DWIN BATEMAN MORRIS
 
 OUR MISS 
 YORK 
 
 Author of 
 Blue Anchor Inn, The Millionaire, Etc. 
 
 Illustrated by 
 COLES PHILLIPS AND 
 RALPH L. BOYER 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING 
 
 COMPANY PHILADELPHIA 
 
 1916
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 1916 BY 
 THE PENN 
 PUBLISHING 
 COMPANY 
 
 Our Miss York
 
 Contents 
 
 I. THE OLD GARDEN SPRING ... 9 
 
 II. THE GARDEN SUMMER . . . .18 
 
 III. THE GARDEN AUTUMN ... 29 
 
 IV. THE NEW GARDEN .... 34 
 V. STANDSTILL STREET .... 49 
 
 VI. RUSTED COGS ...... 64 
 
 VII. THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS CESAR . . 70 
 
 VIII. THE THING TO Do WITH A KEY . . 82 
 
 IX. THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE ... 96 
 
 X. CAVEAT VENDOR ..... 112 
 
 XI. A LADY WITHOUT SHOES . . .123 
 
 XII. THE RIVER NIGHT ..... 132 
 
 XIII. BAY CITY ...... 139 
 
 XIV. DUSK AND STARLIGHT .... 149 
 XV. DAVID AND No GOLIATH . . .172 
 
 XVI. THE RAINBOW ..... 192 
 
 XVII. THE UNSENTIMENTAL MR. POTTER . 202 
 
 XVIII. THE YORK-POTTER COMPANY . .211 
 
 XIX. THE GIFT FROM HEAVEN . . . 220 
 
 XX. WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID . . 228 
 
 XXI. THE BYSTANDER ..... 240 
 
 2229012
 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 or 
 
 8 
 
 do 
 
 11 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 FALLING SHORT . 
 
 THE HIVE 
 
 THE EXCEEDING HIGH MOUNTAIN 
 THE GIFTS OF GODS . . . 
 THE CHILD . . 
 
 A GRACEFUL EXIT c . . 
 FEVER-HEAT . 
 THE INVISIBLE FORCE . 
 THE YELLOW RIVER . . . 
 STRAW-GRASPING . . . 
 EVEN ... 
 
 244 
 
 255 
 
 265 
 
 275 
 281 
 289 
 298 
 312 
 
 3*5 
 
 339 
 348 
 
 91 
 
 
 I IS 

 
 Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Frontispiece 
 " OF COURSE WE SHALL Miss You " . . .26 
 
 " You ARE A VERY SUDDEN PERSON " . . 75 
 
 u HAVE You COME TO LIFE ? " , . . 161 
 
 " IT OUGHT TO BE MORE COSTLY "... 235 
 
 Our Miss York
 
 Our Miss York 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE OLD GARDEN SPRING 
 
 FROM many points of view it was a shocking 
 costume for a young and attractive girl to 
 wear ; but it might be said, if it is a proper statement 
 to make, that she was the more attractive on that 
 account. The stockings she wore stopped at, or a 
 little below, her shins, and accentuated their brevity 
 by a pink band at the top. The skirt, if it could be 
 called a skirt, approached her knees as a limit, but 
 never quite reached them. And between showed 
 her own fair figure, round and decidedly pink. She 
 was not conscious of any impropriety in her attire, and 
 rocked in her chair on the uneven bricks, humming 
 blithely to herself. For she was but three years old ; 
 and her mind had not yet grasped all the intricacies 
 of the scale that runs between proper and improper, 
 
 9
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 nor learned the difficult art of knowing when to be 
 shocked and when not to be shocked. 
 
 By the side of the herring-bone brick walk on 
 which her tiny chair oscillated with a regular noise 
 like a grandfather's clock, a companionable robin, an 
 old friend recently returned from his fashionable 
 winter in the South, searched persistently over the 
 turt lor the descendants of worms he had eaten in 
 years past. He paid little attention to her. This 
 had been his home long before it had been hers. 
 He had known the herring-bone walk almost before 
 it had lost the first flush of its youth and taken on 
 its tinge of mossy green. The parallel lines of box 
 hedge running beside it had been familiar partitions 
 in his summer house for many a day. Many a 
 thousand times had he started at the creak of the 
 garden gate, and, as it closed automatically upon re- 
 quest of the weight attached to it, speculated with a 
 primitive caution on the purpose of the stranger who 
 had entered. 
 
 And when the tiny child had first come, with her 
 pink hair ribbon and her pink sash and her pink 
 cheeks, he had looked at her somewhat askance, as 
 an invader in his domain. But they had presently 
 
 grown used to each other and he had agreed to the 
 
 10
 
 THE OLD GARDEN SPRING 
 
 establishment of an entente cordiale which permitted 
 them to engage in the pursuit of happiness over the 
 same area. And as his pursuit of happiness con- 
 sisted in searching for worms, and hers in inducing 
 sleep in various well beloved doll-babies, their aims 
 did not clash. 
 
 Just now the sun was sinking low and she was 
 giving way to the fatigue of the long day. A faint 
 breeze blew from the west, carrying with it the touch 
 of fragrance of freshly-bloomed flowers. A stray 
 wood-thrush, perching himself somewhere out of 
 sight in the trees, sang his liquid song to hen Her 
 doll lay in her arms. She crooned sleepily. 
 
 " Wock-a-bye bee-by 
 Wock-a-bye bee-by 
 Ta-adle will fall, 
 Wock-a-bye bee-by." 
 
 The robin hopped confidently up the path. Over- 
 head, against the even blue of the sky, she saw other 
 birds flying. Her voice trailed off into silence. 
 Childish thoughts passed through that young mind : 
 thoughts of vague golden days to come ; of possible 
 adventurous journeys in street-cars ; of visits to a 
 
 place once seen where iron dogs guarded the front 
 
 ii
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 lawn ; of great soap-bubbles to be blown upon the 
 occasion of the next rainy day. Glorious reveries 
 these ! 
 
 So absorbed was she in these colorful thoughts 
 that she did not note the opening of the door behind 
 her and did not therefore see the gentleman who 
 stood there more than a little startled at her small 
 presence. A red-faced gentleman of about fifty he 
 was immaculately dressed in a check suit of dis- 
 tinctly audible pattern, with a faultlessly arranged 
 tie of bright hue and faultlessly shining shoes. He 
 was of that aggressive type one calls man-about- 
 town, for want of a better term, noted in many places 
 for his poise and self-possession. And yet he stood 
 there now in a fit of buck ague, terror-stricken at the 
 sight of this tiny being beneath its pink hair ribbon 
 afraid to retreat, unwilling to advance. It was the 
 first time he had been alone in its presence. He did 
 not wish to ignore it, yet what remark could he ad- 
 dress to it? He was just about to steal silently 
 away when a nurse, bearing the child's supper, ap- 
 peared and rescued him. 
 
 While the supper was being arranged in the proper 
 manner on a tiny table set on the bricks, he seated 
 
 himself in his big armchair on the porch and took 
 
 12
 
 THE OLD GARDEN SPRING 
 
 a cigar from its case. But he did not smoke. He 
 held it in his hand staring at it thoughtfully. 
 
 "Miss Martin," he said to the nurse, as she 
 ascended the steps. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Lacey." 
 
 " How can I go on with this confounded business ? 
 Me, a guardian of a child a baby ! Why, I am as 
 well fitted for it as I am to be a snake charmer. 
 Suppose I came out on this porch some day and that 
 organism out there began to cry. What the dickens 
 could I do ? How could I stop it ? " 
 
 Miss Martin laughed. " You don't have to. 
 That's what I'm for." 
 
 He drew a heavy sigh. 
 
 " But there might come a time," he asserted, 
 " there might come a time. I should want to 
 do the proper thing by my sister's child. Con- 
 found it ! " he cried, " what sin have I committed 
 that I should be saddled with a baby when up 
 until a month ago I hardly knew such a thing ex- 
 isted." 
 
 " It's your own niece," she reminded him. 
 
 " Yes, yes. Blood is thicker than water," he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 He gazed thoughtfully at the end of his cigar> 
 
 13
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Well," he said at length, gloomily, " you are my 
 hope and my refuge." 
 
 She smiled and rose to go. She had been a hos- 
 pital nurse, to whom after the news of the death of 
 this sister and brother-in-law, and of his own conse- 
 quent inheritance of their parental responsibility he 
 had turned, in a state of panic, and persuaded to 
 accept the position of nurse, governess and mother 
 to the child. 
 
 He gazed gloomily at the infant. He had not 
 strained her to his bosom from choice. She had 
 come like some dread ailment that there was no 
 avoiding. She interfered with his quiet and his 
 comfort. He had had to give up his bedroom to her 
 because it was sunny. Her toys were in his library. 
 And he did not love children. He rose and de- 
 scended the steps with a gouty heaviness and visited 
 the first bloom of a red poppy in the flower garden 
 beside the house. 
 
 He had planted this particular kind of poppy 
 many times, but this was the first occasion on which 
 he had been rewarded with a bloom. He returned to 
 the house and expressed a wish rather glumly that 
 the child should not be allowed to touch the flower. 
 
 When Margaret had finished her meal, she took
 
 THE OLD GARDEN SPRING 
 
 off her bib and folded it up carefully in an approved 
 manner. The little spoon she put in the little cup, 
 and the cup she put in the bowl and the bowl she 
 placed upon the folded bib. Her ritual of tidiness 
 was then complete, and she was ready for bed. 
 
 At that moment the latch of the front gate clicked 
 and there appeared on the bricks of the walk a very 
 large man and a little four-year-old boy in a white 
 sailor's suit and black patent leather pumps. The 
 light of recognition was in Margaret's eye. She 
 trotted eagerly down the path, her shoes clicking 
 on the bricks, running very fast until she got almost 
 to them, and then stopping suddenly, abashed at her 
 own boldness, with her hands behind her. 
 
 " Hello, Margaret," said the boy, in a deep voice. 
 
 " Hello, HI' David Bruce," she returned, with some 
 shyness, but favoring him with his full name. 
 
 The boy covered up his embarrassment by run- 
 ning away and swinging on the front gate, but 
 returned presently with a show of nonchalance and 
 an eye roving in search of diversion. He seized the 
 other child by the hand presently and announced 
 that he was going with her to pick flowers. Mar- 
 garet looked at Miss Martin for permission, which 
 that lady gave. 
 
 IS
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Pick daffodils with long stems," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 The children went hand in hand down the gravel 
 path. 
 
 Margaret thrust her hand down deep and plucked 
 a flower with a long stem. The boy David did the 
 same. She went on picking carefully and method- 
 ically. He soon tired, and found it more diverting 
 to pull the flowers with no stems at all. 
 
 " Oh, Davie boy, they haven't any stems," she re- 
 monstrated. 
 
 " Don't like stems," he observed. 
 
 He stalked to the end of the path and gazed at 
 the red poppy. 
 
 " I'm going to pick the red one." 
 
 " No," she cried, aghast. 
 
 He observed the flower thoughtfully. Fascinated 
 at his daring she stood behind him watching him. 
 Presently he swooped down and tore it from its 
 stem. Looking it over curiously for a moment, he 
 threw it down on the ground. There they found 
 them after a while, Margaret endeavoring to plant 
 the poor poppy again in the ground, and David, 
 standing with both feet in the daffodils watching her 
 
 interestedly. 
 
 16
 
 THE OLD GARDEN SPRING 
 
 "There you have it," said David's father, "the 
 Waster and the Producer." 
 
 Whereupon he immediately took the Waster 
 home. Mr. Lacey made a wry face and, turning 
 ill-humoredly upon his heel, stalked into the house, 
 where he growled and grumbled for the rest of the 
 evening. Providence had visited his house with a 
 plague.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE GARDEN SUMMER 
 
 SUMMER in Mr. Lacey's garden. But many a 
 spring has passed since the days that he 
 brooded over his responsibility for the small child. 
 There is no small child now. But a slim girl of 
 eighteen cares for an old gentleman who sits in his 
 chair beneath the shade of the trees, reading his 
 papers or testily rapping on the balustrade of the 
 porch for some one to come and minister to his 
 wants. In sixteen years he had turned from a hale 
 middle-aged man to a mere feeble, tottering invalid. 
 It is ten years now since he gave up his business 
 in the city or since he was rather blasted from that 
 business by an upheaval that left him high and dry 
 and far away, with all his confidence, his nerve and 
 his poise gone forever. When he had been content 
 in his broker's office to sit still and take his steady 
 commission for buying and selling, buying and sell- 
 ing, all the year round, he had grown rich. But 
 when he decided that he would join the throng of 
 
 operators, the people who placed their money on 
 
 18
 
 THE GARDEN -SUMMER 
 
 the turn of the wheel, he plunged presently down 
 the abyss on whose edge he had stood safe and un- 
 harmed all the years of his life. It was a great boom 
 in copper that caught him. He thought he saw a 
 chance for his hundred thousand dollars to become 
 a million. He thought he had plotted correctly the 
 future of the market. But he parted from his hun- 
 dred thousand, and more that he had borrowed, just 
 at the wrong time, and in eight days not a penny of 
 it was left. He sold his seat in the stock exchange 
 the seat that he had inherited from his father and 
 in the end saved enough money out of the wreck to 
 barely keep him. All of his poise and most of his 
 self-esteem gone, he retired to his home, which 
 thereafter he rarely left for any cause whatever. 
 
 The child Margaret was left to her own devices. 
 Miss Martin was dismissed immediately as being too 
 expensive. Margaret was just at an age when she 
 could take care of herself, and so long as she did 
 not annoy him, he was well pleased. Few play- 
 mates came up the path between the box hedges, for 
 they annoyed the aging man. The child's diver- 
 sion was with the old negro mammy in the kitchen. 
 There she would stand on a wooden box by the 
 kitchen sink, a long checkered apron about her 
 
 19
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 neck, and wash dishes and pots and pans. When 
 she grew older she was allowed to cook, following 
 old Elizabeth's guesswork recipes. And then on 
 her seventeenth birthday she had gone to Mr. Lacey 
 and explained with a certain old-fashioned serious- 
 ness that it was not economical to order food from 
 the store by telephone and pay for it when the bill 
 came at the end of the month. She announced that 
 she wanted to take hold of the household and do 
 the marketing. The old gentleman had grunted 
 doubtfully but had handed over the sum she named 
 for the first month's allowance. 
 
 That was the only means by which she had in 
 any way endeared herself to him. For she had thus 
 saved him money and at the same time managed to 
 give him better food. These two things were now 
 the only avenues of approach to his soul, and even 
 they did not extend far beneath his skin. 
 
 Out of this allowance for the household, the girl 
 saved enough for her clothes, an item for which 
 heretofore Mr. Lacey had never voluntarily made an 
 appropriation. This saved her much embarrassment, 
 for her guardian had never made asking for favors 
 pleasant, and seemed to have a masculine inability 
 
 to realize that the protecting of the female from the 
 
 20
 
 THE GARDEN SUMMER 
 
 winter's blast requires a more or less steady outlay 
 of funds. The exigencies of the case required that 
 she make all her dresses herself, with the aid of a 
 seamstress who came in by the day. But they by 
 no means suffered on that account. Indeed, to the 
 youths, who now began to come and sit with her on 
 the stone steps in the moonlight, they could not have 
 been more exquisite. 
 
 As the old gentleman began to grow older and 
 more and more feeble, she saw, with an insight 
 somewhat beyond her years, that there would 
 sooner or later come a time when the light would 
 be snuffed out and she would be thrown upon her 
 own resources. Therefore one afternoon as he sat 
 in his chair beneath the trees, wrapped in his shawl 
 against the light summer breeze, she took her sew- 
 ing and sat down beside him. He looked at her 
 distrustfully with his beady black eyes. 
 
 " Well, well," he said, touchily, " I don't have to 
 be sat with. I'm not an invalid." 
 
 " I know," she said, and went on featherstitching. 
 
 He continued to regard her resentfully. 
 
 " Guardian," she observed, presently, " hadn't I 
 better be thinking of a way to earn my living?" 
 
 He struck his cane down into the turf. 
 
 21
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "What's this?" he exclaimed. "Aren't you sat- 
 isfied with the way you are living here ? " 
 
 " Perfectly. But this can't last forever." 
 
 "When I am dead and gone," he said bluntly, 
 " it is time to think of those things. Don't bury me 
 in advance." 
 
 She continued to sew. 
 
 " I could perhaps learn something to fit me to earn 
 my living. I could perhaps take up stenography." 
 
 " I don't want you to be a stenographer," he 
 blurted out. " Stenographer 1 Do you suppose I 
 want every one to say I couldn't support you? 
 Bah!" 
 
 He rose unsteadily to his feet. He pointed to the 
 street outside the garden wall. 
 
 " Do you know what they call me out there ? 
 Down-and-out Lacey ! " he exclaimed. " Nothing 
 would please them better than to say my niece was 
 supporting me by the labor of her hands." He 
 shook a wavering stick at the street beyond. " Vul- 
 tures," he cried, "vultures!" 
 
 He tottered to the steps of the house. She put 
 down her sewing to help him. He passed into the 
 house saying over and over to himself, " Down-and- 
 out Lacey ! Down-and-out Lacey ! " 
 
 22
 
 THE GARDEN SUMMER 
 
 She returned and sat a long while thoughtfully 
 silent under the trees. Then she rose and walked 
 slowly toward the flower garden, bright with its 
 burden of nasturtiums and its regular beds of zinnias 
 and larkspur and bachelor's buttons ; and still 
 brighter beyond with golden glow and startling red 
 amaryllis, and with hollyhock and sunflowers tower- 
 ing above all like a very rich and colorful impres- 
 sionist picture. In an octagonal pool at the end of 
 the gravel path bloomed white water-lilies, their 
 shining wet foliage resting on the water ; and five 
 big goldfish scurried about among their stems. 
 This was the spot she came to for companionship. 
 
 Her observing eye discovered dead leaves to be 
 plucked here, and insidious weeds to be exterminated 
 there. She stooped down to gather nasturtiums 
 that must be picked to prevent them from going to 
 seed. A step sounded on the gravel behind her. 
 She glanced up. 
 
 " Hello, David," she said. 
 
 He took off his hat " Perhaps you need an 
 assistant gardener," he suggested. 
 
 "I do. Wouldn't you like to pick a few nastur- 
 tiums ? " 
 
 " With all my heart. The fewer the better." 
 
 23
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 She smiled. He sat down upon a convenient 
 square of greensward and began to gather flowers. 
 At least he picked one which he put in his button- 
 hole, and another which he twirled in his fingers. 
 He watched her with interest. 
 
 " You are always plucking," he observed with the 
 cheerful ease of a person watching another engaged 
 in toil, " where something ought to be plucked and 
 creating where something ought to be created." 
 
 She smiled at this compliment so manifestly un- 
 tainted with envy. 
 
 " Doesn't it serve as an example to you ? " she 
 replied, with an effort to be severe. 
 
 " Why no. You see I picked flowers the last time 
 I was here. I must have change." 
 
 "Change," she repeated, mockingly. "Always 
 change. You have the soul of a chameleon." 
 
 " A chameleon's soul is steadfast," he corrected. 
 " It is only his skin that changes." 
 
 He picked a stone from the walk and tossed it 
 into the pool, where it disappeared with a tiny splash 
 and left a hundred concentric circles on the surface. 
 
 " Outwardly I seem to be changing," he asserted. 
 " But within I think I am going straight. I have to 
 
 try various things to find out what I like." 
 
 24
 
 THE GARDEN SUMMER 
 
 " Is it true that you have decided to give up your 
 engineering?" she asked. 
 
 He made an oratorical gesture with his flower. 
 
 " Yes. I find I am no engineer." 
 
 " But I thought you had made such a good record." 
 
 " I made a good enough record," he conceded. 
 " But I don't like the work." 
 
 " Couldn't you have guessed that before ? You've 
 wasted a whole year of your life." 
 
 He rose and strode up and down the gravel walk. 
 
 " Indeed I've not. I've added just so much to my 
 fund of general knowledge. And I know now I do 
 not want to be an engineer which is a valuable 
 piece of information." 
 
 " I can't break down your optimism," she ex- 
 claimed, at length. " But what are you going to 
 do?" 
 
 David handed her his offering of one nasturtium 
 for her bunch. 
 
 " The widow's mite," he explained. " Why," he 
 continued, " I'm going to Paris to study painting." 
 
 " David ! " she cried. 
 
 " Why not ? I've always wanted to." 
 
 " But it's so different from civil engineering." 
 
 " Yes. I think that is in its favor." 
 
 25
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Do you know, David," she said, rising and dust- 
 ing off her skirt, " you proceed through life by tak- 
 ing one step in one direction and the next step in 
 the opposite direction." 
 
 " I know," he agreed, but did not attempt to dis- 
 cuss the point. 
 
 She sat down on a bench under the trees, and her 
 usually busy hands lay idle in her lap. 
 
 " How does it happen," he exclaimed, with a show 
 of astonishment, " that you are not sewing or mixing 
 mayonnaise or something? " 
 
 "Oh, sometimes," she replied, " I'm quite human." 
 
 He sat upon the stone steps. 
 
 "When are you going? " she asked, presently. 
 
 " I leave here day after to-morrow." 
 
 She gazed thoughtfully for a while at her hands in 
 her lap. 
 
 " Of course we shall miss you," she said. 
 
 " ' We ' used in the editorial sense ? " he inquired. 
 
 "The community at large," she replied, waving 
 her hand. 
 
 " Please thank them for me." 
 
 They were silent. He shot a twig at a robin 
 hopping close by the hedge. 
 
 " Tell me this," she asked, " do you really think 
 
 26
 
 " OF COURSE WE SHALL MISS YOU
 
 THE GARDEN SUMMER 
 
 you have the the divine fire in you, or do you 
 simply feel you need a change of scene ? " 
 
 He considered a moment. 
 
 " Of course I always want a change of scene. 
 But aside from that I'm enthusiastic about this 
 thing. I've drawn pictures ever since I was old 
 enough to sit up alone. If I hadn't happened to 
 go out with that engineering corps last summer, I 
 never would have thought of being anything else 
 but a painter." 
 
 Margaret smiled at him. 
 
 " What does your superior smile mean ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " When you ' are crossing over," she replied, 
 "don't permit yourself to be shown the workings 
 of the ship. You'll be a naval architect if you do." 
 
 After they had talked for a long while and the 
 shadows of the trees began to lengthen on the grass, 
 he rose to go. And there was in his manner a lin- 
 gering reluctance, as though he wished to make the 
 most of the moment. Perhaps the same thought 
 was uppermost in the mind of each that this was 
 the last day of their child youth. He was going 
 forth now into the world as a man, to hunt for his 
 
 burden and take it up. And when he returned, he 
 
 27
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 knew that it was not improbable she too might have 
 gone forth on a like mission. 
 
 When he had shaken hands with her, a sense of 
 comradeship prompted her to walk down the brick 
 walk with him. She picked a flower from the bed 
 by the gate and, bidding him stand still, reached up 
 and drew it through his buttonhole. And she 
 laughed, because she could not have denied there 
 was a certain heaviness in her heart. 
 
 "That was a most flirtatious thing to do," she 
 exclaimed, smiling, " but may it bring you good 
 luck." 
 
 " I like you to be flirtatious," he said. 
 
 She made a mouth at him. 
 
 " In that case I must try not to be." 
 
 Still some time later he was holding her hand for 
 a brief moment again across the swinging gate. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said. " Come back soon." 
 
 Then she returned to the chair under the trees, 
 and picked up her sewing. The robins hopped 
 about on the grass beside her. She stared absently 
 at them. In her lap rested idly the usually busy 
 hands and the sewing with its needle thrust into it 
 lay untouched on her knee. 
 
 28
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE GARDEN AUTUMN 
 
 red and russet and golden leaves spread 
 A out all over the lawn and the paths and the 
 flower beds. The gaunt limbs of the trees were 
 showing brown and bare against the sky, and from 
 the street could now be seen the outlines of the 
 house. The leaves rustled underfoot. First frost 
 had bitten the flowers. A general air of sombre 
 quiet lay on the garden that even the Indian summer 
 sun did not seem to dispel. 
 
 Mr. Lacey's chair was not in its accustomed place 
 on the lawn. Nor was it indeed upon the porch 
 where it had usually been in years past after the 
 ground had grown too damp for him. The benches 
 had been taken in and the shutters were closed. 
 
 Upon the stone steps, her chin upon her hand, sat 
 Margaret, in black ; and the clear whiteness of her 
 skin and the rose of her cheeks stood out well against 
 it. She was twenty now, and a trifle more rounded 
 
 and matured. She sat with her back against a 
 
 29
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 column, glancing every now and then at the street 
 as if she were expecting some one. 
 
 In a few moments an automobile appeared and 
 came to a stop at the gate. Two men were in it. 
 One of them stepped out and spoke a few words to 
 the other, who nodded, and, starting the machine, 
 drove away again. It was a big man who opened 
 the gate and came up the path. He carried with 
 him his lawyer's green bag, which, like everything 
 that came in contrast with him, seemed lilliputian in 
 its smallness. This was David Bruce's father. 
 
 " My dear Margaret," he said, " I have no very 
 good news for you. Lacey's will leaves everything 
 to you, but that everything turns out to be very 
 little." 
 
 "I expected that," she replied. 
 
 Mr. Bruce nodded. 
 
 " As you doubtless know," he continued, " he had 
 been drawing on his principal for a long while, and 
 at his death he had nearly exhausted it. If he had 
 lived another year I do not know what there would 
 have been for him to live on. As it is, you have 
 just about an even thousand dollars, which I am 
 thankful to say we shall be able to place almost im- 
 mediately at your disposal." 
 
 30
 
 THE GARDEN AUTUMN 
 
 " You are very kind," she said. 
 
 " I think," she went on presently, " I have just 
 about decided upon my plan of action. Last year 
 I suggested to Mr. Lacey that I study stenography 
 in order to be prepared for such a turn of events as 
 this. He would not hear of it, but I still think that 
 that is the best thing for me to do, as I have now my 
 living to earn." 
 
 Mr. Bruce stroked his chin thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I think that is the wisest course. 
 I have never been quite able to accustom myself to 
 a young girl's going promiscuously into an office this 
 way," he added, " but in this case it seems to be 
 necessary." 
 
 " I shall be able to take care of myself, I think," 
 she replied. 
 
 " I have no doubt you will ; I have no doubt you 
 will. The old house and grounds brought very 
 little more than the mortgages," he said, looking 
 about him. " It was a pity to sell them, but I know 
 they could not remain as they are much longer. 
 They are going to cut a street right through your 
 lily pond some day." 
 
 Half an hour later the automobile drew up to the 
 curb once again. Mr. Bruce rose. She walked
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 down to the gate with him. The man in the ma- 
 chine looked at her attentively. 
 
 " Come here, Potter," called Bruce. " I want to 
 present you to Miss York." 
 
 The man got down quickly and came in the gate. 
 He was younger than Mr. Bruce, not yet turned 
 thirty in fact, with alert eyes that never left the face 
 of the person he was talking to. She was impressed 
 with the extra care with which he was dressed. 
 
 "Potter," said the older man, "Miss York is 
 about to study stenography. What do you con- 
 sider the best way for her to go about it ? " 
 
 Potter recommended a certain school. He di- 
 rected a keen glance at her a glance accustomed 
 to quick appraisal. 
 
 "Take three months there. No more. And 
 when you have finished," he said, "our firm will 
 have a position ready for you, should you care to 
 take it." 
 
 She flushed with pleasure and thanked him. 
 
 "That's a feather in your cap, Margaret," cried 
 Mr. Bruce. " Potter is one of the foremost young 
 business men in the city." 
 
 Potter clapped him lightly on the back and 
 laughed. The two men got into the car, and as the 
 
 32
 
 THE GARDEN AUTUMN 
 
 machine started the young and foremost Mr. Potter 
 turned and looked her squarely in the eyes just for 
 a fraction of a second. There was no mistaking 
 something in his eyes. The blood stirred within 
 her. As Mr. Bruce had said, here was a feather in 
 her cap. 
 
 33
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 THE offices and factory of the Waring Company 
 were built with an elaborate idea of forestalling 
 Providence. The scheme of the whole plant was to 
 make it so impervious to fire, water, lightning, 
 sudden death, inefficiency, human error, lost mo- 
 tion, waste products, bad filing systems, and all the 
 curses called down upon business undertakings by 
 the aforesaid Providence that it should be a little 
 universe all of its own revolving, as it were, in its 
 own orbit, making its own rules, and generally 
 shaping that part of the imperfect world which 
 came under its control in such a way that it would 
 result in dollars for the Waring Company. Han- 
 dling as they did large quantities of paints, volatile 
 oils, and other inflammable liquids, the building 
 was elaborately fire-proofed equipped with steel 
 doors that closed automatically in case of fire and 
 automatic sprinklers that turned streams of water 
 into the rooms where the temperature rose above 
 
 34
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 a certain point. The hand of death was kept out- 
 side the property line of the Waring Company. All 
 the dangerous machinery and the dangerous proc- 
 esses were safeguarded to protect man against his 
 own carelessness. For the preparation of some of 
 their more dangerous and volatile products they 
 had a row of furnaces in the open air, each with its 
 own chimney, where the men worked out-of-doors 
 the year around. The danger from explosions was 
 thus reduced to a minimum. They could not set 
 back the sun as Joshua did, but they made every 
 minute deliver to them sixty seconds' worth of value. 
 The human heart rests between beats, but between 
 the moment the whistle at Waring's blew to start 
 and blew again to shut down there was no pause. 
 The products moved steadily down from the top 
 floor to the shipping room. The men worked with 
 materials within easy reach, so that a man employed 
 to use his hands was not compelled to use his legs. 
 It was a big machine, of which the various cogs 
 were human beings. 
 
 And one of those cogs was Margaret York. It 
 would be futile to say that she did not resent being 
 a cog, a mere unit whose usefulness to the whole 
 ceased as soon as she ceased to follow certain 
 
 35
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 hard and set rules. Individuality was discouraged, 
 suppressed, flattened out by a steam-roller which 
 smoothed everything for the easy revolving of big- 
 ger wheels. When she was first taken into a large 
 brick-walled room with a concrete floor and sat at 
 a metal desk to which a messenger three times a 
 day brought letters from N to R to be entered on a 
 card index, and from morning to night did nothing 
 but enter those letters on the card index, she knew 
 that if they had attached a ball and chain to her 
 ankle as well, she could not have been more dis- 
 couraged and depressed. 
 
 But her training had not been of the sort that al- 
 lowed much room for rebellious discontent. She re- 
 corded letters on her card index until she would wake 
 up in the middle of the night repeating, " August 
 i8th, William Sharpe. Requesting sample Number 
 196," or some such similar echo of the day's work. 
 For six months she did that. It was a dreary, 
 spiritless task. The other girls in the room plodded 
 through their work thinking of other things, flying 
 to whisper confidences to each other every stray 
 minute that supervision was relaxed over them, en- 
 deavoring to make the minutes fly as fast as pos- 
 sible by taking their minds off their work whenever 
 
 36
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 the chance offered. Margaret was not interested in 
 them. She tried to be interested in the tiny facet of 
 the big business that was offered to her view. She 
 found that by working fast she could finish one col- 
 lection of letters before the messenger brought her 
 another. In the space of leisure she thus created 
 for herself, she read the letters. It was not a 
 strongly diverting occupation, for the communica- 
 tions, for the most part, were unintelligible to her. 
 But when she began to get second and third letters 
 on the same subject, sometimes a light would dawn 
 just a ray out of primeval darkness but enough 
 to stir her curiosity. After a certain time she found 
 she had thoroughly well classified in her mind all 
 the things about the factory that she did not know, 
 which is the most unsatisfactory classification that 
 can possibly exist in the human brain. 
 
 However, one day at the noon hour, the elevator 
 boy, who ran his car up and down in a fire-proof 
 chimney, offered to take her up to the roof so that 
 she might eat her lunch there in the open air. After 
 that she spent all her lunch periods on the roof. 
 Most of the employees were anxious to get out on the 
 street and see the outside world in their thirty min- 
 utes of leisure, but there were half a dozen others 
 
 37
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 who, like herself, preferred the quiet of that place. 
 These were all young boys messengers, apprentices, 
 embryo chemists. At first they were rather shy of 
 her, but after a time the ice was broken and they 
 would gather around her and gossip. She dis- 
 covered that they made a point of knowing every- 
 thing about the establishment individual salaries, 
 proposed changes, imminent discharges, and promo- 
 tions, mistakes by superiors and all the current 
 praise and slander. Interlarded with this, however, 
 was a very fair understanding of what the firm 
 manufactured and why and whereabouts in the 
 building, how long it took, who were the experts, 
 who were the drudges and a thousand and one such 
 facts. 
 
 She found out that the firm manufactured now 
 nothing but stains and varnishes for interior wood- 
 work, making a specialty of finishes for chestnut 
 and oak, which were susceptible to the action of 
 ammonia. She also learned that on the top floor 
 was a laboratory where a number of expensive 
 chemists played with oils and pigments all day long, 
 and every now and then furnished the firm with a 
 new product. She learned that such and such a 
 man getting four thousand dollars a year had dis- 
 
 38
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 covered stain Number 1088, which had sold so well 
 that the force had to be increased by nearly a third to 
 manufacture it fast enough to supply the demand. 
 She learned that before the advent of Mr. Potter as 
 general manager, the Waring Company had manu- 
 factured almost every kind of paint and varnish and 
 sold very little of it. The gossip that filtered down 
 to those youths on the lowest rung was that the one 
 word Mr. Potter had brought into the business was 
 " Specialize." Where they had had before a hun- 
 dred men making outside paint, inside paint, metallic 
 paint, carriage paint, house varnish, spar varnish, 
 water-proofing compounds, and a hundred other 
 products, they had now nearly a thousand working 
 on nothing but stains, and what they termed flat 
 varnishes which she learned was the name applied 
 to varnishes without a gloss. 
 
 All this was technical and would have been deadly 
 dull to her had she not been steeped for the past six 
 months in the atmosphere of these terms, and had she 
 not realized that with her entrance into that build- 
 ing all those terms and conditions became an in- 
 separable part of her life. 
 
 The next step was that she must see the building. 
 And at lunch hour every day with one or more of the 
 
 39
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 boys as guide she visited little by little the whole 
 working space of the plant. They were interested 
 in her interest, and although they were bored im- 
 measurably at times by the thoroughness with which 
 she learned .things, nevertheless her point of view on 
 everything she saw was so naive that they never tired 
 of the excursions. Men in the different departments, 
 flattered by her interest, would explain things to her. 
 Her circle of acquaintances grew. But she was 
 naturally looked upon as an oddity by the other 
 stenographers and women clerks, who could not 
 understand her interest in the unpleasant smells up- 
 stairs. 
 
 One day as she was talking to one of the men in 
 the room where the stain was stored in concrete tanks 
 for the purpose of aging it, the man was suddenly 
 frozen into silence. Across the room strode Mr. Pot- 
 ter, walking quickly, looking straight before him yet 
 seeming to see everything. He asked a question of 
 the man at a desk at the end of the room and then 
 disappeared again. The next day in another room 
 a similar thing happened, and, much to her surprise, 
 on the third day, in a third room, he appeared again. 
 On neither of these occasions had he spoken a word 
 to her. 
 
 4o
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 " I think the boss disapproves of us nosing around," 
 said one of her companions, in the vernacular. " I 
 guess we had better cut it out." 
 
 " There is no reason why he shouldn't say so," 
 the girl asserted. 
 
 In a moment Mr. Potter approached them, and, 
 stopping as he was about to pass, said : 
 
 " Miss York, my stenographer has gone to lunch. 
 Will you take dictation, please ? " 
 
 He disappeared again. When she had recovered 
 from her surprise, she inquired her way to his office 
 and presented herself. She was conscious that her 
 thrill of excitement was not altogether unmixed. 
 Beside the very proper and businesslike enthusiasm 
 she felt at being summoned to the office of her most 
 important superior, she owned up to a certain femi- 
 nine interest in the proceeding. A quite primitive 
 emotion held her, for in spite of their relation as 
 governor and governed, the fact remained that he 
 was a man and she was a woman, and she was 
 somewhat amused to find that her interest in him 
 was more as a man than as a power. She found 
 herself thinking that if he knew that thought he 
 would have been highly indignant at the lese-majesty 
 in it 
 
 41
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 He looked at her full in the eyes, smiled almost 
 perceptibly, motioned her to a chair and began to 
 dictate. He gave her three letters in all, which he 
 announced briefly were to be rushed. She was 
 dimly aware that there was a certain ritual concern- 
 ing the number of carbon copies, the width of mar- 
 gin, the file number to be placed at the top of the 
 sheet and the proper stationery to be used. But she 
 had wit enough not to ask him concerning these 
 things. Instead she closed her book and left the 
 room with as much ease of manner as she could 
 muster, as though she were merely carrying out one 
 of the routine duties of her life. But the instant she 
 had closed the door behind her, she picked out one 
 of the girl stenographers with whom she had ex- 
 changed a few words on various occasions, and 
 interrupting her in the midst of the sentence she 
 was typing, told her she would give her the privilege 
 of answering four questions no more on the sub- 
 ject of those letters. And when the girl, much 
 amused, had complied, she tore back to her own 
 desk and her fingers flew over the keys. In less 
 than fifteen minutes the letters were in the hands of 
 a messenger on the way to Mr. Potter's office. But 
 
 all her elation was turned to gloom when presently 
 
 42
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 one of the letters came back with a line through the 
 word " subservient," into which she had managed to 
 insert the letter "c." That evening as she went 
 home she bought a pocket dictionary. 
 
 The routine of the office remained unchanged for 
 her for a week or more after that, and then one day 
 Mr. Potter sent for her. 
 
 " To-morrow," he said, " another girl will take 
 your place in the file room. I shall need you here. I 
 have a certain class of correspondence requiring dis- 
 cretion can you be discreet ? " he asked, suddenly. 
 
 She had been very demure and solemn up to this 
 point. 
 
 " It's my middle name," she said, positively, drop- 
 ping into the argot she heard about her all day long. 
 
 Potter leaned back in his chair and laughed. She 
 was almost frightened at the sudden casting aside of 
 his official manner. 
 
 " I think," said he, " we shall get along together. 
 You will answer to this foot buzzer. If I ring three 
 times it means, ' Friends, Romans, Countrymen, I 
 need your ears.' You will then enter, seat yourself 
 at the typewriter in the corner and write, but listen 
 to what is being said. You are to be the Human 
 Dictaphone." 
 
 43
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 He dismissed her with a nod. She was never, 
 however, called in to be the Human Dictaphone, ex- 
 cept on one occasion when he was trying to find out 
 why they had to pay so much more for turpentine 
 than formerly. Most of her work was in taking dic- 
 tation from him and keeping a file of orders promised 
 in quick time. 
 
 There was such a demand for the Waring Com- 
 pany's products that the manufacture of them never 
 quite kept pace with the orders, which had to be 
 filled in rotation. But in some instances large orders 
 were taken with the stipulation that they were to be 
 delivered at a certain time. Mr. Potter took charge 
 of all these. He dictated a letter saying that such 
 and such things would be shipped on such and such 
 a date. Margaret wrote the letter, making a carbon 
 for the foreman of the factory, one for the shipping 
 clerk, one for the bookkeeper and one for the gen- 
 eral files. After she had been working on this kind 
 of thing for some months she decided it would be 
 well to have a fifth carbon to keep herself for check. 
 Mr. Potter had a remarkable facility for carrying a 
 vast amount of detail in his head, and he would 
 usually remember the date on which the shipment 
 had been promised, and call up to find out if it had 
 
 44
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 been sent. But sometimes, when there were a num- 
 ber of orders, he would forget. So on the proper 
 date she would simply lay the order on his desk. 
 But if this pleased him he said nothing whatever 
 about it. 
 
 Now and then he would have an odd moment of 
 relaxation, when he would set down his pack from 
 his shoulders for an instant. On such occasions he 
 took her breath away. In one of these moments just 
 after he had put through a very big deal, he touched 
 his buzzer three times. She entered in great haste 
 and found him alone in the room. 
 
 " What am I to listen to ? " she asked. 
 
 " Myself," he replied, with one of the grammatical 
 aberrations that marked him for a self-made man. 
 
 She looked at him through eyes half-closed and 
 began to laugh. She wore a narrow gold bracelet 
 on her left forearm. To her surprise he reached for- 
 ward and caught it in his thumb and forefinger. 
 
 " Sit down here." 
 
 She slipped her hand out of the bracelet. 
 
 " I think you may have it," she said, smiling. 
 
 He still held the gold trinket in his hand, looking 
 a little sheepish. His jaws set. He laid it on the 
 glass top of his mahogany desk. 
 
 45
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I believe that will be all," he said, in his best 
 office manner. 
 
 That evening some unexpected work came along 
 which kept them both after office hours. When she 
 had finished he called her into his office. He picked 
 up the bracelet from the desk where it had been ly- 
 ing all afternoon. 
 
 " In receiving this bracelet again," he said, " I 
 want you to feel that there goes with it my most 
 earnest apology. An extraordinary enthusiasm 
 seems to have seized me for the instant, which I as- 
 sure you was not coupled with any disrespect for 
 yourself." 
 
 She took the bracelet and slipped it on her arm. 
 
 " I realize that," she replied. " I have not thought 
 much about it." 
 
 He looked at his watch and snapped it shut again. 
 
 " It is very late now," he said, " too late for your 
 dinner. Could I prevail on you to dine with me?" 
 
 She felt that it would not be wise. 
 
 " I would prefer not. Not just yet. You see, we 
 do not know each other very well." 
 
 "I feel as if I knew you quite well," he said. 
 "Miss York," he broke off, shortly, "would you 
 
 mind if I gave you a fatherly heart-to-heart talk ? " 
 
 46
 
 THE NEW GARDEN 
 
 " I should like it," she exclaimed, looking at him 
 with interest. 
 
 "Then tell me this. Are you in this business 
 world as a life-work, or is it just a life preserver to 
 float you until you can get married ? " 
 
 " Not by any means the latter," she replied, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Then your heart is in the work." 
 
 " Oh, beyond a doubt." 
 
 " In that case," he said, " I shall give you a very 
 strange piece of advice coming from an employer to 
 an employee. And it is don't stay with the War- 
 ing Company. You are an efficient person, and 
 your grasp of the situation here has been marvelous. 
 You will go far if you start right. But the right 
 start is not here." 
 
 " Please explain," she said, flushing with pleasure. 
 
 " This factory is a finished product. There is no 
 room here for any one to carve his name. The sys- 
 tem is worked out it is cut-and-dried and all they 
 need is a few animate objects to carry out the de- 
 tails. If you were a chemist and could discover new 
 products, you might make a little headway. But 
 the strategic points are held by stubborn people 
 like myself and they have to be killed off before 
 
 47
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 there is a chance for you or any one else. Ten 
 years ago there was need in the company for new 
 blood." 
 
 She looked at him curiously, knowing that that 
 was the opportunity he had grasped. 
 
 " What chance is there for a woman in business ? " 
 she asked, presently. 
 
 " Just as much as for a man," he cried, emphat- 
 ically. " There is no chance for those women in 
 there who never under any circumstances let their 
 minds be on their work. But what you need is op- 
 portunity. You have the ability." 
 
 " Thank you," she said. 
 
 " Now remember what I have told you," he con- 
 cluded, " and when you have an opportunity to go 
 to a place that needs you, go. That's what I did." 
 
 "I am sure I appreciate this," she said, rising, 
 " and I shall try to be awake when the opportunity 
 comes." 
 
 48
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 MARGARET had been with the Waring Com- 
 pany a little more than a year when one 
 morning Mr. Potter called her into his office. There 
 was something very military about his office. The 
 desk was a big mahogany one protected by a glass 
 top, and upon it rested his writing materials, his 
 telephones and two baskets for mail nothing else. 
 The decks were always cleared for action. He him- 
 self was attired in a dark suit pressed until it set 
 upon him with absolute perfection. A band of white 
 piping ran around the lapel of his vest it was a 
 noticeable thing that he considered it a part of his 
 scheme of dress to wear a vest at all seasons of the 
 year. His high button shoes were polished until 
 they shone, and this was a matter of very ques- 
 tionable taste, but it seemed somehow to carry out 
 the perfect businesslike spruceness of him his 
 finger nails were manicured until they shone as 
 well. Margaret had long ago decided that there 
 
 49
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 was no personal vanity in this thoroughgoing 
 orderliness. It was part of the military discipline 
 of his business life. 
 
