356C
 
 MISS 
 
 PETTICOATS
 
 % 
 
 Agatha Renier 
 ( ' ' Miss Petticoats . " )
 
 PETTICOATS 
 
 BY 
 
 D WIGHT TILTON 
 
 With Illustrations by 
 CHARLES H. STEPHENS 
 
 '"Before the judgment bar of God, 
 there is no sex in sin" 
 
 C. M. CLARK 
 PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A. 
 
 ' 9 5
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 1902 BY 
 C. M. CLARK 
 PUBLISHING 
 COMPANY 
 
 ENTERED AT 
 STAT 10 NE R S 
 HALL LONDON 
 FOREIGN COPY- 
 RIGHTS SECURED 
 
 RIGHTS OF 
 TRANSLATION 
 PUBLIC READ- 
 ING AND 
 DRAMATIZATION 
 RESERVED
 
 UMANITY 
 is never so 
 beautiful as when 
 praying for forgiveness 
 or else forgiving 
 another. When thou 
 forgivest, the man who 
 has pierced thy heart 
 stands to thee in 
 the relation of the sea 
 worm, that perforates 
 the shell of the mussel, 
 which straightway 
 closes the wound 
 with a pearl." 
 
 2133143
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 TTbe JSirtb of ambition 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE DEMON OF DISCONTENT i 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 AN ANIMAL AT BAY ic 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 IN THE CABIN OF THE " HARPOON " 19 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 "Miss PETTICOATS" 29 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 " BEAUTY PROVOKETH THIEVES " 40 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 A WOMAN'S INTUITION 51 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 MEN OF GOOD WORKS . . 63 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 TILLY HAS HER SUSPICIONS ...... 75 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 LOVE'S GREATEST TEST 83 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 SOCIETY AMUSES ITSELF 94 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 TWIXT SMILES AND TEARS 106 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 AT NEW MOORINGS 116 
 
 vii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 '/BM& Slinks aufc Hrrows 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 A PIRATE CRAFT SIGHTED 126 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 AN IDOL OF CLAY 135 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 A ROLLING STONE 142 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 PHINEAS SYKES'S CLAMBAKE 151 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 A SHATTERED IDOL . .161 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 " GOD ALMIGHTY'S GENTLEMAN ''...'.. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 178 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 THE WHIP OF SCORN 190 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 THE PATH OF THE STORM 200 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 CAPT. JOEL SAILS AWAY 210 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 AT HANK DONELSON'S 227 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 SOCIETY is SCANDALIZED . . . . . . . 235 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 MODERN CHIVALRY 243 
 
 viii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Ube Bwafcenfng ot a Soul 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 AFTER FIVE YEARS 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 THE PENALTY OF FAME 261 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 THE EMBERS OF HATE 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 278 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 FOR HIGH STAKES 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS . . . . , . . . 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 THE SKIRMISH LINE 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 AN AMBUSCADE 314 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 " To FORGIVE DIVINE " 323 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 TIGHTENING THE NOOSE 332 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 THE MASK THROWN OFF 342 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 A NEW DAWN 35! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 A DEBT is PAID g r 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 INTO SAFE HARBOR 9 ^ 
 
 ix
 
 ILL USTR^TIONS 
 
 MISS PETTICOATS . . . . Frontispiece 
 
 < SWAYING IN THE AIR LIKE A SCARLET 
 
 VINE." Page 6 
 
 "WITHIN A YEAR YOU WERE ALL I 
 
 HAD." Pages* 
 
 "COME NOW, LUCY; AGATHA'S A 
 
 GOOD GIRL." . . . . Page 163 
 
 "NOW GO; MY HOUSE CAN BE 
 
 YOUR HOME NO LONGER." . Page 208 
 
 "YET NOT TOO GRAND TO RE- 
 MEMBER OLD FRIENDS." . . Page 285 
 
 * "I SENT FOR YOU TO BEG YOUR 
 
 FORGIVENESS." .... Page 330
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Ube JSfrtb of Bmbftfon 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE DEMON OF DISCONTENT 
 
 THE great bell in the granite tower of old 
 Number One mill clanged out its warning 
 of the noontide release to the hundreds 
 who toiled their lives away within its walls, and 
 presently there poured forth from its gray portals 
 and out between the smooth spaces of well-kept lawn 
 to the iron gates a swarm of men and women, boys 
 and girls, like angered bees from a hive. Only from 
 this hive there came no drones, for by the grim sur- 
 vival of the fittest only those who could work from 
 sunrise to sunset and from day to day, with but one 
 gleam of blessed Sabbath light, were given place in 
 the vast home of industry. 
 
 Like bees too, these mill people of Old Chetford 
 were excitedly buzzing about some special thing 
 that had aroused their ire. That was clear from 
 the broken bits of conversation that now and again 
 rose above the monotonous humming of the ma- 
 jority.
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Yes, blast 'em/' cried a burly, red-faced weaver, 
 as he stopped at the gate to wait for some of his 
 particular cronies, " they cuts us down because the 
 market ain't strong, they say. Bah ! That's always 
 their cry when they wants to grind us out of the 
 little we gets already. We knows better. It's more 
 dividends they're after, and more dividends they'll 
 get, whether our young 'uns live like pigs or not. 
 We ain't goin' to stand it. We'll ' 
 
 " Oh, you'll stand it right enough, Peter Grimes," 
 broke in a tall, buxom girl with the flaunting comeli- 
 ness of an overblown peony, " you're too fond of 
 your gin to want to throw up your job. If you men 
 had half the spirit we girls have got, you'd have 
 struck long ago and taught these people with their 
 carriages and fine dresses how to behave themselves." 
 
 " Ah," growled the weaver, his dull eyes lighted 
 by a glint of admiration in spite of himself, " you're 
 a young idiot, you are. What do you know about 
 it, anyway? You think more of your Sunday night 
 sparking down on Promontory Road than about the 
 rights of labor. You'd better keep your mouth 
 shut" 
 
 " What do I know about it ? " replied the girl 
 angrily, " I'll tell you what I know about it. Didn't 
 I see that white-faced old Mrs. Copeland drive up 
 to the gate an hour ago, and wasn't I called to the 
 'super's office just afterward to be jawed about flaws 
 in my cloth, and wasn't the old skinflint sitting there 
 talking to the rest of the bosses, and didn't they stop 
 all of a sudden when I came in ? " 
 
 "S'pose they did?"
 
 THE DEMON OF DISCONTENT 
 
 " Well, what happened in a few minutes after 
 that ? Oh, yes, you begin to get something through 
 your thick head, don't you? They posted up a no- 
 tice in the main hall that seeing as they were so poor 
 and we were so rich, they'd decided to make a ten 
 per cent reduction in our wages all around. Now, 
 who's the heaviest stockholder in the mill; tell me 
 that?" 
 
 The man's red face flushed to a deeper hue as the 
 full significance of this revelation dawned upon him, 
 
 " You're a smart girl, Bess ; it's Mrs. Copeland as 
 has done it, sure enough. And here's her hosses 
 and monkey coachman comin' back after her. We'll 
 wait right here for her ladyship, and just tell her 
 what a nice old woman she is, and how we all love 
 her." 
 
 On the magical wings that rumor always wears the 
 news quickly went through the excited crowd that 
 now surged around the gates. The author of their 
 trouble was a woman; she was rich; here was her 
 carriage with its prancing horses at the curb; she 
 herself was coming out in a minute or two. All the 
 accessories for hate were before their eyes, and they 
 forgot their hunger and weariness in their desire 
 to stay and share in the denunciation. The murmurs 
 of discontent grew to vindictive snarlings and then 
 to loud threats of violence. 
 
 If the tall and rather stately old lady who walked 
 briskly down the steps and on toward the crowd 
 realized that she was the object of all this turmoil, 
 she gave no sign. Her face lost its customary se- 
 verity as she bowed and smiled at some of her ac-
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 quaintances among the mill people, moving straight 
 at the mob as if she expected it to stand aside in 
 recognition of her birth and station. 
 
 Moral and physical courage in combination form 
 a magnificent and sometimes irresistible fighting 
 force, but in a contest with the mob-mania they must 
 often go down to defeat. So found Mrs. Sarah 
 Copeland as these turbulent waves of human passion 
 closed about her. She had sometimes bewailed her 
 own femininity as partially shutting her out from 
 many of the larger affairs of life ; now she knew that 
 it alone might save her from great bodily harm. She 
 struggled on toward her carriage. 
 
 The yells of denunciation, the hissing, the un- 
 lovely epithets that were hurled at her in full cry 
 by the women hurt her pride more than did the 
 physical indignities. That she should be publicly 
 reviled in her own city, the city of her ancestors' 
 love and hers, was worse than blows. 
 
 " Give us back our money ; give us back our 
 money," screamed a fragile slip of a woman, worn 
 to a shadow amid the everlasting clangor of the 
 shuttles. 
 
 " Yer're a pretty Christian, ain't yer ? " roared a 
 fat and blear-eyed slattern, shaking a ponderous fist 
 in the aristocratic face, " takin' the bread out of our 
 children's mouths, you old miser." This woman 
 had no offspring of her own, but she filled the void 
 in her life by an exceedingly great devotion to a cer- 
 tain grocery of unsavory repute in Old Chetford. 
 
 "Oh, yes," taunted the peony-faced girl, "that 
 
 4
 
 THE DEMON OF DISCONTENT 
 
 nephew of yours is quite expensive now, isn't he? 
 You want to raise a little something from us to pay 
 his bills with, of course. I know him, you see." And 
 she laughed significantly. 
 
 Such were some of the solos in the furious chorus 
 of opprobrium that assailed the gentlewoman's ears. 
 She had ceased trying to find her carriage now, and 
 stood with folded arms looking scornfully at the 
 nearest of her tormentors. Her calmness and her 
 silence angered the crowd to desperation. Violence 
 would surely be the next vent to its fury. 
 
 Suddenly the crowd in front parted a little as the 
 stalwart figure of the coachman tore its way to the 
 beleaguered lady. It was in just such emergencies 
 as this that James found his former career as a prize- 
 fighter of practical value. He was eminently re- 
 spectable now, and never referred to the decently 
 buried past, but as his fist shot back and forth with 
 the well-trained regularity of a piston, he blessed 
 the memory of his old master, Jem Mace, and never 
 stopped to count the victims he laid low. 
 
 Grasping his mistress unceremoniously around the 
 waist, James dashed back toward the carriage, sur- 
 prising the mob into non-resistance by his prowess 
 and celerity. He pushed the lady into the vehicle 
 for which he apologized most respectfully afterward 
 and prepared to mount the box and be off. 
 
 A well-directed stone from someone in the crowd 
 hit one of the horses squarely on the flank. Both 
 animals sprang forward violently, throwing the 
 coachman to the ground. With the frantic un-
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 reasoning of their kind they swerved from the street 
 and made directly for an open space ending in a 
 precipitous bank, below which bristled an ugly array 
 of spiles, the remains of an old pier now left un- 
 covered by the outgoing tide. 
 
 As the unharmed but sadly disheveled James 
 picked himself up his quick eye saw at once the 
 possibilities of a terrible catastrophe. He could not 
 reach the horses himself, he knew; he could only 
 pray for a miracle to happen. 
 
 Then he saw a young girl, whose flashing red 
 skirts he never afterward forgot, dash out from the 
 crowd, plunge across the path of the animals and 
 jump for their heads. He closed his eyes. Is she 
 dead, he wonders. He looks again. No, she has 
 caught the bit-rings of one of the horses and is cling- 
 ing desperately to them, swaying in the air like, a 
 scarlet vine. 
 
 And then victory! The girl's sheer weight 
 brings the animals to a standstill, panting and snort- 
 ing with fear. A window of the carriage is lowered 
 and a calm face looks out, the face of his mistress, 
 who is unharmed. He goes to his horses and soothes 
 them into a normal condition. Then he himself be- 
 comes calm, and the prize-fighter is forgotten in the 
 impassive coachman. 
 
 The heroine of this adventure would have made 
 her escape, but it was not so written by the fates. 
 
 " Come here, my girl," said the occupant of the 
 carriage so imperatively that the former could do no 
 less than obey. 
 
 " Closer yet, my dear. I am very short sighted." 
 6
 
 'Swaying in the air like a scarlet vine."
 
 THE DEMON OF DISCONTENT 
 
 A lorgnette of gold was raised to the gray eyes, 
 and through it was seen a charming picture. 
 
 " M'm, yes ; a good face. Who are you ? " 
 
 " My name is Agatha, ma'am." 
 
 " Agatha ? Well, Agatha what ? There is another 
 name, I suppose." 
 
 " Agatha Renier." 
 
 "M'm, yes; a foreigner, eh? Who's your 
 father?" 
 
 " My father is dead." 
 
 " Your mother, then?" 
 
 The girl's bright face lost its sunny smile. 
 
 " She is dead, too." 
 
 " Well, in goodness' name, who is there? " 
 
 " There is grandfather and me." 
 
 " M'm, yes; where does he live? " 
 
 " On board the old whaler Harpoon at Tucker- 
 man's wharf." 
 
 " Indeed ? A sailor, I presume." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Come closer." 
 
 The girl, with a little blush, yet in no wise un- 
 conscious of her own good looks, did as she was 
 told. 
 
 " Yes, a really good face ; but don't get vain over 
 it." The shrewd old eyes took in with one swift 
 glance the shabby scarlet skirt. " Poor, I see. Yet," 
 as she noted the piece of fine ribbon that put a dash 
 of color to the dark hair, " yet proud." 
 
 Agatha raised her glance valiantly to this strange 
 old lady's. She had lost all her timidity now, for 
 she had been told that she was poor and proud. She 
 
 7
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 knew that she was poor, and she would show that 
 she could be proud. 
 
 " My grandfather is a captain," she said, with 
 all the impressiveness her youthful voice could sum- 
 mon up. 
 
 " Captain what ? " asked the lady, curiously un- 
 moved by the importance of the disclosure. 
 
 " Captain Stewart." 
 
 " M'm, yes ; I've heard of him. I'll see him. 
 You've done me a service to-day, my dear. You 
 must be repaid." 
 
 The girl flushed rosily now, and her pretty lips 
 were set firm. " Poor and proud ; poor and proud," 
 was the refrain that kept ringing through her very 
 soul. 
 
 " I don't want any reward," she said brusquely, 
 " it was nothing that I did nothing that anyone 
 couldn't have done. But," she continued with an 
 odd little smile, " you may pay for the tear in my 
 dress, if you like. That will do for me." 
 
 The aristocrat gazed at the daughter of the peo- 
 ple with keen curiosity for a moment. This type of 
 working girl was new to her. They had generally 
 been obsequious, grasping, deceitful. A trace of 
 emotion stirred a heart not often given to sentiment, 
 at least of this personal sort. 
 
 " Tut, tut, child," she retorted, " you scarcely 
 know what you have done, and you certainly do not 
 know what you are saying. You are in a bit of a 
 huff, my dear, that's all. But lest you forget it, 
 I am going to tell you again that you are ooor and 
 
 8
 
 THE DEMON OF DISCONTENT 
 
 proud, as proud as well, never mind. Home, 
 James." 
 
 Furious with anger as she was, Agatha watched 
 the beautiful carriage roll up the street until it 
 turned a faraway corner and was gone. Then she 
 slowly turned her steps back to the mill.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AN ANIMAL AT BAY 
 
 AS Agatha Renier walked back to the scene of 
 the tumult that had brought so startling 
 a vista of wealth and all its possibilities 
 before her, she felt a great longing to be done with 
 the never ending tasks in the grim fortress of toil 
 she had now known for several years. She had seen 
 many a fair and blooming girl transformed by the 
 pitiless process of work into a pallid drudge. Only 
 last night she had looked into her little round mir- 
 ror at home with a sort of dread lest she herself were 
 going the way of others. 
 
 " Tell me the truth, glass," she had said, " no 
 flattery, mind." 
 
 She had laughed, yet with a sigh of relief, to find 
 how reassuring was the answering message of the 
 shining circle. It had told her that her finely- 
 molded oval face was as delicately tinted over its 
 olive surface as ever ; that her skin was of that satin 
 texture that speaks of perfect health ; that her brown 
 eyes were as limpid and brilliant as a pool on some 
 rocky ledge ; that her dark hair waved with its usual 
 saucy abandon around her low, smooth forehead; 
 that her full lips were of the same hue as the little 
 coral trees in her grandfather's quaint cabin-room. 
 All was eminently, satisfactory in this regard, and, 
 
 10
 
 AN ANIMAL AT BAT 
 
 being a very human young woman, Agatha had re- 
 joiced in her own beauty. 
 
 " I'll do for a while yet," she had told her mirror 
 and herself. Why she should not " do " at sixteen 
 might perhaps not have been clear to other auditors ; 
 but Agatha's was a life that made for a sadly brief 
 childhood. In those days of Old Chetford's in- 
 dustrial history babies, almost, were pressed into the 
 ranks of the providers, and as they stumbled on with 
 tired little feet, they became old before they were 
 fairly young. 
 
 She herself had not been put to the toil under 
 compulsion. Her grandfather's bit of property re- 
 alized enough for the two to live upon, at any rate, 
 and the old man's pride in the pretty child, with her 
 alternating moods of storm and sunshine, had made 
 him determined that she should grow up a " lady." 
 
 She went to the public schools, where she was the 
 delight and terror of her teachers. She acquired 
 knowledge with surprising avidity, and with equal 
 aptness gathered to herself all the inherent mischief 
 of the schoolroom. She invented the trick of drop- 
 ping a pinch of soda into some enemy's ink-well, and 
 laughed at the horrible black eruption that would 
 flood the hated one's desk. The tender ministra- 
 tions of the ferule chastened her spirit not at all. 
 Once, however, she was summoned before the awful 
 presence of the " committee " for some specially 
 heinous breach of discipline, and only the rugged 
 eloquence of Captain Stewart saved her from ex- 
 pulsion. 
 
 That incident sobered her in a marked degree. 
 II
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Blows upon the hand she could endure with a smile, 
 and count herself something of a heroine; but to be 
 turned out of school that would be a public dis- 
 grace and a bitter blow to her pride. With that fear 
 hanging over her head she managed to preserve 
 at least an appearance of good behavior. 
 
 When Agatha reached her thirteenth year the 
 leaven of unrest began stirring within her. She was 
 now old enough to realize the poverty of her grand- 
 father. There were little girlish luxuries she craved, 
 and she saw but one way to get them. That way 
 was the common method of the friends of her vi- 
 cinity : work in the mills. She saw the visible bene- 
 fits of such employment, without at all appreciating 
 the dull grind demanded as the price of obtaining 
 them. Her decision was soon taken. 
 
 There had very nearly been a scene when Agatha 
 ventured to inform her grandfather of her resolu- 
 tion as near as the gentle old man's love for the 
 girl would permit. In vain he had protested that 
 they had enough, that Agatha would belittle herself 
 in such surroundings, that she would grow up with- 
 out education. She had keen and ready answers for 
 every objection, and she triumphed. 
 
 But her view-point had been gradually changing 
 as she had grown older ; she had caught glimpses of 
 another life up on the " Hill," where Old Chetford's 
 whale-oil magnates had established their noble man- 
 sions, and where their descendants still lived in the 
 luxury of great estates. She began to hate the mill 
 as the barrier that, in some indefinable way, kept her 
 from the better things of existence. 
 
 12
 
 AN ANIMAL AT BAT 
 
 As she went towards the gloomy old building, 
 thrilling with her recent experience and speculating 
 as to what the strange old woman's last words might 
 mean, Agatha felt that her days in the factory were 
 at an end. She would find something else to do, 
 something that would bring her into contact with 
 men and women of another class; and as with her 
 a thing thought of was as good as done, her spirits 
 rose and she began to sing snatches of a gay little 
 French song she had heard somewhere. 
 
 The mob that had been cheated of its fair game 
 was still standing sullenly around the gates as 
 Agatha approached. Grimes, the weaver, was 
 mounted upon a box and was haranguing his fellow 
 workers, so that the girl joined the crowd practi- 
 cally unobserved. 
 
 " I tells yer," the orator was shouting, " if we 
 don't do something now we're slaves for the rest of 
 our lives. It's cut, cut, cut with these rich folks. 
 Now they cuts off our meat; bimeby they'll cut off 
 our clo's, after that our roofs and then " 
 
 "Well, what then, Peter?" 
 
 The question was asked in a strong, rich voice, 
 evidently trained to the addressing of people. The 
 questioner was a young man of middle height 
 dressed in gray tweed, and wearing a soft black hat 
 with a rather jauntily curling brim. A brown mous- 
 tache drooped over a pleasant mouth, and a pair of 
 clear blue eyes spoke of an honest heart and a hatred 
 of sham. A small white necktie gave the new comer 
 a clerical appearance not at all in keeping with his 
 general make-up. 
 
 13
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 "Well, what then?" 
 
 The oratorical Peter stopped short in his speech, 
 and nodded rather shamefacedly to the man in 
 tweed. The others stood aside respectfully and al- 
 lowed him to come close up to the improvised forum. 
 
 " The parson," went around through the gather- 
 ing, and with that announcement all the turbulence 
 of a few moments before was stilled completely. 
 
 The Rev. Ralph Harding looked about him for an 
 instant, his keen eyes picking out the faces that were 
 familiar. Then a peculiarly attractive smile lit up 
 his face, a smile as of indulgence for bad children. 
 
 " Now, then, Peter, what's all this rumpus 
 about? " he asked cheerily. " I'm surprised to find 
 you mixing in any disturbance, and you, John Han- 
 son, and you Margaret Evans. Why all three of you 
 were at the reading room last night, and a better 
 behaved trio I never saw. What's started you into 
 mischief again ? " 
 
 " It ain't us as has started it," declared Grimes 
 doggedly, "it's the owners, Parson. They've cut our 
 wages down ten per cent." 
 
 " Ah, that's bad." 
 
 " Bad ? It's worse than bad, sir. They put the 
 notice up half an hour ago." 
 
 " And what happened then ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, we learns that old Mrs. Copeland is 
 the one that's chiefly done it, and when she came out 
 a little while ago we just told her what we thought 
 of her, and then " 
 
 " Then you stoned her horses, you idiots, and 
 nearly killed her into the bargain. I saw the whole 
 
 14
 
 AN ANIMAL AT BAT 
 
 of it from across the street. Do you know who Mrs. 
 Copeland is ? " 
 
 " We does, indeed, Parson. She's rich and owns 
 a big lot of stock in the mill." 
 
 " But perhaps you don't know that she started 
 your reading room and coffee house and pays its 
 expenses every day in the year; or that she owns 
 that little hospital down on Water street, where you 
 and your children can be treated without paying a 
 cent. And you stoned her horses! I'm disgusted 
 with you." 
 
 The burly workman lowered his eyes before the 
 clear gaze of the minister. For the first time in his 
 life shame and regret were struggling within him 
 to find utterance. The others looked sheepishly 
 about, apparently seeking some shelter from the in- 
 indignation of Mr. Harding. Grimes felt that it 
 was incumbent on him to proffer an apology. 
 
 " Well, sir, of course we didn't know anything 
 about that," he said, " and bein' as them's the facts, 
 we're sorry for what we done. But all the same, 
 our wages is cut, and we've got to do something 
 about it. It's hard, sir, that's what it is." 
 
 The clergyman's heart relented. He had a genuine 
 regard for many of these people, and he well knew 
 the bitterness of some of their lives. 
 
 " Now, men -and women," he added, with a 
 courteous bow, I am going to see what can be 
 done about the matter. I can't promise you any- 
 thing, for it may be that it is a case of reduction or 
 a shutdown. I know that these mills did not pay 
 one cent of dividend last year; your income from 
 
 15
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 them was more than Mrs. Copeland's. I don't be- 
 lieve that the owners would willingly grind you down 
 without reason. You must never forget that they 
 are too dependent on you to make you their enemies 
 foolishly. I'll do the best I can for you, you may 
 rely on that." 
 
 " We does rely on it, sir, and thanks you hearty," 
 and then the weaver called for three cheers for the 
 " Parson," which were roared cut lustily by the 
 same throats that had a little while before been re- 
 viling a woman. The trouble at old Number One 
 was over, for the present at least. 
 
 As the minister turned toward the mill door he 
 caught sight of Agatha Renier behind one of the gate 
 posts busily engaged in pinning up a long rent in 
 her cherished red skirt. It was a very charming 
 sight, and if the Rev. Ralph Harding's blood stirred 
 somewhat at seeing it, who was there to say him 
 nay? He was young and he was a man that he 
 had always insisted upon, in the pulpit and out. It 
 had gained him the reputation of being " eccentric," 
 for which he cared as little as for the natural ebb and 
 flow of the tide in Old Chetford harbor. He con- 
 ceived his mission to be the saving of souls and the 
 helping of the body; and he believed that whether 
 he did his work in solemn black or rough and ready 
 tweed was a matter of small consequence to the 
 Almighty. 
 
 " A brave girl, as I have always thought," he 
 said to himself as he entered the mill ; " a brilliant 
 girl and a beautiful one. God help her to go the 
 right way." 
 
 16
 
 AN ANIMAL AT BAT 
 
 Agatha, having finished her impromptu tailoring 
 to her own satisfaction, started down the street for 
 a walk during the few remaining minutes of the 
 noon hour. This time she was not unobserved, and 
 the crowd, provoked by its mistake in the assault 
 on Mrs. Copeland, and smarting under the rebuke of 
 the minister, seemed determined to make the pretty 
 young girl the scapegoat for its own misdeeds. In 
 this the women were the active spirits. 
 
 " Spose yer think yer a heroing." 
 
 " Coin' to get into company on the * Hill ' ? " 
 
 " Puttin' on such airs, the wharf rat ! Did yer 
 ever?" 
 
 " Grandpa's ' Miss Petticoats ' ! " 
 
 " Oh, Miss Petticoats ! ' " came the sneering cho- 
 rus, "Ya-ah, Ya-ah!" 
 
 Amid such jibes Agatha walked haughtily along, 
 giving no sign of the fire of wrath that was being 
 kindled within her heart, until at last, someone more 
 bold than the rest, seized her by the shoulder and 
 pinched the tender flesh viciously. Then she backed 
 up against the mill-yard wall and faced her tor- 
 mentors like an animal at bay. There was warning 
 enough in her compressed lips, her heightened color 
 and the nervous writhing of her fingers, but the 
 nagging crowd was too intent upon its business to 
 see it. 
 
 " She put on airs," cries one of the girls, " why 
 she doesn't even know her father." 
 
 " And as for her mother " sneers Bess, the 
 
 peony-faced, " why " 
 
 Before the sentence can be completed Agatha, in
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 a fury of passion, springs upon the larger girl and 
 tears her face till the blood streams down her coarse 
 cheeks. It is like the darting of a panther upon a 
 sluggish beast of burden, and the others retreat in 
 terror. The luckless Bess falls on her knees and 
 protects her face with her arms. 
 
 No one else cares to try conclusions with this 
 handsome young champion of her family honor, and 
 she smiles scornfully down on the defeated and 
 cowering Bess, who,, sobbing with rage and pain, 
 is trying to mop up the red rivulets on her cheeks 
 and make herself presentable for a return to the mill. 
 
 " Don't you ever dare speak ill of my mother 
 again," says Agatha, then turns and walks slowly to 
 the next corner. No one follows her. 
 
 Once out of sight of her routed enemy, her re- 
 pressed passion again bursts forth and angry tears 
 fill her eyes. Then she is moved by a sudden de- 
 termination, and, turning her face toward her float- 
 ing home, she hurries thither as fast as her feet can 
 carry her.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 IN THE CABIN OF THE " HARPOON " 
 
 THE most picturesque and interesting feature 
 of Old Chetford at the time of the fore- 
 going events was that legacy from its 
 glorious past, the wharves where once flourished 
 the whale-oil industry. For years they had been 
 slowly going the way of all things temporal, de- 
 caying, withering, tottering to ruins, or else re- 
 modeled and covered with tall and ghastly sheds for 
 the storing of prosaic coal. 
 
 Grass now flourished on most of the piers where 
 once the work of many men had coined fortunes 
 from the golden stream of the refining cauldrons. 
 The rows of long disused casks had become the play- 
 houses of children ; great iron pots lay around in lazy, 
 sprawling attitudes as if enjoying their cessation 
 from labor; clumsy old anchors, whose flukes had 
 often caught the ground under arctic seas, rusted 
 away in solitude under the sun and the storm. Cats 
 and bats made their homes in the long low buildings 
 that had been the pride and joy of Old Chetford's 
 former magnates. But even time could not wholly 
 destroy the dull odor of the oil-soaked timbers, and 
 on pleasant days many an ancient tar wandered 
 through the deserted region, to dream of his youth 
 and the stirring chase of the sperm. 
 
 19
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 The deep pathos of this dead and gone regime 
 was found in the abandoned ships that slowly very 
 slowly, for they were built of almost imperishable 
 oak were growing old at the wharves. A dozen 
 of these veterans of the Pacific were there in all 
 stages of dismantlement and neglect. The once- 
 famous names of the Old Chetford whaling fleet 
 might still be read by careful scrutiny of faded stern- 
 letterings, while the figureheads of women, birds 
 and statesmen, known in their day the world over, 
 yet clung to the bows of the ancient barks in gro- 
 tesque forms of decrepitude. Some of the hulks still 
 boasted masts and spars, but from most the service- 
 able material had been stripped away, leaving them 
 mere floating tombs of dead ambitions and decayed 
 grandeur. 
 
 Tuckerman's wharf, although disused, and the last 
 berth of one or two of the whalers, was neither un- 
 kempt nor decaying. Evidently someone's care had 
 kept the planking in a reasonable state of security, 
 had fought down the weeds, and had given the ap- 
 proach to the water a fictitious air of the conducting 
 of business. 
 
 Evidently, too, someone had expended a deal of 
 attention upon one of the old craft tied up at the 
 southerly side of the wharf in order to get the win- 
 ter's sun. Its sides above water were painted black, 
 and its deck was as clean and fresh as if holystoned 
 yesterday. It had no masts, but a trim flagpole was 
 fastened at the bow, and from its top the flag of the 
 Union fluttered bravely in the soft spring breeze. 
 
 20 
 
 N
 
 In the CABIN OF THE "HARPOON" 
 
 Over the companionway of the after cabin a neat 
 awning was stretched, and a pair of comfortable- 
 looking chairs under it spoke of human occupation. 
 On the stern the name " Harpoon " was bright with 
 gold-leaf on raised wooden letters. 
 
 On this particular day the chance passerby at the 
 head of the wharf might have heard the rollicking 
 strains of an old sea ditty trolled forth with more 
 energy than strict regard for harmony; had he 
 stopped to listen, there would have come to his ears 
 the sound of boisterous laughter issuing from the 
 " Harpoon's " companion-way. The voices now and 
 then cracked, and the laughter died away in a wheezy 
 chuckle, like the sound of the sea-mew; but at any 
 rate the noise was human and distinctly cheerful in 
 that place of memories. 
 
 So thought an odd little man who happened to 
 reach the entrance to Tuckerman's wharf just as a 
 particularly loud shout of merriment flung itself out 
 upon the air. He stopped and listened attentively. 
 
 The odd little man was a living enigma. His fig- 
 ure was very small, trig and youthful, and his every 
 movement was agile and boyish. A tiny black round- 
 topped glazed hat was perched over his chubby face, 
 with its rosy complexion and small features, and 
 he wore an abbreviated blue jacket whose sleeves 
 seemed perpetually on the point of shrinking up over 
 his elbows. His white flannel trousers were skin tight 
 until they reached the knees, from which point they 
 descended to his neat enamel shoes in a cataract 
 of baggy folds. His grizzled hair was plastered 
 
 21
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 down in the schoolboy style of half a century ago, 
 and from this possession alone could his age of about 
 fifty be approximately guessed. 
 
 Hank Donelson felt that something unusual and 
 probably attractive was going forward in the cabin 
 of the " Harpoon." He walked slowly down the 
 wharf, then paused. Shaking his head thoughtfully, 
 he retraced his steps toward the street, when a burst 
 of laughter that put to shame any of its predecessors 
 smote his ears. With a strange little smile that just 
 lifted the corners of his mouth, he turned for the last 
 time and, running briskly to the gang-plank of the 
 " Harpoon," quickly made his appearance in the 
 cabin. 
 
 A rousing chorus greeted Hank's entrance. 
 "Ahoy, there, shipmate," "Hello, my hearty," 
 " Drop anchor, you lubber," and other phrases of 
 the sea told him how sincere was the welcome, and 
 as through the fumes of tobacco smoke Hank's nose 
 could detect the genial odor of grog, he was minded 
 to make himself thoroughly at home. 
 
 Without answering the salutations of his cronies, 
 Hank walked to the head of the table where a giant- 
 framed, white-haired old man was sitting, and, tak- 
 ing a hitch in his trousers, stood at stiff salute. 
 
 " I begs to report, Cap'n." 
 
 " Ay, ay, Hank, my boy," said the fine old fellow, 
 " join the mess." 
 
 Whereupon Hank proceeded to the pipe rack 
 made of whales' teeth set in the shell of a huge sea 
 turtle and chose his favorite clay. He filled it with 
 
 22
 
 very black and damp tobacco and began to smoke 
 contentedly. 
 
 " Avast there," roared a fat, oily-faced tar, whose 
 fringe of encircling white whiskers made him look 
 like the astronomical representations of the sun, 
 " D'ye think it's right, Cap'n Stewart, to let the 
 young 'un smoke ? " It was Captain Phineas Sykes's 
 pet joke to treat Hank as a very small boy, who was 
 allowed to mingle with his elders as a special 
 privilege. 
 
 A shout greeted this sally, to which Hank paid 
 not the slightest attention. 
 
 " And as for grog," squeaked a weazened ex- 
 whaler who rejoiced in the name of Artemas Slick- 
 ersley, and who had been one of the finest " cro's 
 nest " men of his time, " as for grog, why in course 
 the boy ain't a goin' to get any of that pizen." 
 
 " Looky here, Artemas," retorted Hank, " if I 
 was so durned old as you be, I'd set about lookin' 
 arter the salvation of my immortal soul instead of 
 settin' round drinkin' rum and makin' fun of my 
 betters." 
 
 " Come, come, boys," protested Captain Stewart, 
 " no quarreling now, or you'll have to up anchor 
 and scud off. But Hank, how happens it you're here? 
 Didn't you say yesterday you were going to take 
 down a stove for Tilly to-day? " 
 
 Tilly was Hank's maiden sister, whose love for 
 her vicious old parrot was only exceeded by her con- 
 tempt and hatred for the " shiftless old gabbers," 
 whose club was the after cabin of the " Harpoon." 
 
 23
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 To Hank she was not a pleasant topic for discussion, 
 and he shifted uneasily in his seat, as if he half ex- 
 pected her grim face to appear in the companion- 
 way. 
 
 " Well, to tell the truth, Cap'n," said he guiltily, 
 " I did sorter promise to take down that stove, but 
 Tilly sent me out to buy some bird seed, and as I 
 was goin' along I heard the boys down here, and 
 and here I am. Brown sugar in mine, Cap'n, thanky, 
 and not a very powerful lot of water." 
 
 At this auspicious moment Hank, as the newest 
 arrival, was introduced to a frank and hearty young 
 man who commanded a coasting schooner hailing 
 from another port. As the nephew of Captain Sykes 
 he was received with a certain amount of respect 
 and consideration, but he was made to feel that he 
 was not and probably never could be the exact equal 
 of the men who scoured the northern seas for whales 
 three long years at a time. 
 
 "How do I happen to be living in this ship?" 
 said Captain Stewart, in answer to the young sailor's 
 question. " I'll tell you, lad. For twenty years I 
 commanded the old ' Harpoon/ and I got to be part 
 owner in her. Those were the days when five hun- 
 dred ships hailed from this very port, and the catch 
 was worth fifteen million dollars a year. Think of 
 that, my boy. I was in a fair way to be rich, when 
 all at once somebody struck the cursed kerosene in 
 Pennsylvania, and that was the end on't. 
 
 " We couldn't believe for a while that whaling 
 had got its death, and I kept on in the ' Harpoon,' 
 till there weren't any market nor any price for the 
 
 24
 
 In the CABIN OF THE "HARPOON" 
 
 stuff I brought home. 'Twas the same with all of 
 us; the whales got scarce, and the whalers got 
 scarcer. Then the mills came in, blast 'em, and the 
 old oil firms were snuffed out. There weren't no 
 more to do, and we quit. 
 
 " Well, by and by I came in from my last v'yge 
 with the good old ' Harpoon ' and tied up here at 
 Tuckerman's wharf. The others took the spars and 
 rigging and other stuff for their share and I took 
 the ship, for I loved her like a wife. I made a home 
 here for ' Aggy ' and me, and here, please God, I'll 
 stay till I'm piped to quarters up aloft." 
 
 The old man's voice trembled impressively as he 
 finished his little story, and he made a vain pretence 
 of mopping his forehead to hide the moisture in his 
 eyes. Old Artemas accurately took in the situation, 
 and to relieve the emotional tension of the moment 
 gave the call : 
 
 " Pipe all hands to grog." 
 
 After this order had been duly carried out, some- 
 one suggested a " yarn." Nobody volunteering, the 
 men drew lots with some little yellow shells in a 
 tin box. The smallest appeared in the big hand of 
 Captain Sykes, and that worthy cleared his throat 
 vigorously, took a pull at his " grog " and plunged 
 into his favorite story. 
 
 " Wall, messmates, 'twas in eighteen fifty-seven 
 when the good ship Mozambique, of Nantucket, 
 Cap'n Simms, master, was in lat'tude forty-four, 
 long'tude hundred'n sixty-five an' a half. We had 
 four hundred bar'ls aboard, an' was headin' sou', 
 sou'east for the Horn, a-thinkin' of home an' the 
 
 25
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 babbies, when all to onst the man in the cro'nest 
 sings out: 
 
 "'Thar she blows!' 
 
 " Then I goes aft to the quarter-deck, an' I says to 
 Cap'n Simms, ' Cap'n Simms,' says I, ' thar she 
 blows. Shall I lower 'er ? ' 
 
 " Cap'n Simms says to me, ' Mr. Sykes,' says he, 
 * the wind's a blowin' right too peart, an' I don't see 
 fit for to lower 'er.' 
 
 " Then I goes for'ard, an' pretty soon the man 
 in the cro'nest sings out : 
 
 " * Thar she blows an' belches ! ' 
 
 " Then I goes aft, an' I says to Cap'n Simms, 
 ' Cap'n Simms,' says I, ' thar she blows an' belches. 
 Shall I lower 'er?' 
 
 " But Cap'n Simms says to me, ' Mr. Sykes,' says 
 he, ' the wind's a blowin' right too peart, an' I don't 
 see fit for to lower 'er.' 
 
 " Then I goes for'ard, an' 'fore long the man in 
 the cro'nest sings out : 
 
 " ' Thar she blows, an' belches, an' breaches, an* 
 
 SPERM AT THAT.' 
 
 " Then I goes aft, an' I says to Cap'n Simms, 
 ' Cap'n Simms/ says I, ' thar she blows, an' belches, 
 an' breaches, an' SPERM AT THAT. Now shall 
 I lower 'er ? ' 
 
 " Cap'n Simms says to me, ' Mr. Sykes,' says he, 
 ' blast your eyes, I told you twic't afore that the 
 wind was blowin' right too peart, an' I didn't see fit 
 for to lower 'er. But if you want to go on your own 
 response, why lower 'er, and be durned to you,' 
 
 " Then we lowers the boat, an' I stands up in the 
 26
 
 fn the CABIN OF THE "HARPOON" 
 
 bow, for I was all creation on the long dart. We 
 rows up to the critter, an' I lets drive, an' it tuk. 
 
 " Then we kills the animile, and tows it back to 
 the ship. Thar on the quarterdeck Cap'n Simms 
 was a-standin' with tears as big as hickory nuts 
 a-rollin' down his cheeks. 
 
 " ' Mr. Sykes,' says he, ' you're the best fust mate 
 that ever sailed on the Mo-zam-bique. In the locker 
 in my cabin there's rum, gin, whiskey an' terbaccker. 
 They're yourn for the rest of the v'yage.' 
 
 " ' Captain Simms,' says I, a-drawin myself up as 
 haughty as a dook, ' I don't want your rum, nor gin, 
 nor whiskey, nor terbaccker. All I want is ci-vil-i- 
 tee, and that of the gol darndest cheapest brand.' ' 
 
 A roar of applause greeted Captain Sykes's narra- 
 tion of how he had " put down " Captain Simms, 
 who had been known in his day as a " hard man." 
 Then a song was started to the effect that although 
 Jack had "a gal in every port, the home gal's the 
 one for me." 
 
 The weather-worn choristers were startled in the 
 middle of one of their most telling cadences by the 
 sudden apparition of Agatha Renier in tears and a 
 torn dress. She dashed past them without a word 
 and entered her own little cabin, the door of which 
 she shut with a bang. 
 
 The visiting mariners looked at each other and 
 then at Captain Stewart. Evidently there was to 
 be no more jollity on the " Harpoon " that day. 
 
 Old Artemas was the first to find words : 
 
 " Squall, eh ? Better run for port, hadn't we, 
 Cap'n?" 
 
 37
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Their host nodded. " Yes, messmates, that's 
 about it. I'll have a little patching up to do, and 
 you wouldn't care to be here. Some other time 
 we'll finish that song." 
 
 The little company dispersed, only the faithful 
 Hank lingering on some pretext, in his great desire 
 to be of service; but on the gruff order to be off, 
 given with an assumption of jovialty by the cap- 
 tain, he too, disappeared. The old man sat down 
 in his favorite chair. 
 
 " Aggy, dear," he called gently, " come out here 
 and see your grandfather a minute." 
 
 The door slowly opened, and the young girl ap- 
 peared. Then with a swift movement she threw 
 herself on her knees at her protector's feet, sobbing 
 pitifully.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 " MISS PETTICOATS " 
 
 THEY formed a curiously contrasted pair, 
 this massive, white-haired man who might 
 have been likened to a mountain crag 
 crowned with snow, and the lovely girl, undeveloped 
 as yet but still giving pretty promise of rounded 
 womanhood. The one, in his more than threescore 
 years and ten, had seen many lands and sailed all 
 seas ; the other had never ventured far from her little 
 cabin, and the circle of her world was enclosed by 
 the blue waters of Curlew Bay and the green up- 
 lands around Old Chetford. 
 
 Now as the old man bent a kindly arm around 
 the girl's sob-shaken figure, he gazed at her with a 
 great tenderness born of long ministrations. In his 
 big heart had grown the love that partakes of the 
 maternal, though never was a manlier man than Joel 
 Stewart. In his eyes often gleamed the fire of 
 righteous indignation and an indomitable will, where 
 others than Agatha were concerned. The old salts 
 well remembered his days on the quarter-deck. 
 
 " Cap'n Joel ? Ay, a good man to ship with if 
 ye're ballasted right an' keeps true to yer compass; 
 but a devil if yer shirks yer duty," was what they 
 said of him around the wharves and offices. 
 
 20
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Agatha, with a little petulant gesture, shook off 
 the encircling arm, and seated herself on a bench. 
 Affectionate as she was, she had lately conceived a 
 distaste for " babying," as she called it. Her love 
 seemed to be kept more in reserve, just as her eyes 
 showed depths of purpose that were not to be 
 sounded by the ordinary plummets of human nature. 
 She dried her tears resolutely now, and looked stead- 
 fastly at her grandfather. 
 
 Captain Stewart had often seen that look of 
 mysterious concentration on her face, and had won- 
 dered what it might portend, but until to-day he had 
 never feared for her future. Up to this time her 
 childish griefs, though many and often tumultuous, 
 had always been banished by tender words and com- 
 forting caresses. But now her burst of passion had 
 in it something of maturity, something not to be 
 dispelled by a kiss. He realized that the great and 
 wonderful change from girl to woman was be- 
 ginning. 
 
 And this change he dreaded with all his heart, 
 for in the opening process he thought he saw some- 
 thing of Agatha's fascinating, brilliant-minded, yet 
 reckless and weak father. As she sat gazing into 
 his eyes, her nervously intertwining fingers showing 
 the agitation she was attempting to conceal, the old 
 man was sure he traced a resemblance to the one 
 who had inspired the only deep hatred of his life. 
 He shuddered at the discovery. 
 
 Neither spoke for some time. " Come, come," the 
 captain at last said tenderly, " what's the matter with 
 
 30
 
 "MISS PETTICOATS" 
 
 my little girl? And a shower, too? Tell me all 
 about it, Miss Petticoats." 
 
 " Don't, grandfather," she returned, with a sud- 
 den upflaring of passion, " not that name to-day." 
 
 " And why not to-day, Agatha ? " queried the 
 old sailor in much bewilderment. " What has hap- 
 pened that your old grandpa mustn't pet you ? " 
 
 " They would laugh if they heard you." 
 
 " They ? Who ? What ' they ' is there for us to 
 mind?" 
 
 " The girls at the mill. They taunted me with 
 my red dress and this ribbon," and she snatched 
 the dainty bit of silk from her hair and threw it 
 impetuously on the floor. 
 
 " Why, I'm sure they're very pretty," faltered her 
 grandfather. 
 
 " Pretty ! " echoed Agatha scornfully, " yes, they 
 are pretty, but what right have I to wear them? A 
 ' wharf rat/ they called me." 
 
 "A wharf rat? I don't understand." 
 
 " You would if you had heard them jeer at my 
 home ' water-soaked old hulk,' they called it." 
 
 " But it is our home, Aggy, our own," and here 
 was the first suggestion of age in the tremulous 
 voice. " You have been happy here, haven't you? " 
 
 There was pathetic anxiety in this question, an 
 appearance of dread lest he should hear some ter- 
 rible news. 
 
 ' Yes, oh, yes, indeed," returned the girl earnestly, 
 with a lingering glance about the cabin, with all its 
 familiar nautical odds and ends, and into her own 
 
 31
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 spotless little room in the stern of the ship, " who 
 wouldn't be happy with such a dear old grandfather 
 and such a love as he has for me." And Agatha 
 fairly flew to the old man, clasped his seamed neck 
 with her warm arms and passionately kissed his 
 silvery hair. 
 
 Then, indeed, the old cabin glowed with light and 
 love and joy for the big-hearted mariner ; he wanted 
 no better thing in life than this girl's trust and 
 affection. 
 
 "I thought you were, my dear; I thought you 
 were," he said, " but I began to fear just now. You 
 didn't care for those taunts? You love the old ship 
 as I do, do you not, dearie? " 
 
 Again Agatha emphasized her feelings with a 
 kiss. 
 
 " Then what was it started the storm, little one ? 
 Tell me all about it." 
 
 In a few swift sentences Agatha described the 
 trouble at the mill, the attack on Mrs. Copeland, the 
 panic of the horses and her share in averting an ac- 
 cident. As she pictured herself clinging to the bit- 
 rings and dangling before the legs of the runaway 
 animals, Captain Stewart's lips muttered a prayer 
 of thanksgiving that this day was not to end in the 
 blackness of despair. 
 
 Then the eager girl, with flushed cheeks and spark- 
 ling eyes, told of the rich old woman's attentions and 
 questions ; how she had said she was coming to see 
 the master of the " Harpoon," and how most re- 
 markable of all she had said that Agatha must be 
 rewarded.
 
 "MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Not that I wanted or would take any reward," 
 said the pretty narrator naively, " but of course I 
 couldn't help wondering what she meant." 
 
 The story of her return to the mill, of the minis- 
 ter's rebuke of the crowd and of the insults of Big 
 Bess was quickly related. Agatha freely confessed 
 to the scratching of her tormentor's face, and, when 
 gently reproved, spoke in broken, almost whispered 
 accents of the slurs upon the memory of her mother. 
 
 " And I know I have nothing to be ashamed of 
 for her, have I, grandfather ? " she concluded ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 " No, child, nothing," returned the captain 
 gravely. " Those who may say you have either do 
 not know the facts or speak through malice. See 
 here, Agatha." 
 
 Thus speaking, the old man took down from one of 
 the upper bunks along the side of the cabin a beauti- 
 ful little sandal-wood box, neatly inlaid with figures 
 of mermaids and flags, the work of his youthful 
 days on shipboard. Even Agatha had never been 
 permitted to peep into its mysteries. Unlocking 
 the casket, he drew out a thin gold locket, and opened 
 it. 
 
 " There is the face of your mother," he said. 
 
 Agatha gazed long and silently at the miniature 
 of the fair-haired young creature who smiled so in- 
 nocently from out her encircling gold. A world of 
 tender thought and wonderment dwelt in the daugh- 
 ter's deeper eyes as she kissed the picture. 
 
 " I knew she was good," she said at length, with 
 a sigh and an affectionate smile. 
 
 33
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " It is for you to keep now," said the captain, " I 
 have long cherished it, but it rightfully belongs to 
 you. Never part with it, and always remember to 
 defend her name, as you have done to-day. Would 
 you like to hear why you may always defend her 
 name? " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 Only one word, but that word filled with a depth 
 of intensity that told the old man that the hour had 
 struck. 
 
 " Ever since you were born, Aggy," he began 
 gently, " I have known that some day you must hear 
 your mother's story, but from year to year I have 
 put off telling you, partly because you were too 
 young to grasp the full meaning of its sorrow, and 
 partly because I did not wish to cast the least 
 shadow on your happy girlhood. But somehow 
 you've stopped being a girl to-day, and besides 
 you've heard something that makes it my duty to 
 speak. 
 
 " Twenty-two years ago, my child, your mother 
 was the light-hearted, happy girl whose face you now 
 see. She had never caused us a single tear. She 
 was purity itself and the soul of honor and truth. 
 All her emotions were on the outside, for she hadn't 
 the depth of your little heart, my dear. But she 
 loved us well, and we were proud of our child and 
 hoped for a bright future for her. 
 
 " One day there came to Old Chetford a French 
 nobleman who had been driven out of his country 
 for a time Adolph Renier, Count Fornay. He 
 
 34
 
 "MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 was on a visit to some of his countrymen here, and 
 he brought with him his son Frangois. The younger 
 Renier was a man of handsome person, gracious 
 manners and fascinating ways. 
 
 " At some social event for we Stewarts were 
 well considered in those days, Agatha he met your 
 mother, and was charmed with her prettiness and 
 simplicity. He pressed the acquaintance in head- 
 strong French fashion, and your mother well, how 
 could she help being attracted by such a man? I 
 saw that she was losing her heart, and determined 
 to put an end to things before it was too late. 
 
 " I called on the Count and told him what I 
 feared. He smiled and said that it was only a pass- 
 ing fancy on his son's part, that it would amount to 
 nothing, and that in any event a marriage with my 
 daughter would never be recognized by himself or 
 his family. I told your mother a part of this, and 
 entreated her never to see him again. 
 
 " But I didn't tell her all," continued the old man, 
 with a sigh. " If I had, she might have been spared 
 much suffering. But then," he added, with a bright 
 smile, " then I shouldn't have had you, dear. 
 
 " I'm afraid I didn't count on the waywardness of 
 young blood as I should, for one day I came home 
 to find a letter from your mother telling me that she 
 and Renier had been married over in Mill River. I 
 went there and found that everything was straight 
 and legal, and that your mother was the wife of 
 Count Fornay's son. 
 
 " Well, dear, I tried to put the best face on every- 
 
 35
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 thing then, and when my Alice went away to France 
 with her husband I gave them both Godspeed and 
 hoped for good things to come." 
 
 As this story proceeded, Agatha's dark eyes 
 glowed with the fire of romantic enthusiasm. She 
 the daughter of a high-born father! This was 
 ample repayment for all the little wretchedness she 
 had undergone that day. What an armor against 
 the petty slanders and innuendos of a crowd of fac- 
 tory girls; she longed to face them with her new 
 knowledge, but she would bide her time. Some day 
 she would speak, and the world, which to her was 
 Old Chetford, should know her right to mingle with 
 the proudest families of the aristocratic town. 
 
 Thus the simple child reasoned, little dreaming 
 of the mountains of prejudice that must be removed 
 before a slander can be brought to bay and scotched 
 in its den. 
 
 " For a while I got letters from France," the old 
 man went on, " telling at first of happiness and pleas- 
 ure. After a bit they grew fewer and fewer, and 
 those that did come had a tone of disappointment 
 and sorrow that nothing could hide. Then they 
 stopped altogether. 
 
 " About this time I came to live in the old ' Har- 
 poon,' and for several years after your grandmoth- 
 er's death I was here all alone, except for the daily 
 visits of Hank God bless him. 
 
 " I was torn with anxiety, and wrote again and 
 again to France, but no answer came. 'Twasn't 
 her fault, as I found out afterwards. Finally I de- 
 
 36
 
 "MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 termined to go over myself, and find my girl. I 
 couldn't bear the terrible uncertainty any longer. I 
 packed up a little kit, and set the date when I would 
 start. 
 
 " The night before I was to leave the ship Hank 
 had promised to stand watch until I came back it 
 was black and stormy, but I paced the deck thinking 
 of Alice and wondering if I should find her alive. 
 So near she seemed, even after the years, that I 
 almost fancied I could hear her call. 
 
 " ' Father ! ' seemed to come out of the darkness. 
 
 " I turned to go below, a big lump in my throat, 
 when again that cry : 
 
 "'Father!' 
 
 " It wasn't imagination, Agatha. I rushed for- 
 ward and caught her in my arms my dear girl 
 come back to her old father with her heart broken 
 and her strength all gone. She fainted dead away, 
 and I brought her down here, kissing her white face 
 and calling her all her old pet names. 
 
 " Next day she told me everything : how her hus- 
 band had made a pretty plaything of her for a time, 
 and then had tired of her and turned into his old 
 life of dissipation; how he had neglected her and 
 had at last openly insulted her by flaunting around 
 with a vile woman he even brought her to his home 
 once, the villain ; how he had finally cursed her and 
 told her that their marriage was not recognized in 
 France, and that she was no better than well, 
 Aggy, I won't name it before you. At that she left 
 him forever. 
 
 37
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " I swore by the Almighty that I'd go to France 
 and kill him, but she showed me how foolish it was 
 to think such things, and brought me back to reason. 
 
 " Six weeks after she reached home you came into 
 my life. Within a year you were all I had." 
 
 Agatha's eyes filled with tears, no less at the his- 
 tory of her mother's ruined life than at the pitiable 
 appearance of her grandfather. To see that giant 
 frame shaken with emotion and that fine head bowed 
 with grief was new and strange and terrible. She 
 would have comforted him in her childlike fashion, 
 but she instinctively felt that his sorrow would best 
 wear itself out 
 
 Presently his old kindly smile came back. 
 
 " And so, ' Miss Petticoats/ you know the whole 
 story except how you really got that name. Your 
 mother used to fondle you, and call you ' Mon petit 
 cceur.' I didn't know French then, and asked her 
 what she meant. 
 
 " ' My little heart,' she said, and I laughed and 
 told her that ' Miss Petticoats ' was as near as I 
 could come to the jargon, and ' Miss Petticoats ' 
 you've been ever since." 
 
 " And I oh, think of it I hated the name when 
 you spoke it a little while ago," said the girl gently; 
 " I shall love it forever now for her sake." 
 
 " And when you grew old enough to hold a needle, 
 the name seemed to fit you, for you know how you 
 have made clothes for yourself from your mother's 
 dear old finery. Your knack of making pretty things 
 was not from your mother, for she could never learn 
 to sew well." 
 
 38
 
 "Within a year you were all I had."
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 "Is it from him?" 
 
 " I fear so, dear, but let us trust that it is all. 
 You will be a good woman, Agatha ? " 
 
 " If I can," returned the girl in musing, faraway 
 tone. She was not thinking of the future ; her whole 
 impressionable soul was filled with the romance of 
 the dead. She rose without more words and went 
 to her cabin, holding the precious miniature to her 
 heart. 
 
 But the captain's thoughts were all of the days to 
 come, as he sat alone smoking a comforting pipe. 
 The irrevocable past was buried long ago. Agatha 
 was his world now, and her coming life a mystery 
 he dared not attempt to solve. 
 
 But of one thing he was certain : the girl could 
 not grow to womanhood in this fashion. Some- 
 thing must be done, and the kindly old man pon- 
 dered long and earnestly upon what that something 
 should be.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 "BEAUTY PROVOKETH THIEVES" 
 
 MRS. SARAH COPELAND'S mansion on 
 Bristol Street was one of the notable 
 houses of a notable avenue of great es- 
 tates in which the people of Old Chetford had an 
 intense pride. They had been told that they pos- 
 sessed the handsomest residential thoroughfare in 
 New England, and they needed no encouragement 
 to believe it. Bristol Street was the main artery 
 of the upper city, the channel, as it were, of the blue 
 blood of the oil magnates' intensely self-satisfied 
 descendants. 
 
 From the region of cotton mills on the north to 
 the tossing waters of Curlew Bay on the south it 
 stretched its long, beautiful course, bordered on 
 either side by deep lawns, tree-dotted and not too 
 closely shaven, rising gently to the houses of stately 
 size and architecture that had been built from the 
 treasures of the sea. The whaling princes had be- 
 lieved in room and air, and most of their holdings 
 were little private domains in themselves. 
 
 The street was more like a succession of country 
 seats than part of a busy city, and there was a grace 
 and courtliness of life among the owners of these 
 splendid properties that come by a sort of divine
 
 "BEAUTY PROVOKETH THIEVES' 
 
 right with the inheritance of ancestral homes and 
 fortunes. 
 
 In former days Bristol Street had merged on the 
 south into Promontory Road, a magnificent sea- 
 scented drive of several miles around a picturesque 
 point that stretched out into Curlew Bay. On its 
 extreme tip was an abandoned fort of the Civil War 
 period over whose grim ramparts and grassgrown 
 top could be seen the lovely blue of the Queen Bess 
 Islands, while, further to the westward, the vision 
 lost itself in the impenetrable curve of the open sea. 
 Here was the one fashionable drive of Old Chet- 
 ford society, where, on pleasant afternoons, the na- 
 bobs, their wives and their daughters were wont to 
 bow ceremoniously to one another and thank provi- 
 dence that they had had considerate ancestors. 
 
 But now the glory of Promontory Road had in a 
 great measure departed, for straight across the 
 favorite path of the rich had been erected a barrier 
 of huge and bleak cotton mills with their attendant 
 brood of hideous tenement houses and sorry-looking 
 shops. To reach Promontory Road the squalor of 
 factory life had to be met and passed, and the hatred 
 of the old families for the all-conquering cotton was 
 deep enough without being intensified by actual con- 
 tact. So the region of the point slipped away into 
 shabbiness and neglect, and the few daring ones who 
 had established residences on the Road, expecting 
 it to become a fashionable district, flew back in a 
 panic to Bristol Street or into the new residential 
 quarter to the westward anywhere to be rid of the 
 spectre of manufacture. 
 
 41
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Mrs. Copeland's house was a very fit abode for the 
 lady herself. It was stately rather than beautiful, 
 being built of stone and having a front of immense 
 granite pillars, which, under a dull sky, gave it the 
 appearance of a temple rather than a dwelling. The 
 half-circle driveway was lined by elms planted by 
 the lady's grandfather, while a tall hedge of haw- 
 thorn almost shut the beautiful lawn from the sight 
 of passers-by. 
 
 Back of the house were orchards, graperies, gar- 
 dens and hothouses, and a stable built of the same 
 solemn stone as the mansion. Everything bespoke 
 wealth, but wholly in the minor key; the owner 
 would as soon have worn diamonds by daylight as to 
 have permitted any shrieking ostentation about her 
 dignified premises. 
 
 A detestation of sham exuberance was one of the 
 chief articles in Mrs. Copeland's creed of life, and 
 it was that hatred that had led her into the opposite 
 course of concealing kindly feelings under a rather 
 gruff and cynical exterior. Experience had taught 
 her that the manifestly tender hearted are generally 
 considered fair game by impostors, and, though she 
 could well have taken care of herself in any event, 
 she did not propose to court the trouble of warding 
 off attack by inviting it. 
 
 Her charity and good works were not of common 
 knowledge or public trumpeting, for she was not the 
 sort of good Samaritan who stops the world by the 
 roadside to show what he has done. She gave to 
 deserving need in her own way, and scarcely confided 
 
 42
 
 "BEAUTT PROVOKETH THIEVES*' 
 
 to her little finger when her thumb and forefinger 
 dived into her purse for some helpful object. 
 
 " Um, yes," she would say to her friend, the Rev- 
 erend Ralph Harding, " commend me to those phil- 
 anthropists who frame their wills to make a news- 
 paper monument to themselves, who want to es- 
 tablish an everlasting chorus of public praise after 
 they're dead. As for me, I'm not going to leave 
 money to help fat trustees get fatter. I shall give 
 what I give while I'm alive and able to see that the 
 money goes where I want it to. Those who try to 
 help themselves I'll help, too, but no nutrition of 
 pauperism for me." 
 
 The custody of this unconventional woman's large 
 property, hers partly by family descent and partly by 
 inheritance from her husband, who had died fifteen 
 years before, was vested supremely and solely in 
 Sarah Copeland herself. She had long been versed 
 in all the unfeminine mysteries of finance, and her 
 money had grown like the traditional snowball. She 
 knew the stock market also, and not to her sorrow 
 for she was cool, calculating, shrewd, unemotional 
 in all her dealings. Her operations were sometimes 
 on a scale that would have astounded her neighbors 
 of Old Chetford, had they been taken into her con- 
 fidence, but only Ralph Harding knew much about 
 her business life. They had been thrown together 
 in charitable work, and from the very first, the wo- 
 man liked the man's honesty and lack of cant. 
 
 " Mr. Harding is the only minister I know who 
 doesn't seem to imagine that he's the one man who 
 
 43
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 has actually been selected by the Lord for the king- 
 dom of heaven," she once told somebody, who 
 promptly repeated it, to the great scandal of other 
 eminently devout clergymen in town. She liked him 
 because she believed that conscience guided his con- 
 duct of life and not the opinions of others. 
 
 Shortly after noon of the day that had brought 
 Agatha Renier and Mrs. Copeland together in so 
 unusual a fashion, a slim, fashionably dressed young 
 woman ran lightly up the stone steps of the house 
 in Bristol Street, and rang the bell. A hatchet-faced, 
 preternaturally solemn butler opened the door. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Copeland in, John? " asked the lady. 
 
 " Not at present, ma'am, but she's expected soon. 
 Will you come in and wait? " 
 
 " No, I think not. Tell her that Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh called, please/ 
 
 She turned to go, but the sight of a tall, well-knit 
 and manly figure coming up the driveway evidently 
 caused a reconsideration of her intent. 
 
 " On second thought, I think I will wait, after all," 
 she said, and entered the house. " No, not there, 
 John ; the drawing-room is so formal " with a little 
 pretense of a shiver " I prefer to wait in the 
 library." 
 
 " Very good, ma'am," returned the well-trained 
 servant, with just the suspicion of a shrug from his 
 thin shoulders. With the utmost ceremony he ush- 
 ered her into a restful, beautiful old room finished 
 in dark walnut, from whose walls looked down the 
 choice spirits of genius. 
 
 Now Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh was not a literary 
 
 44
 
 "BEAUTT PROVOKETH THIEVES" 
 
 woman, nor yet noted for her love of books, but she 
 picked up a Darwinian treatise that chanced to be 
 on the library table, and began turning its pages 
 nervously. Even John, the butler, seemed to under- 
 stand that she was somewhat out of her accustomed 
 sphere, for he asked with well-bred insinuation as he 
 paused behind her chair: 
 
 " Anything further I can do, ma'am ? " 
 
 " Nothing, thank you. When Mrs. Copeland re- 
 turns, please let her know that I am here." 
 
