 
 
 Filled with a fresh delight at this new detail of 
 the girl's accomplishments, Hoffman gazed at her with 
 pleased surprise. "What a pretty voice you have !" 
 
 Bettina looked down as if affrighted by the impulse 
 which had led her into taking such a liberty. 
 
 "You must sing for us often, won't you?" 
 
 "If I'm permitted," she said modestly. 
 
 "Why not?" said Hoffman, and waved his hand 
 toward the piano. "There's the piano. No one will 
 touch it if you don't, till Beatrice comes home 
 again." 
 
 With a renewal of that instinctive tendency to fling 
 at the absent mistress of the mansion, Bettina said, 
 as if surprised: "Mrs. Hoffman is not musical?" In 
 her voice was veiled astonishment at women who were 
 not musical. 
 
 "Mother?" Harry laughed at the suggestion. 
 "No; she's not'' His lip did not curl; he loved his 
 mother; but he did not wish to fail in his apprecia 
 tion of this girl with music in her soul, simply be 
 cause he fancied that it was not in his mother's soul. 
 
 "I should think not!" Hoffman emphasized and in 
 his tone was no such reservation. 
 
 "Oh, I just love music!" Bettina's voice was full 
 of young extravagance. "I think a home without it is
 
 160 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 certain to be cold and dismal. I brought such pretty 
 songs with me and some duets, a number of them 
 composed by Mr. Theodore Sevigny, a dear friend of 
 ours." A thrill of loyalty to Theodore was apparent 
 for an instant in her heart. "He is such a wonderful 
 musician !" 
 
 "You must let us hear them all," said Hoffman, 
 angry for a moment, that his musical accomplish 
 ments had been neglected since the glee-club days of 
 college. For some reason his wrath indefinitely 
 burned against his wife for this, too. Why had she 
 not been, in her young days, as this girl was full 
 of life, and song, and 
 
 The maiden full of life and song interrupted his 
 reflections. "Indeed I will," said she, "and in the 
 long winter evenings, when we all sit around the table, 
 we'll sing together! Shall we?" The prospect so 
 delighted her that that fruity laugh trilled out to 
 charm again the father and the son. 
 
 And now an inspiration smote her. "Oh," said 
 she, springing from her seat, "I know such a delight 
 ful humming-chorus!" She took a step toward the 
 piano. "I'll sing the little song and you have nothing 
 to do except to hum. Shall I? I suppose you can 
 hum, can't you?" 
 
 "Well," said Harry brazenly, "father certainly can 
 make things hum, at any rate, if he puts his mind 
 on it." 
 
 Bettina ran to the piano and they followed, eagerly, 
 falling to the places which her waving hand allotted 
 to them.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 161 
 
 "Now, then, attention !" she exclaimed as she softly 
 touched the keys. 
 
 Lightly, gracefully, her fingers ran along the 
 ivories, outlining the air, and as they cleverly per 
 formed her pleasant voice intoned: 
 
 "'There once was a grouchy bumble-bee 
 " 'Hum-um-um-m.' " 
 
 They listened with delight. 
 
 "Now you, Mr. Hoffman." 
 
 But for the moment this was quite too much for 
 Mr. Hoffman. Harry, however, who had fully entered 
 into the youthful spirit of the thing went to him 
 and urged him. Finally the old man gathered up 
 his courage, emitting: 
 
 " 'Hum-um-um.' " 
 
 As he did so, Harry and Bettina joined him, making 
 of the vocalization a fine chord. 
 
 In delight she sang the next line: 
 
 " 'A cunning old bee, indeed, was he.' " 
 
 The chorus came now without hesitation: 
 
 " 'Hum-um-um.' " 
 
 " 'The bee was looking for a treat, 
 " 'And stolen honey tastes so sweet !' " 
 " 'Hum-um-um.' "
 
 162 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 The chorus joined in promptly and successfully, and 
 Harry and his father both threw back their heads 
 and laughed with glee as it was finished threw back 
 their heads and laughed exactly at the moment when 
 Anna Hoffman came into the room. 
 
 "Oh, mother!" Harry chortled joyfully. 
 
 Her husband was embarrassed. He felt that he 
 had been made a fool of, and, curiously, it did not 
 occur to him that it had been Bettina who had done 
 this vicious act; it seemed to him that Anna had 
 accomplished it by coming in where she was not ex 
 pected and not wanted. 
 
 "Miss Curtis has arrived," he said inanely. 
 
 "So Barbie told me," Anna remarked calmly. Then 
 to Bettina with impersonal courtesy : "I am glad you 
 have come, Miss Curtis." 
 
 Bettina really was much embarrassed, and not a lit 
 tle frightened. She was conscious of the fact that she 
 had led these innocents astray; she was more aware 
 than Anna was that she was an intruder, poaching on 
 preserves in which she had no right. She jumped up, 
 nervously, advanced and courtesied politely cour- 
 tesied, to her disgust, in such a way that Anna's house 
 shoes obtrusively appeared beneath her walking skirt. 
 
 "Thank you," she said carefully. 
 
 "I see you've made yourself at home," said Anna, 
 and Bettina wondered if the words presaged an out 
 break ; but they did not, for they were followed by a 
 reassuring: "That was right." 
 
 Even Bettina Curtis was abashed by what she felt 
 to be the other woman's generosity. It was not gen-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 163 
 
 erosity. It was only dignified acceptance of a situa 
 tion which Anna, to her great dismay, felt, in her 
 heart, had risen out of thin air to confront her with a 
 troublous problem. 
 
 "I hope you'll excuse me," said Bettina, "I " 
 
 Anna interrupted her, calm, unaffected, unim 
 pressed. "Your room is ready for you. Take a little 
 rest. Then, at dinner, we can talk everything over." 
 
 "As you wish, madam," Bettina said submissively, 
 and started toward the hallway, shuffling, as she 
 walked, in the loose bedroom slippers. 
 
 At that moment Anna caught sight of the shoes, 
 drying on the shelf of the old stove. "Miss Curtis,'* 
 she suggested, "don't forget your shoes." 
 
 "Oh, I beg your pardon," said Bettina humbly, 
 starting for them. 
 
 But the exuberant Harry would have none of this. 
 While both Hoffman and Bettina, possibly because of 
 somewhat guilty consciences, had been crushed into a 
 solemn, deferential silence, by the entrance of the mis 
 tress of the mansion, he, innocent in youth, which sees 
 no harm, but only natural instinct, in enjoying pretty 
 girls, strode gaily toward the shoes. 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself," he gaily urged. "I'll 
 carry them for you, if you don't mind." 
 
 Bettina vanished through the door which led into 
 the hall, a picture of subdued, respectful girlishness. 
 Harry followed with the two shoes swinging violently 
 at the ends of stiff, triumphant arms, which swept 
 wide circles. He cast a glance of merriment at his 
 mother as he vanished.
 
 164 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 She looked after him and shook her head, a very 
 noticeable little frown between her eyebrows. 
 
 "We shall have to keep our eyes on Harry," she 
 said gravely, and then, with no further comment on 
 the recent startling happenings: "I hear Mr. Alston 
 called." 
 
 "Yes," said Hoffman, "to wish us a happy new 
 year." Now he recovered slightly. Certainly there 
 was in prospect more amusement than he had ex 
 pected. "Let us hope that it will be a happy new 
 year." 
 
 "God grant it!" Anna answered fervently, but with 
 a grave and unexpectant face.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 January wore away, and February. March came 
 and went, in an unusually mild week, taking with it 
 the snow which had lain almost continually deep since 
 the great storm which had delayed Alston's journey 
 homeward from New York that journey which had 
 had momentous consequences in the coming of Bet- 
 tina Curtis to the Hoffman homestead. 
 
 In the red-brick house life became more compli 
 cated. Youth drew to youth, inevitably, and Harry 
 and Bettina smiled much, if secretly, into each other's 
 eyes. 
 
 In this surreptitious courtship Bettina felt small 
 sense that she was really disloyal to her Theodore, to 
 whom she sent long letters by almost every mail, and 
 from whom she had elaborate replies, impassioned, 
 yearning, even through their egotism, inclosed in en 
 velopes which she addressed and sent to him, so that 
 his epistles would come directed in a woman's hand. 
 She told the Hoffmans they were from her mother, 
 and their frequency and bulk gave Mrs. Curtis a 
 reputation in the household for devotion to her daugh 
 ter which would have much surprised her. 
 
 The singing lessons prospered, all but Anna joining 
 in them, 'save, of course, poor Barbara, whose nose, 
 these days, was wholly out of joint. She was frankly 
 
 165
 
 166 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 jealous of the girl. One day when she was bitterly 
 discussing her with Anna, who, for two or three weeks 
 had been ill, and now was just recovering, she desig 
 nated her, in a linguistic triumph, a "young enter- 
 loper." 
 
 Anna smiled. She did not like the girl, but she 
 was of some help to her, and this year she had sadly 
 needed help. 
 
 "You mean interloper, Barbara," she corrected. 
 
 "Maybe I do," said Barbara, "but, anyway, I mean 
 her that g i r 1 !" She spread this word out in a 
 way that meant supreme contempt. "What does your 
 'interloper' mean, now, Mrs. Hoffman?" 
 
 "One who intrudes." 
 
 "What Mr. Harry calls a 'butter-in'?" 
 
 Anna laughed not very heartily. "About that." 
 
 "Then that ain't what I mean, at all. 'Enter-loper' 
 is my word. I mean a woman that first enters a good, 
 God-fearing home like ours, with a nice young man in 
 it, and then elopes with the young man. Enter-loper 
 clear as day ! Maybe there had ought to be another 
 V in it. Enter-^-loper that might tell it better. 
 But 'inter' means insides the doctor told me so one 
 time when he said it was a better word than that to 
 use. He seemed to be quite jolly. Was he laughing 
 at me, Mrs. Hoffman?" 
 
 "Maybe, Barbara; the doctor's always very jolly." 
 But she had no heart to be amused in these days, even 
 by Barbie's most extraordinary vagaries, and turned 
 wearily to gaze out of the window. "I'm not feeling 
 very well to-day."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 167 
 
 "Ain't you, Mrs. Hoffman? I was particularly 
 hoping you were better." 
 
 "Why particularly?" 
 
 "Nothing, long's you ain't. Some day when 
 you are then I'm going to have some things to 
 say." 
 
 "Say them now, Barbie." 
 
 "No; they'd make you worse." 
 
 Anna laughed. "You old croaker! If I didn't 
 know that what you'll have to say amounts to noth 
 ing, what you've already said would worry me to 
 death." 
 
 "I don't see why. I haven't even mentioned Mr. 
 Harry's name, and I ain't going to." Barbie set her 
 lips in a firm line, as if determined at all hazards to 
 stand by this decision. 
 
 Again Anna laughed. "How mysterious you are! 
 Then it's something about Harry?" 
 
 "I didn't say it was now, Mrs. Hoffman. I said I 
 wouldn't mention him. Don't you get to worrying 
 about Mr. Harry. Not that if you were real well 
 there mightn't be some things to worry over; but as 
 long's you're sick you mustn't." 
 
 "You absurd old thing! If I didn't know how silly 
 you can be I should be frightened." 
 
 "Listen, Mrs. Hoffman," Barbie urged mysteriously, 
 really fearful that she might disturb her. "Don't you 
 pay any attention to a word I say." 
 
 Anna sank back somewhat wearily, and, when Bet- 
 tina came to read to her, listened with far less atten 
 tion than she looked and what she looked at was the
 
 168 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 young girl's beautiful but somewhat selfish and too 
 wilful face. 
 
 Once or twice each morning lately had come toward 
 her from the slightly oblique corners of Bettina's eyes 
 a quick glance which had filled her with the thought 
 that, had she dared, the girl would have subjected her 
 to scrutiny as searching, but she was not sure of this. 
 Those slanting glances might well be the mere trick of 
 a reader, curious to know if what she read aloud was 
 interesting her listener. 
 
 That Barbie's thought that her companion might be 
 smitten with a fancy for the son of Frederick Hoff 
 man, rich, very handsome, brilliant, well-bred and 
 well-educated, might be accurate enough, seemed to 
 her most reasonable. She could not blame the girl 
 for that any one might fall in love with Harry ; but 
 that Harry could have fallen victim to the charms of 
 one so obviously his inferior, in moral tone and depth 
 of culture, as well as education, despite her smatter 
 ing of accomplishments, was to her incredible. 
 
 She would not believe it. Harry was too fine 
 grained, she argued, to be swayed by one possessing 
 merely, or even mainly, physical charms, and this was 
 true, she thought, of the young woman Mr. Alston 
 had found in New York for her. 
 
 She never for an instant harbored the idea that 
 Bettina was not good. She might think her undesir 
 able without believing that; and she believed the girl 
 to be in love with Harry for which she, of all 
 women, found it most difficult to blame her. Even 
 should she not be definitely in love with him, it would
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 169 
 
 be hard to blame her for feeling an ambition to secure 
 him as a mate, for he was rich and she was poor, and 
 life in Belleville (Anna fondly thought) would surely 
 seem like harbor in a peaceful haven to any person 
 who, in the heartless rush of New York City, had en 
 dured the loss and ensuing misery of which Bettina 
 had, not very accurately, told. 
 
 All this reasoning being hers, it was naturally true 
 that Anna found Barbie's worries not so very start 
 ling. While she did not give Bettina credit for the 
 highest motives, she did consider her a person who 
 was merely trying, not without excuse, to take the 
 best Fate offered, after a long period of deprivation, 
 possibly real misery, due to poverty and family in 
 efficiency ; but she had faith in her young son. 
 
 No; in Harry, Anna found the least cause of her 
 worries. The greatest cause her husband furnished. 
 The old Fred who had traveled with her through so 
 many years of married life, not always peaceful, but 
 never very turbulent, seemed, in these days, to have 
 vanished. His strange irritability had not decreased, 
 but increased, and very often made her miserable ; she 
 did not dream that really he had stopped loving her, 
 for that she would have thought impossible, but he 
 showed fewer evidences of affection than he ever had 
 before; Barbie, whom she loved as one can only love 
 a servant faithful through long years, was being 
 driven by his tantrums into nervousness which largely 
 nullified her competence. At particularly trying times, 
 when Fred's temper flew at her with an unusual viru 
 lence and lack of reason, she was even glad that Bea-
 
 170 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 trice was not at home. More than once, indeed, she 
 had been definitely thankful so thankful that at night 
 she mentioned it as cause of gratitude when she of 
 fered her petitions to the Almighty. How horribly 
 would she have been humiliated had the modest, white- 
 souled girl been present at the bitter "scenes" which 
 constantly became more frequent! She knew that 
 nervous strain, born of this new development in her 
 domestic life, rather than bronchial tubes unusually 
 susceptible to cold, had been principally responsible 
 for the curious breakdown in her health which the 
 late winter had brought on. 
 
 She sometimes wondered if she took exactly the 
 right course with Fred. There were many times when 
 she imagined that had she changed to meet his changes 
 she might still have held him close to her; but there 
 lay the trouble she had found a change impossible. 
 Her nature was quite fixed ; even her manner was un 
 alterably settled for the years to come by life 
 long habit; his had been metamorphosed in twelve 
 months. 
 
 "Repression" had been the actual, if not the nomi 
 nal, watchword of her early training. She had come 
 of outwardly calm stock, unemotional upon the sur 
 face, but, like the traditional "still waters,' 1 * running 
 very deep. Fred, upon the other hand, had ever been 
 somewhat extravagant in his emotional life exag 
 gerated, possibly. He had shown it in his wooing, 
 sometimes shocking her with his extraordinary vio 
 lence of passion ; he had shown it in their early mar 
 ried life, developing a jealousy which, always without
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 171 
 
 reason, had sometimes made them both unhappy. 
 For years she never had quite dared to even show cor 
 diality of friendship for another man, fearing that by 
 doing so she would make Fred his enemy. On one 
 occasion he had even flared at Alston, his best friend, 
 because she had permitted him to be her escort on a 
 rainy night, although she felt quite sure that he had 
 never guessed that Alston had once been a suitor for 
 her hand. The episode* had almost wrecked the two 
 men's friendship which had begun at college. 
 
 And yet, in spite of all his selfishness of possession, 
 Hoffman had gradually ceased to be the lover. Within 
 ten years after they had married, no, within five years, 
 he had assumed a manner in his home akin to that 
 which he assumed when he went to his office dicta 
 torial at all times, crabbed when he was even slightly 
 crossed, intolerant of all excuses. Now this had 
 grown on him, until he sometimes made her life a 
 burden. 
 
 She wondered if she might not have been wrong, 
 when, in their early married life, she had too rigidly 
 shut out all interests beyond the practical necessities 
 of their advancement in the little town of Belleville. 
 He had been a careful business man, shrewd as he was 
 honest, enterprising as he was conservative, mindful 
 of small details ; but he had sometimes wished to vary 
 the monotony of their existence it had been monot 
 onous; she admitted that, and liked it with adven 
 tures, such as journeys to New York, or even a trip 
 abroad to the far land of his forbears. These things 
 she had discouraged always, never feeling that their
 
 172 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 place was quite secure enough to warrant ventures 
 from it into the unknown. 
 
 She knew now that they might have acted safely on 
 his impulses. Events had justified his conviction of 
 solidity ; their lives might well have been a little more 
 eventful, and the lack of variation might have had its 
 large effect in making him irascible, intolerant ; but she 
 had acted for what she thought the best, and, even 
 now, could not find much to criticize in the course 
 which she had taken. Besides, this great change in 
 him had not been gradual ; it had not spread through 
 the years; it had come that winter. When folk mar 
 ried, she believed, the traditions of her youth had 
 taught her, they must "settle down." If they married 
 early, as had she and Fred, then they must early 
 "settle down." Therefore she thought she had been 
 right. She did not blame herself. Events bewildered 
 rather than reproached her. 
 
 And Fred now was following with Harry exactly 
 the same course which his own father had followed 
 with him in his own youth, insisting on exactly the 
 same line of conduct which she had urged on him in 
 their young married life. So Fred was inconsistent. 
 With almost bitter opposition he had combated her 
 desire to leave Harry in the Law School, after the 
 need had seemed to come for his presence in the fac 
 tory, at home ; up to that strange winter day when he 
 had urged the boy to follow what had been his impulse 
 to go to New York for a week or two, he had been 
 stern as his own father had been in his insistence that 
 the lad do business, think business, eat business, and
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 173 
 
 sleep business without pause, exactly as his father had 
 insisted he should do. He had found cause for criti 
 cism when in him had developed impulses precisely like 
 those which, when they had been combated in him 
 self, had given birth to most resentment. And now 
 he was driving Harry as he himself in his own youth 
 had been driven. He gave him the constant criticism 
 as his own father had given him. 
 
 There at home, in the long evenings of the winter, 
 he had often yielded strangely to the spirit of light 
 merriment which had come into the household with 
 the entrance of the girl, Bettina ; to the amazement of 
 his wife and plainly to his son's surprise, he had often 
 joined the young folk in their silly songs at the piano, 
 sometimes driving her to refuge in her room in search 
 of peace and quiet. And this had also marked a 
 startling change in him. 
 
 She found there things intensely puzzling, almost as 
 distressing as the vicious temper he had begun con 
 stantly to show toward her. 
 
 It was to Barbie's nervousness, born of Hoffman's 
 constant criticism of her, that Anna charged what she 
 considered the hallucinations of the aged servant con 
 cerning danger that her Harry fine, manly, clean- 
 minded and high-class high-class ! that was it it was 
 that which certainly would save him! might fall in 
 love with the girl from New York City. She could, 
 she felt convinced, regard her worries as of no sig 
 nificance. They were simply due to unfounded appre 
 hension of a general disaster, born of Hoffman's al 
 tered attitude toward her.
 
 174. THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Having come to this comfortable conclusion and, de 
 spite her instinct to get up, disregarding the deep lan 
 guor of her convalescence, go downstairs to the kitchen 
 and undertake the detailed supervision of the house 
 hold, Anna sank back into her cushioned chair and 
 tried so hard to put her worries from her that the ef 
 fort brought her sleep. 
 
 She would have slept less peacefully had she been 
 witness of the scene which, at about that time, began 
 enactment on the floor below. Nine o'clock had come, 
 but Harry suddenly dashed into the dim library, where 
 Barbie was at work with broom and dust-cloth, garner 
 ing the corners, polishing the bric-a-brac two duties 
 which she could not trust to Ann Eliza, who, since the 
 Christmas holidays, had been almost constantly a 
 helper at the house. 
 
 Blinded by the dim light he did not see her in 
 stantly, and softly called called in that half -secret 
 tone which she had learned to hear with dread, for it 
 almost always means some question about Bettina, 
 which he felt safe to trust to her, but which he seemed 
 to have a feeling would distress his parents should 
 they know of it. 
 
 "Well," she said, from her near post in the shadow, 
 so suddenly that he was almost startled. 
 
 "Isn't Miss Bettina up yet?" 
 
 "She?" said Barbara, ill naturedly. "Not much." 
 
 The boy turned away disappointed, and as Barbara 
 appeared in the full glare of the sunlight which a sud 
 denly raised shade admitted to the room, she thought 
 she caught a glimpse of something in his hand which
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 175 
 
 he had made a hasty movement to conceal behind him. 
 And she knew what that something was it was noth 
 ing less than violets ! 
 
 She hurried toward him, pleased. Of course, he 
 had discovered them, and brought them, first of the 
 season's flowers, to cheer his mother. Yet that was 
 rather curious, too Anna did not like flowers to 
 be picked. She had her own ideas of what ought, 
 and what ought not to be done with God's floral gifts. 
 She looked on it as waste to take them from their 
 growing roots, where they would thrive for many 
 days, and bind them into bundles, where they would 
 last for only hours. Barbie, herself, in whose old 
 soul lingered remnants of the sentiment of bygone 
 youth, believed in picking flowers. Besides, she thor 
 oughly approved of Mr. Harry, and everything he did. 
 
 "What beautiful violets!" she cried, her eyes 
 glistening as she saw their richness fully. 
 
 Visibly embarrassed, he whirled toward her, con 
 cealing them again; but in an instant, seeing the fu 
 tility of this, now that once he had revealed them, he 
 brought them forth somewhat shamefacedly, and held 
 them out for her to look at. 
 
 "There's a patch all blue with them, at the edge of 
 the road down by the bridge, just before you reach the 
 factory. At the little grove, you know." 
 
 She nodded. "They're always early there. For 
 your mother?" 
 
 He had the grace to blush a little. "Why er no. 
 She doesn't care for flowers. How er is she this 
 morning, Barbie?" He was sorry he had not asked
 
 176 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 this question when he had first come in. At break 
 fast time his mother had been sleeping and Barbie 
 had not known how she was feeling. 
 
 "Better. Spring's good for her. But your father 
 worries her." 
 
 "He worries everybody! He'll give me a ragging 
 for not being at the factory." 
 
 "Well, why aren't you there, then ?" 
 
 "I came back with these." 
 
 "I'll put them in water." She held her hand out for 
 them. 
 
 He drew them back and again held them behind 
 him. "No; not now, Barbie." 
 
 She looked at him reproachfully. "You're going to 
 let them die for want of water ?" 
 
 He made no answer and that made her cross. 
 
 "Your mother doesn't like to have flowers picked, 
 anyway. You know that well enough." 
 
 "Doesn't like to have them picked ?" His voice was 
 full of protest. There was much of the child in him. 
 "That's what they're for." 
 
 Now Barbie saw the truth of this queer little situa 
 tion Harry's absence from the factory, when he 
 should have been there, his violation of what he well 
 knew was his mother's prejudice against picking flow 
 ers, his rush back to the house and his inquiry for 
 Bettina. He had picked the flowers for her, of course, 
 and brought them back for her ! It made her angry. 
 
 "Of course they'll go to the young lady!" she said 
 huffily. "Everything for her !" 
 
 "Now, Barbara !" he pleaded, plainly wishing her to
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 177 
 
 cease her comment, and, she knew, implying a petition 
 that she speak to no one else of the small secret which 
 she had discovered. 
 
 And, although she had, within ten minutes, been 
 complaining to his mother about his attentions to the 
 girl, she tacitly agreed to keep this secret. She never 
 could resist him her beloved Mr. Harry when it 
 came to definite things, even though she might make 
 general complaints about him and issue gloomy 
 prophecies of what would happen if things between 
 him and Bettina went on as they were going. 
 
 "W ell!" she grunted with reluctance, drawling 
 the word out. 
 
 But she was not disposed to drop the subject of 
 Bettina. She disliked her with as definite an emphasis 
 as she was capable of giving to dislike. She was not 
 jealous of her youth and beauty; she was definitely 
 jealous of the fact that she was given attention which 
 had never fallen to her own lot from the members of 
 the family. Anna (she believed) very definitely liked 
 to have her read to her, Hoffman had developed an 
 extraordinary tolerance of her, such as he rarely 
 showed to any one he even sang with her even 
 when Harry was not by! He had not sung before 
 since he had first come home from college ! 
 
 Her suspicions of her were acute. She could not 
 name a single sin which she was certain she had done, 
 but she was a sight too pretty, she was a sight too ele 
 gant for one in service, she was a sight too friendly 
 with all of them but Anna. She felt it a good thing 
 for every one concerned that Beatrice was not at home
 
 178 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 to see her "goings on," although she scarcely could 
 have said of what these most objectionable "goings 
 on" consisted. Indefinitely she looked upon Bettina 
 as a sort of heathen from the outer darkness, a bar 
 barian come there to invade. But her simple soul was 
 curious about her. 
 
 "I want to ask you something, Mr. Harry." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " 'Bettina' is that a regular Christian name?" 
 
 He looked at her, half in surprise, half in a large 
 tolerance of her ignorance, half in annoyance 
 that she possibly could doubt that the young woman, 
 whom fie had begun to think the world's most radi 
 ant creature, could bear any but a "regular Christian" 
 name. 
 
 "Of course," he answered. " 'Bettina' is only an 
 other form of 'Barbara.' ' 
 
 She was incredulous. "For ' Barbara!' Is her name 
 the same as mine ?" 
 
 He nodded emphatically, convincingly. 
 
 "Then why does she call herself 'Bettina' and not 
 'Barbara'?" 
 
 He was nonplussed. He did not know how best he 
 might explain this matter. He was not certain of his 
 facts. 
 
 "Well, you know," he said at length, after an in 
 stant's pause for thought, "not every Barbara is a 
 Bettina." He went to Barbie earnestly. "There's a 
 fine distinction. Now you you are a Barbara, while 
 she she is a Bettina." It was clear enough to him. 
 "You understand, don't you?"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 179 
 
 She did not, in the least, which was excusable. But 
 she was not offended. 
 
 "Not a word," she answered. "I can't see why she 
 should be called 'Bettina' when her name is 'Barbara.' ' 
 She gave the problem up and took the easiest way out 
 of the involved train of thought, shaking her head in 
 its dismissal. "Oh, it's just nonsense. She always 
 wants to have something extra." Then she added 
 with decision: "From now on I'm going to call her 
 just 'Miss Barbara !' ' She was instantly determined 
 upon this ; she would not have her putting on her airs 
 about her name. If "Barbara" was good enough for 
 her, then it must be for this young person from New 
 York. Having reached this definite conclusion she left 
 Harry and went on about her work. 
 
 He stood at the window waiting, somewhat nerv 
 ously, occasionally glancing behind him at the great 
 Dutch clock which, with its wooden works, ticked 
 away the seconds there in the library, as it had done 
 since his first memory began, and since the beginning 
 of his father's memory. He knew that he should be 
 down at the factory. He knew that if his father found 
 him elsewhere, there would be criticism, not utterly 
 unjust; but he had run across these violets, first of a 
 backward season, doubly precious because of the hard 
 winter which had gone before them, and he wished 
 Bettina to get them at once. 
 
 Bettina! How utterly the girl had captured his 
 young imagination! What delightful, unexpected 
 things she did and said! What tales she told him of 
 New York! How well she played! How charming
 
 180 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 were her songs ! so up to date ! the very latest from 
 the season's operas along Broadway! How much su 
 perior was she to the giggling, unaccomplished, too 
 shy girls of Belleville! 
 
 At this stage of his infatuation even Dorothy 
 Mason, daughter of the best family in town, and niece 
 of Senator Stevenson, to whom he had been very much 
 devoted during his last vacation, sank into the class 
 of commonplace. Of course, she was a lovely girl, 
 well bred, and all that sort of thing, and had been 
 educated at the best of schools but she did not know 
 life. 
 
 She was not worldly wise, as was Bettina; she had 
 never had experience with jolly suppers, at which all 
 the guests were the celebrities of art, or music, or the 
 drama, like those of which Bettina sometimes told him, 
 under pledge of secrecy suppers at the restaurants of 
 Broadway, where wit and wine flowed freely, where 
 (as she had hinted delicately) some of the stiffest of 
 society's stupid conventionalities were quite set aside. 
 Dorothy and Bettina? There could not be the slight 
 est comparison between them, he reflected. 
 
 He had thought the matter over carefully. He 
 must marry this exquisite creature or forever be dis 
 consolate. He presumed his father would be furious, 
 he feared his mother's heart would be distressed al 
 most to breaking, he could imagine Beatrice and her 
 horrified amazement that he should choose any one ex 
 cept her dear friend Dorothy. He even had a twinge 
 of conscience as he thought of Dorothy herself, for 
 they had been the best of friends. At one time he had
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 181 
 
 thought himself in love with her. But he did not 
 think she cared for him. She was so stiff! Like all 
 the Belleville girls ! 
 
 He had few illusions about the attitude his father 
 would be certain to assume toward this enterprise 
 which had become the dearest of his plans. He would 
 be furious. The governor was so ill-natured, even 
 with things at their best, that when he made an 
 nouncement that he meant not to stay in Belleville and 
 take his place at the old factory, but planned to marry 
 this bright creature and fly with her to New York 
 City, there to live a brilliant life, full of an endeavor 
 of some sort which should not be at all dull, the gov 
 ernor would certainly fly into a great passion. But 
 what of it? He was determined to be brave, to make 
 the plunge if Bettina would plunge with him. If she 
 would not, then life would be all black, and blank, 
 and bleak quite hopeless ! 
 
 So utterly was he engrossed in these reflections that 
 he did not hear his father enter. The first warning 
 that he had arrived came when his harsh voice rang 
 out, in answer to some query made by the soft-toned 
 Valentine. 
 
 "I've got the papers here in the house safe," Harry 
 heard him say. "I'll give them to you to take to the 
 office. What time was that appointment?" 
 
 "Ten-thirty, Mr. Hoffman." 
 
 Harry felt like shrinking through the window out 
 into that sunshine, which, throughout his reverie of 
 Bettina, he had been subconsciously enjoying, but, un 
 fortunately, the day was raw, despite the sunshine,
 
 182 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 and Barbie had not raised the window. He could 
 not shrink through it without first making a great 
 racket raising it. He did not dare to look around. 
 Perhaps his venture back to bring the violets had been 
 a little foolish. 
 
 "I'll be there," he heard his father say, and he knew 
 that he was going toward the safe and opening it. 
 
 He could hear the clicking of the combination and 
 the rustling of some papers as he took them out, the 
 slight jar of the heavy iron door as it was pushed back 
 into place, and more clicking as his father closed the 
 combination. Of course, when he looked up, he would 
 surely see him ! 
 
 And he did. 
 
 "Harry!" he exclaimed as this occurred. "Why 
 aren't you at the office ?" 
 
 "Little late this morning, father," said the embar 
 rassed boy, trying hard to head things off. "Some 
 things here at the house to look after." Now he held 
 'the violets behind him very carefully, taking more 
 precautions than he had with Barbie taking desper 
 ate precautions. 
 
 Valentine, the superintendent, was really fond of 
 Harry, and, before he quite went through the door, 
 saw that his young friend was in for it. He threw 
 him a significant glance of warning, and stood hesi 
 tant. 
 
 Hoffman spruce in a new spring suit ; he had been 
 rather lavish with his tailor lately, far more so than 
 he usually was stood scowling at the boy. 
 
 "No wonder your work at the office is behind hand
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 183 
 
 when you hang around the house, here, half the day!" 
 
 Harry squirmed uneasily, and, through an extraor 
 dinary effort, struck an attitude which made it seem 
 quite natural that his hand should be behind him. He 
 would not have had his father see those violets 
 .for 
 
 "It won't do, young man," his father thundered. 
 "I won't tolerate it." 
 
 "I do the best I know how," Harry answered 
 childishly, and knowing that he sounded childish, 
 which added to his woes. Why had he not thought 
 out a definite errand when he had taken chances this 
 way? He knew. The run back with the violets had 
 been as unconsidered as the return flight of a mating 
 bird. "I'm doing quite my best." 
 
 His father looked at him unpleasantly. "If that's 
 the case," he said, with slow and scathing sarcasm, 
 "you'd better find out how to do a little better. I 
 didn't know that you were stupid." 
 
 Harry writhed. 
 
 "When / was of your age my father worked me 
 like a slave." 
 
 "I know, father," the boy urged, "but times have 
 changed. Er things are run on on more advanced 
 principles, in these days." 
 
 "Principles will never advance far enough to do 
 away with work," said Hoffman sternly. 
 
 "Well, things are different, anyhow." The boy 
 was desperate. "With machinery and education * 
 and all that why, folks don't have to grind grind 
 night and day the way you did."
 
 184 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Hoffman looked at him severely, then his face, now 
 hard as nails, took on an ironic twist. "Oh, I didn't 
 know that," he replied, almost malevolently. "Thanks, 
 my boy, for those nuggets of wisdom." 
 
 Then he suddenly remembered that Valentine was 
 standing in the doorway and whirled rapidly on him. 
 He felt that Valentine, in some way, was in league 
 with his unindustrious son. 
 
 "I suppose, Valentine," he said, "that what my son 
 has said quite meets with your approval?" 
 