 He motioned her to a seat and swung around in 
 his swivel chair until he faced her. 
 
 " Miss York," he said, " I want you to undertake 
 a little mission for me this morning." 
 
 There was such an air of reserve force and of 
 many interests about him, that his stopping for a 
 moment in the course of his progress to pay per- 
 sonal attention to one always seemed somehow in 
 the nature of a compliment. At any rate it usually 
 set up in her a little tremor of excitement wholly 
 unwarranted, of course, but nevertheless pleasant. 
 
 " A customer of ours," Potter continued, " has 
 just telephoned to me to say that he did not receive 
 a certain shipment which our records show was de- 
 livered last week. Now there is no doubt about 
 this. Our wagon made delivery and we have his 
 receipt. But the point is, he says he has not the 
 goods. And as he remarks, with some justice, you 
 can't mislay a hundred gallons of paint." 
 
 A messenger brought in a telegram which he read 
 and put his initials upon. 
 
 " This sort of thing," he continued, " is coming up 
 
 50
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 all the time. Of course, we could simply say we 
 have made delivery and wash our hands of the 
 matter. But I believe in leaving people satisfied. 
 The peace of mind of our customers is worth half a 
 million dollars a year to us. As Julius Caesar says, 
 let's have fellows around us that sleep at nights." 
 
 The telephone buzzer on his desk sounded. With 
 the perfect poise that only a mind which deals with 
 one subject at a time can achieve, he went on talk- 
 ing as if he had heard no sound. 
 
 " I want you to go down to this man's place and 
 find that shipment. It is a matter that requires a 
 little tact, so you will know what to do. The man 
 runs a notoriously careless business, and you are 
 liable to find the stuff anywhere. The name of the 
 party is Cyrus Bundy. And," he concluded, "don't 
 return without finding the goods." 
 
 " I promise," she said. 
 
 She got the address from the outer office, and 
 half an hour later found herself on a dingy street 
 near the wharves, crowded with drays and motor 
 trucks. This was Severn Street. She was search- 
 ing for Number 56 as she walked along. The whole 
 vicinity teemed with a seedy, out-at-the-elbows 
 prosperity, as though the people behind all those
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 dismal facades had fortified themselves against busi- 
 ness and it had broken in in spite of them. The en- 
 trances to their shops were so piled about with mer- 
 chandise that a hopeful customer had to burrow his 
 way in like a mole, and within all was so dark that 
 he groped blindly about in the semi-twilight, not 
 knowing at what instant his career might be cut 
 short by his stumbling over an iron anchor or strik- 
 ing his head against a bundle of pulleys. It was 
 contrary to all the rules of Severn Street to paint, 
 clean, scrub, garnish, repair, or resort to any such 
 vanities of the flesh. It was unprofessional to call 
 attention to one's position in the hazy fog of build- 
 ings by legible signs or by new paint. It was bad 
 taste to display zeal, enterprise or a new idea, a 
 new idea especially. Severn Street's zenith of 
 progress had been reached in eighteen eighty-one 
 and had crystallized there. Sometimes people called 
 it Standstill Street. 
 
 Amid the dust and cobwebs that obscured the 
 transom of one of these typically musty edifices ap- 
 peared like a steamboat in a fog the dim outlines 
 of Number 56. The building lived up to all the 
 traditions of the street in fact, it went beyond 
 them. The dingy smoke gray of its flat front 
 
 52
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 represented the white paint of years past. The 
 rusted iron grilles, the unwashed windows, the 
 cracked lintels, the stone steps out of line and worn 
 concave, bore testimony to the principle of letting 
 the cash seek the man. Here also was the con- 
 servative pride in having a reputation of such long 
 standing that no legend was necessary to inform the 
 public of the location of the establishment The 
 wooden sign that hung below the second story 
 windows read " 'rus Bundy and Son," the syncopa- 
 tion of the first syllable, due to a part of the sign 
 having blown away, never having been remedied. 
 Had the whole sign blown away it would have been 
 considered an unnecessary vanity to have procured 
 another. 
 
 Margaret entered through the narrow doorway. 
 The interior did nothing to lower the standard of 
 dinginess set up by the outside. It was lighted by 
 the little daylight the begrimed windows allowed to 
 filter through and by two white globed gas burners. 
 A wooden counter divided the public space from the 
 area where two clerks conducted their activities. 
 There was no pomp and ceremony about the place. 
 She asked for Mr. Bundy, and was directed by a 
 gesture toward the open door on her left. 
 
 53
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 The door opened into a room about fifteen feet 
 square. Across one end of it was a long table piled 
 haphazard with letters, newspapers, cigar butts, cata- 
 logues, samples of material and a few stray hats and 
 coats. Against the opposite wall stood a high book- 
 keeper's desk of the kind prevalent in the days of 
 Uriah Heep, its top adorned with a tiny balustrade 
 to keep one's pen from rolling off on the floor, and 
 its sloping bosom covered with an ancient and germ- 
 bearing piece of felt, once green, now dust-colored. 
 An overgrown wooden stool stood before this relic, 
 its rungs loose and slipping out, so that it gave the 
 impression of being just about to lie down on all- 
 fours. Upon this dangerous piece of furniture a 
 carpet saddle was tacked, showing that some one had 
 confidence in its integrity. 
 
 The office filing system was visible. Upon a 
 wooden shelf in the corner stood what appeared to 
 be an edition of some old encyclopedia, but what 
 was really, to the initiated, merely a series of boxes 
 shaped like books, so arranged that when one 
 received a business letter that for some reason he 
 wished to keep, he could put it in one of these and 
 have it the next time he wanted it, provided he could 
 remember which box he put it in. 
 
 54
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 There were two men in this room when Margaret 
 entered, and, as neither of them paid any attention 
 at all to her, she removed a paper parcel from the 
 chair by the table and sat down. 
 
 She looked curiously at the men. One of them 
 was a thin stoop-shouldered person with a worried 
 black mustache, and soft, brown eyes that also 
 seemed to be continually worried about something. 
 The frown between his eyebrows formed a capital 
 " W " which might possibly have stood for " worry " 
 too. He had the air of a quiet unoffending animal 
 that felt it was being unnecessarily harassed by 
 something or other. She looked for some mark of 
 identification upon him, and saw in a moment as he 
 stood near her that there was a letter " B " on his 
 cuff links. 
 
 The other man was a well-dressed, middle-aged 
 person who was in a very bad humor. It was ap- 
 parent from the conversation that some materials he 
 had ordered had not been delivered. His ill-humor 
 was further heightened by the fact that he seemed 
 to have sent a check to pay for the order in question. 
 
 " I can't tell about it right now," observed the 
 man she surmised to be Bundy, at last ; " the order 
 isn't on the books, and I'm sure if I had received 
 
 55
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 your letter I would have filed it under ' Orders/ or 
 ' Paints and Oils.' You saw it wasn't there." 
 
 " You might have filed it under ' Upkeep,' " sug- 
 gested the visitor, sarcastically, glancing at the vol- 
 umes of the pseudo-encyclopaedia. 
 
 The other shook his head seriously. 
 
 " No, I couldn't have done that. Of course," the 
 other returned seriously, " we have no record of the 
 check. We just gather all the checks together every 
 day and send them to the bank and charge the 
 whole amount to receipts." 
 
 "That's no way to do business," snapped the 
 visitor. 
 
 The other passed his hand over his hair. 
 
 " That's the way we have always done it," he re- 
 turned. " My father did it fifty years ago." 
 
 " All right, Mr. Bundy," the man said, " and your 
 son may do it fifty years hence, but it won't be my 
 checks." He picked up his hat and coat. 
 
 " We will find your order in a day or so. I will 
 start them looking now for it,'' explained Bundy, 
 patiently. 
 
 " And when you fill it," retorted the other as he 
 went out, " you may do so with the satisfaction of 
 knowing it will be the last one you will get." 
 
 56
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 Bundy fumbled with the papers on his desk. 
 
 " All right," he muttered, as the man passed out 
 of ear-shot. " Go and take your confounded busi- 
 ness with you." 
 
 He absently put a paper clasp on a sheaf of papers 
 and then took it off again. Then he suddenly 
 seemed to become aware of her. 
 
 " Is there something I can do for you ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " I am from the Waring Company," she began. 
 
 " More trouble," he said. " Do you know, we 
 never got that paint? " 
 
 " We have your receipt for it." 
 
 " That must be a mistake. We haven't the stuff, 
 and it couldn't have vanished into thin air. Wait a 
 moment until I call the foreman of my stock-room." 
 
 He went to the door. " Benjamin," he said, " call 
 Scaggs down here." 
 
 He returned and went to the desk where there 
 was a small pasteboard box with holes in it. He 
 took off the lid and looked at the contents with 
 much interest. He turned suddenly to Margaret. 
 
 " Ever see anything like that ? " he asked. 
 
 She looked into the box. In it was a green and 
 white bug about the size of the end of her thumb 
 
 57
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 which had a pair of horns at its head and another at 
 its tail. It had a number of yellow spots on it. 
 
 "Those little spots," he said, "are parasites that 
 have been boarding inside him. They very carefully 
 eat away all his muscular structure, making sure not 
 to injure his vital organs, in order that he may live 
 as long as possible. And when he can't stand the 
 strain any more and dies, they leave him and lay 
 their eggs inside another similar organism." 
 
 " That's interesting," said Margaret. " Did you 
 find him here ? " 
 
 " No, I brought him down so I could watch him 
 and note what happened." 
 
 A man entered the room. He was a gaunt, big- 
 boned individual of about fifty-five or sixty. He 
 wore a vest and no coat. He had bright piercing 
 eyes and very short lips, which allowed his teeth to 
 show. This, together with a bristling short beard 
 and mustache, gave him an appearance like a squir- 
 rel. 
 
 " Scaggs," said Mr. Bundy, " were you here on 
 the day that Warings said they delivered that 
 stain ? " 
 
 " I don't know what day they said they delivered 
 it." 
 
 58
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 " On the twelfth." 
 
 " I don't see what difference it makes, but I wasn't 
 here on the twelfth." 
 
 " Couldn't it have been received in your ab- 
 sence ? " 
 
 "It would be there if it had been received, 
 wouldn't it ? " demanded the squirrel. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it would. But Warings say they 
 have a receipt for it." 
 
 " Oh, yes," returned the other with an air of im- 
 mense sophistication, " these people always have 
 receipts. On the day of judgment they'll have 
 passes through the Pearly Gates too." 
 
 Margaret did not attempt to reply to this, but 
 made the suggestion that they all three take a look 
 among the stock. 
 
 " That's just a waste of time, Mr. Bundy," ob- 
 jected Scaggs. 
 
 " Well, we'll do it anyway," returned Bundy. 
 
 They walked down a narrow hallway and up a 
 stairway with round newel post and flat hand-rail 
 like those prevalent in private houses fifty years 
 ago, the squirrel grumbling all the while. The 
 second floor was a big storeroom. At one end 
 were shelves on which were placed side by side 
 
 59
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 paints, oils, stains and varnishes, with no apparent 
 system. They scanned all these shelves. 
 
 " How do you know where to look for things?" 
 Margaret asked. 
 
 " I keep it all in my head," Scaggs replied, 
 proudly. 
 
 " It simply ties us up when he is away, too," ob- 
 served Bundy. "How do you keep your stock- 
 room ? " he demanded of Margaret. 
 
 She explained something about their system, 
 which was run like a bank, so that the amount of 
 any given material furnished to the various depart- 
 ments of the Company, subtracted from the amount 
 of that material purchased by the Company, always 
 equaled the amount of the material in the stock-room. 
 
 " Don't see how you do it. We have stock in this 
 room that we don't know we have." 
 
 "I wouldn't say that, sir," broke in Scaggs. 
 " There isn't a pound of material in this building that 
 I don't know of." 
 
 "Well, that may be," observed Bundy. "But 
 just for instance, what's in that wire bound box there 
 at the bottom of the pile ? " 
 
 Scaggs gazed at it blankly. 
 
 " I can't tell you offhand," he replied, stoutly, 
 
 60
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 " but I could tell as soon as I got it out from under 
 the pile." 
 
 "That's what I mean," said Bundy, while the fore- 
 man, very red in the face, trudged after them. 
 
 " I am sure it is not down here," said Margaret. 
 " Let's go up-stairs." 
 
 " But we never put paints there," protested 
 Scaggs. 
 
 " That is a good clew," she observed. " You 
 probably haven't looked there." 
 
 They went up the steep wooden steps, Margaret 
 rather cautiously, for the steps had no hand-rail, and 
 the square hole that admitted them to the floor 
 above was commanded by a huge trap-door stand- 
 ing menacing and almost perpendicular at the edge 
 of it, as if ready to close at any instant. The third 
 floor was entirely filled with hardware. It was very 
 dark, and she had difficulty in seeing, but she knew 
 she would recognize the Waring Company's box by 
 the metal reinforcements at the corners. However, 
 she saw no such box. 
 
 " What did I tell you ? " cried the foreman, trium- 
 phantly. " Don't talk about receipts to me." 
 
 Margaret felt somewhat despondent about her 
 
 errand, especially as she had told Mr. Potter that 
 
 61
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 she would not return without finding the goods. 
 There could be no doubt that they had been de- 
 livered. And yet they did not seem to be there. 
 There was no cellar to the building. The first floor 
 was devoted entirely to offices. And she had ex- 
 plored the second and third so carefully that she 
 was convinced that the shipment was not there. 
 She was just about to go down the steep wooden 
 stairs again when her eye fell once more upon the 
 trap-door. 
 
 It was about five feet high and opened up against 
 the sloping roof at the rear of the building. 
 
 " What is behind that ? " she demanded, grasping 
 at a straw. 
 
 " That door," said the foreman, impressively, " has 
 never been moved in twenty years. Nothing could 
 get back of that." 
 
 There was no way to look back of it. She put 
 her finger on its top edge. 
 
 " Very little dust," she said, " for twenty years." 
 
 Bundy snapped his fingers suddenly. 
 
 " Why," he exclaimed, " confound it, if I didn't 
 have them put that door down myself the day they 
 spilled banana oil. The odor almost drove us crazy 
 
 down-stairs." 
 
 62
 
 STANDSTILL STREET 
 
 Margaret smiled. " Let's put it down again." 
 Scaggs grumbled, but found an iron bar and with 
 it unloosed the hook that held the door upright. 
 He and Bundy gradually lowered the heavy square 
 of lumber until it was flush with the floor. Behind 
 it in the shadow stood a wooden box reinforced at 
 the corners. It was marked : 
 
 " From the Waring Company. 
 Packed September i2th"
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 RUSTED COGS 
 
 " "\7X)U did not tell me your name," Bundy said, 
 * as she was about to go. 
 
 " Margaret York." 
 
 " Well, Miss York, I will you step into my office 
 for a moment ? " 
 
 She followed him into his topsy-turvy sanctum. 
 
 " I want to talk to you about my office," he be- 
 gan. "There isn't any system here. Everything 
 is at sixes and sevens. It seems to me that busi- 
 ness is getting more and more complicated every 
 year, and somehow or other we aren't able to keep 
 up with it." 
 
 He passed his hand over his hair in a harassed 
 way. 
 
 "What I need here is a thorough overhauling 
 of things. You saw the stock-room old Adam 
 Scaggs has got it so tangled up that nobody can 
 make head nor tail of it, and he is so pig-headed 
 
 64
 
 RUSTED COGS 
 
 you couldn't move him with a dynamite bomb. 
 Then my files here I don't seem to be able to keep 
 things straight. I work from early morning until 
 late at night, and the work piles up until I nearly 
 lose my mind." 
 
 He rose and paced up and down the room, his 
 hands clasped behind his back. 
 
 " I have a good business. We deal in paints, 
 glass and hardware, and supply the stores of all the 
 towns along the river from here down to the bay. 
 The storekeepers used to come up on the boat one 
 day and we would fill their orders, take their money 
 and send the material down on the boat the next 
 day. But now they've got to telephoning their 
 orders, and asking for thirty days' credit, and two 
 per cent, off for cash and all that sort of thing. And 
 they've got to splitting up their bills and paying 
 with notes running thirty, sixty and ninety days. 
 Why, our bookkeeping is a regular snarl. And 
 where we used to keep one brand of white paint, one 
 thickness of glass, and one kind of sash-lock, now 
 we have to keep several in order to satisfy our cus- 
 tomers. The business has got so complicated that 
 we can't keep up with it. Something has to be 
 done. I'm losing trade right along." 
 
 65
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 He stopped before the shelf in the corner and re- 
 garded it mournfully. 
 
 " Now there are my files what ought I to do 
 about them ? " he demanded. 
 
 "Those aren't files," she asserted laughing. 
 " They are simply hiding places." 
 
 "How do Warings file their letters?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 "What record do you keep of your outgoing 
 letters ? " she asked, by way of reply. 
 
 " We press-copy them in those books." 
 
 " Letters on all subjects in the same book?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Isn't it rather difficult to find a letter? " 
 
 He stroked his chin and the frown deepened. 
 
 "It's it's maddening," he said. "Those tissue 
 paper sheets stick together until they drive you 
 crazy." 
 
 "What you need," she told him, "is a vertical 
 filing system arranged alphabetically by names of 
 your correspondents. You have a series of folders 
 in which your letters lie flat as if they were in a 
 book, and in each folder is all the correspondence 
 with one particular person, both outgoing and in- 
 coming. It is very entertaining. It gives you 
 
 66
 
 RUSTED COGS 
 
 the whole history of any particular case in an in- 
 stant." 
 
 "That's what I want," he asserted, earnestly. 
 " That's the sort of thing I want." 
 
 He fumbled nervously with some papers on his 
 desk. 
 
 " What would how can I get a person who 
 knows about these things? I need some one." 
 
 " It's very easy," she said, smiling. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Just ask her." 
 
 " But the trouble is now you 1 re just the kind of 
 person I want." 
 
 " That's what I've been thinking." 
 
 He turned on her in surprise. 
 
 " Would you come ? " 
 
 She looked at him thoughtfully. She remem- 
 bered Mr. Potter's advice to leave tke Waring 
 Company as soon as she could and take a 
 place with a firm that needed her services. This 
 looked like such a firm. The chance that ex- 
 isted for bringing order out of chaos was very 
 alluring. 
 
 "Why, yes," she responded, "I would come if 
 
 everything could be arranged satisfactorily." 
 
 67
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I think we can make a financial arrangement to 
 suit you," he said. 
 
 " Then," she replied, " I see no obstacle." 
 
 She returned to her office and in half an hour or 
 so, when Mr. Potter was disengaged, she entered his 
 room. 
 
 " Did you find it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Of course. You wouldn't have let me in the 
 office if I hadn't." 
 
 " Where did you locate it ? " he continued, smiling. 
 
 She told him the story of her visit. 
 
 " Poor old Bundy. He has an awful time," he 
 commented. 
 
 " Mr. Potter, tell me this," she said ; " has he a 
 very good business ? " 
 
 " Excellent," he responded, immediately. " All 
 those down-river storekeepers swear by Bundy and 
 Son. But I don't think he makes much money. 
 He needs the voltage raised. There isn't a strong 
 enough current running through the place now." 
 
 " Do you think more system and order and so 
 forth would accomplish that?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly. System is the foundation of mer- 
 cantile self-respect. When you have that you are 
 
 beginning to hit your stride. A business is like an 
 
 68
 
 RUSTED COGS 
 
 army. It never begins to accomplish things until it 
 moves like a machine." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say that," she replied, 
 " because I have decided to try to systematize 
 Bundy and Son." 
 
 " I thought you would," he said. 
 
 69
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS CAESAR 
 
 ABOUT three months later an automobile 
 stopped before Number 56 Severn Street. A 
 well-groomed man in a fur coat alighted and en- 
 tered the outer office of Bundy and Son. He 
 nodded curtly to the clerk at the counter and passed 
 on to Mr. Bundy's office. There he stood for a mo- 
 ment aghast. All of the old furniture and junk that 
 had been in that room since time was had disap- 
 peared. In its place in the centre of the room was 
 a wide flat-topped desk with swivel chairs on either 
 side of it. There was no litter of papers on this 
 desk. A rug covered the floor. Several units of a 
 vertical filing case stood in one corner. In the other 
 was a table with a typewriter on it. At the desk, 
 with her back to the door, Margaret York was sitting. 
 
 The man entered quietly. 
 
 " Is Mr. Bundy in ? " he asked, in a moment. 
 
 She turned around, and her face broke into a 
 
 smile. 
 
 70
 
 THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS C^SAR 
 
 " Why no, Mr. Potter, he is not. But I am his 
 secretary. Perhaps you could transact your busi- 
 ness with me." 
 
 " No business to transact," he replied, laughing. 
 "I'm just looking about without intending to pur- 
 chase." 
 
 "Well, what do you think of us?" she asked, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Great!" he replied. "How did you do it? 
 How did you get rid of the old heirlooms ? " 
 
 " The roll-top desk that sat over there against the 
 wall went first. I said, ' Mr. Bundy, this isn't a 
 desk, it's a cemetery.' We cleaned it out and dis- 
 covered twenty letters he had been looking for for 
 months. We exiled that desk and got this one in its 
 place. When we got the filing cases and the rest of 
 the things there wasn't room for the old stuff, so we 
 cleaned house. Looks luxurious now, doesn't it?" , 
 
 She rose. 
 
 " We have a little private room in here I wish you 
 to see," she said, opening a door at the end of the 
 office. "Place for conferences. Also, we have all 
 our samples and catalogues on these shelves. I 
 have a card index to them here," she said, touching 
 a drawer beside her.
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " What's that second card index drawer for ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " That," she said, her eyes sparkling, " is my 
 record of stock." 
 
 " You keep the record of stock ? " 
 
 " Yes. I sign all receipts for everything de- 
 livered to us, and nothing leaves without an order 
 from Mr. Bundy." 
 
 " Jupiter ! Did you poison that Scaggs party ? " 
 
 " I hypnotized him. For about a month I con- 
 versed with him at my leisure, inserting the idea 
 into his head piece by piece, and then one day he 
 suggested it to me. He feels it is his own scheme." 
 
 " You can tell down to the last gill then just how 
 much of everything you have ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Let me see ; how much turpentine have you ? " 
 
 She took out a card and told him. 
 
 " You had better get more," he said quietly. " It 
 is going up again." 
 
 She turned the card upside down in the drawer so 
 that a little projecting piece stood up above the other 
 cards. 
 
 " That means order more," she explained. 
 
 " I don't know what we are going to do if the 
 
 72
 
 THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS C^SAR 
 
 price of turpentine keeps rising," he went on. "I 
 think we shall have to go into some other business." 
 
 They returned to the other room. 
 
 " You have done well," he said, taking up his hat. 
 
 "Thank you. Aren't you sorry," she said, mis- 
 chievously, " you let so valuable a person go ? " 
 
 " I ? I haven't by any means let you go." 
 
 She raised her eyebrows. But just at that mo- 
 ment Mr. Bundy came in. 
 
 An hour or so later Bundy looked up from the 
 letters before him. 
 
 " Miss York," he asked, " how influential a person 
 is Potter at Warings ? Is his word law ? " 
 
 " Yes. He is the commander-in-chief." 
 
 " He's a cold man, isn't he ? " 
 
 " More or less." 
 
 " I thought so. I heard a story of a man up there 
 who discovered this Number 1088 stain for them, on 
 which they have made at least half a million dollars 
 this last year ; and they haven't raised his salary a 
 penny." 
 
 " I know that is true," she admitted. " The man's 
 name is Evans. He has threatened many times to 
 leave them." 
 
 " That sounds like a very cheap thing to do." 
 
 73
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " It's hard to tell about those things," she replied. 
 
 Just then the telephone bell rang. She reached 
 for the instrument. 
 
 " Is Miss York there ? " said a voice. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Potter," she said, quickly. 
 
 She looked up at Bundy with an amused expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " Speaking of angels," he observed. But he did 
 not guess the feeling of pleasant excitement that 
 seized her. 
 
 " You are very accurate at guessing people," said 
 the voice over the wire. 
 
 " A man can keep few secrets from a woman who 
 has been his stenographer." 
 
 " Will you go to the theatre with me to-night ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, pleasantly, drawing lines on 
 the blotter with her finger nail. 
 
 " I admire your decisive manner. Why ? " 
 
 " Well, you're just a business acquaintance." 
 
 " How can I remedy that ? " 
 
 " Is it necessary ? " she asked, with mischief in her 
 eye. 
 
 " Absolutely." 
 
 " Then you might call on me some time, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 74
 
 YOU ARE A VERY SUDDEN PERSON
 
 THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS CAESAR 
 
 " Will that fix it ? " 
 
 " Try it." 
 
 " Very good. Good-bye." 
 
 She hung up the receiver. 
 
 " You don't mind how you talk to them, do you ? " 
 observed Bundy. 
 
 At four o'clock that afternoon the same automobile 
 rolled up to Number 56 Severn Street that had rolled 
 up there earlier in the day. The same fur-coated 
 gentleman alighted and entered the outer office. He 
 met Margaret coming out with her hat on. 
 
 " Miss York, I am on the point of calling upon you 
 this afternoon so that I may take you to the theatre 
 this evening." 
 
 She stopped short. " You are a very sudden 
 person. You take my breath away with your sud- 
 denness." 
 
 " The car is out here," he said. 
 
 She drove away with him, gave him a cup of tea 
 which he disliked, but drank manfully in the 
 parlor of her boarding-house and sent him home so 
 she could have her dinner in time to dress to go with 
 him again in the evening. 
 
 " By the way, what is the play ? " she asked, as he 
 was going. 
 
 75
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "Julius Caesar." 
 
 " Oh, yes. Comic opera," she said, smiling. 
 
 She was surprised to have him deny it earnestly. 
 
 " It's Shakespeare," he assured her. " It's the 
 only one of his I ever saw, but I always see it 
 every time they play it here. It's a great piece of 
 work." 
 
 At the theatre she was astonished to find him 
 actually tremendously excited over the play. She 
 was used to the judicial calm with which people 
 usually sit through Shakespeare, and his enthusiasm 
 was refreshing. 
 
 " It's a shame that this Mark Antony," he told her, 
 "couldn't have been in some big business. If he 
 had been living to-day he would have owned every 
 railroad in the United States. Every time I hear 
 that funeral speech of his I think if I could just string 
 together words like that, there wouldn't be any way 
 of stopping me. I'd be a multi-millionaire in a 
 month. He starts out talking with the crowd cold 
 and favoring the other side, and when he finishes 
 they can't do enough for him. If he had been sell- 
 ing something instead of making an oration, he 
 would have taken more orders then than he could 
 
 have filled in the following ten years." 
 
 76
 
 THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS C^SAR 
 
 " Do you always measure up things by business 
 standards ? " she asked. 
 
 " I have to," he said simply. " I haven't enough 
 of that thing they call culture to be able to judge 
 things accurately from any other standpoint. But 
 with business standards I am on firm ground." 
 
 She thought a moment. Something Bundy had 
 said was in her mind. 
 
 " Speaking of business standards," she said, sud- 
 denly, " would you say that charity had any place 
 in business?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. 
 
 " I believe," he said, " that in his personal life a 
 man should be charitable. But charity in business 
 is simply favoritism. You should play the game 
 strictly according to the rules yourself, and you 
 should make everybody earn every penny he gets. 
 Then you get efficiency for yourself and self-reliance 
 for every one else." 
 
 " I have wondered," she said, with a note of simple 
 curiosity in her voice, " why Evans was never raised. 
 What was the theory of that ? " 
 
 " I am glad you asked me," he replied. " We of- 
 fered Evans, when we employed him, the choice of 
 
 77
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 four thousand a year flat, or two thousand a year 
 with a royalty from everything he discovered. He 
 took the big salary. That was his error." 
 
 " And your company profited by his error ? " 
 
 " I seem to feel a certain criticism in your tone," 
 he said, meeting her eyes. 
 
 " No," she replied, frankly, " I am trying to un- 
 derstand." 
 
 " Then you must remember that business cuts the 
 line of justice square in the middle. It is just as un- 
 fair to give a man a dollar he hasn't earned as it is 
 to deprive him of one that rightfully belongs to him. 
 In the case of Evans, we had confidence in him and 
 he did not have confidence in himself. Therefore 
 we earned the money and he did not." 
 
 " I can see that is quite just," she replied, " pain- 
 fully just." 
 
 " Of course. One side of justice is always painful. 
 But to go a little further into the question," he con- 
 tinued, " if we were to allow sentimental reasons to 
 make us lenient in taking money that rightfully be- 
 longed to us ; then when a period of bad business 
 came and no firm is exempt from such a thing 
 when every penny was needed, it might be that that 
 former leniency would be just the factor that would 
 
 78
 
 THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS C^SAR 
 
 prevent us from riding out the storm. In which 
 case numerous innocent creditors would lose money. 
 That wouldn't be justice." 
 
 " Furthermore," he observed, " no case is as 
 simple as it at first appears. Think of this phase. 
 If we explain to Evans that we consider that such 
 and such a product would sell well and he perfects 
 that product, whose insight has been the keenest 
 his or ours ? " 
 
 " I think I begin to see," she said. She was just 
 a little ashamed of having allowed a suspicion of 
 injustice on his part to take root in her mind. 
 
 " Tell me," she said, lest he might read from her 
 silence the thought that had been in her head, " do 
 you ever fear a big business reverse for the Waring 
 Company ? " 
 
 "Frequently," he said, smiling. "The price of 
 turpentine ' doth bestride us like a Colossus,' as 
 one of the fellows in the play said. It is costing us 
 more and more every day to manufacture our 
 products. The parties who use linseed oil where we 
 use turpentine have a tremendous advantage over 
 us. For they can use an imitation linseed oil. It 
 isn't as good, by any means, but it is cheaper, and 
 they are crowding us out." 
 
 79
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Are you alarmed ? " 
 
 " That is just a spectre in the distance," he replied, 
 smiling contentedly. " We are still very much 
 alive." 
 
 She parted from him with a feeling of having seen 
 a little beyond the outer wall of his spirit. When 
 she had made a light in her room, she found a letter 
 on her dressing table from Mr. Bruce. It was a 
 check for two hundred and fifty dollars, which was 
 the proceeds of the sale of a little piece of property 
 Mr. Lacey had had an interest in, which had been 
 for many months in litigation. It was a very wel- 
 come addition to her little surplus, which she was 
 hoarding carefully. Mr. Bruce' s letter explained the 
 circumstances of the transaction and congratulated 
 her on having received any money at all from it. 
 
 " You will be interested to know," he went on, 
 "that David had a picture in the Salon which 
 caused much favorable comment. It was a painting 
 of the interior of the Sainte Chapelle, remarkable, I 
 understand, for the wonderful quality of the light 
 through the stained glass. He had spent months in 
 the study of the old stained glass in order that he 
 might understand his subject, and get just the right 
 quality. But I fear it has not been an altogether 
 
 80
 
 THE PLAY CALLED JULIUS C^SAR 
 
 profitable venture. For he has become so interested 
 in the old glass that he has not painted a stroke for 
 many months. He is now at Chartres preparing a 
 monograph on the windows of the cathedral. I 
 sometimes regret that David has a little income of 
 his own. He does not seem able tofind himself" 
 
 Margaret folded up the letter. 
 
 " Poor David," she said. 
 
 81
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 THE THING TO Do WITH A KEY 
 
 MR. BUNDY was worried. The harassed and 
 hunted look was more than usually in evi- 
 dence. He passed his hand over the hair at the 
 back of his head a great many times. He appeared 
 not to be devoting his attention to the work before 
 him. This was unusual. He was accustomed to 
 struggle hard with his tasks. He would view a 
 question from every possible and every impossible 
 angle. He plunged into a subject like a boat in a 
 fog, feeling his way along and wondering what was 
 beyond. He would sit for a long while staring at 
 a letter, letting its message seep into his brain, and 
 waiting for decision to spring forth. But decision 
 only sprang forth after a deadly hand-to-hand con- 
 flict with his soul, and even then it left behind 
 sickening doubt as to its correctness. But to-day 
 there was none of this grueling concentration. His 
 attention wandered. 
 
 "Well," Margaret demanded, presently, looking 
 
 up, " what is it ? " 
 
 82
 
 THE THING TO DO WITH A KEY 
 
 " What's what?" he asked, dully. 
 
 " You're stewing over something. What is on 
 your mind ? " 
 
 He pushed his papers aside as if they annoyed 
 him. 
 
 " I'm worried sick over this business," he said, 
 irritably. " I need five hundred dollars to carry me 
 through the month, and I can't collect a penny for 
 thirty days. Isn't that enough to worry about?" 
 
 "You have too much of your money tied up," she 
 asserted. 
 
 " I know that," he replied, despondently. " I 
 have five thousand dollars' worth of material up- 
 stairs in this building. ' Water, water everywhere,' " 
 he added, " ' and not a drop to drink.' " 
 
 "That's it exactly," she went on. "Mr. Pot 
 what I mean to say is, I have been told that the best 
 rule of business is to keep turning over the stock. 
 No material should stay in your wareroom more 
 than four months, so that the same capital will earn 
 a profit for you three times a year." 
 
 He fidgeted in his chair. 
 
 " I know," he said impatiently, " that's all right 
 for theory. But if you can't sell a thing you can't 
 sell it, and that settles it." 
 
 83
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Let me tell you something," she said ; " you 
 have up-stairs five or six hundred dollars' worth of 
 an expensive white enamel paint that you've never 
 sold a gallon of." 
 
 " I know that." 
 
 She rose and opened the drawer of her card index. 
 
 " You have a hundred gallons of it, and you paid 
 five dollars and a quarter a gallon for it. It is 
 supposed to retail at eight dollars a gallon. That is 
 real money lying there." 
 
 " That's just what drives me to distraction," he 
 said, wearily. " And there is no demand for that 
 article among our customers. That investment was 
 a dead loss." 
 
 " If you had that money it would tide you over 
 until your accounts began to come in." 
 
 " If I had it." 
 
 She turned to him eagerly. 
 
 " Will you give me permission to get that money 
 back if lean?" 
 
 " What's your scheme ? " he asked, with interest. 
 
 " Will you give me permission ? " 
 
 " Certainly I'll give you permission. But I don't 
 think you'll need the permission." 
 
 " Wait and see." 
 
 84
 
 THE THING TO DO WITH A KEY 
 
 He smoothed the back of his head doubtfully. 
 As he was leaving at the close of the day, he stopped 
 by her desk. 
 
 " I am going down the river to-morrow," he said, 
 jocularly. " When I come back please have that 
 money for me. Put it right under the paper-weight 
 there." 
 
 "Very well," she replied. 
 
 On fine mornings she made it a point to walk to 
 the office. It brought color to her cheeks, and 
 cleared her mind. The following day was crisp and 
 cold, and the sun was pleasantly warm. Accepting 
 the invitation of these two extremes, she finished her 
 breakfast somewhat ahead of schedule and gave 
 herself wholly over to adventure by following a 
 hitherto untried route on her walk. 
 
 No adventure of very great moment occurred, 
 however. But possessed by a spirit of curiosity she 
 made one pause in her progress. Her journey led 
 her along a street on which were being erected 
 several rows of regular city houses. With a half- 
 formed idea in her head, she favored one of the 
 houses with a tour of inspection. 
 
 A gentleman, who was hovering about with a 
 spider-like intentness, issued forth and seized her in 
 
 85
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 his figurative tentacles. But she was not alarmed. 
 In fact, she gave him a certain amount of attention. 
 And as she listened to his talk, she looked about her. 
 She was amused to note that while none too much 
 care had been lavished on the timbers and laths, and, 
 in general, the bones of the structures, yet they were 
 to have all such luxuries as parquetry flooring, 
 mirrors in bedroom doors, lights in closets that 
 burned when you opened the door, and as many 
 such showy accoutrements as possible to charm the 
 eye and open the purse of the prospective buyer. 
 The idea shaped itself in her mind. She asked the 
 man the name of the builder of the houses. 
 
 " You mean the agent ? " he asked, eagerly. " I 
 am the agent." 
 
 " No, I mean the builder." 
 
 He seemed disappointed, but told her the builder's 
 name was Callahan. She thanked him and de- 
 parted. When she arrived at her office, she looked 
 up the name of Callahan in the telephone book and 
 called up his office. 
 
 " Is Mr. Callahan there ? " 
 
 " Who wants him ? " 
 
 " Bundy and Son," she replied, confidently. She 
 
 had discovered that every one knew of Bundy and 
 
 86
 
 THE THING TO DO WITH A KEY 
 
 Son, and the name was an open sesame. Mr. Cal- 
 lahan presently answered. 
 
 " Mr. Callahan," she said, " do you intend to use 
 any white interior paint on those houses at Fairfax 
 Street ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Why not use an enamel paint? " 
 
 " Too expensive," said Mr. Callahan, laconically. 
 
 " Wouldn't it help sell the houses, supposing you 
 could get it cheap ? " 
 
 " Yes." A pause. " How cheap ? " 
 
 " We have a hundred gallons," she said, " of 
 Albatross Special, we will sell for five dollars and a 
 quarter a gallon, if we can sell it to-day." 
 
 " Albatross Special, did you say ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She waited anxiously. She could actually feel 
 her heart beating. 
 
 "I'll take it," said the voice at her ear, in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " Thank you. And the money ? " 
 
 " Let you have it this afternoon." 
 
 She banged down the receiver excitedly. She 
 called for the office boy, who came precipitously. 
 
 " Benjamin," she exclaimed, pointing to the paper- 
 
 87
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 weight on Mr. Bundy's side of the desk, " don't you 
 move that paper-weight all day long on pain 
 of instant dismissal. I have something I want to 
 put under it to-night." 
 
 The boy gazed at her open-mouthed. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," he said. 
 
 " And while you have your mouth open, call Mr. 
 Scaggs for me, please." 
 
 She was in an overwhelmingly good humor. In 
 marked contrast to her entered presently Scaggs, 
 glum and dyspeptic. His spirit had been further 
 depressed by the fact that Benjamin had just stolen 
 up behind him and shouted his name in such a loud 
 tone that he had jumped and torn his trousers on a 
 nail. Altogether he was in a very low frame of 
 mind. 
 
 " Mr. Scaggs," said Margaret, " will you get down 
 that hundred gallons of Albatross Special you know 
 what I mean and send it to this address ? " 
 
 Scaggs' face was a mask of stone. 
 
 " Mr. Bundy left no orders for me to send that 
 out," he asserted, stolidly. 
 
 " I give you the order now." 
 
 " I take my orders from Mr. Bundy." 
 
 " Continue to take them from Mr. Bundy," she
 
 THE THING TO DO WITH A KEY 
 
 retorted, pleasantly. " I will get one of the clerks 
 to do it." 
 
 He blocked her way. " No one is going- to touch 
 a thing in my stock-room without orders from Mr. 
 Bundy," he asserted tenaciously. 
 
 " Mr. Bundy is away. I am in charge," she said 
 quietly. 
 
 " He did not tell me so." 
 
 She began to lose patience. 
 
 " In addition to that," he asserted, " the delivery 
 wagons are all down at the wharves." 
 
 " I can remedy that." 
 
 She stepped to the telephone, and, calling a local 
 transfer company, directed them to send a large 
 wagon immediately. 
 
 " Now, there's no use doing that," cried Scaggs, 
 angrily. " No one is going to touch that stock 
 without doing physical violence to me." 
 
 She was at a loss to know what to do. No 
 amount of explanation could convince the old man. 
 It was plain to be seen that he felt this was just an 
 effort to put him in a subordinate position, and he 
 was prepared to show that it could not be done. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Bundy to-day ? " he exclaimed, 
 belligerently. " I am going to find out if my work 
 
 89
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 is to be interfered with in this way. I have been in 
 this office, man and boy, more than forty years, and 
 I do not intend to knuckle under to any one. I 
 want to know where Mr. Bundy is." 
 
 Mr. Bundy being on a river-boat at that instant 
 it was impossible to communicate with him. Mar- 
 garet did not answer. She was trying to think of a 
 way to gain her point. Scaggs rapped on the desk 
 with his knuckles. 
 
 " Miss York, I say where is Mr. Bundy ? " 
 
 Leisurely she turned her head and looked at him. 
 
 " Call that number," she said, writing down a 
 telephone number at random. 
 
 She put the telephone instrument on the slide of 
 her desk and he sat down to it with his back to the 
 door. She rose and taking some catalogues that 
 were on the desk put them in place in the little 
 private office. When she returned, the old man, 
 not at all used to telephone service, was struggling 
 to get the number. She passed behind him and 
 went to the door. She stood at the threshold for a 
 moment with a strange smile on her lips. Then 
 very softly she closed the door and locked it. 
 
 The little force in the outer office watched this 
 
 proceeding with interest. At that time there hap- 
 
 90
 
 THE THING TO DO WITH A KEY 
 
 pened to be no customers at the counter. She 
 turned to the two young men behind it. 
 
 " I wish you would come up-stairs and help me," 
 she said, quietly. " Benjamin can take charge of 
 the office." 
 
 They nodded and followed her toward the rear 
 hall. 
 
 She hesitated a moment, looking at the boy with 
 a curious light in her eyes. 
 
 " Take good care of the office, Benjamin," was 
 all she said, however. 
 
 The boy heard their footsteps echo along the hall 
 and up the old creaking stairs. And then all was 
 quiet. He gazed curiously at the closed door to 
 Mr. Bundy's office, leaning ungracefully over the 
 counter on his stomach to obtain a view of it. No 
 explanation of this phenomenon occurring to him, 
 however, he retired to his own particular corner of 
 the room, tilted his own particular chair up against 
 the wall at his own particular angle and gazed com- 
 fortably into space, considering absently the design 
 and construction of the black metal chandelier that 
 grew out of the ceiling, and wondering why it was 
 necessary for it to be fat in one place and thin in 
 another.
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 From the next room Scaggs' voice made itself 
 heard now in violent altercation with some one over 
 the telephone. Benjamin made a mental note that 
 the stock-room foreman was angry, and smiled be- 
 nignantly. Never is irritation in others more pleas- 
 ant than when one is young. 
 
 The voice at the telephone ceased and there was a 
 sound of footsteps approaching the door. Benjamin 
 and the chair came down with alacrity upon their six 
 collective legs, and the former gazed about for some 
 plausible means of employment. Nothing more 
 feasible occurring to him he slid into a chair before 
 the typewriter and began to write, "The quick 
 brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." He heard 
 the knob of the door rattle. Demure as a girl the 
 very picture of industry his fingers rattled over the 
 keys. For once Scaggs would be able to find no 
 room for fault. He shot back the carriage and be- 
 gan, " The quick brown " 
 
 And then there burst out in that quiet and peace- 
 blessed place a multisonous roar, as though sixty 
 times the six hundred troopers of Balaklava had 
 thundered through and were charging without stop- 
 ping to reason why into the very midst of Mr. 
 
 Bundy's private office. Or so it seemed to the 
 
 92
 
 THE THING TO DO WITH A KEY 
 
 astounded picture of innocence in the outer office, 
 who sprang breathless into the middle of the floor 
 whence all but him had fled and gazed aghast at the 
 quivering panels of the door. What did it all mean ? 
 He took a step forward and stopped uncertainly. 
 The voice of Scaggs burst forth in sonorous and 
 fulminating eloquence, blazing with brimstone and 
 the names of the saints. 
 
 The strategic delicacy of Benjamin's position was 
 only too apparent to him. If he stood close by with 
 the air of being ready to lend a willing hand at the 
 proper moment, when Scaggs broke down the door 
 (as he would in course of time, together with the 
 rest of the building) it was quite apparent that the 
 first object open for blame and chastisement would 
 be little Benjamin. On the other hand, if he simply 
 sat serenely at his typewriter and tried to pretend 
 that he had not heard the deafening assault on the 
 door, Scaggs would not believe him. 
 