 " I will do so, ma'am," and the butler closed the 
 door noiselessly, the shadow of a smile flitting over 
 his gaunt face. That evening below stairs he al- 
 most became cheerful, and avowed to his chosen 
 confidant in that region of accurate family histories 
 that " Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh is a reg'lar deep 'un. 
 She wanted to wait in the library this afternoon, in- 
 stead of the draw r ing-room. I took a look at the 
 book she picked up and pretended to read, for I allus 
 likes to know the tastes of the aristocracy, and bless 
 me if it wasn't upside down." 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh, having no manner of sus- 
 picion that her little artifice had not been accepted 
 in toto by John, the butler, waited till the door was 
 closed before she threw the book impatiently upon 
 the table and then arose to pace restlessly from fire- 
 place to window and from window back to fireplace 
 again. 
 
 She was undeniably a pretty picture in her agita- 
 tion. Masses of reddish hair were piled high on a 
 shapely head in the mode of the period, and the 
 cream and pink complexion that is the compensation 
 
 45
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 for such tresses was saved from insipidity by a pair 
 of lustrous gray eyes that sometimes darkened to 
 violet. Her mouth was large, but finely curved, 
 and her nose thin and well-shaped. It was not a 
 common face, nor was its owner easily placed in 
 the catalogue of temperaments, except that one 
 would have readily believed that under the stress of 
 emotional abandon she would go to almost any 
 lengths. 
 
 Her husband was a middle-aged lawyer of sober 
 habit and judicial turn of mind. He had succeeded 
 admirably as the legal adviser of great corporations, 
 and the money he made was freely turned over to 
 his pretty wife to give her the luxuries she had en- 
 joyed as a girl and to help her ambition to become 
 the leader of Old Chetford's fashionable set as Mrs. 
 Copeland was the acknowledged head of the 
 older regime. He loved his wife deeply, but he was 
 too engrossed in his profession to study her daily life 
 critically, even had he been disposed to do so. It 
 was enough for him that she was an ornament to his 
 home and a woman much sought after and admired. 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's unrest increased as the 
 minutes passed. " He will surely come here," she 
 said half-aloud. Then she caught sight of her own 
 fair reflection in the great gilded mirror over the 
 marble fireplace. 
 
 " I am not changed for the worse, am I ? Of 
 course not," she asked and answered in the same 
 breath, as she studied her features more critically. 
 She saw her rare beauty and was satisfied. How 
 could she detect in her own face that something, 
 
 46
 
 'BEAUTT PROVOKETH THIEVES" 
 
 spiritual rather than physical, that might have been 
 called repellent ? 
 
 She heard a familiar step in the hall, and with a 
 little deepening of her rose-leaf coloring she dropped 
 into a chair. 
 
 The man for whose coming Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh 
 had waited with such agitation was a fair-haired, 
 well-favored young fellow of perhaps twenty-four 
 or five, with an aggressive bonhomie and a rough 
 and ready style upon occasion that made him popular 
 among his inferiors. Being Guy Hamilton, and Mrs. 
 Copeland's only nephew, he considered his status 
 in the world as quite secure, and he took that world 
 as his own particular oyster, to be opened with a 
 golden lever. In this process he obtained all the 
 pleasure that could possibly be extracted. 
 
 Guy plumed himself very highly upon what he 
 called his " adaptability." Through the rather gran- 
 diose functions of the true Old Chetford aristocrats 
 he could and did move with a species of chivalric 
 grace that was quite effective, especially with women. 
 He could pass to the other extreme, and with equal 
 facility make himself one of the people, thinking 
 their thoughts and sharing their amusements some 
 said dissipations. 
 
 As he came face to face with Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh in the room he had come to consider almost 
 his own, he raised his brows in well-bred surprise. 
 But his greeting was conventionally polite. 
 
 " Why Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh don't rise please 
 I scarcely expected to find you here; but it is a 
 pleasure to see you anywhere," he said, with the 
 
 47
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 smooth ceremony habitual to him when in the so- 
 ciety of women of his world. 
 
 The large gray eyes flashed fire. 
 
 " If it is such a pleasure, Mr. Hamilton, I am 
 surprised that you have deprived yourself of it so 
 long. Since when have you taken to denying your- 
 self any self-satisfaction, however small?" 
 
 " Come now, Lucy, don't sneer, that's a good girl. 
 It hurts me and doesn't improve you." 
 
 " Ah, you do remember my name, after all ! " 
 
 " Remember your name? Really, why shouldn't 
 I ? " he queried with a light laugh. 
 
 " Your formality, somewhat unusual in private 
 as you will admit, would indicate that you had for- 
 gotten, and forgotten other things beside a name." 
 
 " There, there, Lady Imperious, be your own 
 sweet self," and with the flourish of a cavalier he 
 raised a little gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. 
 
 " But Guy " 
 
 " Now,, now, Lucy, don't scold. I'll admit I've 
 been beastly unsociable, but the fact is I've been 
 deucedly busy, and " 
 
 " Busy ! You busy ! " A smile of scorn, of in- 
 credulity, of fast-rising temper curled Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh's handsome mouth into something not at 
 all attractive. " I fear I shouldn't care to know the 
 business you have been engaged in for the past 
 month or two." 
 
 " By George," cried the imperturbable Guy, " I 
 wish Parks could paint you with that expression. 
 Queen Elizabeth royal wrath all that sort of 
 thing, you know." 
 
 48
 
 "BEAUTT PROFOKETH THIEVES" 
 
 " First you neglect, and then you ridicule me,'* 
 she retorted passionately. " I wonder who she 
 is." 
 
 " She ! What she ? What are you talking about ? " 
 queried the man in astonishment, real or affected. 
 The woman wondered which. 
 
 " The ' she ' who is keeping you from me. If I 
 knew, I believe I'd kill her ! " 
 
 Despite his rule never to be troubled at anything, 
 Guy felt a very unpleasant sensation about his heart 
 at the words and the hardened features of the woman 
 he had thought he knew so well. Evidently he had 
 but just begun to reach the depths of her nature. 
 
 " By Jove," he said with a low whistle, " I almost 
 think you would." 
 
 " If I didn't actually," she went on swiftly, " I 
 would figuratively she should be made to suffer." 
 
 " But there is no ' she ' at all," he protested earn- 
 estly, " at least, no particular one. I can't be a 
 woman-hater, you know, and shun them all. Don't 
 you see that it would make you too noticeable? " 
 
 " What do I care? " she asked fiercely. 
 
 " Well, I do. I must protect you, if you will not 
 protect yourself. Think of the meddling fools who 
 would delight to toss your name about. And there 
 is Aunt Sarah ; when she looks at me with those eyes 
 of hers sometimes I imagine she knows the whole 
 story. I must conciliate her. She is especially 
 Quixotic just now, and I have to play Sancho Panza 
 to her. Charming role for Guy Hamilton, isn't it? " 
 he added with a grimace. " But you know, Lucy " 
 he changed his tone of levity to one charged with 
 
 49
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 all the pathos he could summon up " whatever ex- 
 pectations I have in the world are fixed in her. It is 
 only the lack of money that keeps us from never 
 parting." 
 
 A tenderly wistful look softened the face of this 
 woman who had just been uttering the fiercest 
 threats. 
 
 " If I could only believe you, Guy Hamilton," she 
 said. 
 
 " Don't talk of ' belief ' between us two," he re- 
 turned soothingly, " of course you may." 
 
 " But you have have loved," and the speaker 
 seemed to choke over the word, " so many women." 
 
 " But that was before I met you," he whispered 
 tenderly. 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh seized one of his white,, 
 handsome hands with both hers and held it passion- 
 ately to her cheek for a moment. As for Guy, he 
 was on the point of giving the lady some further re- 
 assuring token when the sound of wheels was heard 
 on the driveway outside. 
 
 " Aunt Sarah," said he, striding to the door with 
 the vigorous alertness that was part of his fascina- 
 tion for women, " she's getting out now. Pull your- 
 self together, Lucy, for she's got an eye like a hawk/' 
 
 He stepped into the hall, and in another moment 
 the visitor heard his voice in an almost caressing 
 tone: 
 
 " Aunt Sarah, Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh is waiting 
 to see you. She is in the library."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 A WOMAN'S INTUITION 
 
 AS Mrs. Copeland entered her library accom- 
 panied by the solicitous Guy, whose gal- 
 lantry toward his aunt was as correct a& 
 his mode of dress, Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's quick 
 perception noted that she was not her usual cool and 
 collected self. Her hands trembled a little as she 
 removed her black bonnet and her mouth twitched 
 noticeably. After greeting her visitor with some- 
 thing of stately ceremony she always reserved her 
 curt and broken manner of address for those she 
 liked and trusted the most she rang for her butler. 
 
 " A decanter of port, John; that '47 in the further 
 cellar." 
 
 She drank a little of the wine, and under its genial 
 influence began the story of her adventure. 
 
 " The brutes," exclaimed Guy sympathetically at 
 the recital of the assault upon her by the mill people. 
 
 " M-m, well ; not quite that, I think. Do you ex- 
 pect them to draw fine distinctions when they are 
 confronted by the hard fact that ten cents is to be 
 stripped out of every one of the few poor dollars 
 they grind from their wretched lives? How would 
 you like to have your allowance cut down a tenth? 
 Perhaps I'll do it as a lesson in economics," 
 
 Guy shuddered at the bare suggestion, made with
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 grim humor though it was. Already he was 
 harassed by demands he could not meet, and he had 
 seriously considered asking his aunt for an income 
 " more fitting for a man in his walk of life," as he 
 had proposed putting it. 
 
 In terse but picturesque style Mrs. Copeland de- 
 scribed the flight of the frightened horses and the 
 bravery of the mill girl who had stopped them. 
 
 " Just think of that slip of a thing dashing out 
 and clutching a pair of runaways by the bit," she 
 went on with enthusiasm, " and hanging on like 
 grim death till they halted! Of course I called her 
 to the carriage and had a little talk with her." 
 
 " What was she like ? " asked the melodious voice 
 of Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh, who had been greatly in- 
 terested in the story. " Was she pretty? " 
 
 " M-m, well ; yes. Pretty enough for her own 
 good, I should think. But that wasn't the chief thing 
 about her." 
 
 " What, then ? " queried Guy, in a politely bored 
 tone. 
 
 " Pride. Hot, passionate pride. The kind that 
 will carry her to a brilliant future or to destruction." 
 
 " Destruction, most likely," observed Guy, " it's 
 the way of the breed," and the debonair man of the 
 world thought he had good reason to know whereof 
 he spoke. The " breed " was to him a pretty species 
 of game in whose preserves he thought himself en- 
 titled to poach with impunity. If his snares resulted 
 in disaster sometimes, there were ways by which the 
 facts could be kept from too wide publicity. He 
 believed thoroughly in the efficacy of the guinea to 
 
 52
 
 A WOMAN'S INTUITION 
 
 " help the hurt that honor feels," and he prided 
 himself on the fact that no one could call him par- 
 simonious in dealing with such matters. 
 
 " I'm not so sure about that," returned his aunt. 
 " Unless I'm very much mistaken, that same pride 
 of hers will bear self-respect as one of its fruits." 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's animated, face showed 
 that this discussion was quite to her liking. She 
 seemed to desire to continue it, which filled Guy with 
 impatience. 
 
 " But you say you spoke only a few words to the 
 girl," she persisted. " How could you get such an 
 msight into her character in that little time ? " 
 
 " My dear, you belong to a class of society taught 
 to wear a mask to fit every occasion; you mustn't 
 forget, however, that there are those who don't study 
 your books. On the faces of the untutored you can 
 read the soul." 
 
 Guy swallowed a glass of wine, and, after a suave 
 apology, lit a cigar. He blew a ring or two into the 
 air with graceful deftness, and then lazily returned 
 to the skirmish. 
 
 " Not always a safe guide, I'm afraid, Aunt Sarah. 
 You remember that handsome servant I had last 
 winter. His face was a regular church certificate of 
 moral character, and I'd have trusted him with the 
 Bank of England. As I didn't happen to have that, 
 all the fellow got away with was my new overcoat 
 and some silver souvenirs. I repeat that it isn't safe 
 to judge by appearances." 
 
 " Depends a good deal on the judge, Guy," re- 
 torted his aunt. " You were never noted for your 
 
 53
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 perspicacity. And furthermore this girl isn't of the 
 common kind." 
 
 " Who is she? " asked Mrs. Worth-Courtieigh. 
 
 " Agatha something or other ; some French 
 name. Her grandfather's name is easier to remem- 
 ber Captain Stewart. Do you know him, Guy?" 
 
 " Yes. A fine old sea-dog he is, too. White hair, 
 big frame, red face, devil of a temper, but straight 
 as a string. Lives in a ship at Tuckerman's wharf, 
 and hates the cotton mills as a cat hates water." 
 
 " Amen to that," cried Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Copeland with great decision, 
 " I'm going to see the girl and her grandfather, and 
 find out what can be done for her. She interests me." 
 
 If Guy had felt little enthusiasm for the newly- 
 discovered heroine before, he now hated her as cor- 
 dially as anyone unknown to him could be hated. 
 His aunt's words filled him with apprehension. Al- 
 though he had never been granted the happy privi- 
 lege of seeing her will, he had long regarded him- 
 self as the Copeland heir-apparent, and had managed 
 his affairs with that definite goal in view. Others had 
 taken him at his own valuation, which had smoothed 
 his career wonderfully. He had no illusions as to 
 any speedy entrance to his kingdom, for he knew 
 that his aunt was a vigorous descendant of a long- 
 lived race. He was content to wait the dispensations 
 of providence with a calm fortitude, buoyed up by 
 a liberal allowance and the privilege of doing 
 nothing. 
 
 But this beast of a girl that had taken 
 his aunt's fancy by storm! Would she become 
 
 54
 
 A WOMAN'S INTUITION 
 
 an element in a possible remodeling of the 
 " I, Sarah Copeland, being of sound and dis- 
 posing mind " document that was now resting 
 in a vault at her bankers? He had heard of 
 such cases, and he realized that nothing was im- 
 possible to a woman of strong temperament like 
 his aunt. He must get to work at once, he thought, 
 to combat any such development of circumstances. 
 He wondered which was the best tack to take, and 
 decided on the gently remonstrative. 
 
 " Well, Aunt," he began, " I appreciate your good- 
 ness of heart, as I have cause to do, and the girl may 
 be all you think her, but is it quite judicious of 
 you to lower yourself by going into questionable lo- 
 calities for charitable work? Can you not send her 
 some little present that will please her fully as much 
 as a visit ? " 
 
 " Lower myself ! Rubbish ! " almost snapped his 
 aunt. " Can a lady lower herself by going down 
 to the wharves of Old Chetford on a respectable mis- 
 sion like mine? How can any good ever be done 
 with such sentiments as those? If the Samaritan 
 had waited for the wounded traveler to come to him, 
 he would never have been immortalized in the New 
 Testament. I am going down to see Captain 
 Stewart at the earliest opportunity." 
 
 He had taken the wrong tack altogether, Guy re- 
 alized, and he determined to run no risk of another 
 mistake to-day. He looked at his watch with con- 
 siderable ostentation. 
 
 " By Jove, I have an engagement with Claybourne 
 at the club in ten minutes," he said, " I must be off." 
 
 55
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 And he picked up his hat and cane and sauntered 
 into the hall. 
 
 " I, too, must be going, Mrs. Copeland," said 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh with a pleasant smile. " I 
 trust you will soon recover from your adventure. 
 Come and see me, do." 
 
 They walked down the path together and along 
 Bristol Street to the corner where Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh was to turn on her homeward way, the 
 man moodily thinking of the youthful intruder into 
 his peace of mind and the woman of the one thing 
 that had been uppermost in her heart for days. As 
 he stopped for an instant to bid her good-by her 
 stress of emotion overcame her. 
 
 " Guy, look at me," she cried passionately. 
 
 He gazed into her fine eyes for an instant, then 
 flinched before the absolute mastery of their search. 
 Adept in concealment as he was, he found that no 
 man can endure that kind of ordeal before the wo- 
 man he is deceiving. 
 
 " Is there no other ? " she asked tremulously. 
 
 " Now Lucy, don't be silly. You will attract at- 
 tention. Of course there is no other." 
 
 With a sigh, half of satisfaction, half of doubt, 
 she turned and left him. 
 
 As he proceeded toward the club, with his swing- 
 ing manly stride, Guy mused on the unpleasant way 
 circumstances have of taking liberties with the com- 
 fort of mankind. 
 
 " Confound Lucy," he thought, " who would ever 
 have supposed she would kick up this sort of a row 
 
 56
 
 A WOMAN'S INTUITION 
 
 What in the world would she do if she knew about 
 Louise?" 
 
 The Attawam Club was a comparatively recent 
 institution in the lives of the wealthy younger set 
 of Old Chetford. For years past the shipping offices 
 and the Oceanic Reading Room had furnished about 
 all the general social intercourse the male inhabi- 
 tants of the city had enjoyed. But a new generation 
 had sprung up that voted the musty old rooms of 
 the latter venerable organization slow and boresome. 
 So it came about that when the estate of a former 
 merchant prince fell into the market his fine old 
 residence was purchased and the Attawam Club 
 started upon its prosperous career. With the ad- 
 dition of an enormous piazza for summer lounging 
 and the more critical observation of whatever wo- 
 mankind might chance to pass up Liberty Street, as 
 well as suitable alterations inside, the Attawam 
 members possessed a clubhouse in which they felt 
 legitimate pride. A famous old negro cook was in- 
 stalled as chef, and the " Committee on Bar " was 
 always composed of men whose genius along liquid 
 lines was undeniable. Being conducted on these ju- 
 dicious principles, the club had sprung into im- 
 mediate popularity, and its waiting list was a long 
 and formidable one. 
 
 When Guy Hamilton reached the billiard room he 
 found his friend, Captain Claybourne, idly practising 
 some fancy shots in which he excelled. The cap- 
 tain was a rather short, middle-aged man, with 
 smooth-shaven face and iron gray hair which he 
 
 57
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 brushed down above his ears. He had inherited 
 some money with which, by strict economy where 
 economy was not visible, he managed to lead a very 
 well-ordered existence. He held himself aloof from 
 the hurly-burly of life, and delighted to give the im- 
 pression of being a philosophical spectator of the 
 world rather than a participator in its activities. 
 
 " Ah, dear boy," he said in his drawling voice 
 in response to Guy's greeting, " Glad to see you so 
 well set up to-day; I am, indeed. Shall we have a 
 little game with spirituous attachment?" 
 
 " Anything you say," gruffly assented Guy, in no 
 very good humor with himself or mankind, " only 
 I would amend by requesting that we have the ' at- 
 tachment ' first." 
 
 This being duly attended to, the game proceeded. 
 But Guy was no match for his clever little antago- 
 nist, and after a badly beaten half hour threw down 
 his cue in disgust and dropped into a big leather 
 chair. He drew up a little club-table on which was 
 a siphon of soda and a decanter of brandy, and pre- 
 pared to make himself comfortable for the rest of 
 the afternoon. The gallant captain took a neighbor- 
 ing seat. 
 
 " Claybourne," exclaimed Hamilton suddenly, 
 apropos of nothing they had said, " do you know 
 that women are the devil ? " 
 
 The older man looked benignantly at his friend. 
 
 " My dear boy, is that a recent discovery? Don't 
 you think it high time you found it out with all your 
 experience? Why not learn the part of wisdom 
 and let them alone, as I do ? Because one of 'em a 
 
 58
 
 A WOMAN'S INTUITION 
 
 deuced pretty one, too, they say brought old Troy 
 to ashes, is no reason why a fellow should let 'em 
 make cinders of him. Let 'em alone, and they'll 
 let you alone, and then you'll have a paradise with- 
 out any rotten apples." 
 
 " Who talks of paradise in the Attawam? " asked 
 a clear and jovial voice as its owner, the Reverend 
 Ralph Harding, swung into the room. His well- 
 knit figure and finely chiseled face gave him the 
 appearance of a trained athlete, and his clear eye 
 looked like that of a man used to measuring distances 
 as well as souls. He wore a blue serge suit and a 
 soft shirt with rolling collar, beneath which flowed 
 a wide, blue-dotted tie. 
 
 " Hullo, Harding," said Claybourne, with more 
 than his usual cordiality, while Guy nodded non- 
 chalantly, " glad to see you. I want someone worth 
 playing billiards with. The youngster here is de- 
 cidedly off color to-day. Paradise, eh? Ah, yes, I 
 was merely remarking how the ladies brightened 
 up this dull world of ours. Play you a hundred 
 points, ten or no count." 
 
 " I'm yours," returned the clergyman, throwing 
 off his coat and selecting a cue with much care. 
 Then he lit a cigar and puffed it appreciatively. 
 
 " By Jove, you're different," muttered Clay- 
 bourne. And he summoned all his skill toward the 
 vanquishing of his unconventional opponent. 
 
 As the game progressed Guy's mood brightened 
 somewhat; perhaps the gentle breeze that came in 
 through the open windows laden with the incense 
 of spring had a share in the process; or, possibly, 
 
 59
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 the little club-table may have contributed toward 
 his greater cheerfulness, which took the form of 
 rallying the minister. 
 
 " Should think your parishioners would raise the 
 very deuce at your coming up here, Harding," he 
 ventured, " club and the cloth don't jibe very often, 
 you'll admit." 
 
 The minister laughed as he made a beautiful and 
 difficult masse. 
 
 " Well, I won't deny that there was a little warmth 
 in the breasts of some of my people when I joined. 
 But they soon found that I preached just as well and 
 helped just as many poor souls as I had before. In 
 fact, I think I always do better work after billiards 
 than at any other time." 
 
 The subject of billiards and the Reverend Ralph 
 Harding had been a standing joke in the Attawam 
 since the memorable Friday night when the faithful 
 of the Third Congregational Church had assembled 
 in the vestry for prayer-meeting and had awaited 
 their pastor's coming in vain. At last old Deacon 
 Snow had arisen and declared that he thought he 
 could find Mr. Harding. A few minutes later the 
 venerable church-pillar had appeared in the billiard 
 room of the club and remarked to one of the players 
 gently : 
 
 " Brother Harding, the meeting is waiting." 
 
 The minister, in astonishment, had pulled out his 
 watch. It was nearly eight o'clock. 
 
 " I declare, Deacon, I'd forgotten all about it," he 
 answered, amid a general roar of laughter, " but tell 
 them to wait until I finish my run." 
 
 60
 
 A WOMAN'S INTUITION 
 
 To-day, however, there was nothing to mar the 
 clergyman's enjoyment of his game, and he played 
 with a sure touch and an accurate eye that gave 
 Claybourne an anxious quarter of an hour, for the 
 captain, with all his philosophy, disliked defeat at 
 billiards. 
 
 While the afternoon was thus wearing away, Mrs. 
 Copeland was at the desk in her private sitting room 
 looking over her accounts and business correspond- 
 ence. The desk was a beautiful old piece of dull ma- 
 hogany, come straight down from colonial days, and 
 everything upon it was in scrupulous order. Any 
 trifling with this sacred spot was keenly resented by 
 its owner. There was a dark story in the servants' 
 hall to the effect that a cat that had once invaded its 
 precincts and upset a bottle of ink there, had never 
 been seen again. 
 
 To-day Mrs. Copeland found unwonted trouble 
 in going through her papers. Her eyesight seemed 
 less keen than usual, and she had to call in the help 
 of a maid to read a particularly illegible signature. 
 
 She was compelled to confess that the manage- 
 ment of her large affairs was becoming a task she 
 fain would lighten. She thought of Guy, but im- 
 mediately decided that no help could be expected 
 from him. His distaste for concentrated work would 
 render him of little real use. And could she trust 
 him ? She disliked to say no, but dared not say yes. 
 In her heart he was a disappointment, with his idle 
 and careless style of living, but he was her only 
 sister's child, her one near relative, and she kept 
 her feeling to herself. Then, spite of herself, she 
 
 61
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 was proud of his popularity and his superficial bril- 
 liancy. But as a business confidant it was not to 
 be thought of. 
 
 " Bless me, it's past the time for my nap," she 
 cried as she looked at the clock. " After that I 
 shall be better able to reason things out." 
 
 She lay down on the great horsehair sofa and 
 threw a light knitted shawl over her shoulders. In 
 a few minutes she appeared to be dozing serenely. 
 
 So thought the maid who went about on tiptoe in 
 the performance of some little task. Her surprise 
 was great when from the lips of the cold-faced, 
 warm-hearted old lady came this query in a tone 
 of intense self-communion : 
 
 " If I am wrong about that girl, what is the value 
 of woman's boasted intuition ? "
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MEN OF GOOD WORKS 
 
 IN the well-filled lexicon of Mrs. Sarah Copeland's 
 existence there was no such word as delay, 
 once a certain course had been decided upon. 
 Early that evening, accordingly, she went to see 
 Ralph Harding to learn from him what he knew 
 of Agatha Renier. 
 
 The minister's study, to which she proceeded with 
 ready familiarity when told by the housekeeper that 
 Mr. Harding was out, but might soon return, was 
 a room of queer paradoxes, perhaps unorthodoxes. 
 Tall and ponderous bookcases with glass doors lined 
 one side of the room, the other being almost half 
 filled by a big stone fireplace, over which a pair of 
 fencing foils was crossed. The mantel was orna- 
 mented with a collection of mugs that would have 
 done honor to a German student club, while still 
 higher up was hung the beribboned oar which the 
 owner had pulled in a memorable race when he had 
 stroked his university eight to victory. 
 
 In a corner lay a varied pile of boxing gloves, 
 Indian clubs and dumbbells, covered with fishing 
 lines and odd pieces of outing clothes. The broad 
 oak study table in the centre of the room boasted 
 a wonderful array of pipes of all varieties and social 
 
 63
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ranks. The exquisite onyx tobacco jar was the gift 
 of some fair parishioner who knew that the day for 
 ministerial slippers had long passed. 
 
 The ecclesiastical element in the apartment was 
 furnished by the rows of black-bound theological 
 volumes in the big bookcases, although even they 
 were separated into squads by the gayer backs of the 
 poets' and the novelists' works. Between the front 
 windows hung a beautiful photograph of the " Ma- 
 donna of the Chair," and just at this moment a 
 gleam from the setting sun came from the open door 
 opposite and touched the sweet face with a tender 
 radiance. The illumined countenance seemed to raise 
 the whole incongruous room into the realms of divine 
 spirituality. 
 
 " It's all just like him," thought Mrs. Copeland, 
 as she waited there in the evening glow. " Tobacco 
 jar holding down a sermon, fish hooks for book- 
 marks in the Concordance and ' Vanity Fair ' hob- 
 nobbing with Jonathan Edwards. But he's a man," 
 she said aloud, " and when a minister's a man he 
 can make men of others." 
 
 At this point in Mrs. Copeland's reflections a little, 
 timorous knock at the door was heard, and in answer 
 to the lady's summons to come in a figure entered 
 quite in keeping with the tapping. It was a wee scrap 
 of a girl, hatless and barefoot, with great black eyes 
 and a tangle of tight curls not often harassed by the 
 brush. 
 
 " Well, I declare," said Mrs. Copeland. 
 
 " Please, mum," began the child, " Mrs. Brown 
 sent me to get a book in here and to tell yer that the 
 
 64
 
 MEN OF GOOD WORKS 
 
 minister ain't a-comin' home cos he's got a meetin' 
 down to the Coffee House." 
 
 " What sort of a meeting, child? " 
 
 " They calls it a meetin' fer ' Good Works/ but I 
 don't see nothin' in it, cos no works is good." 
 
 The pathetic pessimism in such a morsel of hu- 
 manity interested Mrs. Copeland at once. 
 
 " What's your name, little one? " 
 
 " Susy Brent, mum, an' I works in Number Two 
 mill." 
 
 " Poor little chick. Where do you live? " 
 
 " Nowheres, mum." 
 
 " Why, child, you must live somewhere." 
 
 "Nope. Ma says we don't live; we just don't 
 die." 
 
 The logic of this statement was not to be contro- 
 verted by Mrs. Copeland, who well knew the grim 
 horror of some of the mill people's lives. She gazed 
 at the little girl for some time in deep thought. 
 
 But Susy, having acquitted herself to her own 
 satisfaction, now conceived it to be her turn to act 
 as inquisitor. 
 
 " An' who are you, mum? " she asked. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Copeland Mrs. Sarah Copeland." 
 
 The morsel was abashed, but still not to be turned 
 from her course of investigation. 
 
 " The one wot lives on Bristol Street ? The one 
 wot's so rich ? " 
 
 " They call me so." 
 
 The child surveyed the woman with the critical 
 eye of precocious youth. Then her glance rested on 
 the costly gloves in which Mrs. Copeland always 
 
 65
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 took such pride. She pointed to the well-shaped 
 hands. 
 
 " Those; may I just touch 'em once? " 
 
 "Touch what, child?" 
 
 " Those those kids." 
 
 " Why, what a certainly, little one." 
 
 The girl crept up shyly and with almost devout 
 admiration stroked the soft leather once or twice. 
 Then she shrank back into her former attitude. 
 
 " Yer see, mum, I ain't never been so near a real 
 lady before," she observed, as if feeling that her con- 
 duct was odd and needed an explanation, "an' I 
 thanks yer very much, I does." Then, having pre- 
 sented a slip of paper on which was written the name 
 of the book the minister wanted, and having re- 
 ceived it from Mrs. Copeland^ she vanished into the 
 gathering darkness. 
 
 The Coffee House toward which Mrs. Copeland 
 now took her way, was originally a ship chandler's 
 shop on the water side of Harbor Street. It was the 
 property of the lady herself, and she gave it rent free 
 to the organization of which Mr. Harding was the 
 head. And not only that, but she had borne all the 
 expense of fitting up the interior and made up any 
 deficiency in its running cost. With its well selected 
 library, its reading room, 'its recreation hall and its 
 tiny restaurant where the best of plain food could 
 be had for the lowest possible price, the Coffee 
 House was filling the lives of the mill people and 
 sailors who cared to come with delights they had 
 never dreamed of before. 
 
 Once a week there was a little talk on some topic 
 66
 
 MEN OF GOOD WORKS 
 
 of practical moral value, at which Mr. Harding and 
 many of his humble friends made brief and pointed 
 remarks. The subject for this evening was thus 
 announced by a placard hung on a big anchor near 
 the door : 
 
 * " GOOD WORKS " MEETING TO-NIGHT. * 
 
 * GOOD WORKMEN WILL TELL * 
 
 * WHY * 
 
 * GOOD WORKS PAY. * 
 
 * * * * * * * * * 
 
 Very bright and cheerful the Coffee House looked 
 as Mrs. Copeland turned into Harbor Street, with its 
 powerful Liverpool masthead light hung over the 
 door and the smaller red and green lanterns at either 
 side of the entrance. The windows glowed pleas- 
 antly and the sound of a strong voice could be heard 
 in regular and agreeable cadence. 
 
 In fact the meeting was well under way, and Mr. 
 Harding was talking to the assembled crowd of the 
 lowly. The recreation hall had been stripped of its 
 tables, and rows of comfortable chairs put in. Mrs. 
 Copeland took a seat in the rear and viewed the scene 
 with great satisfaction. 
 
 The little audience that faced the speaker would 
 have delighted the soul of a Dickens. The wan and 
 often hopeless faces of the mill people of all ages and 
 sizes were relieved by the bluff and rubicund visages 
 
 67
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 of sailors who formed a pleasant leaven in this mass 
 of poverty and baffled aspirations. Some had come 
 for amusement only, others to jeer inwardly if not 
 outwardly, believing with Susy Brent that " no 
 works is good." A few had been drawn in by a 
 liking for the hearty, humanity-loving young min- 
 ister and a real wish to better their conditions. They 
 all, as it chanced, were listening intently, as most 
 people did listen when within reach of Harding's 
 musical voice. 
 
 " My friends," he was saying, " these are practi- 
 cal talks on practical matters by practical men. Men 
 who work or have worked all their lives will show 
 you why good works are the only works worth while. 
 The meetings are not to be religious except in the 
 intent to make you better men and women and 
 children. The talks will be short and you can all 
 understand the talkers, for they will say what they 
 mean in simple words. They will not be orators, 
 but I'm sure they will interest you. Between talks 
 there will be music, and after it's all over there will 
 be a bite of something to eat." 
 
 A ripple of applause, evidently for the final prom- 
 ise, interrupted the speaker at this point. He smiled, 
 for he knew human nature, and he hdd seen the 
 raiment-ripping struggles of well-born citizens when 
 feeding time came at functions on the " Hill." He 
 was willing to wager mentally that this collection 
 of the humble would show more genuine politeness 
 and consideration for one another when their " bite 
 to eat " was ready. 
 
 The music to which the speaker had referred was 
 68
 
 MEN OF GOOD WORKS 
 
 to be furnished by a big orchestrion, which, by a 
 stroke of prophetic genius, he had bought from a 
 circus that had come to grief in Old Chetford the 
 summer before. 
 
 " You will readily understand," he continued, 
 " that the music and the luncheon are not what you 
 are chiefly invited for. You've got to listen to a few 
 little speeches, and you've got to keep order. I'm a 
 trifle touchy on that point. I'll have no policeman 
 loafing around here, but if occasion requires I'll be 
 my own officer." 
 
 In his stalwart activity the Reverend Mr. Harding 
 looked the very incarnation of the church militant, 
 and his audience was quick to see the man of resolute 
 action behind the cordial exterior. Had anyone 
 doubted his prowess, Mr. James Anderson, the 
 Copeland coachman, could have furnished some per- 
 tinent and interesting information as to certain ex- 
 ercises with stuffed mittens in the stable-loft behind 
 the parsonage. 
 
 " And now," said the minister, " we are going 
 to hear from a man you all ought to know and many 
 do know. He is the brave old whaler, the good 
 citizen, the honest man, Captain Phineas Sykes." 
 
 The jolly and rotund sea-dog was hailed with a 
 storm of approval as he arose from his seat and rolled 
 his way down to the platform. 
 
 "Hey, ol' tarpaulin," "Bully for Whalebone," 
 " Give us Mozambique " were some of the uncon- 
 ventional greetings that came from the crowd, to 
 all of which Captain Sykes paid not the slightest 
 heed, but cleared his throat with the sound of a small 
 
 69
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 fog-horn, pulled his fringe of whiskers and launched 
 his address. 
 
 " Messmates and landlubbers," he began, in a tone 
 he would ordinarily have used in shouting orders 
 during a storm at sea, " I ain't goin' to spin yarns 
 nor yet do any sky-pilot business. I'm here jest to 
 tell ye what I've found to be the best thing in my 
 toler'bly long v'yge an' that is the vally o' good 
 works, an' good works ain't in no way possible with- 
 out obejence to orders. 
 
 " When yer sure that yer orders comes from 
 the quarterdeck an' is all right, jest ye obey 'em so 
 well that yer messmates can see that there ain't a 
 better man aboard ship then you be. 
 
 " Tain't allus easy to understand the why an' 
 wherefore o' orders, I know, mates. When I was 
 cabin-boy on the ol' bark Henry Clay nigh on ter 
 sixty years ago, there was plenty of 'em I couldn't 
 see the use nor the vally on. The fust mate would 
 shout an' bellow until I thought he was clean out'n 
 his cocoanut. But arter a while the reefs would be 
 shaken out and the sheets made fast to the cleats an' 
 belayin' pins, and we'd scud away under full sail at 
 a clip no other durned whaler in them days could 
 hold a candle to. 
 
 " I wants ter say that ye've all got yer stations an' 
 duties on the great ship o' life. Do whatever comes 
 to yer, with all yer heart an' soul, an' yer'll be better 
 an' happy fer it as sure's my name is Sykes. Thankee 
 hearty for yer kind attention." 
 
 " That's the sort of thing that will do good," said 
 Harding to himself, " it's a breeze off the ocean 
 
 70
 
 MEN OF GOOD WORKS 
 
 right into their stifling souls. I'll push it home with 
 a tune." 
 
 Accordingly the big orchestrion began the first 
 mission work of its career. It had evidently not been 
 constructed with a view to even quasi sacred use, 
 for its first offering was a Strauss waltz and its 
 second Berlioz' fiery " Rakoczky " march. But what 
 it lacked in devoutness it made up for in volume 
 and beauty of tone, and the minister was not dis- 
 posed to cavil at its worldliness as he saw the evident 
 delight of his people. 
 
 And now Mrs. Copeland's astonished eyes beheld 
 the trim figure of her coachman, James Anderson, 
 proceed down the aisle at a signal from the master 
 of ceremonies. It was he beyond all doubt, as she 
 saw when he turned his smooth-shaven, resolute 
 face toward the audience. 
 
 " M-m, well ; it's true that wonders will never 
 cease. He's a good fellow; I'll raise his pay to- 
 morrow." Thus was virtue its own unexpected 
 reward. 
 
 It was evident that public speaking was not Mr. 
 Anderson's forte, but he was " in the ring " as he 
 afterward expressed it, and determined to make a 
 good fight. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," he started, choosing 
 his words with great care, " we all must do good 
 work if we want to amount to anything in this world. 
 We're like horses, we are; the free-drivers get the 
 best care and the best food and the plugs get the 
 wallops and the worst harnesses. Of course we can't 
 all be two-ten trotters, but even if we're draught
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 horses we can be good ones and be respected in the 
 stable. We er that is I don't know as I've got 
 anything more to say." 
 
 " Go on, James," said Mr. Harding in a whisper, 
 " you're doing first rate." 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, when we get into the 
 ring the track, I mean we want to be always on 
 the lookout to jab the other fellow on the point of 
 the jaw no, no, to beat all the other horses, and 
 to land on his stomach that is, to come in under 
 the wire, and give the knockout well, ladies and 
 gentlemen, I may as well admit that I was a prize 
 fighter once, and when I get excited all the old lingo 
 comes back to me. But I want to tell you, just the 
 same, that good works pay, and I know it." 
 
 "You're a liar!" 
 
 The ex-pugilist's jaws set firm and his fist clenched 
 involuntarily. 
 
 " Who said that? " he shouted. 
 
 " I did," came the answer in thick tones, as the 
 burly figure of Peter Grimes, the weaver, rose from 
 a seat near the door, "an' I mean it, too." 
 
 Anderson started from the platform in a towering 
 rage to wreak vengeance on his insulter, but quicker 
 than he had been the Reverend Ralph Harding. Be- 
 fore the men in the audience had time to become ex- 
 cited or the women to scream, the minister seized the 
 big weaver by the coat collar, twitched him skilfully 
 into the hall and, with a supreme effort of strength, 
 shot him accurately through the open outside door 
 and down over the steps, where he fell in a sprawling 
 mass on the sidewalk. Having thus amply justified 
 
 72
 
 MEN OF GOOL> WORKS 
 
 his assertion that he would be his own policeman, 
 Mr. Harding calmly walked back to the platform 
 and reopened the meeting. 
 
 After two or three more brief and picturesque ad- 
 dresses and a tune from the evangelized orchestrion, 
 the " bite to eat " was set forth in a rear room, and 
 Mrs. Copeland found an opportunity to speak with 
 the minister on the subject that had so filled her 
 mind. 
 
 " What do you know of Agatha what's her 
 name ? the granddaughter of Captain Stewart ? " 
 she asked with her usual abruptness. 
 
 " Much that is good," was the reply. " She is 
 refined, brilliant, charming much superior to any 
 mill girl I know of. Her unusual qualities have in- 
 terested me for some time." 
 
 " Would she make a good secretary for me? Could 
 I trust her ? How about her education ? " 
 
 " I think she would be entirely satisfactory. She 
 was nearly through the grammar school when she 
 went into the mill, and she has read and studied a 
 great deal since. As for trusting her well, I'd 
 trust her." 
 
 ' That's enough," said Mrs. Copeland. 
 
 " But I doubt," the minister continued thought- 
 fully, " whether she would accept anything that sa- 
 vored of patronage." 
 
 " I'll smooth over all those little matters," said the 
 lady with a smile, " besides in a year's time she will 
 be made valuable to me if education will do it." 
 
 Then she went home under the escort of her coach- 
 man, who was secretly rather annoyed at the honor, 
 
 73
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 for he had hoped he might meet Peter Grimes on 
 the way and have the pleasure of landing his left 
 on some susceptible portion of that public disturber's 
 anatomy.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 
 
 TILLY HAS HER SUSPICIONS 
 
 NATURE was in her most tender and caress- 
 ing mood as Mrs. Copeland went forth 
 next morning in search of the good ship 
 '' Harpoon." Birds were madly attempting to sing 
 one another down in the noble elms of Bristol Street ; 
 the air was fresh and laden with the balm of the 
 young season; dandelions and violets and lilies of 
 the valley ran riot along the street edges of the 
 lawns in the far-famed Old Chetford fashion, and 
 all life seemed to share the subtle intoxication of the 
 drink of May. 
 
 Mrs. Copeland herself felt great buoyancy and a 
 hope for the future. A serene night's rest had 
 strengthened her determination in regard to the girl, 
 and the good report made by Mr. Harding was now 
 added to her own strong bias in Agatha's favor. 
 She was about to pass the Rubicon, she knew, and 
 she gloried in every firm step that drew nearer that 
 plunge. 
 
 Even the harking-back of memory, as she passed 
 many an object dear to her younger womanhood, 
 was wholly lacking in that melancholy that often 
 makes the mature woman weep for the child who 
 was herself. 
 
 She smiled almost gaily ^s she went by the ancient 
 
 75
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 drab Friends' meeting-house on April Street, its 
 square-cut dignity trying bravely to seem uncon- 
 cerned at its evident loss of prestige. Time was 
 when on " Seventh Day " the rich and powerful of 
 Old Chetford used to throng to the spot in the sober 
 gray so little indicative of their solid bank accounts. 
 In the little semi-detached vestry Mrs. Copeland 
 herself had once attended a famous school kept by 
 a pretty Quakeress, whose discipline had been in in- 
 verse ratio to her beauty. Now the yard was dusty 
 and unkempt, the horse-shed abandoned and the 
 meeting-house itself almost shabby. 
 
 As she neared Harbor Street, she looked up with 
 reminiscent affection to a little hall over a grocery 
 store. There she had learned to dance under one of 
 the Papantis from Boston, and there had swirled the 
 silks and satins of the town's elect. Although it 
 was now a cheap billiard room, and although the 
 beefy-faced proprietor was sitting at a window in his 
 shirt-sleeves smoking a very rank and dirty pipe, 
 she smiled pleasantly at him and actually nodded 
 for old times' sake, out of the exhilaration of a day 
 in springtime and a cherished object in view. 
 
 She had some difficulty in rinding Tuckerman's 
 wharf, for many of her landmarks had long since 
 disappeared, but at last she entered the neat gate- 
 way and stood a moment to survey the scene. 
 
 The water of the harbor was rippling merrily 
 under the clear blue of the cloudless sky. Out in 
 the middle the green of Harmer's Island, with its 
 stubby little whitewashed lighthouse, filled the centre 
 of the picture with quiet beauty, while the back- 
 
 7 6
 
 TILLY HAS HER SUSPICIONS 
 
 ground was formed by the pastoral shores and trim 
 houses of Fairport. 
 
 A few gulls wheeled lazily across the vista, and 
 now and then a tiny tug snorted into view and out 
 again with absurd energy. Far down to the south 
 the air was smirched by the tall clouds of smoke 
 from the mill chimneys. 
 
 " Thank Heaven, they haven't got up here, at 
 any rate," exclaimed Mrs. Copeland, as she drank 
 in the loveliness of the immediate view. Stock- 
 holder though she was in the great industrial bar- 
 racks, she kept her aesthetic opinion of them in a 
 quite separate recess of her nature. 
 
 Tuckerman's wharf seemed deserted this morn- 
 ing, so far as she could determine at a cursory glance. 
 There were no signs of life aboard the " Harpoon," 
 and the flagpole at its fore was bare. Somewhat 
 undecided what to do, Mrs. Copeland had finally 
 made up her mind to stroll away for a while, when 
 a queer apparition on the end of the pier attracted 
 her attention. 
 
 The figure was covered with reddish-brown calico, 
 was straight as a ramrod and almost as slim. In- 
 deed, it seemed that a strong puff of wind must in- 
 evitably pick it up and deposit it in mid-harbor. An 
 immense blue sunbonnet surmounted the top of the 
 structure, and its occasional nodding proved that 
 there was a human head somewhere within its re- 
 cesses. 
 
 "Gracious, can that be Agatha Renier?" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Copeland with a shudder. Then she 
 dismissed the thought with a smile. 
 
 77
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Too thin ; too thin, altogether. And too stiff," 
 she said. " But I'll go and find out who it is, and 
 perhaps she can tell me something about the ' Har- 
 poon ' people." 
 
 As a matter of fact, the woman on the pier was 
 Hank Donelson's maiden sister Tilly. Hank had 
 outrageously and in a wholly indefensible manner 
 disappeared shortly after breakfast when there was 
 half a cord of wood to saw, and Tilly had steered 
 straight for Tuckerman's wharf to hale the culprit 
 back to duty. But for once she had been mistaken, 
 for neither Hank nor anyone else could she find on 
 the " Harpoon." Being of a frugal mind, and need- 
 ing something for dinner, she had borrowed some 
 fishing tackle and bait from Captain Stewart's sup- 
 ply, and was now engaged in enticing her next meal 
 from the incoming tide. 
 
 She looked around suspiciously at Mrs. Cope- 
 land's approach. She had long cherished the notion 
 that her brother Hank was a gay blade among the 
 ladies, and she was in mortal terror lest someone, 
 unable to resist his charms, should marry him out 
 of hand. 
 
 "Be you a-lookin' for someone?" she asked, 
 adjusting the neck of a clam on her hook and lower- 
 ing it with infinite caution to the water. 
 
 " Yes, for Captain Stewart." 
 
 "Cap'n Stewart?" 
 
 "Likely, now, ain't it," she added under her 
 breath. " Bet it's Hank." Then aloud: 
 
 " Well, he ain't here." 
 
 " This is the ' Harpoon,' isn't it? " 
 
 78
 
 TILLY HAS HER SUSPICIONS 
 
 " Yes, that's here right enough. 'Twouldn't a' 
 been, though, ef Cap'n Joel could a' taken it with 
 him." 
 
 " Does he love it as much as that? " asked Mrs. 
 Copeland, with a smile. 
 
 Tilly pretended to have a tremendous struggle 
 with a flounder which she had just pulled out of the 
 water, but thinking the while : " I knew it ; talks 
 of love the very first stitch." Then she said : , 
 
 " Yes, I 'spose you call it love. An' if he must 
 love anything, it'd better be a ship. That can't talk 
 back." 
 
 " Your experience of love must have been bitter, 
 my good woman." 
 
 " H'umph ! Don't know anythin' about it ; don't 
 want to. Never even seen much of it in other 
 folks!" 
 
 " Indeed ? But pray can you inform me when 
 Captain Stewart will probably return, or is there 
 anyone else who can do so ? " 
 
 Tilly's suspicions were by no means allayed by 
 this ostentatious reference to Captain Stewart on the 
 part of this fine lady. Under the guise of solicitude 
 about someone else she saw designs on the peace and 
 happiness of Hank. She thanked providence that 
 he was not present to fall a victim to feminine wiles. 
 Then she decided to make one supreme test. 
 
 " Are you quite sure it's Cap'n Stewart you want 
 to see ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " Why certainly ; if not, why should I ask for 
 him ? " Mrs. Copeland was getting a bit impatient 
 at this peculiar examination. 
 
 79
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " I dunno," replied Tilly rather helplessly, " but 
 Aggy Renier says that one of them books she's allus 
 a-readin' says lan'widge was given us ter hide our 
 thoughts." 
 
 " This time speech expresses thought, and I do 
 wish to see Captain Stewart," was the forcible an- 
 swer. 
 
 " Well," returned Tilly dubiously, " ef yer dew, 
 that's him a-comin' daown the wharf." 
 
 As Mrs. Copeland turned and went to meet the 
 old man, she saw that Agatha Renier's grandfather 
 was no common sailor. She was filled with ad- 
 miration at his splendid frame and she liked his 
 frank and honest face at first sight. She held out 
 her hand cordially, and introduced herself. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Sarah Copeland," she said, " perhaps 
 your granddaughter has spoken of me." , 
 
 " She has, ma'am, she has, and I am proud and 
 happy to meet you. If I can be of any service " 
 
 ' You may be of great service to me and to your 
 granddaughter. It is about her that I wish to talk 
 to you." 
 
 " Will you come aboard my home, ma'am ? I can 
 make you comfortable in the cabin, and perhaps 
 show you some interesting things. And mebbe 
 you'll smile, but I can think better down there than 
 anywhere else in the world." 
 
 " By all means, Captain. I have heard of your 
 snuggery down here and I want to see the whole of 
 it. So prepare to receive a very appreciative 
 guest." 
 
 The captain, with inborn stately courtesy, led her 
 80
 
 TILLY HAS HER SUSPICIONS 
 
 across the gang-plank and they disappeared down 
 the companion-way together. 
 
 During these proceedings the fish at the end of the 
 wharf had been toying with Miss Tilly's bait with 
 perfect impunity, for that lady had been watching 
 the captain and his visitor with distrustful eyes. 
 She shook her head ominously and registered a 
 vow that she would not leave the premises until 
 " that woman " had taken her departure. 
 
 She drew up her hook, from which the bait had 
 all been stolen by thieving sea-perch, shook out her 
 calico wrapper, adjusted her sunbonnet and marched 
 to another part of the wharf from which she was 
 certain to see her brother Hank should he appear 
 while danger lurked within the cabin of the " Har- 
 poon." 
 
 Courtesy and curiosity struggled for the mastery 
 in the honest captain's heart as he drew the chintz 
 covering from a rare old ebony armchair he had 
 picked up in his voyages, and offered it with much 
 ceremony to his guest. He saw the look of real 
 pleasure in Mrs. Copeland's face as she surveyed the 
 unique relics of his long life on the ocean the 
 beautiful and costly ivory carvings; the delicately 
 colored shells, tinted by the magic of the sea; the 
 great glowing branches of coral flaming out in the 
 dim light like Siegmund's tree; all the hundred and 
 one bits of odd and interesting things arranged by 
 Agatha's fine sense of harmony and good taste into 
 a whole that was most attractive. He was proud of 
 his floating parlor and glad that a woman of cul- 
 ture had come to see it at last. 
 
 Si
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 And he was curious there was no denying that. 
 Something for Agatha's advantage was in the wind, 
 but what? Money? She would never take it, nor 
 would he allow it. A present? T^iat would be 
 permissible, perhaps; it depended on the nature of 
 it. He dared speculate no further, but pulled him- 
 self together to receive the coming proposition.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LOVERS MIGHTIEST TEST 
 
 THE captain's uncertainty as to how Mrs. 
 Copeland would introduce the object of her 
 visit was soon ended by that lady herself in 
 her most brisk and uncompromising manner. 
 
 " Captain Stewart, I am a business woman," she 
 began. " When I talk business I use business di- 
 rectness." 
 
 This was not very reassuring to the simple old 
 man, but he decided to await developments, and not 
 commit himself by any extended speech. 
 
 " Yes'm," he replied rather feebly. 
 
 " Your granddaughter has done me a great serv- 
 ice; I am in her debt." 
 
 " She has told me the story ; the service was 
 nothing to mention," said the captain earnestly. 
 " although, if I do say it, Agatha is a brave girl." 
 
 The glow of affection in the fine blue eyes found 
 an answering of admiration in the gray ones. 
 Each thought of Agatha in different ways, but to 
 each she was the dominating figure of the inter- 
 view. 
 
 " As I have already said," continued Mrs. Cope- 
 land, " it was a great service, and I must repay it" 
 
 " We are not rich," broke forth the old sailor 
 
 83
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 with rugged emphasis, " but Aggy and I do not 
 want pay for doing our duty." 
 
 " ' Aggy ' ? That's the girl's pet name, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 The captain admitted the fact with a bow. 
 
 " Too harsh for a pet name altogether." 
 
 " Mebbe, ma'am, mebbe; but there's another." 
 
 " Ah, two of them ? She is fortunate. What's 
 the other?" 
 
 A shade of embarrassment passed over the cap- 
 tain's face as he replied : 
 
 " Miss Petticoats." 
 
 "Miss what?" 
 
 "Miss . . . Petticoats." 
 
 "What rubbish!" 
 
 " Well, ma'am, you see 't was this way " 
 
 Now Mrs. Copeland knew the habits of sailors. 
 She would not have been averse to a tar's remi- 
 niscence under ordinary circumstances, but this was 
 not an ordinary visit. So she good-naturedly cut 
 into what she felt was about to become a long 
 story. 
 
 " That's the way, I believe, you seafaring men 
 begin what you call a ' yarn.' Well, I'll have it on 
 another occasion ; to-day I'm pressed for time. . . . 
 Your granddaughter has done me, a stranger, a 
 great service. How can I repay it? " 
 
 The captain rose abruptly at this second mention 
 of payment, and drew himself up to his full height 
 of six feet, two. He felt no abashment now, no 
 diffidence in the presence of this fine lady. One of 
 the powerful elements of his character had been 
 
 84
 
 LOPE'S MIGHTIEST TEST 
 
 stung into action as by a rankling dart. He would 
 put an end to all this talk of recompense, and at once. 
 
 " I have said, ma'am," said he sternly, " that the 
 Stewarts accept no pay for freely given service. 
 You are my guest, and courtesy demands that I hear 
 what you wish to say, but I ask you kindly not to 
 mention the word pay again in connection with the 
 duty Agatha couldn't have shirked without forfeit- 
 ing a good opportunity." 
 
 " Ah, Captain Stewart," returned the lady with 
 some amusement, " it isn't hard to see where your 
 pretty granddaughter gets the pride she cherishes so 
 carefully down in her hot little heart. But believe 
 me, I meant no disrespect. I am abrupt because 
 well, I have my reasons. I am greatly interested in 
 your grandchild. Tell me about her." 
 
 Under the warmth of this request all the good old 
 man's resentment melted in an instant. This rich 
 and cultured woman wanted to know about his be- 
 loved Agatha ! Why, that very request in itself was 
 reward enough for the girl's service. He would tell 
 her everything without reserve, tell her of Agatha's 
 strange, yet easily accounted for, contradictions of 
 character; tell of her devotion to those she loved, 
 her scorn for those she hated ; tell of his own hopes 
 and fears for the girl who was now standing, but 
 scarcely with " reluctant feet," at the beginning of 
 womanhood. 
 
 With rude eloquence, inspired by the subject, he 
 held Mrs. Copeland's deepest interest for nearly an 
 hour, as he poured forth the story of his daughter's 
 ruined life, Agatha's coming and the growth of cer- 
 
 85
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 tain traits from both her parents in her young heart. 
 He dwelt tenderly upon her warm affection for him- 
 self, her love for the old ship, her scrupulous pride 
 in dress and person, her newly-inspired reverence 
 for her mother. 
 
 By well timed interruptions and judicious ques- 
 tions, Mrs. Copeland had no difficulty in obtaining 
 a complete compendium of Agatha Renter's mental, 
 moral and physical characteristics, and, making all 
 due allowance for the strong bias of a doting old 
 man, it was still perfectly clear that no common girl 
 lived here in this ship. 
 
 " She works in the mill ? " asked Mrs. Copeland, 
 when at length the captain seemed to have exhausted 
 his fountain of eloquence. 
 
 " Yes ; for nearly three years now. She would 
 do it." 
 
 " Doubtless," was the dry rejoinder. " Then she 
 has no education, I presume." 
 
 " Beg pardon, ma'am," the captain replied almost 
 indignantly, " she has a very good education in- 
 deed." 
 
 Then he explained how he had learned French 
 from a French sailor years ago that he might read 
 the books his daughter had brought back from Paris, 
 and how he had taught Agatha when she was very 
 young. 
 
 " See here, ma'am," said he proudly, as he threw 
 back a curtain and brought to view a large collection 
 of volumes arranged on shelves fitted into several 
 bunks, " she has read these, every one." 
 
 " M-m, well," observed his visitor dubiously as she 
 86
 
 LOPE'S MIGHTIEST TEST 
 
 noted the titles of some of these cherished books, 
 " I should say that a few of 'em, at least, might just 
 as well be left unread by a girl of Agatha's age." 
 
 Somewhat crestfallen, the captain tried another 
 tack. 
 
 " Here is some of her writing," he said, " and 
 here a lot of her sums ; " as he dragged into view a 
 pile of papers covered with arithmetical problems. 
 " She's always been a master hand at figur- 
 ing." 
 
 The time had now arrived for Mrs. Copeland to 
 strike, and she struck deep as usual. 
 
 " Captain Stewart," she said incisively, " as a 
 sensible man, a man of the world in a way, you must 
 see that it is impossible for your granddaughter to 
 grow to womanhood under these surroundings, com- 
 fortable as they are," glancing about the cosy cabin. 
 " She is evidently a girl of great refinement, high 
 aspirations and a deal of brilliancy, but as yet her 
 character is unformed. How and by whom are you 
 going to form it ? " 
 
 " You are right, ma'am, I don't doubt," replied 
 the old sailor. " I have loved her and been good to 
 her and done what I could for her, but I couldn't be 
 a mother to her ; Aggy has needed a woman's com- 
 panionship; it's been a great loss to her that she 
 hasn't had it. A man's an anchor, but a mother's 
 a rudder, so to say." 
 
 "I'm glad you recognize the situation, Captain. 
 Furthermore you must perceive that the drudgery 
 of the mill and the companionship of sailors excel- 
 lent men, I have no doubt are not fitting for such 
 
 87
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 a girl as she. I'm not a snob when I say that she's 
 made for better things." 
 
 " True, ma'am, true," said the old man thought- 
 fully. Mrs. Copeland had skilfully penetrated a 
 weak spot in his armor, and he was now her pris- 
 oner. 
 
 " Now here is what I have to say. I want Agatha 
 to come and live with me, to help me with my cor- 
 respondence and accounts and otherwise to be a 
 companion to me. In return she will have a home, 
 clothing and education. Think for a moment, and 
 then give me your answer." 
 
 For a little time the cabin seemed to swim before 
 the sight of the old sailor. The magnitude of the 
 offer, with its enormous possibilities for the years 
 to come, overpowered him. He seemed the helpless 
 victim of some terrific stroke of fate. 
 
 Finally, through the fog that seemed to surround 
 his faculties, there bep-an to steal the realization that 
 all this portended the separation from his one joy 
 in life, his pretty, loving, clever Agatha. How 
 could a kind providence work in any such way as 
 this? 
 
 " But, ma'am," he finally found words to say in 
 his wretchedness, " Aggy to leave me ? And I, 
 an old man to be parted from her always ? I oh, 
 ma'am, I can't do it, I can't indeed." 
 
 " Now Captain," said Mrs. Copeland kindly, pity- 
 ing his distress, " you may reassure yourself on that 
 point entirely. It doesn't mean parting at all. 
 Agatha will come to see you often, and you can 
 come to see her at any time you please." 
 
 88
 
 LOPE'S MIGHTIEST TEST 
 
 11 Well, ma'am, I shall not stand in my dear child's 
 way. I'm an old hulk that'll soon be broken up; 
 she's just ready for launching, you might say, all 
 new and trim and taut. The hulk has no business 
 getting in the way just as the new boat's going to 
 slide into the water. You have my consent, ma'am, 
 and there's my hand on't." 
 
 The lady took his big, rough paw and shook it 
 warmly. Then she said suddenly: 
 
 " You love your grandchild, Captain ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you how much, ma'am." 
 
 " Then listen to this, and never forget it : the 
 mightiest test of love is sacrifice." 
 
 In the silence that followed on the part of both, 
 voices were heard on the wharf above. 
 
 " I say, Aggy Renier, have you seen anythin' of 
 my brother Hank ? " came in shrill, rasping tones. 
 
 " No, Tilly," was the musical contralto reply, " I 
 haven't, but I think he's up at Norton's store talking 
 with the new clerk." 
 
 " New clerk, eh ? Is he is it a woman ? " 
 
 " She's a woman, and a mighty pretty one, too," 
 said the tantalizing voice, and the next instant 
 Agatha dashed down the companion-way in her 
 breezy fashion, and then came to a sudden halt as 
 she saw her grandfather's guest. 
 
 " How do you do, my dear," was the pleasant 
 greeting, and then with no more preliminaries, " I 
 have just made a proposition for your future. Your 
 grandfather will tell it to you." 
 
 In a very few words the old man outlined the offer 
 that had come to her. She, too, was dazed for a mo- 
 
 89
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ment, but as the full significance of it all dawned 
 upon her, she broke into a passionate storm of re- 
 monstrance, threw her arms about her grandfather 
 and implored him not to send her away. 
 
 " No, no, little girl, there'll be no real sending 
 away," reassured the old man, " you're to come 
 here and I'm to go there as often as we like, and 
 everything will be as right as a trivet." 
 
 " And think carefully, my dear," said Mrs. Cope- 
 land, in her most convincing tone, "think of the ad- 
 vantages you will be sure to get in such a new life ; 
 you must regard your future, for there will come 
 a time when " 
 
 " Ay, ay, ma'am," broke in the sailor bravely, 
 " when the last bo'sn's whistle calls the old man 
 aloft you mean. It can't be very far off." 
 
 At this not over-cheerful conversation Agatha 
 burst into tears, and sobs shook her body as the storm 
 a young sapling. Then she rose defiantly and faced 
 the two who seemed to be conspiring against her 
 peace. 
 
 " I won't go ; I won't. No one shall make me," 
 she cried. 
 
 Mrs. Copeland looked at the captain, and in her 
 eyes he thought he saw the request to be left alone 
 with the weeping girl for awhile. So he blundered 
 over to the pipe-rack and then up to the deck. And 
 strangely enough for the sun was still shining in 
 a cloudless sky he seemed to have difficulty in see- 
 ing to fill and light his pipe. 
 
 Left alone with the pretty picture of despair in the 
 cabin, the stern, hard-faced Mrs. Copeland did a 
 
 90
 
 LOPE'S MIGHTIEST TEST 
 
 thing that would have caused her acquaintances on 
 Bristol Street to regard her sanity with suspicion. 
 
 She went to th side of the weeping girl, drew 
 her gently to a seat and placed the beautiful head 
 on her breast with the tenderness of a mother. For 
 moments that seemed hours to both no word was 
 spoken. But the sobs began to grow calmer, as an 
 angry sea under a gentle rain, and, finally, they 
 ceased altogether. 
 
 The elder woman broke the silence. 
 
 " Dear child," she said in a tone no one then liv- 
 ing had ever heard from her lips, " do you know 
 why it really is that I want you to go home with 
 me ? It is because my life has been incomplete since 
 nine years ago when I stood beside the new-made 
 grave of a girl of about your age my only child. 
 You are not afraid of me now, are you, Agatha ? " 
 
 The tear-dimmed eyes were raised slowly. They 
 saw that the stern features above them had relaxed 
 into a smile that had something almost unearthly in 
 its faraway tenderness. And seeing tjhat, they 
 trusted completely. 
 
 " You will help brighten an old woman's life, will 
 you not, dearie ? " was the tremulous query. 
 
 Agatha looked at her fixedly, a strange light in 
 her eyes. Then, without a word, she softly kissed 
 her benefactor on the cheek, and with a little sigh 
 in which regret and happiness were mingled, let fall 
 her head on the heaving breast that was so seldom 
 guilty of such manifest emotion. 
 
 ***** 
 91
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Agatha spent the evening in overhauling and 
 furbishing up her small stock of fineries, although it 
 had been decided that she should not take up her 
 residence at Mrs. Copeland's until the following 
 week. 
 
 As for Captain Joel, he consumed incredible quan- 
 tities of tobacco as he sat at ease in his cabin watch- 
 ing the lithe young figure flitting to and fro at her 
 task, but his pipe was often out and he made a great 
 litter with his half-burnt matches. 
 
 Far into the night Agatha heard him pacing the 
 deck overhead with measured tread. When the glim- 
 mering in the east began to note the coming of a 
 new day, the captain took his stand on the prow of 
 his beloved vessel and communed aloud with him- 
 self. 
 
 " Joel Stewart," he said, " you're a mutineer. You 
 had sealed orders from Alice to do the best you 
 could for her child. Now that the right course has 
 been worked out for her by a safe pilot, you want 
 to dispute the reckoning and steer a wild course 
 with no compass but your heart. You mean well, 
 but you're twisted on latitude and longitude by your 
 affections. 
 