 Valentine, who was a person of small force, com 
 petent enough, but certainly not inclined to be ag 
 gressive with the man who hired and paid him, no 
 matter how keenly he might sympathize with Harry, 
 was at a loss. He knew that he must not too strongly 
 endorse what Harry had declared, but his sense of 
 loyalty to his young friend was too great to permit 
 him to go back on him entirely. He knew none 
 better! that Hoffman, in these days, was prone to 
 be unreasonable. 
 
 "Well," he stammered, "to some extent I 
 
 Conditions have, you must admit, Mr. Hoffman " 
 
 Hoffman was entirely disgusted. "That's right!" 
 he cried irascibly. "Know as much as you can 
 know more than your elders, both of you young 
 gentlemen!" He put strong emphasis upon the last 
 two words. 
 
 Now Harry was aroused. He felt that he was being 
 outraged. It was true that he had not gone to the 
 works as early as he might have, but it was also 
 true or he honestly believed it to be true that there
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 185 
 
 had been no real necessity for him to hurry to his 
 desk. 
 
 "Father! That's not fair!" he cried. "The world 
 has need of young men!" He was sure that this 
 was very neat, entirely convincing. 
 
 But his father only looked at him with arrogant, 
 insulting eyes. "Oh," he slowly drawled. "That's 
 another thing I didn't know. Certainly. Young men 
 arc useful. It would be impossible to engineer a 
 picnic or a dance without them. They are therefore 
 also ornamental." His tone was viciously ironic. 
 "But they are no novelty, my son. They have been 
 here before. We need not coddle them for fear there 
 may not, sometime, be others." 
 
 This roused Valentine. As a matter of fact he 
 worked with an unusual industry, taking little time 
 for pleasure. When Harry had gone off to study, he 
 had deeply envied him; when he had been brought 
 home to learn the business before he had finished 
 law-school, he had felt sorry for him, had felt that 
 the "old gentleman" was not quite fair with his young 
 son, and surely Hoffman must not bring unjust charges 
 against him also. 
 
 "Mr. Hoffman," he said somewhat hotly, "I never 
 have the time for picnics or for dances. The work 
 at the office " 
 
 But Hoffman was not in the least impressed. "Don't 
 be afraid, Valentine, that your merits will not be 
 discovered. You need not enumerate them. I know 
 them all and still have room for other knowledge 
 in my head."
 
 186 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Harry was breathing hard, indignantly, and far 
 more than a little worried, as his father turned on 
 Valentine. It gave him a second's breathing space. 
 
 But it was only a second's lull. His father again 
 advanced on him, upon his face the sour look of a 
 man disgusted. As when he approached within his 
 reach he raised his hand, the boy shrank back. Could 
 his father mean to strike him? But the intention of 
 the elder Hoffman was less brutal, although more 
 insulting. He tapped his son upon the forehead with 
 a hard forefinger tapped him on the forehead as if 
 he half expected that forehead to ring hollow, like 
 an empty cask. 
 
 "And, Harry," he advised with biting malice, "don't 
 you feel too sorry for your father because he knows 
 so much less than you do." 
 
 Harry looked at him half angry and half hurt. 
 Suddenly his father towered above him angrily, stand 
 ing perfectly erect, perhaps rising on his tiptoes. He 
 was always very tall when very angry. 
 
 "Go to your work!" he shouted. 
 
 As Harry sullenly turned to go, his father whirled 
 on Valentine less fiercely, but not gently. "And you, 
 Valentine, waste no more time. 'Phone Alston to 
 come over. I'm not going to the mill this morning. 
 If he can come, I'd like to see him here. I want to 
 talk to him about that Nelson matter. It's important 
 and annoying and I want to fight them to a finish 
 and have done with it." 
 
 "Very well, sir," Valentine replied, "I'll tell him." 
 
 Harry was passing blackly from the room and
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 187 
 
 Valentine fell in behind him, himself frightened, hurt 
 and wondering. 
 
 The change in Hoffman fell on him, perhaps, more 
 heavily than on anyone but Anna. He was intensely 
 worried. His employer constantly surprised him. A 
 definite metamorphosis seemed to be in progress in 
 him. Not only was he less good-natured in his busi 
 ness matters, but he seemed to be becoming vain. He 
 was giving to his personal appearance twice the time 
 which he had ever given it before. This morning 
 he was dressed in a new suit, out of the vest of which 
 a brilliant necktie glowed. Valentine wondered if his 
 job could be in danger. He wondered what was 
 working in the old man, anyway. 
 
 Ascending the porch-steps, as they went down, they 
 met Bettina, and as Valentine went on, Harry, his 
 face flushed with joy at seeing her, as it had paled 
 with indignation during what he thought his father's 
 unjust criticism, paused to speak with her a moment, 
 unconscious of the fact that Anna, who had heard 
 the sounds of the loud voices from the library and 
 knew that Harry had been scolded, had gone over 
 to the window to watch him as he left to watch 
 him sympathetically, wondering at his father's harsh 
 ness. 
 
 She saw his face light as he talked with Bettina. 
 She could not see her face, but knew, of course, that 
 she was smiling at him. She could hear their talk 
 quite plainly. 
 
 "Barbie told me you weren't up," said Harry. 
 
 "I've been up for hours! I read to Mrs. Hoffman
 
 188 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 until pretty late, and overslept a little; that's why we 
 missed at breakfast; but I've been out in the garden 
 a long time. It's so lovely all this country!" 
 
 His face was radiant because she was enjoying life. 
 
 Anna noted this with a queer stricture of the heart. 
 She saw, too, that Harry carried something held be 
 hind him. 
 
 s, 
 
 "But you're feeling quite all right, are you?" he 
 asked with real solicitude. 
 
 Bettina nodded. Anna could see her face now and 
 she was smiling with a brilliance which seemed some 
 thing of an affectation, but which evidently passed 
 current with the youth. 
 
 "Here you are, then!" He handed her the violets. 
 "The very first of the season. I found them and 
 came back with them for you. I've just been ragged 
 for it although he doesn't know why I came back." 
 
 "Oh, thank you so much !" Anna saw Bettina take 
 the flowers and hold them to her face as if she valued 
 them beyond most flowers. There could be no ques 
 tion that the girl was flirting. And if Harry gave 
 her flowers! Could it be possible that Barbie had 
 been right? 
 
 "Well, I must hurry on. The governor's in a 
 rage this morning for some reason. I'm going to try 
 to get away for half an hour at noon. I'll be going 
 to the bank. Will you meet me by the bridge? 
 I'll show you where I found the violets." 
 
 She saw Bettina nod, again smiling brilliantly. 
 And as Harry dashed away, pursuing Valentine, she 
 sank back in her chair, amazed and sick at heart. 
 Barbie had been right quite right.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 189 
 
 She decided that she must get downstairs some 
 way and talk this over with her husband. Something 
 must be done about it. She was literally horrified. 
 Wearily she started the laborious preparations. She 
 had not been fully dressed for a whole week. 
 
 While she was preparing for the trip, a scene 
 progressed down in the library, which would have 
 amazed and startled her far more than had the en 
 counter between Harry and Bettina on the walk. 
 Bettina, strolling, smiling, went into the living-room, 
 staid and quaint with its old furniture, its Dutch stove 
 and its quaint shrine. There apparently to her aston 
 ishment, she found Hoffman waiting the "old gen 
 tleman" apparently as eager for her company as the 
 "young gentleman" had been. He went forward to 
 her blithely, not noticing the flowers which she carried 
 in her hand. From his pocket he brought out a bunch 
 of violets and handed them to her in a manner which, 
 half brusque, was still half tender. 
 
 "Here are some violets for you. I know you love 
 flowers so." 
 
 "Oh, how beautiful!" she cried, and looked up into 
 his eyes. 
 
 He smiled, and as he smiled caught sight of those 
 which Harry had bestowed upon her. His face 
 darkened. "But I see you already have some." 
 
 She shrugged carelessly. "Oh, these? I just 
 picked them." She dropped them to the table care 
 lessly, but held his in her hand. "I shall wear yours." 
 She gave him a brilliant smile, as she thrust their 
 stems into her belt. 
 
 It wanned him it was plain, indeed, that it pleased
 
 190 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 him very much. "Are you quite rested ? I know you 
 read to her almost all night." In his tone was definite 
 solicitude. 
 
 "Yes, thank you; I'm quite rested." She never 
 failed to use her eyes on him. 
 
 "You weren't down at breakfast. It was such a 
 stupid meal!" He said this with some emphasis; one 
 could not doubt its genuineness. 
 
 She looked up at him coquettishly. "Did you miss 
 me?" 
 
 "Did we miss you!" he said fervently. "When I 
 don't see you . . . upon my word I don't see 
 how I've stood it all these years !" 
 
 She had begun to smile another sort of smile at 
 him a slow smile, full of appreciation of his fervent 
 words when she heard a rustle from the stairs out 
 in the hall. She gave him a warning look and he 
 went quickly to the window, through which the sun 
 was streaming brilliantly. "Mrs. Hoffman's coming," 
 she said very softly. 
 
 As Anna entered he turned, smilelessly, to look at 
 her. 
 
 "I heard your voice," said she a little wearily, "and 
 thought I would come down." 
 
 He made no response, but stood there, grim and 
 silent, in the sunlight. It caught her attention. 
 
 "Please draw the curtains, Miss Bettina," she re 
 quested. "The sun is shining right upon the carpet 
 and that material fades so. They should not have 
 sold it to me." 
 
 Bettina drew the shades without a glance at Hoff-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 191 
 
 man, who stood looking at his wife. How different 
 her faded, weary face was from the bright, vivacious 
 countenance of the young woman she was giving 
 orders to! How she had fallen off in looks! What 
 petty things she gave her mind to ! 
 
 She caught his eyes full on her rather hard, cold 
 eyes, not at all the kind of eyes a convalescent wishes 
 to be greeted by; but to this she paid slight heed. 
 'Fred's eyes were never warm and cordial now, as 
 they once had been. 
 
 "Why are you here so late?" she asked without 
 much meaning. He often was there late, these days. 
 She presumed he might be waiting to see Alston. It 
 was easier for the lawyer to meet him at the house 
 than to go out to the mills. 
 
 "Valentine and Harry detained me/' he said curtly. 
 "But I must go now." 
 
 "If you can spare me a few minutes I'd like to 
 talk over a few things " 
 
 "Well, what are they? I haven't much time." 
 
 She glanced toward Bettina, as if warning him that 
 she must wait until they were alone. Then, to Bettina : 
 "Miss Curtis, please go over to the grocery. Here is 
 a list of things that I shall want this afternoon." 
 
 "I'll go at once, Mrs. Hoffman." The girl spoke 
 submissively, as if half frightened at having been 
 caught with him. "Is there nothing else?" 
 
 "No; nothing else." Anna went to the sideboard 
 and fumbled with some napkins till the girl had dis 
 appeared. 
 
 In the meantime Hoffman waited with impatience.
 
 192 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 As she did not speak at once, he grumbled discon 
 tentedly: "Well, I'm still here listening; what do 
 you want?" 
 
 She was not hurried. She waited until Bettina had 
 had time to leave the house. 
 
 "What do you want to talk to me about?" he said 
 again. 
 
 "About Harry," she replied, turning to him with a 
 look of worry. "Fred, things cannot go on this way." 
 
 He seemed to be impressed. "I told him that a 
 moment ago." His voice raised, complaining of the 
 boy. "That youngster has no taste for business. He 
 has no ambition whatsoever." 
 
 "Yes, yes, Fred; but that's not what I mean. It's 
 something else that " She stopped short. 
 
 "What is it?" he said grumpily. "What do you 
 mean? You know how I hate this beating around 
 the bush." 
 
 "I mean that girl must leave the house." 
 
 He looked at her in almost dumb surprise. What 
 had Bettina got to do with Harry? He could not 
 believe his ears. "Which girl?" 
 
 "Why, you know Bettina." 
 
 "Bettina!" he exclaimed incredulously. "On ac 
 count of Harry f 
 
 "You must have observed what is going on be 
 tween the two " 
 
 "Between the two between Harry and Bettina? 
 Why, you're crazy!" Had she brought some charge 
 against Bettina on his own account why, he would 
 have tried to bluff it down. But to link Bettina with
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 193 
 
 his son young jackanapes! It was absurd. He be 
 gan to pace the floor in nervous rage. If there was 
 anything between those two 
 
 "Fred, don't get so excited. How nervous you 
 are lately ! Nothing has happened as yet, but " 
 
 He whirled on her. Was she insane or was he 
 dreaming? "As yet? Then you believe there 
 might " 
 
 "Yes; and we must put a stop to it, that's all. 
 Barbie has warned me. She has told me more than 
 once : 'Keep your eyes on the young gentleman !' ' 
 
 If all this should be true! It nonplussed and dis 
 mayed him. "Well, why didn't you, then? Why 
 didn't you keep your eyes on him? Why should you 
 permit " 
 
 "Keep cool, Fred/' she said soothingly. "It's not 
 too late. I heard them talking just outside and he 
 gave her some violets." 
 
 He looked at her rather stupidly. "Gave her some 
 violets? Harry did, you say?" 
 
 "Yes, I heard them talking. And it's not gone 
 very far. She's merely trying for him. She has not 
 yet wholly dazzled him. 
 
 "Dazzled Harry?" 
 
 "I can put an end to it. I'm going to discharge 
 her." 
 
 He rose in arms at this. "You're going to dis 
 charge Bettina?" Even if all she said was true, if 
 Harry had given her some violets and she had over 
 heard them talking on the porch what of it? 
 Bettina could not stop the boy from giving violets
 
 194 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 to her. "Is it her fault that he runs after her ? That 
 young scamp behind my back !" 
 
 Neither he nor Anna caught the hidden meaning of 
 this last earnest exclamation. 
 
 Suddenly he reached for his hat. "Well, I'll go 
 down to the factory and see him. He's probably got 
 there by this time. He spends no more time there 
 than he's compelled to. I'm going to tell him that 
 he's got to leave this house if he doesn't let that girl 
 alone! He not she! She is perfectly innocent in 
 the matter; I'm convinced of that." 
 
 Anna shook her head. "Well, I'm not so sure 
 of it." She paused then in thought. She wanted 
 to be fair. She always wanted to be fair. "I don't 
 know that, really, she can be blamed. She's a poor 
 girl and our Harry would be a fine match for her 
 jto make. It is only natural that she should try to 
 win him." 
 
 Hoffman looked at her with smoldering eyes. His 
 wrath was fully roused. He would not have his son 
 step in, and 
 
 His thoughts came up with a round turn. Step in 
 and what? He could not answer that. What had 
 he, himself, been thinking of in connection with 
 Bettina? Nor could he answer that. 
 
 Things suddenly had come to a strange crisis. He 
 was bewildered, and he was very angry especially 
 at Harry, but in a lesser degree at Anna. For some 
 reason her pale face and evidently weakened step did 
 not rouse his sympathy, as once such signs would 
 have. He looked at her with that distaste which
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 195 
 
 had so often filled his heart of late when he observed 
 her. How pale she was how weary-looking and 
 how old! She had never taken any care of her 
 own looks, as other women did, he disapprovingly 
 reflected. 
 
 But principally his hot wrath rose at Harry. "He'll 
 find that I have something to say about what he is 
 doing!" he declared. "If he should do such a foolish 
 thing if he should ever marry her then let him 
 shift for himself! Not a penny shall he ever get 
 from me! Not a red penny! I want you to tell 
 him that and I will!" He jammed his hat upon 
 his head and strode away. 
 
 Anna looked after him in weary disappointment. 
 He had not even tried to help her out of the perplex 
 ing problem in which she found herself involved. 
 He seemed, somehow, to blame her. Well, perhaps 
 it was her fault. She, not he, had brought the girl 
 into the house. He had not wished to have her send 
 for anyone to help her. But why should he have tried, 
 as he had tried, to defend Bettina against Harry ? Oh, 
 she could not comprehend him these days ! 
 
 She let her head drop to her hand and sat wonder 
 ing why life, thus late in their affairs, had suddenly 
 become so complicated. 
 
 Barbie came to ask if she should roast a breast 
 of veal which had come up, or make chops of it. 
 
 "Do as you think best, Barbie." 
 
 This was unlike Mrs. Hoffman. Her orders al 
 ways were explicit, competent and detailed. Barbie 
 ventured toward her.
 
 196 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "You ought not to have come down, Mrs. Hoffman. 
 You don't look well at all." 
 
 "I don't know what's the matter with me. My 
 knees tremble and my head aches so!" 
 
 The old servant was concerned. "Let me mix 
 and boil an old cure for you. Real old country 
 cure. It's a sort of plaster but you can swallow 
 part of it. It's the greatest thing for chills and 
 fever, Mrs. Hoffman" (she waxed eager in her 
 recommendation), "and it's good for sprains and 
 burns and headache, lameness and the cholera 
 morbus." 
 
 Anna smiled up at her. "I'm not so sick as that, 
 Barbie." Then she confided in her. "My dear Barbie, 
 I am worried about Harry." 
 
 Barbie showed no signs of surprise. Instead she 
 wisely shook her head. Hadn't she that very morn 
 ing told her? "What did I say, Mrs. Hoffman? 
 Is that what we've worked so hard for? Is it for 
 her that we have kept this house in such fine order? 
 What? For that kind of a daughter-in-law?" She 
 sniffed scornfully. 
 
 "It hasn't come to that, yet." 
 
 But Barbie was by no means sure that it had not. 
 "Is she going to spread herself around here? Is she, 
 going to handle all our silver as if it were her own. 
 Is she going to ruin our fine linen? She don't know 
 a thing about good linen! The things she brought 
 from home were all as yellow or else gray and you 
 know what that means." She burst into a wail. "Oh, 
 what a trouble children are! Mercy, mercy what a
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 197 
 
 misfortune!" She clasped her hands and waved 
 upon her feet, moaning her despair. 
 
 It shook Anna's nerves. "If you can't talk sensibly,'* 
 she said, "I won't have another word to say to you." 
 
 "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" moaned Barbie. 
 
 "Stop that bawling!" cried the distracted woman. 
 
 "When a person is as wrapped up in a family as 
 I have been in this one and to live to see such a 
 calamity! Our fine young Mr. Harry! Oh " 
 
 "Harry will have to listen to reason," Anna firmly 
 commented. "His father sees this matter just as I do. 
 We simply shall not tolerate it. He just now threat 
 ened to disown him if he should prove obstinate." 
 
 This did not comfort Barbara; it added to her woe. 
 "Oh, my! Oh, my! What a misfortune! What a 
 misfortune !" 
 
 Anna, as she looked at her, out of patience, chanced 
 to let her eyes glance through the window and saw 
 Bettina coming. She put her hand on Barbie's arm, 
 urging her to quiet. "Here she comes," she whispered. 
 "I'll speak to her at once. Go, Barbie." 
 
 But Barbie stood and moaned. "You wouldn't 
 listen to me. I told you long ago! Nothing now 
 will do the least good in the world!" 
 
 "Yes, dear; this time you were right," said Anna 
 soothingly. She patted her to urge her into quiet. 
 "Go now, please." 
 
 "You wouldn't listen! You wouldn't listen! You 
 wouldn't listen!" Barbie moaned as she shuffled to 
 ward the kitchen. 
 
 Bettina came in blithely. She had some letters in
 
 198 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 her hand and a small parcel. She laid the parcel on 
 the table and went through the letters. "I brought 
 the mail." 
 
 "Thank you," said Anna, taking what she held out 
 to her, but not looking at it. Instead she laid it on 
 the table and gazed steadfastly and somewhat wonder- 
 ingly at Bettina, till Bettina raised her eyes from 
 contemplation of three letters which she still had in 
 her hand. They were addressed in her own large 
 and full handwriting and she knew them to be from 
 Sevigny. 
 
 "Miss Curtis, please sit down a moment. I would 
 like to speak to you." 
 
 Instantly the girl was ill at ease. What could be 
 coming? Had Mrs. Hoffman overheard what her 
 husband had that morning said to her? Or had she 
 guessed that Harry had been making love to her? 
 She really was frightened. "Mrs. Hoffman!" 
 
 "My dear child," said Anna calmly, "I'm very sorry 
 to have to tell you, but I must. I I have come to 
 the conclusion that my house is really not quite a 
 suitable place for you." 
 
 Bettina was still more alarmed. "Mrs. Hoffman, 
 what am I to understand by that?" 
 
 Anna looked up at her briefly; she had some 
 napkins in her hand which needed mending, and she 
 gave her principal attention to them. 
 
 "You have no opportunity to make use of your 
 talents here," she said kindly, but unfalteringly. "You 
 play the piano, you sing prettily, you read aloud quite 
 charmingly. You should try to get a place as com-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 199 
 
 panion somewhere in a city. For my household you 
 are really not fitted." 
 
 "Mrs. Hoffman, have I been lacking in willing 
 ness, or diligence?" 
 
 "It's not that. But you have not the proper quali 
 fications for such a hundrum life. You don't care 
 at all for housework, and I can't blame you for it. 
 You were brought up to different things. And you 
 are a pretty girl you must take care of your beauty." 
 Anna's tones were wholly matter of fact and placid. 
 
 Bettina was dismayed. Was she to be turned away 
 just as things were shaping up into she knew not 
 what but something, anyway, which might be ad 
 vantageous? "Oh, please!" she pleaded. 
 
 "You seem to be afraid," said Anna, "that the 
 least bit of sunshine will ruin your complexion. 
 Summer is coming here and there will be work in the 
 garden and among the flowers. I love to do such 
 work; whoever I have with me should care about 
 such work. You never do the slightest thing without 
 first putting on your gloves." She shook her head. 
 "No, you see, I need a plain woman to assist me." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "I will pay you your salary for three months ; you 
 can go back to your mother and there look about. It 
 will enable you to wait without real inconvenience 
 until you can find some other and better position." 
 
 Bettina's face was ashen. "Everyone will ask me 
 why I had to leave here so soon." 
 
 "I will give you a good recommendation." 
 
 Bettina saw her dreams all vanishing as if by some
 
 300 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 malevolent magic. It seemed incredible. It must not 
 be! She held her hands out pleadingly. "Do keep 
 me. I beg of you !" 
 
 Anna shook her head. 
 
 "Let me stay over the summer, Mrs. Hoffman!'* 
 As she spoke the thought of the hot city rose into 
 her mind the clanging of the trolley-cars, the raucous 
 notes of motors, the shouting of the playing children, 
 and far more than these things, the sordid hot un 
 comfortable rooms of the crowded little flat, her 
 mother's constant plaints, her drunken stepfather, the 
 occasional visits of her brother when he happened to 
 be "broke," the cheap love-affairs and furtive sweet 
 hearts of her little sister, the unceasing smell of cook 
 ing surging from their own kitchen and by way of 
 shafts from other kitchens through the house. 
 
 And all her dreams to go! The old gentleman 
 she had not known, that morning, exactly what to 
 make of him, to think about his fervor, although often 
 she had wondered if she had not possibly well, he 
 had money, anyway! And Harry! She really was 
 rather fond of Harry! 
 
 "Please let me stay!" she pleaded. 
 
 Anna shook her head. 
 
 "Do keep me!" 
 
 It did not once occur to her that she was begging 
 this gray woman for the privilege of staying there 
 and wrecking her; she did not consider her at all; 
 she thought only of herself and the black ruin which 
 so unexpectedly seemed now to threaten all her plans. 
 
 Again Anna shook her head.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 201 
 
 "Not just through the summer, Mrs. Hoffman? 
 It is so much easier to find a position in the fall." 
 Oh, how she hated her for forcing her to beg! How 
 she would love to be revenged in some way ! "Please 
 just through the summer!" 
 
 "I have told you that I will give you three months' 
 salary. That will cover the whole summer. Let's 
 not argue any longer." 
 
 Bettina now saw that her case was hopeless with 
 this horrible old woman. She faced her sharply, 
 drawing up and pulling off her gloves the gloves 
 to which this arrogant housekeeper so objected. 
 
 Her voice became impertinent and sharpened in its 
 inflections. "What offense have I committed that 
 you send me away like this at a moment's notice ?" 
 
 "I have not said that you have committed any 
 offense." 
 
 "You cannot discharge me without a reason." 
 
 Anna looked at her with some astonishment the 
 girl's demeanor had so changed. She was no longer 
 pleading, but accusing. "I am not obliged to state 
 my reason." 
 
 Bettina glared at her. "I shall look to Mr. Hoff 
 man for justice," she exclaimed. 
 
 Anna spoke very calmly. "To my husband? He 
 never interferes in my affairs." 
 
 "Surely he would " 
 
 "I employ the servants and I discharge them ac 
 cording to my pleasure." Anna interrupted quietly, 
 but very firmly, very coldly. 
 
 "I am not a servant!" cried Bettina haughtily.
 
 202 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "You are in my service and you will do well not 
 to forget that." 
 
 "Mr. Hoffman would not allow me to be treated 
 in this manner." 
 
 "Kindly leave my husband entirely out of this. I 
 should advise you not to appeal to him. He can be 
 very disagreeable when annoyed about trifles." 
 
 Bettina almost sneered at her. "Well, we'll see 
 whether he thinks this is a trifle!" 
 
 Anna showed increased surprise and more reproof. 
 "That is not the proper tone for you to assume toward 
 me." 
 
 Bettina whirled upon her angrily, infuriated, like 
 a cat. "Why not ? You're not a queen, or a princess 
 you are merely Mrs. Hoffman, the wife of your 
 husband. You are nothing more than that !" 
 
 Suddenly, white and very angry, but entirely self- 
 repressed, Anna took her mending basket and rose 
 slowly, "But if I am my husband's wife, even though 
 nothing more, I at least have the privilege of ordering 
 impertinent persons out of my house." 
 
 She walked across the room without another glance 
 at the infuriated girl. 
 
 "If you do you will regret it!" cried Bettina fiercely. 
 
 To the threat Anna paid not the least attention. 
 "Miss Curtis," she said slowly, "the east-bound train 
 leaves at exactly noon. In three quarters of an hour 
 at eleven the man will come to take you to the sta 
 tion. Have your trunk quite ready, please, a little in 
 advance." 
 
 She vanished through the door into the hall.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 For an instant Bettina stood in dismayed silence. 
 This seemed beyond belief. Her wrath was bound 
 less, her chagrin unfathomable. 
 
 Were all the nebulous plans which she had been 
 so sedulously forcing into definite form to thus be 
 brought to naught ? Had she wasted all these months 
 there in that poky little town? Was she, a really 
 accomplished young woman of the world, to thus be 
 beaten by a country-woman who had lived her life 
 in a small city almost in the rural districts who 
 wore dowdy clothes and didn't know it, lived in a 
 hair-cloth furnished house, made of herself a house 
 keeper and little else, and was contented to remain, 
 thus suffering the gibes of a disgruntled, disillusioned 
 husband, without the least conception of how to get 
 his love back? Was she to be outgeneraled by one 
 who spent her days in darning napkins, counting 
 table-cloths, poring over house-accounts and seeing 
 to it that some twelve or fourteen rooms were aired? 
 
 She could see no way out of it, and moved de 
 jectedly toward the hall door, intending to go up 
 and pack her things. Anna's manner had been really 
 impressive. She had seemed a really terrible old 
 woman as, utterly unruffled, she had practically or 
 dered her out of the house. For the first time in her 
 
 203
 
 204 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 life Bettina had been made to feel distinctly small 
 and mean and it had been this country-woman who 
 had worked the miracle! How she hated her for it! 
 
 Walking slowly, thoughtfully, infuriated because 
 her desperate thinking gave her no suggestion of a 
 way out of the difficulty, she was about to start up 
 the hall stairs, to actually do as she had been so 
 firmly bidden, when, from a distance, she heard 
 whistling. It gave her new life. She stopped fur 
 tively and listened stopped as might a beautiful she- 
 hound about to leave the hunt discouraged, when she 
 gets an unexpected scent of quarry. She knew that 
 whistle very well. It was Harry's. 
 
 Listening, she was stricken by an inspiration. She 
 went quickly to the window, through which Anna had 
 been fearful that the sun would fade the carpet, moved 
 one side of the curtain with the utmost care, peered 
 out. Then she hurried to the door which led to 
 the side hall, through which he would be sure to enter, 
 and placed it half a foot ajar. This done, she hurried 
 to a chair by the great mahogany reading table, which 
 was supported by such grewsome claws that when she 
 had first sat down at it, she had been involuntarily 
 nervous lest they come to life and seize her feet. 
 Bowing her head upon her folded arms she now began 
 to sob with violence, not noisily, but audibly enough 
 to surely make herself heard in the side hall. 
 
 She was thus placed, thus sobbing, when Harry 
 reached the slightly open door. He did not fail to 
 hear her and, hearing her, peered anxiously within. 
 Seeing who it was that thus repined, he thrust the
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 205 
 
 door wide open, and, in two strides, was at her side. 
 
 "Bettina !" he exclaimed. "For heaven's sake, what 
 is the matter?" 
 
 She did not even raise her head, but sobbed with 
 new abandon of wild grief. 
 
 "Tell me! What has happened?" 
 
 Still she did not answer, but sobbed on. 
 
 "Please!" 
 
 With an evident effort she composed herself to 
 broken speech. "To be driven away like a thief!" 
 she cried in bitter gasps. 
 
 "Who?" said the amazed and startled boy. "Who 
 drives you away, Bettina?" 
 
 "Your mother." 
 
 Harry was incredulous. "What? Mother?" 
 
 Her wrath rose again and she stopped sobbing. 
 Looking up, her face flushed vividly, her hair a little 
 disarranged, her fists clenched, she made a very charm 
 ing fury. "Yes, your mother! She's ordered me out 
 of the house! I am instantly to pack my things 
 and go!" Then, as he stood speechless, gazing at 
 her: "What did you come back for?" 
 
 "Father sent me for some papers. But why has 
 mother done this? Tell me why?" 
 
 She dropped her head and sobbed again. He looked 
 down at her compassionately, watching her shaking 
 shoulders with deep sorrow in his youthful, earnest, 
 handsome eyes. He could not understand this thing. 
 
 "Why?" he repeated. 
 
 "Why?" she sobbed. "On your account. She 
 thinks I think she must think that there is some-
 
 206 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 thing wrong between us. No one seems to believe 
 in me. And I am a poor girl who has nothing in 
 this whole wide world but her good name! If they 
 take that away from me why, I shall have to 
 die ! I couldn't live a minute !" 
 
 "Bettina!" he gasped, horrified. "No one would 
 dare " 
 
 "I have no father to defend me," she sobbed on 
 effectively. "I am alone and unprotected." 
 
 This stirred him, roused the manhood in him. "No ; 
 not unprotected," he declaimed. "I will protect you 
 against the whole world." 
 
 "But not against your mother," she said weakly, 
 although she managed to look up, so that she might 
 catch the look on the boy's face. 
 
 "Even against her," he bravely cried. Then, 
 warmly and sincerely, bending over her, his face burn 
 ing with emotion: "Oh, Bettina! I love you above 
 everything. I've often told you so. Won't you 
 believe me now?" 
 
 "How can I," she said sadly. "You treat this as 
 a little love affair as a mere passing fancy! Why 
 should I believe your intentions to be honorable?" 
 
 "The most honorable in the world!" he said with 
 fervor, meaning every syllable of it, as she well knew. 
 "I'll go to mother at once. She must set this 
 right." 
 
 "No !" said Bettina, rising proudly. "Do you think 
 I would spend another night in the house from which 
 I have been ordered to go ? No ! I have some pride ! 
 I am going to go."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 207 
 
 Harry did not hesitate an instant. "Then you shall 
 go only as my wife!" 
 
 Arrested in her progress toward the door, she 
 turned, looked at him uncertainly, then flung herself 
 into his arms. "Harry!" she exclaimed as if in 
 ecstasy. "Harry !" 
 
 He was beside himself with joy. He threw his 
 arms about her, kissing her ecstatically. "Bettina! 
 Oh, my own Bettina!" 
 
 However, she looked up quickly from his shoulder. 
 Transports are delightful, but there are other things 
 than momentary joy to be considered in this world, 
 as none knew better than herself. "But what will 
 your father say?" 
 
 There was gloom in Harry's answer, but there was 
 determination, too. Indeed, the boy was rather fine 
 just then, despite his youth, despite his innocence. 
 "Oh, father's certain to be furious! He has sworn 
 already that he'll disinherit me if I make you my wife. 
 Barbie told me." 
 
 Bettina first grew grave and then grew cool. She 
 had no desire to be the heroine of a romance like 
 that. She had read in the newspapers about too many 
 of them. They did not work out well for the woman 
 in the case. 
 
 "Is that true?" 
 
 Harry's voice was full of thrills, of firm resolve, of 
 manly independence. "Oh, it's nothing! We are 
 young ; we'll make our own way in the world." 
 
 She had lost much of her enthusiasm and drew 
 back from him a little.
 
 208 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Won't we, Bettina?" 
 
 She answered .doubtfully, dodging a direct reply : 
 "Y e s but surely he your father could not en 
 tirely forsake you!" 
 
 "Couldn't!" Harry gave a careless little laugh. 
 "You don't know him. He has a will of iron. He 
 would never help me, even if for years he saw me 
 struggling for a pittance." 
 
 A queer change appeared upon his darling's face. 
 Slowly she put his arms away from her. Gradually 
 she drew away from him. "Struggling for a 
 pittance ! But how are we going to live ?" The last 
 six words came rapidly. 
 
 Harry, however, intoxicated by the wine of his 
 enthusiasm, was in a state of exaltation. He looked 
 across her shoulder into the illimitable future. "And 
 I want nothing from him! If he is hard-hearted 
 enough to destroy my happiness, let him keep his 
 money !" 
 
 He made a striking spectacle of high-minded youth 
 as he delivered this, but Bettina was not thinking 
 of fine spectacles. She had no wish to spring 
 out of the frying pan into the fire. What she 
 had come to seek was not a disinherited son, .but a 
 rich man. Still, she felt that she must withdraw 
 gracefully. 
 
