CHRISTOPHER LAIRD
 
 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 BY 
 
 SIDNEY McCALL 
 
 Author of "Truth Dexter," "The Breath of the Gods," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 1919
 
 COPTEIGHT, 1919 
 
 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
 
 TO 
 LAURANCE HARVEY McNEILL, 
 
 THE DEAR BROTHER WHO, IN CHILDHOOD, 
 
 ROAMED THE SOUTHERN WOODS 
 
 WITH ME 
 
 4
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. PAINTEB'S BALD 1 
 
 II. THE TBANSPLANTING 11 
 
 III. CHBIS SEES HALLONQUIST HATT. .... 19 
 
 IV. MABY BASING 25 
 
 V. A STUDY OF COCOONS 35 
 
 VI. THE GREAT FIBE 43 
 
 VII. THE PBOPHECY 57 
 
 VIII. DABK WATERS 68 
 
 IX. HABD TIMES AND HABDWOOD IN DXJNBOBIN . . 78 
 
 X. THE LOOPHOLE 87 
 
 XI. KART. TBENHAM . 99 
 
 XII. THE ICY HEABT 109 
 
 XIII. CHBIS TBIES TO TELL His SECBET . . . 121 
 
 XIV. Miss LIZZY LYCOSA 131 
 
 XV. THE QUEST OF THE ROSE 139 
 
 XVI. WHAT LETTY WBOTE AT SCHOOL ... 149 
 XVII. SOPHIE WALKS THE FENCE . < . . .154 
 
 XVIII. WHIRLPOOLS 163 
 
 XIX. " Sis " KICKS UP SAND 173 
 
 XX. A KNIGHT OF THE TIMBERS 186 
 
 XXI. LEEZEB'S DAUGHTEB 195 
 
 XXII. THE ULTIMATUM . 206 
 
 XXIII. THE RECONCILIATION 218 
 
 XXIV. SOPHIE'S DEPABTUBE 222 
 
 XXV. THE HUBBYING YEAB 229 
 
 XXVI. THE LONELY HEABTH 233
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAQB 
 
 XXVII. A WEDDING AND A JOURNEY . . . . . 238 
 
 XXVIII. THE RETURN OF THE LION 243 
 
 XXIX. CHBIS Is "GOAEDED" . . . . . .250 
 
 XXX. A STAB IN THE EAST . . . . .258 
 
 XXXI. BLESSING 267 
 
 XXXII. THE NEW YOBKEBS .276 
 
 XXXIII. THE BUILDEBS .282 
 
 XXXIV. A CHAPTER IN NEBVES 268 
 
 XXXV. APRIL THE SIXTH, 1916 . . . . . .299 
 
 XXXVI. How TBENHAM PAID His DEBTS . . . .310 
 
 XXXVII. THE BACHELOR IN THE NET . . . -. .317 
 
 XXXVIII. THE ACOBN IN ITS CUP 326 
 
 XXXIX. A WEDDING JOUBNEY 333
 
 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ETTLE Dunrobin lay on the east bank of the 
 Rydal; a grey town in winter, a fresh vivid 
 green one in spring because of its dense 
 growth of shade trees. 
 
 At three sides of it spread chequered patches of 
 farm-lands, and long, wavering roads of red clay 
 extended the short city streets until each one was 
 lost in a forest that climbed and surmounted a 
 horseshoe of low, rolling hills. As a lone pearl 
 belongs to its concave, so Dunrobin belonged to its 
 valley. 
 
 Across the clear stream, to the west, there was 
 scant room for farming. The foothills came close 
 to the water, and, rising at once, ran back lifting 
 blue crest to one thinner and bluer, until they 
 had gained the remoteness and title of mount- 
 ains. 
 
 On the slope of the dominant peak, " Painter's 
 Bald," so called from the nickname the settlers had 
 given the prevalent panthers, stood a log-cabin built 
 
 l
 
 by a Scotsman, Abednego Laird. Rude board wings 
 had been added to shelter Abednego's growing 
 family, with a front porch and back, and various 
 outbuildings for " critters " later on. And Lairds 
 lived there still. 
 
 In this generation of Lairds, the family was 
 typical. The father, " old man Laird," as at forty 
 he began to be called, worked only when he could 
 not avoid it. The profits derived from his corn, pigs 
 and sheep were spent, not on his home, but down 
 " to Bat's Cave," where Jed Crozier was running a 
 " moonshine." 
 
 Laird's wife, a feeble, protesting victim of chronic 
 " neuralgy," long since had lost interest in all but 
 her snuff-stick, and the constant compaints of her 
 ailments. The household affairs shifted, little by 
 little, to the shoulders of Ossie, her eldest born. 
 The second girl, Leezer, chanced by one of those 
 freaks of old families to be born an exquisite beauty. 
 
 To the dull and dreary home, Leezer grew to be 
 like the flower in a vase that lights up a desolate 
 chamber, a touch of blue ribbon, relieving the drab- 
 ness of homespun, a rift in grey clouds or mist. 
 By a tacit agreement, never hinted in words, the 
 overworked Ossie connived with her mother, that 
 the younger sister should be spared most of the 
 cooking and scouring. Leezer swept sometimes, 
 and sang, and did much of the sewing, but her 
 slim hands were smooth as a young tulip-poplar 
 leaf.
 
 PAINTER'S BALD 3 
 
 There was a third child, a boy named Chris- 
 topher, a heavy and amiable being, with a large 
 head that seemed to be thatched with dry corn- 
 shucks, and round innocent orbs the colour of blue 
 mountain skies. 
 
 Mr. Laird was not proud of his son. " Hain't 
 got as much sense in his hull corn-fed body as 
 Ossie has got in one toe." 
 
 At this statement, the reclining Mrs. Laird lifted 
 up the old stocking now bound around a particu- 
 larly trying attack of neuralgy. 
 
 " How come you spen' ha'sh words like them on 
 yo' son, Amos Laird? " she demanded. " He's as 
 kine-hearted a chile as ever dug sassafras-root fer 
 his po' suff'rin' Maw's tea, an' I loves him. Mebbe 
 he hain't got the peartness of Ossie, or the bubblin' 
 sunshine of Leezer. And hit mebbe, likewise," 
 she went on with deeper intention, her one keen, 
 grey, uncovered eye impaling her husband, " that 
 he hain't got all the sense his Paw mought hev had, 
 efn the devil in Bat's Cave hadn't grabbed him. 
 But Chris is willin' an' good as a angel, an' I spit 
 ye outen my mouth, Amos Laird," she continued on 
 a shrill note of pain, " fer shamin' yo' own flesh 
 an' blood as ye's doin'." 
 
 Ossie was just seventeen when the degenerate 
 " Paw " came reeling and stumbling home late one 
 night through the dark dripping bushes, his jeans 
 shirt as wet and as dripping. 
 
 There had been, at Bat's Cave, some sort of a
 
 4 , CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " rookus." " Shoots " had spat out from the 
 laurels, and Laird was now bringing home, along 
 with his last drunken frolic, a bullet which was 
 to end his profitless life. 
 
 The month was November. All day long ghostly 
 clouds of white mist had boiled up from the valleys, 
 had wound among the tree-stems and clung to the 
 interlaced branches. As the dying man lay on his 
 rope-bed and harsh creaking mattress of straw, 
 the hickories and oaks, meeting over the cabin in 
 the darkness where the chill night congealed 
 moisture drop by drop on the broad shaking leaves, 
 sent down a soft, mocking patter. 
 
 " Ossie gal, lean closter, closter yit, so's 
 you kin make out to hear what I'm sayin'," 
 gasped the sick man, and groaned with the 
 effort. 
 
 " Now, Paw," urged the frightened girl gently, 
 " hit's plumb foolish f er you to spen' words while 
 you's hurtin'. Jes 1 bide thar in yo' bed, untwell 
 Chris kin git back with the doctor. Chris is ridin' 
 now hard. He went bar'back on Esau, an' tooken 
 the short trail by the mill. He'll git back here to 
 we-uns fo' we know hit. Jes' you try to bide quiet- 
 like, Paw." 
 
 " I'm passin' out now, Ossie gal," said the dying 
 man solemnly. " When Chris an' ole Esau gits 
 back, I'll be flitted." 
 
 Amos's wife, crouching near, thrust the end of 
 the bright patchwork quilt in her mouth, partially
 
 PAINTER'S BALD 5 
 
 stifling a wail, while the shivering Leezer, beside 
 her, broke into terrified tears. 
 
 " Shoo them two snivellin' females outen here," 
 commanded the invalid fretfully. " I cain't talk 
 with a couple o' squinch-owls a-screechin'. You're 
 the onliest one in the hull dad-burned outfit wuth 
 talkin' to nohow." 
 
 When Ossie re-entered the room, the fast-glazing 
 eyes on the bed fixed upon her own with desperate 
 intentness. 
 
 " Hit'll all be on you, my po' gal," Laird said 
 with the hint of a sob in his throat. " You'll hev to 
 take charge of the hull kit an' bilin'. The ole place 
 is run down, thanks to Crozier, an' you won't 
 find the care of hit easy. But you allays is had 
 all the spunk of a wild mountain-cat an' the sense 
 of our ole plough-horse, Esau. You kin do hit 
 if enny one kin. Try to keep the ole home to- 
 gether as long, ennyhow, as yo' Maw keeps on 
 livin' ; an' I charge you to do yo' plumb best by yo' 
 pritty young sister an' Chris." 
 
 " Po' Chris my po' no-count Chris," he repeated, 
 letting his tired voice pause on the name. " He 
 won't be enny great punkins to help ye, but he'll 
 lay on his belly out thar in the sun, watchin' 
 flowers an' bugs, whilst the sheep grazes near 
 him. He'll feed the hawgs too, an' all critters. 
 He's a kine-hearted chile, ez his Maw says. 
 Yas, Chris he'll be layin' out thar on the hill- 
 side.
 
 6 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Ossie, Ossie ! " the man screamed with his 
 first awful touch of death's coldness, " I cain't 
 leave the sun an' the uplands. They is waitin' fer 
 me out tliar yit, they smells good in my nost'ils, 
 I want to see sunlight onct more. 
 
 " But thar, thar," he sobbed, sinking again 
 to his pillow. " Ain't no uset ter honin'. Don't 
 you cry so pitiful, darter. I done brought this 
 black death on myse'f, damn that hell-brewin' 
 scoun'el Jed Crozier. Now I'm goin' to sleep. 
 I'm took powerful with longin' to sleep, all of a 
 suddint; an' I ain't aimin' to wake up no mo'. 
 Good-bye, darter, you bin better to me an' yo' 
 po' washed-out Maw than either one of we-uns 
 deserves. You tell Chris, ez my las' charge to 
 
 him " A spasm of agony caught the words 
 
 from his lips, and the grey face grew even more 
 ghastly. 
 
 " Paw, Paw! " pleaded the girl, leaning over 
 and clutching both shoulders. " Don't sleep yit. 
 You mus' finish speakin'. You said to tell 
 Chris " 
 
 " Yes, I rekerlit now," moaned the father. " You 
 tell Chris to keep fur away fum that still, hit's 
 black death an' disgrace what's brewed thar." 
 
 " I'll pass them words ; an', O Paw, O Paw, my 
 ole Pappy, don't you leave me so soon ! Don't go 
 leave me alone in this dwellin' I am only seven- 
 teen. O Paw, open yo' eyes, smile todes me. 
 It's Ossie."
 
 PAINTEK'S BALD 7 
 
 But Paw was already adventuring along a new 
 trail that leads over the one great divide. 
 
 Ossie Laird was just twenty-four years old and 
 looked forty, when one cloudy morning a day 
 when the sky seemed a floor of impalpable greyness 
 through which light was diffused with no hint of 
 the actual sun a young hunter from down in the 
 valley found his way to the log-cabin door. Ossie 
 was finishing her sweeping. She heard the quick, 
 unusual footsteps and, turning, ran forward. Her 
 head was bound up in an old scrap of red calico, 
 to keep out the dust, and her grey gingham sleeves 
 were rolled high over elbows that looked like the 
 jointing of twigs. 
 
 "I'm James Gaither from Dunrobin," said the 
 stranger, removing his cap. " I was hunting up here 
 with some comrades, and got lost. Can you direct 
 me to the best and shortest road to the city? " 
 
 Ossie looked into pleasant brown eyes. She saw 
 a white brow, almost as fair and smooth as 
 Leezer's, a long delicate nose, and lips rather thin, 
 parting now over frail blue-white teeth. 
 
 The girl's heart began to beat wildly. She had 
 never seen such a being before, except in pictures. 
 
 " Hit's a powerful long trail back to the low- 
 kentry," she stammered at last. Then the quick 
 genuine hospitality of all mountain homes came to 
 her rescue. " You step right in here. Was you 
 lost all night long? "
 
 8 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " All night long. I slept on the hillside. I 
 must apologize," he smiled, " for my untidy ap- 
 pearance." 
 
 " Lands' sake ! Then you ain't had a mite o' 
 breakfast?" * 
 
 Gaither's rueful expression was sufficient reply. 
 
 " You keep on right back thar to my kitchen," 
 Ossie commanded. " I'll cook you a small mess o' 
 vittles in two shakes." 
 
 " But really," the young man protested, moving 
 hopefully the while to where she pointed. " I 
 cannot allow you to take so much trouble." 
 
 " Ain't no buts in these parts," threw back 
 Ossie almost gaily, " when a he-critter needs to be 
 fed." 
 
 They moved through the main room, and just 
 at the end stepped down, by one short slanting 
 tread, to the kitchen. 
 
 Gaither saw no stove and no preparations for 
 cooking, except that in the wide stone-set fire- 
 place hung a crane. Pots and pans stood along 
 the mantelshelf, and depended by nails from each 
 side of the grate. Overhead, there were festoons 
 of herbs, beans in clustering pods, and vivid 
 chaplets of peppers. Hams and bacon were swung 
 side by side with bundles of drying tobacco and 
 small sheaves of bright yellow corn. 
 
 At first the place had seemed empty. Then he 
 heard the rustle of cloth from an alcove, and a 
 girlish voice cried, a voice perfect, and thrush-
 
 PAINTER'S BALD 9 
 
 like in clearness: "Who you totin' in, Sister? 
 Hit can't be brother Chris at this time o' day." 
 
 " No, hit ain't Chris. Hit's a furriner," a shy 
 side-look flung around, as she spoke, toward the 
 stranger. " He 'lows ez he lost his trail back to 
 the city, an' I'm aimin' to cook him some vittles. 
 You lay down that sewin' o' yourn, an' come set 
 his place at the table." 
 
 Leezer flung the work down. At one spring she 
 was out into the open, her blue, curious eyes on 
 their guest. 
 
 James Gaither had turned the same pleasant, 
 casual smile he was still conserving for Ossie, 
 when he and the younger girl came face to face. 
 
 The man's smile died. A quick look of wonder 
 distended his pupils ; he caught in one long breath, 
 and held it. 
 
 " That thar's Leezer," remarked Ossie in a 
 matter-of-fact tone, as she reached for a skillet. 
 " She's the one ornamint that we has here. Me 
 an' Chris we does all the work." 
 
 " Of course you do," thought James Gaither, in 
 the heat of instinctive mental protest. " A Hebe 
 like that to be made to feed pigs or fry bacon! 
 She's the prettiest thing in the world." 
 
 James stayed, not only to breakfast, but so 
 far into the mild afternoon, that Ossie and Chris 
 had to tell him " hit war time to hitch up and 
 make tracks " if he wanted to reach his own home 
 before midnight.
 
 10 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Chris insisted upon driving him as far as the 
 first mountain settlement, where a horse and con- 
 veyance might be hired. When Gaither started 
 down the long slope to the valley he took Leezer's 
 girlish heart with him, but left all of his own in 
 exchange. 
 
 A few days after his mountain adventure, the 
 small Virginia community became greatly excited 
 to hear that James Gaither had bought him a 
 horse. Dunrobin could put two and two together, 
 as well as the next, especially when one of the 
 two was a horse. Such an extravagance, coupled 
 with the hunter's having been lost a whole day 
 on the heights told the story; for the Gaithers, in 
 common with many of the old families, had been 
 impoverished by the Civil War. 
 
 James had christened his spirited chestnut by 
 the queer name of " Sister," and in a very few 
 weeks the mare could have gone, in the dark, up 
 a certain long winding road, and paused, nicker- 
 ing hopefully for refreshment, at a certain old 
 tumbledown stable on high Painter's Bald. 
 
 In October of the same year, on a day when 
 the mountains were splendid in scarlet, and gold, 
 and warm sunshine, James Gaither and a few 
 chosen friends, men and women, took the long trail 
 together, and brought Leezer down to the lowlands 
 as his bride.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE TRANSPLANTING 
 
 WHEN Leezer had gone, leaving silence 
 where she had made laughter, and leav- 
 ing patient weather-worn faces where her 
 girlish fairness had bloomed, the proud but dis- 
 consolate mother calmly took to her bed, and told 
 Ossie she " warn't goin' to study 'bout leavin' 
 it, never agin." 
 
 Chris moped around the pastures, avoiding the 
 dull home as much as he possibly could. He had 
 dearly loved Leezer, and her marriage to a " fur- 
 riner " was a grief it took long to console. 
 
 As for Ossie, a sort of fierce energy clutched 
 her. The old farm was worked as never before, 
 and success rewarded each one of her efforts. 
 She actually spent some of her money upon better 
 clothing for the family, and ordered books too, 
 humble spellers and readers, and an elementary 
 arithmetic, along with more adult volumes. 
 
 Thereafter, in common with methods of " blab 
 schools," the kind known in the hills, where each 
 pupil studies aloud at the top of a shrill, high- 
 pitched voice, " Sis " could be heard " a-gittin' 
 book-larnin' " for a mile up the slopes. 
 
 11
 
 12 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 The mother grew used to the sound, and when 
 she asked Ossie to sooth el her by giving " some o' 
 that pritty book-readin' " the girl would comply 
 with a thin smile of triumph. 
 
 " Ef only yo' po' Paw could see you a'settin' 
 thar straight as a stick, an' er-dronin' along, same 
 ez ole Pason Wiggs fum his Bible," the widow 
 once sighed. 
 
 Chris, on the contrary, hated the sound of it, and 
 to pin the tall active boy to five minutes of atten- 
 tion proved a difficult task. 
 
 " But you mus' lissen, Chris," said his sister 
 with vehemence. " You hev got ter larn readin' 
 an' writin' an' figgers the same as me, an' it should 
 be even better, you bein' a man. 
 
 " I tell you, hit's somethin' ez can't be put off. 
 Mebbe we-uns too, Chris," she added, looking 
 straight into his face, " mout go down to the 
 broader lands soon." 
 
 Chris, seated on the sill of the door leading down 
 into the yard, dug into the sand with his toe. 
 His face had not reflected her eagerness. 
 
 " We cain't git erway fum the mountings," he 
 said slowly. " Thar's Maw. Ye cain't travel Maw 
 down." 
 
 " Yes, thar's Maw, sure 'nuf," answered Ossie, 
 and something determined and hard in her voice 
 made Chris wince. " I warn't thinkin' of movin' 
 Maw outen, I warn't thinkin' o' goin' jes' yit." 
 
 In the bleak of that winter Mrs. Laird's lifelong
 
 THE TRANSPLANTING 13 
 
 idol and tyrant, the neuralgy, plus a few other 
 " ailmints," whose name as spoken gravely by old 
 Doc Clear-water the victim did not take the trouble 
 to learn, brought her futile career to an end. 
 
 Chris wept at the grave placed " erlongside o* 
 Paw," and would steal to it often, laying on the 
 bare mound sprigs of holly, or long pendant clus- 
 ters of bright mountain ash, in lieu of more delicate 
 flowers; but Ossie had no time for such visits. 
 
 She was building and weaving the future, as a 
 tailor-bird weaves its stout nest. The old farm 
 had been put up for rent or sale, though she tried 
 to keep that fact from Chris. All the livestock 
 went down, trip by trip, in the form of pork, wool, 
 mutton, or bacon, and Sol Thigpen's huge wagon 
 " schooner " brought back in return dingy rolls 
 of worn " greenbacks," or thick silver dollars, 
 which Ossie secreted in the whorls of her father's 
 great curved hunting-horn. 
 
 It was early in March when events reached a 
 climax. The two Lairds, after eating their supper, 
 were drawn up to the bright kitchen hearth. 
 
 " Chris," began Ossie slowly, " ef you-uns has 
 any old duds that you aims to carry down, hit's 
 time ye war thinkin' o' packin'." Before speaking 
 the next words she paused, and leaned forward to 
 stir up a smouldering log. " Sol Thigpen's to drive 
 us down into the city in two days fum now." 
 
 Chris swallowed a thick painful lump. It had 
 come, and he felt himself helpless.
 
 14 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " I don't wanter go, an' ye knows hit," he said 
 in a very small voice. " Hit's a-jerkin' my heart 
 by the roots fer to leave here." 
 
 As Ossie kept silent, the boy turned around in 
 the old hickory chair that had been Paw's, and 
 looked into her fire-lit face, with round humble 
 eyes, that had a disturbing resemblance to those 
 of a sheep about to be slaughtered. 
 
 " We hevn't no call, as I kin make out," he went 
 on, vaguely heartened by his sister's thoughtful 
 expression, " tryin' ter mix up with them fine folk 
 way down in the valley. We ain't o' their breed, 
 an' don't b'long ermongst 'em. We don't fit, 
 leastways," he corrected hastily, warned by a 
 twitch of thin shoulders, " I don't fit." 
 
 " You kin fit anywhar that ye minds to," said 
 Ossie. " Yo' trouble is that ye don't mind. Oh ! " 
 she cried in a sudden accession of anger, " why 
 ain't ye got backbone, or any ambition like me? 
 It's a funny world nohow," she went on, her voice 
 shrill and vibrant with feeling. " Hit's a plumb 
 crazy world, to bring ye here a man-chile, an' me 
 jes' a shrivelled old maid. Ef I could be you, an' 
 you be the 'ooman " 
 
 " An' by thundah I'm willin' to be," roared out 
 Chris in his anguish. " Ef you'd leave me in 
 peace on the mountings I'd be a sow, or a hen- 
 hawk, or a tabby, ef'n only ye'd jes' leave me 
 be! " and then, startled to realize that he had
 
 THE TRANSPLANTING 15 
 
 actually " hollered " at Sis, sank far down in bis 
 chair. 
 
 A tense silence came over them. Once Chris 
 looked around furtively, to note whether or not 
 Ossie had reached for a broomstick. 
 
 The fire burned low. Filmy squares of blue 
 ashes lay like ghosts of grey bark on the length 
 of a glowing red log. Chris's long legs, tipped 
 by huge slippered feet that made two big gaps 
 in the firelight, moved them outward a little, to 
 reach for the warmth of the coals. 
 
 His thick body, topped by a head that habitually 
 drooped forward a trifle, was huddled together 
 in a mass so forlorn, that Sis's heart softened. 
 
 Bud's lip quivered. His round eyes grew humid 
 with tears. " Ef hit warn't fer my critters," he 
 said, now imploringly, " I could make out to stan' 
 hit all else. Thar's that tame fox o' mine, the 
 ole white bitch I keers fer. She's jes' had a litter, 
 an' I'm powerful eager in feedin' 'em. An' the 
 spring fun all over the mountings is jes' startin' 
 up. Thar'll be layin-by time befo' we knows hit, 
 an' a hull day o' singin' an' prayin' over yan 
 to the glen, an' round thar on the far side o' 
 Painter's Mr. Thigpen is stretchin' a whole hun- 
 derd hides all to onct. He let me an' 'Lonzo hep 
 him summat. Hit was bully. The hides they 
 smell till they seem to turn ye right into a buzzard, 
 but 'Lonzo an' me don't min' that. An' "
 
 16 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Ossie gave a quick gesture that checked him, yet 
 her smile was indulgent. " Ye'll fergit all them po' 
 mounting frolics when ye onct is made friends to 
 the city." 
 
 " I won't never make friends," wailed the boy. 
 " That air jes' what I'm sayin'. Do a kildee make 
 friends with a beaver? " 
 
 " Leezer has," answered Ossie. " She's writ me. 
 She don't hanker no mo' fer the mountings. 
 You'll fergit 'em, the same ez she's done. Ye 
 jes' watch." 
 
 Chris shook his great, tumbled, fair head. He 
 knew he should never forget them. 
 
 In Dunrobin, Miss Ossie had pre-engaged rooms 
 in the most select of lodging-houses. It was that of 
 Miss Abby Quigley, a two-storey structure of 
 wood, with a cramped gabled attic and shaded 
 verandahs that ran on three sides of the first floor. 
 It was almost directly across the street from the 
 brick home of the Gaithers. 
 
 The blissful young husband and Leezer had 
 insisted on having the brother and sister come to 
 them as a matter of course. Indeed, when refusal 
 persisted, Leezer dissolved into tears, the first 
 since her marriage. 
 
 But Ossie knew her own mind : that was certain. 
 There was still much " book-larnin' " before her. 
 She knew she required exactly the sort of seclusion 
 and privacy that her small, paid-for chamber af- 
 forded.
 
 THE TRANSPLANTING 17 
 
 Chris had been put into one of the queer attic 
 rooms, the shape of a logarithm, and about as 
 inspiring. Soon after their arrival, Sis had at- 
 tempted to " goard " Chris into going to school, 
 but against this the boy had held out with a 
 desperate tenacity. 
 
 " You hadn't ought to ast me to do nairy sech 
 a fool-thing," he protested. " I'd look a plumb 
 id jit settin' thar on a long wooden bench with them 
 children jes' reachin' my elbow. I'll study them 
 pesky schoolbooks alone in my room withouten 
 folks lookin' in; but I don't aim to study out 
 loud." 
 
 " Then you must study hard, Chris," said Ossie, 
 perceiving herself to be defeated. " An' you must 
 try all the time to stop usin' them, those white- 
 trash words like ' withouten ' an' * id jit ' an' 
 ' plumb.' " 
 
 " I'll remember to try," promised Chris, but 
 his tone lacked enthusiasm. 
 
 Among the first personal friends that Ossie made 
 after reaching Dunrobin was the little librarian, 
 Miss Sally Finger. The " liberry," as that temple 
 of culture was usually called, occupied two long 
 dusty rooms over the Dry Goods Emporium of 
 James Weldon & Co. This important business, in 
 spite of its high-sounding title, was run only by 
 the two people concerned James, a thin-necked, 
 alert little Englishman, who looked like a shrimp 
 partly boiled and then jerked from the water, and
 
 18 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 his sister, the coy Miss Theresa, who was a twin 
 shrimp in skirts. 
 
 For Miss Laird's bright spots of life, and her 
 genuine relaxation, there were daily excursions 
 across the red-clay street, to the Gaither abode, and 
 hours of playing with Mildred. Ossie's heart had 
 flowered out at the first sight of her dainty small 
 niece. She was Gaither, from her delicate head to 
 her wee, rosy toes, every inch was pure Gaither, as 
 Leezer so often declared. Indeed there existed no 
 trace of rude mountain vigour, for the child was 
 small-boned, faintly coloured, and scarcely missing 
 that state called fragile. 
 
 Chris hovered about the child's cradle, or would 
 sit on the floor by her side, but could never be 
 coaxed into lifting the exquisite thing in his arms. 
 
 " It 'ud be like me holdin' a butterfly," he said, 
 smiling. " I'm afeered that the little girl's dust 
 'ud come off on my fingers."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 CHRIS SEES HALLONQUIST HALL 
 
 IT was a bright Sabbath morning in May, and 
 Chris Laird had made his escape after break- 
 fast, to avoid the unbearable union of Ossie 
 and two hours at church. On strong legs that for 
 years had been trained to bear him up high craggy 
 slopes, he now set out to cover the long tepid 
 stretches of Dunrobin's turnpikes. Within the 
 town limits, on a wide tree-shaded road, stood 
 Hallonquist Hall, the impressive " fo' de war " 
 show-place of Dunrobin. 
 
 There were four great white oaks at the corners, 
 like four poles set about a new hayrick, when the 
 saplings insist upon growing. Later on, Chris was 
 told that the wife of the original Hallonquist, the 
 daughter of an English divine, had at the time of 
 their planting named the oaks from the four 
 apostles, St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke and 
 St. John. 
 
 From the gate a broad pebbled driveway lay- 
 flat between hedges of lilacs, until, having reached 
 the first terrace, it divided in twain, and running 
 out to the right and the left was lost in a tangle 
 of shrubbery. 
 
 19
 
 20 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Chris's eager gaze ran past the steps and the 
 level loggia to the four mammoth white columns 
 which held up, at an incredible altitude, a triangu- 
 lar pediment, heavily trimmed with dentals of 
 wood, and the iron-railed balcony, jutting out from 
 the second floor windows. 
 
 The beauty of dark slave-wrought iron, in con- 
 trast to the dazzling facade, made a lasting im- 
 pression upon the ignorant boy who beheld it. 
 
 What worlds of difference divided his own 
 humble life from the people who dwelt in so 
 magnificent a home! thought the wistful observer. 
 How beyond all possible dreams it would be that 
 ever he harboured a friend there! 
 
 Chris's freedom for strolls such as this, and 
 excursions to size up the town to which fate, in 
 the person of Ossie, had dragged him, did not last 
 very long. When Sis became certain that no 
 coaxing or threats would force her young brother 
 to school, she conferred with James Gaither on 
 the subject of getting the boy some sort of a start 
 in an office. 
 
 This position was secured in the real-estate 
 firm of Page & Youngblood, and Chris, from being 
 a sweeper of floors and an ignominious washer- 
 out of the ubiquitous cuspidor, gradually rose to 
 be an accredited rent collector, his field of opera- 
 tions confined for the most part to the cabins of 
 improvident negroes. 
 
 Chris honestly did his best to keep his full com-
 
 CHRIS SEES HALLONQUIST HALL 21 
 
 pact with Sis, to read, to study and " figger " each 
 evening; but his small room proved bitterly cold 
 during the winter, and correspondingly hot later 
 on. 
 
 He would start upon his studies briskly enough, 
 when some word, such perhaps as " orchard," or 
 " hilltop " or " shepherd," wrenched his thoughts 
 quite away, and lifting hot eyes he would stare 
 through his one dormer window, and again would 
 lie down in green pastures that grew so far away, 
 or lead his sick heart by "still waters." 
 
 The boarders all tried to be kind, each in his 
 or in her special way, but the boy's shyness clung, 
 and obscured him as a grey mist on old Painter's 
 Bald. 
 
 An all-knowing drummer, who " blew in " for a 
 few days every fortnight, moved by what he con- 
 sidered the frankest and kindest of motives, drew 
 Chris to one side. " You ain't come to life yet, 
 my young buck ! " the travelling man said, laugh- 
 ing. " I've caught on to the trouble with you ! " 
 
 This worldly assertion came forth with a nudge 
 and a wink that somehow turned Chris hot and 
 angry. 
 
 " You can manage to have just as much fun in 
 a little old one-horse Southern town like Dunrobin, 
 as you can in Noo Yawk. But of course," the 
 drummer went on, his face full of evil suggestion, 
 " a feller must know where to look. Now, you take 
 me for instance, there's a covey of girls, queens,
 
 22 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 all of 'em, that I run down to old Farmer " 
 
 " Shet yo' damn mouth ! " roared Chris at this 
 juncture. " What you think that I be a sick 
 dawg to be flung rotten vittles? Ef you spen' one 
 mo' word of that filth in my hearin', I'll jes' 
 nachally ram all yo' teeth down yo' tho'te an' shake 
 ye ontwell they be swallowed. Hit's true that I'm 
 jes' down fum the mountings, but the air I bin 
 breathin' is clean." 
 
 It was Miss Quigley herself who, by accident, 
 first opened a path of deliverance. At the rear of 
 her house stretched a small vegetable garden. Her 
 hired man, old Ab'm, had just been laid low with 
 the misery in some of his rusty joints. 
 
 Continuing a method that probably held in the 
 days when the ladies of Tyre and of Sidon were 
 driven to take in " paying guests," Miss Quigley 
 was describing minutely to the dinner table all of 
 the tragedy old Ab'm's illness at this critical time 
 might entail. 
 
 " The hotbed of lettuce is lovely," she sighed. 
 " The carrot and beet tops are just showing. The 
 cauliflowers must be kept in their straw, or these 
 frosts will blacken them. The cabbage and col- 
 lards " 
 
 " Collards ! " came from Chris Laird like a shot 
 from a gun. 
 
 " Yes, Christopher," replied Miss Abby kindly. 
 " I always keep a row for the kitchen. The 
 servants are fond of them. Of course," she put in
 
 CHRIS SEES HALLONQUIST HALL 23 
 
 with a slight lifting of shoulders, " I don't serve 
 collard-greens here.*' 
 
 " I'd be powerful pleased to work them craps for 
 you, Miss Abby," said Chris, forgetting in his 
 eagerness to use city speech. " I'm a mighty good 
 hand at a hoe, as Sis can tell you." 
 
 Sis's face was a thin crimson wedge of embar- 
 rassment. 
 
 " It is true," Ossie declared in her most stilted 
 manner. " My brother is interested in agr-ag-gicul- 
 ture. It is good for his health. I am sure he will 
 be happy to offer his services." 
 
 After this, the small garden patch, once so inter- 
 mittently tended, became Chris's special concern. 
 He would rise with the sun to dig cutworms, which 
 at that hour were supposed to lie quite near the 
 surface, and, exhuming a culprit, stretched him 
 out on the rail of an old boarded fence which 
 divided Miss Quigley's lot from the Rectory. 
 
 Later on in the summer, Chris joyed in the rest- 
 less brown moths beating down to the deep golden 
 hearts of the squash-blooms, and in ghosts of small 
 butterflies flitting along with the bees and play- 
 ing aerial seesaw on the pink, silken tassels of 
 corn. 
 
 There were spiders, too, in the garden, in that 
 blessed oasis of dulness. Chris had always pos- 
 sessed a queer liking for these patient, intelligent 
 insects. 
 
 Along with the varieties known to his mountain,
 
 24 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Chris had the joy of discovering more than one un- 
 known species. 
 
 One day on the rotting old board fence he en- 
 countered a large sluggish creature whose back 
 appeared to be covered with sand. Leaning closer, 
 he saw that the grains were a mass of young 
 spiders, very quiet, and huddled together as if 
 for their lives. 
 
 As the movable nursery perceived him, it slid 
 through a crack in the fence. This was too much 
 for Chris. He must see where the strange mother 
 " bided." 
 
 Forgetting all of the property rights of a city, 
 he climbed to the top of the fence and, catching 
 sight of Ijis prey as it dove into a hole in the 
 earth, sprang over beside it. 
 
 He was stooping far down, intent on a tunnel 
 that appeared to be lined with brown leather, when 
 he heard just behind him a voice, a girl's voice, 
 and the speaker was laughing.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MARY BARING 
 
 CHRIS stood up at a bound. He longed pas- 
 sionately to follow his spider but instead 
 he seemed to be growing until, from a hor- 
 rible height, he looked down on a slender girl 
 clothed in delicate blue muslin, down into an up- 
 raised face, which had eyes exactly the colour of 
 the wild morning-glories now clambering up 
 through his corn. 
 
 Before he could speak, the girl flushed and 
 lowered her gaze. " Oh, I do beg your pardon. I 
 thought you, I thought you were younger and 
 and smaller. You are young Mr. Laird, are yov 
 not, the brother of sweet Mrs. Gaither? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm Leezer's brother," stammered the 
 wretched, delighted Chris. " I'm asking your 
 pardon, Miss Miss " 
 
 " Mary Baring, and I live here at the Rectory 
 with Auntie, and I'm just -home from a visit to 
 Richmond," imparted the vision. 
 
 Chris nodded, but ploughed on with the words, 
 " I'm asking your pardon for vaulting your fence 
 like I done, but I'm after a spider " 
 
 " A what ! " echoed the girl. " That's all 'right 
 
 25
 
 26 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 about the vaulting. I'm glad that you did. 
 Where's the spider? " 
 
 " Right down there," pointed Chris. " But ain't 
 you skee.red of him? Leezer is, even Sis, and Sis 
 ain't skeered of much, nuther." 
 
 " I don't really know whether I'm frightened 
 or not/' said the exquisite voice, full of laughter. 
 " I was never close enough to find out. Let me try 
 this minute." 
 
 " There he is, there he is, in his do'way," 
 cried Chris in intensest excitement. Both young 
 things squatted down, side by side, their eyes 
 focussed. " Now, ain't she the beatenest critter? " 
 the boy continued. 
 
 " Oh, I see her, I see him ! " cried Mary in 
 equal excitement. " It's there in its little round 
 burrow, all lined with brown velvet, so pretty! 
 Now he's gone. Oh, Mr. Laird do please make it 
 come back." 
 
 " She's a lady," said Chris simply. " You caa't 
 make her nohow. She was strolling round airing 
 her fambly. It's all glued to her back." 
 
 "What?" asked the girl, slightly disconcerted. 
 Then, turning again to the object of interest, ex- 
 claimed : " There, she's come back to the day- 
 light. She's staring right up in our faces. Gracious ! 
 How many eyes has she got? " 
 
 " Eight," replied Chris, with such pride that a 
 hearer might infer he had made them. " Eight,
 
 MARY BARING 27 
 
 each as keen and as bright as a pin-pint. And she 
 needs 'em," he added, with a low happy laugh. 
 " If she's going to look round and keep count of 
 her children." 
 
 " Why, it's thrilling" said Mary Baring, taking 
 in a long, satisfied breath. " Who would ever have 
 thought that a spider could be so interesting? " 
 
 " And you ain't skeered a mite? " queried Chris, 
 as the two rose to their feet. He could not turn 
 his eyes from her face. The long stare became so 
 embarrassing that Mary flushed, and twitched 
 rather petulantly aside, as she answered, " No, I 
 ain't scared a mite, and I'm glad, for I don't like 
 girls that are scary." 
 
 " Nor does I. You's the kind of a girl that I 
 likes, 'Miss, Miss " 
 
 " Mary Baring," she told him again. " And now 
 that we've met, Mr. Laird," she went on, self-pos- 
 session having returned, " you must come to the 
 Rectory and call on Auntie and me. We both love 
 Mrs. Gaither, and we'd love you to be friends 
 with us too." 
 
 That night Chris began his first diary, a practice 
 that ran with the course of his life and was destined 
 to be of deep comfort to him. 
 
 His first volume began humbly enough, with the 
 unused pages of a copy-book purchased by Ossie, 
 and which he was expected to fill with neat, slant- 
 ing reiterant phrases, such as "Ambition is the
 
 28 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 last infirmity of noble minds," " Brave souls need 
 braver deeds to test them " and " Csesar's wife must 
 be above suspicion." 
 
 Chris had reached the letter G, and five times 
 had traced in a round inhuman chirography the 
 unanswerable statement that " Greater is he that 
 ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city." A 
 long heavy line was now drawn, and after dating, 
 Chris began: 
 
 " I have met up with a gal, no it's girl, that ain't 
 skeered of spiders. She is nicer to look at than any. 
 Her eyes and her dress is both blue, and her cheeks is 
 shining and pink like our sunrise. When she laffs, 
 it sounds jest like that little river by Lonzo's Paw's 
 tannery. But it don't smell like that much. She axed 
 me to call jest like fine city folks. She didn't mean 
 holler, by calling, but to step up to her door and 
 pull a bell, and a black woman comes quick and opens 
 it. I don't think I will go, but I'm glad that she axed 
 me." 
 
 The formal visit Mary suggested was, indeed, 
 for the present, a thing quite too bold to attempt. 
 But Chris moved the old hickory chair, the one 
 " dud " he had brought from his lost mountain 
 home, to that end of Miss Quigley's verandah that 
 gave on to the Rectory grounds, and each day with 
 a pencil of gold he marked off the strokes ; a good 
 day or bad, being dependent upon the number of 
 times he had caught sight of Mary Baring's flutter-
 
 MARY BARING 29 
 
 ing ribbons, or, much better, had been given a 
 bright nod or a smile. 
 
 Had Chris been introspective, he might have 
 sought reasons for the strange, sweet content that 
 now filled him. The nightly struggles with his- 
 schoolbooks no longer appeared as a task to be 
 dreaded or shunned. 
 
 " Miss Mary," as by now he called Mary Baring, 
 spoke a language that ladies should speak, and 
 Chris felt that the lessening of difference between, 
 his backwoods dialect and the girl's crystal phras- 
 ing might lessen other differences too. 
 
 The work at his office seemed lighter. His con- 
 stant suggestions " to step out an' heckle that old 
 possum Tom Jackson, what's got rent money hid 
 in hig pouch," or "to stroll round by old Granny 
 Davis, and dig up another fo' bits," surprised and 
 delighted Chris's employers. 
 
 How could those elderly persons imagine, as 
 they sat in their small and dusty office, with feet on 
 table and desk, that their youthful collector was 
 even then roaming the streets for a glimpse of two 
 eyes like blue flowers? 
 
 A dreadful awakening came to the boy one bright 
 morning at breakfast. 
 
 Miss Quigley, after drawing a pleased and provoc- 
 ative smile down both sides of her table, an- 
 nounced, " Well, at last Dudley Hallonquist's en- 
 gagement is admitted. Of course we all knew it 
 was coming, but we couldn't pin either of the
 
 30 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 young people down. They'll be married next 
 spring, so Mary's Aunt tells me, and will go 
 straight to the Hall to live." 
 
 All of the listening faces showed lively interest. 
 
 "A most suitable union," declared Mr. Butler, 
 as he knocked the top off of an egg. 
 
 " A beautiful romance, it is what I would call 
 simply sweet" tittered a virgin of sixty, while 
 old Mrs. Battle, who carried the families of 
 Virginia as a chatelaine carries her keys, never 
 missing a lock with her first fitting, boomed out 
 in a very deep voice: 
 
 "It is perfect! Dudley's mother is gratified. 
 Poor dear soul, now perhaps life may bring her 
 some happiness again. She has never revived from 
 the death of her husband, a devotion and depth 
 of affection seldom found in these trivial days." 
 
 Chris stared hard at his plate. It might have 
 been squirming with beetles for all that he saw 
 there, or all that he afterwards ate. 
 
 His Miss Mary ! It could be no other ! She was 
 going to marry that long, spindling Hallonquist 
 man, who lived in the " Pride of Dunrobin." His 
 Mary would own that mansion, would be finer and 
 infinitely farther away from the circle of Chris's 
 daily existence. 
 
 He excused himself hastily, and without trusting 
 one glance toward the Rectory hurried downtown 
 to the dingy small office. 
 