 " Overhaul your rigging, old shipmate, and sail 
 the little one into a safe harbor. Remember what it 
 says on Mrs. Copeland's chart, that ' the mightiest 
 test of love is sacrifice.' Now turn in, you old bar- 
 nacle, and when it's your watch again see that you 
 come up smiling for duty." 
 
 Staunch old fellow that he was, he could not go to 
 his bunk without a glimpse at his idol. As he passed 
 
 92
 
 LOPE'S MIGHTIEST TEST 
 
 her cabin door he peeped in, and the smile he saw on 
 the sleeping girl's face found a ready reflex on his 
 own. 
 
 " Bless her dear heart," he said gently, " no mat- 
 ter how high she climbs she won't forget her old 
 grandfather down at the foot of the ladder."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 SOCIETY AMUSES ITSELF 
 
 ROBERT WORTH-COURTLEIGH came 
 home to dinner with a pleasant anticipation 
 of an evening of quiet literary browsing, 
 good cigars and a big leather arm-chair in his 
 pretty modern house on a " new " street for Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh, having inhabited one of the an- 
 cient residences until her marriage, absolutely in- 
 sisted on " something fit to live in." So she had a 
 long, rambling place with stubby towers, unexpected 
 eaves, out jutting windows, big plate glass effects and 
 a painfully new stone foundation marked off into 
 weird geometrical figures by black lines of putty. 
 
 The lawn was treeless but diversified by rockeries 
 and beds of early plants. Perhaps there was the 
 same difference between this establishment and the 
 estates of Bristol Street as between its fair mistress 
 and the high-bred women of the old regime. 
 
 Worth-Courtleigh himself would have been con- 
 tent anywhere with his pretty wife, his library and 
 his cigars. He was a heavy, stolid-looking man, 
 with a face of granite and a voice that seemed a 
 perpetual threat. He wore a short, bristling gray 
 beard that was as pugnacious as such things could 
 well be, and the steely glint from his greenish eyes, 
 added to his other formidable attributes, was enough 
 
 94
 
 SOCIETT AMUSES ITSELF 
 
 to make the stoutest witness quake under his cross- 
 examination. 
 
 People called him brutal in the court-room, but 
 that was the fault of his aggressive physical quali- 
 ties, and not of his heart. Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh 
 knew his true generosity and humanity, as she had 
 reason, for he had never spoken a harsh word to 
 her, nor shown himself other than a gentleman in 
 all their relations. They had drifted into a species 
 of indifference mainly through their great diver- 
 gence in tastes, although it was evident that, had 
 she chosen, the wife might have turned the husband 
 toward any sort of existence. She would make no 
 such effort, nor would she attempt to fix her desires 
 by his. 
 
 " Robert is a rock," she once confided to one of 
 her many dear friends, " and I do not propose to play 
 ivy to His Massiveness. My tendrils reach higher." 
 
 Worth-Courtleigh met his wife at dinner, and 
 kissed her in his formal fashion. 
 
 " What's all this rumpus in the house, my dear? " 
 he asked between spoonfuls of soup. 
 
 " Rumpus, Robert, I don*t understand." 
 
 " Flowers, lots of candles in the music-room, gen- 
 eral air of festivity." 
 
 " Why, Robert, it can't be possible." 
 
 " What can't? " he asked helplessly. 
 
 " Why, that you have forgotten that to-night we 
 give a musicale for Madame Smyjane." 
 
 "Eh; who?" 
 
 " Oh, come Robert, don't pretend ignorance. Jane 
 Smythe, then, if you like that better. She's just back 
 
 95
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 from Paris, and has a b r e-autiful method, the most 
 expensive she could get, I'm told. Solfeggio says 
 she's sure to be heard from in grand opera; and I 
 have the honor of bringing her out. It's absurd in 
 you to have forgotten it." 
 
 " Well, Lucy, I must throw myself on your mercy. 
 I've been fearfully busy of late, and even have an 
 engagement to-night with some of the mill officials." 
 
 The wife's quick instinct took alarm. She cared 
 little for her husband's society, but his presence at 
 such an event was another affair altogether. As a 
 show-piece it was imperative. 
 
 " Now, Robert," she entreated, with the sound of 
 tears in her voice, " I depended on you to help me 
 out to-night. It's a very delicate affair, indeed, and 
 you must stay in. Do cut the horrid mill people out 
 for once, and give your wife your evening." 
 
 The charming woman who would not be " ivy" 
 then acted very like that plant, for she went to her 
 burly husband, and twining her warm soft arms 
 around his neck, put her red lips up for auction, the 
 price of which he well knew. 
 
 "Well, well," he said hastily, "Til stay. But 
 don't expect me to join in the idiotic talk of a lot 
 of your guests. I'll be on exhibition as a dummy, 
 and that's enough." 
 
 After dinner Worth-Courtleigh retreated to his 
 library to fortify himself before the ordeal of an 
 evening coat and society small talk. 
 
 It was Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's ambition to be- 
 come the prophetess of a new social cult in Old Chet- 
 ford. As she had broken away from Bristol Street, 
 
 96
 
 SOCIETT AMUSES ITSELF 
 
 so she had broken away from the stiff and pompous 
 manner of the old dispensation. Being- a scion of that 
 same dispensation, she could do this with the cer- 
 tainty of dragging with her a part, at least, of the 
 ancient aristocracy. She dashed into the work of 
 entertaining with abandon. Her dinners were rev- 
 elations to the descendants of the whalers and the 
 Quakers; her dances things of beauty and great 
 cost; her patronage of out-of-town geniuses pleas- 
 ant and profitable for them, at least. 
 
 She had begun to be mentioned in the society 
 columns of the Boston papers, and when one gushing 
 writer called her the " Madame Maintenon of Old 
 Chetford," her cup of happiness was full. To give 
 special distinction to the musicale this very " edi- 
 tress " had been brought down from the metropolis 
 after a little practical persuasion, and she was even 
 now closeted with Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh over in- 
 structions as to what names should appear in next 
 Sunday's " paragraph." Her professionalism was 
 completely concealed by her Parisian elegance of 
 -dress, and had she only been as successful in hiding 
 the unkind work of time, she would have passed for a 
 woman of thirty; in reality she was nearly twice as 
 old. 
 
 " It is such a delightful experience,, my dear Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh," she cooed in her vivacious 
 fashion, " to visit your dear, archaic Old Chetford, 
 and see the scions of an ancient aristocracy at your 
 feet. What an inspiring thing it must be to have 
 social power." 
 
 They had come down to the drawing-room, and 
 
 97
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh had taken her position be- 
 side a splendid stand of palms, cactuses and orchids 
 in readiness to receive her guests. Behind this shel- 
 tering screen, but so close that conversation with her 
 hostess was entirely practicable, stood the dashing 
 journalist. This arrangement had been made for 
 the convenience of the lady in jotting down the 
 names of specially distinguished guests; it also fur- 
 nished her opportunity for making running com- 
 ments on the various persons as they entered the 
 room. 
 
 " Who, pray, is that pert, overdressed young wo- 
 man ? " said the voice behind the plants, as the first 
 arrival was transferring her filmy wraps to a maid 
 in the hall, " rather pretty, but would the world cease 
 to turn if she should happen to faint away? " 
 
 In considerable amusement at this clever word- 
 picture of the singer for her present affiliation with 
 Miss Jane Smythe was for social purposes merely 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh replied: 
 
 " That is Madame Smyjane, my chief guest of 
 honor, the lady to whose voice you are to pay tribute 
 at how much per line, Mrs. Rushton? " 
 
 Nothing abashed, the woman in the background 
 went on with her rapid fire. 
 
 " That putty- faced little man with the hair 
 dragged out over his ears who's he ? Captain Clay- 
 bourne? Fine old family? Appearances are decep- 
 tive. And that tall blond fellow who looks like a 
 refined lady-killer, and ah, there's a handsome chap 
 for you. Gracious, I believe he's a minister ; what A 
 pity. Who is he?" 
 
 98
 
 SOCIETT AMUSES ITSELF 
 
 " Reverend Ralph Harding," answered Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh, with little ceremony. The 
 reference to Guy Hamilton, marvelously accurate 
 in its intuition, aroused all her resentment, all her 
 jealousy. In the surging contradictions of a slighted 
 love she seemed to lose all sense of place and people. 
 She clutched her heart and leaned for support a 
 moment against one of the friendly palms. 
 
 Nothing of this was lost by the keen intelligence 
 behind the screen. 
 
 " Aha," said the woman to herself, " is there 
 something between the Apollo Belvidere parson and 
 my fair hostess ? No ; he is scarcely her style. What 
 is it, then, that has floored her so ? I have it the 
 big light one I called a lady-killer. M'm; I'll store 
 that away ; it may be of use sometime." 
 
 The approach of Madame Smyjane and the duty 
 of introducing her to the rest brought Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh to her usual state of self-possession. In 
 a little while Worth-Courtleigh himself appeared 
 and phlegmatically went through a task he detested 
 as thoroughly as he did his clawhammer coat. 
 
 " By George," he remarked afterward to Ralph 
 Harding as they were enjoying a cigar in the library, 
 " I wish Jane Smith's grandfather could come to 
 life and walk in here, that's all. He was dirty, and 
 always smelt of whale-oil, but he wasn't a sham." 
 
 The chatter of gathering crowds, the swish of 
 skirts, the guffaws of the men, the little shrieks of 
 amusement from the women, the rippling scales from 
 the piano as someone touched it carelessly, the hun- 
 dred sounds from human beings in a herd, and all 
 
 99
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 the subtle odors of refined femininity none of these 
 things touched the emotions of the big-brained 
 lawyer in the least. But he knew that they were a 
 part of the bread of life to his young wife, and he 
 tolerated if not encouraged them. 
 
 The presentation of the singer having been duly 
 made to the assembled crowd, about three quarters 
 of whom had known her well since childhood, the 
 conversation became general and little groups col- 
 lected according to their tastes. A number of the 
 professed patrons of music gathered about Madame 
 Smyjane to obtain her views upon the noble art. 
 
 " Ah, my dear rector," she said to the Reverend 
 Archibald Greenacre, the sleek and optimistic pas- 
 tor of the St. Agnes Episcopal Church, " method is 
 everything, believe me, in the art of singing. Shake- 
 speare said to me in London : ' my dear young lady, 
 you have a glorious voice, a true lyric soprano, but 
 without my method what would it avail you ? ' 
 Marches! said the same thing in Paris. I took both 
 methods, and, although they were very dissimilar, 
 I chose the best of each and added something of my 
 own. The result has pleased several managers, I 
 may tell you in confidence. But to all I say the same 
 thing : method is the secret of power." 
 
 " But Patti Albani Scalchi ? " observed the di- 
 vine mildly. 
 
 " Method, all method, my dear rector. Voice ten 
 per cent; method ninety, as Lamperti said to me in 
 Milan. But I hear dear Professor Arpeggio at the 
 piano, and I must go and get my voice in trim, for 
 
 100
 
 SOCIETT AMUSES ITSELF 
 
 I understand you have all become very discriminat- 
 ing critics since I have been abroad." 
 
 At this there was a general scurry for the music 
 room and a collecting of little knots of friends in 
 neighboring seats. The distinguished Prof. Arpeg- 
 gio, a fat little Italian with black hair brushed in 
 the Lisztian style, was running scales and blending 
 modulations until the company should be seated. 
 The professor had begun life in Old Chetford as 
 the pianist in a sailors' dance hall, but by his native 
 talents and a keen sense of sycophancy had risen 
 high. 
 
 At last he brought his preludes to a close with 
 an authoritative crash. Then he plunged into the 
 helter-skelter of a Bach fugue, theme chasing theme 
 under his puffy little fingers with amazing rapidity. 
 At the final summing-up chords he was applauded 
 till his perspiring face glowed with pleasure. 
 
 After a melodious tribute from an imported male 
 quartet to the silver moon, Madame Smyjane ap- 
 peared. Prof. Arpeggio played a few rambling bars 
 and then the " Jewel Song " from " Faust " was 
 under way. The little Italian played the accom- 
 paniment wonderfully well, bringing out the charm- 
 ingly halting and uncertain rhythm and the wild lilt 
 of exhilaration in so masterful a fashion that the 
 young woman could hardly have sung it ill had she 
 chosen. 
 
 "Well, what of the new prima donna?" asked 
 Hamilton of Captain Claybourne, in the midst of 
 applause that was loud enough to allow more sincere 
 
 101
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 personal comment to be made with impunity. It is 
 one of the curiosities of musical criticism that the 
 hand and the tongue are often at complete variance. 
 
 " ' Voice ten per cent ; method ninety/ " quoted 
 the captain sententiously, " consistent example of the 
 value of her own theory." 
 
 " You're a duffer, Claybourne. I tell you she's 
 great ; we're going to hear from her, see if we don't." 
 
 From all about came murmurs of admiration and 
 expressions of ecstatic delight " Charming," " So 
 soulful," " Spontaneous as a bird " were some of the 
 spoken comments especially near Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh. It was well for that lady's peace of mind 
 that she could not hear other whispered opinions 
 wherein Madame Smyjane was set down as an up- 
 start without a voice and she herself criticized for 
 presuming to force such a fledgling into the favor of 
 Old Chetford. 
 
 But they all took excellent care that the singer 
 should have an encore, which she accepted with an 
 air of gracious condescension as if it were hers by 
 divine right. The simple little Schubert song she 
 gave seemed so totally out of place in that atmos- 
 phere of exotic luxury that even these not very sen- 
 sitive people felt something amiss and consequently 
 applauded more vigorously than before to relieve the 
 situation. 
 
 All this was very delightful to Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh, who was radiant with satisfaction when Guy 
 sought her out during one of the intermissions of 
 the musical programme. Something of the happy 
 light fled from her face at his approach. 
 
 1 02
 
 SOCIETT AMUSES ITSELF 
 
 " So you still care to honor me ? " looking 1 
 straight into his fair, handsome face " that is pub- 
 licly," she added with her enigmatical smile. 
 
 " Publicly or privately, your honor is my first 
 care," returned Guy in his most correct manner. 
 
 Scorn and disbelief brimmed into her eyes. 
 
 " Then why have you not ah, Robert, playing 
 truant again? And you too, Mr. Harding. Cigars 
 in the library, of course. Oh, you soulless men, to 
 prefer vile tobacco to a beautiful prima donna." 
 
 " I must protest, Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh," said 
 the minister with a laugh, " your husband's cigars 
 are very good indeed. And we could hear the prima 
 donna to excellent advantage in the library. I'm 
 a conventional sinner, you know, and I have come 
 to beg absolution." 
 
 " Fact is," drawled Captain Claybourne, who had 
 joined the group, " we are all more or less stuffed 
 with the bran of conventionality. Somebody original 
 comes along, punctures us with a sharp phrase or 
 two and we are undone. There's no denying that 
 the world is going to seed." 
 
 " But, my dear friend," objected the meek rector, 
 " is it not possible that you yourself are becoming 
 blase?" 
 
 " Not at all ; I'm simply part of the great world- 
 movement, Greenacre; mighty few have escaped it, 
 except Harding here, and our excellent and straight- 
 forward friend Mrs. Copeland." 
 
 " Ah Mrs. Copeland/' said Harding approv- 
 ingly. " By the way, where is she, Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh? I surely expecced to find her here." 
 
 103
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " She sent her regrets to-day ; some special and 
 imperative work prevented her coming, she 
 said." 
 
 " My aunt has been very busy of late," volun- 
 teered Guy, " preparing for the reception of a new 
 protegee she has discovered a mill girl, I believe, 
 and said to be pretty. She stopped my aunt's horses 
 during a little trouble with the mill people the other 
 day, and Aunt Sarah would have it that she was a 
 heroine. Knew which side her bread was buttered 
 on, I presume." 
 
 The easy flippancy of this remark failed to deceive 
 one of his auditors, at least. Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh's luminous eyes pierced his mask of indiffer- 
 ence and saw his anxiety at the threat that had come 
 into his life in the person of an ambitious young girl. 
 Nor was she entirely alone in her penetration, for 
 there were several of Guy's intimates who were well 
 aware of the growing insecurity of his foothold in 
 his aunt's house. 
 
 " How delightful for your aunt and you, Mr. 
 Hamilton," she said smiling sweetly. " It is always 
 so charming to see one of high station stoop to be- 
 friend one of the rabble." 
 
 " I trust she will not repent her kindness," sneered 
 Guy, " but I'm afraid "it's like trying to make the silk 
 purse you know. What guarantee is there that 
 this girl and her grandfather are not fortune hunters 
 and adventurers ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you what guarantee there is, Hamilton," 
 said Harding in his ringing tones, " the guarantee 
 of as honest an old sea-dog as ever lived, the guar- 
 antee of a proud and scrupulous girl, and, if that 
 
 104
 
 SOCIETT AMUSES ITSELF 
 
 is not enough, the guarantee of Ralph Harding, at 
 your service." 
 
 Guy Hamilton smiled sarcastically. Although he 
 had never been noted for perspicacity, as his aunt 
 had said, a gleam of light was beginning to pene- 
 trate his mind. He bowed to the minister with 
 elaborate ceremony. 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Harding, for wounding your 
 feelings, and believe me I was wholly unaware of 
 your interest in that quarter. My deep concern for 
 my aunt is responsible for my prejudice, perhaps." 
 
 " Keep your concern for yourself, Hamilton," 
 said the clergyman, pointedly, " you may need it." 
 
 That ended the Agatha Renier discussion, and 
 after more singing by Madame Smyjane and a noisy 
 performance of the Twelfth Hungarian Rhapsody 
 on the part of Prof. Arpeggio, a dainty supper was 
 served, typical of Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh and all her 
 belongings. Soon the good-nights were said, and a 
 little later the guests of the recital had become its 
 critics, according to the pleasant social custom of 
 abusing whatever may be devised for our entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 " A stupid evening," soliloquized Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh after she had dismissed her maid, and 
 was preparing to plunge within her dainty sheets, 
 " I didn't have ten words with him alone I wonder 
 if that girl, that Agatha, is really as pretty as they 
 say she is." 
 
 " If he harms, or tries to harm, one hair of her 
 head," thought the Reverend Ralph Harding as he 
 smoked a peaceful pipe before going to bed, " he 
 shall answer for it to me." 
 
 105
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 'TWIXT SMILES AND TEARS 
 
 THE little company of gallant old sea dogs 
 whose affections were entwined around the 
 " Harpoon " and Agatha inclusively, 
 would not hear of letting the great event of the 
 girl's departure to the glorious realms of Bristol 
 Street pass without a worthy celebration. 
 
 Their honest souls were a little puzzled as to what 
 form the festivity should take, and it required all 
 of Hank Donelson's superior knowledge of such 
 things he had sometimes acted in the capacity of 
 extra serving man on the " Hill " to evolve a plan 
 befitting the young lady's conspicuous merits. 
 
 " Tell ye what, Cap'n Joel," Hank remarked in his 
 brisk little manner a day or two before the time set 
 for Agatha's departure, " jest you turn the ship over 
 to me, stem to stern, an' I'll make a swarry that'll 
 do justice to the heroing. You jest be cabin-boy fer a 
 bit, an' I'll be master. Go aloft, ye landlubber, go 
 aloft," and he cackled loudly at his joke. 
 
 But he did work with all the powers of his diminu- 
 tive body, and the result was eminently satisfactory. 
 
 With infinite secrecy he stowed away a mass of 
 decorations in the fo'castle, some mysterious sorts 
 of " grub " in the galley and a quaint collection of 
 chairs borrowed from neighboring wharfingers in 
 
 106
 
 'TWIXT SMILES AND TEARS 
 
 the hold. These things properly attended to, he 
 sought Cap'n Joel on the quarterdeck. It was the 
 day before Agatha's setting out for the Copeland 
 mansion. 
 
 " Wheer's Aggy," he asked, in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 " In her cabin, putting things to rights against 
 to-morrow," was the sorrowful answer. 
 
 " I orders yer to take her out ter ride." 
 
 " What, me drive a horse ? " queried the captain, 
 growing nervous at the formidable idea, " I've never 
 hauled sheets over that kind of a rig in my life. 
 And what's it for anyway? " 
 
 " It's ter keep Aggy out'n the way whiles I trims 
 the cabin and gits everythin' shipshape for the party. 
 Git Jim Brown's eighteen-year-ol' hoss, an' ye won't 
 strike no squalls. An' don't git back afore four 
 bells. Now be off, ye greenhorn ; I'm master here." 
 
 " Do I see Tilly coming down the street ? " in- 
 quired the captain innocently. 
 
 Poor Hank's important manner vanished in an 
 instant. 
 
 "Eh what who Tilly?" he inquired dis- 
 mally. Then, at the captain's roar of laughter his 
 face was o'erspread with joy and relief, and he 
 trotted away to the fo'castle to assort his treasures. 
 
 When Agatha returned to the " Harpoon " in the 
 early sunset, she stood for a moment on the bow of 
 the homely old bark, tremulous with the thought of 
 parting. A rich glow spread across the water of 
 the harbor transformed its islands and shores into 
 kingdoms of dreams. The girl's eyes filled with 
 tears, more, perhaps, at the quiet pathos of the beau- 
 
 107
 
 tiful scene than at the sorrow of separation. The 
 final breaking of powerful ties was yet to come. 
 
 She smiled when Hank's head darted from the 
 companion-way like a teal's from the water. Faith- 
 ful old soul, she would some day see that he got his 
 reward. 
 
 " Now, Miss Aggy, jest ye come below half a 
 shake, an' give me a bit of advice on a p'int of im- 
 portance. Will ye, now ? " he added, rather wist- 
 fully, as he saw the girl's lingering, faraway gaze 
 held by the faint silvery twinkle of an early star. 
 
 " Why of course Hank," she said pleasantly, drop- 
 ping from her revery at the appeal. " Lead on, you 
 dear old boy, and I'll follow you to the keelson, 
 if you say so." 
 
 Almost bursting with pride, the little sailor con- 
 ducted Agatha to the after-cabin, and then into an 
 ordinarily unused section of the hold amidships. She 
 stood at the entrance for a moment filled with the 
 innocent amazement of girlhood. Then she gave a 
 little cry of delight. 
 
 " O-O-h, Hank, how lovely ! You never did all 
 that yourself ! " 
 
 " Yes'm," admitted the diminutive tar, trembling 
 with delight, " Hank Donelson that's me only 
 able seaman at it; cap'n, fust mate, crew an' cabin- 
 boy all in one. Is it is it swell? " 
 
 " Elegant. And what is it all for ? Why yes 
 of course. For me ; a good-by party. You bad boy 
 to go to all that trouble. It's a perfect vision ! " 
 
 And indeed an older and more sophisticated wo- 
 108
 
 'TWIXT SMILES AND TEARS 
 
 man than Agatha might have been pardoned for ex- 
 pressing frank admiration at the sight. From end 
 to end and overhead the hold had been festooned 
 with bunting of red and white, Agatha's favorite 
 color combination. Here and there the strips were 
 looped up by rosettes of immense scallop shells, 
 from which hung long bunches of rockweed. A 
 masthead light was brilliantly glowing at either end, 
 while along the sides a dozen red and green port 
 and starboard lanterns shone most cheerily. At 
 one extremity was the well preserved figurehead of 
 the old whaler " Juno," and the goddess's hair was 
 crowned with a wreath of variegated Maytime blos- 
 soms. This was fondly supposed by Hank to typify 
 Agatha and the honors to be paid her. 
 
 A long table was set forth as for the feast of a 
 company of seagods. The cloth was a brand new 
 duck sail, and the candles were stuck in shells of 
 all sizes and hues. An immense pyramid of freshly 
 boiled lobsters formed the centre-piece of the unique 
 banquet-board, and high over all was suspended a 
 magnificent stuffed gull, whose outspread wings 
 seemed a peaceful omen to the room and those who 
 should gather there. 
 
 Agatha hurried to her cabin to put on her bravest 
 array for the great event, and had just emerged from 
 the little sanctuary, soon to know her no more, when 
 the guests began to arrive. Practically they all came 
 at once, for they had never learned that it was a 
 mark of distinction to be late at social festivities. 
 
 Hank, as master of ceremonies, received the corn- 
 log
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 pany at the gang-plank with wonderful urbanity, 
 and shouted the name of each as he or she boarded 
 the " Harpoon." 
 
 All the old salts who had known and petted 
 Agatha for years were on hand, as a matter of 
 course. Captain Sykes, Artemas Slickersley and a 
 few other of Captain Stewart's cronies were re- 
 splendent in their choicest land-togs and well greased 
 hair. The young skipper, Captain Sykes's nephew, 
 came, too, with frank and honest admiration for the 
 lovely heroine of the occasion shining in his eyes. 
 
 Rev. Ralph Harding, escorting two or three of 
 Agatha's mill friends, arrived a little later. Mr. 
 Harding had been invited in an especially elaborate 
 manner by Hank, who, although his literary attain- 
 ments were blocked when it came to combining the 
 letters of the alphabet, was a great frequenter of 
 the reading-room, where he perused the illustrated 
 magazines with all the dignity of a college professor. 
 
 All the guests paid their respects to Agatha, who 
 stood, blushing and radiantly happy, in the after- 
 cabin, and then 
 
 " Smash my binnacles, ef thar ain't Tilly ! " cried 
 Hank, in dire distress, as all the visions of playing 
 lord of the feast vanished in a twinkling. How she 
 had learned of the celebration he was at a loss to 
 know, but here she was, an embodied kill-joy. Prob- 
 ably she would drag him back to the dullness of their 
 little kitchen. His infantile face puckered as if he 
 were about to cry. 
 
 But, wonder of wonders, Tilly calmly descended 
 the companion-way with an absolutely gracious ex- 
 
 no
 
 'TWIXT SMILES AND TEARS 
 
 pression on her peaked face. Moreover she carried 
 a big bundle in her arms, and furthermore she 
 greeted everyone pleasantly, and Agatha with real 
 gentleness. The bundle, being stripped of its paper, 
 proved to be a cage, within which perched her par- 
 rot, Nicodemus. The bird looked with wonderment 
 at the unusual sight and thoughtfully uttered a 
 smothered imprecation, a mental remnant of his 
 youthful days aboard ship. 
 
 " Now then, messmates, all amidships," cried 
 bustling Hank, offering Agatha his arm with Ches- 
 terfieldian gallantry. The little procession of honest 
 souls passed to the gay supper-room, and so began 
 to pass Agatha Renier from her old life. 
 
 The feast was fit for old Neptune himself. Such 
 lobsters, all agreed, had never been made to blush for 
 their own excellence; such chowder had never been 
 tasted on the old " Harpoon ; " such clams and 
 scallops simply couldn't have been found anywhere 
 else ; the coffee was nectar, and as for the plum-duff 
 with brandy sauce well, that triumph of culinary 
 art would have caused the fancy cooks of the " Hill " 
 to hang their heads. And there was ice-cream, con- 
 tributed by Mr. Harding. 
 
 With pipes and grog for the men came all the 
 pent-up jollity of the evening. Hank, who sat at 
 one end of the table in great state, pounded for order 
 with an immense whale's tooth, and, fixing his gaze 
 on Agatha, who was at the opposite end, thus de- 
 livered himself: 
 
 " Shipmates, messmates, hearties and all : this ere 
 swarry w'ich I learned on the ' Hill ' is fer us 
 
 in
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ter show Aggy Renier what a fine young craft she 
 is, an' how glad we be that she's a-goin' ter leave us." 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Hank," interjected Tilly se- 
 verely. 
 
 " No, no, not glad she's a-goin' ter leave us, in 
 course, but glad the little craft we all thinks such a 
 sight on is goin' ter run inter a fine port where there 
 ain't goin' ter be no squalls or shipwreck. 
 
 " I ain't much of a hand on wrastlin' with gab, 
 'specially on a great 'casion like this 'ere. I'm a 
 lubber on speechifyin', but what I says I means, an' 
 when I says that we all on us thinks Aggy Renier is 
 the sweetest, purtiest an' lovin'est gal that ever trod 
 deck, that I stand by till I'm broke up fer junk." 
 
 Under cover of the uproarious applause that fol- 
 lowed his oratorical flight, the warm hearted little 
 fellow wiped his eyes. So did old Captain Stewart, 
 for upon him was the heaviest blow to fall. " Love's 
 mightiest test " kept singing itself in his soul, and 
 he knew that by the measure of his grief was meas- 
 ured also his manhood. 
 
 Tilly, who had disappeared during the closing 
 portion of Hank's speech, now returned bearing 
 Nicodemus in his cage. She hung him from one 
 of the under hatch-rings so that he was brought 
 into direct line of view with the stuffed gull, which 
 he viewed with gloomy suspicion and cursed earn- 
 estly once or twice. Then he startled everyone, ex- 
 cept his mistress, by screeching: 
 
 " Good-by, Aggy ; good-by, Aggy. Good luck, 
 good luck, good luck." 
 
 " Oh, you old dear," cried Agatha, " you taught 
 
 112
 
 'TWIXT SMILES AND TEARS 
 
 him to say that, and you brought him down on pur- 
 pose. Oh, everyone is so kind; how can I thank 
 you all?" 
 
 "I'll tell you, Agatha," said Harding, rising in 
 his place, amid cries of " hear " and nautical shouts 
 of approval from the sea-dogs, " You can best show 
 your gratitude in your new life by never forgetting 
 these old friends, as true as any you will ever 
 have " 
 
 " As if I ever could ! " broke in the girl rather in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 " I do not believe you will," he continued. " Then 
 you have a duty to your new friend ; see that you do 
 it with your whole heart. Remember that the world 
 is large and you a small part of it, and yet you may 
 make that part of wonderful value. Be brave, honest, 
 upright and true, and I will not be prig enough to 
 say that you will necessarily be happy you will de- 
 serve to be happy, and deserts sometimes win. We 
 all trust you and love you, Agatha; you have our 
 heartiest Godspeed." 
 
 " Speech, Aggy, speech," quavered old Artemas 
 Slickersley, and his demand was reinforced by the 
 young skipper, who was by this time head and ears 
 in love, but wouldn't have acknowledged it for the 
 world. 
 
 " Shall I ? " she whispered to her grandfather, 
 blushing prettily the while. 
 
 At a nod of approval from the old man, she be- 
 gan, this child who to-night saw the whole world 
 through the rose-colored glasses of happy anticipa- 
 tion. 
 
 "3
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Dear, good friends, all of you," she said, " I 
 am going away, but not out of your hearts at all. 
 Oh, you will see how I shall think of you when I 
 come into my kingdom. I shall be a great lady some 
 day, and everyone will love me for the good that I 
 shall do. No more taunts, no more insults; the 
 world will be glad that Agatha Renier is living." 
 
 " Poor little girl," thought Harding, " when the 
 disillusioning comes what a crash there will be." 
 
 " But it is hard to say good-by to the old ship," 
 she continued, " I've lived here all rny life and I love 
 every timber and nail in it. You'll all come here 
 very often, won't you, and tell the ' Harpoon ' how 
 sorry you are that Aggy has gone? And tell my 
 dear grandfather that I shall never cease to love 
 him and that I oh, Grandpa, Grandpa ! " 
 
 She broke into sobs and threw herself impetuously 
 into his arms. He soothed her with a few words 
 and brought her to a realizing sense of her duty to 
 the guests. She looked about, smiling through her 
 tears. 
 
 It was then that Captain Phineas Sykes arose to 
 the opportunity. Dragging forth a large box from 
 under the table, he proceeded to untie its strings 
 clumsily and put the cover in readiness to remove 
 at the proper time. He got upon his feet and waved 
 his right arm at Agatha. 
 
 " Miss Aggy Agatha Renier," he began with 
 stentorian voice, " we old friends an', ye might say, 
 gardeens, have seen fit for ter present ye with a 
 gift as a ' slight token of esteem/ w'ich they allus 
 says in perlite society. This 'ere gift ain't much ter 
 
 114
 
 'TWIXT SMILES AND TEARS 
 
 brag on pecoon'arily, but our hearts is in it, Aggy, 
 an' that ye well know." 
 
 Saying this, he pulled out from the box a big 
 shoulder-cape of aggressively yellow fur, and waved 
 it triumphantly before Agatha's shrinking eyes. Its 
 hideousness was pathetic, its uselessness all too ap- 
 parent, yet after the first shock the girl's warm na- 
 ture rallied bravely, and she saw the love and de- 
 votion before everything else. 
 
 With a tremulous smile she thanked the unsuspect- 
 ing old sailors in a few pretty words. 
 
 There were songs and toasts, and yarns and grog 
 in reckless profusion before the evening had whoMy 
 worn away. The ditty that aroused the greatest 
 enthusiasm was one that had been ingeniously re- 
 vised so that it declared that although " Jack has a 
 gal in every port, my Aggy's the one fer me." 
 
 At last came strong and earnest " Auld Lang 
 Syne," and the farewells of the company. The old 
 tars kissed Agatha, and the young tar wished that 
 he might, but contented himself with a hearty hand- 
 shake. Then, one by one, they went away, the lights 
 were put out, and the fragrant darkness of the Maj? 
 night claimed the " Harpoon " for its own.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 AT NEW MOORINGS 
 
 LITTLE sleep came to the eyelids of the ex- 
 cited girl in the cabin of the " Harpoon " 
 that night. A transition so stupendous, so 
 full of promise she verily believed had never come to 
 a young woman before, and she must keep awake to 
 face it; she would greet the dawn of the wondrous 
 day with all her faculties alert. 
 
 She tried to project herself into the years to come ; 
 she saw herself well-dressed, well-groomed, bloom- 
 ing with beauty, like some of the girls of the aristoc- 
 racy she had envied. She loved good clothes, not 
 from any birdlike desire to merely flaunt fine plu- 
 mage, but because, like good friends, they were more 
 companionable than bad. Shabbiness hurt her as 
 something unclean. And now she would never 
 know it more ! 
 
 She felt, too, with a strange throb of gladness, that 
 her character was to be molded by influences and per- 
 sons fitted for that delicate task. She knew herself 
 thoroughly, and now that she had heard the story 
 of her birth she felt that she understood hitherto 
 unaccountable contradictions in her nature. She was 
 
 116
 
 AT NEW MOORINGS 
 
 old enough to appreciate the effects of Gallic blood 
 on simple New England stock, and she saw in a 
 new light her pride, her rash impulsiveness, her 
 warm affections and her love of truth. 
 
 She smiled there in the dark as a typical incident 
 of her childhood came to her mind. She was walk- 
 ing along Bristol Street one day with a little com- 
 panion of water-front parentage. As they were lean- 
 ing over the hedge of one of the great estates a lady 
 came out on the lawn with her maid, the latter carry- 
 ing a plate of tarts. Agatha was very hungry, and 
 her eyes watched the tarts with tell-tale avidity. 
 
 " Are you hungry? " the lady had asked, attracted 
 by her beauty and the innocent appeal for the pastry. 
 
 '" Yes'm, please." 
 
 " Give the poor little girl a tart, Mary." 
 
 Agatha had straightened up instantly, she recalled. 
 
 " Thank you, I don't want any tarts now," she 
 had said haughtily. Then, at a glance at her forlorn 
 and disappointed little comrade : 
 
 " Yes, I will take one to give this little girl. She 
 is poor ; my grandfather is a captain ! " 
 
 Reviewing the events of the past week, she knew 
 that she would not have gone to Mrs. Copeland's 
 as a dependent; the mere thought fanned her pride 
 into hot indignation. No, she was going because she 
 could grant a favor, she could become of value, she 
 could make the grand lady in a sense dependent on 
 her. She would improve herself, truly, but in that 
 very process she would become more and more neces- 
 sary perhaps an object of pride to her new mentor. 
 
 In the great sea of the future blazed forth one 
 117
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 light far outshining all others to Agatha's percep- 
 tions. It was the call of duty to clear her mother's 
 name of every cloud, however filmy. Since hearing 
 the story of the tragedy from her grandfather, it had 
 become Agatha's passion to dwell upon her part in 
 the future exoneration, until she had become a trifle 
 morbid on the subject. She had even dreamed that 
 her mother's form had come to her and had made 
 her the chosen avenger of an unjustly despoiled 
 reputation. Ah, she would carry out her part at any 
 cost that she vowed with all the strength of her 
 ardent nature. 
 
 How she could become the instrument of justice 
 for her mother she did not know, nor did slie much 
 care. She realized, however, that the higher she 
 climbed in the social world the more crushing a 
 blow she could deliver when her moment arrived. 
 She prayed that the time might be delayed until she 
 had achieved power and position ; that she might not 
 attain either, never once entered into her scheme 
 of the future. 
 
 After all these sleepless dreams the girl fell into 
 a dreamless sleep spite of her resolution, to be 
 aroused late in the morning by her grandfather's 
 knock and his cheery call: 
 
 " Come Aggy, my girl, this is the day you set 
 sail." 
 
 Mrs. Copeland's reception of Agatha was char- 
 acteristically cordial and direct. 
 
 118
 
 AT NEW MOORINGS 
 
 " My dear, you are welcome. This is you! 
 home now as well as mine. I hope you will be happy 
 in it. When you are not, tell me so frankly." 
 
 This she said as she met the girl at the door. 
 Hank and the captain had accompanied their idol to 
 the very steps, bringing her few little belongings 
 with almost ludicrous care. Nothing could persuade 
 them to enter, however, and they immediately went 
 down the path together, waving a final farewell. 
 
 Agatha gulped down the suspicion of a sob, then 
 turned to Mrs. Copeland with one of her radiant 
 smiles. 
 
 " I am sure I shall be happy in this beautiful 
 place and with you," she replied. " And when you 
 are not glad that I am here, tell me so." 
 
 " I shall, my child. Now come to your room." 
 
 To Agatha's rather exotic color sense the dainty 
 white and blue of her chamber seemed wan and emo- 
 tionless at first, yet even at that early stage of her 
 development she recognized the perfect taste that 
 ruled there as well as all over the house ; she felt the 
 caressing touch of the simple and old-fashioned 
 beauty that governed the estate, indoors and out, 
 and she gave herself up to the charm with supreme 
 happiness. 
 
 From the dim and cramped interior of the " Har- 
 poon " to the airy brightness of the mansion was a 
 change that drew out all the buoyancy of the girl's 
 nature. She sang the old French songs with a bril- 
 liancy that attracted the attention of more than one 
 caller. 
 
 119
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 "Who is that girl with the delicious voice?" 
 asked an out-of-town friend one day as the sound of 
 a merry chanson came from above stairs. 
 
 " That's my new secretary, Miss Agatha Renier. 
 She does sing well, doesn't she?" 
 
 " Like a thrush. Is she as pretty as her name 
 and her voice ought to have her ? " 
 
 " M'm, ye-e-s, I am inclined to think she is." 
 
 " Then why not exhibit her? " 
 
 " Not yet," replied the wise old woman, " you 
 spectators might be inclined to criticize the picture 
 as unvarnished. Her day will come, though." 
 
 Agatha's first week in her new home was busy 
 enough, even for her extraordinary activity. First 
 of all came the dressmaker, an object of awe and ad- 
 miration. She was a fat and bustling little woman 
 who knew where all the skeletons of Old Chetford's 
 first families were kept, and was prone to make 
 them dance merrily. Mor< than once Mrs. Cope- 
 land's raised finger and pui ^d lips gave her silent 
 warning that the sound of the rattling bones was not 
 good for the young girl's ears. 
 
 The dresses themselves surprised and rather dis- 
 appointed Agatha. Her convictions in the matter of 
 raiment were of long standing and were full of that 
 delight in the primary colors shown by the women 
 of the Latin races. These clothes were simple, pale, 
 undemonstrative ; she feared she would look insignifi- 
 cant in them. But when she put them on one after 
 the other in their completed state, she knew at once 
 that they brought her beauty into greater prominence 
 than ever, and gave her a manner she had never at- 
 
 I2O
 
 AT NEW MOORINGS 
 
 tained with her mother's much more gorgeous ma- 
 terial. This was her first lesson in good taste, and 
 she never forgot it. 
 
 Other branches of the girl's education were entered 
 upon without delay by Mrs. Copeland, whose rule it 
 was to act to-day as if you were going to die to-mor- 
 row. A superannuated old clerk named Samuel Hen- 
 derson, who had once been in the employ of Mrs. 
 Copeland's husband and was now living comforta- 
 bly on a pension, was engaged to give Agatha in- 
 struction in the fundamentals of business and finance, 
 and it required very little persuasion to obtain the 
 services of Rev. Ralph Harding for a couple of hours 
 two days in the week in order to instil into her mind 
 the essentials of history, biography and literature. In 
 all of this Agatha showed a tenacity of memory, a 
 grasp of the meaning of things and a breadth of 
 view that fairly startled the young minister. 
 
 One afternoon their talk chanced upon Walpole's 
 famous dictum that " every man has his price." 
 
 " Do you believe that, Agatha? " asked Harding, 
 half expecting an indignant repudiation of any such 
 doctrine. 
 
 ; ' Yes, I do," she replied frankly, " only you 
 mustn't make it merely money. I think that there 
 is some way to reach anybody in the world and per- 
 suade him to do things he does not believe are right. 
 Even you " 
 
 She left the sentence uncompleted, but the depth 
 of her gaze, full into the minister's eyes, started the 
 course of his well-ordered blood a little and gave 
 him a strange sense of helplessness before this strong 
 
 121
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 character. As he went home he wondered how she 
 would have finished the application of Walpole's 
 aphorism to himself, and in the quiet of the evening 
 in his study that wonderful look haunted him. 
 
 With such a world of delightful novelty to oc- 
 cupy her, Agatha was very happy. She missed her 
 grandfather, of course, but that fine old fellow came 
 up to Bristol Street later in the week to see how the 
 girl " liked her new moorings," and she had little 
 chance to feel homesickness. The captain reported 
 to the assembled tars that evening that everything 
 was taut and shipshape and that Aggy sent her best 
 love to all her old messmates and assured them that 
 not one of them should ever be forgotten as long as 
 she lived. Whereat a tremendous cheer shook the 
 very ribs of the old " Harpoon," the like of which 
 had not been heard since, in its palmy days, the gal- 
 lant bark used to start down the harbor on its three 
 year cruises to the north Pacific. 
 
 Agatha quickly won the allegiance of the Cope- 
 land servants by her kindness and lack of offensive 
 superiority. She had the good sense to avoid famil- 
 iarity with them, and she did not go to the other ex- 
 treme of presuming on her position to order them 
 about needlessly. John, the hatchet-faced butler, 
 was made her slave by a little incident which he 
 described in the servants' hall to an admiring audi- 
 ence. 
 
 " You see Miss Agatha," he related, " ain't what 
 you might call bang-up on the way the quality con- 
 ducts itself at the table, an' she knows it. So to- 
 
 122
 
 AT NEW MOORINGS 
 
 day she comes to me an' she slips a dollar into my 
 hand, an' says to me : 
 
 " 'John,' she says, ' I feel that I've been makin' 
 dreadful mistakes at the table, an' Mrs. Copeland 
 is too kind to correct me. Now I want you to watch 
 me at dinner an' when I do any thin' wrong, you jest 
 clear your throat, an' I'll see what I'm doin' an' cor- 
 rect it' 
 
 " Well, she starts right in takin' her soup off'n 
 the point of her spoon, an' I clears me throat. Then 
 she tips up her plate, an' I clears it again, good an' 
 loud. Then she takes a piece of bread an' butters it 
 away up in the air, and I gives another old whop- 
 per. Pretty soon she makes so many mistakes that 
 I sounds like a man with gallopin' brownketers, when 
 all to once Mrs. Copeland gives me one of them aw- 
 ful looks of hers an' says: 
 
 " ' John, you may leave the room. If your throat 
 is in such a condition as that, you'd better go to bed 
 an' have a doctor/ 
 
 " Then Miss Agatha speaks right up, an' says : 
 
 " ' No, Mrs. Copeland, it's not his fault at all ; in- 
 deed it's not. It's all mine. I got him to clear his 
 throat when I made mistakes in eating, and oh, dear, 
 I made so many that he had hard work to keeg up.' 
 An' I thought she was jest about to go off inter tears 
 when Mrs. Copeland gives a rousin' big laugh an' 
 everythin' ended jolly. She's a brick, that gal is." 
 
 Guy Hamilton's attitude toward the newcomer in 
 the household was studiously neglectful and superior. 
 His disgust for his aunt's " visionary scheme " was 
 
 123
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 limitless, and mingled with this was the ever-present 
 fear that Agatha was a potential menace to his pe- 
 cuniary prospects. Of course this feeling was never 
 expressed; he professed the greatest unconcern as 
 to the girl and did everything in his power to solidify 
 the impression that she was merely engaged for a 
 little clerical labor. 
 
 He rarely spoke to Agatha and what he did say 
 was with a fine air of condescension. He thought 
 his best policy was to " keep her down," as he ex- 
 pressed it to Captain Claybourne, who, to do him 
 justice, had little sympathy for such a campaign, 
 and he fondly believed he could freeze her into a 
 sort of menial position. He little knew the young 
 woman's calibre. 
 
 One day an incident opened his eyes in a measure. 
 He and Agatha 'happened to meet in the library for 
 a moment, and at just that particular time the door- 
 bell rang. The butler was out and the maid far in 
 another part of the house. 
 
 " Answer the bell, Agatha, there's a good girl," 
 he said, with a sort of patronizing authority. 
 
 Instinctively she started to comply ; then a sudden 
 thought stopped her. 
 
 " No," she said, " I shall not answer the bell." 
 
 " And why not, pray," sneered Guy, " is it be- 
 neath you, do you think ? " 
 
 " What I think is of no consequence, Mr. Hamil- 
 ton; what I know is that Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh is 
 at the door, and that you may prefer to admit her 
 yourself." 
 
 " By Jove," he thought afterward as he tried to 
 124
 
 AT NEW MOORINGS 
 
 remember whether there had been any meaning in 
 her eyes as she mentioned the name of the visitor, 
 " that girl is too sharp for her own good. And per- 
 haps I'd better drop vinegar and try molasses. It 
 never fails with women, never."
 
 5Un0s anfc Brrowa 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A PIRATE CRAFT SIGHTED 
 
 THE slipping away of a year and a half in the 
 life of Old Chetford was marked by no 
 external changes of great importance. To 
 be sure, the electric rails had writhed their way 
 through many of the business streets and even down 
 to Promont6ry Road, but that had long been con- 
 sidered inevitable; Deacon Snow had built a large 
 new stable to the great discontent of some of his 
 co-workers in the vineyard who could not see why a 
 deacon should have more than one horse in any 
 event ; another cotton mill had been erected, and the 
 city was climbing into the first rank of manufactur- 
 ing communities; more plate glass had appeared 
 in the places for retail trade, and a new theatre had 
 been constructed out of the remains of the ancient 
 Episcopal Church on Liberty Street. 
 
 But none of these things was absolutely essential 
 to the drama of human life in the old town. 
 
 More noteworthy was the passing to his fathers 
 of the Reverend Dr. Evans, the pastor of the Central 
 
 126
 
 A PIRATE CRAFT SIGHTED 
 
 Church for over thirty years. This blow was soft- 
 ened to the hearts of the younger parishioners of the 
 gentler sex by the certainty that the good old clergy- 
 man would be succeeded by a youthful servant of 
 the Lord, not long from the divinity school, and 
 happily unmarried- 
 
 Of course the " chroniclers of small beer " had 
 not ceased their perennial purveyings ; no quiet short 
 of the grave can bring about the stilling of gossip 
 and malice and innuendo. Not that Old Chetford 
 had any particular prominence in this form of diver- 
 sion ; it simply held its own in that human desire for 
 unpleasant knowledge about someone else that is 
 probably found as fully developed in an Esquimaux 
 village as in a New England town. 
 
 The real, the momentous changes, fraught with 
 good or evil, were taking place in the lives of men 
 and women. The never ending building of char- 
 acter, the limitless circling of wheels within wheels 
 of human personality, the births of ambitions, the 
 deaths of hopes, the loves and hatreds of high life 
 and low all proceeded in due measure under the 
 hand of fate, who neither hurries nor delays her 
 work for all the smiles and all the tears of the world. 
 
 Agatha Renier's share in the changes of time had 
 been very great. The bud had bloomed, and the 
 flower was as fragrant and attractive as its early 
 promise had given token. Childhood had stolen 
 away into the mists of memory, and womanhood 
 had placed its sign and seal on her lithe body. 
 
 The inevitable result of the influences of wealth 
 and refinement were seen in her walk, her bearing 1 , 
 
 127
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 her voice, her gestures. She seemed quite to the 
 manner born, which delighted Mrs. Copeland be- 
 yond measure, as justifying her warmest predictions. 
 Her " boasted woman's intuition " had made no mis- 
 take, and she gloried in the fact. 
 
 " Agatha has certainly made wonderful progress 
 by her own inborn qualities," she said to Mr. Hard- 
 ing one day. " But don't you think that I, too, de- 
 serve some of the credit ? " she asked, wistfully. 
 She felt a childlike desire to be praised. 
 
 " You certainly do," he returned with his kindly 
 earnestness, " a part no one can overestimate. Had 
 it not been for you, I dare not think what she might, 
 perhaps, be to-day." 
 
 Tears of gratitude came to the stern old woman's 
 eyes. It was her most cherished pleasure to feel 
 that she had turned the strong tide of this young 
 life into safe and happy channels. She loved the 
 girl more than she would have confessed to anyone, 
 even to herself. 
 
 Agatha's mental progress had been equally re- 
 markable. For no moment had she lost sight of 
 her determination to become strong in mind and 
 powerful in personality. She applied herself to her 
 studies with immense energy, choosing, so far as she 
 was allowed, the things that would make her 
 " amount to something." 
 
 All the practical elements of finance and business 
 she had drained from old Samuel Henderson, the 
 pensioned clerk, until he declared that his attendance 
 was a waste of time pleasant, he had to admit, but 
 still a waste. 
 
 128
 
 A PIRATE CRAFT SIGHTED 
 
 So now this girl from the " rabble," as Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh had once phrased it, had become 
 an important factor in the aristocratic household, 
 and an almost indispensable confidant of Mrs. Cope- 
 land in the handling of her affairs. All this, with 
 its implied responsibility, had steadied her, toned 
 down her tendency to erratic exuberance. As her 
 grandfather would have put it, she had " taken on 
 ballast." 
 
 She would not have been herself had her course 
 through these eighteen months been wholly of 
 smooth sailing. Her warm temper, her pride, ever 
 ready to spring out almost involuntarily, her strong 
 sense of what she considered justice, were some- 
 times brought plump up against Mrs. Copeland's 
 powerful will and settled convictions with a shock 
 that might easily have meant disaster. 
 
 One day, as the two were going over some busi- 
 ness matters at the mahogany desk, Mrs. Copeland 
 said, with what seemed to the girl a touch of 
 brusqueness : 
 
 " Agatha, where is that letter I asked you to copy 
 and file?" 
 
 " It must be here ; I brought it down from my 
 room this morning." 
 
 " It isn't, or I shouldn't have asked you." 
 
 Agatha caught sight of the envelope on the desk. 
 Hot with indignation that a charge of carelessness 
 should be made against her without investigation, 
 she rose imperiously and, pointing to the packet, said 
 in an angry tone : 
 
 " You will find it there, Mrs. Copeland ; you've 
 129
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 no right to accuse me without looking," and swept 
 out of the room and up to her chamber. 
 
 A few minutes later a very penitent Agatha came 
 down again. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Copeland," she cried, striving to keep 
 back her sobs, " will you forgive me ? I did bring 
 back the envelope, but I left the letter in a book I 
 was reading, and just found it. What can you 
 think of me?" 
 
 Such incidents as this were few, and when they 
 did occur they made Mrs. Copeland's heart warm 
 toward the girl rather than otherwise; she recog- 
 nized Agatha's firmness in standing on her rights 
 when justice seemed to be on her side, and her in- 
 stant yielding when she was shown to be wrong, and 
 she was by no means displeased. 
 
 Agatha's musical tastes were given every en- 
 couragement; in fact, when Mrs. Copeland found 
 what a natural aptitude she had for the piano she 
 insisted on a thorough course of instruction for the 
 girl. Prof. Arpeggio went into ecstacies over his 
 new pupil's cleverness ; allowing for his characteristic 
 flattery, however, she did play very well indeed. 
 She had no very exalted opinion of her talents ; once 
 when a world-famous woman pianist came to Old 
 Chetford for a recital she sat spellbound through it 
 all, and nothing could induce her to touch her piano 
 for a week. 
 
 " But my ears are still full of that wonderful, 
 wonderful playing," she said, in answer to Mrs. 
 Copeland's remonstrance. " Don't make me spoil 
 it all by listening to myself. I want it to last." 
 
 130
 
 A PIRATE CRAFT SIGHTED 
 
 But that was well in the past when, on a bright 
 October afternoon, she was dashing through some 
 velocity-studies with a precision and clearness good 
 to hear. So thought an unperceived auditor who 
 stood in an open piazza window and gazed in won- 
 derment at the girl's flying ringers. At a pause in 
 the playing he pounded his hands together with tre- 
 mendous vigor. 
 
 " Grandfather ! " cried the girl, as she ran to 
 the window and dragged the beaming old fellow 
 into the room, " you dear old boy ; how did you 
 ever get up to the window without my hearing 
 you?" 
 
 The captain roared with laughter. 
 
 " You hear me? " he rejoined. " What, with all 
 that crash-bang and licketty-larrup going on in the 
 pianner? Why, I could have brought a whole 
 ship's crew here and you'd never known the differ- 
 ence." Then he added tenderly: 
 
 " Are you glad to have Fridays come, Aggy ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! " she replied fervently; " whether you 
 come here or I go down to the old ' Harpoon,' it's 
 always a dear, delightful day. I wouldn't miss 
 them for the world, not even for this," and she 
 looked about the fine room with eyes full of mean- 
 ing. " I never would have wholly left you you 
 may well believe that but what on earth are you 
 so mysterious about?" 
 
 Truly the captain was conducting himself in a 
 rather remarkable manner. He shifted uneasily 
 from foot to foot, his face grew red and his glance 
 constantly sought the open window through which
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 he had entered. Then a curious little chuckle was 
 heard outside. 
 
 " It's a gray squirrel, I think," said Agatha, 
 " there are lots of them in the trees." 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho," shouted the old sailor. " A squir- 
 rel ! He, he, he. A gray squirrel. Come in here, 
 you squirrel, and show yourself to the lady. Come 
 in, I say." 
 
 And thereupon entered Hank Donelson to 
 Agatha's great delight and surprise. Hank had 
 been away from Old Chetford for over a year as 
 mate of a coasting schooner and had just arrived in 
 port. His youthful face and figure were absolutely 
 unchanged. He looked at Agatha with a sort of 
 awe. 
 
 " Why, Aggy, how ye've grown an' kinder 
 plumped out. Why, ye' re a out an' out lady with 
 yer grand new riggin', an' as fer good looks well, 
 I ain't a goin' ter make yer vain, that's all. I says 
 nothin' but I thinks a lot. I'm a kind of skeered of 
 yer, fer a fact." 
 
 " Nonsense, Hank," said the girl as she cordially 
 grasped his hand. " Weren't you my friend in the 
 old days? Well, you are here, then. I haven't 
 changed a bit." 
 
 By skilful little touches, mostly reminiscent, 
 Agatha soon banished his diffidence and his sense of 
 being out of his element in such luxurious surround- 
 ings. 
 
 " Now I'll play something for you, Hank," she 
 exclaimed, merrily. "What shall it be? Ah, I 
 have it" 
 
 132
 
 A PIRATE CRAFT SIGHTED 
 
 Then came the infectious lilt of the " Sailor's 
 Hornpipe," played as Hank had never heard it be- 
 fore. He would have danced, but that the velvet 
 carpet said him nay. 
 
 But when it came to a song Hank yielded to the 
 inevitable. All three joined in one of the rollicking 
 choruses of " Harpoon " days. The merriment was 
 at its height when the door opened and Mr. Guy 
 Hamilton walked in. 
 
 Hank was terrified into dumbness instanter; the 
 captain more gradually subsided, and Agatha, al- 
 though she stopped singing, played the air 
 through. She turned to Hamilton with a radiant 
 smile. 
 
 " It was for old times' sake, Mr. Hamilton. Did 
 it make a horrible noise? " 
 
 " Not at all, Agatha ; it's pleasant to have the old 
 house waked up now and then. How do you do, 
 Captain ? Introduce me to your somewhat diffident 
 friend." 
 
 Evidently it was one of Mr. Hamilton's agreeable 
 days. He shook Hank warmly by the hand, chatted 
 pleasantly with the captain for a moment, and then 
 went and stood beside Agatha, who was still at the 
 piano. 
 
 "Sing me the ' Nussbaum,' will you, Agatha?" 
 he asked in a caressing tone, the quality of which 
 was not wholly respectful, " you know how I always 
 enjoy it." 
 
 " Why yes, of course, if you wish. But why do 
 you not sing it yourself? You know how I drilled 
 and drilled you in it until you said you thought 
 
 133
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ' Nussbaum,' ate ' Nussbaum ' and drank ' Nuss- 
 baum.' ' 
 
 They laughed together at the recollection, but 
 Guy had his way, and Agatha sang the beautiful lied 
 with all the delicacy of her poetic nature. Then she 
 devoted herself to her grandfather and Hank, and 
 time passed on golden wings for all of them. 
 
 As the two old salts were on their way to the 
 hospitable cabin of the " Harpoon " the talk turned, 
 as a matter of course, on Agatha. 
 
 " Yes siree, Cap'n, the gal has changed mightily 
 under her new rigging an' she's trim an' tidy to the 
 masthead. But somehows or other I'm afeared 
 she's got a pirate craft alongside in that feller that 
 helped her play the pianner." 
 
 " Nonsense, Hank, my lad," returned the whole- 
 souled Captain Joel, " why, he's Mrs. Copeland's 
 nevvey. He was only manning the sides out o' 
 politeness." 
 
 Hank said nothing more, but during the rest of 
 the walk he shook his little head sagaciously and 
 seemed to be engaged in preternaturally deep 
 thought.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AN IDOL OF CLAY 
 
 < 4 f~^\ OOD old chaps, by Jove," exclaimed Guy, 
 
 i - after the captain and Hank had made 
 ^--^ their exit through the long window. 
 " It's like a whiff of salt air on a hot day to have 
 them in this formal place for an hour." 
 
 Agatha sighed ever so faintly, as she sat down 
 before the piano again and struck a soft minor 
 chord or two thoughtfully. It did not escape Ham- 
 ilton, who had come to know the girl's moods far 
 more thoroughly than one would have expected of 
 a man of his character. 
 
 "What's the matter, Agatha? And the smiles 
 that you flung about with such abandon a little 
 while ago where are they all gone? " 
 
 The girl whirled the piano stool about. 
 
 " I've been thinking." 
 
 " Thinking? A bad practice for young girls, 
 what are your thoughts about? " 
 
 " I've been wondering whether I'm a success 
 or a failure here." 
 
 " Ask Aunt Sarah." 
 
 " No," Agatha replied very gently, " she is too 
 
 135
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 prejudiced in my favor. Oh, of course I have 
 learned many things and quite outgrown the old 
 ' Harpoon ' girl... I can play and sing and talk in a 
 decent fashion. . But am I really fit for ? " 
 
 " For what? " he asked, as the pause seemed likely 
 to continue indefinitely. 
 
 " For the higher world ! " she blurted out, " the 
 world of grand people, the world of society." 
 
 Guy looked at her in silent astonishment. She 
 had ambitions, then, this girl from the ranks, am- 
 bitions not to be measured by the ordinary standards 
 of youth. She had fixed her eyes on the mountain 
 tops. " Yet why not ? " he asked himself hurriedly ; 
 she had the magic fascination of beauty, the power- 
 ful force of personality, the irresistible attraction 
 of a brilliant mind. Everything but station was 
 hers, and he knew that that objection was by no 
 means insuperable, even in race-proud Old Chetford. 
 And there were far fields beyond. At last he an- 
 swered her, but by a question in return. 
 
 " Why do you ask me that, Agatha? " 
 
 " Because," she replied fervently, " because you 
 know everything ; you are a man of that world, and 
 a leader, too ; oh, I know it," she hurried on as if to 
 ward off any complacent deprecation, " I have seen 
 it and heard of it. And your stories of the things 
 you go to don't you suppose I have drunk them all 
 in, and longed for the time when you would come 
 home and tell me about everything? But I what 
 real chance do I get to grow? I never see anybody 
 nor go anywhere." 
 
 " But, my dear Agatha, you mustn't suppose that 
 136
 
 AN IDOL OF CLAY 
 
 you're not well worthy a place in what you call so- 
 ciety. You know aunt entertains very little, and 
 goes about to houses still less." 
 
 " Oh, I realize all that, and I know it is not her 
 fault at all. But the fact is that I do not go. And 
 when I see you so sought after, and such a figure 
 among them all, it simply makes me long the more 
 for a wider range of life. There ; does that sound 
 stilted and absurd? It's the best way I can put it, 
 though. I would like to rule as Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh does. Now the murder is out." 
 
 Hamilton stared at a bit of pattern in the carpet, 
 and made no answer. The mention of Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh's name recalled a train of rather un- 
 pleasant circumstances during the past year. In the 
 first place the affair with Louise, the French girl, 
 had been terminated all too abruptly by old Michet, 
 her father, who, when he discovered the trend of 
 affairs, removed with his daughter to another city. 
 
 There had been a violent scene at the Michets' one 
 evening, at which time the big Frenchman had made 
 unpleasant references to that sometimes salutary arti- 
 cle, the horsewhip. However, the removal obviated 
 the necessity of using it, and Guy considered the loss 
 of Louise none too high a price to pay for escaping 
 public scandal. There being no other special at- 
 traction for the time, he had gravitated back to Lucy 
 Worth-Courtleigh, whose beauty and brilliancy he 
 still found potent. Having regained her courtier, 
 she kept a jealous and watchful eye upon his doings. 
 
 It was for this reason that Guy had not taken 
 Agatha about as much as he would have liked. He 
 
 137
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 did occasionally escort her to a race of the Curlew 
 Bay Yacht Club or to some other public entertain- 
 ment, for which favors she was always grateful in 
 simple fashion. For his part, he enjoyed her fresh, 
 vigorous mind and the charm of her personality. 
 The old hostility had long since disappeared. 
 
 He realized, being by no means a fool, that this 
 very attractive girl was in turn attracted by him. 
 He could see by the expression of her eyes when he 
 came into a room where she was that her interest 
 was in him before all others. And yet there was in 
 that look a something that baffled him. He never 
 saw her heart nor her soul within those liquid brown 
 depths that he could swear. Admiration was 
 there, but not of a man that nettled him some- 
 times; it was more the semi-worship of an imper- 
 sonal being standing for something grand and far 
 off. 
 
 " Ah, well," he said at last, " your day is sure to 
 come, Agatha. Don't try to hasten it, for the 
 throne of the society queen is generally studded 
 with spikes. As for Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh well, 
 do you imagine she's entirely happy ? " 
 
 " It isn't a question of happiness," returned the 
 girl stoutly. " If I ever reach such things, I shall 
 have too much to think of to waste time trying to be 
 happy. Ah, you shall see." 
 
 The intensity of her words and manner stirred 
 the smooth man of the world into a species of won- 
 derment. He felt something more in this deter- 
 mination than the mere childish determination to be 
 a great lady. But he preferred her in other moods 
 
 138
 
 than this, and he took a sure means to bring about 
 the change. 
 
 " Agatha," he said graciously, " there is to be an 
 outing of the Camera Club to-morrow over at Fair- 
 port Point. How would you like to go ? " 
 
 This invitation was safe, because Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh was away in Boston, where her husband 
 was arguing before the supreme court. 
 
 Again the childlike gratitude. 
 
 " Oh, I should love to," she answered. 
 
 " You see each member is to be permitted to in- 
 vite an outsider. You are my outsider. The presi- 
 dent Tom Harrington, you know got up the 
 scheme to boom his reelection. We are all going 
 to walk over to Fairport and down to the Point by 
 twos imagine Claybourne with a woman! and 
 then we are to spread ourselves about and take pic- 
 tures. Each member is to take ten, and there are to 
 be prizes for the best and the worst. After that 
 there is to be a clambake by old Captain Sykes. 
 What do you say to all that? " 
 
 " I say it's just splendid," she cried, " and you're 
 so kind to think of me." 
 