 "No, Harry; no!" she said with a fine air of resig 
 nation and self-sacrifice. "You must not break with 
 your parents upon my account." 
 
 "Bettina!" he cried impulsively, anxious to impress 
 her with the fact that he cared nothing for the balance
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 209 
 
 of the world, and not a little worried by the startling 
 change in her. 
 
 "You must forget me. It is for the best." 
 
 "No. . . . No!" 
 
 She backed away from his entreating arms. "For 
 get me, Harry! Ah good-by 1 ." Now she definitely 
 turned away and started once more toward the hall. 
 
 "Bettina," he implored, "I I forget you! I am 
 going to my parents and announce our engagement 
 this very moment!" 
 
 This time she could not stop him, much as she de 
 sired to. But as he was rushing from the room, he 
 met his father at the threshold. That stopped him. 
 Harry startled, but not weakening; Hoffman's face 
 unpleasantly illumined by that sarcastic glow with 
 which, not infrequently, of late, he had regarded his 
 only son. 
 
 "Father," said the boy after an uncomfortable 
 silence, during which the flush upon his face changed 
 into a deep, brick-red, "mother said " 
 
 His father's look of cold, calm disapproval stopped 
 him. 
 
 "What?" The word came sharply. "What did she 
 say?" 
 
 "Mother has discharged Miss Curtis," the boy 
 blurted. 
 
 Now Hoffman showed real interest. Incredulity 
 and wrath were blended on his face. "What?" 
 
 It gave Harry courage. "Yes ; discharged her with 
 out a moment's notice." He paused to let this take 
 effect, while Hoffman's lowering brow grew darker
 
 210 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 with its wrath. "But I will not let her be treated in 
 such a manner." 
 
 His father whirled on him he had been gazing at 
 Bettina. "What have you got to do with it?" 
 
 "Miss Curtis," said the infatuated and brave- 
 hearted boy, "is under my protection." 
 
 For a second Hoffman stared in genuine unbelief. 
 Then he spoke in tones which voiced disgusted wrath. 
 "Get back to the factory! Don't meddle in affairs 
 that don't concern you! Whoever is in my house is 
 under my protection!" 
 
 Bettina, worried lest the boy now spoil her re-made 
 plans with too much talking indeed, very badly 
 frightened filled with a new hope born of Hoffman's 
 glances toward her, went to the lad pleadingly. "Go, 
 Harry! Leave this to me." 
 
 His eyes were on his father. He was undecided 
 what to do. He thought that probably Bettina would 
 be cleverer than he, yet it seemed to him unmanly 
 to leave her there alone with the very evidently, very 
 angry Hoffman. "But father " 
 
 "Later later," urged Bettina. 
 
 "Father," said the boy, half disregarding her, "you 
 must let me speak to you at once." 
 
 "Not another word," his father thundered. "Go!" 
 
 And when Harry started once again to speak, he 
 cast the word a second time at him, as if it might 
 have been a missile. 
 
 There was no use in staying, and of this Harry 
 was aware. Bettina might do something; he could 
 not. He threw Hoffman one glance of defiance and
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 211] 
 
 left them together, his heart bursting with the in 
 dignation in it, his brain full of mighty plans, his soul 
 stirred to its depths. 
 
 As soon as he had disappeared, Bettina, without 
 words, started very humbly toward the hall. 
 
 "Where are you going?" Hoffman asked, puzzled 
 by the whole extraordinary situation. 
 
 Her manner had changed wholly. Now she was 
 the injured maiden, crushed, submitting, perforce, to 
 great injustice, which she had no strength to combat. 
 "I am going to pack my trunk." 
 
 He went to her and caught her arm. "What do 
 you mean? You don't want to go." 
 
 "Who cares what I want? Mrs. Hoffman com 
 mands and I must obey." 
 
 "It's true, then, that she has dismissed you?" 
 
 A little indignation marked her answering voice and 
 gesture but more hopeless helplessness. "Not that^ 
 She simply throws me out of the house !" 
 
 He was dumfounded. "Throws you out? I'm 
 sure it is a misunderstanding." 
 
 She laughed sorrily. "Mrs. Hoffman spoke plainly 
 enough. I must be gone by ten o'clock." She turned 
 again to go. "So please don't detain me, or I won't 
 be able to finish packing." Then she cried indignantly : 
 "And I ask you^ please, to have Mrs. Hoffman search 
 my trunk before I lock it so that she will be sure I 
 haven't stolen anything!" 
 
 He would not let her go. The whole thing seemed 
 to him beyond belief. "Come, tell me," he urged. 
 He led her to a chair and gently forced her into it.
 
 212 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "What has happened ? You're completely upset. Has 
 my wife expressed any such suspicions? Has she 
 insulted you?" 
 
 Bettina's throat worked as if endeavoring to choke 
 back sobs. "Oh no. She merely spoke as the lady 
 of the house may speak to a servant!" 
 
 "She has hurt your feelings." His voice was a 
 comforter's. "I can see that." Then his manner 
 became definitely fatherly. "But I will not let anyone 
 treat you unjustly." 
 
 She looked at him with swimming eyes in which 
 blind confidence was very prettily expressed. Her 
 trust in him, indeed, seemed almost childlike. "Mr. 
 Hoffman, you are just I know that." She slowly 
 shook her head. "But you can't do anything for me 
 in this matter." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 "Mrs. Hoffman tells me that she hires the ser 
 vants and discharges them; that with them she does 
 as she pleases and that no one has a right to inter 
 fere." 
 
 The strong stubbornness which was a dominant 
 characteristic of the man rose in his face, while his 
 lifelong intolerance of the surrender of any part of 
 his command was expressed as plainly by his com 
 pressed, silent lips as it could have been had they 
 used words to tell it. 
 
 He crossed the room, found a chair and brought 
 it to her side, not sitting in it, but leaning on its back. 
 Finally: "Well, that's news to me! I'll see whether 
 I really have no right to interfere ! I'll learn whether 
 I am master in my house or not! If you have been
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 213 
 
 wronged I'll see to it that you have justice. You 
 may rely upon it." 
 
 He left the chair which, with such pains, he had 
 borne across the room, and began to pace the floor 
 with slow, firm strides, his face even harder than it 
 had been. 
 
 Rising, she went pleadingly to him. "Oh, please 
 don't! Why bother about me? I'm only a poor 
 servant Mrs. Hoffman is quite right. I wouldn't, 
 for the world, cause any trouble here where I have 
 been so happy! I had believed myself protected by 
 the good the strong. Why, I had quite forgotten 
 that I'm but a stranger here!" 
 
 Now the sobs again came and she buried her face 
 in her hands as she hurried to the chair beside the 
 table and bowed her head upon it while her shoulders 
 shook in an apparent agony. 
 
 It mastered him. Deeply moved, he pushed her 
 hands down gently and then took her face between 
 his hands. Presently he began to gently stroke her 
 hair. "Oh, my child ! My dear child ! I am grieved ! 
 I'm deeply grieved!" 
 
 Through her tears she smiled at him. 
 
 Now he paced the floor again, thinking tensely. 
 "I simply cannot understand my wife. It must be 
 because of Harry. In that they're all alike. The 
 lioness defending her cubs !" 
 
 She looked at him with understanding, even nod 
 ding. "I know of what I am accused that Harry is 
 in love with me. Heaven knows it's not my fault! 
 I have not encouraged him." 
 
 He went to her and took her hands, smiling at her.
 
 214 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Ah, but why are you so pretty, Bettina? That 
 youngster has good eyes he has them from his 
 father!" He pinched her cheek with playful tender 
 ness. "It's quite natural." Then again he took on 
 his determination. "But you shall not be made to 
 suffer for it not you." The implication was that 
 dreadful things were held in store for others. 
 
 She extended both her hands to him with a fine 
 gesture of deep gratitude. "You believe in me?" 
 Her face was radiant, as if it did not matter what 
 the whole world thought if only he believed in her. 
 
 "Indeed I do." His smile of confidence was fine 
 and full. 
 
 Then she accused: "And yet you threatened to 
 disown your son if he should marry me!" 
 
 He looked at her in blank astonishment. 
 
 "He told me so himself a little while ago." 
 
 He still seemed bewildered and incredulous. 
 
 "But don't be afraid. I have refused him. Only 
 don't think that I did so from fear." She spoke up 
 with fine spirit. "Were I in love, I'd fear no one. 
 But I do not love your son, and" (she used her eyes 
 with startling eloquence) "I'll marry no man unless 
 I love him." With this her glance dropped quickly 
 as if she were abashed. 
 
 Again he took her hands. His face had flushed. 
 Extraordinary thoughts were plainly rushing through 
 his brain. He spoke thickly, for the spell of her 
 was on him. "And could you really love with all 
 your heart Bettina?" 
 
 "Ah could I?" Her voice seemed vibrant with
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 215 
 
 deep passion. "Yes yes yes with all my heart 
 with all my soul! . . . That's how I could 
 love!" 
 
 "How you say that ! Do you love someone now ?" 
 His grip upon her hand was almost painful. 
 
 She simulated fright. "Please let me go ! I " 
 
 He was very much aroused. "No; you must tell 
 me the truth !" Then, very gently : "Won't you con 
 fide in me?" 
 
 She spoke so softly that he could scarcely catch 
 her words yet he could catch them: "In anyone 
 else but not in you!" 
 
 The effect was not as instantaneous as she had 
 hoped. He led her to a chair, into which she limply 
 sank, and he stood, bending over her. "What? You 
 don't trust me? Come! I'm your friend. I'm like 
 a father. Let me advise you help you." 
 
 "No one can help me," she said slowly. "I must 
 bear my sorrow all alone. There can be no happi 
 ness for me in this world!" 
 
 This intensified his tenderness. "Don't say that > 
 Bettina." 
 
 She shook her head, as if in weariness of soul, as 
 if in utter abnegation of all hope forever. 
 
 "No happiness for you?" he went on thickly, but 
 with growing speed of speech. "You don't know 
 how attached / have become to you in these few 
 months! I don't want to appear ridiculous to 
 speak of love for a young girl who could easily be 
 my daughter, but, believe me, I have never felt to 
 ward anybody as I feel toward you."
 
 216 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Her head sank lower as if she wished to hide her 
 face from him. 
 
 "For weeks/' he went on softly, "I've been going 
 around as if in a fever." His voice became im 
 passioned, fervent. "A hundred times I've said to 
 myself: 'Old man, old man, be sensible!' But it is 
 of no use. It has taken hold. It won't let go of me. 
 I cannot get rid of it." 
 
 She had listened breathlessly to what he had been 
 saying. As soon as she was sure his face was turned 
 away from her (as if in shame) she looked at him 
 looked up at him with eyes filled with delight, almost 
 with incredulity. Her countenance was alight with 
 triumph. But it was buried in her hands before he 
 turned again toward her. 
 
 "I suppose you find me very ridiculous," he mur 
 mured. "You are laughing at me. Go on laugh! 
 I deserve it." 
 
 Now her extraordinary, facile face seemed tremu 
 lous with happiness, her eyes were shining, her mouth 
 drooped, but seemed to smile with joy unutterable. 
 
 "Yes; I wish to laugh," she said. "I wish to laugh 
 because I am so happy !" 
 
 For an instant incredulity combated the joy which 
 marked his face. Then he crushed her hands against 
 his breast. "Bettina!" 
 
 "Can it be true," she said with closed eyes, softly, 
 "that you love me?" 
 
 "I don't like to speak that word. It sounds 
 almost grotesque at my age. Yet, if I were younger 
 
 only a few years younger Bettina " He held 
 
 her very close and looked into her eyes.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 317 
 
 "But you are not free!" The words came softly, 
 but were brimming with significance. 
 
 He dropped her hands and left her, going slowly 
 to the window where he stood looking out unseeing. 
 After a moment of reflection he returned to her with 
 a dull gloom upon his face. "No that's true a wife 
 and children they have rights." 
 
 Again he paused, but this time looked into her 
 face. Fierce agitation swept him. She said abso 
 lutely nothing. She was waiting. 
 
 "But I, too, have rights," he cried. "I have worked 
 for my family all my life. I have a right to demand 
 some happiness for myself!" 
 
 He held her hands, but did not draw her to him, 
 although she would have flown again into his arms. 
 
 "Are you sure, Bettina, that there is no one else 
 you care for?" 
 
 She shook her head. "No! No!" 
 
 But she was no longer yielding. Suddenly she 
 moved as if to dart away from him and he gripped 
 her hand with a new force. 
 
 "No, Bettina? No?" he cried. "Do you want to 
 drive me mad ?" His hands were trembling now with 
 his excitement, his face was flushed with the desire 
 in it. 
 
 "Let me go!" she whispered. "It is better. Ah > 
 I see it now!" 
 
 But she did not go. She drew closer to him, 
 turning her face up to him, within her eyes the wistful 
 look of a self-sacrificing child. 
 
 "Oh, but I cannot bear to be unhappy! I was 
 not born to to renounce! Every drop of blood in
 
 218 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 me cries out against it ! I am young ! I want to live ! 
 I want to be happy!" 
 
 "And I! I see in you the happiness that I have 
 missed." His voice shook; his whole body trembled. 
 "No one shall take you from me !" 
 
 Now he dropped his arms and fell into deep thought, 
 while she stood agitated, looking at him. 
 
 "Nobody shall be treated unfairly," he said slowly. 
 "Nobody." 
 
 Then, after another instant's thought, evidently 
 arriving at a clear decision, he said sharply : 
 
 "Go upstairs and pack your things." 
 
 Bettina did not move. 
 
 "And have faith in me." 
 
 Without another word she started from him, but 
 at the door she paused to look back at him radiantly. 
 "My own !" she murmured softly.
 
 'NO ONE SHALL TAKE YOU FROM ME!" p. 218.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 After a lingering look into his eyes she ran up 
 stairs, upon her face a conflict of emotions mirrored. 
 Triumph was there, and, as she thought of Anna 
 Hoffman, satisfied revenge. Exultant avarice was 
 there, and vanity unleashed. Varying phases of her 
 mental tumult were reflected in the little looking-glass 
 above the dresser in the comfortable room which Anna 
 had assigned to her. Surely a strange "companion" 
 she had been strangely disloyal, strangely ungrateful, 
 strangely fatal to the happiness of the woman who 
 had hired her. 
 
 But of all her varying emotions not one hinted 
 (now that she was quite alone) of the passion which 
 had seemed to burn deep in her eyes, which apparently 
 had made her full lips soft and yearning, which had 
 appeared to underlie the heaving of her bosom, to 
 animate the clinging of her arms, when she had been 
 below with Anna Hoffman's husband. 
 
 Instead, through all the fast play of her mobile 
 features one detail dominated, the detail of a subtle 
 sneer. It was not definite ; she was unconscious of it ; 
 even in her heart she was not, at the moment, quite 
 scornful of the man whom she had sworn she loved ; 
 she valued him too highly, but the value which she 
 
 219
 
 220 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 placed on him was not the value which a maiden 
 places on her suitor, it was not even that which mis 
 tresses place on their lovers. It was, rather, some 
 thing close akin to that which merchants place upon 
 some new, attractive treasure promising profit, which 
 an employer may place upon a coveted new member of 
 a working staff. She had achieved an asset. 
 
 Already, as she threw her things her scant and 
 difficultly won wardrobe, her sparse and tawdry toilet 
 silver, her few inexpensive decorative knick-knacks 
 into her cheap trunk, she was imagining great ward 
 robe trunks to come, to be crammed full of marvels 
 from the shops along Fifth Avenue; as she swiftly 
 slipped out of her house-gown and revealed coarse 
 linen, purchased ready-made in a department store, 
 she looked into the mirror and saw a vision of her 
 satiny form encased in silks and laces, Paris-wrought; 
 as she stooped to catch a garter on a cotton stocking, 
 she held out the shapely limb, despite her sense of 
 need for haste, and gloated as she thought of it in 
 heavily embroidered weaves of silk. Catching her in 
 expensive traveling-dress about her deftly, fastening 
 its loops and buttons with sure, speedy fingers, she 
 imagined it as being altered for her little sister, while 
 she went to Redfern, or, at other smart, expensive 
 shops, ordered marvelous, glove-fitting walking gowns. 
 
 Upon the eve of a momentous step upon the eve 
 of marriage each girl must naturally think about her 
 mother. A mother forms a lovely subject for soft 
 contemplation those maidenly reflections of a bud 
 ding girl whose bridal is approaching, concerning her
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 221 
 
 whose bridal found fruition in her own appearance in 
 the world, are storied as the holiest of reveries. 
 
 Bettina now thought of her mother. But she did 
 not think of her as tremulously fearful, tearful, anx 
 ious, full of sage advice and loving kindness when 
 she heard the great announcement instead she saw 
 her face aglow with satisfaction purely mercenary as 
 she discussed the fortune of her daughter's capture; 
 she saw her eyes alight with cold, hard, calculating 
 cleverness as she helped plan the legal battle which 
 must certainly be fought and won before Bettina gave 
 herself to her beloved. For Bettina Curtis, even 
 though in Fred's impassioned love he may have 
 thought quite differently, had not the least intention 
 of making a mis-step so great as it would be to grant 
 him any privileges before the vows were said. The 
 beginning, truly, had been tumultuous and sudden, but 
 every other step must be accompanied by strict con 
 ventionality that sad conventionality which in these 
 days so often masks such tragedies as in the olden 
 times were not merely psychological, pathetic, but 
 brutal, bloody, dourly tragic. 
 
 She was ready for the motor when it came for her, 
 as Anna had directed; as Hoffman gravely handed 
 her into it he felt that this attention would, in a 
 way, rebuke his wife for what she had intended 
 and gave the man explicit orders to look after her 
 with care, to see to the purchase of her ticket, to 
 attend to careful checking of her trunk, to render 
 her as many services as he or she could think of, she 
 felt a little fear. What if he should reconsider after
 
 222 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 all? But the thick envelope which he secretly passed 
 to her softly thick and full, she knew, of money 
 and his statement that in it she would find certain 
 carefully detailed suggestions which he had prepared 
 while she had been upstairs renewed her courage, 
 and she smiled brilliant thanks. 
 
 "Run back to the garage and get the other robe," 
 he told the man. "This one is in tatters." 
 
 "But Mrs. Hoffman said " 
 
 "Go back to the garage and get that robe!" com 
 manded Hoffman. "No; don't run the car back. 
 Get out, and go and get that robe." 
 
 Trembling for his place because of the chill emphasis 
 in his employer's words, the cold dissatisfaction in 
 his eyes, the brutal arrogance of his demeanor, the 
 man sprang from the motor and made haste to do 
 as he was bidden. 
 
 "There's money in that envelope," said Hoffman 
 quickly, but not nervously, when they were left alone. 
 "Use it as you like. I'll send you more, of course. 
 Get yourself such things as you will want for the 
 for the " 
 
 She nodded. She knew that he was trying to say 
 "marriage," but could not bring his lips to it. She 
 did not resent the fact that they rebelled. 
 
 "I shall arrange things here as speedily as possible. 
 I don't know how long it will take. Alston will push 
 things through for me, I know. He will object, but 
 I can force him to it when he finds it is the only way." 
 
 She nodded speechlessly. She had suddenly grown 
 frightened as she had never been before. Every mo-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 223 
 
 ment she expected to see Anna Hoffman's question 
 ing face appear at the glass door which opened on 
 the porch. She felt certain that in case it came she 
 would spring from the motor and run madly any 
 where to get away from it. She tried to summon 
 to her aid her customary self-control, but could not 
 do it. 
 
 "Yes; yes," she said in agony. "And thank you 
 for the money. But oh, why doesn't he make haste ? 
 I shall miss my train." 
 
 "I think you'll get it. If you miss it he will take 
 you across country to the other road. I have given 
 him instructions." He turned his head as he heard 
 the garage door close. "And above all things re 
 member what I said there in the house. 'Have faith 
 in me.' " 
 
 Now, when the chauffeur was approaching, she 
 calmed. She gave the man who leaned upon the 
 tonneau door a brilliant smile. "Oh I have! I 
 have!" 
 
 "And want for nothing," he managed to continue, 
 before the chauffeur came to hearing distance. "Use 
 the money freely. There'll be more. I love you. I 
 wish you to be happy." 
 
 "You are wonderful!" she whispered as the man 
 came up. 
 
 Hoffman stood on the side porch as they swept 
 out of the yard, and, as she looked back at him, smiled 
 gravely. 
 
 He was not bad looking in the least she mused 
 not bad looking for his age; and the envelope of
 
 224 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 money had been thoughtful ; the promise to send mote 
 was an indication that he would be generous in future. 
 r Well out of the grounds she settled back into the 
 cushions with a smile. She even laughed a little, 
 audibly, but checked the impulse quickly. She did 
 not wish to have the chauffeur hear her shout with 
 glee. 
 
 But ah, Anna Hoffman, who was mistress of the 
 situation now? She pressed the envelope of money 
 tight between her slim, gloved hands. How wonderful 
 it was ! 
 
 After she had gone, Hoffman went slowly into 
 the house and stood, wrapped in deep thought, in 
 the dim library. His face was knotted, as it always 
 was when he was working out some abstruse, puzzling 
 business problem. He was concentrating, with the 
 last ounce of his fierce intensity, upon the puzzle which 
 confronted him. At length he called to Barbie. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hoffman," she said timidly, as she came 
 in. His temper was not likely to be smoother than 
 it usually was upon a day when such portentous and 
 disturbing things had happened in the house. 
 
 "Call Mrs. Hoffman," he said briefly. "I wish to 
 speak to her." 
 
 This frightened her beyond the power of a reply, 
 for at a time when Anna was but newly convalescent, 
 even Frederick Hoffman would ordinarily have gone 
 up to her, if he had things he wished to talk about. 
 
 She hurried voiceless to obey his order and presently 
 his wife came down to him placid, wholly undis 
 turbed.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 225 
 
 "Did you tell Barbie that you wished to see 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 He found it difficult to make a start, but mastered 
 his embarrassment with a firm effort of his iron will. 
 "Anna, you have caused a great deal of trouble to 
 day." 
 
 She seemed surprised. "I? In what way?" 
 
 "You allowed yourself to be carried away by temper 
 and you were entirely too hard on that poor girl. 
 She " 
 
 "I suppose you mean Miss Curtis," she said calmly. 
 "Then she has complained about it." 
 
 His embarrassment still troubled him. "No; but 
 I know exactly what happened." 
 
 "Well, then, the incident is closed." Anna did not 
 even look at him, but, sitting at a table, took her 
 darning-basket from it and began to search its con 
 tents. 
 
 He found words constantly more difficult of selec 
 tion, but he held to his purpose grimly. "Sometimes, 
 Anna, a small spark may cause a frightful explosion." 
 
 She looked up at him in mild astonishment. "What 
 do you mean?" 
 
 "You shouldn't have done that." It was difficult to 
 keep his voice from shaking with the emphasis which 
 tried to creep into his words and which he struggled 
 to keep out of them. 
 
 "I shouldn't have done what?" 
 
 He was trembling now ; her calm at last infuriated
 
 226 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 him. That made his words come easier. "You have 
 thrown a spark into a barrel of powder." 
 
 "I don't understand you." 
 
 Now the leash broke. His voice rose accusingly, 
 complainingly. "No ; that's it ! You don't understand 
 me, and you have never understood me. Our char 
 acters are essentially different." 
 
 Still she was undisturbed. Of late there had been 
 so many outbursts from him that a new one failed 
 to stir her. She spoke only kindly, utterly unconscious 
 of the impending tragedy. "Fred, I think we have 
 been as happy as most people." 
 
 He threw his hands into the air in helpless protest 
 at her denseness and strode back and forth across 
 the room. 
 
 "Where is there a marriage free from storms?" 
 she went on smoothly. "And now that we are both 
 growing old " 
 
 Again that word "old" touched him. He stopped 
 before her angrily. "I am not the 'old gentleman' 
 that all of you in this house are trying to make me." 
 
 She looked up, really surprised by the fierce vehem 
 ence of his denial. 
 
 "There are a great many men who, in advanced 
 years, much older than I am, have married," he 
 went on. 
 
 She was wholly puzzled, but kept her eyes on him 
 inquiringly. 
 
 "They did right quite right!" he cried. "We are 
 all entitled to our happiness. That is the only true 
 philosophy."
 
 'you DON'T UNDERSTAND ME AND you HAVE NCVEB UNDEBSTOOD ME!" 
 
 p. 226.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 227 
 
 "Since when have you taken up philosophy?" she 
 asked with a slight smile. 
 
 "Well, what did you think? That I am interested 
 only in the eternal grind of business ?" He approached 
 her accusingly. "That, alone, shows how little you 
 know me! Have you expected me to move along 
 unceasingly in the old groove year in year out? I 
 tell you it has been that which has been driving me 
 crazy!" He stooped to look into her eyes, almost 
 malevolently. "Don't you understand how horrible 
 it is? I sit as in a prison looking through barred 
 windows and out there is life! In prison having 
 done no crime!" 
 
 She was only the more puzzled. "I don't under 
 stand " 
 
 He shrugged helplessly and changed his line of argu 
 ment. "Do you know, Anna, why our old friend, 
 Henry Purcell, is living in New York? Away from 
 his family?" 
 
 "I suppose it is for business reasons." She re 
 mained entirely unruffled. 
 
 "No. He has gone and he will not return." 
 
 She was astonished. "What?" 
 
 "It is quite true. He says that when married people 
 feel that they cannot live happily together they should 
 separate. Not in anger, but in all kindness and friend 
 ship, so that the injury may be repaired, so that each 
 may seek his happiness, or hers, in the best way, with 
 out interference from the other. Now consider, Anna. 
 Isn't that the right view of the matter ?" 
 
 Her amazement struggled with her incredulity.
 
 228 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "But how can they separate after twenty-five years 
 together and with grandchildren?" 
 
 His voice, in answering, was nervous and excited, 
 as if, even in advance of her understanding of the 
 situation, he wished to hurriedly assure her that he, 
 himself, should do as well by his wife and his children. 
 "They will be well provided for both the children 
 and the wife. And I, Anna I " 
 
 She interrupted him, but, even as she did so, turned 
 back to her petty work. It was as if she wished to 
 put such bizarre episodes out of her mind as soon as 
 possible and felt that he, too, must detest considera 
 tion of them. "What is the world coming to?" she 
 sighed, and then rose, as if to leave the room. "It 
 seems that marriage does not mean as much nowadays 
 as it did when we were young." 
 
 "That," said he, "is one of the subjects on which 
 >ve don't agree, and another is this girl, Bettina, Anna. 
 'Anna I want you to know that " 
 
 Again she interrupted him, this time with firm, cool, 
 decisive words. "It is useless to discuss that matter. 
 It is settled. I bade her leave the house for Harry's 
 sake. Has she not gone?" 
 
 "You turned her away with neither friends nor 
 money!" 
 
 "Don't worry about her. She is quite capable of 
 taking care of herself. I gave her three months' 
 wages." 
 
 With that she left the room. 
 
 He had accomplished very little. He gave up 
 thought of doing, alone, what he wished to do with
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 229 
 
 her. He clearly saw that he must have outside assist 
 ance. Her unruffled calm, her way of failing utterly 
 to see an inch beyond the routine of their lives' con 
 ventionality, rendered him helpless. 
 
 Thoughtfully he went into the hall where the tele 
 phone was fastened to the wall. 
 
 "Is that you, Alston?" he inquired when he had 
 the connection which he asked for. "Well, wait for 
 me. I'm coming down to see you." 
 
 "Barbie," he called after he had left the telephone, 
 "if anyone asks for me here tell them that I've gone 
 to Mr. Alston's office and shall be engaged there all 
 the balance of the day. I may not be at home this 
 evening, and very likely not to-night. Tell Mrs. Hoff 
 man not to look for me at dinner." 
 
 Barbie gazed after him with troubled face. In his 
 absorption he had spoken almost kindly to her, which, 
 after the preceding months, was so unusual as to 
 almost be a really bad sign. And the events which 
 had accompanied the departure of Bettina had filled 
 her with worry. From the kitchen window, to which, 
 with a sense of triumph, she had flown to make sure 
 that the girl was on her way out of the house, she 
 had seen him standing by the auto while they waited 
 for the man to go and get the robe. Her imagination 
 did not soar so wildly as to dream of the tremendous 
 cataclysm really impending, but a mysterious instinct 
 made her worry. 
 
 "A storm is coming," she assured herself, and 
 shivered. "I feel it in my bones." 
 
 "Alston," said Hoffman, as he went into the
 
 230 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 lawyer's office, "I have something of importance to 
 talk over with you." 
 
 "What? The Nelson case?" 
 
 "No; something of far more importance than the 
 Nelson case." 
 
 "Whew ! It must be big then ! You've been pretty 
 keen on that! Will it take long?" 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "Then I'll tell them in the outside office that we're 
 not to be disturbed." He rose and left the room. 
 Returning, he sank into his big desk chair, whirling 
 to Hoffman with a smile. "Fred, you're looking fine. 
 Really splendid. Sort of rejuvenated lately." 
 
 "You think so?" 
 
 "Word of honor. Dressing better, too. Everybody 
 getting on all right at home ?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "That's the main thing. Well what can I do for 
 you?" 
 
 It was difficult to put the case, almost as difficult 
 with Alston as he had thought it would be with Anna. 
 But he knew that Alston could not utterly defeat him, 
 as she had. 
 
 "Alston," he said at length, "after a great deal of 
 thought, I have come to a very important conclusion." 
 
 The attorney smiled at him. "Ah, I see ! You want 
 to make your will. That's right, Fred." 
 
 Hoffman shook his head. "That's not it" He 
 paused, considering, for a long minute, while Alston 
 looked at him with good-natured curiosity. "You
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 know my past life, my character. You will, I am sure, 
 judge me fairly." 
 
 Now Alston ceased his smiling. It was plain that 
 heavy matters were impending. "Fred, you seem to 
 have something on your conscience. What's trou 
 bling you? You know a lawyer is, so to speak, 
 also a father confessor and equally as discreet." 
 
 "The matter," said his client, "is of a very delicate 
 nature." 
 
 Alston was surprised, but showed no advance dis 
 approval. He knew men. "Ah, a little affair?" 
 
 "No matrimony." 
 
 "Harry?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Beatrice?" 
 
 "No, Alston. Don't make it hard for me ! I I 
 want to marry." 
 
 The lawyer smiled. "Since when did you become 
 a Mormon? This is a far-fetched joke. Give me 
 the diagram." 
 
 That Hoffman was not joking his face showed. "I 
 am in dead earnest." 
 
 Still Alston was not impressed. Either he had 
 quite misunderstood, or it must be a joke unless his 
 friend were suddenly delirious. "Let me feel your 
 pulse." He leaned forward, still more puzzled, but 
 still smiling. 
 
 Hoffman almost angrily drew back the hand the 
 lawyer would have taken in his jest. "I'm not in 
 the mood for joking."
 
 234 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 as evidence for later use; but all the time another 
 portion of his mind was busy tragically busy with 
 the situation which his old friend had laid before him. 
 He could not believe it, yet he knew that Hoffman 
 was neither drunk nor crazy; it was too horrid to be 
 true, yet it was true. Fred, whom he loved, was 
 firmly fixed upon this dreadful action; Anna, whom 
 he loved and had loved for so many years that he 
 could not remember when he had not loved her, was 
 about to be subjected to a shock which might well kill 
 her. 
 
 "Fred," he said, at length, turning back to face his 
 visitor, "you are about to make a great mistake. A 
 better woman than your wife you will never find. 
 Would you really bring such sorrow upon her and on 
 your children?" 
 
 Hoffman stirred uneasily in the great leather chair 
 in which he rested, but made no reply. 
 
 "Think it over," Alston urged. "Can the prize be 
 worth the sacrifice?" 
 
 Still Hoffmain remained silent. 
 
 "May I ask who is " 
 
 "You know her," Hoffman answered. "Miss 
 Curtis." 
 
 Alston started back, as if he had been struck. This 
 was incredible! That this man, his old friend, should 
 forsake Anna Anna! for that girl! It was too ter 
 rible. "A-h-h!" 
 
 He looked at Hoffman with a nodding head. The 
 whole miserable truth flashed through his mind. He 
 knew what had ensnared the man the pretty, pas-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 235 
 
 sionate face, with its full lips which promised luscious 
 kisses, the graceful, softly rounded body, with its lan 
 guorous arms, which promised rich embraces, the vital 
 ity of not high-minded youth, which promised full 
 amusement, with no pause for thought. 
 
 "Fred, I've got to have a little time to think it 
 over." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "No; I'll come to your house this evening." 
 
 "But Anna will be " 
 
 "No ; she'll be at prayer-meeting praying for you, 
 Fred, probably!" 
 
 "Alston " 
 
 "I won't say another word about it till I've had a 
 chance to think it over." 
 
 The meeting at the house, that evening, was as 
 between armed men, manceuvering for an advantage. 
 It was not until they were seated at the library table, 
 after Hoffman had made sure that no one could 
 overhear the talk which was to come, that the sub 
 ject which was seething in the mind of each of them 
 was brought up. 
 
 "Well," said Hoffman, "what have you decided?" 
 
 Alston, with shaking head, sat a long moment look 
 ing earnestly at his old friend. He leaned forward 
 with intense, impetuous earnestness. "Fred, for 
 God's sake! This is a matter about which I feel 
 keenly. My very deep affection for you for your 
 family " 
 
 Hoffman interrupted him with a sharp protest. It 
 was the first exhibition of his habitual brusque queru-
 
 236 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 lousness he had given since he had come into the office. 
 Shame was losing the strong upper hand which it 
 had had with him, at first ; he was becoming dominant 
 again, aggressive: "I have considered everything. 
 Nothing can change my determination." 
 
 "And you are so dazzled or so selfish that you 
 would disgrace yourself your wife your children 
 before all the world?" 
 