 It was a nice question. But perhaps the latch of 
 the door was stuck and Scaggs had not been patient 
 enough to disengage it. He had never known the 
 door to be locked during office hours before. The 
 solution seemed the most plausible one. The situa- 
 tion must be handled with diplomacy. He stole 
 
 93
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 forward and waiting for a lull in the storm said in a 
 voice studiously respectful : 
 
 " Mr. Scaggs, have you tried turning the knob to 
 the left?" 
 
 A soft answer turneth away wrath. This evidently 
 does not apply to kind and friendly suggestions. 
 There was a pause of a fraction of a second, during 
 which Benjamin waited for thanks and approval, 
 and then there opened the sluice gates of a veritable 
 Niagara of frenzied and helpless wrath. The boy 
 backed away and, thoroughly demoralized, broke for 
 the stairs. 
 
 On the floor above he found the moving of the 
 paint nearly complete. In awed accents he told of 
 the struggle of the foreman, ending up with the 
 statement that he was afraid to stay there any more. 
 Margaret looked at the state of her campaign, and 
 then handed the boy the key and remarked that the 
 door might possibly be locked. 
 
 Benjamin did not view this part of the proceeding 
 with pleasure. He hesitated, about to demur. But 
 an idea occurred to him. He took the key and hur- 
 ried down-stairs. Once there, he thrust it under the 
 door and ran for his life. 
 
 The last box, containing all the loose cans that 
 
 94
 
 THE THING TO DO WITH A KEY 
 
 were on the shelves, had been lowered into the wagon. 
 The wagon was about to start down the alley, and 
 the door unhooked preparatory to closing, when 
 Scaggs thundered up the stairs. His face was crim- 
 son, his short, bristly whiskers stood out straight 
 from his face and his teeth shone angrily between 
 his lips. He looked more than ever like a red squir- 
 rel that had worked itself into a fit of apoplexy in a 
 revolving cage. 
 
 " Stop that wagon ! Stop that wagon ! " he cried. 
 
 Just then the wind blew the door shut with a jar 
 that reverberated through the old building, and 
 drove every thought from his mind for a moment. 
 Under cover of this Margaret stole quietly down the 
 stairs. 
 
 At four o'clock that afternoon she put a check 
 under Mr. Bundy's paper-weight. 
 
 95
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 MR. BUNDY was more comfortable and con- 
 tented with his work than he had ever been 
 since his father's death. He was really more inter- 
 ested in the habits of insects than in anything else 
 in the world, and viewed his business in the light 
 of a necessary irritation. But since that business 
 was now beginning to take on the appearance of 
 order and was no longer a continual thorn in his 
 side, he found he had abundant time to devote to the 
 services of his bugs, and was correspondingly happy. 
 He had a little table all of his own in the inner 
 office which was full of dire and grievous specimens 
 of beetle. The more unwholesome a bug was in 
 appearance, the more he seemed to love it. If a 
 cold misshapen creature with hard shell and clinging 
 feet dragged itself over the back of his hand he did 
 not jump up hastily in alarm, but stopped to count 
 the animal's feet. He was hail-fellow-well-met with 
 
 any bug at all. 
 
 96
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 Just now he was interested in a number of worm- 
 like objects he kept domiciled in a fruit jar in the 
 inner office. He would eagerly explain that these 
 creatures were larvae larvae that he had hatched 
 out himself nearly three years before and nurtured 
 with great care ever since. And caterpillar-like 
 creatures that they were they scarcely seemed worth 
 the trouble. 
 
 But in the darkened room they glowed with 
 phosphorescence, which shone from rings that en- 
 circled their brown bodies. They were the offspring 
 of a common species of glowworm that is, as he 
 would explain, they were the offspring of such an 
 organism on their mother's side. But and here 
 was the excitement and interest of the whole matter 
 their father was a beetle. 
 
 At any rate, Bundy had been led by scientific 
 statements to believe that the female of the species 
 was a glowworm and the male was a beetle. This 
 would scarcely seem like a probable conjugal ar- 
 rangement, but Bundy believed in it, and he was 
 proceeding to prove it. He had the young in his 
 possession tightly sealed in a jar. He had been 
 feeding their voracious throats with centipedes for 
 three seasons now, and it was drawing near the time, 
 
 97
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 according to the scientists, when they should decide 
 what sex they were to be and take steps accordingly. 
 Soon he would find out. 
 
 And it was high time. For it was no easy matter 
 to feed his charges. 
 
 " I never knew centipedes to be so scarce," Bundy 
 would complain, as though he were speaking of 
 peaches, or watermelons. In days gone by it had 
 been possible to step out into the woods beneath the 
 waving leaves and gather a bounteous harvest. But 
 he had exhausted whole colonies of them. Now he 
 would spend his Saturday afternoons far up the river 
 and would return with well-filled boxes of the de- 
 sirable creatures. If he had kept it up much longer 
 the state would have had to pass a game law to keep 
 them from being exterminated. 
 
 But presently, all in due time, one of the worms 
 decided he was to be a male and forthwith proceeded 
 to bury himself in the ground. Bundy had waited 
 three long patient years for this. His joy and ex- 
 citement knew no bounds. It was actually going 
 through the prophesied motions on its way to beetle- 
 hood. He had watched it day by day, like a proud 
 father gazing at an only son. There was no over- 
 whelming weight of worry upon him now and he 
 
 98
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 would enjoy his simple little triumph with the pleas- 
 ant consciousness of following in the footsteps of the 
 scientists. 
 
 Margaret was keeping a very close watch on the 
 stock-room. When she found they had on hand a 
 large quantity of a certain kind of goods that was 
 selling slowly, she would endeavor to get rid of the 
 surplus, at cost, or sometimes at a little more, and 
 let Mr. Bundy invest the money in something else 
 that would sell more quickly. Naturally there were 
 certain things for which there was no great demand, 
 but which it was necessary for them to keep on hand, 
 but she kept down the supply of these as close as she 
 dared. 
 
 It was a varied and interesting business. The 
 stores in all the towns down the river represented a 
 growing community. Little stores in little towns 
 had grown to be big stores in big towns within the 
 memory of Bundy and Son ; and men drove up in 
 automobiles now, whose fathers used to come in in 
 rawhide boots and sometimes without collars upon 
 their shirts. And even now the man who wore a 
 broadcloth coat lined with fur received no greater 
 welcome than the down-river fourth-class postmaster 
 with the down-river mud on his boots. Men of al- 
 
 99
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 most every stage of civilization entered on terms of 
 absolute equality. But while she was there Margaret 
 saw but one woman. 
 
 That happened one day as she was sitting alone 
 in the office. She heard the rustle of a skirt and 
 turned to see standing beside her a woman dressed 
 in a brown suit of very fine cloth and wearing an 
 expensive set of furs. The woman was about thirty- 
 five or forty years old, and was quite good-looking. 
 
 " I am afraid I have come into the wrong place," 
 she said, hesitating. 
 
 " No, you haven't," Margaret said. " Sit down 
 and let me sell you some paint." 
 
 " Do you know," the woman confessed, " I thought 
 this was a ship-chandler's place. It was so quaint 
 and old-fashioned, it took my breath away to find 
 all this office equipment. What I am looking for," 
 she went on after a moment's hesitation, " is a pair 
 of real old ship lamps. I am furnishing a den that 
 is built just like a boat cabin, and I need the lamps. 
 Perhaps you know of a place ? " 
 
 " I do know of a place," replied Margaret, imme- 
 diately. " It would be hard to direct you to it, but 
 if you can wait twenty minutes, it will be time for 
 me to leave and I can go with you." 
 
 100
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 " I'll wait an hour." 
 
 She sat down and Margaret went on with her 
 work. But when Mr. Bundy came in she rose, with 
 a light of recognition in her eyes. He hesitated a 
 moment. Then a look of relief came over his face. 
 
 " Oh, it's Miss Garnet, isn't it ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 "Exactly, Mr. Bundy," she replied. "I didn't 
 realize it was your office I was invading." 
 
 " The sign has gotten so weather-beaten I can 
 scarcely read it myself," he said, apologetically. 
 
 She explained her errand, and said that Margaret 
 had promised to go lamp- hunting with her. Bundy 
 turned to Margaret. 
 
 "Oh ah Miss York, this is Miss Garnet," he 
 explained by way of introduction. " Miss Garnet, 
 like yourself, is also a notable business woman." 
 
 At this double-barrel endeavor to be compli- 
 mentary, both women made a more or less success- 
 ful effort to be retiring and deprecating. But it 
 roused their interest in each other. When Margaret 
 left to put on her hat and coat, Miss Garnet extracted 
 a brief history of her from Mr. Bundy. And just as 
 they were about to get into Miss Garnet's electric au- 
 tomobile preparatory to giving search for the lamps, 
 
 Margaret contrived to have forgotten her handker- 
 
 101
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 chief and returned to the office for the apparent pur- 
 pose of getting it. 
 
 " Who is this Miss Garnet ? " was what she asked, 
 however, of Bundy. 
 
 Mr. Bundy shook off the cares of life long enough 
 to laugh. 
 
 "Why," he said, "she's an interior decorator. 
 Whenever any one has an abundance of money to 
 invest in making a house a thing of beauty and a 
 joy forever, he goes to Miss Garnet. She has a 
 wide reputation and has made a great deal of 
 money." 
 
 In order to get to the little ship-chandler's shop 
 Margaret had in mind, they had to leave the auto- 
 mobile at the curb of one of the wide streets and 
 walk up a narrow thoroughfare just wide enough to 
 allow a vehicle to run between the curbs. On the 
 thin little street, nestled between the rear of two 
 large warehouses, sat a tiny shop with a dingy, 
 small-paned show window through which could be 
 seen dimly a collection of things of the sea a store- 
 house of old iron and tarnished brass. 
 
 In the room on the second floor they found a 
 treasure house of nautical plunder, and from its 
 depths presently came forth the identical pair of 
 
 IO2
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 lanterns Miss Garnet had pictured in her mind. 
 But having received them she could not tear herself 
 away. She was like a child in its grandmother's 
 attic. She must see everything. The result was 
 that it was late when they came out on the street 
 again. 
 
 " You will dine with me to-night," announced 
 Miss Garnet, as they stepped into the machine. 
 
 Margaret protested, but the other overruled her 
 without ceremony. 
 
 " You must see my little house," she said. " I 
 remodeled it myself, and designed everything in it. 
 And like most people who have done that I am a 
 perfect bore to all my friends with it. ' 
 
 " You see," she went on, " I found this little 
 Colonial house not in a very stylish location, but 
 there facing the Square where it used to be stylish 
 seventy years ago and bought it for a ridiculously 
 small sum. And, my dear, I tore out the whole in- 
 side of it, put in electric lights and lots of plumbing, 
 and a garage in the basement, and made a place 
 out of it. And being so unbelievably old, it is per- 
 fectly proper for me to live there without a chaperon. 
 Although," she added, " I sometimes tire of that part 
 
 of it. You live alone, don't you ? " 
 
 103
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Yes," said Margaret. 
 
 " Don't you get tired of it now and then ? " 
 
 " I get tired of finding my room at night just ex- 
 actly the same as it was in the morning when I left 
 it except," she amended, " for the things of mine 
 trie maid has kept for her own." 
 
 The machine slowed up by a quaint little house 
 at the corner of a street opposite the Square. It 
 swung round the corner and drove in between two 
 lighted gate-posts at the side of the house. The 
 wheels of the automobile, running over an iron bar 
 in the short driveway, opened the garage doors be- 
 fore them and they rolled into shelter. Miss Garnet 
 stepped out of the machine and turned on the light. 
 Together they closed the doors and bolted them and 
 went up the steps to the first floor. 
 
 They landed in a hallway from which started the 
 stair to the upper floors. It was a delicate Colonial 
 stair with four slender balusters on each step, each 
 one turned in a different pattern. At the foot they 
 curled into a spiral newel, the very centre of which 
 was marked by a cut glass sphere which caught and 
 reflected the red glow of the lamp on the table and 
 seemed like a ball of fire resting there. On the floor 
 
 was a soft eastern rug. Before her was the fire- 
 
 104
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 place topped with a delicately moulded mantel shelf 
 supported at each end by two slender Corinthian 
 columns. On the andirons burned three logs, sput- 
 tering and crackling and sending dancing shadows 
 over the ceiling. 
 
 Miss Garnet glanced at some mail on the mahog- 
 any side table and then led her guest up-stairs. She 
 showed her into a dainty bedroom. The girl sank 
 into a chintz-covered chair with a sigh of content- 
 ment. Whatever may be the advantages and virtues 
 of a Spartan life, luxury and the appearance of luxury 
 are inspiring and pleasant things. Margaret could 
 not help wondering if her own business career would 
 ever be so successful as to enable her to have a 
 house of her own. 
 
 They had a good dinner in the quaint oval dining- 
 room. Miss Garnet looked young and fresh in a 
 black net dress which showed off her white neck and 
 arms. 
 
 " I am wearing black now a good deal, my dear," 
 she said. " It gives one a meretricious air of slender- 
 ness. If I continue to gain in weight, I shall have 
 to take to rolling on the floor a hundred times before 
 breakfast." 
 
 Margaret laughed. 
 
 105
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Ah, well," Miss Garnet went on, " you are young 
 and can afford to be optimistic. But the bloom of 
 my youth is gone. The terrible thing about old age 
 is it is inevitable. If it doesn't come at the end of 
 five years it will come at the end of ten." 
 
 " I don't see why you look at it that way," re- 
 sponded the other. " If you have accomplished the 
 things you have been working for, there is no 
 ignominy is that the word I mean ? in old age." 
 
 Miss Garnet drew an arm through hers. 
 
 " Sometimes," she said, " even then." 
 
 Margaret glanced at the clock in the hall. 
 
 " I must go," she said. " It is getting late." 
 
 " No, no," cried the hostess, " we are to have a 
 visitor in a few minutes whom you must meet. He 
 is a nice visitor a rich young man, now at the 
 perfect age of thirty-one. I think he is a little too 
 rich he can afford too many things to eat, and his 
 figure is just a thought rotund. But he is a forceful 
 person and his name is mentioned with respect by 
 the newspapers. He doesn't scintillate, but he is 
 solid. It is not possible to contradict him, for he 
 converses about nothing he does not understand 
 from the root up. For that reason he is apt to talk 
 
 business." 
 
 106
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 The front door bell rang. 
 
 " That is doubtless he punctual to the dot," she 
 said. 
 
 " I am sorry," said Margaret, " that I am not more 
 elaborately dressed for so distinguished a visitor." 
 
 The maid announced " Mr. Potter." To her great 
 surprise her own Mr. Potter entered. 
 
 " Oh," cried Miss Garnet, " I am so sorry you 
 know each other. I thought I was to have the 
 credit of bringing you to each other's notice." 
 
 " No," said Potter, " I must take the credit of 
 having discovered Miss York myself." 
 
 " And," Margaret said, " I had not been working 
 in his office more than a year when he advised me 
 to leave." 
 
 " Willis Potter, I am ashamed of you ! " 
 
 "To correct any wrong impression you may 
 have," observed Mr. Potter, "I will say that the 
 move was purely philanthropic. She was too good 
 for us. Next to yourself, Miss Dora, she has a 
 better equipped mind for dealing with business ques- 
 tions than any woman I know." 
 
 Margaret made him a mocking courtesy 
 
 " I suppose you mean," said Miss Garnet, " that 
 
 for other purposes our minds are quite useless." 
 
 107
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I did not say that. But still I have seen a thou- 
 sand people who would be so glad to have good 
 business heads that they would not care if they were 
 perfect imbeciles otherwise. 
 
 " I am reliably informed," he added, smiling, " that 
 you have made a very large sale of white enamel 
 paint recently." 
 
 " Oh, Willis," said Miss Garnet, " please. Who 
 wants to talk about white enamel paint so soon after 
 dinner?" 
 
 " Miss York does, I am sure," said Potter, quietly. 
 
 " All right. If you're both sure you like that sort 
 of thing " 
 
 " How did you hear about this episode ? " Mar- 
 garet demanded. 
 
 " I try to hear about everything that goes on," he 
 said. "Are you the bookkeeper at Bundy and 
 Son's," he asked presently, " as well as all the other 
 things?" 
 
 " I want you," said Miss Garnet, " to be sure and 
 wake me up when this business conversation is 
 finished. One reason," she said to Margaret, " I 
 can't let Willis Potter come often is he won't talk 
 anything but shop. I can't cure him." 
 
 " I like it," said Margaret, frankly. 
 
 1 08
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 "There, Mr. Potter. Here is a jewel. She ac- 
 tually likes it." 
 
 Potter waited patiently for this badinage to simmer 
 down. 
 
 " What I was interested in finding out," he said, 
 presently, " was whether you took any interest in 
 the books at all. I don't suppose you have time to 
 do the actual bookkeeping." 
 
 "I try to keep myself familiar with their 
 methods. You know I took a special course in 
 bookkeeping at night while I was with your com- 
 pany." 
 
 " Yes, I knew. What I was going to suggest was 
 that you go over the accounts and see that none of 
 those fellows down the river order too much from 
 you." 
 
 " How could I tell ? " 
 
 " Use your judgment," he said, smiling. " You 
 see," he went on, " most of us here belong to a credit 
 association that collects our bad accounts and warns 
 us of firms whose financial condition is shaky. But 
 Bundy said he wouldn't join. Said he knew more 
 about his customers than any one else, and he was 
 not going to pay any one else to tell him what he 
 
 already knew. Well, he may be right, but I think a 
 
 109
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 little extra care is necessary. This may be a sug- 
 gestion for you." 
 
 " Thank you," she said. 
 
 "May I speak now?" asked Miss Garnet. 
 
 " Proceed," observed Potter. 
 
 " Why don't you change the name of Bundy and 
 Son to Potter and York, or something like that ? 
 You aren't giving poor Bundy a show." 
 
 " Perhaps we shall." 
 
 Potter took Margaret home in his machine. 
 
 " That woman loves to irritate me," he told her. 
 " She says I am what is her expression mentally 
 deformed. She believes I am developed all in one 
 direction. Naturally, I think always in terms of 
 business. It is in the world of business I am ac- 
 complishing things, if anywhere at all." 
 
 " Oh, she merely enjoys teasing you," Margaret 
 assured him. 
 
 " Yes, but there is always an air of superiority 
 about her. She never takes me seriously, and I 
 assure you I am a very serious person." 
 
 " I can well believe it." 
 
 The machine stopped at her door. 
 
 " This meeting was a pleasant coincidence," he 
 
 said. 
 
 no
 
 THE UNFASHIONABLE SQUARE 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 He looked up at the sky. 
 
 " To-morrow is Sunday and has indications of 
 being a pleasant spring day. How would you like 
 to take a long automobile ride ? " 
 
 " I should like it," she said. 
 
 As she went up-stairs to her room she was singing 
 softly to herself. 
 
 in
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 CAVEAT VENDOR 
 
 THE intimacy between Miss Garnet and Margaret 
 prospered. The fact that Margaret had ambi- 
 tion to succeed and was accomplishing things ap- 
 pealed to the other woman. It was as if she saw 
 her own life lived over again. And Margaret, 
 thrown with men all day long, enjoyed the com- 
 panionship of a woman for, strange as it may 
 seem, women have been known to tire, momenta- 
 rily, of men's society, and vice versa. Miss Garnet 
 invited her to spend a week with her at the house on 
 the Square. The week became two, three, a month 
 and Margaret was not allowed to go. It was an 
 agreeable arrangement for both of them, for their 
 living alone wore on them, as much upon Miss 
 Garnet after fifteen years of it as upon Margaret 
 after but two. 
 
 For the human being is not a solitary individual, 
 
 but requires companionship. Dora Garnet's solitude 
 
 112
 
 CAVEAT VENDOR 
 
 had assumed the proportions of a malady. She could 
 meet scores of people in other places, but her home 
 was quiet and unresponsive. Some one had once 
 diagnosed her condition and told her she was suffer- 
 ing from non-marriage. Which was nearer the truth 
 than any one else had ever come. Her view of the 
 world was too large. Her real home extended as 
 far as she could travel on the trains. She was broad 
 of vision. She saw the world as a big place and 
 understood it, which was excellent for her business. 
 But what she needed was focus. She needed a tiny 
 spot, to which she could always come back and find 
 home. And her house was not that. 
 
 If she had not succeeded in business so thoroughly, 
 she would doubtless not have felt so strongly the 
 grip of loneliness. Success was hers ; but like most 
 people holding that heroic bauble in their grasp be 
 they men or women found that in itself it was a 
 powerless talisman. There was something lacking 
 in her life perhaps it was merely contentment, per- 
 haps it was love. She had endeared no one to her. 
 For while her genius had given pleasure to thousands 
 of people, she could not but admit that was an acci- 
 dental phase of it. She had pressed it only for her 
 own good. There had been a man once but the
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 bright light ahead had been too strong. It was all 
 she could see then. Now, perhaps 
 
 It was with some vague intention of pointing out 
 the path that she was led to devote herself to 
 Margaret, and try, in her, to live over again her 
 own life. 
 
 It was now spring. The fickle lady, who had 
 been rubbing her eyes for some weeks past, was 
 apparently awake. At any rate, she had smiled 
 warmly upon the earth for a day or so, and then, as 
 rain fell steadily for a week it might safely be sur- 
 mised that she was taking her bath. It was a slack 
 time for Bundy and Son. The river, swollen as 
 usual at this time of the year, by the rain and the 
 melting snows, ran high and swiftly by the wharves 
 a dirty orange stream, swirling and eddying and 
 carrying along a great quantity of loot with it. It 
 ran up over the pavement at the foot of Severn 
 Street, and every day people stopped to compare 
 the water's level with the high mark of 1883 and 
 walked away disappointed. The river steamers 
 which ran all winter long lay tied up at the wharves, 
 and the trade of Bundy and Son came to a standstill. 
 This period was eagerly looked forward to every year 
 
 by the office force, as it gave them almost a holiday. 
 
 114
 
 CAVEAT VENDOR 
 
 Margaret spent her time with her nose deep in the 
 books of the firm. 
 
 " Anything wrong, Miss York ? " demanded Mr. 
 Bundy, anxiously, at the end of two or three days of 
 this. 
 
 " No, I am just finding out how much these vari- 
 ous stores order and how often they do it. Also 
 how long we have to wait for our money." 
 
 He chewed his mustache uneasily. A new 
 method always annoyed him. It added complica- 
 tions. 
 
 " What is the advantage of that ? " he asked. 
 
 " It keeps me occupied during the slack period, 
 and I find out who the good and bad customers are 
 perhaps," she added, smiling. 
 
 " Oh," he said, relieved, and went away easier 
 in his mind. Later in the day she came into the 
 office. 
 
 " What sort of a person is this man Felix Groh, 
 of Bay City ? " she demanded. 
 
 He made a series of little dots on the blotter with 
 his pencil. 
 
 " Why all right as far as I know. We never 
 had any trouble with him. Why?" 
 
 " Just curiosity. I'm interested."
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "He's a short, stocky, stubborn German," he 
 added, interested as soon as he found no business 
 trouble was involved. 
 
 " Is his business good ? " 
 
 " He has the biggest store in Bay City, and Bay 
 City has now fifty thousand inhabitants since they 
 have built the shipyards there." 
 
 Later in the day a large, light-haired man, whose 
 face was elusively familiar to her, entered the office. 
 He knew her immediately, and spoke to her by 
 name. Bundy looked up. 
 
 " Mr. Bundy," said the man, " my name is Evans. 
 I am now with the Waring Company." 
 
 " How do you do?" replied Bundy, flustered, as he 
 usually was when he could not decide what a man 
 wanted to see him about. "Sit down. Have a 
 seat. I've heard of you." 
 
 " Every one in the trade seems to have heard of 
 me," said the man. " I have a reputation, but it 
 doesn't do me much good. I've found that out try- 
 ing to get into business by myself." 
 
 " Aren't you satisfied with Waring's ? " demanded 
 Bundy. 
 
 "No. It's too much like a machine. Potter 
 
 treats every man up there just like a cog in a wheel. 
 
 116
 
 CAVEAT VENDOR 
 
 He would no more show gratitude to a man for 
 helping him out than he would pour champagne 
 over his electric fan for keeping him cool." 
 
 Bundy made a noise in his throat indicative of 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Why, after Number 1088 had made such a hit I 
 went in and asked Potter what he was going to do 
 for me. He said, 'Why, Evans, I feel now that 
 we are justified in keeping you. If you hadn't 
 made the discovery we should have had to let you 
 go.'" 
 
 " Comforting," said Bundy. 
 
 Margaret looked up. " Didn't he offer you at 
 one time," she asked pleasantly, " a little less money 
 and a royalty on anything you discovered ? " 
 
 " I didn't know that was generally known," re- 
 plied Evans, in surprise. " Why, yes, he did. But 
 it was a reduction of half in my salary, and a royalty 
 on the net receipts of the discovery, which meant 
 that before I began to get royalties, a proportion of 
 the expenses, salaries, interest charges and dividends 
 had to be charged against it, which would leave very 
 little for me. I wasn't impressed with that offer." 
 
 Evans looked at her thoughtfully. 
 
 "Of course," he went on, after consideration, 
 117
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Mr. Potter has a difficult business to keep up. He 
 has to hew right up to the line, and if somebody gets 
 hit by the chips I suppose you can't blame him. 
 They call him the Iron Duke, you know. His 
 power lies in the fact that he drives ahead. And if 
 you are lying with your foot in front of the steam 
 roller, he won't stop the engine. He knows you 
 ought not to have it there." 
 
 " He has been very decent to us," said Mr. Bundy. 
 " He has made several suggestions that have helped 
 us in our business." 
 
 "Why shouldn't he?" demanded the other. 
 " Bundy and Son is one of the most valuable out- 
 lets the Waring Company has. You can sell goods 
 for them that they cannot find a market for any- 
 where else. You have a unique set of customers. 
 They couldn't afford to have anything happen to 
 you. I once heard Mr. Waring say he considered 
 Bundy and Son as essential to him as any depart- 
 ment of his own organization." 
 
 Bundy looked at him in mild surprise. " I had 
 no idea of that," he said. 
 
 " But I am detaining you with idle gossip," Evans 
 went on. " What I want to know is this. Suppose 
 
 you had a chance to get control of a discovery equal 
 
 118
 
 CAVEAT VENDOR 
 
 to if not better than Number 1088. Would it inter- 
 est you ? " 
 
 " Control?" asked Bundy, fidgeting in his chair. 
 
 " Yes, so you could manufacture it. You have 
 the trade already. All you have to do is to manu- 
 facture the material and the rest runs of its own mo- 
 mentum. You would clean up twenty thousand dol- 
 lars a year." 
 
 The other bit his mustache. 
 
 " And I might lose twenty. No, no," he broke 
 off, almost irritably. " I can't touch anything new." 
 
 " All right," said Evans. He saw immediately 
 that it was useless to talk to Bundy. Presently he 
 rose to go. 
 
 " Have you protected yourself in this new discov- 
 ery? Has the Waring Company any chance to 
 claim it ? " 
 
 " No. Everything was done in my own time and 
 with my own materials." 
 
 " Sorry I can't join you," said Bundy, a little un- 
 comfortable at having been abrupt with him. "I 
 hope you have better success elsewhere." 
 
 Evans acknowledged this belated diplomacy. 
 
 " Oh," he said, turning back as he was about to 
 
 go, " I heard Mr. Waring say to Potter the other 
 
 119
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 day, ' Are Bundy and Son going to be caught in 
 the Groh affair ? ' And Potter said he thought not 
 he believed he had fixed that. I don't know what 
 it means, but it may be a tip for you." 
 
 Bundy looked at him blankly. " Thank you," he 
 said. 
 
 Evans left. The telephone rang and Bundy, an- 
 swering it, forgot all about the visitor's speech. But 
 under Margaret's skin a flush had deepened, and 
 her lips were tightly closed. 
 
 About a week later as they were sitting over the 
 desk, Mr. Bundy passed over a letter. 
 
 " You were talking about Felix Groh some days 
 ago," he said. " Here is a whopping big order from 
 him." 
 
 " Mr. Bundy," she replied, after she had looked it 
 over, "you remember what Evans said about our 
 being caught by Groh, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I didn't understand it." 
 
 " Then listen to this," she went on. " Groh has 
 been buying from us for the last three or four years 
 about a hundred dollars' worth a month and paying 
 for it at the end of thirty days. But in January and 
 in February and again in March, he bought over 
 
 twice as much and hasn't paid for any of it." 
 
 120
 
 CAVEAT VENDOR 
 
 Bundy smoothed the hair at the back of his head 
 uneasily. 
 
 "Are you sure about that?" he muttered, and 
 then walked out into the other room. 
 
 " Yes, that's right," he said, glumly, when he re- 
 turned after about fifteen minutes, during which she 
 knew he was out there looking at the same old fig- 
 ures over and over again, as if he were hoping they 
 might change while he was considering them. 
 
 " This order," said Margaret, holding the letter, 
 " is the biggest one yet. I think we had better not 
 fill it." 
 
 " What ! and lose one of our best customers ? " he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " You aren't anxious to give anything away, are 
 you ? " she demanded. " He owes you seven hun- 
 dred dollars already." 
 
 He poked little holes in his blotter with his pencil. 
 
 " I don't like to offend these fellows," he said, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 " Let's not offend them, then. You hold up this 
 order for a while, and send me down to Bay City to 
 see whether I can find out what the trouble is. If I 
 don't find anything wrong you can ship the order. 
 
 If I do, you will have a good reason for demanding 
 
 121
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 payment on the account before shipping anything 
 more to him." 
 
 Bundy drew a sigh of relief. 
 
 " All right," he said, " go ahead." 
 
 When at the end of the day she had put on her 
 hat and coat and was ready to go, he looked up at 
 her with a puzzled expression. 
 
 " Evans said Potter had made the remark that he 
 had ' fixed things ' so that we would not be caught 
 by Groh. I wonder what Potter could have meant 
 by that." 
 
 Margaret's face became set and hard. 
 
 " Mr. Bundy," she said, " whenever you want to 
 know the means by which Mr. Potter preserves 
 Bundy and Son for his own purposes, you are safe 
 in saying I am that means." 
 
 122
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 A LADY WITHOUT SHOES 
 
 FROM Severn Street wharf to Bay City is seventy- 
 five miles by the river. From Severn Street 
 station to Bay City by rail is one hundred and 
 twenty miles. If you will think of the Greek letter A 
 and consider the apex of it as Bay City and the 
 lower right-hand corner as the metropolis in which 
 the house of Bundy and Son is located, you will 
 have an idea of the two routes between the cities. 
 The right-hand side of the letter is the route the 
 boats traveled down the South River. The train, 
 however, proceeded first along the lower side to the 
 left-hand corner, where passengers were disgorged 
 and reloaded on a minor and less efficient train 
 which transported them in a leisurely manner up the 
 remaining side of the triangle to Bay City, the track 
 following the course of the wide, listless, unnavigable 
 Western Branch, a beautiful stream which poured its 
 lazy complacent waters into the South River at Bay 
 
 City and was swept almost immediately out into the 
 
 123
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 turmoil of the bay where it knew peace no more. 
 At the point where one changed cars from the first 
 train into the second this Western Branch was 
 spanned by a venerable wooden bridge, which had 
 the perpetual quality of always being able to con- 
 vince the railroad company that it would last just 
 one year more. 
 
 The train which Margaret was to take for Bay 
 City left at ten o'clock that night. It arrived at the 
 railroad bridge at twelve, the Bay City sleeper was 
 left behind to be attached to the local which left at 
 about four in the morning, and, making poor time 
 of the thirty miles, got to the destination at six 
 o'clock. 
 
 As Margaret waited on the platform she had a 
 pleasurable sense of excitement, which the smell of 
 the smoke and the ringing of locomotive bells never 
 failed to arouse in her. Riding on the train as a 
 game was just as alluring to this lady of twenty-two 
 as it had been to the little girl of two with the cheeks 
 like red apples. The train pulled in with a great 
 screeching of air brakes, the porters alighted with 
 their little stools, she made her way along the be- 
 wildering line of cars asking every person in a blue 
 
 uniform the same question, until at last she found 
 
 124
 
 A LADY WITHOUT SHOES 
 
 her destination, surrendered her bag, mounted the 
 steps and walked down the canyon between the 
 green curtains, greatly disturbed by their changing 
 contour, hunting for a number. She found it at 
 length. 
 
 The train started, her bag was presently brought 
 to her and her ticket taken away from her. Mar- 
 garet disappeared presently between the curtains of 
 her berth. The train rumbled on, lights flashed by 
 the windows, and then, after a while, all was steady 
 darkness. It was some time later, just as she was 
 passing from consciousness into the land of dreams 
 that she heard a strangely familiar voice as some one 
 walked up the aisle. She was wide awake in a 
 minute, but she could not decide where she had 
 heard that voice before or whether perhaps she had 
 merely dreamed she had heard it. 
 
 Presently she fell into a condition of mental sus- 
 pension that is possible in a sleeping car, during 
 which the victim, while not awake, seems to be 
 aware of the steady roll of the wheels, the deep-toned 
 baying of the locomotive whistle, and the steady 
 procession of human beings up and down the aisle, 
 talking in low tones muffled by the heavy curtain. 
 
 Then without having been asleep she woke to find 
 
 125
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 the train standing still. The voice of some one talk- 
 ing rose up beneath her window and passed on 
 quickly, dying off into a mere murmur. Raising 
 the window shade she looked out, apparently into 
 space. Then she saw by the faint moonlight that 
 the train was standing on a trestle or bridge, and 
 she was looking over a wide expanse of water. 
 
 She lay down again, and lulled by the stillness, 
 fell asleep. When she awoke they were still stand- 
 ing on the bridge, and the same expanse of water 
 lay spread out before them. She looked at her 
 watch it was half-past twelve. This must be the 
 railroad bridge over the Western Branch. She 
 waited a while longer staring idly through the glass. 
 Then curiosity got the better of her. She began to 
 dress. 
 
 It was constant traveling in a sleeping-car berth 
 that made an alert man believe that if he could as- 
 sume his clothes in such a space, he could allow 
 himself to be handcuffed and put in a trunk, and 
 escape from the same without assistance. It was a 
 very simple idea, and it was strange no one had 
 ever thought of it before, but the man made a for- 
 tune from it. Margaret felt that she had indeed ac- 
 complished a feat when she emerged from her berth, 
 
 126
 
 A LADY WITHOUT SHOES 
 
 fully clad that is, fully clad except her shoes. The 
 porter had them somewhere polishing them. 
 
 This was rather unexpected. She hesitated a mo- 
 ment. Her first thought was that she would have 
 to return to her couch, as she did not care to walk 
 about in a public conveyance without shoes. But 
 as everything was fairly dark and no one at all 
 seemed to be stirring, she thought she might safely 
 run the chance of her absence of foot-gear's passing 
 unnoticed. 
 
 This car was the last one of the train, and, re- 
 membering that the pillows in the berths were 
 placed toward the engine, she got her bearings and 
 proceeded toward the rear. Standing on the plat- 
 form in the ghostly glow of the green marking 
 lantern stood a brakeman. She approached him. 
 He looked up and started when he saw her. 
 
 " I didn't hear you come," he said. 
 
 He picked up the lantern that stood on the step. 
 
 "What is the matter?" she asked. 
 
 "Well," he replied, " I suppose you might as well 
 know. The bridge is down." 
 
 " Down ? " she repeated. " Whereabouts ? " 
 
 He swung himself from the car. 
 
 " Out there over the deep water." 
 127
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Then we are here for all night ? " she asserted, 
 in the tone of a question. 
 
 But he was gone. She watched his lantern bob- 
 bing as he walked back over the trestle. She 
 walked down the steps. There was a plentiful sprin- 
 kling of lanterns ahead, but no apparent activity. 
 Presently the figure of a man approached her, walk- 
 ing on the board that ran along the ties beside the 
 train. She retired to a secluded place on the plat- 
 form. He stopped as he reached the rear of the 
 train, and laid hold of the handles. 
 
 " Mr. Brakeman," he observed, peering up into 
 the semi-darkness, " that's a bad mess ahead." 
 
 She might have noticed something about his 
 voice if she had not been so much amused by his 
 remark. She laughed. 
 
 " If you can see that light away back there," she 
 observed, demurely, " that is the brakeman." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said. He hesitated a 
 moment, embarrassed, and then made a move as if 
 to go forward again. But she needed information. 
 
 " What is the chance," she asked, " of our getting 
 through to-night ? " 
 
 " None at all, I should say," he replied. 
 
 "Is it as bad as that?" 
 
 128
 
 A LADY WITHOUT SHOES 
 
 " There are about fifty yards of bridge out there," 
 he informed her, " sagging like a clothes-line. No 
 train could run on it." 
 
 " Meanwhile, what is to happen to us ?" 
 
 " We are free to do as we please. I suppose," he 
 added, " they will have a temporary track fixed by 
 noon to-morrow certainly not sooner, from the look 
 of things." 
 
 " Noon ! " she repeated. 
 
 If they did not get across before noon she would 
 not be in Bay City until after the close of business 
 the next day. A whole day's delay would be seri- 
 ous. She tapped the floor impatiently with her foot 
 until she touched a cool bolt-head, and, remember- 
 ing it was unshod, hastily recalled the foot to the 
 shelter of her skirts. 
 
 " I must get to Bay City," she said. 
 
 " If they run a train back to the City," he ob- 
 served, " you could take a boat from there. If we 
 wait here, we can either possess our souls in patience 
 until they fix the bridge, or we can trust to luck that 
 some one will come along and row us over in the 
 morning." 
 
 " What are you going to do yourself ? " she asked 
 after a time. 
 
 129
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I have a wild scheme." 
 
 He glanced down the track toward the stationary 
 point of light of the brakeman's lantern. She looked 
 at him, waiting, and wondered idly what the man 
 looked like. There was about his movements a 
 suggestion of some one she had known. 
 
 " What is your scheme ? " she asked. 
 
 "I'm thinking of walking back there and down 
 the bank. I think I know where to find a motor 
 boat a relative of mine owns uses it to go duck 
 shooting. Then I could get across and catch that 
 other train." 
 
 " Come on, let's do it," was what she did not say, 
 But she wanted to say it. For once in her life she 
 wished she were a man. 
 
 " Of course," he said, " that is rather a hazy 
 scheme, since I have never found this boat in the 
 dark." 
 
 There was something familiar about his voice. 
 What if she, by some chance, had met him ? 
 Wouldn't it be proper then for her to suggest go- 
 ing with him ? She must get to Bay City. 
 
 If she could only see his face. But he would in- 
 sist upon standing down there. She felt in her 
 purse, took out something that felt like a five-cent 
 
 130
 
 A LADY WITHOUT SHOES 
 
 piece and, watching her chance, let it fall upon the 
 platform. Immediately he mounted the steps. 
 
 " You've dropped something," he informed her. 
 
 " Have I ? " she asked, looking him firmly in the 
 eyes. 
 
 He was about to stoop to get her money. He 
 stopped. There was a short silence in which aston- 
 ishment smothered speech. 
 
 " Why, Margaret ! " he exclaimed, at length. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me who you were ? " 
 
 " Why didn't you ? Come on in where it is light 
 and let's talk it over." 
 
 " I I can't I haven't my shoes." 
 
 He laughed a deep, boyish laugh. 
 
 " I know," he said. " I was like that. But I dis- 
 covered where they are hid. What were yours like ? 
 I'll get them." 
 
 She caught him by a fold of his sleeve. 
 
 "Go in front of me, David. I'll follow you and 
 pick them out myself." 
 
 131
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 THE RIVER NIGHT 
 
 " \7 OU ' RE here first >" he suggested. " Take the 
 JL best pair." 
 
 She slipped her feet into her own shoes, and 
 looked at the others. 
 
 " I think I have," she said. 
 
 They stepped back into the narrow aisle that ran 
 along by the windows. 
 
 " Now, let's go," she suggested. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " For the motor boat. I have to be in Bay City 
 in the morning, child." 
 
 " Have you much luggage ? " 
 
 " Just a tiny bag." 
 
 " That's all I have, too." His eyes shone. " All 
 right," he exclaimed, " I'm game." 
 
 He got her hand-bag from the berth. 
 
 " I'll take it," she insisted. 
 
 "Pooh! Don't be self-reliant," he said. "If I 
 carry one in each hand it balances." 
 
 Between the north-bound and the south-bound 
 132
 
 THE RIVER NIGHT 
 
 tracks ran a board about twelve inches wide. They 
 stepped down from the car upon this and began to 
 walk back toward the brakeman. It was not a 
 comfortable thing to do. They could look down 
 between the ties and see the water shining dimly 
 thirty feet below them. Margaret felt all the time 
 that she was doing a very perilous and difficult 
 thing, although it is a well-known fact that it is no 
 feat of skill for a human being to walk on a plank 
 one foot wide. It would have taken great care for 
 her to have squeezed herself through one of the 
 spaces between the ties and drop down, but never- 
 theless it seemed dangerous. 
 
 The brakeman carried on a short conversation 
 with them and was convinced that they were ab- 
 solutely foolhardy. But he had no interest in being 
 at Bay City in the morning. They passed by his 
 comforting light and into the darkness beyond. She 
 got so tired looking at her feet that she vowed she 
 would never look at them again. And yet she did 
 not dare to look anywhere else. 
 
 It was not more than a hundred and fifty yards, 
 yet it seemed like a mile. She was immeasurably 
 relieved when at last they came to broken stones be- 
 tween the ties instead of just space. They walked 
 
 133
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 but a little way on this, and then suddenly turned 
 aside and started down the side of the embankment. 
 Her companion held one of the bags in his left hand 
 and the other under his arm, so as to leave his right 
 hand free to help her. The quarter-full moon, dis- 
 appearing in the west, threw a little light on their 
 pathway just enough to enable them to avoid col- 
 liding with big stones and telegraph pole guy-wires, 
 but not enough to prevent them from stumbling over 
 unexpected irregularities in the ground. Sometimes 
 they would sink in over their ankles and slide in the 
 shifting soil. At the bottom they had to take off 
 their shoes and get "rid of ballast," as David put it. 
 
 They continued down an easier slope to the river 
 bank. There they found a pathway and walked 
 silently along it, the man leading the way carrying 
 the bags, she following after, her eyes glued to the 
 back of his head. They took the whole occasion 
 seriously, and plodded along with a grim determi- 
 nation. 
 
 " How does this kinsman of yours happen to keep 
 a power boat in this fearful location ? " she de- 
 manded at length. 
 
 "It is not so bad in the daytime," he replied, 
 laughing. " Why, this kinsman of mine who is 
 
 134
 
 THE RIVER NIGHT 
 
 my brother-in-law keeps the boat here so that when 
 he wants to go ducking, he can come up the night 
 before, sleep in a house up there on the hill and start 
 off before sunrise in the morning." 
 
 " It sounds extravagant to have a boat just for 
 that." 
 
 " That's the sort of man he is. Whatever he does, 
 he does thoroughly. He makes money fast, and 
 spends it fast. He wouldn't enjoy shooting ducks 
 unless he had his own boat to go in. John treats 
 himself as royalty and everything surrounding him 
 has to be absolutely the best." 
 
 " I think I see it now," she cried, suddenly. 
 
 They walked a little further and there lay a power 
 boat anchored to a buoy out in the river. After 
 some search they discovered a rowboat lying on the 
 bank back from the water's edge chained to a tree. 
 He took two careful steps forward to another tree 
 and, striking a match, found the key cleverly con- 
 cealed in the crotch of it. The boat was freed and 
 launched. He helped her in, and getting in himself 
 rowed out toward the launch. As she looked at him 
 in the dim light it was hard to realize that he was 
 David Bruce. He seemed still only like the man 
 who had talked to her on the car platform. 
 
 135
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Say something," she exclaimed. " I can't get 
 you placed in my mind." 
 