 Never had Guy seen her look so charming as now. 
 Her cheeks were flying the red banner of excite- 
 ment and her eyes shone with anticipation. She 
 leaned over him until her breath fanned his face. 
 
 He suddenly became forgetful of everything save 
 that a tempting girl was almost in his arms. He 
 would have clasped her to himself, had not she, 
 catching a glimpse of his altered countenance, burst 
 into laughter. 
 
 139
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Why, how funny you look ! " 
 
 The spell was broken. When did ever ridicule 
 or levity fail to cool impending passion? 
 
 " Do I? " he replied feebly, " I don't know why I 
 should." 
 
 " Oh, but you did; it's gone now." 
 
 To Hamilton the situation was perplexing and 
 unsatisfactory. How he, a man of wide experience 
 and great sang-froid, had come so near to making 
 an emotional breakdown with this young and still 
 childlike girl was more than he could explain to his 
 accusing self. Mere prettiness would never have so 
 affected him, nor yet diablerie of the purely physical 
 sort. He was ordinarily cool, even in his most as- 
 siduous conquests. But this impulse was totally 
 different; there was in it impelling force he had 
 never felt before. He wondered if it could be that 
 love so contemptuously waved aside by his friend 
 Claybourne, and then dismissed the suggestion im- 
 patiently. 
 
 Agatha had turned away, and was gazing out at 
 the dying day. She gave no sign whatever as to 
 whether she had seen his almost involuntary intent 
 to enfold her and had evaded it by a laugh, or 
 whether, as she said, there had been something on 
 his face to excite her mirth. He finally decided that 
 the ways of women were past finding out, and that 
 strict analysis of Agatha was neither pleasant nor 
 profitable. 
 
 The girl first caught the sound of wheels coming 
 up the driveway. 
 
 " There comes Mrs. Copeland," she said, " and 
 140
 
 AN IDOL OF CLAY 
 
 I'm very glad of it, for I am hungry. Heigho, I 
 wish grandfather could ever be persuaded to stay 
 to dinner with us. And Hank how John would 
 enjoy Hank at the table." 
 
 " Well, children," was Mrs. Copeland's greeting 
 as she came briskly into the room a moment later, 
 " are you nearly starved ? Why, Agatha, how 
 bright you look." 
 
 " Oh, it's going to be such fun," cried the girl, 
 " and 7 am going ; Mr. Hamilton has invited me." 
 
 "Where pray?" 
 
 " The Camera Club has a little outing to-mor- 
 row," explained Guy. 
 
 " Oh, I see. More nonsense," said Mrs. Cope- 
 land, with a smile. 
 
 " Dinner is served," announced the butler, in his 
 most sepulchral tones. 
 
 Over the soup Mrs. Copeland looked at the pair 
 approvingly, and speculated as to what might hap- 
 pen were Guy only different. She even went so far 
 as to hope he could be made different under the in- 
 fluence of such a girl as Agatha. Stranger things 
 had happened, she told herself, and the thought gave 
 her deep satisfaction. She would leave the matter 
 to time. 
 
 141
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 THE day for the Camera Club's outing was one 
 of those beautiful gifts of mellow October 
 for which Old Chetford is famed above all 
 other New England towns. The air was spicy and 
 just tempered to the degree for out-of-door pleas- 
 ure. If it were the intent of the members of the 
 select organization to woo nature with their plates 
 and films, that gracious lady seemed ready to lend 
 herself smilingly to the process. It was a day to feel 
 the gladness of young life, to send the blood along 
 its course in leaps and bounds; the melancholy of 
 later weeks was still afar off. 
 
 Agatha's spirits were more than characteristically 
 buoyant as she walked along with Hamilton to the 
 rendezvous of the club. He was a fine and command- 
 ing figure in his fashionably cut outing suit, and his 
 air was that of a man who knows his social value 
 and his personal charm. As the unsophisticated girl 
 at his side stole glances at him from time to time, 
 she was sure that no one in all Old Chetford could 
 compare with her own special cavalier in the manly 
 graces, and she felt the pride that is but natural to a 
 young woman selected by so notable a figure. 
 
 142
 
 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 At the tomblike old granite City Hall, set in a 
 tiny square of grass, a dozen or more of the members 
 of the Camera Club had already assembled when 
 Agatha and Hamilton arrived. Guy took especial 
 pleasure in introducing his pretty companion to those 
 leading lights of the club whom she did not already 
 know. He had carefully instilled into her the fact 
 that membership was one of the most prized social 
 distinctions in the town, and she felt that this bright 
 day was perhaps the beginning of her career. If she 
 had any trepidation, however, as she was presented 
 to Thomas Harrington, Esq., a fat, heavy-jowled 
 banker, and the president of the club, she gave no 
 evidence of it, and, indeed, acquitted herself with 
 such tact and dainty charm that Hamilton was 
 thoroughly delighted. 
 
 " Charmed to meet you, Miss Renier," said Mr. 
 Harrington pompously, adjusting his eyeglasses the 
 better to examine her face, " we've all heard, of 
 course, of Mrs. Copeland's protegee; I trust you will 
 enjoy our little trip. I warn you against my friend 
 Hamilton, however; he's a dangerous fellow, very 
 dangerous indeed. Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 And he shook his fat sides and dug Guy in the 
 ribs much to the latter's disgust. 
 
 Others of tke " Hill " set were on hand, notably 
 Captain Clayurne, who had permitted himself to be 
 brought by Miss Mehitabel Anastasia Postlethwaite, 
 a maiden of maturity, who wore a cataract of little 
 brown curls at the back of her head and had written 
 a book of poems. 
 
 Claybourne looked uncomfortable. For years it 
 
 143
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 had been an accepted fact that Miss Postlethwaite 
 had been setting her cap at the gallant captain ; so far 
 back, in fact, that, as the frivolous expressed it, 
 " she outgrew the article of headgear twenty years 
 ago." 
 
 The Reverend Archibald Greenacre, with an im- 
 mense tripod camera, under whose weight he fairly 
 staggered, hurried up a little later, preceded by his 
 tall and bony wife, whose personal appearance might 
 have suggested a cause for his own meekness. 
 
 Mr. Alphonso Emerson, custodian of the Old Chet- 
 ford Public Library, was paired oft" with a mis- 
 chievous schoolgirl, whose love of fun was not damp- 
 ened in the least by her diffident, stammerng escort. 
 Mr. Emerson was very near sighted and could not 
 see to take a picture, but that mattered little to him ; 
 a camera was a good enough peg to hang a club on, 
 and he hailed the new organization as distinctly 
 educational. His wife, a simpering lady with a 
 youthful taste in dress, was also of the party, es- 
 corted by Dr. Hackett, a jolly old surgeon who had 
 seen service in the Civil \Var. 
 
 The company at last completed by the addition of 
 a dozen more couples of local distinction, a start 
 was made for Fairport. The sight of the two score 
 persons armed with hand cameras, which were not 
 so familiar at that time, was especially grateful to 
 the street urchins along the water front, who some- 
 how lacked that reverence for ancestry felt by most 
 of the club members. A few of the bolder formed 
 themselves into a whistling band and took upon 
 themselves the honor of leading the procession. 
 
 144
 
 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 Others furnished gratuitous information of an un- 
 pleasant nature about the trials of photography, and 
 all enjoyed themselves hugely until driven off by an 
 indignant policeman. 
 
 As the company wended its dignified way over 
 the long and unsightly bridge that led across the 
 harbor to Fairport, Agatha stepped from the ranks 
 for a moment and looked down along the line of 
 wharves. Yes, there was the old " Harpoon," dis- 
 tinct because of its spotless deck, and there, too, 
 floated the flag at its bow. 
 
 " Grandfather's in," she exclaimed brightly, " and 
 perhaps Hank, too. Dear old ship ! Couldn't we take 
 a picture of it, Mr. Hamilton ? " 
 
 " No, no, Agatha, not now; come along," he said 
 rather impatiently. Then, seeing the disappointment 
 on her face, he added kindly : " It's too far off, any- 
 way. Perhaps when we come back we can go down 
 and get a good shot at it." 
 
 On the Fairport side Agatha and Hamilton, 
 tempted by the autumnal beauty of the fields, left 
 the direct road to the fort at the point and followed 
 a little path which skirted a thicket of glowing color. 
 
 Here was Guy in his cleanest mental attitude to- 
 ward women. The beautiful day, the sylvan and 
 peaceful scene, the presence of this unspoiled and 
 charming girl at his side, made of him for the mo- 
 ment a man of fine impulses. As he looked at 
 Agatha, brimming over with pleasure from the little 
 outing which was so happily varying the routine of 
 her life, he could not help a comparison of her with 
 Lucy Worth-Courtleigh ; it was a simple, fragrant 
 
 145
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 blush-rose beside a brilliant and overpoweringly in- 
 tense exotic. 
 
 The girl was bubbling over with a pretty curiosity 
 that led her to ask all sorts of questions, as if he were 
 a great repository of fact and fancy. It flattered him, 
 and he answered good-naturedly when he could and 
 with humorous evasion when he could not. 
 
 " What about your pictures ? " she queried, as they 
 walked along at a swinging pace. 
 
 " Pictures ; what pictures ? " he replied blankly. 
 
 " Why, these," tapping the handsome and costly 
 camera slung at his side. 
 
 " Ah, to be sure pictures of course. Stupid of 
 me, by Jove. Do you know I'd forgotten all about 
 them. It would be the proper thing to take a picture, 
 wouldn't it? But what shall it be? " 
 
 " That," cried Agatha, pointing to an opening in 
 the trees through which showed a bit of road and 
 a quaint red farmhouse. Beyond the russet arch of 
 the leaves glimmered the deep blue of the bay. It 
 was a vista to delight an artist. 
 
 " It is pretty," returned Hamilton, unslinging his 
 camera. " I'm a bit rusty on this sort of thing, but 
 I guess I can make it work." 
 
 " O-o-h ! " exclaimed Agatha, as she looked into 
 the " finder " at Guy's request and saw the lovely 
 miniature reproduction of the scene. " Isn't that 
 fine? A little to the right. There ! Splendid ! " 
 
 Her hair brushed his hand as she bent to the 
 camera to take her observation. The just perceptible 
 contact tingled like electricity. He pressed the little 
 knob, and at the dull click she started up. 
 
 146
 
 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 11 You we shall certainly win the prize with that ; 
 the others cannot hope to find anything so beautiful." 
 
 " No ? They might if they were here," he replied, 
 with a measured emphasis quite foreign to his usual 
 devil-may-care speech. 
 
 " Why, what could they see more beautiful than 
 that picture through the trees? It's like our Corot 
 at home." 
 
 " Just stand there a moment," he said, pushing 
 Agatha gently into the opening between the trees 
 to a spot where the sun shone brightly, " just stand 
 there, and you can help me win the prize." 
 
 With the light on her upraised, wondering face, 
 the girl looked like a dryad of the autumn. Her hat 
 had fallen back, and her hair was blown into pictur- 
 esque confusion by the soft wind that came up from 
 the Gulf Stream. She was the incarnation of the 
 bloom of life made more exquisite by contrast with 
 the dying year. 
 
 " Why how can 7 help you ? " 
 
 Another click, and a light laugh from Hamilton, 
 who replaced his camera on his shoulder. 
 
 " No more pictures to-day," he said jauntily. 
 
 " No more? I thought everyone was to take ten." 
 
 " Not necessarily, Agatha. The prize picture is 
 here," tapping the black box confidently. She was 
 not convinced. 
 
 " How can you tell what the others may find ? " 
 
 " I don't care what they find ; none of them can 
 have you in the foreground." 
 
 " Me? What has that to do with it? " she asked, 
 with complete lack of coquetry.
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Everything. You see upon my soul, Agatha 
 Renier, don't you know that you are a beautiful 
 girl?" 
 
 She felt the hot blood mount to her face. No man 
 save her grandfather had ever told her such a thing 
 before, and there was the whole world of difference 
 between his simple-hearted flattery and this bold 
 and disquieting admiration. She raised her eyes and 
 found him gazing at her with an expression she could 
 not fathom, but was sure she did not like. 
 
 She took refuge in that woman's way that is as 
 old as the sex: an apparent ignoring of the great 
 salient fact, and a changing of the dangerous sub- 
 ject to the commonplace. 
 
 " Don't you think we had better be going on ? " 
 she said, " It is quite a distance to the fort." 
 
 " As you please," Guy replied stiffly, as with some- 
 thing very like a sigh he followed her toward the 
 roadway. 
 
 A stone wall was directly across their path, and 
 Agatha stepped upon it with little care. Her one 
 desire was to return to the party and so be rid of the 
 awkwardness that had so suddenly arisen between 
 them. 
 
 "Wait; let me help you," said Hamilton, as he 
 stretched out his hand toward hers. 
 
 " Oh, no, thank you ; I " 
 
 The little deprecatory laugh was interrupted by a 
 dull grind as one of the stones on which she was 
 standing became dislodged and rolled to the ground. 
 She tottered for an instant, striving to regain her 
 balance, and uttered a sharp cry of pain. 
 
 148
 
 A ROLLING STONE 
 
 " You're hurt," cried Guy, springing toward the 
 swaying girl, whose pale and drawn face told the 
 story of her suffering. 
 
 " Yes, I'm afraid I am a little I'm such a 
 nuisance. What " 
 
 The world closed in around her, and she would 
 have fallen had not Hamilton caught her in his arms. 
 
 " Fainted, by Jove," he exclaimed, gazing down 
 into the white, lovely face in the hollow of his arm. 
 "Agatha! Agatha!" 
 
 But Agatha made no sound; she scarcely gave a 
 sign of life. 
 
 Then this courtly man of the world, this darling 
 of society, this first gentleman of Old Chetford bent 
 his head and kissed the unresisting lips. As ice will 
 sometimes give the same sensation as fire, so Agatha's 
 cold mouth inflamed his passion. Again and again 
 he kissed her until an incoherent murmur warned 
 him that she was coming back to consciousness. 
 
 The sound of wheels from a passing carriage 
 startled him. He realized that the occupants must 
 have witnessed the tableau in which he had been the 
 only active participant, and he wondered who they 
 might be. He had little time for speculation, how- 
 ever, for Agatha had revived and he knew she would 
 need immediate attention. 
 
 " It's sprained I believe," said the girl, as she 
 tried to put the foot on the ground, and cringed with 
 the hurt. " Oh, dear, I have spoilt your day by my 
 carelessness. I'm so sorry." 
 
 " Never mind my day, Agatha ; perhaps it's not 
 spoilt after all. Lean on me and we'll get to the red 
 
 149
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 farmhouse somehow. There I can hire some kind of 
 a rig, I guess, and take you home. Come now; 
 that's right; there's a brave girl." 
 
 ******* 
 
 " I always thought Guy Hamilton was not exactly 
 the right sort," said Robert Worth-Courtleigh to 
 his pretty wife as they rode along toward the fort 
 "Who was that girl?" 
 
 "She?" replied the lady with a bitter smile, 
 " she's that young upstart that Mrs. Copeland is 
 making such a fool of herself over." 
 
 " Oho ! The girl she has ad practically adopted. 
 Joel Stewart's granddaughter. I always understood 
 she was not of the common kind." 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh made no reply, but as they 
 drove on to the point, whither the lady had insisted 
 on being taken on their arrival by the morning train 
 from Boston, the sturdy lawyer wondered what was 
 the matter with his buggy that such a continuous 
 tap-tap-tap should be given forth by something under 
 the floor. 
 
 He did not know that it was his wife's neat little 
 foot forming a sort of safety-valve for her sur- 
 charged emotions, nor did he notice that her hands 
 were clutched so tightly together that she was obliged 
 to remove her torn gloves when she reached the scene 
 of the Camera Club's festivities. 
 
 But before she arrived at the fort, Lucy Worth- 
 Courtleigh had outlined her plan of campaign and 
 had decided to assume the offensive at the earliest 
 opportunity. 
 
 ISO
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 PHINEAS SYKES'S CLAMBAKE 
 
 THE constituent parts of the Camera Club had 
 swept down the road toward the ruined fort 
 without especial comment on the absence of 
 Agatha and Guy Hamilton. In fact, the various oddly 
 assorted couples were quite sufficiently engaged with 
 one another to preclude any thought of deserters at 
 this time. 
 
 Captain Claybourne, for instance, was inwardly 
 groaning as Miss Postlethwaite was making him the 
 recipient the very first, she gushingly assured him 
 of her " Lines to a Stranded Dog-Fish," written 
 during her summer at Quitno beach. 
 
 " Ha, hum ; most touching ; beautiful, very," he 
 said absent-mindedly when the recital had ended. 
 He was thinking of the Attawam Club with longing 
 heart, and wondering how he, a pronounced and no- 
 torious avoider of femininity, should have been led 
 to the sacrifice in this manner. 
 
 Miss Nelly Nevins, the schoolgirl to whom all life 
 was a joke, succeeded in raising dark thoughts in the 
 breast of Librarian Emerson, her partner. They two 
 chanced to be the rear-guard of the company. 
 
 " Is that oh, Mr. Emerson, I'm afraid it is is 
 that a bull ? " she asked in a trembling voice, as they
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 passed an unusually placid cow chewing her cud in 
 a farm door-yard. 
 
 " I perceive but uncertainly," replied the nt'ar- 
 sighted gentleman, hastening his pace with alacrity, 
 " but the animal does bear a resemblance to the ' *au- 
 rus ingens ' of the Romans. Let us accelerate our 
 steps," and the frightened man fairly dragged the 
 laughing damsel along after the others. 
 
 As they neared their destination, Claybourne be- 
 came as uneasy as his philosophical mind would per- 
 mit over the continued non-appearance of Hamilton 
 and Agatha Renier. 
 
 He had been suspecting for some time that Guy 
 was not wholly oblivious to the charms of his amtt's 
 protegee, and as the young man's closest friend he 
 had warned him in vague fashion once or twice, al- 
 ways to be met with a laughing disclaimer that did 
 not convince him. The propinquity of a pretty young 
 woman was to him always a position of danger, and 
 he knew Guy's inflammable nature. 
 
 The thud-thud of a horse's hoofs and the rumble 
 of a passing carriage interrupted his musing. 
 
 " Hello, old man," cried a gruffly cheery voice, 
 as the equipage rolled by, " stir along, or you'll never 
 get there." 
 
 Claybourne caught a glimpse of Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh's face. It was set and hard, and bore 
 traces of some unpleasant experience. He wondered 
 if she had been quarreling with her husband, and 
 ended, as usual, by thanking God that he had no 
 wife. Poor Miss Postlethwaite ! 
 
 152
 
 PHINEAS STKES'S CLAMBAKE 
 
 Having reached the fort, the camera-armed com- 
 pany broke ranks and entered upon the work of the 
 day. The rocks, the trees, the bay, the city opposite, 
 the shipping sliding out of the harbor, the far-off 
 islands, were all lured into the little black boxes from 
 every conceivable point of view and with all degrees 
 of skill, varying from the cleverness of " Tom " Har- 
 rington, who was an amateur of great ability, to the 
 wretched, misfocussed attempts of Mr. Emerson. 
 Then they photographed each other in groups and 
 pairs and ones. 
 
 " Where is dear Mr. Hamilton," asked Mrs. Emer- 
 son at last, " our pictures will never be complete 
 without him in them and that pretty Renier girl 
 what can have kept them ? " 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh surveyed the group 
 through half-closed eyelids. 
 
 " Really, I think his time is quite fully occupied," 
 she said, in an indolent tone that gave the lie to the 
 significance of her words. " He is more pleasantly 
 engaged than he could possibly be down here." 
 
 " Nonsense, nonsense," puffed Harrington, grow- 
 ing red in the face at this implied slight on his 
 cherished club, " Hamilton enjoys photography thor- 
 oughly; he told me so himself." 
 
 She laughed with the irritating manner of superior 
 knowledge. 
 
 ' There are many thing he enjoys better, ' Tom.' ' 
 
 " Such as what ? " persisted the president of the 
 Camera Club, with his accustomed bovine obtuseness. 
 
 " Oh er now I think of it, I believe I saw Mr. 
 
 153
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Hamilton and that girl together in the field as we 
 passed the red farmhouse do you think she's pretty, 
 'Tom'?" 
 
 A sudden hush fell upon the company. This 
 speech from a woman of Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's 
 standing, a speech so unmistakable in its virulence, 
 astounded most of them who knew of the friendship 
 between the lady and Guy. Even the heavy-witted 
 Harrington saw a great light. 
 
 " Whe-e-ew," he whistled under his breath, " so 
 
 that's the jig, is it? Well, I'm . And'I warned 
 
 her against him this very morning. Deep girl. The 
 joke seems to be on your uncle Thomas." 
 
 " Come on, people," he cried to his band of en- 
 thusiasts, now turned into a coterie of incipient scan- 
 dal-mongers, " let's go down to the water and see the 
 bake." 
 
 There is a fascination in watching the preparations 
 for and the cooking of a clambake known to no other 
 culinary process. The kitchen is one of Mother Na- 
 ture's fragrant and appetizing places, the cooks are 
 generally quaint old characters and skilful providers 
 and the odors from the steaming feast can be matched 
 by nothing else in all the world. Add a day of en- 
 ticing beauty and a background of dreamy charm 
 such as our club messmates had, and the thing is 
 complete. 
 
 The mellow old Captain Sykes, best manager of a 
 " bake " on all Curlew Bay, and his weazened assist- 
 ant, Artemas Slickersley, who knew the ways of 
 clams and lobsters as well as any man, had already 
 begun their preparations. They had built a roaring 
 
 154
 
 PHINEAS STREPS CLAMBAKE 
 
 fire of driftwood in a sort of mammoth saucer 
 formed carefully of large stones; great piles of yel- 
 low-green seaweed, torn from the rocks along the 
 shore, were heaped near by, flanked by the bushels of 
 clams, dozens of lobsters and boxes of other appro- 
 priate eatables that the two tars had previously 
 brought over from the city in their long whale-boat. 
 
 The fire was now only a glowing mass of coals, 
 and Artemas was engaged in raking off the larger 
 pieces. The stones were fiercely hot, as the old fel- 
 low found to his satisfaction when he tested them 
 with a bit of dripping seaweed. 
 
 " Ready, Cap'n," he squeaked to his rotund su- 
 perior officer, " ye caru't make no mistake now ef ye 
 chuck the hull grub outfit right on." 
 
 First a thin layer of seaweed was placed on the 
 stones, and then the big baskets of clams were 
 emptied of their loads. Over this bed of shells were 
 deposited the writhing green lobsters, angrily pro- 
 testing against this sort of martyrdom by closing and 
 opening their powerful claws in the vain effort to 
 pinch the hands of the wary old sailors. 
 
 " Lawbsters is like women," volunteered Sykes as 
 he deftly tossed a big fellow into the centre of the 
 mass. " Handle 'em jest right, an' ye don't never 
 have no trouble with 'em. But git a bit careless, an' 
 miss yer holt, an' yer nipped all-fired hard." 
 
 Another sprinkling of the seaweed, and then came 
 the corn in the husk, a late growth from Captain 
 Sykes's own garden. Upon this was heaped a big 
 mass of the green ocean plant. Some sweet potatoes 
 were tucked in around the edges on the very rocks 
 
 155
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 themselves, and a great canvas was stretched over 
 all to keep the heat in. Now the pile was left to 
 steam itself into one glorious repast, of different 
 parts, to be sure, but blended into a gastronomically 
 harmonious whole by the touch of the mighty savor 
 of the sea. 
 
 With ever sharpening appetites the club folk gath- 
 ered around the fragrant pile to watch the progress 
 of events. Captain Sykes and Artemas were plied 
 with questions. 
 
 " Oh, Captain," cooed Miss Postlethwaite, " does 
 it hurt the poor clams, do you think, to be put on 
 those terrible rocks ? " 
 
 " Wall, ma'am," replied the veteran urbanely, " I 
 allus suspects that it does. Cause why ? The critters 
 opens their mouths an' gives a hiss when they hits the 
 heat. Ef ye puts yer head down cluss, ye can hear 
 'em now." 
 
 " Why, so I can," exclaimed the lady, " isn't it 
 horrible. I don't think I ever can eat one again." 
 And she then and there determined that her next 
 poem should have for its central thought the tyranny 
 of man as applied to the helpless bivalve. 
 
 " Now, Captain," said Harrington with his best 
 air of patronage, " we want you and Artemas to 
 stand up by the ' bake ' and be photographed. We 
 are all going to snap you at once." 
 
 " Sho, now," returned the old man, " I weren't 
 never took by anybody in my life, nor Artemas, 
 nuther, I'll be bound." 
 
 " Hain't I ? " cried Slickersley triumphantly, 
 " wall, thet's jest whar yer off'n yer bearin's, ship- 
 
 156
 
 PHINEAS STREPS CLAMBAKE 
 
 mate. When I was up to Bosting three year ago I 
 went down ter the beach, an' was took on tin with a 
 fine gal I met who said I made her think of her pa. 
 She said as how she'd pay fer the picters, an' I gin her 
 ten dollars ter git changed, but jest then a whistle 
 blew an' she said she had ter run ter ketch her train, 
 an' I ain't never seen her nor the money sence." 
 
 A roar of laughter greeted the ancient mariner's 
 tale. 
 
 " Shet up, ye ol' fool," growled Sykes, " wanter 
 gin yerself away afore all these swells, do ye? But 
 we ain't got much on fer clothes, Mr. Harrington. 
 Ef we'd a-known " 
 
 " No, no," cried the ladies, " just as you are, by 
 all means. You are so much more picturesque." 
 
 " Wall, all right," said the captain good-naturedly, 
 though a little in doubt as to whether he had been 
 complimented or not, "fire away; Artemas an' me 
 will do our duty by ye." 
 
 The members formed a semicircle, and all got their 
 cameras in position. The captain and his thin mate 
 stood at either side of the steaming pile, and set 
 their faces into wooden smiles. Then Mr. Harring- 
 ton gave the signal, forty clicks resounded like the 
 firing of some midget battery, and the deed was done. 
 
 Captain Sykes lifted an edge of the canvas, and 
 took a long professional sniff. Then he poked about 
 a bit until the red claw of a lobster appeared to view. 
 
 "In jest five minoots more," he declared, " ye'll 
 be a-wrastlin' with the best grub the Lord'll ever gin 
 ye in this ere world of our'n." 
 
 In the meantime stakes had been driven into the 
 
 157
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ground near by, and cross pieces nailed on them. 
 Over these were placed long boards, and a rude but 
 substantial table was the result. This was now 
 spread with coarse earthen dishes and cups and pew- 
 ter eating utensils. Artemas had made coffee in a 
 gigantic pot that had once helped cheer a crew of 
 whale hunters beyond the Arctic circle. 
 
 " Haul off," came the cheery cry from the captain. 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," piped Artemas, and in a minute or 
 two the luscious treasures of the deep were un- 
 covered. 
 
 There was a rush for seats and a great rattling of 
 plates, knives and forks. Some of the men served 
 as waiters, bringing up the clams in immense bread- 
 pans and the lobsters in little wooden trays. The 
 Reverend Archibald Greenacre, who conceived the 
 idea that he ought to be helpful, was among the 
 most enthusiastic of the servitors. > Not even the fact 
 that he lost his balance while stooping to gather some 
 clams from the " bake," and burned his hands on the 
 hot stones as he fell, could quench his ardor. He 
 even overheard himself called a " lubber " by the 
 disgusted Captain Sykes without making any protest, 
 so full of the joy of assisting was he. 
 
 But his happiness, like other joys of life, as he had 
 often preached, was transitory, for when he took his 
 place at the table to indulge in his favorite creature 
 comforts of clams and melted butter, his wife whis- 
 pered to him with her air of authority: 
 
 " Archibald, Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh tells me that 
 she saw Mr. Hamilton kiss that girl of his aunt's. I 
 don't know whether to believe her or not ; but it's our 
 
 158
 
 PHINEAS STKES'S CLAMBAKE 
 
 duty to find out. Get Worth-Courtleigh one side by 
 and by, and ask him ; he tells the truth, anyway." 
 
 The clergyman's heart sank. He was a gentleman 
 at heart, and had little taste for such an errand. But 
 his wife's personality was so much stronger than his 
 own, and her income so much larger, that he had 
 fallen into a slough of unquestioning obedience. So, 
 after the feast had been eaten and pronounced the 
 best in Old Chetford's history, he sought out Worth- 
 Courtleigh, who was alone by the water smoking 
 a cigar. 
 
 " Greenacre," said the bluff lawyer, after hearing 
 the rector's mission, " what I saw or did not see I 
 conceive to be no one's business but my own. When 
 I enter the profession of gossips, I shall withdraw 
 from the bar and my practice is quite large at pres- 
 ent. Have a cigar." 
 
 But he wondered at his wife's injudicious dropping 
 of the story, entirely innocently of course, and he 
 sighed to think what trouble her thoughtlessness 
 might arouse. 
 
 159
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A SHATTERED IDOL 
 
 KEPT within the Bristol Street mansion for 
 the next week or two by her sprained ankle, 
 Agatha found herself a very cheerful pris- 
 oner. Guy was careful to see that she was pro- 
 vided with the rarest of flowers and the daintiest of 
 sweetmeats, to both of which tributes her heart 
 warmed instinctively. He himself devoted much 
 time to her pleasure, and talked and read to her with 
 all the ability he possessed. 
 
 He looked upon himself as in a certain sense the 
 cause of her accident ; he even experienced a feeling 
 of shame sometimes as he remembered the kisses 
 he had pressed upon her lips under circumstances 
 which he would have been quick to condemn in any- 
 one else. He admitted freely now the fascination of 
 the girl, yet something kept in restraint his impulse 
 to make open love to her. 
 
 " Confound it," he said to himself one day, as he 
 watched Agatha's lovely profile half-eclipsed by a 
 book she was reading, " I want her, and yet I can't 
 tell her so. What's the matter with me ? I never was 
 troubled in that line before." 
 
 Then the face of Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh rose into 
 160
 
 A SHATTERED IDOL 
 
 his mental perspective, filled with passion, as he knew 
 it would be, should he declare for another and a purer 
 allegiance. He knew that he would be a coward 
 before the fury of a woman scorned, and he felt no 
 taste for such self-debasement. 
 
 " Oh, Lord," he thought, " why do we men always 
 get into these infernal messes ? Why can't we all be 
 Claybournes, with his ' let 'em alone, and they'll let 
 you alone ' ? I'd like to cut the whole business, and 
 I might if it weren't for the money." 
 
 His uneasiness had been greatly augmented that 
 same day by the receipt of a little envelope whose 
 perfume he would have known, even had there been 
 no superscription. The note inside read : 
 
 " Meet me at two this afternoon at H } s with- 
 out fail. There is something of great importance I 
 wish to say to you. L." 
 
 He cursed fate again, but he knew he would obey ; 
 he felt that back of the curt command was a threat 
 that admitted of no parleying. He would face the 
 music and learn the worst at once. 
 
 He little knew of the struggles that tore the heart 
 of Lucy Worth-Courtleigh before she decided to 
 send for him. Ever since the fleeting sight of that 
 kiss in the fields her wrath had made such sport of 
 her that even her husband noticed that something 
 was amiss, and anxiously asked if she were ill. 
 
 In the seclusion of her chamber she chewed the 
 bitter cud of reflection, until at times she could have 
 screamed aloud. Pride urged her to let him go with 
 
 161
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 scornful silence; but the jealousy born of a powerful 
 infatuation spurred her to meet him face to face and 
 see if there were any glimmer of excuse for his 
 conduct. 
 
 And so, at the appointed hour, this leader of Old 
 Chetford's " modern " set and this hero of social 
 romance found one another. 
 
 The place of their rendezvous was a public house 
 at the northern end of Bristol Street known as 
 " Howard's." It had once been the home of a rich 
 old recluse, and even now it looked like a private 
 estate, set far back from the street in a heavy growth 
 of trees and surrounded by a high and dark stone 
 wall. Its reputation for good fare was unimpeach- 
 able, but for all that the women who had occasion 
 to visit the place generally did so heavily veiled. 
 The kind who would not have cared whether their 
 faces were seen or not were strictly debarred by the 
 proprietor, a retired English army man, who prided 
 himself greatly on the quality of his patronage. 
 
 In a little private parlor of " Howard's " there 
 had been a violent scene between the two, so violent 
 that the landlord had to come and gently beg for less 
 noise. Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh threw all caution to 
 the winds, and railed at the unfortunate Guy like a 
 fish-wife. 
 
 " So you have found a new toy to take up your 
 time, have you ? " she said when he entered the room, 
 " a. new woman to kiss, another to add to your string 
 of conquests, you liar. You'd deny it, would you? 
 Well, I saw you put your lips upon that nameless 
 creature from the wharves, over in Fairport that day. 
 
 162
 
 'Come now, Lucy; Agatha's a good girl."
 
 A SHATTERED IDOL 
 
 Dear little innocent! She believes you, of course, 
 trusts you implicitly, relies on your honor, and all 
 that. Faugh ! " 
 
 Staggered at this .revelation of her knowledge, 
 Guy shifted, stammered and temporized in a dazed 
 and helpless fashion, which fed the woman's wrath 
 the more. He could not tell the truth about the in- 
 cident of the kisses, and thus clear Agatha, for he 
 knew that would turn ridicule upon himself, and 
 make his transgression all the more unforgivable. 
 
 He rang for brandy, drank a large draught, and 
 then stared stupidly at the handsome termagant as 
 she went on with her bitter tirade. 
 
 " Oh, you are very much relieved, no doubt," she 
 cried, " to be free of me and to find fresh material 
 for your peculiar style of wooing. And they say this 
 girl is fresh and unspotted with the world, and all 
 that sickening stuff. I say she's " 
 
 " Come, now, Lucy ; Agatha's a good girl," he re- 
 monstrated. 
 
 " Bah ! Tell me that about a girl who lets you kiss 
 her in a country by-way. She's of vile origin, and 
 she doesn't belie her stock But you ! " she cried with 
 passionate pleading, " how could you do it, remem- 
 bering me ? How could you, how could you ? " 
 
 Something perhaps the sight or the influence of 
 the brandy suggested a means of escape to Hamil- 
 ton. He accepted it with gratitude. 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you the whole truth, Lucy, and 
 you'll see that I that you have been treating me 
 very unjustly. I'm ashamed to say it, but the fact 
 is that before I started on that infernal camera ex- 
 
 163
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 pedition I went to the club and got to drinking; 
 drank altogether too much and wasn't myself at all. 
 What I did in the field I hardly remembered after- 
 ward. Do you think I could forget you in my right 
 mind? Never, Lucy; I swear it." 
 
 This bit of diplomacy on Guy's part was well 
 timed. Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's anger had passed 
 its climax, and in the reaction came tenderer thought 
 of the man who so filled her horizon. Partly because 
 she wished to, and partly because it seemed plausible, 
 she believed the story, and gradually came to her 
 normal frame of mind. 
 
 To clinch the advantage and make her quiet, if 
 nothing more, Guy added a quite gratuitous lot of 
 vows and protestations of fealty, which he argued, 
 would not hurt him, and would do wonders for her 
 peace Nof mind. 
 
 She went home completely mollified as regards 
 Guy, but more determined than ever in her hatred 
 of Agatha, who, she reasoned, must have taken ad- 
 vantage of her escort's condition with some deep 
 intent of bettering herself perhaps a future mar- 
 riage. That, she felt, she could and would prevent. 
 
 Hamilton sought the sheltering fold of the At- 
 tawam Club as soon as the interview was over. He 
 felt that he needed some antidote against the nerve- 
 racking experience of the afternoon, and, as usual, 
 he relied upon alcohol to supply the remedy. 
 
 He drank heavily there, but no resulting joy came 
 from the potations. Instead there was only a sodden 
 discontent with life and its burdens. He remem- 
 bered a new French romance at home in the library, 
 
 164
 
 A SHATTERED IDOL 
 
 and he determined to go and read it that he might 
 forget his woes. 
 
 Without seeing anyone he went directly to the 
 library in search of his book. There he found 
 Agatha, who had been assisted to a seat near the 
 window, and was now reading by the last rays of the 
 declining sun. She turned to him with a bright 
 smile and a cheerful welcome. 
 
 With the virago wrath of Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh 
 still ringing in his ears, he looked at this embodiment 
 of purity and truth, and felt, even through his drink- 
 dulled brain, a deeper emotion than had ever yet 
 stirred within him. Coupled with this was a sensu- 
 ous admiration for the girl's warm and radiant love- 
 liness, a feeling that would no longer be controlled 
 by what he considered mere conventionality. 
 
 He steadied his voice as best he could, and began 
 to talk to her in a vein he had rarely used before. 
 He spoke of her gifts, of her opportunities for storm- 
 ing the fortress of life ; he led her to talk of herself, 
 of her aspirations, of her visions for the future. In 
 all this there was on his part a persistent coupling 
 of him and her that she could not fathom. He spoke 
 of their future now. 
 
 " Yes, m'dear," he burst forth, " we'll show 'em 
 that they can't ride over us, not one of 'em. We'll 
 show 'em that we don't care for their frippery mo- 
 rality that's generally a sham from the word go. 
 None of their musty Puritanism for us, eh, 
 Agatha?" 
 
 " But why why should you speak so of me of 
 yourself? " she asked in large-eyed wonder. 
 
 165
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Oh, hang it, don't make it so hard for a fellow. 
 Don't you know, can't you guess that I love you ? " 
 t Had the aristocratic roof of the Copeland mansion 
 fallen about her ears, Agatha could have scarcely 
 been more astonished. Keen of perception though 
 she was, she had seen nothing heretofore to suggest 
 such a thing. Hamilton had been to her too imper- 
 sonal, too much an ideal standing quite beyond her, 
 to dream of as a lover. Now she heard, but did not 
 credit her senses. 
 
 " That you love me? " she gasped. 
 
 She was so startled that when Guy drew her 
 closely to himself, throwing an arm about her 
 shoulder, she made no effort to release herself. 
 
 " Is it such a surprise, Agatha ? " he asked 
 hoarsely, bending his head so closely to hers that 
 their faces almost touched. 
 
 At that moment she knew the truth. 
 
 She slipped from his grasp, and faced him with an 
 air of defiance. 
 
 " Agatha ! Have you no word for me? I love you 
 love you. You must know what that means." 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton, I am truly sorry ; but I fear you 
 are not quite not quite yourself to-day." 
 
 " Not quite myself, eh ? Well, how can a man be 
 himself when he's in love? But what do you mean? " 
 
 " I mean that you have been drinking," she an- 
 swered steadily. 
 
 " Well, and what if I have? " he queried, with a 
 harsh laugh. 
 
 " Nothing, except that the words you have just 
 used were evidently inspired by liquor and not by 
 
 166
 
 A SHATTERED IDOL 
 
 your heart. They are an insult, under such circum- 
 stances, which you must not repeat." 
 
 By the aid of table and chairs she made her way 
 to the bell-cord, and before Guy had fully realized 
 what she was doing, rang for the butler. That 
 mournful functionary, after a significant glance at 
 Hamilton, assisted her to her room with elaborate 
 ceremony. 
 
 There, in its pure seclusion, the girl wept in youth- 
 ful fashion over the fall of her cherished idol. She 
 had hitherto admired Guy as a " gentleman," a title 
 which to her stood for a mystical sort of being, the 
 human symbol of nobility of nature and the per- 
 fection of courtesy. 
 
 And now ! As with her childhood's doll, she had 
 found that her ideal was stuffed with sawdust. He 
 had become as common as the commonest by his 
 insult to her pride. To be made love to by a drunken 
 man ! It was incredibly vile, something of which she 
 felt she ought to purge herself, like the Hebrew wo- 
 men of old. Love ? She knew nothing of it, and if 
 this were one of its manifestations, she wanted never 
 to hear of it more. 
 
 Being left to his own gloomy reflections in the 
 library by this girl who, strangely enough, was not 
 honored by his advances, Guy tried to read the 
 French romance which had innocently precipitated 
 the latest trouble of a troubled day. But the amours 
 of the type of heroine in which he usually delighted 
 had no power to charm him now, and at last he tossed 
 the book into a corner and quit the house for his 
 great mecca, the club. 
 
 167
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 There he found a rather congenial crowd, and 
 again drank more than was necessary. Yet he could 
 not shake off the thought of Agatha's haunting eyes 
 and the vision of her proud face. 
 
 " By heaven," he said to himself, " I almost be- 
 lieve I'd have asked her to marry me." 
 
 168
 
 DINNER that evening was not a specially en- 
 livening meal at Mrs. Copeland's. Guy did 
 not return, and his aunt missed the bits of 
 conversation that were wont to fly back and forth 
 between her nephew and Agatha. As for the girl, 
 she was as dumb as the oysters with which they 
 began their well ordered repast, nor did she arouse 
 from her silence with any real effectiveness, although 
 she struggled bravely once or twice. 
 
 " Well, well, my dear," at last exclaimed the old 
 woman in a sort of mock consternation, " what's 
 happened to your tongue ? Off its hinges, I daresay. 
 Ah, it takes Guy to make it wag, not a crusty old 
 creature like me. Odd he didn't come in to din- 
 ner. John said he went out not half an hour before 
 the bell rang. Did he say anything to you ? " 
 
 " No not about dinner," returned the girl, whose 
 vivid cheeks she feared would signal something to 
 the keen Mrs. Copeland. 
 
 " Nor where he was going? " 
 
 " No, not a word." 
 
 " It's strange he should go off so near dinner 
 time," said Mrs. Copeland, looking searchingly at 
 her pretty vis-a-vis. 
 
 169
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Very," assented Agatha, and the meal concluded 
 with no more light on the whereabouts of the wander- 
 ing Guy. 
 
 " Play me something, child," said Mrs. Copeland, 
 as she called for lights in the drawing-room. 
 
 The wretched girl was in no mood for the piano, 
 but she sat down dutifully and opened a folio of 
 music at random. 
 
 It chanced that Schubert's " Death and the 
 Maiden " came to the surface, and she began to play 
 it gently. 
 
 The tender melancholy of the music, the haunting 
 beauty of its harmonies and the suggestion of its 
 name were too much for Agatha in her overstrung 
 state of mind ; she was the maiden, and the " death " 
 was the death of that maiden's dream of a hero. 
 Tear^ filled her eyes and she could not go on. 
 
 " I I'm not feeling very well to-night, Mrs. Cope- 
 land," she said brokenly. " I don't think I'll play 
 any more, if you'll excuse me." 
 
 "Tut, tut," the old lady thought, "nerves! A 
 new thing for Agatha. There's something back of all 
 this, I'll be bound. But I'll let nature work." Then 
 she said aloud kindly : 
 
 " Well, well, my dear, you needn't play any more, 
 of course. Get a good sleep to-night, and I don't 
 doubt you'll be all right in the morning. You want 
 to be, for Mr. Harding is coming, you know." 
 
 Yes, Mr. Harding was coming, and Agatha felt a 
 sense of satisfaction at the knowledge. He was to 
 be relied upon, in any event. Not being on a ped- 
 estal, he could not fall. She liked him heartily and 
 
 170
 
 GOD ALMIGHTrS GENTLEMAN" 
 
 honestly, and enjoyed his tuition which had now 
 come to be more the discussion of equals than she 
 realized. 
 
 Once behind the locked door of her bedroom, she 
 indulged in the luxury of a clearing-up shower of 
 tears, and then she sat down with her Tennyson, 
 who was to be the subject of to-morrow's talk, and 
 tried to read. But not even the imagery and beauty 
 of the lines could hold the girl's thoughts for long. 
 The handsome face of Guy, changed into something 
 coarse and mean, kept arising before the printed 
 page. 
 
 " How dared he? " she asked herself. What had 
 she done to give him occasion to believe that she 
 could be treated with less respect than other women. 
 She did not know, of course, of his escapades in 
 lower life. She judged his usual treatment of the 
 sex by what she saw him do in his own sphere. 
 
 Even if he did love her, she mused, and the 
 thought gave her no thrill such as she had learned 
 to know in fiction he had no right to tell her so in 
 such a fashion and in such a condition. Had he been 
 himself, and had he asked her to marry him, she 
 might have hesitated in her answer; she might have 
 doubted whether the tempestuous love of romance, 
 which she knew she did not have, was of the right 
 sort, and she might not have said him nay. 
 
 But now Guy's condemnation was complete. For- 
 giveness and forgetfulness, the ordinary cures for 
 the little lapses of mankind, would not come in this 
 case, for the truth 'was clear to her mind that in that 
 scene in the library was revealed the true Guy Hamil- 
 
 171
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ton. Forgiveness can never change a fact; forget- 
 fulness is a glossing that cannot be trusted. 
 
 There was to Agatha a very real and poignant 
 grief in this, mingled with strong resentment that 
 a man of her own household should be the one, of all 
 others, to destroy a bright illusion. She wondered 
 if all the men of the set in which he shone were as 
 empty and false as he. 
 
 She went to bed early, and after a bit more of 
 self-communion in the dark, fell into sound sleep 
 with the locket in which her mother's face was 
 framed clasped close to her heart. Once she awoke 
 and thought she heard an unusual noise in the hall 
 below. She knew it was Guy coming home. Had 
 she seen him, her disgust would have been complete. 
 
 Next morning Agatha was up with the sun, 
 humming gaily as she busied herself with the pretty 
 mysteries of her toilet. Her mood matched the crisp 
 and glowing morning, and gone was all the dark 
 melancholy of the night before. As she passed 
 through the lower hall on her way to the breakfast- 
 room, she caught sight of Guy's hat and coat on the 
 hat-tree. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Hamilton," she said making 
 an elaborate courtesy to the articles of apparel, " I'll 
 venture to say that you do not feel as well as I do 
 this morning." 
 
 The owner of the hat and coat did not appear until 
 Agatha and Mrs. Copeland had breakfasted, and 
 then he made a wry face at his egg and dallied in- 
 effectually with his coffee. 
 
 " What an ass I must have been," he mused as he 
 172
 
 GOD ALMIGHTY'S GENTLEMAN" 
 
 tried to find something of interest in the morning 
 paper, " and how that young spitfire did ' my lady ' 
 it over me. As I remember it, I almost thought my- 
 self in love au serieux. I'll square accounts with that 
 girl some time, and give her a lesson in manners. 
 But no open rupture now ; Aunt Sarah mustn't hear 
 of yesterday's affair. If one of us is to leave Bristol 
 Street, it mustn't be your humble servant." 
 
 Now Guy was in great physical need of a 
 " bracer," as he termed it, but he thought it best to 
 see Agatha before he left the house, and test her 
 frame of mind as to himself. 
 
 He went to the drawing-room, where he found her 
 dusting the piano and arranging the music, arrayed 
 in the daintiest of caps and the most fascinating of 
 muslin aprons. Guy had to admit that she was a 
 delightful picture. Alas, he moralized, that such a 
 fiery nature should be concealed beneath that fair 
 exterior. He was spared the task of framing an 
 introductory speech, for she was the first to offer 
 greeting. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Hamilton," she said se- 
 renely, but with no trace of interest in her voice. 
 
 " Good morning, Agatha," and for the next 
 minute or two the man felt as if he were alone in 
 the room. Then he ventured inquiringly : 
 
 "Agatha?" 
 
 " Yes," she replied, facing him. 
 
 " I I owe you an apology." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " Yes, for yesterday's foolishness. You you clo 
 know it was foolishness ? " 
 
 173
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Yes, I thought so." 
 
 " I was not not myself, you understand." 
 
 " Yes I understand." 
 
 " You will pardon me ? You will not bear me ill- 
 will?" 
 
 " What you really mean, I presume, is that I will 
 not tell your aunt." 
 
 " Well I that is " he stammered, taken aback 
 by this keen penetration of his thought. 
 
 " You needn't be alarmed, Mr. Hamilton ; I shall 
 not tell her. I owe her too much to wish to cause 
 her the slightest annoyance." 
 
 " You are not flattering to me. You would not 
 keep silent for my sake ? " he queried. 
 
 " Scarcely. Why should I ? You did not for your 
 own. If this is all you have to say, I will go on with 
 my work." 
 
 Had Agatha seen the look of malevolence he gave 
 her retreating figure, she would have had still further 
 cause to distrust him. But she went about her task 
 with a song very irritating to Guy in his present 
 condition. He was about to say something, he knew 
 not what something, perhaps, he might have been 
 sorry for, when the door opened and the butler an- 
 nounced in an especially funereal tone: 
 
 "The Reverend Mr. Ralph Harding." 
 
 Guy never felt any special interest in " sniveling 
 parsons," as he called them, although this one could 
 have put him hors de combat with the boxing gloves 
 in three minutes, and less than ever did he care to see 
 Harding at this time. So he bolted from the room 
 
 174
 
 GOD ALMIGHTTS GENTLEMAN" 
 
 without ceremony, giving the clergyman only a nod 
 and a muttered something in answer to his saluta- 
 tion. 
 
 " I'm afraid Hamilton has been going it pretty 
 strong again," thought Harding, as he passed into 
 the library for his two hours' reading with Agatha, 
 " he looks as if he hadn't a friend on earth this 
 morning; it's the old sign." 
 
 "Well, Agatha?" he said with his cheery un- 
 conventionality, as his pupil, or, as he put it, fellow 
 student, came toward him. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Harding?" she returned in like 
 fashion. 
 
 " It's Tennyson, I believe, this morning." 
 
 " Is it? " she said mischievously, " why, so it is. 
 But I'm afraid I've been a bad pupil, for I have 
 hardly touched my lesson. You will have to do all 
 the thinking to-day." 
 
 According to their custom, he began to read aloud. 
 He had chosen " In Memoriam," and as his fine voice 
 rose and fell in the noble cadences of that noble poem 
 the girl's mind could not resist a comparison of the 
 two men who a little before had been under the 
 same roof. 
 
 Up to yesterday there had scarcely been any points 
 of contact between the two in her thought. The one 
 had been the embodiment of the refinement and the 
 courtesies of life, the gentleman without reproach in 
 all the externals, at least, of life; the other she had 
 liked for his genial personality, had admired for his 
 good works and had respected for his cloth; min- 
 
 175
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 isters were a very excellent part of creation, no 
 doubt, but they were neither picturesque nor inspir- 
 ing to the imagination. 
 
 A great shock had changed her point of view com- 
 pletely, just as an earthquake might alter the ap- 
 pearance of a familiar landscape. She found herself 
 judging the two men by that great touchstone, the 
 use of which all must learn sooner or later the test 
 of character and that native gentility that is not cut 
 out on the same system a tailor uses in shaping a 
 coat. Applying this rule she knew, once for all, 
 which was the true gentleman. 
 
 Although her thoughts were far away from Ten- 
 nyson, these lines at last struck in upon her musings 
 with a meaning that fairly startled her : 
 
 " And thus he bore without abuse 
 The grand old name of gentleman, 
 Defamed by every charlatan 
 And soil'd with all ignoble use." 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Harding," she broke in impetuously, 
 " what is a gentleman ? What did Tennyson mean 
 by a gentleman ? " 
 
 He was struck by the intensity of her manner and 
 the look on her face. He felt sure that no love of 
 literature was responsible for those parted lips and 
 those shining eyes. 
 
 " A gentleman, Agatha? Why, my dear girl, there 
 are as many standards as there are classes of society. 
 My own is simple enough : first of all he is a man. 
 Then he is a courteous man, who will not wound 
 ethers' feelings without cause; he loves honor and 
 
 176
 
 " GOD ALMIGHTTS GENTLEMAN" 
 
 truth and decency. If he is refined and educated and 
 cultured, so much the better, but these things come 
 last." 
 
 " A man first of all ! " Ah, that was the keynote 
 of the whole matter, thought Agatha. A gentle man ! 
 He who is not a man cannot be a gentleman. 
 
 " But society " she began. 
 
 " Yes, I know what you are going to say, Agatha. 
 Society has a different scale of measurement, you 
 mean. The cut of a coat, the grace of a bow, the 
 suavity of a phrase that's the sort of thing that 
 makes its gentleman. But I tell you this Agatha, 
 that between society's gentleman and God Almighty's 
 gentleman there is a gulf of folly and untruth so 
 wide and so deep that the one could not cross it if he 
 would, and the other would not if he could." 
 
 He spoke with the earnestness of a prophet of old, 
 with the eloquence of a man who feels that he has a 
 task to perform for the good of the world. Sham, 
 hypocrisy, untruth these were the devils he was 
 striving to cast out from the social body. 
 
 Agatha drank in his enthusiasm as it were an ele- 
 ment of the air. She too had begun to feel his love 
 for humanity, his impelling desire to be of service. 
 She had seen the smashing of one of her idols, but 
 she knew now that it was a false god; let him die. 
 She was young, and the earth was fair and bright. 
 There was work to do, and some time she would do 
 it, and do it well. Harding would help her, she be- 
 lieved, and she turned to him with a beautiful look 
 of gratitude which he did not then understand, but 
 which he treasured long in his heart's storehouse. 
 
 177
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 MUCH to her disgust Agatha went out too 
 soon and strained her ankle by a long 
 walk down Promontory Road. She was 
 immensely exhilarated by the sweep of the wind up 
 from the bay, the shrieking of seabirds and the toss- 
 ing waters before and around her, but when she 
 reached home she could hardly walk, and next day 
 she was again helpless. 
 
 It was very near to Christmas before she was able 
 to leave the house. During this time her relations 
 with Guy were unchanged so far as the superficial 
 observer could have noted. But there were no more 
 of those intimate tete-a-tetes that Hamilton had 
 come to find so desirable, no more of the stories of 
 society life she had once drunk in with such avidity. 
 
 He had tried many times to pin Agatha to the 
 subject of that momentous interview in the library, 
 but in skilful, butterfly fashion she flitted away from 
 the danger ; she treated him with a deferential cour- 
 tesy that was far more exasperating than downright 
 rudeness would have been. 
 
 " A battle now and then would signify interest," 
 
 he thought more than once, " but this politeness 
 
 178
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 is enough to madden a fellow. You can't tell what 
 it means." 
 
 As is the way of the male, the more distant the 
 girl became, the more ardently he wished for her 
 complaisance. He was angry with himself, with 
 her and with all his world. Fits of moody depression 
 trod hard upon the heels of hours of wild excitement, 
 so that his club friends, at no time very squeamish, 
 began to shake their heads and declare that he was 
 " steaming it " in too intense a fashion. He threw 
 himself into his " affair " with Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh in reckless and tempestuous manner, and she 
 no longer had occasion to complain of any neglect on 
 his part. Yet she felt that Agatha was still dominant 
 in his mind, and her hatred of the girl was in no 
 wise lessened. 
 
 The Worth- Courtleigh servants were not averse to 
 discussing the matter in that style of sitting in judg- 
 ment that makes them second only to our own con- 
 sciences as inquisitors. 
 
 " An' I think she'll get caught yet," said Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh's maid to her favored suitor, the 
 footman, after completing a tale of especial interest. 
 
 "She'll not either; Mr. Robert'd not believe it, 
 even if he found it in one of his own affidavys." 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh perceived with great satis- 
 faction that the newest and most entertaining gossip 
 was not of herself, but of Hamilton and Agatha 
 Renier. Scandal never sprains its ankle, and she 
 saw her own innuendoes as to that day in Fairport 
 collect and magnify themselves into a story of defi- 
 nite and dark proportions. When it was repeated tc 
 
 179
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 her she smiled significantly, but was non-committai ; 
 she did not propose to be made the responsible party 
 should trouble come. 
 
 Worth-Courtleigh heard the tale in some round- 
 about way, and was troubled thereby, especially as 
 he remembered what he had seen in the fields, and 
 feared there was some basis for it. 
 
 " Lucy," he said to his wife at lunch one day, 
 " have you heard this wretched story about Hamil- 
 ton and that protegee of his aunt's ? Oh, yes, I know 
 what we saw, but that hardly accounts for the stuff 
 now going. Somebody has added to it and circu- 
 lated the thing till it's everywhere. It's a burning 
 shame, I say." 
 
 " It is too bad, Robert," she replied earnestly. " I 
 hate gossip, as you know, and yet well, the best of 
 us seer*? xond of it." 
 
 " I'll admit that some reasonably good people love 
 to talk scandal," he said. " It is a form of their 
 self-conceit to imagine that it makes current coin of 
 their own virtues. But that doesn't absolve them 
 from a share in the dirty work, at all. I'd like to 
 hear Harding talk on it just for a while." 
 
 " Oh, Harding," she exclaimed somewhat petu- 
 lantly, " Harding is a saint, of course. He is ont 
 of those absurd characters who never do anything 
 wrong." 
 
 The lawyer laughed. 
 
 " I fancy he wouldn't care to hear you say that of 
 him, Lucy, for he is a man and a good fellow to 
 boot. But there are some things he doesn't stoop 
 
 180
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 to do, and tale-bearing is one of them. I wish I 
 could say that of all my male acquaintances." 
 
 Later that afternoon Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh went 
 down to the vestry of Saint Agnes Church, which 
 was directly opposite the Copeland house, to help ar- 
 range for the Christmas tree to be given in combina- 
 tion by the parishes of Rev. Mr. Greenacre and Rev. 
 Mr. Harding. She always felt a sense of saving 
 grace in lending her aid to church work of this more 
 aesthetic sort. 
 
 It was a pretty scene that met her eyes as she en- 
 tered. The vestry, with its gothic arches of natural 
 wood, its latticed windows and its cleverly concealed 
 lights, was an interior to charm the vision. It was 
 now made still more beautiful by long festoons of 
 evergreen intertwined through the rafters, caught up 
 here and there with gilt stars. At one end was a 
 hemlock tree of generous proportions, and over it, 
 on a long band of gilded paper, the words : 
 
 PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD WILL TO MEN 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh was greeted with proper 
 effusiveness by the group of ladies who were engaged 
 in arranging the toys, filling the candy bags and 
 trimming the tree. Mrs. Greenacre, Miss Postle- 
 thwaite and Mrs. Emerson were there, as well as 
 other members of both churches. The Reverend Mr. 
 Greenacre was trotting about from group to group, 
 mildl"* encouraging the laborers in the vineyard, but 
 doing nothing himself. The diffident Mr. Emerson, 
 
 181
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 armed with a little wooden mallet, was breaking 
 slabs of candy into pieces small enough to go into 
 the little bags for the tree. 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh, whose artistic sense was 
 recognized to the full, was given the task of hanging 
 the glittering baubles of red, silver and gold on the 
 tree, and of disposing the gifts so that the picture 
 should be irreproachable. The others knelt and 
 stood about her to hand her the various articles she 
 needed. 
 
 " We were saying just before you came," ob- 
 served Mrs. Emerson with her simper, " that it's 
 too bad dear Mr. Harding isn't married. Of course 
 Mrs. Brown is a good soul, but a housekeeper isn't 
 a wife." 
 
 " True," sighed Miss Postlethwaite. 
 
 " And they say he has such a delicate task," con- 
 tinued the librarian's wife, " in keeping off the wo- 
 men. I hear it's scandalous the advances the eldest 
 Prudover girl the tall one with the hook-nose, you 
 know makes on every occasion. They say she even 
 ogles him in prayer-meeting." 
 
 " It is not good for man to be alone," said Mrs. 
 Greenacre, in her deep and sententious voice. Hear- 
 ing which the Reverend Archibald came very near to 
 heresy on one scriptural text at least. 
 
 " But," interposed Miss Postlethwaite, " if he 
 were to marry, of course he would have to stop those 
 lessons with Mrs. Copeland's secretary the Renier 
 girl." 
 
 It needed but the mention of Agatha's name to turn 
 the tide of scandal-mongering in a new direction. 
 
 182
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 All that the gathering had heard blown about the 
 town by the wind of malice seemed to centre here 
 in this little place of God and under the mimic star 
 of Bethlehem. 
 
 One story was matched by another more atrocious, 
 until, finally, poor Agatha had not a shred of repu- 
 tation left her. It was even hinted that she and 
 Hamilton had disappeared after the Fairport inci- 
 dent, and had not been seen for three weeks. Then 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh deemed it best to interpose. 
 Looking down from her perch on the chair, with a 
 sweetly smiling face, she said gently : 
 
 " Oh, but we should not be uncharitable toward 
 the poor girl. We should pity her. There is some 
 excuse for her; her mother was an unworthy 
 creature." 
 
 Mingled with murmurs of admiration for Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh's magnanimity were expressed de- 
 sires to hear more of the tale. 
 
 " Dear me, who was she ? Tell us about it." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I cannot repeat such stories. But as 
 for her child well," with a raising of her eyebrows 
 and a shrug of her shoulders, " you know society 
 must be particular, or what would become of it ? " 
 
 " What, indeed ? " was the chorus. 
 
 " I have always observed," said a new voice 
 calmly, " that when one woman apologizes for a 
 scandalous story about another, you can be almost 
 certain that she is trying to make her hearers believe 
 it is true." 
 
 The new comer was Mrs. Brown, Mr. Harding's 
 housekeeper, a matronly woman who had befriended 
 
 183
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 more unfortunates than she would care to acknowl- 
 edge. She had slipped in quietly, and had heard 
 much of the talk. 
 
 " As for Mr. Hamilton and Miss Renier," she 
 continued, " what real evidence is there that their 
 relations have been anything but most correct ? " 
 
 " My dear lady," broke in the Reverend Mr. 
 Greenacre, with his most sacerdotal air, " when a 
 man stoops to a woman beneath him in the social 
 scale it is not to raise her up." 
 
 Mrs. Brown would have combated this theory to 
 the end, had not the attention of the whole company 
 just then been diverted by the appearance of a queer 
 little figure at the door. It was the morsel Susy 
 Brent the bit of a child who had long ago warmed 
 Mrs. Copeland's heart by that chat in Mr. Harding's 
 study. She was a quaint apparition, with her little 
 woolen cap and shawl and a muff that had done its 
 best service long ago. 
 
 " Please, ladies an' genlemen," she piped loudly, 
 " is Mrs. Brown up here ? 'Cause if she is I've got 
 a message for her from Mr. Hardin'. Yes, I sees 
 her now," she added, as she went to that lady with- 
 out hesitation and whispered something in her ear. 
 
 "All right, Susy, I'll see to it," said the lady 
 pleasantly. " Now wouldn't vou like to look at our 
 tree?" 
 
 The others added their invitation. Here was a 
 chance to patronize a poor fellow-being, and they 
 gushed over her rapturously. 
 
 If the morsel was at all excited by the unusual 
 scene and the more than unusual attention, she gave 
 
 184
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 no sign of it. She viewed the tree with a coldly 
 critical air. 
 
 " Why, Susy, don't you think it just be-e-auti- 
 f ul ? " exclaimed the intense Miss Postlethwaite. 
 
 " Yes, them green things is wery pretty," replied 
 the girl, " but they been't good ter eat, be they? " 
 
 " Oh, there'll be plenty of candy by and by," said 
 someone. 
 
 " Candy ; umph ! I guess you don't know poor 
 folkses wery well. They'd rather have a bit o' cold 
 meat than gumdrops." 
 
 " Don't you go to church ? " 
 
 " Me, mum ? No. Look at me shoes an this " 
 holding out her pathetically patched dress. 
 
 " I should think your mother would make you go," 
 said Mrs. Greenacre severely. " All nice little girls 
 go to church." 
 
 " Guess ma don't set much store by churches. Pa 
 was killed paintin' a steeple." 
 
 " Ah, my dear child ; in the service of the Lord," 
 exclaimed Rev. Mr. Greenacre with great fervor. 
 
 " That's what Deacon Snow said, but ma, she said 
 she guessed the Lord was pretty poor pay. They'd 
 only give her half-wages for the last day pa painted." 
 
 The rector raised his hands in horror. 
 
 " Oh, such benighted ignorance, such awful sac- 
 rilege, such " 
 
 But his wife dragged him away to attend to some 
 detail of decoration, and his sentence was never com- 
 pleted. 
 