 "I care nothing," said the man of iron for he was, 
 again, the man of iron, now: neither the man of 
 putty which Bettina had made of him, nor the apolo 
 getic man which he had been that afternoon, when he 
 had first come in "for the opinion of the world." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you do !" cried Alston. "We all do. No 
 matter how we boast of our indifference to public 
 opinion, we squirm and twist when the ugly breath 
 of scandal touches us! You must know, as well as 
 I, what the world thinks of a man who repudiates the 
 wife who has stood by him through his early struggles, 
 who has become the mother of his children!" 
 
 Sullenly Hoffman shook his head. 
 
 "Fred, I don't know what I ought to say ; but I have 
 the clearest notion of what I feel." 
 
 "Your eloquence is wasted," his client declared 
 earnestly. "My mind is quite made up." He glared 
 at Alston with his fierce look of decision in the face 
 of opposition. "My wife is a sensible woman. She 
 will not deny me happiness. She will consent, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 Alston threw his hands up in despair. 
 
 "For a long time," Hoffman went on, slowly, "we
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 237 
 
 have lived together only as friends. We can remain 
 friends." 
 
 "Man " 
 
 "It is for the best, I tell you, it is fate." 
 
 "Fate! Fate!" cried Alston, with contempt. "I'll 
 tell you what / think it is it is the case of a fine prin 
 cipled man turned into a selfish brute by a " 
 
 Hoffman rose with a black face. "Alston! That's 
 enough !" 
 
 "Forgive me," said the lawyer, "if I speak strongly, 
 for I must." 
 
 Hoffman made an angry gesture. 
 
 "I want no man's friendship," said the lawyer, and 
 his voice rose, "at the expense of integrity and truth." 
 
 "Alston!" Hoffman really was frightened. 
 
 "Yes; the truth!" said Alston, loudly. 
 
 Again he went and stood by the window, but this 
 time was utterly unconscious of what appeared before 
 him. Hoffman, meantime, pale and furtive-eyed, but 
 not at all dissuaded, sat waiting somewhat dully. Of 
 course, if Alston would not take the case why, there 
 were other lawyers. 
 
 "I know," Alston began, again. "Husbands never 
 want to hear the truth . . . neither from their wives 
 nor from their lawyers. How absurd! How cruel! 
 After God knows how many years of married life, 
 they suddenly begin to wonder why their wives look 
 dowdy. They begin to compare them with other 
 women. Usually it is a comparison made wholly 
 on the basis of good looks, which mostly mean youth 
 and good clothes. The husband tires of seeing his
 
 238 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 wife look like a frump, although he never made ob 
 jection to her dressing in cheap hand-me-downs while 
 he was piling up his fortune. The man, you see, has 
 won his fight for money. He begins to wish for 
 those things money buys even for the women which 
 it buys! She . . . the wife who has worked with 
 him, and, very likely, has done as much as he has . . . 
 often more ... to make the money which is her un 
 doing, now, no longer pleases his exacting eye. She 
 does not stack up in his mad eyes with other women, 
 younger, probably; if not younger, then women who 
 have not been forced to labor, as she has had to labor, 
 to assist struggling husbands. He begins to flirt with 
 some doll-faced, empty-headed clothes-rack, whose 
 brains are worth not one-hundredth part as much as 
 those of his own wife . . . and next comes . . . 
 what ? Divorce ! 
 
 "My God!" He spat contemptuously, as if the 
 word were foul upon his tongue. "Well, Fred, 
 I've had many cases like it ... but I'll not take 
 yours !" 
 
 "I won't take it ... because I'm fond of Anna . .' . 
 and the children . . . and . . . yourself." 
 
 Hoffman was too worried, now, to flare. He 
 wished, above all things, to have Alston do this work 
 for him. None other could so save his face; none 
 save the children from so much of the inevitable hor 
 ror, none could preserve Anna from so much of the 
 unutterable misery which he knew the thing would 
 cause her. He wished her to be saved from misery,
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 239 
 
 and found in this desire a little cause for pride. It 
 seemed to him to be magnanimous. 
 
 "You have named the very reasons why I wish to 
 put the case into your hands," he urged. "You shall 
 be my attorney and theirs, too. I'll do all I can for 
 her, and for the children. I promise you that every 
 thing shall be arranged as you suggest, in reason, if 
 you will only help me." 
 
 Alston shook his head. 
 
 But Hoffman would not be denied. "Stand by me, 
 Alston! Believe me ... my heart is heavy enough; 
 but I cannot do otherwise. Man, I want to live! I 
 have never known actual life. Here with her . . . 
 sober and unresponsive as she is ... I should wither 
 ... I should prematurely die ! For years I have but 
 existed . . . miserably! 
 
 "You remember New Year's Eve ? I had then made 
 up my mind to close up my account with life, so far 
 as any desire went. I was resigned. But, almost 
 at once . . . she came into the house . . . into my 
 life. Alston, it is Destiny!" 
 
 Alston looked at the entranced man with a hopeless 
 grimace. What could he do with such a case? If he 
 did not do as was requested, some other lawyer would, 
 and would cause Anna untold suffering. It would be 
 better, after all, for him to yield. Anna would know, 
 perfectly, how bitterly he had protested. And, with 
 out his help ah, what an ordeal for her and for the 
 children ! 
 
 "Oh, well," he said to Hoffman, "what's the use of 
 reasoning?" He smiled strangely, pityingly. "You're
 
 240 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 in love. That, in itself, is a sickness, and, considering 
 the age of the patient, I am afraid the case is hope 
 less." 
 
 He then spoke tenderly. 
 
 "My dear old Fred! I wish I could feel that this 
 step will bring you happiness." 
 
 Again he stood in silent, saddened contemplation of 
 him, while Fred rose, relieved and smiling. 
 
 "Come in and see me in a day or two. Bring all 
 the necessary data. Above everything, bring me your 
 wife's consent, if you wish me to assist you. I'll see 
 what can be done," Alston promised sadly. 
 
 Enormously relieved, Hoffman accompanied Als 
 ton to the door. 
 
 "Think it over once more, Fred," said Alston 
 gravely. "It's an awful thing . . . and a damned stu 
 pid thing! I wish you would give the case to some 
 one else . . . and still " 
 
 "Alston, do me this service. I beg of you !" 
 
 "Well, for the sake of our friendship, for the sake 
 of your family " 
 
 "Thank you," Hoffman exclaimed earnestly. "I 
 rely on you." 
 "And what's to be done in the Nelson case?" 
 
 "Oh, let the matter drop. I prefer to remain friends 
 with him." 
 
 "I advise you to do likewise . . . with your wife !" 
 
 Frederick Hoffman slowly shook his head and Als 
 ton left the house.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 From Alston's office Hoffman proceeded to the fac 
 tory, where he amazed Valentine and Harry by an 
 nouncing, without hinting at his destination, that he 
 was to leave the city very soon for an indefinite 
 period. Barbie went to the telephone when the mes 
 sage came that father and son would be away for 
 dinner, owing to the rush of work which this necessi 
 tated, and found herself much puzzled by it. Such 
 a thing had never happened in the past. When, at 
 breakfast, it developed that only Harry had come 
 home to sleep, she was more puzzled. Anna accepted, 
 with a greater calm than the old servant's, the boy's 
 troubled explanation that his father, wishing to rise 
 very early, had stayed at the hotel. 
 
 "He didn't want to trouble Barbie to get up," 
 said he. 
 
 "Huh!" Barbie commented. "Never happened in 
 this house before!" 
 
 Harry, himself, found a new worry when he 
 reached the factory strictly, on time, that morning 
 and discovered that his father had not even gone 
 to the hotel, but had been at his desk all night, whip 
 ping himself awake with boiling coffee, brought by 
 one of the night-shift, from a small, cheap workman's 
 restaurant nearby. He had been poring over old 
 
 241
 
 242 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 accounts, docketing papers, studying plans, and mak 
 ing notes on correspondence, as if his absence would 
 entail a change in the firm's management. 
 
 "Father!" he exclaimed. "You will be ill! You'll 
 work yourself to death!" 
 
 "My son won't," Hoffman answered grimly. 
 
 Later in the day, when there came a lull quite un 
 avoidable it was early afternoon, and Hoffman had 
 lunched at his desk, on sandwiches he pushed back 
 his chair and spoke more kindly to the boy. 
 
 "Harry," he said, slowly, "you're going to have 
 a chance to prove exactly what is in you." 
 
 "What do you mean, father?" The boy was defi 
 nitely frightened. All day he and Valentine had ex 
 changed furtive, inquiring glances, when they dared. 
 
 "I have decided to give you every opportunity . . . 
 a free hand, here. I'm going to turn the business 
 over to you ... to you and Valentine, under Mr. 
 Alston's supervision . . . for a time. I'm going to 
 take a rest." 
 
 As he spoke his eyes were sunken in deep, shad 
 owed sockets, his face was white and pasty from his 
 lack of sleep. His hand was steady and his words 
 came smoothly, but his voice was hoarse. It was 
 not harsh, however, as he went on with his explana 
 tion the explanation which did not explain. 
 
 "I've built up a fine business here. It has made 
 money. I have accomplished this by work and noth 
 ing but work. Night and day I've slaved to see that 
 everything went forward. Day and night I've 
 watched to see that everything went well. Your
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 mother and your sister and yourself have been the 
 beneficiaries." 
 
 There seemed almost to be a note of accusation in 
 this final statement a claim that he had made tre 
 mendous sacrifices, while they, continually, had de 
 manded more, more, more. Nothing could be farther 
 from the fact, but it was specious reasoning, hard to 
 combat, not hard to fall into. 
 
 "But hasn't it been fun?" the boy asked, scarcely 
 knowing what to say. 
 
 "It has been a fever," said his father. "Effort 
 unremitting, strain ever unrelieved . . . work, work, 
 work, from opening time to closing time . . . and 
 then, at home, the worry, and hard thinking, desper 
 ate scheming, which made rest, often, quite impossi 
 ble. All this I've done . . . done for my 
 wife " 
 
 "For mother," Harry said, involuntarily. 
 
 "Done for my wife, my daughter, and my son. 
 I have been unremitting; I have been unselfish" (he 
 really thought he had) ; "I have shown mercy to all 
 except myself." 
 
 "You've worked too hard; I've often said so. In 
 these days " 
 
 "You will have to work as hard," said Hoffman, 
 raspingly. "From all this work I have received, as 
 my portion of the proceeds, my food, a place to sleep, 
 my clothes and a few friends." 
 
 "But, father! There have been other things! 
 Mother and us children!" 
 
 "Anna has kept my house, and kept it well."
 
 244 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 The boy chilled horribly at this and at the way his 
 father said it. Indeed it so alarmed him that he 
 could not make a protest. To hear his father speak 
 ing of his mother as if she had done nothing more 
 than keep his house! 
 
 "You and Beatrice have meant a great deal to me. 
 I loved you when you both were little babies. I have 
 always loved you. I have tried to prove it." 
 
 Now the boy was touched, but he remained as 
 speechless as he had in face of the indirect indict 
 ment of his mother. 
 
 There was a dread solemnity about this episode 
 which awed him. He could not remember ever hav 
 ing heard his father express love for him; he had 
 often been affectionate with Beatrice, but not with 
 him. Now, suddenly, he saw that many things had 
 evidenced a deep affection. 
 
 "You have proved it, dad." He choked a little as 
 he spoke. 
 
 "I'm glad you think so ... About things which 
 recently have happened . . . and ... of things 
 which are to happen . . . you will know more, will 
 understand more . . . later." 
 
 A sense of dread descended on the boy. "Which 
 are to happen!" What could that mean? 
 
 "Father . . . tell me?" he implored. 
 
 There was a silent pause of seconds. During it 
 the man's unwonted softness vanished. 
 
 "Attend to that new order of the Brigman Com 
 pany with more care than you gave the Mathews 
 order," he said gruffly and the conversation ended.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 245 
 
 When Harry had gone from the room, Hoffman 
 pulled the telephone across his desk and called for 
 Alston's office. 
 
 "Have you . . . seen Anna, yet?" he asked. 
 
 "I'm going now," said Alston. "Fred " 
 
 "Let me know when you get back." 
 
 The interruption was abrupt, brusque and intoler 
 ant. He hung up the receiver, and, within a minute, 
 was again buried in the detail of his work, the trans 
 fer of his interests to his wife, with Harry acting as 
 the general manager under Alston's supervision, the 
 winding up of his own direct connection with 
 the firm. Alston would be able to consult 
 with him and so things would go well, but be 
 yond that he wished to leave no link to bind him to 
 the past. 
 
 Alston walked to the red brick house among the 
 evergreens. His car was waiting at his office door, 
 but he had no wish to hasten on his tragic errand. 
 Indeed, even his footsteps lagged. His eyes saw 
 nothing of the streets through which he passed, his 
 heart throbbed as it had, he suddenly remembered, 
 when he had been a schoolboy and had been upon 
 the way to take an ordered thrashing. 
 
 "Mr. Alston, where is Fred?" said Anna, when 
 she came into the library to greet him. 
 
 "At the factory," he answered. "I have just left 
 him." 
 
 "Why does he not come home?" 
 
 He hesitated. "It is concerning that that I have
 
 346 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 come to see you, Anna." In late years he had rarely 
 used her first name. 
 
 This, and his manner, frightened her. "Tell 
 me . . . what is happening? Mr. Alston, what is 
 happening?" she asked. 
 
 Her placidity had not entirely gone; a lifelong 
 habit of smooth unexcitement will not fall into hys 
 teria in a day, or in a week, but he could see that a 
 furnace in tremendous turmoil seethed underneath 
 the surface calm. 
 
 "It is what I have come here to tell you," he said 
 sadly, "and, Anna, please believe me when I say 
 to you that never in my life has any duty seemed so 
 tragic." 
 
 "Tell me," she repeated, still repressed, but working 
 at a fold of her dress-skirt with nervous fingers. 
 
 "It almost seems to me as if I could not do it," 
 he replied, "and yet it must be done. Fred, Anna . . . 
 oh, Fred is not ... he is a sick man " 
 
 "Sick?" His word startled her. 
 
 "I do not mean in body, but in mind." 
 
 "You do not mean that Fred is ... break 
 ing " Her eyes were full of a new fright. 
 
 "No; I still fail to give my meaning. He is not 
 sick in body or in mind, but . . . sick in his soul!" 
 
 She leaned forward, white, puzzled, speechless. 
 
 "It is a sickness, Anna, please believe me; it is a 
 sickness. I think that as time passes he will find a 
 cure. If I did not look on it as sickness, if I did not 
 think he would be cured of it, I need not assure you, 
 Anna, that I would stand before him and denounce
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 him in such words as I have never used to any 
 man!" 
 
 Her terror palpably increased. 
 
 "You must understand that I have come here with 
 reluctance such as I have never known before; that 
 I have come here, dulled by horror such as I have 
 never felt before; that I have come here on an errand 
 which I would perform for no one but your husband, 
 and that in the world there is no house which I would 
 enter on an errand of this sort less willingly." 
 
 "Mr. Alston," she said weakly, "exactly what have 
 you to say to me?" 
 
 "Anna, Fred believes that he has been unhappy. 
 The mad obsession fills his mind that here in Belleville 
 he cannot find happiness; and " 
 
 "He wants to move away from Belleville?" She 
 was surprised, but not dismayed. 
 
 "Yes; he wants to move away from Belleville . . . 
 and he wants to go ... alone." 
 
 "Without taking . . . me? Of course, Harry 
 could not go ... Oh, what do you mean?" 
 
 "I have not the heart to tell you what I mean, 
 Anna; my tongue fails me; literally my brain reels 
 at the task. But, in advance, I must assure you that 
 I have talked with Fred as frankly as any man could 
 talk with any man, that I have used my last powers 
 of persuasion, that I have given up the task . . . de 
 feated." 
 
 She was breathless as she listened. 
 
 "Anna, Fred has asked me to come here to see 
 you and discuss . . . divorce."
 
 248 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Divorce?" Even now she did not sense this un 
 believable, this undreamed-of situation. "Divorce!" 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 "From . . . me?" 
 
 Again he bowed. 
 
 "But . . . why?" 
 
 Slowly, as tenderly as possible, he gave her the 
 reason. 
 
 "You mean that he ... Fred . . . loves . . . 
 her! Bettina? That . . . unfortunate . . . and 
 silly . . . girl?" 
 
 "To think he does is now a detail of his madness." 
 
 "It is impossible." 
 
 "It is impossible . . . but it is true." 
 
 "And he asks me, the mother of his children, his 
 companion for more than a quarter of a century, 
 his . . . wife ... to aid him and abet him in such 
 wicked folly? No, Mr. Alston, no!" 
 
 "It is all true, unhappily." 
 
 "And does he think I would so wrong my children, 
 so demean myself, harm him so terribly as to accede 
 to this insane request?" 
 
 Alston looked compassionately into her suffering 
 eyes, wide with their mingled incredulity and wild re 
 volt. 
 
 "Anna, it would be the simplest way, the best way. 
 You know Fred. You know he stops at nothing when 
 attempt is made to cross him. I I tremble when I 
 think of what he might do, if we did not yield to him. 
 I am sure he would not hesitate at open scandal . . . : 
 and we must think about " 
 
 "The children," she gasped, weakly.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 249 
 
 "Yes; we must think about the children; and we 
 must think about yourself. I have tried . . . but, I 
 have told you, and, if I had not told you, you would 
 know that I had tried. I have tried and I have 
 failed." 
 
 She had sunk back in her chair, to stare dully into 
 space with eyes which seemed to have acquired a 
 sort of glaze of horror. "Divorce!" she murmured 
 thickly. "Fred . . . and I ... divorced! Fred! Fred 
 and .../... oh ... God!" 
 
 "It is a nightmare," he admitted. 
 
 For a long time she said nothing, did not move a 
 muscle, and he made no effort to recall himself to her 
 attention. She was evidently trying desperately to 
 djust herself to this incredible development. 
 
 "Mr. Alston," she said dully, after a full quarter 
 of an hour had passed, "you must give me time to 
 think about this." 
 
 "Of course, Anna." 
 
 "Time to think about this." 
 
 "When shall I come again?" 
 
 "Time to think about this." The repetitions were 
 mechanical. "Then I shall send for you." 
 
 Like a woman walking in her sleep she rose, and, 
 without giving him another glance, glided from the 
 room. 
 
 It was as if a ghost walked. Her tall form was 
 rigid and her head up, while her eyes stared straight 
 ahead ; her feet found the way by instinct ; there was 
 scarcely any movement of her shoulders; she seemed 
 to progress without footsteps slowly from the room. 
 
 When Alston went into the hall he stepped with
 
 250 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 cautious softness, as instinctive as precautions against 
 noise are in a house of death. He walked with head 
 bowed, reverently, as one walks in a sanctuary. He 
 saw Barbie, dusting far back in the hall, and beck 
 oned to her, but, quickly, held a warning finger to 
 his lips, as, approaching, she would have spoken to 
 him. 
 
 His manner terribly alarmed her. "Mr. Alston!" 
 she gasped weakly. "Mr. Alston! Is anybody . . . 
 dead?" 
 
 "No; Barbie. But I want to speak to you a mo 
 ment." His voice was a husky whisper. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Alston . . . oh " 
 
 "Careful! Step into the library." 
 
 He took her arm and drew her with him into the 
 dim room. 
 
 "You must be very gentle with your mistress, very 
 thoughtful, very kind. She has been overtaken by 
 a great trouble by a trouble worse, to her, far worse, 
 than death could be." 
 
 "Oh ... oh ..." 
 
 "Careful! Remember ... we must think of her 
 and of her only. No one else is of importance, for 
 a time." 
 
 He told her, very simply, what the shadow was 
 which hung above that house, and stilled her outcry 
 when she learned its basic fact by a hand literally 
 held upon her lips. When she would have railed at 
 Hoffman he quieted her by speaking of him, as, in 
 deed he thought of him, as one who had gone mad 
 and merited the sad consideration which we give to
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 251 
 
 those thus smitten by the gods. When she began to 
 softly sob he gently placed his hand upon her shoul 
 der, with: 
 
 "Dear Barbie no; you must not even weep! Re 
 member! We must think of her, alone." 
 "Can't a body even cry?" 
 "No; it would but add to her distress." 
 She snuffled bravely, and, with a tremendous effort, 
 choked the sobs down from her throat. "All . . . 
 right, Mr. Alston." 
 
 "That's a good Barbie. And ... be good to 
 her!" 
 
 "Mr. Alston, I'd cut off my legs to please her." 
 He smiled. "It wouldn't please her, Barbie. Keep 
 your legs, and . . . keep your wits. Be good to 
 her." 
 
 With Harry, with whom he took a walk, in near 
 spring woods, after office hours that evening, he had 
 the hardest time of all, although the mental strain 
 of telling him was less, of course, than the interview 
 with Anna had demanded. 
 
 His difficulties with the youth were different. The 
 boy's emotions ran a frightful gamut. The crisis was 
 made doubly terrible, to him, because of his own feel 
 ing toward Bettina. He had believed himself to be 
 deeply, truly, and unalterably in love with her. He 
 had set her on that pedestal which, in the mind of 
 each clean-spirited youth, stands waiting to uphold 
 the figure of his ideal of womanhood. It was the 
 first of his illusions to be shattered, and the crash 
 racked him terribly. When to it was added the in-
 
 252 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 credible horror of the revelation of his father's plans, 
 his desertion of his mother, his departure from their 
 lives, the mental burden became almost more than 
 the poor youth could bear. 
 
 At first, in his fierce indignation, he wished to seek 
 his father out, denounce him, rend him, crush him. 
 "If he's done that to mother to my mother!" he 
 cried violently, "I'm going to punish him! I don't 
 care . . . that he's my father won't protect him. 
 Mr. Alston, I am going to kill him!" 
 
 "No, you're not, dear boy. What you're going to 
 do is buckle down and make your mother proud of 
 you. You're all she has, now, mind you! You and 
 Beatrice, at any rate. You wouldn't make her trou 
 bles any heavier than they are now, would you?" 
 
 "God knows I wouldn't!" said the boy, standing 
 in the dim grove, staring moodily at a log, half- 
 sunken in the ground and velvety with spring's soft 
 plush of tender green. 
 
 "Then brace up, boy . . . and be a man ! Re 
 member that your life has changed as wholly as if 
 you had been thrust into a brand-new world. Why, 
 Harry, you're the man of the house, from now on! 
 You must bear the new responsibilities with tact, with 
 dignity, with industry, with sense." 
 
 "I'll try to; but " 
 
 "The 'buts' in life . * . don't waste your 
 thought on them. Come home, now; your mother 
 needs you near her needs you very sorely, Harry." 
 
 "She'll always find me there!" 
 
 "Fine! Come along!"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 253 
 
 The undefended suit against Frederick Hoffman 
 shook Belleville to its deep foundations. Not dur 
 ing the decade had scandal struck so high in the 
 old, conservative community. But so carefully did 
 Alston handle it, with such adroitness did he keep 
 all details from the records, with such skill did he 
 seize each advantage of the statute, that when the 
 suit was ended and the decree entered, little, really, 
 had been told to satisfy the public curiosity. Anna 
 Hoffman had sued Frederick Hoffman for divorce 
 and won her suit. 
 
 That was all the world knew of it, and those who 
 chanced to catch a glimpse of Anna and they were 
 not many, she kept in a seclusion as complete as 
 possible gained little satisfaction for their morbid 
 curiosity from a study of her pale, immobile face. 
 Beatrice was not brought home from school, but 
 as soon as it was ended, Alston made the journey 
 to the convent to break the news to her. Harry took 
 his tasks up bravely and the world wagged almost 
 as before. 
 
 On the afternoon when she was handed the de 
 cree, Anna sat alone in her own room, which had 
 been darkened into yellow dusk by the close draw 
 ing of the shades. She held the folded paper in 
 her fingers, but did not open it, or even glance at 
 it. Harry rapped upon her door and called to her, 
 but she asked him to go downstairs and see her in 
 the morning. Barbie went up with a tray of dainty 
 food, her old face drawn with agony, her hands 
 tremulous, her footsteps tottering; and Anna did not
 
 254 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 grieve her by refusing it, but asked her to just put 
 it down and leave it; she would taste it, perhaps, 
 later. 
 
 When Barbie entered two hours later it remained 
 untasted, and she could see that Anna scarcely knew 
 that she was there. Mindful of Alston's warning 
 she choked back her sobs and took the tray out 
 softly. 
 
 She spent the night before her mistress' door, 
 sometimes walking up and down upon soft slippers, 
 cat-like, wringing her old hands in a dumb grief, 
 sometimes seated with disconsolate, drooping shoul 
 ders, in a stiff chair which she had softly carried to 
 a place near the door. It was just at dawn when 
 she heard Anna stirring and was instantly alert for 
 she knew not what catastrophe. She dared not enter, 
 but she listened at the door. 
 
 "Lord, God of Hosts," she heard. "Ah . . . 
 why hast Thou Forsaken me? Ah why? . . . 
 Ah why?" 
 
 There was a silence long and hard for Barbie to 
 endure, and then again the cry: 
 
 "Lord, God of Hosts, ah, why hast Thou for 
 saken me?" 
 
 Barbie started, frightened, as she heard a soft step 
 near her. Looking apprehensively across her shoulder 
 she saw Harry wrapped in a dressing-gown and in 
 his slippers, looking pale and haggard. 
 
 "What is it, Barbie?" the boy whispered. "Is 
 is anything the matter?" 
 
 "Oh, the poor, poor soul!" moaned Barbie. "The
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 255 
 
 poor soul! Listen, Mr. Harry . . . she is 
 praying?" 
 
 She put her hand upon his arm and in the gray, 
 chill morning they stood apprehensively, eaves 
 droppers because they loved the sufferer within. 
 
 "Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King and 
 my God: for unto thee will I pray! For thou art 
 not a God that hath pleasure in wickedness: neither 
 shall evil dwell with thee." 
 
 "She's reciting from the Psalms," said Barbie 
 brokenly. "God give her comfort!" 
 
 "Thou hatest all workers of iniquity," they heard 
 in the strange, wailing voice of her within, and 
 a little later, in an agony of pleading: "Be 
 cause of mine enemies make my way straight before 
 me!" 
 
 "I must go in to her," said Harry. 
 
 "Better not! No; better not," said Barbie. "Let 
 her fight it out in her own way. We have to, all of 
 us. She's getting help from someone stronger. 
 Listen!" 
 
 "Arise, O my Lord; save me, O my God. . . . 
 Hear me when I call, O God of my righteousness. 
 . . . Have mercy upon me and hear my prayer!" 
 they heard the weary, heartsick woman wail, her voice 
 a groan of agony. "Have mercy upon me, O Lord; 
 consider my troubles. . . . How long wilt Thou 
 forget me, O Lord? Forever? How long wilt thou 
 hide thy face from Me? . . . My God, my God, 
 why hast thou forsaken me? Why art thou so far 
 from helping me? O my God, I cry to thee in the
 
 256 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 daytime and thou hearest me not: and in the night 
 season thou art silent." 
 
 "All Psalms," said Barbie. "Every word is from 
 the Psalms." 
 
 For half an hour they crouched there, listening to 
 this crying of a soul in torment, unwilling to depart 
 from the cry's tragic radius, unwilling to invade the 
 sanctuary of the sufferer's grief. At length the voice 
 was weaker. 
 
 "She's tiring out poor soul!" Barbie whispered to 
 him. "Maybe she will go to sleep." 
 
 "Hush!" said Harry. 
 
 "O Lord, my strength and my redeemer! . . . 
 O Lord, my strength and my redeemer!" the voice 
 within monotonously repeated many times. 
 
 After that there was a long, cold silence which 
 frightened Harry dreadfully. He would have hur 
 ried in to break it had not Barbie held him back with : 
 "Mr. Harry, maybe she is getting now the answer 
 to her prayers." And presently they heard the weary 
 woman's voice intoning: 
 
 "The Lord is in his holy temple, the Lord's throne 
 is in Heaven, his eyes behold . . . the heavens 
 declare the glory of God, the firmament sheweth his 
 handiwork. " 
 
 "Hear? What did I tell you?" Barbie whispered, 
 "The peace of God is coming to her." 
 
 Ten minutes later in a different voice not triumph 
 ant, but no longer tragic; not without its solemn sor 
 row, but not that of a soul in torment as the voice had 
 been before, they heard Anna say:
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 25T 
 
 "Have mercy upon me, O Lord, for I am in 
 trouble: mine eye is consumed with grief; I am for 
 gotten ... I am like a broken vessel." 
 
 "Poor soul!" murmured Barbie. "Oh, poor soul!' r 
 
 Then, twenty minutes later, drowsily: "The Lord 
 is my rock and my fortress . . . my deliverer; 
 my God and my strength in which I will trust; He 
 . . . is ... my buckler. . . . For thou 
 art my rock . . . and my fortress; therefore 
 . . . for thy name's sake, lead me . . .. 
 guide me. . . ." 
 
 "He's helping her!" said Barbie reverently. 
 
 "Into thy hands ... I commit my spirit,. 
 O Lord God ... of truth," they heard at last 
 and then no more. 
 
 When, after a long period of silence, Barbie softly 
 entered, Anna was asleep. 
 
 "Go to bed now, Harry," she said softly, as she 
 came out of the room. "I've covered her all up. 
 She won't take cold. I'll wait and watch. You go 
 to bed and get a little rest. You've got your day's 
 work now to do each day, you know."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Alston was called away from Belleville shortly 
 after the conclusion of the divorce, rather to his re 
 lief, for the strain on him of that one case had 
 been far greater than the strain of any dozen he 
 had ever tried before. 
 
 For Anna's sake he had done what he could to 
 keep the procedure secret, but had found this im 
 possible, and, therefore, to her agony of mind over 
 the destruction of her happiness was added her in 
 credible distress at sight of her name hers, Anna 
 Hoffman's! blazoned largely in the public prints in 
 connection with a scandal. The press in these United 
 States is merciless, and it did not fail to take ad 
 vantage of this alienation of an elderly and rich 
 man's fancy by a young and pretty wanderer. 
 
 In Belleville itself, where through her good works, 
 Anna had become generally loved, where the news 
 papers were comparatively small and slack in "enter 
 prise," and where, especially, Alston's influence was 
 very great, not so very much was printed; but the 
 Buffalo dailies sent their special correspondents on 
 the first day of the trial, and upon the second day 
 two men and a woman reached Belleville from 
 New York, assigned by their editors to get all the 
 "human interest" they could from the unfortunate 
 
 258
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 259 
 
 affairs of this "up-state millionaire," his old-fash 
 ioned wife and the chic and clever, if unscrupulous, 
 New York girl, who had gone there as a companion 
 and gone away a favorite of fortune. 
 
 At this point in the affair Alston's indignation ran 
 so high that he wrote bitterly to Murfree, reproach 
 ing him for having told him good things of a girl 
 who had been capable of such performances. It was 
 long after the divorce suit ended before he had an 
 answer, and then Murfree discoursed cynically, deny 
 ing that he had, as Alston had implied, misrepre 
 sented the girl's character. He insisted that she was 
 a "good" girl in the one sense of the word which 
 is accepted in such matters, but that the fact that 
 she was emphatically unconventional had been plainly 
 indicated by the picture of her which he had pre 
 sented to the lawyer. 
 
 This utterly astounded Alston. Picture of her! 
 Murfree had given him one picture only and that had 
 been the one which, at the first glance, had so made 
 him shrink that he had thrust it deep into a drawer 
 and never looked at it again. Now, with reluctant 
 fingers, he drew it from its hiding place. 
 
 To the sophisticated, his procedure, after he had 
 done this, might have seemed amusing. He scarcely 
 glanced at the extremely pretty thing until the lower 
 four-fifths of the panel had been hidden with a hand 
 kerchief, and even after this was done, he held his 
 head, as he glanced downward, almost as timorously 
 as if he had been really afraid the little picture might 
 spring at him and bite him.
 
 260 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 But when, after the concealment of the figure 
 which offended him, he took a long look at the face, 
 he gasped. It was Bettina's ! 
 
 Ah, why had he not looked at it before? Ah, 
 why had he not looked at it in time? Had Fred 
 known this surely he never would have 
 
 For one moment he considered the advisability of 
 mailing the extremely pretty, but to him, extremely 
 shocking thing, to Hoffman, so that he might quite 
 appreciate the treasure for whose sake he had made 
 the sacrifice of wife and children, home and reputa 
 tion; but this impulse passed. 
 
 He still loved Fred, loved him, though he felt 
 that he had sinned beyond most men. If, sometimes, 
 when he sat in reverie in his lonely hotel room, he 
 tried to find excuses for his erring friend, his search 
 was due to what he knew of the man's youth of 
 unremitting grind, imposed upon him by a father who 
 considered work the only honor, money the only gain, 
 followed by the sort of early manhood logical to 
 this a period of terrific effort from which every 
 thing not laborious was barred by the necessities of 
 the increasing business which had become his heri 
 tage upon his father's death. And then he thought 
 of Hoffman's mother a gay creature, at the start, 
 gradually stunned into a disappointed maturity of 
 solemn domesticity, unnatural to her, but unescapa- 
 ble. Was not the son, with his two eccentricities of 
 years of unremitting toil, followed by this one, tre 
 mendous escapade, the logical outcome of this an 
 cestry ?
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 261 
 
 Occasionally he heard from him in queer, strained 
 correspondence which, endeavoring to be light and 
 airy, instead was little less than tragic to the shrewd 
 eyes of the lawyer. The letters said the man had 
 found fine happiness in his transplanting; that while 
 the rest from business had come late in life, it still 
 was most agreeable; that his young wife had shown 
 him many details of the lightsome side of life which 
 he had scarcely known existed. 
 