 Before either partner arrived, Chris was out in
 
 MARY BARING 31 
 
 the suburbs " collecting," as a note left on Mr. 
 Youngblood's desk declared. 
 
 But the boy stopped at no cabin or shanty. No 
 grannies nor possums were baited. Like a wounded 
 wild thing he must get to the coverts of the forest. 
 
 He flung himself down in the first shady dell, and 
 began his long battle. 
 
 " You're a fool, a plumb, damn fool, Chris 
 Laird,' 1 he cried to the bushes that hid him. " That 
 there lady warn't never for such as you. It be 
 right she should take up with the prettiest man in 
 the valley. He air rich, with a big house to give 
 her. I ought to be glad she have hooked such a 
 likely he-critter, but, oh, Mary, Miss Mary," 
 he sobbed, while his great frame shook and rolled 
 in the grasses,," if ye'd only bin bred to the mount- 
 ings, an' me loved an' co'ted ye there! Oh, I 
 cain't do withouten ye, Mary. I cain't do with- 
 outen ye, nohow ! " 
 
 Chris rose after a while. Bits of grass and 
 torn leaves clung like flakes of green wax to his 
 clothing. The air was filled with the crushed 
 bitter-sweet of bruised herbage. The boy reared 
 his head like a stag; he had caught the sliding of 
 water. 
 
 Beside the half-hidden stream, he knelt and 
 bathed his red eyes and his hot swollen face. The 
 broad shoulders went back. He had " twitched," 
 as it were, his mantle of grey, and must off to the 
 work of existence. He thought that he knew,
 
 32 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 with the sure knowledge agony brings us, that his 
 whole life was to be lived " withouten " Miss Mary. 
 
 Returning to Dunrobin, Chris paused at each 
 humble, recalcitrant doorway, and the rent money 
 turned in at the office by noon of that day caused 
 the firm to raise their collector's wages. 
 
 There was a day when old Mrs. Battle appeared 
 with her face slightly ravaged by tears. " Yes," 
 she said, " it is only too true that poor Mrs. Hallon- 
 quist is ill, very ill. Now that her son's future is 
 certain, for she loves Mary Baring like a 
 daughter, it looks as if the poor weary soul was 
 too tired to keep on with life. She doesn't want 
 to get well," announced Mrs. Battle, and choked 
 just a little in speaking. " She admits that the 
 one thing she longs for now is to join her young 
 husband." 
 
 " Will her death stop the wedding, do you 
 think? " inquired Ossie, who for some inscrutable 
 reason had taken an active dislike to Miss Baring. 
 
 " Certainly not," rejoined Mrs. Battle. " It's the 
 worst luck in the world to postpone such a date. 
 And besides, poor Dudley will be needing a wife 
 more than ever." 
 
 A few days before the simple ceremony, arranged 
 to take place in the Rectory parlour with only the 
 closest of relatives present, Mary sought out 
 Christopher Laird. 
 
 " I want you to come. Now promise me, Chris,
 
 MARY BARING 33 
 
 you'll be there when I'm married. We've only a 
 handful of friends, because of poor Dudley's deep 
 mourning. But you must be one of them, Chris, 
 or I'll never get over it. Can I count on your 
 coming? " 
 
 " Yes," gulped poor Chris, " I'll be there. And 
 Miss Mary " 
 
 " What is it, dear Chris? " 
 
 " Should you take it as too all-fired for'ard, 
 as askin' too much, ef I asked you, to to " 
 
 " You can ask me just anything, Chris," said the 
 girl, her full heart brimming up at the sight of his 
 cruel embarrassment. " You couldn't ask anything 
 wrong." 
 
 " It's just this, then, Miss Mary," the boy said, 
 determined to force his plea through by an effort. 
 " The brides in these parts they carries bokays with 
 them, don't they, same as we do in the mount- 
 ings?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," cried Mary, her eyes bright as 
 she took in his meaning. " And you'll gather the 
 flowers for my wedding bouquet? Is that it? " 
 
 " You can reckon," said Chris, and the ghost of 
 a smile made his homely face charming. " I'll pick 
 out just the sweet-smellin' white uns, and bind 
 them up like a big cabbage, with small bits of grass, 
 and them shaky green ferns about the edges." 
 
 So Chris was there, and the picture of Mary, 
 his Mary, in her simple organdy gown, a mist
 
 34 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 of tulle veiling, and her bouquet of flowers, small 
 white roses, and pale honeysuckle bound with ferns, 
 and wee nameless sprites of wild blooms from the 
 hillsides, was a vision he drew to his heart, en- 
 closing, and consciously holding it, his cross and 
 his altar in one.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A STUDY OF COCOONS 
 
 WITHIN a few months of the Hallonquist 
 wedding, Leezer died, leaving an infant, 
 her second child, Letty. 
 
 Miss Ossie moved to the Gaither house at once, to 
 take charge of " poor James " and to do her full 
 duty by " poor Leezer's " children. That she did 
 it no soul in Dunrobin pretended to doubt. 
 
 Chris was haled down from his attic logarithm, 
 rather unwillingly, for the boy had become used to 
 his den. He was given a larger and a pleasanter 
 room in the servants' wing over the Gaither 
 kitchen. 
 
 At the north Chris looked down on a trampled, 
 neglected square of weeds, which he quickly trans- 
 formed to a garden, worthy mate to the one just 
 abandoned. 
 
 Miss Quigley was quite in despair. " That nice 
 boy," she wailed out to her circle of sympathy. 
 " I don't know what we'll do now he's gone. The 
 garden has never been kept up as he kept it. Why, 
 the vegetable carts never stopped at my door any 
 more." 
 
 35
 
 36 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 As Chris delved in his new bit of earth, he felt 
 sure that the winged, crawling " critters " began 
 one by one to follow him. He welcomed each as 
 a friend. 
 
 His copy-book now had been filled. To continue 
 the writing, he purchased a thickish new one. At 
 this time Chris did not know the terms " diary " 
 or " journal," so he called it " My Memory Book." 
 Nor had he acquired toward these soliloquies any 
 sense of diurnal obligation. He wrote only when 
 something had happened that seemed to him worth 
 putting down. 
 
 The lonely boy's first sense of " home," his first 
 reaching out for a conscious environment, was 
 when Ossie told him he could drive nails in his 
 walls as he pleased. There was no plaster to in- 
 jure, for the room was ceiled and painted through- 
 out a pale sooty grey. 
 
 One day, from a long hillside ramble, he brought 
 tenderly back a branch of a tulip-poplar from w.hich 
 hung a shaggy cocoon. He thought that he knew 
 the sort of small red-brown butterfly that was soon 
 to emerge from the aerial cell, but it would be lots 
 of fun to watch it while breaking. 
 
 The branch he intended to fasten just over his 
 mantel, where he could see it first thing every 
 morning. 
 
 But to do this he had to take down a framed 
 picture, a lithograph, once brightly coloured, called 
 "The Rock of Ages." It showed a husky young
 
 A STUDY OF COCOONS 37 
 
 woman, in a rotary attitude, clothed in a very stiff 
 white garment, and clinging with manicured fingers 
 to a huge cross in mid-ocean. 
 
 With the picture removed and held in one wav- 
 ing hand, Chris stood still to consider. Of course 
 if Sis " ketched " him there might be some trouble, 
 but Ossie, as far as he knew, never came to his 
 room. 
 
 " Shucks ! " he muttered at length, putting the 
 picture well back of a three-legged bureau, " that 
 there girl couldn't a' swum through such waves 
 in her nightgown, a leavin' it plumb full of starch. 
 And besides, nobody could build such a cross in 
 the ocean. This here butterfly-ball is a whole 
 dartfed sight truer, and more pretty." 
 
 After this, other branches and other cocoons 
 found lodgment against the same grey walls. A 
 brilliant crab-spider placed in the feathery twigs 
 of a sparkle-berry branch, began instantly, to 
 Chris's delight, to spin his silvery kite-frame. 
 
 Queer-shaped small eggs, undoubtedly reptilian, 
 sluggish larvae, needing tin cans and mud, along 
 with whole slices of bark harbouring globules that 
 hinted of hatching, were garnered so fast, that 
 Chris was sore put about to find niches for all of 
 them. 
 
 One day, in the squalid back-alley of James 
 Weldon & Co. Chris chanced to see a discarded old 
 spool-chest, consisting of four drawers, the lowest 
 one broken. Forgetting his shyness, he rushed into
 
 38 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the store and, encountering Miss Theresa, the 
 " Co." of the firm, solicited and obtained the crude 
 cabinet. 
 
 In Miss Ossie's well-ordered household were two 
 servants, a very fat cook, who was black as the 
 stove that she baked in, called Aunt Ninny, and a 
 bright yellow maiden of seventeen, who, in response 
 to her new mistress' query, announced herself 
 briefly as Baby Doll. 
 
 "Baby Doll! Baby Doll what?' 1 asked Ossie. 
 She was not yet accustomed to negroes, and sus- 
 pected the girl of impertinence. 
 
 " My pappy's named Jinkins, Mr. Paul Peter 
 Jinkins," the questioned one replied amiably. 
 " Dat'll make my full Baby Doll name Miss Baby 
 Doll Jinkins." 
 
 " I don't care for your family name," Miss Ossie 
 remarked rather sharply. " What I'm meaning to 
 ask is, whether there isn't some reasonable thing 
 I can call you, like Jane or Maria? " 
 
 " We don't hoi' to dem po' white-trash names," 
 Miss Baby Doll retorted, tossing a halo of thick 
 anti-kink wool, " but de name dat my ole' granny 
 give me " 
 
 " Yes, that's just what I want," Miss Ossie threw 
 in with relief. " Something " 
 
 " It is Miss Queen Victoria Jiukins, an' " 
 
 Miss Ossie's control was a triumph. 
 
 " Very well, Baby Doll," and she turned around,
 
 A STUDY OF COCOONS 39 
 
 beckoning royalty to follow, " come with me and 
 I'll Jearn you your duties." 
 
 To her mistress one day Baby Doll brought a 
 round-eyed complaint. " Mr. Chris is done locked 
 up his do', an' car'd de key to his office." 
 
 " Locked his door ! " repeated Miss Ossie with 
 her quick nervous frown. "Are you certain? 
 Won't some other of the keys fit it? " 
 
 " Nome," said Baby Doll pertly. " I is tried 
 to de las'. It's one of dese new-fangled jail locks 
 Mr. Chris is done bought fer hisself." 
 
 " A Yale lock," murmured Miss Ossie, looking 
 thoughtful. " Well, Baby Doll, you go on with 
 your work, I'll see Mr. Chris when he comes." 
 
 " It's just this-a-way, Sis," he began, in the tone 
 of the J)oy from the mountains. " You 'lowed as it 
 was my own special room, and somehow I'm gettin' 
 plumb crazy about it. I've got critters there " 
 
 " I knew it ! " cried Miss Ossie in triumph. 
 " Spiders, beetles and slugs, and of course there'll 
 be bedbugs, in my house too ! I can't understand 
 your wanting to have insecks around you, Chris 
 Laird, when you've got all outdoors crawlin' with 
 'em." 
 
 "But I ain't, Sis, I ain't!" the boy cried ex- 
 citedly. " That's my trouble. Everybody's got 
 outdoors, same as me. I is getting to care for 
 my room because it's like my outdoors in my 
 pocket. I'll spread up my own bed, Sis, 'clar to
 
 40 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 gracious I will. I don't care much for life here 
 in these lowlands, nohow. And that there little 
 room is getting to be like a piece of the mountings." 
 
 Chris did not smile often. When he did, it was 
 hard to resist. And, after all, Ossie dearly loved 
 this shy, no-count young brother. 
 
 " Well, it's plumb foolish of me," she smiled 
 tentatively. 
 
 Chris's eyes shone. By that single word 
 " plumb " he knew he had won. 
 
 The summer and autumn slipped by. Chris had 
 been once to Hallonquist Hall, and had been taken 
 through its great chambers. The main hallway, 
 and two flights of stairs, curving upward " like a 
 big turkey wishbone," impressed him most deeply 
 of all. 
 
 Dudley Hallonquist liked Chris, and wondered, 
 in speaking with Mary, why the boy constantly re- 
 fused the young husband's very sincere invitations. 
 Mary smiled in her heart, for she knew. 
 
 Christmas neared them. On the night before 
 the holiday Chris, returning quite late from a 
 visit, his third one to Hallonquist Hall, locked his 
 door, lit his slanting gas bracket, and opened his 
 old " Memory Book." 
 
 "This is Christmas Eve, 187 . I have just come 
 from the Hall, where I tooken a present to Miss Mary. 
 I should have said, I taken the present, for I promised 
 Sis I would try to do better on grammer.
 
 A STUDY OF COCOONS 41 
 
 I seen it at Jas. Weldon and Co. and got Miss Teresy, 
 who is a good friend of mine, to put it one side till I 
 could pay for it gradual. It's a big photograf album 
 made out of long-haired red velvet, with a posey in 
 chancy on top. The flowers is meant to be roses. 
 
 I am feeling real lonesome tonight. It's the same 
 sort of feeling you have when the mists hide your 
 sheep, and don't none of them bleat none. You gets to 
 wondering whether or no hants can be in the mist. 
 
 Miss Mary is sweeter than ever she was in her girl 
 days. When she looks at her man it's like sunshine bust 
 out on blue flowers. Then she looks round at me, and 
 the sun it ain't shining so bright. 
 
 I'm plumb glad she's happy. I want her to have 
 of the best that God gives to His critters. I can't figger 
 out as it's wicked for me to keep on loving Miss Mary, 
 but if it was a sin, I must keep on being a sinner. 
 
 Miss Mary is going to have a young one before very 
 long. I knows things such as this from tending a 
 many a mother-sheep, and nussing my white fox and 
 litter. I often wonder where my fox is a-roamin' by 
 now. 
 
 If Miss Mary should die when her hour comes, like 
 Leezer, I ain't aiming to bide in the valley. I wouldn't 
 care if Sis threw a duck-fit, I would nachally take up 
 my foot in my hand and go back to the mountains. I 
 wouldn't endure to stay round here if that happened, 
 nohow. 
 
 I don't bleeve it will happen. Miss Mary will live 
 and do fine. I hopes that she'll give us a girl-child that 
 looks like herself, not its Paw. 
 
 Miss Mary she give me my Christmas gift before leav- 
 ig. It is a new fotched-on pipe she calls meershawm
 
 42 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 and is held in a brown leather case lined with purple 
 like duelling pistols. I ain't aiming never to smoke it. 
 
 The last word what she spoke not another soul heard 
 it. She said, ' Good-night and good-bye, dear dear 
 friend, and God bless you.' It mout 'a' been angels 
 a-singin'. 
 
 Miss Mary loves God. I think I'll try loving Him 
 too. Amen and no more for tonight. Tomorrow'll be 
 Christmas."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE GREAT FIRE 
 
 LTTLE Sophie Delvoe Dudley Hallonquist, the 
 last of her name and race, was just three 
 years old when Hallonquist Hall burned 
 to the ground. 
 
 By a singular chance, the fire took place on the 
 actual night of her birthday, March the eighth. 
 
 The brilliant and adored little being had been 
 given her first party. Mammy Tempey had baked 
 her a cake the size of a white velvet footstool, and 
 topped it with three pigmy candles. There was 
 pink lemonade in the huge priceless punch-bowl of 
 Royal Worcester, and wide platters of small cakes, 
 covered with pink and white icing. 
 
 All of juvenile Dunrobin, that happy portion 
 chancing to fall in between the ages of three and 
 ten years of age, came with the usual attendance of 
 nurses, and mothers, and unmarried aunts. Chris 
 had brought Mildred and Letty, Miss Ossie having 
 declined the Hallonquist invitation. 
 
 The old mansion had not worn such an air of 
 elation since long " 'fo' de war." The two Hallon- 
 quist servants, coal-black Uncie Grief, and his 
 comely fat wife, Mammy Tempey, were like childen 
 
 43
 
 44 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 themselves in their tremulous excitement and 
 pride. 
 
 " Hit's de good ole days come back once mo'," 
 panted Tempey, as she staggered indoors with the 
 cake, her brick kitchen being some distance out to 
 the northwest of the big house, and directly 
 under the branches of the arboreal apostle St. 
 Mark. 
 
 " I's done felt it comin' I's drempt it," she 
 emphasized, her fair load being placed on the table. 
 " Even de good Lawd, he knows you can't keep 
 er Hallonquist down." 
 
 " Ain't it so, Duck? " voiced Grief from the fire- 
 place, where, on his knees, he was piling the great 
 oak logs, and setting a small aromatic starting of 
 " lightwood." " Hit's de trufe, as ever you spoke 
 it. Cream an' soap-suds an' quality, dey all rises 
 to whar dey belongs." 
 
 At four o'clock a gay trooping in of white- 
 f rocked, beribboned small fairies began. The whole 
 house was made sweet by the laughter of children. 
 
 Little Sophie in white, with a huge rose-coloured 
 sash, and an incredible bow on the top of her curly 
 bronzed head, showed herself at three to possess the 
 innate gifts of a hostess. 
 
 " Turn and see my bid take," she would cry out 
 to each new arrival. " You're to have turn, a bid 
 thlice, betausen you're tumpany. But Mammy, 
 she made it for me, betausen it's my birfday." 
 
 Dudley Hallonquist, after giving a courteous
 
 THE GREAT FIRE 45 
 
 welcome to his guests, began to thread his way 
 through the groups, as if he had lost something. 
 He had not seen his wife for ten minutes, and was 
 beginning to miss her. 
 
 He found her, withdrawn from the circle of fire- 
 light, standing alone in the shadows, her eye 
 lambent with rapture, fixed on Sophie. 
 
 " Oh, Dudley" Mary Hallonquist breathed, as 
 the young husband joined her, " did you ever see 
 anything quite so enchanting as Baby? Some- 
 times the child actually frightens me, she's so 
 smart, and so lovely, and and " 
 
 " Dynamic," laughed Dudley, supplying the one 
 perfect word. 
 
 " I wonder," mused Mary, as she caught at his 
 hand in the semi-darkness, " whether it's just be- 
 cause we adore her so much and are blinded, or 
 whether Sophie really is the most beautiful child 
 ever born." 
 
 " She's the prettiest thing on earth, next to one,? 
 gallant Dudley assured her. " And I'm the hap- 
 piest man in the world ! " 
 
 At eight the great grandfather's clock in the 
 hallway chimed out the hour of departure. 
 
 Later on Tempey, groaning and grumbling, now 
 that the strain of excitement was over, climbed the 
 creaking old steps to her bedroom over the kitchen, 
 while her spouse, made hilarious because of certain 
 potations, not all pink lemonade, which " young 
 Marster " had offered his few male guests, and
 
 46 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 his hopeful-eyed butler as well, stayed behind to 
 bank up the glowing fires. 
 
 This office was hastily performed. The night 
 had grown cold, and a fierce northwest wind began 
 to blow. The thought of his big feather-bed, and 
 the gleam of a humbler hearthstone, wrought 
 strange yearnings in the bosom of Grief. 
 
 Through the night the wind steadily increased. 
 It roared in the branches of Saints Matthew, Mark, 
 Luke and John, with the sound of breakers on 
 rocks. Even the house shook at times, as if squar- 
 ing itself to the tempest. 
 
 It was perhaps two o'clock when Mary Hallon- 
 quist was wakened by the smell of acrid paint- 
 smoke in her nostrils. She sprang from her bed, 
 screaming, " Dudley, there's fire in the house! " 
 and then she ran to gather up Sophie. 
 
 The child always declared she remembered it, 
 from that first agonized cry and the waking clutch 
 of her mother, to the instant five minutes, an 
 hour, or a century later when her struggling, 
 protesting young body was borne through a bright 
 world in flames, and shut in to the stifling black 
 safety of Nurse Tempey's room. 
 
 This tragedy, set on the child's soul its first blaz- 
 ing date of self-consciousness: on a mind which, 
 even at that early age, was alert and retentive it 
 seared a lifelong impression. 
 
 And half of that splendour of fire which she 
 caught, before fate, in the person of Tempey, hurled
 
 THE GREAT FIRE 47 
 
 her down to a big feather-bed and closed the room- 
 curtains, was because of the wind. The demoniac 
 March wind that shrieked triumph about the proud 
 mansion, beating down on its head with invisible 
 flails, until sparks would fly up in great hissing 
 rushes, or burst sidewise in clouds of bright grain. 
 
 The blaze which was to cause such destruction 
 had begun from the carelessly banked fire in the 
 dining-room, back of the parlour, and separated 
 only by old-fashioned sliding mahogany doors, the 
 two rooms taking up the west length of the first 
 floor. Above them were the sleeping apartments 
 occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Hallonquist and the 
 baby. 
 
 Before his wife's cry was an echo, Dudley stood 
 on his feet. Taking time only to light a candle, 
 then to jerk on a pair of high shoes with no socks, 
 and wrap his long frame in an old flowered dress- 
 ing-robe that had belonged to his father, Hallon- 
 quist sped down the stairs and out to the kitchen. 
 
 " Run, Uncle Grief, run, run for your life, and 
 begin ringing your old Baptist church-bell. Some 
 neighbour will hear and spread the alarm. They'll 
 hear us in spite of the wind. The Hall is on fire 
 inside, and the flames will break through any in- 
 stant. And, Tempey," cried the desperate voice, 
 " throw on something, throw on anything quick, 
 and come to your mistress. I'm afraid she'll go 
 wild in this horror, and I count on your caring for 
 Sophie."
 
 48 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 He tore back to the hall, flung the rear doors 
 wide open, and was met by a volume of smoke. 
 
 " Mary ! Mary ! " he screamed, " you must hurry. 
 The dining-room wall is buckling now, and your 
 floor may crash through. Bring Sophie down." 
 
 " Yes, Dudley, I'm coming," her voice answered 
 queerly. " But I can't find one of baby's shoes." 
 
 " Oh, my God," thought the frenzied husband, 
 "she is going fire-mad! What on earth shall I 
 do?" 
 
 As he started upstairs, at his heels came Tempey 
 running. " Whar's my child? " she called out. 
 " Dey ain't nobody but jes' ole Tempey gwinter 
 save de las' ob de Hallonquists. Wharbouts Miss 
 Mary done put her? " 
 
 " Oh, Tempey, go quick. They are both in the 
 bedroom. Your poor mistress has quite lost her 
 head," the man panted. " Take the baby, don't let 
 Mary touch her. I'll look after Mary myself." 
 
 " Glory be ! Dar's de bell rung a'ready," 
 Tempey took breath to announce. " Grief's a- 
 ringin' jes' ez if he might bring down Gawd on dat 
 bell-rope. Da'll be he'p comin' here in a minute. 
 Lord! De flames is squeezin' out th'oo de dinin'- 
 room keyhole, Marster Jesus, hab mercy 'pon dy 
 people ! " 
 
 Tempey drove into the bedroom, where Mary, 
 distracted and vacant, was sobbing and laughing 
 aloud, now catching up the terrified baby, now 
 flinging her back to the bed, in order that she, the
 
 THE GREAT FIRE 49 
 
 poor mother, might scramble about on all-fours, 
 determined as the one thing important to find 
 the still missing shoe. 
 
 Catching sight of her nurse, little Sophie held 
 out straining arms of relief. Tempey snatched the 
 child up, and wrapping her around with a blanket 
 bore her burden down the stairs, with no further 
 concern for the mother. 
 
 Dudley passed Tempey now on his way to rescue 
 his wife. " Try to calm yourself, darling," he 
 pleaded. " You must put on some shoes and a 
 wrap, and come with me out of this burning 
 building." 
 
 " Oh, not into the night, and that horrible, hor- 
 rible shrieking," wailed Mary. " And my pretty 
 things here in the bureau, all of my linen and 
 laces, and that dear little sewing-table over there 
 in the corner. Your dear mother gave it to me for 
 my own. I won't go and leave my table." 
 
 " I'll come back and get it," coaxed Dudley, see- 
 ing it was essential to humour her. 
 
 Chris stood in the smoke-curling doorway. From 
 below, in the hall, rose the trampling of many feet. 
 
 "Oh, thank God, help has come!" muttered 
 Dudley. 
 
 " Hallonquist ! Hey there, you, hello, Dud- 
 ley ! " came voices and cries through the smoke. 
 " Come down here and point out the things you 
 want saved. We're all ready, and there's no time 
 to lose."
 
 50 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " I must go," Dudley choked. " There's my 
 books and my Chippendale desk, and my papers. 
 The library wing is untouched. May I leave my 
 poor Mary with you, Chris? You must manage to 
 get her away, and to slip on some things. She 
 will die in the cold if she doesn't." 
 
 " I'll take care of her," said Chris. " Run along 
 to your books and your papers." 
 
 " Now, Miss Mary," Chris began, strolling 
 toward her, with a gait as serene as though it were 
 over green meadows. " Seems like we'd better 
 search around for some gyarmints." 
 
 " But my sewing-table, dear Chris," whimpered 
 Mary, looking up in his face with the eyes of a 
 small frightened child. " Dudley wants me to leave 
 it, and it was given me by his own mother. I 
 couldn't do that. Now, could I? " 
 
 " You can reckon ! " affirmed Chris genially. 
 " You and me we'll tote it out together. But you 
 can't do your share of the lifting in your night- 
 gown, and no shoes on your feet. Here, sit down 
 here. They ain't no manner of hurry. I can slip 
 on those shoes in a wink. There! It's did. What'd 
 I tell you! And next thing is to find a horse 
 blanket, or wrapper, or something to cover you up 
 from the wind. Where do you keep all them 
 clothes you been wearing? " 
 
 " Over there in the wardrobe with mirrors," 
 Mary replied, pointing a trembling finger. " All
 
 THE GREAT FIRE 51 
 
 my dresses are there on the hooks, and on that top 
 shelf, is a brand new bonnet." 
 
 " We'll just grab up a armful of doo-dingles, 
 and chuck them out the window," said Chris, suit- 
 ing the deed to his words. " Now here's a man's 
 sort of coat," he remarked, selecting a warm wool- 
 len ulster. " It's the thing what you're needing 
 right now. Stick your arms in for Chris, that's a 
 lady. Now just wait until I heft up this table, 
 no, I won't let the drawers clatter out, don't you 
 see I'm slanting it careful? " 
 
 All the while Chris was talking, he was at pains 
 to keep Mary's attention closely fixed upon him- 
 self, in an effort to prevent her terror overcoming 
 his authority. 
 
 " Look, Miss Mary," he continued, " you reach 
 down and grab onto a leg. That will do, it's the 
 same as the others. And don't you let go, not if 
 hell busts loose on the stairway. Steady now 
 through the door. Hold your breath, for the smoke 
 is something pizen. Here's the steps. Remember 
 they's curving. There ain't nothing to think on, 
 but just gitting your table safe out in the yard." 
 
 It was Chris's quickly formed purpose to take 
 Mary and her table directly to the lower floor of the 
 two-storeyed brick kitchen, and there leave them, 
 in order to rush back and assist in the more general 
 salvage of furniture. But this plan was prevented 
 by his companion's frenzy of fear at the sight of 
 the big house on fire.
 
 52 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 She relinquished her hold on the table, and would 
 have sped back into the flames, but that Chris, 
 casting his burden down on the turf near the 
 kitchen, overtook and restrained the frantic woman 
 in his arms. 
 
 He pressed her face hard to the dark of his 
 shoulder, smoothing the silken, fair head, and 
 whispering short soothing phrases. 
 
 He felt how the slim body trembled. Now and 
 then a new paroxysm of terror caught her, and she 
 struggled and fought to be free. 
 
 " There, there, now, Miss Mary," the man 
 would say gently, " don't you kick up like that. 
 You just bide, you bide quiet-like here, and 
 Chris won't let nothing tech you." 
 
 " But my husband and the baby ! Oh, where are 
 they, Chris, I must find them," she lamented. 
 " They may be back there in the fire. Oh, my 
 Father in Heaven ! " 
 
 " Sophie's safe as a bug in a rug up to Tempey's 
 room," Chris assured her. " And your man, he's 
 safe too. He's helping to pitch out his books from 
 the liberry. I can see him from here. No, you 
 don't have to look. 
 
 " My Good Lawd ! " he cried out, as he saw one 
 of the tall chimneys totter, and heard wild warn- 
 ings. " Stand back there, Mr. Hallonquist. You 
 can't go in again. God, man! don't you see that 
 the wall's coming? " 
 
 A great crash and a roar, and Chris clapped
 
 THE GREAT FIRE 53 
 
 a trembling hand hard down to Mary Hallon- 
 quist's ear, straining her head to his coat until it 
 pained her. 
 
 A cry like a horse trapped by fire came from old 
 Uncle Grief. " It's got him ! It's fell on young 
 Marster. Yes, it did, fer I seen him. Down dar, 
 oh, young Marster! down dar in de red, blazin' 
 timbers, wid de bricks mashin' flat on his haid ! " 
 
 Chris now lifted Mary as lightly as though it 
 were Sophie, and ran up the kitchen stairs, kick- 
 ing madly at Tempey's closed door. " Lemme in, 
 you black woman ! " he thundered. " Do you hear 
 me? Lemme in! " 
 
 "Who's dat a-batterin' an' er-bangin'?" 
 screamed back Tempey. " I won't let dat hell- 
 fiah in .here. I'm savin' de baby." 
 
 " You open this door or I'll bust it," said Chris, 
 in a tone which made Tempey quickly turn the 
 key. 
 
 " I'm totin' Miss Mary, she's fainted. Never 
 mind about Sophie," he hurried on, gasping, and, 
 staggering in with his load, laid the limp drooping 
 form on the bed. 
 
 " Is she daid? Oh, Miss Mary, Miss Mary " 
 
 " Oh, shut up, you catamount, you ! " said 
 the man with his first hint of weariness. " She's 
 just swounded, and a piece of luck too. You take 
 care of her, Tempey, I must get me down back to 
 the fire." 
 
 " Reckon I kin take keer of my own, 'thout no
 
 54 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 po' white trasher projeckin' round givin' orders," 
 mumbled Tempey, as she knelt by the bed and 
 began chafing her mistress' slim wrists. 
 
 As Chris ran down the steps, a new sound filled 
 the blazing cup of the sky. It was as if millions 
 of lizards and other small reptiles were being 
 burned alive. There was squeaking, and tiny sharp 
 screams, then long hisses, and sometimes one 
 great detonation, when a branch full of hot, boil- 
 ing sap would explode. 
 
 Chris knew it to be the doomed monarch, St. 
 Luke, which at his post to the southeast of the 
 mansion, received the full volume of flame. 
 
 " Well, at least," muttered Chris, as he threaded 
 his way through the heaps of piled up and broken 
 furniture that were set aU about in the grass, 
 " the old kitchen, and big Id St. Mark won't get 
 none of that fiery furnace." 
 
 Dr. Stepp, Dunrobin's leading physician, was 
 fortunately present. He and Chris together 
 dragged the unconscious and terribly burned 
 Dudley Hallonquist from the mass of ruins that 
 had caught him. It was Chris who suggested the 
 ironing-room on the lower floor next to the kitchen, 
 and there the poor victim was borne. 
 
 Chris always held it as one of his blessings that 
 Miss Mary remained practically unconscious, 
 through the remainder of that dreadful night. 
 
 When he found that there was nothing more 
 to do for poor Hallonquist merciful death having
 
 THE GREAT FIRE 55 
 
 come to him swiftly Chris remounted the stairs 
 to the room, which gave forth the faint acrid odours 
 belonging to all negro dwellings, and drew up his 
 chair to the bed. 
 
 Aunt Tempey and Grief were below, with all 
 that was left of "young Marster," and could not 
 be prevailed on to leave him. 
 
 The grey dawn slowly parted the curtains which 
 Terapey had closed in order to keep out the fire. 
 
 A thin, spectral gleam fell directly on Mary's 
 upturned face, making darker the rim of long 
 brown lashes. Her lips were held close, and the 
 line from her chin to her throat had the curve of 
 a flower. 
 
 Chris's red sunken eyes fed on her face. In his 
 heart Jie was trying to pray. 
 
 " Oh, my God," he began, " my Father in heaven, 
 Miss Mary has said you're my Father, as well 
 as her own, so it must be true. I ain't been very 
 good. I ain't set out to serve you, but I'll do it 
 from now till hell splits and the coals freeze over, 
 if you'll only let Mary get well. There's her little 
 child beyonst her, a-sleeping away 'thout dreaming 
 her poor Paw is killed. Little Sophie'il be needing 
 her Maw more than ever. We all needs her. And 
 I know plumb well, Lawd, in your place, I 
 couldn't turn my back square on an orphint. I 
 don't 'low as how you could do it, Lawd, neether. 
 I'm a-counting on you to be fair, an' I'll promise 
 to serve you.
 
 5& CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " There ! She is moving her eyes and her fingers. 
 She's coming to life as I prays. Thankee, Lawd, 
 for responding so quick-like. I'll promise I'll 
 never forget. There, Miss Mary, there's Sophie 
 a- waking. Is you better, Miss Mary, poor lamb? 
 There, that's right, try to set up a little. Chris 
 will boost your back up on his arm." 
 
 'Mary sprang up in bed, staring wildly. The 
 red sun was just topping the trees. 
 
 " Oh, the fire, the fire ! " she moaned. " I re- 
 member! And Sophie, thank Heaven, she's safe," 
 Mary cried fervently, catching the child to her 
 breast. 
 
 When her wild eyes turned to Chris with the 
 question " Where is my husband? " Chris covered 
 his face with his hands.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE PROPHECY 
 
 FOR several years after the fire, little Sophie 
 and her mother lived on in the Hallonquist 
 kitchen. All the young widow asked of her 
 friends was to leave her alone, with the Hallonquist 
 servants, near the place where her husband had 
 lived. 
 
 There was nothing heroic in Mary. Like a 
 broken-winged bird she trailed through her days 
 of bereavement, praying often and long : " Help me 
 now, O my Father in heaven, and give me strength 
 to endure." 
 
 Young Laird came almost daily to see her, and 
 with him always appeared his second niece, Letty, 
 a pleasant and moderate child, more like a sister 
 than a friend of the little Sophie. 
 
 By this time Sophie was a regular attendant at 
 Aunt Baring's school ; and the most potent weapon 
 as yet used against the little girl's mother, was the 
 fact that at recess, the other pupils taunted the 
 Hallonquist child with having to live in her own 
 father's kitchen. 
 
 Arriving one fair afternoon, Chris found his 
 hostess's long lashes still darkened by tears. 
 
 57
 
 58 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Auntie Baring has been here again, and she 
 is cross," Mary admitted, when questioned. " Ac- 
 cording to her, the whole town has come to be- 
 lieve me a m-m-won-ster! They say I am selfish 
 to keep Sophie here living in a kitchen, when three 
 homes have been offered us. But I can't bear to 
 leave it, the trees, the long rows of lilac, and 
 the vine-covered foundations where Sophie's big 
 mansion once stood. No, I can't, Chris. That's 
 final. They'll just have to think me a monster !" 
 The last sentence came out with much spirit 
 and a lift of the golden-brown head. 
 
 " You bet they can think as they will," Chris 
 gave hearty response. " As for us, I suggest that 
 you throw on a hat, and we stroll down toward 
 Hallonquist Park." 
 
 As the two friends approached the rim of the 
 forest, Chris began: " It's been borne to my mind 
 here of late that this here plot of land, for all it 
 looks so big and showy, don't do you a God's mite 
 of good. Come now, honest, Miss Mary, now does 
 it?" 
 
 " In practical good, no I suppose not. But as 
 
 part of my daughter's inheritance " 
 
 " Exactly," interrupted Chris. " Your daughter ! 
 She's just where I'm p'inting. Sophie's getting a 
 big little girl, as pretty as posies, and, high-spirited, 
 just like her Maw. You've been and told how 
 them children at Mrs. Baring's school has traduced 
 her? "
 
 59 
 
 " Yes, yes, Auntie told me. It was frightful ! " 
 Mary faltered, with a catch of the breath. " You 
 mean, for her sake, I should sell the old Park, and 
 build us a new little home on the Hallonquist Hall 
 foundations? " 
 
 " I mean just that thing," Chris declared. " You 
 were sure quick to grab it." 
 
 " But," cried his companion, " there's no one to 
 buy. All my friends are straitened in means, 
 just as I am. The war wiped out riches among 
 us." 
 
 "But not in the North and the West. There's a 
 Yankee in town, a critter named Whitlock. He's 
 a nice fellow, too, though of course I don't reckon 
 you'll believe it. He's buying up land all about. 
 Me and him," the speaker pursued, now clearing 
 his throat, and with eyes carefully turned from 
 " Miss Mary," " just happened to stroll through 
 this, pawk no later than yesterday morning." 
 
 " Just happened, Oh, Chris ! And what did 
 the Northerner say? " The question shot out be- 
 fore Mary could check it. 
 
 Chris laughed. " For one thing, he said he 'lowed 
 your big oaks and walnuts were, by Jove, the 
 plumb best that ever he has seen." 
 
 " I'm surprised such a person could really ap- 
 preciate beauty," the other said haughtily. " Those 
 big trees are famous throughout all Virginia. Of 
 course I won't sell." 
 
 Chris's new-sprung jocosity withered. " New 

 
 60 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 you look-a-here, now, Miss Mary," he protested. 
 " That last speech of yours come from spite, and 
 not from good judgment. We are facing hard 
 facts. If you don't sell to Whitlock if you turns 
 down this offer which mayn't come again for ten 
 years that's one side of the picture. What we 
 got to do you and me is to swivel her round, and 
 study the opposyte surface." 
 
 " Very well. Turn it over," Mary retorted a 
 little unkindly. " What is it you think we shall 
 see?" 
 
 " I discern life for you and your daughter under 
 a roof not your own for one thing," Chris gravely 
 responded. " Somehow, I can't think of you caring 
 for such." 
 
 " No indeed, dear Chris ! I just tried to act 
 * uppish,' as old Tempey says, because I'm feeling 
 so wretched. I know you are right about selling. 
 I am going to think of it hard." 
 
 The two friends had turned, and were making 
 their way up the long gentle slope toward the 
 three giant oaks, the two-storeyed brick building, 
 and the tumbled and vine-wreathed foundations, 
 when, from out of the kitchen where Tempey was 
 rolling biscuit for supper, rose a high, minor 
 hymn, 
 
 " Oh, Josuph wuz an oP man, 
 An oP, oP man wuz he; 
 An' yit he ma'aied Jesus' Maw 
 Way down to Galilee.
 
 THE PROPHECY 61 
 
 Yes, Josuph wuz an ol' man 
 His teef wuz los' at sea, 
 An' yit he ma'aied Mary 
 Way down to Galilee." 
 
 " Lucky Joseph," sighed Chris, with a twitch to 
 his grave, pleasant mouth. 
 
 Mary did not reply except by a slight, nervous 
 hastening of steps on the grass. Chris gazed 
 hungrily at her. A tiny west wind had sprung up, 
 and it stirred the soft blur on her temples, lifting 
 a few shining hairs, as with fingers, and as tenderly 
 replaced the strands. 
 
 A great throb of love and of longing drove 
 through Christopher's heart. Unlike Joseph, he 
 possessed neither hope nor equipment to marry 
 this exquisite Mary; but his love had. increased, 
 year by year, until now it seemed all of life that 
 really existed. 
 
 Perhaps Mary felt the dumb longing ; perhaps it 
 was only the stir of that coquetry latent in most 
 pious women, but an impulse made her suddenly 
 turn, extending both hands. 
 
 " Oh, Chris dear old Chris," she cried out with 
 a thrill in her voice. " How on earth could / get 
 on without you ! " 
 
 Chris gulped. A swift tide of ecstasy stained 
 his big quivering face. " You don't have to," was 
 all he could mutter. " You don't have to nohow, 
 Miss Mary."
 
 62 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 The next morning, as Mrs. Hallonquist was 
 seated upstairs in her bedroom, she heard from 
 the yard below, a melodious " Howdy, there ! 
 Hello, air you there, Miss Mary? " 
 
 She ran out to the narrow verandah and hung 
 oyer the rail. " Why, Chris Laird! What on 
 earth! Come right up and I'll start the sitting- 
 room fire." 
 
 " No, you come down to me," countermanded 
 the guest, grinning broadly. " Whitlock's bit. 
 Hurry down, I'm a-sufferin' to tell it." 
 
 Chris, his eyes being set on the upper house- 
 storey, had failed to perceive, that, during his gay 
 badinage with " Miss Mary," at the pane of a dim 
 kitchen window a few yards straight before him 
 two frightened black faces were pressed. 
 
 As he talked, four rolling white eyeballs darted 
 sidewise, then upward to heaven, and again back 
 on a swift horizontal, to their answering kind. 
 
 Mary ran down the steps like a girl, and the 
 two dusky faces withdrew into the general shadow. 
 
 " Come right up to the old Hall foundations," 
 Chris suggested. " That's the suitable spot for 
 the talk we must do. We can plan right off now 
 for the spot to begin your small cottage " 
 
 As the two walked away, their eager excited 
 voices gradually lowered with distance, Tempey 
 set arms akimbo, and glared at her alarmed spouse. 
 
 " What I tell you ! I said dat I know dey was
 
 THE PROPHECY 63 
 
 cookin' up devilmint. Dey is plannin' to sell 
 Sophie's Ian', jes' de same as I drempt in my 
 vision. You 'member I tole you dat dream? " 
 
 Grief squeaked out a hasty remembrance. 
 
 " 'Bout de powers of evil, what's tryin' to projec' 
 wid Sophie's birf right? " 
 
 " Ah' you 1 wid Gawd's angel, beatia' 'em off wid 
 a broomstkk," cried Grief, with nattering swift- 
 ness. 
 
 " An' I's likely to do hit ergin, in broad day, 
 widout no dreamin'," Tempey grimly declared, as 
 she began to draw down her blue gingham sleeves 
 over polished brown forearms. " I's gwinter fol- 
 low dem white folks out dar to de ruins, an' you 
 come on wid me, you Grief Jonsing, an' don't 
 you dassent hang back in de bushes." 
 
 With the words, she stalked forth, and cast not 
 so much as a glance toward the muttering dejected 
 old man who obediently walked at her heels. 
 
 Tempey moved cautiously, as the two white com- 
 spirators came within easy hearing. She paused 
 among the high goldenrod plumes, and was in time 
 to hear Mary say yieldingly, " Very well, I give 
 in. I know it is best. You can tell Mr. Whit- 
 lock that I'll accept his offer." 
 
 " Then," cried Chris, with a resonant groan of 
 relief, " there's no time to be wasted, and I'll take 
 on myself to pace off the front line of your cottage." 
 