 Susy, having duly scandalized the most of the 
 company, retired into t^e oackground to watch pro-
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ceedings. She was made happy by a bag of candy 
 and a doll which Mrs. Brown purloined for her sake, 
 and she began to think that after all it might be well 
 to cultivate churches. In the midst of the chatter and 
 the bustle, Mr. Emerson entered from the hall with 
 direful tidings. 
 
 " S-she's c-coming ! " he stammered, in great per- 
 turbation. 
 
 " Who's coming? " was the general query. 
 
 " T-that R-renier girl." 
 
 " How can you tell, my dear ? " asked his wife. 
 "You can hardly see ten feet away." 
 
 " W-well, I know it's she," he said, becoming more 
 composed, " I can tell her by that red cloak with the 
 black braid and frogs." This cloak was one of 
 Agatha's favorite garments ; it was, in fact, the only 
 article of her mother's attire she had kept. 
 
 In a moment more the girl was in the room, fresh 
 and hearty and smiling radiantly at the little party. 
 She bore in her arms a big box containing Mrs. 
 Copeland's offering for the Christmas tree. She 
 seemed the incarnation of good-will and holiday 
 cheer. 
 
 "Where shall I put it, Mr. Greenacre?" she 
 asked of the rector, evidently regarding him as the 
 responsible head of the affair. 
 
 " Put it on the floor, Miss er-Renier, if you 
 please," he answered stiffly. 
 
 Agatha deposited her burden carefully and turned 
 to speak to the others. They seemed extraordinarily 
 busy over their tasks. Only Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh 
 was looking at her. 
 
 186
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 " How do you do, Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh," she 
 said cordially, " what a pretty effect you've made 
 here." 
 
 The woman stared at the girl with absolute un- 
 recognition in her eyes. She uttered not a word, 
 but after a moment of contemptuous scrutiny 
 wheeled about and went back to her tree. 
 
 Agatha was transfixed with surprise. Then she 
 understood ; it was a joke, of course, some new form 
 of holiday amusement. 
 
 " Oh, I see," she laughed, " you are all pretending 
 not to know me so that I shall have to introduce my- 
 self all around. Well, I'm Agatha Renier, at your 
 service, Miss Postlethwaite, Mrs. Emerson, Mrs. " 
 
 The words were frozen on her lips by what she 
 saw. Not one of the women turned, nor paid the 
 slightest heed to her words. They had heard, oh, 
 yes, she knew they had heard; they had cut her 
 under the leadership of that wonderful being, Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh, who had humiliated and insulted 
 her thus publicly. She blanched with a terrible 
 anger that made all else in life seem trivial. 
 
 "What is the ?" 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? " she had meant to 
 say, but at that moment her intense pride asserted 
 itself, and she walked proudly to the door, looking 
 neither to the right nor to the left. As she passed 
 into the hall her red cloak slipped from her shoulders 
 and to the floor, but she did not heed it. 
 
 " What did they mean the cats ? " she said, her 
 intent shifting in a moment. " I'll go back and face 
 them." 
 
 187
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Just as she reached the inner door she heard Mrs. 
 Worth-Courtleigh's melodious voice: 
 
 " Well, poor girl, what's bred in the bone, you 
 know; she is not responsible for her mother." 
 
 " She too ! " cried Agatha fiercely, and sprang for- 
 ward like a wild thing almost upon the tiny figure 
 of a little girl, knocking her down. 
 
 " Why, you poor little mite, did I hurt you? " she 
 asked anxiously. 
 
 " No, mum," replied Susy for it was the morsel 
 whom Agatha had so unceremoniously felled " I'm 
 used to being knocked around; our house is small 
 for so many." 
 
 "Have you a mother?" cried Agatha passion- 
 ately. 
 
 " Yes, mum," replied the wondering child. 
 
 " Thank God for her, then, dear ; thank God for 
 her!" 
 
 " Take these," said the little voice after a mo- 
 ment's silence. The girl held up the doll and the 
 candy. 
 
 'These, child; why?" 
 
 " I seed you weren't to get anythin' in there, and 
 I came out to give you them things. No, I don't 
 need 'em, really I don't." 
 
 Tears filled Agatha's eyes and she gathered the 
 little girl into her arms and kissed her tenderly. 
 Then she released her with something that sounded 
 like " Bless your big little heart, my dear/' and ran 
 swiftly across the street and into the house. 
 
 1 88
 
 THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS 
 
 " Bless my soul, what an excitable young woman," 
 observed the "Rev. Mr. Greenacre after Agatha's un- 
 ceremonious departure. " She's very pretty, though, 
 and it's a pity she's she's ! Come Emerson, help 
 me with our motto ; the ' Good will ' is a little 
 twisted, don't you think? Run and get the step- 
 ladder, that's a good fellow." 
 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh was one of the first to 
 leave the church. When she reached home she un- 
 did a paper parcel, took from it a crimson cloak 
 trimmed with black braid and threw it violently 
 across the back of a chair. 
 
 Then she sat down and wrote a note, and sent it to 
 the Attawam Club.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE WHIP OF SCORN 
 
 THE five o'clock loungers at the Attawam Club 
 that afternoon had something out of the 
 ordinary to occupy their minds and their 
 conversation. It had been snowing fitfully during 
 the day, and the flakes were still lazily pirouetting in 
 the air. The clubmen were interested. 
 
 It was not for .any special love of the beauty of the 
 feathery element nor sentiment as to its Yuletide 
 appearance that moved the hearts of the company. 
 The potent fact was that for years Captain Howard 
 had offered a prize of a magnum of champagne to 
 the first man who should reach his roadhouse each 
 season on runners. It was a seductive prize ; those 
 who would have scorned a money reward were de- 
 lighted if they could bring back the great bottle of 
 wine to the club and make merry over its outpour- 
 ing. 
 
 So the " Leather Room " thus called because all 
 its fittings, chairs, couches, tables, wall-hangings and 
 carpet were of that material decoratively treated 
 was buzzing with talk of the snow, and bets were 
 plentiful as to which member, if any, would bring 
 the magnum back in triumph to the Attawam. 
 
 Guy, who had spent most of the day in these con- 
 
 IQO
 
 THE WHIP OF SCORN 
 
 genial surroundings, was one of those most inter- 
 ested in sleighing wagers. He had kept a watchful 
 eye on the clouds and the snow, and his big roan 
 mare was even now standing in a nearby livery 
 stable hitched into a handsome cutter and guarded 
 by James Anderson, the Copeland coachman. In an 
 hour, Hamilton believed, there would be sufficient 
 snow for the trip to " Howard's " but he kept his 
 belief to himself. 
 
 At last the moment seemed propitious, and he 
 sauntered nonchalantly into the hall in order to make 
 a quick dash for the stable. He was just about to 
 pass the outer door, when a messenger handed him a 
 note. He tore it open, read it, swore roundly and 
 left the club. 
 
 " Hang it all," he soliloquized as he drove toward 
 the Worth-Courtleigh's, " Lucy has the most ex- 
 asperating habit of turning up when she isn't wanted. 
 What's in the wind, I wonder ? ' Come to me at 
 once, and take me somewhere ! ' Pretty message, 
 isn't it, just as I was about to spring a joke on the 
 boys? Confound it, I'll " 
 
 His further reflections were interrupted by the 
 sight of the cheerily lighted Worth-Courtleigh 
 house ; he hitched and blanketed his horse and rang 
 the bell. Lucy herself came to the door. 
 
 A smile of satisfaction, of triumph even, lighted 
 her face. It pleased her vanity to think that this big 
 and handsome man should be at her beck and call. 
 
 But she was keen enough to note that her cavalier 
 was in a bad state of mind. He was there unwill- 
 ingly; perhaps, she reasoned with a throb of jeal- 
 
 IQI
 
 ousy, perhaps because he had intended to meet some- 
 one else. 
 
 " Guy," she whispered tenderly, " you are not 
 pleased. Have I have I offended you? " 
 
 Then he told her of the wager about the first 
 sleighing, and how her note had ruined his chances 
 of winning the magnum. Her spirits rose at once; 
 no woman could possibly figure in that. She cried 
 gaily : - 
 
 " And so you think I've spoiled your plan ? Don't 
 look so disconsolate. You shall have your ride to 
 ' Howard's,' and I'll go with you ; that's all the dif- 
 ference." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 He looked at her wonderingly. Why was it he 
 must always suspect some ulterior design in most of 
 her propositions? 
 
 " Yes, why not ? " she answered brightly. 
 " Worth-Courtleigh's away, you know." 
 
 " All the fellows will be there ; always are on the 
 night of the first snow." 
 
 "What of that?" 
 
 " What of it ? Great Scott, Lucy, don't you real- 
 ize that they'll see you recognize you, very 
 likely?" 
 
 " I'll risk it. It will add spice to life and spice is 
 what I need just now." 
 
 " But" 
 
 " Besides, I'll bundle up so my own husband 
 wouldn't know me. Now go, and I'll meet you at 
 the corner of Bristol Street in ten minutes." 
 
 192
 
 THE WHIP OF SCORN 
 
 For three-quarters of an hour Guy paced his 
 splendid horse back and forth near the appointed 
 place, in no happy condition. The snow was falling 
 rapidly, and he longed to be off for " Howard's." 
 \Yhen Lucy at last appeared, Guy had to admit that 
 even he would not have recognized her. Her face 
 \vas enveloped in a large white " cloud " until only 
 the tip of her pretty nose was visible. She wore a 
 long red cloak trimmed with black braid, a garment 
 which seemed familiar to Guy, although not exactly 
 connected with her. 
 
 She got in and pressed close to Guy as he tucked 
 the wolf-skin robe around her. Then the rangy 
 mare was given her head, and they dashed up Bristol 
 Street to that exhilarating jingling that quickens the 
 pulses of youth and makes age envious. Past the 
 northern mills, along by the river they sped, and far 
 out into the open country, she chatting gaily and he 
 answering in monosyllables. Now and then they 
 overtook some sleighers ; a " click " to the fast mare, 
 and they were far ahead in a moment. 
 
 It was a strange ride in the dark, the snow beating 
 on their faces, the wind rushing past their ears, their 
 hearts filled with stormy emotions of widely different 
 nature. It pleased neither of them, Mrs Worth- 
 Courtleigh perhaps the less. After a few miles of 
 it she said suddenly : 
 
 " Wouldn't it be better to turn back now, and 
 drive straight to ' Howard's ' ? " 
 
 " Oh, Lucy," he returned disgustedly, " haven't 
 you got rid of that idea yet? " 
 
 193
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " I'm awfully hungry, and it's altogether the best 
 place in town," she persisted gaily. 
 
 He pulled the mare almost upon her haunches, and 
 swung her sharply around toward the city. 
 
 " Well, if you must," he said sullenly. 
 
 He cut the roan sharply with the whip, and she 
 sprang forward under the indignity and tore along 
 through the loose snow. 
 
 " Howard's " was a blaze of light when they ar- 
 rived, and the yard about the house was lively with 
 sleighing parties constantly coming from the city. 
 Guy recognized several of his club friends, who lifted 
 their hats punctiliously, but scrutinized the well dis- 
 guised woman with sardonic smiles. 
 
 "I'm safe, safe!" thought Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh with exultation. " They don't recognize me ; 
 they can't. And this cloak ah, I can play the game 
 to the end." 
 
 They were shown to a handsome private parlor 
 where a fire was blazing and a dainty table set for 
 two. Guy ordered supper, and the pair sat down 
 cosily before the fire and spread their hands to the 
 blaze. Under the influence of a preliminary pota- 
 tion Guy became quite cheerful, and forgot the un- 
 pleasant things of life. After all, why should he 
 object to Lucy's coming here, if she herself did not ? 
 It was a jolly place, she was a pretty woman and a 
 good supper was on the way. Existence was not so 
 bad a thing as he had thought. 
 
 A party of his friends had a room near by, and he 
 could hear them talking of him. " We all thought 
 Hamilton had cleaned up the magnum," said a voice, 
 
 194
 
 THE WHIP OF SCORN 
 
 " when he disappeared so early. But he wasn't here 
 when we arrived. Funny, what could have kept 
 him." 
 
 " A woman most likely," answered someone else, 
 and there was general laughter. 
 
 " You see they know you," said Mrs. Worth- 
 Courtleigh, with suggestive raillery, " and it was 
 a woman, wasn't it, dear? But they can't guess 
 who?" 
 
 After a most satisfactory supper Guy smoked a 
 cigar or two, and the pair thought of home-going. 
 But the door of the room occupied by the clubmen 
 was wide open, unfortunately, and the risk of being 
 detected in the glaring light was too great, even for 
 Lucy's self-will. For an hour or more they were 
 prisoners, until at last the striking of the clock 
 aroused the woman to a sense of other danger. 
 
 " Eleven ! I must get home, Guy," she exclaimed 
 nervously. " We can manage it somehow. Hold 
 your hat before my face, or your arm, or anything 
 as we go by. Now ! " 
 
 They glided past the open door unheeded, they 
 hoped, for the party of roisterers within appeared 
 too much occupied with Captain Howard's famous 
 Christmas punch to note what was going on in the 
 hall. But they, too, were on the point of breaking 
 up, and they followed close upon the heels of Ham- 
 ilton and Lucy. They had just time to bundle them- 
 selves into the cutter and be off as the others came 
 down the stairs singing " Good-night, Ladies," at 
 the top of their lungs. 
 
 '"' Good-night, gentlemen," cried Lucy mockingly, 
 
 195
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " you'll not see us again." She had full confidence 
 in the roan mare, and it was not misplaced. Guy 
 took the back streets and left Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh near her home. Then he drove back to the 
 club. 
 
 A few minutes later Lucy left her house and 
 walked hurriedly to Bristol street. She crossed over 
 to the vestry of Saint Agnes Church, and after look- 
 ing carefully about once or twice, tried one of the 
 windows. It yielded to her touch. 
 
 " Ah, I thought so," she said. Then she took a 
 parcel from under her coat, slipped off its paper cov- 
 ering, dropped the contents upon the floor inside and 
 shut the window. 
 
 " And now, Miss Agatha, even if you had a chance 
 to explain, you might not find it easy," she said 
 aloud, and with that comforting remark went home 
 and to bed. 
 
 When Hamilton reached the Attawam he found 
 that several sleighs laden with his cronies had just 
 arrived from " Howard's." The jingling of bells, 
 the neighing of horses, the shouts of stable boys, the 
 peals of laughter, the snatches of song, the out- 
 flaring of light from every window in the club- 
 house all gave promise of a notable " night of it." 
 It suited his mood to perfection, and. giving his 
 horse to a club servant, he hurried into the house 
 and ordered a lackey to call James Anderson, who 
 was below stairs, to take the animal home. 
 
 A convivial and not altogether sober shout greeted 
 Guy as he made his appearance in the " Leather 
 room." It was a hubbub of reproaches, of banter, 
 
 196
 
 THE WHIP OF SCORN 
 
 of supposed witticisms, of invitations to drink 
 (which the delinquent seemed to hear most clearly) 
 and of mock-pathetic requests for light on his pecu- 
 liar and unclubable conduct. He noted, with a curi- 
 ous feeling of resentment, that Rev. Mr. Harding 
 was sitting in the adjoining " Quiet Room " reading 
 as calmly as if all this din were a part of his own 
 library. What right had a parson to come around 
 spoiling sport by his very presence ? Then and there 
 all his latent dislike of the minister crystallized into 
 hot and unreasoning hatred. 
 
 A servant came in and respectfully touched his 
 elbow. " Beg pardon, sir, but Anderson is in the 
 office, and wants his orders." 
 
 He went into the main hall, where he found the 
 coachman, whip in hand, ready for instructions. 
 The chaffing crowd, not to be cheated of its prey, 
 followed, and kept up its fire of drink-inspired witti- 
 cism. 
 
 " Come, Hamilton, tell us who the darling was.," 
 " Yes, by Jove, tell us; 'fess up, old man." 
 " No denials ; we saw you at Captain Jack's." 
 " Bet anybody a ' V ' I know who she was," 
 blurted a tipsy young fool, the decadent son of a 
 respected bank president. " I know that cloak she 
 wore, he, he, he! I've seen it before, you can bet 
 your life." 
 
 " Two to one you don't know," shouted another 
 reveller. 
 
 " Here, now, you fellows," growled Guy, " quit 
 
 that; it's none of your business who she was. 
 
 Understand?" 
 
 197
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Oh, come, Ham'lt'n," hiccoughed someone pa- 
 thetically, " don' shpoil th' bet. Betsh ish betsh 
 'tween gen'lemen." 
 
 " Name her," demanded two or three in unison. 
 
 " Well, I'll take my oath it was that pretty Agatha 
 what's her name," cried the youth who had of- 
 ferred the " V." 
 
 "Nonsense. I've won, haven't I, Hamilton?" 
 said the second bettor. 
 
 Guy flushed angrily. 
 
 " Find out for yourselves," he said, " I'll have 
 nothing to do with such caddishness." 
 
 At that moment Harding entered the main hall 
 from the " Leather Room." The sight of him 
 roused all the worst elements in Guy's nature and 
 completely obliterated any compunction he might 
 have had on Agatha's account. He would humiliate 
 this meddling parson once and for all, and he saw 
 a clear and effective way to do it. 
 
 " It will do no harm to deny such a palpable error 
 as that, Mr. Hamilton," said the minister, in pre- 
 cise and measured tones. 
 
 Guy looked him over contemptuously. 
 
 " Why do you interfere ? " he asked. 
 
 " Merely as a friend in behalf of a woman ; a 
 woman who appears to need defenders," returned 
 Harding, with a glance of scorn about the crowd. 
 
 " As a friend, eh ? " sneered the other. " Well, 
 you may as well understand that I shall not be 
 drawn into this thing, even if you are." 
 
 " But, Hamilton, don't you see that if you don't 
 deny it" 
 
 198
 
 THE WHIP OF SCORN 
 
 " I'll neither deny nor affirm it," shouted Guy 
 angrily. " Suppose it were she; what then? " 
 
 "But it was not," said the minister with a deep 
 solemnity that would have carried instant conviction 
 to men in their senses. There was danger in his 
 tone; the justice-loving heart of the man was com- 
 ing to the surface, and the clergyman was fading 
 away, but the fatuous Guy saw nothing. 
 
 " Oh, wasn't it ? " he cried sarcastically. " Come 
 Allen," to the second bettor " settle; it's on you. 
 Now open a bottle with that ten." 
 
 " You cowardly cur ! " cried Harding, starting 
 toward the slanderer with uplifted fist. 
 
 Then it was that James Anderson stepped up and 
 laid a restraining hand on the minister's arm. 
 " Don't, sir, don't ; it's beneath you ; let me," he 
 said respectfully. 
 
 He raised his whip deliberately, and struck Ham- 
 ilton a terrible blow across his fair, handsome face. 
 A livid welt sprang to the surface. 
 
 " D n you," yelled Guy, smarting with rage and 
 pain, while the crowd, partially sobered by this 
 dramatic termination of the scene, rushed in to 
 separate the men, " you'll never use that whip again 
 in the Copeland service." 
 
 " Right," exclaimed James Anderson, as with a 
 swift and sudden movement he broke the stock across 
 his knee, " I wouldn't so insult a horse." 
 
 199
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE PATH OF THE STORM 
 
 AGATHA went about her little duties next 
 morning with a heaviness of heart that not 
 even the white loveliness of the day could 
 lighten. It had cleared during the night, and the 
 sun was shining from a sky of richest blue upon a 
 world as yet spotlessly pure. 
 
 A flock of snow-birds swept from tree to tree 
 scattering bright powder from limb and twig, and a 
 few of the venturesome fluttered about Agatha's 
 window-sill, perhaps mindful of past favors. But 
 their pretty pleading was unheeded. 
 
 The girl's grief was matched by her wonderment. 
 She was absolutely bewildered by the blow struck at 
 her pride and self-respect by Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh 
 and the others. Women of their rank, she reasoned, 
 would not stoop to such a thing without cause, and 
 she was afraid she had unwittingly done something 
 that merited their displeasure. If so, she could and 
 would make amends; perhaps Guy would find out 
 for her what it was. She might unbend to him to 
 that extent. 
 
 But that insult to the memory of her mother! 
 Ah! that was vile, mean, unpardonable. Nothing 
 
 200
 
 THE PATH OF THE STORM 
 
 that she herself had done could justify it. Anger 
 once more ruled her softer mood, and she felt that 
 she could see the pink and white beauty suffer any 
 torture unmoved. But, oh, the hopelessness of it, 
 her own helplessness. She was not an inch nearer 
 the goal of her ambition to force the world's recog- 
 nition of her mother's goodness than she was when 
 Big Bess had shouted her coarse revilings down by 
 the mill. Here in this upper stratum of society she 
 was as impotent as before, yes, even more, for in the 
 old days she had silenced a slander by physical fury. 
 But what had she done yesterday ? Nothing, except 
 walk away like a tragedy queen, as if that would 
 have any effect on women who despised her. She 
 could have cried with mortification and despair. 
 
 She threw high her window and leaned out to the 
 glorious air tingling with ozone from the newly 
 fallen snow. How beautiful Nature was, how well- 
 disposed to all her children, how free from the petty 
 meannesses of the men and women she nurtured. 
 Over across the street she saw the pretty little vestry 
 nestling beneath snow-laden branches that seemed 
 bending to give it benediction. Her resentment 
 flamed up anew. 
 
 " And they dared," she cried aloud, " in that place 
 they pretend to call consecrated, they dared to hu- 
 miliate me and lie about my mother. And that 
 ' servant of the Lord/ as he thinks himself that he 
 should stand there and not say a word for me. Ah, 
 if Mr. Harding had been there " 
 
 A dozen fat little birds, believing that the time 
 for their breakfast had arrived, flew about Agatha's 
 
 20 1
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 head chirping lustily. She threw a few bits of bread 
 upon the snow. 
 
 " You're greedy and quarrelsome, you birds," she 
 said, " but I don't believe you gossip and lie about 
 each other. If I thought you did, I'd never give you 
 a bit of food again, never." 
 
 At that moment she perceived a neat little figurr 
 coming up the path. It was that of Nelly Nevins 
 the prankish schoolgirl who had made existence such 
 a burden for Librarian Emerson on the day of the 
 Camera Club's outing. Nelly was an honest and 
 warm-hearted young thing who had become very 
 fond of Agatha in their somewhat limited compan- 
 ionship, and whom Agatha liked in turn for her gen- 
 erous impulses and lack of snobbishness. She was 
 glad to see her this morning, for she felt that the 
 bright girl would be in some degree an antidote for 
 her own melancholy. 
 
 " Come right up, Nelly," she cried cordially, " you 
 know the way." 
 
 She found her little friend in a very unusual frame 
 of mind. For a wonder, Nelly was ill at ease, and 
 instead of the roguish questions she generally asked 
 Agatha as to how she was getting on in " society," 
 she seemed at loss for words, incredible as that 
 would have been to Mr. Emerson. 
 
 " What would you do, Agatha ? " she queried at 
 last, " if you were ordered not to do something you 
 wanted to do, and knew was all right to do, and 
 thought you ought to do, and oh, dear, oh, dear, 
 I know I'm talking nonsense, but I'm the wretched- 
 est girl oh, you can't imagine ! " 
 
 202
 
 THE PATH OF THE STORM 
 
 " Why, Nelly, dear," said Agatha, stroking the 
 sunny hair affectionately, " what's the trouble ? I 
 didn't know you had a grief in the world." 
 
 " I didn't," sobbed the girl, " until yesterday after- 
 noon." 
 
 Yesterday afternoon! At that time, too, had 
 come Agatha's most intense bitterness. An evil co- 
 incidence, she thought. But if she herself had no 
 comforter, she would be one to Nelly. 
 
 " Well, dear," she asked gently, " and what hap- 
 pened yesterday afternoon? " 
 
 Then. Nelly poured forth her story excitedly. She 
 had been told by her aunt that she must not see or 
 speak to Agatha any more. There had been dread- 
 ful stories ; Agatha had been shown to be a bad girl, 
 and not fit for her association. Her aunt had been 
 very severe and had ordered her to break off all rela- 
 tions with her friend. It was horrible; what was 
 she to do ? 
 
 Agatha listened with a face as rigid as marble and 
 a heart turned as cold. So this inky cloud of 
 scandal, as mysterious as it was appalling, had al- 
 ready enveloped her best liked girl companion. 
 
 " But," went on Nelly, " I told Aunt that I didn't 
 believe a thing of all the stuff, that I knew you 
 were a good girl, and that I loved you and always 
 would. And I know why they are making such a 
 fuss; the spiteful old cats are jealous because Guy 
 Hamilton speaks to you." 
 
 Ah, the light; cold, cruel, pitiless, but still the 
 light, poured from the innocent heart of a schoolgirl. 
 In that instant the mists rolled away from before 
 
 203
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Agatha's mind and she saw many things clearly. 
 Not all, for she was as yet ignorant of the origin o 
 the infamous scandal, but she could now understand 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's enmity and the scene in 
 the vestry. 
 
 " So it is Mr. Hamilton's name they couple with 
 mine," she said, in a strange tone that made Nelly's 
 tears break forth again. 
 
 The girl nodded her golden head several times 
 affirmatively. 
 
 "What do they say?" 
 
 " I wouldn't listen to them. I said they were 
 horrid to talk about you." 
 
 " You are a dear, good girl, Nelly ; I wish I had 
 more friends like you." 
 
 " But what can I do ? " asked Nelly plaintively. 
 " If I cut you, I'll lose your respect and love, and if 
 I don't they'll send me away to boarding-school 
 and forbid my writing to you. So I promised I'd 
 not come here to see you any more. That's better 
 than being sent away off where I wouldn't be able to 
 see you even accidentally/' 
 
 " You have done perfectly right, Nelly, and now 
 that I know the reason, I shall not be a bit offended 
 at whatever you do. We'll leave it to time, dear, 
 and it will come out all right in the end." 
 
 After her staunch little friend had gone. Agatha 
 quickly decided on her course of action. She went 
 down to the library and rang for the butler. 
 
 " Will you ask Mr. Hamilton to come here a mo- 
 ment, John ? " she said to the prim servant. 
 
 204
 
 THE PATH OF THE STORM 
 
 " He's not down yet, Miss." 
 
 " Please go to his room, then, and say that I wish 
 to see him at his earliest convenience." 
 
 " Yes, Miss." 
 
 When the wondering- Guy appeared, looking 
 rather worn from his previous night's experience, 
 the girl opened her attack without ceremony. 
 
 " There is a scandal connecting my name and 
 yours, Mr. Hamilton; do you know what the cause 
 of it is?" 
 
 In a dazed sort of fashion he pleaded ignorance. 
 It was impossible, he said to himself, that she could 
 have heard of last night's scene at the club. What 
 else could possibly be in the wind? 
 
 She persisted. " You do not know, then, that we 
 are being talked about unpleasantly? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " What have I done to deserve this ? " 
 
 " Nothing," he admitted gloomily. 
 
 " Then what have you done that subjects me to 
 it?" 
 
 " I I have done nothing, nothing, Agatha, I as- 
 sure you." 
 
 Her lip curled with scorn and he saw a look in 
 her eyes that he instinctively felt meant grave danger 
 to himself. 
 
 " I feel that you are not speaking the truth, Mr. 
 Hamilton. I shall confide in your aunt this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 He felt his house of cards tumbling about his ears 
 in an instant. Once let that keen old woman interest 
 
 205
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 herself in this affair, and trouble would follow as 
 surely as night the day. It was a catastrophe he 
 must avert. 
 
 " You you will tell her ? " he asked pathetically. 
 
 " Everything that has occurred ; all that I have 
 heard." 
 
 " No, no, Agatha, there's a good girl ; I wouldn't 
 do it if I were you ; it will cause her a great deal of 
 pain." 
 
 " Perhaps ; but I am to be considered now. I owe 
 it to myself, my grandfather and my mother that I 
 am cleared from this awful suspicion." 
 
 Rage for her obstinacy and the old slumbering 
 passion for the physical Agatha blazed up together 
 within him till he lost all sense of proportion, all 
 power of self-control. He seized her roughly by 
 the wrist. 
 
 " Listen to me, Agatha," he exclaimed vehe- 
 mently, " it's a nasty mess, but really I'm not re- 
 sponsible. We can't live it down in this beastly 
 country town. We might as well be hung for sheep 
 as lambs. Let's cut stick, and go away together." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " Go away with me to a big city New York. No 
 one will know you there. We can change our names. 
 Come Agatha ; you know I love you ; give me your 
 answer." 
 
 All the fury of the girl's fervid temperament, all 
 the pent-up emotion of hours of brooding burst forth 
 in a torrent the like of which she had never known 
 before. This was the crowning degradation to be 
 
 206
 
 THE PATH OF THE STORM 
 
 made little of by such a man, to be talked to like a 
 girl of the streets. 
 
 " Love me ! " she cried, " you ! And you again in- 
 sult me ! " 
 
 He would have uttered some further protestation, 
 some new plea for his baseness but the words were 
 frozen on his lips by the appearance of his aunt, 
 grim and terrifying, on the threshold. For him the 
 world seemed turned topsy-turvy; for Agatha an 
 angel of light had come to be her companion. 
 
 " I will give you your answer," said the old 
 woman icily. " Leave this house, and never enter 
 it again. Your belongings will be sent to you." 
 
 " No, no," exclaimed Agatha in dire distress, " let 
 me go, Mrs. Copeland." 
 
 For reply her benefactor folded her to her arms 
 and stroked her temples compassionately. In this 
 act of affection Guy saw the end of his hopes, the 
 cessation of his life of ease. In the terror that 
 struck across his scul he humbled himself before 
 them both. 
 
 " Hear me, Aunt Sarah," he pleaded, " before you 
 judge me in such a way. I have meant well by 
 Agatha ; I have indeed. I have been crazed by drink 
 and and trouble. I am willing to sink all personal 
 pride and marry her; yes, I will give her my name, 
 and she shall lord it over them all if she wishes. 
 What more could a man do ? " 
 
 " You have heard, my dear ; shall I speak fof 
 you ? " asked Mrs. Copeland. 
 
 The head on her shoulder nodded an assent. 
 207
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Then I tell you, Guy, nephew of mine though 
 you are, that I would rather see Agatha dead at my 
 feet than your wife. Now go; my house can be 
 your home no longer." 
 
 Hamilton went out like one in a trance. He 
 realized in a dull way that the pleasant thread of 
 his life had been snapped asunder, that henceforth 
 he was to be an alien to the noble estate he had once 
 hoped to inherit. He strode down the path and into 
 the street with no object in view, except, perhaps, to 
 find a friend in his hour of need. Friends? They 
 would be few enough once the story of his downfall 
 should be made public. Even Claybourne would 
 very likely turn him a cold shoulder. He directed 
 his steps toward the club in the chance that that 
 worthy might be there; he would tell him all his 
 woes, and take advantage of his valuable advice. 
 
 After Guy's exit, Agatha's overtaxed brain gave 
 way completely under the accumulation of trouble 
 that had borne down upon her. She was seized by 
 an attack of hysterical mirth, followed by a fainting 
 fit of such long duration that Mrs. Copeland sent 
 for Dr. Hackett in a great hurry. 
 
 " The girl's been overworked," said the bluff old 
 physician, " and has been subjected to a great nerv- 
 ous strain of some sort. Let her get a good night's 
 rest, and she'll be all right in the morning." 
 
 Reassured by this statement, Mrs. Copeland went 
 away to an important engagement, leaving Agatha 
 lying down in care of one of the housemaids, After 
 a little she dismissed the servant and lay, with half- 
 closed eyes, trying in some fashion to peer into her 
 
 208
 
 'Now go! my house can be your home no longer.'
 
 THE PATH OF THE STORM 
 
 own future. As in a dream she heard the doorbell 
 ring, and then became aware of the presence of 
 John, the butler. He mentioned the name of Hank 
 Donelson, and her wandering faculties came home 
 in an instant. 
 
 As she arose to greet the honest little sailor, 
 Agatha was filled with dread by what she saw in his 
 face. The grief that was so plainly pictured there 
 spoke of still another calamity on this terrible day. 
 
 " What is it, Hank ? " she asked nervously, " is 
 anything the matter with with " 
 
 " Now, Miss Aggy, don't be skeered, don't be 
 skeered," he said gently. " It may not be so bad 
 arter all. But yer gran'ther, Cap'n Joel, has been 
 struck down at the wheel. 
 
 " At the wheel ? I don't quite know " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Aggy. He was readin' a little note 
 when all to onct he got dizzy like, an' fell over in 
 his chair. The doctor says as how it's a stroke. 
 Will ye come down as soon as ye can ? " 
 
 Without a word Agatha put on her coat and hat, 
 and beckoned Hank to follow. Then together they 
 left the house, and hastened to the old " Harpoon."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 CAPTAIN JOEL SAILS AWAY 
 
 AS Agatha walked to the home of her child- 
 hood, her feet ever urged onward by love 
 and the fear of disaster, she thought of the 
 determination she had taken that very morning to 
 leave the mansion on Bristol Street forever, and 
 return to her grandfather, for a time at least. 
 
 She had tested " society " or, at any rate, cer- 
 tain eminent members of it and she had found how 
 insincere, if not evil, was its heart. How mean and 
 shallow they all were compared with the staunch 
 old friends of her girlish days. Only Mrs. Cope- 
 land was true, but even with her affection and con- 
 fidence, Agatha had now begun to feel like an in- 
 terloper in the house. 
 
 She had been the cause of the expulsion from his 
 Eden of the old lady's only near kinsman, had 
 aroused the bitterness of hate between those of the 
 same blood. Oh, what a miserable failure she had 
 been; what a wretched defeat of her dear ambitions 
 had come at last. 
 
 Her one consolation was that her valuable ex- 
 perience in business and finance under Mrs. Cope- 
 land would make it very easy for her to earn a 
 
 2IO
 
 CAPTAIN JOEL SAILS AWAY 
 
 livelihood for herself and her grandfather in better 
 surroundings than the " Harpoon " could offer. She 
 had wondered with a smile if she could induce the 
 old tar to desert his beloved ship, to " strike colors," 
 as he would put it. 
 
 But now she realized with an aching heart that 
 the gallant soul might be called from its home by 
 an authority that admitted of no dispute. As she 
 hurried into the entrance of Tuckerman's wharf, 
 her eyes sought first of all the little mast at the bow 
 of the " Harpoon." Thank God, the flag was flying 
 and at the top of the staff. 
 
 She was met on the deck by Dr. Hackett, who 
 was kind, but not sanguine. He could not find it 
 in his heart to deceive this pretty young creature, 
 to drug her aching foreboding into temporary quiet. 
 
 He told her how serious was such an attack in an 
 old man, that there was a chance for his partial re- 
 covery, but only a slender one. He accompanied 
 her to the large cabin, and called old Captain Sykes 
 from the smaller compartment where Captain Joel 
 lay on the bunk that he would not have exchanged 
 for the softest bed of down in Christendom. 
 
 " Poor girl," he said to the veteran, whose round 
 face was an unwonted picture of woe, " let her be 
 with him while she may; it will not be for long 1 . 
 We'll go up on deck and be within call." 
 
 Agatha crept into the little cabin with loving 
 solicitude, but the old man heard her, for he turned 
 his dimmed eyes to her fare, and she saw in them 
 the light of recognition. She summoned all her self- 
 control that she might appear calm. 
 
 211
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Grandfather, it is I, Agatha," she said softly, 
 approaching the bunk. 
 
 The old lips trembled into a smile, and he nodded 
 his head slowly. 
 
 It was the girl's first coming face to face with 
 serious illness, but her woman's heart told her what 
 to do. She smoothed the pillow under the snowy 
 head, and rearranged the bedclothes deftly. She 
 took the rough hand in hers, and was rewarded by 
 a feeble pressure of love and gratitude. 
 
 She sat down by the bedside and mournfully 
 gazed at the splendid head brought low. Was this, 
 then, to be the end of her new resolution? Was 
 she to be thrust back into the life she had just de- 
 cided to forswear ? For the first time fate loomed up 
 before her as an active element of existence; there 
 were things she could not control, be she never so 
 brave nor so honest. 
 
 The captain began to mutter indistinct phrases in 
 delirium. She bent over to catch his words, terri- 
 fied at the weird manifestation which seemed to her 
 as the touch of another world. 
 
 His grip on her hand suddenly became strong and 
 vice-like, so that she could have cried out with pain, 
 had not a greater agony possessed her. After a 
 little his babbling became intelligible. 
 
 " After him, after him, messmates," he cried, try- 
 ing to raise himself upon his poor, palsied elbow, 
 " give me the long dart A-ah Well struck, my 
 hearties. So much more prize money for us all 
 Struck? Who struck? Who struck my Alice to 
 
 212
 
 CAPTAIN JOEL SAILS AWAY 
 
 the heart? Eh? What coward killed my girl with 
 his vile hand ? There that's his face Oh, I know 
 you Francois Renier, you spawn of hell ! " 
 
 In her fright at this awful vehemence, Agatha 
 could think of but one thing to do to calm her grand- 
 father. She drew the little gold locket from her 
 bosom, opened it and held the face of her mother 
 before the old man's eyes. He smiled with a touch 
 of almost celestial sweetness. 
 
 " Yes, Alice, my dear, dear girl, I know you are 
 pure and good. The world may have its say ; we'll 
 live and laugh at it Miss Petticoats, too what 
 funny French for a funny little tot There, there 
 she can walk Come to your old grandpa, and we'll 
 r ide-a-cock-horse. ' ' 
 
 Of a sudden this mood was in turn changed, and 
 the captain with a supreme effort almost raised him- 
 self to a sitting posture. His face was distorted by 
 anger. 
 
 "She do wrong my innocent darling? How 
 dare they ? How dare they say it ? Let me go and 
 face them, and I'll " 
 
 As he fell back exhausted, Agatha gave a little 
 cry of horror. She thought that the angel of death 
 had already come, and she threw herself upon her 
 grandfather's breast. 
 
 But the end was not yet. Dr. Hackett, who had 
 heard the noise, hurried down and reassured the 
 girl. The old man sank into sleep from which he 
 would probably wake, the physician said, fully con- 
 scious and rational. But this did not mean hope, he 
 
 213
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 added. He would return in an hour; meantime 
 Hank and Captain Sykes would be on deck, if they 
 were needed. 
 
 As Agatha looked about the larger cabin she was 
 filled with remorse at the changed appearance of the 
 room. Not that things had altered a great deal, 
 but there was a lack of that divine something that 
 comes from the touch of a woman's hand. She felt 
 that she had been a deserter, had left an old man to 
 his loneliness and for what? 
 
 She was going about sadly putting things to 
 rights when a bit of crumpled paper on a bench at- 
 tracted her attention. She would have thrown it 
 into the fire, had not an envelope on the floor near 
 by stayed her hand. All at once she remembered 
 what Hank had said that the captain was reading 
 a little note when he was stricken. 
 
 Mechanically she turned the envelope over and 
 looked at the superscription. In full, round hand it 
 read : 
 
 " Captain Stewart, 
 
 " The Harpoon, 
 
 " Tuckerman's Wharf." 
 
 She looked again at the paper and saw that folded 
 once as it lay in her hand it just fitted the envelope. 
 Anything connected with the loved old man was of 
 solemn interest to the girl, and she opened the let- 
 ter with a feeling of awe. The words that met her 
 eye were seared into her mind as with a red-hot 
 brand. 
 
 If Captain Stewart loves his granddaughter, he 
 will take her from the Copeland house without de- 
 
 214
 
 CAPTAIN JOE'L SAILS AWAY 
 
 lay. Her conduct with Mrs. Copeland's nephew is 
 the scandal of the town. 
 
 Stung to madness as she was by this new attack, 
 this horrible assault from ambush, it was some time 
 before she fully realized the full import of the words. 
 " The scandal of the town, the scandal of the town " 
 kept singing themselves through her tortured brain. 
 She shed no tears; it seemed as if that fountain of 
 sorrow had been utterly dried up by the events of 
 the past two days. 
 
 At last her reasoning faculties began to assert 
 themselves, and first of all came the natural wonder 
 who had stooped to such unutterable vileness. She 
 examined the note with some care, and found that 
 she did not know the handwriting; it looked forced 
 and unnatural, and was evidently disguised. No 
 clue was to be gained from the envelope. 
 
 She took the letter to the cabin lamp and gazed 
 at the words as if she would extract their secret. 
 Happening to hold the paper between herself and 
 the light, she saw embedded) in the very fabric itself 
 the letters " A.C." 
 
 Then the paper had come from the Attawam 
 Club; she knew that, for she remembered once 
 hearing Guy say that the club had its stationery 
 made to order and with the watermark of its own 
 initials. 
 
 " Who could have done such a thing ? " she asked 
 herself over and over again. If she herself must 
 be made a victim to someone's unreasoning hatred, 
 was it necessary to wound the heart of a simple and 
 inoffensive old man? 
 
 215
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 This thought filled her with a new terror. Now 
 she understood Hank's remark to the utmost. It 
 was this dastardly letter that had struck down her 
 grandfather and was probably to carry him to his 
 grave. As she thought of what it meant to be bereft 
 of her brave and tender-hearted old protector, she 
 could have killed the unknown author of the 
 calumny and cheerfully have suffered whatever 
 penalty the act entailed. 
 
 A movement in the bunk attracted her attention. 
 Crushing the letter in her hand, she turned and, look- 
 ing into the little room, saw her grandfather feebly 
 trying to beckon to her. She was at his side in a 
 moment. 
 
 " Aggy, dear," he whispered. 
 
 " Yes, grandfather, I am here. I shall always be 
 here now. I shall not leave you any more." 
 
 " No, dearie, you will not leave me ; I am the one 
 who is going. My course in this world is pretty 
 near sailed. I'm going to start on the great v'yge." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, grandfather, you mustn't say such 
 things," sobbed the girl. 
 
 " It must be ; the orders have been given. I'd 
 like to stay for for you, but the Captain says 
 not." 
 
 He tried to raise himself up, and looked about 
 anxiously as if in search of something. 
 
 " What is it, grandfather? What do you want? " 
 asked Agatha. 
 
 " I I dropped a scrap of paper in the cabin a 
 while ago. I'd like to find it." 
 
 " Is it this ? " asked Agatha, holding up the letter. 
 216
 
 CAPTAIN JOEL SAILS AWAY 
 
 " Yes," he replied, with a searching look before 
 which she lowered her eyes. " Have you read it? " 
 
 She bowed her head. 
 
 " Poor, dear child. Too bad, too bad! " 
 
 " Grandfather ! You do not " 
 
 "How can you hint at such a thing-?" he said 
 sternly. "la mutineer against my own flesh and 
 blood? Of course I knew it couldn't be, my 
 precious." 
 
 " Thank God for that," she exclaimed with fer- 
 vent tears. 
 
 "Aggy." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What was that poem you read me the last time 
 you were down here? The one about a pilot, you 
 know. Say the lines about the pilot." 
 
 " I hope to meet my Pilot face to face 
 When I have crost the bar." 
 
 repeated Agatha, in a voice broken with grief. 
 
 " Yes, that's it. My pilot is here already ; he's 
 waiting for me to get aboard. He's standing there 
 there behind you. I can't see you now; so 
 dark, and it's yet early tell them to light the mast- 
 head lantern I I Agatha, where are you ? " 
 
 " Here, grandpa." 
 
 " There, that's a good girl ; you always were a 
 good girl. Kiss me. God ble " 
 
 With a deep sigh the noble old mariner set out 
 upon that last mysterious voyage which mortal hand 
 has never yet charted, and from which no ship re- 
 turns to port.
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Agatha looked helplessly for a moment at the 
 still face before her. Then comprehension gradu- 
 ally crept into her face. She gently forced apart 
 the fingers that held the letter, and secreted it in her 
 dress. In another moment the full flood of her sor- 
 row rushed in upon her, and with a long cry of 
 agony she fell prostrate upon the floor. 
 
 Hank Donelson and Captain Sykes clambered 
 down the companionway with blanched faces. They 
 knew too well the meaning of that scream. From 
 the figure on the floor they looked to the white 
 features in the bunk. 
 
 " My God," blubbered Sykes, " Joel's sailed away, 
 an' we weren't here to say good-by." 
 
 Hank said never a word, but with tears rolling 
 down his ruddy cheeks stole up on deck and out to 
 the bow. There he hauled the flag down to the 
 deck, walked slowly around it three times, and then 
 raised it solemnly to half-mast. 
 
 A self-appointed and tireless sentinel, he paced 
 the old " Harpoon " until a glow in the east pro- 
 claimed the birth of a new day. 
 
 218
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 THE two old sailors had at first thought 
 Agatha dead, as well as her grandfather, 
 when they found her prostrate on the floor 
 of the " Harpoon's " cabin. They gazed at her with 
 awe, neither of them venturing to touch the beauti- 
 ful white face or to raise the shapely body from 
 its hard resting-place. 
 
 Dr. Hackett's bustling entrance roused them from 
 their mournful inaction, his *--^rmly human person- 
 ality cheering their distressed souls as by magic ; so 
 deep was their simple faith in his power that they 
 would not have marveled very much had he re- 
 stored their friend to life. 
 
 The physician's practised eye saw at once that 
 their duty was to the living the girl upon the floor. 
 The calm face in the bunk spoke of peace eternal. 
 He applied some simple restorative to Agatha, and 
 soon the warm tide of life flowed back from her 
 heart, but she awoke to but a dim realization of the 
 tragedy about her. Her brain had yielded to the 
 intensity of the strain put upon it, and she smiled 
 vacuously at her distressed old friends. 
 
 " Grandpa is asleep," she whispered, " and we 
 219
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 must make no noise; he is so easily disturbed. I 
 think I will go to bed, too." 
 
 The arrival of Mrs. Copeland at this juncture re- 
 lieved Captain Sykes of a great load of anxiety. 
 She had been thoroughly frightened when she re- 
 turned home to find Agatha gone away in her con- 
 dition, and had bidden Jarries to drive with all des- 
 patch to Tuckerman's wharf. She now stood as a 
 ministering angel in the cabin of the " Harpoon." 
 
 She led the unresisting girl to the carriage, into 
 which Anderson lifted her with tender respect. 
 There Agatha swooned again, and when home was 
 reached she was in a state of complete collapse. 
 
 As the girl's clothing was loosened, the fateful 
 note dropped upon the floor. Mrs. Copeland felt 
 that she was entitled to read it, and she did, to her 
 horror and amazement. She, too, discovered the 
 " A.C." watermark, and her first thought was of 
 Guy. She thrilled with shame and indignation that 
 a man could make so vile a thing of himself for the 
 sake of future expectations. But she could con- 
 ceive of no one else with a shadow of motive, or 
 perhaps a heart black enough, for such a horrible 
 assault. 
 
 Dr. Hackett pronounced Agatha's illness brain 
 fever, and he had difficulty in saving her life. For 
 days her faint spirit hovered on the borderland, then 
 came back to earth. During the anxious weeks Mrs. 
 Copeland played the nurse with a loving patience 
 and solicitude that recalled other days in her life. 
 She came to love the girl more than ever. Few 
 could have withstood Agatha's almost pathetic grati- 
 
 220
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 tude and her desire to get well that she might be 
 of service again. 
 
 As the girl slowly came to her strength, the good 
 doctor interposed with brusque familiarity. She 
 must have complete change of scene, he said, must 
 go from Old Chetford for an indefinite period if her 
 complete recovery were to be expected. The con- 
 tinuance of old associations would be disastrous, he 
 insisted. Mrs. Copeland approved of the idea, and, 
 in pursuance of her plan, went to Worth-Court- 
 leigh's office one day to make arrangements for the 
 care of her property during any length of time she 
 might stay away. She trusted the hard-headed 
 lawyer implicitly, and she gave him full power of 
 attorney to act in her behalf in any business matter. 
 
 " By the way, Mrs. Copeland," he said, when the 
 important details had been settled, "I find in look- 
 ing over Captain Stewart's affairs that the old man 
 assumed some obligations in Agatha's interest, 
 the poor old fellow thought, I suppose that must 
 be paid directly. What do you think it best to do? " 
 
 " I'll pay it at once ; what's the amount ? " asked 
 the lady, drawing her check-book from her satchel. 
 
 But even as her pen was dipped in the lawyer's 
 ink, a second thought came to her. She realized 
 that Agatha's peculiar pride might rebel at any pay- 
 ment of her grandfather's debts without her knowl- 
 edge, and she closed the check-book with a snap. 
 
 " That won't do at all," she exclaimed, " I ought 
 to have known better." 
 
 "I think," said Worth-Courtleigh, "that we'd 
 better sacrifice sentiment and sell the * Harpoon.' 
 
 221
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Agatha cannot use it any more, and it would just 
 about square things up. The other little property 
 of Captain Stewart's I find I am not able to touch 
 for the purpose." 
 
 " Well, I suppose that is best,' 5 returned she with 
 a sigh. " The ways of the world are not the ways 
 of sentiment." 
 
 It was during this period that Mr. Harding justi- 
 fied all Mrs. Copeland's faith and regard. He was 
 a tower of strength to the house, and his cheery 
 presence and entertaining chat did much to help 
 Agatha on to recovery. He, most of all, noticed the 
 immense change in the girl. Physically she was 
 wan, listless and bereft of all her old rounded pretti- 
 ness; spiritually she was a different Agatha. No 
 more of the old exuberance was visible, yet she was 
 still as kind and considerate as ever. But there was 
 a touch of hardness, a suspicion of pessimism, that 
 he did not like to see. 
 
 " The crucible of suffering has refined her nature," 
 he thought. " I hope it has not embittered her past 
 all sweetening." 
 
 Once when some visitor chanced to mention Guy's 
 name, he saw a hatred burn in the brown eyes and 
 set the fine features into something that almost ap- 
 palled him. 
 
 As for the man who had wrought this great 
 change, he had declined to accept his dismissal from 
 the Copeland mansion as final. That his allowance 
 had not yet been stopped he looked upon as a favor- 
 able omen, and he made several attempts to see his 
 aunt, but with no success. James Anderson had been 
 
 222
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 temporarily installed as butler, during an illness of 
 the solemn John, and Guy had little inclination to 
 attempt to force his way into the house. He haunted 
 the club perpetually, but his morose spirit and ex- 
 cesses in liquor caused him to be let alone there. 
 Even Claybourne avoided him. 
 
 When Agatha was well enough, Mrs. Copeland 
 told her gently about the proposed selling of- the 
 " Harpoon." She approved the plan, for, while 
 grateful for Mrs. Copeland's offer of assistance, 
 ^he felt that her grandfather would not have wished 
 it otherwise. 
 
 At first she did not take kindly to the suggestion 
 of going abroad; she felt that she should stay and 
 face the little world of Old Chetford, that it was 
 beneath her moral courage to run away under fire. 
 She said as much to her benefactress. 
 
 " But Paris, child, Paris," the old woman ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Ah, Paris! The city of her childish dreams, 
 the vision of her artistic nature, and above all, the 
 home of her ancestors! Perhaps but she had seen 
 so many air castles vanish into the impenetrable 
 ether that she checked herself ; henceforth she would 
 deal with the hard, common-sense facts of life. Yet 
 Paris won her, nevertheless, and she made prepara- 
 tions for going. 
 
 Harding advised the exodus with all the earnest- 
 ness of his sincere nature. In doing this he was 
 tugging at his own heart-strings, for he knew that 
 with the departure of Agatha and Mrs. Copeland 
 much of his own interest in life would go, too. But 
 
 223
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 he felt it best that Agatha should grow to complete 
 womanhood away from Old Chetford, the scene of 
 such tremendous shocks to her faith in human 
 nature. 
 
 One day, at Agatha's request, Harding drove her 
 over to Mill River, and in a little old church there 
 they found the record of the marriage of Alice, 
 daughter of Joel Stewart, and Frangois, only son of 
 Adolph Renier, Count de Fornay. The minister 
 witnessed the copy of the record before a notary, 
 and Agatha took possession of the paper. When 
 asked by Harding what she meant to do with it, she 
 would only say: 
 
 " The day may come when I shall need it." 
 
 Just before Mrs. Copeland and Agatha were to 
 start for New York, whence they were to sail for 
 France, Guy made one last desperate attempt to see 
 his aunt. To his great joy he was admitted to her 
 presence. The old lady wasted no time in greetings, 
 nor did she allow Guy to enter upon his intended 
 plea of mercy. Going straight to her desk, she 
 brought out the " A.C." note, and thrust it before 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Did you write that? " she asked slowly. 
 
 "To whom?" 
 
 " To Captain Joel Stewart ; they say it killed him." 
 
 Guy read with ever deepening astonishment and 
 horror. He began to see the enormity of the crime 
 against the girl, and he was fairly stunned by the 
 discovery. 
 
 " Upon my soul, Aunt," he declared earnestly, 
 " I had nothing to do with it know nothing of it. 
 
 224
 
 A WOMAN SCORNED 
 
 You surely cannot imagine that I would stoop to 
 such a thing as that ? " 
 
 She made no reply, but looked at him in her cold 
 and searching way. Then she bade him an emotion- 
 less good-by, and he left the house. 
 
 He hurried to Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's with new 
 foreboding heavy in his heart. Could she have done 
 this thing, and, by its terrible consequences, have 
 added to the wrecking of his fortunes? It was 
 almost incredible, but he would have the truth. 
 
 The woman's exultant face when he told her of 
 the note and its results, was enough; she was self- 
 condemned before a man who was himself no 
 pattern of morality, but whose gorge rose at such 
 vileness. 
 
 " Great God, Lucy," he whispered hoarsely, " you 
 don't mean that you you wrote " 
 
 "Yes, I did write it. Hadn't I cause? I hated 
 the brat, and I hate her now." 
 
 He stared at her in silence for a moment. 
 
 " You are worse than I thought you, Lucy," he 
 said slowly. 
 
 " Oh yes, of course ! Because I have made it un- 
 comfortable for the doll of a girl you are in love 
 with. Ah, that's the truth, and you wince don't 
 you? So now she's going away, and you're in 
 mourning, coming up here to do the Pharisee over 
 me. You'll have time enough to get used to being 
 without her, for she'll not come back in a hurry, I 
 fancy." 
 
 " Yes, time enough," he cried in a storm of anger, 
 "and all through you. But I'll not have time to 
 
 225
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 come here again, for, by heaven, I've had enough of 
 you." 
 
 And then, despite the pleading of the woman, 
 in whom anger had been succeeded by the fear of 
 losing her all, he left the house of Robert Worth- 
 Courtleigh never to enter it again. 
 
 226
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 AT HANK DONELSON'S 
 
 THE Rev. Mr. Harding sat in his study on 
 the Saturday evening after the departure of 
 Mrs. Copeland and Agatha, gazing at his 
 open fire of big hickory logs, and musing on many 
 things as his eye was held by the flame-pictures that 
 danced into view and away like some mysterious 
 panorama moved by elfin hands. His most cher- 
 ished pipe was in his hand, but it was often for- 
 gotten in the larger emotions of the hour. 
 
 Chiefly his thoughts were of the lovely girl whose 
 wan smile as she had bidden him an earnest farewell 
 at the station was vivid in his memory, and was long 
 to remain there unchallenged. Of her restoration 
 to health and bloom he had no manner of doubt ; he 
 only feared that no medicine and no new interests 
 could ever quite bring back the beauty of innocent 
 faith in the goodness of the world that had once 
 so distinguished her. She had changed utterly from 
 a trusting girl to a reserved and self-centred woman, 
 as a sensitive plant closes at the touch of a rough 
 hand. 
 
 " The iron has entered her soul, and it rankles. 
 Poor child. She has a long path of shadows to 
 travel before she gets into sun-land again. When 
 
 227
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 she does well, it will be worth some man's while 
 to be there to see the unfolding of her nature." 
 
 He took a last critical look at the sermon that 
 was ready for to-morrow's preaching. " And the 
 greatest of these is charity " stood out in bold hand- 
 writing on the first page of the manuscript. 
 
 "Umph; I'm afraid," thought the clergyman, 
 " that the human shell is quite as much in need of 
 charity as of any other divine attribute. We all 
 agree in theory, but as for practice ah, we differ 
 as violently as the doctors of different schools, ex- 
 cept that we are prone to be homeopaths, and give 
 as minute doses as possible." 
 
 As he read, the vision of that Agatha of other 
 days would come before the written words, spite of 
 every endeavor. He saw her brilliant, vivacious, 
 sweetly imperious, as she was, he remembered, when 
 with shining eyes she had asked his definition of a 
 gentleman. The scene of the little festival in the 
 cabin of the " Harpoon," where she had blushingly 
 announced her intention of becoming a great lady, 
 was still vivid before him. How soon had his 
 prophecy of the disillusioning come to pass. He 
 tossed the sermon on the table, and arose to pace 
 back and forth before the fire, 
 
 " A proud creature," he mused again, " she even 
 preferred to sell her beloved old ' Harpoon ' rather 
 than accept help to pay her grandfather's debts 
 I believe I'll go down to see Hank and find out 
 what's been done in the matter. The cold air will 
 blow the cobwebs out of my brain, anyway." 
 
 The Donelsons lived in a quaint little wooden 
 228
 
 AT HANK DONELSON'S 
 
 house on a quaint little cobble-paved street near the 
 water-front. The windows gave immediately upon 
 the narrow sidewalk, and as Mr. Harding reached 
 the door he saw a queer picture within. Hank's 
 little legs were stoutly spread apart, like those of 
 a diminutive Colossus of Rhodes, in the attempt 
 to stretch a " hooked " carpet that was being laid by 
 his sister Tilly who was doubled up like a jackknife, 
 driving tacks. 
 
 The sitting-room, where this ceremony was in 
 progress, was a tiny, low-studded apartment with 
 white wood wainscoting reaching as high as a man's 
 waist, and walls of fantastically stenciled figures of 
 impossible birds flitting about amongst weird scrolls. 
 Just now it was rather devoid of furniture, but 
 on the broad mantel over the ancient iron Frank- 
 lin stove was a heterogeneous collection of china 
 dogs, wax flowers, worsted cushions and sea-shells, 
 articles dear to the female heart of Tilly's kind. In 
 full dress the room boasted a black walnut " what- 
 not " in a corner devoted to curiosities, a set of slip- 
 pery haircloth furniture, a tall diamond-windowed 
 bookcase and a fine round centre-table of mahogany, 
 the gift to Hank from an old captain to whom he 
 once had been of service. Over the place this usually 
 occupied was now suspended Nicodemus, the parrot. 
 
 Tilly greeted the clergyman with proper respect, 
 but no enthusiasm. 
 
 " Howdy do, Parson." she mumbled, her speech 
 being somewhat impeded by a mouthful of tacks. 
 Hank was more cordial, and evinced a disposition 
 to knock off work in honor of the visit. 
 
 229
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 11 Now, you, Hank Donelson," sputtered Tilly 
 through the tacks, " you jest keep right on stretch- 
 in' this ere carpet, 'cause the best room's got to be 
 ready for Sunday, minister or no minister." 
 
 " Quite right, Tilly," assented Harding smil- 
 ingly, " business before pleasure every time. Can- 
 not I help you in some way ? " 
 
 " Wall, ef you want to be useful, jest git a chair 
 an' put it in the middle of the carpet, then set on it 
 tis hard as you can. When I say ' push/ you put 
 yer heel in an' shove the carpet toward me like all- 
 possessed." 
 
 " I'll try," replied the clergyman with due meek- 
 ness, as he took his seat and waited the word. 
 He was amused at Hank's awkward efforts to drive 
 tacks, and the deep interest that Nicodemus seemed 
 to take in the operation. 
 
 The bird was sympathetic, too, for once when 
 Hank missed his aim and hit his fingers an ex- 
 asperating blow, Nicodemus swore roundly and 
 thereby earned the little tar's deep gratitude. 
 
 " Yer see, Parson," he said, " I couldn't very 
 well cuss with you in the room; but that ere bird, 
 he knows the ways o'sailors, havin' lived among 
 'em in his youth, an' he helps a messmate out 
 amazin'. I hopes as how ye'll excuse him, for in 
 course he don't know as how ye're a minister; ye 
 don't dress like one, ye know." 
 
 Harding laughed heartily. " Well, Hank," he 
 said, " Nicodemus isn't the only creature that fails 
 to recognize a clergyman except by his black coat 
 and white choker ; I found that out a long time ago." 
 
 230
 
 AT HANK DONELSOWS 
 
 Between hammer taps and Mr. Harding' s " push- 
 ing forward " on the carpet there were bits of con- 
 versation, and, as a matter of course, the talk at last 
 centred upon Agatha. Hank's fear lest she should 
 become " Frenchified," and learn to " eat frogs " 
 was almost pathetic; the simple-hearted little fel- 
 low could scarcely comprehend the ethical lesson of 
 the girl's departure. But the shrewder and more 
 worldly-wise Tilly understood, and was not slow 
 in uncorking the vials of her wrath on Old Chetford 
 society. 
 
 " Hain't them big-bugs nothin' better to do," she 
 asked angrily, " than to gad 'round tellin' lies 'bout 
 a good gal like Aggy Renier, whose little finger's 
 wuth the hull kit an' boodle of 'em? They'd have 
 enough to do to hum, most of 'em, ef they'd only 
 stay there. There's a lot o' glass houses up on the 
 ' Hill,' an' thin ones at that." 
 
 She emphasized her points by vigorous flourishes 
 of her hammer, and once or twice unthinkingly hit 
 Hank's neat little boots as a means of laying special 
 stress on her remarks. He was glad of the diver- 
 sion which came presently. 
 
 It was Susy Brent, the morsel, who suddenly 
 stood in the doorway, as if she had arisen through 
 the floor. It was characteristic of Susy that one 
 never heard her approach. She held a cup in her 
 hand, and looked appealingly at the angular mis- 
 tress of the house. 
 
 " Come to borry somethin', eh ? " said Tilly 
 Sharply. " I knew it ; your ma ain't forehanded." 
 
 "I guess she's glad she ain't, 'cause then she'd 
 231
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 have ter do twict as much work. Say, wuz they 
 ever any four-handed folks ? " 
 
 " Oh, Lord," ejaculated Tilly, " the ignorance o' 
 them mill people! What is it you want this time? " 
 
 " Ma said ef yer could spare a cup o' merlasses 
 Billy's been cryin' fer somethin' sweet all day, an' " 
 
 " There, there, child, of course I'll spare it," said 
 Tilly, relenting. And she went to get the desired 
 commodity. 
 
 As she left the room, Nicodemus sent after her 
 retreating figure a volley of execrations that fairly 
 startled even the case-hardened little Susy. 
 
 " My, wot a awful bird ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Don't yer do nothin' to him when he talks so, Mr. 
 Donelson ? " 
 
 " Well, Tilly she whips the critter when he cuts 
 tip wuss nor usual, an' he don't dare to cuss much 
 when she's near. But onc't let her go out'n the 
 room, an' he rips out blue blazes. Howsumever, 
 he don't mean any harm by it, an' otherwise he's 
 durn good company. So I allus begs hard when 
 Tilly threatens to sell him." 
 
 Harding, whose fancy had been taken long ago 
 by the eerie little daughter of the mills, spoke to 
 Susy kindly, and soon had her completely at ease. 
 Something they said must have suggested Agatha 
 to the girl, for she suddenly asked : 
 
 " The pretty young lady on the ' Hill ' her as 
 used to live in the ' Harpoon,' an' work in Number 
 One hain't she gone away ? " 
 
 " So you know that? " 
 
 232
 
 AT HANK DONELSONS 
 
 " Yes ; she's gone on a big ship, they say. I'm 
 sorry, I am; she wuz kind to me." 
 
 " She is kind to everybody." 
 
 " Yes, I guess she is. An' everybody had ought 
 to love her, hadn't they ? Do you love her ? " 
 
 This matter-of-fact question from a child thrilled 
 Harding through and through. It was more than 
 he had hitherto dared ask even himself. Now he 
 felt like crying out his answer : " Yes, I do love 
 her; I love her with all my heart and soul; I shall 
 always love her ! " But as men will, he held his 
 peace, and gave himself up to his riotous thoughts. 
 