 These matters were passed over briefly, and, 
 Alston was convinced, referred to with reluctance. 
 The balance of the correspondence always dealt with 
 business, making inquiries as to how things were 
 progressing in the Belleville factory, offering sugges 
 tions, always of the utmost value to Harry, Valen 
 tine and himself, and closing ever with a brief re 
 quest to Alston to assure his son when he should 
 see him, and his daughter, when he wrote to her, 
 that their father loved them, missed them, wished 
 them very well. The letters never mentioned Anna. 
 
 At first the lawyer answered these communications 
 tersely, going into necessary details of the business, 
 praising Harry when he could, urging the advance 
 of Valentine, telling briefly about Beatrice, her needs 
 and progress, and adding some slight gossip of the 
 town, to make his writing seem less formal than, 
 for a time, he felt impelled to make it. Later, when 
 he thought he read between the lines of Hoffman's 
 letters real anxiety, when, now and then, a word or 
 two which he was sure had crept in unawares, seemed 
 to suggest dissatisfaction with things as they were
 
 262 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 and homesickness for the old era, he was more mer 
 ciful, and went into details, even enclosing the chatty 
 letters Beatrice often wrote to him. Once he re 
 membered and dictated to a stenographer a long 
 extract from a letter she had written to her mother 
 and which Anna had permitted him to see, telling 
 of her triumphs in her school. 
 
 Both son and daughter wrote to their father now 
 and then; they wished to, and even if they had not, 
 Anna would have asked it of them, but Alston 
 shrewdly guessed their letters to be constrained and 
 labored how could they fail to be? and was cer 
 tain Beatrice had said but little in them of her nota 
 ble scholastic victories. 
 
 Thus he kept up a fairly brisk correspondence 
 with the exile; he had by no means lost his love for 
 him; he helped to train his son into a clever and 
 devoted business man; once, during the first long 
 vacation after the divorce, he tried to make the mud 
 dled matter clear to Beatrice. 
 
 But he never went to see Fred when he went to 
 New York City, never even notified him of his pres 
 ence there. He felt that he could not endure to 
 see Bettina, feared that should he see her he might 
 say something offensive, dreaded lest in case he 
 calle.d upon his friend he might uncork the vials of 
 his wrath and again pour out upon his head a flood 
 of indignation. That would be foolish. The worst 
 which possibly could happen had happened. Silence 
 was the best course now. 
 
 Anna was the greatest sufferer, of course, although
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 263 
 
 after that one dreadful night not even Barbie heard 
 any plaint from her. But for many months her 
 bodily strength so suffered that she could not go 
 about, and when that had been remedied she found 
 her mental strength insufficient to permit meetings 
 with old friends. She felt that she could not be seen 
 in the society of the little city without an effort so 
 tremendous that it would bend her to the breaking 
 point and time did not remove this strong reluctance. 
 She became almost a recluse. 
 
 Of course all gossip of the case was hushed when 
 she was near, and in these days even little cities 
 are sufficiently accustomed to sensations to grow 
 quickly tired of stale ones; but even at a year's 
 end she found herself incapable of resuming her 
 old activities in church and charity. It began 
 to seem advisable for her to move away from 
 Belleville, and Alston started on a search for a new 
 home for her, finding one at length at Stillfield, 
 within trolley distance of the factory, but far enough 
 away to offer Anna a new circle of neighbors, a new 
 church. It was with real difficulty that she kept her 
 self from buying mourning clothes before she went 
 to look at it. 
 
 She felt, indeed, that Fred had died. She told 
 herself ten thousand times that the real Fred had 
 died. She was saved the horror which would have 
 tortured many woman, had they been placed as she 
 was, of trying to imagine him set in his new environ 
 ment the continual companion of the girl she had 
 dismissed, making new friends, learning new ele-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 fancies for her imagination halted, baffled, at the 
 effort to create such pictures. She could only think 
 of him as she had known him, and as the months 
 passed she only thought of him as she had known 
 him in those years before irascibility had grown into 
 a habit with him, when he had sometimes been the 
 lover as he had been, indeed, when the children 
 had been little. 
 
 Thus Anna Hoffman seemed truly to be widowed 
 seemed, to her own mind, to have been bereaved 
 by death. And the little city tried to be considerate. 
 She was treated as a widow should be by her friends ; 
 but she was glad to get away from it. 
 
 The first year changed her greatly in appearance, 
 whitening her hair, giving her face the age-trans 
 parence which should not make marked it for an 
 other ten or fifteen years, making her a little feeble; 
 but this did not increase. Indeed, the second year 
 brought some recovery of strength, and after this 
 slight gain, she reached a period of calm the calm of 
 resignation sweetened by the wish to make her chil 
 dren happy and assist all those who came to her for 
 lielp. 
 
 Frederick Hoffman and Bettina had taken up their 
 residence in New York City, where they had been 
 married very quietly by a magistrate, and great was 
 the rejoicing thereat in the Amsterdam Avenue flat. 
 William, the bride's brother, declared vulgarly that 
 the family at last had found an "angel" and that 
 he hoped Bettina would not be a "tight-wad." She 
 was not. Penuriousness formed no part of her deal-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 265 
 
 ing with her family or with herself. "For rent" 
 signs soon appeared in the flat windows and were 
 taken down from windows in a more expensive 
 domicile which overlooked the Park, the little sister 
 was sent straightway to a "College of Dramatic Art;" 
 Bettina paid her brother's gambling debts and started 
 him upon a fresh career of gaming, dressed in new 
 and very gorgeous clothing! Mamma Curtis was 
 arrayed as never were the lilies of the field, and 
 ceased the little toiling which had previously been 
 forced upon her. 
 
 Nor were blood relations the only beneficiaries of 
 Bettina's advantageous marriage. Her stepfather 
 was packed off to a sanitarium where he was urged 
 to give up alcohol, but permitted to absorb enough 
 to keep the habit fastened on him for Frederick 
 Hoffman's wife paid his bills promptly, although she 
 shrewdly made it understood that they must not be 
 large. Generous as Hoffman was, she found it easily 
 possible to outstrip his generosity with her expendi 
 tures on clothes and other of the new extravagancies 
 which she quickly learned to crave. Of her bene 
 ficiaries, last but by no means least, Mr. Theodore 
 Sevigny, engaged to instruct Bettina in the higher 
 branches of the musical art, not only found much 
 profit through this, which enabled him to bloom forth 
 in highly-tailored raiment and to change his address, 
 but was supplied with plausible excuses for frequent 
 visits to the Hoffman menage. 
 
 That these visits were, for the most part, at hours 
 when Frederick was not at home, was, Bettina care-
 
 266 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 fully explained to her husband, the fine result of her 
 unselfishness. She was sure the noise of music- 
 lessons would annoy him. When he expressed some 
 doubts of this, she bade him test one of these periods 
 of efforts and he did so. 
 
 He never afterward expressed the slightest wish 
 to make a third member of the party when Bettina 
 and her music master were engaged on her harmonic 
 education. She had hinted carefully to Theodore, 
 and with him had risen to the occasion. The young 
 maestro's frenzied criticism of her, his wild protests 
 when he claimed she had sung flat, played sharp or 
 erred otherwise, drove Hoffman to the verge of mad 
 ness, impelled him from the flat at a high speed, con 
 vinced him that Sevigny only little less than loathed 
 Bettina and was animated by none but mercenary 
 motives when he tendered her his services. He was 
 partly right. Sevigny certainly was mercenary, but 
 other impulses stirred in him when his eyes rested on 
 Bettina. 
 
 It is said that New York City, of all places in 
 the world, is the hardest to make friends in. It is 
 the easiest in which to make acquaintances. If they 
 have cleverness, newcomers may select, according to 
 their varying tastes, approximately that set with 
 which they wish to foregather, provided always that 
 they are in funds. If they cannot enter the real set 
 to which their aspirations point, they can quickly find 
 an imitation of it shrewd enough to baffle all but 
 expert eyes, and Hoffman's eyes were not expert. 
 
 His wife quickly built a life for them which dined
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 267 
 
 them in the most expensive restaurants, and there 
 found acquaintances to bow to (and buy dinners 
 for), which gave them guests for their elaborate 
 house affairs and got them invitations to affairs of 
 other people in like case and quite as gaudy, which 
 made the keeping of two motors a necessity, which 
 furnished well-dressed men and women in profusion 
 for card-parties, at which the wines and the cigars 
 and cigarettes were fine and plentiful, and at which, 
 upon occasion, the host and hostess gracefully lost 
 money. 
 
 It was an enormous change for Hoffman, and at 
 first he liked it, for it was a whirl. A whirl, a very 
 rapid whirl, was necessary for his own distraction 
 from consideration of the past, far and immediate. 
 
 But he soon discovered this mad pursuit of pleasure 
 to be by no means a light thing; that the obligations 
 of the "idle rich" (especially their obligation to their 
 young and handsome wives) may become as onerous 
 as any work the human mind has ever planned for 
 human energy to do; that pleasure may become an 
 effort, gaiety a task. The hardest task of all, he 
 found, is idleness. 
 
 He had been six months Bettina's husband before 
 he learned to lie abed of mornings, whether or not 
 the night before had been extended into the small 
 hours; he had been her husband close upon a year 
 before he was quite reconciled to the vast wardrobe 
 she required of him; and calmness 'neath the touch 
 of manicures, habituation to the semi-daily shave, 
 subjection to a valet were great trials.
 
 268 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 But her bright eyes shone for him, her chattering 
 tongue flattered him, her young arms held him close 
 when he had been unusually generous of funds or 
 satisfying actions, the whole thing was novel, so he 
 urged and half -convinced himself that, finally, he 
 was enjoying life. 
 
 Nevertheless it was with a thrill of almost boyish 
 joy that he heard Alston's voice one morning. His 
 old friend and lawyer was inquiring for him in the 
 thin hall which strung along the side of the high- 
 priced apartment. Up to that moment he had been 
 extremely sleepy ; the night before had marked a new 
 notch in Bettina's social progress, and the gaieties 
 had continued until very late. And after the de 
 parture of the guests it had required much petting 
 by Bettina to put him in good humor, for at one point 
 in the evening, it had occurred to him that the func 
 tion had been cleverly designed to thrust the merits 
 of an opera composed by Theodore Sevigny into the 
 attention of those influential in such matters, and he 
 did not like Sevigny. 
 
 Almost as soon as he had married, this man had 
 appeared on his horizon; he had been coming nearer 
 ever since. His hair offended him and his manner 
 racked his nerves; but he had been glad enough to 
 have Bettina study music with him she had assured 
 him that Sevigny was a notable maestro and he had 
 no means of knowing otherwise for it seemed to 
 entertain her, and very early in their matrimonial 
 career he had learned that she required much enter 
 tainment.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 269 
 
 But Sevigny later had grown to be among the 
 chiefest of his worries, of which the others were all 
 members of his young wife's family three of them 
 each at times more worrisome than all the rest, 
 and all at times most worrisome. He had almost 
 rebelled when it had been decided that Mamma Cur 
 tis was to live with them, but Bettina's wrath had 
 cowed him. 
 
 In the past he had had slight experience with 
 women's wrath. During his life with Anna wrath, 
 had been his own monopoly. He had flared at every 
 one from time to time; no one had ever flared at 
 him. Now it was far otherwise. Very early in his 
 second married life he had learned the foolishness 
 of flaring at Bettina. She did not take it nicely. 
 The pathos of the poor, helpless girl, whom he had 
 so forcefully defended against Anna, had wholly 
 disappeared. He had tried, one day, to understand 
 this, and suddenly, in response to his slow search 
 for an explanation, he had found the true one. She 
 was no longer poor and helpless! But it surprised 
 him somewhat, and very much distressed him to 
 observe that he, the very person who had rescued 
 her from those conditions, was the very person who 
 most suffered through her metamorphosis. 
 
 Yes; it would be a definite delight to see old 
 Alston; yet he half -dreaded meeting him, for he had 
 a tendency to feel uncomfortable when he encountered 
 anyone who knew of his old life in Belleville and 
 the woman he had left behind there; but it had been 
 Alston who had put the divorce through under
 
 270 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 pressure, it is true, but still he had put it through 
 and so he could not think of him as entirely a critic.: 
 He hurried in his dressing, mumbling fierce words 
 as he did so, for his room was cluttered with un 
 usual furniture. The greater number of the smaller 
 pieces which would have obstructed the previous 
 night's crush in the drawing-room, had been thrust 
 into his chamber. In consequence, it was with diffi 
 culty that he found his clothes. 
 
 He managed, with a patent safety-razor, to ac 
 complish a quick shave, but he could not get in range 
 of his small shaving mirror without climbing over 
 a fauteuil and several gilt chairs, so he grasped his 
 bottle of Florida water in one hand and his little 
 vial of brilliantine in the other, deciding to go out 
 to Alston as he was. He could use them before one 
 of the mirrors in the ornate room beyond after he 
 had greeted his old friend. 
 
 He was really surprised to find with what a thrill 
 of joy the mere sound of the lawyer's voice had 
 filled him. Dear old Alston! He had missed him, 
 perhaps more than any other of the details of his 
 Belleville life except the children, and there had been 
 many others which left astonishingly painful voids 
 in his heart. 
 
 "Why, Alston! I'll be right with you," he called 
 through the door, after he had heard the maid explain 
 to him that Mr. Hoffman could see no one, being 
 still asleep; had heard Alston's mild expression of 
 surprise that this should be the case at eleven a. m., 
 and had heard the maid explain, ill-naturedly, that
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 271 
 
 merriment had reigned the night before until after 
 three. Confound that maid! He'd like to send her 
 packing but Bettina well, he had learned better 
 than to interfere in such affairs! 
 
 "Don't hurry on my account," said Alston. "I've 
 got loads of time." 
 
 In the meantime Alston was left quite alone. A 
 sharp voice which he recognized as Bettina's called 
 the maid into another room. He could not fail to 
 hear the colloquy ensuing, and it enlightened him. 
 He had expected such enlightenment, soon or late. 
 
 "Why don't you answer when I ring?" the voice 
 said ill-naturedly. 
 
 "I was busy, Madame," was the maid's reply, and 
 it was uttered without much respect, he thought. 
 
 "Get my bath ready, and I'll wear my pink negligee. 
 . . . Stupid!" 
 
 "Very well, Madame." 
 
 "Idiot!" 
 
 Alston smiled unhappily and looked about the 
 room. 
 
 "You'll find cigars on my desk, Alston," Hoffman 
 called to him. But when he looked into the desk 
 nothing but an empty box was there. 
 
 He looked about him with a good deal of curiosity. 
 It was eleven in the morning, yet the room had not 
 been straightened after the night's festivities. A 
 champagne cooler stood under the piano with an 
 empty bottle in it; in one of the chairs a dainty, 
 much be-ruffled woman's under petticoat had been 
 cast carelessly.
 
 272 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Guess I won't smoke," he thought somewhat rue 
 fully, for he had forgotten to refill his case that 
 morning. "They must have had a busy night herel 
 Fred evidently is enjoying life as he could not in 
 Belleville!" He did not think of this as very much 
 to Fred's advantage from the looks of things, or 
 from the tones of the new Mrs. Hoffman's voice. 
 He was wondering if this sort of thing could be 
 agreeable to his friend when his reflections were cut 
 short by the entrance of that friend himself. 
 
 He wore a house-coat of embroidered plush, his 
 trousers were immaculately creased; in his left hand 
 he bore two vials, one small, one larger, and it was 
 from them that the odor which reminded Alston of a 
 high-class barber-shop emanated. 
 
 "How are you? I'm so glad to see you!" cried 
 Hoffman cordially. "So you've come to see me at 
 last! That's very nice of you." 
 
 Alston smiled at him and watched him as he placed 
 the bottles on a little table, beginning instantly to use 
 their contents. The odor of the high-class barber 
 shop became intense. 
 
 "You don't mind my finishing here?" said Hoff 
 man. 
 
 "Not at all, but I could just as well have gone 
 into your room with you." 
 
 "No; we couldn't do it. It's in an awful state." 
 He explained that it had been in use as coat-room, 
 and was crowded with shelves and hat-racks. 
 
 "Your room!" Alston was astonished. In the old 
 days it had never been the master of the house who
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 273 
 
 suffered inconveniences of that sort. But he tried 
 not to seem surprised. "Oh," he responded care 
 lessly, "I see." 
 
 For five minutes then they talked somewhat con 
 strainedly. Neither was particularly comfortable; 
 each was very glad to see the other; but it was diffi 
 cult to find a common ground for conversation which 
 would certainly be safe. Finally : 
 
 "Well, Alston, what brings you here?" 
 
 "Oh, business partly," said the lawyer, "but most 
 of all an irresistible desire to see you again, old man; 
 to hear from your own lips that you're enjoying your 
 newly- found happiness." 
 
 Hoffman was not quite at ease. "That's very nice 
 of you." 
 
 "Judging from appearances," said Alston gaily 
 with a glance about the room, "you're having the time 
 of your life." Then he looked at him as he stood 
 before a mirror, working with his bottles. "And 
 there's an atmosphere of youth about you that is- 
 positively refreshing." With an effort not to show 
 his tolerant amusement he ran his eyes down over 
 his friend's figure and its highly elegant habiliments. 
 "And such a swell! One would hardly recognize 
 you." 
 
 "Thank you," said Hoffman laughing and a little 
 flattered. "You know, Alston, a man gets rusty up 
 there in the country." 
 
 Alston nodded without much conviction; the 
 thought was flitting through his mind that a bit of 
 what Fred evidently now thought "rust" would be
 
 274 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 more fitting to a man of Hoffman's age and training 
 than the very glittering polish which he seemed to 
 have acquired. It was a sort of nickel-plated Hoff 
 man he had found. He liked him less than the old 
 Hoffman, even though the old one had been far less 
 shiny. Why, Fred had even picked up something 
 of the New York accent! He softened down his 
 "r's" and drawled his "a's" a little. 
 
 "But in this gay city/' the subject of his thoughts 
 went on, "and at the side of my young and charm 
 ing wife " 
 
 "So you are really happy?" 
 
 "Of course I am." 
 
 "Well, that's the main thing." 
 
 Hoffman wished to ask about affairs in Belleville, 
 but was hesitant. Alston felt quite sure of this. He 
 did not get his courage to the point until the tying 
 of his cravat gave him an excuse to look away from 
 Alston while he made his inquiries. 
 
 "Now tell me, Alston, what's the news at home?" 
 he asked when his face was fully turned away. 
 
 "Excellent," said Alston. "Harry and Valentine 
 have buckled to in earnest since you have been away ; 
 but of course you know that. The reports have shown 
 you " 
 
 "Yes; they're doing well." 
 
 "I should think you'd miss the business sometimes, 
 Fred. You used to be so wrapped up in it so full 
 of your work. I should think that this inactive 
 life " 
 
 "If you think I'm any the less active now than I
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 275 
 
 was there, you are mistaken," Hoffman answered 
 gaily. "I have a whole lot to do " 
 
 "With no business to attend to? For heaven's 
 sake what?" 
 
 Hoffman went to a small writing desk, taking from 
 it an engagement book. "Here! Listen to this 
 week's program. And my wife, mind you, carries it 
 out strictly. To-morrow, for example, we go to the 
 automobile races on Long Island. Then we dine 
 out, for a wonder ! I've been giving many dinners 
 they're such fun, you know ! In the evening we have 
 a theater party, and after that a supper at Sherry's. 
 The next day we lunch with Hemlich she's the new 
 contralto at the opera, you know and in the after 
 noon we go to a reception at Count Deveaux's studio. 
 Then, of course, there comes the Horse Show in the 
 evening." He closed the little book. "That's the way 
 it goes. Formerly, you see, work was my pleasure; 
 now pleasure is my work." 
 
 "Hard work sometimes, too, I reckon." Alston 
 smiled quizzically. "Well, youth must have its 
 fling." 
 
 Fred was really pleased. So constantly had 
 Bettina harped on the necessity that he keep him 
 self in juvenile condition that he found this refer 
 ence of Alston's comforting. He was dimly conscious 
 that by this very pleasure he might lose caste in 
 Alston's eyes, but some of his bygone ideals were 
 rather dim in his mind now. In the moment of his 
 elation he applied a few drops from the smaller bottle 
 to his heavy mat of graying hair.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 "That's what I've come for," the lawyer answered 
 cheerfully, as glad to change the subject as his host 
 was. "He's going to get married." 
 
 "Married! Harry! It does not seem possible! 
 Still, at his age I go on, Alston." 
 
 "His fiancee is that dear little Miss Dorothy 
 Mason, a sweet girl, of a good old family. She's an 
 orphan, you remember, and her guardian is Senator 
 Stephenson. He's her uncle." 
 
 Hoffman nodded. "I've known him for many 
 years. A fine old gentleman ! I am really glad." He 
 spoke slowly now and very thoughtfully. "With all 
 my heart I hope Harry will be happy." 
 
 "The foundation for it certainly is there. They 
 love each other very dearly." Alston paused an in 
 stant. "Of course no one can foretell the future." 
 
 His friend glanced sharply at him and he could 
 have bitten his tongue. He was beginning to feel 
 sorry for old Fred. "Senator Stephenson wishes to 
 see you about " 
 
 There came another interruption. It seemed that 
 never would he be permitted to tell his simple little 
 story in this extraordinary household. This time the 
 break was due to the abrupt intrusion of a rather 
 
 286
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 277 
 
 "You don't mean it!" Hoffman was very much 
 surprised. "She was a nice woman, too and such 
 an excellent housekeeper!" 
 
 "Perhaps that's why he tired of her," said Alston 
 with some malice. 
 
 "Have a cigar?" said Hoffman somewhat hurriedly 
 and turned away to search for one. 
 
 He found empty boxes only. There must be, 
 among Bettina's guests, he sometimes thought, those 
 who filled their pockets with his perfectos. They 
 consumed enormous quantities of them. But stowed 
 in a secret chamber of his desk were half a dozen, 
 and he brought them out. 
 
 "They surely punished my cigars last night," he 
 said a little ruefully, "but I always have a few where 
 they cannot get at them. Astonishing how some men 
 smoke! But we are surrounded here by a very in-* 
 teresting circle. My wife's old friends principally." 
 
 "Of course," said Alston, again feeling the con 
 straint on him. "Don't you smoke a pipe at all in 
 these days?" 
 
 "Oh, no; Bettina doesn't like it. It's all very well 
 in the country, she says, but not here. Alston, I 
 got to be a regular farmer there in Belleville. Why, 
 I change my clothes three times a day down here!" 
 
 "What a lot of trouble at your age!" 
 
 "Yes; it is," Hoffman granted. "But Bettina says 
 that as a man grows older he ought to be especially 
 careful about his appearance. She draws my atten 
 tion to everything." 
 
 Alston looked at him almost with pity. The man 
 seemed to be half proud of the confession that a
 
 * THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 petticoat was ruling him Fred Hoffman, who had 
 been the terror of the house in Belleville! It was 
 pathetic. 
 
 "For instance," Hoffman continued gravely, filling 
 him with new surprise with every word, "she has 
 thought it best for me to give up my after-dinner 
 naps, because they made me stout. The older a 
 man is, she says, the better figure he should have. 
 No matter how tired I may be, she thinks I ought 
 to leave my nap out . . . and sees to it that I 
 do ... that is, helps me to see to it. She's 
 been sending me on errands after dinner to break 
 me of the habit." 
 
 "How considerate of her!" 
 
 Hoffman looked sharply at him. Was he making 
 game of him? But the lawyer's face, trained before 
 jury-boxes, was inscrutable. 
 
 "Yes, it really is, although it may not sound so," 
 Hoffman went on earnestly, somewhat annoyed be 
 cause he found himself defending her, where he had 
 only meant to praise. But he could not stop it, now 
 that he had started. He felt that in his praise of 
 her he must find, to some extent, the justification 
 of his act in wedding her. "Oh," he said eagerly, 
 "I could tell you many other little things. She's 
 very careful of me. She doesn't allow me to be 
 troubled with any household details. When I think 
 of how they used to torture me at home in Belle 
 ville with: 'what do you want for dinner?' 'would 
 you like chops for breakfast?' 'shall we have tea or 
 icoffee for lunch to-day?' I "
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 279 
 
 "And now," said Alston with a queer look which 
 bothered him, "nobody asks you! What a relief it 
 must be!" 
 
 Hoffman again was just a little doubtful as to 
 whether he had made his point. 
 
 "Well . . . yes. And Bettina pays the bills, 
 too. I just give her the money and all that is taken 
 care of for me. There in Belleville, why, I had to 
 sign all checks. But say, Alston, life in New York 
 City is expensive!" 
 
 "So I've heard." 
 
 "But she saves expenses in the household. You 
 have no idea how much cheaper we've been living 
 since we've not had a cook." 
 
 Alston was surprised. He could scarcely credit 
 this. "Your wife does the cooking ?" 
 
 "Great Scott, no! We have our meals sent in 
 from Sherry's!" 
 
 Alston knew about Sherry's one of the most 
 expensive restaurants on earth. He gave up hope of 
 Fred. He must have been entirely brought into sub 
 jection. "How very clever!" was his comment. 
 
 "It really is. They're close by and such delicious 
 cooking!" 
 
 "But rich food, Fred, at our age " 
 
 "Oh, there are a lot of things they send which I 
 can't eat! But my wife says they're all delicious. 
 And so cheap!" 
 
 "Yes," said the lawyer tersely. "Sherry is known 
 for his moderate charges." He looked about the ele 
 gant, but nondescript apartment part library, part
 
 280 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 drawing-room, part music-room, part, if the presence 
 of some female finery of the more intimate sort could 
 be taken as an evidence, Bettina's dressing-room. 
 "What room is this, anyway?" 
 
 "Well, these New York flats, even when they rent 
 as high as this does I pay five thousand dollars for 
 it " 
 
 "Five thousand dollars rent?" 
 
 "Yes; that's cheap for this location. But the best 
 of them are crowded. They're not like big houses in 
 the country. This room is almost anything, but I 
 call it my study." 
 
 "Your study?" Alston reached behind him and 
 drew from the silver cooler, in which the melted 
 ice had left an inch or two of water, the empty 
 champagne bottle, evidently a relic of the night be 
 fore. "Is this one of your studies?" He smiled 
 whimsically at his old friend. 
 
 Hoffman was annoyed because the room had not 
 been cleaned, but tried to hide it. "What an idea! 
 With my tendency toward gout? Bettina wouldn't 
 let me drink champagne, even if I wanted to!" 
 
 There seemed to be a lengthy list of things, thought 
 Alston, which Bettina would not let him do. "But 
 she drinks it, doesn't she?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; she's very fond of it. And her 
 guests " 
 
 "They like it, too. I see." The lawyer settled 
 down, anxious not to let Fred see the look of real 
 astonishment and pity which swept across his face. 
 "Well, Fred, I can see that you are contented and
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 281 
 
 happy. And that's fine." He paused : "But oh, what 
 a nightmare those divorce proceedings were! It cost! 1 
 a great deal of er worry; but I suppose all this 
 is worth it. Eh?" 
 
 Hoffman did not answer very promptly. "Yes," 
 he said at length, although his eyes evaded Alston's. 
 "Happiness has its price. We must pay for what 
 we get, in one way or another." 
 
 He did not like the subject and changed it with 
 a good deal of abruptness. And there was some 
 thing which he had intended to discuss with some 
 New York attorney. Now that Alston was at hand, 
 he would talk with him about it. 
 
 "By the way, talking about paying, my wife has a 
 stepfather, or some such relative now down south 
 in Richmond. Lately he's been pestering her for 
 money. I don't like to talk to her about him, be 
 cause it makes her nervous. I wish you'd look him 
 up for me, and find out just exactly who and what 
 he is. A sort of black sheep in her family. She's 
 been sending five hundred dollars to him at a time. 
 Her tender heart, you know . . . but " 
 
 Alston's face grew hard. "Her tender heart did 
 not prevent her from insisting upon very handsome 
 settlements from you when you were married!" 
 
 "That," said Hoffman, quick to rise in her de 
 fense, "was her mother's work; entirely her mother's. 
 I assure you that Bettina never thinks of money. It 
 means nothing to her. She really cares for me 
 . . . it's true, Alston! She's so sweet . . . 
 so gentle "
 
 282 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 By one of those unhappy chances with which this 
 life is full, the sweet and gentle lady's voice rose 
 at that instant, speaking to her maid in the adjoining 
 room. One difficulty of New York life is that flats 
 hide family secrets very slightly. They make frank 
 revelations. "You stupid fool!" Bettina was exclaim 
 ing, and her voice seemed hard, and not well-bred. 
 "I asked you for the blue dressing-gown." 
 
 "But " 
 
 There came the staccato sound of a sharp concus 
 sion, as if a hand had landed on a cheek, and none too 
 gently. An instant later a flushed and angry servant 
 dashed into the room, her eyes upon the partly opened 
 door through which she had made entrance. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" said Hoffman, very 
 much annoyed. 
 
 "Madame slapped me!" said the maid upon the 
 verge of wrathful tears. 
 
 "A very quiet room to work in and she must be 
 very sweet and very gentle!" Alston reflected sadly 
 as he watched Fred's embarrassed face. But he pre 
 tended to have been deaf to all the somewhat startling 
 byplay. 
 
 "We're a bit upset to-day," Hoffman told him as 
 he came back to his seat, trying to seem undisturbed. 
 "But my wife will soon be here. She's always up 
 and about by twelve." 
 
 "So early? Well, before she comes I'd like to talk 
 of family matters with you." 
 
 "Family matters?" 
 
 "Concerning Harry. "
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 383 
 
 "Oh, really? What is it?" Hoffman instantly 
 was deeply interested. 
 
 Indeed it seemed to Alston, as he glanced at him, 
 that he was almost pathetically eager. He wondered 
 how much he had missed that family which he had 
 so readily given up in favor of this woman who 
 never asked him what he wished for lunch, whose 
 stepfather bled him, and who slapped servants! 
 
 "Well, Harry " 
 
 Abruptly, without knocking or any warning what 
 soever, a young man strode into the room. He was 
 tall, well-dressed, with flowing hair which undulated 
 as he strode, with long, exceedingly white fingers, 
 with a deep frown upon his brow. 
 
 Alston looked at him with real amazement ; he noted 
 that his friend looked at him only with annoyance. 
 Could he be accustomed to invasions of the sort? 
 Was it possible that Frederick Hoffman, the intoler 
 ant, the gruff, the cynical, had been tamed till he 
 would tolerate this sort of intrusion by this sort of 
 intruder ? 
 
 "Excuse me," said the apparition, without any 
 signs that, really, he wished to be excused, or thought 
 an excuse necessary. "The piano-tuner is waiting 
 outside." With no further greeting he passed, in 
 what appeared to be abstract excitement, to the hand 
 some instrument which held the center of the room 
 and tapped some of its keys, listening critically to 
 the resulting sound. 
 
 Hoffman rose angrily. "What the dev " he 
 
 began, but caught himself. "Alston," he said with
 
 284 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 great restraint, "this is Mr. Theodore Sevigny, my 
 wife's music teacher." 
 
 "Theodore Sevigny?" Where had Alston heard 
 that name? Ah, he remembered! He had a won 
 drous memory for names. This one had been men 
 tioned by old Murfree long ago when he had spoken 
 of the undesirable who annoyed him by pursuing 
 some young model the model of the very picture he 
 had given him and which he had so quickly hidden 
 with such an absurd delicacy. What a little world ! 
 
 He bowed, but the music teacher scarcely noted it. 
 He was resentful of the wording of the introduction. 
 "And friend," he made correction. "I teach only as 
 a great favor." He rolled the "r" in "great" remark 
 ably. "I teach only as a favor, and where I feel that 
 there is a div-vine accord. You understand?" With 
 that he dismissed Alston utterly and turned again to 
 Hoffman with real accusation in his voice. "Your 
 piano was distressingly out of tune last night. It 
 must be tuned at once." 
 
 "Tell the tuner to come back later," said Hoffman 
 irritably. "I can't have that noise here now." 
 
 Sevigny was first amazed, then most indignant. 
 "Oh, very well!" he said excitedly. "But I shall tell 
 Mrs. Hoffman that I shall not play another note on 
 this piano until it is in tune." 
 
 "What a calamity!" There was a touch of the 
 old sarcasm in the Hoffman voice as it said this. 
 
 Alston tried not to smile, but Sevigny's deep aston 
 ishment was unmistakable. Alston wondered if it 
 might not be that Fred was taking courage because
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 287 
 
 fat old woman, gorgeously attired, in a fashion which 
 would have better fitted one of half her age. 
 
 "My dear Frederick," she was exclaiming as she 
 pattered on her short legs into their presence. "I " 
 
 She saw Alston and stopped suddenly, trying to 
 appear to be embarrassed. It was a failure. The 
 days when she could even seem to be embarrassed 
 had evidently passed. "Oh, pardon me!" 
 
 Hoffman rose and introduced them. "My friend 
 and attorney, Mr. Alston my mother-in-law, Mrs. 
 Curtis." 
 
 Alston, now also on his feet, bowed formally. 
 
 The vision of unwilling antiquity her garb was 
 girlish, though her chin was not advanced upon the 
 lawyer, endeavoring to combine sweetness with a 
 flavoring of biting sarcasm. "Oh, Mr. Alston! At 
 last I have the pleasure of actually seeing the wicked 
 man who treated my poor daughter so unkindly." 
 
 "In what way?" The attorney was astonished. 
 
 "In drawing up the papers at the time she married 
 Frederick. You were so unkind to her! Almost 
 everything for the 'dear family !' ' 
 
 "But why all this now?" Hoffman interrupted, 
 much annoyed. 
 
 "I did my duty as the friend and the attorney of 
 both sides," said Alston placidly. "I thought Mr. 
 Hoffman was most generous to the second Mrs. 
 Hoffman." 
 
 "Really? Did you think that? I differ most em 
 phatically." 
 
 Hoffman's manner showed that he disliked her and 

 
 288 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 wished to quickly get her gone. "Pardon me, but 
 what can I do for you? You wished to ask me 
 something?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; I must speak to you of something so 
 important." 
 