 "Well," he said, laughing, "three weeks ago I 
 landed on this side. Ever since then I have been 
 staying with my sister and her husband in Bay City. 
 Is that the kind of speech you wanted?" 
 
 " Yes, thank you," she returned. " I think I shall 
 begin to recognize you in a little while." 
 
 He pulled alongside of the power boat, rolled back 
 the tarpaulin that covered her cockpit and held the 
 little boat close to the gunwale while she climbed 
 aboard the larger one. Then he came aboard him- 
 self, fastened the smaller boat astern, and lighted an 
 oil lamp in the little cabin. He knelt down before 
 the engine. 
 
 " This is where you will see my true self revealed," 
 he observed, looking at the mechanism apprehen- 
 sively. 
 
 But when he threw on the switch and had made 
 several attempts at the fly-wheel, it at length turned 
 all the way over and the engine fell into a reassuring 
 chug-chug-chug. 
 
 He cast off from the buoy and threw the engine in 
 gear. They started swiftly forward, the little tender 
 astern straining at its line and skipping over the 
 
 136
 
 THE RIVER NIGHT 
 
 water, the exhaust shooting like a machine gun and 
 a broadening wake sweeping off to each side behind 
 them. In the distance they could see the lights of 
 the train still lying on the bridge. In the sky be- 
 yond, the moon was just touching the tree-tops. 
 
 "My father wrote me," he said, presently, "that 
 you were earning your own living now and doing 
 extremely well too, he said. I suppose this is a 
 business trip to Bay City." 
 
 She nodded. He thought a moment. 
 
 "In that case," he said, "I suggest that instead 
 of just crossing the river, we run all the way to Bay 
 City. It is only thirty-five miles. And you can get 
 some sleep in the little cabin there. You will need 
 it if you have to use your brain in the morning." 
 
 " But how about you ? " she objected. 
 
 " Oh," he replied, carelessly, " I am just as I al- 
 ways was. I do not need sleep." 
 
 " You never seem to grow up," she said. " Is it 
 still stained glass ? " she asked. 
 
 "Why, no," he replied, "I haven't done much 
 with the stained glass lately. I went to Chartres to 
 study the glass in the Cathedral there, but well, 
 there happened to be a large aeroplane factory at 
 Chartres and I got interested in aeroplanes." 
 
 137
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "And now you are going to build an aeroplane?" 
 
 " Why shouldn't I ? " he demanded, stoutly. 
 
 " No reason, if you are going to continue to build 
 aeroplanes. But it isn't wholesome to start things 
 and leave them half done. The half-done things in 
 the world don't help it a particle." 
 
 " I know," he replied, " but I have to get started 
 right." 
 
 " Yes, but hurry." 
 
 He laughed good-naturedly. 
 
 "And now go into the cabin," he said, "and 
 sleep." 
 
 She turned obediently and went into the cabin. 
 Here she took off some of her clothes, and, wrap- 
 ping herself in a blanket, was soon asleep on the 
 cushion of the lockers that ran along the side. As 
 for David, he sat by the wheel, filled with a keen 
 enjoyment of the rippling water, of the dark sky 
 with its thousands of stars casting their dim glow 
 upon the night, and of the great breadth and the 
 great mystery of the world about him. 
 
 138
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 BAY CITY 
 
 MARGARET slept as soundly as a child. 
 When she awoke gray daylight was peeping 
 in at the port-holes of the cabin. She dressed and 
 went out into the cockpit where David was sitting. 
 They were on a broad stretch of water broken by 
 little tumbling waves which splashed against the 
 bows of the boat. Far ahead, touching the dark 
 line of the distant shore, hung the striped blanket 
 of the morning sky, gorgeous in gray and flaring 
 crimson. The water between glowed with the light, 
 and across it, skimming its surface so near that their 
 wings splashed in the waves, flew the white gulls. 
 To starboard lay a low island scarcely peeping over 
 the water's edge, from whose flat breast grew fresh- 
 budded trees that waved in the morning breeze. 
 Astern was the awakening city. A cloud of hazy 
 smoke hung above it, and the buildings shining in the 
 level rays of the sun stood out against the deep sky 
 beyond like a model of a city against a dark curtain. 
 
 139
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Where are you going?" she asked, rubbing her 
 eyes. 
 
 " I am merely cruising. You were not awake 
 when we passed the city, and I came out here to 
 look at some property." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 He pointed to the island on which grew the trees. 
 
 " That is my island," he said. " I found it had 
 never been claimed by any one, so I went to the 
 county court-house, paid a fee of about ten dollars, 
 and they wrote down in a big book that it belonged 
 to me. It is an amphibious island. It lives above 
 water most of the year, but when the river rises it is 
 completely submerged." 
 
 "What is the object of this ownership?" she 
 asked, presently. 
 
 "I want to build my aeroplane there. You 
 see, I am working on a new scheme for a machine 
 which will rise out of the water a hydro-aeroplane, 
 you know." He threw over the wheel and the bow 
 swung round. " I think we might as well go back 
 now. I am as hungry as a sea-gull, aren't you ? " 
 
 "How do you propose to dispose of me?" she 
 asked, curiously. 
 
 " Take you to my sister." 
 140
 
 BAY CITY 
 
 " I ought to be ashamed to go, after this perfectly 
 appalling adventure." 
 
 But having gone through the appalling adventure, 
 as she called it, there was in her a sense of having 
 stolen for a moment a glimpse behind the curtain of 
 another world. She felt this vaguely as a person 
 would who was not altogether conscious that be- 
 neath her calm, cool surface dwelt a warm living 
 woman. 
 
 Beyond a doubt it had been an adventure un- 
 usual enough, coming in her level desk-and-letter 
 life, to remind her that the world was a many-sided 
 place ; and to point out to her that she, steady-go- 
 ing business woman though she was, was not at all 
 insensible to the influence of sentiment and ro- 
 mance. Sentiment and romance ! She glanced 
 whimsically at David, and wondered what he would 
 have thought had he guessed he had been the in- 
 nocent cause of putting those two words into her 
 mind. 
 
 The household of John Sawyer, David's brother- 
 in-law, was not a little surprised, nevertheless, when 
 it came down to breakfast, to find Margaret and 
 David sitting in the hall. Of course it was not pos- 
 sible to lay the whole story before them with one 
 
 141
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 well-chosen sentence, but the two mariners, after 
 some few minutes of disjointed narrative, managed 
 to assuage the Sawyer curiosity to such an extent 
 that the latter were able to think of asking their 
 guests to breakfast, which, after all, was the strategic 
 point of the interview. 
 
 Margaret had never met John Sawyer before. He 
 was a tall man of about forty with a black mustache 
 and a deep, rotund voice. Elsie Bruce had married 
 him when Margaret had been about twelve years 
 old. She remembered David's coming to Mr. Lacey's 
 house wearing a very tight new suit which had been 
 made expressly for the wedding and explaining in 
 detail about the quantity of ice-cream he had been 
 permitted to eat, and her own sorrow, at the time, 
 that she had no sister to get married, too. 
 
 " I consider this a very romantic episode," com- 
 mented Mr. Sawyer, when the story, with all its de- 
 tails, had at last been completed. 
 
 Margaret did not admit that the same thought 
 had passed vaguely through her mind. 
 
 " You must discourage that idea," she said, smil- 
 ing. " I was sent below to sleep the moment that it 
 ought to have become romantic." 
 
 " I thought if she was to attend to business to- 
 142
 
 BAY CITY 
 
 day," David explained, " she ought to have her 
 beauty sleep." 
 
 John Sawyer looked at her with interest. 
 
 " Are you one of these business women ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 "In a very small way. I have come down 
 here," she added, at length, " to find out about Felix 
 Groh." 
 
 " Oh, ho 1 " he cried. 
 
 " Well ? " she demanded. 
 
 " I said nothing." 
 
 " You said, ' oh, ho.' " 
 
 He pulled a cigar from his pocket and balanced 
 it in his hand. 
 
 " May I ask what firm you ah represent ? " 
 
 " Bundy and Son." 
 
 " Bundy and Son ! " 
 
 He said nothing for a moment. Then he rose 
 from the table. 
 
 " Let's go in here and have this thing out," he 
 said, after breakfast. "About Bundy and Son I 
 am informed that Groh has been ordering heavily 
 from your firm. We have just awaked to this 
 situation ourselves," he went on. " Groh owes our 
 firm nearly three thousand dollars. To a firm in 
 
 143
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 New York it is four. There are eight creditors in 
 all" 
 
 " Our amount is small only seven hundred 
 dollars, as you doubtless know. But he ordered 
 five hundred dollars' worth more, and we hesitated 
 about filling it." 
 
 "You saved five hundred dollars by that," he 
 asserted. 
 
 " Is it as bad as that? " she demanded. 
 
 " It may be," he said, seriously. " Let me explain 
 the situation to you. This little German, Groh, has 
 a large store in which he sells a little bit of every- 
 thing. Until about a year ago he had been making 
 a fair living. But he got interested in an old fellow 
 who claims to have discovered an absolute wood 
 preservative, something that will make wood as 
 enduring as concrete. Of course that's a good 
 discovery, if it's true, and Groh had visions of 
 millions of dollars from the invention. So he rented 
 a great big barn across the river and started a 
 factory." 
 
 Mr. Sawyer stopped to knock the ash off his cigar. 
 
 "All of which was a very ambitious and a very 
 praiseworthy thing to do, except that he did not 
 
 take into consideration the fact that he had to make 
 
 144
 
 BAY CITY 
 
 other people believe what he believed before they 
 would buy his product. He did not realize how 
 much money it would require for advertising, and 
 he did not realize how hard the proof of that par- 
 ticular kind of thing would be. You can see, of 
 course, when you try to sell a man a preparation to 
 make wood last indefinitely, his first question is, 
 ' How can you prove that it will make it last indef- 
 initely ? ' " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Well, he got in deeper and deeper, spent all his 
 money and was face to face with the necessity of 
 spending more. He couldn't borrow it, so he hit 
 upon the scheme of pushing his credit. He bought 
 just as much as the dealers would let him have and 
 sold it at a low price sometimes at cost in order 
 to dispose of it quickly. All that money went. But, 
 although the product was well advertised, he had no 
 selling organization capable of selling it. If his 
 name had been well known, he might have made a 
 
 big thing of it. But as it is " Mr. Sawyer 
 
 made a gesture with his hand. 
 
 " What does the wave of your hand mean?" Mar- 
 garet asked. " Bankruptcy ? " 
 
 " Ordinarily it would. But Groh hasn't anything.
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 Most of his creditors were in town yesterday, and 
 our firm suggested an informal meeting of these men 
 to discuss the situation. Finally we decided that 
 rather than realize a little money by bankruptcy pro- 
 ceedings, and force a really good customer out of 
 business, it would be better to let him off with the 
 provision that he give up this wood preservative 
 venture. Then if he will give us each a note for 
 what he owes us and stick tight to business, he can 
 soon be on his feet again." 
 
 " Will he agree to that ? ' 
 
 " Personally, I hardly think he will without some 
 further concession. I believe he will insist on get- 
 ting something in return for the money he has put 
 in the business over the river. He is a pig-headed 
 little man, and his first thought will be that we are 
 trying to deprive him of his rights to the discovery 
 and make all the money ourselves." 
 
 " It seems a shame, doesn't it," she said, presently, 
 " that he should have wasted all that money ? " 
 
 " And it is doubly a shame," he agreed, " when 
 you consider that he has prepared the ground for 
 some one, if there were only some one to step in 
 and reap the profits some firm with an estab- 
 lished list of customers who could take advantage 
 
 146
 
 BAY CITY 
 
 of what advertising has been done and turn it into 
 money." 
 
 He glanced at her very keenly. 
 
 " What do you think of this wood preservative? " 
 she asked, presently. 
 
 "They have some tests over there," he replied, 
 " that have convinced a good many people. They 
 take a log of wood and coat one-third of it with 
 their paint, one-third of it with ordinary paint and 
 leave the remaining third unpainted. They put that 
 log of wood through enough soaking in water and 
 burying underground and floating in swamps and so 
 forth, to drive a log of wood crazy. I saw one that 
 had been buried underground for a year, and cer- 
 tainly the part covered with the preservative looked 
 as good as new." 
 
 He arose and walked up and down the room. 
 
 " Do you know what I think ? " he said. 
 
 " No," she replied, smiling. 
 
 " I think," he exclaimed, " there might be a for- 
 tune for some one in that if properly managed. And 
 the easiest part of it is, it wouldn't cost a penny to 
 try it out. Groh could be bought out for a thousand 
 dollars, and there is a thousand dollars' worth of the 
 stuff to be sold. There is the factory and organiza- 
 
 147
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 tion in complete working order ready to make more 
 as soon as you need it It's merely a chance to bet 
 nothing against a million dollars." 
 
 He stopped in front of her. 
 
 " Would Mr. Bundy consider such a proposition ? " 
 he demanded. 
 
 She looked at him absently. 
 
 " I don't know," she said. 
 
 What she was really thinking was, " I have a 
 thousand dollars of my own." 
 
 148
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 " \\ 7 HERE ' S D avid ? " asked Mr. Sawyer, as he 
 
 V V took up his hat preparatory to leaving for 
 his office. 
 
 " He has gone to bed for a while," his wife re- 
 turned. " He is tired out." 
 
 " Wake him up about ten o'clock, won't you ? I 
 want him to take Miss York to see the paint factory 
 of Groh's. I'd go myself, but I'm so busy. Since 
 the launch is here that will be the very best way 
 to go." 
 
 Mrs. Sawyer nodded. He kissed her and disap- 
 peared in a whirlwind of haste. If the speed with 
 which husbands dash away from their firesides in 
 the morning could be maintained all day long, the 
 average of prosperity throughout the Union would 
 increase by leaps and bounds. Mrs. Sawyer settled 
 herself comfortably in her chair. 
 
 " My husband doesn't approve of my brother at 
 all," she observed. " You aren't thinking of mar- 
 rying David, are you ? " she asked, abruptly. 
 
 149
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " 1 thought you were not. I can talk about him 
 freely then." 
 
 " I imagine Mr. Sawyer disapproves of David's 
 not having a fixed occupation." 
 
 " Yes. We all do that, of course. But John lec- 
 tures about it, and David argues with him on the sub- 
 ject. And David's arguments make John furious." 
 
 " What does he say ? " 
 
 " David says John is a waster. He points to his 
 automobile and his motor boat and his cigars and 
 his clothes, and he proves that John wastes about 
 twice as much every year as David spends. And 
 that is true, for my dear husband must have the best 
 of everything. David says his own income is suffi- 
 cient for his own needs. He insists that business 
 prosperity such as the world applauds and such as 
 John possesses, is actuated by nothing but a desire 
 to purchase a few more things for one's self." 
 
 " And that spirit," Margaret said, thoughtfully, 
 " is simply the result of his extreme aversion to com- 
 mercialism. But some day it is going to be neces- 
 sary for him to go dollar-hunting. And then I be- 
 lieve he will go with a vim. Don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes. But he needs something to touch a match 
 150
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 to the powder. He isn't serious at all. There is a 
 nice old lady in this town who is anxious to have 
 him paint her portrait, and he refuses. He says he 
 doesn't like her looks. And it would mean several 
 hundred dollars to him." 
 
 " I can't understand that. But then, of course, I'm 
 working in an atmosphere where it is considered 
 criminal to fail to earn a dollar." 
 
 " And yet, here is another thing. David is just 
 as frugal as a mouse. He lived on much less than 
 his income abroad. In fact, he helped to support 
 several of the men who would otherwise have been 
 unable to stay there at all." 
 
 " Of course," Margaret agreed, " there are many 
 hopeful things about him." 
 
 " I think David is a sturdy character," asserted his 
 sister. " He has the courage to follow his own in- 
 clinations, no matter what other people say which 
 is a quality few of us possess." 
 
 David came down a little after ten o'clock looking 
 just as fresh as if he had had a full night's sleep. 
 He and Margaret went off together to take their trip 
 to the factory in the launch. 
 
 " I feel very humble indeed beside such a brilliant 
 business woman," he said.
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Don't ridicule me, David," she replied. " That 
 is the very reason why you have a supreme con- 
 tempt for me." 
 
 " Whatever supreme feeling I have for you," he 
 contradicted, " it is not contempt." 
 
 The little launch chugged across the river carry- 
 ing them toward the big stone barn which was Felix 
 Groh's factory. They landed ; and from that mo- 
 ment Margaret spoke scarcely a word to him. Her 
 attention was riveted upon the plant. She did not 
 even observe the interest with which all her actions 
 were noted. 
 
 "What do you see now?" he demanded, as they 
 approached the barn, and she stopped suddenly. 
 
 " I was looking at those plants," she said, point- 
 ing to a number of green rows under careful cultiva- 
 tion. " They do not look like any vegetables I know 
 of. What do you think they are ? " 
 
 " That is one of the things I don't know," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 A middle-aged man met them at the door. He 
 said his name was Venn, and that Mr. Sawyer had 
 telephoned that she was coming. He had white 
 hair, and a white beard and mustache. There was 
 
 a dreamy, far-away look in his eye, and she picked 
 
 152
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 him for the man who had discovered the wood pre- 
 servative even before he told her. She spent a very 
 long time with this gentleman going over the es- 
 tablishment, while David, weary, famished, bored, 
 wandered about like a lost soul until finally he 
 amused himself painting an impressionist picture of 
 the barn on the back of a shingle with some of the 
 wood preservative he had found in a half-empty can. 
 
 The white-haired gentleman showed Margaret 
 samples of wood that led her to believe the pre- 
 servative had many properties that were claimed for 
 it. After that the first question she asked him was 
 how much did it cost to make it? As she ex- 
 pected, he replied that he did not know. So they 
 went to the fragmentary books that he kept in the 
 little boxed-off office at the corner of the building. 
 Mr. Sawyer had evidently been very emphatic, be- 
 cause the man was willing and anxious to show 
 everything except that he let fall no word about 
 the process by which his precious product was 
 made. 
 
 With infinite labor and pains they got the cost of 
 all the materials that had been purchased in the pre- 
 ceding three months, the amount paid for all labor 
 and the amount expended for repairs on the build- 
 
 153
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 ing and machinery. She found out from him how 
 much rent Mr. Groh paid, the approximate value of 
 the machinery and how long it might be expected 
 to last before it had to be renewed. To extract this 
 information from the man required skilful surgery, 
 because these things did not interest him, and it was 
 hard for him to concentrate his mind on them suffi- 
 ciently to remember. Then she found out how much 
 of the product had been manufactured in that time. 
 From all these things she at length managed to find 
 out how much it cost to make the product. She re- 
 turned to David tired out 
 
 She revived sufficiently, however, to ask about 
 the rows of green plants that had aroused her curi- 
 osity. 
 
 " What vegetable is that ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Oh," Venn replied, with a spark of interest, " it 
 is a weed I am cultivating. I extract a kind of oil 
 from it that I sell to the county wheelwrights. They 
 use it to thin out their paints in the place of tur- 
 pentine." 
 
 " In the place of turpentine ! " 
 
 " Yes. It seems to have all the properties of tur- 
 pentine, except that it has a sweet odor. It costs 
 very little to manufacture." 
 
 154
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 " That's curious. Can you let me have a little of 
 it?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 The man disappeared. 
 
 " How did you stand it ? " asked David, scratch- 
 ing out some high lights in his sketch with a pen- 
 knife. 
 
 " I am a wreck. Can't we do something soothing 
 to the nerves right away ? " 
 
 " Indeed we can. As soon as that old chap brings 
 back your medicine, I know the very thing to do.*' 
 
 The man returned presently with a small bottle 
 of colorless fluid, which he presented to her. She 
 shook hands with him and followed David to the 
 launch. 
 
 A fine warm sun was shining. He put cushions 
 on the seat beside the steering-wheel and arranged 
 others so that she could lean against the cabin. And 
 although it was not really cold, he spread a blanket 
 over her knees and tucked it in about her feet She 
 shrugged herself luxuriously into its folds. 
 
 " Now I feel comfortable," she said. " I am apt 
 to purr at any moment." 
 
 He started the engine and steered out into the 
 deeper water. 
 
 155
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Want to know where we are going ? " he asked. 
 
 " No. I don't want to have to think again to- 
 day." 
 
 " It would be a fine opportunity to run off with 
 you." 
 
 " I don't care," she said, lazily. " Do anything 
 you please with me." 
 
 They ran on down the stream, partly carried by 
 the current, past the docks and cranes of the ship- 
 yards, past the freight wharf where a river boat lay, 
 idly spurting steam, while an army of ants rolled 
 barrels and boxes up her gangplanks. She viewed 
 these things contentedly, as matters which ran on of 
 their own momentum, without her having to lift one 
 of the hands which lay warm under the cover. 
 
 "Are you going to cross the ocean with me?" 
 
 " Sailing under sealed orders now," he replied. 
 " However," he added, " you may rest assured that 
 if we cross the ocean I shall go with you." 
 
 " That was all I wanted to know, of course," she 
 observed, sighing contentedly. 
 
 They passed into the broad water, beyond the 
 cape which shielded the South River. The current 
 of the latter brought waves, and the launch began 
 
 to rise and fall gently as she cut through them. 
 
 156
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 The spray that broke now and then over the bows 
 carried back the smell of deep waters to them. She 
 closed her eyes. 
 
 " I have not the slightest intention of ever leaving 
 this boat," she asserted. 
 
 When they got well out into the larger river, he 
 turned down-stream. 
 
 " The shore behind us has changed," she informed 
 him, opening her eyes. " That clump of trees that 
 was over there is now over here." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I exercise complete control over them," 
 he replied, seriously. "I move them by merely 
 turning this wheel." 
 
 She closed her eyes again. 
 
 " I am glad to be in such good hands," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 They ran along in easy comfort for a while. Pres- 
 ently he went below and shut off the engine. The 
 launch slid along of its own momentum. Margaret 
 glanced over the side ; and there appeared suddenly 
 a strip of land which moved by them, growing wider 
 and wider. It was covered with undergrowth, and 
 a clump of large trees grew in the middle of it. As 
 their speed diminished, David ran forward and 
 caught a stout stake that stuck up out of the water. 
 
 157
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 To this he made the launch fast with a line. It 
 swung around until the stern pointed down-stream. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, "this is your island, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes. Would you like to go ashore ?" 
 
 " I am at your disposal, sir," she replied. 
 
 She gazed at the ten or fifteen feet of water that 
 lay between the boat and shore. 
 
 " What do we do about that?" she asked, with a 
 pleasant show of interest. "Wait until it evapo- 
 rates ? " 
 
 " You either wade ashore," he said, " or you have 
 some one carry you." 
 
 " I wouldn't step into that cold water," she ob- 
 served, glancing again at the river, " for a month's 
 pay." 
 
 He was already taking off his shoes. In a mo- 
 ment he stepped overside. 
 
 " Come on," he directed. 
 
 " I don't want to move." 
 
 " You needn't." 
 
 He came aboard and lifted her, blanket and all, 
 to the edge of the deck. Then, stepping into the 
 water once more, he swung her off with a good 
 
 strong heave, carried her not only to the shore, but 
 
 158
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 from there on up the path toward the clump of 
 trees. 
 
 " I'm having a larger journey than I was prom- 
 ised, aren't I ? " 
 
 " I can't put you down now until I find a place 
 for you." 
 
 In a moment she found herself sitting in the sun- 
 shine with her back against a tree, the blanket still 
 around her. 
 
 "It's convenient to know you so well, David," 
 she observed, smoothing the woolen folds over her 
 knees. " Otherwise I should have had to walk." 
 
 " And yet when you think of it," he replied, " you 
 have seen so little of me of late years that you hardly 
 do know me." 
 
 " Yes. I find myself getting acquainted with you 
 day by day. But what I meant, of course, is, it has 
 been so long since I first clapped eyes on you that I 
 can safely consider you " she smiled " in the harm- 
 less brotherly class." 
 
 "Yes," he said, looking at her with a queer ex- 
 pression. 
 
 " Mercy, boy ! " she exclaimed, presently, " put 
 on your shoes and stockings. It makes me cold to 
 look at you." 
 
 159
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 He did as directed. She glanced about her. 
 
 " Do you see my house ? " he asked. " It's a 
 portable affair meant originally for a garage, I 
 think. I had it put here after the water went down 
 a week ago." 
 
 The tiny house sat amidst the clump of trees. It 
 was an ungainly sort of thing of the same general 
 style of architecture as the house on a Noah's ark. 
 
 " It isn't beautiful," she observed. 
 
 te No, but it's faithful. It does what is required 
 of it." 
 
 He started off toward the house and then came 
 back to impart a bit of moralizing that occurred to 
 him. 
 
 " That's the way with us human beings," he said. 
 " In all our possessions we prefer beauty to service- 
 ableness even in our wives." 
 
 " You have wives ? " she interrupted. 
 
 " Only in the far future," he explained. " But I 
 know that in picking out a wife I should doubtless 
 pick out a beautiful one like you," he added, after 
 some thought. 
 
 She thanked him profusely. 
 
 He completed his interrupted journey to the house 
 
 and returned with an axe with which he chopped 
 
 1 60
 
 HAVE YOU COME TO LIFE '.
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 driftwood from a pile that lay close by the house, 
 and bringing an armful, started a fire between two 
 big stones close beside her. 
 
 " I think this promises to be gorgeous," she ex- 
 claimed. "And are we to have food? Somehow I 
 am hungry." 
 
 " Do you know why ? " he said. " It is nearly 
 five o'clock and you haven't eaten since eight this 
 morning." 
 
 She raised her eyebrows. " It isn't really so late ? " 
 
 He assured her that it was. 
 
 " If I hadn't agreed," she said, " to turn all the 
 responsibility of this expedition over to you, I should 
 be worrying about what your sister will think if we 
 aren't home in time for dinner. She expects us, 
 doesn't she ? " 
 
 " She will know that business or something has 
 detained you. And they never expect me until I 
 appear." 
 
 " At any rate," she asserted, " I should starve be- 
 fore I got there if we left now." 
 
 He started again toward the house. 
 
 " Let me go too," she exclaimed. 
 
 "What! Have you come to life?" he asked, 
 laughing. 
 
 161
 
 "The prospect of food accomplishes wonders," 
 she explained. 
 
 They found in the house a store of canned things 
 and some potatoes, sugar, olives, coffee, jam and 
 various and sundry non-perishable foods. 
 
 " I, am going to live here, beginning next week," 
 he said. " I have just begun to stock up." 
 
 She looked intently over the collection, peering 
 curiously into everything, unwrapping the corners of 
 things that were in paper and generally being as in- 
 quisitive as a mouse. She came away bearing a 
 package of cheese. 
 
 " Am I going to be allowed to make something 
 out of this ? " she inquired. 
 
 " If you are sure you can make a rabbit over a 
 wood-fire." 
 
 The fire had burned up satisfactorily and they had 
 a fine bed of glowing coals under the blazing wood. 
 They poked the potatoes into the midst of these. 
 The coffee-pot was precariously adjusted in a sort of 
 canyon between two stones, where the flames leaped 
 up and beat upon its tin sides. The rabbit pro- 
 gressed nicely and was given a place of honor in an 
 aluminum frying-pan which spanned the space be- 
 tween the ledge on the stone and an iron bar run- 
 
 162
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 ning across the fire, making the chance almost even 
 as to whether the fire or they were to have the first 
 opportunity of consuming its contents. 
 
 Dusk fell before these culinary operations were 
 complete. The firelight fell red upon her as she 
 bent over her golden food. Darkness came closer 
 and made a house about them as big in diameter as 
 the glow of the fire. Had they had time to look 
 above them they could have seen the even sky dot 
 slowly with faint stars, and the fat white crescent of 
 the moon become a shining thing instead of a pale 
 mark in the sky. 
 
 The steaming coffee-pot blew its aroma into the 
 air, sputtering and bubbling with its own importance. 
 The rabbit neared a state of completion, and was 
 cleverly withdrawn from its dangerous position with- 
 out catastrophe. Potatoes, blacker than coal as to 
 outside but within white as the driven snow, were 
 dug out of the depths of the fire. David added to 
 the delicacy and daintiness of the meal by toasting 
 frankfurter sausages upon the end of a sharpened 
 stick. 
 
 They sat with their backs to the tree and the 
 pleasant blaze in their faces and drank coffee from 
 tin cups, while they balanced on their laps each a 
 
 163
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 wooden plate, where rested a crisply blackened 
 sausage, a snow white potato, seasoned with a sense 
 of out-of-doors, which is the life of a potato in- 
 cinerated thus, and a cracker supporting a little 
 mound of gold. 
 
 And after they had fallen upon this repast with 
 the ardor of early American Indians, there remained 
 presently the plates and the tin cups. They leaned 
 back against the trees and, sitting thus comfort- 
 able and warm, they surveyed the moon and the 
 stars and the streak of milky way. In the dis- 
 tance shone the lights of the city, which threw their 
 glow upon the sky. The river steamer approaching 
 let forth three long coughs of warning from her siren 
 whistle, and swung around in the channel, her 
 lighted decks reflected in the water, and the eye of 
 her search-light seeking out the wharf where she was 
 to dock. Now and then a belated sailboat loafed 
 homeward before the leisurely breeze, her gray sails 
 indistinct against the night and her skipper, with the 
 light from the binnacle on his face, sitting with an 
 inanimate immovability at the wheel. 
 
 " This is the world I like," he said. 
 
 " It almost frightens you, doesn't it," she ex- 
 claimed, " with its immensity. I have never been out 
 
 164
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 like this before at night. I have always been 
 chaperoned by electric lights." 
 
 He crossed his legs comfortably and put his hands 
 behind his head. 
 
 " We must come again that is, if I can ever get 
 you in this relaxing mood. You seem to be keyed 
 up to something, usually." 
 
 " After they work me for seven hours, I am al- 
 ways in a relaxing mood. I shall be as clay in your 
 hands." 
 
 " I take that as a promise," he replied. 
 
 " Oh, I am always willing to let some one else lay 
 out my pleasures for me. And I like your methods," 
 she added, without looking at him, " even if you are 
 a friend of my childhood." 
 
 " I realize, of course, that I am as a prophet in his 
 own country," he said. 
 
 He rose, and put some fresh sticks on the fire. 
 
 " Oh," he said suddenly, " shall you take the train 
 home to-night ? n 
 
 " No. I am going to stay down to a meeting of 
 the creditors to-morrow. But I must send some 
 mail on the train." 
 
 "We'll get back in time for that. We'll just 
 watch these logs burn out. You haven't told me," 
 
 165
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 he said, " what you thought of the wood preserva- 
 tive." 
 
 " I didn't suppose you were interested," she re- 
 plied, looking at him in surprise. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I thought you hated everything connected with 
 business." 
 
 " No, I don't know that I do," he said, slowly. 
 
 "Then I will tell you," she began. "This pre- 
 servative costs too much to manufacture." 
 
 "Then you are not in favor of purchasing the 
 factory." 
 
 " I will not recommend it," she said, smiling. 
 
 "That was a queer character," he observed, pres- 
 ently, " who did the honors for you at the factory. 
 He had a nose like an eagle." 
 
 " I didn't notice his nose." 
 
 He pulled out a letter from his pocket and finding 
 a blank space upon it, made a little caricature of the 
 white-bearded man at the factory. It was a likeness, 
 and it caught the man's peculiarities. She laughed, 
 and kept it in her hand looking at it. 
 
 " David," she exclaimed, " you mustn't give up 
 this sort of thing. I think you have the spark in 
 
 you." 
 
 1 66
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 " I haven't given it up. I may take to it again 
 yet." 
 
 " You must let me have this," she said. 
 
 He assented, and she put the sketch in the belt of 
 her skirt. 
 
 " And now," he asserted, " the logs appear to have 
 burned out." 
 
 They carried their dishes to the water's edge, and 
 hastily washed them. After this they straightened 
 the things in the little house, locked the door and 
 were ready to depart. 
 
 " How is it the island dried off so quickly," she 
 asked, " after having been submerged for a week? " 
 
 " On account of the sandy soil, I suppose. It's a 
 great convenience, isn't it ? " 
 
 They went down to the water's edge, and there, 
 either because she felt more energetic or because she 
 had developed a shyness of him, she refused to be 
 carried, and, slipping off her shoes and stockings, 
 waded into the water, crying out and laughing at 
 the coldness of it as she went deeper in, but keeping 
 on until she reached the launch and clambered up 
 the little ladder to the deck. 
 
 " You oughtn't to have done that," he told her. 
 
 " You may catch cold. I could have carried you." 
 
 167
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I didn't want you to carry me." 
 
 He started the engine. 
 
 " Go into the cabin," he directed, brusquely, " and 
 get warm by the machine, and be sure not to come 
 out again until you are warm." 
 
 " Yes, sir," she replied, and disappeared meekly 
 within. 
 
 He ran straight for the city. She came out pres- 
 ently. 
 
 " Now I'm warm. Feel my hand. That's the way 
 they tell whether children are warm." 
 
 " It feels warm, certainly." 
 
 " Then I suppose you will allow me to stay on 
 deck." 
 
 She leaned on the cabin and gazed ahead of her 
 at the city. 
 
 " I suppose it helps you to steer to have me right 
 in your way." 
 
 " I can see well enough. I like to look at you, 
 anyway." 
 
 " I'll come closer then." 
 
 She sat down beside the wheel and watched him 
 in silence as he made the landing. A man came 
 out and made the launch fast. David arose and 
 
 helped her ashore. 
 
 1 68
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 " Now it's all over," she said. 
 
 " All over." 
 
 They were walking down the wharf. 
 
 " Oh, my bottle," she cried, and went back to 
 rescue her sample of imitation turpentine. 
 
 " I want to go to the post-office and write letters," 
 she said. 
 
 She stopped at a little stationery store and bought 
 a round box to fit her bottle. At the post-office she 
 put the bottle in the box and addressed it to Evans, 
 in the hope that he would get it at his home before 
 he left for the office. Then she wrote him a letter 
 and asked him to stay away from his office if neces- 
 sary and find out how near the sample came to 
 having all the properties of turpentine, and to let 
 her know by telegraph at Mr. Sawyer's office what 
 his conclusions were. She explained where she 
 had found it and what it had been made from. 
 Finally she wrote a note to Mr. Bundy saying she 
 would be a day late in returning. She put special 
 delivery stamps on the parcel and the letters and 
 made sure that they would go off on the night 
 train. 
 
 " Now we must hurry home and make our peace 
 
 with the Sawyers," she said. 
 
 169
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 They boarded a street-car and made haste for the 
 first time since two o'clock in the afternoon. They 
 found both the Sawyers in the living-room of the 
 house. 
 
 " Here they are," exclaimed Elsie. " I said that 
 since you were with David, we might expect you 
 when we saw you. John was for ordering out the 
 fire department." 
 
 "We spent a long day across the river," David 
 explained. 
 
 " But Venn said you left there before three 
 o'clock," Mr. Sawyer asserted. 
 
 " Well, Margaret had to recuperate, and there 
 were letters to be written." 
 
 Mr. Sawyer looked at her with interest. 
 
 " I hope they were letters urging Bundy and Son 
 to buy the factory." 
 
 " I am afraid not." 
 
 " Oh, well," he asserted, confidently, " we'll con- 
 vince you to-morrow." 
 
 It was past eleven when they showed Margaret to 
 her room. David, who observed no regular bed 
 hour, stayed down-stairs to read. He looked up 
 from his book presently and was surprised to find 
 
 her standing before him. 
 
 170
 
 DUSK AND STARLIGHT 
 
 " You have my pocketbook in your pocket, which 
 has the key to my bag in it," she said. 
 
 He gave it to her. She held out her hand. 
 
 " Good-night," she said, in a low tone. 
 
 He took not the one hand but both, in both of 
 his. 
 
 " Good-night," he said, his eyes upon hers. 
 
 She met his glance smiling. Then she gently 
 withdrew her hands. A great warm tide surged up 
 in her heart, and the blood ran fast in her veins. 
 She dropped her eyes in confusion and stood for a 
 moment wondering that the calm lady of Severn 
 Street should be so stirred at the touch of a man's 
 hands. 
 
 171
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 DAVID AND No GOLIATH 
 
 AS Margaret lay still in her room looking at the 
 moonlight coming in through the windows, it 
 occurred to her that this had been an unusual day 
 a day in which she had given up at least in part 
 to play instead of work. She had seldom given 
 herself up so wholly to relaxation. As a child she 
 had not understood the meaning of real play. Her 
 recreation had been in grown-up occupations. 
 Shelling peas for her had been a diversion, and the 
 privilege of setting the table a great excitement. 
 Her childhood had been one of responsibility, which 
 is to say that she had never had a childhood. The 
 care-free days had not existed for her. 
 
 It came almost as a revelation to her that there 
 was another side of her nature. She had grown to 
 look on herself as a person whose work was to sit 
 at a desk and take responsibility, and whose recrea- 
 tion was in seeing the fruits of her work. Her 
 
 vocation was all-sufficient for her. It infused in her 
 
 172
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 the same enthusiasm that a painter or a sculptor 
 would have had in his work. And she was an 
 artist, in that she strove toward an ideal. The re- 
 sults of her work were the things of her heart and 
 hand ; and she was willing and eager to believe 
 that this was her life. 
 
 She was beginning to realize vaguely that there 
 was embedded somewhere deeper in her another 
 force a force that could induce in her an entirely 
 new interest which had nothing at all to do with 
 work and ambition. She could not have explained 
 what the force was nor what it meant, but it seemed 
 to her like a high explosive, lying quiet beneath the 
 surface and awaiting only an unknown contact to 
 make it an active, an irresistible power. 
 
 She expressed something of this to Elsie Sawyer 
 in the morning as she sat in the nursery and watched 
 the latter dressing her youngest child. The older 
 child, a bright cheeked boy with flaxen hair, came 
 into the room, and his mother put him into the crib 
 and covered him completely with the covers. As 
 soon as he poked his head, turtle-wise, out of the 
 enveloping mass of blankets, she covered him up 
 again. This simple game was received with shrieks 
 of approval. 
 
 173
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Now no one ever did that to me when I was a 
 child," Margaret said, when the boy had been sent 
 down to his breakfast. 
 
 " Children miss a great deal," the other replied, 
 "by not having some one to understand them. 
 There is nothing more pathetic, really, than a child. 
 It has ambitions just as grown-ups have ; and has a 
 reason for everything it wants to do. But they are 
 held down by rigid rule. Some one else says what 
 they shall and shall not do. And the spirit of the 
 child is spoiled just as the person who dictates that 
 rule tempers it or does not temper it with affection. 
 Affection and companionship are what they need." 
 
 " That is what I should have had," said Margaret. 
 " If it is ever my portion to have children," she went 
 on, " I trust that Providence will never let me forget 
 to give them all that I did not have." 
 
 Elsie industriously brushed the infant's hair. 
 
 " If you hold to those sentiments," she said, at 
 length, " it means that when you marry you will 
 have to give up your business, doesn't it?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 " Wouldn't that be a great sacrifice ? lohn made 
 inquiries about you yesterday, and found out if it 
 hadn't been for you Bundy and Son would have 
 
 174
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 come very near to going to pieces. In fact, he said, 
 ' she is Bundy and Son.' " 
 
 Margaret flushed with pleasure. 
 
 " Wouldn't it be a great sacrifice ? " persisted the 
 other. 
 
 " Why, no. That is, I can't conceive myself giv- 
 ing up my work unless something else had got 
 under my skin and made me want to do that more." 
 
 The child, its hair finally arranged to the satis- 
 faction of the mother, came shyly over to Margaret 
 and slipped a tiny smooth hand into hers as it lay 
 in her lap. The baby hand, half as large as it 
 would be one day, but perfectly formed as if it might 
 have been a small-scale model for the real full-grown 
 thing, was warm and soft soft with a certain living 
 gentleness. The spirit and soul of the baby seemed 
 to be in the touch of her fingers. A thrill of pleas- 
 ure ran through Margaret. She bent over and held 
 her lips to the tiny square inch of palm in the tiny 
 hand. The physical touch of it was like wine to her 
 soul. She drew the child to her, and looked up at 
 Elsie flushed and embarrassed by an unexpected 
 shyness. 
 
 " Treasures in Heaven," she said. " And I have 
 been laying them up on earth." 
 
 175
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 She rose and went down-stairs with the child, 
 pausing to let both tiny feet rest on each step. 
 Some one was playing the piano. 
 
 " Hark 1 Uncle David make moosic." 
 
 Margaret looked through the banisters into the 
 library beyond. David was sitting before the piano, 
 oblivious to everything about him. She stopped to 
 listen. She knew that he played by ear alone, and 
 that his power to conjure melody out of the keys 
 was due to a mere surprising proficiency with his 
 fingers, and a mere natural musical voice within 
 him. It was not the melody, however, that caused 
 her to stop, nor any power of hers to know and to 
 appraise the music that floated out to her. It was 
 the feeling that there was a current carrying through 
 it down to David himself. It was his own voice and 
 in it she saw the warmth and color of his own spirit. 
 
 As, led by the halting steps beside her, she slowly 
 descended the stair, she was thinking that David 
 must always be expressing that spirit no matter 
 what the medium. In fact, he was always ready to 
 take up any new means of expression, smothering 
 progress by reason of his very proficiency in obtain- 
 ing a quick working knowledge of each new trick 
 
 and craft. As a boy he had always been under the 
 
 176
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 spell of some transient enthusiasm ; sometimes for 
 carving grotesque manikins out of sticks of chalk ; 
 sometimes for writing verse, preferably triolets and 
 rondeaus, whose form was pleasantly intricate ; 
 sometimes for making models of houses out of card- 
 board she remembered still the gardens around 
 them with paths made of strips of sandpaper and 
 trees made of sponges dipped in green water-color, 
 and set upon wooden sticks for trunks ; sometimes 
 for drawing likenesses of people, in the throes of 
 which obsession he would return home from school 
 in the afternoon and draw pictures of the new faces 
 he had seen during the day. 
 
 But although few of these enthusiasms lasted 
 long, yet she had come to see that there was less 
 fickleness in David Bruce than he was charged with. 
 He had the unaccredited constancy of a butterfly flit- 
 ting from flower to flower apparently aimless, but 
 gathering constantly. Some men who knew him 
 the square-jawed and hard-eyed men who hunted the 
 dollar to its last hiding place, viewed him with a 
 smiling and half-contemptuous tolerance, because he 
 did not follow, nose down, the trail of the hundred 
 pennies. They felt that they were broad-minded, 
 
 and felt so, strangely enough, because they had 
 
 177
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 narrowed their vision down to one thing. Blazoned 
 on their 'scutcheon was the word " Accumulation," 
 and that was their standard of success. But to 
 David the piling up of money fulfilled no ambition. 
 He had seen his square-jawed friends warping the 
 once straight timbers of their souls sometimes ever 
 so slightly, sometimes across great spaces to meet 
 the irregular requirements of their business. But 
 he had the idea that he was put in the world to 
 accomplish some particular thing something he 
 would be paid for, as a matter of course, to provide 
 for his sustenance but it was the accomplishment, 
 and not the pay, that was the paramount thing. 
 And he was hunting for the thing he was to accom- 
 plish the right thing. The fickle part about him 
 was that it took him a long while to find it. The 
 steadfast part was that he persisted in hunting. 
 
 The youthful feet of the child piloted Margaret 
 into the dining-room. John Sawyer greeted her. 
 
 " I want you to promise not to leave the house 
 with this irresponsible David," he said. " You must 
 be at the meeting at one o'clock." 
 
 " No danger," said Elsie, by way of reassuring 
 her husband. " David has condescended to make 
 
 an appointment with Mrs. Harris at ten o'clock." 
 
 178
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 "She ambushed me on the street," David said, 
 strolling into the room, "and I told her that ten 
 o'clock to-day would suit me as well as any time 
 and I suppose that's true," he added. 
 
 " I hope you intend to keep the appointment," 
 his sister observed, seriously. 
 
 " Now that she has succeeded in getting the child- 
 labor bill through the legislature," he returned, 
 "she wants her portrait painted with a copy of the 
 act in her hand and the State Capitol in the back- 
 ground." 
 