 " Well, / loves her," said Susy, after regarding 
 him solemnly for a time. " Why did she go away ? " 
 
 " She has been very ill." 
 
 " Spects she got cold up to the Chris'mas shindy 
 at the church." 
 
 " Oh, you were there, weren't you ? " 
 
 " She went home widout her pretty red cloak. 
 How I'd like one," she sighed. " I wuz a-goin' to 
 take it over to her house, but Mrs. What's-her-name 
 took care of it and wrapped it up nice in paper." 
 
 " A red cloak? " asked Harding vehemently, as a 
 great light began to shine in upon him. " Who 
 took it, Susy? What was her name? " 
 
 " I can't remember. But she's the stylish, red- 
 haired lady wot lives in the lop-sided big house on 
 Thorn Street." 
 
 " Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh ! " exclaimed the min- 
 ister, jumping to his feet with an air of sudden con- 
 viction. 
 
 233
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Susy's surprise at this very unusual exhibition of 
 excitement from a clergyman was cut short by the 
 call of Tilly from the entry : 
 
 " Here's your molasses, you wretched mite." 
 
 Out in the dark hall a wonderful thing happened 
 to the little girl. Her hands and pockets were filled 
 with cookies, and then she was kissed and pushed 
 out of the front door. As Tilly reentered the sitting- 
 room she rubbed her eyes with her apron, and de- 
 clared that coming into the light from the dark 
 " always did make 'em run water." 
 
 When the carpet had been laid to the prim lady's 
 satisfaction, Mr. Harding took Hank out for a little 
 walk. They conversed earnestly together for some 
 time, then separated with a hearty handshake.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 SOCIETY IS SCANDALIZED 
 
 ACCORDING to that harsh way Mother Na- 
 ture has of filling the minds of her children 
 during the night with the unpleasant things 
 of the day, Ralph Harding's sleep, after his return 
 from Hank's, was vague, confused, troubled. Once 
 he seemed to be on a vast, gray, windy plain, ever 
 pursuing a phantom with a red cloak, and urged 
 along by a wee scrap of a girl, who tugged at his 
 hand with superhuman strength, and dragged him 
 ever faster and faster till his feet at last left the 
 earth. He awoke panting, and with a heavy weight 
 at his heart that he at once recognized as an estab- 
 lished acquaintance; it would be there many days, 
 he feared. 
 
 Sleepless hours succeeded his sombre dreams, and 
 again and again the whole history of the past weeks 
 surged through his mind. It was most pitiful; the 
 pure and generous Agatha had gone away, forced 
 from her home by the vile conspiracy of a woman 
 who was still honored and happy if such a woman 
 could be happy. He knew that Mrs. Worth-Court- 
 leigh was the principal in a deep-laid plot to destroy 
 the reputation of an innocent girl. That night of 
 violence at the club was all plain now. This woman 
 
 235
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 was Hamilton's companion on the sleigh ride and 
 at " Howard's," and she wore Agatha's red cloak. 
 That she was able to get possession of the garment 
 was all due to the malice and uncharitableness of 
 church people in a house of God ! How did wheels 
 work within wheels for the crushing of a blameless 
 spirit. 
 
 Poor Worth-Courtleigh, too! With knowledge 
 of the wife's baseness in one respect came conviction 
 of her infidelity with Hamilton. Harding felt that 
 such an honest-hearted gentleman ought to know 
 the truth, and yet he would not have been the one 
 to tell him. 
 
 The minister arose unrefreshed; nor did the keen 
 loveliness of the morning work any change in his 
 mental burden. The walk to the church, during 
 which he met many of his parishioners whom he 
 knew had helped circulate the scandal, wrought 
 his feelings to a high pitch of nervous excitement, 
 so that when he reached the house of worship he 
 was like some prophet of old stirred by the evil of 
 the world to deliver a denunciation from God. 
 
 The Third Congregational Church was a plain, 
 square structure of wood, clapboarded and painted 
 white, and having green blinds at its small windows. 
 The ground floor was occupied by the vestry, where 
 Harding had occasionally given little dramatic en- 
 tertainments and had shocked some of the more un- 
 compromising of his flock. The main auditorium 
 above, reached from the street by a U-shaped pair 
 of stone steps, was of antique simplicity. The pews 
 were boxed in, and guarded by doors, which Hard- 
 
 236
 
 SOCIETT IS SCANDALIZED 
 
 ing had recently determined to abolish, if possible, 
 as savoring too much of exclusiveness, which he de- 
 tested. Only the magnificent old high pulpit of 
 mahogany had any touch of beauty or grandeur. 
 
 The church was well filled, as usual, when Mr. 
 Harding entered the pulpit. The eloquence and 
 originality of his sermons had long been recognized 
 in Old Chetford and beyond, and that he was some- 
 times considered " eccentric," always drew strangers 
 to the Third Congregational. But those who knew 
 him best noticed this morning that there was an un- 
 familiar look upon his face and a peculiar sound 
 in his voice as he read the hymns. His prayer was 
 brief, mainly expressing the earnest hope that the 
 Great Pattern of charity and love might find ex- 
 emplars in all the world. 
 
 As the minister rose for his sermon and nervously 
 opened his manuscript which was merely for occa- 
 sional reference, as he always preached from memory 
 his eye fell upon Guy Hamilton sitting in a pew 
 well in front and to the left. The man was debonair, 
 well groomed, faultlessly dressed, the perfect picture 
 of a member of high society in proper Sunday at- 
 titude. He was a visitor with the family of a 
 wealthy merchant, and he sat beside the handsome 
 daughter of the house, complacent, self-satisfied, 
 and seemingly happy. 
 
 A flood of bitterness swept over the preacher's 
 soul as he saw this woman, fashionably dressed, 
 radiant and honored, sitting beside this man, and 
 then thought of the sad-faced girl driven across the 
 seas by the undeserved scorn of some of these very
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 people to whom he was about to deliver a sermon 
 on charity. Charity! What charity had they for 
 her in the hour when she needed it most? He felt 
 that he could not bring his lips to utter the conven- 
 tional words he had prepared for his flock; this 
 Other who had come in with his moral leprosy and 
 his fair exterior had aroused a fire of emotion that 
 must burst forth in burning words not penned in 
 the quiet of the study. He would speak what was 
 within him, let the consequences be what they might. 
 He would go back to the old dispensation, smiting 
 and sparing not. 
 
 He thrust his sermon aside, and rapidly turned 
 the leaves of his Bible for a moment. He stopped 
 at the Book of Proverbs, and in a voice kept calm 
 only by the greatest effort he read with deep and 
 deliberate solemnity these words: 
 
 " The lip of truth shall be established forever: 
 but a lying tongue is for a moment." 
 
 " Deceit is in the heart of them that imagine evil: 
 but to the counsellors of peace is joy." 
 
 He began by speaking about evil reports, how 
 they traveled on the wings of the morning, and how 
 they were believed more readily than good words. 
 Let one be accused of something bad, he said, and 
 the world accepts it as a new gospel ; let good deeds 
 be reported by some kindly soul and people are 
 forever poking about with their muck-poles to dis- 
 cover an improper motive behind the acts. 
 
 Then, with ever increasing eloquence and fire, he 
 described the power of scandal to blight and ruin, 
 even if it dealt wholly in untruths. 
 
 238
 
 " I am firmly persuaded," he declared, " that in- 
 stead of believing a story false that ought not to 
 be true, society's course is to accept as true every- 
 thing evil, even if false. 
 
 " We have our laws and our jails for the cor- 
 rupters of the body politic, but I say to you that 
 the worst enemies of decency are the pedlers of ma- 
 licious tales. And none but those who love to hear 
 scandal like to tell it. ( Many a man has been hanged, 
 many a woman has been imprisoned who did less 
 mischief than the coiners of forged stories. 
 
 " The object of scandalous reports is generally 
 helpless, for he has an army arrayed against him, 
 an army of gossip-mongers, whose ranks are ever 
 swelling and whose tents always encompass him 
 about. 
 
 " I stand upon this : that gossips are murderers 
 as vile as the slayers of human beings, for they 
 murder reputations with no other object than to 
 kill time; worse than thieves, for they rob people of 
 their good name, a possession that profits the thieves 
 not at all." 
 
 In the little pause that followed this period there 
 was an uneasy stirring of the congregation, and 
 the people looked at one another in blank amaze- 
 ment. What had this strange minister of theirs in 
 mind that he should forsake the beaten path of 
 beauty of diction and polish of style for such simple, 
 direct and earnest admonition? Was this but gen- 
 eralization, or was it the prelude to some tremen- 
 dous personal denunciation that should shake the 
 church from foundation to spire? But whatever 
 
 239
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 was to come, the magnetism of the man fixed every 
 eye upon the pulpit. 
 
 " Oh, men and women," continued the speaker, 
 " I would to God I could adequately picture to you 
 the sufferings of the victim of unjust scandal. Such 
 a victim has just been driven from amongst us. 
 Some of you know the one to whom I refer; the 
 rest are probably aware of the facts, for when 
 scandal-mongers triumph they are quick to proclaim 
 their victory. Innocent or guilty, the result is gen- 
 erally the same, if the target of malice is a woman. 
 
 " Innocent or guilty," he cried, his fine voice 
 trembling with emotion, " that girl is to-day an 
 outcast ! " 
 
 So this was the application ! The " victim " was 
 all but named, and few in the church did not know 
 the story of Agatha Renier. Guy Hamilton sud- 
 denly became the central figure in the sanctuary, 
 and he flushed deeply as he felt his disagreeable 
 prominence. He cursed the hour when he had al- 
 lowed himself to be put in the power of this fear- 
 less minister who had more than once shown ani- 
 mosity toward him; he even hated the pretty girl 
 at his side as the means of his wretched predicament. 
 
 Among the others there was a tense silence, a 
 dread and yet an eager desire to know where the 
 thunderbolt of the preacher's righteous wrath would 
 next descend. They were not long in doubt. 
 
 " That girl is to-day an outcast," he repeated in 
 ringing tones ; " were she to enter this church this 
 morning for the consolation of the spirit of God. 
 
 240
 
 SOCIETT IS SCANDALIZED 
 
 which one of you would invite her to your pew? 
 How many of you would not gather your garments 
 about you in fear of contamination if she bufc 
 touched their hem. 
 
 " But the man what of him? If you meet him 
 after this service, as many of you doubtless will, 
 will you fail to smile upon him, to invite him to your 
 houses ? Will you, fathers, warn your boys against 
 him? Will you, mothers, close your doors to him 
 when he comes to visit your beloved daughters ? 
 
 " Yet if guilt there was, why does he go free? 
 And the woman why is she driven from among 
 you ? If there was no guilt, it was he, not she, who 
 assumed its hideous mask. And yet your smile for 
 him will be as bright as your chilling glance at the 
 victim of his deceit is black. You will say : youth 
 male youth must have its fling. You will plead 
 custom, convention. Shame upon such custom! 
 Horror for such convention! 
 
 " I tell you, my people," he thundered, stretching 
 his right arm toward heaven, " at the judgment bar 
 of God there is no sex in sin! " 
 
 Though there was more of the sermon, somewhat 
 along the lines originally planned, that was the 
 climax, poured out from a generous heart over- 
 flowing with the passion for humanity, and touched, 
 too, by a man's depth of tenderness for a woman 
 who had been misjudged and wronged. It was a 
 union of love and conviction and a great sense of 
 duty that no man could resist. That hour was to 
 many the culmination of Harding's career in Old 
 
 241
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Chetford, the time when his eloquence was most 
 thrilling, the moment when his strength bore down 
 upon their souls with most profound effect. 
 
 But there were many, and especially of the more 
 rich and powerful set, who were scandalized beyond 
 measure at what they termed their pastor's unwar- 
 ranted abuse of society, his pointed insult to a man 
 of position, his almost indecent reference to things 
 their daughters ought never to hear mentioned. As 
 the congregation came out into the brilliant sun- 
 shine, few stopping to shake their pastor by the 
 hand as formerly, the comments on the sermon 
 spoke clearly enough of its unpleasant effect. There 
 were threats of secession, hints at parish meetings 
 and suggestions of dire discipline for the minister 
 who had dared go beyond his province as a servant 
 of the Lord. The few who believed him in the right 
 were overawed by the carriages and fine garments 
 of the indignant section, and quietly went their 
 homeward ways on foot. 
 
 So, too, went the Rev. Ralph Harding to his 
 study, filled with a grim satisfaction he had not 
 known for many days. He believed that he had 
 spoken or, rather that a higher power had spoken 
 through him truths that would one day bear a 
 rich fruitage. Of the immediate consequences of 
 his daring he concerned himself not at all as yet. 
 
 He sat down at his table to write a letter. Three 
 times he half-filled a sheet, and as many times he 
 tore up what he had written, and threw the 
 of paper into the fire. 
 
 242
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 MODERN CHIVALRY 
 
 HARDING was early afield next morning 
 looking- after the details of a new plan he 
 had devised to help the wage-earners of 
 the city to habits of greater frugality. This was a 
 penny savings-bank that he had induced one of the 
 strong financial institutions of Old Chetford to 
 establish as a sort of branch of its regular business. 
 On his way down town he met " Tom " Harrington, 
 who had promised to assist him. 
 
 " Morning, Harding," said that sleek and well- 
 fed financier, " hope you're all right after yes- 
 terday. Awful row all over town on account of 
 your sermon. You meant well, I know, but I may 
 as well tell you in a friendly way that your position 
 on such matters has created enmity in the church, 
 great enmity. I sympathize with you in all your 
 efforts to do good, but " 
 
 " How about the penny bank business, Harring- 
 ton ? " asked the minister, wholly ignoring the 
 matter of the sermon, " can you give me that help 
 you promised for this morning? " 
 
 "Eh? The bank? Oh, yes, I remember. But 
 to tell you the truth, Harding, I'm not quite pre- 
 pared to go ahead with the matter to-day. I shall 
 
 243
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 want a little time to look into it further. Come 
 around in a week." And the pompous banker strode 
 away to his private office, the picture of self -content 
 and prosperity. 
 
 The minister's disgust at this easily understood 
 cooling on the part of Mr. Harrington was quickly 
 ended by the sight of Robert Worth-Courtleigh 
 coming down the street to his business. Here was a 
 man he could rely on, he thought, with a feeling of 
 thankfulness that the world was not wholly filled 
 with shams. 
 
 " How are you, Harding," said the lawyer 
 heartily, with a warm grip of the hand," you're just 
 the fellow I wanted to see. I've got the deeds by 
 which Mrs. Copeland gives your association the 
 land and building of the Coffee House and I want 
 you to have them now." 
 
 He fumbled in his coat pockets with a perplexed 
 air, but no papers were forthcoming. 
 
 " By George," said he, " I've left them in my 
 other coat, after all. But I'll go right back and get 
 them and drop into your study with them on my 
 way down." 
 
 " Don't go back on my account, Robert," re- 
 turned Harding, " any other time will do. I'll admit 
 that I'm like a child that's been promised a new 
 toy, but I don't want to put you to any trouble." 
 
 " No trouble at all, Harding ; besides, I've left 
 some of my own papers, too, and I must have them. 
 I'll see you later perhaps." 
 
 When the lawyer reached home he went directly 
 to his desk in the library. Lying upon the broad, 
 
 244
 
 MODERN CHIVALRY 
 
 clean blotter he saw one of his wife's pretty squares 
 of note-paper filled with her large and bold hand- 
 writing. He would have quietly put it one side 
 unread, but that the word " Dearest," with which 
 the epistle began, thrust itself upon his sight. 
 
 " Ah, to me," he said softly, " what a queer child 
 Lucy is to be sure." Then he read on. 
 
 " You will be surprised, I know, at my writing 
 
 " Well, it is unusual ; wants a new dress or a 
 string of pearls, I suppose." 
 
 " But I feel that I cannot wait till I see you before 
 
 " It certainly is pearls." 
 
 "I may be doing a foolish thing, but I feel I 
 must tell you. You know that I love you. I have 
 given you ample proof of that, but - " 
 
 " But what ? " thought the lawyer, with some mis- 
 giving, as he turned the sheet. 
 
 "I fear that you have never really returned my 
 feelings. But I tell you, Guy Hamilton, I will not 
 be thrown aside like a discarded glove. I - " 
 
 Here the letter ended abruptly, and the ink of the 
 final word was scarcely dry. 
 
 The first effect of a tremendous shock upon an 
 exceptionally strong man is often that of dazed as- 
 tonishment and a refusal to credit his own senses. 
 So it was with Robert Worth-Courtleigh. He 
 turned the letter mechanically and dully read it 
 again. 
 
 As the full force of its terrible meaning gradually 
 swept in upon his brain, a purple flush spread over 
 
 245
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 his face like that of a man in apoplexy; then suc- 
 ceeded an ashen hue and a weakness that made him 
 clutch the desk for support. He sank into his chair 
 and bowed his head on his arm, grasping the letter 
 in one hand as if it were some animate thing whose 
 life he would strangle out. 
 
 So his wife found him when she hurried back to 
 finish the note from which she had been called by 
 a servant. The unexpected sight of him at that desk, 
 the thought of what must have happened, threw her 
 into a panic of apprehension. 
 
 " Oh Robert," she screamed, " how you 
 startled me. Are you ill? " 
 
 There was no answer from the bowed figure. She 
 would have thought him dead, perhaps, but that his 
 right hand trembled as it clutched the damning 
 note. At the sight of the bit of blue paper she knew 
 that the hour of reckoning had struck. She turned 
 to go, with a great desire to postpone the evil mo- 
 ment, but her husband heard her, and slowly raised 
 his head. 
 
 For one brief moment the drawn and haggard 
 face and the sudden collapsing of his figure into a 
 counterfeit of old age aroused within her a sharp 
 pang of remorse and regret, such as a woodsman 
 might feel when he has felled a great and noble 
 tree. It was as transitory, however, for there fol- 
 lowed a rushing flood of defiant indignation as she 
 realized that this man held her at his mercy. His 
 very silence increased her bitterness. They looked 
 at one another like strangers, until her passion could 
 no longer be withheld. 
 
 246
 
 MODERN CHIVALRY 
 
 " Well," she cried, " you have read have dared 
 to read my private correspondence." 
 
 " Would to God I had not, Lucy," he answered 
 slowly, " Heaven help me, I thought I thought it 
 was for me." 
 
 " A likely story," she sneered. " Well what do 
 you propose to do ? " 
 
 "To do?" 
 
 "Yes; with me? With him? With every- 
 thing?" 
 
 At this the man within him asserted itself, the 
 lawyer training proved its strength, and Worth- 
 Courtleigh faced his wife with dignity and courage. 
 
 " There is but one thing to do, Lucy," he said. 
 " You may you must stay in this house. There 
 is no other protection for you. But remember you 
 stay not as my wife, but as my guest whose resi- 
 dence with me the law permits. As such your wants 
 will all be provided for, and you will be allowed a 
 sufficient income for the continued entertainment 
 of your friends. You will, of course, never see him 
 again or have the slightest communication with him. 
 Should he ever come to my house, I warn you that 
 I would treat him as I would a mad dog." 
 
 The magnanimity of the man she had so foully 
 wronged, his calmness, his generosity, his considera- 
 tion for her, instead of softening her heart to peni- 
 tence, or at least to respect, roused all the evil quali- 
 ties within her. Had he raved in melodramatic 
 fashion, had he cursed and threatened her instead of 
 ending the interview with the sorrowful admission 
 that the wrecking of their home might have been 
 
 247
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 partly his fault because he had left her so much 
 alone, she would have felt less bitterness toward him. 
 
 All day long she felt the sting of his goodness 
 rankling within her heart. She denied herself to 
 callers, and paced from room to room in the vain 
 attempt to shake off the burden of her thoughts. 
 Was she to remain in his debt perpetually, to be 
 always humiliated by the idea that she was a toler- 
 ated inmate of the house, a prisoner on parole ? No, 
 a thousand times. There was, there must be some 
 other way there was one way. 
 
 She was relieved that her husband did not come 
 home to dinner. She had determined to plead ill- 
 ness, had he done so, for sjie could not bear the 
 thought of facing him agam so soon. She forced 
 herself to eat a hearty meal, for she felt that she 
 might need the sustaining power of food. 
 
 After dinner she gathered together her jewels 
 and a few articles of clothing, and put them into 
 a travelling bag. Then she threw on her fine furs 
 all she could reasonably wear and left the house. 
 A few moments later she amazed Guy Hamilton 
 by appearing at his apartments near the Attawam 
 Club. 
 
 " What on earth, Lucy " he began. 
 
 " We are found out, Guy ; Robert knows all ! " 
 she cried excitedly, and in a few broken sentences 
 she told him of the discovery of the letter and the 
 life to which her husband had condemned her. The 
 man paled with fear, for he could scarcely believe 
 that the iron-hearted lawyer would fail to wreak 
 vengeance upon himself. 
 
 248
 
 " Good God, Lucy," he muttered, " what's to be 
 done?" 
 
 " Done, done don't you know what's to be done? 
 Do you think I can go back to that house like a 
 slave ? Do you imagine I shall promise never to see 
 you again? Oh, Guy, can you not see that my love 
 for you has brought me to this, that all I have to 
 hope for now is in you, that I am here to throw 
 myself on your mercy ? " 
 
 She broke down, and wept piteously, and he, by 
 that peculiar species of social chivalry that could 
 rob a man of his wife without a qualm and yet feel 
 impelled to protect the woman when the crash came, 
 offered to do that of which in his sober senses he 
 never would have dreamed. 
 
 " Let us leave this miserable town, Lucy," he said 
 gently, " and never step foot in it again. We will 
 go far away, and begin things anew. Now to- 
 night we will start, and to-morrow they may do 
 their worst. Will that satisfy you, my dear ? " 
 
 Joy and triumph and the delight of undisputed 
 possession shone in her eyes. She seized his hand 
 and kissed it passionately, and he smoothed her hair 
 caressingly and felt that he had never loved her 
 so much as at that moment. It was a fine thing to be 
 trusted, to be relied upon so implicitly, and he vowed 
 that he would give her no cause to repent of her 
 faith in him. 
 
 That night the pair left Old Chetford on the mid- 
 night train. Their flight was a rich field of discus- 
 sion for the gossips, who imputed to the lady faults 
 of which even she had never been gulity. But the 
 
 249
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 dignified attitude of Worth-Courtleigh and his abso- 
 lute refusal to say a word about the matter to any- 
 one did much to silence the scandal, which finally 
 died a natural death and was resurrected less and 
 less often as time passed on. Even at the club the 
 topic at last became stale, and Claybourne ceased 
 to mourn the loss of his friend, who, he declared 
 sententiously, had fallen a victim to " too much 
 woman." 
 
 On the evening of the elopement Ralph Harding 
 wrote a letter of resignation to the Third Congre- 
 gational Church. In it he told his people that he 
 had seen the great discontent aroused by his ser- 
 mon of the day before and that he felt that his use- 
 fulness as a pastor was over. He regretted the 
 severing of pleasant ties, but was fully persuaded it 
 was for the best. He was determined, he said, to do 
 the work of the Master unfettered by church gov- 
 ernment and church prejudices. He would deal di- 
 rectly with the people, and answer to himself and 
 his God for the saving of their souls. For this 
 labor he desired a larger field, and he was about 
 to go to some great city there to undertake his 
 mission. He bade his loyal friends a tender fare- 
 well ; as for the others, those whom he had offended, 
 he hoped that they would think of him at his best. 
 
 250
 
 ttbe Bwafeening of a Soul 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 AFTER FIVE YEARS 
 
 ON a certain moist afternoon in April, when 
 New York lay steaming under a hot sun, 
 like some formless giant fresh from his 
 ablutions, two men descended the steps of a large 
 brown-stone house on Fifth Avenue. The house 
 was not of the conventional flat and characterless 
 sort, but was fashioned somewhat in the romanesque 
 style, with a low, heavy arch over the entrance and 
 various odd designs around windows and eaves. 
 
 The men, though friends, were an oddly assorted 
 pair, " cross-matched," as the more ponderous one 
 had expressed it. This gentleman was Horatio 
 Atherton, well known and heartily feared in Wall 
 Street. Behind the fat and ruddy freshness of his 
 face he concealed the keenness of a vulture in finan- 
 cial scent; his curved nose and little black eyes 
 spoke of rapacity and cruelty in certain contingen- 
 cies, but his speech never wavered from its mellow 
 suavity. He was dressed with great care, and in 
 the lapel of his correct frock coat he wore his 
 favorite flower, a pink orchid. He was a mining 
 expert of high rank, and his specialty just now was 
 the promoting of new ventures in Colorado. 
 
 The dress and manner of the other proclaimed 
 
 251
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 him an artist. He was tall, slender and dark, and 
 his waving hair was covered by a large black felt 
 hat. His features were beautifully regular, and the 
 perfect oval of his face was well set off by a tiny 
 pointed beard. An impressionist of the impression- 
 ists, Philip Dalzell was always striving for a new 
 expression in landscape painting, yearning, as his 
 confreres said, to depict the " light that never was 
 on sea or land." He was making his way rapidly, 
 for in all his weirdness of coloring and sentiment 
 there was more than a trace of genius. 
 
 " Well, Atherton," said the artist, as the twain 
 proceeded down the Avenue, " What do you think 
 of the new sensation ? " 
 
 " She's divine my boy, divine." 
 
 " So you, who went to scoff, remained to wor- 
 ship? I thought it would be so." 
 
 " She certainly is the most fascinating woman I 
 ever met," avowed the financier earnestly. 
 
 " Take care ; what if the imperial Miss Van Horn 
 should hear that speech? " 
 
 " She would agree with me." 
 
 " But like the speech no better for all that, I 
 fancy." 
 
 Atherton stopped a moment to light an enormous 
 and very black cigar. 
 
 " Who is she ? " he asked between puffs. 
 
 " Don't you read the newspapers ? Besides, I've 
 told you; the Countess Fornay's light is not under 
 a bushel." 
 
 " Yes, but " 
 
 252
 
 AFTER FIFE TEARS 
 
 " All I know all that anybody seems to know- 
 is that she's the granddaughter of Adolph Renier, 
 Count Fornay, who died over a year ago in Paris. 
 His son married beneath him, it is said, in America, 
 and his daughter was recognized only when the old 
 Count was so near the end of a tumultuous life that 
 he thought a good deed or two quite essential to a 
 peaceful hereafter. One thing is certain; she was 
 the rage of Washington last winter, and the French 
 embassy officials clicked their heels together every 
 time her name was mentioned. There is no doubt 
 of her social standing something one can seldom 
 say in these days of mushroom favorites Ah, how 
 are you ? " 
 
 The artist nodded cordially to a well-favored man 
 who swung past them with firm and athletic tread. 
 
 "Who's your good-looking friend?" asked 
 Atherton. 
 
 " He's a clerical chap, Harding by name. You'd 
 never think it by his coat, would you ? I met him at 
 the Realists' Club." 
 
 "Whew! The Realists'?" 
 
 "Queer place for a parson, eh? Well, he is 
 not an ordinary parson. He has cut loose from 
 churches, I believe, so why not the Realists' as well 
 as another? He practices his profession in man 
 to man fashion; says pulpits are screens between 
 God and the people." 
 
 " What a bore he must be." 
 
 " Not a bit of it, my boy. He's a practical enemy 
 of the devil, and speaking of that gentleman, he 
 
 253
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 gave ' Satan ' Montgomery a tremendous drubbing 
 at balk-line billiards last night at the club." 
 
 " Ah, a worldly parson." 
 
 " That depends on your definition of the adjective, 
 Atherton. But lie does a lot of good in his own 
 way, I'm told. His theory is that cleanliness is not 
 only next to Godliness, but comes first." 
 
 Meantime the subject of these pointed remarks 
 continued up the Avenue with mingled emotions, as 
 he found himself nearing the brown-stone house. 
 Only the day before he had received through Worth- 
 Courtleigh this almost brusque message: 
 
 " You say that Mr. Harding is in New ' York a 
 portion of each month. I shall be there in April, 
 and shall be glad to have him call." 
 
 As he thought of Agatha he wondered, first what 
 had happened to her outward seeming, and then 
 how her mind had progressed and altered under the 
 potent spell of Paris. Conjecture was a necessity 
 to him, for after the almost tragic events culminating 
 in her removal from Old Chetford he had felt unable 
 to frame a letter that would suit himself or the occa- 
 sion. The spectre of Guy Hamilton seemed always 
 at his elbow, chilling his soul with its sneering as- 
 sumption of the possession of Agatha's heart. He 
 could not give her comfort; he dared not give her 
 what he felt. He had at first hoped that Agatha 
 would take the initiative in the matter of letters, 
 but she had not done so, and the little that he had 
 heard from her had been simple and kindly messages 
 through the mediumship of Mrs. Cope] and. 
 
 Now and then he had gleaned bits of information 
 
 254
 
 AFTER FIFE TEARS 
 
 from Worth-Courtleigh, who was more or less in 
 touch with Mrs. Copeland, and had learned that the 
 two had traveled to some extent, but had lived 
 quietly in Paris for the most part, Agatha studying 
 art, music and literature with much thoroughness. 
 
 One day the news of the death of Mrs. Copeland 
 had come to the lawyer's office, and thence to Hard- 
 ing in New York. Then he would have written to 
 Agatha, but was uncertain as to her whereabouts. 
 In a week he received a brief note from the girl, 
 saying that after some months of travel she ex- 
 pected to return to America. He had arisen each 
 morning after that with the hope that this day he 
 would hear from her, but nothing further came. 
 And now she was here he was to see her within 
 a few moments, was to find what time had done for 
 good or ill with a girl who had had such vast possi- 
 bilities for either. 
 
 On his arrival at the big house he was shown to 
 a small reception room of pink and gold by a for- 
 eign-looking flunky in green livery, who looked at 
 him curiously when he asked for " Miss Renier." 
 Across the wide hall in the drawing room servants 
 were putting things in order after what had ap- 
 parently been a reception of some sort. Evidences 
 of wealth were not lacking, but he wondered if 
 Agatha's status in the family were not less desirable 
 than in the old days at Mrs. Copeland's. She was 
 secretary or companion, he presumed, perhaps gov- 
 erness. He knew that the girl could not be the 
 mistress of much money, for it was a matter of 
 common information that the crash in the Attawam 
 
 255
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 mills and the Oceanic National Bank at Old Chet- 
 ford, following the defalcation and suicide of 
 " Tom " Harrington, had engulfed most of Mrs. 
 Copeland's property, especially as she had decided, 
 at Agatha's solicitation so Worth-Courtleigh had 
 told him to stand behind the bank, in which she 
 was a large stockholder, and pay every dollar of its 
 indebtedness., 
 
 The flunkey returned with the announcement: 
 
 " Mad'moiselle, ze Countess, vill be down pres- 
 ently." 
 
 He felt a little irritation that his card should have 
 gone astray should have been taken to the mistress 
 of this fine establishment instead of to the well, 
 servant, although even his democratic spirit recoiled 
 at the word, when all else was obliterated by the 
 sight of Agatha Renier standing in the doorway, and 
 the sound of her cordial voice. 
 
 " I am so glad, so glad," she said simply. 
 
 For the first time in his life, Ralph Harding could 
 not find words for expression. Not one of his vi- 
 sions of the girl had pictured her like this. Here was 
 a tall, lithe, graceful woman instead of the plump 
 and vivacious girl; a cultured, self-poised, high- 
 bred creature who seemed born to the purple. He 
 would have known her anywhere and yet there was 
 that in her beautiful face that was new and strange 
 a firmness of the mouth, a depth in the eyes, a 
 latent something more than physical that far re- 
 moved her from the pupil over whose education he 
 labored with such heartfelt zeal. He gazed at her 
 
 256
 
 AFTER FIVE TEARS 
 
 long and earnestly without speaking. He was re- 
 lieved when she rang for the servant. 
 
 " I am at home to no one, Pierre," she ordered. 
 
 She faced him again, with a trace of her old pretty 
 impetuosity. 
 
 " Well, are you not glad to see me? " 
 
 "Glad? Surely I am." 
 
 " Ah ! It was once the American usage to ex- 
 press such sentiments. Perhaps it is changed you 
 have changed," she added suddenly, and was about 
 to say " grown older." 
 
 " You have a careworn look. I fear you are 
 working too hard. But you are standing," she said 
 kindly, offering him a chair and sitting down herself. 
 
 Harding obeyed mechanically; he was still em- 
 barrassed, still under the spell of the new Agatha. 
 What a curious reversal of their positions! In the 
 old days he was the mentor, the quasi guardian of 
 her mind and emotions, the one looked up to; now 
 she was the ruler of the situation. At last he real- 
 ized with vexation that his gaze was still upon her. 
 
 "Well, do I stand the scrutiny?" she asked 
 laughingly. 
 
 " I I am afraid I have been very rude." 
 
 " Look at me as long as you wish ; that, at least, 
 shows some interest. Am I greatly changed ? " 
 
 " It is more than five years, Agatha I mean 
 Miss " 
 
 "Why 'Miss?' It is Agatha still, or, if you 
 must be formal, be correct. You heard Pierre, I 
 know." 
 
 257
 
 " Countess? I didn't understand." 
 
 She absently turned over and over his card which 
 she had brought down from her boudoir. 
 
 " I saw that," she said. " You have not heard of 
 the Countess Fornay, then ? " 
 
 The light of the truth began to dawn. 
 
 " Countess Fornay ? You you are " 
 
 " Je la suis, Monsieur, a votre service" she re- 
 plied merrily. 
 
 "But " 
 
 " It's very simple. You recall the marriage rec- 
 ords we found at Mill River ? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " ' Alice Stewart to Frangois Renier, son of 
 Adolphe Renier, Count Fornay,' it read. The son 
 died years ago; the father, my grandfather, died 
 three months before dear Mrs. Copeland left me 
 alone in the world." 
 
 Her voice choked with emotion, a manifestation 
 that somehow cheered Harding's heart, deeply as he, 
 too, felt the loss of his staunch old friend now so 
 keenly brought home to Lim. 
 
 " I believe," she went on earnestly, " that her 
 death was hastened if not caused, by the trouble 
 at the mills and the bank in Old Chetford. The first 
 news of the crash prostrated her, and with each suc- 
 ceeding tidings of disaster she grew weaker, till 
 her life faded out like the dying of a sunset. It 
 grieved her deeply, too, that her fortune should be 
 diverted from me." 
 
 " Ah, but that was your own doing, Agatha, 
 your voluntary sacrifice; I have the facts, you see." 
 
 258
 
 AFTER FIVE TEARS 
 
 " Don't call it a sacrifice, Mr. Harding ; I'm not 
 the woman who makes them. It was only that I 
 couldn't and wouldn't allow innocent victims of a 
 man's rascality to suffer, if I could help it and I 
 did help it. But the worst blow of all was when five 
 thousand dollars of the little money remaining to 
 Mrs. Copeland was swept away by Guy Hamilton." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Harding, almost jumping to 
 his feet at the sound of this name, which came with- 
 out a tremor from Agatha's lips. He feared that 
 the flood of bitter memories it recalled might upset 
 her, might create a scene in which he would be but 
 a helpless comforter. 
 
 But she looked him bravely in the face from her 
 luminous brown eyes, paying no heed to his .interrup- 
 tion. She spoke in a hard and emotionless voice. 
 
 " Guy Hamilton forged his aunt's name, and she, 
 for her dead sister's sake, kept silent, and let the 
 check be considered genuine. He pleaded that he 
 was on the verge of a great coup in the stock market, 
 that he had only needed the money for an hour 
 to achieve success, when the sudden death of a 
 great financier smashed the market and ruined him. 
 He groveled needlessly, for his aunt would never 
 have prosecuted him." 
 
 " It was the act of an ingrate and a scoundrel," 
 exclaimed the minister indignantly. " And they 
 say he is now successful, a lucky operator in the 
 ' Street/ but looked upon as, reckless, dangerous, 
 unscrupulous. I hear he is engaged in shady tran- 
 sactions and companies." 
 
 " And that woman ? " asked Agatha, with just 
 
 259
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 a deepening of her color and a tightening of her 
 clasped fingers " the woman he took from her hus- 
 band." 
 
 " Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh ? She tired of him as 
 she had tired of Worth-Courtleigh, and ran away 
 with another man. Hamilton was grateful enough 
 to both of them, I dare say. I have heard nothing 
 of her for several years." 
 
 " And now," said the youthful countess, with 
 swiftly changing mood, " tell me all about yourself, 
 what you have been doing in New York, what you 
 hope to do, and how the dear old people in Old 
 Chetford my people, you know are getting along. 
 No, no ; no excuses, / am mistress here." 
 
 He would have ventured a little later to ask 
 Agatha what her plans for the future were, wonder- 
 ing what she intended to do with this splendid and 
 expensive house, but that the chiming of a tiny gold 
 clock on the mantel caused her to rise. 
 
 " I hope I do not appear inhospitable, Mr. Hard- 
 ing," she said with a touch of pretty confusion, 
 " but the fact is that I dine at the French consul's 
 to-night, and well, we women have to dress, you 
 know. I want you to promise to come and see me 
 to-morrow and spend the afternoon. There are 
 many things for us to talk about. Will you ? " 
 
 He promised with a new feeling of pleasure at 
 his heart, and she saw him to the door herself. 
 There they parted with a warm and friendly clasp 
 of hands that the minister seemed to carry with him 
 as he went his way to the faraway lower parts of 
 the great city. 
 
 260
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE PENALTY OF FAME 
 
 RALPH HARDING awoke early next morn- 
 ing with an undefined satisfaction lying 
 pleasantly upon his half-dreamy conscious- 
 ness. It slowly took words : " Agatha is here ; I 
 saw her yesterday, and shall see her again to-day." 
 
 For the moment all vexing questions as to her 
 status in the world, her coming life and her choice of 
 associates faded before the light of the happy fact. 
 
 After breakfast and a little correspondence were 
 out of the way he set forth for the Realists' Club 
 where he often went of a morning to see if he might 
 obtain some sort of suggestions for the work of the 
 day. He had joined the organization purely on its 
 reputation for embracing within its membership the 
 most heterogeneous set of men who ever touched 
 elbows under one roof. He expected fresh thoughts, 
 ideas for fresh fields of labor to spring from his asso- 
 ciation with the radicals he knew were of the Real- 
 ists' band. 
 
 In truth there were all sorts of men in the club 
 decadent poets, dramatists of half a dozen " new " 
 schools, impossible political reformers, ultra social- 
 ists who talked loudly of what ought to be, but never 
 attempted to better what was, " symbolists " in art 
 
 261
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 and a sprinkling of cynical newspaper men and ma- 
 terialistic brokers. 
 
 But, by a quite natural paradox, most of the Real- 
 ists turned out to be idealists of the pronounced sort, 
 each group worshipping its own special cult with 
 such absolute devotion that any practical work in 
 combination was quite out of the question. So 
 Harding found that, like other clubs, it served as a 
 means to an end: that men without homes might 
 secure imitations, and that men with homes might 
 escape from them on occasion. Still he kept up his 
 membership and extracted stray wheat grains from 
 the general chaff. 
 
 The minister's life in New York for the past five 
 years had been one of honest and earnest endeavor 
 to better humanity as he found it. It was not always 
 the very poor he aided; he recognized the Master's 
 " them ye have with you always," and knew that 
 single-handed he could scarcely hope to reduce the 
 number very materially. But he did more than 
 supply a dinner or buy a new coat; he hunted up 
 unfortunates with aspirations for higher things, and 
 these aspirations he helped to expand in manifold 
 ways. He cultivated the acquaintance of business 
 men, and made himself a sort of employment agency 
 with free service; he obtained scholarships in vari- 
 ous institutions for those he knew would appreciate 
 them; he rescued sailors from the clutches of land- 
 sharks ; lie taught the law to many a rascally pawn- 
 broker; in short, he did the strange, out-of-the-or- 
 dinary things he found nobody else doing, and he 
 
 262
 
 THE PENALTY OF FAME 
 
 believed that he was filling his niche in the world as 
 effectually as when he was in the pulpit. 
 
 Yet he had not been altogether content in the 
 huge Babylon of a city. Its immensity precluded 
 any real affection for it ; who could love such a heart- 
 less giant that rushed unceasingly about its business 
 with no care for suffering or for sin ? 
 
 His regular trips to Old Chetford had been the 
 bright parts of his existence; although he may not 
 have recognized it, his visits to the first children of 
 his sympathy, the Coffee House and the hospital, 
 had really been more necessary to his own well- 
 being than to those now flourishing institutions. 
 
 The quarters of the Realists' Club, to which Hard- 
 ing made his way with his customary swinging gait, 
 were as odd as its members. They completely filled 
 the top story of a tall office building on Madison 
 Avenue and. the view from the many windows was 
 'superb. Being on one floor the effect was like that 
 of an immense suite of rooms whose owner had gone 
 mad on the subject of varied decorations. The art- 
 ists had a room specially devoted to their fraternity, 
 the musicians another, while the authors, saints and 
 sinners alike, rejoiced in a great apartment that 
 contained a dozen private desks. It was a sight for 
 the gods when these literary shrines were all occu- 
 pied by wooers of the Muses who performed their 
 devotions by no means in silence. 
 
 The comfortable and well-stocked reading room 
 was the favorite resort of the club gossips, but this 
 morning it was deserted when Harding reached the 
 
 263
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 club. He took up a morning paper and turned to 
 the " Situations Wanted " column, as he was accus- 
 tomed to do each day that he might perchance find 
 there the cry of some poor fellow whom he could 
 help. Before long Dalzell, the artist, strolled in. 
 
 " Good morning, Harding," he said pleasantly, 
 " saw you going to the Countess Fornay's yesterday 
 afternoon, didn't I ? Do you know her ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Lucky fellow. She has the holy trinity of 
 beauty, style and brains and the greatest of these 
 is well, first you think it is one, then you are con- 
 vinced it's another, and at last you swear it's the 
 third. Of course you've read her book." 
 
 " No," replied the minister greatly surprised, " I 
 didn't know " 
 
 " Wait a minute. Here's a copy right on the 
 table. Behold," and he thrust it with a triumph- 
 ant air into Harding's hands. The latter turned to 
 the title-page and read : 
 
 " Men and Women : Their Manners and Their 
 Meannesses. Twelve Essays by Miss Petticoats." 
 
 The well remembered name was like a blow in the 
 face to Harding. With all its sacred associations 
 to be flaunted here under the title of a sensational 
 book! How could Agatha have done such a thing? 
 He read on : 
 
 " Translated from the French Edition as Re- 
 printed from Le Revue de Deux Mondes, by the 
 Author." 
 
 " Clever pseudonym, eh ? " said the enthusiastic 
 artist. " Clever book, too, and bitter as wormwood. 
 
 264
 
 THE PENALTY OF FAME 
 
 Handles society shams without gloves. Everybody 
 is talking about it, and wondering where she got her 
 insight. By Jove, she's the greatest woman New 
 York has seen for years." 
 
 " Who is now receiving the endorsement of your 
 impressionistic ardor, Dalzell? " said a coldly suave 
 voice behind Harding. 
 
 " Hallo, Atherton, that you ? What brings you 
 here so early in the morning ? " 
 
 " Business." 
 
 " Little need of asking." 
 
 " I answered your question, but you " 
 
 " Was there need to answer yours ? Of whom 
 could I be talking except the Countess Fornay? 
 Pardon me, Mr. Harding; I think you don't know 
 my friend Atherton." 
 
 " Delighted, I'm sure," murmured the financier, 
 while Harding, as he shook the outstretched hand 
 perfunctorily, felt an instinctive dislike for the 
 craftily sensual face that but half-concealed a sneer 
 in every smile. He wondered what this man and 
 the frank and honorable Dalzell could have in com- 
 mon. And that he should know Agatha that was 
 a profanation that made his blood grow hot. Nor 
 was it cooled by the calm tones of the newcomer as 
 he went on : 
 
 ' The Countess is certainly worthy of your paeans, 
 Philip. She is ravishing." 
 
 From the lips of the banker the compliment was 
 an insult, and Harding writhed under it as a dog 
 under a lash. He would have burst forth into some 
 sort ^>f remonstrance, but that he knew he would 
 
 265
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 make himself ridiculous and Agatha worse than that. 
 He walked deliberately away from the two and, 
 picking up a magazine, sat down and tried to read. 
 But he could not shut out their conversation; he 
 might have gone to another room, but he was held 
 by a strange fascination. 
 
 " She's promised to give me a sitting," exclaimed 
 Dalzell, with a fine air of triumph. 
 
 " Not a portrait, I hope," said the blandly sarcas- 
 tic voice of Atherton. 
 
 "Why not, pray?" 
 
 " She might not like being mistaken for an im- 
 pressionist cow." 
 
 A new group of loungers, Seeing Dalzell and 
 Atherton, came into the room. It was always taken 
 for granted that there would be something worth 
 repeating when these two wits clashed weapons. 
 
 " She has promised to cit for an allegorical pic- 
 ture," declared the artist serenely. 
 
 " Then she can't want notoriety, Dalzell, for she'll 
 be swallowed up i.i your theories." 
 
 " I shall paint her as ' The Modern Circe,' but 
 instead of swine as the objects of her fascination 
 there will be men men of rotundity, both of per- 
 son and money-bags. Your portrait, Atherton, will 
 be well in the foreground." 
 
 A burst of appreciative laughter greeted this 
 thrust. 
 
 " There's one comfort," retorted the ruddy 
 banker, " if you paint it, I shall never be recog- 
 nized." 
 
 266
 
 THE PENALTY OF FAME 
 
 Then a shout at the artist's expense, and a tenta- 
 tive expression of the opinion that it might not be 
 too early in the day for gentlemen to take a drink. 
 
 " Well, anyway," declared Dalzell, " you are at 
 her feet already, though you've seen her but once." 
 
 " Nonsense, my boy, it's only a matter of busi- 
 ness investments." 
 
 This entertaining dialogue was ended by the sud- 
 den appearance of a fair-haired, boyish fellow with 
 a fresh complexion and a wholesome atmosphere 
 about him, who dashed up to the group waving a 
 newspaper. 
 
 " Here, you fellows," he exclaimed, " have you 
 seen the Morning Crier? Here's a whole page about 
 the Countess." And he held aloft a sheet half cov- 
 ered over with illustrations and shrieking headlines. 
 Even from his distance Harding could see the un- 
 mistakable likeness of Agatha Renier. The crass 
 baldness of the thing made him shudder. 
 
 " Read it to us," cried several of the company. 
 
 Nothing loth, the youth began the glowing article. 
 With great satisfaction he rolled forth such phrases 
 as " Nobles at her feet abroad," " Welcomed by the 
 most select literary circles," " Talk of adding her 
 name to the roll of the Immortals," " Another book 
 in preparation." 
 
 Inevitably Agatha's personal life then received tke 
 attention of the writer's vivid imagination. Upon 
 the one fact that she was the granddaughter of 
 Count Fornay was builded a most marvellous struc- 
 ture of falsehood and fancy. After stating that she 
 
 267
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 had received from her noble ancestor a fortune es- 
 timated at several million francs, the article pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 " That the advent of this beautiful, titled and tal- 
 ented woman has set Gotham agog with admiration 
 is not surprising when it is known that for several 
 years she was the open rival of the Grand Duchess 
 of Holstein for the affections of her hitherto de- 
 voted and scandal-free spouse. She " 
 
 " Let me have that paper, will you, Armstrong? " 
 
 Harding had jumped to his feet, impelled by an 
 overpowering sense of anger and outraged justice. 
 He broke into the group and faced the boy with as 
 much calmness as he could command for service. 
 
 " Why, certainly, Mr. Harding, if you wish it," 
 replied the young fellow in some astonishment. 
 
 The minister crushed the paper in his hands con- 
 temptuously, tore it backwards and forwards many 
 times and then slowly let the pieces fall upon the 
 floor. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said and his fine voice had 
 never been more impressive " that story of the 
 Countess Fornay is a tissue of extravagant false- 
 hoods which are an insult to a good woman and a 
 disgrace to the newspaper that published them." 
 
 The company was undoubtedly interested. Here 
 was a parson who was worth while ; he rushed to the 
 defence of the wonderful Countess Fornay, and he 
 talked as if he were sure of his ground. Others 
 joined the group, and all stood around Harding 
 eager for his next words. 
 
 " I knew the Countess Fornay," he went on, 
 268
 
 THE PENALTY OF FAME 
 
 " when she was well, a girl. She has beauty, as 
 you all know. She has also good blood and good 
 brains, and her heart is pure, her character such as 
 you desire for your sisters. She is a woman en- 
 titled to the respect and protection of every decent 
 man. Would you, Armstrong, like to have your 
 sister or your future wife the subject of the public 
 gossip of club loungers ? " 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Harding, I would not," returned 
 the boy with great earnestness. " I am really sorry ; 
 it was thoughtless of me," and he shook the min- 
 ister warmly by the hand, making a sincere friend 
 by his honest avowal. 
 
 " H'm," thought Atherton, as he left for the finan- 
 cial district and his never ending scheming, " pretty 
 warm defence on the part of our clerical friend. 
 How sits the wind in that quarter, I wonder? I 
 shall make it my business to find out." 
 
 After the crowd separated, Harding read a little 
 more, this time in peace, and then bethought himself 
 of his engagement with Agatha. His watch told 
 him that by going afoot he would reach her house 
 at about the appointed time. 
 
 " How will it all end ? " was the question that 
 kept time to his step as he walked rapidly uptown. 
 
 269
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE EMBERS OF HATE 
 
 THE green-clad servant who took the minis- 
 ter's card had evidently received his in- 
 structions, for he did not carry it upstairs, 
 but threw it into a little silver tray on the hall table, 
 remarking : 
 
 " Mad'moiselle La Countess gave ordaires you 
 vere to be shown zis vay." 
 
 Harding followed the flunkey toward the stairs, 
 when the sight of a familiar figure made him rub 
 his eyes. No, there was no mistake about it; it was 
 the well-knit frame of James Anderson, who had 
 disappeared from Old Chetford shortly after the de- 
 parture of Agatha and Mrs. Copeland. The ex- 
 coachman's square-cut face was illumined by a broad 
 smile as he saw his old-time antagonist with the 
 stuffed mittens. He approached and bowed re- 
 spectfully. 
 
 " I thought I couldn't be mistaken, James," said 
 the minister, as he extended his hand cordially, 
 " how are you ? " 
 
 " Very well, sir, thank ye kindly. I hopes you 
 are the same." 
 
 " As usual, Anderson, and glad to see you again." 
 
 Oblivious to the disdain which this exhibition of 
 270
 
 THE EMBERS OF HATE 
 
 courtesy from a visitor to a servant had aroused in 
 the breast of the Gallic gentleman, Harding fol- 
 lowed his leader up one flight to a dainty morning 
 room which was just now in a state of delightful 
 confusion occasioned by the presence of several gaily 
 adorned pasteboard boxes and fluffy heaps of silks, 
 muslins, tulles and other fabrics beloved by femi- 
 ninity. A large, yellow-haired woman in street cos- 
 tume was just leaving the apartment. 
 
 Agatha's greeting was kind in a volatile sort of 
 way, but her manner, Harding thought, was more 
 artificial than he liked to see. 
 
 " You will pardon this confusion, I know, Mr. 
 Harding," she rattled on, " but Madame Lafarge 
 has been showing me the superior points of the new 
 gowns her firm has just completed for me. Would 
 you like to view the feminine ' wanities ' ? " 
 
 He nodded as a matter of courtesy, and she, pick- 
 ing up one creation after another, shook each out 
 gaily and held it against her body that the effect 
 might be noted. Through it all she chatted with a 
 volubility that somehow seemed not quite on the 
 right key to Harding's sensitive ear. It was not 
 that she took delight in the pretty dresses, for so did 
 he, so far as his masculine mind would permit; it 
 was the apparent shallowness of the new Agatha 
 that troubled him. Finally he said, with a touch of 
 sternness : 
 
 ' Not much like the old life, Agatha ; but I see 
 you have a bit of it in the house." 
 
 She looked up from the critical inspection of a 
 ruffle, with inquiry in her eyes. 
 
 271
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " I mean James Anderson." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; Mrs. Copeland sent for him to come to 
 Paris on the steamer next after ours. He was an 
 invaluable body-guard, even if he did sometimes get 
 into trouble through his truly British determination 
 not to learn French." And she laughed heartily. 
 
 " I was glad to see him ; it was like a breath of 
 the old days. Do you ever miss them, Agatha? " 
 
 "Miss them?" 
 
 There was a suggestion of. tears in the voice, a 
 sudden shifting from gaiety to deep yearning. 
 . " Do you prefer this this style of life? " 
 
 " Prefer it ! " she echoed again, with a bitterness 
 of accent that stung him to the very core. 
 
 "Then why?" 
 
 " You ask why ? " she cried, rising impetuously. 
 " Have you forgotten what happened five years ago ? 
 Have you forgotten that the kindliest, noblest 
 woman in Old Chetford was driven from her home 
 because she had befriended a young girl and was 
 true to her in the hour of calumny ? Have you for- 
 gotten that that girl's grandfather was sent to his 
 death by a vile letter penned by a vile man, who, 
 under the guise of friendship and the respectability 
 lent him by the countenance of his upright aunt, in- 
 sulted and incited others to insult a girl whose only 
 fault was that she accepted his counterfeit of de- 
 cency as genuine ? Have you forgotten those things, 
 I say?" 
 
 " No, Agatha, I have not forgotten," he replied 
 sadly. 
 
 " Perhaps you may not have forgotten, too, how 
 272
 
 THE EMBERS OF HATE 
 
 the memory of that girl's mother was reviled in the 
 streets; yes, even in the church; how the false 
 accusers of her daughter smiled knowingly, and in- 
 famously suggested that the daughter of such a 
 woman could not be other than they said she was. 
 I have not forgotten. For five years I have thought 
 and thought of the cruelty of it all. For five years 
 I have schemed and planned that I might fit myself 
 to exact the measure of vengeance that such crimes 
 demand. To-day I stand on the threshold of the 
 temple of justice in which I shall be judge and exe- 
 cutioner. I will humble these people who have out- 
 raged the dead and maligned the living. I care 
 little for myself, but the memory of the dead will 
 not suffer me to forget or overlook their wrongs. I 
 have position and the influence of friends. Fate has 
 been kind to me. My birthright came to me almost 
 by accident. Years ago I swore that Old Chetford 
 should one day kneel to me, and that I would turn 
 away in disdain. I tell you, Ralph Harding, that 
 day is near at hand ! " 
 
 As the fires of this outburst burned themselves 
 away, leaving only the ashes of their wrath, the girl 
 sank to her knees before a great stuffed chair and 
 buried her face in her hands. Then came the need- 
 ful flood of tears. The minister watched her sob- 
 shaken figure for a minute or two and then gently 
 raised her with quieting words. He was greatly per- 
 turbed; here was a soul in distress, such as he had 
 long since vowed to help. But how, in such an in- 
 stance? 
 
 To comfort this beautiful woman whom he held 
 
 275
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 so dear was a vastly different thing from solacing his 
 " people " in trouble. He who knew all, who knew 
 even more than Agatha herself, of the injustice of 
 society's attitude toward her, could scarcely blame 
 her for bitterness against the powers that were. Yet 
 he feared for the corroding force of long-cherished 
 desire for revenge upon the soul of this unhappy 
 girl. 
 
 He would have given five years of his life for the 
 eloquence that should show her the truth, but he 
 knew her nature well enough, even in its changed 
 form, to be sure that open opposition and direct argu- 
 ment would but add fresh fuel to the flames. 
 
 He went to the window for a moment, and looked 
 out upon the tide of traffic flowing up and down with 
 ceaseless gaiety under the spring sun. Not far away, 
 where the delicate twin spires of the cathedral pierced 
 the blue, he saw in the street a long line of carriages 
 drawn up against the curb. A bright canopy was 
 stretched across the sidewalk, evidently to be the first 
 avenue into the world of some newly-made bride. 
 
 With a sigh he turned from the scene, to meet a 
 gaze of intensity from Agatha which he could not 
 fathom. He crushed down all other thoughts and 
 began to put some practical questions to the girl. 
 
 " What do you propose to do ? " he asked, trying 
 to speak calmly. 
 
 " I shall go to Old Chetford in June. The Cope- 
 land house it is mine now is being renovated, and 
 I shall see to it that those who are my guests while 
 I am there will prove to calumniators that in mere 
 position they are not worthy to tie my shoe." 
 
 274
 
 THE EMBERS OF HATE 
 
 " And your money, Agatha ? You have enough 
 to enable you to live as I find you here? " 
 
 " For the present, yes. The Count left me an 
 estate of three hundred thousand francs; of this I 
 have thirty-five thousand dollars left. I hate the 
 money, and would not touch it, save for this one 
 purpose. If I need more, I can make it. Indeed, I 
 have already proved this to my own satisfaction 
 here in New York." 
 
 Harding wondered how, but did not seek to inves- 
 tigate. Instead he ventured another inquiry. 
 
 " You spoke of a letter to your grandfather. May 
 I know about it ? " 
 
 " Is it possible you do not know ? Yet, why 
 should you ? " 
 
 She told the story, and he, too, felt much of her 
 passionate indignation. But he saw that she had not 
 read the authorship of the letter aright, and his sense 
 of fairness would not allow him to keep silent, even 
 for such a man as Guy Hamilton. Knowing the 
 cloak episode, he was morally certain that the miser- 
 able wife of his lawyer-friend had penned the words 
 that sent Captain Stewart to his grave. So, in a 
 general way, he defended Guy as a possible victim of 
 unwarranted suspicions, and urged that the meanest 
 creature was entitled to justice. 
 
 He could not help wondering if Agatha had ever 
 heard of the episode at the Attawam Club on that 
 tumultuous night when James Anderson became her 
 champion by proxy. In her present condition, how- 
 ever, he would not have dared interrogate her. 
 
 The name of Guy Hamilton, coming from his lips 
 
 275
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 and uttered in tones of attempted charity, was like 
 flame to flax in the girl's already surcharged heart. 
 An intensity of hatred burned in her eyes, and her 
 face was hardened into something that troubled the 
 minister deeply. 
 
 " Justice to him ! " she said with curling lip. " A 
 horse-whip or a hempen noose would be justice, per- 
 haps. But I do not want that kind of justice. He 
 must be reached, as I shall reach him, through his 
 selfish impulses. His pride, his self-esteem, must be 
 abased. I shall find a way. As for that woman the 
 woman who, while she was trying to disgrace me 
 was paving the road to her own shame she, too, 
 shall suffer through me. How I do not know, but 
 vengeance will come. Right, fate, God, everything 
 is on my side. No, I know what you would say," 
 she added quickly, as Harding made a deprecatory 
 gesture and would have spoken, " but it would be 
 useless. You are a true friend and a noble man, but 
 you have not suffered as I have, and you cannot 
 realize the truth. You must let me work out my own 
 salvation in my own way." 
 
 For a long time after this there was silence be- 
 tween them, she dreaming of the day of her triumph, 
 of which she was as sure as that she should wake on 
 the morrow, and he again turning the pages of the 
 past until he came to that scene of the whalers' fare- 
 well supper to their " Aggy." How often had he re- 
 called that warning phrase of his, tinged with a 
 darker hue of fate than he dreamed at the time. 
 This harking back to the " Harpoon " suggested 
 something that might break the tension of their 
 present attitude; he would try it. 
 
 276
 
 THE EMBERS OF HATE 
 
 " I saw Hank Donelson the last time I was in Old 
 Chetford, Agatha, and he spoke of you, as he always 
 does." 
 
 In an instant the clouds rolled away from the 
 girl's mind, and she saw only the brightness of the 
 days far back of her first great trouble. She clapped 
 her hands gaily, and smiled as charmingly as of old. 
 
 " And Captain Sykes and Artemas did you see 
 them, too, dear old barnacles that they are ! " 
 
 " Yes, both of them ; hale and hearty, too, they 
 were, and still talking of their ' little craft that ain't 
 been spoken for a thunderin' while an' is a good deal 
 overdue.' ' 
 
 " The salt old tarry angels ! And is Artemas as 
 much of a roistering blade as ever, and is Captain 
 Sykes tired of telling the ' Mozambique ' yarn yet ? " 
 
 " They're the same to a dot, Agatha." Then sud- 
 denly : " How would you like to see them ? " 
 
 "See them?" 
 
 ''' Yes ; I've been thinking of inviting them to New 
 York for a day or two as my guests. If I do that, 
 would you like to have me bring them up here? " 
 
 " Why of course, Mr. Harding," cried she de- 
 lightedly, " and you are so good to have thought of 
 it. You know I cannot go to Old Chetford yet. 
 Get them over as soon as ever you can." 
 
 Harding agreed to expedite matters, and went 
 down town with a far brighter hope for Agatha than 
 he had yet felt. The last few moments of their inter- 
 view had told him that she still had a heart. 
 
 That night a letter was sent to Old Chetford on a 
 mission that was destined to bring much joy to the 
 three musketeers of Tuckerman's Wharf. 
 
 277
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 FOR several days Agatha was to Harding a 
 flitting and a fleeting vision. He had called 
 once or twice, but found that her time was so 
 fully claimed by the exactions of social duties as to 
 give little opportunity for friendly chats. Receptions 
 to which she was invited and which she herself gave, 
 suppers, theatre-parties, musicales and the dozens 
 of other frivolities with which the semi-Bohemian 
 set in New York seeks to amuse itself, absolutely 
 filled her life almost to, the exclusion of personal com- 
 fort. 
 
 " I am sure she doesn't really care for this sort of 
 thing," mused the minister over a pipe in his plain 
 little bedroom, " it isn't in her nature to. All these 
 fripperies, I can see, are being used simply as a 
 means to an end. On the whole, I rather wish the 
 life she is leading interested her a little more. It 
 would be better for her nature than that dull hunger 
 for vengeance that's gnawing at her soul." 
 
 He thought of trying to enlist her in his work 
 among " distressed souls," but abandoned the idea as 
 impracticable for the present. He could do nothing 
 now but wait and hope. 
 
 A letter from Captain Sykes, flavored with the 
 278
 
 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 breath of the ocean, came to him in due time accept- 
 ing gladly the invitation to visit New York. In it 
 some nautical phrase suggested his own relations 
 with Agatha it was curious how most things of 
 power or picturesqueness did suggest her. He 
 seemed to be the keeper of a lighthouse near a reef. 
 Agatha's safety was threatened on a dark and tem- 
 pestuous night, and he, imprisoned, could only guard 
 and trim the light until wind and wave should drive 
 their precious burden nearer to him. But would 
 she see the beacon tended by his love and care and be 
 guided by it into the safe channel ? It was a question 
 that almost stunned him. 
 
 He was greatly delighted when James Anderson 
 hunted him up at his lodgings one evening to talk 
 over old times in the smoke of good tobacco. He 
 sincerely admired that sturdy ex-prize-fighter for a 
 devotion to Agatha which was like the honest love 
 of a noble dog for its mistress, and he thought more 
 of him than ever when James, in hesitating fashion, 
 made evident that the girl's manner of living and 
 bitterness of spirit had impressed him profoundly. 
 
 As a result of this consultation it was agreed that 
 James, who was now Agatha's courier and agent in 
 many things, should keep a sharp watch upon affairs 
 in the big house, and report at once to Harding if 
 any untoward events should occur. 
 
 " That is a bit like playing the spy," thought the 
 minister after James had gone, " but if ever the end 
 justified the means, this is the case." 
 
 The next evening, as a dainty card on his study 
 table told him, Agatha was to give an " At Home, 
 
 279
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 with Music." Although this sort of thing had long 
 been foreign to Harding's mode of life, he deter- 
 mined to go. He argued that he might be able to 
 formulate some plan to help her by seeing the sort of 
 people with whom she was surrounded ; but the fact 
 was that even in the crowd that was certain to be in 
 attendance upon a reigning favorite he would obtain 
 pleasure from her mere presence. 
 