 "Can't it wait?" 
 
 "No; every moment must be saved. Will you par 
 don us, Mr. Alston?" 
 
 "Well, what is it?" her "dear Frederick" demanded 
 as Alston bowed assent. 
 
 "I wish to speak to you in private." 
 
 "Mr. Alston is my lawyer, and " 
 
 "Well, I must have five hundred dollars imme 
 diately, my dear Fred!" 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "Oh, not for myself. I never ask anything for 
 myself you know that." 
 
 He sniffed. 
 
 "My son my darling Arthur has just tele 
 graphed that he must have it literally must to 
 morrow afternoon at latest." 
 
 "Your good-for-nothing son will get no more 
 money from me," Hoffman said emphatically. He 
 evidently was much less afraid of Mrs. Curtis than 
 he was of Mrs. Curtis' daughter. 
 
 "But he must. Bad luck " 
 
 "Let him stop gambling if he doesn't like bad 
 luck!" 
 
 "But the dear boy so young perhaps a little 
 foolish but gambling debts are debts of honor!" 
 
 "Dishonor, if you have to go to others for the cash
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 289 
 
 with which to pay them! I'm tired of his kind of 
 honor!" 
 
 She was evidently frightened. "But he is so 
 young! When he has sowed his wild oats " 
 
 "He will reap a fine crop!" her son-in-law com 
 mented. 
 
 She was almost disheartened. "My poor Arthur! 
 I'm afraid he will do something desperate!" 
 
 "Don't let that worry you!" 
 
 "He will repay you as soon as he can get the 
 money." 
 
 Hoffman was exasperated. "Madame, I won't 
 live that long!" 
 
 She had been verging upon tears. Now, seeing 
 that his heart was adamant, she stamped her foot 
 and set her lips. "Let us hope not!" she exclaimed 
 and swept out of the room. 
 
 For a moment after she had gone Hoffman stood 
 in silence with flushed face. It seemed incredibly 
 ill fortune that all these small humiliations should 
 have piled upon him in the very presence of the man 
 from whom he most desired to hide the fact that 
 any detail was imperfect in this marriage which he 
 had so madly striven to accomplish. But the iron 
 nerve which once had carried him through business 
 deals, when much hung at stake, preserved him. 
 After one long breath he turned the conversation 
 back to Harry without comment on or explanation 
 of what just had happened. 
 
 "I fondly hope Harry will be happy," he said 
 gravely. "Do you know after all that has hap-
 
 290 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 pened, people may not believe it, but I assure you it 
 is true I love my children no less now than . 
 in the past." His voice almost broke, but he fought 
 this weakness back as sternly as he had combated 
 his embarrassment. "If anything, I love them 
 more." 
 
 "I know, Fred," said his friend, and placed his 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 "That they have become . . . estranged 
 . . . that they have forgotten me . . . en 
 tirely . . . that grieves me, Alston; grieves me 
 sorely." 
 
 Alston, deeply touched, still was not very merciful. 
 "It is you, old man, who have shown yourself es 
 tranged. And you must have known that, with 
 . . . this marriage . . . everything would 
 alter." 
 
 "Yes; I can understand that, in so far as ... 
 she ... as Anna ... is concerned. Per 
 haps it was to be expected also in the case of Harry. 
 But as for Beatrice Beatrice was always my own 
 darling child. Now she does not even want to see 
 me doesn't even want to see her father! I could 
 not have thought that possible." 
 
 "It is in her case that you should be least sur 
 prised," Alston answered very gravely. "She's a 
 young girl who had believed her parents' love to be 
 the finest, purest thing in all the world until . . . 
 you know! To her the words 'father' . . . and 
 'mother' , ; . ... stood for something sacred 
 
 ... . and inseparable. When she went home
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 291 
 
 and learned that you had gone away . . . and 
 how . . . and why . . . her whole little 
 world crumbled underneath her feet. Remember, 
 Fred . . . she does not see things through your 
 eyes. How could she?" 
 
 "I know; I know. She couldn't understand. And 
 
 yet, after all, I am her father! She should remem 
 ber 
 
 " 'Honor thy father and thy mother!' I am sure 
 she does. When . . . good children ; . .. 
 do not ... it is likely not to be their fault, 
 Fred, but the fault of " He left the sentence in 
 complete. 
 
 "It has been two years since I have seen her," 
 Hoffman reflected slowly. "Two . . . long 
 . . . years! Do you often get over to the 
 house?" 
 
 "Very often. I've a standing invitation for Sun 
 day dinner. Which, for some reason, reminds me 
 that I promised to call up the Senator and let him 
 know when you would be at home." 
 
 "I shall be very glad to see him at any time. 
 
 "Where's your 'phone?" 
 
 Hoffman slowly rose to show him, but as they 
 were passing toward the hall, Bettina entered. 
 
 She was a different Bettina from the girl whom 
 Alston had seen frequently in Belleville. Very ele 
 gantly dressed in a rich house-gown, her really at 
 tractive former air of girlish simplicity quite gone, 
 replaced now by an atmosphere of savoir-faire and 
 opulence, with perhaps a little arrogance, she swept
 
 292 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 in without the faintest trace of that timidity which 
 had been her chief est and most charming characteris 
 tic when he first had seen her in the Hoffman home. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Alston," she said sweetly. "I'm so glad 
 to see you! But I've such a headache!" 
 
 "I called on business," he replied politely, but with 
 no warmth of greeting. 
 
 "Oh, then, I'm in the way?" 
 
 "No, no; not at all, Bettina," her husband urged 
 her. Then, with concern: "Have you a headache?" 
 
 She went close to him as Alston half turned again 
 to go toward the 'phone and whispered rather 
 savagely: "Yes, and I can thank you for it!" Her 
 tone was bitter, despite the care with which she 
 spoke. Perhaps, indeed, the care was rather more 
 assumed than real. 
 
 Then to Alston, who had heard perfectly and did 
 not know quite what to do: "I have been so vexed! 
 Servants! Unless you treat them like dogs they 
 over-ride you, and if you treat them as they should 
 be treated, then they won't stay with you." Having 
 thus invented an excuse for her first little burst of 
 temper: "You will stay for luncheon, Mr. Alston?" 
 
 "I am very sorry. I have an engagement." 
 
 "Can't we persuade you? I assure you it's no 
 trouble. My household is so regulated that " 
 
 Involuntarily Alston glanced about the most untidy 
 room. 
 
 She caught this. "Why, Fred, how very upset you 
 have made this room look!" 
 
 Hoffman relieved Alston of his keen embarrass-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 293 
 
 ment and at the same time gave himself a moment 
 for a private conversation with Bettina. He must 
 know what made the air so pregnant of discord. 
 "Come on, Alston, if you wish to 'phone." 
 
 Alston bowed slightly to Bettina. "If you would 
 be so good, Fred." 
 
 They left the room together, but Hoffman came 
 
 back almost instantly. "Now, dear " he began 
 
 propitiatingly. 
 
 But she did not wish to be propitiated. "I want 
 you to know that you have treated my mother very 
 rudely!" She tapped her foot and fingered her gown 
 angrily. 
 
 "Rudely?" 
 
 "Yes; very rudely. My darling mother, who has 
 so lovingly taken you into our family!" 
 
 This apparently did not so very much impress 
 him. 
 
 "Now when she asks one little thing " 
 
 He did not weaken. "One thing!" His tone was 
 full of sarcasm. 
 
 "You refuse, though it was for my brother!" 
 
 "My dear child," he answered seriously, "I am 
 really not in a position to satisfy all the demands 
 which you are making on me." He paused a mo 
 ment, looking at her. His spirits had a little risen, 
 doubtless, he reflected, because of Alston's visit. 
 "But if you wish," he amiably suggested. "I have 
 no objection to your squandering upon him a little 
 of the income I have settled upon you." 
 
 This very much astonished her. "Oh, how selfish!
 
 294. THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 The idea of asking me to use my poor little funds 
 for Arthur! And you, with all your money!" 
 
 He still spoke seriously, not unkindly. "I have 
 use for all my funds just now. My son Harry is 
 about to be married, and " 
 
 She was astonished. "Harry? Really? And he 
 was so in love with me! How unreliable men are!" 
 
 "Of course I must properly provide for him. 
 
 "Ah," she said angrily. "That's it! Always so 
 liberal with the other side!" 
 
 "You knew that I would have to take care of my 
 family." 
 
 "But now we are your family. What becomes of 
 us does not seem to trouble you!" 
 
 "My dear!" said he, reproachfully. And then: 
 "Please don't make a ... scene! I am tor 
 tured enough as it is." 
 
 She evidently did not think so, for she began to 
 softly weep. Nothing, she had learned by past ex 
 perience, tortured him so much as that. "I have 
 sacrificed everything for you . . . my youth 
 . . . my freedom " 
 
 "Bettina," said the harassed man, "I do all I can 
 for you. I think only of your happiness." 
 
 "My happiness! Why, any other man would gladly 
 place at my feet whatever I might ask for! But 
 you from you, if I get anything how I have to 
 beg for it!" 
 
 "You are unjust." 
 
 She stamped her foot, she clenched her hands, her 
 voice rose.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 295 
 
 "What have I got from you? From life? What 
 have I got? I am young! / want to enjoy!" 
 
 Hoffman had heard Alston say "good-by" out 
 at the telephone, and he motioned her for 
 quiet, asking, meanwhile : "Why, Bettina ! I can't 
 understand you. Have I ever denied you any 
 thing?" 
 
 She laughed scornfully. "Denied me " 
 
 But she saw Alston coming in, and bit her lips, first 
 into quiet, then into a smile of greeting. 
 
 "Worst telephone service in the world!" said 
 Alston. "We would not tolerate your metropolitan 
 inefficiency in Belleville. The senator is on his way. 
 He'll be here very quickly. I caught him at a club, 
 almost across the way." 
 
 "Dear Mr. Alston," said Bettina, going toward 
 him, "if you can't stay for luncheon, you must 
 promise us the evening." 
 
 He shook his head. "I hardly see how I could 
 arrange " 
 
 "Oh, but you must!" She turned to her hus 
 band. "Freddie, dear, help me to persuade him!" 
 
 "Yes, you must come, Alston." 
 
 Her eyes were on him with an intensity that belied 
 her honeyed words and manner. "Freddie, dear, I'm 
 going to mother, now." She put her arm in his, and 
 as Alston gazed at them with a queer incredulity, 
 trying to realize that this was his old friend: "And 
 may I tell her that you will grant her that small 
 favor?" 
 
 "Well, to please you, I'll do my best." He spoke
 
 296 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 reluctantly, but was helpless in his fear of an out 
 break before Alston. 
 
 She nestled up to him, smiled into his face and 
 looked across his shoulder roguishly at Alston. 
 "Thank you, dear, so much ! And ... aw re- 
 voir, dear! Don't forget to fix yourself up nicely 
 for luncheon." She held a cheek up for his kiss 
 which he hesitated about giving. "Grouchy old bear, 
 dear, aren't you? What's the matter? Don't you 
 want to kiss your . . . sweetheart?" 
 
 In deep embarrassment and without enthusiasm, 
 he kissed her cheek while Alston considerately turned 
 his head away. 
 
 "That's a dear!" She swept across the room in 
 her rich gown, gurgling out her throaty little laugh, 
 placed her hand upon the door-knob of the portal of 
 the room adjoining and smiled back at him. "My 
 Freddie!" 
 
 "Well, you see how much she cares for me," said 
 Hoffman, fatuously glancing at the lawyer after she 
 had left the room. 
 
 "Yes," said Alston noncommittally. "I see."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Senator Stevenson arrived a little later, before 
 Hoffman had quite finished dressing. 
 
 "Tell them to take him into the reception-room,'* 
 said he when the recently sorely-stricken maid an 
 nounced the visitor. 
 
 "The reception-room floor is being waxed," she 
 answered pertly. 
 
 "Then into the small drawing-room." 
 
 "The vacuum-cleaner men are working there." 
 
 "Well, he can't come here, into a room that looks 
 like this!" said Hoffman helplessly. "Take him to 
 the dining-room. I'll be in almost at once." 
 
 "The waiter is setting the table for luncheon. 
 Madame ordered " 
 
 It was hopeless utterly. "Well, bring him here." 
 The unhappy man glanced somewhat wildly at the 
 sad disorder of the otherwise very elegant apart 
 ment. "But you must keep him waiting till you've 
 straightened here a little." 
 
 She seemed amazed. "Now? Impossible. I must 
 press Madame' s white opera-wrap. She is to wear 
 it to-night. She gave me orders." 
 
 Hoffman made a gesture of quite futile rage as 
 she left the room without another glance at him. 
 
 "Let's do it ourselves, Fred," Alston suggested 
 blithely, coming to his rescue. "We can keep him 
 
 297
 
 298 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 waiting downstairs for a moment. "And," he said, 
 trying to make a joke of it, "it won't be long before 
 the suffragettes will have us men doing all the house 
 work, anyway. Come on!" 
 
 "Well " 
 
 "I'll do it. You go in and fix yourself up, as your 
 wi f e instruc requested. " 
 
 "Well, if you could . . . while I put on an 
 other coat " 
 
 Alston nodded. 
 
 "If you don't know where to put things, throw 
 'em into my room. That's what they all do here." 
 Hoffman hurried off to find the coat. 
 
 With intense diligence the lawyer bent his energies 
 to the task before him. There was the champagne 
 cooler to get out of sight, the lady's underskirt 
 which, even as he worked alone there, somewhat 
 embarrassed him; he greeted it with almost as deep 
 a flush as that with which he had received the startling 
 picture Murfree had presented to him of the un 
 clad girl; but he must make some disposition of it; 
 and music was scattered almost everywhere. In 
 discriminately he stuffed his finds into the champagne 
 cooler and thrust this through the door of Hoffman's 
 room. 
 
 He had scarcely skimmed the surface of the much- 
 disordered room when Rose ushered in the Senator. 
 Alston hurried forward. 
 
 "Senator, permit me to welcome you. Mr. Hoff 
 man is detained for a few moments." 
 
 Senator Stevenson, a gentleman of the old school,
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 299 
 
 white-haired, frock-coated, superlatively dignified, 
 advanced with outstretched hand. 
 
 "Mr. Alston," he said heartily, "I'm glad to see 
 you, sir. It is an unexpected stroke of really good 
 fortune. I confess that I have been feeling that in 
 this meeting with my old er old friend, Mr. Hoff 
 man, I should sadly need some moral support. I had 
 not, however, hoped to find it. I am glad you're 
 here, sir. I admit that to a man of er of my old- 
 fashioned ideas, a situation of this kind seems most 
 embarrassing. I know the er the former Mrs. 
 Hoffman very well. And so, you see, instead of con 
 gratulating Mr. Hoffman upon his er his change, 
 I'm quite likely to find myself condoling with him." 
 
 "I can quite understand, Senator. I have been 
 treading on thin ice myself," said Alston. 
 
 "Of course. We must er must support each 
 other." The old man smiled a little heavily. 
 
 As Alston nodded in agreement to this, Hoffman 
 came out of his room, arrayed in perfect fashion for 
 a New York afternoon. He made a very different 
 figure from the Frederick Hoffman who had won 
 success in Belleville. Alston quizzically smiled at 
 sight of all his elegance a very private, confidential 
 smile which he shared with himself alone. 
 
 "Senator," he said, advancing, "I appreciate the 
 honor of your visit. Pardon me for having kept you 
 waiting. Please be seated." 
 
 "Our legal friend," replied the Senator, after he 
 had shaken hands and found a seat, "has er has 
 undoubtedly already informed you "
 
 300 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Yes, Senator; and I am indeed happy that my 
 son has been so fortunate. I remember your ward as 
 a most lovely girl." 
 
 "The young people love each other," said the 
 Senator. "That is the er the really important de 
 tail. We must not stand in the way of their happi 
 ness." 
 
 Hoffman smiled at him. "I give my consent with 
 all my heart." 
 
 "I presumed as much. Let us now come to the 
 er the business side of the affair. I came here to 
 consult with you about the purchase of your residence 
 in Belleville." 
 
 Hoffman looked at him with some astonishment. 
 "The place is not for sale. I shall always keep it 
 as a home for my daughter and her mother." He 
 flushed slightly. 
 
 Now the Senator showed definite astonishment in 
 his turn. "I er I understood why that they had 
 er had left it and secured another home." 
 
 Hoffman turned to Alston with a blank, puzzled 
 face. "Why, I hadn't " He felt strangely non 
 plussed, almost hurt. That the old home had been 
 deserted 
 
 "The Senator is right," said Alston. 
 
 "That," said Hoffman after a slight pause in 
 which he strove to readjust himself, "alters the case, 
 of course." 
 
 "As you know, Fred," Alston explained to him, 
 "your old home your house the red brick house 
 adjoins the Mason estate. Together they would make
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 301 
 
 a most magnificent property. The Senator has been 
 thinking of presenting it as such to the young people 
 as a wedding gift." 
 
 Hoffman had not quite recovered from the shock 
 of his surprise. He had never dreamed that the old 
 home could ever be deserted by Anna and the chil 
 dren. There was a bitter pathos in the thought. It 
 was with difficulty that he even nodded. 
 
 "I would be glad to make you an offer, Mr. Hoff 
 man," said the Senator gravely courteous. 
 
 Hoffman would not bargain. "I will leave the 
 matter wholly in your hands," said he. "Alston, will 
 you look after any details? I why " 
 
 "Surely, Fred," said Alston with compassion, un 
 derstanding perfectly how great the shock had been. 
 
 Hoffman sat there somewhat dazed as his wife 
 swept in. "Ah," he said dully as with the other 
 men he rose. "My wife. Bettina, dear this is 
 Senator Stevenson." 
 
 "Mrs. Hoffman!" said the Senator, bowing most 
 profoundly, but not offering his hand. 
 
 "Senator, I am delighted." Bettina swept her hand 
 behind her and led forth her mother, who had closely 
 followed her. "This is my mother, Mrs. Curtis." 
 
 Sevigny entered as she spoke as unceremoniously 
 as ever. 
 
 "And this is an old friend of ours. Mr. Theodore 
 Sevigny, the composer. Of course you have heard of 
 him." 
 
 As the Senator was bowing he was shrewdly study 
 ing the party. "No, madame," he replied with per-
 
 302 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 feet courtesy, but with finality, "I really have er 
 not." 
 
 She spoke up quickly in defense of the musician. 
 "His music is not for the masses. Only the chosen 
 few are capable " 
 
 "Why should it surprise you, Mrs. Hoffman, when 
 you find those who do not know me?" the composer 
 interrupted with some wounded grandeur. "As his 
 tory shows has been the case with all the truly great 
 composers, I, too, shall be appreciated only after I 
 am dead!" 
 
 Alston looked at Hoffman with amused delight; 
 Hoffman, flushed, annoyed. 
 
 "I won't detain you any longer, Mr. Hoffman," 
 said the Senator, plainly anxious to be off. "Mr. 
 Alston and I can arrange this together. I shall leave 
 you to er to your charming family." 
 
 But Bettina and her mother would not let him go. 
 With what might be referred to by the irreverent 
 as good teamwork, they almost forced him to a seat 
 on a chaise-longue. 
 
 "Oh, Senator," said the beautiful young mistress 
 of the "charming family," "you must not be in 
 such great haste. There is so much which I must 
 ask you about Washington. You live there, of 
 course." 
 
 "Only while Congress is in session," said the un 
 comfortable old statesman. "My home is at Belle 
 ville." 
 
 "They say Washington is beautiful! Have they 
 many theaters there?" Bettina could not miss a
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 303 
 
 chance like this. A Senator! And her little sister 
 trying to find influence with managers! 
 
 "They have theaters, of course. I rarely er find 
 time to go to them." 
 
 "I asked because of my young sister, Dolly. She's 
 a wild little tom-boy and she just loves the theater. 
 She insists that she is going on the stage. " 
 
 "I hope she will recover from I mean, I wish her 
 all success." 
 
 "Mr. Sevigny says her voice is liquid melody! He 
 is so poetic! He is to compose some songs for her." 
 
 Of them all, only the gifted youth whom she had 
 mentioned was not listening. He alone paid no atten 
 tion to the statesman. After a few seconds of the 
 conversation he had found his way to the piano 
 where he now sat with his hands above the keys, not 
 touching them, but moving over them, while his head 
 bowed low, bobbed high, his shoulders heaved, his 
 body swayed. 
 
 "Bettina!" he cried suddenly, and all turned to gaze 
 at him. "An inspiration!" 
 
 "Hush!" said Mrs. Curtis with an expressive wave 
 of a fat hand instantly attentive to the genius. "He 
 has an inspiration!" 
 
 "Oh, if he only had the opportunity!" Bettina ex 
 claimed eagerly. "I am sure the world would listen 
 to him in amazement." 
 
 "Amazement! Yes," said Hoffman dryly, and 
 Alston smiled. 
 
 "But, my dear," said Mrs. Curtis with a side glance 
 at the Senator, and paying no heed to the two bar-
 
 304 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 barians, "in these days even those inspired by divine 
 music must have influence in order to find listeners." 
 
 "He has just finished an incredible score," 
 her daughter seconded, turning on the Senator 
 with eager eyes. "Are you, by any chance, acquainted 
 with the managing director of the opera, Sena 
 tor?" 
 
 "No, Madame," said the bewildered lawmaker, "I 
 am not." 
 
 "But you certainly have friends who know him, 
 and who would introduce this genius to him," Mrs. 
 Curtis ventured. 
 
 The Senator had no time for a reply. "I've got it! 
 Now, I've got it!" came a cry from the piano. 
 
 It was a startling exclamation in a per fervid voice. 
 All eyes were turned on the composer who rose in 
 an ecstasy from the piano, grasped wildly for a sheet 
 of music paper lying near, and for a moment scrib 
 bled on it madly. 
 
 "What is it? What has he got?" the Senator 
 asked Alston with some apprehension. 
 
 But now Theodore was standing with a glowing, 
 upturned face, his long hair tossing even as the waves 
 of the sea in stress of storm. He spoke only to 
 Bettina. 
 
 "At last!" he cried. "At last it stands before my 
 mental eye within my grasp! It is complete! The 
 music-drama of the soul ! What shall I call it ? Ah ! 
 'Love's Torture!' That will thrill them!" 
 
 "It certainly thrills me!" said Alston in an aside 
 to Hoffman.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 305 
 
 The Senator was half alarmed and half amused. 
 "I_e r _confess I, too " 
 
 "Hush!" said the composer, holding up a warning 
 hand. "Bettina to the piano!" 
 
 She obeyed as he declaimed : 
 
 "Two lovers . ^ . alone ... at mid 
 night! Fate decrees that they must part! Ah! 
 Vi-vi-sec-tion of the soul!" He waved his hands. 
 "See? Staccato! Fine . . . like needles! Then 
 . . . and then. ... a thrill! Then soft 
 . . . and softer . . . like the twitching of a 
 wounded heart!" He gazed into Bettina's eyes. 
 "And you, my dear " 
 
 Startled, she drew back a little. 
 
 " Mrs. Hoffman," he added instantly, "you 
 
 have inspired it! Listen!" 
 
 Although he had invited her to it, he swept Bettina 
 from her place with little ceremony and himself 
 sprang to it in a fine frenzy. Instantly his hands 
 crashed on the keys. He played as one enraptured, 
 throwing off, from time to time, explanatory words. 
 "The needles!" he exclaimed, as one passage sounded 
 through the room. Again: "And then . . . the 
 thrill!" 
 
 "How marvelously descriptive !" cried Bettina. 
 
 "Wait . . . wait!" said the composer. 
 "Wait!" 
 
 Now he played weird chords very softly. 
 
 "Is that the twitching of the wounded heart?" the 
 Senator asked Alston in a whisper. 
 
 "No," the lawyer answered, "that's the torture!"
 
 306 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 And now, fully launched, the man at the piano 
 swept his fingers up and down the keys in crashing 
 chords, in tiddling little tinkelties, in minor wailings 
 in bewildering succession. Finally, completing the 
 morceau, he rose, almost exhausted. 
 
 "Now, Senator," Bettina cried, delighted, "you see 
 what a genius he is, really?" 
 
 "Yes yes, Madame," replied the Senator, "but 
 er but really, I am pressed for time."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Alston and Hoffman went with Senator Steven 
 son to the door of the apartment, and, afterward, 
 waited with him for the elevator. Bettina's mother, 
 spellbound, stood gazing after them, but Sevigny 
 sprang from the piano with a vehemence which left 
 the stool-top (of gilt wood, sea-shell shape) whirl 
 ing dizzily, and approached Bettina who remained 
 with him. 
 
 "Stupids!" he cried fiercely. "Bettina! My Bet 
 tina! Am I never to see you alone, again?" 
 
 "Perhaps to-night," she swiftly whispered. "We 
 have opera seats, but he has been so vicious that I 
 shall not go with him." 
 
 Impulsively he seized her hand and kissed it. He 
 was holding out his arms to her for a more intimate 
 expression of his joy, when a hasty hiss from Mrs. 
 Curtis drove them apart. Their expressions of en 
 dearment, their implied embrace, she accepted with 
 composure. Her action was no reprimand, but a 
 mere warning that Alston was returning. 
 
 Quick as was their separation, the lawyer caught a 
 glimpse of the black-sleeved arm of the musician 
 against the old-rose satin of Bettina's gown, and came 
 to an amazed standstill ; but, with almost instantaneous 
 recovery of composure, so quick, indeed, that they did 
 
 307
 
 308 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 not suspect that he had seen their slight, unlawful by 
 play, he joined Mrs. Curtis and was chatting with 
 her when Hoffman followed, smilingly reflecting on 
 the pleasant mission of the Senator. Mrs. Curtis 
 smiled at Alston. 
 
 "Such a nice old man the Senator. And is he 
 rich?" she asked, careful to obtrude her ample person 
 between him and the young folk. 
 
 "Yes; very rich." 
 
 "Married?" 
 
 "Yes'm," said the lawyer, with some emphasis. 
 iThen, with a slight smile, looking from her to her 
 daughter, now well separated from Sevigny, who 
 again was seated at the piano: "But that's nothing, 
 ma'am, these days." 
 
 Hoffman's face, as he advanced, was in a glow of 
 pleasure. The visits of two men from the old world 
 in the same day had warmed the heart, which had 
 been chilled by two years of the cold aversion of old 
 friends. He had scarcely realized, till now, how much 
 they really meant to him. He even smiled at Rosa, as 
 she intercepted him, extending a tiny salver on which 
 a letter lay. 
 
 "A special for you, sir." 
 
 He looked at it with that blank stare peculiar to 
 those whose sight the years are dimming, and then 
 fumbled in his pockets. He did not find in them his 
 eye-glasses, and, presently after he had torn the letter 
 open, handed it to the lawyer. 
 
 "See what this is, Alston, will you? I can't find my 
 glasses."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 809 
 
 "It's from Jersey City," said the lawyer. "Twenty- 
 six Ferd Street." 
 
 "Jersey City? Is it?" Hoffman's voice was quite 
 indifferent. 
 
 Alston's eyes ran rapidly across the written words. 
 Then he gave him a quick glance of curiosity, in which 
 a little pity blended. "I don't believe I'd better read 
 it, Fred. It's perhaps you'd rather no one but your 
 self " 
 
 "Go on, Alston." 
 
 The lawyer looked at him with that slightly wistful 
 smile which he had always used when he had seen his 
 big, impulsive friend about to do some foolish thing 
 which he could not approve of nor dissuade him from, 
 or when, after something of the sort was done, he 
 tried to help him out of the resultant scrape. "I'd 
 rather not, Fred." 
 
 "Oh, go on, Alston." 
 
 "Well! 'Sir,' it starts off. 'You're going to get the 
 scandal and disgrace, since you don't wish to avoid 
 them you and that young cat, Bettina.' ' 
 
 "By " 
 
 "Shall I go on, Fred?" 
 
 "Certainly." He laughed sourly. "Sounds as if I 
 might have need of you, professionally. Must be some 
 crank. They're after everyone, here in New York." 
 
 " 'I have received no reply to my last three let 
 ters ' " 
 
 "And from Jersey City? It's a crank, all right." 
 
 The lawyer's voice was very serious, so serious that 
 Hoffman looked at him with an almost annoyed in-
 
 810 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 quiry, as he again inquired: "Shall I go on, Fred? 
 I'd much rather not." 
 
 "Certainly, old man; go on. But I know who it's 
 from, now. It was the Jersey City that fooled me. 
 I thought he was in Baltimore. It's from Bettina's 
 stepfather." 
 
 " 'I have received no money ' " 
 
 "Well, he'll get no more, that's certain. I'm tired 
 of it." 
 
 " 'I am in the most desperate position, while the 
 whole amount which would be needed to release me 
 would be but a trifle to a man of your great means. 
 Twelve hundred dollars, that's all ' ' 
 
 Hoffman snorted in his wrath. " 'Twelve hundred 
 dollars, that's all!' I wonder if he thinks I'm here 
 for nothing but to hand out money to him! I've 
 
 already " 
 
 'You have never sent a cent to me; Bettina, the 
 ungrateful girl, has never helped me with a penny, 
 although she knew of my sore need. Now I shall do 
 something, if you don't look out! Mark you if she 
 had sent me anything ' ' 
 
 "Never sent a cent to him! I've given Bettina 
 money for him half-a-dozen times!" Hoffman ex 
 claimed angrily so angrily that his voice carried into 
 the adjoining room. 
 
 Bettina, greatly startled, left Sevigny and came hur 
 rying toward them. Her face was rather pallid, but 
 the two men, absorbed in the surprising letter, did not 
 even see her. 
 
 " 'If I do not have the money by to-morrow after-
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 311 
 
 noon, I will see to it that you have a scandal worse 
 than that which drove you out of your old home. Bet- 
 tina and well, wait!' ' 
 
 "What are you reading, Mr. Alston?" she asked 
 breathlessly. 
 
 "He's reading me a letter threatening scandal a 
 letter demanding money a blackmailing letter writ 
 ten by your mother's second venture," Hoffman ex 
 plained angrily. 
 
 "Do you reproach me for it?" It might have been 
 that worry gave it a timbre which she did not intend, 
 but her voice sounded insolent, defiant. 
 
 Her mother, scenting trouble from afar, hurried to 
 her side. "Surely my child is not to blame for my 
 misfortune!" she exclaimed. 
 
 Her appearance annoyed Hoffman. The whole 
 thing annoyed him. That he should have fallen into 
 the mistake of asking Alston to read to him this letter, 
 of all letters, had put him in a dangerous temper 
 Alston, whom he wished above most men to think 
 his second marriage had quite justified the sacrifices 
 it had cost! 
 
 "Madame," Hoffman snarled, "you are not in this 
 conference." 
 
 But she was not to be denied. "She's no more to 
 blame for my misfortunes than I am for hers the 
 fact that she has tied herself to a man old enough to 
 be her father!" she snapped nastily. "I urged her not 
 to. I urged her to select some young and single man !" 
 
 Hoffman gazed at her in speechless wrath, a rare 
 and ominous state for him.
 
 312 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Madame," said Alston calmly, "your daughter was 
 old enough to know what she was doing." It an 
 gered him to have Fred baited in this way. 
 
 "It's not so much the difference in ages," said the 
 fat old woman, very angrily. "But a man with two 
 grown-up children . . . and everything going to them, 
 while my daughter " 
 
 Hoffman advanced on her as in Belleville he had 
 sometimes marched on Barbie. It for the moment 
 silenced her, although, while his lips twitched in a 
 fury, he still could find no words. 
 
 Alston turned back to his friend. He could not let 
 the man be robbed. "You say your wife has fre 
 quently sent money to this man?" 
 
 "Why, yes. In all, it must be four or five hundred 
 dollars." " 
 
 "Have you any receipts?" 
 
 He turned to his wife, who, now plainly worried, 
 was standing, tapping a rich oriental rug with nervous 
 feet: "You have, haven't you, Bettina? You know 
 I told you to be sure " 
 
 Bettina, flushed, still more ill at ease, glanced at him, 
 sullenly. The worry underlying the unexcused de 
 fiance on her face no one had accused her of wrong 
 doing was apparent to them all. Alston, from his 
 long practice as a cross-examiner, wise in estimating 
 women in emergencies, knew that she stood cornered 
 in some lie. 
 
 "I have no receipts!" she snapped viciously. 
 
 "But I told you " 
 
 "Please don't assume that dictatorial manner toward
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 313 
 
 me!" She looked at her husband with fierce an 
 tagonism in her eyes. "It is entirely unnecessary, and 
 it does not become you!" Her foot tapped the rug 
 with added viciousness. 
 
 He was nonplussed. "But, Bettina, you know I 
 told you " 
 
 "Well," she said defiantly, "you may as well know 
 now as later. I haven't sent him any money !" 
 
 "But you told me that you had . . . and your ac 
 counts of your expenditures, which you showed me, 
 recorded " 
 
 "What of it? I used the money for myself." 
 
 Alston caught a quick glance from her toward 
 Sevigny, who now was standing, white-faced, tremu 
 lous, in the doorway of the drawing-room. As well 
 as if he had been told of it by a reliable banker, he 
 knew the woman had been giving money to the scared 
 pianist. 
 
 Hoffman was incredulous. He had supplied her, 
 with lavish hands, for her own needs. "Yourself! 
 For heaven's sake what for?" 
 
 For a moment she did not find words. Then: 
 "What for? Did you imagine I could get along with 
 what you gave me ? Did you expect me to wear cos 
 tumes made of calico, as they do ... in Belleville?" 
 
 "A young and pretty woman," said her mother, try 
 ing to come to her rescue, "must have pretty gowns." 
 
 Hoffman silenced her with one black glance. Then 
 he turned to his wife. "But only last week I paid 
 half-a-dozen dressmakers' bills, one of them of five 
 hundred and one of them four hundred and fifty dol-
 
 314 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 lars! At this rate, you would spend a fortune every 
 year!" 
 