 He sprang from the long prostrate column on
 
 64 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 which he and Mrs. Hallonquist had been sitting, 
 and had reached the top terrace of brick, when 
 Tempey drove forth like a bison. 
 
 "You is wastin' yo' time wid dat pacin' an' 
 prancin' on Hallonquist Ian', Mr. Laird. Dey ain't 
 goin' to be no small cottage set down whar de big 
 house once stood." 
 
 Mary jumped to her feet. " Mercy, Tempey, 
 you frightened me! What on earth do you mean 
 by following us here, and speaking so rudely? " 
 
 The woman faced her young mistress with 
 sombre defiance. Her large, motionless outline 
 against the bright yellow brocade of the tall 
 goldenrod had the pose of a figure cut in basalt. 
 
 A few yards past her shoulder could be seen the 
 face of old Grief, his plaintive eyes set on Mrs. 
 Hallonquist. 
 
 " Miss Mary," and her voice matched the black 
 basalt mien, " de las' words dat my yeung Marster 
 spoke on dis earth was, ' Mammy Tempey, you look 
 after Sophie. I trus' you. Don't take her to her 
 Maw, you take keer of my baby.' ' 
 
 " I remember. You have told me that before," 
 said Mary, her face slightly flushed and embar- 
 rassed, " and you have been very faithful to the 
 trust that my husband imposed, but that does not 
 excuse you for this interference." 
 
 " Me an' Grief overheered you-all talkin' 'bout 
 sellin' de Hallonquist Pawk an' puttin' a low, 
 white-trash cottage right down here " she dra-
 
 THE PROPHECY 65 
 
 matically pointed " whar de big Hallonquist 
 Hall once is stood." 
 
 " That's true, and what of it? " Chris now en- 
 quired, with a hint of impatience. " Just get out 
 of my way on those bricks, and don't bother Miss 
 Mary." 
 
 Mary turned swiftly toward him, a hand held 
 up to check and to warn. " No, Chris, it is their 
 affair. Tempey and Grief know well that I couldn't 
 live on for a day unless they were here with me. 
 
 " Uncle Grief, and you, Tempey," she con- 
 tinued, " it has come to a choice of three things, 
 to break up our life here on Hallonquist land 
 and go to live with Mrs. Baring, Mr. Gaither, or 
 kind little Miss Sally Finger, to let Sophie spend 
 not only her childhood, but her girlhood and young 
 ladyhood in a kitchen, or, for the third possibility, 
 to accept a good offer to sell, and build a neat, up- 
 to-date cottage that we all can be proud of." 
 
 Tempey's black head was drooping. All her 
 defiance had vanished. " Ef hit mus' be, hit mus'," 
 she conceded forlornly. " But Gawd's han' is 
 hebby. Ef de new house mus' come, let hit stan' 
 somewhar else, not down here in de place of de 
 big one." 
 
 "Why not, Tempey? " the young mistress asked 
 in surprise. " It's the logical spot for the new 
 cottage. The brick walk is already laid down to 
 the gate, and the lilacs on either side are so 
 superb."
 
 66 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " No po' buckra cabin kin go in dis place," the 
 black woman repeated firmly yet with a rhythmic 
 croon in her voice. " I's drempt dreams an' saw 
 visions. All de glory of Ian' an' possessions dey 
 will come back th'oo Sophie. De big Hall it is 
 gwinter be built, higher up an' mo' splendid an' 
 shinin'. She will switch th'oo dat mansion, wid 
 a hunderd silk petticoats rustlin'. Her cMlluns 
 will run in an out. I knows what I's sayin', Miss 
 Mary. De Angel of de Lawd he is tetched me " 
 
 " De Lawd's Angel is tetched her," wailed Grief, 
 beginning to sob. 
 
 " An' he sed, ' Tempey, good times is cominV 
 Lak Job what was giv' mo' big houses, an' sheeps, 
 an' fine wives an' chillun dan ever de Lawd 
 tuk to try him, little Sophie will come to her 
 own. 
 
 " You kin build dat small cottage," she agreed, 
 now looking at Mary. " But you set hit down dar 
 in de shade of de 'Postle St. John. Don't you 
 lay down one squinchy red brick in de face of dese 
 ole ones, an' de Lawd, He will prosper yo' days." 
 
 Chris still regarded it all as a joke, and was 
 greatly astonished to find Mary sobered and 
 thoughtful. 
 
 "You surely can't mean that you'd pay any at- 
 tention to that black woman's franzies," he began, 
 when Tempey and Grief were both well out of 
 hearing. 
 
 " Tempey's dreamed dreams before," aaswered
 
 THE PROPHECY 67 
 
 Mary. "And who knows, when Sophie is so 
 
 pretty " 
 
 So the new foundation was set well to the west 
 of the old oae, in the shade of the benevolent 
 St. John, and there the little home was built.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 DABK WATERS 
 
 FOR a few happy years Mary Hallonquist 
 knew only peace, and a tranquil contentment. 
 The widow possessed now, as income, the 
 fixed pittance accruing from a few salted down 
 thousands left over from the sale of Hallonquist 
 Park, plus a feeble uncertain amount, supposed to 
 be paid in twice-yearly from her shares in the shot 
 tower works. 
 
 By the time that Sophie was ten years of age, 
 and the two servants grown older and, as is in- 
 variably the way of their race, more childish and 
 exigent, Mary found herself facing a winter 
 threatening worse than privation. The black 
 spectre of debt leered already from out of the 
 quite empty coal cellar, and whispered a hundred 
 small needs which, for some malign reason, ap- 
 peared to have come all at once. 
 
 'Apart from the household demands, and Sophie's 
 insistence on clothing which would keep the other 
 girls at school from making fun of her Mrs. Hal- 
 lonquist found that the taxes on her vine-covered 
 cottage were a different thing from the few dollars 
 paid for the former kitchen residence.
 
 DARK WATERS 69 
 
 From just after noon, on a certain bleak day in 
 November, a thin powdered snow, the first of the 
 season, had been steadily falling. 
 
 In the house Mary Hallonquist moved about 
 restlessly. She would look at the clock on the 
 mantel, and then go to the window again, staring 
 upward to watch the grey skies. She was hoping 
 the clouds might pass before Sophie started home 
 from school. 
 
 After one of the long brooding pauses, Mary 
 turned and went out through the farce of a small 
 " butler's pantry " directly into the kitchen. 
 
 Tempey sat close to the stove peeling onions. 
 Her bowed head was wrapped in a square of dark 
 crimson cloth, an unmistakable sign that what 
 Uncle Grief called " de ole lady's tantrums " had 
 taken demoniac possession. 
 
 Mary sighed. She had worries enough of her 
 own, though lacking Tempey's naive way of pro- 
 claiming them. 
 
 " Have our groceries come yet? " the mistress 
 inquired, in a voice rather meek and concessive. 
 
 " What's done come is right dar on de table," 
 grumbled Tempey, her head nodding sidewise. " If 
 dey'd bin snakes dey sho' would a' bit you," she 
 added, in a cadence that plainly implied she would 
 not have regretted the actual presence of serpents. 
 
 Mary went to the small heap of parcels, nerv- 
 ously fingering each. She was trying to compute, 
 with a mind devoid of all mathematical finesse,
 
 70 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 what the outlay had cost. From this effort, her 
 troubled thoughts turned to the hope that, since 
 the snow was so heavy nothing had been forgotten, 
 when Tempey as if she had guessed what her mis- 
 tress was thinking, growled out, " We ain't got a 
 drap er dat se-yup an' dat grocer-man nigger 
 ain't brought me my risin'-powder." 
 
 "Oh, dear me!" cried the anxious housekeeper. 
 " Are you sure that you mentioned the baking 
 powder? You sometimes forget. We can't do 
 without those two things. Sophie eats almost 
 nothing for breakfast, but her batter-cakes and 
 molasses." 
 
 Aunt Tempey tore off the acrid red skins with- 
 out comment. 
 
 " I'm afraid Uncle Grief will have to go back to 
 town right away, before th-e snow gets any thicker," 
 Mary suggested. 
 
 " Grief wuz up half de night, an' me wid him, wid 
 dat mis'ry in his side." 
 
 The much harassed Mary gave a low sound 
 meant for sympathy, came out to the centre of the 
 room, paused, looked down at Tempey, who re- 
 mained unresponsive, and then in a sudden de- 
 cision opened the door that led out to the back 
 porch and called " Grief, Uncle Grief, please come 
 here a minute." 
 
 At the opening of the door Tempey down by the 
 stove shuddered audibly, and jerked at the front- 
 end of the moth-eaten grey shawl that she wore.
 
 DARK WATERS 71 
 
 " I do hate to ask him," murmured the offender, 
 and closed the aperture hastily. 
 
 Uncle Grief, having heard, emerged from the 
 upper brick kitchen, from the room that once had 
 been Mary's. Descending the creaking stairs, he 
 had to move sidewise, with both hands on the rail- 
 ing. Tempey glanced through the window, and the 
 sight seemed to anger her. 
 
 " Dis here wedder's de debbil fer my ole man's 
 rheumatics," she grunted. " Ez fer me," she added 
 defiantly, " I hole's in my bref ' twixt here an' my 
 room, fer fear dat plew-rissy gwinter ketch me." 
 
 Uncle Grief shuffled in, displaying his wide 
 toothless gums in a gallant attempt at a smile. 
 He was wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, and his 
 black face and hands showed the thin bluish scales 
 which cold spreads on the skin of a darky. 
 
 Unlike Tempey, he held no resentments, and 
 when Mary, now almost tearful, asked if he felt 
 well enough to go for the syrup, Grief answered 
 cheerily, " Dat's what my ole bandy laigs is here 
 fer, Miss Ma'ay, ez long ez dey'll ca'ary me." 
 
 A contemptuous snort from the onions was suc- 
 cessfully ignored. 
 
 A still half -hour fled. Mary, wisely enough, had 
 retired to the dining-room, where the one all-day 
 fire of the house was burning. 
 
 At the end of this time, Uncle Grief, his errand 
 accomplished, his bare fingers clutching the jug in 
 five separate cramps with the cold, was thank-
 
 72 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 fully approaching the gate that led up through the 
 lilacs, when a small dancing figure, in a faded 
 green coat rather short for its legs, caught up from 
 behind him, and rushing ahead, wheeled about to 
 inquire rather pertly, " What you doing out here 
 in the snow, Uncle Grief? Where you think you're 
 going? " 
 
 " Don't you pester me, chile, wid yo' ' what's ' 
 an' yo' < whar's ' in dis wedder. Jes' you trot yo'- 
 se'f by. You knows well dat I ain't gwyin' nowhar. 
 I's don' bin whar's I's gwyin'." 
 
 Mrs. Hallonquist sped to the door as she heard 
 Sophie's skip on the gravel. 
 
 " Oh, Sophie how thankful I am that you are 
 here safely. Did you get your feet wet? " 
 
 " I should say they were," answered Sophie, 
 perching herself like a crane on one leg, in order 
 to turn up the other, and display a damp sole. 
 
 " What can you expect when my shoes both have 
 holes in the bottom," she began, dancing a laughing 
 jig on the drugget. " They are chuck full of snow 
 this minute. It's beginning to melt. Ouch, ouch ! 
 and it tickles." 
 
 " You say there are holes in those shoes, those 
 new shoes? " cried Mary, aghast. " Why it doesn't 
 seem possible, yet." 
 
 " You've got funny ideas of ' yet,' " the child 
 answered saucily. " I've worn 'em for ages and 
 ages, and I don't want them half-soled this time, 
 T can tell you. I hate patched-up things. Don't
 
 DARK WATERS 73 
 
 none of the other girls wear 'em, now they are 
 getting so big." 
 
 Mary made no reply, but in silence held open 
 the dining-room door, while Sophie danced in 
 under the slender black-clad arm, and threw her- 
 self down to the rug before a scanty coal fire. 
 
 "You ought to see old Uncle Grief's," laughed 
 out Sophie, as she pulled off the first of her shoes. 
 " They are nothing but patches, and one rusty old 
 toe was sticking right out on the snow, like the 
 head of a turtle." 
 
 " Sophie ! &o-phie ! " the mother exclaimed 
 sadly. " I can't think where you get this, this, 
 lack of kindness. It doesn't seem possible my 
 own little girl could be so cruel, and I've read 
 you a chapter in the Bible every night and morn- 
 ing of my life." 
 
 When the old man returned, Mary went into the 
 kitchen to meet him. " Oh, thank you so much, 
 Uncle Grief," she said sweetly. " Now you sit 
 here in front of the stove, and I'm going to make 
 you a big cup of coffee myself." 
 
 " Thank you kinely, Miss Ma'ay," said old Grief, 
 sitting down to the chair she was holding. 
 " Coffee'll tas'e moughty fine, but I knows sumpin' 
 else would tas'e better." 
 
 Mary laughed into the twinkling old eyes. 
 
 " You shall have it right now," she declared, 
 hurrying back to the dining-room. Tempey, her 
 shoulders heretofore rigidly averted, in the obvious
 
 74 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 excuse of making biscuit for dinner, turned to her 
 fond spouse an African smile. 
 
 As Tempey was clearing off the dishes, after the 
 
 ur o'clock dinner, Mrs. Hallonquist said, " Tell 
 Grief that the kitchen wood-box must be piled, and 
 he had better get us a soap box of coal as well, 
 and set it out on the back porch. I don't think 
 the scuttles will hold quite enough." 
 
 " Dat coal-pile's erbout on its las' laigs, Miss 
 Mary. Grief is tooken his rake to de leavin's." 
 
 " I know it. We must have more coal," answered 
 Mary, her troubled expression returning. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Hallonquist rose early. 
 Without waiting for Tempey, Mary wrapped her- 
 self close in a certain old scorched dressing-gown, 
 and kneeling in front of the hearth began to make 
 the fire. 
 
 At the first leap and glare of the " lightwood," 
 and the answering crackle of coals, the mother 
 glanced quickly about toward the tumbled bronze 
 head on its pillow. No, the little girl had not 
 moved. 
 
 Against the old cracked window-shades of dark 
 green, a faint, pinkish glow announced that the 
 storm was over and the day would be sunlit and 
 clear. 
 
 Mary pulled up one shade by an inch, and once 
 more looked around at her daughter. 
 
 The young face, disclosed by the double. reflec- 
 tion of firelight and dawn, lay upturned in the
 
 DARK WATERS 75 
 
 colours of roses. Mary's heart kindled and leaped 
 like the fire, at the sight of her child's vivid beauty. 
 What a gift it might prove! And alas what a 
 temptation ! 
 
 To guide such a being, possessed not only of 
 physical charm, but a spirit already intolerant and 
 self-willed, and neglectful of others, was a charge 
 that at times seemed greater than the mother could 
 bear. 
 
 And yet oh, how lovely! How much sweeter 
 and finer and cleverer her child was than all of the 
 other children! 
 
 At the moment, a sound of slow footsteps crunch- 
 ing painfully through the snow, and the ring of an 
 old iron shovel, not being carried, but dragging, as 
 if already too heavy, caused Mary to stoop and 
 peer out. It was old Uncle Grief on his way to 
 clear Sophie's footpath. 
 
 She groped her way back to the hearth, and 
 sinking down to her knees by a rocking-chair hung 
 with small garments cried, in desperate pleading, 
 though in tones carefully muffled that Sophie 
 might not overhear : 
 
 " Oh, my Father in heaven Thou dear friend of 
 the widow and the fatherless look down on me 
 now on us both for dark waters are rising. 
 Help me first with my child. I can't understand 
 her. She seems slipping away from control. She's 
 so different from her father and from me, I don't 
 know how to judge her correctly. When she's cruel
 
 76 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 like that as she was with poor Grief when she 
 says things so heartless, I just don't know what to 
 think or to do. It may be all my fault for loving 
 not wisely the child which Thou gavest. Perhaps 
 I have placed the gift before the great Giver, but 
 she's all that I have now on earth, and I could 
 not help spoiling her. But I'll be sterner, less in- 
 dulgent " 
 
 A sound came from the bed. Mary stopped, lift- 
 ing terrified eyes. The child was beginning to 
 stir from her long night of slumber. The crimson 
 lips parted over teeth dazzlingly white, she gave 
 a low cry, half impatience, half laughter, and then 
 with a quick pettish gesture flung herself around, 
 and snuggled once more to the covers. 
 
 " And it is not only in managing Sophie dear 
 Father," Mary went on, continuing her prayer 
 when the child remained motionless, " that I make 
 this plea to Thy throne for a wiser and more Christ- 
 like understanding in bringing her up to Thy 
 service but in the needs for our poor perishing 
 bodies I am in very sore straits. Two faithful 
 servants as well as my child are dependent entirely 
 upon me. My small worldly possessions are never 
 enough to meet our many demands. All three of 
 them, likewise myself, are in need of new shoes 
 and more winter clothing. I owe Aunt Jemima for 
 milk, and kind Mr. Ham for some groceries. The 
 coal is all out. Help me, Lord, from Thy boundless 
 compassion. Show me how "
 
 DARK WATERS 77 
 
 " I'll show you how," cried Sophie, springing 
 down to the floor with a bound. " You say awful 
 long prayers, don't you, Mamma? I always make 
 mine pretty short."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 HARD TIMES AND HARDWOOD IN DUNROBIN 
 
 WITH Sophie astir, the small room was 
 at once bright with laughter and pretty 
 confusion. 
 
 " Oh, what a splendid big fire ! " she cried, run- 
 ning toward it. " And my old shoes are dry, even 
 if the holes haven't shrivelled," she exclaimed, lift- 
 ing one up and thrusting a finger through a worn 
 place. 
 
 " You can wear Mother's rubbers this morning," 
 said Mary. " And besides, I am going to write you 
 a note to Miss Theresa that you can take there 
 right after school, and charge you a new pair." 
 
 " Goody gout! " triumphed Sophie. " Can I get 
 any kind that I want? " 
 
 " I I reckon so, but remember, you can have 
 only the one pair and they must do for both Sunday 
 and school." 
 
 " Letty's got two," Sophie remarked, with a 
 note of deep envy. 
 
 " You say that Letty has two pairs of new shoes 
 all at once? " the mother interrupted, this one fact 
 having stopped all further attention to her 
 daughter's demands. Mary knew that James 
 
 78
 
 HARD TIMES IN DUNROBIN 79 
 
 Gaither was about as hard pressed in his business 
 as she, with her half -rationed income. 
 
 " Yes, two pairs, and Mildred's got loads of new 
 things," the childish voice rattled on, nothing 
 daunted. " She's got a thousand times more than 
 Letty but of course she would have. She's old 
 Miss Ossie's pet. I hate Mildred," Sophie cried, 
 switching clear away from a button. " She's so 
 stuck up and fussy, and puts on such ridiculous 
 airs." 
 
 With Sophie at school, Mary tidied the bed- 
 room and then sat again by the fire. She was 
 trying once more to solve the sinister problems of 
 bills, taxes and the many demands she foresaw in 
 the near future, when her door was burst in with- 
 out warning, and Tempey, black, round and ex- 
 cited, boomed in. 
 
 " Grief's done took sumpin' tar-ble, Miss Mary. 
 He can't draw in his bref widout screamin', an' de 
 fever it's burnin' him up lak a bobby-cue. How we 
 gwinter git holt of a doctor? " 
 
 Mary sprang to her feet. " Is he really so ill? 
 Why, of course I will go for the doctor. Run back 
 to him, Tempey. You know what to do in such 
 cases better than I. Stop. Get that bottle of 
 brandy from the sideboard. I'll throw on my 
 things in a minute." 
 
 In her worn kid shoes, minus the shielding tips, 
 pre-empted by Sophie, and wearing wraps quite
 
 80 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 inadequate for the season, Mrs. Hallonquist ran 
 down the walk. 
 
 To her great relief, she found Dr. Stepp in hig 
 office. The two drove back furiously together, in 
 the doctor's old high-seated buggy. 
 
 Tempey, crying aloud, leaned over her balustrade 
 to beckon. The doctor went up the stairs like an 
 athlete. Slowly following the doctor, Mary paused 
 at the wide-open door just in time to hear Tempey 
 sob, " He's a-dyin' now, Doctor. One foot's in de 
 Jordin a'ready. Oh, my ole man, my ole nigger 
 husband, Gawd hab mercy ! " 
 
 " Stop that caterwaulin', woman," Dr. Stepp 
 called back sharply, " or you'll push the man over 
 in your Jordin before I've had half a chance to get 
 him away." 
 
 It was a long, hard-fought battle to keep the 
 " pneumony " from drawing the last gasp of life 
 from old Grief's meagre body. 
 
 Tempey was head-nurse, but Mary was her tire- 
 less assistant. Bills were run up to desperate 
 figures. There were medicines, plasters and tonics 
 at Mr. Mayberry's drug store; jellies, wine, tapioca 
 and cornstarch at the grocery; at James Weldon 
 & Co.'s there were two soft blankets bought to re- 
 place the quaint odds and ends of old patchwork, 
 half -burned window curtains and a horse cloth that 
 had hitherto covered him. 
 
 Sophie gave way to a tempest of anger when told 
 that she could not be given the red coat and hat.
 
 HARD TIMES IN DUNROBIN 81 
 
 " You can buy all those things for a no-count old 
 nigger man over the kitchen," she stormed, " while 
 your own child is a disgrace. I'm the onliest girl 
 at our school that is wearing her coat for the 
 third year. The sleeves are so short that every- 
 body is making fun of me. I'll stop going to school 
 that's what I'll do! And nobody can make me, 
 if I say I won't go. I'd be glad if that triflin' 
 old Grief would die dead this minute. But even 
 if he did die," she added, on a long shivering breath 
 of fury, "you'd spend every cent on his funeral, 
 and I wouldn't get anything after all." 
 
 Before the horror of this, her child's first open 
 defiance, Mary covered her face. She rocked back 
 and forth without speaking. No healing tears 
 came. 
 
 " Oh, my God oh, my God," her flayed heart 
 was moaning, "must I drink- this last cup of 
 agony, too? " 
 
 When, three weeks later, the old servant Was 
 pronounced " on the mend," Mary Hallonquist 
 faced an immediate crisis of debt. 
 
 She must raise money somehow, and there 
 seemed but one venture possible, which was to try 
 and sell her shares in the shot tower business. 
 They had been bought at par, one hundred dollars 
 paid for each, and to realize on ten of them would 
 make her comfortable for a full year to come. 
 
 Mary recounted all of Sophie's statements con- 
 cerning Letty's new clothes, and the fine things for
 
 82 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Mildred. Surely this must mean that the shot 
 tower industry was improving. 
 
 " Yes," she said to herself, much relieved at hav- 
 ing reached a final decision, " the very next day 
 when it's fine, I'll take those shares to James 
 Gaither." 
 
 There were hours of heart-breaking search in 
 the old Chippendale desk before they were dis- 
 covered, and then, firmly clutching the age-yellowed 
 envelope in her black-cotton-gloved hand, Mary 
 went into the town. 
 
 James chanced to be alone in his office. Sur- 
 prised and delighted to welcome so rare a visitor, 
 Mr. Gaither sprang up, insisting that Mary take 
 the one comfortable chair, a leathern one, in front 
 of his desk. 
 
 Mary shook her fair head until the crepe folds 
 of her veil all tossed coquettishly. " No, 1 ' she 
 smiled, " I'm afraid of one that wobbles like that, 
 it might spill me out. I'd prefer this old straight 
 chair. It is safer." 
 
 " As you will," he assented. 
 
 " I have come here to ask you," said Mary, going 
 at once to the point, " whether now is not a good 
 time to sell out my shares in your business? " 
 
 James Gaither looked doubtful, and the corners 
 of his pleasant mouth twitched half humorously. 
 " As a stockholder, and a person enjoying the en- 
 tire confidence of James Gaither & Co.," he began, 
 "you're entitled to know the full truth."
 
 83 
 
 Mary leaned forward breathlessly. 
 
 " Don't look like that, Mary. The facts are un- 
 pleasant. That old tower isn't earning the mortar 
 that holds its red bricks together. As an enter- 
 prise that is, as a money -making concern it 
 simply doesn't exist." 
 
 " But," ventured Mary, her eyes wide and 
 
 troubled, " I had thought Sophie said " she 
 
 paused, stammering. 
 
 Gaither laughed. " I begin to catch on. Sophie 
 said Letty was getting a whole lot of pretties? 
 Well, she is, and there are still possibilities, in the 
 old shot tower. Orders come trickling in now 
 and then. But the machinery is rusty and the 
 methods out of date. It needs new blood, young 
 blood, a touch of the infernal Yankee hustle." 
 
 " Then where ? " Mary gently reminded him. 
 
 " Oh, the money-ease at the moment. The truth 
 is, Mary, Whitlock, who bought up Hallonquist 
 Park, has bought from me a long stretch of river 
 bank just across from Dunrobin. And I can tell 
 you this much, the cash came in pretty handy. 
 Suppose," he suggested, " since I've capital to put 
 in the works, and it's sure to pay better dividends, 
 you let me advance you a few hundreds, taking 
 some of those shares as collateral? I wouldn't 
 advise you to sell, altogether." 
 
 " I don't know very much about business," the 
 trouble, deep down in the blue eyes, beginning to 
 lighten a trifle. " But I'm ready to do anything
 
 84 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 yes, anything that you think best. I need 
 money so terribly! Why, James " she went on, 
 and then paused, as if doubting whether she had 
 the courage to finish, " for the first time in all of 
 my life I am actually in debt." 
 
 Gaither smiled at her horrified expression. 
 " That is nothing so dreadful. For years debt has 
 been as much a part of my being as the skin on 
 my bones. I'll be feeling positively nude with 
 all of my liabilities settled." 
 
 Mary laughed a small protest. " Very well, dear 
 James, I'll be glad to have you advance me as much 
 as you think the shares are worth." 
 
 " You may call for the half of my kingdom," 
 avowed the gallant James, drawing from his 
 pocket a scarlet cheque-book, the very colour that 
 Sophie's new coat and hat were to be. 
 
 " Oh, not that much ! " cried Mary, taking him 
 literally. 
 
 When this delicate point was adjusted, Mrs. 
 Hallonquist accepted a rather fat cheque, and after 
 thanking him with such pretty vehemence that 
 James longed to embrace her, she hurried home, 
 her spirit as light as the flakes of silvery milk- 
 weed sending out its frail sheen to the wind. 
 
 One happy year followed another. Sophie grew 
 prettier than ever but alas, Sophie knew it only 
 too well ! There was never an end to the hats, the 
 frocks and the finery she wanted. 
 
 The shot tower throve for a while, but soon
 
 HARD TIMES IN DUNROBIN 85 
 
 fell back to its former condition of barely meeting 
 expenses, and paid interest to its shareholders with 
 a maddening irregularity. 
 
 When Sophie was well into her teens, a wave 
 of excitement broke over Dunrobin. On the op- 
 posite banks of the Rydal, the " Whitlock Com- 
 pany " of Chicago began setting up a huge modern 
 factory, over the door of which was inscribed in 
 tall gold letters the statement that here was to 
 be the " Whitlock Hardwood Furniture Factory." 
 
 But when the first hardwood converted into 
 chairs and tables was provided by the famous old 
 walnuts and beeches of Hallonquist Park, poor 
 Mary's torment was tragic to witness. She blamed 
 herself first, then turned upon Chris, declaring that 
 the whole horror was his fault. 
 
 " It's all your fault ! " she repeated again and 
 again. " Yours and James Gaither's too, for 
 forcing me into selling Hallonquist Park. When 
 Sophie is grown up, and knows what you have done, 
 I'm sure she never will forgive either one of you." 
 
 That night Chris inscribed in his Memory Book 
 the ensuing reflections: 
 
 " Ladies looks at things different from men. They 
 seem to be made without a hitching-post handy. When 
 they feelings are roused, they go prancing and hitting 
 the air like a colt what is stirred up a wasp-nest. It 
 makes you feel kinder pitiful toward them, and not 
 answer back. 
 
 Miss Mary's been faulting me forrards and back-
 
 86 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 wards all day, because she says it was me who induced 
 her to sell what she calls Sophie's birthright. She 
 don't nowise remember, that hadn't she sold it, she'd 
 be living still in the kitchen without a cottage at all. 
 But it ain't safe to ask a high-spirited lady, to re- 
 member a commonsense thing, not enduring the time 
 she is prancing. 
 
 That old park sure has done me one mighty good 
 turn, if never ^iot) , for a few days agone, I found 
 at the foot of an oak, a fine type of the smartest spider 
 of all. I calls her Miss Lizzy Lycosa, the Lycosa 
 being her real name as I found in a book, while I stuck 
 on ' Lizzy ' for her Christian one. 
 
 She is here in my room at this minute, her cunning 
 round ball full of eggs, hitched to one leg so faithful. 
 Every day of her life, she crawles up to my window, 
 sticks her nose todes the floor, and with four of her 
 hind-legs, turns that ball round and round in the sun, 
 till I think the eggs will get dizzy. They oughter 
 hatch soon, and then all the orphin asylum will climb 
 onto her back, like the one that I found with Miss 
 Mary, long ago, at the foot of the rectory fence. Some 
 thing or other must have come along and et it, for I 
 never could find her again."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE LOOPHOLE 
 
 A FEW years after this, on a certain chill eve- 
 ning in autumn, the Gaithers were circled 
 around their big dining-room table, to a meal 
 that was both scanty and poor. 
 
 It was Chris, quiet Chris whom few things es- 
 caped, who noticed that Miss Ossie was eating 
 nothing. 
 
 " What's wrong with you, Sis?" he asked kindly. 
 " You haven't so much as lifted a forkful." 
 
 " I'll, thank you to attend to your own business, 
 Christopher," she snapped in response. 
 
 Ossie's brother went back to silence, as a turtle 
 retires to its shell. " Poor old Sis, it's the 
 neuralgy like Maw had so long," he was thinking. 
 " If she'd jes' bind it round with a stockin', she'd 
 ease it, but uc-cose Sis is too citified now for 
 any sech mounting contraptions." 
 
 It was Mildred who first dared to speak. " Why 
 didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well, Auntie 
 dear? " she inquired sweetly. " Letty and I would 
 have looked after the dinner, and brought you some- 
 thing nice to your room." 
 
 Ossie's rigid lips softened. " I know that you 
 
 87
 
 88 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 would, Mildred," she said trying bravely to smile. 
 " You are always so thoughtful." A twinge of fierce 
 pain caught her nerves. 
 
 Letty pushed back her chair with a rasp that 
 made Miss Laird shiver. " How can any of us 
 eat this supper? " she exclaimed. " It is regular 
 poor white-trash stuff, it is it's hardly fit for 
 the darkies." 
 
 " Letty, leave the table at once ! " Mr. Gaither 
 cried out. " You're to go to your room, and to 
 remain there until you are ready to offer an apology 
 to your Aunt." 
 
 " I was leaving the table anyway," cried the 
 rebellious Letitia. " You're all of you as cross as 
 two sticks." 
 
 " Letitia is right," said Miss Ossie, her thin face 
 the colour of wax. " This ain't the food you girls 
 should be eating, or James either. With us moun- 
 tain folk," she added bitterly, " it don't make much 
 diffrunce we're usen to worse. But I'm doing the 
 best I can, James," she cried now, as if desperation 
 had given her courage. " You and me has just 
 got to talk after dinner. Can you come to the 
 library? " 
 
 "Why, surely, my dear," answered James, 
 nervously clearing his throat. " In fact, I was 
 on the point of suggesting a conference. I've a 
 
 letter " Here a thin, bloodless hand began 
 
 to feel about in his pockets. " I received it today. 
 It may prove important."
 
 THE LOOPHOLE 89 
 
 Miss Ossie squared her shoulders, and marched 
 from the room with the stride of a grenadier. 
 
 James glanced up, started, rose and then fol- 
 lowed with much less assurance. 
 
 As the two reached the small private " den," 
 where the troubled man brooded through most of 
 his evenings, he began : " There's a letter but 
 won't you sit down? " 
 
 Ossie lowered herself into the big cushioned 
 chair which her brother-in-law placed just in front 
 of the fire. Every motion she made was restrained, 
 tense and somehow a menace. 
 
 " I've come to the end, James," she told him. 
 " I've used all my own and a lot of poor Christo- 
 pher's money besides. He don't dream it yet ; our 
 account is all in my name. Poor old Chris, he 
 knows he's a fool when it comes to handling 
 money ! " 
 
 " He is no more stupid than I," Gaither said 
 sorrowfully. " I'm about at the end too of all 
 things. I am practically a bankrupt," he groaned. 
 " I can't hold it back any longer. We must face 
 ruin, perhaps worse, very soon." 
 
 " But Mildred ! " gasped Ossie, her eyes fright- 
 ened and feral, as she saw danger nearing the one 
 being she adored. " She is a young lady now, 
 with admirers. Three young men have addressed 
 her a'ready. Mildred can't do with less than she 
 has." 
 
 " I am afraid that she must, Letty, too ; not to
 
 90 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 mention yourself, my kind, faithful sister," the 
 man said, in a tone of despair. 
 
 Ossie sat very still, but her mind was a chained 
 thing that struggled and tore at its bondage. 
 
 "What was that about a letter? " she stammered 
 at length. " You said it might be important." 
 
 " Yes," said James. " I'd forgotten. It's a 
 faint chance indeed. And yet who can tell," he 
 exclaimed, essaying more lightness, " that it won't 
 turn out to be the proverbial straw ! " 
 
 " And this ain't the time for neglectin' so much 
 as a straw," Ossie answered, reflecting his gal- 
 vanized smile. 
 
 James fumbled again in his pocket, and finally 
 drew out, with the forceps of two long, thin fingers, 
 the letter in question. 
 
 " It is from a connection of mine," he explained, 
 " down in Georgia. The lady is dying, poor soul, 
 I have never seen her in person, and she wants 
 me to take her son here and to give him a start in 
 my business." The last statement came with a 
 short bitter laugh. " She hasn't been told, I infer, 
 of my shining success in the tower works." 
 
 " Does she say that her son will have any capital 
 to bring you? " Ossie asked very quickly. 
 
 " Some thousands, she says. But it wouldn't 
 be right for me to let the young fellow sink it." 
 
 " Sink it fiddlesticks ! " bridled Ossie. " With 
 young blood and more money now's the time to 
 build up. What else does she say? "
 
 THE LOOPHOLE 91 
 
 " Uhm um," began James, setting his eyeglasses 
 in place. " * You'll find Karl unusually active and 
 intelligent. I am sure he is a man to succeed. He 
 cares nothing for farming, and I do not blame him. 
 I have told him so much of Dunrobin, and his 
 people there, that the boy is anxious to begin his 
 career in the land where his forefathers lived and 
 commanded respect. My one wish is to get away 
 
 from this state, where ' Er, uhm, well " 
 
 floundered the reader, somewhat embarrassed. 
 " The rest is entirely private, merely personal and 
 family details. They would not interest you, I 
 am sure." 
 
 His companion was equally sure that they would 
 interest her, and the effort to keep back her curi- 
 osity brought her sleeping neuralgia to life. 
 
 " I hope it don't mean that the young man's a 
 rascal," she permitted herself to remark. 
 
 " Oh no, not at all," parried James. " From the 
 mother's report Karl appears to be quite a model." 
 
 " Or that he ain't got any bad blood backing up 
 in his veins," the suffering Ossie pursued. 
 
 " His grandmother was my grandfather's sister," 
 stated Gaither, thus ending conjecture. 
 
 " Well, this may be the loophole of escape after 
 all," he declared with more spirit. " I think I'll 
 just run up to Mary's, as I'd like to have her 
 opinion." 
 
 " Mary who? There happen to be several Marys 
 down here in Dunrobin," his companion remarked
 
 92 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 in a dull, suppressed voice which should have 
 warned him. 
 
 " Oh, I do beg your pardon, and hers," apologized 
 James. " I should have said Mrs. Hallonquist. 
 But I've known her for so many years, it comes 
 natural to call her just l Mary.' " 
 
 Ossie's face was a flint. At that instant, along 
 the left side toward the fire, the neuralgia dragged 
 a sharp claw. 
 
 " Do you think me an out-and-out fool, Brother 
 James? " she demanded. " That you spend words 
 like that on my ear? You know well as me that 
 that simpering woman ain't got no more sense than 
 a kitten ! " 
 
 " She may not be possessed of the practical sense 
 of one lady I know," remarked James, with a bow 
 meant to flatter, but with yearning eyes set on the 
 door. 
 
 " Then why do you show her the letter and keep 
 it from me? " Ossie scored. 
 
 " Well," stammered Gaither. Then, as a heaven- 
 sent straw whirled in reach at the instant, he 
 added, " she's a shareholder, and being such " 
 
 " Being such," Ossie echoed, " has about as 
 much notion of how you conducts the business 
 as I have of scouring the floor of the moon." 
 
 But her brother-in-law had made his escape. 
 
 The change from Gaither's turbulent home to 
 the quiet of Mary's small dining-room, with Mary 
 herself before the bright fire, and Sophie's bronze
 
 THE LOOPHOLE 93 
 
 curls touching the red tablecloth as she bent over 
 her lessons for the morrow, seemed at first a verita- 
 ble haven of peace. 
 
 In deference to Sophie's abstraction, the two 
 adult friends conversed in half -whispers. If their 
 voices were raised, the girl frowned and shook all 
 of her curls as a warning. 
 
 James endured it as long as he could, then, being 
 full of his topic, lifted eyebrows of protest, and 
 glancing from mother to daughter, clearly let 
 it be known that he had something private to 
 say. 
 
 Mrs. Hallonquist laid her embroidery down to 
 her knees. " Sophie darling," she said, " aren't 
 those lessons of yours nearly finished? " 
 
 " No not half," was the instant rejoinder. 
 " My jommetry's awful tonight." 
 
 " Perhaps Uncle James will help you work it 
 out," Mary ventured. 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't," answered Mr. Gaither. 
 " It's been many a year since I've used mathe- 
 matics for anything higher than pay-rolls. I would 
 shrink from exposing my ignorance before such 
 charming company." 
 
 Sophie's slim figure, hopefully lifted, slouched 
 once more to the table. 
 
 A queer, constrained silence now fell on the 
 motionless group. 
 
 Mary took up her needlework, in hands that 
 were not very steady, while James, rearranging his
 
 94 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 legs, cleared his throat in the short, nervous way 
 which of late was becoming a habit. 
 
 " Sophie," Mary began, in a voice which be- 
 trayed something like fear, "you will hurt your 
 eyes over those figures. I am sure it is time to 
 retire." 
 
 The girl gave no token of hearing, beyond a 
 sharp kick at the table-leg. 
 
 Mary's helpless look returned to her guest. 
 
 " See here, Sophie," said James in a fatherly 
 manner, " the fact is, I've come here on business. 
 There's a matter I've got to talk over with your 
 mother, and, little pitchers, you know " 
 
 Sophie's eyes flashed. " There's a fire in the 
 kitchen," she said rudely, " I always study my les- 
 sons in the dining-room." 
 
 "Good Lord, Mary, you hear what she says?" 
 Gaither cried out, taken quite off his guard. 
 " We're to go to the kitchen ! " 
 
 " Oh, James, you know she is joking," Mary 
 faltered, beginning to tremble. " That's just 
 Sophie's way she didn't mean it to sound so un- 
 civil." 
 
 " Yes, I did ! " defied the girl, springing up, 
 " and I'll go to the roachy old kitchen. I suppose 
 I can see when people want to get rid of me." 
 
 " Oh, James James," Mary sobbed, as the angry 
 child flew from the room, banging each door in 
 her fury. " I don't know what to do when that 
 terrible temper is roused."
 
 THE LOOPHOLE 95 
 
 "We have been through a scene of this kind 
 at my house/' James said sympathetically. " Per- 
 haps it's ferment in the new generation. Girls are 
 problems of course but our lives would be duller 
 without them." 
 
 " Oh, you don't understand, James," wailed the 
 suffering woman. "This outburst you have wit- 
 nessed it's nothing it's only a hint of what I 
 so often go through. Sophie's rude to the servants, 
 she seems to love no one, not even me, who 
 would shed my last drop of blood if she needed it. 
 There are times when I believe it will kill me." 
 The stricken soul shuddered in speaking. 
 
 " There don't cry any more, little mother," 
 pleaded the visitor, " it'll all come out right in the 
 wash. I^et us try to forget our young Goneril 
 and Regan. Here's a letter I want you to read." 
 
 Mary dried her long lashes, and attempted to 
 bite her quivering lips back to firmness. 
 
 " Have you any recollection of hearing an <\ld 
 family scandal about my Aunt Emily Gaitherr " 
 James inquired, as he drew out the missive. 
 
 " Only vaguely. She made some kind of un- 
 fortunate marriage, did she not? " 
 
 " I should say that she did ! She married a 
 German, Mulbach by name, who, during Sherman's 
 march to the sea, sold his cotton to Yankees." 
 
 " The details were never told me," Mary said, 
 looking deeply concerned, " though I knew that in 
 some way he had betrayed the Confederacy."
 
 96 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " He was a traitor and a coward through and 
 through to his black German heart. It was not 
 only in selling his cotton when all true sons of the 
 South were making bonfires of their crops, rather 
 than allow them to fall into the hands of our 
 enemies, that he proved false. Not content with 
 huge personal profits, he managed, through trick- 
 ery, to buy up a lot from his neighbours' stock, on 
 the plea that a ship waited at Savannah, and would 
 run the blockade to England. There was one 
 planter, Wyndham, who began to scent mischief, 
 whereupon Mulbach took out his scoundrel's re- 
 venge by dispatching a negro into Sherman's ranks, 
 with information as to Wyndham's concealed stores 
 of cotton." 
 
 "What a terrible, terrible creature!" faltered 
 Mary. " But surely here in the South he was never 
 allowed to enjoy his ill-gotten gains? " 
 
 "He was not!" James said grimly. "But his 
 method of punishment completed his disgrace. He 
 was tarred and feathered, and literally ridden on 
 a fence-rail to the nearest station, where he was 
 kicked aboard the first north-bound train." 
 
 " And his wife, your poor Aunt Emily? " 
 
 " Never heard from the blackguard again ; and I 
 fancy never cared to. But it is all in the letter 
 you hold," he recalled by a glance. " It's from my 
 Aunt Emily's daughter, who was Gretchen Mul- 
 bach, and who married a small landowner called
 
 THE LOOPHOLE 97 
 
 Trenham a nice chap, I believe. But you will 
 find it all written out there." 
 
 When Mary had finished, there were tears in her 
 eyes never brought there by Sophie. 
 