 When he reached the Fifth Avenue house on the 
 following night it was aflame with many window 
 lights, and a long line of carriages was crawling 
 along the curb, each stopping for a moment to dis- 
 charge its butterfly occupants. The music of a 
 string band floated vaguely out upon the night air, 
 its individuality blurred by the ceaseless chatter of 
 many tongues. James Anderson stood at the steps, 
 dignified and unperturbed, but the French servants 
 within the hall were running about and gesticulating 
 with great apparent excitement in their attempts to 
 settle the guests. 
 
 The great double drawing-room of crimson and 
 silver tones, and just now beautifully decorated with 
 choice flowers, was filling rapidly, and Harding 
 joined the throng unobserved by anyone he knew. 
 He determined to hold aloof for a time and note the 
 conditions by which Agatha was environed. 
 
 Just at present the girl was gaily chatting in 
 French with M. Sayer, a famous violinist whom she 
 had met in Paris. He was a tall, ponderous man 
 with a smooth face and straight black hair that fell 
 over his ears in somewhat saintly fashion. There 
 was nothing saintly about the real individual, how- 
 
 280
 
 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 ever, for the story of his amours, one of which had 
 been with a world-renowned prima-donna, would 
 have filled a volume. Harding knew the artist's 
 reputation, and a chill struck to his heart as he saw 
 the leer the player cast upon Agatha's beautiful 
 shoulders and neck. He himself had never seen her 
 in evening dress before, and to have this almost holy 
 first impression marred by the satyr-genius was in- 
 tolerable. 
 
 Nor were some of the others who fluttered about 
 the radiant young woman any more reassuring. He 
 saw the sensual-faced Atherton greeted like an old 
 friend by the girl ; he saw Theodore Edlington, one 
 of the Realists' nastiest poets of decadence, engage 
 her in conversation ; he saw " Satan " Montgomery, 
 with most horrible of reputations, touch that white 
 and shapely hand. At last came Harry Armstrong, 
 fresh, honest and admiring, and Harding was thank- 
 ful for the little leaven that his presence afforded. 
 
 The women were, of course, irreproachable. 
 Agatha was now wise enough to know that whatever 
 the masculine portion of her devotees might lack in 
 the virtues, the feminine contingent must counter- 
 balance in order that her own status might be secure. 
 
 She had invited several leaders in consular circles, 
 a woman novelist or two, an actress of excellent 
 social standing, some music patrons and a sprinkling 
 of others well known as bohemians of position. It 
 was a bright and entertaining crowd, and the event 
 was at once a success. M. Sayer's playing was de- 
 lightful as ever ; his air of rapt spirituality as fasci- 
 nating and as inscrutable. 
 
 281
 
 As the evening wore away, the minister, who had 
 been very cordially received by Agatha and made to 
 feel somehow like a guest of honor, could not fail to 
 notice the avidity with which the sleek Atherton 
 hung upon the girl's words and the ill-concealed 
 grossness of the attentions he paid her. Others, too, 
 were impressed, as he learned when young Arm- 
 strong approached him with boyish wrath upon his 
 fair face. 
 
 " Isn't it disgraceful, the way Atherton looks at 
 the Countess ? " he exclaimed impetuously. " He 
 hasn't a bit of respect for any woman, that fellow. I 
 wish I were her brother for a few minutes; I'd 
 I'd" 
 
 Harding had no real fear for Agatha ; he felt in- 
 dignation, however, that so much moral leprosy 
 should be almost in touch with her. Yet he smiled, 
 too, as he saw her surrounded like a queen by the 
 crowd of sycophants, thinking of Philip Dalzell's in- 
 tention of painting her as a Circe, with men instead 
 of swine as her victims. He was sure that this 
 gathering did not appeal to her as made up of indi- 
 viduals; they were a collective means to an end, 
 like the whole life she was now leading. Yet again 
 this Atherton Did not Agatha's pronounced favor 
 toward him raise him from the level of being simply 
 a part of the whole? He was much relieved when 
 Dalzell sauntered up to the window, where he was 
 standing in semi-retirement, and observed: 
 
 " Atherton's at it again, talking shop now to the 
 fair Countess, and, strange to say, she appears to 
 
 282
 
 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 know as much about stocks as he does." And he 
 yawned and wandered away. 
 
 Atherton had interested Agatha very deeply. He 
 was a brilliant talker where finance was concerned, 
 and he spread before her mind pictures of the " mar- 
 ket " that were vivid and seductive. Here they met 
 on common ground, ground upon which she hoped 
 to erect the fabric of her ambition. He told her in 
 particular of a company in which he was interested 
 and which would repay her investigation, if she 
 cared to place her money to good advantage. Her 
 instinct told her that he was sincere, that he was 
 fascinated by her and would put wealth in her way 
 so long as he was favored. 
 
 " Some of the best operators on the ' street ' are in 
 it," he had declared, " and its president is that luck- 
 iest of plungers, Guy Hamilton. You've heard of 
 him, perhaps." 
 
 Agatha started at the name, and breathed heavily 
 for a moment. Her hand sought her heart ; her face 
 was tense and drawn. To think that that despised 
 name should come forth at such a time and in such 
 a place! Atherton must certainly have noticed her 
 agitation, for he was as keen as a ferret, but that the 
 noise of a sudden disturbance in the hall attracted 
 his attention in common with that of all the guests. 
 
 The protesting tones of a servant uttered in very 
 rapid broken English rose above the general hum of 
 conversation, followed by a high-pitched, squeaky 
 voice in reply. 
 
 " Huh ! I tell ye we will go in, consarn ye. Parson 
 283
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Hardin's in thar, an' it's him we come ter see. An* 
 mebbe our Aggy's thar too. Leastwise, we're a-goin r 
 ter find out, so avast thar, ye land lubber." 
 
 In another instant there appeared in the broad 
 doorway the strangest trio that ever set foot in a 
 New York drawing-room. The tiny figure of Hank 
 Donelson in the centre, was flanked on one side by 
 the big and ruddy Captain Sykes and on the other 
 by the weazened Artemas. There they stood shoul- 
 der to shoulder, like the three guardsmen of death- 
 less fame, but with all their courage of a moment ago 
 utterly wiped out by the brilliancy of the scene before 
 them. Then, too, they felt that their apparel, which 
 they had thought so elegant and modish when they 
 left Old Chetford, was after all scarcely adapted to 
 evening wear. Even the Captain's long frock coat, 
 the pride of them all, into which he had managed to 
 stow his capacious chest with tremendous effort, now 
 seemed commonplace; Hank began to despise his 
 cherished tight lavender trousers and Artemas had 
 dark suspicions of the immense scarlet necktie he 
 had purchased especially for the trip. A well-bred 
 titter added to their pitiable confusion. They were 
 helpless, speechless and were just about to turn and 
 flee precipitately when 
 
 A tall, beautiful vision in moss-rose satin sprang 
 from somewhere within the gay throng and ran 
 across the room to greet them. The vision wrung 
 each one's hands warmly and kissed each in the sim- 
 ple fashion of childhood. It was Agatha, yes, their 
 dear " Aggy " grown so handsome and so grand that 
 she overawed them, yet not too grand to remember 
 
 284
 
 'Yet not too grand to remember old friends."
 
 A RIFT IN THE CLOUDS 
 
 old friends and the days when she was their pet and 
 their pride. The warm-hearted little Hank could 
 have wept with delight, but he realized that digni- 
 fied composure was due this splendid young woman, 
 and he whispered to his companions that they must 
 " keep sheets taut and head up into the wind like a 
 frigate." 
 
 Agatha turned with a little apology for the inter- 
 ruption and introduced the three mariners to the 
 company. 
 
 " They are very dear old friends of my child- 
 hood," she added simply, " and comrades of my 
 dead grandfather." 
 
 All this was accepted by Agatha's guests as a de- 
 lightful manifestation of the eccentricity of genius; 
 give a woman a title, and society will applaud if she 
 chooses to turn handsprings in public. So they made 
 much of the tars as interesting specimens from an- 
 other world, and before the evening had far spent 
 itself Dalzell had exacted a half-promise from Arte- 
 mas that he would give him a sitting for a study to 
 be called " The Ancient Mariner." 
 
 When the people dispersed, Atherton was among 
 the last to leave, loth to depart from this woman who 
 had so impressed him. After Agatha had bidden 
 him good-night, she added : 
 
 " I will call at your office to-morrow, Mr. Ath- 
 erton, and we can resume our very interesting dis- 
 cussion." 
 
 As the financier descended the steps he chuckled 
 and rubbed his hands together with a lingering, ca- 
 ressing motion, characteristic of him when he 
 
 285
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 thought that his plans were maturing satisfactorily. 
 His overweening vanity led him to imagine that 
 Agatha's interest in him was special and personal, 
 and he determined to foster this by every means in 
 his power, good or ill it mattered very little. 
 
 If he had reentered the house, his smile of self- 
 congratulation might have turned to a grimace of 
 chagrin, for, forgetful of him and even of the Guy 
 Hamilton whose ghost he had raised, Agatha Renier, 
 Countess Fornay, was sitting cross-legged on the 
 floor in her satin gown, and before her, charmed, 
 amazed and a bit bewildered, were the three old 
 sailors of Tuckerman's Wharf. 
 
 286
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 FOR HIGH STAKES 
 
 THE visitors from old Chetford were installed 
 for Ac Might in the most luxurious quarters 
 they had ever known. To Harding's pro- 
 posal to take the tars down town and provide lodg- 
 ings for them near his own chambers Agatha turned 
 a deaf ear. She would not hear of the old fellows' 
 departure, especially as spare rooms were plentiful in 
 the big house. So Hank, Artemas and Captain 
 Sykes each got as beautiful a bedroom as any so- 
 ciety queen. What to do with such magnificence 
 they scarcely knew, but a bed, at least, needs no 
 introduction to tired human beings, and at last they 
 were settled for the night. 
 
 At breakfast next morning they were as happy as 
 larks, although Artemas did mildly repine at his 
 failure to sleep. 
 
 " Yer see, Miss Aggy," he observed, " it's the 
 fust time in nigh on ter forty years, when I came ter 
 York afore, that I've spent a night out'n the ol' 
 hammock. Yer bed was terrible purty an' powerful 
 soft, but thet thar sinkin' down whenever ye moved 
 was more'n I could stand. So I jest pulled the mat- 
 tress off'n thet thar wire contraption and put it on 
 
 287
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 the floor. Ye won't mind, will ye, Aggy ? " he 
 queried, in some trepidation. 
 
 " No, indeed, Artemas," she replied, laughing 
 gaily. " To-night you shall have the spring removed 
 and slats put in, if you like." 
 
 " Thankee; thankee kindly," said the grateful old 
 man. 
 
 The meal was not achieved without sundry per- 
 turbations of spirit on the part of the whalers. 
 Gentlemen at heart, they feared that their ignorance 
 of the amenities of a refined table might shame 
 Agatha in the eyes of her servants. Wonderful men, 
 those servants ! Such lordly dignity as encompassed 
 the butler, in particular, had never been seen before. 
 Hank watched him closely, wondering what stroke 
 of fate had brought such an evident scion of a noble 
 family into service. As the man brought him his 
 coffee with the suavity and pomp of a diplomatic 
 dean, his eyes nearly popped out of his head, and 
 the food he was carrying to his mouth stopped half- 
 way. Sykes noted Agatha's movements and imi- 
 tated all that she did, while Artemas, more inde- 
 pendent than either of his friends, fed himself in 
 his own way serenely, and made a breakfast that 
 warmed the cockles of his heart. 
 
 " Suthin' like ol' times, eh ? " asked Captain Sykes 
 jovially, as they ate and chatted and were very 
 happy. Then, seeing the shadow that passed over 
 his hostess' face, he added gently : " 'ceptin' one." 
 
 " Yes, dear old grandfather," murmured the girl 
 with glistening eyes. " And the ' Harpoon ' has 
 she has she been broken up ? " 
 
 288
 
 FOR HIGH STAKES 
 
 No answer came from a single tar. Artemas 
 looked at Sykes, Sykes looked at him, and both 
 looked at Hank Donelson. Hank looked at the 
 French clock on the mantel with a gaze of intense 
 concentration. 
 
 " Ye heern what Miss Aggy said," observed the 
 captain mildly. 
 
 " Yes, Hank, is she broke up ? " piped Artemas. 
 
 The little tar started as from a deep revery. 
 
 " Oh, no ; she ain't broke up yet," he replied, 
 and his ruddy face gradually worked itself into the 
 semblance of a smile. 
 
 " I'm glad of that," said the girl simply. Where- 
 at all three of the old sea-fossils chuckled immoder- 
 ately. Agatha wondered a little as to what amused 
 her guests so much, but knowing them to be " odd 
 fish," nothing they could do appeared strange to 
 her. 
 
 Breakfast over, the trio retired to the library at 
 Agatha's express command for a pull at their pipes. 
 From that room came, from time to time, the sound 
 of Hank's voice addressing something in a pleading 
 tone to Artemas. Then Sykes's deep bass joined in, 
 and finally all three seemed to be talking at once and 
 rather excitedly. Agatha ventured in to ask what 
 the matter was. 
 
 " Why, yer see, Miss Aggy," explained the cap- 
 tain, " the boy, here, is pesterin' Artemas ter take 
 him down ter the Bow'ry ter see the sights. Artemas 
 was here onct afore an' knows the ropes. But we 
 don't know as how the young feller ought ter be 
 took ter such a place." 
 
 289
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Oh, I think it entirely safe," replied Agatha, as 
 seriously as she was able, " With two such 
 guardians as you, Hank will not be corrupted, 1 
 am sure." 
 
 Thus encouraged, they sallied forth under the 
 pilotage of Slickersley, who, forty years before, had 
 actually been in the classic street that Hank desired 
 to tread, and felt intensely proud of his superior 
 knowledge. 
 
 Soon after their departure Agatha was driven by 
 James Anderson to Wall Street, and reached that 
 dark canon of finance as its rushing flood of business 
 was at its height. 
 
 The offices of Atherton were high up in an im- 
 mense building near the Stock Exchange, and were 
 typical of that luxury with which the kings of gam- 
 ing delight to surround themselves. Carpets of the 
 richest velvet hushed the hurrying footfalls of em- 
 ployes and " customers; " fine paintings gave relief 
 to eyes wearied by the ceaseless procession of figures 
 on the " tape; " beautiful and elaborately appointed 
 desks were at the service of speculators, and there 
 was a handsome, glass-enclosed room for women 
 "'Clients," of whom Atherton had a large number. 
 Here Agatha sat for a moment until the broker 
 should appear ; she knew he would not delay. 
 
 A " ticker " was spewing forth its endless strip of 
 narrow paper, hammering upon it the fateful figures 
 which so many thousands of eyes, bright with hope, 
 or " dim with unshed tear," were watching at that 
 very moment as far as Wall Street was a power. 
 Agatha lifted the coil from its tall wicker basket 
 
 290
 
 FOR HIGH STAKES 
 
 and passed it quickly through her fingers, noting the 
 selling prices of certain stocks. Evidently the gods 
 of chance were well inclined, for she smiled at 
 what she saw, and reached for one of the little order 
 blanks on a shelf near by. She was about to write 
 something under the boldly printed " SELL " on the 
 slip, when Atherton entered, 
 
 The strong man of finance was most fastidiously 
 dressed and freshly groomed; even his daily orchid 
 had been chosen with lingering care. He greeted his 
 beautiful visitor with so deferential a manner that 
 even the clerks took notice, especially as one of them 
 recognized the Countess from her newspaper por- 
 trait. The whisper ran around the room, even to the 
 other feminine " clients,'' and Agatha was at once 
 the object of keen scrutiny, for which she cared not 
 at all. The days of the blush at searching glances 
 were long since passed, 
 
 " Ah, my dear Countess, I am indeed charmed 
 to see you. I trust you are as well as you look this 
 morning," was Atherton's greeting, to which 
 Agatha replied in a few direct words and with no 
 notice whatever of the broadly implied compliment. 
 
 She told the delighted financier that she had 
 been much interested in his conversation of the 
 evening before; that she had often wished to learn 
 something of stock transactions from a master of 
 the subject. She even confessed to having taken 
 a few little " flyers " since her arrival in New York, 
 which had resulted rather well. To the blase man 
 of the world she seemed almost like a pretty child 
 rejoicing over a new toy, 
 
 291
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " The stock market is so much more exciting 
 than Monte Carlo," she exclaimed with enthusiasm* 
 " There you see all the cards, and poof ! it's all over 
 in a moment; you're happy or wretched, and that's 
 an end to it" 
 
 " But at Monte Carlo they play fair. Here in 
 Wall Street the cards are marked/' he said signifi- 
 cantly, leaning toward her with a look in his beady 
 eyes that aroused her distrust and told her that if 
 she were to use him as a pawn in her match with 
 fate she must make her moves skillfully, "but I 
 can teach you to play the game in safety." 
 
 She wondered what his price for the instruction 
 might be she knew that all men of his stamp had 
 a price. But she dismissed the thought as having* 
 no immediate bearing on her visit, and turned again 
 to the matter in hand. 
 
 " I thank you, Mr. Atherton. But you were talk- 
 ing of mining stocks last night, were you not? 
 What is there in particular that you can recom- 
 mend?" 
 
 " There are several, Countess," he replied^ lower- 
 ing his voice almost to a whisper, " but the best of 
 them all, the king-pin in the money making line, is, 
 in my opinion, the stock of the ' United Mines Syn- 
 dicate '." 
 
 " I do not know it." 
 
 " It has only been listed a few days. As a matter 
 of fact, it is not a mining company at all, but an 
 amalgamation made up to control the handling of a 
 number of concerns whose stocks are now active, 
 
 292
 
 FOR HIGH STAKES 
 
 such as ' Huronide,' ' Gotham and Michigan,' ' Don 
 Quixote,' ' Norumbega ' and others of that sort." 
 
 " But not one of those stocks is paying a dividend 
 now, and there are assessments on two of them," 
 said Agatha quietly. 
 
 The broker flushed deeply, and into his little eyes 
 there came a look of greater respect for his caller's 
 calibre. 
 
 " My dear young lady, it is not a question of get- 
 ting dividend-payers, or even of escaping assess- 
 ments. The simple facts are that we have consoli- 
 dated those stocks under one management; that 
 many of the stockholders in the smaller companies- 
 have handed in their shares for exchange ; that there 
 are, however, a great many transactions still un- 
 closed " 
 
 " A large ' short ' interest, you mean? " 
 
 He looked at her with ever growing wonderment. 
 : ' Yes, a large ' short ' interest in the various stocks. 
 For some time we have been buying in all these 
 companies through a varied assortment of brokers to 
 avert suspicion, and to-day we have practically a 
 ' corner ' in every one of them. When we get ready 
 to move we shall " 
 
 "'Squeeze' them?" 
 
 " Ah, Countess, you are superb ! We shall do 
 more we shall wring them by the neck until there is 
 not a drop of gold left in their wretched bodies. 
 How ? Very simple. When the ' shorts ' find that 
 they are struggling against a ' corner ' of the most 
 unrelenting sort, we shall announce that shares of 
 
 293
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 the ' United Mines Syndicate ' will be accepted for 
 delivery in place of Norumbega, Huronide or what- 
 ever the stock may be. Then you will see a rush 
 for ' United Mines ' such as Wall Street rarely 
 knows, and we who hold it will profit by hundreds 
 of thousands of dollars. I hold success in my very 
 hand; I cannot fail," he said solemnly. 
 
 " About Mr. Hamilton you said that was the 
 name of the president, I believe?" 
 
 " To tell you the truth," he replied cautiously, al- 
 though his infatuation was now complete, " Hamil- 
 ton has not played square with me in this deal, I'm 
 afraid. At any rate, lie lj carrying a great load 
 just now, and with proper manipulation, he might be 
 forced out of the ' United,' ' 
 
 " Beaten at his own game ! " said Agatha, her lips 
 tightening, 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 They talked a little more as to the profits that 
 would arise from the coup, and then Agatha rose 
 to go. 
 
 " Well, the prospect is alluring," she said, " per- 
 haps I may invest a little money in the plan." 
 
 At that moment she glanced through the glass 
 partition and noted a tall, elegantly dressed man 
 talking with one of the clerks. There was some- 
 thing so familiar in his figure and bearing that she 
 was scarcely surprised when he turned and she saw 
 that it was Guy Hamilton. She crushed down a 
 great impulse to cry out; she commanded herself 
 to compose her face, that the broker standing so 
 
 294
 
 FOR HIGH STAKES 
 
 close to her should not read the secret of her hate. 
 She turned to him with an admirable counterfeit 
 of nonchalance, 
 
 " I really must be going," she said. " That mining 
 stock you speak of how high are the stakes ? " 
 
 " I think twenty-five thousand would be needed if 
 you wish for large returns." 
 
 " So little ? Well, you may depend upon me " 
 
 As Atherton returned from the escorting of his 
 fascinating visitor to her carriage, his joy was pro- 
 found. For her money he cared little; it was the 
 prospect of at least friendly relations with her dur- 
 ing the progress of the coup, the assured propinquity 
 to a beautiful woman, that intoxicated his material- 
 istic soul. Perhaps he might even win her love! 
 
 Agatha went away feeling that she had embarked 
 on a dangerous voyage, in the course of which she 
 would need her utmost cleverness and self-posses- 
 sion. More money than she now had would also be 
 demanded, but this she had good reason to believe 
 she could obtain; her ventures in the market thus 
 far had been very successful, and she followed the 
 ma-xims of Mrs. Copeland in every move she made. 
 
 Just how she should proceed against Guy Hamil- 
 ton she did not know, but, since the mention of his 
 name the evening before, her determination that in 
 some way he should feel the blight of her revenge 
 had been intensified to the proportions of mania. 
 Cost what it might in money or temporary self- 
 abasement, she would bring him to the dust in which 
 he had once prostrated her. 
 
 295
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 She lunched at Delmonico's, and was then driven 
 back to Twenty-third Street to do some shopping. 
 There, bethinking herself of her three old friends, 
 she dismissed James with the injunction to go home 
 and see if they had returned; if they had not, he 
 was to sally forth to the lower city an? get upon 
 their trail forthwith. 
 
 296
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS 
 
 THE three sailors, after leaving the shelter- 
 ing walls of Agatha's house, hailed one of 
 the archaic stages which were still plying 
 on Fifth Avenue and began their rattling, creakinr 
 course toward the Bowery. The motion, not so 
 remote from that of a ship in a storm, so soothed 
 the mariners that they failed to note the little fare- 
 box in front, into which they were supposed to drop 
 their money, and were equally oblivious to the re- 
 peated ringing of the impatient driver. 
 
 At last the shabby jehu opened a tiny trap-door 
 near his seat and yelled in no very considerate 
 tones : 
 
 " Hey, you in there; ain't you never goin' to pay 
 your fare ? " 
 
 " In course we be," cried Artemas shrilly, aroused 
 at this imputation against his comrades, " an' ye 
 needn't be so consarned peart about it, nuther. But 
 whar's yer conductor, or whatever ye calls him, that 
 takes the cash ? " 
 
 " Aw, drop it into the box, you, you " 
 
 The driver's voice failed him through sheer dis- 
 gust, and he thereafter did his best to make his vehi- 
 
 297
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 cle jolt and sway, all ignorant of the actual satisfac- 
 tion he was giving to his queer fares. At the end 
 of the stage line the three disembarked and stood for 
 a moment in the middle of the sidewalk, unmindful 
 of the frowns and jibes of hurrying pedestrians. 
 They were in a quandary, for Artemas showed 
 signs of being out of his reckoning. He scratched 
 his head, wet his finger and held it to the wind, and 
 looked around for weathervanes. 
 
 " I disremember the exact chart," he quavered, 
 "but the course should be about east by sou' east 
 from this ere squar'." 
 
 " Ask somebody," growled the captain. 
 
 " What ? " squeaked the old man indignantly, 
 " me a sailor, an' ask somebody like a gol darned 
 landlubber. I've been here afore, I tells yer. Come 
 along." 
 
 There was nothing for it but to follow Artemas's 
 guidance, and they proceeded meekly enough. Af- 
 ter hairbreadth escapes before horses and street 
 cars, and many a jostling from passers-by for they 
 insisted on walking three abreast they actually did 
 reach the Bowery of Hank's desire, as the lampposts 
 and other signs gave conclusive evidence. Artemas 
 was radiant with triumph. 
 
 " Now messmates," he exclaimed, " will yer say 
 I didn't know the sailin' round York?" 
 
 " No, no, Artemas," returned Hank soothingly, 
 " ye've done a great crick at the wheel ; we thanks 
 yer hearty." And he shook the old fellow by the 
 hand with dignified approval. 
 
 The musketeers' voyage down the famous thor- 
 298
 
 A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS 
 
 oughfare was a memorable one. Their quaint dress, 
 their odd faces, their unmistakable air of innocence 
 of urban customs, marked them as fair game for 
 the street arabs who followed along in their wake, 
 shouting stanzas of comic songs deemed applicable 
 to the trio, and asking questions not always delicate 
 in intent. 
 
 Once a flashy individual with a deeply belled silk 
 hat and a fierce black moustache rushed up to Sykes 
 with an air of the utmost gratification, and seized 
 his hand cordially. 
 
 " Ah, is this can it be my old farmer f i iend, 
 Ephraim Tucker, of Newcastle, New Jersey? Don't 
 remember me, eh? But how should you? I was 
 a mere boy when " 
 
 " Yer off'n yer course, shipmate," replied the cap- 
 tain jovially, rather pitying the genial stranger's 
 disappointment. " Fer I ain't Ephraim Tucker, nor 
 I ain't never clapped my binnacles on Newcastle, 
 New Jersey; whiles as fer farmin', Lord love ye, I 
 don't know a rake from a corncob. My name's " 
 
 At this interesting moment a policeman sauntered 
 toward the three explorers, and the cordial man 
 seemed to have forgotten an important engagement, 
 for he dropped S'ykes's hand as if it were fire, and 
 hurried around the corner without ceremony. 
 
 " Hey, you fellers," said the officer brusquely, 
 " want to separate yourselves from all the money 
 you've got ? Know who that man is ? " 
 
 Hank paled, Artemas shivered and Sykes clutched 
 his wallet tenaciously. 
 
 " No," they answered in unison. 
 299
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Well, old chaps, that's ' Handsome Joe/ the 
 slickest bunco-steerer in New York City." 
 
 A cunning look came into Artemas's deep-set eyes. 
 Here was a trick of some sort, a mean attempt to 
 discredit the genial stranger. 
 
 " No siree, he ain't no steerer of no sort ; he ain't 
 never had his hand on a tiller or a wheel in his life; 
 I kin tell by the cut o' his jib. Ye don't come thet 
 on us, not by a long shot." 
 
 " Oh, well, just as you please, old 'un," returned 
 the bluecoat. " I wash my hands of you, that's all." 
 
 Yet on the whole the three friends had a very 
 pleasant forenoon on the Bowery, and had the sat- 
 isfaction of seeing that they created something of 
 a sensation. They feasted on peanuts and bananas; 
 they were weighed on dial-machines; they blew into 
 a lung tester, which Sykes almost ruined with a tre- 
 mendous puff; they lunched royally at a dime res- 
 taurant on baked beans and griddle cakes ; they then 
 found a row of comfortable chairs under an awning, 
 into which they climbed to smoke their pipes, only 
 to discover that it was a bootblacking establish- 
 ment, and that they must submit to and pay for a 
 polishing, and finally they trudged along to find a 
 theatre, that ultima thule of all provincial visitors 
 to the great city. 
 
 The " Pan-Olympian " pleased their fastidious 
 tastes, because its exterior was very red and very 
 yellow, and brilliant posters promised excellent en- 
 tertainment within. The prices of tickets were ten, 
 twenty and thirty cents, and as Hank insisted that 
 the best was not a bit too good, they soon found
 
 A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS 
 
 themselves in orchestra seats well toward the 
 stage. 
 
 The piece that afternoon was a melodrama of the 
 fine old sort in which villainy runs rampant for four 
 acts, only to be crushed to earth with a tremendous 
 thud in the fifth. To the simple old salts, no one 
 of whom had ever been in a playhouse before, the 
 mimic scenes were intensely real. The harrowing 
 sufferings of the heroine stirred their manly hearts 
 to pity, and they moved uneasily in their seats as woe 
 was piled upon anguish and horror upon both. 
 
 At last came one of the most widely advertised 
 scenes in the play ; the villain was to seize the heroine 
 by the hair and drag her about the stage, laughing 
 in fiendish glee. The lovely girl was prone upon the 
 floor and the evil gentleman had grasped her tresses 
 preparatory to the great feat of realism, when Sykes, 
 unable to control himself, arose in his seat and shook 
 his huge fist at the actor. 
 
 " Avast thar," he roared angrily, " let that thar 
 gal alone, ye consarned sculpin, or I'll " 
 
 The house was in an uproar in a moment. Jeers, 
 whistles, cat-calls and cries of " sit down " and 
 " put him out " made a bedlam of the place. There 
 were shouts of laughter, too, for many thought the 
 interruption a clever trick of the management, and 
 expressed their approval of the captain's " make- 
 up." But he, nothing daunted, his chivalrous soul 
 thinking only of duty to be performed, started down 
 the aisle on the work of rescue. 
 
 " Come back, ye gol darned fool," piped Artemas, 
 " don't ye know it's only actin' out?*' 
 
 301
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 Sykes would have climbed upon the stage, but that 
 two burly attaches of the theatre seized him forth- 
 with. Then Hank and Artemas, rushing to his aid, 
 were also made prisoners, and the whole party was 
 dragged to the sidewalk, and a policeman sum- 
 moned. 
 
 " Well, by cracky," exclaimed that functionary in 
 astonishment, as he surveyed the rueful trio. " If 
 here ain't the old 'uns I warned about ' Handsome 
 Joe/ Disturbin' the peace, eh? I'm afraid I'll have 
 to run you in, my ancient friends." And he stepped 
 to a signal box on a lamppost, opened it and said 
 something into a telephone. In a few minutes a 
 long, covered wagon drawn by a fat and lazy horse, 
 and carrying a couple of additional officers, heaved 
 in sight. It backed up against the curb for its pas- 
 sengers. 
 
 " Now then, you're goin' to have a nice ride at 
 the city's expense," chuckled the policeman. " Get 
 in." 
 
 The poor, bewildered mariners were about to 
 obey, when suddenly there broke through the dense 
 crowd of curiosity seekers the figure of James An- 
 derson, who had had no difficulty in following their 
 trail through the Bowery. 
 
 No vessel bearing down upon shipwrecked sailors 
 on a raft was ever a more welcome sight than was 
 the well-known face to the beleaguered men. An- 
 derson quickly became informed of the situation, 
 and he went at once to the proprietor of the theatre. 
 That gentleman came forward with apologies, and 
 requested the release of the prisoners; and as James 
 
 302
 
 A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS 
 
 supplemented this with a certain transaction of 
 hands, the tars were set free. A cab was called, and 
 Anderson bundled the old fellows into it. 
 
 " Number Fifth Avenue," he directed the 
 
 driver. 
 
 " Must be a museum," jeered somebody in the 
 crowd, and the others set up a shout as the vehicle 
 rolled away. 
 
 It so happened that one of the spectators of the 
 discomfiture and rescue of the three was another 
 Old Chetford man of former days, Guy Hamilton, 
 who had been called into the district by his desire 
 to see a certain lawyer of rather shady reputation. 
 Noting the tumult, he had joined the crowd in idle 
 fashion, and had been startled to see James Ander- 
 son and the three sailors. All the bitter hatred he 
 bore the man who had once struck him was over- 
 mastered by curiosity, and he went as near as possi- 
 ble without detection to the centre of disturbance. 
 
 He heard Hank say something about Agatha's 
 probable displeasure and he caught the number given 
 by Anderson to the driver. There was no doubt 
 about it she was in New York, and living in an 
 aristocratic quarter. With characteristic reasoning 
 he jumped at the conclusion that she was spending 
 what remained of the Copeland money in a life of 
 gaiety. Further particulars he must have, and he 
 forthwith employed the Bowery lawyer, who was 
 not above playing detective for a consideration, to 
 investigate for him. The old spirit moved within 
 him, and he determined to renew the acquaintance 
 with Agatha if there were any possible way to do so. 
 
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 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 The musketeers had had enough of life in the 
 metropolis, and on the following day they took the 
 boat for Fall River. Not one of them could be 
 persuaded to go by train, if a boat could be found 
 to take them. 
 
 " Them pesky trains are so dangerous," declared 
 Sykes, the hero of more thrilling escapes from perils 
 of the sea than any man in Old Chetford.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE SKIRMISH LINE 
 
 WITHIN the next fortnight Ralph Hard- 
 ing saw many things in the brown-stone 
 house that convinced him that a critical 
 mental and spiritual crisis was near at hand in the 
 life of the woman he had vowed to save from her- 
 self. From the reports of James Anderson he 
 learned more. 
 
 The honest coachman and guardian of his mis- 
 tress's outward welfare used to make pleasant little 
 pilgrimages down to Harding's lodgings, and there, 
 through the persuasive aid of pipes, they would sit 
 and plan bright things for Agatha, one of them, at 
 least, dreading that they might never come to pass. 
 Harding could not feel that he was breaking the 
 proprieties in any sense by this familiarity with a 
 servant, for Anderson's long service, absolute loyalty 
 and keen penetration raised him to the position of 
 confidential friend. So the two who loved Agatha, 
 each in his own fashion, talked of her as if she were 
 a girl, whose interests were in their keeping. 
 
 One evening Anderson came with curious news. 
 Three days before, -he said, a lot of workmen had 
 arrived with wire and some strange-looking ma- 
 chines, which they had taken to the library. Other 
 
 305
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 laborers had performed some mysterious operations 
 on the roof, and since then the library had been kept 
 locked, and his mistress had spent most of her day- 
 times inside. All he could tell was that a peculiar 
 clicking, " like the sound of a horse champing a bit " 
 could be heard faintly from the hall. 
 
 The minister knew from experience that Agatha's 
 evenings "- r ere more than ever given up to social 
 gaieties. He rarely mingled in them, although in- 
 vited cordially enough, for he felt that he did not 
 speak the language of the flippant and artificial set 
 by which she was surrounded. And then came the 
 old, old question : to what extent did the girl's soul 
 actually participate in this existence? Was she 
 merely a chameleon, changing- color with each set 
 of surroundings, or would she at last become per- 
 manently tinged with frivolity from being a part 
 of it so long? Although he still believed in her 
 nobility of nature, he sighed at the difficulty of the 
 problem. 
 
 But to Harding the real, the hideous menace to 
 Agatha's happiness wa: '.he continued presence of 
 Atherton in her house. He now knew the ante- 
 cedents of that sleek sensualist, knew his disregard 
 for the honor of womankind, and to learn that he 
 was a favored visitor, as well as the girl's escort to 
 places of amusement, was as of the bitterness of 
 gall to the minister's highly organized nature. 
 
 With all his indignation, however, Harding felt 
 that neither he nor the world knew the truth that 
 must be behind Agatha's apparent preference for the 
 financier. Best of all men living, he thought, he 
 
 306
 
 THE SKIRMISH LINE 
 
 understood her nature; it was preposterous to believe 
 that she could feel any sympathy with a man of 
 Atherton's stamp. Nor was it possible to deceive 
 her now, as in the days of Guy Hamilton. But 
 here was the fact of favors bestowed, and it haunted 
 him. 
 
 After considerable of this self-communion he 
 suddenly grew disgusted with himself and his 
 " moonings," as he termed them. Was he to think 
 and dream and hope forever, and do nothing? 
 Where was his reputation as a practical man?. He 
 had won many another from a dangerous road, and 
 why should he shrink now because it was the woman 
 he loved who needed help? He determined to take 
 the initiative boldly, and try to interest her in other 
 directions perhaps in some plan of his own and at 
 leas'; distract her impressionable nature from its 
 morbidness. He would go to her at once. And 
 with that decision a bit of sunlight seemed already 
 to cut into the gloom. 
 
 Almost at that very moment Agatha was in the 
 midst of a deep discussion with Atherton in her 
 library. The broker's little eyes shone with a satis- 
 faction not wholly derived from the matter they 
 were outlining. His friends who declared that he 
 never mixed business and pleasure did not know 
 their man; they had been right simply because he 
 had never before met c. business woman who was 
 also alluringly feminine. The Countess talked of 
 stocks like an intelligent man, and his commercial 
 ear heard her with respect; she breathed adorable 
 womanly charm, and he drank that in with the thirst
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 of the senses. Had Agatha chosen to be Delilah, 
 she could have shorn this financial Samson without 
 a protest on his part. 
 
 " So you think the situation in ' United Mines ' 
 is favorable to us, do you, Mr. Atherton?" asked 
 Agatha. 
 
 " As favorable as I am able to make it," he re- 
 plied. " But I will be frank with you, and tell you 
 that I have not quite a controlling interest in it. 
 We let more of the stock slip into the market than 
 we intended, and somebody is holding on like grim 
 death. If I only knew for a surety what Hamilton 
 holds, I would be better satisfied. Of course he and 
 I could combine, and do as we chose with the com- 
 pany; but if he should get offish and unite his big 
 holdings with others, they could well, they could 
 make it unpleasant for me. But I don't think that 
 can happen; I don't see how he can get control 
 without my knowing it." 
 
 " Then if one could gain the confidence of this 
 Mr. Hamilton, and find out just what he owns of 
 the ' United Mines ' stock " 
 
 " It might make a very great difference to me 
 and to you," he replied. " If he has not got control, 
 we can beat him by buying the outstanding stock 
 at any price, and then vote that exchange with the 
 * shorts ' I spoke to you about. If he has, we are 
 at his mercy so far as this deal is concerned, be- 
 cause he could then go over to the enemy, compel 
 the company to abandon my plan, and make a 
 barrel of money by going short on the stocks of 
 the amalgamated companies. He would beat the 
 
 308
 
 THE SKIRMISH LINE 
 
 'corner/ and you and I would fail to get our profits. 
 The great question is how he stands on ' United 
 Mines.' He says he has not got control; I don't 
 believe him, somehow. I wish I knew." 
 
 " Perhaps I can find out." 
 
 "You?" he asked wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes that is, I I think I may be able to as- 
 certain." 
 
 " But you don't know Hamilton." 
 
 " There are many ways in which one can get in- 
 formation in the market," she returned. 
 
 " If we can find out positively how Hamilton is 
 situated in the matter," said Atherton, " all will be 
 clear sailing." 
 
 The broker departed a little later on excellent 
 terms with himself. Not only had he apparently 
 become a needful element in this attractive woman's 
 life, but he was in a fair way to have the whip- 
 hand over Hamilton. As for Agatha's financial in- 
 terest in the " United Mines " scheme, that was 
 bound to turn out to his advantage, he thought, 
 whichever way it resulted. If he and Agatha won, 
 he would reap the reward of her gratitude; if they 
 lost, she might need his help financially, and that 
 he would pour out lavishly. But he would win; 
 the dice were loaded; he was victor even before 
 the cast. 
 
 Coming down the steps he met Harding. He 
 bowed graciously, showing his white teeth with a 
 sinister smile. He had at first feared the " parson," 
 but of late had seen so little of him at the house 
 as to drop him from consideration. He could afford, 
 
 309
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 therefore, to be magnanimous. The minister 
 nodded stiffly; he would not play a part with such 
 a man. 
 
 Harding was told by a servant that the Countess 
 would see him in the library. There he found her 
 at a desk in a maze of papers, pamphlets, reports, 
 balance-sheets and yellow tissues. A " ticker " at 
 her right side was tapping out its monotonous song, 
 and a beautiful desk-telephone was within easy reach 
 of her left hand. She turned with a bright smile. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Mr. Harding," she said. 
 " You have not been any too sociable of late. Are 
 you, too, busy as I am ? " and she drew his atten- 
 tion to the financial paraphernalia with a compre- 
 hensive sweep of her pretty hand. 
 
 " Yes, Agatha, very busy. But not, I fancy, 
 in a very profitable way pecuniarily. Your occupa- 
 tion, I suppose, is more to the point in dollars and 
 cents," he said quizzically, tapping the tape-basket 
 as he spoke. 
 
 " I told you once that I should get money," she 
 retorted. " Well I am getting it. Is there any 
 harm in that?" 
 
 " No harm in itself, Agatha, perhaps, but do 
 you ever think of the result of continued gambling 
 on a nature like yours? Don't you fear the effect 
 of the tense excitement of the robber game of stocks, 
 the devil-take-the-hindmost spirit that actuates 
 every deal in the market? Can you play with fire 
 and not be burned? Can you live in the malarial 
 belt of Wall Street, and not catch the fever ? I would 
 
 310
 
 THE SKIRMISH LINE 
 
 rather see you the poorest of the poor than to have 
 you dragged down to spiritual ruin by the weight 
 of gold thus obtained." 
 
 The girl flushed, and her eyes glinted with resent- 
 ment. What right had this man, old friend though 
 he were, to talk to her thus, to assume proprietorship 
 over her affairs, to try to block the course of her 
 righteous resolve? Far away in the shade other 
 figures were calling for vengeance; their thin and 
 eerie voices were more powerful than even the mu- 
 sical tones of this earnest, virile helper of souls. 
 
 " I am grateful I have always been grateful to 
 you, Mr. Harding," she said, " for your kindly in- 
 terest in me. But now that I am a woman I 
 must help myself. I have a work to do you know 
 how sacred a work. I am doing it by the only 
 means possible. I have no fear for myself." 
 
 "But your happiness, Agatha?" 
 
 She looked at him almost scornfully. 
 
 " Long ago I said that when I had achieved for- 
 tune and social position, I should have too much 
 to do to think of trying to be happy. It has come 
 true." 
 
 " Ah, but this exacting life of yours you look 
 weary." 
 
 She laughed, but not with the merriment of old 
 days. 
 
 " I never felt better. I need work, and more 
 work, and still more work ! " 
 
 " Then, Agatha, listen. If you need something 
 more than you get from your society life and your
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 finance and God knows I believe you ought to 
 have it why cannot you spare some of your time 
 to me, to the things I am trying to do to make mis- 
 erable hearts a little less wretched? I know of 
 some strange cases of suffering just now for which 
 a woman's hand is needed. Can you help ? " 
 
 All her feminine sympathy came to the surface at 
 his earnest words and the expression on his fine, 
 pleading face. For the first time in years she 
 thought of the past without bitterness, of the old 
 days in the Copeland house before sorrow had 
 withered a single petal of the roses in her spring 
 garden of happiness. 
 
 " In years gone by," she said very slowly and 
 tenderly, " you were kind enough to devote a part 
 of two days each week to my education and culture ; 
 I will give two afternoons a week to you and your 
 interests." 
 
 After Harding had gone, his heart full of thanks- 
 giving, Agatha turned to her " ticker " and her 
 telephone. She called up a great many numbers 
 which financial experts would have recognized as ap- 
 pertaining to brokers' offices, and to each answering 
 voice she gave orders about like this : 
 
 " Buy ' Huronide,' ' Gotham and Michigan/ 
 ' Don Quixote/ ' Norumbega ' and ' Cross-Cut ' at 
 the market. Buy all you can get, but in small lots. 
 Keep the prices down if possible." 
 
 Then she began writing hurriedly, and for a long 
 time her pen kept pace with the clack of the " ticker." 
 At last she threw it down wearily. 
 
 312
 
 THE SKIRMISH LINE 
 
 " Heigho," she sighed, " I shall be glad when 
 three o'clock comes. Then I shall be free from the 
 necessity of watching you, you old monster," and 
 she shook her small fist in mock anger at the garru- 
 lous machine at her side.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 AN AMBUSCADE 
 
 FROM afar-off Guy Hamilton heard enough 
 of Agatha Renier's beauty, brilliancy and 
 charm to make him thirst like a traveler in 
 the desert at the sight of an oasis of blue waters 
 and green trees. Mirage or not he did not know, 
 nor did he stop to think. Only he was certain, from 
 what his lawyer-detective had gleaned, and from 
 the newspaper accounts of the Countess's victorious 
 passage through the social " forbidden country," 
 that the once fascinating girl had become a magnet 
 that seemed to draw him ever forward perhaps the 
 more irresistibly because its power was unseen. It 
 was that infatuation of memory which often casts a 
 tinge of glory about its object, strengthened by the 
 half-jealousy that shakes a man of strong passions 
 at the thought that a woman once almost his own 
 is kept from him by a strong guard of other 
 courtiers. 
 
 He heard of Atherton's apparent supremacy in the 
 Fifth Avenue house and a bitter hatred filled his 
 heart. That his financial chief or, at least, one 
 who deemed himself so should be in the place he 
 ought to occupy at the side of a beautiful girl, was 
 an added blow of fate.
 
 AN AMBUSCADE 
 
 But the past! Despite his attempts to placate 
 conscience with the theory that he had been the 
 victim of circumstance, he knew that Agatha had a 
 clear and tenacious memory. A woman will forget 
 a wrong when she feels that a man can right it by 
 allowing her to love him; but here there was no 
 opportunity even for attempting such reinstatement. 
 He believed that should he go to her house in a des- 
 perate attempt to see her, she would have him thrust 
 out of doors like some importunate and unworthy 
 beggar. 
 
 He racked his brain to find something that would 
 make a visit even plausible, but all his ingenuity 
 stopped short, and he cursed his impotence to devise 
 a plan. 
 
 Time was when he would have turned from his 
 perplexity to the reassuring spirit of drink, but for 
 three years he had kept his old enemy almost com- 
 pletely under subjection. His reentrance into the 
 field of speculation after the Waterloo which re- 
 sulted in his becoming a forger, had opened his 
 eyes to one important fact : iron nerves were needed 
 for the successful playing of the great game of 
 Wall Street; it was a question under which king he 
 should serve, Alcohol or Mammon, and he chose 
 the latter. Then, too, his peculiar nature found in 
 the excitement of the market a substitute for the 
 artificial stimulus of liquor. Even in the days at 
 Old Chetford, when he had drunk heavily, it had 
 been for a mental result, never from a physical cause. 
 
 Fate's favorites are very often the unworthy, and 
 Hamilton had prospered from the first day of his 
 
 315
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 rehabiliment. As his associate Atherton had said, 
 he had become in less than two years one of the luck- 
 iest as well as the most unscrupulous of plungers. 
 He was always up to his ears in heavy obligations 
 which the least breeze of misfortune would have 
 raised above his head. But at every critical point 
 something would occur to his advantage, and he 
 would emerge triumphant and money-laden. As a 
 result he had come to have a Napoleonic faith in 
 his luck. 
 
 All this applied to the playing of the game of 
 gold; but a new interest had arisen, and he felt the 
 full force of the old adage : " Lucky at cards, un- 
 lucky in love." Yes, he was willing to call it love 
 now, foolish as it seemed in a man who scarcely 
 knew whom he was worshipping. 
 
 He finally worked himself into an intensely nerv- 
 ous and unstrung condition. One night he paced 
 back and forth for a long time opposite Agatha's 
 house. He saw a carriage, with James Anderson 
 on the box beside the driver, draw up to the fine 
 front and discharge a passenger. He hurried away 
 without another look, for he could not yet nerve 
 himself to see the woman of his dreams, even at a 
 distance. He cursed himself for his cowardice, yet 
 seemed to be a toy in the hand of destiny. 
 
 But at last the inevitable sight of her came. She 
 stepped from her brougham at Sherry's one after- 
 noon just as he passed on the other side. She did 
 not see him, but he had a full, though fleeting, look 
 at the beautiful, changed face, and it made his in- 
 fatuation complete. It was the Agatha of every 
 
 316
 
 AN AMBUSCADE 
 
 roseate vision, yet with something more compelling 
 than he could have imagined. 
 
 That night he slept little. It terrified him, almost, 
 to think that the Agatha Renier whom his aunt had 
 befriended in her pretty poverty, and whom he had 
 insulted in his drink-fanned passion, had become 
 this radiant woman, courted for her beauty and ad- 
 mired for her intellect. 
 
 Through his excited brain there rolled the pictures 
 of the days when she, a simple child, would hang 
 upon his elaborate stories of what had occurred in 
 " society " the society of Old Chetford, he thought 
 with a smile and he would encourage her and tell 
 her that she was worthy to take her place anywhere. 
 What a fulfilment of his prophecy! But what grim 
 satire in it all! 
 
 Once he conceived the idea of writing to her, and 
 actually began two or three letters. He almost per- 
 suaded himself that he had a reasonable excuse for 
 communicating with her. When he had begun to 
 make money in the market one of his first acts had 
 been to send his aunt a draft for $5,000 with ac- 
 crued interest, to cover the amount of which he had 
 robbed her by his forgery. The letter had come back 
 unopened to his address as printed on the envelope. 
 He had retained it and its contents intact, through 
 some impulse of self-reproach that he himself did 
 not fully understand. He thought of making this 
 letter a peg upon which to hang a note to Agatha, but 
 upon reflection it seemed too slender. 
 
 Several weeks passed by, and then Guy Hamilton 
 met the Countess Fornay face to face. It was at a 
 
 317
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 reception given by the French consul, a volatile 
 gentleman who added charm and variety to his 
 official life by a considerable dabbling in stocks. He 
 had profited by some of Guy's deals, and looked up to 
 him as a veritable giant of the market, to whom 
 now, for the first time, he was glad to pay social 
 attention. 
 
 Hamilton was talking to his host, an animated 
 little replica of the Third Napoleon, when he saw 
 Agatha approaching with the consul's wife. He 
 would have fled incontinently, but his muscles 
 seemed to defy his will. 
 
 " Ccuntess, allow me to present to you one of our 
 Wall Street friends, Mr. Guy Hamilton; Mr. Ham- 
 ilton, this is the Countess Fornay." 
 
 Guy stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed stupidly 
 on a marble bust of Pandora at the end of the room. 
 He even wondered if, among all the woes set free by 
 the mythical girl, there were any like retribution 
 come home at last. Then her words, clear and beau- 
 tifully modulated in the well-remembered contralto 
 voice, struck upon his ear like an awakening bell. 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton and I have met before, in my 
 early days," she said. 
 
 " Ah," returned their hostess, " then you will 
 wish to talk over the old times; I will leave you." 
 
 They stood facing one another in silent thought 
 for a moment. He felt that it was incumbent upon 
 him to speak, but knew not what to say. She 
 clenched her fingers with such savagery that the 
 marks in her palms were visible for days. The fate 
 in which she trusted had brought this meeting,
 
 AN AMBUSCADE 
 
 which she had believed inevitable; but now that it 
 was here she found it difficult to enact the role she 
 had so often rehearsed. By a supreme effort she 
 steeled herself to play her part. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Hamilton, Madame Bouvet will 
 scarcely believe we have met before," she said coldly. 
 
 " I I didn't expect to see you here," stam- 
 mered the man. 
 
 " Oh, the Bouvets are very dear friends of mine. 
 They were kind to me in Paris, and I could not fail 
 to be present at an affair in which they have so 
 much pride." 
 
 The unreality of the meeting was intensified for 
 Guy by the calmly conventional tones of Agatha's 
 speech. Remembering their last words years ago 
 he wondered what had happened to make this emo- 
 tionless conversation possible. 
 
 "Are not the decorations superb?" she asked. 
 " Let us walk about a bit, and see them." 
 
 Like a man in a dream he went by her side through 
 the handsome rooms, noting with a pang the count- 
 less salutations she received, the eagerness of many 
 to pay her attention. He wondered if this very 
 change in her life might not furnish the key to the 
 alteration of her sentiments toward him; perhaps 
 the' new conditions, the complete knowledge of the 
 world, had thrust out the old bitterness from her 
 mind. 
 
 This theory at last took complete possession of 
 him, and, after he was separated from her by one 
 of those kaleidoscopic changes best known to social 
 functions, and had time to muse in an obscure cor- 
 
 319
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ner, his satisfaction was so self-flattering that he 
 decided to ask permission to call. 
 
 He saw Agatha just before she was leaving, radi- 
 ant, glowing with comeliness and proud of her tri- 
 umphs. Why should others rush in where he dared 
 not tread, he asked himself. He would dare, too. 
 
 " Good night, Countess," he said humbly. " May 
 I be permitted to see you to call upon you? There 
 are some things " 
 
 " Certainly; I am at home Thursdays," was all 
 she dared say. 
 
 In her carriage she had the first opportunity to 
 reflect upon what she had done. How she hated 
 him. How the mere touch of his hand seemed to 
 contaminate her! And she hated herself scarcely 
 less intensely. She could rub her hand on the edge 
 of her cloak, and feel it somehow purified; but her 
 soul she could not rid of its taint. Yet she must 
 go on. Some day there would come a great moral 
 cleansing, and she could hang her smirched self- 
 esteem out to dry. 
 
 Hamilton's days until the following Thursday 
 were full of uneasiness and apprehension. What if 
 she were waiting to pour out upon him the full vials 
 of her wrath and scorn in the privacy of her own 
 house ? He was half inclined not to see her ;* he 
 had made no positive engagement. But then came 
 the thought of the others, and jealousy gave him 
 strength. 
 
 Agatha was alone when he was ushered in. She 
 saw his embarrassment, and tried to put him at ease. 
 
 320
 
 AN AMBUSCADE 
 
 Their talk was conventional for a while, till he 
 could no longer steer away from the subject that 
 he knew must arise sooner or later. He spoke with 
 humiliating self-contempt of his forgery, and asked 
 her to believe that it was undertaken only at the 
 direst necessity and with the solemn intent to pay 
 back the money. In proof of this he showed the 
 letter and the draft of restitution. 
 
 She listened with apparent kindliness, and helped 
 him in the difficult task of excusing himself. Then 
 he went a step further back in both their lives, and 
 attempted to refer to the days in the Copeland house. 
 She only smiled. 
 
 " I hoped you had forgotten that youthful folly," 
 she said. " Perhaps I was quite as much to blame 
 as anyone. We are men and women of the world 
 now, and can afford to forget the misunderstand- 
 ings of the past." 
 
 He was surprised and delighted that the obstacles 
 to winning back her favor were so easily removed. 
 The old bonhomie returned, and he chatted easily 
 and entertainingly of stocks, spurred on by skilful 
 questioning. He was on sure ground now, and 
 Agatha found that his information as to certain 
 market conditions was most useful. Of the status 
 of the " United Mines " operation and his connec- 
 tion therewith, she learned enough to warrant the 
 writing of a note to Atherton as soon as he had 
 gone. 
 
 " Faugh! " she exclaimed, as she set to work at 
 her desk, with pads and memorandum books for 
 
 321
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 her only companions, " the price we have to pay for 
 success is heart-sickening sometimes. What if 
 Ralph Harding were right ? But even if he were, I 
 shall carry my work through to the end, and when 
 it is finished why, then we shall see whether 
 Agatha Renier is better or worse for it." 
 
 $22
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 " TO FORGIVE DIVINE " 
 
 HARDING, with the quick intuition of affec- 
 tion, had already begun to see the traces 
 upon Agatha's face of the wearing, grind- 
 ing life she had chosen so deliberately. Even if he 
 had not learned from his ally, James Anderson, of 
 the visit of Hamilton, followed by several others 
 within a fortnight, and of the girl's frequent inter- 
 views with Atherton, he would have known from her 
 appearance that she was under a great mental strain. 
 Even the allurements of society were now relent- 
 lessly cut off in favor of the new and absorbing in- 
 terests that clustered about the glass-covered ma- 
 chine in her library. She went nowhere, excusing 
 herself on the plea of ill-health, and she held no more 
 functions in the fine house. Society wondered, and 
 then ceased to inquire about her. The papers hinted 
 at all sorts of mysteries that the beautiful Countess 
 was immersed in the writing of a new book that was 
 to set New York altogether by the ears ; that she was 
 deeply interested in holy things and might soon take 
 the veil, and, finally, that some unhappy love affair 
 had cast a deep gloom over her hitherto sunny nature 
 and that the world might hope to see her no more.
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 She read these things, smiled contemptuously, and 
 worked the harder. 
 
 So far as Hamilton was concerned the minister 
 felt, as in the case of Atherton, that Agatha was 
 using him as pawn in the development of her game of 
 vengeance, the playing of which he feared was be- 
 coming a mania with her. 
 
 One afternoon he had another earnest talk with 
 her. He did not reach the house till after three, for 
 he had learned from experience that she rarely left 
 her library or cared to see anyone until the stock 
 market had closed. He found her wearied, distraite, 
 full of moody silence that told that this was the 
 moment to strike if he wished to do any good. He 
 implored her by their old friendship, by the memory 
 of Mrs. Copeland, who had planned so zealously for 
 her welfare, to care for herself, to cease the cruel 
 punishment of her nerves through her slavery to the 
 monster of the quotations-tape. 
 
 " If this thing continues, Agatha," he said, at- 
 tempting diplomacy, " you cannot hope to do the 
 work you have set your heart upon. You are playing 
 upon a single string of your emotions; when that 
 breaks, what is to happen? No more harmony, 
 Agatha ; a ruined and useless harp. Can you afford 
 to run such risks ? " 
 
 This practical way of putting her case appealed 
 to the girl's mind ; that he could see by the thought- 
 ful look in her eyes. Now to arouse her heart, and 
 the first step toward victory would be taken. 
 
 " You have suffered, it is true," he went on. " But 
 do you know that in this great bedlam of a town there 
 
 3 2 4
 
 "TO FORGIVE DIVINE" 
 
 are thousands whose tortures of soul are tenfold 
 greater than any you can even imagine? You said 
 the other day that you would give me two after- 
 noons a week whenever I should call for them. Why 
 not one to-morrow ? " 
 
 With the mood of pity strong upon her she re- 
 plied : " I shall be glad to go to help, if possible. 
 Shall I take money? I am willing, you know, to 
 do anything." 
 
 " Not to-morrow. I shall show you human be- 
 ings beyond the reach of conventional charity. 
 Some other time, perhaps " 
 
 When he had gone, Agatha, still full of her new 
 tenderness, went to her room and took a packet of 
 letters from the little satinwood box her grandfather 
 had made long ago. Her eyes filled with the gentle 
 mist of a revived sorrow. Then another thought 
 came to her heart, perhaps for the first time, as she 
 saw the many envelopes addressed " Mrs. Sarah 
 Copeland, Hotel Richelieu, Paris, France," in the 
 bold and symmetrical handwriting of Ralph Hard- 
 ing. 
 
 " Why did he never write to me ? " she asked her- 
 self, trembling with a strange emotion that she only 
 half-heartedly tried to subdue. For the first time in 
 many weeks she drew forth the picture of her mother 
 and kissed it as in girlhood days. Then she replaced 
 it with loving care and closed the box. Suddenly she 
 remembered that Atherton was to call on the mor- 
 row, and she went to the telephone. 
 
 " I shall not be at home to-morrow afternoon," 
 she said, " so if you will call this evening then we can 
 
 325
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 talk over the last necessary steps of our deal the 
 ' U. M.,' you know." 
 
 Agatha's carriage was in front of Harding' s house 
 early the next afternoon. 
 
 " Now," she exclaimed brightly, as the minister 
 opened the brougham door, " I am at your service. 
 Command my driver." 
 
 She had expected an immediate pilgrimage to the 
 horrors of the East Side tenement region, and was 
 astonished when they stopped before a splendid 
 apartment house on Madison Avenue. In a hand- 
 some suite they found a wealthy widow, whose son 
 lay crippled and speechless on a bed of pain. But 
 the chief sufferer was the mother, through whose 
 lack of caution had occurred the accident that had 
 brought her idol low. Her agony of self-blame had 
 finally settled into deep melancholy as it was seen 
 how hopeless was the case of her son, and it was this 
 that Harding sought, in his lovable and manly way, 
 to banish. 
 
 " Oh, if he could only speak to forgive me, or even 
 to reproach me, I could endure it," she was wont to 
 say. 
 
 It was the minister's mission to try to lighten this 
 morbid grief, to stimulate new interests where the 
 cripple was concerned. It was a hard task, but he 
 had persevered until he had, at least, aroused re- 
 spect and admiration in the burdened heart. 
 
 Upon Agatha, who had been warmly welcomed by 
 the sufferer as an old friend of her counsellor, this 
 visit made a profound impression. She saw as never 
 before the compelling charm of Harding, she realized 
 
 326
 
 "TO FORGIVE DIVINE" 
 
 the soothing power of his voice, and, as they rode 
 away from the place, she felt proud that the man 
 beside her was her friend. A warm physical delight 
 in life took possession of her; she was glad to be 
 near this wholesome man on this beautiful afternoon. 
 He chatted entertainingly about his various " cases," 
 little dreaming of the very personal form his di- 
 version for Agatha was taking. And it was well for 
 his peace of mind that he did not. 
 
 Next they visited a writer of books whose young 
 wife was a confirmed dipsomaniac. For the elysium 
 of alcohol the beautiful woman would trample honor, 
 truth and self-respect in the mud, only to awake to 
 the frightful torture of broken nerves and intense 
 self-loathing. Either before or after one of her sen- 
 suous outbursts Harding had a peculiarly magnetic 
 influence upon the woman, and the literary husband 
 had often called the minister from his bed in the dead 
 of night to come to the work of mercy. Agatha 
 caught a glimpse of the poor creature, and the sight 
 of her bloated face and red eyelids haunted her for 
 many a day. 
 
 These things and many more the girl saw, and in 
 all of them there was some peculiar element that 
 showed Harding's originality in the matter of doing 
 good. She was impressed for the time being, but the 
 force that held the citadel of her soul was still too 
 strong to be dislodged, and she returned to her 
 schemes with scarcely abated zeal. 
 
 Several days after this trip Harding suddenly ap- 
 peared at the Fifth Avenue house in a cab, and asked 
 Agatha if she could come with him at once. It was 
 
 327
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 not one of his afternoons, she reminded him pleas- 
 antly, and she was afraid she could not spare the 
 time. 
 
 " I would not trouble you, Agatha," he said, " but 
 a dying woman has asked that you might come to 
 her." 
 
 The deep solemnity of his tone and a subtle some- 
 thing in his face had its effect upon her, and she made 
 no further remonstrance, but put on the simple attire 
 she was accustomed to wear when on her rounds 
 with him, and they were soon being rapidly driven 
 toward the lower East Side in a direction they bad 
 several times taken before. 
 
 A throng of conflicting emotions surged through 
 the girl's mind as they proceeded on their way. More 
 and more, she told herself, with a thrill of impatience, 
 she was obeying the behests of this strong person- 
 ality. What did it mean, and where would it end? 
 Would he at last win her from her allegiance to 
 duty as she conceived it? No, that should never 
 be, she thought almost fiercely. He was good and 
 kind, and doubtless believed that he was right; but 
 there were different standards for different natures, 
 and who should say that hers was not as lofty as 
 any? For some time neither spoke; then it was 
 she who broke the silence. 
 
 " Is it the Cartwright woman who is dying ?^ 
 
 " No, Agatha," he replied, with an accent that 
 somehow precluded any further inquiry. 
 
 The carriage drew up before a tenement house 
 which Agatha did not remember to have seen. It 
 was a shabby building, but with some brave attempts 
 at gentility. Up four flights of stairs they climbed, 
 
 328
 
 "JO FORGIVE DIVINE" 
 
 assailed by the odors of coarse cookery and the cries 
 of fretful children. 
 
 A woman in the garb of a nurse opened a door in 
 response to Harding's ring. 
 
 " Is she ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Still alive, but very low," was the reply. 
 
 Agatha, vaguely wondering why she should be 
 brought to a death-bed, gazed about the two rooms 
 visible from the hallway. They were pitifully bare 
 of furniture, but the few remaining pieces showed 
 that the apartments had once boasted better things 
 than could have been expected in such a place. 
 Evidently the awful pressure of poverty had grad- 
 ually squeezed all the comforts from the rooms to 
 the pawnshops. 
 
 " Come," said the minister, beckoning to his com- 
 panion, and, as they crossed the threshold he whis- 
 pered gently : " Remember, she has but a few mo- 
 ments to live." 
 
 And there, stretched upon a bed from which she 
 would never rise again in life, Agatha saw Lucy 
 Worth-Courtleigh. 
 