 " I don't see why you are so superior about it," 
 Sawyer exclaimed. " You are being paid for it. I 
 would paint her with one foot on the moon and the 
 other on the aurora borealis if she wanted it. I can't 
 understand your point of view." 
 
 "We all realize that, John," observed David, 
 whacking his egg. 
 
 After breakfast Margaret announced that she was 
 going to the post-office. She had asked Mr. Bundy 
 to write to her if necessary, in care of general de- 
 livery. 
 
 " I will go with you," said David, " if I may." 
 
 "You must not forget your appointment with 
 
 Mrs. Harris," observed his sister. 
 
 179
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I shall certainly bear it in mind. Such impend- 
 ing calamities are not easily forgotten." 
 
 They descended the steps to the street. David 
 glanced about him. 
 
 " Can you run ? " he demanded, suddenly. 
 
 She turned to him in surprise. 
 
 " Why ? " she was about to ask. But the street 
 was deserted except for a closed automobile in 
 the distance. She laughed and said instead 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Come on, then." 
 
 They dashed down the sidewalk. He turned sud- 
 denly at the first intersecting street. 
 
 " Let's hide here," he said. 
 
 " David, are you insane ? " 
 
 He did not reply, but peered cautiously around 
 the corner. 
 
 " Now you look," he suggested, at length, relin- 
 quishing his place of vantage. 
 
 She did not understand, but she looked. The 
 street was still empty except for the automobile she 
 had seen in the distance. It had stopped before the 
 Sawyer house, and a large round lady had alighted 
 and was ascending the front steps. 
 
 " It's Mrs. Harris," he explained, gleefully. " The 
 
 1 80
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 mountain if it isn't disrespectful to refer to her as 
 that has come to Mohammed." 
 
 " David, you ought to be ashamed of yourself," 
 she said, severely. Nevertheless, she laughed. 
 
 "Aren't you going back?" she asked. 
 
 " No." 
 
 She looked at him for a moment. Then she 
 shrugged her shoulders, and they walked on. 
 
 It was a dull morning. There was the chill of rain 
 in the air, and the sky hung low and leaden. The 
 cool wind, fresh with its breath of ozone, wore about 
 the street corners with a moan as of ocean waves. 
 
 " This is a beautiful day," he asserted. 
 
 "Serious?" 
 
 " Quite serious." 
 
 " I thought it was just a trifle damp and dismal," 
 she confessed. 
 
 "When you have finished general-delivering, 
 come down to the water-front and I will show you 
 what I mean." 
 
 There was no mail for her. 
 
 " I am ready to be shown," she said. 
 
 They walked to the river-front. By the steam- 
 boat wharf lay the trim bay steamer, her black- 
 banded yellow stack showing from afar off. Deck 
 
 181
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 hands were washing her down with a hose. This 
 was the boat that ran to Baltimore and was the 
 pride of Bay City, as it was a concrete testimonial 
 to the rise in importance of the little metropolis. 
 
 From the end of the next pier they could see 
 across the broad waters of the two rivers a gray 
 expanse of tossing waves breaking into whitecaps 
 here and there as far as they could see. Through 
 the gathering mist they could just distinguish the 
 dark line of the far shore. Indistinctly, as upon a 
 partly developed photograph plate, stood the distant 
 trees of David's island, seeming to grow out of the 
 water itself. Far out, moving steadily along, a tug, 
 all gray through the mist, stirred up at her forefoot 
 a scud of foam and from her funnels smutted the sky 
 with a line of black smoke. 
 
 A fine rain began to fall. It felt pleasant upon 
 their faces. She knew that it was not beneficial for 
 a certain color in her hat, but she did not suggest 
 leaving. Immediately opposite them two men were 
 pulling on the halyards of the mainsail of a dingy 
 sloop. The ungainly canvas rose slowly to the 
 shrill accompaniment of the pulley aloft until it was 
 taut at the mast side and the gaff hung down like a 
 
 bird's broken wing, but a few heaves at the peak of 
 
 182
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 it brought the sail up smooth and tight, a puff of 
 wind caught it and bellied it out, the anchor came 
 up to the creaking of the windlass and the boat be- 
 gan to move smoothly through the water. 
 
 " I should like to be aboard it," she said. 
 
 " So should I although she is probably fragrant of 
 fish. But our own launch is good enough, isn't it ? " 
 
 She looked at him with interest. 
 
 " I'm willing," she said, at length. 
 
 They turned back and walked shoreward in the 
 increasing rain. Their launch rocked at its mooring 
 by the slip. 
 
 They put on oilskins that were in the lockers in the 
 cabin. She looked like an emblem of the sea in the 
 yellow slicker that enveloped her down to her feet, 
 and the yellow sou'wester tied under her chin. He 
 showed her how to start the engine. Following his 
 directions she grasped the wheel and brought it up 
 as hard as she could against the pressure. It turned 
 all the way over, the staccato explosions of the en- 
 gine echoed against the wharves, and the launch 
 went put-put-put-put out into the rain. 
 
 All around now was a wall of gentle, drizzling 
 rain. The wharves and the boats moored beside 
 
 183
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 them were dim and indistinct. The water was 
 stippled with rain. The further shore was lost be- 
 hind the mist. 
 
 They were cold with the water that drove into 
 their faces as they plunged ahead. Water ran off 
 the little rubber epaulettes on their shoulders. 
 Everything they touched was comfortably damp. 
 Water dripped from the roof of the cabin and 
 splashed into the river. She looked up at him, her 
 eyes bright with excitement. 
 
 "I have been watching you steer so long," she 
 said, " I think I should like to try it myself." 
 
 He relinquished the wheel to her. It gave her a 
 fine sense of power to turn the spokes and make the 
 bow swing round as she wished. She steered 
 out into the open and left the wharves but a mere 
 shadow astern. They ran on through the rain. 
 What there was of sky or heavens appeared to be 
 but a few feet above their heads. The water was 
 visible for a hundred yards or more and then 
 merged into the rain. They were running ahead 
 carrying their sky and horizon with them. 
 
 Suddenly a shadow dead ahead came into focus, 
 and a tugboat, looking impossibly large and hur- 
 rying through the water so that she seemed to be 
 
 184
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 pushing a great wave before her, bore down upon 
 them. Her whistle blew twice. 
 
 " Pass her on this side," said David. 
 
 He did not reach a hand out to touch the wheel. 
 She threw the spokes over. They passed the tug 
 close by so close that they could read the name on 
 the pilot house and hear the roar of her engines. 
 Then the huge wake caught them and the little launch 
 pranced on the rollers like a mettlesome horse. 
 
 " Aren't you proud of me ? " she asked, smiling. 
 
 " Immeasurably," he replied, seriously. 
 
 She shot a glance at him and laughed. 
 
 "Shall we turn about now ? " she asked. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Haven't you an appointment ? " 
 
 " I believe I will not keep it." 
 
 She gazed into the binnacle, where she was try- 
 ing to keep the compass needle due west not an 
 easy task if one is not accustomed to it. 
 
 " David," she observed, " what you need is a 
 Goliath something big to aim at. I wish you 
 would hurry and get it." 
 
 " I can't paint her," he said, " so what is the use 
 of seeing her ? Besides, I can see her any time at 
 all, if I want to, but you I can see only now." 
 
 185
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "You can see me at any time," she told him. 
 
 " But you will be a long way off,," 
 
 " You seem to have managed to live for several 
 years a long way off from me without inconve- 
 nience," she said. 
 
 They passed close by the lighthouse, rising out 
 of the water on its iron stilts. 
 
 " If we kept right on our course," he said, looking 
 at the compass, " we should bump into the island. 
 It is almost due east of the lighthouse." 
 
 " I wonder if I could hit it," she asked, " steering 
 by compass ? " 
 
 " Go ahead," he said. " Keep a little to the south, 
 on account of the current" 
 
 The lighthouse faded into the rain behind them. 
 It was as if some one had placed an opaque globe 
 over them which moved along as they moved. They 
 were playing a miniature game of sailing from one 
 continent to another with a miniature horizon strung 
 close around them, with land close by, but not within 
 sight as far as the eye could see. 
 
 She leaned forward and wiped the rain off the 
 glass of the binnacle. 
 
 " David," she observed, presently, " what you 
 
 need in your life is a device like this to show you 
 
 1 86
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 which way you are headed. You sail around with 
 all the energy in the world, but you don't know 
 where you are going." 
 
 He gazed thoughtfully ahead of him. 
 
 " I believe," he said, " I know where such a means 
 of enlightenment is procurable." 
 
 " Get it quickly," she advised him. 
 
 " I shall endeavor to." 
 
 He looked at her for a moment with an unex- 
 plained smile on his lips. She met his eyes. 
 
 " I don't see what you are laughing at," she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Nevertheless she continued to look at him. Then 
 the corners of her mouth began to lift a little. 
 
 " David," she observed, " you're the silliest per- 
 son." 
 
 The boat ran on through the rain. The gray 
 wall of mist before them was still unbroken by any 
 sign of shore. 
 
 " Of course you couldn't blame me," he remarked 
 at length, apropos of nothing, " for taking your ad- 
 vice." 
 
 She laughed in spite of herself. 
 
 " I am sure I don't know what you are talking 
 about," she said. But a new and pleasant excite- 
 
 187
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 ment stirred in her. Was it the consciousness of 
 pursuit ? 
 
 And then faintly upon that gray wall came the 
 shadowy outline of something, and almost on the 
 instant they were running beside the island, with the 
 trees and the little house, showing vaguely through 
 the rain. She turned the bow of the boat away 
 from it. 
 
 " Good-bye, island," she said. " Some day, per- 
 haps, I shall stay longer." 
 
 The launch made a wide sweep and headed again 
 for the city. 
 
 " How shall you get to and from your island and 
 the shore ? " she asked, idly. 
 
 " I shall have a canoe. The launch is too luxuri- 
 ous for me." 
 
 " Perhaps you will take me across in a canoe some 
 day," she said lightly. " I should like that." 
 
 " I am only waiting for the chance." 
 
 But even then he was wondering whether he would 
 ever live on his island at all. 
 
 " Hold out your foot, please," he said, presently. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise and then held out 
 her foot. 
 
 " It's very wet," he asserted. " Sailors ought not 
 
 188
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 to wear low shoes. You had better go down by the 
 engine and dry off." 
 
 With a show of meekness quite unconvincing 
 she obeyed. He closed the hatch after her. The 
 rain had now simmered down to a mere fog-like 
 mist. A stiff breeze had sprung up from the south, 
 which presently blew a hole in the curtain of the sky 
 low at the horizon, and through the long narrow 
 rent peered the light of day. The mist lifted and 
 showed the city fresh and smiling like a child after a 
 storm of tears. When Margaret came out of the 
 cabin again, the sun had broken through and a seg- 
 ment of rainbow rested on the storm-cloud across the 
 water, the foot of it growing out of the ground near 
 the stone barn where they had been the day before 
 to see the wood preservative. 
 
 " See," he said, " an omen of good luck. There is 
 a pot of gold there." 
 
 It was past noon when they stepped out on the 
 slip from the launch. She drew on her gloves. 
 
 "Yesterday and this morning," she observed, 
 " you have shown me your life, so to speak. Now 
 I am going to show you mine." 
 
 He walked beside her wonderingly. They made 
 
 their way into the business district. She hesitated 
 
 189
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 for a moment at the corner of two bustling thorough- 
 fares. 
 
 " This way," she said, turning to her right. 
 
 They continued down the street for nearly a block. 
 
 " Ah," she observed, stopping suddenly, " here it 
 is. I thought it would be about in this location." 
 
 She pushed open the glass doors of the place. It 
 was a lunch room an energy distributer for the 
 business world around it. The floors were of white 
 ceramic tile. The walls were wainscoted with a sort 
 of clear white imitation marble with a surface like 
 glass. The table tops were of the same material. 
 The whiteness of it gave an air of spotlessness to 
 everything. 
 
 "If they make it look clean," she said to him, 
 glancing about among the crowd of people, " it 
 doesn't matter much what it really is." 
 
 They asserted squatter rights over a table by the 
 simple expedient of tilting chairs against it. From 
 a counter at the end of the room they chose by 
 guess what they wanted to eat and bore it back to 
 their lair. 
 
 " You have read in the Bible somewhere," she said, 
 laughing, "about the soldiers who passed by the 
 
 water's edge. Some lay down to drink and were 
 
 190
 
 DAVID AND NO GOLIATH 
 
 caught by the enemy and slain, but others simply 
 scooped up water in their hands as they walked by 
 and were saved. This is the place where you scoop 
 up food as you walk by, and are saved." 
 
 He nodded. " You use these places," he said, 
 presently, " because they are quick. I use them 
 frequently because they are cheap." 
 
 " It wasn't quite fair of me to make you come," 
 she replied. " But for the last twenty-four hours my 
 life has been so so well, happy that I needed 
 something rough like this to bring me to earth once 
 more." 
 
 They were soon out on the street again. 
 
 " I am sorry I have to let you go," he said, smiling. 
 
 " Sorry myself," she replied. 
 
 They entered the foyer of an office building and 
 stood before the elevator cage. He held out his 
 hand. 
 
 " My father once said that you were the Producer 
 and I the Waster," he told her. " I feel now as if 
 that were true." 
 
 " Don't think that way," she advised. 
 
 She touched his coat just over his heart. 
 
 " It all depends," she said, " on just what is in 
 there." 
 
 191
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 THE first thing she did upon entering Mr. Saw- 
 yer's office was to inquire if there were a letter 
 or a telegram for her. There was none. It was not 
 yet one o'clock, and Mr. Sawyer had not returned 
 from his luncheon. She was shown into his pri- 
 vate office, which looked out over the water. She 
 amused herself by picking out the places she had 
 visited in the launch. Sawyer himself came in very 
 soon. 
 
 " Miss Margaret," he exclaimed, as she turned to 
 greet him, " that's the place, over there." 
 
 He pointed to the gable of the stone barn across 
 the river. 
 
 " It's not for me,'" she replied. 
 
 "Please don't talk like that," he remonstrated. 
 " Now listen to me. Of all the firms who are caught 
 in this, Bundy and Son are the only purveyors of 
 paint. The rest of us all sell something else. We 
 
 could no more handle paint than Bundy and Son 
 
 192
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 could sell jewelry. Don't you see? You are our 
 only hope. 
 
 "And, of course," he went on, "anything that 
 helps toward an easy settlement of the trouble helps 
 you as well as the rest of us." 
 
 Margaret made some indeterminate reply. Saw- 
 yer did not press the point. 
 
 At the meeting there were six creditors besides 
 Margaret and Mr. Sawyer. She fixed their names 
 in her mind and endeavored to classify them. Three 
 were of the usual trade-seeking type she was accus- 
 tomed to, the type who made the selling of goods 
 a personal matter and accompanied their business 
 dealings with a warm hand-shake and a manner hail- 
 fellow-well-met. The others were of no stereotyped 
 class. One, a tall, spare man with a red beard, sat 
 near her and talked all the time without apparently 
 producing any ideas. Another, across the room, 
 balanced one of John Sawyer's mahogany chairs 
 deftly against the wall on its two rearmost legs, 
 poised as though ready for immediate action a 
 bald-headed little gentleman, encased in a white 
 vest whose sunny smile endeavored to cast an air 
 of sociability over the occasion without avail. For 
 beside him, stolidly erect, sat the remaining creditor, 
 
 193
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 a rotund, dignified gentleman, whose countenance, 
 solemn and sincerely writ with the consciousness of 
 his own wisdom, seemed to insist upon the serious- 
 ness of the business at hand. 
 
 After some preliminary discussion, John Sawyer 
 rose. 
 
 " I wish to say," he announced, " that I have seen 
 Groh and that he is willing to give up his interest 
 and claim in the factory for the sum of one thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " Suppose we don't give it to him," said the man 
 with the red beard, in a moment. 
 
 " He'd go into bankruptcy," Sawyer replied. 
 " Having all his debts canceled has no terrors for 
 him." 
 
 "We don't want him to do that," asserted the 
 man. 
 
 "Amen," remarked the bald-headed gentleman 
 from his point of vantage on the tilted chair. 
 
 "Then the question arises who will take over 
 the factory ? " 
 
 There was an expressive silence. 
 
 " No undignified rush, anyway," observed the red 
 
 beard. 
 
 194
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 The rotund solemn person rose and pulled down 
 his vest. He cleared his throat. There was a most 
 important air about him. 
 
 "It seems to me," he announced portentously, 
 " that we should first discover which of the creditors 
 here present is engaged in the paint business 
 and is therefore capable of handling this er 
 preservative." 
 
 He looked about him inquiringly as if to see 
 whether every one had absorbed this idea, and 
 slowly sat down again. Margaret said nothing. 
 
 " Well, who are the guilty ones ? '' demanded the 
 red-bearded person, who sold hardware himself. 
 
 " My ears are burning," said Margaret, quietly. 
 " I am in the paint business." 
 
 The bald-headed man lowered his chair down 
 upon its four legs. 
 
 " That settles it," he observed. " Let's adjourn." 
 
 " But," she said, " I would not recommend to 
 Bundy and Son that they assume the responsibility 
 of this factory. The wood preservative costs too 
 much to make." 
 
 "How do you know that?" demanded the fat 
 person, in his resonant voice. 
 
 She read them some figures. These were the 
 
 195
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 figures she had obtained the day before, which 
 showed that the cost of manufacturing the pre- 
 servative was nearly as much as the price for which 
 it could be sold. They viewed her with added re- 
 spect. 
 
 " No wonder Groh could not make money," said 
 the bald-headed man. 
 
 This development of the situation threw all their 
 calculations out of gear. Sawyer rose. 
 
 "Under the circumstances," he asserted, "it 
 would of course be unreasonable for us to expect 
 Bundy and Son to take over the factory. The 
 question then arises what shall we do ? " 
 
 A long wrangle followed. Many suggestions 
 were received and discarded, and the discussion ran 
 on with hopeless indefiniteness. The little clock 
 on the desk struck three, and there was not even 
 the first loose thread showing out of the tangle. 
 A stenographer came in and said something in a 
 low tone to Mr. Sawyer. 
 
 " Why, yes, she is here," he replied. " Bring it 
 in." 
 
 The girl left the room and returned presently 
 with a telegram and a little book, both of which 
 
 she handed to Margaret. 
 
 196
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 " Will you sign there, please ? " she requested, 
 " and there is thirty-seven cents due." 
 
 Margaret suppressed her excitement and signed. 
 She handed the book and the money to the girl. 
 All the discussion had stopped while this was going 
 on. Not wishing to open the telegram with all eyes 
 upon her, she let it lie in her lap. The talk, after a 
 moment's embarrassed hesitation, went on again. 
 She presently opened the envelope. The message 
 was from Evans and said : 
 
 " Get turpentine rights if possibly can. Is an ab- 
 solute substitute." 
 
 Her hands closed tightly on the sheet of yellow 
 paper, and a hot coal of excitement burned in her 
 breast. Her heart beat heavily within her, and 
 the odd thought came into her head that it was the 
 knocking of Opportunity. 
 
 She knew that Evans would not have urged 
 action if he had not been convinced. The fact 
 that he had used more than the regulation ten 
 words was even an indication of enthusiasm. She 
 scarcely heard the rumble of talk around her. Why 
 should she ? The question was settled now. 
 
 She had a thousand dollars in her own right. 
 
 It was in a government bond, and she knew that 
 
 197
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 John Sawyer would endorse her note for that 
 amount on the strength of it. She would pay a 
 thousand dollars for the factory and all that it 
 contained ; and she was certain that the stock on 
 hand of the wood preservative could be sold at 
 retail by Bundy and Son so that she could get al- 
 most all her thousand dollars back. Then she 
 would have the rights to the turpentine at no cost 
 at all. And to realize the value of those rights 
 she had but to think of the Waring Company, 
 which had once been on the verge of bankruptcy by 
 reason solely of the increasing price of turpentine. 
 
 She felt that there was not a man in the room 
 whose eye was not upon her. The galvanic current 
 set up by the telegram seemed to have gone all the 
 way round, 
 
 " I think," she said, " that it is within my power 
 to end this discussion." 
 
 There was an eloquent hush. 
 
 " I have just received unexpected news," she 
 began, " which will enable me to reconsider the 
 decision I made a while ago about the factory." 
 
 "Ah, ha," murmured the rotund gentleman, 
 which exclamation coming from his deep chest as- 
 sumed the proportions of a wise statement. 
 
 198
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 " I will be perfectly frank with you in stating that 
 it is not the wood preservative that tempts me," she 
 explained. " I want to know therefore whether this 
 thousand dollars purchases the rights to everything 
 they manufacture at the factory." 
 
 Astonishment was registered on every face. 
 
 " Why, that is the only thing they do manufacture," 
 asserted the red-bearded man. 
 
 A murmur of assent seconded this. 
 
 "They do manufacture a few incidental things," 
 corrected Sawyer, at length, wonderingly. " I will 
 call up Groh and ask him about it." 
 
 He seemed to be somewhat dazed by the new 
 turn of affairs. But he said nothing further. He 
 took the receiver off the hook. The little group 
 waited expectantly. There followed a one-sided talk. 
 
 " Groh says," announced Sawyer at length, hang- 
 ing up the receiver again, " that he is willing to turn 
 over the rights of everything that is manufactured 
 there to the person who pays him the thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 Margaret drew a long breath. 
 
 " Then you had better have him come right over 
 here," she replied. 
 
 Sawyer did this and summoned his attorney, who 
 199
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 understood the case. A contract was drawn, was 
 rewritten entirely before it satisfied every one, and 
 finally duly signed and witnessed. 
 
 " But," observed the rotund gentleman, in surprise, 
 after reading the contract, *' the party buying the 
 rights is not Bundy and Son at all." 
 
 " No," replied the party of the first part, " it's 
 Margaret York." 
 
 In front of the elevator upon a marble bench 
 reading a magazine sat David Bruce. He had been 
 waiting since half-past three and it was now half- 
 past four. But he decided that he could wait just 
 as long as the meeting up-stairs in his brother-in- 
 law's office could continue to meet. 
 
 At ten minutes of five an elevator descended. 
 The door slid back. A stream of people filed out 
 and next to the last person was Margaret herself. 
 She came over to him immediately, almost as if she 
 might have expected to see him there. Her eyes 
 were shining with excitement. 
 
 " Is it all over? " he demanded. 
 
 " David," she cried, " the rainbow was right. I 
 have something that is going to earn me thousands 
 
 and thousands of dollars." 
 
 200
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 He broke into a smile. 
 
 "Congratulations," he cried, and took her hand 
 in both of his. And then the smile disappeared. 
 " But I'm sorry," he said. 
 
 201
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE UNSENTIMENTAL MR. POTTER 
 
 THAT night she took the train home. At the 
 station, old Venn from the factory over the 
 river was waiting for her, much perturbed over 
 his change of employers. She told him that as 
 soon as she had had a talk with Mr. Bundy about 
 disposing of the wood preservative on hand, she 
 would discuss with Venn their plan of action ; but 
 she did not say what that was to be. He let fall 
 the information that one of the men from the War- 
 ing Company had looked over the plant that day. 
 Margaret smiled. Potter was evidently keeping his 
 eye on Felix Groh. 
 
 " Did he ask about your turpentine ? " she inquired, 
 curiously. 
 
 "Yes, but he didn't seem interested. Come to 
 think of it," he corrected, " he did ask what the 
 process was though he did it in an offhand way." 
 
 " Did you tell him ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 202
 
 UNSENTIMENTAL MR. POTTER 
 
 When she arrived at her office the following day, 
 she found a large amount of work piled up on her 
 desk. This kept her very busy, so that it was well 
 along in the afternoon before she had an opportunity 
 to discuss her trip with Mr. Bundy. She found that 
 he had become more and more dismal all the time 
 that she had been away and had come to the con- 
 clusion that he was quite certain to lose all his 
 seven hundred dollars. He was greatly relieved, 
 therefore, at the settlement of the affair, and seemed 
 to share the optimism of every one that the little 
 German would soon be on his feet again. 
 
 Margaret's own venture took his breath away, as 
 any move in a new direction always did. His mind 
 never quite keyed itself up to the point where he 
 understood how a person could enter upon a scheme 
 whose certainty was not guaranteed beforehand. 
 But at the same time he felt rather relieved that it 
 was not he himself who was involved in it. 
 
 He was tremendously interested, however, in as- 
 sisting her in disposing of the wood preservative. 
 He fell in with her scheme to have Bundy and Son 
 sell it for her. And so anxious was he that she 
 should not lose money on what he considered the 
 
 precarious undertaking she had embarked upon 
 
 203
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 that he insisted the firm should take no profit on the 
 sale. 
 
 When the little brass clock in the office pointed to 
 a quarter before five, she was quite thoroughly tired 
 and was glad the day was nearly over. The firing- 
 line was a stimulating place, but when the sun went 
 down on the day's work she was usually glad. She 
 had her hat on ready to go when she was called to 
 the telephone. Mr. Potter's voice answered her. 
 
 " I did not know whether I should find you back 
 or not," he said. 
 
 " How did you know I had gone ? " 
 
 "You will soon learn," he explained, "that you 
 captains of industry cannot move about unob- 
 served. 
 
 " Would it be convenient," he went on, " to have 
 a person like me call upon you to-night ? " 
 
 Her first impulse was to say that she was too 
 tired, but then it occurred to her that there were 
 several questions upon which she might want to ask 
 his advice. So she told him that it would be per- 
 fectly convenient. 
 
 When she entered the little house of Miss Garnet, 
 she found that lady already there. 
 
 " I missed you greatly," she cried. " It seems as 
 
 204
 
 UNSENTIMENTAL MR. POTTER 
 
 though you have been gone a month. We are go- 
 ing to have a regular old-fashioned comfortable 
 evening together." 
 
 " Mr. Potter is coming to share it with us," ob- 
 served Margaret, smiling. 
 
 Miss Garnet held up her hands. 
 
 " I withdraw," she announced. " Do you know," 
 she went on, " Willis Potter used to be almost a 
 beau of mine before you came along. Now he's so 
 crazy about you he can't see." 
 
 "Is that in keeping with Mr. Potter's character?" 
 Margaret queried. 
 
 " Well," replied the other, " when I met him down 
 town day before yesterday, he asked immediately 
 about you and when I told him you were away, 
 nothing would satisfy him but that he must be told 
 where you were, when you were coming back and 
 all about it. And when a busy man like him takes 
 that much interest and insists on coming to see you 
 the minute you come home, it looks suspicious." 
 
 " I will keep you informed of developments." 
 
 "You could go far," observed her companion, 
 " and fare worse. He makes about thirty thousand 
 a year. And a man who earns that is not to be 
 
 sneezed at." 
 
 205
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I have never sneezed at him," replied Margaret. 
 
 When Mr. Potter arrived, no amount of maneu- 
 vering and diplomacy could keep Miss Garnet in 
 the room. She eluded them presently and left them 
 alone together before the fire. In the abstract, this 
 was a most romantic way to leave them, and Mar- 
 garet might possibly have felt the force of the situ- 
 ation had she not been turning over in her mind the 
 advisability of discussing with him the possibilities 
 of her turpentine substitute. She felt that she would 
 sooner or later go to him for advice, for she had ab- 
 solute confidence in his ability to put his finger on 
 the essentials of any business problem. But never- 
 theless she had a feeling that there was plenty of 
 time. As to the romantic aspect of the scene, there 
 was nothing in his demeanor, apparently, to give 
 color to it. He gave the impression of being warm 
 and comfortable in the glow of the fire. 
 
 "Did you have a successful trip?" he asked 
 which was surely not a romantic question. 
 
 " Glorious." 
 
 He looked at her keenly. 
 
 " Now that you have had a taste of business," he 
 asked, " how do you like it ? " 
 
 " I'm full of enthusiasm every minute for it." 
 206
 
 UNSENTIMENTAL MR. POTTER 
 
 " There is a great fascination about it," he as- 
 serted, seriously. "It is a big game that you have 
 to keep on playing all the time. It wraps itself 
 around your life. You can't stop playing for one 
 minute, lest in that minute you lose ground and the 
 rest of them come down on you like a pack of 
 wolves." 
 
 " I haven't come across anything as desperate as 
 that yet." 
 
 " You will as you push up toward the top. And 
 you will go to the top. You have the punch 
 which is a humble way of saying you are thinking 
 just a little bit better and a little bit truer than the 
 next man. Are you going through to the end ? " he 
 asked, abruptly. " Or is there a shelter by the way- 
 side?" 
 
 " A shelter by the wayside ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you will marry in the midst of things," 
 he explained, "and leave the procession." 
 
 " I have no such idea at present," she said. 
 
 " I am relieved to hear it." 
 
 " You wish me to be a spinster all my life ? " she 
 asked, smiling. 
 
 " No," he replied. " No. I believe that would be 
 
 an error. But I also think it would be a great pity 
 
 207
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 to marry if you married a person who would inter- 
 rupt your career." 
 
 " I think so too," she observed. 
 
 That was all they said on that subject. In think- 
 ing over the situation later, she remembered that 
 there had been no word more romantic nor senti- 
 mental than that. And yet when he rose to go he 
 took both her hands. It was a strong, firm clasp 
 the clasp of a strong, big man. Even surprising as 
 it was, it seemed in keeping with the capability of 
 him that he had let nothing show until it was the 
 exact time to tell about it. 
 
 " Miss Margaret," he said, looking at her so 
 firmly that her own glance dropped before him, " I 
 am not a man of polished words and beautiful sen- 
 tences. When I have anything to say I say it in 
 the first words that come to my tongue. I spoke to 
 you this evening about the possibility of your mar- 
 rying. And I spoke of that with a purpose." 
 
 He paused. She made an effort to withdraw her 
 hands, but he held them, with the same firm and 
 continued clasp she could not help thinking in 
 which she had seen him grip the hand of an im- 
 portant business associate. So she let her hands 
 
 rest there. 
 
 208
 
 UNSENTIMENTAL MR. POTTER 
 
 " I have seen no woman," he went on, " who has 
 impressed me as being so mentally acute, so intelli- 
 gent, so quick of decision and so so beautiful as 
 yourself and I have seen thousands of women. 
 You supply in me a need that I have always felt. 
 You are necessary to me." 
 
 This time she withdrew her hands and sank into 
 a chair, bewildered and astonished. 
 
 " I should not want any marriage," he said, " to 
 interfere with your work, and I should see to it that 
 if you married me your career would not be spoiled. 
 In fact," he exclaimed, with a nearer approach to 
 enthusiasm than he had reached before, " I have 
 been turning over in my mind the possibility of hit- 
 ting upon some scheme by which we could form a 
 business partnership as well as a a personal one. 
 
 " I do not ask you for an answer to this proposi- 
 tion to-night," he said, feeling that the most advan- 
 tageous plan was to press his plan gently. " It is 
 not a matter to be decided quickly. Developments 
 will come, things will happen, objections of to-day 
 will pass away to-morrow. And remember this is 
 an important affair for me and, I feel, important also 
 for you." 
 
 She roused herself and tried to think what she 
 
 209
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 could say. She had a far-reaching admiration for 
 him but she did not love him, and she did not be- 
 lieve that she would love him, although she knew 
 that no one could be certain of such a thing. If he 
 had been sentimental and pleading, as she imagined 
 most men would have been, she could have com- 
 forted him. But he was so reserved and well, so 
 concise that the idea of comfort was absurd. She 
 had either to answer him "Yes" or "No" or by 
 promise of action at some future date. And he 
 seemed to want to defer the answer " No." So she 
 said nothing. 
 
 He knew to a certain degree what was in her 
 mind. So he held out his hand. 
 
 " No answer now," he announced. " Good- 
 night." 
 
 She rose and took the hand, looking squarely in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Good-night," she said. 
 
 And when he had closed the door behind him, 
 she continued to gaze at it, fascinated and still sur- 
 prised. 
 
 210
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 THE YORK-POTTER COMPANY 
 
 AS the clock was striking eight, Margaret 
 entered her office. This was an hour earlier 
 than usual, but she had an appointment with Evans, 
 of the Waring Company, who must be at work by 
 nine. Evans was already there. 
 
 " How would you like," she demanded, as she 
 took off her hat, "to go down to Bay City and run 
 my my turpentine factory ? " She smiled at the im- 
 portant sound of this. " The old fellow who is there 
 is too dreamy. With him in charge it would be im- 
 possible to make money." 
 
 "I'll go in a minute," replied Evans, unhesita- 
 tingly, " on one condition." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " That you allow me to manufacture my own new 
 product there as well." 
 
 She considered the matter a moment. 
 
 " All right," she said. " I don't know what your 
 product is, but if you buy your material and pay for 
 
 your share of the labor, I have no objection to it." 
 
 211
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Then I will go." 
 
 " Good." 
 
 She hung up her hat and coat in the closet of the 
 inner room. 
 
 " What is your product ? " she asked, returning. 
 
 " Miss York," he announced, " I am one step ahead 
 of the Waring Company at last. They see what is 
 coming and are endeavoring to meet new conditions, 
 but I have met them already." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " You know, of course," he replied, " that there 
 are styles in paint just as surely as there are styles 
 in women's hats. The wave that the Waring Com- 
 pany came in on was the craze for stained wood- 
 work. But people now are beginning to go back to 
 paint Enamel paint finish is the proper thing, and 
 the craze for it is spreading like a disease." 
 
 He had two small packages in his hand. One 
 of these he unwrapped, exhibiting a piece of painted 
 wood so carefully finished that it looked like a piece 
 of ivory. She ran her fingers over its surface, and no 
 rubbed marble could have been smoother. 
 
 " That has eight coats of paint on it," he said. 
 " Each coat has been sandpapered smooth, and the 
 
 last coat has been rubbed with pumice stone. Miss 
 
 212
 
 THE YORK-POTTER COMPANY 
 
 Garnet will tell you that that is the regular specifi- 
 cation for this kind of work. It is most expensive." 
 
 " Naturally," she commented. 
 
 He unwrapped the other package. It was a 
 similar piece of wood. 
 
 " This is a sample of my new paint. Only two 
 coats are necessary. It is put on hot and dries off 
 as smooth as the icing on the top of a cake. Com- 
 pare them." 
 
 She saw no difference. 
 
 " I will make my fortune on it," he cried. 
 
 " I have no objection to your manufacturing it," 
 she said, " but remember this. While you are down 
 there, my work comes first. If you make good on 
 that, I don't care what else you do. If you don't, the 
 arrangement will be canceled." 
 
 "Then we are to consider it settled?" he asked. 
 
 " There is one other thing," she responded. " Mr. 
 Potter has been a very good friend of ours. I feel 
 that I must say a word to him about it. If he is 
 willing to give you up in order that you may better 
 yourself, we can consider the arrangement as settled. 
 If, however, he feels that they need your services, I 
 shouldn't feel justified in stealing you from him." 
 
 " All right," said Evans, " but I hardly think he 
 213
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 will be broken-hearted. He told me the other day 
 that unless I produced something for them soon, I 
 would have to go." 
 
 " Well, that will make it easier, of course." 
 
 Later in the morning she called up Potter and told 
 him that she had a position open for Evans which 
 would give him more chance, and asked if Potter 
 had any objections. She did not explain where the 
 position was, although she knew he would realize it 
 was not with Bundy and Son. 
 
 " I have no objections whatever," said he. " Just 
 a moment, Miss York." There was a pause as 
 though he were looking for something. " I have 
 here," he went on, " a letter giving me some infor- 
 mation about a subject upon which I would like to 
 confer with you. Could you ah lunch with me 
 to-day ? " 
 
 " Why, yes," she replied. 
 
 " I will come for you at one, if that is convenient," 
 he said. 
 
 That was convenient, and at one o'clock his car 
 stopped before Bundy and Son's. She was curious 
 to know what he would talk about. She was quite 
 certain that it was not a personal matter, as he never 
 
 allowed anything but business to crowd into his day. 
 
 214
 
 THE YORK-POTTER COMPANY 
 
 " I am so glad you wore that suit," he said. 
 
 Usually he was so absorbed in his work that it 
 came as a surprise when he noted the existence of 
 any personal charm in her. She laughed. 
 
 " I hope I shall do you credit," she replied. 
 
 She had noted many times that one of the phases 
 of his interest in her was a pride in being seen with 
 her. It flattered him to have people look approv- 
 ingly at her when they entered a public place to- 
 gether. It therefore did not surprise her when they 
 drove up to a very fashionable restaurant. She 
 was always entertained at the bluff, cavalier manner 
 with which he entered such a place. His bearing 
 and the air of thorough sophistication he could 
 assume commanded respect down to the last 'bus 
 boy. He took pride in knowing what the best to 
 be had consisted of, and saw to it that he got 
 nothing less. 
 
 Margaret enjoyed going about with him. He 
 always had the table in the best location. He 
 always had the best things provided by that par- 
 ticular establishment and had them provided in the 
 best manner. If they were not, he was capable, 
 with a brief statement made to the proper person, of 
 raising just as much trouble there as he could in the 
 
 215
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 plant of the Waring Company by the same means. 
 And he would make his statement with the same 
 low-toned, ice-cold suavity in the one place as in 
 the other. 
 
 When he had given his order, he clasped his well- 
 groomed hands on the table before him. 
 
 " What do you know," he asked, looking straight 
 at her, " about a substitute for turpentine ? " 
 
 " Everything," she replied. 
 
 " My admiration for you grows every day," he 
 asserted. 
 
 " How did you hear of it?" 
 
 He hesitated. 
 
 " I had a letter to-day telling me of it." 
 
 " Why did you stop to think before you an- 
 swered ? " she demanded, challengingly. 
 
 " Did I stop to think? " was his bland reply. 
 
 " I was going to say," he went on, " that if you 
 are thinking of letting Evans run your factory at 
 Bay City, you have made a wise choice. He is of 
 no value to us, because he is dissatisfied. But he is 
 a capable man." 
 
 " Let me talk against myself for a moment," she 
 said, in reply. " You had better not let Evans go. 
 
 Wouldn't it be policy to make him satisfied ? I don't 
 
 216
 
 THE YORK-POTTER COMPANY 
 
 want to be instrumental in putting him against you 
 instead of for you." 
 
 " I realize," he observed, " that Evans may sooner 
 or later put on the market one of his own dis- 
 coveries, which if successful would cut into our 
 trade. But I am not going to bribe him with higher 
 wages not to do it. If he thinks he can beat us at 
 our game, he is welcome." 
 
 "Very good," she replied. "Then I have no 
 compunctions about taking him." 
 
 He was silent for quite a while. 
 
 " Besides," he said, " it will be a matter of great 
 importance to me to have him working for your 
 success." 
 
 " Thank you," she said. 
 
 " In addition to that," he went on, " it has oc- 
 curred to me, as it has of course to you, that if you 
 succeed with this venture in a small way, you will 
 presently wish to succeed in a large way ; and you 
 will need capital." 
 
 She was interested. This phase of the question 
 she had been giving considerable thought to. 
 
 " I am interested," he went on, " because in one 
 year I shall have quite a large sum of money at my 
 
 disposal. I may be able to help you. The ar- 
 
 217
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 rangement will, of course, be to our mutual ad- 
 vantage." 
 
 " By that time," she observed, " we shall know 
 whether the turpentine has been well received by 
 the trade, and you can then come in with a 
 minimum of risk ? " Sometimes, without knowing 
 just why, she had the feeling that the man was 
 always smoothing the ground for himself. 
 
 " I recognize the criticism in your tone," he said, 
 evenly. " Permit me to say this. To show you how 
 much I think of your discovery, I offer you now 
 double what you paid for it whatever that was." 
 
 " Couldn't accept," she replied. " If, however, 
 you are willing to invest that money in the venture 
 and let me have control " 
 
 " You don't know me," he interrupted. " 7 must 
 have control, if I am to put my energy and money 
 in it." 
 
 " If I were to accept the offer you made one even- 
 ing of last week," she asked, demurely, "would 
 you expect to have control then ? " 
 
 " Wouldn't you expect me to ? " he demanded. 
 
 She drew a line on the cloth with her finger. 
 " Doubtless," she replied. But even as she spoke 
 
 she was conscious of a doubt. 
 
 218
 
 THE YORK-POTTER COMPANY 
 
 She regretted somewhat that, in a spirit of banter, 
 she had brought up the question. He leaned for- 
 ward. 
 
 " Can you not accept my offer ? " he asked, ear- 
 nestly. " Then whatever we go into will be on 
 equal shares. And I will put all the money I have, 
 if necessary, into your venture. Think how fine it 
 would be for us to make a tremendous success of 
 this thing together." 
 
 She listened to him with interest. 
 
 " We would have," he went on, " a plant bigger 
 and better than the Waring Company's. We would 
 call it the York-Potter Manufacturing Company. 
 And you would have your office on the right of the 
 entrance and I would have mine on the left. And at 
 five o'clock every afternoon I would call you up on 
 an intercommunicating telephone and say, ' Mrs. 
 Potter, are you ready to go home ? ' and you would 
 reply, ' Just a minute, until I sign these letters,' and 
 then away we would whisk in our machine. Can 
 you think of anything more idyllic than such a 
 life ? " 
 
 " It is a pretty picture," she replied. " You must 
 educate me up to it." 
 
 219
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 THE GIFT FROM HEAVEN 
 
 " "\7"OU would be extremely foolish," asserted 
 * Dora Garnet, "not to marry Willis Potter. 
 It is an ideal match for a girl with a career before 
 her, as you have." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't talk about my career as if 
 it were a case of hay-fever that couldn't be gotten 
 rid of," said Margaret. " This ' career ' that you 
 and Mr. Potter talk about is merely the result of my 
 having to do something to earn my living. I didn't 
 enter upon it to make myself famous." 
 
 " I am only looking forward," said Dora, " to 
 your ultimate happiness. When a man marries, he 
 keeps right on with whatever he had been trying to 
 accomplish before. When a woman marries she 
 gives up everything and starts afresh. If you 
 marry Potter, your life can go on with no inter- 
 ruption." 
 
 " What do I get married for ? " queried Margaret. 
 " So I can be just the same as I was before, or so I 
 
 can be different ? " 
 
 220
 
 THE GIFT FROM HEAVEN 
 
 " Oh, I grant you, you marry, if you marry at 
 all, because you think it is something different and 
 better, which you permit, on that account, to push 
 aside the life you have been leading. But I think 
 it is pathetic for a girl to work up to a state of 
 proficiency in one thing and then give it up at the 
 snap of a finger." 
 
 "I think it is pathetic too. And I shan't give 
 up my work until I know that I want to be married 
 so much that I shall not only be willing to give it up 
 but that I shall be willing to give it up with enthu- 
 siasm." 
 
 " Brave words, fair maiden, brave words. But if 
 you marry Willis Potter, you won't have to give up 
 your work either with enthusiasm or without it." 
 
 " I don't really insist on being married, you 
 know," Margaret explained. " I can manage to be 
 contented right here with you." 
 
 " Doubtless, for the present until there comes 
 along some sweet boy with nice blue eyes and not 
 a red cent and you will marry him. And if you 
 care to have him possess self-respect, you will let 
 him support you. If you don't, you will give him 
 a job as office boy at Bundy and Son's. Either one 
 
 of those alternatives would be pleasant." 
 
 221
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 Margaret looked at her thoughtfully. 
 
 " Dora," she asked, " do you want me to tell you 
 something?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, those reasons you have given are the 
 very reasons why I am considering Mr. Potter 
 seriously." 
 
 " Are you considering him seriously ? " 
 
 " Sometimes. And then again it makes me ill to 
 think about it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I was about to say he was insincere. But he 
 isn't. He is thoroughly sincere to his business, 
 which is the only thing that counts with him. Every- 
 thing else has to shift for itself, and I should be one 
 of the things that shifted." 
 
 "I shouldn't look at it that way. You and he 
 and the business would grow to be synonymous." 
 
 " Perhaps. But I don't want to be married to be 
 a synonym," she replied. 
 