 "When she's as old as you are," said her mother 
 venomously, "she will spend much less." 
 
 "I didn't ask your opinion, Madame!" Hoffman 
 thundered at her. 
 
 Now the fat woman shrank back, really frightened. 
 This tall old man could be intensely terrifying when 
 he whirled about and threw his words out, that way. 
 Barbie could have told her that. 
 
 "Don't mind him, mother dear." Bettina spoke 
 protectingly, and swept her husband with a scornful 
 glance. She had no doubt that she could manage 
 him, even if it proved to be a little difficult. "He 
 does not seem to understand that I have a right to 
 demand a great deal more than he gives me." She 
 spoke almost accusingly. "He does not seem to 
 realize that he should not begrudge me a few paltry 
 dresses. " 
 
 Hoffman's fury blazed, now, at them both, and, to 
 save himself from saying something very brutal, he 
 turned and strode toward Alston. As he did so he 
 caught sight of the pianist. He had forgotten the 
 man's presence. 
 
 "You here? Begone!" he briefly ordered. 
 
 But Sevigny was aroused. His Latin blood boiled 
 fiercely. 
 
 "What have these sordid details to do with a sen 
 sitive nature, such as hers?" he cried, while Hoffman 
 paused, to gaze at him in dumb surprise. 
 
 The pianist marched boldly up to him and faced
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 315 
 
 him fiercely: "Beast! You do not appreciate her 
 personality!" 
 
 Hoffman's face grew slowly purple; his chest 
 heaved. Bettina started toward them. 
 
 "There should never be a discord in her life!" 
 Sevigny cried. 
 
 Then, as Hoffman started toward him, he drew a 
 handkerchief from a tail-pocket in his handsome coat, 
 flashed it in the air in front of him, in such a manner 
 that it almost snapped in Hoffman's face, whirled 
 upon his heel, not hurriedly, and, with much dignity, 
 stalked out, quite unconscious that with the handker 
 chief had come an envelope, square, perfumed, sealed, 
 addressed to him in the handwriting of Frederick 
 Hoffman's wife. 
 
 It fell almost at Alston's feet, but, so absorbed was 
 he by the unpleasant scene, that he was scarcely con 
 scious of it. He did not stoop to pick it up. 
 
 Mrs. Curtis did not see it. Frightened, she followed 
 the composer. 
 
 "If you'll excuse me, Fred," said Alston slowly, 
 "I'll go downtown. If you want to find me, you'll 
 know where to get me, after dinner. I've arranged to 
 dine with an old friend." He refrained from say 
 ing that the friend was Murfree, because he did not 
 wish to bring into the conversation the man who, in 
 nocently, had been the cause of introducing into Hoff 
 man's life the woman who, the lawyer now felt sure, 
 had wholly wrecked it. 
 
 "All right, Alston," Hoffman answered gloomily. 
 "And write a letter to that . . . person, will you?
 
 316 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Give him anything in reason, now; but make it clear 
 that I must never hear from him again." 
 
 Alston carelessly picked up the letter, as if it might 
 have been something he, himself, had dropped. With 
 it in his hand he left the room. 
 
 Bettina kept scornful eyes on him until he disap 
 peared, then turned to Fred and sneered. Then she 
 strode past him toward the door of her own room. 
 
 Alone with her, Hoffman's anger cooled. "Bet 
 tina!" he said, somewhat brokenly, swayed by the re 
 action. If this bubble burst, then what would life 
 have left for him? 
 
 She stopped, stood rigid, looked at him with icy 
 eyes. "Well, what is it?" 
 
 "Have you nothing that you . . . wish to say to 
 me?" 
 
 "Not that I know of!" Her voice was full of 
 scorn. 
 
 "Haven't you a word of apology, or ... explana 
 tion?" 
 
 She threw her head back scornfully. "Apology? 
 Who? I? Explanation! You humiliate me before 
 . . . everyone . . . and then expect me to apologize !" 
 
 He answered dully. "I never dreamed that you 
 had not used that money as you told me that you had. 
 Otherwise, I should not have said what I did before 
 Alston. Really, Bettina, as far as money is con 
 cerned . . . but it pains me to think that you " 
 
 "Of course!" she cried angrily. "It always pains 
 you when money is concerned!" 
 
 This hurt him. "That is not true! I have given
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 317 
 
 gladly, generously, as far as I am able. I have been 
 much distressed keenly when money matters have, 
 of late, so often risen in discussion. But you are like 
 a child. You place no value upon money. I must 
 remind you, dear, that our expenses far exceed our 
 income. " 
 
 He sat upon the chaise tongue and held his hand 
 out to her. She took it with reluctance, frowning 
 deeply. 
 
 "Bettina, we must talk this over, very carefully. 
 We can live comfortably very comfortably and still 
 economize a little." 
 
 She had sunk to the seat beside him, but very far 
 from graciously. Now she turned her head away from 
 him, as if disgusted. "Economize!" she cried. "For 
 ever, it's economize! I was brought up on that word. 
 It's been nagged at me ever since I was a child. And 
 now, I think, at last, that I have a rich husband and 
 am well provided for ; but no ! Still, forever and for 
 ever the same word, 'economize !' ' 
 
 "But, my dear, it must be done. I have told you 
 that my son is soon to marry. I ... must provide 
 for him." He said this reluctantly. He had planned 
 to tell her at a more propitious time. 
 
 "How?" she said, with very lively interest, for the 
 first time looking at him squarely. 
 
 "It is my intention to turn the business over to him. 
 Of course he will pay us a handsome yearly sum, 
 but " 
 
 This angered her intensely, instantly. "So, that's 
 it! You are to retire upon a pension! And the
 
 'young gentleman' will pay us a yearly stipend . . . 
 enough for us to live on ... if we ... economise! 
 A delightful prospect! A de-light- ful prospect!" 
 
 Passion so thrilled in her voice that he looked at 
 Jier astonished. 
 
 "But I tell you I have a right to demand more 
 than that!" she went on, the words rushing from her 
 lips in scathing anger. "And I will let no one rob 
 me of my rights ! What do you think I married you 
 for? What for? That I should be deprived of every 
 thing?" 
 
 "Bettina! What are you deprived of?" He rose 
 and stood before her. His eyes were losing their 
 pained gentleness. 
 
 She brought her hands down at her sides in two 
 fierce blows upon the cushions. "Of everything!" 
 she cried. "Of everything! My happiness!" 
 
 He literally staggered as he took the blow. "Don't 
 say that, Bettina!" 
 
 She felt no pity for him; her anger was too great. 
 She shrugged her shoulders in a fury, rose, went to 
 the piano, stood there, tearing into bits the flowers that 
 hung from a great vase. The tapping of her foot 
 was not now deadened by a rug. Upon the hardwood 
 floor her slipper beat the fast tattoo of her wrath. 
 
 "I ... did not know," he stammered, deeply hurt. 
 "I I did not know that you . . . had found no hap 
 piness with me ! Bettina . . . is this . . . true?" 
 
 "You should have known it, long ago." She spoke 
 as if impatient of more silly pretense. 
 
 " 'I . . . should have known it long ago!' " he
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 319 
 
 quoted, incredulously. "Tell me, Bettina, why did 
 you marry me?" 
 
 She spoke as if she did not think it really mattered. 
 "I was young, inexperienced oh, some things are be 
 yond human calculation." 
 
 He looked at her in silence for a moment and then 
 caught up her final word, repeating it very slowly: 
 "'Calculation!' Yes! That is the word!" 
 
 She leaned on the piano, still speaking carelessly, 
 almost flippantly, insultingly. "I was young ... in 
 experienced . . . and hoped that . . . well, that in 
 the course of time I should become . . . accustomed 
 to you!" 
 
 This cut into his soul. "Oh, I see ! I s e e !" 
 
 She whirled upon him as upon one who had done 
 her an irreparable injury. "You should have known 
 that youth . . . and " 
 
 "Go on, say it!" he cried bitterly. "That youth and 
 age " 
 
 "Don't go together," she completed, cynically. 
 
 He bowed his head and left the room without an 
 other word. In the hall he found a hat and coat and 
 put them on. He opened, passed through, and closed 
 the heavy door of polished copper, rang the elevator- 
 bell, stepped into the car, when it came presently, and, 
 stumbling a little as he left it, stood in the lower hall 
 way almost dazed. 
 
 The hallman looked at him with sympathetic curi 
 osity. He liked the gray old man and pitied him. 
 He had often watched and speculated on the callers 
 who visited the Hoffman flat while Hoffman was
 
 320 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 away. He knew far more about them than the man 
 who paid the rental knew. And to-night this tenant 
 seemed so old! 
 
 Again pausing for a moment, Hoffman stood in 
 deep reflection upon the top stair of a flight which, by 
 a broad, carved stone archway, led to the street. Then 
 he turned and spoke to the attendant. 
 
 "I ... forgot to call a friend up," he said slowly. 
 "Is there a telephone down here?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hoffman, just behind the elevator." 
 
 Hoffman went around the cage of ornamental iron 
 and was astonished when he found booths there, in 
 charge of a young girl. Long as he had been a resi 
 dent in the house, he had not known of their existence. 
 Such discoveries always startled him, ever made him 
 homesick. New York was all so vast, impersonal! 
 Oftener than he admitted to himself he yearned back 
 toward the old Belleville days, when he had had neigh 
 bors who were curious about him and about whom 
 he was curious ! 
 
 "Will you get the Holland House for me?" he 
 asked the girl. 
 
 "Forgot to call from upstairs, did you Mr. Hoff 
 man?" she inquired politely, as she thrust the brass 
 plug in and out of a mysterious orifice. "Step into 
 Number One booth. I'll have them for you in a 
 moment." 
 
 When she had connected him with the hotel where 
 Alston was a guest, he asked them to ring up his old 
 friend's room. 
 
 "Out," said the attendant, another girl, and also 
 pleasant voiced.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 321 
 
 "Oh, I'm sorry!" Hoffman's real distress was plain 
 in the three words. 
 
 "He left word he'd be at Mr. Murfree's studio, on 
 Eighth Street, if anybody called him up," the operator 
 volunteered. "Wait, I've got the number here." 
 
 "Ah, thank you," Hoffman said, when she had told 
 him what it was. 
 
 He decided to go down to Murfree's studio. The 
 artist would be glad to see him. He had intended 
 to look up Murfree immediately after he took up resi 
 dence in New York, but Bettina had seemed most un 
 willing to consent to it. She had urged that minor 
 artists were by no means of the manner of the friends 
 whom they must make. But now he would go down 
 and see him; it would cheer him up; and, too, he 
 must see Alston. 
 
 It was after eight when he alighted from a taxi 
 in the unfamiliar portion of the town in which the 
 studio was located. He paid the man and made an 
 inquiry on the ground floor as to where to go, up 
 stairs. 
 
 When he paused before the designated door, he 
 heard Alston's voice and one which he could dimly 
 recognize as that into which the voice of the young 
 Murfree he had known at college might well have 
 developed. Somehow they thrilled him with a sense 
 of comfort. Old friends! Old friends are best ! But 
 he how far had he adventured from old friends? 
 It suddenly flashed through his mind that he had - 
 ah, deserted ! the best old friend of all ; but he fought 
 the thought away from him and knocked. He never 
 let himself remember Anna!
 
 822 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Come in!" a voice called from within. 
 
 He strode into the room, with hand outstretched. 
 "Hello, Murfree!" he exclaimed with a cordiality al 
 most pathetic. 
 
 Murfree looked at him with startled eyes. "Fred 
 Hoffman! Fritzie!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "I've been intending to come down to see you ever 
 since I've been in New York City." 
 
 "I'm er mighty glad to see you, Fred," said Mur 
 free. Hoffman did not note the scared, uneasy look 
 the artist cast about the room as he spoke. 
 
 "Hello, Alston," Hoffman went on, urged by the 
 reaction from his gloom into a rush of cordiality. Old 
 friends! These would not fail him. "They said at 
 the hotel that you were here." 
 
 Upon Alston's face, as he rose to greet him, was 
 an expression hard to analyze. Even as he held out 
 his hand, he threw a quick glance at the artist. 
 
 This time Hoffman noticed it. "Am I ... intrud 
 ing?" He felt strangely chilled. Was he welcome 
 nowhere? In his own house he was not. And were 
 these old friends sorry he had come to join them? 
 
 "Why, no, r Fred ; intruding ? Certainly, you're not," 
 said Alston, but as he spoke he sent another quick 
 glance toward their host. "Sit down." 
 
 Hoffman determined to accept such hospitality as 
 came, at its face value. "Wait till I take my coat off. 
 Where shall I hang it? On the floor? It would be 
 like old times in Murfree's diggings!" The man's 
 anxiety for something pleasant was pathetic. If only 
 these two would be jolly, would be reminiscent, would
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 323 
 
 help him forget the scene which he had just endured ! 
 
 "I'll take it," Murfree answered nervously, Hoff 
 man thought, and seized it, almost before his arms 
 were free of it. "Sit down," he urged, and pushed 
 a chair out hastily. "Sit down, old man, sit down. 
 You must be tired. The walk " 
 
 "Came in a taxi, Murfree. Don't walk much in 
 these days. Getting old, you know, though I've fought 
 against admitting it!" It was fine to be here, with 
 these two old friends! Surely it would help him to 
 forget! "Let me look around your shanty." How 
 good the old-time college slang was tasting on his 
 tongue! "So you made a living out of painting, after 
 all! Let me see some of your work." 
 
 "All right, old man; all right. Glad to. Damned 
 glad to see you ! You sit down and I'll bring out the 
 best of it. Light's rotten anywhere but here!" 
 
 "Sit down? Why should I? I'm not as old as that! 
 Don't you take a bit of trouble. Just let me nose 
 around and find it." 
 
 "No, no, Fred; do sit down," said Alston, and, be 
 tween them, they forced him into a chair before the 
 fire. 
 
 Again, as they did this, Hoffman seemed to catch a 
 sort of secret glance between them, and was puzzled 
 by it, but he refused to let it make him feel uncom 
 fortable. He was pathetically anxious to be welcomed. 
 He was so glad to be with them. So glad to contem 
 plate the prospect of bright talk of happy days ! 
 
 "Well, if I sit down, old Murfree's got to bring his 
 pictures here for me to look at," he said gayly. "I
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 won't believe he's made a living out of painting till 
 he proves it!" He laughed heartily. "As soon as I 
 get back my breath and someone gives me a big drink 
 of something mellow, we're going to sing 'Auld Lang 
 Syne' together. Eh?" 
 
 "Sure, I'll bring 'em to you," Murfree agreed. 
 "Get down into a chair. You're far too old to stand 
 around. I'm six months younger. And it's youth 
 that " 
 
 "For God's sake," said Hoffman, fervently, "don't 
 you begin to talk about my age!" 
 
 "I was talking of my own," said Murfree. "You 
 sit down. And I'd kind of like to try some of the old 
 songs. My voice is very likely cracked, but " 
 
 But, though the little scene was carried on as if in 
 jest, the feeling was in Hoffman's heart that some 
 thing had embarrassed his two friends. It was with 
 real difficulty that he put it from him as ridiculous and 
 smiled cordially at Alston as Murfree vanished in 
 the shadows at the dim, and dirty, very large old 
 room's far end. 
 
 A moment later he was conscious that a light be 
 hind him had been suddenly turned off. 
 
 "Here," he cried. "Stop that! Don't you try to 
 make me think your pictures are worth while by show 
 ing them to me in such a gloom that I can't see how 
 bad they are!" 
 
 "They need gloom, most of them," Alston com 
 mented dryly. 
 
 "You bring them on, and leave the lights just as 
 they are!" commanded Hoffman.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 325 
 
 "All right, Fred," said the artist, and instantly be 
 gan a rummaging, which sounded as if he were turn 
 ing over many canvases. 
 
 And that, indeed, was just what he was doing. With 
 feverish haste he was reversing canvases in all parts 
 of the room. The few which he set hurriedly aside 
 to show to Hoffman were not among his best but 
 they were the safest. 
 
 In his haste to hide some and drag out others, 
 which, because they were inferior, had been standing 
 in remote and hidden corners, he tripped upon a rug 
 and fell fell heavily. 
 
 Alston and Hoffman both sprang to their feet. The 
 artist lay quite motionless upon the floor. 
 
 "Heavens, Murfree, are you hurt?" said Alston, 
 running in to him. 
 
 Murfree lay across the canvas which he had been 
 moving a large picture, unframed, on a stretcher, 
 now face downwards. 
 
 "Here, let me help you, Alston," Hoffman cried. 
 "See? He cut his head upon the corner of that easel! 
 By George, it's bleeding! Where's the water in this 
 place?" 
 
 "Over in the corner there. Bring a wet towel." 
 
 Hoffman hurried on the errand. When he re 
 turned, Alston had turned the artist over. 
 
 "Lift him, while I pull this picture out from under 
 him," cried Hoffman; "we'll leave him on the floor 
 till we find out what has happened, but that stretcher 
 hurts his back." 
 
 Alston, forgetting all else in the excitement of this
 
 326 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 accident, did as he was told, and Hoffman pulled 
 the picture out from under the unconscious 
 man. But he left it lying on the floor, face down 
 ward. 
 
 "He's coming around, all right," said Alston. 
 "Help me to get him to that couch." 
 
 They managed it, and, as Murfree slowly regained 
 consciousness beneath their ministrations, Hoffman 
 stepped back to raise the fallen picture. As he did so 
 the light fell full on it. 
 
 He gasped. Before his eyes he saw a beautiful 
 white slave girl, her wrists manacled and chained. An 
 old man, who held the chain which joined a leathern 
 belt about her waist, was dragging her out of an East 
 ern auction mart; she was pulling back, rebelliously, 
 and, with one loosely linked and slender arm, was 
 appealing to a youth who stood, dejected, in the door 
 of a bazar. 
 
 "Bettina!" he said, startled. 
 
 "God!" breathed Alston. 
 
 The reviving Murfree started up, richly cursing. 
 
 "Murfree . . . Alston . . ." said the shocked and 
 sickened man, "what . . . does that mean ? . . . That 
 hellish picture!" 
 
 "Why " 
 
 "What does it mean? Tell me! It is my right 
 to know!" 
 
 With difficulty, trying to make it seem less horrid, 
 constantly exclaiming that she was a good girl, even if 
 she had posed for him, Murfree told the miserable 
 story.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 327 
 
 "I never knew just how she posed . . . until to 
 night," said Alston, miserably. "I never would 
 have " 
 
 "God! Why did you let her come to us?" 
 
 "She was a good girl," Murfree still protested. "I 
 always tried to help her. I I loved her mother, 
 once." 
 
 "That . . . terrible old woman!" This from Hoff 
 man's harsh, unnatural voice. 
 
 " She was not terrible in those days ; and, in memory 
 of them, I tried to help the daughter. I wanted her 
 to get out of New York. There was a damned mu 
 sician an infernal young pianist " 
 
 "Was his name Sevigny Theodore Sevigny?" 
 Hoffman asked. 
 
 "Yes; that's the fellow. I was afraid for her be 
 cause of him. I wanted her to leave New York. 
 I ... meant well enough." 
 
 "My God!" said Hoffman, brokenly. Then his 
 voice rose, tremulous with anger: "He's with her 
 now, no doubt; he's always with her! Fool! Fool! 
 Poor, blind fool that I have been!" 
 
 Alston stood in deep reflection. The thought which 
 had occurred to him was at first repellent. But now, 
 if ever, was the time to save his friend. He had not 
 yet examined the letter he had picked up at the flat. 
 He did not know what it contained. It might be 
 wholly innocent; upon the other hand it might be 
 otherwise and who could tell what witch-power of 
 cajolery the woman might have over Fred? Now 
 that he was really in battle against her could he, Al-
 
 ston, who despised her, who for years had loved in 
 secret the sweet woman she had wronged, refrain 
 from giving him what might be not only useful as a 
 weapon, but something which would spur him on to 
 contest if his anger cooled, or if her fascination still 
 had charm for him? 
 
 "Fred," said he, slowly, as he handed him the let 
 ter, "here is something which Sevigny dropped. I 
 don't know what is in it. But she addressed the en 
 velope ... to him. It feels like . . . money?" 
 
 Hoffman took it, stared at it, and opened it. In 
 the envelope were three one-hundred-dollar bills and 
 a note, also in his wife's handwriting. He glanced at 
 it. It was enough. 
 
 He glared about him somewhat wildly, saw his hat 
 and coat, seized them, hurried from the room. It was 
 fifteen minutes later when a horrid thought occurred 
 to Murfree. 
 
 "Heavens, Alston! Will he kill him? Will he kill 
 them both if he is with her?" 
 
 "I must get up there," Alston exclaimed, panic- 
 stricken at the thought. "Poor chap! He's suffered 
 enough without winding up with that!" 
 
 Hoffman promised the first taxi-driver whom he 
 found a double fee for haste, and rushed back to his 
 apartment-house at reckless speed. He had not the 
 least idea of what he meant to do. The thought of 
 murder, which at first came to him, he put quickly 
 from him, because of what a tragedy in which he 
 figured would mean to Beatrice and Harry. He had
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 329 
 
 not thought about them, very much, of late. He 
 surely must not leave them such a heritage ! 
 
 But it was with a grim, hard face that he went into 
 the ornate apartment, where, in his madness, he had 
 hoped to find true happiness, despite the fact that he 
 had sought the boon through devious ways, with ruth 
 less inconsideration for the rights and happiness of 
 others. That he had done this burst upon him for 
 the first time now. For the first time he felt remorse 
 for his own sins. 
 
 "Where is Mrs. Hoffman?" he asked Rosa, in a 
 tone that frightened her. He had had to ring for 
 his admission. In his excitement he had gone out 
 without his keys. 
 
 "In the dining-room," she stammered. "The three 
 . . . young gentlemen are here Mr. Sevigny and the 
 others." 
 
 "Tell her to come to me, at once." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "Tell her to come!" 
 
 She entered, scornfully, and stood looking at him. 
 
 "Bettina!" 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 "Bettina, did you mean what you said* be fore I left 
 the house, an hour or two ago ? I . . . have especial 
 reasons for desiring to make sure." 
 
 "Mean it? Of course I mean it!" she said, coldly, 
 arrogantly. He must learn that it would be more 
 comfortable if he took a different attitude toward her. 
 She would show him that she was not Anna Hoffman, 
 to be bulldozed into silence, or frightened into carry-
 
 330 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 ing out his wishes when her own ran counter to 
 them I 
 
 "Use your own common-sense," she went on, bit 
 terly. "You'll admit that you're not exactly the sort 
 of man to inspire a romantic passion in a girl like me ! 
 And now you are refusing to give me anything in 
 place of it! It would be the least thing that you 
 could do." 
 
 She could not make quite sure of the expression on 
 his face ; the light was behind him. But she imagined 
 it must be a frightened and submissive look. Of 
 course he could not stand out long against her. It 
 was naturally a certainty that he had come to her to 
 sue for peace. She must take full advantage of it. 
 
 He did not reply ; she thought this fact encouraging. 
 
 "So ... don't make that foolish arrangement for 
 Harry with the business!" she went on. "And don't 
 be everlastingly preaching economy to me . . . and 
 cutting down expenses!" 
 
 She had not the least idea that to say these things 
 was the most unwise thing which she had ever done, 
 in all her life; she had not the slightest thought that 
 he had come there to accuse, not to accept criticism. 
 
 "I warn you ... I won't stand it!" she said an 
 grily. "I won't stand it! ... And the sooner you 
 make sure of that the better we shall get along to 
 gether." 
 
 He said absolutely nothing, which nonplussed her, 
 but did not dismay her. She argued that her ulti 
 matum must have dazed him. 
 
 "I think I've made myself clear," she added, sneer- 
 ingly.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 331 
 
 He spoke, now, and with the first tone of his voice 
 she knew that she had been in error. 
 
 "Yes, quite clear," said he, "and I, also, must make 
 things very clear! I wish to tell you " 
 
 She was frightened and her friends were in the 
 dining-room. They had been drinking his best liquors 
 merrily. She was sorry she had taken just that atti 
 tude. Still, she could manage him, all right, of 
 course. 
 
 "Not just now," she interrupted, trying, when too 
 late, to placate him. "We'll talk it over to-morrow." 
 
 She turned as if to go away, but he caught her 
 arm and held her back. She had surely been mis 
 taken in her method. It was a terrifying, almost pain 
 ful, grip which he took of her arm. 
 
 "Not to-morrow," he said sternly. "Here and now 
 we are going to understand each other you and I." 
 
 "But, Fred, my friends are waiting! Let me go." 
 Her tone was definitely pleading. All the arrogance 
 had gone from it. 
 
 "Let them wait . . . those parasites that you call 
 friends . . . those hypocrites who come here to make 
 love to you and fatten, while they sneer at me!" 
 
 "Oh! ... Oh! . . ." 
 
 "I won't have them 'here! Tell them to go!" 
 
 "But " 
 
 "I am the master of this house; not you, nor they! 
 Tell them to go, or I shall tell them for you!" He 
 started toward the door. 
 
 She rushed to intercept him, and stood panting in 
 his path, as madly angry as a wounded tigress. She
 
 332 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 expressed her wrath in vicious sneers, and harsh, sar 
 castic laughter as she spoke. "Oh, so you intend to 
 regulate my life, do you? To choose my friends for 
 me ! Do you imagine I intend to lead the dead exist 
 ence which satisfied the former Mrs. Hoffman?" 
 
 He spoke quickly, sternly: "Don't speak her 
 name!" 
 
 "Why not? Has she suddenly become a saint in 
 your eyes?" 
 
 "Yes . . . and I have been in Murfree's studio 
 to-night!" 
 
 This shocked her horribly. It was a wholly unex 
 pected blow. "Fred !" 
 
 "I see the truth. I know, now, what I've done! 
 And neither you nor I ... we are not fit ... to 
 speak her name. You! At last I know what 
 you " 
 
 "Hush! Not so loud!" she urged, in an agony. 
 "They'll hear you, Fred ! Please don't." 
 
 "Let them hear!" His voice rose fiercely until it 
 rumbled through the place like thunder. "I'd like to 
 shout it so that all the world would hear! I'd like 
 to warn all men against such women as you!" 
 
 She ran to him and clung to him. "Fred, don't! 
 Come, Fred! Let's not quarrel!" 
 
 Not roughly, but almost with disgust, with a ges 
 ture of finality, he thrust her hands away. 
 
 "Listen to me, Fred!" Again she clasped her arms 
 about his neck. "Don't you love me, Fred?" 
 
 He shook her clinging body from him, as if he felt 
 it to be a contamination.
 
 "I'VE DONE WITH YOU. . . .GO!" 
 
 p. 333.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 333 
 
 "No!" he exclaimed. "Do you think I'm still the 
 poor, mad fool whom you can twist and bend? No! 
 Your power over me is dead! It is you, yourself, 
 who have destroyed it ... and so go! Go to your 
 . . . friends, in there. Go to your composer, who 
 has fattened on my substance ... go to your lover!" 
 
 This roused her from her trance of fear, a little. 
 "How dare you accuse me " 
 
 He drew the letter from his pocket, deliberately 
 tore the envelope wide open, took the money from it, 
 tucked it in his pocket, and threw the written sheet 
 and mutilated envelope upon the table at her side. 
 
 She shrank back, almost in collapse. 
 
 "How dare I?" He spoke, now, with deadly calm. 
 "That! And many other things. Have I not told 
 you that I spent the evening with your old employer, 
 Murfree? I see through you now see through and 
 through you, down to your shabby and bedraggled 
 soul! You . . . the woman who lies and deceives! 
 The woman who steals from her husband to give to 
 her lover! . . . The " 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Yes, your lover! Someone must pay the price, 
 since he cannot! Well, I have paid it ... the re 
 spect of my friends, the love of my wife and children! 
 They've all been offered up for you!" Now his 
 wrath and horror reached a frenzy. "I've paid! I've 
 paid! But now go back to your friends! Go back 
 to your composer and your trade! Lie . . . deceive 
 . . . betray! . . . I've done with you . . . Go!"
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 When Frederick Hoffman's eyes opened they saw 
 the white walls of a hospital room surrounding him. 
 A nurse was gently bathing his forehead with a cool 
 ing lotion, a physician stood beside him, and Alston's 
 sympathetic eyes were fixed on him from the bed's 
 foot. His head was heavily bandaged. 
 
 He tried to form a question. 
 
 "You fell," said Alston, anticipating his endeavor. 
 "You fell. Just dizziness ; not a real stroke, old man. 
 It's been a tight squeak for you; but you're all right, 
 now. I've been a very busy man, with Murfree and 
 you both." 
 
 "How is Murfree?" 
 
 "He's all right, now." 
 
 "You'd better telephone . . . Bettina." 
 
 "Everything has been attended to, old man. 
 You've been here a week, you know." 
 
 "A week!" 
 
 "Yes," said the physician. "You must not talk 
 much. You've turned the corner splendidly. We're 
 going out now, Mr. Alston will come back to-morrow. 
 You mustn't worry." 
 
 Alston nodded reassuringly, smiling his peculiarly 
 sweet smile. 
 
 "I'm going to let you have a good long talk with 
 334
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 335 
 
 him to-morrow," said the doctor, soothingly. "In 
 the meantime you are in fine shape for a really rest 
 ful sleep. Your temperature has dropped splen 
 didly." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "Wait until to-morrow. You'll be all right then. 
 Now get some sleep." 
 
 Beckoning to Alston, the doctor left the room; the 
 nurse, smiling and refusing to reply to questions, 
 made Hoffman very comfortable; he slept. 
 
 Alston found himself much puzzled as to how best 
 to explain the situation when he went to him next 
 day. He determined to let events shape up as best 
 they would. 
 
 "How are things, at the ... flat?" asked Hoff 
 man. 
 
 Alston hesitated. "Well," said the lawyer, after 
 a little thoughtful hesitation, "I went there, this 
 morning and had such of your things as I had saved 
 from the sale boxed up and " 
 
 "'Saved from the sale?'" 
 
 "Yes; Mrs. Hoff your wife . . . you know 
 you'd put the whole thing in her name . . . well, 
 she thought she'd have a sale, and ... go away for 
 er a little while." 
 
 "Bettina ... go away? When is she coming here 
 to see me?" 
 
 "I don't think she'll have time, Fred, to stop in 
 here, at all. You see " 
 
 "Alston, tell me what has happened." 
 
 "Perhaps I'd better. You've been out of business
 
 836 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 quite a while, now. It's been your lucky period, old 
 man. All your troubles have been cured, as well as 
 that concussion of the brain your fall gave you." 
 
 "Alston, for God's sake - " 
 
 "Yes, yes, old man. You've been very, very lucky. 
 You see, I took the news of your unfortunate acci 
 dent to Mrs. er - " 
 
 "Bettina?" 
 
 "Yes. Somehow, I never could get used to calling 
 her er - She was not as much well, Fred, she 
 didn't feel as deeply as I thought she should, and her 
 mother how I hate that damned old woman, Fred! 
 I think she'd like to marry me. My God! She be 
 gan courting me! What a place it was . . . your 
 er flat. I can't call it your 'home.' " 
 
 "Alston, it never was a home to me." 
 
 "No; I fancy not. Well, we had quite a little con 
 versation. Rather spirited it was, old man. Bettina 
 said you had denounced her, told her you were 
 through with her." 
 
 "I had, but - " 
 
 "I was pleased to hear it, and I said so. Well, 
 the upshot was that it developed, as we talked, that 
 you had not come up to er her expectations. She 
 said rather frankly that you had not been as ... 
 generous ... as she had hoped you would be." 
 
 "Generous! Why - " 
 
 "I know. Well, that poor creature, the pian 
 
 "Sevigny?" 
 
 ".Yes, Fred. He's sold an opera, at last God
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 337 
 
 save the audiences! He came in to tell her of it 
 while I talked with her, and ... I didn't like the 
 way she took the news. You see, you were here, in 
 jured. And you know what we learned about them 
 from old Murfree. Well, I spoke up rather sharply. 
 And " He hesitated. 
 
 "Go on, Alston." 
 
 "Well, Fred . . . man, dear, how I hate to tell 
 you!" 
 
 "Go on, Alston." Hoffman's face was pitiable. 
 All the old-time arrogance seemed to have gone out 
 of it, with the disappearance of the florid flush of 
 health. It was not only pale beneath its bandages, 
 but a hint of pathos had been substituted for its 
 cold, hard pride. 
 
 "No, I'm not going to tell you what she said," 
 the lawyer finally determined, "except to make it 
 clear to you that she admits she married you for no 
 cause save your money; that she loved Sevigny all 
 the time; that, now that he has been successful, she 
 prefers his company to yours." 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 "Yes; God is good, or He would not have offered 
 you this chance of escape. I'm afraid the woman's 
 not been very square with you, old man not 
 very square. This man has been with her a lot, 
 and " 
 
 Hoffman's big frame stiffened in the small, white 
 bed. "I ... know!" 
 
 "You've had two narrow escapes instead of one. 
 first was from a fracture of the skull, the second
 
 338 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 was from a fracture of the heart. You see, you were 
 certain to be shocked by some terrific scandal, even if 
 she hadn't left." 
 
 "Left?" 
 
 Alston stood and blinked at nothing, as he had 
 a way of doing at such times as other men would 
 have selected for theatricals; he blinked at nothing, 
 and was very mild and unimpressive. "Yes, Fred; 
 she's gone off with her Theodore." 
 
 Hoffman shivered in his bed. 
 
 "You always were a lucky dog!" 
 
 "Alston " 
 
 "I had them rather foul, old man. I shall never 
 tell you \all about it. She's signed back what you 
 gave her. I saw to it. And the composer really de 
 serves what he will get. I never knew a man who 
 needed drastic punishment much worse. He'll get it, 
 Fred; he'll get it. It ought to be a little satisfaction 
 to reflect that the man whom she elected to run 
 off with was the man who most deserved such pun 
 ishment." 
 