 The poor, pallid face, wasted by disease and drawn 
 by mental suffering, had lost all of its loveliness. 
 Only the rich beauty of the hair remained of all the 
 glowing treasures of comeliness that had once been 
 so admired. Yet somehow the countenance had 
 been purified, as if by bitter repentance and the con- 
 quest of a weak and shallow nature by an immortal 
 soul. 
 
 No one spoke and no one moved for, it seemed to 
 Agatha, interminable hours. And yet this meeting, 
 totally unexpected as it was, gave no shock to the 
 
 329
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 girl. The solemnity of the scene, the hovering pres- 
 ence of the angel of death, robbed the situation of 
 all but its aspect of human suffering. 
 
 At last Harding said gently to the frail figure 
 upon the bed : " Agatha is here." 
 
 The head on the pillow turned with painful de- 
 liberation, and into the dimned eyes came a transi- 
 tory gleam of recognition. A thin finger beckoned 
 slowly to Agatha, and she leaned over toward the 
 bloodless lips. 
 
 " I sent for you," came the thin and trembling 
 tones, like some ghostly utterance from another 
 world, " to beg your forgiveness. I felt that with 
 it I could have more hope of the forgiveness of the 
 hereafter. No, don't speak. I did you a terrible 
 wrong, but I was mad mad with outraged pride, 
 jealousy, infatuation." 
 
 The grip of mortal pain throttled her utterance, 
 and she lay for a minute inert and like one dead. 
 Agatha raised her head tenderly and moistened the 
 trembling lips with water. 
 
 " I wronged you," the pitiful voice resumed, " and 
 I wronged another. But for me Guy Hamilton 
 might have been a different man. I have been told, 
 too, by Mr. Harding that my wretched letter was 
 attributed to him." 
 
 There was a swift gesture from Agatha at this 
 confession, and Harding turned quickly, fearful as 
 to what might follow. But he saw the beautiful 
 face he loved so well looking down on the dying 
 woman with a gaze of divine compassion. It was 
 the victory of an awakening soul. 
 
 330
 
 "I sent for you to. beg your forgiveness.'
 
 "TO FORGIVE DIVINE" 
 
 " Bitter has been my punishment and bitter my 
 repentance," quavered the dying woman. " If you 
 can find it in your heart to pity, if not forgive, I 
 shall die more easily." 
 
 Agatha opened her lips to speak, but the other 
 lifted a warning finger. 
 
 " Wait one moment. I have done what I could 
 to make reparation. . . . Mr. Harding, give 
 me the packet." 
 
 The minister drew from his pocket a large en- 
 velope and gave it to Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh. She 
 in turn placed it in Agatha's disengaged hand. 
 
 " There," she said faintly, " is my sworn state- 
 ment of the facts my confession of the greatest sin, 
 great sinner though I have been, of my life. It will 
 exonerate you, if my own disgrace has not already 
 done so. Think well before you answer. Can you 
 forgive me ? " 
 
 Harding had left the room a little before, for he 
 believed that the scene was too sacred for even his 
 kindly presence. In a few minutes Agatha joined 
 him, pressing her handkerchief to her tear-stained 
 eyes. She pointed to the inner room with a gesture 
 more eloquent than words. He left her, but returned 
 almost immediately. 
 
 " All is over," he said quietly to the nurse, " and, 
 thank God, all's well." 
 
 Then, with the grandeur of the presence of death 
 still about them, they sought their carriage in the 
 squalid street below. 
 
 331
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 TIGHTENING THE NOOSE 
 
 THE progress of the great coup in " United 
 Mines " was rapid, and it was satisfactory 
 to Atherton for 'more reasons than the 
 merely financial. Besides the profits he expected to 
 make, would be involved the defeat of Hamilton, 
 who, he now felt sure, was attempting his overthrow 
 in the councils of the new company; and finally 
 most roseate thought of all he would be able to 
 appeal to the Countess Fornay as the maker of her 
 fortune and the possessor of a magnificent one of his 
 own. He would then stand in double favor as a 
 suitor. 
 
 He knew himself well, this shrewd manipulator of 
 others, and he felt that in his personality was little 
 to attract a woman of Agatha's qualities. He felt, 
 too, that her hot pursuit of money in the market, 
 her placing herself in dangerous situations, was not 
 for any small object. The key to her secret, was, 
 without doubt, her ambition to become a woman of 
 great fortune, and with that golden lever to pry open 
 the doors of the socially elect of New York. Ah, 
 how he would slave and plan and grasp opportunities 
 in order to be able to gratify her imperious desire; 
 
 332
 
 TIGHTENING THE NOOSE 
 
 with the elaborate setting that wealth could give he 
 felt that he could pass muster. 
 
 So he had been weaving his web for several 
 weeks, tightening a thread here, breaking another 
 there, but ever sitting in the center, fat, bloated, ap- 
 parently asleep. By and by, when the flies, which 
 to him were Hamilton and the public, should be 
 where he wanted them he would strike. His scheme 
 had changed two or three times in as many weeks. 
 At first it was merely to invest the money Agatha 
 had entrusted to him some $25,000 together 
 with $40,000 of his own, in the quiet purchase of 
 enough " United Mines " to give him control. But 
 he found it impossible to get hold of a sufficient 
 quantity in the open market. Hamilton had evi- 
 dently taken alarm, and was gripping his shares 
 tenaciously. Atherton had found that his associate 
 was holding a great portion of his stock on margin, 
 and that the demand inspired by himself merely sent 
 up the price and made Guy's position more secure. 
 He had learned, too, from Agatha that Hamilton 
 had told the truth when he said that he did not con- 
 trol. There was one thing to do, a dangerous, au- 
 dacious thing but he would do it. 
 
 As the scheme flourished, so did his infatuation 
 for the woman involved in it. Her beauty called 
 loudly to his senses, while her keen wit, her clear 
 financial vision, her intellectual grasp of stock " sit- 
 uations," appealed powerfully to his mind. The un- 
 usual combination was irresistible. 
 
 But shrewd as he was, he failed to consider that 
 Agatha might be playing her own game in the mar- 
 
 333
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 ket quite apart from his tender care, which, in fact, 
 she was doing. Using information from both 
 Atherton and Hamilton, she employed the fluctua- 
 tions in the smaller stocks that formed the " United 
 Mines " to her great advantage. She made money 
 rapidly, and, flushed with success, felt herself com- 
 pletely ready for Atherton's promised stroke that 
 was to shake Wall Street and ruin Guy Hamilton. 
 Her plan would have astonished the rosy-faced 
 broker who adored her, for it involved his own de- 
 feat as well as that of his rival. She felt justified 
 in attempting to humble him, for his coarseness had 
 given her frequent offense, and she despised his pro- 
 posed treachery to his business associate and friend. 
 Once the battle were over, and she a victor, she could 
 teach him his place. 
 
 For Hamilton, however, she had no pity. Al- 
 though the scene at Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh's death- 
 bed had affected her deeply, it had increased rather 
 than lessened her bitterness toward the man, for, 
 in spite of the wretched woman's self-accusation, she 
 held him in great measure responsible for luring a 
 wife from her honor and duty; his arts of fascina- 
 tion she knew too well. She would crush him, and 
 by her own hand alone, although she now knew that 
 Atherton would have brought about his ruin had she 
 not existed. 
 
 One evening when she was nursing her impatience 
 at the long-continued failure of Atherton to launch 
 his thunderbolt, she received a note which read : 
 
 " / shall come to your house to-morrow before the 
 334
 
 TIGHTENING THE NOOSE 
 
 market opens and stay until it closes, perhaps. In 
 that privacy I can work to better advantage. H. is 
 away on a yachting trip, and the hour to strike is at 
 hand. You will applaud the plan; it is impreg- 
 nable. 
 
 "H.A." 
 
 That night sleep was long in o miing to the youth- 
 ful mistress of the great house. The eve of her 
 vengeance was here; the time toward which her 
 every thought had long set its current was winging 
 its way softly toward her. She was not happy, she 
 knew, but there was something higher and stronger 
 than happiness : the feeling that through her own 
 energy and will a wrong was to be righted, a mem- 
 ory avenged and a defamer brought low. 
 
 She saw Harding's grave and handsome face be- 
 tween her and her goal. How noble he looked, how 
 unlike either of the men she was to play one against 
 the other on the morrow. She knew how he would 
 regard the coup, but she stifled the whisperings of 
 conscience by the resolution that after to-morrow she 
 would show him how grateful she was for the past. 
 She would be free, free ! She would help him as he 
 had never been helped before; he should see that 
 Agatha Rir culi be Lady Bountiful as well as 
 Countess Fornay. She would . 
 
 Then came the gentle touch of sleep, and forget- 
 fulness of all things mortal, for her dreams that 
 night were of her mother. 
 
 Atherton arrived early next morning, smiling and 
 immaculate. He rubbed his hands in joyful antici- 
 
 335
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 pation of the day's triumph, and, after a few of his 
 customary compliments, he unfolded to Agatha his 
 plan of campaign. She listened with every faculty 
 alert. 
 
 " Now, my dear Countess," he began, " the situa- 
 tion at this moment is plain : we are not in control 
 of ' United Mines,' nor is Hamilton. We have not 
 been able to acquire the stock in the market nor 
 has Hamilton. We must get control to-day, if ever, 
 for Hamilton, as I wrote you, is out of town. How 
 shall this be done? " 
 
 Agatha shook her head slowly. Even had she 
 known, she would not have suggested at this time. 
 But she hung upon his words as she had never lis- 
 tened to a human being before. On her correct 
 comprehension of what he should say rested im- 
 mense possibilities. 
 
 " It shall be done by a stroke that will make the 
 ' street ' talk for many a month. We shall sell 
 ' United Mines.' " 
 
 " But I thought" 
 
 " Exactly. We shall sell but we shall buy." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 The audacity of the move fascinated her. It was 
 as clear as crystal now. 
 
 " They will be ' wash ' sales, of course. My 
 brokers have orders to pick up the stuff that my 
 other brokers let out. After an hour or two we'll 
 put a raft of ' United ' on the market, and smash the 
 price to smithereens. The bottom will drop out, 
 and as Hamilton holds thousands of shares, mostly 
 
 336
 
 TIGHTENING THE NOOSE 
 
 on margin, he will be wiped out while he is on the 
 bounding billow, and we will pick up what his 
 brokers are forced to sell. When three o'clock 
 comes, we shall be joint masters of ' United Mines.' 
 Your money I shall use in buying on the break." 
 
 During this elated recital Agatha's brain had been 
 busy with the problem she had set herself to solve. 
 How should she outwit this man of iron nerves and 
 unscrupulous will, and at the same time be empow- 
 ered to wield the lash over Hamilton's cowering 
 frame? By one of those sudden mental illumina- 
 tions that are like the broad lighting up of a dark 
 landscape by an electric flash, the solution came 
 when she least expected it. The preliminary buzz- 
 ing of the ticker as it ground out its repeated 
 " ABCD " for the morning test, warned her that 
 now, if ever, time was golden. 
 
 Under pretence of examining her memorandum 
 books, she sat down at her desk and wrote something 
 on a small slip of paper. Then she went to the door, 
 opened it quickly and looked into the hall. The slip 
 of paper went into a big jardiniere standing just 
 outside the room, and there in a quite remarkably 
 short time it was found by James Anderson, who 
 read it and hurried away to another part of the 
 house. 
 
 " I thought I heard one of the servants prowling 
 about the door," she said as she returned. " One 
 can never be too careful in such matters, you know." 
 
 The broker nodded approval, and picked up the 
 tape that was now being belched forth with a regu- 
 
 337
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 larity that denoted the opening of the market. For 
 many minutes he sat in silence, his eyes glued to the 
 battalion of figures as they followed one another in 
 single file from out the glass case. At last he mut- 
 tered his satisfaction. 
 
 " Here's the first sale of ' United,' " he said. " A 
 hundred shares at ninety-one. Good. It closed 
 yesterday at ninety-two and a quarter. The game 
 begins well, my dear lady." 
 
 For an hour or more the stock was offered in 
 moderate quantities, and practically held its own in 
 price, as the ticker told the two anxious watchers. 
 As the noontide hour approached Atherton pulled 
 out his watch. 
 
 " In a few minutes," he said grimly, " the slaugh- 
 ter will begin. It's the greatest joke of the season. 
 Everybody will see my stock going to smash and 
 pity poor Atherton. . . . Ah, see this, Five 
 hundred ' United ' at ninety Three hundred at 
 eighty-nine and seven-eighths Four hundred at 
 eighty-nine. Bravo, Countess! It won't take much 
 of this sort of thing to hamstring our friend Hamil- 
 ton. . . . Eh; what's this? Four hundred 
 ' United ' at ninety-one Five hundred at ninety- 
 one and three-quarters A thousand at ninety-two. 
 My God, what's going on? " 
 
 He whirled the telephone call convulsively and 
 asked for his office number. 
 
 " Hello, Jones ? " he said in a low voice that was 
 tremulous with excitement. " Have I seen the 
 boom in ' United Mines ' ? Certainly. No, I don't 
 know what it means, but order everybody to pour 
 
 33S
 
 TIGHTENING THE NOOSE 
 
 out all I've got of it. Flood the market, d'ye hear? 
 Flood it!" 
 
 Then back to the ticker again, where the story of 
 misfortune was accentuated every moment. Huge 
 blocks of the " United Mines " were coming out, 
 only to be snapped up with a readiness that sent the 
 price soaring. Great beads of perspiration stood 
 out on Atherton's forehead as he surveyed the terri- 
 ble miscarriage of his plans. Then the telephone 
 bell rang. He answered the call. 
 
 " Eh ? so it will, by heavens. Order 'em all to 
 stop selling my holdings at once." 
 
 He turned to Agatha to tell her what he had 
 learned. 
 
 " My man says that there is some tremendous 
 force supporting ' United/ nobody knows what. My 
 brokers, who were not ordered to protect the stock, 
 but to depress it, have been outbidden on the floor 
 by the brokers of this other power. Who it can be 
 the devil himself only knows. Hamilton is away, 
 and I can conceive of nobody else who could possibly 
 want the stock. Ah, that suggests something." 
 
 He pulled the long strip of paper from its basket 
 and, beginning at the opening of the market, made a 
 swift mental calculation of the number of shares of 
 " United Mines " that had been sold. As he brought 
 into the total the latest transaction in the stock, he 
 groaned with dismay. 
 
 " Countess," he said humbly, " I have to ask your 
 pardon for bungling one of the most promising deals 
 I ever undertook. It is morally certain that we 
 have lost control of the company by my stupidity in 
 
 339
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 not instructing my brokers to buy in my stock at any 
 price if they saw any special outside demand for it. 
 I am sorry and ashamed." 
 
 " Don't let yourself be troubled overmuch about 
 it, Mr. Atherton," said Agatha sweetly. " Perhaps 
 you were not so much to blame, after all." 
 
 " I fear I was. And it is too late now to recoup 
 ourselves; we evidently cannot buy back the stock 
 at any price from the combination that has got pos- 
 session of it. If I had only put your money into 
 * Huronide ' and the others, you would have made a 
 handsome thing of it. See how they're booming 
 with ' United.' ' 
 
 " But I own five thousand of ' Huronide ' and the 
 others, as you call them, already." 
 
 He looked at her with admiring wonderment. 
 
 " I congratulate you, Countess," he said dryly. 
 " You have made a neat thing by to-day's work. 
 Perhaps if I had let you engineer the big deal, it 
 might have resulted differently." 
 
 Confessing himself baffled by the result of the 
 coup, he went down town to see if any light could 
 be obtained in the " street," leaving Agatha to her 
 jubilant thoughts. She felt certain that her instruc- 
 tions to her brokers : to buy all the " United 
 Mines " thrown upon the market, at any price, had 
 been obeyed to the letter. She was the power that 
 had so mystified Atherton ; she controlled the stock. 
 The knowledge that vengeance was within her 
 grasp, that on the morrow she had but to give the 
 signal and Hamilton would be ruined, filled her with 
 supreme content. 
 
 340
 
 TIGHTENING THE NOOSE 
 
 In the middle of the afternoon a note was brought 
 to her by a servant. It had been delivered by a mes- 
 senger, he said, and an answer was expected. It 
 was from Guy Hamilton, asking if she would re- 
 ceive him that evening. With a thrill of triumph 
 she wrote at the bottom of the note the single word 
 " yes." 
 
 Although she dined alone, she dressed with an 
 extraordinary care and beauty that somewhat as- 
 tonished her usually impassive maid. 
 
 341
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE MASK THROWN OFF 
 
 IN the early afternoon of the day of Atherton's 
 financial discomfiture the steam yacht " Buc- 
 caneer " drew up to her dock on the East 
 River side of the city, and her rather hilarious 
 human freight disembarked and went their several 
 ways. The " Buccaneer " had not been expected until 
 the morrow, but a slight accident to her machinery 
 made it advisable to return to port. So she limped 
 in, and brought with her Guy Hamilton. 
 
 That gentleman was in high feather, for during 
 the trip he had secured the promise of several finan- 
 cial princes that they would cooperate with him in 
 his projected " scoop " of " United Mines " stock. 
 A fortune and a great reputation were within his 
 grasp. In a week he would be able to lord it over 
 Atherton, and then well, then for a fairer and more 
 desirable conquest than the winning of mere dollars. 
 
 Emboldened by what seemed a foregone conclu- 
 sion of success, he at last cut the rope that held him 
 to his anchor of sobriety, the anchor that had been 
 his salvation in the immediate past, and joined with 
 the other guests of his millionaire host in the con- 
 sumption of heroic quantities of champagne. Under 
 
 342
 
 THE MASK THROWN OFF 
 
 the inspiration of the choice wine, life, for Hamilton, 
 had absolutely no obstacles to the winning of what- 
 ever prize he cared to take. 
 
 And so his thoughts turned to Agatha with a 
 boldness they had not known since that night at the 
 French consul's. Their relations had been cordial 
 enough on the surface, yet there had been a con- 
 straint in her presence, like some barrier of in- 
 visible wire whose strength he felt rather than saw. 
 But to-day his attitude changed, and great was his 
 joy when his messenger brought back his note with 
 the eloquent " yes " in Agatha's handwriting. 
 
 The Countess received him in the library with a 
 graciousness that put to flight any lingering embar- 
 rassment he might have felt. She was a vision of 
 beauty in her Worth gown of black lace and jet, and 
 he would have given half his anticipated fortune to 
 fold her at once in his arms. He came in like a 
 conqueror, and she noticed the change in his de- 
 meanor before he had walked halfway across the 
 room. 
 
 " Did you think it strange that I should have 
 written for permission to call to-night ? " he asked 
 sentimentally. 
 
 " Why, no," she replied gaily, " of course not. 
 It's quite customary, isn't it ? " 
 
 " But not between old friends," he replied with 
 an air of assurance that roused her spirit immedi- 
 ately. Was it possible that he, of all men, had lost 
 his memory ? 
 
 " I knew you would take an interest in what I 
 have done to-day," he continued. " I have been 
 
 342
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 with the kings of Wall Street. I have won them to 
 my side completely. They listened to me, Agatha, 
 think of it, to me as if I were one of them. I 
 shall be soon, for everything is fighting for me. 
 All I need is inspiration." 
 
 She smiled in supreme contempt at his meaning, 
 which was clear enough to her woman's wit. Blinded 
 by passion and the vinous excesses of the day, he 
 mistook the smile for something else. 
 
 " Ah, you see my meaning," he went on rapidly. 
 " You will let the past rest in its forgotten grave ? 
 The present is for us two together. We can con- 
 quer the world, I of finance and you of society. I 
 love you, Agatha, I have always loved you. I want 
 you to be my wife. I am at your feet ; trample me, 
 if you will, but keep me near you." 
 
 The girl turned her head to hide for the moment 
 the triumph that glowed richly in her face. It was 
 the act of modesty, hesitation, yielding, he thought. 
 He seized her hands and clasped them warmly. 
 
 " Ah, Agatha, dear," he cried wildly, " surely 
 you will not keep me in suspense. Tell me " 
 
 " Tell you," she echoed, tearing her hands from 
 his grasp and facing him in a sort of fury. " You 
 offer me yourself and your fortune. You your- 
 self have claims, of course, for you have said it! 
 But your fortune what of that?" 
 
 In bewilderment he began a disconnected recital 
 of his present position and his hopes for the future. 
 She cut him short with scornful words. 
 
 " But the price ? You are to buy, and I am to sell. 
 
 344
 
 THE MASK THROWN OFF 
 
 I must know the terms. How much do you bid? 
 What is your cash offer for my hand ? " 
 
 Scarcely believing his ears, absolutely unable to 
 judge whether this were the height of bitter sarcasm 
 or a cold-blooded proposition from an ambitious 
 woman of the world, Hamilton blundered on. 
 
 " I am on the verge of a great coup in stocks," he 
 said at last. 
 
 "A coup?" exclaimed the girl contemptuously. 
 " One has been made to-day while you were wining 
 and dining. Look there ! " 
 
 She threw aside a magnificent Japanese screen 
 with a swift movement and there, silent but with its 
 mass of paper still clinging to its maw, stood the 
 ticker of the New York Stock Exchange. He looked 
 at it dully for a moment, and then into her face. 
 Something he saw there chilled his easy confidence 
 into dread. 
 
 "I I haven't seen the tape for two days/' he 
 said vaguely. " What is it you mean ? And what's 
 that ticker doing here ? " 
 
 " See for yourself," she replied coldly, pointing 
 to the tape. He whirled the writhing mass out of 
 the basket, and began at the opening quotations. 
 He frowned angrily at the innocent figures. 
 
 "A break in 'United Mines,' eh? Worse; a 
 slump, a pounding. Who on earth has been at us? 
 If I had only been here ! And what the deuce is the 
 meaning of it ? The market is strong enough. It's 
 a raid on me. Can Atherton? no, he's too thick- 
 headed, too business-like." 
 
 345
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 He passed the long strip swiftly through his fin- 
 gers, noting with adept eye the prices of his spe- 
 cialty as they glided by. Then exultation took the 
 place of anxiety. 
 
 " Ah, she strengthens ! They didn't have it their 
 own way That's it, up it goes. Somebody is fight- 
 ing for us, as I should have done. Magnificent! 
 It closes at ninety-five. I see Atherton was to the 
 rescue, and routed the bears. To-morrow we shall 
 win the fight." 
 
 " To-morrow you will be a ruined man," said 
 Agatha solemnly. 
 
 " Nonsense ! I tell you they can't beat me. 
 Doesn't to-day's battle show it ? " 
 
 " Nevertheless, you are on the brink of a great 
 catastrophe," she insisted gravely. 
 
 He tried to gain some light from her face, but its 
 dmpassiveness baffled him. Then the significance of 
 the paraphernalia of the market in this room began 
 to dawn upon him. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he cried hoarsely. 
 " What do you know ? " He seized her roughly by 
 the wrist, and again demanded : " What do you 
 know?" 
 
 " I know that every dollar you have is locked up 
 in ' United Mines ' and the smaller companies form- 
 ing it. I know, too, that you are holding these 
 shares on margin. Well, you will never see a penny 
 of your money again." 
 
 " You talk like an insane woman," he said sulk- 
 ily, " and I'm half inclined to believe you are. 
 
 346
 
 THE MASK THROWN OFF 
 
 Didn't you see how Atherton supported the stock 
 to-day?" 
 
 " You quite misapprehend the situation, Mr. 
 Hamilton. Atherton did not save you. He did not, 
 he could not, buy those stocks." 
 
 " But someone " 
 
 " Yes, someone, of course. That someone was 
 myself. The stocks are mine, mine. Do you un- 
 derstand, or must I repeat it : mine! " 
 
 " You bought them ? " he stammered, com- 
 pletely overwhelmed by the astonishing revelation. 
 This, then, was the end to be a plaything in the 
 hands of a woman, to have to cringe to one he once 
 treated with such cavalier loftiness. It was too 
 monstrous to believe, and incredulity began to show 
 itself on his face. 
 
 Agatha hurriedly reviewed the steps of the cam- 
 paign that was to have ruined him in any event. 
 Her thorough understanding of the scheme, her 
 complete knowledge of his own most secret plans, 
 made her appear to his distorted imagination like 
 some handsome witch who could read his own 
 thoughts. He was terrified now, and disposed to 
 plead, in the faint hope that her hand might be 
 stayed. 
 
 " For God's sake, Agatha," he whimpered, " what 
 what made you do this ? " 
 
 " Because I hated you," she said bitterly, " be- 
 cause I have hated you for five years. I hated you 
 when you insulted me beneath your aunt's roof. I 
 hated you more intensely when my grandfather went 
 
 347
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 to his death, the victim of a slander caused by you. 
 My hate grew daily, hourly, in the years in Paris. 
 When I gazed at the picture of my dear mother, in- 
 stead of peace her features brought storm, for they 
 recalled the insults that, because of your unmanli- 
 ness, were heaped upon her grave by your scandal 
 izing set." 
 
 " I I surely had no share in that," he pleaded, 
 but she went on without heed. 
 
 " Your theft from one who had befriended and 
 loved you till you proved too base for respect, in- 
 creased my hatred. But I despised you most when 
 you came in the day of my prosperity and fawned 
 upon me, and cringed to me from the depths of your 
 degradation, for then you proved yourself a fool as 
 well as a knave." 
 
 He shrank, as one would shrink from the lash of 
 a whip, under her lacerating contempt. 
 
 " Now you are on the verge of ruin, and I have 
 done it. I control your boasted company. I can 
 depose you from its presidency, and make your 
 margin-held shares your undoing if I choose. To- 
 morrow the whole world shall know that your at- 
 tempt to make of yourself a king, you who are not fit 
 for a king's fool, was balked by a woman. Now go, 
 you cur ! " 
 
 There was no appeal, he knew, as he looked at the 
 stern determination on her countenance. Baffled, 
 beaten, humiliated, he walked slowly toward the 
 door. Then he turned with a sudden blaze of 
 wrath. 
 
 " This is not your work," he exclaimed, " you 
 
 348
 
 THE MASK THROWN OFF 
 
 couldn't do it. That sniveling Harding put you up 
 to it. I'll I'll wring his neck, d him." 
 
 " As you did the night he would have resented 
 your insult to me, had not a humbler man saved him 
 from physical contamination by use of a horsewhip," 
 she retorted. 
 
 Hamilton's wine-flushed face became purple with 
 anger, and his fists clenched as if he would have an- 
 nihilated her, woman though she was. 
 
 " Take care," he shouted, " neither one is here to 
 defend you now." And he rushed toward her as 
 she stood with her back to the wall in an attitude of 
 splendid defiance. Her very beauty, heightened by 
 the excitement, exasperated and maddened him. 
 
 " Be careful," she said icily, " you are observed. 
 Well, Pierre?" 
 
 " Mad'moiselle rang?" asked the well trained 
 servant impassively, although he had witnessed a 
 portion of the surprising scene. 
 
 " Yes, Pierre. This gentleman has seen fit to 
 insult your mistress. Show him the door." 
 
 The tall and powerful Frenchman placed a hand 
 on Guy's shoulder and gripped it as with a clasp of 
 iron. The furious man attempted to shake the serv- 
 ant off, but to no avail, and Le was forced from the 
 room and into the hall, cursing and biting his lips in 
 impotent fury. Then the one-time favorite of Old 
 Chetford's aristocracy, the would-be monarch of 
 finance, was thrust into the street like some vile 
 intruder. 
 
 No sooner had the shutting of the outer door an- 
 nounced Hamilton's expulsion than the strength of 
 
 349
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 bitterness that had sustained Agatha deserted her, 
 and a violent reaction set in. Trembling in limb 
 and faint at heart she hurried to her chamber. She 
 took from its satinwood box the miniature of her 
 mother and pressed it to her lips. Falling upon her 
 knees by the bedside, she held the picture in her out- 
 stretched hands and gazed at the sweet and childlike 
 face as if she would call it back to life. 
 
 " Have I done right ? Are you satisfied with your 
 child ? " she asked. 
 
 Then overtaxed nature bent beneath its burden, 
 and the girl slipped away into unconsciousness. 
 
 530
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 A NEW DAWN 
 
 AGATHA'S' apparently lifeless body was 
 found by her maid, who had come to the 
 chamber to announce a caller. The girl 
 was a self-possessed little thing, and she neither 
 screamed nor rushed in a panic for help. Instead, 
 she applied a crystal of smelling-salts, and forced 
 some cold water between her mistress' teeth. She 
 was soon delighted to note signs of returning con- 
 sciousness, and in a few moments more Agatha rose 
 mechanically to her feet. 
 
 She looked blankly about, when the gold locket, 
 its lovely occupant gazing into her face, caught her 
 eye, and brought back the passionate scene through 
 which she had just passed, with tumultuous vivid- 
 ness. 
 
 She sighed wearily. Oh, for rest, for peace, for 
 oblivion! Were all victories in the world bought 
 at such terrible price? Did the fruit of triumph 
 always turn to ashes on the lip? Then why strug- 
 gle on, to be buffeted by fate, even in one's hour of 
 exultation? She felt that sleep might, perhaps, be 
 persuaded to spread its gentle wing over her, and 
 she asked her maid to get her ready for bed, early 
 z.s it was.
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " But, Mad'moiselle," said the little servant, " I 
 came all on ze purposs to tell you zat a caller is for 
 you down-stairs." 
 
 " A caller, Jeannette? Who? " 
 
 " It is ze cure, ze what you call meenestaire, 
 Monsieur Harding.'' 
 
 In some magical way she did not then under- 
 stand how all of Agatha's weariness and despond- 
 ency vanished at the sound of that name. In their 
 place came a throbbing of the heart that filled her 
 with nervous energy. She dispatched her maid to 
 make excuses for her delay, and began to tear off 
 her beautiful gown as if every second were of price- 
 less value. She chose from her wardrobe a simple 
 dress, reddish in tone, and took the diamond orna- 
 ments from her hair. 
 
 Harding had come to the house in response to an 
 urgent telephone message from James Anderson. 
 
 " You are needed at Fifth Avenue," it said, 
 
 and the minister rejoiced, even in his foreboding, 
 for he felt that the time had come when he could 
 take a positive position and stake his all on one 
 final cast of the die. His heart swelled with thanks- 
 giving as he saw from the faces and bearing of the 
 servants that no outward harm, at least, had come 
 to his beloved. 
 
 And when she appeared before him at last, clad 
 with a beautiful simplicity he had not seen since the 
 old days on the " Hill," when he was teacher and 
 she his pupil, his intuition told him of some spiritual 
 change for the better. By a queer turn of memory 
 the color of her dress recalled that day in the mill 
 
 352
 
 A NEW DAWN 
 
 yard at Old Chetford, when he had seen her pinning 
 up the rent in her scarlet skirt, an enticing vision of 
 young girlhood. He had asked himself, he remem- 
 bered, what her future would be, and all had been a 
 mystery, a simple guessing at the potentialities of 
 woman and her environment. Was he any more 
 certain now what would become of her? From the 
 depths of his most secret consciousness came the 
 glad " yes," so full and strong that it almost took 
 form upon his lips. She was to be saved from that 
 most relentless of enemies self. His old prophetic 
 feeling, the Hebraic spirit that three or four times in 
 his life had filled his soul with conviction, was again 
 upon him. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Mr. Harding." 
 
 He started as from a revery, and took the hand so 
 cordially extended. He noticed a little trembling 
 of the fingers that lingered in his own a moment 
 longer than might have been absolutely necessary. 
 And the eyes, around which he had so often noted 
 dark circles of late, bore signs of tears. James An- 
 derson had grasped the situation; he was needed. 
 
 " I am very glad to be here, Agatha," he said. 
 
 The familiar name struck upon her ears like a 
 chord of beautiful music. Of late he had not used 
 it; indeed, the thought all at once came to her 
 he had omitted all manner of naming her in direct 
 conversation, except that once he had called her 
 " Countess," which had, in a certain sense, wounded 
 her, she could not tell why. Now the old name, 
 fraught with cherished memories, was most pleasant. 
 
 As part and parcel of her softer mood came a 
 
 353
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 strange sense of weakness, a hunger for human sym- 
 pathy. Oh, for an hour of Mrs. Copeland or her 
 grandfather! How easily she could become a girl 
 again under their loving shelter. Yet here and 
 she thrilled with the swift realization was their 
 legitimate successor, the true and faithful link be- 
 tween her present and past. Had Harding known 
 the tenderness of her musings, he would not have 
 interrupted them, even for the words of sympathy 
 that he delicately expressed. 
 
 " I fear you are not quite yourself, Agatha " 
 again that dear name " you look weary, and, if I 
 may be pardoned, ill.'' 
 
 " I am ill," she replied passionately, " ill at heart, 
 sick of the cruelties of the world, the world's wrongs. 
 So sick, and so tired." 
 
 Tears flooded her eyes, tears that were more wom- 
 anly than she had shed since the loss of her benefac- 
 tress. 
 
 Harding would gladly have soothed the girl with 
 the caress that his whole being cried out, " give, 
 give," but before his own impulses he put a practical 
 desire for her welfare. First must the body and the 
 brain be restored to health, and the heart ah, if 
 ever the time came for him to minister to that, he 
 would know what to do. 
 
 " Agatha," he said with gentle insistence, " the 
 time has come for you to break from the stifling in- 
 fluences of the life you lead in this house, if you wish 
 to really live. Go out into the country. Breathe 
 God's fresh air, with his green carpet beneath your 
 feet and his blue sky over your head. Try that 
 
 354
 
 A NEW 'DAWN 
 
 beautiful life for a while, and your cheek will glow 
 and your heart warm with nature's own humanity." 
 
 The fervor of his words fitted her mood, the 
 charm of the picture appealed to her fancy. 
 
 " Yes, when I have done my work. To-morrow 
 sees the beginning of the end," she exclaimed, start- 
 ing up suddenly and pacing the room with nervous 
 tread. " To-morrow he will be crushed, crushed 
 under the weight of my revenge.'' 
 
 Harding did not ask who was thus to be punished; 
 he knew too well whom she meant. 
 
 " He was here to-night." 
 
 " Here? " exclaimed Harding, his instinct telling 
 him that the man's presence was intimately con- 
 nected with Agatha's great mental upheaval. He 
 loathed the fellow now; in fact he dared not think 
 that he did not hate him. 
 
 " Yes, and I warned him what the morrow would 
 bring forth; that he would be ruined, discredited, 
 and that I alone was responsible." 
 
 " You would ruin him? How ? " he asked in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Walking up and down before him, her clasped 
 hands swaying curiously in rhythm with her step, 
 and her dark eyes glowing with the ardor of a wild 
 thing spying out its prey, she told him in somewhat 
 incoherent fashion the story of her financial victory 
 and the situation into which she had forced Hamil- 
 ton. 
 
 " And what of your conscience? " he ventured, as 
 she finished her remarkable story, " does it ap- 
 prove?" 
 
 355
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Perfectly. What claim has that man for con- 
 sideration ? For the second time in his life he tried 
 to force his so-called love upon me. This time I 
 was not defenceless, and I had him kicked from the 
 house by a servant/' 
 
 All the man within the minister's stalwart body 
 rose up in a great thrill of joy at this reference to 
 the past, coupled as it was to her present attitude. 
 Then there had never been any affection for Ham- 
 ilton ! The thought was a subtle intoxication. And 
 yet the peril to Agatha was as vital as ever. 
 
 She stopped her measured walk, and faced him as 
 if in defiance. 
 
 " You speak of conscience," she cried. " Would 
 it be worthy of the name if it did not approve what 
 I am doing? His sins against me I could forgive, 
 perhaps, but his sins against the dead are pardon- 
 less. You are an honest man ; tell me, does he not 
 merit a far greater punishment than I can inflict? " 
 
 " His evil has been great; the punishment is 
 trivial. It is not of him that I am thinking, but of 
 you." 
 
 "Of me? Am I worth considering at such a 
 crisis, when the memory of those he made wretched 
 cries for vengeance ? " 
 
 " Ah, Agatha, but does it? Mrs. Copeland, your 
 grandfather, your mother would they wish it? 
 Would they wish to see the girl they loved trans- 
 formed by hate into a vindictive woman? Would 
 they be happy to see your nature hardening under 
 the stress of a revenge cherished for years, and 
 feeding upon your better self to its ultimate de- 
 
 356
 
 A NEW DAWN 
 
 struction. Would they approve of injuring the in- 
 nocent the minor holders of this stock that is your 
 weapon to punish the guilty ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I only know that I cannot for- 
 get, I cannot forgive." 
 
 " I admit your great wrongs. I frame no excuse 
 for this man's brutality. It is for you I plead. For-- 
 giveness is the greatest of the virtues, for it is the 
 most difficult to practice. It is the most noble, for 
 it is the most ennobling." 
 
 41 My wrongs their wrongs. You forget them ! " 
 she cried with an intensity that touched him deeply. 
 
 " No," he replied gently, " nor did He whose for- 
 giveness is the beacon to us all, forget. He remem- 
 bered, but He forgave." 
 
 " He was not mortal," she whispered. Then she 
 looked him full in the eyes and added : " You, your- 
 self, could not forgive." 
 
 " Couldn't I ? " he asked with a sad smile. " I 
 have forgiven. It was a great burden that sorely 
 tried me, but I forgave him years ago." 
 
 "Hamilton?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What had you to forgive?" she queried, her 
 eyes filled with questioning. 
 
 " The greatest thing he could have done to injure 
 me," he answered gravely. 
 
 " To injure you ? How could he injure you? " 
 
 " By injuring you," he said gently. 
 
 " By injuring me? I I don't understand." 
 
 " Yes, Agatha, by injuring you." He spoke rap- 
 idly now, and with a vehemence she had never before 
 
 357
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 heard from his lips. " Yes, for I loved you, loved 
 you then as I as I love you now.'' 
 
 " You love me? " 
 
 She stood before him in adorable wonderment, 
 her head bent forward toward his own, her lips 
 parted and her eyes filled with a soft radiance. 
 
 His long repressed ardor burst forth in a torrent 
 of tender words, a storm of passionate phrases that 
 would not be denied. Never had he pleaded for a 
 soul more eloquently than for the cause of his own 
 manly heart, nor ever had he a more entranced lis- 
 tener. And yet 
 
 " Why have you not told me this before? Why 
 did you not tell me then ? " 
 
 " I did not speak then," he answered gently, " be- 
 cause you were in distress and scarcely more than a 
 child. I could not try to force myself into your 
 heart, for pardon me, dear, I did not know every- 
 thing then as since I feared that the heart Guy 
 Hamilton wounded so deeply held some tenderness 
 for him." 
 
 " And yet you would have thrashed him that night 
 at the club," said Agatha, the sunlight dancing into 
 her eyes through the mist of recent tears. 
 
 Whose was the face that Harding saw with sur- 
 prise before him ? It was strange, yet familiar. The 
 years had rolled backward; there was no more a 
 Countess Fornay; the Agatha Renier of old stood 
 there in masquerade in another's brilliant drawing- 
 room. And, most wondrous of all, the hard lines 
 had vanished from her face and the benison of peace 
 seemed to have descended upon her. 
 
 358
 
 A NEW DAWN 
 
 " You knew that ? " he could only ejaculate, filled 
 as he was by the joy of his discovery. 
 
 " Your good ally, James Anderson, told me all 
 about it in Paris. The fragments of the whip he 
 used are among my dearest treasures. Often as I 
 looked at them I have thought of the strong arms 
 your arms that were ready to protect me then " 
 
 " And ever have been, dear, and are now and al- 
 ways shall be, if " 
 
 " There are no ' ifs,' " she broke in impetuously, 
 " at least," she added, blushing divinely, " none that 
 7 can offer." 
 
 " My darling, do you know what that means? " 
 
 " Why should I not when I Oh, Ralph, my dear, 
 must I say it aloud ? " 
 
 " No, sweetheart; there is another way " 
 
 And that other way she chose the way of loving 
 womankind since the world began, the way of the 
 heart's silent eloquence, of fire and dew, of fulfil- 
 ment and promise. Clasped in his strong and loyal 
 arms the burden of her earthly struggles slipped 
 away, and the glorified portals of a new life were 
 opened wide for her willing feet. 
 
 With Agatha's love came implicit faith, and she 
 relied upon Harding's counsel to determine her ac- 
 tion in the matter of the stock transaction. At his 
 advice she wrote to her various brokers, counter- 
 manding her orders of the afternoon, and left her 
 further course to his judgment. It was not that her 
 
 359
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 scheme of vengeance had yielded to her new-found 
 happiness; that would have been merely the ex- 
 change of one passion for another. No, she knew 
 that there had been a new dawn, and that her love 
 was but one of its radiant beams. Her soul, long 
 buried in the ashes of morbid retrospection, had 
 been awakened to life and beauty, and she saw a new 
 heaven and a new earth. 
 
 360
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 A DEBT IS PAID 
 
 HARDING went directly from the scene of 
 his life's profoundest joy to the Realists' 
 Club, there to arrange for the forwarding 
 of the notes of instruction to Agatha's brokers as 
 soon as their places of business should be open in the 
 morning. 
 
 The happiness in his heart must have found ex- 
 pression on his face, for some of his club acquaint- 
 ances noted and commented on his appearance. 
 " Satan " Montgomery sauntered up to the desk 
 where the minister had seated himself to write, and 
 attempted to rally him upon his altered looks. 
 
 " I say, Harding," he began jovially, rolling a 
 cigarette of Egyptian tobacco, for which accom- 
 plishment he had a great reputation, " you look 
 radiant, positively. Quite a change, in fact, from 
 the down-in-the-mouth face you've been wearing 
 around the club lately. Have you at last knocked 
 the devil out for good and all in your prize-fight 
 with sin ? " 
 
 The minister was too full of his new delight to 
 take offence at this flippant familiarity. 
 
 " Well, not exactly. But I may have exorcised 
 one evil spirit, and that's a good deal, isn't it? " 
 
 361
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " Bah ! Let's have a whack at the billiard-balls, 
 old man. I want revenge." 
 
 " Not to-night, Montgomery. I have other things 
 to think about." 
 
 And, in fact, he had. For him there was the 
 overwhelming knowledge of Agatha's love, for 
 which his being had hungered these many years. 
 But beyond even that, to his stern integrity, was the 
 blessed thought that the beacon light he had tended 
 so long and so lovingly had been seen, and the peril 
 of the reef averted. Now he could rest from his 
 ceaseless vigil, and the realization brought him un- 
 utterable peace. 
 
 He knew that the desire of the high-minded girl 
 for the rehabilitation of her mother and herself in 
 Old Chetford was pure and worthy, and he rejoiced 
 that it could be realized without any of the spec- 
 tacular effects she had planned. As his wife " his 
 wife ! " how the words thrilled him she would com- 
 mand respect, and her fine gifts and finer nature 
 would soon win for her the loyal affection of all who 
 were worth while. He would not have felt it un- 
 warranted had he choked a public confession of his 
 deceit and dishonor from Hamilton, but that, he 
 realized, would, only set new tongues wagging. No ! 
 Over the obliterated grave of the dead scandal his 
 wife should erect a new temple of truth that would 
 do her honor evermore. 
 
 But what should be the man's punishment? He 
 could not conjecture, but he felt a great certainty 
 that in some way fate would exact a reparation. He 
 had no patience with the doctrine that the wicked 
 
 362
 
 A DEBT IS PAID 
 
 flourish upon earth more than do the good, nor did 
 he care to leave to the hereafter the complete con- 
 demnation of the scoundrel. 
 
 The ending of the stock transaction, which re- 
 lieved Agatha from the sullying presence of Hamil- 
 ton forever, suggested that something was to be 
 done to save the innocent persons who would be in- 
 volved by any sudden turning of " United Mines " 
 upon the market. He determined that from the 
 plans of hatred and revenge should spring great 
 good. So he wrote to a broker of his acquaintance, 
 a man he knew to be honest, asking him for an ap- 
 pointment on the following day, when the control of 
 the stocks should be handed over to him for such 
 disposition as his well-regulated conservatism should 
 think best. That done, the road of happiness would 
 be clear, and then for the new life in the old, familiar 
 place that his imagination even now pictured smiling 
 in the vernal beauty of early summer. 
 
 He had sealed his letter to the broker, and was 
 addressing it, when the sound of loud voices at- 
 tracted his attention. He saw a little knot of men 
 just outside the library, standing near the marble 
 stairs that led to the floor below. Prominent among 
 the men was the tall frame of Hamilton, and, as the 
 crowd parted a little, he could make out the fat, ad- 
 mirably dressed figure of Horatio Atherton. 
 
 Undoubtedly there was violent talk between the 
 two, but Harding could not at first distinguish their 
 words. Could the double-dealing in stocks be known 
 to Hamilton, he wondered. In that case there was 
 a possibility that Agatha's name might be dragged 
 
 363
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 into the quarrel. He arose hastily, armed with a 
 new feeling of responsibility, and walked toward the 
 group of excited men. 
 
 " I tell you, Hamilton, you're drunk," Atherton 
 was saying with his utmost suavity. " I hate a 
 drunken man, and I won't dispute with you." 
 
 " Well, you can hate and be . You've got 
 
 to hear what I've got to say. I tell you you tried to 
 cheat me." 
 
 The minister's teeth set hard, and his limbs stif- 
 fened instinctively. He dreaded, but was ready for 
 the next word. 
 
 " Hamilton, you're a fool. Go to bed, and you'll 
 apologize in the morning," said Atherton coolly, 
 lighting one of his black cigars. " Easy, now, 
 easy," he remarked, with a blandness that mad- 
 dened Hamilton, as the latter started forward, his 
 fists clenched and his lips babbling unintelligible 
 threats. 
 
 The drink-crazed man was seized and pinioned by 
 some of the clubmen as he lunged viciously at Ath- 
 erton, who merely laughed and blew a cloud of 
 smoke into Hamilton's face. 
 
 " Let me go," shrieked the struggling Guy, " I 
 tell you he took that third ace out of his discards. 
 I saw him do it, d him." 
 
 A great weight lifted itself from Harding's soul. 
 The disgraceful row had no stronger basis than a 
 quarrel over a gambling game. He prepared to go 
 home, giving a servant instructions as to the send- 
 ing of the letters early in the morning. 
 
 364
 
 A DEBT IS PAID 
 
 " Good night, gentlemen," said Atherton amiably, 
 and stepped down the marble stairs. 
 
 At this vanishing sight of the object of his wrath, 
 Hamilton, by a tremendous effort, broke away from 
 his captors, and started for the stairs, reeling as he 
 went. 
 
 " Look out for him, or he'll fall," cried Harding 
 sharply, and several of the men sprang forward in 
 alarm. Guy turned, half-facing them, with a leer 
 of drunken self-confidence. 
 
 " Don't you worry 'bout me, you fellers," he hic- 
 coughed with a foolish smile. " I'm all right; I'm 
 always all " 
 
 The boastful words were silenced on his lips, as 
 he wavered wildly on the top step, swinging his arms 
 frantically about in the vain attempt to clutch some- 
 thing for support. Then he fell headlong down the 
 stairs to the marble floor below, just brushing the 
 descending figure of Atherton as he went. 
 
 A cry of dismay came from some of Hamilton's 
 friends, but above all was the high-pitched, sarcas- 
 tic voice of " Satan '' Montgomery trying to reas- 
 sure everybody. 
 
 " Drunken men and fools never get hurt, fellows," 
 he said. " He's all right, I dare say." 
 
 But when they went down and lifted the inert and 
 unconscious mass, they knew well that the old adage 
 had failed terribly. 
 
 With white faces they bore him to one of the 
 chambers, and placed him, dressed as he was, on one 
 of the club's immaculate beds. Spasmodic moans 
 
 365
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 and an occasional heaving of the chest were all that 
 spoke of life within him. His fair hair was streaked 
 with blood, and his handsome face was the color of 
 death. 
 
 A medical member of the club who had dropped 
 in after a late emergency call, applied restoratives 
 and tried to make the sufferer comfortable. Then 
 he spent a long time in careful examination of the 
 injuries. 
 
 " Well, Doctor ? " asked Harding, as the physi- 
 cian came from the room at last. The answer 
 burned into his brain indelibly. 
 
 " No bones are broken. The shock was great, 
 but the inertness of the fall prevented fracture. He 
 will live, but the injury to his spine is permanent. 
 He will never speak or have the power of motion 
 again. God knows, it would be better if he were 
 not to think, as well." 
 
 Harding left the club with a strange conviction of 
 the unreality of everything. He was like a man 
 under the influence of some powerful drug that 
 takes all substance from the surrounding world. The 
 long, almost unearthly battle for Agatha's soul, cul- 
 minating in his triumph and the winning of her 
 heart as well, together with the tragedy he had just 
 witnessed, was too heavy a burden for his emotions. 
 As he paced slowly along to his lodgings every sound 
 in the streets the whirr of cars, the rattle of be- 
 lated carriages, the boisterous laughter of revelers 
 all seemed to reiterate in varied measure : 
 
 " Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the 
 Lord." 
 
 366
 
 A DEBT IS PAID 
 
 Agatha heard of the terrible visitation upon Ham- 
 ilton with a horror in which, Harding was thankful 
 to see, was also pity. The retribution that had over- 
 taken him was so terrible in comparison with her 
 own puny scheme of revenge that, as in the case of 
 Mrs. Worth-Courtleigh, she felt how weak were 
 human plans of vengeance by the side of the awful 
 decrees of fate. 
 
 In a short time the disposal cf all of Agatha's 
 stock ventures was arranged. A new and conserva- 
 tive element was put in control of " United Mines," 
 and the " corner " in the smaller companies, so 
 cleverly planned by Atherton, was never accom- 
 plished. That wily financier, learning how she had 
 outwitted him in the deal, admired the Countess 
 more than ever. But, on coming up to the brown- 
 stone house to express that admiration and inci- 
 dentally ask for her hand, he had received a curt 
 dismissal and the assurance that their business 
 relations were at an end. This he accepted with his 
 usual stolidity, although he was bitterly disap- 
 pointed. Those who knew him well found him 
 nervously irritable for a few days. Then it was 
 over; he had simply lost another coup. 
 
 No slave ever released from bondage was more 
 glad than was Agatha in handing over to Harding 
 the complete management of her business affairs. 
 She was tired of struggling, happy to have some- 
 one to act for her. So he arranged that all her 
 holdings should be sold gradually and profitably. 
 
 367
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 A large sum of money was realized, but sh did not 
 wish to touch a penny of it. After much pleasant 
 planning they decided to use it for the endowment 
 of a hospital where curious and extreme cases of 
 suffering could be treated. Harding knew that the 
 need for hospitals is never fully met, and the institu- 
 tion that he proposed, and to the conducting of which 
 he decided to devote a part of his future career, 
 should minister to those poor sufferers whose mis- 
 fortunes were likely to take them from hospital to 
 almshouse. 
 
 In due time the " Sarah Copeland Hospital " was 
 built upon the beautiful banks of the Hudson above 
 the city. The first ambulance to enter its gateway, 
 after the building was in readiness for the reception 
 of patients, brought to the home of mercy the nerve- 
 less body of Guy Hamilton, whose ever-busy brain 
 found perpetual food for wonder at the sweetness 
 and nobility of a charity that could pardoif.*he evil 
 that he had done. 
 
 368
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 INTO SAFE HARBOR 
 
 THE glow of a fair June sunset was fading 
 into the shadows of night as a little group 
 of men and women paced slowly up and 
 down the platform of the Old Chetford railroad 
 station, awaiting the arrival of the evening train. 
 One of their number, a sturdy, well-made man, was 
 distinguished from the rest by a faster tread and a 
 more nervous manner. He consulted his watch fre- 
 quently, and at last walked to the little grated win- 
 dow behind which sat the telegraph operator. 
 
 " Is the train on time, Harkins ? " he asked of the 
 thin-faced young man who was busily writing an 
 in-coming message. 
 
 " To a dot, Mr. Harding. She ought to be here 
 in thirty-five seconds. There she whistles now." 
 
 Harding looked toward the north. Far up the 
 track was the faint gleam of the locomotive head- 
 light, like a pale star of evening. To him it was a 
 star, a star of hope and love and happiness, for be- 
 hind it was his dearest possession, the sweetest thing 
 the world held. What if she should not come! 
 His heart chilled at the mere anticipation of that 
 most depressing of all experiences to await the ar- 
 rival of SL loved one who does not appear. 
 
 369
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 But now the train was at his side, and in a mo- 
 ment down stepped Agatha to greet him, smiling, 
 happy and beautiful. As he clasped both her hands 
 passionately in his, he was sure that no such queen 
 of women had ever come to Old Chetford before. 
 And come to him! He could have cried aloud for 
 joy. He wondered why all the others in the station 
 did not insist on knowing his right to this vision of 
 loveliness, this highbred lady who was so glad to 
 see him. As a matter of fact, the rest were too busy 
 welcoming their own special arrivals to pay much 
 attention to him and his. Only a few noticed the 
 pretty woman whose hands the minister seemed un- 
 willing to relinquish, and not one of them dreamed 
 of connecting her with Agatha Renier. 
 
 As they rolled along in the ponderous " hack " 
 Harding had engaged, they had time for a more in- 
 timate greeting, not of words but deeds. That 
 having been accomplished to Harding's satisfaction 
 and Agatha's rather rueful examination of her 
 pretty hair, they talked of their coming marriage 
 and their home. 
 
 " Is everything settled in the old house, dear ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Perfectly. Mrs. Brown is a treasure, as I had 
 reason to know years ago. And best of all Worth- 
 Courtleigh bid in a great deal of the Copeland fur- 
 niture, and I have got it back again. And you? 
 Did your breaking up go smoothly ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. I transferred the lease without a 
 hitch, and salved the pain of the servants with good, 
 round gratuities. They went away almost happy, 
 
 3/0
 
 INTO SAFE HARBOR 
 
 all except Pierre; do you know, Ralph, I actually 
 think I caught him crying." 
 
 "Don't blame him, sweetheart. I should do the 
 same if I had to part with you." 
 
 "Silly fellow! As if you ever would. N-o-o-o, 
 dearest, no; my hat remember." 
 
 As they rode along to the southward, Agatha was 
 too happy and too preoccupied to note the direction 
 of their journey. It was not until the driver stopped 
 and opened the creaking carriage door that she real- 
 ized that the "Hill" had not been their destination. 
 She caught the faint fragrance of the salt air as she 
 stepped out upon planking that had a familiar ring, 
 and, looking through the gathering gloom, she per- 
 ceived the outline of a wharf. There, at its left, 
 lay the dark hulk of a ship. 
 
 "The 'Harpoon,' " she cried gaily, clapping her 
 hands with delight. "Then it's not broken up." 
 And she gave her lover's arm an impetuous squeeze 
 that he thought would have been full payment for 
 five times five years of anxiety, and which made the 
 fat and ruddy face of the "hack" driver curl into 
 one tremendous smile which he tried in vain to hide. 
 That smile became a fixture for the evening when he 
 saw that the bill, which Harding, with exuberant 
 force, pressed into his hand, bore the potent "X" 
 in its corner. He received his orders to wait until 
 he was wanted again with the utmost composure. 
 
 "So you brought me to see it," said Agatha ten- 
 derly, "and couldn't even wait till daylight. The 
 dear old 'Harpoon.' Poor grandfather!" 
 
 But sorrow could not linger at such a time, and 
 
 371
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 her voice rang forth again with an infectious hearti- 
 ness that warmed Harding's heart: 
 
 " But what are those lights ? " She raised her 
 veil. " And who are those people? " 
 
 " Come and see." 
 
 Harding drew her arm through his, and they 
 quickly walked down the wharf. Suddenly a vocif- 
 erous cheer sounded on the soft night air. 
 
 " Why, it's Captain Sykes and Artemas and Hank 
 and and " 
 
 Stealing a sidelong glance at the woman by his 
 side, Harding saw that her eyes were filled with 
 tears, the tears of memory and of happy home-com- 
 ing. For that tender mist he loved her more than 
 evei . 
 
 As they neared the staunch old " Harpoon's " 
 side, the cheering from the deck was redoubled, and 
 ' hats were swung into the air. Agatha now made 
 out James Anderson and Tilly Donelson and a dark- 
 eyed, curly-haired girl whose face suggested remem- 
 brance but not present recognition. Then there 
 were some of her old-time mill friends, and could 
 it be? Yes, it surely was Nelly Nevins with a big, 
 "broad-shouldered young man who seemed to take a 
 peculiarly affectionate interest in all that apper- 
 tained to her, and smiled whenever she did. For 
 Nelly Nevins was " Nevins " no longer, but a ma- 
 tron of nearly a year's experience who deemed her- 
 self thoroughly fitted to bestow advice on the allur- 
 ing subject of matrimony. 
 
 " Oh dear," sighed Agatha happily, with a gentle 
 372
 
 INTO SAFE HARBOR 
 
 pressure of Harding's arm, " isn't it delightful to 
 be welcomed by hearts that really love you? " 
 
 For answer there was another resounding cheer, 
 with shouts of " Hooroar fer Miss Aggy," after 
 which the Three Musketeers of Tuckerman's wharf 
 stepped from the ranks by virtue of seniority and 
 " guardeenship," and hurried forward to embrace 
 the lovely woman who was, and ever would be, to 
 them a petted child. With smiles and tears she re- 
 turned in kind the greeting of these loyal souls. 
 
 " An' now, Miss Aggy," bellowed Sykes, evi- 
 dently on the point of bursting with some tremen- 
 dous secret, " do ye see anythin' unusual, an', ye 
 might say, extra-ord'nary around here. Do ye, or 
 don't ye? Come now." 
 
 " Why, yes, of course, Captain. All this crowd, 
 the lights" 
 
 "The lights! Ho, ho, ho," shouted Sykes, his 
 rotund figure shaken with laughter, " that's jest a 
 fact, the lights. But what's the lights around, Miss 
 Aggy? I arsks yer that." 
 
 Then did Agatha, at Harding's prompting, look 
 up at the blaze of lanterns which surrounded a 
 framework over the gang-plank of the ship. And 
 there, within the gaily illuminated rectangle, she 
 read, in bright gilt letters : 
 
 STEWART MUSEUM OF THE SEA. 
 
 373
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 " O-ooh ! " gasped Agatha delightedly, " how 
 splendid! But who what I don't quite under- 
 stand." 
 
 " Your wedding gift to the people you love, dear/' 
 whispered Harding. 
 
 " But I thought the ' Harpoon ' was sold when " 
 
 " It undoubtedly was, and I bought it. I have 
 kept it all these years, and, with the help of some 
 good people, I have made of it what you see." 
 
 " * Hank Donelson, Custodian/ at your werry best 
 sarvice, Miss Aggy," said the little tar who owned 
 the name, and who now rejoiced in a marvelous 
 suit of blue broadcloth trimmed with gold braid, as 
 well as a jaunty cap bearing the title of his exalted 
 office. " Hours from ten to four but don't ye 
 mind that, 'cause ye knows as how ye're welcome at 
 whatsomever time ye wants ter light up the ol' ship 
 with yer pooty face/' 
 
 " Thank you, Hank," returned Agatha with a 
 laugh. " I assure you that I appreciate the special 
 privilege. I shall not abuse it." 
 
 Then they went aboard, and Agatha kissed Nelly, 
 who had been " Nevins," and shook hands cordially 
 with all the others who were good to her in the old 
 days. Among the last to approach was the dark- 
 eyed girl whose face had seemed familiar. 
 
 " How do you do, ma'am ? " she said somewhat 
 timidly, " I don't believe you know me, do you? " 
 
 Agatha looked at the pale, pretty face, and some- 
 thing stirred in her memory; but still recognition 
 refused to come. 
 
 " No, you don't," continued the girl, " how 
 
 374
 
 INTO SAFE HARBOR 
 
 should you ? But do you remember the ' little 
 mite ' that's what you called me who got in your 
 way in the St. Agnes vestry one evening long ago ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes; and she wanted to give me her toys, 
 the warm-hearted little thing. Your name is " 
 
 "Susy; Susy Brent." 
 
 " And are you still in the mill ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no, ma'am. I've been to school al- 
 most ever since, and now I'm a typewriter in the 
 counting-room. Ma says I'm too nice for her any 
 more, and I guess I am, 'cause she drinks pretty 
 bad nowadays. I'm going to be somebody." 
 
 " I'm sure you are, Susy," returned Agatha 
 kindly, " and you may count on me to help you." 
 
 Then came Tilly, her angular face lighted with 
 real pleasure, and her thin hand working Agatha's 
 plump one as if it had been a pump-handle. 
 
 " Wall, Aggy Renier, ef ye ain't jest a splendid 
 critter, then I never see one. I knew ye'd come 
 back some day an' show 'em. But air ye jest as full 
 o' them foolish notions o' love as ever ? " 
 
 " You must ask Ra Mr. Harding about that," 
 said the girl, blushing divinely. And he, catching 
 the look in her eyes, vowed that all his previous hap- 
 piness was as nothing compared with the bliss of this 
 moment. 
 
 Then they made their triumphal progress down 
 the companionway to the cabin, where another sur- 
 prise was in readiness. The bunks had been re- 
 moved, and in their place were handsome cases filled 
 with shells, corals, marine plants and a thousand 
 rare and beautiful treasures of the ocean. In the 
 
 375
 
 MISS PETTICOATS 
 
 center, where, around the long table, the old salts 
 had once made merry, was a great aquarium, in 
 which swam many curious fishes and amphibians. 
 The old place was brilliant with new lights and 
 handsome with appropriate decorations. And there 
 in the rear was Agatha's little cabin, looking just as 
 it did when she had left it years ago for a grander 
 but not a happier abiding-place. Only, over the 
 door, worked out in lustrous little sea-shells, was the 
 legend " MISS PETTICOATS/'' She learned afterward 
 that it was the work of Hank, but why he had placed 
 it there she could never find out. He would only 
 say that he " kinder wanted it 'round." 
 
 The rushing in of old emotions, old memories, un- 
 steadied the girl for the moment. The vision of the 
 gentle sailor who had loved her as the core of his 
 own heart filled her with tender melancholy. The 
 ship whispered of his dear presence, and she could 
 almost feel his blessing descending in this hour of 
 her supreme happiness. For she was happy; the 
 dreamy tinge of sadness, the half-suggested ache 01 
 regret, only intensified her present peace and joy. 
 
 In that hallowed spot they were married. To 
 Agatha it seemed neither a strange nor an unusual 
 thing when Harding brought forward a self-evident 
 clergyman, whom he introduced as a college class- 
 mate who had come from a far-distant city to per- 
 form their marriage ceremony. Indeed, she would 
 not have had it otherwise, for here every associa- 
 tion was of purity and honor and truth, and those 
 who surrounded her and wished her every joy in 
 life were of the tested metal that makes humanity's 
 armor strong. 
 
 376
 
 INTO SAFE HARBOR 
 
 Captain Sykes, resplendent in a new " frock-suit," 
 gave Agatha away with an impressive air that ex- 
 cited the envy of his two associates. But they, in 
 turn, had their revenge by being the first to kiss 
 the bride. Then, when the storm of hearty con- 
 gratulations was over, and good-nights said, they all 
 united in throwing such immense quantities of rice 
 and so many pairs of formidable boots after the car- 
 riage that the fat driver whipped up his sleepy horses 
 to escape the storm. Thus the wedded pair rode 
 away into their new world, the grace and tenderness 
 of the woman resting within the strength and loyalty 
 of the man. 
 
 After the guests had gone, Hank went slowly 
 around the ship putting out the lights and tidying 
 up. There was no sound save the gentle lapping 
 of the water against the " Harpoon's " sides, and 
 no light nearer than that of the island beacon in the 
 harbor. The brooding calm of the summer night 
 enfolded the sailor in its soft anus, and he moved as 
 in a dream. At last he found himself before the 
 door of the spotless little cabin that was once Agatha 
 Renier's. He looked long and lovingly at an old- 
 time photograph of the girl that he had fastened 
 upon the wall. Then his odd little smile illumined 
 his face. 
 
 " Good-night, and God love ye, dear little gal," he 
 said. ]i Ye've had a stormy v'yge an' come nigh ter 
 shipwreck, but thanks be ter the great Pilot ye' re in 
 a safe harbor at last." 
 
 THE END 
 
 377
 
 Hope Hathaway 
 
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