 " Oh, poor mother ! " she sighed. " What a heart- 
 rending letter! I don't wonder she wants her one 
 son to come back to his honourable kinsmen. What 
 a stain! Has this young Trenham ever been told 
 the whole truth? " 
 
 " Cousin Gretchen don't say so," mused James, 
 looking down at the letter which Mary that moment 
 returned. " But those few thousands she says he 
 can invest may mean the difference to me of stark 
 ruin, or building a new, paying business. Success 
 would include your shares too, and I know you 
 are straitened as I am. Even more than his money, 
 I need ,new blood in the tower works, a more 
 modern outlook." 
 
 " Yes, I understand." 
 
 " On the other hand, now, is it right to our 
 friends, or to our daughters," James laughed 
 lightly, " to welcome a man with such a blot on 
 
 his name? ' The sins of the fathers ' " he 
 
 quoted. 
 
 Mary lifted compassionate eyes. " And shows 
 mercy to thousands who love Me and keep My 
 commandments." 
 
 " Then you think we should risk it? " cried 
 Gaither.
 
 98 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Mary smiled at the hope in his tone. 
 
 " Yes, dear friend, I believe it was meant that we 
 should do so. And how could a man such as you 
 turn away from the wish of that poor dying 
 woman? Let her know right away that he'll be 
 welcome." 
 
 James sprang up. He looked twenty years 
 younger. " Then I'll do it ! Oh, Mary, how could 
 I get on without you! I'll walk from here direct 
 to the station, and send a long telegram to Mrs. 
 Trenham tonight." 
 
 " Yes, do. And God grant that our decision is a 
 wise one ; not only for young Mr. Trenham, but for 
 all the rest of us. Good-night, and God bless you ! "
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 KARL TRENHAM 
 
 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD sat alone on the 
 Gaithers' front porch. The house, like the 
 Hallonquist cottage, faced due south ; a clear 
 golden sun of October, still high in the afternoon 
 heaven, poured down full upon him. In his hand 
 he held a newly arrived periodical, the title of 
 which, thus displayed, could be seen as A Journal 
 for Naturalists. 
 
 The tall mountaineer, through long years in the 
 lowlands, had suffered, if not a sea-change, at least 
 a distinct town-change in appearance. His large 
 frame had not grown more stout, but more compact 
 and massive. His head still canted forward, but 
 his shoulders had straightened, and his arms now 
 belonged to his body. 
 
 In the matter of worldly attire, he was not ut- 
 terly lacking in interest, although Ossie dared not 
 yet " give him lief " to purchase his own socks and 
 neckties. 
 
 The man's thoughts, however, were no, of his 
 clothes nor of himself at that moment, for a wee 
 yellow spider, at the end of a skein quite invisible 
 
 99
 
 100 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 to human perception, began slowly to lower itself 
 just in front of Chris's nose. 
 
 He drew back, and straightened to watch it, 
 then cautiously held out his palm. Would the 
 creature continue its falling, thus promising 
 largesse of gold to the person whose hand it might 
 touch? 
 
 The yellow dot wavered, then seemed to be jerked 
 from above. 
 
 " Shucks ! " exclaimed Chris. " You just keep 
 on like you started, you rascal. Set right there on 
 my palm, as pleased as a dog on a mat. That 
 means money for me! And the joke of it is," the 
 man chuckled, " I can make a whole lot by just 
 writing a piece about you, little Miss Spider ! " 
 He tossed the insect away, and off she sailed 
 through the air like a comet, until her one thread 
 caught the tip of a sycamore branch. 
 
 The fact that his writings on spiders, or wasps, 
 or the doings of ants as he saw them, were de- 
 manded, and brought him real money from editors 
 " North," was Christopher's great and shining 
 secret. It was something he had not as yet shared 
 even with Miss Mary, though of course he eventu- 
 ally would. 
 
 Indeed, but for her he knew he could never have 
 written. 
 
 " If I hadn't a-fallen in love, head over heels, 
 the first time I saw her, and had to ease up my
 
 KARL TRENHAM 101 
 
 mind through my old Memory Book, I never could 
 have written these here articles. Them fool fel- 
 lows up North, they even like me to spell my words 
 mountain fashion. They're plumb queer." 
 
 Chris was reaching out to take up his Naturalist's 
 Journal, when the front door flew open and 
 Mildred ran out, laughing a little affectedly, both 
 hands held up to her temples. A young man, Karl 
 Trenham, who had been lunching with the family, 
 now appeared in pursuit. He caught the girl by 
 one slender arm, while his other hand brandished 
 a penknife. 
 
 " No, no, Karl, you simply sha'n't cut one of those 
 curls on my forehead. Everybody would notice. 
 But if you won't take ' no ' for an answer, there 
 are some at the back of my neck Oh ! oh ! there's 
 Uncle Chris! " she exclaimed, her voice dropping, 
 while the sweet face became red as a rose. 
 
 " And what of it? " laughed Karl. " I'm sure 
 in his time that your Uncle has cut off a good many 
 curls. How about it there, Uncle Chris? " Tren- 
 ham merrily challenged. 
 
 Chris had caught up his new magazine, and 
 was now intent upon his efforts to hide it. 
 
 Karl and Mildred exchanged smiling glances 
 which said, as plainly as words, " Isn't the old 
 boy too funny? " 
 
 " If you're going to walk down for your shop- 
 ping with me, Cousin Mildred," young Trenham
 
 102 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 now said to the girl, " you must run up and fling 
 on your hat P.D.Q. I'm late now at the office, 
 and you know I keep punctual hours." 
 
 " Pleare don't leave me. I won't take a minute," 
 she cried, and sped into the hall and up the long 
 stairway, her small feet drumming a tattoo of haste. 
 
 " The usual girl's minute, I fear," remarked 
 Karl, as he strolled toward Chris's end of the 
 porch. " I've yet to meet any woman and I've 
 met quite a few with an idea of the value of 
 time." 
 
 A low sound came from Chris. It was more like 
 a grunt than anything human. 
 
 If Karl heard, he refused to be daunted, for, 
 still waggish and smiling, he continued on his 
 way, until reaching the bench at Chris's elbow, he 
 drew out his cigarette case, struck a match, and 
 then flung himself down in a posture unconsciously 
 graceful. 
 
 He now took off his hat, disclosing thick hair 
 the colour of sunlight. 
 
 " Yes, these women are queer cattle," Karl went 
 on, as though his companion displayed ardent wel- 
 come. " No value of time, no glimmer of logic, 
 they are riddles, all right. Haven't you found 
 it the case, Uncle Chris? " 
 
 Chris drew out his pipe. He detested the 
 cigarette fumes, and now lit his malodorous brier- 
 root as corrective. 
 
 " I ain't much on puzzles, young man," he said
 
 KARL TRENHAM 103 
 
 slowly. " I reckon I'm apt to take things as I 
 find them. It's a beautiful day that we're having 
 look at those sailing white clouds ! " 
 
 Karl refused to look up. 
 
 " I was talking of women," he persisted. " They 
 interest me more than clouds. Down home there 
 in Georgia I'd caught on to the sex pretty well, 
 but I'm not so sure of myself in Dunrobin. I find 
 the girls rather standoffish all, that is," he cor- 
 rected, while a smile played in his slightly closed 
 eyes, " but my charming cousin Mildred." 
 
 Receiving no encouragement, he appealed: 
 " Now, come, Uncle Chris, be a clever old boy, and 
 hand a few tips to a fellow. You've red blood in 
 your veins, and this jolly old world is one big 
 circus." 
 
 " No, I haven't red blood," said Chris rather 
 quickly. " Not in that way you mean. And I'll 
 tell you right now, Mr. Trenham, you're barking 
 up the wrong tree. I don't talk about ladies with 
 no one not even with friends." 
 
 The meaning implied in his last words could 
 not be avoided. 
 
 " Oh, come now, Mr. Laird, that's a little bit 
 rough," Trenham cried, a bright spot springing 
 out on each cheek. " I meant no offence. It's only 
 my free off-handed manner of speaking." 
 
 " There may be some as likes it," said Chris, 
 " but I'm not of their number. It's safer to have 
 such things known at the start."
 
 104 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " That's right, rub it in," muttered Karl, with a 
 half chagrined, partly humorous twitch of his full 
 crimson lips. " I won't trespass again. Oh, thank 
 Heaven," he cried, springing up and cramming on 
 his hat, " there's Mildred ! " 
 
 It was Mildred. The pretty thing paused on the 
 doorsill, to throw arch glances around at her 
 cousin. Chris saw it all from the tail of one eye. 
 
 Just behind his young niece followed " Sis." 
 Miss Ossie stood, her lean, toil-worn hands folded 
 neatly together, just above where her stomach 
 would be, if she had one; her eyes shining with 
 pride, turned from one youthful face to the other. 
 
 Karl sent a quick smile to his hostess, which 
 seemed to declare "yes, she is lovely," and then 
 stepping up to the girl, caught her forearm, town- 
 fashion, and led her out into the street. 
 
 " Don't they make just a too elegant couple? " 
 Sis asked with a rapturous sigh. 
 
 Chris turned half way around in his chair, and 
 set sombre eyes on the two. 
 
 " I always did love a blond man," murmured 
 Miss Laird, her smile now becoming quite fatuous, 
 " And 'specially when he is tall, and holds his 
 head high, and his shoulders so stiff and so manly." 
 
 " If he tries to r'ar back any manlier," said 
 Chris, "he will topple plumb over, and bust that 
 flat back to his head." 
 
 Miss Ossie's smile died a quick death in con- 
 vulsions. She wheeled around to her brother.
 
 KARL TRENHAM 105 
 
 " It ain't like you, Chris Laird," she accused, 
 " to take up a prejudice such as you have taken, 
 from the first, against young Mr. Trenham. Oh, 
 you can't deceive me! " she denounced, although 
 Chris had attempted no denial. " You took it the 
 minute you seen er saw him, and the poor boy 
 always so friendly and cordial to you." 
 
 " He is that," answered Chris with a groan, " and 
 I wish to my God that he wasn't." 
 
 "I'll declare, Christopher Laird," Miss Ossie 
 began after a short ruthless march to his chair, 
 her eyes pinning him 1 down like two spikelets. 
 " Sometimes I have reason to think that you ain't 
 kept the sense you was born with. It warn't much 
 at the first, but it seems to have petered to 
 nothing! I'd be ashamed, plumb clear through, 
 to confess to this ugly mean spirit. Air you 
 jealous of Karl that you act so outrageous about 
 him?" 
 
 " No, Sis, I ain't jealous," rose Chris's voice, very 
 meek and subdued, " but I don't like the he-critter's 
 walk his hips wiggle and he's going to be fat 
 in the weskit some day sure's an old hog gets 
 rusty." 
 
 " Tsch ! " cried Miss Ossie in scorn. " I've been 
 watching this man, I've made James tell me all 
 he is done in the shot tower works, the year and 
 few months he is been here. He is a genius in 
 business as sure as that you and James Gaither 
 is muddlers. He must be kept right here in our
 
 106 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 family and I'm doing my best every day for to 
 make up a match between him and our Mildred ! " 
 
 Chris's face was stern. " You are taking a lot 
 on yourself, Sis, to force it," he said slowly. " It 
 ain't no business of yours, and the handling of other 
 folk's lives shouldn't oughter be done by mere 
 humans. You'll rue it, I fear. Yes, you'll rue 
 it." 
 
 "I'll rue what?" Ossie flared. "Will I rue 
 wedding Leezer's own child to the likeliest man in 
 Dunrobin? To settle her rich in a house of her 
 own and maybe her carriage and pair! Why, 
 Mildred's father, he wants it ! " 
 
 " Did he say so himself? " threw in Chris, with 
 such swiftness that Ossie was taken off guard. 
 
 " Well, not exactly," she floundered. " Not in 
 so many words. But of course he must want it, 
 if he's got any sense whatsomever." 
 
 " But he hasn't, he's a muddler like me," Chris 
 reminded. 
 
 Ossie was compelled to draw back, and begin 
 on a new flanking movement. 
 
 " Everybody that knows Karl is crazy about 
 him," she asserted. " There's a kind word for each 
 and all, and he's so witty! The men can't get over 
 his smartness in business. That half dead old shot 
 tower is booming, actually booming. Orders come 
 in so fast that they've doubled the number of 
 workmen " 
 
 " And kicked out old Anthony Blum, what's been
 
 KARL TRENHAM 107 
 
 book-keeping there on half wages, ever since the 
 surrender," remarked Chris. 
 
 "And what if he has been discharged, his eye- 
 sight was failing! Karl said so," defended Miss 
 Ossie. " You must prune out the old rotten wood 
 to let the young branches grow vigorous." 
 
 " Yes, I heard him say both of them things," 
 murmured Chris rather sadly. " But it don't help 
 old Anthony none. He've a bed-ridden wife, an' 
 five childun " 
 
 With a low cry of impatience, Miss Ossie was 
 turning away, when Chris caught at her hand. The 
 brother and sister both flushed, for such personal 
 contact was rare. 
 
 " Now, Sis, look a-here," the man said gently, 
 " we two is got no call to wrangle, and spend harsh 
 words, one on the other. You know I love 
 Mildred, and I want her to marry the likeliest 
 man she can get." 
 
 Silence having fallen, he went on very softly, 
 " Milly must be a wife and mother. If she don't, 
 she is going to be like a lonesome, one knitting 
 needle, no good at all without its mate. And it 
 ain't going to matter so much, who she marries, 
 so long as he's all real man. Do you know, Sis," 
 he ventured, being greatly encouraged by Ossie's 
 more kindly expression, " I sometimes wish that 
 our niece could have known 'Lonzo Thigpen." 
 
 " 'Lonzo Thigpen ! " gasped Ossie, and turned 
 bluish green in her horror. " That loose-jinted hill-
 
 108 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 billy, that skinner of beasts and their innards, 
 that oaf! Air ye plumb bereft, Christopher 
 Laird! Let me get in the house, before I take up 
 a billet of wood, and ruin ye ! " 
 
 Left alone, Chris sat a long while musing, then 
 slowly pulled himself upright. " I must be mosey- 
 ing too," he muttered. " At this rate of loafing I'll 
 be fired from my job, like old Anthony Blum."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE ICY HEART 
 
 THE first black frost of the season had been 
 scheduled for the previous night in Dunrobin. 
 But the frost did not come. In its stead, a 
 chill piercing damp held the earth, and next morn- 
 ing grey clouds, like huge sponges, exuded, in 
 place of absorbing, the moisture. 
 
 Out in the kitchen of the Hallonquist cottage 
 Aunt Tempey sat close to her stove. Now and then 
 she looked around it to Grief, closely glued to the 
 opposite surface. 
 
 " Miss Mary an' dat spilted chile Sophie mus' 
 be sleepin' dar haids off dis mawnin'," the former 
 observed in a tone of extreme disapprobation. 
 " My biscuits is done riz an' fell two times a' ready. 
 Dey'll be tougher dan Judas Iscaragut if dey rises 
 an' falls any mo'." 
 
 The complainer was draped in a mantua of 
 ancient design, rusty black, with bedraggled bead 
 fringes. From her round huddled shoulders it fell 
 in the curves artists give to the folds of marble 
 cloth on the urn of a tombstone. 
 
 " 'Clar to Gawd, Honey Grief," she continued, 
 
 109
 
 110 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 having received a quick grunt of sympathy, " but 
 dis chill is bit down to de heart of my marrer. All 
 de bones I's got is drumsticks wid ice in de 
 middle." 
 
 " Dey ain't no mo' friz up dan mine," Old Grief 
 chattered. " I was settin' here studyin', jes 1 now, 
 dat de hebbenly land whar we's goin' mus' be one 
 long endurin' July, wid de streets of Jerusalem 
 pilted high to de roofs wid big ripe watermil- 
 Hons " 
 
 " An' shoes on our foots wid no corns, an' us 
 clothed wid de bres-plate of glory Dar's de bell 
 rung at las' " Tempey broke off her chanting to 
 announce. " Well, it's time an' to spare ! Here, 
 you loaf in' black nigger, jes' you hop fum dat stool, 
 an' ketch holt er dat pan o' hot biscuits." 
 
 Sophie sulked during the meal. She knew from 
 the chill that lurked through the house in spite of 
 three fires, that she needed to wear her old last 
 winter's coat, and felt a dull anger toward her 
 mother who had postponed the purchase of the 
 new and greatly desired garment. 
 
 " If you had done what you said," the daughter 
 flared out, " and had bought one of those heavy 
 ones at Weldon's last week, you wouldn't be asking 
 me now, to go off looking like one of the girls 
 from the Church Home, or the County Poor- 
 house ! " 
 
 " You shall have the coat you want, Sophie dear 
 I'll give you my word. But you must put on the
 
 THE ICY HEART 111 
 
 old one before you go out in this penetrating 
 cold." 
 
 " All right then. This once only remember ! 
 And what's this for? " she caustically inquired, as 
 Mary, after holding the coat for her daughter to 
 get in it, rather timidly extended a small book 
 with a tan coloured paper cover, denoting that it 
 came from the Dunrobin library. 
 
 " It's a novel I've just finished," said Mary, at- 
 tempting a light, casual tone. " Your school is so 
 close to Miss Sally's, I know you won't mind 
 stepping around and returning it for me." 
 
 " And bringing another one home, I suppose," 
 demanded Sophie, with a twitch of the shoulders. 
 
 " Never mind," said her mother, laying it down 
 to the table. " I perfer to return it myself." 
 
 Sophie snatched up the volume. " You know I 
 will take it," she cried, " though I've got a whole 
 cartload of schoolbooks to carry already. What I 
 can't understand," she declared, marching past like 
 an offended empress, "is how you can spend so 
 much time reading those silly novels." 
 
 There was nothing for Mary to say. 
 
 " I never have wasted my time on such, trash, 
 and I never intend to begin," was the girl's parting 
 thrust. 
 
 Sophie's querulous mood seemed to follow her 
 into the schoolroom, and when at last, dispersal 
 bell rang, Sophie curtly refused Letty's offer to 
 walk half-way home, gathered up her now hated
 
 112 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 textbooks, and flinging the yet more abhorred novel 
 on top, started around to the library. 
 
 Miss Sally beamed over her desk. " I'm so glad 
 you came by this morning, Sophie dear," she cried 
 to that sombre young person. " I was hoping either 
 you or your dear Mother would chance to drop in. 
 How is Mary today? " 
 
 " She's all right," answered Sophie. " Here's 
 her book, and she says please to send her " 
 
 " Yes, of course, I've been keeping a special one 
 hid in my desk," the little librarian interrupted 
 eagerly. " It came only yesterday, straight from 
 the publisher here. It's Miss Jernigan's latest and 
 best ' The Icy Heart' Oh, it's lovely! Doesn't 
 the very title enchant you? " 
 
 Sophie, frowning and shifting her books, got 
 out something about being in a hurry. 
 
 " You impatient young things always are ! " 
 laughed Miss Sally archly. " Well, take it right 
 along, I won't even stop to slip on the cover; give 
 your dear Mother my love, and tell her I envy her 
 the real treat she has in store. I sat up most of 
 last night to find out what was going to happen! 
 It's the sort of romance you just can't put down, 
 when once you have read the first chapter. How 
 Miss Jernigan does it ! " she sighed in an ecstasy. 
 
 Sophie caught at the book rather rudely, and 
 fled to the street. 
 
 " Of all boring idiots ! " the angry girl cried to 
 herself. " To giggle and roll up her eyes, and
 
 THE ICY HEART 113 
 
 actually blush over somebody else's love-story. I 
 suppose it's because she's a withered old maid, and 
 never had one of her own." 
 
 She was passing the Bannister home, where an 
 ancient box-hedge stuffed with cobwebs rose a little 
 beyond and within a stone coping, when a redbird 
 flew down from a tree, and perched on a shrub 
 before her. In contrast with the grey of the sky, 
 and the malachite green of the hedgerow, he seemed 
 a spirit set free, like the core of a love that is 
 deathless. 
 
 "Oh, you beauty, you darling !". said the girl 
 under her breath. 
 
 The bird twitched his crest, cocked one eye 
 toward the intruder, while the imbricate down on 
 his throat began slowly to quiver. 
 
 " He, is going to sing ! " Sophie exclaimed, when 
 a bang and a clatter of books to the earth changed 
 the song to a red flash of terror. 
 
 Sophie ground out a few inarticulate words 
 through set teeth, and stooped for the volumes. 
 The last one she picked up was the novel, which 
 lay open, face downward. On its back shone the 
 title in gold, " The Icy Heart," by Annabel Jerni- 
 gan, the words being set in a gilt outline displaying 
 that human organ. 
 
 The schoolbooks were hastily flung to the coping, 
 while with a scowl of distaste the " Heart " was 
 snatched up and its soiled pages hastily dusted off. 
 
 " What in the world will Miss Sally say," Sophie
 
 114 CHKISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 was thinking, when a line caught her eyes, and 
 instantly held them: 
 
 " ' You have admitted in more ways than one, how 
 you loved me/ whispered Arthur. ' I have seen it a- 
 tremble on those prowd scarlet lips, and love-lights 
 have played in your beautiful eyes. And yet oh, 
 most cruel, most lovely of women ' 
 
 ' And yet/ Beatrice echoed, sending toward him a 
 glance of seduction and coquetry. 
 
 'You have held me away from that red mouth's 
 allure, you have toyed with my heart but your 
 moment has come for surrender. No, you cannot 
 escape me this time, I will win you and hold you 
 forever ! ' 
 
 Seizing her by both of her fluttering hands, in a 
 grasp so intense that it pained her, Arthur drew the 
 girl close to his breast. 
 
 Beatrice strove to resist, but was powerless in those 
 conquering arms. She was captured at last, overcome, 
 utterly hypnotized by love's passion. 
 
 Closer closer his masterful face now dead white, 
 new flaming with triumph made its way to her own. 
 Their lips clung the girl's fragile form shivered " 
 
 " Pooh ! " Sophie cried, and shut the book. " It's 
 disgusting ! " 
 
 " What's disgusting, if I may make so bold as 
 to inquire? " said a low, laughing voice in her ear. 
 
 Sophie gasped. For one terrified instant she 
 tkought the speaker was " Arthur." 
 
 " Oh, oh, Mr. Karl Mr. Trenham, how you
 
 THE ICY HEART 115 
 
 scared me ! " she stammered. " How horrid of you 
 to sneak up and not let me hear you." 
 
 " I hadn't the first thought of sneaking," de- 
 fended the man rather hotly. " I was walking this 
 way. I had business. It was you with your head 
 in that book, who couldn't ,hear a plain citizen com- 
 ing, and I want to see for myself what made you 
 so blind and so deaf to the world." 
 
 " I won't let you," cried Sophie, holding it be- 
 hind her. " It's a novel. I hate such sentimental 
 trash ! " 
 
 " You appeared to," the other said dryly. " Stop, 
 no good backing into the hedge, you'll only get 
 dirty. When I set myself out for a thing I usually 
 
 get it. Like this "he exclaimed, and with a 
 
 swiftness that took his companion off guard, he 
 twirled her about by the shoulders, caught the book, 
 and holding it up well above her reach, let his merry 
 blue eyes seek out " Arthur." 
 
 " Ha ! So here is the place," the tormentor 
 began. " I can tell by the crumpled-up page. 
 ' Closer closer his masterful face now dead 
 white, now ' " 
 
 With the goad of frenzy, Sophie sprang for the 
 arm in the air, swung upon it, and again brought 
 " The Icy Heart " to earth. 
 
 " I won't hear it ! / won't! " she panted. " It's 
 silly, it's perfectly loathsome ! " 
 
 " Now dead white, and now spotted with 
 purple," Karl recited aloud, his eyes set, as if
 
 116 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 fixed on a book firmly poised in the ether before 
 him, " and their lips met. Smack ! Smack ! 
 Hully Gee ! the fair lady cried out, but that's bully, 
 friend Arthur. Come back, and we'll try it again ! " 
 
 " I won't listen ! " stormed Sophie, her hands to 
 her ears, " and you ought to be 'shamed, Mr. Karl 
 to talk such things to me ! " 
 
 " Does that mean you'd prefer demonstration to 
 speech?" Trenham inquired without lifting his 
 voice. Oddly enough, Sophie heard him. She venr 
 tured a shy, upward glance, and met eyes spilling 
 laughter. 
 
 " I should say that I didn't ! " she snapped 
 angrily, " You are indecent ! I wish you'd go and 
 attend to that business you spoke of. Don't you 
 dare say another such word to me." 
 
 " All right then. Let's be moseying on, as your 
 Uncle Chris says. But here, hand me those books. 
 They must be heavy." 
 
 " I'll carry my own books," Sophie said un- 
 graciously. " I do it twice every day. But if you 
 insist (this with a withering glance) on walking 
 home with me, I would thank you to take that 
 thing." 
 
 Karl stooped for the wiry gold heart, and began 
 a new dusting of its injured pages. " Poor inno- 
 cent booklet," he murmured, while Sophie switched 
 farther away. " Just because you are telling her 
 of things that make life most worth the living! 
 Never mind, little heart," he apostrophized, with a
 
 THE ICY HEART 117 
 
 hand now caressing its covers. " Miss Hallon- 
 quist jeers at you today, but wait till her time 
 comes for loving and kissing. Just wait, little 
 book, till some masterful face, green and yellow, 
 and mottled with passion, begins closing down on 
 her own when their lips meet " 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh ! " the girl raged, quite beside 
 herself with fury. " You must stop it ! I'm in 
 earnest. If you don't, I'll begin to scream out 
 loud, till the people all come running out of their 
 houses. You may think you are funny but you're 
 not. I hate you so there! " 
 
 A break in the clear vibrant voice, that was 
 usually filled with music, warned the jester that 
 chaffing had gone far enough. 
 
 " Of course I thought you knew I was teasing, 
 my dear little Sophie," Trenham quickly capitu- 
 lated. " But the truth is, you looked so confounded 
 pretty when your big eyes began flashing fire, and 
 your cheeks burned like poppies I couldn't resist. 
 It's the first time we two have ever been together, 
 alone. You're a winner, you know. Please forgive 
 me." 
 
 " No ! I can't and I won't," was her answer. 
 
 " I've been a brute a big brute," the man 
 pleaded contritely. " See here, Sophie, I'll do any- 
 thing on this earth to show I am sorry. I'll eat dirt 
 I'll sit here on the curbing and howl." 
 
 His companion turned one resentful shoulder 
 upon him.
 
 118 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " But FTC this much to say as an excuse," Tren- 
 ham continued. " I believe in that love you're 
 pretending to scorn. I believe, with my whole 
 soul in kissing. And you will too some day. No, 
 don't toss those brown curls, for your time is com- 
 ing. And what is more," pursued the voice of the 
 charmer, " when you are grown, you are going 
 to be just the kind that will set men crazy. All 
 the fellows are saying that you are the brightest 
 and prettiest girl in Dunrobin. If I were one of 
 the boys, instead of the sober old business man 
 that you see me and, by George ! " he broke out, 
 with a new and thrilling tone in the speaking, " I 
 don't believe I am too old to fall head over heels 
 in love with you here w T here we're standing! " 
 
 Sophie's stride almost grew to a run, and the 
 blood in her veins turned to fire. Her chief thought 
 was to prevent Karl from seeing the astounding 
 effect his impetuous words had produced. 
 
 He took several long steps, and, reaching her 
 side, evinced his intention to govern his paces by 
 her own. 
 
 " You are sure you're not feeling a little bit 
 human by now? " 
 
 Her head shook a violent negation. 
 
 "Then," said Karl, in accents of defeat, "I 
 reckon I've got to wait until you really have grown 
 up, till you start reading novels which I think 
 will be pretty soon now. 
 
 " Yes, you'll be at it soon," he declared, with a
 
 THE ICY HEART 119 
 
 glance at her quivering profile, " and they'll help 
 you to learn that the best thing of all is just love 
 and that love brings on kisses, as springtime 
 brings flowers and bad colds. Don't that elo- 
 quence move you? 
 
 " Not a bit, you thick-headed bungler," the rueful 
 young man made reply to himself. " And you 
 soundly deserve it. Well, we're here at your gate. 
 You won't urge me to enter? Of course not ! Then 
 good-bye but at least, just to keep me from going 
 away with my fists in my eyes, and my golden 
 head covered with ashes let's shake hands." 
 
 The crimson and tremulous face was still shyly 
 averted. After what appeared to Karl as a short, 
 intense struggle, the girl shifted her books to her 
 left arm, and extended, at an angle behind her, 
 the hand -that was free. 
 
 The man grasped it in both of his own, " The 
 Icy Heart " having fallen to the curbing, and began 
 a slow, meaning pressure. 
 
 "Don't do that!" Sophie whispered in a 
 strangled voice. 
 
 Trenham held it the mare firmly. A peculiar 
 tingling sensation, not unlike that produced by a 
 volt of electricity took possession of Sophie's right 
 arm. It crept to her shoulder and spread upward 
 in a hot scarlet flame, to her throat. In a frenzy 
 she tugged at her fingers repeating, " Please stop, 
 Mr. Karl!" 
 
 " Say first you forgive me."
 
 120 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Never never ! " 
 
 " Then," said he very gravely, as one who had 
 come with reluctance to a certain dark need, " I 
 fear I'll be driven to kiss you." 
 
 At this, the young figure whirled around. 
 
 " Just you try! " she defied him. So swift was 
 the impetuous turn, that her hand was wrenched 
 free. She stooped for the silly red-backed novel, 
 and before Karl could catch her, had started upon 
 the long path to the house, like a fawn that dogs 
 were pursuing. 
 
 Half way up, while still fleeing, she threw a gay 
 laughing glance backward. 
 
 Karl had already gone from the place, leaving 
 the small gate ajar, looking pathetically foolish 
 and empty. 
 
 Sophie stood very still for a moment, then con- 
 tinued her way in a dream.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 CHRIS TRIES TO TELL HIS SECRET 
 
 NEXT morning, it was a transformed and 
 radiant Sophie who went forth in the sun- 
 shine to school. 
 
 In dressing, she had put on her best gown, that 
 was vastly becoming; and when Mary faintly de- 
 murred, her daughter gave as a reason that this 
 was Mildred Gaither's birthday, and, as Letty's 
 boon friend, she Sophie, had been asked to the 
 special dinner. 
 
 " Is it to be a big party, or only home-folks? " 
 the mother now asked. 
 
 " Only me and that Trenham man, I believe," 
 was the answer, in a voice that was consciously 
 airy. Sophie's long talk with Karl had of course 
 not been mentioned. " That's another," she said, 
 as she thrust on her red Tarn o' Shanter, " that 
 Miss Ossie is crazy about and I have an idea 
 Milly is, too." 
 
 Mary started. " Not crazy about young Mr. 
 Trenham?" she queried, in a low, half-frightened 
 tone. 
 
 "And suppose that she is?" Sophie challenged, 
 
 121
 
 122 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 her cheeks flaming scarlet. " Lots of people think 
 that he's awfully handsome." 
 
 " That is not it," Mary said in the same troubled 
 way. " But there can never be anything but friend- 
 ship, a cousinly friendship, between them." 
 
 Sophie stared, then brightened with smiles. " I 
 guess you are right, Mother dear. After all, they 
 really are cousins." 
 
 Later in the same afternoon, Mary built up the 
 dining-room fire, and settled herself for what she 
 supposed at least two further hours of waiting. 
 Almost immediately, a step on the gravel outside 
 caused tke worker to lift her sleek head. 
 
 It was surely a man. Not James Gaither, for the 
 tread was too solid. " It is old Chris ! " Mary 
 smiled, speaking under her breath. 
 
 "Had a party down our way. I left it!" an- 
 nounced the visitor superfluously, when the usual 
 greetings were over. 
 
 " And came right here to me," Mary continued 
 the statement, " because you were afraid I was 
 lonely. Dear old Chris. You are always so 
 thoughtful." 
 
 " Don't you praise me too much, till you hear 
 the facts," Chris rejoined, looking faintly em- 
 barrassed. " It's plumb true that I knew you was 
 lonesome, and it's one reason I came. But there 
 is something " 
 
 " You haven't yet told me a word of the birthday
 
 dinner," Mary put in hastily. " Did dear Mildred 
 enjoy it? " 
 
 " Look here, Miss Mary," the man protested, " I 
 didn't slip off from the rest, and come here, to 
 spend words on parties. I had something to say 
 something special." He paused, moving uneasily. 
 " It's about my own self my private and personal 
 business. I've been aiming to tell it you long." 
 
 Mary, spreading the pink cloth she was em- 
 broidering on her knee, regarded a half-finished 
 bit of her work with absorption. 
 
 " To tell me? Why, how nice," she remarked 
 abstractedly. Yes, that rose was a wee trifle 
 smaller than the rest. She must go around the 
 edges once more. 
 
 " You see, someway s, Miss Mary," the man hob- 
 bled forward, " the telling is your due. But for 
 you and that old Memory Book what you made 
 me begin " 
 
 Mary's thoughts dropped the rose. " That / 
 made you," she smiled looking pleased and as- 
 tonished. " Why, Chris, I have never until now, 
 even heard that you had one." 
 
 " Maybe not," he conceded. " That don't alter 
 the facts. I began it the first evening I met 
 you " 
 
 " Out in Aunt Baring's yard, near the fence," 
 Mary caught up the theme. 
 
 " Yes," said Chris, " I had fell so in love, in a 
 manner, that I had to write it or burst."
 
 124 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Oh," cried Mrs. Hallonquist, the flush on her 
 cheek matching his. " That belongs to the long, 
 long past. How happy we were then how 
 ignorant of sorrows. Now to think we are just 
 two sober middle-aged friends. But at least we 
 are glad of our friendship, are we not? " she threw 
 in with a comforting glance, and an emphasis under 
 the " friend." 
 
 " Ye-e-es," the man replied. " But, the time's 
 come to tell you. It is right I should do it, and the 
 telling is got to be now." 
 
 He had turned partly about in his armchair. 
 His restless deportment, a something determined 
 and vaguely excited that showed in his face, gave 
 Mary her first touch of warning. 
 
 She caught up a needle, and began to measure 
 off in the air a length of embroidery cotton. Chris 
 paused for a moment to watch her. How 
 slender, and pointed and waxen the small fingers 
 were! 
 
 " Yes," he went on more gently, " it ain't often 
 I get such a chance only the two of us drawed up 
 like this, warm and cosy, in front of your fire. 
 Most frequent when I'm here, that daughter of 
 yours is whirling the house around her head like 
 a big watchman's rattle. Well, Miss Mary, you'll 
 sure be astounded, I reckon " 
 
 So far, he had pushed on, when once more em- 
 barrassment gripped him. " I'm a wee bit afraid, 
 now I've worked myself up to the point of reveal-
 
 ing my secret, you'll be cross because I didn't tell 
 you sooner." 
 
 Mary set grave eyes upon him. There was 
 something behind all of this prelude, and mys- 
 terious parrying, intended to convey a deep sense 
 of importance. But what in the world could poor 
 Chris really know or divulge that could bring 
 her a shock of surprise? 
 
 As she gazed, thus revolving her own thoughts, 
 and only vaguely aware of the object on which her 
 regard seemed so fixed, Chris sank slowly down 
 into the depths of his chair. Now he lifted one 
 hand and drove back, like a harrow, through his 
 thick, nondescript hair. The effect was alarming. 
 Chris bristled. 
 
 Mary's sensations were those of a mouse in a 
 trap. "Would you care," she asked quickly, "if 
 I finished threading this needle before you begin? " 
 
 " No," Chris said, though his whole soul pro- 
 tested, and in the queer silence that followed, he 
 began cracking the joints of his fingers. 
 
 Mary jabbed with the thread at her needle, but 
 it passed every time. Perhaps the bright eye was 
 winking. Her friend endured it as long as he 
 could, then wheeled about in the firelight. 
 
 " Ain't that dad-burned young needle threaded 
 yet? " he cried. " Here, you give her to me." 
 
 He held forth steady hands. Those of the woman 
 were each one shaking in a separate ague. 
 
 " Never mind, I don't think I care to keep on
 
 126 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 with the work. Oh, dear Chris dear, dear friend," 
 Mary pleaded. " Are you sure that it is better 
 to speak? " 
 
 Chris's mouth opened. " Of course I'm sure. 
 That is all that brought me. If I don't say it 
 now, it'll stay stuck in my gullet forever. No, it's 
 got to come out. What I'm praying my Maker 
 right now,'' he went on more than half to himself, 
 " is whatever you say or you do, you won't laugh 
 when I tell you." 
 
 Mary could have wept. Poor old Chris poor 
 faithful and hopeless adorer. How could even 
 he think it a secret ! Why, all Dunrobin knew how 
 entirely he loved her. 
 
 " You are perfectly sure," she faltered, " that you 
 must tell me now? Oh, dear Chris, can't you see 
 what you're doing? " 
 
 It was the man's turn to stare. What on earth 
 could be ailing Miss Mary? He had not given her 
 a clue, not a hint of his secret, and here she was 
 white as a ghost, her eyes black with fear. Chris 
 was fully aware of how little he knew about women. 
 
 He shook his big, tousled head. Already he felt 
 himself balked, if not wholly defeated. " Perhaps 
 you air right in them words," he said dully. 
 " Maybe I am a fool to believe you would care, 
 just because I am caring. It's made so much 
 difference to me all the difference between being 
 a lonesome, dumb critter, and a man with a light 
 in his heart. But don't think I'm faulting you,
 
 CHRIS TRIES TO TELL HIS SECRET 127 
 
 Miss Mary. I ought to have known it was nothing 
 you wanted to hear. I'm faulting myself for my 
 being conceited enough to think you ever could 
 want it," he stopped short, with a crestfallen air. 
 
 Mary swallowed a lump in her throat. " Oh 
 Chris my dear faithful comrade and friend,' 1 she 
 said sadly, " can't you see there is no question 
 of ' faulting'? I am honoured and proud when I 
 think of the thing you would tell me. I'd be 
 less than a woman if I did not feel honoured and 
 proud. Yet I say again, Chris as if I were really 
 your own loving sister, don't hurt us both, dear, 
 by declaring it. As a fact," here she smiled, and 
 tried to give a small playful shake of the head 
 at which two shining tears fell on Sophie's pink 
 linen, and spread into wafers of brown, " I already 
 know what you're trying to tell me. I have known 
 it for years." 
 
 " You have known it ! " cried he, in blank won- 
 der. " Why you couldn't, Miss Mary, not hardly. 
 It didn't begin in my life till more than two years 
 a-gone. And it's been done so quiet all through 
 letters No, you couldn't," he stated with com- 
 plete conviction. " It's been kept all in myself. 
 There wasn't no way in which you or nobody else 
 could even suspicion." 
 
 Mrs. Hallonquist's under lids straightened. She 
 repeated these words to herself, and then asked of 
 that stunned person, " Did my ears hear correctly? 
 Am I losing my senses? "
 
 128 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " No, don't go, Chris ! " she pleaded, as she saw 
 the great frame begin to lift itself from the chair. 
 " I am stupid. All along, I've been thinking you 
 meant something else. I see my mistake. Please 
 go on with what you were saying." 
 
 It was Chris who now looked puzzled. " You 
 were thinking I meant something else? " he re- 
 peated. 
 
 Mary waved a vehement gesture. " Never mind, 
 don't try to think what it was, just one of my 
 own silly fancies. Please, dear Chris, please keep 
 on. I do want so to hear it." 
 
 " I'm mistrustful about keeping on," he said 
 gently, though his brows were still frowning. " I 
 have already seen that you wouldn't care much for 
 my secret." 
 
 "But I would and I do!" cried out Mary dis- 
 turbed and trembling. " I want to be told almost 
 more than I ever wanted a thing in my life. 
 Doesn't that convince you? " 
 
 " Ye-e-s," Chris replied, " and it's mighty plumb 
 sweet in you for to keep on insisting, but it seems 
 kinder small pickings now, after all of this beat- 
 ing around the bushes and it's right fair to warn 
 you, Miss Mary, that when you are told it won't 
 mean as much to your mind, as one jar of your 
 famous peach jelly." 
 
 " I'll risk that," Mary bantered, and tried to 
 speak archly. " Now begin, dear old friend," she 
 encouraged.
 
 CHRIS TRIES TO TELL HIS SECRET 129 
 
 Chris sighed. All the savour had gone from his 
 disclosure. 
 
 " As I already hinted," he said rather tonelessly, 
 " it began about two years a-gone." 
 
 " Two whole years ! " his companion repeated, 
 the protest beyond her control. " And you're tell- 
 ing me now, not till now!" 
 
 She bit her lips sharply together, and her small 
 head went high in the air ; while before her, Chris's 
 shaggy poll began sinking, as if on the opposite 
 end of a see-saw. 
 
 " Never mind," she put in quickly, " forgive me 
 this time for the interruption. I won't do it again." 
 
 " It was two year a-gone," said the man, again 
 seating himself at the loom of narration, " at a 
 time when my life didn't seem much worth the 
 living." 
 
 " Oh, Chris ! " Mary bewailed, forgetting her 
 promise of only an instant before, " how can you 
 say such a thing, while remembering our beautiful 
 friendship! It has been so much to me, my 
 strength and my comfort. In fact, Chris," here the 
 voice was reverently lowered, " I have thought it 
 an affection quite sacred" 
 
 " Oh, it's sacred all right," Chris lightly con- 
 ceded, being somewhat on edge with the incessant 
 breaks in his tale, " but it didn't appear in a 
 manner to fill all the nooks and the crannies 
 a fellow is bound to conceal." 
 
 " And and this new thing that's come to you,"
 
 130 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Mary faltered, " does it make your life more worth 
 the living? " 
 
 " You can reckon ! " cried he. " And the funniest 
 part of it all is that it was done just through 
 letters ! " A thump on his proud, swelling chest, 
 evoked a sharp crackle of papers. 
 
 " All through letters! " the dazed woman 
 echoed. " Then this is the reason you've been able 
 to keep the great secret from all of your friends? " 
 
 " To be sure," Chris acceded. " And I totes them 
 around with my going. Every letter is here," he 
 annouaced, as his hand moved up toward his breast 
 pocket. 
 
 He stared now into the fire, his face taking on 
 the shy, sheepish look of a boy caught too late for 
 redress in some fruitful brigandage. The hand over 
 the pocket that rested against his heart, moved 
 softly, and then lay quiescent, as one touches a 
 thing love has brought.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MISS LIZZY LYCOSA 
 
 THE silence that now filled the room seemed 
 to Mary's blurred vision a quivering, palpable 
 mist. Chris's large frame wavered through 
 it, and appeared as a throbbing balloon about to 
 float up from its moorings. 
 