 She knew, however, that whatever man proposed 
 marriage to her, her present life would temper her 
 decision. Her life had a strong grip upon her. It 
 held her enthusiasm and her interest. She had a 
 
 pride in it. When she was mentioned in the letters 
 
 222
 
 THE GIFT FROM HEAVEN 
 
 of Bundy and Son as "Our Miss York," the badge 
 of servitude thus placed upon her was pleasant and 
 stimulating. It enlisted her in the army of workers 
 it pointed to her as a wielder of the sword the 
 holder of five talents, who was acknowledged thereby 
 to be striving to bring in five other talents to place 
 beside them. And what could be more sufficient 
 joy than that? 
 
 She thought of Potter and his offer of marriage 
 very frequently, although when he first made it, she 
 had felt that she would never come to view it as a 
 possibility. But she could not help agreeing with 
 Dora that it was advantageous that his money 
 would give her many things, and that their simi- 
 larity of occupation would make them congenial. 
 It was only because she sometimes felt that marriage 
 must be meant to be a little more than this which 
 seemed really to be much more like a business part- 
 nership that she found a real objection to it. 
 
 She told herself she did not love him ; but that 
 was not a convincing statement. What was love, 
 anyway? Wasn't it mostly a sort of congeniality 
 that one has become accustomed to ? And he was 
 congenial. He was interesting she even admired 
 
 him. There were no real obstacles in the way. She 
 
 223
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 knew that it was possible some day that she might 
 take up the telephone at her elbow and say " Yes " 
 to him. 
 
 And then there were other days when she did not 
 want to think about him. These were the days 
 when she felt less buoyant about her business, when 
 things had gone less well, when she had made mis- 
 takes or other people had made mistakes for her, 
 and she was dismal about the world. Then she felt 
 no enthusiasm for the shoulder-to-shoulder fight that 
 her marriage with Potter would mean. Then she 
 felt that what she needed was a companion and not 
 a brother-in-arms merely, whose main virtue would 
 be that he was marching in the same direction that 
 she was. She might not be able to extract sym- 
 pathy from Potter, and, business-woman though she 
 was, she knew perfectly well that she was human. 
 
 She had many of these tired days right at this 
 time, when she and Evans were endeavoring to get 
 her small factory running under the very best con- 
 ditions possible. The barometer of her spirits some- 
 times sank very low. The constant hammering of 
 little things often used up all the day's enthusiasm 
 before the day was over. 
 
 One day in particular was an especially hard tax 
 224
 
 THE GIFT FROM HEAVEN 
 
 on her endurance, Evans had called her up at 
 seven in the morning and had said there was some 
 equipment they needed which he knew could be 
 bought from a certain firm for a low price. At eight 
 o'clock, therefore, after a sketch of a breakfast, she 
 had boarded a train with him, girded for battle. 
 They had spent a dirty, dusty morning looking 
 equipment over, had dispensed with luncheon in 
 favor of a what-will-you-give, what-will-you-take 
 discussion with the owners concerning its value, and 
 had carried the discussion long into the afternoon. 
 This was business hand-to-hand. The firm they 
 were dealing with was desperately in need of money. 
 And Margaret had to make every penny do double 
 duty. Both sides had stood their ground. Finally, 
 in desperation, she had laid down an ultimatum and 
 left the conference. They had carried their bluff to 
 the last minute and had made no effort to stop her. 
 But they had caught her at the station and had 
 accepted her terms. 
 
 All this left her rather limp and worn out. The 
 stimulus of victory bore her up for a time. But the 
 slow journey homeward soon dimmed all the glory 
 of that. The struggle had made every nerve in her 
 
 alive. She parted from Evans and went home stim- 
 
 225
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 ulated as to nerves and not at all stimulated as to 
 body. Her mind was still going at full speed. She 
 needed something soothing, something different, 
 to switch the current of her thoughts. She won- 
 dered if at such a time Potter would have been balm 
 for her soul. 
 
 It was a feeling very nearly related to homesick- 
 ness that oppressed her. It was pleasant to know 
 that she would see Dora in a little while. And 
 although Dora might not actually comfort her to 
 any great extent, she was a congenial physical 
 presence, who would change the current of her 
 thoughts. She was the guardian angel who would 
 provide her with a hot dinner and take her after- 
 ward in her automobile to the theatre. All this was 
 diverting. She stopped at the first pay telephone 
 station and called Dora. 
 
 " Are you tired to death and sick of your hum- 
 drum life ? " she demanded, immediately. 
 
 " Always," replied Dora, contentedly. 
 
 " Then hurry home and get ready to go to the 
 theatre with me." 
 
 " I will begin to hurry at once." 
 
 Margaret boarded a street-car, which wound 
 
 around the city and dropped her at length at a 
 
 226
 
 THE GIFT FROM HEAVEN 
 
 corner more or less remote from the Square. She 
 hurried along oblivious of the late afternoon sun- 
 shine. 
 
 " Has Miss Garnet come in ? " she asked at the 
 door. 
 
 " No," replied the maid, " but there is a gentle- 
 man to see you." 
 
 "A gentleman?" 
 
 A figure appeared in the doorway that led into 
 the little parlor. 
 
 " Name is Bruce," announced a voice. " David 
 Bruce." 
 
 She put down her bag on the hall mantelpiece. 
 
 " David," she said, " you're a gift from Heaven." 
 
 227
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID - 
 
 SHE looked him fairly in the eyes eyes that had 
 been familiar to her for many a day as eyes 
 but not as books to read things in. For one fleet- 
 ing instant she felt she read something in them then 
 something disconcerting yet pleasantly stirring 
 but just for a fleeting instant. She decided quickly 
 that what she had seen was merely the same frank 
 eagerness of the old days, the same unhidden pleas- 
 ure in her presence. But her first passing thought 
 touched something deep within her. She remem- 
 bered that when David had held her hands at the 
 Sawyers' the night of their supper on the island, 
 there had vibrated for a brief second in her a new 
 note whose tone she did not recognize. And again 
 now. Her mind did not grasp the significance of it, 
 but had there been time to think about it, she might 
 have perceived that it was the murmur of a hidden 
 force, that some day a properly-laid fuse might set 
 
 loose. 
 
 228
 
 WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID 
 
 " Don't take off your gloves," David exclaimed. 
 " Let's walk out there in the sunshine." 
 
 " Oh, but I'm so tired." 
 
 " Best thing in the world for you. What you 
 need is ozone. You sit cooped up in an office all 
 day and breathe carbon dioxide, until an atom of 
 real oxygen feels like a hot potato in your lungs." 
 
 They went down the white marble steps and en- 
 tered the parking of the Square. 
 
 " Let's stand in the place," she went on, " where 
 there is the most of this oxygen you were talking 
 about." 
 
 " There is an abnormal amount of it as you get 
 further in," he replied. 
 
 They walked along the gravel path. The trees 
 were covered with young, very green little leaves. 
 New grass and clover had sprung up in the turf, 
 and crocuses pierced the sod, their gaudy heads 
 making the ground look as if some one had thrown 
 colored beads upon it. The afternoon sun was drop- 
 ping low, and the lace-like shadows of the trees 
 stretched far out across the ground. A brilliant 
 cardinal bird, which Margaret said was a winter- 
 long inhabitant of the place, perched upon the limb 
 
 of a tree and said, " Che-ew, che-ew, going, going, 
 
 229
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 going, going," many times a pointless sort of re- 
 mark, it would seem, but one he apparently appre- 
 ciated. 
 
 " Mr. Lacey's garden," David said, " used to look 
 just like this in the evening. I can remember watch- 
 ing the shadow of the box hedge creep across the 
 brick path inch by inch and then climb up the hedge 
 upon the other side." 
 
 They walked on in silence. 
 
 " And we shall never see that garden again," she 
 observed, at length. 
 
 " No. A street cuts right through it, and there 
 are rows of brick houses on either side of the street. 
 Civilization ! " he cried, waving his hand. 
 
 They walked back. She stooped and picked a 
 four-leaf clover from the grass. She handed it to 
 him and he drew it through his buttonhole. 
 
 " May it bring me good luck." 
 
 " In what ? " she asked, idly. 
 
 " In getting what I want." 
 
 " Is it money ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Is it reputation ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Is it a girl ? " she demanded, smiling. 
 
 230
 
 WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID 
 
 " I couldn't get a girl," he replied, " without hav- 
 ing the first two things you spoke of." 
 
 " Get the first two, then," she said. 
 
 He stirred the pebbles of the walk with his foot. 
 
 " And then can I get the third, do you think?" 
 
 " How should I know ? " 
 
 " To be sure, how should you know ?" 
 
 She looked at him curiously and parted her lips to 
 say something. But just then the bell of an electric 
 automobile sounded behind them. They faced 
 about and saw Dora Garnet coming toward them. 
 She stopped her machine by the curb in front of 
 them. 
 
 " Dora, this is David," Margaret remarked, more 
 by way of explanation than introduction. 
 
 Dora looked at his eyes first of all. 
 
 " They're not blue," she told Margaret. 
 
 " What are not blue? " he asked. 
 
 " Your eyes." 
 
 He laughed, but looked puzzled. 
 
 " Dora said something philosophical the other day 
 about blue eyes," Margaret explained. " I have for- 
 gotten what it was, but I know it was good." 
 
 "Some day perhaps I may have to tell him 
 myself. Get in, you two, and let's insist on dinner." 
 
 231
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " That means you are invited to dinner, David, so 
 you must explain to Dora how much you admire 
 her house." 
 
 David explained. 
 
 " Margaret," exclaimed Dora, presently, " I like 
 your Mr. Bruce exceedingly." 
 
 " He's not mine." 
 
 David looked at her and then said : 
 
 " I think, however, Miss Garnet, that your house 
 is not in character, exactly." 
 
 She raised her eyebrows. 
 
 "You should have adding machines and type- 
 writers and filing cases in all the rooms. That 
 would carry out the idea that you and Margaret are 
 business women. It would give a quaint touch. 
 And, as I understand it, you both consider business 
 as the most important thing in life." 
 
 " Not at all," cried Dora, with spirit. 
 
 Margaret laughed. 
 
 " Well," observed David, " what then do you con- 
 sider more important than business ? " 
 
 Dora frowned thoughtfully. 
 
 " There are many things ; but I should say that 
 honesty, a happy spirit and love for your fellow- 
 men were more important." 
 
 232
 
 WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID 
 
 " I have them all," he replied, waving his hand 
 comprehensively. " You should approve of me un- 
 reservedly." 
 
 She leaned toward him. 
 
 " You will observe," she said, " that I said love for 
 your tellow-men." 
 
 He looked at her calmly. He had no objection to 
 admitting that he understood the innuendo. 
 
 " Your inference is one step in advance of me," he 
 asserted, smiling. 
 
 " Perhaps," she admitted. 
 
 " What are you talking about ? " demanded Mar- 
 garet. 
 
 " We were discussing whether his eyes were not 
 blue after all," said Dora. 
 
 They had a cozy dinner in the oval dining-room, 
 David occupying the large armchair and carving 
 with the same ease with which he did everything 
 the brown roast chicken. Under Dora's admiring 
 gaze, he touched it with his knife and, as if the knife 
 had been a magic wand, the bird seemed to fall 
 apart and be ready to serve. He and Dora dis- 
 covered a congenial uncon geniality in each other. 
 Their views were in converging directions ; he gaz- 
 ing, as it were, toward one segment of the horizon 
 
 233
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 and she toward another and the segments over- 
 lapping. Dora was materialistic. Her idea was 
 work and thrift first of all. Cash, " the munitions of 
 war," as she called it, was the paramount considera- 
 tion. And yet she had lying beneath this a senti- 
 mental appreciation of beautiful things. She had 
 the real pleasure of creating in her work, of design- 
 ing things to make people's hours of ease more 
 pleasant. David's paramount interest was in ideas 
 and in things that made him branch out into new 
 fields for ideas. Yet his secondary consideration 
 was thrift. He respected money because he had to 
 make it reach a long way. 
 
 They argued with each other and at the same 
 time they sympathized with each other's point of 
 view. It is possible that Dora rather envied the fact 
 that he was foot-loose and free to indulge his fancy 
 and it is certain that the contempt he tried to show 
 for her interest in making money was not entirely 
 real. 
 
 " I suppose you feel you business women," said 
 David, suddenly, " that you are a third sex superior 
 to women because you have the attributes of men, 
 and superior to men because you have the attributes 
 of women." 
 
 234
 
 WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID 
 
 " We may feel that," Dora replied, gravely. " But 
 I feel as well a sense of impending disaster. As I 
 grow older there is not the roll of drums about my 
 business as there once was, and I have now lost the 
 martial spirit. I am beginning to plod ; younger 
 spirits are overtaking me. When I am an old 
 woman my grip will be all gone. I shall have no 
 business. What shall I have ? " 
 
 "You will have " David began, and then 
 
 stopped. 
 
 " That's it nothing." 
 
 Margaret interposed. 
 
 " You will have as much as every one else." 
 
 " No. Some people have friends or a family, to 
 whom their going and coming makes a difference. 
 I have not. I have spent my life storing up acorns 
 for myself and I shall have to eat them alone." 
 
 Margaret looked at her searchingly ; and Dora, 
 catching the disturbed look in her face, broke sud- 
 denly into a laugh. 
 
 " Please excuse me for this melancholy train of 
 thought," she said, quickly. " But when I think of 
 the three-score-and-ten, it chills me to the bone." 
 
 David laughed. She switched the conversation 
 to an easier topic so deftly that the tide of sympathy 
 
 235
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 that was rising in him never reached its flood, but 
 subsided and was lost in other things. The dusty 
 side of the picture is easy to forget when it is turned 
 toward the wall. 
 
 Margaret sat still and listened to them talk. It 
 was interesting to have her two friends brought to- 
 gether thus. Now and then they appealed to her, 
 and she sided now with one and now with the other, 
 impartially. They talked so much that it was nearly 
 eight when dinner was over, and they had to hurry 
 to the theatre. The had no idea what play they 
 wanted to see. 
 
 " Anything but Julius Caesar," said Margaret. 
 
 Finally they found themselves in seats behind a 
 post at a popular musical comedy. Their view of 
 the stage was bad and the show was worse than the 
 view. So David amused himself by making cari- 
 catures of the actors and actresses on the back of 
 his program. He would use about six or seven 
 lines in making each one, so that the picture grew 
 right out of the paper while you looked. His com- 
 panions forgot about the play in their interest in 
 him. 
 
 " What is your present business or occupation ? " 
 
 asked Dora, suddenly. 
 
 236
 
 WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID 
 
 " Why," he said, " I am making a seagoing 
 aeroplane." 
 
 " What ? " she exclaimed, laughing. 
 
 " I am making a seagoing aeroplane." 
 
 " You had much better stick right to this sort of 
 thing," she announced, firmly, pointing to his pic- 
 tures. 
 
 " I don't know that I want to stick to anything," 
 he replied, smiling. " I suppose you are thinking 
 of magazine illustration," he added. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That's a long, up-hill fight." 
 
 " Dear me, boy ! " she cried. " So is everything 
 worth while." 
 
 As they drove home after the play, the full moon 
 hung over the centre of the street before them, 
 though it cast no glow beyond the glare of the 
 electric lights. A soft, balmy air blew upon them. 
 At the Square there was actual moonlight, shining 
 on the gravel walks and the new-leaved trees and 
 the sun-dial in the centre where the walks crossed. 
 Dora asked David if he would wait and mail a note 
 she wanted to write. 
 
 " Let's go look at some real moonlight," he sug- 
 gested to Margaret. 
 
 237
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I'm willing. I must talk to you some time. I 
 can't get a word in edgewise when Dora is present," 
 she said, laughing. 
 
 " Miss Garnet is very cordial," he said, " but she 
 doesn't approve of me." 
 
 " How is that possible ? " she asked, amiably. 
 
 " She thinks I am too much interested in you." 
 
 She did not reply. They walked along in silence. 
 The gravel crunched under their feet. There was 
 no other sound save the gentle sighing of the wind 
 in the trees. 
 
 " How could she think that ? " she asked, presently. 
 
 " I think," he replied, " the fear was father to the 
 thought." 
 
 They paused by the sun-dial, on which the 
 moon's shadow was registering an altogether fal- 
 lacious hour. 
 
 " But if it isn't true," she said, " why think about 
 it?" 
 
 Her glance met his for a moment. In that dim 
 light where her dark eyes shone ever so softly and 
 the white skin of her throat was like ivory, she 
 seemed a goddess. The blood in her was sancti- 
 fied, and he knew he must think about the thing 
 
 he had spoken of. For it was true ! 
 
 238
 
 WHAT HE WOULD HAVE SAID 
 
 " I was about to say " he began, leaning 
 
 toward her. 
 
 The white dress of Dora Garnet appeared in the 
 door of the house across the street. 
 
 " Margaret," she called. 
 
 Margaret looked up. " Not so close, David," she 
 whispered. 
 
 David did not say what he had started to say. 
 They walked quickly toward the house. At the 
 door she held out her hand. 
 
 " To-morrow," she said. 
 
 239
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE BYSTANDER 
 
 DAVID walked slowly down the street. His 
 footfalls echoed against the silent houses fac- 
 ing the Square. As he crossed the first intersect- 
 ing way, an automobile hurried toward him, its 
 horn barking impatiently. He continued to walk, 
 neither quickening nor slackening his pace. There 
 was the noise of a gripping brake and the machine 
 came to a full stop. The driver shot a glance at 
 him as he threw in his gear and drove the car for- 
 ward. But David, interested in his own thoughts, 
 did not notice what had occurred. 
 
 At the next corner he should have turned home- 
 ward. But he walked on. The warm air blew 
 comfortably in his face. There was a pleasant 
 quiet in the usually noisy streets. He might have 
 been walking in some silent woods, so calm was 
 everything about him. Even the brightly lighted 
 heart of the city was taking a respite from the 
 
 bustle of the day. The whistle of the never-sleep- 
 
 240
 
 THE BYSTANDER 
 
 ing peanut vendor's oven was the loudest sound he 
 heard. Beyond, the street led on to the wharves, 
 the shadowy fingers that pointed out into the river. 
 He walked out upon one of these. The moonlight 
 fell upon the dark waters that splashed and slapped 
 against the pilings below. Out in the stream rode 
 three or four sailboats, their white anchor lights 
 reflected beneath their hulls and their spars never 
 ceasing to move back and forth, writing on the sky. 
 
 " I wonder," said David, aloud, presently, to the 
 river conversing at his feet, " what she would have 
 replied if I had said all that I had started to say." 
 
 The waves surged and splashed and expressed 
 no definite opinion. They caught the wash of a 
 belated tug ploughing up the channel, and their con- 
 versation became turbulent with spray that leaped 
 higher than the piling. The tug was a black sil- 
 houette on the bosom of the river, her port run- 
 ning-light gleaming like a ruby and the white 
 marker swinging at the mast astern. Her engine 
 bell sounded across the water, the throbbing of her 
 machinery stopped, and she slid in silently and 
 accurately beside her wharf. 
 
 " All these things interest me," he thought. " I 
 
 seem to like to see the world move by, without 
 
 241
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 searching too closely for a place to put my shoulder 
 to help it along." 
 
 He leaned against the piling beside him. 
 
 " But why should I ? Why should I help when 
 it runs along of its own momentum ? And if my 
 own wheel is revolving nicely, why should I put a 
 shoulder to it ? " 
 
 A big man walked out to the end of the wharf. 
 
 "What are you doing here, young man?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 " Nothing. My friends say," he went on, " that 
 is all I ever do." 
 
 "Well, don't you know you aren't allowed to 
 come out on the wharves ?" 
 
 " No I didn't know it." 
 
 He turned away from the water's edge and walked 
 back with the man. 
 
 " I was trying to think out something," he said. 
 
 " A good many fellows try to think out things 
 there," returned the other, " and end by jumping in, 
 especially you fellows who do nothing. 
 
 "I'll give you a piece of advice free," he con- 
 tinued. "If you're in trouble, go to work. The 
 world has no use for a chap that isn't paying his own 
 
 way." 
 
 242
 
 THE BYSTANDER 
 
 David looked at the man seriously. 
 
 "Suppose," he said, "your expenses were a dollar 
 a day and you had a dollar a day coming to you 
 whether you worked or not. What is the answer to 
 that problem must you work or not ? " 
 
 The man looked puzzled. 
 
 " You work," he replied, doggedly. 
 
 " But why ? You're a philosopher. Why ? " 
 
 The other gave the matter thought. 
 
 " How about the bees ? " he said, at length. 
 " They work hardest when the honey is most plenti- 
 ful. Say, look here," he broke off. " Suppose your 
 expenses suddenly became two dollars a day?" 
 
 "The thought has occurred to me," David re- 
 sponded. 
 
 He said good-night and went on. Suppose his 
 expenses did double? What then? There was no 
 immediate answer to that. Also he knew why it was 
 that he had never given this matter serious con- 
 sideration before. He quickened his pace with a 
 determined air. 
 
 " The time has come now," he said, " for me to put 
 my shoulder to the wheel." 
 
 243
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 FALLING SHORT 
 
 ON the following morning when he awoke, 
 David's glance fell upon his theatre program 
 of the night before. He looked intently at the 
 drawings for a moment and then threw it into the 
 waste-basket. But he could not have denied that an 
 unaccustomed idea had found a place in his mind. 
 When he went down to breakfast, his father was sit- 
 ting at the table. 
 
 " Father," he asked, " don't you know a man who 
 is Art Editor on a magazine in New York ? " 
 
 Mr. Bruce was deep in his morning paper. 
 
 " Yes. His title is misleading. But I know him." 
 
 " I may ask you to give me a letter to him." 
 
 " I thought you didn't like illustration work," de- 
 manded his father, without looking up. 
 
 " I don't. But I have been doing things I like for 
 so long, I may try something I don't like for a 
 change." 
 
 Mr. Bruce stared at him. " Did you see Mar- 
 garet last night ? " 
 
 244
 
 FALLING SHORT 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did she tell you that ? " 
 
 " No. I suppose she would, had she thought of it." 
 
 " How much do you suppose Margaret earns at 
 Bundy's?" David asked, presently. 
 
 " Earns about five thousand, gets about three." 
 Mr. Bruce put down his paper. " That makes a 
 large ante for the man who marries her to cover." 
 
 " I was thinking that," his son replied. 
 
 When he entered Dora Garnet's house that even- 
 ing, David found Dora alone in the hall at the piano. 
 She held out her hand to him in greeting but went 
 on playing. 
 
 " You have come to make love to her to-night ? " 
 she said, almost immediately, with carefully judged 
 bluntness. 
 
 He was taken aback. He hardly knew what reply 
 to make. 
 
 " Why, not in the least," he said, at length. 
 
 " If I had any deep purpose at all in coming," 
 he went on, " it was to bid you good-bye for a 
 while." 
 
 She played more softly, her slender fingers just 
 touching the keys. 
 
 " Are you going away ? " 
 245
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 " I am glad you decided to do it." 
 
 His eyes rested upon hers. 
 
 " Otherwise you would have suggested it." 
 
 " Well," she said, after a pause, " why shouldn't 
 I ? What have you to offer Margaret besides a 
 good disposition ? " 
 
 He did not reply. She pursued the idea. 
 
 " You must remember," she observed, " that girls 
 now are not as they were fifty years ago. Then 
 they were educated from the time they could walk, 
 with the sole idea in view of their ultimate marriage. 
 No woman had to give up ambition then when she 
 married. She was attaining her only ambition. 
 But nowadays when a man asks a girl to marry him, 
 he asks a girl who has been taught the means of 
 self-support, and it is frequently necessary for him to 
 decide whether that girl will not mar her greater 
 career by a union with his lesser one. No man 
 wants to think that when a girl marries him she 
 does it at the cost of a great self-sacrifice. There is 
 no romance in that." 
 
 " Of course not," he said. 
 
 " Nothing is more devilish than these childhood 
 
 friendships. I like you," she went on, " and I love 
 
 246
 
 FALLING SHORT 
 
 Margaret. And I am not going to let you spoil 
 each other's lives." 
 
 " Spoil our lives ? " he repeated. 
 
 " Quite so. Listen to me. Here, on the one 
 hand, is Margaret young, ambitious and as bright 
 as a new dollar, interested in her work and succeed- 
 ing as few men do. And she is proud of it proud 
 to know that everything she has accomplished has 
 been the result of her own efforts." 
 
 " That is true," he said. 
 
 " On the other hand, here is David Bruce, a 
 sweet, lovable, kind-hearted boy, who is not a 
 producer, never has been a producer, and if called 
 upon now to earn his living, would not know where 
 to start." 
 
 She paused. 
 
 " Is that true ? " 
 
 "Almost. I might know where to start," he said, 
 " but that is all." 
 
 Her hands left the keys and she turned about 
 until she faced him. 
 
 " I will tell you what would happen in case of a 
 marriage between you," she said, slowly. "First 
 prospect." She checked it off on her forefinger. 
 
 " Margaret would continue to hold her position, 
 
 247
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 which is becoming yearly more profitable to her. 
 You would either go to work here yourself, or you 
 wouldn't. It would make no difference. You would 
 be cramped. You would have to stay where she 
 was because she was earning the greater money. 
 If you had an offer of a good place in another 
 city, you couldn't go. If her business took her to 
 another city, you would have to give up your own 
 position and go too. Or, worse than that, you 
 would be employed by her. Where would all her 
 respect and admiration for you go then ? Do you 
 think you could hold it ? Do you think you could 
 deceive her into believing you were even holding 
 your own respect for yourself? Would you trail at 
 any woman's chariot wheels that way ? Or do you 
 suppose any woman would love you, trailing at her 
 chariot wheels?" 
 
 " Go on," he said. " I suppose none of those 
 things." 
 
 " Second prospect " She checked it on her 
 
 finger. " Suppose she gave up her work, and 
 assumed the conventional position of housekeeper 
 for you for the purpose of retaining your self- 
 respect. You are now allowed to earn the where- 
 withal for you both. What chance have you to 
 
 248
 
 FALLING SHORT 
 
 succeed? You have never earned your own living ; 
 and just at the time you are beginning, you have 
 the stem necessity loom up large before you, of 
 making money enough for two. That is what they 
 speak of as having your nose to the grindstone. 
 And your wife will see you struggling along the 
 trail where she had succeeded, and know that if she 
 had been in your place, you both would not have 
 known poverty and want and what is worse dis- 
 couragement. She will have given up her career 
 for you and you will not have made one for your- 
 self." 
 
 For some time he gazed thoughtfully at the rug 
 at his feet. Then he raised his eyes to hers. 
 
 " I have been thinking that out too," he said. 
 
 She began to play again softly. 
 
 " Of course," she went on, " whether you are 
 actually in love with Margaret or not does not make 
 such a great difference. I think that your position 
 is dangerous, and that you had better retreat while 
 you can." 
 
 He gazed at the scroll pattern of the piano. Her 
 hands touched the keys again and played softly. 
 He watched the slender fingers move almost auto- 
 matically back and forward over the black and 
 
 249
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 white path. He had the appearance of a person 
 thinking, yet he was aware that he was not thinking 
 at all. He was simply allowing an idea to rest, un- 
 changing and undeveloped, in his mind, in the same 
 place it had been resting. But now he knew it was 
 to stay there, and that he had better give in to it. 
 He fingered the music that lay on the polished wood 
 beside him. 
 
 " I feel that I agree with you," he said at length. 
 
 " As to what ? " 
 
 " That I had better go away." 
 
 He did not look at her, but stared at the white 
 keyboard. She made no reply. The music stopped 
 presently and her hands dropped into her lap. She 
 said, with an effort : 
 
 " I think that is best." 
 
 When Margaret came down, she found them oc- 
 cupying the same positions at the piano that they 
 had taken when he first came in. 
 
 "What are you talking about?" she asked curi- 
 ously. " I have heard your voices rumbling on and 
 rumbling on all the time I have been up-stairs. I 
 think you are both getting entirely too congenial." 
 
 " I surprise myself," he said, grimly, " at the way 
 
 I agree with her." 
 
 250
 
 FALLING SHORT 
 
 She sat down in a Savonarola chair against the 
 wall and twirled the wooden rings at the end of its 
 arms. She made a pretty picture in her old rose 
 dress with her bright cheeks and her still brighter 
 eyes. 
 
 " I am glad that you and Dora are not going to 
 quarrel," she exclaimed. " If you are coming here 
 often, it will be so much pleasanter to have us all 
 get on happily together." 
 
 "You take so much for granted, Margaret dear. 
 How do you know he is coming often ? " 
 
 " He'd better," she replied, smiling. 
 
 " I am working on some sketches up-stairs," Dora 
 said, without looking at either one of them, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 Margaret played a tattoo on the floor. The toes 
 of her shoes, in that chair, just touched the rug. 
 She looked up at him earnestly. He felt his breath 
 come faster. As she sat there, one of her slippers 
 dropped off and clattered to the floor. 
 
 " My shoe, please," she cried, laughing. 
 
 He knelt down before her. He could feel his 
 hand trembling as he slipped it on her foot. She 
 was so close to him that the folds of her dress over 
 
 her knees touched his cheek as he bent over. A 
 
 251
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 faint perfume breathed from her. He forgot him- 
 self, the room, the house, everything but her. He 
 had but one impulse and that was to reach out and 
 take her in his arms. He wanted her. He wanted 
 to love her he wanted to touch her he wanted to 
 hold her. 
 
 Just then the door-bell rang. He rose quickly. 
 The maid came through the hall to open the door. 
 She laid a package on the hall table and disap- 
 peared again. In the moment of silence, Margaret 
 seemed to feel that something was out of key. 
 
 "Well? What has Dora been saying to you?" 
 she demanded. 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 He turned to her. 
 
 " Nothing at all that I didn't know already." 
 
 He found that he could not stand there passive. 
 Fire burned within him. He wanted to take her in 
 his arms and tell her he loved her. He could not 
 tell her the things that were in his mind. He could 
 not tell her what Dora had told him, because she 
 had made a mere statement of his assets and liabili- 
 ties at the present moment, viewed from a highly 
 practical standpoint. It was photographically accu- 
 rate in that it showed the external aspect of the case 
 
 252
 
 FALLING SHORT 
 
 faithfully. It was inaccurate in that it failed to take 
 into consideration that he had not attempted to make 
 a success as an earner of money and therefore could 
 not be said to be a failure at it, as Dora had indi- 
 cated. He was not a failure. He had lived his life 
 as he had felt it ought to be lived, amid the circum- 
 tances in which he had found himself. He was will- 
 ing to admit that his method of life and power of 
 earning were unequal to the present crisis. But not 
 so himself. He had confidence in himself. He did 
 not propose to explain away his past ; he did not 
 propose to make promises as to the future. Those 
 are the two weakest things a man can do. He felt 
 rather strength in his heart and in his body. He 
 would try out that strength, and make his statement 
 when he had accomplished his end. 
 
 He must have more to bring her, he must win 
 first. If he was going he must go quickly. He 
 held out his hand. 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 She rose, a disturbed look on her face. 
 
 " You are not going now ? " 
 
 There was a silence. Her hand held his in a 
 warm firm clasp. 
 
 " You asked me a moment ago," he said, with an 
 253
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 effort, " what was the matter with me. There is 
 something the matter with me. I haven't made 
 good." 
 
 She found her hand free. 
 
 " That is the reason I am going," she heard him 
 say. 
 
 She saw him take his hat and move toward the 
 door. She made a step toward him. Had he seen 
 her eyes he would not have gone. 
 
 " David," she whispered. 
 
 He paused, almost as if he had not heard. She 
 did not move, then, nor say one other word. She 
 gathered herself in hand. If he felt that way that 
 he had not made good she could see, even in her 
 excitement, that it would not do to bid him stay. It 
 was his problem his battle. She simply stood there 
 looking at the floor. And presently the door closed. 
 
 It was a long while afterward that Dora came 
 down-stairs and found her still standing there. 
 
 " What did he say to you ? " she demanded. 
 " Are you crying ? " 
 
 " No," said Margaret, looking her squarely in the 
 eyes. 
 
 254
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE HIVE 
 
 THE sun-dial in the Square registered many a 
 day. The leaves on the trees grew large and 
 threw full shadows on the ground. Crocuses were 
 succeeded by pansies and pansies by red geraniums. 
 The grass grew and was mowed and trimmed, and 
 watered to refresh it from the rays of the hot sum- 
 mer sun. Katydids appeared, and locusts sang 
 among the trees in the evening, predicting still hot- 
 ter weather to come. The dog days of summer 
 dragged their weary length through. September 
 rains fell and the brown grass flourished and grew 
 green ; and before long its verdant surface was 
 dotted here and there with migratory birds, already 
 winging their way southward. The first crimson 
 patches appeared in the trees. Chestnut burrs 
 opened and dropped their brown harvest on the 
 ground. Autumn had pushed summer over the 
 line. 
 
 Bundy and Son had flourished through the heat. 
 255
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 It was their best summer for many a day. Mar- 
 garet disposed of all her wood preservative and 
 earned her thousand dollars back again, which she 
 put immediately into improvements in her factory 
 at Bay City. The turpentine substitute " Turpent- 
 oil " as they called it was beginning to find a de- 
 mand in a small way. They were selling all of the 
 modest quantity they were able to manufacture. 
 They had also sold some of Evans' enamel finish 
 and were confident that they were going to be suc- 
 cessful in selling very much more. Mr. Bundy had 
 become so much excited over these new ventures 
 that several times he had failed to be on hand to 
 see some of his dearest parasites emerge from the 
 host. 
 
 " Which only goes to show," observed Margaret, 
 " that when a man begins to take an interest in busi- 
 ness, he neglects the more important things in life." 
 
 And many leagues to the north, the same long 
 summer had changed into the same chill fall. The 
 peanut vendors on the street corners roasted chest- 
 nuts just as they did on Severn Street. Overcoats 
 appeared and football colors. People thronged the 
 streets down-town to note the clothes other people 
 
 actually proposed to wear. All the forenoon in a 
 
 256
 
 THE HIVE 
 
 certain city, a thousand men and women with leisure 
 apparently unlimited promenaded the south side of 
 the narrow fashionable street. 
 
 Twelve o'clock struck. In a narrow side street 
 so narrow that had you fallen in stepping over one 
 curbstone, you would have surely hit your head upon 
 the other sat a tiny house with a knocker on the 
 door. It was just like all the other unprepossessing 
 houses on this unprepossessing street, save that in 
 the place of two lower lights of the wide small-paned 
 window were leaded glass figures of seated monks 
 who stared at each other across the opening. A 
 smell of cooking things assailed your nostrils, and 
 now and then a man put a key in the Yale lock of 
 the door and entered, letting the door slam behind 
 him. Thereupon he looked for his mail on a rack, 
 where rested a few well-worn letters and now and 
 then a new one. This ritual performed, he threw 
 his hat on some article of furniture, ducked his head 
 and descended a narrow stair, following with a 
 primitive instinct the scent of food to regions below. 
 A fire burned there in a fireplace and a number 
 of men already seated about the U-shaped table 
 greeted him perhaps with scurrilous remarks, which 
 
 he would try, in an absent sort of way, to reply 
 
 257
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 smartly to, although he was really more interested 
 in getting a cup of coffee out of a big brass coffee 
 urn on a side table. Having obtained this, he pro- 
 ceeded very carefully, balancing his cup and walk- 
 ing, like a man on a tight-rope, to a vacant spot at 
 the table. 
 
 Other men entered and sat down where oppor- 
 tunity offered. But- it developed from conversation 
 that persons accustomed to lunching at the north 
 end of the table could not lunch comfortably at the 
 south end, and vice versa. A gentleman at the north 
 end admitted that this was due to the fact that the 
 conversation at the other end was exceedingly hum- 
 drum and cut-and-dried, while the conversation at 
 his end was possessed of much sparkle. 
 
 At each end of the table sat a platter with meat 
 upon it and a dish of vegetables. As the meat and 
 vegetables possessed no conversational powers, it 
 was permissible to make your levy from either dish, 
 although invasion of the other side called forth rum- 
 blings of discontent. 
 
 This was an artists' club. The name on the bul- 
 letin-board up-stairs assured you of that, as well as 
 the fact that the temperamental conversation about 
 
 this board dealt entirely with politics, football, breeds 
 
 258
 
 THE HIVE 
 
 of dogs, how to raise tomatoes, fishing, the relative 
 value of white Leghorns and white Wyandottes, and 
 all the kindred topics dear to the artistic soul. A 
 thin, silent old fellow with grizzled hair and a griz- 
 zled mustache bent comfortably over his food, as 
 though he were sincerely interested in it. When 
 addressed he answered with a drawl, as though he 
 were quite too tired to talk. 
 
 You would have said he could not paint a picture 
 and you might have followed him around for days 
 without changing your opinion. He would put on 
 a rusty old suit and a rusty old hat and a rusty old 
 expression, and wander aimlessly down among the 
 wharves like a stevedore out of a job. And after a 
 time he would sit down and undo his kit, in a spot 
 where the odor from the sugar refineries was virile 
 enough to curdle his colors and where on the surface 
 of the river floated a scum of oil and grime. And 
 he would paint a big tramp steamer unloading 
 guano. Perhaps he would paint there for two or 
 three days without becoming unconscious, and he 
 would bring the picture home under his arm and 
 hang it out to air. And when it was cured, it usually 
 proved, even without the odor, to have a feeling of 
 realism and humanity that made it a real picture. 
 
 259
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 It is a tribute to him that he made his living solely 
 by his painting. He had very little money, but it is 
 rather a strange thing that while every one about 
 him was worrying about money, that was the one 
 thing that never seemed to bother him at all. 
 
 " Terry," said some one, reaching over his shoul- 
 der to spear a piece of meat from the dish which 
 Terry had strategically placed in front of himself, 
 " where have you been for the last week?" 
 
 " Fishin'," said Terry. 
 
 " Did they bite ? " 
 
 " Only the mosquitoes." 
 
 The man passed on collecting his luncheon from 
 various migratory dishes which were scattered about 
 the table. A member at the other end of the table 
 spoke up. 
 
 " What's this I hear, Terry, about your becoming 
 a model ? " he asked. 
 
 " That's me." 
 
 " A model ! " some one exclaimed. 
 
 A pleased smile appeared on his face. 
 
 " I've been posing for one of these young fellows." 
 He looked carefully over the plate for a satisfactory 
 piece of meat. "He wanted a picture of an artist," 
 
 he explained. 
 
 260
 
 THE HIVE 
 
 A shout of laughter greeted this statement. 
 
 " Well, that's what he said. I told him sure I'd 
 pose I'd been noted for my beauty since a child. 
 Seems he was making some illustrations for a maga- 
 zine serial about an artist. He took pains to tell 
 me it was a poor artist. Well, I didn't know there 
 was any other kind, but I said all right. And he 
 said, ' Now, you look like you were down and out 
 and didn't have a cent.' " Terry leaned back in his 
 chair. " And I told him," he said, " I didn't have to 
 change my expression a particle." 
 
 " You must have plenty of time on your hands to 
 spend it posing for fellows, Terry." 
 
 " Well, I liked this young chap, and he seemed anx- 
 ious to make good so I thought I'd help him out." 
 
 Several men rose to go. They stood aside to let 
 a young man come down the narrow stair. He 
 nodded to them and stopping by the coffee urn, 
 tipped it experimentally. 
 
 " Dry," he observed. 
 
 " Say, Terry," asked some one at the table, "who 
 was this fellow ? " 
 
 Terry looked up. 
 
 " There he is now," he replied, pointing to the man 
 
 by the coffee urn. 
 
 261
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Oh, Bruce ! Hello, Bruce. Come in and sit 
 down." 
 
 Bruce looked hopefully about among the remnants 
 of the lunch. 
 
 " Davie," said a man near him, " sit down here 
 and tell us about it. Terry says you have a big com- 
 mission to illustrate a serial." 
 
 The young man laughed. 
 
 " I wish you would let me tell you about that," he 
 said. " I have been after a number of magazines 
 over in New York trying to get them to give me 
 work, and they wouldn't. There is one magazine in 
 particular, which you know about, that I have laid 
 steady siege to ; but all attacks were repulsed until 
 one day I told them that if they would let me have a 
 serial that they were not in a hurry about I'd make 
 illustrations for it, and if they didn't like them, they 
 could send them back, and if they did like them, they 
 could have them as a gracious gift. And they were 
 so sick of me they handed me out a story just to 
 get rid of me." 
 
 " You are some business man." 
 
 " Well, I had to have the work. The next day I'd 
 planned to take a pistol in with me. And having at 
 
 last got the chance, I decided that the way to make 
 
 262
 
 THE HIVE 
 
 good with these magazine fellows was to accentuate 
 character to get away from the stereotyped stuff 
 and make all the people just as human as possible. 
 I thought Terry was a good, interesting type, and 
 I finally played on his feelings so that he agreed to 
 pose for me." 
 
 " May we see the pictures ? " asked a man down at 
 the other corner of the table. 
 
 " Sorry," said David, " but I had to send them 
 off." 
 
 "Well, when they come back " began the 
 
 other, and checked himself. " I beg your pardon," 
 he said, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, don't apologize for an idea like that. I 
 didn't have much hope they'd keep them when I sent 
 them." 
 
 " Have you heard anything about them yet ? " 
 asked Terry. 
 
 David looked up at him with the smile of a cat 
 that has just swallowed a canary. 
 
 " Got a letter from the editor this morning," he 
 exclaimed, " saying he was going to use them." 
 
 A shout went round the table. 
 
 " But you get nothing for them." 
 
 " Yes, I do. The letter said they were so well 
 263
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 pleased with the work that they did not feel that 
 they ought to hold me to my bargain. So they en- 
 closed a modest check." 
 
 Terry struck a match and held it to his pipe. 
 
 " I am on the way," he said, " to becoming 
 famous." 
 
 264
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE EXCEEDING HIGH MOUNTAIN 
 
 DAVID was extremely cheerful over the success 
 of his first venture. But he was on the train 
 the next day bound for New York. He did not 
 work in New York, because he knew hardly any one 
 at all there, and he needed companions and friends 
 people to keep him stimulated and cheerful. So 
 he lived where he knew people, and traveled on the 
 train to the mart of trade. And they gave him another 
 story to illustrate mostly because he seemed bound 
 not to leave the office until they did give it to him. 
 
 During the long hot summer months when he 
 had been doing no work at all, he had tried to re- 
 duce himself to formula to understand himself. 
 And he decided that for him nothing failed like 
 success. Success in any particular direction bored 
 him. Throughout his life when he had proved to 
 himself that he could do any particular thing, his 
 ambition in regard to it had been satisfied, and he 
 had felt that it was necessary for him to turn to 
 
 265
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 something else. He knew, therefore, that as soon as 
 he found he could make the magazines use his 
 drawings, his tendency would be to lose interest. 
 And it was then he would have to work harder than 
 he had worked before. 
 
 He did not let Margaret know what he was doing. 
 His idea was to get an undisputed foothold before 
 he made a statement. He wanted to be convinced 
 himself before he attempted to convince her. And 
 he felt that no feat half accomplished would convince 
 either of them. But the important thing was that he 
 had found himself. He felt that he was building a 
 foundation on rock bottom a foundation to support 
 a slowly-rising edifice of ambition, enthusiasm and 
 hard work. 
 
 He began to get enough to do to keep him busy 
 so much that it was necessary for him to start 
 work in his little third-story studio at nine in the 
 morning and plod right on, with an hour's inter- 
 mission for lunch, until five in the evening. This 
 made him restless. He would tear himself away 
 from the men at the little club at one o'clock and 
 go back to the solitude of his studio, realizing that 
 he had to paint at the picture clamped to the easel 
 
 before him, and that, if he was to finish it, he must 
 
 266
 
 THE HIGH MOUNTAIN 
 
 paint until dark that day and the day after and the 
 day after that and so on. 
 
 Outside he could see the sun shining and peo- 
 ple walking along and other people in automobiles. 
 But he had to stay indoors and drive himself 
 forward. Perhaps the picture he was working on 
 was an interior, in which he had to indicate pains- 
 taking detail on a scarf hanging over a table or 
 in a rug or on the ornament of a mantelpiece. Or 
 perhaps it was an exterior with a balustrade, in 
 which each baluster had to be drawn and the 
 shadows cast upon it, every one the same, right 
 across the sheet. There was no inspiration about 
 it it was simply the drudgery of the profession 
 he had chosen. A plodding nature would have 
 taken it without question as a part of the day's 
 work. But his nature was not to plod. 
 