 "Old man " 
 
 Again the lawyer interrupted him, with a hand 
 upon his shoulder. He bent above the bed a face 
 full of compassion; but there was rejoicing in it, 
 too. 
 
 "Don't talk about it, Fred. It's ended. Just re 
 member that. It's a blank wall. You cannot climb 
 it. Your past, with her, is shut off as completely as 
 if it had been but a dream from which you have 
 awakened."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 389 
 
 The man's flushed face, in which anger battled 
 with chagrin, was terribly contorted. "I'll " 
 
 Alston stopped him. "No, you won't You'll lie 
 here and get well, as soon as possible. You big, 
 blundering old Fritz! You don't know how to man 
 age anyone outside of business, least of all yourself. 
 You've made a mess of things." The lawyer 
 laughed a strange, slight laugh. "I'm going to take 
 charge of you from now on. You need a manager. 
 I'm it." 
 
 For a long time Hoffman lay in a blank silence, 
 looking up at the white ceiling of the little hospital 
 room. 
 
 "Will it be all right, Fred? Are you going to let 
 me manage you? I've got some plans." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 "Go to thunder! I won't tell you. If I manage 
 you, I manage you. If I don't, I wash my hands of 
 you. I shan't be able to, but I shall try." 
 
 "All . . . right . . . Alston." 
 
 They were busy days which followed for the law 
 yer; for his friend they were strange periods of 
 self -appraisal and of difficult adjustment to the new 
 valuation which he found himself compelled to make 
 in the face of an enforced enlightenment He knew 
 agony at last; for the condemnation of himself which 
 now swept over Frederick Hoffman was not an emo 
 tion to be shaken off, impatiently, as the prickings 
 of his conscience had been, in the past. If Alston 
 had condemned him, then, probably, his natural an-
 
 340 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 tagonism would have been aroused to fight for his 
 stiff pride, to battle for the justification of the acts 
 which, in his heart, he knew had been worth punish 
 ment, and of which he knew his present pain, humili 
 ation, and confusion formed that penalty. But Al 
 ston spoke not one condemnatory word. 
 
 He shrewdly, sadly guessed what Hoffman's suf 
 fering must be, and left him to the torture of the 
 flagellations certain to be laid upon him by his own 
 strong, better nature. 
 
 Three months had passed, and the torture of the 
 second divorce trial had been stolidly endured, be 
 fore the lawyer, who had practically lived in New 
 York .City during the period of litigation, left town 
 for a brief period, and, returning, advised his friend 
 to do likewise. 
 
 "You've had too much of New York City, Fred," 
 he urged. "You're not getting any better here, and 
 the doctor says you won't. I'm going to take you 
 to a smaller place say Stillfield. You would be bet 
 ter off in Belleville, but " 
 
 "Oh, I couldn't, Alston!" The man seemed sin 
 gularly broken as he made this protest. 
 
 "No, I suppose you couldn't . . . but, wouldn't 
 you be glad to see the youngsters, though? Harry 
 and Beatrice " 
 
 It seemed like needless cruelty, and Hoffman 
 winced before it. "Don't, Alston! God, you know 
 how much I'd like to see them! But "
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 341 
 
 " Yes ; I suppose so. " Alston seemed to be far less 
 considerate to-day than usual. "But you'll never 
 get quite well in New York City. The associa 
 tions " 
 
 "Alston, this town is a vast purgatory to me! It's 
 terrible to sit here, idle, with nothing in the world 
 to do but think . . . think . . . think of " 
 
 "I know, Fred. Well, I've arranged to have you 
 go to Stillfield if you care to. It's a town not unlike 
 Belleville. And " 
 
 "I know Stillfield. I'd go crazy there." 
 
 "Well, you'll go crazy in New York. You're not 
 picking up, Fred, although the doctor says you're 
 physically fit again. Now, there at Stillfield why, 
 it's close by Belleville, don't you see? And perhaps 
 you might do something there to help along things 
 at the factory. It would not be too far for, say, 
 Valentine, to go to see you, now and then, and get 
 the benefit of your advice. I don't suppose you'd 
 care to have your son " 
 
 "Care to have him! Alston! With what bitter 
 ness I've yearned to have a glimpse of Harry, Bea 
 trice, and " 
 
 "Don't say Anna, Fred. Surely you would not 
 care for a sight of Anna!" 
 
 "No, because the scorn with which her eyes would 
 fill at sight of me would be far more than I could 
 bear. But " 
 
 A light of triumph for an instant flashed in the 
 lawyer's usually mild blue eyes, but he very quickly 
 quenched it.
 
 "I don't believe she'd look at you with scorn, Fred; 
 but that's neither here nor there. I'm not asking 
 you to go to Belleville. Stillfield is the place. You 
 can rest up there, spend a lot of time out-doors, con 
 sult with Valentine, and get your mind in healthier 
 shape. You're " 
 
 "I know. You think I'm worrying. That's not 
 the word, old man. I'm hating myself into the grave. 
 I know it. I am well, physically, although I totter, 
 still, upon my feet when I walk half a block. But, 
 oh, my soul is sick ! Sick with disgust at what I've 
 done, old man! Sick . . . sick . . . sick with a 
 black disgust!" 
 
 "Well, Stillfield will do you good." 
 
 There was little of the old, self-reliant Hoffman in 
 the man who said, submissively, in answer: "All 
 right, Alston. Do what you think best." 
 
 It was early on a winter evening when they reached 
 the quiet village, smaller, more diffuse than Belle 
 ville, and Alston took his weary and weak friend to 
 the hotel. ''Rest up here, a little while, Fred," he 
 suggested. "I'm not asking you to live in such a 
 place, remember. I've got a place picked out for 
 you. While you're resting I shall go and make things 
 ready for you. See that everything's all right, you 
 know. " 
 
 Hoffman nodded, not very deeply interested. He 
 did not even send his dull eyes round the dingy sit 
 ting-room to which the lawyer had conducted him. 
 
 Alston hurried to a quiet house, embowered in 
 trees, at a short distance from the village, directly on
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 343 
 
 the trolley-line which ran to Belleville, fifteen miles 
 away, and when Beatrice met him at the door, with 
 the statement that old Barbie was engaged upon 
 the basting of a roast, and could not leave the kitchen, 
 he smiled with a serenity unusual even on his calm, 
 good-natured face. 
 
 "Well, surely, it's a privilege to have you let me 
 in. I've just come to tell you that my friend came 
 down with me, as I wrote you I half hoped he would, 
 and is now up at the hotel. It's so good of your 
 mother to let me bother you with strangers." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Alston! You know that anything you 
 
 ool, 
 
 do IV 
 
 "All right, Beatrice, I understand. How's the pic 
 ture frame we mended?" 
 
 "Come see?" She led him to a portrait of her 
 father, and pointed to a certain part of the old frame. 
 "It's absolutely perfect." 
 
 He examined it with care, and then turned trium 
 phantly to her. "What did I tell you? What did I 
 tell you? My cement ... it will glue anything. I 
 defy you to find any sign that it was ever broken!" 
 
 She smiled at him with real affection. He had 
 been their stay through many dark and dismal days. 
 "You were quite right. It's wonderful." 
 
 He beamed on her with the fine feeling which soft 
 hearted bachelors, denied the joy of children of their 
 own, sometimes achieve for those of friends. "It's 
 a specialty of mine patching up the broken bits . . . 
 of life." 
 
 She did not catch the deeper meaning of his words,
 
 344 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 but thought he was considering only broken furni 
 ture, and broken picture- frames. "Now that we're 
 getting settled we are finding many opportunities for 
 you to show your skill," she laughed. "Moving! 
 Such destruction! If mother had once dreamed how 
 much damage would be done, I don't believe she ever 
 
 would have left Belleville . . . except " Her 
 
 face sobered and her eyes filled. 
 
 He caught this instantly. "Now, no sorrow, if 
 you please, young lady!" he insisted. "This is to 
 be a happy evening. Do you suppose I came here to 
 mope over . . . well, you know I am a mender. I 
 won't think of anything that's broken, life, or bric-a- 
 brac, except to study how best to make repairs." 
 
 "Some things " 
 
 "Hush! Cheerful is the word, you know!" 
 She looked around the room, making a brave effort 
 to shake off her depression. "Everything looks just 
 the same as it did in the old home, back in Belleville, 
 doesn't it?" 
 
 "Everything," he smiled. "Except the stove." 
 "No; we couldn't move the stove. I am sorry it 
 was built into the house. Sometimes it was grouchy, 
 but it was warm-hearted, after all." 
 
 "It sounds as if you might be talking about me." 
 
 "No, Mr. Repair-man, just the stove." She smiled 
 
 fondly at him. "I said it was warm-hearted after all. 
 
 Didn't you hear that? While you " 
 
 "Go on; make fun of me ... but wait! When I 
 have glued together everything in this house which 
 has been broken you will have to treat me with far
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 345 
 
 more respect. You'll have to grant that I am master 
 of my trade." 
 
 "I do; I do! It's so good of you to take such 
 trouble helping us." 
 
 "My dear child, it's nothing to the things you do 
 for me. For instance, who but you and your dear 
 mother would let me bring a sick friend, here, for 
 dinner, without one word of inquiry? I simply call 
 up on the telephone, and you all say 'of course.' No 
 questions asked. That's something, isn't it?" 
 
 He watched her somewhat apprehensively, fearful 
 of the questions as to his friend's identity, which he 
 had feared from the beginning, but had managed to 
 avoid by adroit management. But she did not ask 
 them. Since the stranger was a friend of his, then 
 he would be welcome. He sighed with real relief. 
 
 "We're only too pleased," she assured him. 
 "We're rather lonely. Harry is so much in Belleville. 
 He can only get here once a week, now. That fac 
 tory!" 
 
 "Buckling down to work like a good fellow, eh? 
 WeH, that's good, dear. And Dorothy takes some 
 time, no doubt." 
 
 She nodded. "He'll soon be married, and move 
 into our old home. Then we'll be lonely, really. 
 You'll only come for little visits." 
 
 "I shall come as often as you'll let me." 
 
 "That will be very often." She glanced up at 
 the clock. "But your friend is late. Are you sure 
 he'll come?" 
 
 "Quite positive. He always keeps his word."
 
 346 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "It's pleasant to see people. We've seen so few 
 since we came here. Yet I was so glad to get away 
 from Belleville ! I don't know just how to express it. 
 I felt, oh, so " 
 
 "I know, Beatrice." 
 
 "And I am sure the change will do mother a lot 
 of good . . . away from the . . . old surroundings 
 . . . new house . . . 'new atmosphere . . . new life!" 
 She went to Alston and smiled up at him, very charm 
 ingly, but there was pathos in it, too. "It is I, you 
 know, who now look after things." 
 
 He beamed at her. "I know you do. And what a 
 splendid little housewife ! It's good practice for you, 
 Beatrice. For it will soon be your turn." 
 
 "My turn? What do you mean?" 
 
 "To marry." 
 
 She smiled very sadly. "No, Mr. Alston; I'm 
 afraid I've lost . . . my faith." 
 
 "Your faith in what, child?" 
 
 "Oh, all mankind." 
 
 He answered with a very serious face. "You 
 lose faith too easily." He took her hands. "Bea 
 trice, you are very young. There are many things in 
 life which you cannot possibly understand, and there 
 fore should not undertake to judge." 
 
 "You mean . . . my father?" 
 
 "Yes; for a long time I have meant to speak to 
 you of him." 
 
 Her face hardened and she turned her head away. 
 She even tried to draw her hands from his, but he 
 clung to them.
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 347 
 
 "Beatrice, you have not the right to withdraw your 
 affection from him." 
 
 "He has forsaken us," she answered calmly, bit 
 terly. 
 
 "I have told you of his desire to see you, but 
 you refused to go to see him." 
 
 "Oh, I could not!" She spoke not in anger but 
 in deep and touching sorrow. "I . . > could not 
 meet my father. He seems . . . like a stranger to 
 me. When I came home from the convent and found 
 my mother so unhappy . . . and the home so deso 
 late . . . and then learned why . . . oh, Mr. Alston, 
 can't you think? Father had been the very soul 
 of home, to me; the master of it all; and then " 
 
 He dropped her hands, smiling with an infinite 
 sadness. "I know. And then how different it 
 was!" 
 
 She turned her sorrowful young eyes toward a 
 carved chair standing by the table. "When I see 
 his chair . . . always empty ... it seems as if my 
 
 heart would break . . . but " She suddenly 
 
 burst into tears, and, hiding her face against the 
 lawyer's friendly shoulder, wept as if her heart 
 were, truly, breaking. 
 
 "Come, come, dear child. I won't mention the 
 subject again. But we'll let my friend sit in that 
 chair, to-night. I'm sure he will enjoy it. Wait 
 till he comes." 
 
 Barbie entered, at the moment a little thinner, 
 possible a little slower on her feet, but not less 
 birdlike in her manner. She cocked her head at Al-
 
 348 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 ston's speech as a canary does who hears a whistle. 
 "What? Who's coming?" she demanded, worried 
 at the thought of any guest for dinner when she had 
 not been warned. 
 
 "Just a dear old friend of mine, Barbie." 
 
 She was deeply interested. "To stay for dinner?" 
 
 "Why, of course," said Beatrice. 
 
 "And you must do your best, Miss Barbara," said 
 Alston. "He's a very particular gentleman." 
 
 Upon reflection she was reassured. "Well," she 
 said confidently, "my leg o' lamb needn't be ashamed ! 
 And I've got some cranberries that came from Belle 
 ville." She stood sadly gazing into space. "My, my! 
 Whenever I cook cranberries ... I think of the old 
 gentleman." Her eyes fell on the chair and filled 
 with tears. "He was so fond of cranberries." 
 
 Alston looked with mock reproach at Beatrice, nor 
 did he wish her to suppose that his reproach was 
 wholly counterfeit. "You see, Beatrice? Barbie's 
 heart remains true to her Belleville and the 'old gen 
 tleman!' " 
 
 "That's so," said Barbie. "For Mrs. Hoffman's 
 sake I'm willing to stay here, if it must be, until the 
 end of my days; but Mr. Alston, when I die, I want 
 to be buried in Belleville." Now she snuffled audibly. 
 "I want to lay there among friends." 
 
 He laughed frankly at her. Then, pretending to 
 smell something: "Barbie, somethin's burning!" 
 
 It took her mind from other troubles, as he had 
 known it would. 
 
 "Great heavens!" she cried, and vanished, crying: 
 "It's my leg o' lamb. My leg o' lamb!"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 349 
 
 Alston looked after her and laughed. He had been 
 glad the ancient servant had said what she had about 
 her old employer. He was still smiling when he 
 helped Beatrice complete the setting of the table, 
 himself bearing first a bottle of claret, then a vase of 
 flowers to their places. Alston's heart was warming 
 with the passage of each moment. He had called 
 himself past master of the trade of mending broken 
 things. He had undertaken a great task the task 
 of mending divers broken lives. Could he succeed 
 with them as he had with picture- frames and vases? 
 
 "Flowers on the table," he remarked, as he placed 
 them in position. "That means 'Welcome.' And 
 this claret the same good old Nineteen- f our ! Fine! 
 We're going to have a jolly evening, Beatrice." 
 
 "A jolly evening?" said the girl. "I've almost 
 forgotten how a jolly evening seems. Not since the 
 old days " 
 
 Laden with extra silver he hurried from the side 
 board to the table. "Silver, plenty of it. It gives 
 tone!" he hastily remarked. 
 
 "We'll all try to make it pleasant for your friend," 
 said she. "Shall I play for him?" 
 
 Alston stopped dead in his tracks. "No," he 
 mused. "Don't play. I don't believe . . . he'd 
 care for it." His mind reverted to Sevigny and 
 the musical days in that New York apartment. "He 
 has been played for . . . enough," he finished 
 with some emphasis and a queer smile. 
 
 "Is he so nervous?" Beatrice was plainly dis 
 appointed. 
 
 "Worse than that," said Alston, taking full ad-
 
 350 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 vantage of the opportunity to warn her. "He's al 
 most afraid of people. I wish . . . that when 
 he comes . . . you would receive him . . . 
 first. He'd like that, I am sure." 
 
 "Really? How queer! But of course we can ar 
 range it. And when mother comes, why, we'll al 
 ready be good friends." 
 
 "Ah," said Alston, feigning jealousy, "he'll win 
 you away from me!" 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Well, I'll go and get him and bring him here 
 at once. I shall bring him through the garden door. 
 It will save us fifty yards of walking. Remember, 
 you're to meet us, quite alone." 
 
 She did not understand exactly, but smiled, humor 
 ing this dear old friend. 
 
 "And please be very kind and good to him," he 
 added wistfully. "He's the best friend I have." 
 "Of course, Mr. Alston." 
 "I shall be back in less than fifteen minutes." 
 "I'll be watching for you," she assured him as he 
 hurried out. 
 
 "Miss Beatrice," said Barbie, entering with bread 
 and sundries, "who do you suppose this friend of 
 Mr. Alston's is? I'll bet it's only Mr. Harry." 
 "Oh, no; I don't think he's joking . . . quite; 
 
 but he did seem a little strange. I wonder " 
 
 Harry himself burst in upon them at the moment 
 and caught his sister in his arms as soon as he 
 had dropped a suit-case. 
 
 "Oh, Harry! You're back a day ahead of time!"
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 351 
 
 "Yes; Mr. Alston wired me, asking me to hurry 
 home if it was possible." He turned to Barbie. 
 "Hello, Barbie!" 
 
 "Hello, Mr. Harry. How are things in Belle 
 ville?" She always asked that question with a wist 
 ful little air. She was pitifully homesick. 
 
 "The whole village sends regards to you." 
 
 "Really? Oh, Mr. Harry, tell me all about it 
 later, won't you? I've got to look after the dinner 
 now. But one thing. Did you see our dog? The 
 one we gave to Mrs. Stevenson?" 
 
 "Prince? Of course." He laughed. "He told me 
 to tell you that he is going to write to you." 
 
 "Oh, now," she said reproachfully, "you're mak 
 ing fun of me!" 
 
 "Where's mother?" said the laughing youth. 
 
 "Upstairs. She's been lying down. She tires so 
 easily!" 
 
 "I'm going to find her." 
 
 But he did not, for Anna, hearing him, came down 
 just then. "My own big boy!" she cried, and caught 
 him in her arms. 
 
 As soon as these delighted greetings ended, Harry, 
 having freed himself of all impediments, looked at 
 the unusually elaborate table. "But you are all fixed 
 up?" 
 
 "Mr. Alston's bringing someone here for dinner." 
 
 "Good old Mr. Alston!" He turned to his mother 
 brightly. "Dorothy is coming over, dear, to-morrow. 
 I'm to stay until she comes. Valentine has promised 
 to look after things. And in the afternoon the
 
 852 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 Senator is coming with his car to take us in to 
 Buffalo. She wants to do some shopping." He 
 blushed furiously. He always did when conversa 
 tion led them toward his coming marriage. "Beatrice, 
 will you go with her? She told me to ask you." 
 
 "I'd love to. Harry, did you know that some 
 things from her trousseau are in the window at Mc- 
 Cutcheon's? I saw them there. Magnificent! One 
 wrapper . . . oh, what laces!" 
 
 Anna looked at him and smiled. "I'm glad you are 
 so happy, Harry." 
 
 "Mother, dear, I'm very happy!" 
 
 She sighed, and sighing, smiled. "At last . . . 
 some joy again!" 
 
 "Mother," said Harry very soberly, "I'm going to 
 tell you. I'd thought perhaps I wouldn't. But 
 . . . I received a letter at the works a week or 
 two ago from . . . father. He sent me con 
 gratulations and his ... blessing, mother." 
 
 "Where was he ... Harry?" Anna's voice 
 was faint and tremulous. 
 
 "Still ill in the sanitarium." 
 
 Anna shrank involuntarily, but tried to hoid her 
 self-control. 
 
 "Mother, dear," the boy continued carefully, "did 
 you know that for a time his life was really despaired 
 of? Mr. Alston told me of it. He has . . . . 
 gone through a good deal." 
 
 "Why," said Beatrice, alarmed, "he never told me 
 that! And we were talking, too, about his sickness. 
 But that he "
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 358 
 
 "Where is Mr. Alston?" Anna asked. "I thought 
 I heard his voice here." 
 
 "Don't you remember? He's bringing someone 
 here to dine with us. He's gone to get him at the 
 train, or the hotel. He'll be back before long, dear." 
 
 "Then I've got to make myself presentable," said 
 Harry. "Come on, mother." He caught her arm. 
 "Come talk to me while I shave and things." 
 
 "I'll bring the suit-case, Harry," Beatrice declared, 
 and, although he tried to take it from her, held it 
 behind her and insisted. He yielded and they dis 
 appeared together. 
 
 A moment later Alston entered softly, almost fur 
 tively, and after an instant's hesitation, sure that all 
 was clear, hurried back to the side door and ushered 
 Frederick Hoffman in. The "mender" was at work 
 upon an effort more important than any broken pic 
 ture-frame had ever called for.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Careful to make little noise and quite as careful 
 to conceal from him who followed him that he was 
 exercising care, the lawyer turned back when he 
 found the room was empty, and led in from the 
 door a bent and broken man, upon whose face the 
 marks of long and wasting illness were apparent, in 
 whose feeble step the tale of weary weakness was 
 very plainly told. 
 
 "Come right in, Fred," Alston urged, after mak 
 ing certain that the lights were low. 
 
 "Alston, are you sure it's right for you to bring 
 me, worn out, half sick as I am, to visit strangers? 
 Of course, it's kind, but " 
 
 "Of course it's all right, Fred." Alston led him 
 to the fireplace and took his coat and hat, meanwhile 
 glancing about the room, and as he crossed it to lay 
 the garments down, turning the gas above the table 
 still a little lower. He did not wish to have the 
 situation burst too suddenly upon the sick man. 
 "They're dear friends of mine. I'm quite at home 
 here, and I hope you'll soon be the same." 
 
 "But this is their dining-room! Their table is all 
 set for dinner!" 
 
 "The side door was easier. I often use it. High 
 steps at the front. That's why I brought you right 
 
 354
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 355 
 
 in here. And they are expecting us for dinner. I 
 told them we would dine with them. And, Fred, 
 they've got a cook here well! Just like Barbie, 
 Fred!" 
 
 The situation worried Hoffman. He had been so 
 long in solitude, the prey of his remorse, the victim 
 of emotion, that he dreaded meeting anyone. To 
 be thrust thus intimately into a strange family circle 
 shocked him. He suspected nothing of the plot the 
 lawyer had been planning, but the situation worried 
 him. 
 
 "Alston, I'm not well enough. I didn't understand 
 you, quite. I had no idea ... if you want to 
 introduce me to your friends, why, well and good. 
 I shall be glad to meet them. But to intrude at 
 dinner, shaken as I am 
 
 "Alston, after you have introduced me, you must 
 let me go away. They'll know me then and can in 
 vite me for another time if they still wish to. To 
 morrow ... we must drive to Belleville in a 
 closed carriage. No one must know that I am there 
 +.. . . but I want to see the old place once again. 
 And then I'll go away somewhere. Alston, it makes 
 me very nervous to be even here in this part of the 
 state. I " 
 
 "Nonsense, Fred. You're to dine here, spend the 
 evening here. You've moped enough. My friends 
 are yours, you know. You'll like them. A little 
 change will do you good. It's been a long time, 
 Fred, since you've seen the inside of a real home." 
 
 "God! How long!" The weak and weary man
 
 356 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 raised both his hands in a despairing gesture. "It 
 seems like a horrible dream, old man!" 
 
 Alston nodded. "It's been bitter, but " 
 
 "What could I have done without you, Alston? 
 You've taught me what a true friend can be!" 
 
 "Good! I've tried to. This is part of it. Cheer 
 up! I want you to be happy here to-night. Doesn't 
 it all breathe of peace and rest." 
 
 "Yes, yes; and I need rest." 
 
 "Isn't it comfortable and homelike?" He turned 
 up the gas a little. "Come, Fred look around 
 you." 
 
 As he did so Alston slowly turned the light full 
 on. Frederick Hoffman looked about the room, and 
 then weakly caught a chair-back, steadying himself. 
 He saw the old, familiar silver on the table, the very 
 chair on which he leaned had been, for years, his 
 chair at his own table. His frightened eyes swept 
 to the pictures on the wall. 
 
 "I ... she," he stammered, "and the ....> 
 children! Alston, where am I?" 
 
 "At . * . home," said Alston softly, and 
 caught his arm and held him as he clung to his old 
 chair. 
 
 "My . . . old chair!" said Hoffman brokenly, 
 stroking its carved back as if it might have been a 
 human face. 
 
 "Yes; it's your old chair . . . where you be 
 long, Fred." 
 
 "Alston, my dear friend, you did " 
 
 "I did it rather nicely, eh?" said Alston,
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 357 
 
 trying to laugh, but having trouble with insistent 
 tears. 
 
 Hoffman pulled himself together tremulously. 
 "You meant well, old man, but it can't be!" 
 
 "Don't be foolish, Fred. Why not?" 
 
 "I should die ... of shame!" 
 
 "No, Fred; there's nothing shameful in setting a 
 wrong right." 
 
 "I could never ask her to forgive." 
 
 "Fred, Anna has suffered, but I've never heard 
 her speak one word of bitterness nor of reproach of 
 you. I'm sure that when she prays at night she 
 always mentions . . . you." 
 
 The man was deeply moved. "It is the glory of 
 womanhood," said he, "that no matter how sinful 
 a man's life may have been, there is always some 
 good woman like like Anna to lift her voice in 
 prayer for him. But her wounds must be too deep 
 to heal. Alston, it cannot be. I cannot stay." He 
 started toward the door. 
 
 Beatrice, remembering her promise to the lawyer, 
 came hurrying down from Harry's room, where 
 gossip of the coming wedding had almost made her 
 forget. Alston heard her laugh upon the stairs. 
 
 " Wait, Fred ! Your daughter ! " 
 
 The man's steps were halted. He stood as if en 
 tranced. Now he longed to see his daughter! 
 "Beatrice!" 
 
 "She doesn't know you're here. Don't you want 
 to see her, even if she doesn't know it and you go 
 at once?"
 
 358 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 "Oh, how I want to!" 
 
 "Then, if you won't stay, at least slip there be 
 hind the portieres at the door and have a glimpse of 
 her. Fred, it will warm your heart. Quick!" He 
 hid him. 
 
 "Alone?" said Beatrice, entering and seeing only 
 Alston. 
 
 "Well " 
 
 "But where's your friend? Our guest?" 
 
 "I think he'll soon be here." 
 
 "I'm so glad." The girl's smile was very sweet 
 as the hungry eyes of the concealed man watched it. 
 "Poor man! He has been ill. It makes me eager 
 to see him. Queer, isn't it, how women love to have 
 someone around for them to fuss over." 
 
 "Don't worry, Beatrice; there will be plenty to 
 fuss over soon!" 
 
 "Mother's like that, too," the girl went on reflec 
 tively. 
 
 "Of course. She became accustomed to it . . . 
 with your father." 
 
 She nodded sadly. "Did you know Harry had 
 got home ? He came while you were gone. It seems 
 so good to see him? He is away so much." 
 
 "Splendid! Then we'll all be here together, just 
 as we used to be in Belleville." 
 
 She sighed. "Yes . . . all . . , . except 
 my father. Tell me, has he been so very ill?" 
 
 "Yes, very." 
 
 "And we did not know it! And now, is he " 
 
 "Now he is slowly recovering."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 359 
 
 "Ah, I am so glad! Mr. Alston, I thank God for 
 that!" 
 
 Alston took the girl's white hands. He wondered 
 if he might not use the mood which she was in as a 
 medium through which to carry courage to the sick 
 and sorry soul behind the curtain. 
 
 "Beatrice, do you remember when your father was 
 so ill years ago? You were a little girl then, but 
 every evening you prayed for him. It was such a 
 sweet little prayer! I wonder if you still remember 
 it!" % ' 
 
 "A prayer?" 
 
 "Yes, two little lines. How he used to love to 
 hear you say them. Can't you remember?" 
 
 "Ah, yes! 'Almighty God, I pray to Thee, Make 
 my papa well for me!' Is that the prayer you mean?" 
 
 It was too much for Frederick Hoffman. His 
 self-control could hold him in concealment not an 
 instant longer. He strode forward, very weakly, 
 with his hands stretched toward her. 
 
 "Father! Oh, my father!" the girl cried. 
 
 "Beatrice! My own sweet girl!" 
 
 Alston turned away. 
 
 "My poor father!" said the much affected girl. 
 She looked up at his face. "But how white your hair 
 is! And your dear face oh, father!" 
 
 "My dear daughter!" Frederick Hoffman's voice 
 was full of tears. 
 
 "And just think of it! Barbie, your old Barbie > 
 she's still with us. And how glad she will be!" The 
 excited girl could not think consecutively; she was in
 
 360 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 a flutter of delight, of sympathy, or nervousness. She 
 showed him the picture frame which Alston had re 
 paired. "You can't notice it, can you?" 
 : , She was fighting, as she talked with desperate in- 
 consequentiality, for far more than her own self- 
 control. She could see her father tremble. Her 
 father, whom she had believed to be the strongest of 
 all men, her father whom she had begun to think 
 was heartless, her father who had gone away from 
 them, was on the verge of tears. 
 
 Distraught, she took a flower from the bouquet 
 on the table and slipped its stem through one of his 
 lapel buttonholes. But she could not save him from 
 the breakdown which she had known was coming. 
 The tears were rolling down his cheeks. 
 
 "Father . . . please don't!" she said softly. 
 "Father, dear, I love you with my whole heart!" 
 
 With a tremendous effort he fought back his emo 
 tion. "My child, I have prayed to die, but now I 
 thank God that He let me live to hold you in my 
 arms, to hear you tell me that you still love me." 
 He took her flower-like face between his hands and 
 held it thus, looking earnestly at it. "How like your 
 mother when I first knew her! May you be 
 like her, my child ! It is the best wish I can have for 
 you." 
 
 Alston had slipped away, found Anna and now 
 led her, wondering, into the dining-room. Beatrice 
 caught sight of her before her mother saw who really 
 was there. With a protective gesture which quite 
 overwhelmed the miserable man, she threw her arm
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 361 
 
 across her father's breast as if to fend all criticism 
 from him. 
 
 When Anna saw who waited, she staggered back 
 a step or two, and then, steadied by a hand upon the 
 sideboard and the other stretched unconsciously to 
 Alston, she stood gazing, startled, speechless. 
 
 "Mother . . . please!" begged Beatrice. She 
 went to her and pleaded with imploring eyes. 
 "Please!" 
 
 Anna did not look at her, but made a gesture, 
 reassuring her, and on her face a faint, sweet smile 
 appeared. 
 
 "Come, Beatrice," said Alston, and led the girl 
 away. 
 
 Frederick Hoffman stood at first with a bowed 
 head, finding strength to give the mother of his chil 
 dren one glance only. Then, as she did not speak, 
 he turned as if to go, as if accepting his dismissal. 
 
 "Fred!" said she, arresting him. 
 
 He stopped and turned toward her, but could not 
 lift his eyes to meet her gaze. When he spoke his 
 voice was tremulous; his attitude showed the sad 
 weakness of his emaciated frame. 
 
 "Anna," he said slowly, "I had no idea when I 
 came here ... no idea. Alston did all this 
 . . . with good intentions, of course, but . . . 
 Anna, I don't know whether you could " 
 
 He stood there trembling, his lips quivering, unable 
 to say more, but she made no sign and gradually he 
 gathered strength again. 
 
 "Anna," he said slowly, "you see me now, before
 
 362 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 
 
 you, in the saddest moment of my life. I never 
 should have come, but Alston . . . still, now 
 that I am here, I want to say to you one thing 
 . . perhaps the last that I shall ever say to you. 
 Great is the wrong that I have done you, Anna, but 
 great has been my punishment. Endless hours of 
 deep remorse and shame have tortured me. I -> . . 
 ah, as I forsook you, Anna, so has God forsaken 
 me! . . . That is all that I can say to you. 
 . . . Good-by!" 
 
 A second more she stood there speechless, motion 
 less, but as he slowly turned to go she stepped toward 
 him and took his hand. 
 
 "Fred, don't go. We still have something we can 
 live for our dear children. Let us try to help them 
 find the happiness which we, ourselves, have searched 
 for and have missed. Perhaps a ray of it will fall 
 then on the evening of our lives." 
 
 The stricken man advanced and slowly raised her 
 white hand to his lips and kissed it. As he tried to 
 straighten afterward he tottered, and, had she not 
 caught him, would have fallen. It was the arm of 
 Anna, the deserted wife, that gave him strength to 
 reach his old armchair. 
 
 For an instant she stood looking at him with an 
 infinite compassion. Then, going to the door, she 
 called to Beatrice. 
 
 The young folk rushed in together and the four 
 members of the family thus stood reunited. 
 
 Alston, smiling, went to the kitchen door. "Barbie," 
 he cried, "bring on your leg of lamb."
 
 THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE 363 
 
 "Yes, sir," she answered promptly. 
 
 "I deserve my dinner," he said gravely. 
 
 She came in with a salver piled with smoking 
 dishes. "And you're going to have it, Mr. Alston." 
 
 Then she saw who sat there at the table, and 
 without a word, without even looking at him, thrust 
 the heavy-laden tray into the lawyer's startled hands. 
 
 "It's Mr. Hoffman!" The old servant's voice was a 
 mere wavering cry. "It's the old gentleman! Oh, 
 Mr. Hoffman! Mr. Hoffman!" She fell kneeling 
 at his feet. 
 
 Harry was the last to enter. "Father! Father!" 
 he cried joyfully. 
 
 "My boy!" said Frederick Hoffman as the tears, 
 unheeded, rolled down his flushed and sunken cheeks. 
 
 THE END
 
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