 She caught at the sides of her chair, and pressed 
 hard to its stiff oaken back, until her spine was 
 as moveless and rigid. 
 
 For the first time in all of her sensitive life, she 
 was feeling the lash of self -scorn ; and was tasting 
 the hyssop and myrrh of bruised pride. 
 
 The woman across from Chris Laird, now re- 
 called as one presses a thorn all of the fatuous 
 pity she had given. Here, beside her own hearth, 
 during the half hour just passed, she had been 
 fighting a duel of phrases, in order to keep her 
 visitor at bay. She had been praying in snatches, 
 and striving to find tender, merciful words in 
 which to reject him ! And all of this time her 
 good friend no longer a suppliant lover had 
 been trying to tell her that his heart now belonged 
 to another, to a woman of whom Mary had never 
 heard. 
 
 131
 
 132 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 She longed to cry out to herself, " Oh, you foolish 
 and blind, let the earth rise and cover you ! " but 
 instead, she sat on like a thing carved in wood. 
 
 Through her chaos, the shrewd voice of vanity 
 pleaded, " At least keep it from him. He must 
 never suspect this abasement." 
 
 " I I I'm so taken aback, dear old Chris," 
 she got out at last, " that you won't be surprised 
 if I can't find the words that I need, all at once 
 to express my feelings." 
 
 " Take all the time that you care for, Miss Mary. 
 I'm a slow hand at speaking myself." 
 
 At this pleasant and casual tone, Mary's visual 
 focus cleared. She fixed her eyes upon him, as 
 though she had never really seen this old comrade 
 before. 
 
 He was lounging at ease, one hand still on his 
 letters, the other swung down toward the floor. 
 His profile, which as usual canted forward a little, 
 was gilded by flickering firelight. 
 
 She saw sweetness, strength, honesty, truth 
 the clean soul of the lad from the mountains shin- 
 ing out in the face of the man, like the sun through 
 tall trees. 
 
 Again self-respect nudged her. She could not 
 keep silent forever. She must drive her maimed 
 senses from out of their corner, and beat about 
 for conventional phrases in which to assure the 
 old friend of her joy in his joy. 
 
 Yet why, since he was only a friend, should she
 
 MISS LIZZY LYCOSA 133 
 
 feel that her whole house of life was beginning 
 to crumble? 
 
 " I'm so glad for your sake, I congratulate you 
 most heartily," Mary heard her own high-pitched 
 voice now declaring, " but I am so surprised ! " 
 
 " I don't handily see how you can be surprised," 
 Chris rejoined with a slight smile, " since you 
 don't know it yet, in a manner." 
 
 " Not in actual words," Mary parried, " but of 
 course, from your looks, from those letters! " Here 
 she lifted arch brows, and shook a raised finger, 
 which, indeed, required no further volition in 
 shaking. " So out with it all. And remember, 
 no more naughty secrets." 
 
 " No more secrets," Chris amiably echoed. " But 
 what is the matter, Miss Mary? Why air you 
 shivering so fierce, air you puny? " 
 
 " Why, certainly not! " she cried, with a laugh 
 so queer and unnatural, that Chris swivelled round 
 in his chair. 
 
 " Yes, you air," he insisted. " You're ailing. 
 Let me fetch you some water." 
 
 Mary allowed him to go into the pantry, and was 
 grateful indeed for the cool, bracing draught. 
 
 " Now I'm quite myself again," she assured him, 
 " and I won't wait another half -minute to be told." 
 
 "Prick your ears then," said Chris, " for it's com- 
 ing. It begun with the day I first found my Miss 
 Lizzy Lycosa." 
 
 " Miss Ly-co-sa," shrilled his listener, striving
 
 134 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 hard for composure. " I don't know the name. 
 It can't be Virginian. Where on earth did you 
 happen to find her? " 
 
 " On the edge of your Hallonquist Park, just 
 before Whitlock's men began to cut timber," Chris 
 replied in a commonplace way. 
 
 " What's her birthplace the town she came 
 from?" Mary parried, and at the moment was 
 wondering how long she could keep up the 
 strain. 
 
 "Why, how do I know? I can't very well ask 
 her," said Chris. Then he laughecl. " I persume 
 that I could, but you can reckon the answer she'd 
 give me." 
 
 " What a very queer person," thought Mary. 
 " She's Northern, of course, one of those active 
 and large-booted females, who stride like a man. 
 She had doubtless been scouring Dunrobin for 
 miles about, while here on a visit, and in that way 
 Chris must have met her." 
 
 "And you have grown to care very much? " she 
 questioned him next, in words slightly disjointed 
 and shaken. 
 
 " My Miss Lizzy's a pippin," he answered. " All 
 my luck's come from the minute I saw her. I 
 went home and wrote. But first, I put it all down 
 in my Memory Book like I have told you, then 
 I wrote it out plain on a pad " 
 
 "You wanted to keep those first precious im- 
 pressions of meeting," said Mary, achieving the
 
 MISS LIZZY LYCOSA 135 
 
 hint of a smile. " Just as, so long ago, you 
 wrote about me in the garden? " 
 
 " That same way," nodded Chris. " You see, 
 from the instant I spied her, I knew she was dif- 
 ferent, somehow." 
 
 " Of course," got out his companion, ice gather- 
 ing about her heart. 
 
 "And I studied her cute little ways, and her 
 smartness. You can hear me! She wasn't any 
 too pleased at my spying," chuckled the man, look- 
 ing knowing and sly. " But I couldn't go 'way, 
 in a manner. Not after I saw that pretty white 
 ball banging round from one ankle." 
 
 " What ! " shrieked Mary, but Chris, now intent 
 on his subject, jogged placidly on. 
 
 " In my writing, I aimed first, to describe her 
 exactly, putting down every point as I saw it. 
 I described how her beady eyes glittered, and how 
 she ruffled that heavy black fur on her sides " 
 
 " Chris Laird ! You are demented ! or I am," 
 gasped Mary, for the chandelier over the table had 
 begun to spin round like a top. " Please say all 
 of that over again, and a little more slowly, I 
 don't seem to take in " 
 
 Just then a loud noise was heard on the porch, 
 and a moment later Sophie burst into the room 
 followed by Letty. 
 
 "We we ran!" panted the former, for both 
 girls were entirely out of breath. " Letty's to stay 
 here with me for the night, Mother. We will sleep
 
 136 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 in the trunk-room. A bed's there, and we'll spread 
 our own covers," she declared, in response to a 
 sound of dismay from Mrs. Hallonquist. 
 
 " Hello, Uncle Chris," the excited young voice 
 rattled on. " So it's here where you came to. 
 
 " Come on, Lett," Sophie cried, wheeling out 
 from the firelit circle. " We've got to go hunting 
 for covers, and make up our bed. Mother, where do 
 you keep the old blankets? " 
 
 " I can see I'm not wanted," said Chris with a 
 humorous smile. " Well, good-night, Miss Mary." 
 
 " Must you go right away, Chris? I wanted, " 
 
 his hostess began, then seeing that both girls had 
 paused, and were listening, held "her hand for 
 farewell. " Good-bye, if you must leave us. But 
 please come soon again, very soon. I'll expect 
 you." 
 
 As the visitor left the house, both young crea- 
 tures broke forth into violent giggles. There was 
 no reason for their mirth, except the sheer joy of 
 being together, yet Mary flushed painfully, and 
 as the two girls left the room, she sank down, white 
 and trembling, with scarcely enough of vitality 
 left for a prayer. 
 
 Meanwhile, Chris plodded soberly home. He was 
 glad to be out in the air, and took off his hat to 
 the night's coolness. Now and then, he would run 
 a large hand through his hair. 
 
 " It's a puzzling world," he announced to the 
 cold stars above him, undeterred by the thought
 
 MISS LIZZY LYCOSA 137 
 
 that the same speech had been made to each 
 heavenly twinkler in turn, " and the puzzlin'est 
 critters it breeds, air the ladies." 
 
 Not until his small den was reached, the gas 
 lighted, and his thick Memory Book spread in- 
 vitingly open, did the man make any further at- 
 tempt to unravel the intimate snarls of his medi- 
 tations. 
 
 "Miss Mary was different tonight, [he inscribed], 
 from what I ever have known her. I always had 
 hoped she would be tickled to hear of my writing. 
 It has brought lots of fun to my life. I'm sure I'd 
 be mighty much pleased if a happiness like this had 
 come to Miss Mary. But women are funny when their 
 minds get upset. 
 
 There was more than one time in our talking, when 
 I'd begun to get het up in speech, that I'd have to 
 draw rein because Miss Mary was acting so curious. 
 She would make out to laugh, and the very next 
 minute, she would draw herself up and look scary, 
 as if I was going to smite her. I have never smit 
 anything yet, and I wouldn't begin on Miss Mary. It 
 has got my bead going around like a wheel on a 
 pivot, withouten any way for to make the dad-burned 
 whirligig stop. 
 
 I had took up, [here he paused, extracted a penknife, 
 and erasing the bastard word ' took,' carefully printed 
 in 'taken'], a copy of the first magazine where my 
 writings appeared. My name was all printed big and 
 fine on the outside ' Miss Lizzy Lycosa. A Study. By 
 Christopher Laird.'
 
 138 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 I always thought that title looked splendid, but 
 I never came anywhere near to display it this evening, 
 for just as Miss Mary smoothed down, and began firing 
 questions about Lizzy and the queer looks and ways 
 of this special spider, the tw r o girls rushed in like 
 young catamounts making for cover. 
 
 I moseyed. There warn't no use of trying to stay 
 in those circumstances. For when Sophie is near, Miss 
 Mary, she don't listen to God, or man or beast but 
 only to Sophie. She is being eaten up by that daughter. 
 as is also the case with a new kind of spider I recently 
 found. Yes, that blasted old mother, when her young 
 ones are hatched, crawls up to the sun in my window, 
 and she is sitting there yet, inviting and urging her 
 children to come and help themselves to her portions. 
 I am sure that she likes it, she acts so at peace and 
 contented. There are human mothers like her, and 
 I am afraid that Miss Mary is one such. 
 
 I have made up my mind that the new piece I write 
 for that Editor Man, what makes life a burden with 
 asking, will be a piece with the name of it ' Mothers.' 
 I'll study Miss Mary some more, and my spider. 
 
 Miss Mary is showing her age, but she is still sweet 
 and comely. There is never to be another on earth for 
 old Chris Laird, though I am thankful to say, with 
 this writing, the misery of loving that I once suffered, 
 is passed into dear friendship like a kettle of syrup, 
 with the fuzz and the scum all skimmed off. I wish, 
 now I started, that I had been able to finish telling 
 Miss Mary, for I don't believe I'm ever to try it again, 
 nohow. She acted too funny."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE QUEST OF THE ROSE 
 
 THAT night, after learning Chris's secret, or, 
 rather, after having so tragically missed his 
 true meaning, Mrs. Hallonquist suffered 
 through hours of sleepless and barren conjecture. 
 
 To add to her morbid, fantastic condition of 
 mind, Mary chanced to be one of those timid beings 
 who dread, above all other things, to sleep quite 
 alone. 
 
 She was frightened and cold. From the trunk- 
 room was heard an incessant ripple and murmur 
 of happy young voices, broken now and then by a 
 half smothered outburst of giggles. 
 
 Mary hoped from her soul that the chatter would 
 keep up until daybreak. She shrank from the 
 thought of the night's sinister silence which at 
 any hour now, might descend upon the cottage. 
 She hated the thought of being left alone with 
 those mocking and stinging reflections which 
 wheeled through the room like grey bats. 
 
 Dear old Chris was in love her own Chris her 
 humble adorer. How splendid and massive he had 
 looked sitting there in front of her fire. 
 
 It was strange that, until this last evening, Mary 
 
 139
 
 140 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Hallonquist had never happened to notice how 
 pleasant and firm were his features, nor how the 
 slow humorous smile lit them up, like the growing 
 of a clear dawn on a hilltop. 
 
 To a woman who loved him Miss Lizzy Lycosa, 
 for instance not, of course to a mere sisterly 
 friend Chris might seem really handsome. 
 
 " Oh, I'm glad he's happy at last. Dear Father 
 in heaven, make my old friend very, very happy," 
 she whispered, and then suddenly flung about to 
 stifle queer sounds in her pillow. 
 
 Toward morning, the girls fell asleep. Mary 
 instantly rose, lit the gas and began to read her 
 Bible. 
 
 At breakfast, the young things were cross, a 
 natural result from their innocent orgy of wakeful- 
 ness. Mary bided her time, and then, seeing a 
 reasonable chance to introduce the question, said 
 to Letty, " I hear that Uncle Chris has become 
 quite a writer." 
 
 "Yes," replied Letty, " he's eternally locked up 
 in that old room of his, and when you peep at him 
 through the window, he's always writing. We 
 don't know who to, but he gets lots of letters." 
 
 " And you haven't an idea w r hom he corresponds 
 with?" asked Mary. "How strange! I should 
 think he would tell you." 
 
 " Not old Uncle Kiss," Letty laughed. " He's 
 as sly as a fox when it comes to minding his own 
 business. We've just begged him to tell us. When
 
 THE QUEST OF THE ROSE 141 
 
 a new letter comes, he grabs it like this" Letty 
 demonstrated the act on a muffin, " and he goes 
 around the house all day long so silly and smiling 
 that we nearly die. Milly says," she went on, 
 noting how intently her hostess listened, " that he's 
 got a girl somewhere up North, nothing else, Milly 
 says, could explain it." 
 
 " It sounds possible," Mrs. Hallonquist answered, 
 producing the farce of a smile, and allowing the 
 brown stream of coffee which, at the moment she 
 chanced to be pouring, to dash merrily over the 
 edge of the cup to the table. 
 
 Sophie, perceiving this token of agitation, gave 
 a light, scornful laugh. " Look out, Letty," she 
 warned. " You might hurt Mother's feelings. 
 Everybody in town used to think that Uncle Chris 
 was crazy about her." 
 
 "Sophie! Don't be so vulgar!" cried Mary, a 
 very sharp edge in her usually gentle voice. 
 
 The two friends exchanged glances. 
 
 " It is too absurd, to think of Uncle Kiss bother- 
 ing himself about any kind of a sweetheart," Letty 
 remarked, with an air of dismissing the subject. 
 " All he cares for on earth are those bugs he has 
 up in his room." 
 
 Later, when the two grumbling, protesting young 
 things had started to school, Mary, like a manikin 
 working in a dream, went through the usual process 
 of tidying her chamber. She made her bed, then 
 went into the trunk-room, to throw back the covers
 
 142 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 under which the gigglers had slept. Her whole 
 being was heavy and lethargic, dragged down so 
 she thought for the want of normal rest. 
 
 When Tempey appeared, to demand in her gruf- 
 fest of tones, " What you thinkin' we kin have fer 
 dinner an' supper? '' and her mistress caught sight 
 of the turban of menacing red, Mary made up her 
 mind on the instant to get from the house. 
 
 " I'll just step down to Weldon's," she said to 
 herself, when the domestic contentions were over, 
 " and buy Sophie that striped flannel jacket she's 
 been begging me to get her for an age. Let me 
 see," the mother pondered, a thoughtful look steal- 
 ing into her blue eyes, " now what was the colour 
 she wanted? Was it red or brown? I believe 
 Weldon has them in all of the new shades. No, it 
 is blue, to match her new sailor hat." 
 
 On her way to the gate, Mary espied a pale 
 rose flushed like the dawn, and as fragrant. After 
 a moment's hesitation, she gathered the flower and 
 pinned it close to her throat. " If I should meet 
 old Chris," she was thinking, " I'll not let him go, 
 until I've found out every word about that strange 
 person he's going to marry." 
 
 But alas, though Mary and the rose happened, 
 with fluttering pulses, to pass, more than once, by 
 the door of the office of Page & Youngblood, In- 
 surance and Real Estate Dealers, Dunrobin, no 
 Chris was to be seen. 
 
 Mary's one promise of personal pleasure was a
 
 THE QUEST OF THE ROSE 143 
 
 long and intimate chat with her friend, Sally 
 Finger. 
 
 " Is Miss Ossie Laird as much of a reader as 
 ever? " was the first query that the visitor 
 launched. 
 
 When informed that Miss Laird browsed more 
 in the realm of biography, travel and history, than 
 in the mushroom -starred fields of new fiction, Mary 
 ventured, in a tone still more lightly indifferent, 
 " And her brother my dear old friend Chris does 
 he ever come here to the library? " 
 
 " Yes, right often," Miss Sally replied quickly, 
 and, under the questioner's eyes, seemed to take on 
 a hint of self-consciousness. 
 
 " He is here after the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 
 and the few works we have on biology and natural 
 history. Did you ever see any one improve," she 
 cried out, as if impulse had proved over-strong for 
 discretion, " as Mr. Laird has been doing of late? 
 He reminds me, in looks, of splendid old Darwin, 
 only younger, of course, and much handsomer. 
 Really, Mary," the speaker declared, now coy and 
 indubitably blushing, " when that young man looks 
 around in the big way he has, and begins that 
 attractive, slow smiling why " 
 
 " Well, I must say good-bye," was Mary's brief 
 rejoinder. " Thanks for finding me another nice 
 novel. I must hurry home, I am late now." 
 
 On her return journey, Mrs. Hallonquist's path 
 was not strewn with roses.
 
 144 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Could it possibly be Sally Finger that plain 
 old maid? No " the answer came at once, bring- 
 ing a queer sense of escape from a horror " Chris 
 said it was all done through letters and there's 
 no need of his writing to Miss Sally." 
 
 At the first step on the porch as the day wore on, 
 Mary ran to the door. " I've been down to 
 Weldon's, Sophie dear, and have bought you the 
 jacket you wanted," hurrying to speak, before the 
 daughter could do more than meet her mother's 
 bright look with a scowl. 
 
 The sombre eyes lightened. "Oh, how jolly! 
 I'm ever so much obliged. I wanted to wear it this 
 very evening. I hope you remembered that I told 
 you to get the stripes broivn." 
 
 Through the tense strain of dinner, Mary sat 
 without speaking a word. Tempey puffed in and 
 out, with her red crest of warning, while old Grief, 
 in the yard, could be heard sawing wood. 
 
 As Sophie's last mouthful was finished, she 
 threw down her spoon and announced, " I suppose 
 I might as well take that old thing back, and be 
 through with it. I won't wear blue stripes." 
 
 " Very well, if you are bent upon it," Mary re- 
 sponded in a martyrized voice, " but, I'd advise you 
 to change that crumpled and dirty gingham you 
 have on for a clean one. I see you've been spilling 
 more ink." 
 
 It had been Sophie's intention to change, but her 
 mother's suggestion, and the weary, resigned tone
 
 THE QUEST OF THE ROSE 145 
 
 in which it was spoken, roused in the girl some- 
 thing perverse, almost hostile. She canght at the 
 skirt, held it out for inspection, and then stated, 
 " No, I'm going down just exactly as I am. What 
 do I care who sees me? " 
 
 As Mary made no further comment, her daughter 
 demanded rudely, " Where is that horrible jacket 
 you bought? Have you tied up the bundle again? " 
 
 " If you want it tied up you can do it yourself," 
 Mrs. Hallonquist said quietly, and taking a book, 
 prepared to seat herself near the fire. 
 
 Sophie gasped. Was this really her mother? 
 Or, had she, the indulged and intractable daughter, 
 gone, for once, a little too far? 
 
 The paper in which the parcel had come, having 
 been crushed into a vibrating ball, now lay on the 
 hearth. Swooping down upon it, and without 
 searching for the twine, Sophie wrapped the jacket 
 at random, and flew from the house. 
 
 For a while anger drove her along, but within 
 sight of the Gaither's front gate her swift pace 
 lessened, and at the same moment, she jerked with 
 a vicious impatience at her now sagging bundle. 
 The movement loosened one long sleeve, that fell 
 from its place, and was soon flapping about 
 Sophie's knees, occasionally striking one of her 
 ankles. Her hat had slipped over one eye, and 
 the splashes of ink on her skirt seemed to spread 
 with each flutter of the untidy gingham. 
 
 Rapid strides ensued in an effort to reach the
 
 146 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Weldon store, and the corner of the Gaither's iron 
 fence was reached, when the front door opened 
 wide, and two smart, well-groomed figures emerged, 
 arm in arm. 
 
 The speeder stopped short. It was Karl, and 
 an elaborately dressed Mildred. Her immaculate 
 gloves held aloft an expensive sunshade, white, and 
 veiled with ruffles of blue chiffon. 
 
 Even thus, on the horrified instant, Sophie saw 
 that the young man's companion had never looked 
 more attractive. 
 
 She knew where they were going. The Whit- 
 lock's big Northern-built house had at last been 
 completed. The great oaks and beeches of Hallon- 
 quist Park threw a rich shade down upon the wide 
 porte-cochere, and on the railless verandahs of the 
 stately building. The proud owners were giving 
 the first formal afternoon reception that Dunrobin 
 had ever known. 
 
 " Of course Karl would be going," Sophie bit- 
 terly recognized. " The Whitlocks are rich and 
 influential." 
 
 But why need he bend down like that, peering 
 far under the sunshade, and beam as though it 
 concealed all delight? 
 
 With a fresh start of alarm, the girl knew they 
 were turning her way. How could she face Mildred 
 in so shabby and bedraggled a condition! The 
 one clear and passionate thought Sophie was able 
 to harbour was a means of escape from the two
 
 THE QUEST OF THE ROSE 147 
 
 blithe creatures slowly advancing. She stepped 
 into the street, and was crossing obliquely, when 
 the parasol swung well aside, and Mildred, pink, 
 radiant and smiling, perceived her. 
 
 Sophie literally ducked, in her desperate efforts 
 to avoid detection. She could hear Mildred 
 whisper to Karl, at which he broke forth into fresh 
 merriment. Of course they were laughing at her, 
 at her ink-spot, her hat on one ear, her soiled shoes 
 and the dangling sleeve of the blue-striped jacket. 
 
 The way of the transgressor is hard and it 
 should be. Sophie waited in vain for a word 
 some casual phrase to show that, at least, they pre- 
 tended not to have noted her wretched confusion. 
 But no greetings came. 
 
 " Nasty simpering cat ! " Sophie hissed. " She 
 is making him snub me. He would never do it 
 alone by himself, and she knows it right well. I 
 won't forgive Mildred for this not ever ever 
 not as long as I live ! " 
 
 If Sophie had left her home storming impatience, 
 she returned to it a mute image of woe. The jacket, 
 in spite of its brown stripes was not even unfolded. 
 
 Muttering something by way of an excuse, the 
 unhappy girl crept to the trunk-room, and search- 
 ing about until she found a key to its one door, she 
 locked herself into its shelter, and refused to 
 emerge. 
 
 After this, one day followed another a dreary, 
 cowled procession of time, bearing sinister gifts,
 
 148 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 alike to Mary and her daughter. New mists of 
 reserve were constantly rising, with half-revealed 
 inhibitions, twanging nerves, quick, brusque con- 
 tradictions, and sarcastic arraignments that sprang 
 up like the torch of a match in the dark, to die out 
 again as swiftly. 
 
 The very marked alteration in her mother's looks 
 and bearing, became clearer to Sophie each moment 
 that the two were together. What the girl could 
 not guess for this the older woman concealed as 
 her Spartan fox of personal torment was the fact 
 that her mother, who seemed to young eyes so far 
 past the green purlieu of romance, was devoured 
 by the same sort of passion that was consuming 
 Sophie, and was gnawed by one dull, reiterant ques- 
 tion, " Why does Chris stay away? "
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A WHOLE week had gone by, seven long days, 
 filled for Mary with fruitless and dolorous 
 brooding. 
 
 As for Sophie, her integral tragedy had two re- 
 sults, one to keep her at home, out of possible sight 
 or of encounter with Karl Trenham ; the second, 
 to fling her pell-mell, with all of youth's vivid 
 abandon, into reading every novel she was able 
 to borrow from Letty, or to abstract from her 
 Mother's scanty hoard. 
 
 " St. Elmo's " enthralling pages felt the warmth 
 and the salt of her tears. When " Jane Eyre " 
 was discovered, she could scarcely sleep because 
 of the emotions aroused. She would lie half awake 
 and half dreaming, to live over again in her excited 
 brain, that frantic, extravagant glory of flame, 
 that had set its mark on her young being. Again, 
 the girl felt the frenzy, the wild exultation, the 
 will to be a part of the bright fury, as she strained 
 out of nurse Tempey's arms, demanding in her 
 childish treble, "Tate me back to de fire. It's 
 pritty ! Oh, I want to do back ! " 
 
 149
 
 150 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 It was on the eighth of March, after a night when 
 the wind seemed a sentient thing big with evil that 
 Sophie started off in the storm. She was wrapped 
 in her shaggy brown school-coat, exactly the colour 
 of her eyes, and on her head there was stuck her 
 scarlet Tarn o' Shanter. 
 
 The wind was still high, though the gusts were 
 less frequent, as she turned in at the Rectory wing, 
 where Aunt Baring held her school. 
 
 An aged clock had just given its brief hysterical 
 warning, that in one more thirty-seconds, it would 
 begin to strike a reverberant " nine," when the last 
 pupil hurried along the main aisle to her desk, to 
 find Letty already seated. 
 
 " Oh, $o-phie! " the latter exclaimed if one can 
 exclaim in a whisper, " I've got something too 
 killing to tell you ! " 
 
 The wall timepiece began its loud strokes, and, 
 just as it finished, Mrs. Baring called out, " Young 
 ladies your school-hours have begun." 
 
 " Shucks ! " grumbled Sophie, well under her 
 breath, and flaunted her gingham skirts sidewise to 
 denote her impatience. 
 
 " Mean old thing, she knew I was dying " 
 
 Letty muttered, when the name " Letitia Gaither ! " 
 and a sharp, meaning rap on the desk compelled 
 scowling silence. 
 
 The two young things sat waiting their chance 
 for disclosures, but never had Aunt Baring's eye 
 been quite so relentless.
 
 WHAT LETTY WROTE AT SCHOOL 151 
 
 Seeing all hope of whispering was over, Letty 
 pushed up the half of her desk, and feeling about 
 for a pencil and a scrap of paper, began to write 
 hurriedly. 
 
 " Letitia Gaither ! " the voice came again, and 
 this time with the ring of battle. " Kindly lower 
 your desk and sit upright." 
 
 Sophie bent far over her Latin. The paper was 
 safe in her hand, though until Aunt Baring's sus- 
 picions subsided she would not dare risk exposure 
 by reading the words. 
 
 By being both cautious and sly, she finally 
 managed to get the white scrap to the top of the 
 desk, and then into the pages of her book. She 
 knew that Letty was watching her over the back 
 of a battered Geometry, her eyes a-glitter with 
 laughter. 
 
 Sophie read, " I'll simply explode if I don't 
 manage to tell you. It's about Cousin Karl and 
 old Mildred. He kissed her last night. I'm sure 
 they're in love, and maybe they were getting en- 
 gaged. I am sure Milly's in love for I heard her 
 say " 
 
 Suddenly laying her flat palm on the burning 
 words, Sophie sat staring down at the back of the 
 hand which concealed them. Her first definite 
 thought was, that she had misread Letty's note it 
 was all an impish mistake, no such words had been 
 written. She could hear her companion struggling 
 to hold back her mirth.
 
 152 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 A few weeks earlier, she would surely have joined 
 in Letty's giggles, and thought it an excellent joke. 
 What had wrought so great a difference? 
 
 The schoolroom hummed round her ears like a 
 hive of inconsequent bees, filling cells, not with 
 honey, but kisses. The word caught and clung as 
 a gossamer veil among brambles. From her past 
 hours of gorging on novels, every aspect of kissing, 
 rapturous, despairing, forbidden, renouncing, 
 the kiss long and tender, and, most of all, that 
 queer nightmare, kissing in fiction, where hot lips 
 meet and cling, as if never again to be parted; 
 each and every variety of the embrace, was re-read 
 and re-lived in her over-stressed brain, and each 
 vision enhanced her excitement. 
 
 A last sweep of storm tried the windows. They 
 rattled and strained to the potent, invisible force. 
 Sophie put one hand up to her throat, terrified by 
 the thought that she might swoon. The other she 
 managed to lift well up over her head. 
 
 " What is it now, Sophie? " her teacher inquired 
 rather tartly. 
 
 " May may I come and tell you? I can't speak 
 it loud," said the girl in a tone that made Aunt 
 Baring push up her glasses, and look down at her 
 pupil with something resembling alarm. 
 
 " W T hy, of course. What's the matter? You have 
 grown very pale," she remarked, as Sophie achieved 
 the high rostrum. 
 
 " I'm not well. I must get to the air, Auntie
 
 WHAT LETTY WROTE AT SCHOOL 153 
 
 Baring. I'm afraid if I stay in this room, I am 
 going to faint." 
 
 " I'll excuse you at once, my dear child. What on 
 earth could have caused the attack? The room is 
 well ventilated. If you are feeling so ill, I think 
 I should send one of the other girls with you." 
 
 " Oh, no, no" Sophie pleaded. " I want to be 
 to myself. Please don't make any one go. I'll be 
 all right just the minute I get outside in the wind." 
 
 Mrs. Baring did not seem convinced, but giving 
 her no time for further objections, Sophie ran to 
 her desk. 
 
 At Letty's excited inquiry, beginning, " What on 
 
 earth " The other flared back, " Oh, you hush. 
 
 It's all right. I know what I'm doing ! " 
 
 Letty looked greatly hurt, at which, on the in- 
 stant, Sophie felt deep contrition. A lump rose in 
 her throat. Her terror of fainting was over, but 
 what she feared now, was bursting into sobs before 
 she could get to the street. She dared not speak 
 kindly to her comrade, knowing well that the tem- 
 pest would break so assuring herself that she. 
 would make it all up with her best friend on the 
 morrow, she fled through the door into freedom.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SOPHIE WALKS THE FENCE 
 
 SOPHIE'S brief flight from the schoolroom 
 door was successfully accomplished. Yet upon 
 the outer steps, distended sobs were still in 
 the slender throat. 
 
 A few quick, shuddering breaths escaped, and 
 these, snatched from her lips by an elfish current, 
 changed to torn bits of sound. 
 
 Freedom confronted her wide, longed-for free- 
 dom with limitless horizons and a vast dome of 
 blue. 
 
 The suburbs were soon gained. Here for the 
 most part clustered negro dwellings, each set on 
 mother earth in angles all its own, but beyond 
 these shanties Sophie fared on a path which led 
 though she had taken it unconsciously out over 
 the nearest hill and straight down to the river's 
 edge, and the Gaither shot tower works. 
 
 Once on the slope, the wayfarer swung along 
 rapidly and, in a few moments more, discovered her- 
 self within a sunken road between high banks, the 
 upper, incurving edges, fringed with aerial roots. 
 
 The wind had left the lower plane, but over- 
 head among the pines, and the bare branches of 
 
 154
 
 SOPHIE WALKS THE FENCE 155 
 
 deciduous trees, it roared with a curiously distant 
 sound. 
 
 Sophie threw back her head and stared at the 
 frenzied torment of the lashed boughs. She felt 
 it a part of her own miserable excitement. 
 
 But why? What business, after all, was it of 
 hers if a young man, Karl Trenham, kissed Mildred 
 Gaither? 
 
 " I'm out of my senses ; I must be going crazy. 
 That's what's the matter!" she cried aloud. 
 " What is it to me, and what can I do about it, even 
 if he does love Mildred? Me! I'm nothing but a 
 schoolgirl, with my fool hair all hanging down my 
 back ! " 
 
 She jerked the crimson Tarn o' Shanter quite 
 away, and flung defiantly, in the wind's peering 
 face, those hated masses of bronze curls. 
 
 A few dead leaves from last year scuttled side- 
 wise along the road. " Kiss kiss kiss," each one 
 whispered in its fantastic flight. 
 
 " If only," Sophie lamented, " I had never read 
 those novels! If only he had not walked home 
 with me that day ! I won't think ! I won't picture 
 w T hat it means ! " she added fiercely, and with these 
 impassioned words, fled up the hill, as if demons 
 were pursuing and they were. 
 
 Without another pause, she reached the edge of 
 a little clearing, one of those lonely, odd patches of 
 mountain corn, enclosed in a zigzag fence; but 
 otherwise seeming to bear no relation to humanity.
 
 156 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 She stared across it, thinking that the place 
 looked like a shrivelled scar. The ground was 
 rough with spikes of last autumn's stubble, but the 
 old fence was softened, in its whole length, by the 
 clustered, ghostly similitude of summer's lush, 
 various growths: iron-weed, its summits touched 
 with purple; diaphanous, silvery plumes of golden- 
 rod, sumac, and down among the stems, bracken, 
 and wiry billows of dry grass. 
 
 Sophie moved slowly forward, knee-deep in 
 crackling ferns. " I'm going to walk this fence 
 rail," she declared. " I haven't tried for ages, 
 and here there is nobody to see me if I fall off. 
 I wonder if I can? " 
 
 She sprang up, holding by one of the spraddling, 
 x-shaped uprights which, planted in the earth, 
 crossed at each jointing of the level rails. 
 
 Once mounted, she began to measure the space 
 to the next upright cross-piece with a wary eye. It 
 seemed to be drawing outward, like a rubber 
 band. 
 
 " Here goes, and whatever happens, at least it 
 will keep me from thinking ! " declaimed the valiant 
 tight-rope walker, and took one short wavering 
 step. She balanced carefully, her young arms out- 
 stretched, the graceful lines of her body taut and 
 indrawn with effort. 
 
 So utterly engrossed was the acrobat in her 
 venture, that she failed to see a man who, now 
 emerging from the wood at the far end of the stub-
 
 SOPHIE WALKS THE FENCE 157 
 
 ble-patch, stopped short, drew back, pursed his red 
 lips for a whistle of inaudible delight theit 
 deliberately crouched deep among the bracken. 
 
 Her first lap passed, the rail- walker grew more 
 courageous. Three lengths had been traversed 
 then the fourth finally the fifth. Karl crouched 
 still. lower, though his head was lifted. The girl's 
 ankles were quite perfect. 
 
 She was skimming toward him light as a swal- 
 low. The round cheeks beneath the red cap were 
 vivid. What a glowing, bird-like, exquisitely un- 
 fettered creature she appeared, her wings wide- 
 spread, her face grave yet triumphant all igno- 
 rant of snares and lurking fowlers. What a joke 
 it would be to frighten and then to catch her! 
 How the bronze-brown eyes would blaze ! 
 
 Trenham bided his time to the second. Sophie 
 was just within an inch of closing her hand on the 
 last upright prong, when he sprang out from cover. 
 " Booh ! " he cried sharply, as if to a little child. 
 
 She gave a low scream, toppled, balanced, and 
 then plunged toward the road and into Karl's out- 
 stretched arms. 
 
 For a few heart-beats Sophie lay on the man's 
 breast. He was silent then he began to laugh. 
 
 The girl drew back, sent one incredulous, black 
 look to his merry face, and instantly attempted to 
 escape. He held her close. 
 
 " You let me go, Mr. Trenham ! You let me go 
 this minute ! "
 
 158 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Not on your life," laughed the other. " Why, 
 I've only just now caught you." 
 
 " You mustn't keep me this this way," she 
 protested, her clear voice rising to an angry wail. 
 " You know it's wrong. Undo your arms. I'd 
 
 rather, rather " she cried shrilly, a phrase 
 
 from a recent novel flitting aptly to her brain, 
 " have the coils of a serpent about me." 
 
 " Oh, you would would you ! " mocked the still 
 grinning Karl. " That's a nice little bokay for me ! 
 I'll tell you now, young lady, you've got to talk 
 prettier than this to get away." 
 
 " Oh, oh," raged Sophie, " if I were a man 
 I'd kill you where you stand ! " 
 
 " Oh, oh," derided her companion. " And if you 
 were a man, do you think I'd want to hold you 
 or be getting ready for a kiss as I'm now doing? " 
 
 " If if you do that what you just said," the 
 frenzied prisoner panted, " I'm going to try to 
 kill you, even though I'm only a girl. I've got 
 no father and no brother, so I'll defend myself." 
 
 Karl suddenly released her. " Good Lord ! I 
 thought you knew I meant it all in fun," he said 
 contritely. " Why, you queer kid, you pretty spit- 
 fire you. I honestly believe," he paused to stare 
 into her wrathful face, " you meant that threat in 
 earnest ! " 
 
 She sent him a storm-swept glance, and then 
 began to retreat, step by step, until she felt the old 
 fence at her back.
 
 SOPHIE WALKS THE FENCE 159 
 
 Trenham, on the contrary, standing where he 
 was, drew out a cigarette case, conspicuously new. 
 It had been given him a few weeks before, on his 
 twenty-sixth birthday, by his cousin Mildred and 
 so memorially inscribed. 
 
 Sophie's wide, brilliant eyes watched every ges- 
 ture. With his feet well apart, and his hat on the 
 back of his head, the case was now clicked open. 
 The man carefully selected one white tube, thrust 
 the square gleam of silver to an inner pocket, and 
 began to feel for a match. 
 
 As he found one, the rough wind, which, for a 
 long while had been dormant, hurried excitedly 
 toward him. This meant skill in lighting. 
 
 Sophie, with the same tense gaze, watched his 
 hands, brown but smooth as those of a woman, 
 the round closing of scarlet-red lips where the 
 cigarette was met, and the muscles on satiny cheek 
 and chin as he drew swift breaths to coax the wan 
 flame he shielded. To her lovesick and inexperi- 
 enced eyes the process was singularly masculine, 
 deft and altogether thrilling. 
 
 That short, quick pressure to his heart, her agony 
 of fear mingled with blazing rapture at the threat- 
 ened kiss, her anguish when she realized that he 
 was laughing, all of these emotions had thrown 
 Sophie's secret bare to her own blinded inner 
 vision. She knew now that she loved this man 
 loved one who was, perhaps, Mildred Gaither's 
 lover.
 
 160 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Of course to him she could only be, as yet, a 
 silly child. Nor had she hope that one so desirable 
 as Karl would wait for her growing up. 
 
 Extreme youth plunges swiftly to its full measure 
 of despair. It revels wretchedly in its condition 
 of abandonment to woe. Thus it became with 
 Sophie. After the flash of revelation, showing her 
 bound for life in ties of hapless love to the un- 
 conscious Karl, she accepted almost eagerly an 
 existence foredoomed to lonely disappointment, 
 and the thought brought a dark sort of calm 
 
 When Trenham looked out from the haze of a 
 long, satisfying exhalation of blue smoke, and 
 chaffingly remarked, " How does it come about, 
 young miss, that you are at large on a schoolday? " 
 she was able to give the instantaneous reply, " And 
 how does it chance, old sir, that your nose is not 
 as usual in your office desk? " 
 
 Karl laughed appreciatively. " That's one into 
 me, but so neatly thrust I don't begrudge it. 
 Honestly though, Sophie or shall it be Miss Hal- 
 lonquist? I am curious to know why you are 
 not at school." 
 
 Before the uncomfortable memories this simple 
 question raised, the girl's whole aspect altered. 
 
 " I it was nothing," she faltered, her head 
 hung down. " Only I wasn't well. I nearly 
 fainted, and then Auntie Baring let me come out 
 to the air." 
 
 " That's queer. I wonder a little that your
 
 SOPHIE WALKS THE FENCE 161 
 
 mother sent you to school when you were feeling 
 sick." 
 
 " She didn't ! " Sophie flared, for, notwithstand- 
 ing her own filial shortcomings, she was always 
 swift to defend her absent mother. " I was as well 
 as you are standing there this minute, until I got 
 to Auntie Baring's and Letty wrote something " 
 
 The impetuous flow of words had carried her 
 too far. She stopped on a little gasp. Horror was 
 added to an expression already disconcerted. 
 
 Throwing away his cigarette, the smoker caught 
 at the latent suggestion of intrigue. 
 
 " Letty wrote something something that had 
 the power to make you ill at once? " he asked, or 
 rather mentioned to himself, for his words were 
 deliberate and thoughtful. 
 
 Sophie's skirts lashed the air in a torment. 
 " Don't try to think it ! " she flew out at him. " I 
 won't let you think." 
 
 " How can you help it? " he demanded. Then 
 as there was not, nor could be, any answer, he 
 stepped a little closer and inquired, " Was it about 
 me she wrote? " 
 
 " I'm going ! I won't stay here to be tortured 
 another minute more ! " she cried in sharp de- 
 cisiveness. 
 
 As she rushed past him, Trenham caught a 
 brown-clad arm. He wheeled her about, a trifle 
 roughly, and stared down into the quivering face, 
 as though he had never looked on it before.
 
 162 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Tell me at once what it was Letty wrote you." 
 " Nothing can make me ! " said the shivering 
 
 Sophie. 
 " Am I to tell you, then? " he asked in a gripping 
 
 voice.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 WHIRLPOOLS 
 
 BEFORE that terrifying question, "Shall I 
 tell you, then? " Sophie paled. She made 
 toward speech, but the words would not come. 
 Her whole face was a fluctuant tide of emotion. 
 The sight of her virgin distress made Karl bolder. 
 
 " Well, here goes. The ridiculous thing Letty 
 wrote, and which has upset you, was about * yours 
 truly, Karl Gaither Trenham.' Very much at your 
 service," and he bowed exaggeratedly. 
 
 " You are joking again. Oh, how I wish how 
 I do wish I was dead ! " In speaking she had 
 backed far away, and now hurled herself down at 
 full length into the dry autumn growth by the 
 roadside. 
 
 The man's gaze dwelt on the slight, shaken figure. 
 He noted the immature yet graceful curves of her 
 young body. " Pshaw ! " he said to himself, " she 
 is an innocent baby. But she certainly grips a 
 chap hard. Besides," he thought, frowning, " her 
 people are poor as church-mice, and I came up here 
 to get on. Nothing doing ! " 
 
 The wind, all at once, seemed to wake to his 
 craven reflections. It slapped his cheeks hard, then 
 
 163
 
 164 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 leaned back among the mammoth tree-cushions, a 
 very Falstaff of early March gales. 
 
 Karl held his felt hat in its place, and was about 
 to turn toward the town, when he fancied a cry 
 rose from the bracken. With a shrug of reluctance 
 he strode a few paces nearer. Sophie's red cap had 
 caught on a briar, and now dangled in air, like 
 a signal of warning. 
 
 Trenham kicked it aside and knelt by the mo- 
 tionless form. 
 
 " Look here, Sophie," he said in a tone as devoid 
 of sentiment as that of an auctioneer, "this silly 
 old stuff can't continue forever. You sit up like 
 a nice child, and I'll take you back into Dunrobin." 
 