 He welcomed the men who dropped in to gossip. 
 He would lean back in his chair and listen to them 
 as long as they chose to stay. He could not draw 
 while any one was in the room, so a visit cut just 
 that much out of his day. And sometimes a man 
 would come by in an automobile and propose a 
 jaunt for the afternoon. And if the day was fine 
 
 and he felt sluggish about his work, he would 
 
 267
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 reason that he would be in better trim to draw on 
 the morrow if he got out and toned himself up a 
 little to-day. So he would lock the door of his 
 studio and go. 
 
 After a few indulgences of this kind, he would 
 find that he was getting behind and would work at 
 night to catch up. When things got to that state 
 he would strive to cover surface, and forget that it 
 was not simply area he was supposed to deliver 
 but ideas. He found presently that some of his 
 pictures began to come back to him, as unavail- 
 able. 
 
 This was a hard blow. He saw that he had to 
 begin all over again. He must cultivate concen- 
 tration. This meant remodeling himself. He had 
 done a great deal of modeling in his life in soft 
 clay. But this was harder. 
 
 However, every morning thereafter when he came 
 to his studio, he decided how much he would ac- 
 complish during the day and, with that goal fixed 
 before him, he found he was able to plod along 
 more steadily. It was the old story of tying an 
 apple in front of the donkey's nose. But it works 
 for either animal. If a visitor poked his head in 
 
 the door, he would remark, " Busy, old man," and 
 
 268
 
 THE HIGH MOUNTAIN 
 
 go on drawing. And then he had a large sign 
 painted with " Model posing " inscribed on one 
 side of it and " Gone to lunch " on the other, 
 which he allowed to hang almost continually on 
 the outside of his door, one face or the other 
 showing. 
 
 By the time he had held himself to his task thus 
 from Thanksgiving through the winter until Easter, 
 laying out his work every morning and striving all 
 day to accomplish what he had laid out, he found 
 that he was gradually fitting into the channel he 
 had scooped out for himself. He was becoming a 
 creature of habit, and he was more and more aston- 
 ished every day at the hold habit could obtain upon 
 him. He even came to the point when he dis- 
 covered that good sleep put him into better shape 
 to paint on the following day. He went to bed 
 regularly at the unearthly hour of eleven or there- 
 abouts, and rose at the still more unearthly hour 
 of seven. It must not be supposed that any of 
 these innovations were accomplished without the 
 wrenching apart of his soul. But as the determi- 
 nation to succeed was imbedded in him firmly, and 
 the object of his striving was never out of his mind 
 
 for one minute of the day, he would have allowed 
 
 269
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 himself to be stretched on the rack if he thought 
 it would make him more able to get what he 
 wanted. 
 
 As he grew more and more accustomed to his 
 new life there came compensations he had never 
 dreamed of. The pleasant exhaustion at the end of 
 the day, bringing with it the knowlege that some- 
 thing had been accomplished and that he had 
 earned the leisure now on his hands, was more 
 thrilling and consoling than any other pleasure 
 could have been. He began to see that the drudgery 
 of taking infinite pains over his pictures was only 
 a fancied drudgery, for the absolute attention to de- 
 tail gave his pictures a realism and definiteness that 
 more than repaid him for his pains. He had no 
 respect for his pictures unless they were real. If he 
 had a dinner table to draw, he made a dinner table 
 with the silver and glass and flowers and linen and 
 the drawn-work cloth. If he were painting soldiers 
 he saw to it that their uniforms, their insignia, the 
 pattern of their arms and such matters were as 
 nearly correct as he could make them. 
 
 The thing that was pleasing him most of all was 
 the fact that he was making out of himself day by 
 
 day a more and more efficient machine. 
 
 270
 
 THE HIGH MOUNTAIN 
 
 However, as spring came on, it began to be 
 harder to stay indoors when he could work with his 
 windows open and hear the first chirping of the 
 birds. He had the feeling that it would be nice to 
 lie down somewhere under a tree. 
 
 One day a friend came into his studio. 
 
 " I have a proposition to make to you," he said. 
 
 David laid down his brush. 
 
 " I'm listening," he replied. 
 
 "You're getting stale," continued the friend, "you 
 need a change of scene something to freshen 
 you up." 
 
 David ought to have recognized the insidiousness 
 of those words. But they only struck him hard in 
 the weakest spot of his armor. 
 
 " Now I have just the chance for you a chance 
 to go abroad and have all your expenses paid. It 
 will give you new experiences, new scenes and a 
 chance for plenty of new local color. There is an 
 expedition going over to Greece to dig up old 
 temples and so forth, and they need an all-around 
 man like you, who can draw, to make pictures of 
 what they find. It's an easy job. Four months 
 over there, and two weeks each way on the water. 
 
 You'd come back in the fall fit as a fiddle." 
 
 271
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 The man left, bearing David's promise to think it 
 over. David did think it over. There was no 
 work that afternoon. He went down to the river 
 and watched a liner pull out from her dock and 
 drop down-stream, with her flags flying and her rail 
 crowded with people. And when he looked at the 
 lugubrious throng of friends on the wharf who waved 
 their handkerchiefs at the departing craft, he felt as 
 if he too had bade farewell to a lifelong friend. The 
 picture of the boat was engraved upon his mind. 
 It seemed as if he absolutely must go. 
 
 In the evening he walked a long way and tried to 
 think it out. He knew and had known from the 
 instant the scheme was first proposed that if he left 
 his post now he left it forever. He did not try to 
 gloss over the fact that if he left he would acknowl- 
 edge himself beaten. It was a discussion pure and 
 simple between desire and conscience. His desire 
 tried to convince him that if he stuck to his work in 
 his present frame of mind he might just as well not 
 work at all for all the good he would accomplish. 
 It tried to convince him as it had convinced him a 
 thousand times before that he needed change. And 
 he had been so accustomed to giving in to it that he 
 
 hardly knew how to combat it. But all the while a 
 
 272
 
 THE HIGH MOUNTAIN 
 
 small voice which he supposed was conscience kept 
 just within view the fact that he was working to ac- 
 complish something. 
 
 He let his mind go back over his struggles during 
 the past year first of all the determination to start 
 out to succeed ; the long, hot days trying to get a 
 foothold ; the fight to keep himself in trim to hang 
 on to the advantage he had already gained. Those 
 things represented the hard battles in a life that was 
 not accustomed to battles. Should he acknowledge 
 himself beaten ? 
 
 Beaten ! He who had entered the arena with the 
 confidence of a veteran ; who would not stoop to 
 make promises of success, because he had been so 
 certain he would succeed. Would he set aside his 
 hope of success in favor of a mere craving for new 
 adventures and new places on the earth ? 
 
 He stopped where he was on the sidewalk. It 
 seemed suddenly as if all the discussion had been 
 going on in some other mind than his own. It had 
 no place in his. He must get rid of it cleanse his 
 soul of the idea. 
 
 " I'll stay here and sit in my studio," he exclaimed, 
 " if I don't do a stroke of work between now and 
 Christmas." 
 
 273
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 There was a store at the corner. He rushed in 
 and shut himself in the telephone booth there. By- 
 standers probably thought he needed first aid for the 
 injured ; and he did. He finally got his friend of the 
 afternoon on the wire. 
 
 " Hello," he said. " This is Bruce. I can't go on 
 that expedition you spoke of." 
 
 274
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE GIFTS OF GODS 
 
 ABOUT this time the magazine began publish- 
 ing the serial for which David had made his 
 first illustrations. That gave him a new lease of life. 
 The pictures made quite a little sensation and he be- 
 gan to get letters about them letters in commenda- 
 tion, letters criticizing them and letters asking his 
 prices for doing more. He felt now as if the life he 
 had claimed was beginning to claim him ; and that 
 fact was a bigger tie to his work than he had ever 
 supposed would be given him. 
 
 He wondered if Margaret would see the magazine. 
 There were so many magazines that it was only by 
 chance she might see it; and if she did and were 
 not looking for his name, she would doubtless not 
 know that he had done the pictures. Sometimes 
 he had an impulse to send her a copy of it, but 
 he knew that it was not such a great achievement 
 he had made after all, and that it would be best to 
 
 wait 
 
 275
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 One day he was returning from New York and, 
 getting off the train at the station, an impulse seized 
 him, instead of hastening down on the street, to lin- 
 ger in the concourse and watch the multitude. He 
 saw a thousand people pass by him interesting, 
 uninteresting, commonplace, unusual, beautiful, ugly, 
 urban, suburban, French, Chinese, fat, fashionable, 
 thin, without finding a single face he had ever seen 
 before. But the face of the thousandth and first 
 person he had seen before. The face was Margaret 
 York's. 
 
 Of course it does happen that sometimes when 
 the sun is shining brightly and the sky is as blue as 
 the sea, a peal of thunder explodes suddenly over- 
 head out of nothing at all. And it does sometimes 
 happen that a person walking along in a crowded 
 street glances down and discovers a string of pearls 
 on the sidewalk. But these circumstances occasion 
 no more astonishment than was written on the faces 
 of Margaret and David as they met in that unex- 
 pected place. 
 
 Margaret began to laugh. 
 
 " Well, David ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 He caught her hand in both of his. He would 
 
 have taken her in his arms if he had done what the 
 
 276
 
 THE GIFTS OF GODS 
 
 excited heart inside him wanted to do. As it was, 
 he simply held the hand and looked at her. She 
 smiled. 
 
 " Don't you talk?" she asked, presently. 
 
 " I had to see what you looked like first." He 
 glanced about him. " Shall we go in there and sit 
 down?" 
 
 "Yes. I have ten minutes," she said. 
 
 " Ten minutes ! " 
 
 "I am taking a train to Pittsburgh. I got in 
 about an hour ago and have been to see a man for 
 Mr. Bundy. I am bound West now to see another 
 man for myself." 
 
 " A man for yourself," he repeated, smiling. " I 
 hope he suits you." 
 
 " Don't be foolish. I wouldn't go all the way to 
 Pittsburgh for that." 
 
 " Especially after what you have found here," he 
 suggested. 
 
 "And I had to come a fairly long way to see 
 him," she said. 
 
 There was something inquiring in her tone. He 
 wanted to tell her then just what he was doing, but 
 as yet he had really accomplished nothing. And 
 the recent occasion when he had nearly succumbed 
 
 277
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 to temptation and given up was still a sore point. 
 So he thought it best not to lay claim to virtue just 
 yet. 
 
 " How is your turpentine coming on ? " he asked, 
 in a moment. 
 
 When he glanced up he caught a look of interest 
 on her face that faded as he asked the question as if 
 she had expected that he would say something about 
 his work. 
 
 " It is coming on very well," she replied. " We 
 are selling all of it we can make, and people are 
 using it just as if it were real turpentine. In fact, 
 the demand is getting far beyond our powers of 
 production." 
 
 " Can't you make some one lend you money to 
 build a whopping big factory ? " 
 
 " That is just what I am going to Pittsburgh for. 
 There is a man out there named Kimball who is 
 loaded down with money. He saw the factory at 
 Bay City and wrote me a letter about it." 
 
 They walked out to the train together. 
 
 " Are you happy ? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You have become so used to being away from 
 
 home," she said, " you do not get homesick." 
 
 278
 
 THE GIFTS OF GODS 
 
 " Never until this last year," he replied. 
 
 He was anxious not to miss a minute of her. He 
 went aboard the train and stayed until the cars 
 began to move. 
 
 "Good-bye," he said, then, holding her hand 
 tightly. 
 
 She looked up into his eyes. 
 
 " I have missed you," she said. 
 
 He stared down at her. The train was moving. 
 If he could only have stopped it, held it where it 
 was, made it give him one more minute of her. 
 But its wheels were turning and the platform beside 
 it was slipping by. It would not even split a second 
 and give him the half of it. He hurried away, the 
 words still sounding in his ears. 
 
 They sounded in his ears long after he had 
 stepped off the swiftly moving train and made his 
 way, unseeing, down the long platform, through the 
 crowds of people and out upon the street. 
 
 He found himself after a while at his studio, not 
 quite certain by what route he had reached it. He 
 found on his table a letter a letter from a very im- 
 portant magazine. He read it through. Then he 
 sat down and read it through again, his eyes bright 
 
 with wonder. 
 
 279
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Well," he admitted at length, " I guess it's true, 
 or they wouldn't have signed it." 
 In part the letter read as follows : 
 
 " We have been very much pleased with 
 the last work you have done for us so 
 much so that we have decided to give you 
 a large commission. We have a serial 
 story for which we will need illustrations in 
 color. We think you are just the man to 
 do them provided you can do them quickly. 
 Please let us know if six weeks is sufficient 
 time. There are to be ten illustrations and 
 we will pay you one hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars apiece for them." 
 
 He continued to stare at the letter. 
 
 " If I had known I was going to get that," he 
 said, " I would have asked her how much she 
 missed me." 
 
 280
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 FOR four weeks David worked at top speed on 
 his ten pictures. They were all outdoor pic- 
 tures to be full of the spirit of the sea and sky, to 
 breathe salt air, to be whipped across by ocean 
 breezes. And at the end of the four weeks when 
 the pictures were drawn and he was blocking them 
 out with the first washes of color, he began to see 
 that he had no feeling of sea and sky and great 
 spaces in his tiny shut in studio. It cramped him, 
 as if he were trying to draw and there was not room 
 for his elbow. 
 
 He knew that he must get away. And when he 
 learned that the spring rising of the river of short 
 duration this year had already swept over his 
 island and subsided again, he wrote down to have 
 his portable house set up upon it, and made ar- 
 rangements to go there immediately with his pic- 
 tures and paraphernalia with the idea of finishing 
 them there. This decision made, he was happy 
 
 and excited as a boy. He sat down and wrote a 
 
 281
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 letter to Margaret telling her that he was coming to 
 his island and would see her on his way. As he 
 wrote it he felt with a sense of satisfaction that he 
 had earned his right to see her. 
 
 " Are you glad ? " asked Dora, when Margaret had 
 told her of the contents of the letter. 
 
 " I am afraid I am. But it is a responsibility. 
 There are so few places in this life in which you 
 can do just as you want to without thinking of the 
 consequences. And I am thinking always of the 
 consequences of my liking David too well." 
 
 She poked the letter into a pigeonhole of her desk. 
 
 " And loving a man would not be the wholly sen- 
 timental affair with me that it is with a girl just out 
 of high school. It would be the choosing between 
 two careers. Now I am happy in my present life, but 
 if I should find that I need David, then I am going 
 to take it for granted that that means I need to keep 
 David's house and that I need to " she hesitated 
 " to care for David's children." 
 
 She looked at Dora defiantly. 
 
 " I don't lay that down as a rule for other people 
 in my position. But that is what I want. Should I 
 have children, I should want to devote my life to 
 
 making them well and strong and happy." 
 
 282
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 " I understand," said Dora. 
 
 " But don't you see that I would have to be very 
 sure that I wanted David beyond a shadow of a 
 doubt, to be willing to give up my present career 
 which I have made for myself by my own efforts and 
 take him and his, blindly, for better or for worse." 
 
 " With the chances in favor of the worse." 
 
 " Yes, but if I loved him, and he wanted me," she 
 said, " I would take him no matter what the chances 
 were. 
 
 " Do you know," she went on, " I could tell you a 
 surprising thing. You and I are rather smugly 
 satisfied that we have succeeded in a financial way, 
 and frown down upon David because he has not. 
 But he has a clearer grasp of the situation than we 
 have. I go on accumulating without having decided 
 whether that is absolutely the best thing I can do 
 with my life. David decides that hunting the al- 
 mighty dollar for the sake of the dollar is wrong, and 
 in the face of the criticism of all his friends attempts 
 to find out what he was put upon the world to do 
 and then to go out and do it" 
 
 They were driving along a crowded down-town 
 street, whose sidewalks were lined with all the bright 
 colors incident to the dressmaking and millinery of 
 
 283
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 a late spring day. Theoretically civilization had 
 taught this throng to attire itself quietly and incon- 
 spicuously ; but the intoxicating excitement of put- 
 ting on clothes had drawn them away from mere 
 theory and led them to strive onwards and upwards 
 into higher keys. No soft low color tones in this 
 gathering rather pigments fresh from the tube. It 
 was a living impressionist picture. A decorative 
 young woman strolled by, her coat a shade obtained 
 by steeping the fabric for months in crushed straw- 
 berries. It was a striking contrast to the white skirt 
 and dragged one's unresisting eye toward it. Too 
 much like a magazine cover, indeed ! But magazine 
 covers and young girls must be looked at, else what 
 would be the use of having either of those articles ? 
 
 But Margaret glanced only casually at the color 
 schemes drifting by and saw with unspeculative eye 
 the bright yellows, the startling pinks and the vi- 
 brating greens. She was thinking of other things. 
 And then suddenly a look of very violent interest 
 came into her eyes. It was a girl all dressed in 
 white that she saw, with tiny old rose ribbons at her 
 wrists and neck and wide old rose cap-strings tied 
 under her chin. The tops of her short stockings 
 
 were adorned by narrow pink bands and small 
 
 284
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 patent-leather pumps shone as they moved in short 
 steps over the pavement. Amid the spectroscope on 
 the sidewalk this person was the most conspicuous, 
 to Margaret. She clutched Dora by the arm, start- 
 ling that lady so much that she almost ran her 
 machine into the sidewalk. 
 
 " Look," she cried, with a fervor scarcely com- 
 mensurate with the occasion, " the Sawyers." 
 
 Dora, whose mind when driving was never quite 
 free from the thought of the host of near-sighted old 
 ladies at street-corners, whose lives she held in the 
 hollow of her hand, applied the brakes so that the 
 automobile went through the preliminary motions 
 of turning a somersault, and then stopped exhausted 
 by the sidewalk. The child turned round wide eyes 
 toward it. 
 
 " Oh, mother, see the naughty automobile." 
 
 The mother turned with a reproof upon her lips 
 but did not utter it, for she beheld her offspring 
 raised bodily from the ground by an attractive and 
 very well dressed girl. The child's mind moved 
 quicker than the mother's. 
 
 " Aunt Mardret," she exclaimed. 
 
 " Of course it's Aunt Mardret," that person re- 
 plied, and, kissing the child upon the very tip of her 
 
 285
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 nose by way of humorous addition to the remark, 
 set her down again upon the pavement, so that she 
 might speak to her mother. 
 
 "Think of seeing you by chance this way," was 
 Elsie Sawyer's surprised comment. 
 
 " You were just about to say ' What a small place 
 the world is.' Now I have said it for you," Mar- 
 garet observed. 
 
 Margaret presented Dora, and Dora persuaded 
 Elsie and the child to get in the machine and be 
 taken to wherever they were going. But they had 
 been everywhere they had intended going. They 
 were en route for the seashore and had missed their 
 train. They had four hours to wait in the city for 
 another one. 
 
 When Dora and Margaret heard this they felt that 
 it was a propitious time to declare a holiday for the 
 afternoon. Dora drove home and the little chubby 
 hand of the child held her arm tightly as she drove. 
 That warm clasp brought a gentle smile to her lips, 
 and to her eyes a light of joy and pride, as if she 
 were imagining that the chubby hand and the chubby 
 girl belonged actually to her. Presently the little 
 bonneted head dropped sideways against her arm 
 
 and the heavy eyelids closed automatically. 
 
 286
 
 THE CHILD 
 
 " Long past nap time," observed the mother, 
 treating the occurrence in a matter-of-fact way as if 
 it were of no consequence at all. But Dora drove 
 very slowly and carefully, risking the lives of hun- 
 dreds of innocent pedestrians, because she would 
 not ring the bell for fear of rousing the child. 
 Margaret, sitting on the floor by Mrs. Sawyer's 
 feet, watched the little scene intently, with a feeling 
 almost of jealousy that the small curly head was 
 resting against Dora's arm and not against her own. 
 What jest of Nature's was it to put mothers' hearts 
 in these women whose lives had to do with the 
 market-place and the money-changers ? 
 
 At the house Margaret and Dora were permitted 
 to undress the inert little bundle and put it to bed in 
 Margaret's own room. The windows were raised to 
 a carefully adjudged point, to let in what seemed to 
 be the proper amount of air, the shades were drawn 
 to another carefully adjudged point to exclude the 
 exactly proper amount of healthful yet sleep-disturb- 
 ing sunshine, chairs were placed by the side of the 
 wide bed to forestall a tendency to fall from its dizzy 
 height all by these amateur hands intrusted with 
 heavy responsibility. They stood by the bedside 
 
 and gazed at the shock of yellow curls upon the 
 
 287
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 pillow, and the small oh, so small head making 
 but a tiny spot in the midst of the great area of the 
 coverlet of the big, grown-up bed. They stole on 
 tiptoe from the room and closed the door gently be- 
 hind them. 
 
 As they turned to descend the stairs, their eyes 
 met. Dora paused, her hand grasping the newel- 
 post behind her. 
 
 "That is the sort of thing," she said, slowly, 
 " that I missed a long while ago." 
 
 Margaret nodded. The child had brought to 
 light in each of them a primitive element as 
 though somehow they had harked back to a previ- 
 ous life. It was the instinct to possess, to protect, 
 and to rear to manhood an infant of their species 
 an instinct always present but often smothered by 
 the multiplicity of other calls made by the com- 
 plicated and diverse civilization that surrounds us. 
 
 " I have talked about your career many times," 
 Dora went on. " Perhaps that is because I am al- 
 ways trying to convince myself that my career and 
 the achievement of my personal ambition is the 
 most important thing for me. But whatever you 
 do, don't deliberately miss that as I did." 
 
 288
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 A GRACEFUL EXIT 
 
 "T^VANS," asked Mr. Bundy one day, "how 
 * ' much damage did the freshet do at your 
 factory ? " 
 
 Evans seated himself by Bundy 's desk. 
 
 " None at all. The water was so low it hardly 
 came over the banks. But I shouldn't be surprised 
 if we had another one as soon as it rains again." 
 
 " I never heard of such a thing," observed Mar- 
 garet. "If I thought there was a chance of it, I 
 wouldn't put in that new crop of the turpentine 
 plant." 
 
 " I'm only guessing," returned Evans. " I wish 
 you had the capital," he added in a moment, "to 
 plant the whole fifty acres in it." 
 
 "She will have before the summer's over," ex- 
 claimed Bundy. " I'll bet she gets Kimball to put 
 his money in it." 
 
 " I wish I were sure of it," observed Margaret. 
 
 " So do I," Evans exclaimed. 
 
 He rose and strode up and down the floor. 
 289
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "If we don't," he went on, "the Waring Com- 
 pany will drive us out." 
 
 "You're pessimistic to-day," said she. But she 
 looked at him keenly. Evans stopped beside her 
 desk. 
 
 " Potter," he said, " has had his eye on that tur- 
 pentine ever since the day you bought the rights." 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Margaret, smiling, " he didn't 
 know about it until nearly a week afterward." 
 
 Evans shook his head. 
 
 " Let me tell you something. I found out yester- 
 day that the very day you bought the rights, a 
 man Potter sent down to Bay City to look over the 
 factory discovered that old Venn was making this 
 turpentine substitute, and tried to buy the rights 
 from Groh that very evening. But you were ahead 
 of him." 
 
 "I remember Venn saying the man had been 
 there," remarked Margaret, thoughtfully. " Why," 
 she added, suddenly, " Potter must have known the 
 next day all about it." 
 
 "He did. The man came up on the afternoon 
 train and told him." 
 
 Margaret dipped her pen in the ink and scribbled 
 
 idly on her pad. 
 
 290
 
 A GRACEFUL EXIT 
 
 " That train gets in at four," she said. " And 
 Potter called me up about five o'clock I remember 
 I had my hat on ready to leave." 
 
 She stopped abruptly, her pen poised in the air. 
 
 " Why, he came to see me that very night and 
 and " 
 
 The color deepened in her face. 
 
 " No matter," she remarked, quickly. " What 
 leads you to believe Mr. Potter has ' his eye on our 
 turpentine ' ? " she added. 
 
 Evans looked at her curiously. 
 
 " He has begun to fight me, as you know. He 
 has sent you a sample of an enamel finish with which 
 he means to rival mine." 
 
 " And charges only about two- thirds as much for 
 it," said Bundy. 
 
 " That's it exactly. It was made for the sole 
 purpose of driving me off the market. And as 
 they have about a thousand times as much money 
 as I have, they can keep on underselling me until I 
 am bankrupt." 
 
 Bundy bit his mustache. 
 
 " But that looks more as though they had their 
 eye on your product," he said, " than on the turpen- 
 tine." 
 
 291
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " They are coining at me first because my stuff is 
 hurting their business, and they mean simply to 
 eliminate it. And I believe Potter figures that if 
 one product made in the factory fails, no one will 
 want to put money in the other." 
 
 Margaret nodded. 
 
 " And then," continued Evans, " he will come 
 along in a friend-of-the-family way and offer, since 
 no one else will let you have money, to finance the 
 operation himself, and dictate his own terms." 
 
 Bundy stroked the back of his head. 
 
 " I think he's a rascal," he said, after a little con- 
 sideration. 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Margaret, " that's just his idea 
 of business. But very soon now we'll have our 
 money, I hope, and we can snap our fingers at him." 
 
 Evans rose to go. 
 
 " Did you make an analysis of this paint that the 
 Waring Company is using to undersell you ? " asked 
 Bundy. 
 
 " Yes. I put it there on your desk." He turned 
 to Margaret. " But even if you get money, it will 
 not help me, will it ? " 
 
 " If I get the money," she replied, " I will leave 
 
 you no room for complaint." 
 
 292
 
 A GRACEFUL EXIT 
 
 Practically the only prospect she had of getting 
 the money to manufacture her turpentine on a large 
 scale was William Kimball. When she had seen 
 him in Pittsburgh he had been most optimistic about 
 her discovery and seemed to be very favorably in- 
 clined toward it. She had recently sent him some 
 samples of the product which he wanted to turn over 
 to chemists and others for the purpose of obtaining 
 expert opinions. She did not see how the opinions 
 could be unfavorable, and yet she was anxious about 
 them. She knew that she would not feel confident 
 about it until Mr. Kimball had actually consented to 
 advance the money. 
 
 The Waring Company had made her one offer of 
 financial aid. But as this offer included the stipula- 
 tion that the Waring Company was to have the con- 
 trolling interest, and was to buy all the turpentine 
 they themselves used at cost, she felt that it eliminated 
 her ; so she had declined. She found out afterward 
 that the offer had not been made until the Waring 
 Company had themselves tried to make the turpen- 
 tine substitute, and failed. They had obtained some 
 of the seed for the plant, and had tried to raise it. 
 But they had planted it at the wrong season of the 
 year, and in the wrong kind of soil. They had no 
 
 293
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 notion as to when it should be cut, or how it should 
 be handled after cutting. These and a hundred 
 other things were secrets discovered by old Venn 
 after many years of experiment, and known now only 
 by him. It was not surprising, therefore, that the 
 Waring Company had failed to get an oil resembling 
 turpentine. 
 
 Late in the afternoon a familiar automobile drove 
 up before the office of Bundy and Son, and a familiar 
 figure, thoroughly groomed, so that not a fold in his 
 suit hung wrong and not a hair of his head lay 
 amiss, alighted from it. It was Mr. Potter, a trifle 
 more rounded and heavy than a year ago and a lit- 
 tle more florid of face, but very distinguished. 
 
 He entered the private office with customary as- 
 surance and with perfect finish and grace greeted 
 Margaret and Mr. Bundy. It was an education to 
 watch him. He never knew a moment of hesitation. 
 There seemed to be no lever one could touch that 
 would throw him out of poise. 
 
 Mr. Bundy smoothed the already smooth hair at 
 the back of his head with an air of uneasiness. 
 
 " Sit down," he said, without looking at the vis- 
 itor, " sit down." 
 
 Mr. Potter sat down. 
 
 294
 
 IT OUGHT TO BE MORE COSTLY
 
 A GRACEFUL EXIT 
 
 " Did you get a sample of our new enamel finish?" 
 he asked presently. 
 
 Bundy drummed nervously on the arm of the 
 chair. 
 
 " Why, yes," he replied. 
 
 " I came down here," Potter said, " to offer you 
 some very special rates. In order to make it worth 
 your while to introduce it among your customers, 
 we are willing to let you have it at fifteen cents less 
 per gallon than the price we quoted you." 
 
 "This is a product similar to the one Evans is 
 manufacturing, isn't it?" asked Bundy, drawing 
 parallel lines on his blotter. 
 
 " Why, yes, I think it is. Discovered about the 
 same time. Only his seems to be more costly." 
 Potter said this in a satisfied tone of superiority. 
 
 Two little pink spots appeared on Mr. Bundy's 
 cheeks. Margaret had never seen him angry before. 
 
 " It ought to be more costly," he asserted. 
 
 " Why ? " shot out Potter. 
 
 Bundy fumbled, with clumsy fingers, among the 
 papers on his desk and at length drew out the paper 
 Evans had given him. 
 
 " Here is an analysis of your paint," he exclaimed, 
 
 trying to be very calm and failing to produce any 
 
 295
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 effect but that of great excitement. " By that it ap- 
 pears that the price you now offer us is less than the 
 cost of the material you put in it." 
 
 Bundy pushed the piece of paper away from him 
 with an injured air. 
 
 Margaret looked at Potter to see how he would 
 take this astounding statement. But their visitor 
 merely smiled and waved his hand. 
 
 " Of course you must understand," he observed, 
 easily, " that with a large organization like ours we 
 can do many things that would be suicide for the 
 average firm. With our facilities for getting special 
 prices, etc. " 
 
 Mr. Bundy rose. His face was very red and his 
 neck seemed to have suddenly become too large for 
 his collar. 
 
 " Do you think I am a child ? " he shouted, in 
 his thin voice. " Special prices ! You buy at the 
 market. I know that. I haven't been in this busi- 
 ness for twenty-five years not to know what you 
 have to pay for things. You are selling this inferior 
 product of yours below cost to drive Evans out of 
 business. You know you are ! And if you say you 
 are not," he cried in an awkward burst of indigna- 
 tion, " you lie." 
 
 296
 
 A GRACEFUL EXIT 
 
 He glared at Potter like a little terrier bullying 
 a mastiff. Margaret gazed at him in amazement. 
 And then somewhat aghast at himself, he burst out 
 of the room. 
 
 A look of blank incredulity rested on Potter's face. 
 He looked at Mr. Bundy's chair as if he did not 
 quite realize that the man was no longer there. 
 Then at length he turned to Margaret, an explana- 
 tion upon his lips. 
 
 But Margaret merely laughed. 
 
 The ridiculousness of the scene dawned upon 
 him. Bundy had taken him so much by surprise 
 that for once in his life he had been left speechless, 
 and now when words came, there was no one to say 
 them to. Margaret had assumed the r61e of a mere 
 interested spectator. 
 
 But there was no way of throwing down his poise. 
 He rose with dignity, his face a shade more crimson, 
 but otherwise unruffled, and strode out of the office 
 with an air that would have done credit to a Grand 
 Duke. 
 
 But the bitter gall was in his mouth. In a mo- 
 ment of error he had let her see behind the curtain 
 of his soul. And when she had laughed, he knew 
 
 the illusion was gone. 
 
 297
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 MARGARET was beginning to find out now 
 that the decison Mr. Kimball would make 
 either in favor or against financing her enterprise 
 was assuming the proportions of a crisis in her life. 
 If he agreed to furnish the capital, she would then 
 have carried her career to a height of success of 
 which she had never dreamed in her earlier days. 
 She scarcely dared even to think of it, so dazzling 
 was the prospect. On the other hand, if he declined 
 to furnish it, he would automatically put a barrier in 
 her path that would take many a day to surmount 
 For the very fact that so shrewd a man as Kimball 
 had taken the prospect under consideration and had 
 decided against it, would be a red flag of warning to 
 other investors. 
 
 Her first mood of confidence had changed to one 
 of disturbed uncertainty. She was an accused per- 
 son awaiting the verdict of the jury. Every yellow 
 
 telegram that came into the office of Bundy and Son 
 
 298
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 sent waves of excitement through her until she knew 
 its contents. Every long-distance telephone call 
 aroused in her a breathless interest until she found 
 that it was not for her. The pile of mail in the 
 morning and again in the middle of the afternoon 
 had a diabolic magnetism for her. She could not 
 rest until she had run through it, looking for the 
 envelope with the familiar mark upon it. 
 
 But there was no word. Telegrams came, long- 
 distance messages punctuated the business of the 
 day, bushels of letters were opened, discussed, 
 worried over, answered, and filed. But among them 
 was no sign that William Kimball of Pittsburgh was 
 alive. 
 
 She wrote him letters one almost every day 
 but she did not send them. Their final destination 
 was the bottom of her waste-basket. Sometimes 
 she felt that a telegram might be the right medium 
 through which to extract information from him. 
 But when she had the message written it seemed 
 too anxious in its tone. And no matter how anx- 
 ious she was, he must not know it. He must be 
 led to consider her in the entirely fictitious r61e of 
 a light-hearted, undisturbed lady who would like 
 
 to have him invest his money in her enterprise, but 
 
 299
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 did not consider it at all paramount that he should 
 do so. 
 
 Eventually, of course, word must come from the 
 man. He could not go on being William the 
 Silent forever. The day on which that word did 
 come at last was the very one following Potter's 
 visit to the office. The telephone, which had borne 
 to the office so many far-away voices that had no 
 news of great import to tell, this time bore the voice 
 of William Kimball. And Margaret herself was at 
 Bay City. 
 
 Bundy was wild with anxiety. Kimball wanted 
 to talk to Margaret herself and would leave no 
 message. Bundy tried to explain where she was, 
 but was so disturbed by the importance of the oc- 
 casion that it is doubtful if this conversation was 
 entirely intelligible. However, he managed to ex- 
 plain that he would try to get a message to her and 
 have her call him. 
 
 But the message was ill-fated. It came to the 
 factory at Bay City after she had gone. She was 
 then on the train. It would be three hours before 
 she would be back in the office. She had waited 
 many weeks for the news she must wait three 
 hours longer. 
 
 300
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 The three hours proved to be just a little too 
 long. When she arrived at the office and tried 
 to get Mr. Kimball by telephone, he could not be 
 found. She tried in every possible way to discover 
 him. But nothing could bring him to light. From 
 all appearances, Pittsburgh simply did not contain 
 him. 
 
 After an hour or more of this, she found at length 
 some one at his house who vouchsafed the informa- 
 tion that he was not expected home until the follow- 
 ing morning. She went home at that, carrying sus- 
 pended sentence with her. If she had been anxious 
 before, she was doubly anxious now. But her anx- 
 iety was tinged with vexation that she should have 
 chosen this day, of all the days, to go to Bay City. 
 
 " I don't see how you can be so calm about it," 
 said Dora. " I shouldn't be able to sit still." 
 
 " I'm not calm about it," Margaret exclaimed. 
 " I am on pins and needles." 
 
 She was sitting at the piano. She began to play 
 softly. It needed soft and restful chords to quiet 
 the furore of subdued excitement within her ex- 
 citement at the thought that perhaps the great mo- 
 ment of her life was near at hand the moment that 
 would realize her dream of success. Why should 
 
 301
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 the excitement not have been strong within her? 
 They had told her that Mr. Kimball would not re- 
 turn until the morning. There was nothing to do 
 but to wait, her soul keyed up and her mind in a 
 tumult of unrest. 
 
 And this was the night that David chose. He 
 could not by any circumstances have chanced upon 
 a time less propitious for him. In coming, he pitted 
 himself against the fever-heat of the other side of 
 her life. If there was ever a time when he would 
 have been crowded out, it was at that moment. 
 
 Of course, he did not choose the moment. It 
 was the time the fates picked out for him. He 
 was on his way to his island, and he had so ar- 
 ranged his journey that he would be able to see 
 Margaret as he was passing through the city. 
 When his ring sounded, Margaret turned toward 
 her companion. 
 
 " That," she said, " is David Bruce." 
 
 " How could it be ? " 
 
 " He said he was coming soon. I have a feeling 
 that this is he." 
 
 The maid passed through the hall. Dora lis- 
 tened. 
 
 " You were right," she said. 
 302
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 But David sensed no excitement in the air. The 
 reason women are made beautiful is so that you 
 will not see beneath and guess what they are think- 
 ing. Margaret rose and shook hands with him. 
 Dora looked at him keenly. Everything was as 
 usual. He did not feel the concert-pitch. 
 
 " You have grown," Dora remarked, " since I saw 
 you last." 
 
 " I am still five feet ten and weigh a hundred and 
 sixty pounds," he said. 
 
 " I don't mean that way. I mean you are older. 
 You have some lines at the corners of your mouth. 
 Perhaps you are growing up." 
 
 He walked to the mirror over the mantel and 
 looked at his mouth critically. 
 
 " Would you consider them a blemish ? " 
 
 " No. I rather like them," she said. 
 
 After a decent interval, Dora dutifully left Mar- 
 garet with him and ascended the stair. Margaret, 
 who had been listening rather absently to the con- 
 versation between the other two, rose from the 
 piano stool. He noticed her high color and bright 
 eyes, but did not attribute them to excitement. 
 
 " When are you going to your island?" she asked, 
 quickly, in a now-I-must-talk manner. 
 
 303
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " Aren't you afraid that there will be another rise 
 of the river?" 
 
 He could see she was making conversation. 
 
 " I have never heard of such a thing," he replied. 
 
 " Neither have I. Some one suggested the pos- 
 sibility yesterday, however, and I happened to think 
 of it again." 
 
 "Are you tired?" he asked. 
 
 She had been standing by the mantelpiece, staring 
 at the hearth. His speech seemed to make her 
 actually aware of him for the first time. She raised 
 her eyes to his and smiled. 
 
 " Why, no," she replied. " Do I look tired ? " 
 
 " I thought you were rather absent in your talk 
 as though you had something on your mind." 
 
 She dropped into a chair. 
 
 " It has been a trying day. I have had so many 
 things to think about. I think my brain has a kink 
 in it." 
 
 " I wonder it hasn't a kink in it more frequently," 
 he said. 
 
 A passing electric automobile rang its bell just 
 outside the window. It sounded unusually loud. 
 Margaret started. 
 
 304
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 " Your nerves are in bad shape," he said, sur- 
 prised. 
 
 " I thought it was the telephone." 
 
 " I can give you a prescription for that tired, 
 nervous feeling," he remarked. 
 
 A light of mild interest appeared in her eyes. 
 
 "What is it?" she demanded. " Is it something 
 you have to take ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes." He hesitated. " You take a train 
 to begin with." 
 
 " I took one to-day before lunch and another be- 
 fore dinner." 
 
 "Oh, well. You took too many trains. Your 
 system wasn't able to assimilate them." 
 
 " David, you're so foolish." 
 
 "No, indeed, I'm serious. Now, as I say, you 
 are to take a train and stay on it until you get to 
 Bay City." 
 
 " Oh, dear me. That wouldn't cure me." 
 
 "I haven't come to the cure yet," he asserted. 
 " Upon arriving at Bay City, you proceed at once to 
 the river. There you step into a canoe and go due 
 east." 
 
 She played idly with the fringe of the table 
 cover. 
 
 305
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "Am I alone all this time? I'm timid about step- 
 ping into canoes." 
 
 " Not necessarily. Some other fellow the Bruces, 
 for instance, are sometimes nervous might also be 
 anxious to take the cure." 
 
 " I am relieved. Go on." 
 
 " You thereupon proceed, as I say, due east, and 
 take the first island on the left." 
 
 " Will my system readily assimilate an island ? " 
 
 "I mean select the island," he asserted, stiffly. 
 He paid no attention to her smile. " And upon this 
 island it is really the only one, so you need not be 
 afraid of missing it grow five tall trees noted for 
 their medicinal properties." 
 
 "At last," she exclaimed, "we are coming to the 
 cure." 
 
 " Their value," he continued, " lies in their sooth- 
 ing influence alone." 
 
 " But how about this companion I am to have ? I 
 am fussy about people. If I didn't like him, a whole 
 forest full of trees couldn't cure me." 
 
 He gave the matter thought. 
 
 " I don't know whether you would like him or 
 not," he replied, at length. " But he would like you, 
 
 if that would help the matter any." 
 
 306
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 "That always helps," she said. "How do you 
 know he would like me?" 
 
 He waited until she glanced up at him and looked 
 squarely into her eyes. 
 
 " Don't you think he does ? " he asked. 
 
 She took off her ring and played with it idly. 
 
 " How should I know ? " 
 
 " Isn't there anything inside you that tells ? " 
 urged David. 
 
 She pursed her lips doubtfully. But inside her 
 something was beating a little faster. New emo- 
 tions were rising in her. The sound of his voice 
 and the personal nearness of him seemed to take 
 hold of her to push gently backward the things 
 that had been martialed in the front of her mind. 
 The excitement of a while ago over a thing 
 that might happen was giving way to an ex- 
 citement over something that actually was hap- 
 pening. 
 
 The ring she was playing with dropped to the 
 floor. He rose to pick it up. She was reclining 
 luxuriously in a leather- cushioned Morris chair. He 
 sat upon its broad arm and took the hand on which 
 the ring belonged. She watched him curiously. 
 He held the hand for a moment and then slipped 
 
 307
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 the bit of jewelry down upon her little finger, where 
 she was accustomed to wear it. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. 
 
 The hand lay upon his knee. 
 
 " Are you through with this ? " she asked, raising 
 the fingers of it and letting them fall. 
 
 " Never," he said, in a low tone. 
 
 Her glance met his fairly. He saw the color 
 deepen presently in her cheeks. He wanted then to 
 loose the hand he held and take her into his arms. 
 
 " Margaret," he said. 
 
 She knew the meaning in his voice. She felt her 
 heart throbbing. But she looked up at him calmly. 
 
 "Yes," she answered evenly. 
 
 The telephone bell rang. She felt his eyes upon 
 her. His hand was gripping hers. If she saw any 
 determination in him then to take her in his arms, 
 her only feeling was to wish that he would. The 
 telephone bell rang. She sat up rigidly, realizing 
 then that it was the telephone bell. She sprang to 
 her feet, her hand still in his. 
 
 " Let me go," she whispered. " Please. Please. 
 It's very important. It's for me." 
 
 He released her and standing up, paced up and 
 
 down the room. She ran to the telephone. All the 
 
 308
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 excitement of the early evening returned to her,, 
 Her hand trembled as she held the receiver to her 
 ear. She said " Hello " and a voice told her to 
 wait. 
 
 Dora ran down the steps. She glanced at the 
 figure sitting motionless at the telephone. 
 
 " It is a long-distance call," she told David, confi- 
 dently. 
 
 David, hardly comprehending, nodded his head. 
 Margaret said " Hello " again and waited. Dora 
 went closer to her as though she expected to see 
 over her shoulder what was going on on the wire. 
 Presently Margaret said " Hello " again. 
 
 "Yes," she continued. "This is Miss York." 
 There was a pause. " Yes, Mr. Kimball," she said. 
 
 Dora gasped excitedly. There was a long buzzing 
 on the 'phone which Margaret punctuated here 
 and there with a murmured " yes." At the end of 
 it she said, "I understand." Another buzzing. 
 Margaret said, " I will do it to-morrow." A short 
 buzzing followed, and Margaret said "Good-bye." 
 Dora was wild with curiosity. 
 
 " That was the most unsatisfactory telephone con- 
 versation I ever listened to," she exclaimed. 
 
 Margaret beamed. 
 
 309
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " It was the most satisfactory one I ever listened 
 to," she said. 
 
 The other woman caught both her wrists. 
 
 " You don't mean he " 
 
 Margaret sank into a chair. 
 
 " He is tremendously enthusiastic about the whole 
 scheme. He says he does not think there is a doubt 
 that he will put his money into it. But he is anxious 
 to try a few more experiments and wants me to send 
 him more of the turpentine. But he assured me that 
 he is most favorably impressed." 
 
 " Bully," cried Dora. 
 
 David sat down on the bottom step of the stair 
 near them. 
 