 A petulant twitch was his answer. 
 
 Trenham sighed. He was thinking, just then, 
 what the damp soil was going to do to the knees of 
 his trousers. 
 
 As she failed to give further, he urged rather 
 wearily, " Oh, come now I've had quite enough. 
 You don't have to keep lying there like a fence- 
 post. Anyhow, your stockings are showing " 
 
 This stung the prone figure to action. She 
 turned and sat up in a single lithe movement, and 
 furiously pushed at her dress skirt to make it 
 conceal her long legs. 
 
 "You're indecent!" she flared. "You're a pig 
 and simply disgusting ! " 
 
 " Fine ! Keep it up ! You pitch into Big Brother 
 Karl just as hard as you've a mind to. He don't
 
 WHIKLPOOLS 165 
 
 care, not a wiggle. His shoulders are broad, and 
 anything that will drag you out of this ditch where 
 you're wallowing." 
 
 With the words he stood up, and ignoring her 
 fierce " I'm not wallowing at all," stretched 
 eager hands " Yupp-tee-doo -one two three; 
 and now on your feet like a lady ! That's all right. 
 Now stand still, and Big Brother will put on your 
 cap." 
 
 The bronze curls were bent in ironic meekness, 
 at which Karl essayed the return of the Tarn into 
 place a process resembling the fitting of a white 
 leathern top to the stopper of a perfume bottle. 
 
 "That's fine as far as it goes," he declared with 
 a beaming and elderly smile. But you got your 
 face dirty while wal er beg your pardon re- 
 clining there on the ground. Stand still a minute 
 till I get the worst off on my hanky." 
 
 He drew forth that spotless white object, and, 
 with lips slightly pursed, in the manner of aged 
 tailors when threading their needles, set to work 
 on his self-imposed task. 
 
 Sophie's left cheek alone had been sullied. There 
 were small discolourations where a twig or torn 
 scrap of a leaf had pressed into the flower-like 
 texture, while, meandering down through the 
 stains, ran small brooklets of still glistening tears. 
 
 Now it chanced that this schoolgirl's left eye was, 
 if anything, just a thought larger and deeper and 
 more brimmed with romance and mischief, than
 
 166 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 had ever been its brown mate, and, also, near the 
 left of the lovely curved lips, was the smallest 
 and roundest of dimples. As Karl soberly plied 
 his new trade, the treacherous dimple kept sinking, 
 then rising again to the surface, like a rose in a 
 hurrying stream. 
 
 " At last ! " the odd nurse-maid exclaimed, step- 
 ping back to appraise the performance. " I be- 
 lieve I've scraped most of the real estate off. Now 
 we'll trot down home to the city." 
 
 " Thank you so much," breathed Sophie with 
 honeyed composure. " It's been ages since any 
 one washed my face for me like that. Perhaps 
 some day," she glinted, " I'll be able to do the same 
 for you." 
 
 " Don't bother," said her companion, with such 
 swiftness that she knew her arrow had struck. 
 Indeed, it had rankled, for after a short, scowling 
 pause he flung out, " You young minx ! The fact 
 is you never should have been turned loose from 
 the nursery. A great girl like you, who can still 
 be a silly cry-baby ! " 
 
 He had her with this, but she refused to give in. 
 
 " So you think that I act like a baby? " she ques- 
 tioned, then deliberately stood and let scorn fill 
 her sails. " Well, I can tell you one thing, Mr. 
 Karl Gaither Trenham, nobody ever can make 
 me cry but you ! " 
 
 " None but me ! I am highly honoured." 
 
 " No, you're not, you are sneering," said Solphie.
 
 WHIRLPOOLS 167 
 
 " All the same it's the truth. Why, you can't even 
 pass me by on the street without a smile and a 
 look that goads me! And today, with those big- 
 brother airs " 
 
 The flurry of anger was sped, and he saw that 
 the red mouth was shaking. 
 
 " Well, we've spent breath enough on this jawing. 
 Let's go home, kid," said Karl, and reached for 
 the brown elbow nearest. For an instant her 
 shoulder had swayed and rested against him. She 
 twitched it a fraction higher along his rough coat 
 sleeve, and cried, " I am nearly as tall as you. 
 Look where my shoulder is reaching? " 
 
 " Oh, I say now," the young man threw down 
 from his superior height. " I could eat my soup 
 flat off of your head. And, besides, you are stand- 
 ing on your tiptoes. Naughty! Naughty! That's 
 no fair, a-cheatin' ! " 
 
 " Maybe I am on my toes," she admitted ; " but 
 you can't say I'm not a whole half-a-head taller 
 than your dear, darling Mildred ! " 
 
 Trenham stared. " Than my dear, darling Mil- 
 dred," he echoed, as one who is doubting his ears. 
 " Look-a-here, what has Mildred to do with these 
 fits you've been throwing? " 
 
 " Nothing nothing ! " she hurriedly disclaimed, 
 then cancelled denial by adding with vicious in- 
 tensity, the four words, " How I hat e her ! " 
 
 " My good Lord ! " Karl murmured, his eyes nar- 
 rowing. " There's more here than appears on the
 
 168 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 surface. Why on earth, you queer child, should 
 you hate my gentle, kind cousin? " 
 
 " You kissed her," said Sophie. " You kissed 
 her ! " The words had shot forth before the girl 
 realized the full force of all they admitted. When 
 she did, as if in hopeless surrender she muttered, 
 " That was what Letty wrote me at school." 
 
 Trenham's lips gave one dry, humorous twist 
 and were instantly steadied. " And what's it to 
 you, may I ask, if I kiss my own cousin? " 
 
 Sophie swallowed a lump in her throat. " But 
 it wasn't because she's your cousin. You're in love 
 with each other Letty said so. She says Mildred 
 is crazy about you," the wretched young voice 
 stumbled on. " Cousin James is your cousin, and 
 a step nearer, but I don't know that you ever 
 kissed him!" 
 
 " Not exactly," Karl laughed. " I'd as soon kiss 
 the back of a Quackenbos Grammar. But you 
 listen to me," he pursued, his bright aquamarine 
 eyes full upon her. "Would you have carried on 
 in this curious way if it had been the Quackenbos 
 Grammar? " 
 
 " Of course not ! How silly ! " she cried, and 
 then stopped on a horrified gasp at this further 
 betrayal. 
 
 The man's gaze fell away. " Steady there, you 
 Karl Trenham," he warned himself mentally. " You 
 can't get tied up to a child." 
 
 Together they paced on in silence. From the
 
 WHIRLPOOLS 
 
 tense figure close by his side there seemed actual 
 power emitted a vibration of quivering life that 
 made even the sweep of the wind like a dream. 
 
 As the troublesome quiet continued, Trenham 
 ventured a partial look round. Sophie's upturned 
 gaze was following white clouds, and, reassured, he 
 began to study her face. 
 
 There was something arresting about her, no get- 
 ting away from that fact. Other girls had a sheen 
 on their hair like the wings of bronze turkeys in 
 sunshine, and the bloom of white grapes on their 
 skin. But where else could he find the wide 
 thoughtful spacing of brows, the revealing expres- 
 sion, the radium glow of intelligence? 
 
 " By George, if the filly were nineteen or twenty, 
 
 instead of the kid she is " Karl thought, then 
 
 fired the query, " How old are you, Sophie? " 
 
 " I'll be seventeen next March," she told him, and 
 added demurely, " My grandmother Baring was 
 married when she was sixteen." 
 
 " This is March," he smiled, " which means that 
 you've just reached the date of your grandmother's 
 marriage." 
 
 " Yes, but I liked the sound of it better that 
 other way," Sophie purled in the humblest of 
 voices. 
 
 "Why?" Trenham demanded on the impulse, 
 then seeing her dimple, backed off. " Never mind, 
 
 I I didn't mean it. You needn't tell me " 
 
 he stammered.
 
 170 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Alas for the self-seeking worldling, and all of 
 his crude inhibitions. As if she had fathomed his 
 thoughts Sophie stood, for an instant, quite still, 
 and then, with a certain slow meaning, raised her 
 dark, freighted eyes to his. In hers the young 
 man saw pleading, intense adoration, and a pink 
 flaming face in which, Narcissus-like, he gazed at 
 his own. 
 
 He tried to fall back, but she held him ; for these 
 were the eyes of a worshipping woman. 
 
 All of the artless abandon was gone. Her hour 
 was upon her. Slowly slowly with eyes wildly 
 staring, Trenham felt himself being drawn down 
 into two splendid whirlpools of love. Many a 
 swimmer much stronger than Karl more worldly 
 and older might well have been lured and en- 
 gulfed. 
 
 He drew in one swift, sobbing breath, like that 
 of an animal trapped, and flung out an arm as 
 though to balance himself at the edge of a just 
 disclosed chasm. 
 
 Sophie caught the blind hand. At her touch, 
 his look leapt into fire. In mute answer she bent 
 the bright head as a slave to her master, but her 
 lips cold, and shaken with passion found and 
 clung to the hand. 
 
 " Sophie ! Sophie! " he groaned. " Don't do that ! 
 r A fellow can't stand it you know. You you 
 mustn't!" 
 
 As by magic the tables were turned.
 
 WHIRLPOOLS 171 
 
 "What mustn't I do Karl?" The question 
 swelled out from the throat of a thrush in the 
 springtime. 
 
 " Th th that! '' the ecstatic, unhappy man 
 stammered, while making the feeblest of efforts to 
 wrench his hand out of her own. 
 
 "You are only a schoolgirl. I oughtn't!" he 
 beat on the door of discretion. " Oh, my Lord ! " 
 he cried out in a voice of beseeching, " what in 
 hell can a poor fellow do when you love him like 
 that!" 
 
 " There's a lot a poor fellow can do," the laugh- 
 ing thrush fluted. " And one thing the best I 
 couldn't well mention." 
 
 Karl threw caution to the winds. He dived head- 
 long in brilliant abandon, and fell in the perfume 
 of roses. 
 
 " Is it this? " he whispered, holding her close. 
 " This? You rapturous darling ! You have gone to 
 my head like strong wine. I am mad frenzied 
 drunken about you. Keep still, my own love. My 
 pretty sweet baby, my wife to be. Karl is going to 
 set this first kiss of your life on those red hungry 
 lips that are waiting, you sweet, unplucked flower 
 you angel " 
 
 Four lips caught and crushed the hysterical 
 phrases, sunk to murmurous sobbing of rapture 
 and then into an exquisite void. 
 
 When that long kiss was over, the girl sagged in 
 his arms. " I I can't breathe," she got out, then,
 
 172 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 as if to his shiver of bliss, " I believe I am dead 
 and in heaven." 
 
 Sophie looked up. The clouds had gone, the 
 wind was driving, and the whole sky was blue as 
 Karl's eyes, when the lovers at last started down 
 the long road to the village.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 " SIS " KICKS UP SAND 
 
 THE effect of the news upon Miss Ossie was 
 the stripping off, in a single passionate ges- 
 ture, of long years of acquired self-command. 
 A new Aunt Ossie appeared one strange and 
 terrible to Mildred a being of wild mountain 
 speech, clad in raw primitive hues of sheer frenzy. 
 
 " The low-lived young skunk. The cheap trifler, 
 and he caught by a hussy like that ! To leave you 
 in the lurch, and make you the laugh of the vil- 
 lage ! " she screamed out, beating thin arms in the 
 air, and clutching her fingers as though grasping 
 the head of the culprit. 
 
 " James Gaither shall even him up for this dev'l- 
 mint ! " she stormed. " We won't stand it nohow 
 Milly-girl. And if James won't him being so 
 peaked and slow-moving I'll goard Christopher 
 Laird into gunning him." 
 
 It was Mildred who told her a white, shaken 
 Mildred who had just a few moments before been 
 whispered the great secret by a giggling Letty. 
 
 " Yes, Sophie and Cousin Karl are engaged," 
 Letty confided. " Mrs. Hallonquist don't want it 
 to get out yet ; she says Sophie's too young, and it 
 
 173
 
 174 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 is all ridiculous. She took on at first something 
 terrible Sophie says and she may send Sophie 
 to school somewhere off from Dunrobin, in hopes 
 she will get over it." 
 
 As this outburst was met by silence, Letty added, 
 " Miss Mary doesn't know Sophie if she thinks that. 
 But isn't it awfully romantic and exciting? " 
 
 In the presence of her young sister, Mildred had 
 been able to restrain all signs of emotion. Her 
 reserve, unlike that of her mountain-bred aunt, was 
 a thing not of veneer but of fibre. But the elder 
 girl, left alone in the hallway downstairs, where 
 she had encountered Letty, put both hands to her 
 eyes for a moment, and leaned rather heavily 
 against the wall. Then feeling her way upward, 
 step by step, her hand on the old polished balus- 
 trade, she crept to the shelter of Auntie. 
 
 There was here no need for repression or con- 
 cealment. Mildred's heart lay as bare to those 
 famished old love-eyes of Ossie as a shallow white 
 rose to the sun. They had whispered, planned, 
 hoped and talked together, and the hero of all of 
 their bright dreams of Mildred's future life had 
 been Karl. 
 
 The dreadful news was simply and quietly told. 
 Ossie could not believe it at first. She stared hard 
 at her niece. 
 
 " It's a lie ! It's a durned lie ! You be fooling 
 me, Mildred," she said fiercely, grasping the girl 
 by an arm.
 
 " SIS " KICKS UP SAND 175 
 
 " Oh, Auntie ! If it only was fooling ! " cried the 
 other in despair, and wrenching herself free, flung 
 a shivering, sobbing young form to her Aunt's wide 
 patchwork quilt on the bed. 
 
 Then Ossie went mad, and began her torrent of 
 invective. 
 
 " Please stop, Aunt Ossie. There's no use saying 
 such terrible things of Karl or of me either," 
 Mildred protested. " I've told you that Karl never 
 addressed me not by words though I did think 
 he cared. Oh, I can't pretend even to my own 
 heart that I didn't believe he was going to. And I 
 wanted it so ! " she sobbed piteously. " But that's 
 all at an end. I see now that it was only the love 
 of a cousin." 
 
 " Cousin ! Hell-fi-ah and brimstone ! " spat 
 Ossie. " That won't do, Milly-girl. I tell you he 
 give you and me every claim to believe he was 
 courting. Where's them sheeps-eyes he throwed 
 you them soft looks and titters? And eternally 
 grabbing your hand underneath the table? Only a 
 two-night a-gone he was trying to kiss you. I seen 
 him ! " 
 
 Mildred writhed in her place. " Oh, Auntie," she 
 moaned, as if those last words were the final and 
 quite unendurable turn to the wheel of her rack, 
 " don't say it ! It's the one thing I can't bear ! I 
 had lost him that kiss as a wager he was only in 
 fun. It really meant nothing." 
 
 " Well, he'll find it's going to mean something."
 
 176 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 said Ossie between her set teeth. "Don't you sob 
 so, poor darling. You just take Auntie's word 
 as how it was plumb right and natural for us to 
 hold him as honest, the low, sneaking sheep-steal- 
 ing dawg! And to think your own father is made 
 him, is took him in as full partner. Where'd the 
 coward skunk be, if it wasn't for his start in the 
 tower works? But we'll stop all that. I'll make it 
 my business to see him kicked out of James's office 
 before sundown. You bide here, and smooth your- 
 self ; Aunt Ossie will see justice done." 
 
 The speaker had dashed for the door, but as 
 she reached it Mildred sprang up in bed. 
 
 " No, no. Don't tell Father! Don't tell Uncle 
 Chris! and not Letty. It's enough for us two to 
 know. I can't be humiliated before the whole 
 family. Oh, Auntie for my sake please please ! 
 And then Father can't spare Karl from the works." 
 
 " We'll see whether or no James can spare him ! " 
 shrilled Ossie, one hand on the knob. " Your 
 Pap's downstairs now and I might as well have 
 this thing over and done with." 
 
 Not only James Gaither but Chris were seated 
 together, each smoking, in front of the library 
 grate. 
 
 As Ossie flew in an arrow sped straight from a 
 twanged bowstring of fury, Chris instinctively 
 threw up his left elbow to ward off the blow ; while 
 James Gaither, who belonged to that type of un- 
 belligerent male which fears more than anything
 
 SIS " KICKS UP SAND 177 
 
 else in the world the lash of a feminine tongue, 
 merely sat very erect in his chair, withdrew his 
 cigar, and held it apart at a tremulous angle. 
 
 " James Gaither, I want you should kick out that 
 scoundrelly Trenhani and do it this evening. 
 Don't wait," she announced herself without 
 preface. 
 
 " But Ossie, what what's the man done? " 
 faltered Gaither, when sufficient breath had re- 
 turned to deliver the sentence. 
 
 " He's played fast and loose with your Mildred. 
 That's what he's done!'' declared the sister-in- 
 law. " He's a jilt and a trickster. He oughter be 
 cowhided to an inch of his no-count young life. 
 If Chris here was half of a man," Ossie paused 
 to shed down the scorn of her small blazing eyes 
 to her unperturbed brother, " he'd seek the low 
 critter out and beat all his bones to a bran-mash ! " 
 
 " My good God ! " James was muttering as if to 
 the fire, " Karl a jilt and a scoundrel, he's played 
 fast and loose ! Ossie, try to speak calmly. I must 
 know " 
 
 Chris, with a gesture carefully hidden from 
 Ossie, bade the father keep still. His own quiet 
 face was now raised to his sister. 
 
 " Sit down, Sis," he urged mildly. " You be 
 shivering worse than a sick dawg. Sit, and tell us 
 about it, calm-like, and not gasping." 
 
 " I cain't sit," wailed Ossie. " If you'd seen 
 what I saw, that poor Mildred of ours lying flat
 
 178 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 OH my bed, and shaking the four posts with crying ! 
 I can't stand it nohow ! " 
 
 As the listeners made no comment, Ossie's anger 
 rose to new heights. " If you two poor-spirited he- 
 critters won't go after Trenham, I'll go myself. 
 I'll claw him with these here ten fingers you see 
 me! I'll scrape all the hide offen his grin- 
 ning pink face and I'll laugh when I'm doing 
 it!" 
 
 " You sit," pursued Chris, as if she had been 
 speaking gently. " Here, I'll give you a hunch just 
 back of your knee-jints to help you onloosen. 
 There, that's better!" he said, as the woman, 
 collapsed by a dexterous blow, was forced to sit 
 down to an armchair. 
 
 She tried to spring up, but Chris laid a large, 
 firm hand at the front of her stays, and no amount 
 of squirming was able to remove it. 
 
 " You see, Sister Ossie," said James, clearing 
 his throat and his voice, " what you've been sug- 
 gesting " 
 
 "Suggesting! Not much I don't reckon!" 
 flashed Ossie, a fresh spurt of vinegar that cut 
 down the emollient low tone. " I said right 
 straight out, and I now repeat it, that viper you've 
 warmed in your bosom what you made a full 
 partner his return for the kindness you've showed 
 him, is breaking your poor daughter's heart." 
 
 Chris shot the father a side glance. 
 
 " Do you mean, Sis," he inquired, "that the
 
 "SIS" KICKS UP SAND 179 
 
 youngster done asked Milly to wed him, and then 
 backed on the trail? " 
 
 Ossie showed her first hint of confusion. 
 
 " He ain't asked her in words," she admitted. 
 " Though he's done it in every other way. Mildred 
 had every right to expect he was going to address 
 her."- 
 
 " Yes," mused Chris, leaning down to the grate 
 for a coal to place on his pipe, "I've noted how 
 you been aiding Milly into expecting it." 
 
 Before a fresh scourge of hot words could be 
 wielded, James Gaither broke in. 
 
 " Well, Ossie, the affair is unfortunate. That 
 much I admit, but it seems to me nothing worse 
 than a misunderstanding. Very naturally it 
 grieves me to know that dear Mildred's unhappy, 
 yet she is young, and has other beaux. She will 
 soon get over it, and as for my personal feelings 
 I can tell you now frankly," he paused, ventur- 
 ing towards his sister-in-law the ghost of a smile, 
 " I am more relieved at the outcome than I can 
 well express." 
 
 To this Chris nodded a solemn approval, and 
 deep in his heart said, " Amen ! " 
 
 "Air both of you out of your senses?" asked 
 Ossie, her basilisk eyes turned now to one, now to 
 the other of the two timid faces. " Can't you neither 
 one see, he's the likeliest man and the best catch in 
 Dunrobin? And she's got him fast enough! The 
 bit's in his jaw. It's what she and that fly-by-
 
 180 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 night daughter is worked for! But that don't help 
 Milly. So you ain't aiming to kick this scamp out 
 of your business Brother James? " 
 
 There was no reply to her query. A tense breath- 
 less silence had fallen upon her listeners, at which 
 the speaker, refreshing herself by a shuddering 
 sigh, continued more plaintively: 
 
 " I wouldn't be minding the whole pizen mess 
 quite so much, if it warn't for the woman that's 
 got him. Oh, she knows her business that white 
 sneaking hypocrite that twists both you men around 
 her finger. 
 
 " I sized her up first thing I come to Dunrobin. 
 I seen through her plain as the nose on my face. 
 No woman don't fool Ossie Laird." 
 
 James sat very straight. " Of whom are you 
 speaking? Not of Mary Hallonquist? I'm certain 
 of this much at least. Mary knows ! " 
 
 Miss Laird flared around. " What would a full- 
 blooded young colt like Karl Trenham be courting 
 a weazened old widow-woman like that? It is 
 Sophie, that chit of a schoolgirl what's hooked 
 him ; but you can lay out for certain it was Sophie's 
 Maw what baited the hook." 
 
 " Now, the Lord bless my soul ! Little Sophie ! " 
 Gaither exclaimed. " It is simply incredible. 
 Why, the girl is only a baby! She's younger, the 
 best part of a year, than my Letty. It seems only 
 a few days ago " 
 
 " I guess you've forgotten, James Gaither," came
 
 " SIS " KICKS UP SAND 181 
 
 Ossie's harsh voice, " that your Letty's exactly the 
 age Leezer was when you come to the mountain and 
 married her." 
 
 " So she is, so she is, though it seems so im- 
 possible," the man answered, and passed a thin 
 tremulous hand slowly over his forehead. " As 
 usual, Ossie, you are right." 
 
 " And I'm right," said the woman in bitter 
 triumph, " when I tell you it's been brought about, 
 slow and careful, and watching each thread in the 
 loom, by that sweet friend of yours, Mary Hallon- 
 quist." 
 
 " No, Ossie, in this thing at least you are mis- 
 taken. I have reason to know it. Indeed, I assure 
 you Mrs. Hallonquist will not permit it. She ad- 
 mires and likes Karl, as all of us do." 
 
 Ossie brushed him aside like a fly. 
 
 " As for the woman allowing, you know for 
 yourself, Brother James, that that there upstarting 
 Sophie don't give no more heed to her Maw's 
 prayers and pleading than I do to Christopher 
 here." 
 
 Chris's shoulders drooped forward, at this lash 
 of his sister's invective, but one eye, clear to James, 
 yet withdrawn from Ossie, gave a slow, solemn 
 wink of delight. 
 
 " You're distraught on that subject, James and 
 my brother's an idjit along with you," Ossie con- 
 tinued. " But I seen through them drooping white 
 eyelids and that little soft voice, what a man's
 
 182 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 got to bend close to hear. As I said before, that 
 widder she knows her business. She's the kind can 
 fool you he-critters, but her own sect sees through 
 her." 
 
 She paused to gain breath. Chris, huddled down 
 in his chair, had been slowl} 7 inflating. 
 
 " Well, I guess I'll be moseyin' on," he timidly 
 ventured. " Ole man Youngblood'll be thinking 
 I've quit him." 
 
 James, with a galvanized gesture, withdrew his 
 big watch. " I'll walk down with you, Chris," he 
 declared. " I too, am long behind." 
 
 Ossie planted her hands on her hips and pro- 
 truded sharp elbows. " Don't you men think 
 you're deceiving me none," she remarked, eyeing 
 each squirming creature in turn. " I know what 
 you're getting away from and it ain't no concern 
 for your offices. You air running away on account 
 of that pious female you is both crazy over " 
 
 But the last words came flat against the inner 
 side of a quickly closed door. 
 
 By the time the two chastened culprits had 
 passed the length of the residence district, Chris 
 saw moving toward them, in the exact centre of the 
 wide red-clay thoroughfare, a big mountain wagon. 
 
 The schooner's cover, once the delicate cream of 
 home-spun white cotton, was spattered and 
 streaked yellow-pink by the mountain road mud. 
 The driver, a long, lean, bronzed man with a small 
 dark moustache, a man quite strikingly comely,
 
 " SIS " KICKS UP SAND 183 
 
 sat doubled up n the front seat in the pose of 
 a big letter " N." 
 
 The reins hung loose in his hands, while he 
 stared out to the haunches of two well-fed mules. 
 In the headgear of each animal were stuck a couple 
 of vivid plumes of red sumac. 
 
 "Appears to me I must know him," said Chris 
 to himself. " He sure favours some fellow I used 
 to know on the mountain and yet I cain't be 
 plumb certain." 
 
 " Makes you feel rather homesick, I reckon," 
 remarked James, smiling to note Chris's eager eyes. 
 He had grown through the years to love this shy 
 brother of Leezer's very dearly. " But look there, 
 Chris," whispered James, " I believe the driver 
 knows you. He is looking. By George, he has 
 recognized you! Yes " 
 
 But the last part of the sentence was never said, 
 for a loud " Whoa, ye beasties ! " and a reverber- 
 ant cry, " God-a'mighty ! Hang me up by my 
 withers, if it ain't old Chris Laird ! " went through 
 Chris like a succession of voltages. 
 
 " 'Lonzo Thigpen ! " he screamed, and made one 
 rush for the wagon. " My good God ! you 
 young hell-cat, you hound-dawg, you long-legged 
 spider! " he cried in such abandonment of rapture, 
 that James Gaither stared hard, not more than half 
 believing his own eyes or ears. 
 
 " Brother Jim, it's 'Lonzo," beamed Chris, drag- 
 ging the slender young giant toward Mr. Gaither.
 
 184 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " I ain't seen him for so many years, and he's 
 sprung up so high, no wonder I'd never have known 
 him. Mr. Gaither, my brother-in-law, you know, 
 Leezer's husband this is Mr. 'Lonzo Thigpen of 
 the far side of old Painter's Bald," Chris panted, 
 snatching out for the manners that Ossie had tried 
 so hard to instil. 
 
 James grasped the lean mountain hand very 
 cordially, and murmured conventional greetings. 
 
 This was not quite enough for Chris's idea of 
 welcome. 
 
 " An' an' 'Lonzo must come by our house for 
 a spell fo' he starts up to the mountings now, 
 mustn't he? " 
 
 Gaither gave one swift glance to huge mud- 
 plastered feet, and lifted his eyes along homespun 
 jeans trousers that rippled and sunk like a sand- 
 bank with red clay in the hollows. Then he met 
 the man's steady regard, and the faint tremor of 
 snobbishness, mixed with fear of what Ossie might 
 say, left James utterly. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Mr. Thigpen," he seconded. " It 
 would not do for you to leave town without stop- 
 ping by to see us. You must try to persuade your 
 friend to remain over to tea," he said, turning 
 directly to the tremulous Chris. 
 
 'Lonzo's grave face relaxed. " It be kind of 
 you to ask," he began, when Chris, actually throw- 
 ing both arms around his waist, cried aloud, 
 "Mighty kind! Hell! he wants you, don't you
 
 ." SIS " KICKS UP SAND 185 
 
 see for yourself, 'Lonzo? He wants you, as for me, 
 I cain't stand your going away on a sudden nohow. 
 I've got a small room of my own, don't even Ossie 
 go in it. I've got things to show you, a micro- 
 scope," he whispered impressively, " and a whole 
 lot of critters don't grow on the mountings. And 
 there be five thousand questions I'm wantin' to 
 ask ye. You come along now with me, or I'm apt 
 to shoot you right in the pants."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A KNIGHT OP THE TIMBERS 
 
 1^ HE big schooner was hitched directly in front 
 of the staid Gaither home, 'Lonzo going 
 about the performance with the grave care 
 and precision he might have been using on Stone 
 Top. Just as he was turning himself into an 
 angleworm across the rim of one of the huge mud- 
 caked wheels in order to lift out the fodder for his 
 mules, Chris, less graceful and pliant, struggled 
 up to another wheel, grating off much crimson soil 
 in the process, and plunged eager hands to the 
 load. 
 
 The sweet, acrid scent of the shucks as he tossed 
 them went to his brain. He sniffed it with ecstasy. 
 
 " Smells like old miller Gosnel's on a hot grind- 
 ing day at his gris'-mill," he murmured with eye- 
 lids half closed. 
 
 Still feeling about for what he might find, his 
 thick, sensitively-tipped fingers encountered a 
 glazed surface. 
 
 " Moonshine! " said Chris under his breath, and 
 then drew his head from the wagon, to search 
 out 'Lonzo's face for a wink. 'A look at once sly, 
 
 188
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE TIMBERS 187 
 
 boyish, and old in iniquity, made gay dancing imps 
 of Chris's eyes. 
 
 " No, that ain't no honey -jug, Chris. It ain't 
 lifted from no water-grass by a crick-side," the 
 other remarked placidly. " We air stopped all 
 that totin' for ages." 
 
 " You don't say it, now ! Then what you got 
 here? " Chris demanded, as a new concealed object 
 rewarded his fumblings. "It feels like a big paste- 
 board box, kinder poky and springy." 
 
 " It air that," conceded Alonzo. " Haul it out. 
 It's a passel of all manner of doodingles I bought 
 in the town." 
 
 Chris began to pull vigorously. His tongue, 
 thrust far out, acquired a rich layer of hay dust. 
 With a last angry rustle of shucks, the huge pack- 
 age was free. 
 
 'Lonzo cast down toward it the languid proud 
 look of possession. " If we's ready to step indoors 
 now," he remarked, " we might as well take it in 
 with us." ' 
 
 Chris was staggering under his load, an enor- 
 mous green box of glazed pasteboard, with a label 
 on top, which declared it had come from Dunrobin's 
 " Emporium." 
 
 All of the pangs of aroused curiosity, supposed 
 to inhere in the breast of the middle-aged female, 
 now clawed at Chris's masculine vitals. He finally 
 asked pleadingly, " How come you been buying out 
 all the whole store of James Weldon & Co.? "
 
 188 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 'Lonzo turned around and smiled. It seemed in 
 Chris's eyes like a shaft of clear light on a moun- 
 tain. " Don't you reckon," the visitor drawled, 
 deliberately teasing the other, " that Weldon is 
 got pritty things for he-critters? " 
 
 " And you sw'ar you ain't fitting yourself for a 
 bridegroom? " 
 
 " I'll swear," replied the cryptic Alonzo. 
 
 Chris gave it up. By this time the two had come 
 to the steps leading up to the main doorway. 
 
 " Take the side-trail," Chris cautioned ; " Ossie 
 don't let me to go into the front, without I stops 
 on the brick walk, and scrapes the mud off my 
 shoes. I got steps at the back, that runs straight 
 to my own little hogpen. I goes that way. It's 
 safer." 
 
 Alonzo deflected with a haste that bespoke vivid 
 memories of Miss Ossie. He never once offered to 
 take the great load from his friend, but strode 
 on before as if Chris was a pack-mule and he its 
 free master. 
 
 Chris slid the big box to the planks of the 
 verandah, where it lay for hours utterly forgotten, 
 and producing a small bunch of keys proceeded 
 to open his door. 
 
 " I keeps it locked," the host explained. " It's 
 to keep out them blasted house-cleaners." 
 
 The men stepped within, Alonzo in the lead. 
 
 " I see you still cares for bug-critters," remarked 
 the visitor politely, as his broad hat remained in
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE TIMBERS 189 
 
 the air, being caught up and held by a specially 
 thick and tenacious cobweb. 
 
 Chris flushed with annoyance. He felt as a 
 mother whose favourite child had been naughty 
 before strangers. 
 
 " I'd plumb forgotten that tough net of ole Epeira 
 Diadema," he apologized. " I trained it up so that 
 it just misses my head, but I should have known 
 yours would go higher." 
 
 Still murmuring penitent phrases, Chris caught 
 down the hat, and with a crooked elbow began to 
 wipe away the grey skeins. 
 
 " That bait-gourd there in the corner," observed 
 'Lonzo, in a kindly effort to withdraw the bereaved 
 Chris's attention. " It looks powerfully like old 
 fishing days. I didn't realize you had fishing 
 here." 
 
 " We doesn't. Don't touch it ! " Chris cried as 
 if in anguish, and dropping the hat he plunged 
 across the room toward Alonzo. " It ain't got 
 fish-bait in it. It's chuck full of mud, where I'm 
 trying to hatch out a new brand of caterpillar." 
 
 " Kin to that on your bed? " inquired Alonzo. 
 His tone was still courteous, but his words had 
 an edge. 
 
 The distracted householder, replacing the gourd 
 in its niche, hurried back to where a venomous- 
 looking reptile, the length of one's finger, and 
 covered with bristling red hair, was making a 
 leisurely progress across the counterpane.
 
 190 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Chris bent over, extending a thumb and fore- 
 finger, then he paused, shook his head, and open- 
 ing a top drawer, took out a pair of slim 
 forceps. 
 
 " This here kind," he told Alonzo, whose good- 
 natured smile had returned, " has a fuzz like the 
 stinging of nettles." While talking, Chris had 
 lifted the creature in his forceps, and standing on 
 tiptoes, disposed him on the twigs of a bare branch 
 that was tacked over the head of his bed, and 
 from w T hich were suspended three shrivelled co- 
 coons, like big may-pops. 
 
 " Well now, we be shot of the whole lot," said 
 Chris in a tone of relief. " You go perch on that 
 rocking-chair by the window." 
 
 " No! don't sit! " he shrieked wildly, as 'Lonzo's 
 long legs bent at the knees. " Lemme grab up them 
 papers and books, there is microscope slides stuck 
 amongst them, and they'll bust if you sit." 
 
 W T hen the surface was cleared, Alonzo cautiously 
 seated himself. The day was not warm, but the 
 guest now withdrew from his pocket a huge hand- 
 kerchief of navy-blue cotton, thickly sprinkled with 
 stars, and began to wipe off a moist forehead. 
 
 " I'll camp on this side of the bed," beamed Chris. 
 " Now, old wild-cat, I want to hear every Gawd's 
 bit of news from His country. How's your Paw 
 and your Maw? " 
 
 Scarcely waiting to hear that the latter was 
 "dade," and the former was quite spry, Chris
 
 191 
 
 drove on. " And old Esau, our horse? I suppose 
 it ain't in nature the old beast is ambling yet? " 
 
 'Lonzo shook his head, as he answered with all 
 the solemnity due to bereavement. 
 
 " No, Chris we have skunt and tanned poor old 
 Esau a matter of five years ago. He made power- 
 ful good leather, bein' so tough and stringy. We 
 buried his bones and his chit'lings just from kind 
 feeling todes you and Miss Ossie," Alonzo added 
 consolingly. 
 
 " That was sure good of you," said Chris, and 
 for some moments afterward sat huddled together 
 in a silence that grieved for the dear equine de- 
 parted. 
 
 " And your next brother, Tim. Air he mar- 
 ried? " inquired Chris, as though Tim were akin 
 to the corpse. 
 
 " Yes, he's hooked," said Alonzo succinctly. 
 
 " That long-legged Amy of old miller Gosnel, 
 she ketched him. She's a good gal enough," 
 'Lonzo hastened to add. " And I'm in nowise 
 faultin' her. She've a fine head of young'uns 
 a'ready. It's only that she's like the runnin' of all 
 of them young mounting fillies, they's pretty an' 
 happy, with white teeth to show when they's laffln', 
 for about thirty year an' then all to onct they 
 begin bendin' over an' shrivellin'. Their ha'r an' 
 their teeth all falls out, an' they ties up their heads 
 fer neuralgy. It was so with yo' mother an' with 
 mine."
 
 192 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Chris nodded a dejected affirmative. 
 
 " If ever it be that I should wed," declared the 
 visitor, " I aim to pick out that sort of a gal what 
 will grow to a pretty old lady." 
 
 x " Then, ye'll have to pick here," remarked Chris, 
 in a tone of decision, his mind being full of Miss 
 Mary. " Them lasting kinds don't grow on the 
 mountings." 
 
 For an hour or more the swift questions and 
 answers were tossed to and fro, and it was the 
 savoury odours of ham being fried in the kitchen 
 that brought Chris back to his duty as host. 
 
 " Sakes alive, man! " he exclaimed, jumping up. 
 " That supper-bell it'll ring before we knows it. 
 We got to spruce-up and be thinking of joining 
 the ladies." 
 
 Alonzo unfolded his joints, and slowly attained 
 his great height. His large feet stamped vigorously 
 on the floor, at which square cakes of mud, 
 like red icing, fell away and remained, hard as 
 chips. 
 
 " You might wash down them pants with a hair- 
 brush," Chris delicately suggested. " And that 
 poker can beat off the rest of the mud from your 
 brogans. You can do it right here in my room, if 
 you minds to. Baby Doll'll come in and shovel me 
 out Saturday morning." 
 
 'Lonzo followed Chris's eyes, down the undulant 
 trouser legs to his boots. A mysterious smile 
 dawned on his lips. There was something about his
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE TIMBERS 193 
 
 whole attitude so concessive that Chris ventured 
 further. 
 
 " We got a big bath tub two doors off from this 
 room," the host imparted to his guest. "There's 
 hot water and cold. It's fine. Ossie makes me 
 wash me all over every day. If you have any no- 
 tion to try it " he paused for more breath. 
 
 The glance sent upwards to 'Lonzo's bronzed face 
 was a trifle apprehensive. 
 
 " Blaze the trail ! " cried this knight of the 
 timbers. " I'm to come to it soon, and this here's 
 a bully good time for to take my first lesson." 
 
 " What you trying to say, 'Lonzo Thigpen? " the 
 other demanded, his eyes crinkling small with 
 perplexity. " What you mean about coming to 
 it soon? " 
 
 " Drag in old James W T eldon & Co., an' I'll tell 
 ye," said 'Lonzo, beginning to giggle like a young 
 girl. 
 
 Chris dashed from the door, and came back pull- 
 ing the box by a string. 
 
 " Dump 'er down on yo' baid," ordered the tall 
 mountaineer. " Ye didn't suppose, did ye," he in- 
 quired a little resentfully, " that I'd took that invite 
 from Mr. Gaither if I thought I was goin' to set 
 in to his table in clothes lookin' like a muddy old 
 razor-back up from a hog-waller? 
 
 " No, they's clothes in that box," 'Lonzo con- 
 tinued. " A new suit from the shelves in old 
 Weldon's an' underwear, shirts, socks, new shoes,
 
 194 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 an' fine long kervats, to hang down my shirt-front. 
 More'n a hunderd the hull outfit cost me." 
 
 The two, eager now as young debutantes whose 
 ball frocks have just been sent home, tore away 
 many strings and flung the green box top far under 
 the bed. 
 
 " Jimmanetiky jump-ups ! " sighed Chris, as he 
 seized on a pair of pale yellow socks, striped mer- 
 rily round with green circles. " But ain't them 
 winners! Now that's what I call somethin' like. 
 Ossie won't let me wear nothing gayer than these 
 pesky black ones, what turns brown in the wash." 
 
 He stuck forth at an angle one disconsolate 
 shank. 'Lonzo nodded his sympathy, and then his 
 proud eye returned to his own superior possessions. 
 
 " Lord, man ! don't stop here any longer, but get 
 in that wash tub and lather," pleaded Chris, to 
 whom all of this excitement had brought abnormal 
 energy. " I've half of a mind to go along too, and 
 scour you to get through quicker. I can't wait 
 to see how you'll look in them plaid pants."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 LEEZER'S DAUGHTER 
 
 WHILE 'Lonzo was gone, Chris went 
 through each new-smelling garment. He 
 fingered them lovingly, smiling on each, 
 just as in her own home " Miss Mary " would pat 
 and caress the pretty things bought for her Sophie. 
 
 Alonzo returned, looking a little ridiculous in 
 Chris's flannel night-shirt that was pressed into 
 use as a bath-robe, for his red-brown legs showed 
 to the knees. His hair, yet black in its wetness, 
 stuck out in long wedges over his ears and the 
 back of his neck. His host gazed on the bristling 
 points, and longed to cut them. 
 
 " Yes, you're plumb clean and pretty," Chris ex- 
 claimed in a gratified voice. " Let me get one look 
 back of your ears. They're all right clean as if 
 Ossie herself had been at you. And how 'bout 
 them finger-nails? We down in the low-country 
 is powerful perticular about such." 
 
 The docile Alonzo extended two long, virile 
 hands the colour of copper. 
 
 " Erh-7ii//i.' " grieved Chris, shaking his head. 
 " If grass-seeds blew under them nails, you'd be 
 needing a scythe-blade to mow them. Here, sit by 
 
 195
 
 196 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the window I can get at you better than standing. 
 We got to scoop every one out, same as the holler 
 of a tooth when it's aching." 
 
 " Is you kept yo's scooped all these years? " de- 
 manded the victim, as Chris, kneeling down to the 
 floor, and armed with a toothpick and a pair of 
 hedge-clippers, began excavations. 
 
 "I don't have to," said Chris, grinning broadly. 
 " I bites them off." 
 
 'Lonzo winced, not so much at the statement but 
 because at the instant the point of the shears 
 reached the quick of his thumb. 
 
 " What they taste like, the whilst ye be chaw- 
 in'?" he inquired rather faintly, "I ain't never 
 tried yet, an' I 'low I won't take to the flavour 
 but sence I'm p'inted to live in yo' city " 
 
 " There ! You've said it again ! " exclaimed 
 Chris, and his shears clattered to the floor. " Have 
 it out, man don't keep up these onderhand hint- 
 ings." 
 
 "Ain't no onderhand hintin's," protested the 
 badgered Alonzo. " It's a fact I bin try in' to state 
 for how long a fact as plain as the nose on yo' 
 face. An' it would be hard to find anything 
 plainer," he added unkindly, " for it looks like 
 an old devil's snuff-box, before it's ready to bust." 
 
 Chris drew back. He coloured as though 'Lonzo 
 had struck him. 
 
 " How-come you feel called to spend words on 
 my nose? " he asked in a high, injured voice. " It's
 
 LEEZER'S DAUGHTER 197 
 
 doing no harm to nobody. I merely was interested 
 we being friends in hoping you might be com- 
 ing here to the valley, and you goes making fun 
 of my nose." As he spoke a thick, tremulous hand 
 was caressing the affronted member. 
 
 'Lonzo's facile, thin face grew remorseful. 
 
 " It was only my pizenous temper, old-hop-toad," 
 he placated. " This here thumb is hurtin' yet. 
 I'm a sheep-stealin' dawg for to sass ye. Your 
 nose is a whole passel better'n this hawk-beak o' 
 mine." He flipped at the beak with his free hand, 
 to show his disdain. " An' the hull mounting 
 knows," he went on, determined to sooth the last 
 touch of resentment, " that yo's is the keenest far- 
 smeller on Painter's Bald." 
 
 This tribute brought back the smiles to Chris's 
 clouded visage. 
 
 " Tell me quick, then all my bones is a-watering 
 to hear about them plans for you to move down 
 here to the valley." 
 
 " Well, it seems that big furniture fact'ry of 
 yours acrost the river is callin' in all the big hick'- 
 ries an' walnuts an' hazels they kin git, and we's 
 had so much trouble with agints dirty rats, I calls 
 'em," went on 'Lonzo vindictively, " that the only 
 way we could see to pertect our own intrusts, was 
 to open an office ourselves an' put a good man here 
 to run it." 
 
 " And you be that man," affirmed Chris, in bliss- 
 ful conviction.
 
 198 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Yes, I be. An' this here's my las' trip up the 
 mountings for long. The nex' time I travel, it'll 
 be in another man's waggin, an' another man hold- 
 in' the reins. It sure will feel funny." 
 
 'Lonzo reached for a shirt. " Seems like this 
 here bright pink one with pritty blue stripes would 
 be cheerful," he suggested, holding forth a large 
 garment in mid-air. " An' the kervat to go with it 
 let's see yesj this here hit's the bead! It's 
 flowin' an' long an' I allays was partial to blue 
 things." 
 
 Chris wrinkled his eyes like a connoisseur. To 
 his vision, trained in the shimmering hues of beetle 
 wings and the cream-coloured eggs of his spiders, 
 the necktie appeared to be a violent pokeberry 
 magenta. 
 
 " Yes they'll do well enough," he assented 
 doubtfully. " Can you put them on all by your- 
 self? " 
 
 Having demonstrated this ability, Alonzo leaned 
 forward to peer into Chris's greenish mirror. 
 " Now 'bout partin' my hair how's yo's done? " 
 asked the tall mountaineer looking around over 
 one shoulder toward Chris. 
 
 " Lord, don't look at mine ! " cried the embar- 
 rassed model, " it grows like a scant patch of rye 
 on the mountains. There's partings in it every 
 which way you turns. But Brother James draws 
 a straight path through the bushes, over his left 
 ear like this " he caught up a comb, jerked
 
 LEEZER'S DAUGHTER 199 
 
 'Lonzo down by a shoulder, and ploughed a long 
 row in his scalp. 
 
 " Ouch ! " protested Alonzo. " He don't hev to 
 dig up the skin with it, do he? " 
 
 " You wait," ordered Chris. " What's the matter 
 with us, is that I've forgotten to light. You do it 
 like this," he explained condescendingly, drawing a 
 match along 'Lonzo's new shirt bosom, and pro- 
 ceeding to turn up the gas. "You don't blow it out 
 when it's lighted. You turn it with your finger 
 and thumb, like this." 
 
 The wavering blue fan of a flame, that had for 
 an instant thrown brown colour and depth into 
 'Lonzo's dark wondering eyes, popped back into 
 its tube. 
 
 " Dad-burn it ! The whole thing is gone," Chris 
 said petulantly, " and all my matches are spilt. 
 That's right, scratch a new one," he encouraged, as 
 'Lonzo stooping swiftly, was heard to scrape his 
 clean finger-nails over the floor in search for the 
 matches. 
 
 " Scratch her anywhere," said Chris generously, 
 " so's you don't go too far into the corner. I've 
 a special fine web hanging there. Now we've got 
 her. You see how the turning is done? " he 
 triumphed, as a long tongue of gas went shrieking 
 up toward the ceiling. 
 
 " Yes yes ! ! " cried Alonzo. " Don't show me 
 again. I got two splinters now in my fingers. I
 
 200 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 won't blow her out. I don't like the stink of her 
 nohow." 
 
 Leaving Alonzo to add a few lingering touches 
 to his masculine beauty, Chris slipped from the 
 room, and, with heart growing heavier each 
 moment, and feet like two large squares of ice, 
 went in search of Miss Ossie. James had not come 
 yet, and the housekeeper had to be told of her 
 imminent guest at the table. 
 
 Chris knocked on his sister's closed door. It was 
 not the bold rap of a cave-man. He paused, fist 
 suspended, but no summons came. He was trying 
 to get the courage for a second attempt when, in 
 the dimly lit hall, from across the way, Mildred 
 opened a door, and tiptoed in his direction. Her 
 finger was raised to warn him against further 
 noise. 
 
 Even in this flickering light, Chris's eyes were 
 quick to take in the girl's altered appearance. 
 
 Mildred had been weeping long, yet the marks 
 of her grief served but to deepen the blueness of 
 her large gentle eyes, and to lend a new sweetness 
 and dignity to her usually smiling face. The 
 gown which she wore, a simple dark blue, with 
 white cuffs and collar, brought out all of the gold 
 in her hair, and the delicate tints of her skin. 
 
 Never had Mildred looked quite so much like 
 her mother, and seeing it, Chris's heart grew 
 tender. 
 
 " Is Ossie sick, Milly? " he whispered.
 
 LEEZER'S DAUGHTER 201 
 
 His niece nodded. " Poor, poor Auntie/' she 
 murmured. " She is suffering so much with her 
 head that she can't lift it from the pillow." 
 
 To the girl's utter amazement her uncle pro- 
 ceeded to catch her around her slim waist, and 
 try to dance down the long hall. From his lips 
 came in snatches of muffled thanksgiving such ex- 
 pressions as, " Of all the luck ! The Lord's sure 
 with me an' 'Lonzo, an' I wisht I could shout it out 
 loud." 
 
 " Uncle Chris/' Mildred exclaimed, drawing 
 away when they had gained the back door, that 
 led to the upper verandah, " are you crazy to be 
 dancing like this? Are you glad poor Aunt Ossie 
 is suffering? " 
 
 " No, child, no," said Chris hastily. " You can't 
 understand yet. We've some company for supper, 
 your Paw asked him. It was none of my doin' 
 though God knows I wanted it bad." 
 
 " Company for supper? " repeated Mildred, 
 plainly showing her chagrin. 
 
 " Only 'Lonzo Thigpen," placated Chris. " He's 
 from the mountains. My best friend 'Lonzo. 
 Your Paw will be kind to him, but I warn't sure of 
 Ossie. Being upset as she is, she might fling a cup 
 or saucer at 'Lonzo. She clove down the calf of 
 his leg once she did and 'Lonzo's been scared 
 of her ever since. 
 
 " But you'll be nice to him, Milly now won't 
 you? " Chris pleaded. " You won't laugh at his
 
 202 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 talk and you'll turn your eyes sidewise, if he 
 licks off the spout of the molasses pitcher now 
 promise." 
 
 " I promise," said Mildred, half laughing, half 
 crying. It was not to her taste much more than 
 to Ossie's to have an intruder at the close of that 
 tragic day. But, after all, what else mattered? 
 
 " I hear Father now," she exclaimed, as the front 
 door downstairs opened and closed. " And perhaps 
 I'd better warn Letty." 
 
 " Yes, do," whispered her uncle, " though I tell 
 you, if that sassy young filly dares make fun of 
 'Lonzo before me, she'll rue it." 
 
 " Oh, she'll be all right, and me too, Uncle Chris. 
 You needn't worry." 
 
 " And I can bring 'Lonzo down soon's he's 
 ready? " 
 
 *' At once. Baby Doll has the tea-bell in her 
 hands now." 
 
 With Mr. Thigpen presented to both of his 
 nieces, and safely " set in " to the broad mahogany 
 table, Chris drew a great sigh of relief. 
 
 An old-fashioned chandelier hung above the com- 
 pany. The four gas-jets, with rays interlaced, 
 threw cross-lights upon the small circle. The large 
 plaids on Alonzo's new coat, which in daylight 
 would surely reverberate, melted here to a digni- 
 fied grey. Even the pink shirt and pokeberry tie, 
 gained a tone of comparative quiet, and above them 
 the keen, vivid face of the man, with its straight
 
 LEEZER'S DAUGHTER 203 
 
 level brows over eyes that were brown as the table, 
 gleamed out in the hues of a Rembrandt. 
 
 It was with difficulty that James Gaither re- 
 strained himself from staring. He could scarcely 
 believe it the same lank, uncouth mountaineer from 
 the backwoods to whom he had given the invita- 
 tion. 
 
 Letty, discarding such rules of politeness, looked 
 long and straight at their guest. She thought she 
 had never seen eyes so steady and so searching, 
 nor a mouth that could be quite so grave under its 
 small thatch of bronze-brown moustache. She had 
 been reading Tennyson lately, and she was sure 
 that in armour, and in a flowing white mantle, here 
 would be the exact Launcelot of her dreams. 
 
 As for Mildred, after the first casual glance, she 
 scarcely seemed to perceive Alonzo. For her, all 
 interest in the male sex was over. During that long 
 terrible day she had wavered between what ap- 
 peared to her the only two alternatives: first, a 
 picturesque suicide, based on that of the unhappy 
 Ophelia, or a long life embittered by grief, and 
 dedicated to a tragic virginity. Suicide having 
 at length been discarded, because of Mildred's fear 
 of the water, there remained only a self-imposed 
 withering on a stalk Karl had stripped of its blos- 
 soms. 
 
 Alonzo was abnormally hungry. He held in his 
 mind the sad fact that fine folk in the city never 
 are betrayed into putting a knife into their mouths.
 
 204 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 For the first ten minutes or so, the guest's brows 
 were kept frowning, and his mouth grim, in the 
 effort to appease a keen appetite and at the same 
 time refrain from his usual method of transmitting 
 his food. Having been fairly successful, though 
 there were still bits of ham that refused to be 
 speared by his fork, 'Lonzo raised his dark eyes 
 and deliberately set them on Mildred. 
 
 " 'Lonzo ain't hitched-up yet," broke in Chris 
 and then recalling his manners " that is, Mr. 
 Thigpen ain't married," he explained. 
 
 " No? " said Gaither politely, and turned his 
 kind smile to the bachelor in question. ." Why, I 
 always understood, Mr. Thigpen, that you men of 
 the mountains married quite early in life." 
 
 " They do mostly," replied 'Lonzo, his eyes still 
 on Mildred, "but with me somehow it's bin dif- 
 frunt." 
 
 A queer silence fell upon the group. 
 
 Something shivered and quickened in Mildred, 
 as one leaf, on a very still day, begins suddenly and 
 without apparent cause to flutter. Her eyes met 
 those of the visitor, and they held the dawn of a 
 question. 
 
 'Lonzo laid down his knife and his fork. " Yes," 
 he repeated, even more slowly, " with me it's bin 
 diffrunt. As a boy I loved one lady she was older, 
 an' too far above me. It war Leezer the lady you 
 married," he said, looking straight at James 
 Gaither.
 
 LEEZER'S DAUGHTER 205 
 
 As no one spoke, Alonzo added : " They's bin no 
 other rose on the mountings as sweet as the one 
 that blowed for you. I loved her, boy as I was, an' 
 I had thought not to love nairy other. It didn't 
 seem like in nature thar ever could be sech another, 
 but I've found out tonight as they be." 
 
 With the swiftness of light, his deep passionate 
 look flew back to Mildred. The girl's hand faltered 
 up to her throat. Heat and cold trembled through 
 her, as shadow and sun fret a wheatfield. 
 
 'Lonzo leaned a few inches closer. " I'm comin' 
 to Dunrobin to live, and be near to you, Miss 
 Mildred," pronounced this strange knight of the 
 timbers, and seeing her eyes shrink and fall, he 
 laughed low, a laugh full of masterful sweetness. 
 The teeth that his smile now displayed were even 
 and white. 
 
 " I 'low to learn manners an' talk same as you 
 do," he said, speaking directly to Mildred. " I 
 'low to become as ole Chris here is sed that I kin 
 do a man like the young bloods o' yo' city. I 
 'lows I won't make ye ashamed."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE ULTIMATUM 
 
 TIDINGS of the Hallonquist engagement 
 swept through Dunrobin like fire through 
 a field of dry grain. There were few friendly 
 comments. Sophie's thoughtless disdain of her 
 elders had not tended to make her a popular figure, 
 such as Mildred Gaither. Mary Hallonquist too, 
 though widely termed " sweet," had not alto- 
 gether escaped censure. She was known to be 
 over-indulgent and weak where her daughter was 
 concerned, and, in herself, was a bit too withdrawn 
 and exclusive. 
 
 When added to these handicaps in the general 
 approval, Miss Ossie now took on herself to stride 
 up and down in Biblical roaring and raging, de- 
 nouncing that "low-lived young coward-skunk of 
 a Karl Trenham, and the what-all he's done to niece 
 Mildred," the small town was soon in a ferment. 
 
 In vain did poor, horrified Mildred implore her 
 rash aunt to keep silence declaring such vulgar 
 publicity was far worse than anything Cousin Karl 
 had done. But for once the implacable mountain 
 woman was deaf to the voice of her darling. Her 
 sense of resentment, of fury and of vengeance was 
 
 206
 
 THE ULTIMATUM 207 
 
 rampant, and although she did not realize the fact, 
 it was Miss Ossie Laird's bitterness of defeat that 
 was being assuaged rather than a generous attempt 
 to defend the unhappy Mildred. 
 
 " Oh, how I wish," the girl cried in despair, once 
 when Uncle Chris chanced to be near her, " that 
 I hadn't refused Henry Whiting! I would marry 
 him now if he asked me again I would in a 
 minute. I'd be willing to marry almost any one 
 decent and kind just to stop Auntie's terrible gos- 
 sip." 
 
 Mrs. HaWonquist fought her battles alone for 
 three days, and then sent off a note by old Grief. 
 It bore the address, " James Gaither, Esq." and 
 was superscribed " personal and private." 
 
 " I cannot endure this great strain by myself any 
 longer [the poor woman wrote, and her insecure pen- 
 strokes attested to the truth of her words], I must 
 have some one to advise me. I've so far held my own 
 against Sophie, but feel that my strength nears the 
 end. Come as soon as you can, James. I need you. 
 I'll be watching this evening. Please come. 
 
 Your distracted, unhappy old friend, 
 
 MAEY HALLONQUIST." 
 
 After supper that evening, Mr. Gaither rose, 
 pushed his chair to its place under the table and 
 announcing curtly, " I'll be back in an hour or 
 so," made his way from the house, and out through
 
 208 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the early spring twilight toward the Hallonquist 
 cottage. 
 
 On the porch he had dimly discerned two huddled 
 figures, when they sprang nimbly apart. 
 
 Sophie's giggle rang through the darkness. 
 " Mother's in by the fire. I know you've come to 
 see her, Uncle James," the engaged one cried out, 
 with no further greetings. Karl had not moved 
 nor spoken. 
 
 The visitor went in, and hearing him coming, 
 Mary threw wide the dining-room door. 
 
 " Oh, I am glad that you've come ! I began to 
 think you never would. Shut both doors," she 
 went on nervously. " There, that's right. If we 
 speak low I'm sure they can't hear us. Oh, James 
 James what on earth shall I do? " 
 
 She flung herself down to a chair, her gaze never 
 leaving his face. 
 
 Gaither cleared a dry throat. He wished that 
 she would not follow each step that he made with 
 those wide, hunted eyes. 
 
 " Oh, James, James, what do you think has hap- 
 pened? " Mrs. Hallonquist began again, forcing 
 the words. " She threatens that if I don't consent 
 she'll Sophie'll leave me." 
 
 " You mean, run away and be married? " James 
 queried, his eyes growing shrewder. 
 
 " Yes, she used the terrible word more than 
 once. She and Trenham have threatened to 
 elope."
 
 THE ULTIMATUM 209 
 
 "Are you sure that Karl threatened?" asked 
 Gaither, and when Mary said " No " he looked in- 
 tensely relieved. 
 
 " Then I wouldn't worry at all," he declared. 
 " It is only a schoolgirlish. menace to annoy you. 
 The State laws will uphold you in opposing it. 
 Sophie's a minor by more than a year; they can't 
 get a license to marry." 
 
 " What do I care for laws! " the other exclaimed, 
 " all I want is to prevent this disaster." 
 
 " And you are sure it would be a disaster? " 
 Gaither demanded. " Karl is bound to succeed. 
 He is frank and well-spoken. His business ability 
 amounts to sheer genius, and he is steady in morals, 
 as far as I know. He never misses church service, 
 and- " 
 
 " Stop ! " flamed Mary, her white cheeks turned 
 to red. " I answer with just one small question. 
 Would you want one of your daughters to marry 
 Karl Trenham?" 
 
 Her friend's eyes fell away. " Well of course 
 to be sure," he stammered, greatly embarrassed. 
 Then, on a sudden, a small saving ray of memory 
 found him. " You said it yourself, my dear Mary," 
 he declared, " about God showing mercy to thous- 
 ands that love him and keep His command- 
 ments." 
 
 " I remember, and I don't take back one word 
 that I said. There is always a chance, and I truly 
 believe in God's promises. But you never get over
 
 210 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the sense that it is only a chance and I can't 
 no, and I won't/' she cried vehemently, " have my 
 one child take such a risk ! " 
 
 Gaither hastily withdrew from the Scriptures. 
 " Well," he said, " as we two were remarking a 
 few weeks ago, the possession of daughters is not 
 altogether conducive to tranquillity. I am having 
 a queer time at home with one of my girls." 
 
 " Yes, poor Mildred ; but of course, James, I'm 
 sure it is all spiteful gossip because Sophie says 
 Karl " 
 
 " This is not about Karl," Gaither laughed, and 
 the sound made the other look up in amazement. 
 " Quite a separate kettle of fish, I assure you. I 
 presume Chris has told you, that his boyhood 
 friend from the mountains, a Mr. Thigpen, has 
 moved to Dunrobin?" 
 
 " No no," Mary stammered, bending forward 
 to stir up the coals. " I haven't seen Chris for an 
 age " 
 
 " Well, Thigpen is here," James declared with a 
 smile. " And unless I am greatly mistaken, there 
 are going to be fireworks soon that will make this 
 wild talk about Sophie seem a mere flash in the 
 pan. 
 
 " I was with Chris," he w T ent on, " a few days 
 ago when the two old friends met the first time, 
 I take it, since boyhood. That queer brother-in- 
 law of mine, ordinarily so placid, almost wept, I 
 give you my word, with excitement and rapture
 
 THE ULTIMATUM 211 
 
 seeing which I could hardly do less than invite Mr. 
 Thigpen to supper." 
 
 " To your house to your table! " gasped Mary. 
 " What did Miss Ossie say? " 
 
 " The gods were propitious," grimaced James. 
 " Happily for us, my sister-in-law had already de- 
 cided to keep to her room for that evening. But 
 
 if Ossie had been there at that table " The 
 
 narrator made pause for a relishing chuckle. 
 
 " To get to the gist of my story," he continued, 
 " it seems that our knight of the timbers was com- 
 pletely bowled over by Mildred. He fell in love 
 at first sight, as it were neck and crop, and has 
 made up his impudent mind that he'll win her." 
 
 " Such incred-ible boldness ! A crude creature 
 like that from the hills ! What on earth did you say 
 to the fellow, James?" 
 
 " There was nothing left for me to say," answered 
 Gaither, with a humorous quirk of remembrance. 
 " He stalked into my office, his head very nearly 
 grazing the ceiling got the amorous load off of 
 his chest, grasped my hand in a way that has dis- 
 located most of the joints of my fingers, and strode 
 out with his chin in the air, leaving father-in-law 
 faint and speechless." 
 
 " It was funny," Mary admitted, with a depreca- 
 tory laugh, " but I should think you'd be /w-rious." 
 
 " I suppose that I should," said Gaither, " but 
 Ossie's rage, when it comes to her ears, will be 
 quite enough for one family. As for me, I'm not
 
 212 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 angry at all. For Mary you see," he explained, 
 his low pleasant voice taking on a tenderer cadence, 
 " the young man thinks there is a reason- " 
 
 His companion's bright look of encouragement 
 urged him to further confidence. 
 
 " It seems, all of his life he has lived with a 
 dream a clear vision of one whom he loved and 
 could not attain, a girl older than he, who loved' 
 and was won by another." 
 
 " You don't mean your Lee-zer? " Mary whis- 
 pered, " your own gentle Lee-zer? " 
 
 " Yes," he nodded, and could say no more for an 
 instant. 
 
 " This does make a difference," came the hushed, 
 vibrant words to his ear. " Dear, dear friend 
 I am sure I shall love him ; to hold to a memory 
 like this all of his life until now he has met Lee-zer's 
 own daughter! It's a perfectly fcecm-ti-ful 
 story." 
 
 " Well well well," Gaither sighed, " let us re- 
 turn to our naughty young black sheep, your head- 
 strong girl and my partner. Ah ! I believe I've got 
 it ! " he triumphed. " What's the matter with send- 
 ing your young Juliet off to some school for a 
 year? " 
 
 The faint hint of hope in Mary's sensitive face 
 died to ashes. " It's the first thing I thought of. 
 Oh, if only she would go! But she refuses even 
 to listen" 
 
 " It's the one feasible plan," James repeated.
 
 THE ULTIMATUM 213 
 
 " And the girl's got to listen. On my word ! She's 
 a colt that needs breaking. Shall I make the 
 attempt to bring her to reason? " 
 
 " If you choose," the consent being given in a 
 dull, desolate tone. 
 
 " Then I should say that the best possible move, 
 as matters stand at the moment, is to summon our 
 culprits in here." 
 
 Mary started, but forced back her quick words 
 of protest. 
 
 " As I happen to be well aware," the speaker 
 continued, ignoring all signs of agitation, " Tren- 
 ham is not yet in a position to marry. The business 
 is doing well, exceedingly well, as you know, but in 
 some ways it is still a venture. Karl belongs to 
 the new school of finance, and believes in big plan- 
 ning. In fact, my dear friend," he concluded, " I 
 could almost affirm, before speaking to him, that 
 you'll find he is entirely in sympathy with your 
 wish to send Sophie to school." 
 
 James rose, rather briskly for him, and passed 
 out into the porch. 
 
 This time Trenham sprang up. " What's the 
 matter? Are you going now, Cousin James? " 
 he asked in his usual frank, offhand way of speak- 
 ing. " I was just getting ready to start." 
 
 " No, you weren't, you big story ; and you know 
 it ! " an invisible Sophie cried out. " You always 
 stay a lot later than this." 
 
 " No, Karl, I'm not leaving just yet," Gaither
 
 214 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 said, without noticing his companion. " Mrs. Hal- 
 lonquist and I want you young people to come 
 indoors for a moment." 
 
 "Will I go? You watch me," Trenham ex- 
 claimed. " I've tried for three days to get a word 
 with her. Here, kid, what are you doing? " he 
 laughed, as he felt a sudden weight on his arm. 
 " Don't you want to see Mother? " 
 
 " No, she's been too unkind ; and I don't intend 
 to go inside. They've been cooking up something 
 in there. I don't want you to hear it," the girl 
 said, striving hard to drag her lover back to the 
 shadows. 
 
 " Really, Sophie ! " Mr. Gaither began, but Karl 
 smiled broadly. " Don't you worry, I'll bring her. 
 Now, young lady, you come with me," 
 
 As the three entered Mrs. Hallonquist had never 
 appeared more composed or more patrician. She 
 looked straight at Karl. 
 
 " Good-evening," a steady voice greeted him, 
 while a small hand was extended unusually far 
 from its base. " I appreciate your prompt acquies- 
 cence, Mr. Trenham. Mr. Gaither, your cousin, 
 will act as my spokesman. You will kindly listen 
 to him." 
 
 " No, Karl, don't you do it ! " came from some- 
 where behind. 
 
 After the farce of a handshake, Trenham had 
 slowly withdrawn to the mantel, and with one 
 elbow on the end of the shelf fell thoughtful and
 
 THE ULTIMATUM 215 
 
 silent. Further back, Sophie stood erect, watchful 
 and rigid. 
 
 " Well, young man," James essayed to begin, and 
 unconsciously took his place beside his hostess, 
 "it seems you have played the dark role of the 
 serpent in Eden. You have caused Mrs. Hallon- 
 quist here " 
 
 " I've never wished or intended to cause Sophie's 
 mother a moment of worry," Karl broke in. 
 " Neither Sophie nor I have done anything we are 
 ashamed of. If Mrs. Hallonquist will let me ex- 
 plain!" 
 
 " I really can't see anything to explain," Gaither 
 smiled. " The apple-cart is over. But there's one 
 thing you can do, to attest your sincerity." 
 
 " What is it? " Trenham asked quickly. 
 
 James told hurriedly of the mother's ultimatum 
 her insistence that Sophie be sent from Dun- 
 robin, and Karl for the space of a year. 
 
 The young man listened with all of the gravity 
 due the occasion, while Sophie, her head poised 
 more than ever like portraits of the Countess 
 Potocka, flashed her great, brilliant eyes from one 
 face to another, gathering fresh clouds of wrath 
 in each nervous flight. 
 
 " Yes," said the spokesman in conclusion, " Mrs. 
 Hallonquist thinks it's best for all persons con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " I infer you are speaking of her absence for a 
 year at school," Trenham caught at his meaning.
 
 216 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Gaither nodded. With a gasp, Sophie whirled to 
 the centre and faced him. 
 
 " You are wasting your time. I simply won't 
 go. That's all to be said. I'm no child ! " she cried, 
 loosing a whippet of anger. " To be talked over 
 like this, and have my affairs settled. If you want 
 to ignore me, Karl's opinion has some weight, I 
 reckon ! " 
 
 Trenham seemed not to hear. His pink face had 
 grown sober. " Since you give me a voice in the 
 matter," he said, his intelligent eyes turned to 
 Mary, " I think it an excellent scheme. After all, 
 Sophie is only a schoolgirl. This plan you propose 
 will stop gossip. In fact, Mrs. Hallonquist," he 
 bowed gracefully, " I am more than in accord with 
 your Wishes." 
 
 For a moment, the three had ignored a silent and 
 shivering Sophie. She now faced him who she 
 thought her false lover. " You agree! " she got 
 out, on the first difficult breath of her fury. " You 
 want me to be driven far off for a year where you 
 never can see me! Oh, Karl and you said just 
 tonight, only a few minutes ago, that you couldn't 
 bear me out of your sight ! " 
 
 Karl looked decidedly sheepish. " I meant it too, 
 Sophie," he smiled down to her tragic young face. 
 " I really am crazy about you, but the truth is, 
 you are only a kid and belong to your mother. 
 Since she thinks it is best, why " 
 
 " Hush, not one other word ! " the girl said,
 
 THE ULTIMATUM 217 
 
 in a tone of such crushed vibrant passion, that 
 Mary put up a white tremulous hand to her eyes. 
 " If you want to be rid of me that ends it. You 
 have won all three of you," her glance swept cold 
 scorn through the room. " You all have been 
 heartless and cruel, and I'll never forgive you on 
 earth ! " 
 
 She tore from them in a whirlwind. Mary 
 turned her sad face toward the door, which still 
 shook from the violent slam the enraged one had 
 given it. 
 
 " Mary, Mary," Gaither warned, stepping closer, 
 " as she says, we have won. Karl has stood by us 
 finely. Don't you turn chicken-hearted and spoil 
 our victory." 
 
 " I ! " cried the mother, her head very high. 
 " You must think me weak and poor-spirited. I'm 
 too thankful for things as they are. And, Mr. 
 Trenham," she went on in the same well-poised 
 manner, " I am sincerely indebted to you." 
 
 The little throat crumpled. One hand was flung 
 out into space. 
 
 " James I'm falling," she whispered. " I'm ill. 
 Call Tempey I must get to my room."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 
 
 MRS. HALLONQUIST'S fainting attack was 
 not long, but while it endured her daughter 
 was terribly frightened. The long, inky 
 burden that Tempey bore to the bed had the hor- 
 rible silence of death. 
 
 The old servant went promptly about her task 
 of restoration, using potent if old-fashioned 
 methods, and once more proved her claim to the 
 title of " the best sick-nurse in Dunrobin." 
 
 With Mary disrobed and arrayed in a fresh, 
 snowy night-dress, her blue eyes half opened, and 
 a delicate colour again in her cheeks, the triumph- 
 ant attendant motioned Sophie aside. 
 
 " They ain't nothin' to fret about, honey," she 
 whispered. " Yo' Ma is all right. What she needs 
 now is jes' beirf quiet." 
 
 " But, Mammy w r hat was it? " a whisper came 
 back, through lips still pallid and trembling. 
 " She looks awfully bad to me yet." 
 
 " Don't you b'leeve it," said Tempey. " Hit was 
 only a spell of de tantrums. I has 'em myse'f, an' 
 I knows." 
 
 In the sudden reaction from honest alarm, the 
 
 218
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 219 
 
 girl felt a renewed irritation. So her mother was 
 trying to work on her pity! Well, Mother should 
 see! 
 
 During the first afternoon of the mistress' with- 
 drawal from domestic affairs, Karl arrived, only to 
 be ignominiously shooed away by the irate old 
 nurse. 
 
 " No, Miss Hallonquist, she ain't at home. She 
 ain't nowhar erbout she done sed so jes' now," 
 the black fate repelled him. " My po' chile she 
 ain't seein' no vis'ters at all, she's that awful tore 
 up in her feelin's. Me an her, we is packin' to go 
 off to school. You knows why, well ernuff ! " she 
 concluded dramatically, and slammed the front 
 door in his face. 
 
 Karl waited until after the hour for the Hallon- 
 quist supper, and then reappeared. 
 
 This time, as Tempey confronted him, he smiled 
 in his most ingratiating manner, and, half un- 
 closing his right hand, showed her the gleam of a 
 bright silver dollar. 
 
 " Now look here, Aunt Tempey, we're friends, 
 you and I," he began with a smile that had won 
 him hosts of feminine admirers. " And, if 
 only " 
 
 " Don't you projec' roun' me, wid yo' talk 
 erbout frien's an' yo' teef all a-shinin' in rows lak 
 an open pianner ! " came forth as a blow on the 
 chest. "An' what's mo' you is wastin' yo' time 
 wid you standin' dare slantin' yo' ole pewter dollar
 
 220 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 wid a hawk on one side in my eye. You don't see 
 my baby no mo', tell she says she's good an' ready 
 to see you." 
 
 Again the door crashed within a few inches of 
 young Lochinvar's nose, and he turned away curs- 
 ing, yet smiling. 
 
 The following morning a note and a big box of 
 chocolates and bon-bons were sent up from the 
 drug store by Karl. 
 
 " Here, you jes' hoi' yo' horses, you long- 
 laigged nigger," Tempey called out to the bearer, 
 " an' don't you dare drap dat trash you is totin', 
 an' run lak I sees you is fixin' to do. You wait till 
 I axes de lady ef she's willin' to take what you's 
 brung her." 
 
 The young lady most decidedly was not, and the 
 grinning mulatto returned with both tokens of lore 
 unopened. 
 
 Trenham, though greatly chagrined, felt his 
 ardour increase as his spirited sweetheart continued 
 to flout and repel him. 
 
 When three days had gone, and the girl showed 
 no signs of relenting, the young man bent every 
 power of his quick, practical mind to the task of 
 retrieving his lost position with Sophie. 
 
 The cunning device which he decided at last to 
 try was that of sending a false wire to the cot- 
 tage, designed to deceive; it was written out in 
 Karl's hand in the telegraph office downtown, and 
 despatched by a bribed and accredited messenger.
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 221 
 
 Sophie, believing it from the school to which 
 she was going this being exactly what Karl had 
 hoped she would think tore open and read: 
 
 " This Monday evening at five I shall be on the 
 long road from the shot tower, at the corner of a 
 certain small corn patch, beside the rail fence. I will 
 wait fifteen minutes. If you are not there by that 
 time, I'll turn back on the road, and come into the 
 town by a different way. If you don't come at all, 
 I will take it to mean that our friendship and all 
 we have planned for the future are over, and I shall 
 never willingly see you again. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 KARL." 
 
 Sophie went.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 SOPHIE'S DEPARTURE 
 
 NOT risking delay by an instant, Sophie left 
 home a little past four o'clock. With her 
 buoyant and vigorous walking, the journey 
 need take her at most a scant half hour. 
 
 Karl was waiting, and in his arms all of her 
 pride and resentment melted away in a torrential 
 freshet of tears. In a quivering ecstasy of recon- 
 cilation, she became timid, pleading, almost hum- 
 ble; and when her lover gently explained why he 
 felt that her going to school was a thing to be done 
 she no longer opposed him. 
 
 " Yes, darling, I see what you mean," she sobbed. 
 " And I'll try to be patient and good. I know I've 
 been horrid to Mother but, Karl, it was you 
 only you! and the calm way you agreed, when 
 Uncle James said I should be sent so far off, that 
 broke my heart." 
 
 " Poor, untried little heart," soothed the man, 
 half teasingly, and yet with a touch of the real. 
 " If I'm never to make it bear worse trials than this, 
 we'll be lucky." 
 
 " Nothing could be much worse," Sophie wept. 
 " A year a whole black, endless year and never 
 
 222
 
 SOPHIE'S DEPARTURE 223 
 
 to see you! Why, Karl, don't it make you feel 
 awful?" 
 
 " No. By Jingo ! what's twelve months, after all? 
 It will go before we're sure it has got here, and 
 then after that comes a whole jolly lifetime 
 together. So look up, little precious, and smile at 
 your Karl, and then we'll go back to Mother." 
 
 Sophie strove to obey, and, in striving, appeared 
 so entirely bewitching that the man caught her 
 passionately in his arms, straining her tightly 
 against him, and kissed her tear-wet lips, as though 
 he could never be satiated with their tremulous 
 sweetness. 
 
 " There! " he cried, holding lifer off, with a tender 
 and masterful laugh, to see how she struggled for 
 breath. " All the years in the world can't cool such 
 kisses. And we're young, my beloved! Think of 
 all the rapture before us ! " 
 
 By Wednesday the arrangements for Sophie's 
 rather untimely attendance at school were entirely 
 complete, and when the hour of departure arrived, 
 Karl drove up to the house, in what Sophie hysteri- 
 cally called a " funeral coach," lacking nothing 
 but crpe on the shabby whip-handle, and con- 
 veyed the two ladies to town. 
 
 Tempey and Grief had started an hour earlier, 
 for the old man's bent legs did not carry him 
 swiftly. 
 
 At Dunrobin's one " day-po " a concourse of 
 friends and near-relatives were already assembled
 
 224 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 as Chris plunged along the wooden platform toward 
 the just-stopping carriage, with Alonzo a few paces 
 behind. The two friends had rather the aspect of 
 an intensely pleased showman convoying a hand- 
 some and amiable bear. 
 
 Mary Hallonquist felt Chris's coming, even be- 
 fore the big genial voice boomed out over Dun- 
 robin's early spring hats. 
 
 " Howdy howdy, Miss Mary. Hey, you-all over 
 there by the carriage, hold on a minute. I'm a- 
 bringin' 'Lonzo to show you." 
 
 Mary had no eyes for Alonzo. She was staring 
 at Chris. Her face, always subtly imbued with the 
 expression artists give their madonnas, held the 
 rapt, upward gaze of a saint but a saint dolorosa. 
 
 Chris had never appeared more carefree, more 
 entirely content. His eyes were grey, sunken stars 
 of excitement; and his smile like a shaft of pink 
 sunlight on rock. 
 
 Mrs. Hallonquist did not at all realize that dur- 
 ing this almost hypnotic preoccupation, Karl had 
 assisted her down from the carriage, and that she 
 now stood at the edre of a throng which parted 
 in the long fissure of a composite smile. They were 
 making way for the towering mountaineers who, 
 reaching her, came to a pause, and stood hanging 
 above her like cliffs. 
 
 "This is 'Lonzo," said Chris, in the voice a 
 devout early Christian might have used in declar- 
 ing, " This is Peter." " He's my very best friend.
 
 SOPHIE'S DEPARTURE 225 
 
 Step up, 'Lonzo, make your best scrape, and bow 
 to Miss Mary." 
 
 " I'm most happy to meet Mr. Thigpen," Mary 
 murmured, extending a delicate, gloved hand, where 
 the tip of one finger showed pink through a place 
 needing darning. " In fact," she affirmed, in a 
 slightly raised tone, her head tilted back till the 
 blue, praying eyes could meet those of Alonzo, 
 " I feel that I know you already Chris has talked 
 of you so very much." 
 
 'Lonzo smiled and bowed as instructed. " He is 
 talked both my years stiff 'bout you," the mountain- 
 eer gallantly tossed back the ball of complai- 
 sance. 
 
 " You must make Mr. Laird bring you to call 
 on me soon," Mary continued, without daring to 
 meet Chris's direct gaze. 
 
 " We are aiming to drop in tonight," Chris ob- 
 served, though no one had asked him. 
 
 'Lonzo bowed again. " I'll be proud to be tooken, 
 Miss Mary. You see," he smiled, speaking with a 
 hint of unusual shyness, " I'm plumb druv' for to 
 call you ' Miss Mary ' since this old ostrich here 
 with his head amongst the beetles ain't never once 
 named me your other." 
 
 " Yes please call me l\Jiss Mary," that sweet 
 person fluttered. " I like it from you, Mr. Thig- 
 pen. Do you promise? " 
 
 " You can count on me now and forever, Miss 
 Mary."
 
 226 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 The train was heard coming. All activities be- 
 gan to centre about the young person so soon to 
 depart. 
 
 Tempey, raising her head, beat about at the edge 
 of the crowd like a troubled balloon broken off from 
 its string, and bumping the ceiling. After a mo- 
 ment, some understanding white friend gave the 
 old servant entrance, whereupon she rushed for 
 the half -bewildered Sophie, crying out through her 
 tears, " Oh, my baby Mammy's baby ! Dey is 
 gwine take my baby away ! " 
 
 Old Grief, checked midway in the throng, worked 
 his shuffling steps nearer Mary, and afterward kept 
 to the spot, his bleared, faithful eyes not once leav- 
 ing her. 
 
 Miss Finger, with a few sprigs of rosemary (for 
 remembrance, my dear) clutched in one cotton 
 glove, a novel " The Wooing O't " in the other 
 hand, drove the thin wedge of herself toward the 
 traveller, extending her gifts. 
 
 Sophie thanked her, and took what she did not 
 perceive, for, to her own tremulous wonder, a sob 
 in her throat had distended the satiny surface and 
 her eyes were blinded by tears. 
 
 She looked about wildly not for Letty, nor for 
 Karl but for one slender woman who stood with 
 a hand pressing hard to her breast. Sobbing loudly, 
 the girl groped her way toward Mary. 
 
 " Mother Mo-ther ! I just cannot leave you ! 
 I shall die ! I nev-nev-never dreamed it would be so
 
 SOPHIE'S DEPARTURE 227 
 
 ferocious! Oh, hold me put your arms tight 
 around me. I can't get on that train." 
 
 Karl practically carried his sweetheart up the 
 steps of the Pullman, while the mother, her arms 
 still hot and vital with that last agonized clasp, 
 watched the scene with a face like one cut in 
 chalk. 
 
 "Now, Miss Mary," warned Chris in a whisper, 
 " it ain't no good fainting the train's starting. 
 All the folks is a-gazing toward you." 
 
 Mary lifted her head. " Thank you, Chris, I'll 
 remember." 
 
 " There, she's waving," cried the mountaineer in 
 wild excitement. " She's waving, Miss Mary. 
 She's stuck through the window plumb on her 
 stomach. Gorry-midey ! " he puffed, " I sure hope 
 that black man what I tipped half a dollar is got 
 a tight hold on the end we can't see! What's the 
 matter you ain't waving back to your daughter? " 
 he demanded indignantly. " Oh, I see, your hand- 
 kerchief is dripping. Here, take mine. Golly- 
 marster! it never is there when I want it! Here 
 you, 'Lonzo ! " Then springing toward that amazed 
 person, Chris began frantically clawing in 
 Alonzo's vest pockets. 
 
 Thigpen gave a quick cry and swerved nimbly. 
 " Stop ; you tickles ! What in God's name are you 
 grabblin' me for, before all these peoples? " 
 
 " Handkerchief, quick, before she gets out of 
 sight ! " Chris implored him.
 
 228 CHKISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 In one long flash of red, 'Lonzo drew from his 
 hip a large cloth that might cover a table. 
 
 " Here, Miss Mary wave now wave like hell ! " 
 Chris encouraged, lifting one of the woman's flac- 
 cid hands, and inserting a corner of the handker- 
 chief. " There, she sees you ! She's waving back 
 hard. I do hope," he once more muttered, " that 
 that black porter-man is attending to business." 
 
 Suddenly 'Lonzo bent down to Chris's ear. 
 " Lookout there, your Miss Mary is blanching, and 
 I think that off leg's giving way. Air you ready to 
 grab her? " 
 
 Chris threw a dark look, the darkest he had ever 
 turned on Alonzo. " Here, you crawl in your own 
 shell, old gopher. I can look after Miss Mary. 
 Milly's waiting out there on the edge of the crowd 
 for to see you. I've looked after Miss Mary some 
 years before you came to Dunrobin, and I'm aiming 
 to keep up the practice. Farewell, don't you fret 
 none about Miss Mary."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE HURRYING YEAR 
 
 A~5D now Sophie was actually gone. For 
 the round of the four changing seasons, the 
 place of her birth was to see and to hear her 
 no more. The meticulous, self-absorbed, and 
 absorbing routine of the village closed in, as elastic 
 blue ether in the wake of one vanishing swallow. 
 
 The allotted " nine days " for the wonder of 
 Sophie and KarFs engagement had not more than 
 half been attained, when it was promptly forgotten 
 in a new and more imminent romance, that ot 
 Alonzo Thigpen and Mildred Gaither. 
 
 There were strange fragments of gossip that 
 went darting about, to tell of Miss Ossie Laird's 
 hot anger against such a flinging away of her 
 lovely niece on that " gleamin'-eyed, long-bodied 
 catamount down from the mountains." 
 
 Mr. Thigpen, the same rumour said, presented an 
 armour of smiles and impervious good-nature to the 
 fierce lady's verbal assaults; while Mildred, torn 
 between the tempestuous will of her aunt, and a 
 swift-growing pride in her picturesque lover, had 
 about given up, and decided to be ill in bed, till 
 the storm had calmed down. 
 