 " Is this your Pittsburgh man ? " 
 
 Margaret looked up, her eyes bright with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes," she exclaimed. 
 
 " I congratulate you," he said, heartily. But he 
 saw that the spell, as far as he was concerned, was 
 broken. Her head and her heart were too full of 
 other things. He rose, with an assumption of calm- 
 ness he did not feel. 
 
 " I know," he observed, " how I should feel if I 
 had gone through such a trying day. You must be 
 
 310
 
 FEVER-HEAT 
 
 dog-tired. I am going to clear out and let Miss 
 Garnet send you to bed." 
 
 Dora shot him an approving glance, but Margaret 
 looked at him quickly, a strange light in her eyes. 
 
 " Good-night," he told her. 
 
 She held his hand tightly. 
 
 " Good-night," she said. 
 
 The door closed behind him. She sat still, gazing 
 at her hands clasped before her. 
 
 " You are a pretty picture of enthusiasm," re- 
 marked Dora, presently. 
 
 Margaret roused herself. 
 
 " Who said anything about enthusiasm ? " she 
 asked.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE INVISIBLE FORCE 
 
 TWO weeks passed by. Kimball had relapsed 
 into silence again, and Margaret was en- 
 deavoring to match his caution with an equal 
 amount of patience. Patience, however, was an 
 acquired virtue and not at all easy for her to main- 
 tain for a long period. When she wanted a thing 
 she could not be easy in her mind unless she were 
 actively striving for it. The delay, therefore, was 
 trying on her nerves. 
 
 It had been raining for two days now, and a 
 melancholy distaste for the world seemed to have 
 seized every one. The rain beat upon the window 
 panes and washed down like waterfalls. Visitors 
 dragged streaming umbrellas and dripping rain- 
 coats through the outer office of Bundy. and Son 
 until it looked as if some one had been washing 
 wagons there. It was three o'clock in the after- 
 noon, but the day was so dark that they were burn- 
 ing lights to see. Margaret was tired. 
 
 Old Scaggs entered, enveloped in a gloom that 
 
 312
 
 THE INVISIBLE FORCE 
 
 seemed to be an actual pleasure to him. These 
 melancholy, graveyard days stimulated his soul and 
 fixed more firmly in his brain the comforting thought 
 that the world was a mournful place and every one 
 else just as low in spirits as he was himself. 
 
 " You had better get all your freight off on that 
 four o'clock boat," he asserted, gloomily. " The 
 river's rising." 
 
 Margaret turned around in her chair. 
 
 " How do you know that?" she asked. 
 
 "Just been down to the wharf. The water's 
 about a foot higher than it ought to be at this 
 tide." 
 
 " You had better be on the safe side, then. Get 
 an extra team, if you think it is necessary." 
 
 "I don't see how there can be another high 
 water," she said to Mr. Bundy when Scaggs had 
 gone. 
 
 Bundy shook his head. 
 
 " Maybe all the snow hasn't melted," he replied, 
 vaguely. 
 
 At four o'clock Scaggs reported that all the 
 freight had been put aboard the boat. At five 
 minutes after four a messenger boy in a black 
 rubber slicker brought a telegram for Margaret. 
 
 313
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 The mechanism of her heart stopped and then 
 went on at double time. 
 
 She signed the book in a tremor of excitement, 
 and slit open the envelope with her finger so 
 quickly that the two acts were part of one opera- 
 tion. The date line, " Pittsburgh," seemed to jump 
 up from the paper as she spread out the sheet and 
 endeavored to read the whole text at one glance. 
 
 The message read : 
 
 " Will finance operation per arrangement 
 already outlined. Samples exceed expecta- 
 tions. Quick action necessary. Am leav- 
 ing for London five to-morrow afternoon. 
 Meet me New York, McAlpin Hotel nine 
 A. M." 
 
 Margaret stared at the yellow paper for a full 
 minute. Then she banged the call bell that sat on 
 her desk. Bundy jumped. 
 
 " Now what ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Going to New York to-morrow." 
 
 She showed him the telegram. For the next 
 half hour things happened in the office. Margaret 
 always liked to feel that without her Bundy and 
 Son would cease to exist, yet she knew perfectly 
 well that the organization worked so now that 
 things ran along smoothly in her absence. She
 
 THE INVISIBLE FORCE 
 
 delegated all her work to other hands and ar- 
 ranged things so there would be no loose ends left 
 that no one knew how to take care of. 
 
 " There'll be plenty of time on our hands anyway 
 to-morrow," observed Scaggs. " The boats aren't 
 going to run." 
 
 " Pooh ! " she replied. " You're a pessimist, 
 Scaggs. If the rain stops by to-morrow " 
 
 A sudden gale of wind hurled the storm cracking 
 against the window panes. She rose and looked 
 anxiously through the glass. Presently she put on 
 her raincoat and her rubbers and, taking her um- 
 brella, went out on the street. The sidewalks and 
 the streets ran with water. She did not go home, 
 but ploughed through the storm to the water-front. 
 The river, as far out as she could see in the driving 
 rain, was racing by, yellow and angry. Limbs of 
 trees and debris swirled around in its eddies. It 
 was noticeably higher. A skiff that had been made 
 fast to a ring in the piling of the wharf had risen 
 above the ring and the rope was pulling the bow 
 under water. She noticed that all the sailboats and 
 gasoline launches were tied up at the wharves, and 
 that even the tugs were not venturing out. 
 
 She went home and changed to dry clothes. At 
 315
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 seven o'clock just as they were about to sit down to 
 dinner, she called up the steamboat office and found 
 the river had risen eight inches since five o'clock. 
 She sat down at the table, but ate very little. 
 
 " Why are you so excited about this ? " asked Dora, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " David is on his island." 
 
 The other woman laid down her knife. 
 
 " Well, he certainly can take care of himself." 
 
 " I don't know that he can. Nobody could man- 
 age a canoe on that river. With all that debris 
 floating down, it's too dangerous to take out a tug." 
 
 " Surely the Sawyers would think of him without 
 being reminded." 
 
 "They would if they were there. Perhaps they 
 have not returned." 
 
 Xhe dinner proceeded in silence. 
 
 " I think I will telephone," Margaret said. 
 
 She went to the instrument and asked for the 
 number in Bay City. The operator promised to 
 call her. At the end of fifteen minutes she had not 
 called her. She went to the telephone again. The 
 operator said they were having difficulty in getting 
 Bay City. After another wait the bell rang and 
 Margaret was given the information that Mrs.
 
 THE INVISIBLE FORCE 
 
 Sawyer was out of town and her telephone had 
 been temporarily disconnected. 
 
 She returned to the table. 
 
 " Certainly he wouldn't stay out there in all the rain 
 we have had yesterday and to-day," observed Dora. 
 
 " That would not bother him. He has a weather- 
 tight house and an oil stove. He would rather 
 enjoy the storm." 
 
 The maid brought coffee. Margaret stirred hers 
 mechanically. Dora gazed at her keenly and in 
 her own mind arrived at a certain conclusion. But 
 she said nothing about it. 
 
 " Wouldn't some one naturally go after him ? " 
 she inquired, instead. 
 
 " I doubt if he knows any one in Bay City who 
 would be aware that he was out there." 
 
 There was a silence for a while, and then Mar- 
 garet looked up. 
 
 " Why didn't I think of it before ? " she exclaimed. 
 "I'll call up Evans." 
 
 She went to the telephone once more. There 
 was a long wait. She visited the instrument again 
 impatiently. Finally she was informed that the 
 wires were down and it was impossible to get con- 
 nection with Bay City at all.
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Now you've done your best," said Dora, " I 
 shouldn't think about it any more. David Bruce is 
 certainly capable of taking care of himself." 
 
 Margaret did not reply, but set about getting 
 ready to take the night train for New York to keep 
 her appointment with Kimball. She put on her 
 very best suit and her very best hat and many other 
 things that were best. She believed firmly that 
 prosperous clothes were a business asset, and she 
 dressed more carefully in preparation for a business 
 conference than she did for a formal dinner. She 
 packed her little hand-bag and laid out her raincoat 
 and umbrella. 
 
 " Are you going on the ten o'clock train ? " asked 
 Dora. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The other woman held both her hands. 
 
 " Don't stay away long. This place is a bam 
 without you." 
 
 Margaret kissed her. 
 
 " Be back Thursday," she replied. 
 
 But they said no further word about David. 
 
 At half-past nine a taxicab took her to the Severn 
 Street Station. As she waited for the train, she 
 heard people talking about the high water. The
 
 river had risen three feet since half-past two in the 
 afternoon. It was still raining. 
 
 The train pulled in. She went with the crowd 
 out to the wet platform. The Pullman conductor 
 in his rubber coat and rubber covered hat recog- 
 nized her and took off his hat. 
 
 " Bay City sleeper in the rear," he said. 
 
 She stood still in the rain looking at him. 
 
 " I would give a thousand dollars if I could take 
 it," she found herself saying, and then stepped 
 aboard his car. 
 
 She did not go to bed when the train started. 
 Instead she sat down by a window at the end of 
 the car and looked out at the rain. She had not 
 realized until just then that she wanted to go to 
 Bay City. She was able to convince herself when 
 she reasoned it out that David would certainly take 
 care of himself, as he always had. Her business 
 was of too unusual a nature to permit of any halt. 
 If she missed this opportunity, it would be months 
 before such a chance would come again. It might 
 never come. Now was the most important moment 
 of her life. 
 
 This was the reasoning that disposed summarily, 
 and apparently without chance for appeal, of her de- 
 
 319
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 sire to help him. But as the train came nearer and 
 nearer the point beyond which it would be impossible 
 for her to alter her plans even if she wanted to, she 
 found herself torn by an unexplained agony of doubt. 
 Something told her that the man was in danger on 
 his island, and no amount of reasoning could drive 
 that feeling from her heart. A new, a strange, an 
 unbelievable bond held her, and an uncanny con- 
 sciousness of disaster was in her mind, as if the 
 power had been given her to think the thoughts of 
 this one person afar off. 
 
 She tried to reason herself into believing that 
 David must be safe that he certainly would not have 
 allowed himself to be caught out there in the middle 
 of the river. But the cold logic of it was that that is 
 just what he almost certainly would have done. He 
 would scarcely have left his island simply because of 
 the hard rain, since he knew that the usual spring 
 freshet had come and gone. He would not have 
 been able to guess that this was the one year out of 
 a hundred in which there would be two freshets. 
 So the chances were that he would have sat tight in 
 his little house until he saw the danger, and then 
 it would be too late to escape it. For when the rise 
 
 of the river surrounded him and the water ran wild 
 
 320
 
 THE INVISIBLE FORCE 
 
 with great trees and logs and sections of wharves 
 and all the unrighteous plunder it had stolen from 
 its new banks as it swept on, there was no chance 
 for such a shell of a boat as a canvas canoe, even 
 were a man strong enough and wily enough to keep 
 the craft on its course. 
 
 Of course he would be able to take refuge in 
 one of the trees ; but she had seen trees uprooted 
 by the current and carried on, as if they had been 
 but twigs. Furthermore, how much exposure of that 
 sort could a person stand ? Supposing the freshet 
 had surrounded him and forced him to take to the 
 trees at five in the afternoon, he would now have 
 been there more than six hours, and if he were taken 
 off no later than noon the next day, he would have 
 been through a period of exposure and cold trying 
 to the constitution of the strongest man. 
 
 In her business Margaret knew two kinds of risks 
 one the risk of losing where the chances were in 
 favor of winning and where if one did lose the loss 
 was more than made up by success in some other 
 quarter. This was business. Bundy and Son took 
 risks like that every day in fact, every time they 
 purchased a new lot of goods. The other kind of 
 
 risk was the sort in which if the man lost he lost 
 
 321
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 everything that is, for instance, the risk of loss by 
 fire and the risk of bankruptcy. A prudent business 
 person did not neglect fire insurance nor did he 
 spread his capital out too thin. For if he did and 
 lost he lost everything. That was the sort of risk 
 a man could not take. 
 
 Margaret had before her a risk. She could go on 
 to New York under the assumption that David must 
 be able to take care of himself she could take that 
 chance. The question was was this one of the 
 risks she could afford to take ? 
 
 There was no thought in her mind of deciding 
 what was her personal relation to David. She had 
 simply jumped across that whole process of thought, 
 when she had allowed the fear of possible danger to 
 him to interfere with her peace of mind and to shake 
 her decision on the very eve of great success. It did 
 not occur to her to decide why she wanted to give 
 aid to him. She simply wanted to do it. 
 
 The only question she was trying to decide was 
 whether she could give that aid or rather whether 
 she could afford to withhold it. Could she leave 
 David Bruce and go to New York to reap the fruits 
 of her labor? The train rolled out upon the long 
 
 bridge over the West Branch, running slowly. 
 
 322
 
 THE INVISIBLE FORCE 
 
 Something like a hot coal burned in her breast 
 This was her last chance. In three minutes there 
 would be no deciding. It would be too late. 
 
 Below her in the ribbon of light from the car win- 
 dows she saw the yellow, eddying river, racing into 
 the darkness. The sight of it fascinated her. She 
 could not sit still. She rose and went out into the 
 vestibule between the two cars. She looked out 
 through the panes of the door. She saw the same 
 turbulent, tumbling waters. 
 
 The brakes ground on the wheels and the train 
 stopped at the station on the far side of the river. 
 The porter, who came through and opened the 
 vestibule door to go down on the platform, noted 
 that she was very pale, and looked at her again. 
 She held her hands firmly clasped. A jar ran 
 through the train telling her the Bay City sleeper 
 was being removed and shifted to a siding. 
 
 It was but a few seconds now, and they would 
 be gone. A shout sounded on the platform. The 
 bell-cord above her grew taut and then flapped noisily 
 on its supports. The porter waved his lantern. 
 The engine puffed, a jar ran through the train and 
 the cars began to move. 
 
 It was the last half-second. She saw the platform 
 323
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 begin to slide by ; saw the porter with his hand on 
 the guard picking up his stool. And when she saw 
 the platform move, and realized that it was her last 
 half second, she grew cold all over. 
 
 " It's no use. I can't do it." 
 
 A sudden fright seized her. Would the man let 
 her off? She dashed down the steps. Her only 
 thought was to leave that train. The porter held 
 both handles. 
 
 " Quick," she cried. " Let me off." 
 
 He hesitated. She struck at his wrist as he still 
 held the bar. The train gathered speed. In a 
 frenzy of excitement she shouted to him, hardly 
 knowing what she said. He gazed at her for a 
 moment as though doubting her sanity. Then he 
 lifted her bodily from the car and set her down on 
 the wet platform and, running after the steps, swung 
 himself aboard the fast-moving train. 
 
 The cars rushed by, leaving her standing alone in 
 the downpour. She watched the green lights on the 
 rear of the train, growing smaller and smaller, and 
 then fading into the rain. She pressed her lips 
 together. 
 
 " Good-bye for that," she said. 
 
 324
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE YELLOW RIVER 
 
 SHE sank down upon the wooden bench, crushed 
 and disappointed. All her hopes and ambitions 
 were on the train and she was here alone. She 
 had paid a heavy price, but it was for the comfort 
 of her soul. She knew from the present quiet beat- 
 ing of her heart that she would have paid a greater 
 price had she remained upon the train. At first she 
 had thought it was a sort of heroism that had made 
 her turn back ; but now it was apparent that of two 
 things much desired, she had relinquished the 
 lesser. 
 
 Her plan of action she had mapped out while 
 fighting the question over on the car. The train to 
 Bay City left at four o'clock. It was now midnight 
 She would have time to cross the bridge over the 
 river, with the object of finding John Sawyer's 
 motor boat if it was moored there. That he still 
 owned it she was sure, for she had seen him in it a 
 few weeks before running by the factory at Bay City 
 on his way up the river. In such weather as this it 
 
 325
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 would scarcely be in use. The chances were that she 
 would find the boat anchored to its buoy. If it were 
 not, she would have time to return and take the 
 train. 
 
 She rose, and taking advantage of the solitude of 
 the station platform, pinned her skirts up from her 
 ankles, and buttoned her raincoat tightly about her. 
 She took off her hat and gazed at it doubtfully. If 
 she left it, she ran an even chance of never seeing it 
 again. If she wore it, it would be ruined. The hat 
 was a spring creation and was made of straw. This 
 was a time of war and no place for sentiment. She 
 calmly tore off the trimmings and pulled the naked 
 and ashamed straw bag down over her hair. She 
 stuffed the roses and ribbons carefully into the 
 pocket of her raincoat. 
 
 In doing this she discovered a small electric 
 flash-light in the pocket. It was the property of 
 Bundy and Son. They used it to look at things in 
 dark corners of the stock-room. At first she could 
 not figure out how it happened to be there ; until she 
 remembered that she had taken it in the afternoon 
 when she had gone across the alley at the rear of 
 their building to a little structure in which they 
 
 stored gasoline. 
 
 326
 
 THE YELLOW RIVER 
 
 She was now ready to start. If any one is of the 
 opinion that crossing over a quarter-mile bridge 
 upon a twelve-inch plank on a rainy, dark-as-the- 
 pit night such as that was, is a pleasant prospect, 
 he is mistaken. Margaret shivered and stood upon 
 the brink for a long while before she put her foot 
 upon that board. 
 
 The weather had now settled down to a steady, 
 dismal drizzle. Without the aid of the flash-lamp 
 it was impossible to distinguish between the foot- 
 board and the crevices on either side of it. She ad- 
 justed the little switch that kept the light burning 
 all the time, and walked grimly ahead. She main- 
 tained afterward that it would not have been nearly 
 so nerve-racking had she not been thinking at every 
 step that she might have to walk back. She could 
 hear the gurgling of the water running under the 
 bridge, which brought up thoughts of the distance 
 of the foot-board above the flood. 
 
 Margaret pressed on doggedly. Every pier she 
 came to she thought must be the opposite shore. 
 After she had crossed about five of these she came 
 to the conclusion that the bridge must run on for- 
 ever. She tried to see ahead into the night, but the 
 flash-light was blocked by the falling rain. Her 
 
 327
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 hat dripped with rain. The rain ran from her coat 
 upon her shoes, which oozed with water as she 
 walked. But only one thing made any difference. 
 If the bridge would only come to an end ! Pres- 
 ently she stumbled and nearly fell. Her heart was 
 in her mouth. But she discovered that the reason 
 she had done so was because she had stepped unex- 
 pectedly upon the stone ballast of the track at the 
 far shore. 
 
 After that, nothing mattered. She felt that she 
 could go through anything at all. Steep banks, 
 darkness, mud, rain, water underfoot all seemed 
 like safe mediums of progress compared to the 
 bridge. She found that the path by the river which 
 she and David had walked along was flooded. 
 Wherever possible, therefore, she walked among 
 the trees higher up ; and where it was not possible, 
 she waded in the shallow water on the path. This 
 made progress slow. She was so long about it that 
 she was afraid she must have passed the spot where 
 the little boat ought to lie. 
 
 "One thing is certain," she said, turning the 
 flash-light upon herself, ruefully ; " if I do not find 
 the boat, I shall be a heartrending spectacle to go 
 
 to Bay City by train." 
 
 328
 
 THE YELLOW RIVER 
 
 And just then she stumbled into the chain that 
 moored it. She swung her light out into the stream 
 and there, riding comfortably on the water, appeared 
 the dim outline of the motor boat. 
 
 She could have shouted in her excitement. She 
 found the key in its hiding place and unfastened 
 the lock that held the chain of the small boat. The 
 water here was not running so swiftly as out in mid- 
 stream, but it was passing by too rapidly for her to 
 make the launch from that point. She caught the 
 boat by the painter and dragged it up-stream about 
 thirty or forty yards. Getting in, she seized the 
 oars and pulled straight out from the shore. The 
 current caught the boat and carried it down. She 
 pulled with all her power. Her electric flash caught 
 the launch coming toward her at great speed. She 
 took one mighty pull at her oars and then ran to 
 the bow. Almost immediately the boat struck the 
 buoy to which the launch was moored, swung 
 around stern foremost and, side scraping side, shot 
 by like lightning. 
 
 More by instinct than as the result of any pres- 
 ence of mind, she grasped wildly at the larger craft. 
 Her arms encircled a brass belaying pin, and her 
 fingers caught the ledge of the gunwale. She 
 
 329
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 leaped while there was yet time and sprawled upon 
 the deck, half aboard and half overboard, while the 
 little boat scudded on into the darkness. 
 
 She struggled to her feet and stumbling through 
 the darkness her flash lamp having gone down- 
 stream with the smaller boat managed finally to 
 get the tarpaulin jacket off the cockpit and to enter 
 the cabin. Here presently she found matches and 
 lighted the lamp there. 
 
 With due regard for her clothes, she now took 
 off the outer and more fragile layer of these and de- 
 posited them with care upon the locker seats. Her 
 beautiful suit had been well protected beneath the 
 raincoat. Her shoes and stockings were soaked. 
 She hung them up by the engine where they would 
 dry when it was started, under the supposition of 
 course that she would be able to start it. Out of 
 the locker she got a sweater, a pair of woolen socks, 
 unworn but many sizes too large, a pair of rubber 
 boots, an oilskin slicker and sou'wester. She soon 
 appeared in all this regalia. She considered the 
 question of a pair of corduroy trousers, but post- 
 poned decision. 
 
 She found the gasoline tank of the engine nearly 
 half full. She stood before the machine thought- 
 
 330
 
 THE YELLOW RIVER 
 
 fully and recalled the manner of starting it, as David 
 had expounded it. The starting of a healthy 
 gasoline engine is a simple matter, if one remembers 
 to turn on the switch. She turned on the switch 
 not with the care-free abandon of an experienced 
 machinist but gingerly, as if she conceded the 
 possibility of a destructive explosion following the 
 operation. She waited. All remained calm ; and 
 she attacked the fly-wheel. It turned a quarter turn 
 and stopped as if against a rubber cushion. She 
 tried again with the same result. The machine was 
 very temperamental. It required coaxing. She did 
 not make the mistake of losing her temper with it 
 and hurting its feelings. She coaxed it amiably, 
 soothingly, but withal in a determined manner, thus 
 gaining its respect and confidence. And the engine, 
 absorbing her amiability, at length swallowed the 
 rubber cushion, thus allowing the wheel to turn 
 over, and was immediately seized with a great fit of 
 coughing, which presently seemed to fall into the 
 regular motor-boat purr, as the wheel turned on 
 regularly and swiftly. 
 
 After it had been running a few minutes, she 
 switched on the electric lights in the cabin and on 
 deck. There were four on deck, the red and green
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 running lights, the light at the little mast head 
 astern, and the light of the revolving search lamp. 
 
 The engine was now running free. She cast off 
 from the buoy and then running below, turned the 
 lever that threw it in gear. The propellor caught 
 the water. The launch headed straight for the shore 
 and destruction. She threw herself upon the wheel 
 and rolled it over. The boat made out into the 
 river, caught the current first abeam and then astern 
 and raced down-stream with power and current 
 behind it. 
 
 The difficulties of plain motor-boat management 
 are not the difficulties of automobile driving. In 
 this case her problem was to steer the craft along a 
 waterway a quarter of a mile wide instead of along 
 a twenty-foot road. And there was not the necessity 
 of stopping and starting and dropping into second 
 speed or first speed or any of the long ritual of tricks 
 made necessary by land conditions. The engine of 
 the launch started, she had only to keep it going 
 generally ahead and have patience. Both of which 
 things she felt she was capable of accomplishing 
 without undue difficulty. 
 
 Had it been daylight and the passing shore visible, 
 she might have been frightened at their headlong 
 
 332
 
 THE YELLOW RIVER 
 
 pace. But she could see only the water beside her, 
 and from that it appeared that they were merely 
 running comfortably along. 
 
 The rain came down steadily. But it made no 
 difference at all to her. She was so encased in oil- 
 skins that it ran off her in streams as if she had been 
 a duck. She made herself as comfortable as she 
 could, for she knew she had a long journey before 
 her. She got the search-light in working order and 
 was able to see things about her sufficiently well so 
 that there would be no danger of her running ashore. 
 Other than that slight amount of steering, there was 
 nothing for her to do for the next few hours but to 
 sit still and let the engine and the current carry 
 her on. 
 
 It was a long, lonely three hours. The deadening 
 murmur of the storm and the incessant discharge of 
 the engine blotted out all other sound, just as the 
 night blotted out all the world about her. She could 
 see nothing but the deck of the launch and a little 
 path of water before her where she cut into the dark- 
 ness with her search-light. It was as if she were 
 ploughing ahead alone through indeterminate space 
 an orbitless star, floating, for all eye and ear 
 could tell, midway between heaven and earth. 
 
 333
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 Now and then she would run past objects floating 
 in the water limbs of trees, boards, boxes, and dark, 
 strange forms that seemed like creatures blocking 
 her path. By the time she sighted them, she was in 
 the midst of them and there was no opportunity to 
 turn aside. It was like shooting rapids. But none 
 of the objects was large, and when the launch struck 
 them it swept them harmlessly aside. 
 
 It was about half-past two in the morning when 
 she first began to be conscious of a glow in the sky 
 off the starboard bow. This was Bay City. She 
 was weary. Her legs ached from standing by the 
 wheel. Her eyes burned from watching the beam 
 of the search-light. Even when she closed them, she 
 still saw a red stripe before her. Her fingers were 
 stiff from cold and from grasping the wheel. In 
 spite of her loss of sleep, however, she was un- 
 naturally wide awake. She realized that nervous 
 energy was covering up her fatigue. 
 
 The launch ran on. The glow grew into a great 
 patch of light. For the first time she began to be 
 conscious of a shore line. The city appeared like a 
 long strip of milky way with here and there a star 
 twinkling through it. She hardly noticed the swift- 
 ness with which she came into view of it and sped 
 
 334
 
 THE YELLOW RIVER 
 
 by it. Had it been daylight and had she been able 
 to see the eddying, muddy, headlong current run- 
 ning away with her boat, she might not have re- 
 tained the calm that now possessed her. But she 
 was not yet aware of the speed at which she was 
 going nor of the dangers of the turbulent waters. 
 
 Ahead she caught the flash of the lighthouse 
 that marked the channel at the point where the 
 streams of the two rivers joined. The light seemed 
 to be coming at her with the speed of an express 
 train. Steering straight for it as she knew she must, 
 her eyes became dulled from looking at it. She 
 lost her sense of distance and was shooting right at 
 the iron structure before she knew it. A quick turn 
 of the wheel threw her off her coqrse, and she shot 
 by the lighthouse, the side of the launch scraping 
 the iron supports as she passed. 
 
 Almost immediately she was in rough water. The 
 current from the larger river struck her abeam. 
 The boat rolled, and the exhaust of the engine was 
 now muffled beneath the water and now exploding 
 with redoubled force above it. She could feel the 
 craft straining under her. She looked astern and 
 found the lighthouse was slipping up-stream. At 
 this rate she would soon be out in the bay. 
 
 335
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 She threw over the wheel and began to fight 
 diagonally up-stream. Her only hope lay in keep- 
 ing a course due east from the light, for that was 
 where the island lay. If she missed that line, she 
 missed her only chance, groping about blindly as 
 she was in the darkness, of reaching her destination. 
 It was a trying situation. Straining her eyes into 
 the night she could see nothing. The beam of her 
 search-light showed only a short path of falling rain 
 and of onrushing water, and seemed to stop then as 
 though against a wall. Behind her lay the light- 
 house, her only star of hope. 
 
 She determined not to swerve from her easterly 
 course. She deliberately placed herself with her 
 back to the bow and kept the light due west astern 
 by the compass. It was an approximate operation, 
 but it was her only hope. The launch was now mak- 
 ing progress somewhat like a fiddler crab, her bow 
 pointing southeast to offset the force of the current 
 and her general direction being east. The search- 
 light was pointing in the direction from which the 
 island was expected to appear. 
 
 Presently she was startled by hearing, as the 
 engine muffled itself under the waves, a shrill call, 
 such as a man makes whistling through his fingers. 
 
 336
 
 THE YELLOW RIVER 
 
 She started and it seemed that her heart stopped 
 beating for a minute. She cried out unavailingly. 
 She whirled the search-light about, but could see 
 nothing in the night. At greater risk than she 
 knew, she shut off her engine and listened again. 
 She seemed to feel the current lift the boat bodily 
 and carry it down-stream. And then the shrill whistle 
 sounded again. 
 
 She strained her eyes, and there, dimly against 
 the glow of the city, floated into view, as she was 
 carried by in the current, the shadowy silhouette of 
 the island trees, growing out of the water. 
 
 She had missed the island and run by it on the 
 south, and was now on the far side of it. She threw 
 on the switch and turned over the wheel. The 
 engine was hot and started immediately. It seemed 
 as if it would never be able to check the headway the 
 current had given them. She saw the shadow of the 
 trees moving and moving up-stream. Presently they 
 stopped moving. Gradually the launch began gain- 
 ing a little upon them. That was all that was neces- 
 sary. She turned the wheel a little and the boat, 
 holding its own against the current, headed slowly 
 toward the trees. 
 
 As they became more distinct, she threw her 
 337
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 search-light among them, and there, sitting on a 
 sort of platform of boards protected by a square 
 canvas, sat a figure that seemed very much like 
 David Bruce. And a voice that was very much like 
 his voice hailed her. And, as the launch worked 
 nearer, a figure that was his beyond a doubt stood 
 in the glare of her search-light. 
 
 He shouted directions to her over the noise of the 
 engine, and presently he caught the bow of the 
 launch and made it fast to the trunk of the tree. 
 With a huge, flat, tarpaulin-covered bundle under 
 his arm, he lowered himself to the deck. She 
 turned to shut off the engine. Her journey was 
 finished. 
 
 She rose, and to her astonishment found herself in 
 his strong embrace. 
 
 A wave of great excitement swept over her. The 
 rain fell gently, pattering on the deck, and splashing 
 on the limbs of the trees ; the water rolled swirling 
 by ; the bright light of the search-light glared stead- 
 ily ahead. A minute passed and she found she 
 had uttered no reproof. 
 
 338
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 STRAW-GRASPING 
 
 PRESENTLY they went in out of the rain. 
 There were a thousand things to be told. 
 Each wanted to know the history of the other and 
 each wanted to know it immediately. But she 
 would say no word of her adventure until he had 
 told her about his. He explained briefly. He had 
 been working he did not say at what inside his 
 little portable cottage, and had been so absorbed 
 that he did not realize that the high water was com- 
 ing until about five o'clock, when he opened the 
 door and found the island almost completely sub- 
 merged. He had then waded through the water to 
 his canoe and dragged it back to the house. There 
 was no chance in the world for a canoe in that water, 
 so he had made it fast, and taking the awning that 
 protected the entrance to his cabin, rigged up a sort 
 of shelter in one of the trees, on a platform he had 
 built there some time before. He had wrapped up 
 
 339
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 his work in a waterproof package and taken it with 
 him. He had also taken all the food in the house. 
 By this time there had been a foot of water over the 
 floor. He had not hoped to save the house, and 
 presently a log of wood, coming down in full cry on 
 the breast of the stream, had gone right through the 
 walls as if they were paper. At nine o'clock that 
 night every piece of it had gone down into the bay. 
 
 He had been cooped up on his little six foot square 
 platform from nine o'clock on. At midnight he had 
 seen the Baltimore boat, six hours late, coming up 
 from the bay. Its flash-light had rested directly upon 
 him and he had waved and shouted, but no one had 
 seen him. He had watched the boat make the land- 
 ing and simply waited with a dull patience, trying 
 to take an interest in speculating whether it would 
 tie up at the wharf or go back to Baltimore. 
 
 And then \ he had seen the lights of Margaret's 
 launch and hope had grown in him that the craft 
 was coming for him. When she had passed close 
 to him above the island, he had recognized the 
 launch and had put his fingers to his mouth and 
 whistled the only signal he could make. And 
 when she had worked the boat close to him, he had 
 recognized her at once even in the dim light. 
 
 340
 
 STRAW-GRASPING 
 
 "But how," he asked, wondering, "did you get 
 the launch ? " 
 
 " I got off the train and stole it." 
 
 He studied her face intently. 
 
 " Was the train held up again ? " he asked. 
 
 " No. I was going to New York and I was wor- 
 ried about you." 
 
 "Why were you going to New York if I may 
 ask?" he said, at length. 
 
 " Oh just to see a man." 
 
 He frowned in a troubled sort of way. She knew 
 he was slowly piecing together the story of her ad- 
 venture. 
 
 " What man ? " 
 
 "Don't nag me, David dear. It was Mr. Kim- 
 ball." 
 
 He squared his shoulders. 
 
 " One more question, please. When can you see 
 him again ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she replied, hesitating. " He 
 sails for Europe at five o'clock to-morrow." 
 
 " I see what you've done," he said, finally. 
 
 He stood there for a moment looking down at 
 the floor. Then he strode out into the rain. Her 
 ambitions were his own ambitions. He was anxious
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 to have her succeed not because that meant money 
 to her but because he wanted her to accomplish 
 what she had been striving for. And now she had 
 given that up to come to his assistance. Her pluck 
 and courage in coming made him fiercely proud of 
 her, but he was sorry that she had not gone ahead 
 and accomplished her mission. He would have 
 been doubly glad to have taken his chance alone 
 against the storm and tide rather than have her 
 give up her chance of success. Yet his heart was 
 swelling with pride that she had given it up for 
 him. 
 
 He must square the debt somehow. Since she 
 had sacrificed herself for him, he must strain every 
 nerve in a great endeavor to give her back what 
 she had lost. He must get her to New York in 
 time. Gigantic undertaking for a man stranded in 
 the midst of a roaring flood a mile from the nearest 
 shore. But there lay the Baltimore boat at the 
 dock. 
 
 Presently she was aware that he had cast loose 
 and that they were drifting down-stream. He came 
 into the cabin and threw in the switch to start the 
 engine. 
 
 " What time does Kimball sail ? " 
 342
 
 STRAW-GRASPING 
 
 " Five." 
 
 She laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " she asked. 
 
 " If that boat over there runs, I am going to 
 have you in Baltimore to-morrow morning. You 
 will be in New York in time." 
 
 He put all possible power into the engine and 
 headed the boat, as fast as it could run with the 
 current abeam, directly for the lights of the steamer 
 they could see in the distance, lying at the wharf 
 or rather that David could see, for it all looked like 
 a blur to Margaret. But he had seen the steamboat 
 make the landing and its position was engraved on 
 his mind. 
 
 " Do you think she will run ? " she asked, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 " I know she will run. The boat was delayed by 
 fog to-day. But there is no fog now. She must 
 get back to Baltimore as soon as she can. She is 
 probably loaded with freight now." 
 
 " She may leave any minute then ? " 
 
 " Any minute," he replied. 
 
 Never had that launch seemed so slow. Ap- 
 parently, miles of water separated them from the 
 lights of the wharves. And the steady running of 
 
 343
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 the little boat seemed to bring them no nearer. She 
 would have said they were anchored where they 
 were, if she had not known they were running free. 
 There was nothing they could do to help it along. 
 They had simply to be patient and wait. 
 
 Presently, when it seemed that they actually were 
 making progress and they had come so much 
 nearer the city that she could distinguish the shore 
 and the big boat lying at the wharf, the long finger 
 of a search-light shot out from her pilot house. 
 
 " Look at that," David growled. 
 
 " What does that mean ? " 
 
 " It means that she is going to start. But we still 
 have a chance," he added, desperately. 
 
 He tried to turn a little more power into the 
 cylinder, in a sort of forlorn hope. Shoreward they 
 heard the boat blow three long blasts on her whistle. 
 He sank down on the seat and held the wheel in 
 one hand. 
 
 " That's all," he said. 
 
 The white light swept the river, the jingle of the 
 engine bell floated over the water, and the steamer 
 slid slowly out from the wharf. They were now 
 about half a mile away. If they had had five min- 
 utes more, they might have made it. 
 
 344
 
 STRAW-GRASPING 
 
 They sat dejectedly, watching the big craft creep- 
 ing toward them. David at length rose. 
 
 " We'll make one more trial," he said. 
 
 He cut down the gasoline flow in the engine, and 
 turned the launch's bow down-stream. The current 
 caught them and carried them along at a wild pace. 
 Now and then the search-light of the big steamer 
 astern moved over the river and rested on them for 
 a moment. The rain had stopped, and it was pos- 
 sible to see more clearly the world round about. 
 But in contrast to the lighted city ashore, they were 
 running into pitch blackness ahead. If there were 
 any place where the world shelved off and dropped 
 into bottomless space, Margaret would have said it 
 was right there out in that darkness. She did not 
 understand what he was about to do, but there was 
 such an air of absolute desperation in his face that 
 she did not dare to ask him. 
 
 They were right in the path of the oncoming 
 steamer. She could see it dead astern, growing 
 larger and larger. Now she could hear the pound- 
 ing of its engines, and see the cloud of black smoke 
 blown shorewards from its funnel. The search-light 
 still felt about along the shore and the water, and 
 now and then rested inquiringly on the little launch. 
 
 345
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 "They will run us down," she cried. 
 
 " Anything to attract their attention," was all he 
 said. 
 
 Two hoarse blasts burst from the siren of the 
 steamer. The boat was so near that it seemed to 
 tower above them like a mountain. David seized 
 the lanyard of a pneumatic whistle. Its shrill tones 
 split the night. He held doggedly to it. 
 
 " They'll have to stop," he cried. 
 
 " To take us aboard ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She gazed at him in astonishment. 
 
 " But what will you do with the launch ? " 
 
 He took a fresh grip on the whistle lanyard. 
 
 "Cut it adrift. I'll buy John two like it if we 
 get aboard." 
 
 The search-light of the steamer was on the launch. 
 And then she heard the stroke of the engine room 
 bell. The engines of the big boat stopped. A 
 dozen or so heads appeared below at the gangways. 
 The bell struck again. The big screws reversed, 
 churning the water. 
 
 "Take us aboard," shouted David, between his 
 hands. 
 
 The steamer slid gently alongside. A line was 
 346
 
 STRAW-GRASPING 
 
 thrown out which he made fast. Margaret looked 
 up at the row of curious faces at the gangway. 
 
 " There is one of the laborers at our factory," 
 she exclaimed, hardly knowing what she said. 
 
 " Which one ? " asked David, quickly. 
 
 She pointed him out. Then she dashed in for 
 the clothes in the cabin and was lifted, bundle and 
 all, up to the deck. David followed, with his own 
 package. He turned to the man Margaret had 
 pointed out and put a yellow twenty-dollar bill in 
 his hand. 
 
 " Take that boat ashore for Miss York," he said. 
 
 Without hesitation the man leaped in and cast off 
 the line. 
 
 The bell rang in the engine room. The screws 
 began to turn. The water piled up at the bow and 
 foamed along the sides. A jingle of the bell below. 
 The engines started to pound and the steamer 
 plunged ahead at full speed. 
 
 347
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 EVEN 
 
 AT seven o'clock the next morning Margaret 
 awoke. But the bedraggled, wet, booted boy- 
 girl who had entered the stateroom the night before 
 never left it A maid, an electric iron, needles and 
 thread, shoe polish, whisk brooms and a little hard 
 work combined to dispatch that lady without shrift 
 and to substitute for her the identical Margaret York 
 who had boarded the train the night before bound 
 for New York roses on her hat, lustre on her shoes, 
 creases gone from her suit, lace and linen smooth 
 and white. She surveyed herself contentedly in the 
 glass and went out on deck. David was there. 
 She smiled when she saw he had undergone a 
 similar transformation. 
 
 "I know," she said, surveying him approvingly, 
 " that you must have had a new suit of clothes in 
 that precious bundle of yours." 
 
 " Not at all," he replied. " I borrowed a clean 
 collar from the purser." 
 
 348
 
 EVEN 
 
 " But what was in the bundle ?" 
 
 He looked at her fixedly. 
 
 " That was our future livelihood." 
 
 " Ours," she repeated. Then she said it again as 
 though fixing the idea in her mind. 
 
 He smiled. They had wandered up to the upper 
 deck and were sitting abaft the smoke-stack a posi- 
 tion very conspicuous from points along the distant 
 shore, but secluded as far as the boat itself was 
 concerned. He took her hand. She looked up at 
 him with a pretense of astonishment in her eyes, 
 and a faint, provoking smile on her lips. He seized 
 her in his arms and glorious privilege kissed her 
 lips. 
 
 "You feel you have the right to do that now 
 whenever you want to ? " she asked, presently. 
 
 " Yes. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 She took off her seal ring and slipped it idly on 
 his finger. 
 
 " Perhaps you have," she replied. 
 
 The boat ploughed on. The smoke from her fun- 
 nel hung low over the water, and a wide path astern 
 marked the road over which they had traveled. 
 
 " When you marry me " he began. 
 
 She raised her brows in surprise. 
 349
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed, "am I to do that?" 
 
 " Beyond a doubt." 
 
 "I hadn't been asked," she explained. " I didn't 
 know about it." 
 
 " It's all settled." 
 
 " Thank you," she observed. 
 
 " You are an imp," he asserted. " I'll ask you 
 now. Will you marry me ? " 
 
 " Are you a good catch ? " 
 
 " The best there is. I am good-tempered, under- 
 stand and obey when spoken to in English, French 
 or German, would not beat or throw anything 
 heavy at a lady unless provoked, earned thirty- 
 five hundred dollars in the past year " 
 
 She took his chin in her hands and turned his face 
 to her. 
 
 " What was that last statement ? " she asked, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 He repeated it. Her eyes grew bright. 
 
 " How did you earn it ? " she asked. 
 
 He told her the whole story, ending up with the 
 disclosure of the contents of his precious package. 
 
 " I am proud of you," she said. 
 
 A long while afterward he said : 
 
 " I was about to ask you some time ago whether 
 
 350
 
 EVEN 
 
 in event of my marrying you you would still con- 
 tinue in your business." 
 
 " No," she replied, immediately. 
 
 She gazed out at the wake of the ship, far astern. 
 
 " My business," she went on, " has been an im- 
 portant and absorbing thing to me. I do not give 
 it up without regret. But I know that I want you " 
 she slid her hand through his arm " and all that 
 you will mean to me more than I want the busi- 
 ness. I am giving up the lesser for the greater." 
 
 She paused. His hand closed upon hers. 
 
 " I would not lay this down as a course for every 
 one to follow," she said, presently. " But it is what 
 I want." 
 
 He drew her closer to him. 
 
 " I am sorry that you have to make such a sacri- 
 fice," he said in a low tone. 
 
 She did not speak for some time. 
 
 " I am not so sure," she replied, " that it is wholly 
 a sacrifice. Success in business is a selfish aim. I 
 might grow to be as self-centered and mechanically 
 inhuman as Mr. Potter. His business sense is not 
 diluted by any such deleterious ingredients as kind- 
 ness, consideration and love for his fellow-men 
 And he has grown that way by centering every
 
 OUR MISS YORK 
 
 thought, every ambition, and every energy upon 
 business alone. He is the extreme example. But 
 I might be proceeding in that direction." 
 
 She rested her head against the sleeve of his coat. 
 
 " And," she whispered, " there is no danger now 
 of my home being a mere temple to my success, as 
 poor Dora's is, with nothing in it she can love." 
 
 The whistle above them blew twice. She started ; 
 but he held her tightly. A little tug ploughed by. 
 The man at the wheel looked curiously at them, but 
 they saw neither him nor his craft. 
 
 He drew her closer to him. 
 
 " That's the kind of wife I want." 
 
 Presently he said : 
 
 " Since you are giving up your business life, I am 
 glad your last shot is to be on the bull's-eye. This 
 boat gets to Baltimore at eight o'clock. You can 
 be in New York by one. You will see your man 
 after all." 
 
 Her eyes shone with excitement. Then a softer 
 look crept into her face. She glanced up at him, 
 smiling. 
 
 " My man ? " she said, with a whimsical gentle- 
 ness. " I am seeing him now." 
 
 352
 
 p.i.r mil inn inn Km mi) Hug mi mi 
 
 A 000 051 451 3 
 
 AND&RUSSEI 
 
 s and Stationery 
 2 W. 6th ST. 
 " ANGELES