 229
 
 230 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 <\ 
 
 'Lonzo's wooing, and its success, were for Chris 
 an obsession. He thought, dreamed, connived for, 
 and discoursed of naught else. It was as if, by his 
 fervour, he determined to cancel the effect of his 
 sister's unmeasured hostility. 
 
 The hurrying year passed along, and in the mid- 
 dle of February, about three weeks before Sophie's 
 scheduled arrival, Mildred Gaither was married 
 to 'Lonzo. 
 
 What magic of pleading the young bride-elect had 
 been inspired to bestow upon her aunt, the curious 
 world of Dunrobin was never to puzzle out. The 
 result was sufficient, for, there at the wedding, 
 in the very front pew, stiff and upright, and rust- 
 ling with silk like a corn-patch in winter, Ossie 
 sat when the church-doors were opened, her eyes 
 dry and hard as grey stone. 
 
 This sight brought the first nervous, intimate 
 thrill to a gathering already expectant. 
 
 Next in general surmise was the whispered con- 
 jecture, " How do you suppose that wild mountain- 
 eer is going to act when the service begins? " 
 
 For those curious and slightly malicious ob- 
 servers who hoped to enjoy some spectacular crude- 
 ness chagrin was in store. 
 
 Alonzo, content and serene upheld on the tide 
 of his rapture had eyes that were fastened on 
 Milly as steel to its compelling pole. The girl 
 had never before looked so lovely. It was radiant
 
 THE HURRYING YEAR 231 
 
 joy, not a mere flower-like face, that the white cloud 
 of veiling revealed. 
 
 So much for the bridegroom Alonzo but alas 
 for his " best man " poor Chris ! 
 
 There was no tide of rapture to bear him along 
 on its surface. His huge clumsy frame, enclosed 
 for the occasion in a sombre Prince Albert, seemed 
 the person of somebody else. The long fuzzy tails 
 were eternally flapping about, and demanding a 
 constant jerk and clutch to assure him they were 
 still attached and not escaping. In the left lapel 
 of his coat a gardenia had been thrust a bloom 
 unfamiliar to Chris, with a strong perfume 
 which made him quite ill. Worse than this, he'd 
 been told by at least five different persons that on 
 no account must he touch it, or its delicate petals 
 would blacken. 
 
 All day long, this bewildered and prodded large 
 man, was flung from one task to another, until now, 
 by evening, though the wind had grown chill, his 
 face was purple and lacquered with moisture. 
 
 As Alonzo and his best man stepped forth, Chris 
 felt fully convinced that the eyes of the entire 
 congregation were fixed on his waistcoat alone. 
 He knew that one button was straining hard and 
 with his last agonized heaving of resignation he 
 felt that it burst from its moorings. In the light 
 of this knowledge, he held in his breath and his 
 contours till his face grew the colour of a beet. 
 
 As the wedding party again faced the congrega-
 
 232 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 tion, and a head-hung and exquisite Mildred made 
 her way out on her tall husband's arm, she suddenly 
 caught sight of Miss Ossie. Breaking away from 
 Alonzo, she ran, in the sight of all eyes, to fling 
 -snow-white arms around the thin rigid figure. 
 
 " Oh, you dear, blessed Auntie," she whispered, 
 while tears of sheer joy fell on rustling silk, " don't 
 think I don't realize what this coming has meant to 
 you, dearest. I shall never forget it on earth. 
 You're my own precious mother, and I don't care 
 one bit what you think of my husband I'll love you 
 exactly the same." 
 
 The small church which had seemed so enormous 
 to Chris was gradually emptied. The echo of 
 Toices floated out the front door, like the trail of a 
 thin perfumed scarf. The warmth and the colour 
 had slowly receded, and the space was deserted ex- 
 cept for one stiff upright figure. All at once the 
 scrawny neck bent, and the new hat went down to 
 the railing.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE LONELY HEARTH 
 
 MARCH blew in; and the date Mary dreaded 
 the old date of the Hallonquist fire was 
 well in the past. Three days more, and 
 Sophie would reach her. 
 
 Mary often wondered where the young people 
 would live after the wedding. Not once had Karl 
 given a hint as to his plans for the future. Partly 
 due it may be to this silence on Trenham's part, 
 Mrs. Hallonquist came to believe that Karl was 
 possessed of the same sort of manly and un- 
 chartered largeness as 'Lonzo. For it seems that 
 when James Gaither suggested that Milly and her 
 husband spend their first year in the old home, the 
 mountaineer smiled and shook his head. 
 
 " No, Mr. Gaither," he replied when faced with 
 the question. " We both thanks you kindly. But 
 Milly an' me we's talked it all over together, and 
 we would rather have me an' Milly " here his 
 flaming dark eyes sent a passionate message of love 
 to the girl on his arm, " a small coop of our own, 
 even if it's just one room an' a washtub." 
 
 Letty, who sometimes ran in to cheer up Sophie's 
 mother, had recounted this scene of prenuptial ar- 
 
 233
 
 234 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 rangements. Mary speculated as to why the trivial 
 story produced an effect so warm and comforting. 
 
 " Yes," she mused, when Letty had gone, " it is 
 what every woman should have; and if there is 
 no 'Lonzo to give it, then she ought to secure the 
 ' small coop ' herself." 
 
 The blue, gentle eyes drifted happily around to 
 her walls and to their hangings, to dear posses- 
 sions that had been all her very own during the 
 year just past. Each picture hung just as her 
 fingers had left it. 
 
 " Milly's husband is right," she softly repeated. 
 "A home all her own is due to each woman. It 
 gives us self-respect and an unfailing interest that 
 no other material values can give. Yet I do 
 hope," she smiled in the twilight, "that Karl 
 won't choose a place too far off from this cottage 
 of mine." 
 
 Trenham drove the girl up in the same musty 
 " funeral coach " which twelve months before had 
 driven the three to the train. 
 
 Mrs. Hallonquist stood in the sunshine to wel- 
 come the traveller. The meeting threatened to be 
 slightly formal, until Sophie suddenly rushed back 
 for a second embrace, crying, " Mother poor little 
 Mother! I can see by your face how you've suf- 
 fered in having me gone this whole year. Your 
 hair is right grey at the temples and somehow you 
 look so much older. But to me you seem sweeter 
 than ever."
 
 THE LONELY HEARTH 235 
 
 The need for beginning Sophie's autumn trous- 
 seau was in Mary's heart and conscience, therefore 
 the delighted Miss Pearlie Perky was retained for 
 two days in each week to fashion the wedding 
 garments, for the ceremony scheduled for a Wed- 
 nesday in November. 
 
 Midsummer passed into autumn. Early mists 
 hung like dreams over Dunrobin, disappearing 
 with the gold of each day, and returning with the 
 whisper of nightfall. 
 
 As yet no plans for the young couple's abode 
 after marriage had been hinted to Mary. This 
 intentional avoidance of the subject, as it now 
 began to appear, greatly troubled the mother. It 
 made her both restless and anxious. 
 
 Surely her part was nearly over. She had given 
 consent after agonized struggles to the marriage 
 itself ; she was spending her all on heaps of clothes 
 for her daughter, and the showy church-wedding 
 that Karl and Sophie both urged. Her reward 
 there was no use to hide it was to return to peace 
 and complete possession of her cottage, to a 
 personal fireside. 
 
 Karl Trenham arrived one night about eight 
 o'clock to spend the evening as usual with Sophie. 
 As usual also, Mrs. Hallonquist, after a few pleas- 
 ant, unmeaning remarks, excused herself, and with- 
 drew to her room with a book. 
 
 The novel proved far from engrossing. Through 
 its rather dull pages Mary heard from across the
 
 236 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 hall the sound of gay voices. Now Karl laughed 
 aloud. The listener shrank. She had never liked 
 Trenham's laughter. Then the silvery cadence of 
 Sophie's answering mirth sent fresh joy through 
 the echoes. Next came the bang of doors flung 
 apart. 
 
 In a moment more forgetting her mother's in- 
 junction to knock before entering, Sophie rushed 
 into the room, and threw herself down on her 
 knees beside the reader. 
 
 " It's all settled ! " she cried, her eyes bright 
 with excitement. "And I know you'll die with 
 delight for we're going to live with you. Karl 
 decided ! He is not willing I should leave you 
 alone, Mother dear, and he thinks it best for his 
 business not to put any money into a house just 
 at first. But he's going to build us a bath, and a 
 big dressing-closet off the trunk-room. Oh, isn't 
 it too delicious ! " 
 
 Mary Hallonquist said not a word. At her 
 silence, and a quick nervous start that was fol- 
 lowed by instant rigidity, Sophie drew back a little. 
 
 "Why, Mother! what on earth is the matter?" 
 she exclaimed. " You're turning as white as a 
 sheet! I ought not to have told you the good 
 news so abruptly, I know you're not as young 
 as you were, poor dear little Mother. But Karl 
 says you'll grow young and happy again when we 
 come here to live, and you see us so utterly blissful. 
 Karlie says it's high time anyway that I learned
 
 THE LONELY HEARTH 237 
 
 to keep house, so after I'm a settled old married 
 lady yon must just lean back in your chair, and I 
 shall run everything. There the colour is trying 
 to come again, and your eyes are looking more 
 natural. Kiss me, dear little Mother, for I must 
 hurry. That absurd boy he nearly goes mad if I 
 stay out of the room for five minutes. Good-night, 
 and the sweetest of dreams to the sweetest of 
 mothers." 
 
 She ran from the room, joy and youth flying with 
 her like banners. 
 
 Mary put down her book, then rose very slowly. 
 She crossed to a window and ran the shade high, 
 looking upward, as if she expected to see once 
 again drifting clouds and the crest of tall tree- 
 tops. But all she now faced was new darkness. 
 
 The shade was pulled down by a hand that moved 
 stiffly, in jerks, as if it belonged to a manikin. 
 She retraced her slow steps by the same awkward 
 inches, until striking the side of her bed she came 
 to a shivering pause and there sank to a heap of 
 inertia. One arm was flung over the covers, the 
 other trailed down in a curve to the floor. Her 
 bowed head hung between them. 
 
 " Must I drink this cup too? " she was moan- 
 ing, though her white lips were dumb. " Will life 
 leave me nothing at all? "
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 A WEDDING AND A JOURNEY 
 
 A FULL page of Dunrobin's Daily Democrat 
 was given over to an account of the Tren- 
 ham-Hallonquist wedding. The romantic 
 Miss Sally Finger, who was known at times to dip 
 into Journalism had been given the congenial task 
 of " covering " the iridescent function. 
 
 It is but just to state that not only was the 
 " covering " achieved, but that it ran molten in 
 eulogy. The columns reeled with laudatory ad- 
 jectives and bristled with exclamation points. 
 
 The fair bride blushed on paper, not in fact. 
 Fidgety, conventional Aunt Baring frowned to see 
 with what a free step and roving eye the newly- 
 made Mrs. Trenham swept down the aisle on her 
 beaming husband's arm. 
 
 The young girl's orange-blossoms were held high 
 indeed ; and why not, since she was now married to 
 the one man in the world for her? According to 
 Sophie's code, the opinions of outsiders were of 
 less concern than the broken flowers upon which 
 she was then treading. 
 
 Since the affair had been, to quote Miss Sally's 
 
 238
 
 A WEDDING AND A JOURNEY 239 
 
 phrasing, " an event in the creme de la creme of 
 fashion," it took place at eight o'clock p. m. 
 
 The crowded church display was followed by a 
 reception at the bride's home, after which, " close 
 on the mystic hour of midnight," again adopting 
 the words of the reporter, " the stalwart, handsome 
 groom, bearing upon his arm his sweet and girlish 
 wife, led her out to the carriage which soon whirled 
 the happy pair to the railroad depot. There they 
 took train for New York, in which historic spot 
 their honeymoon will be passed. 
 
 " Friends and relatives of Mr. and Mrs. Tren- 
 ham may expect to see them back in about two 
 weeks, when the young couple will take up their 
 residence in the picturesque cottage of the bride's 
 mother, the still y@uthful and lovely Mrs. Dudley 
 Hallonquist, so well known to all her circle as 
 Mary Baring." 
 
 About a fortnight before the wedding day, 
 masons and carpenters, with their corroborative 
 piles of brick and timber, had appeared at the 
 west side of the trunk-room. 
 
 The faint clean odour of yellow pine w r hich once, 
 to Mary, had been specially delightful, now, as an 
 hourly reminder of her approaching bondage, be- 
 came intolerable. Each nail that went relentlessly 
 to its allotted place made one negation the more 
 in the last personal hope the widow had con- 
 cealed. 
 
 The sounds of hammer, saw and grating brick,
 
 240 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 daily persisting, roused Tempey to a new burst of 
 prophecy. 
 
 "What I dun tole you, man?" she asked of the 
 instantaneously wary and apprehensive Grief. 
 
 "What I dun dremp an' seen, but jes' dis here 
 spurt of buildin'? Yes, I knows dis is patchin'," 
 she went on, as Grief showed no alertness to re- 
 spond, "but dey is jes' de start of de sho' miff 
 buildin' what is comin' atter awhile. Ya-a-s, Lawdy 
 hit is drawin' near. I feels hit fum far-away. 
 Dat big house gwinter rise, jes' lak I tole you " 
 
 As the phrases grew, Tempey's turbaned head 
 began to sway, and her voice caught the rhythm of 
 half -barbaric chanting. " Yes, Lord," Cassandra 
 boomed, echoing her own words, " I ain't dremp 
 dreams, an' seen an' smelt visions all fer nothin'. 
 De Reverind Drake, he sez, as how he aint ex- 
 pe'iunced nothin' mo' sancterfied hisself." 
 
 Grief, resting his bones on the usual low stool, 
 furtively reached down, and halfway round himself, 
 stretching his stiff leg by inches, until he could 
 extract from the rear pocket of ,his shapeless 
 trousers a corncob pipe, his joy, and Tempey's 
 detestation. 
 
 The moment had been too propitious to be 
 wasted, for his wife bent far over a flour-bin into 
 the wall, and was counting out by cupfuls her need 
 for a new setting of her famous bread. Rising, she 
 lifted the filled dishpan and started back to the 
 kneading-table.
 
 A WEDDING AND A JOURNEY 241 
 
 Alas for Grief, the stiff leg, still protruding, got 
 in the bearer's way. She stumbled, screamed, and 
 then by a marvel of dexterity and balance rescued 
 the pan from falling to the floor. 
 
 This near escape made her quick anger to flare. 
 " Look what you mos' done," she scowled upon him. 
 " An' all for reachin' atter dat rancid pipe. How, 
 in Gawd's name, is I to see visions an' smell de 
 sawin of dem Cedars of Lebnun whilst you is set- 
 tin' dar a-puffin' on a j'int of an ole mule's 
 tail?" 
 
 Grief suddenly and most unexpectedly sat up. 
 Tempey's eyes widened. It was as if the stone on 
 which she battened her clothes was to shrink aside 
 and leave her beating the air. 
 
 " Ef hit war dat big, bawlin' nigger preacher, 
 young Pig Drake, a-drawin' on dis same good pipe 
 up in his pulpik," Grief declared with slow im- 
 pressive bitterness, " you an' all de udder fool sis- 
 tren of de church dey'd say hit was de bref of 
 cher'bimbs, what jes' bin eatin' peppermints. But 
 urcose bein' as I ain't nothin' but yo' lawful wedded 
 wife " 
 
 He paused and sank back to a heap of silent 
 resentment. 
 
 Tempey, after a struggle with her conscience, 
 which told her to defend her spiritual leader, the 
 Rey. Pig Drake, burst into deep laughter. 
 
 " You sure is jealous of dat holy man ! " she 
 chuckled, not without satisfaction. " But how
 
 242 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 many times mo' is I got to tell you dat you ain't 
 my wife? I's yourn, an' you's my husbin." 
 
 Grief's obstinacy grew. " Don't de Good Book 
 declar'," he challenged, " dat place whar Paul 
 is layin' de law round, dat wives is dem what 
 nachally sub-mits deyselves to dey husbins? An- 
 swer me dat." 
 
 " Ya-a-as," Tempey conceded, after a troubled 
 pause. This " argifying " was not at all like Grief. 
 
 Emboldened by the unwonted timidity of his 
 better half, the old man drew himself erect, and 
 fixed eyes that he hoped were stern on the offender. 
 
 "Sub-mtfs/-" he bellowed hoarsely. 
 
 " Yas, I done heared. I ain't deef o' hearin'," 
 Tempey retorted rather fretfully. 
 
 " Den' if you heerd," Grief continued relent- 
 lessly, " jes' you thinks back, an' see when you ever 
 is submitted yo' fat se'f to me." 
 
 Tempey gave it up, and worked her puzzled 
 thoughts into the acrid dough, while Grief, 
 triumphant, voiced his thankfulness that " atter 
 Miss Sophie's ma-aige, dey'd be annuder man under 
 dish-here female roof." 
 
 Yes, Grief, henpecked and blackened shard of 
 masculinity though he was, had fibres left in him 
 that cried out in gladness to know that another 
 man and not a mere parcel of woman-tyrants 
 would rule in the home he humbly served.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE LION 
 
 KAJRL and Sophie returned "on the dot," 
 as the young husband said, and the whole 
 of Dunrobin, except only Miss Laird, gave 
 them welcome and hearty good-will in their new 
 life together. 
 
 The trunk-room addition proved a success. It 
 so delighted the couple that Trenham suggested an 
 entire fresh coat of paint for the house; a much 
 needed improvement which all along had been 
 greatly desired by the owner, but had to be given 
 up because other and more pressing demands had 
 used up her last dollar. 
 
 Inferring of course that her son-in-law meant to 
 assume the expense of the painting, she gave, smil- 
 ing consent. Light, impractical colours were 
 selected, the work skilfully done, and the bill for the 
 whole sent to one Mrs. Mary B. Hallonquist. 
 
 It was impossible for Sophie's mother to at once 
 meet the new, unforeseen liability; and it cast the 
 first shadow of fear upon this three-cornered man- 
 ner of life. To Mary, dishonour and debt were 
 twin furies, and to give Karl and Sophie the 
 
 243
 
 244 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " swell " wedding upon which they insisted had 
 very nearly wiped out her small bank account. 
 
 A full week had passed since the Trenham home- 
 coming, when Sophie was sent to her mother with 
 the uncomfortable message, " Mother, Karl wants 
 to know, whether you will think it quite enough 
 for his share of the expenses, if he gives you the 
 same board he used to pay Miss Abby Quigley? " 
 
 Mary winced at the graceless term " board," and 
 murmuring something that Sophie might take for 
 assent, turned away, vaguely shamed and embar- 
 rassed. As for Mrs. Karl's " board," it was not 
 even thought of at least by the married pair, who 
 started life determined above all things to " get 
 on." 
 
 The results of vicarious bliss upon Mary Hallon- 
 quist showed no symptoms of being fulfilled as time 
 hurried by. Instead, day by day she grew more 
 languid, the reins of domestic government slipped 
 speedily into the hands of .her daughter, with never 
 so much as a feeble jerk of remonstrance. 
 
 Chris Laird a few days before the return of the 
 Trenhams had, without a word of warning, gone 
 somewhere " up North." His employers, Messrs. 
 Page & Youngblood, asserted that it was the very 
 first holiday he had asked for, since he came to 
 their firm, now some twenty years past. 
 
 Where the traveller went, not even his idol 
 Alonzo had been told. Miss Ossie grew angry when 
 questioned, thus showing her ignorance. There
 
 THE RETURN OF THE LION 245 
 
 was in the small town, however, one stricken soul 
 who believed that she knew why he went, and for 
 what romantic purpose. 
 
 It was so like the man like this Chris who could 
 never discuss his deep, personal feelings to slip 
 off quietly and join Miss Lycosa. The two, after 
 an unadvertised wedding and a honeymoon such 
 as no other woman could possibly know, being with 
 Chris would return to their home. The desire 
 to keep his plans private was, of course, the travel- 
 ler's real reason for sending no letters, not even 
 to his old friend. 
 
 " So he'll be married when Dunrobin sees him 
 again, 1 ' the sick woman mused, while great tears 
 swelled and pushed through her lashes. " Oh, how 
 I hope my dear Chris will be happy," she prayed, 
 beginning a weak, supine sobbing. " Oh, God 
 help me to mean it, when I say that I want happi- 
 ness for both } and not for Chris alone." 
 
 Chris returned unexpectedly too a few weeks 
 before Christmas. No one was warned of his com- 
 ing, and he carried the key of his den in his vest- 
 pocket. 
 
 His train puffed in at four o'clock of a late after- 
 noon, and a sun made of copper newly scoured 
 gave a last knowing wink as it drew down beneath 
 the tumbled blue covers of hills for the night. 
 
 The man's first thought was to bolt for Miss 
 Mary's. Through the long, glowing weeks of aloof- 
 ness, he had never been rid of a certain small gnaw-
 
 246 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 lag of conscience. He yearned to be sure that she 
 harboured no grievance against him. Perhaps this 
 time he really could tell her what a recognized 
 naturalist and writer he had become. 
 
 When the reeling old phaeton driven by Uncle 
 Daddy between the Dunrobin station and the houses 
 of the quality at last stopped at his gate, Chris 
 allowed the old man to assist in " totin " the 
 heavier articles to the foot of the steep kitchen 
 stairs, paid him off, and had partly ascended that 
 squeaking incline, when Ossie from out of a win- 
 dow caught sight of the half-crouching figure. 
 
 She rushed down crying, " Bud Bud ! Oh, 
 Buddy! It ain't really you!" her voice like a 
 girl's with excitement. Her greeting touched Chris 
 to the verge and to the escapement of big, happy 
 tears. 
 
 " Lord ! I plumb didn't know," he got out, swal- 
 lowing hard to keep steady, " that you cared for 
 me ever like this so severe." 
 
 " Nor me neether ! " sobbed Ossie, her thin cheeks 
 drenched with joy. " It's because, you young scamp, 
 you never ain't left me before. I lacked having a 
 measure for caring." 
 
 Chris had stooped for the parcels set down at 
 his feet, when he first heard his sister approach- 
 ing. A few were regained, but now, at the break in 
 Sis's tone, he flung them aside, and they sullenly 
 bumped to the floor as he caught her again to his
 
 THE KETURN OF THE LION 247 
 
 arms, compressing a chest, already too flat, to a 
 palpitant wafer. 
 
 " Yon you don't aim to be going ont any 
 right away? " Ossie stammered, as soon as her 
 speech came again. " James and Letty must see 
 you at supper. You won't go before then? Say 
 you. won't to please Sis." 
 
 After the shortest of struggles, Sis won. 
 
 It is safe to assert that the hour ensuing a 
 space during which Ossie had the delicate tact 
 to see he was left quite alone proved, to Chris, 
 the most beatific, the most ample and filled with 
 content, of any he ever had known. 
 
 He looked all about him at first, as if a little 
 bewildered. Grey eyes blinked, but the light was 
 within. The man could scarcely believe these 
 many treasures to be his alone held in silence, in- 
 violate, faithful, until his return. From one swing- 
 ing cocoon to its neighbour he moved very softly, 
 the big hand upraised that a finger might give its 
 prehensile and savouring touch. 
 
 All of the water left in a box of grass and earth 
 near the window had vanished. He stared down, 
 wondering darkly whether any small " critter " 
 had perished because of the too-scant store. 
 
 Leaning over his bait-gourd, he saw that the 
 tiny white pearls there imbedded had hatched, and 
 were now wandering larvae. This meant he must 
 down to his knees the plaid trousers with which
 
 248 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 he had intended to emulate and dazzle 'Lonzo for- 
 gotten. Through great dust-piles of papers he 
 searched under bed and bureau and table. As 
 a new slimy truant was captured, the naturalist felt 
 as a miser who discovers yet another gold coin in 
 a crack. 
 
 Again on his feet, the huge, gentle person paced 
 his small, quiet demesne. Not a step could he 
 take until his keen eyes had first swept the floor 
 clean for his coming. Who knew what wee, partly 
 developed " bug-critter " might lie in his elephant 
 path? 
 
 Having thus renewed touch with his household, 
 Chris turned next to the core of his inner being 
 a record of all the dear years, his old Memory 
 Book. 
 
 The white pages filled of themselves, the writer 
 only needing to pause now and then for a deep, 
 happy chuckle. 
 
 When the supper bell rang, Chris jumped to his 
 feet. " Gorry-midey ! " he cried. " And I ain't 
 even changed my train collar! Well, Ossie won't 
 care for this once." 
 
 He was correct in the daring conjecture, for the 
 sister still quivered with joy at his presence, and 
 James and Letty followed suit. Indeed, the travel- 
 ler had a hard time to make his escape but finally 
 doing so, ran up the stairs, assuring himself sotto 
 voce, " I must go to Miss Mary right away. I 
 oughtn't to finish that sentence I broke in the
 
 THE RETURN OF THE LION 249 
 
 middle. I'm sure not to forget what comes after 
 leastwise I hope that I won't." 
 
 But on reaching his room, and seeing the book 
 and his pen invitingly spread as he had left them, 
 Chris gave a short groan of regret at his moral 
 weakness, and telling himself, " Just this one page, 
 and then I'll go," he sat down to the desk.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 CHRIS IS " GOARDED " 
 
 IT was about ten of the clock that same evening 
 when a queer ping and tinkle made Chris lift 
 his faraway gaze. He had been writing at 
 length, and with deep, reminiscent enjoyment, the 
 account of a great New York function at which he, 
 of all men, had been the recognized lion. 
 
 " I kept thinking," he wrote," if only Sis Ossie 
 could be standing here now, for to see for herself 
 what a fuss these big folks at the North are mak- 
 ing over her no-count young brother. And I 
 longed too for poor Ma, but without her neuralgy 
 or her stocking." 
 
 A second sharp, small detonation here came hard 
 on the heels of the first. 
 
 The penman scowled blackly when the third 
 pebble struck clear, on a pane of the far window. 
 
 Bushing to the spot, he threw the sash up, and 
 was instantly greeted, from darkness below, " Hey 
 there, Chris you old 'possum up there in your 
 crotch of the tree ! is your door on the open? " 
 
 " 'Lon-zo I " shrieked Chris, all impatience for- 
 gotten. " Yes, it's open. Come right up, you old 
 
 250
 
 CHRIS IS "GOARDED" 251 
 
 varmint, or I'll fall down them steps for to hyste 
 you." 
 
 'Lonzo's long legs made four bites at the stairs, 
 and in he strode, like a sergeant who has run a 
 deserter to earth. 
 
 " Well, I see that at last you are back," the 
 visitor remarked, with a curious, latent resentment. 
 
 Chris, the lion, felt sparks in his mane. 
 
 " I had thought so myself, until now," he re- 
 torted. " But I allow I mayhaps was mistaken." 
 
 The irony flew by Alonzo, an arrow sped wide of 
 its mark. He stood still, his dark eyes set on 
 Chris, in a way that produced keen discomfort. 
 
 "What's ailing you, man?" that scrutinized 
 victim protested. " Standing up there with two 
 big, smoking lamps in your head? " And as 'Lonzo 
 refused him an answer, continued more vehemently, 
 "And how-cum you feel called on to bust into 
 my vigils, a-glaring at me like a hant? " 
 
 " I got reasons," the other replied, darkly mys- 
 terious. " It air bad news. It relates to Miss 
 Mary." 
 
 Chris's bold front fell away as a mask. He threw 
 a hand sidewise, and began feeling round, as a 
 man newly blinded. Encountering the back of 
 his desk-chair, he lowered himself to the seat. 
 
 " Miss Mary," he whispered. " Miss Ma-ry ! 
 Speak it, man quick. I'm anguished to hear." 
 
 Alonzo's clear-cut face softened, but he forced 
 the scowl again to his brow.
 
 252 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " First, you tell me just this, how long air you 
 been from her side? " 
 
 " From whose side? from Miss Mary's? I don't 
 rightly belong to her side, or no other woman's," 
 Chris remonstrated with some courage. 
 
 " YeVe been away five weeks. Five lonely 
 weeks," accused Alonzo. " And how many-a letter 
 have you written? " 
 
 " That air none of your business. You tell me 
 that thing you was starting to tell about Miss 
 Mary," blustered Chris, getting up to his feet, and 
 striding toward his companion. 
 
 " Then hear it," said 'Lonzo, " and know you 
 have done it yourself. She air pining away, Milly 
 says. She is flitting like gals of the hills, such as 
 we have seen, when they are tooken with long 
 mountain sickness. Milly goes there, she's one of 
 the few that Miss Mary will see. Milly says," he 
 went on with the torture, " that a'ready she's white 
 as the snow what's just fell on a grave." 
 
 Chris stood rigidly still, and each word his friend 
 flung toward him struck as a blow. 
 
 " Her sickness had really begun with pining for 
 you," 'Lonzo continued, and the compelling gaze set 
 on Chris dared him to oppose the statement. " But 
 it got mighty much worse, from the minute them 
 brass-banded Trenhams the scarrapins both 
 come back home to the old lady's house, and just 
 nachally shelved her." 
 
 " But they couldn't. It's Miss Mary's own house
 
 CHRIS IS "GOARDED" 253 
 
 what is tied to her, tight as a wart, by the law. 
 I saw to it and fixed it," said Chris. 
 
 " What protection is law against such a hustler 
 as that Trenham?" asked 'Lonzo. "His one law 
 is to grab all he can." 
 
 " I can't believe it," groaned Chris. 
 
 ".But it's true." 'Lonzo paused for an instant. 
 " Now let's get to the p'int and no shirking." 
 
 " Who's shirking? " cried Chris, with guilty swift- 
 ness. 
 
 " We soon is to see," 'Lonzo remarked. " I s'pose 
 you don't think I know why you got out of 
 town so darn quick, right after Sophie's wed- 
 ding? " 
 
 " Anybody is welcome to know why I went," 
 Chris began. 
 
 " Steady there," warned 'Lonzo. " All your life 
 you've been thinking you doted and worshipped 
 Miss Mary, and then the minute you had the chance 
 for to get her why, you ran like a sheep from a 
 dog." 
 
 " I didn't ! Ain't you 'shamed, 'Lonzo Thigpen, 
 to be speaking so light of a lady? It ain't nowise 
 respectful." 
 
 " You mean she don't care for you thataway? " 
 
 " I mean that" Chris replied, on a lilting fever- 
 ish hope. If only 'Lonzo would go, and leave him 
 in peace with his writing. 
 
 " You air sure? " the inquisitor prodded. " And 
 you give me your word to that fact? "
 
 254 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Chris's hope broke, with the sound and tke 
 quiver of a child's toy balloon in the air. 
 
 " I'm as sure as a fellow can be, about a thing 
 what he can't be plumb sure of," he fenced with 
 adroit circumlocution; and then, before his 
 friend's silent scorn, he protested, " but Miss Mary 
 couldn't care. Just you cast your eyes over me, 
 'Lonzo cast both your eyes. Don't you see I'm 
 as ugly as sin, and more clumsy? " 
 
 " Yes, I see," Thigpen assented quickly, " but in 
 your old bachelor innards you knows that the poor 
 woman dotes on you." 
 
 " Rut I tell you she don't! " Chris exclaimed, 
 showing symptoms of tears. 
 
 " It's queer what women can love," 'Lonzo con- 
 tinued, ignoring his companion's distress. " Just 
 for instance see me and my sweet one. How in 
 
 Gawd's name that angel can care Look here, 
 
 Chris," he broke in, leaning far forward, " without 
 you love and air wedded, all you gets is the 
 peelings of life just the rinds and no savour of 
 sweet fruit within." 
 
 " But s'posing a fellow likes peelings," the un- 
 married man burst forth, then paused and looked 
 sheepish. 
 
 " Now we got it," triumphed Alonzo in a tone 
 of conviction. " And it's just what I thought all 
 along. You is worse scared of marriage than a 
 sick kitten is scared of a well. You don't want to 
 take care of Miss Mary, to comfort and cherish her
 
 CHRIS IS "GOARDED" 255 
 
 none, poor little lonely small lady. I'm done," he 
 cried, springing up to his feet. " Fare ye well. 
 We may meet before long at your Miss Mary's 
 funeral you damn selfish bachelor skunk, that you 
 is. After this I'll feel pizened to greet you." 
 
 Chris took this last insult in silence. Indeed, the 
 wretched man was so dazed that nothing coherent 
 could enter his agonized mind. He failed to per- 
 ceive that Thigpen had stopped just without the 
 one door of his room. The panel moved softly; 
 one eye of Alonzo appeared. 
 
 " That is, you poor fool, you'll be pizen until you 
 have writ as you should to that sweet sainted soul 
 what adores you." 
 
 Now the swift racing steps brushed the stair- 
 way and vanished. 
 
 The sorely tried Chris feeling, somehow, a hint 
 of vague comfort at his visitor's last speech 
 cowered down in his chair. Later, he threw him- 
 self onto the bed with face hidden from all of his 
 treasures. 
 
 He sought the old pipe, but even that friend 
 failed to comfort. Then he paced to and fro 
 still a lion but one in a cage. And the curious 
 phase of his torment was that he knew well, all the 
 time, that soon he would write to Miss Mary. 
 
 Once again he performed a slow, solemn round 
 among his cocoons and bug-critters. His eyes held 
 the tears of farewell. Once again he patted the 
 sides of his Memory Book, after which, replacing
 
 256 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the tome to its nook of safe hiding, he got out some 
 paper and wrote: 
 
 " DEAR Miss MARY, 
 
 This beginning looked cold. He tilted his shaggy 
 head backward to view it, and sighed deeply. " I'd 
 better not make it too vigorous, until I find out 
 what she likes. That long-legged tanner from yan," 
 he referred to his once worshipped Alonzo, " don't 
 know everything down in Judee." At this thought 
 the mournful face lightened, but it proved merely a 
 rift in the clouds. 
 
 " I came back only this evening at sunset [he went 
 on with his missive], I had surely intended to go to 
 your house the minute I had swallowed my supper, 
 and I hurried upstairs for my coat, but I just had to 
 finish one line of some writing that the supper bell 
 broke in the middle and when I got started I did 
 not have sense enough to stop. 
 
 About ten, Lonzo Thigpen, who had heard I was 
 back from my visit, he chunked up some rocks at my 
 window, and then told me the terrible news of your 
 being so ailing, and still are. 
 
 I am asking you now, dear Miss Mary, to give me 
 the right to take care of you ever. There ain't been, 
 and won't never be any woman for me, since that first 
 time I saw your sweet face when I vaulted the fence 
 of the Rectory garden, that time I was chasing a 
 spider, which turned out to be the first species of the 
 genus Lycosa I had ever seen. 
 
 I had given up all thoughts of being wedded like
 
 CHRIS IS " GOARDED " 257 
 
 other men specially Lonzo. More than once you have 
 made me to know or I thought so that a friendship 
 was all that you would wish. I had grown content 
 with that too, having fixed up my den as I wanted, 
 and knowing no lady, not even one so willing as you, 
 would let me keep spiders and beetles, and lately I'm 
 adding some caterpillars and a few fighting wasps, the 
 latter of which, I'm inclined to agree with the great 
 naturalist Fabre, are almost the queerest of all. 
 Though I'm bound to tell you that caterpillars are 
 wonderful too, in their way, especially that variety 
 called the Processional Caterpillar of the Pines. I 
 could show you one of these processions some day, 
 if you could bring yourself to take real interest. 
 
 Lonzo made me believe what I never have thought 
 for myself, that maybe you cared for me just a little. 
 I now offer myself all my heart and my love and I 
 want to take care of you, dear Miss Mary; but I am 
 sorry to say there is not much else to offer. Like a 
 fool I took most of my savings and went up North like 
 a selfish pig, and had a good time on the money all 
 alone by myself, and nobody with me. But if you will 
 make me the happiest of men, dear Miss Mary, I will 
 never spend another cent on myself, except now and 
 then for tobacco, a cheap brand. 
 
 God bless you, Miss Mary, and make you well soon. 
 Let me know the first moment you are able to see me, 
 but don't exert yourself any for me. God bless you 
 again. 
 
 Your faithful devoted friend ever, 
 
 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD."
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 A STAR IN THE EAST 
 
 EACH morning, the very first thing upon com- 
 pleting her toilet, it was now Sophie's custom 
 to go to her mother, give her greetings with 
 lingering sweetness, and inquire as to the night 
 she had passed. 
 
 On the day following Chris's arrival, and before 
 the Trenham-Hallonquist menage was aware of his 
 coming, the young wife emerged from the sick-room 
 her face plainly stamped with alarm. 
 
 Half -unconscious of where her steps led her, she 
 returned to her bedchamber, and, passing through 
 and beyond it, re-entered the pleasant dressing- 
 room annex. 
 
 Karl had just finished shaving. Catching sight 
 of his wife in the mirror, he wheeled round at once. 
 " And how is Mother today? " he inquired, in a 
 tone which revealed it as part of the morning's 
 routine. 
 
 No answer being given, his blond brows con- 
 tracted ; and pursing his mouth for a whistle, as if 
 in dismay, he suddenly changed to the lowered 
 query, " She ain't worse? " 
 
 " I can't honestly say that she's worse," Sophie 
 
 258
 
 A STAR IN THE EAST 299 
 
 told him, " but if you'd seen her just now as I did, 
 with one little shaft of grey light on her exquisite 
 face And it held that that happy faraway 
 smile which I know, though I never have seen it 
 before, must lie on the lips of those who die in the 
 Lord." 
 
 As she stammered these last tragic words, she 
 flung herself on to a couch, all of her slender and 
 vigorous being one tempest of grief. 
 
 Trenham threw himself down to his knees be- 
 side her, " Now, my dearest," he pleaded, " you 
 know this won't do " 
 
 "Oh, but Karl," Sophie wailed to him, "I 
 couldn't bear it right now right now when I'll 
 need her so badly. Every girl needs her mother 
 most then." 
 
 The two lovers rocked silently together, until the 
 wife's long sobs had been stilled. 
 
 " That's better, my own precious darling. You 
 be quiet that's right. You've got me and our 
 secret to think of, as well as your poor little mother. 
 Have you told her yet? " 
 
 " No not ye-ye-yet," quavered Sophie. " I've 
 wanted to, and I've tried ; but somehow, at the last, 
 when about to begin it, I got frightened for fear 
 of the shock." 
 
 " I don't believe she would think it a shock. In 
 fact, I believe it might help her." 
 
 " Perhaps so. I will make myself tell her today. 
 Oh, Karlie, you old angel. You are such a wonder-
 
 260 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 f ul comfort ! " she nestled, her soft lips seeking 
 his. 
 
 In the calm of the forenoon Sophie told her 
 secret. 
 
 She scarcely had needed a word, for to all of 
 the mothers on earth the white light of Annuncia- 
 tion has a glory apart from all lesser revelations. 
 
 Through the rest of the morning Mary Hallon- 
 quist lay without movement or sound, a herald 
 smile on her silver-white face, and her eyes wide 
 blue heavens of hope, across which, now and again, 
 drifted small clouds of memory. 
 
 About twelve o'clock Sophie ventured to knock, 
 and had just entered when a vigorous battering of 
 fists on the door put an end to all talk in an 
 instant. 
 
 " Letter done jes' bin lef by dat young, yaller 
 postman fer Miss Mary Hallonquist, fo' hunderd 
 an' forty one Regint's Road, Dunrobin, Virginny," 
 announced Tempey, as if reading aloud. 
 
 " Not really for me. Come in, Tempey," the sick 
 woman added. " Why, nobody writes to me now. 
 I've been so negligent of all my old correspondents. 
 Oh, I know, it's an advertisement." 
 
 " Nome, 'tain't no ad-ver-f ise-ment, Miss Mary. 
 Hit's a sure 'nuff, fo' de Lawd letter, wid de stamp 
 an' de backin' an' all. I did think at fust hit was 
 writ by de quality," the bearer commented, scowl- 
 ing down at the missive once more. " De han'writ- 
 in' is what hit should be, but den when I turnt hit
 
 A STAR IN THE EAST 261 
 
 over I seed dat de thumb wan't clean what run 
 over de flap after lickin' hit " 
 
 " That sounds not unlike Uncle Chris," Sophie 
 laughed, noting a flush stealing over Mary's cheek. 
 " Going to read it aloud to the family, Mother," she 
 teased, then running to Tempey, and slipping her 
 arm through a gingham one, cried, " Come on, 
 Mammy. No place for us now." 
 
 " Yes, it is Chris's writing. It really is Chris," 
 Mary whispered, her eyes on the letter. 
 
 She reversed it, scrutinizing the postmark. It 
 was unmistakably " Dunrobin," at which Mary fell 
 back to her pillow with a little moan. " Then he's 
 home," she reasoned. " Or rather, they're home, 
 and this is their announcement of the marriage." 
 
 She flung the white letter to one side as though 
 it had scorched her. " I can't open it," she wept, 
 in helpless bondage to her misery. " I know I'm 
 silly and weak, but somehow I just can't." 
 
 After an indulgence in tears, the usual reaction 
 of which brought her partial composure, she finally 
 tore the envelope apart and read. 
 
 It was but a few moments later that Sophie and 
 Tempey, hearing a sharp, sudden scream, forced 
 themselves to a simultaneous dash toward the sick- 
 room. 
 
 Sophie reached the door first, and, finding it 
 locked, almost sank to its threshold with terror. 
 " Wait right where you are, Mammy Tempey," she 
 chattered, " I'll go round by the steps that lead
 
 262 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 through our new bathroom, and try to get in that 
 way." 
 
 To her mighty relief she succeeded, and only 
 stopping to unfasten the door for Tempey, ran up 
 to her mother. 
 
 For a few dreadful heart-beats Sophie thought 
 the still figure was lifeless. It was lying back 
 across the pillows, and the hands through the 
 fingers of which showed the dog's-ears and points 
 of a just crumpled letter were crushed to her 
 breast. 
 
 Doctor Stepp arrived promptly. The usual 
 restoratives were given, and shortly the blue eyes 
 opened wide to a world which, indeed, had been 
 suddenly remoulded much nearer to her sore heart's 
 desire. 
 
 Chris called late on the same afternoon, having 
 been told by " niece Letty " of Mrs. Hallonquist's 
 sudden and quite unaccountable turn for the better. 
 
 Naturally, to the writer of Chris's impassioned 
 love-letter the reason of the change was clear. So 
 Alonzo was fatally right! All Miss Mary had 
 needed was just what his letter had told her. 
 
 A happy and rosy-cheeked Sophie threw the door 
 wide at his ring. " Uncle Kiss ! How delightful ! 
 I hadn't heard that you were back. Why, Mother 
 only got your letter yesterday, and I felt sure it 
 was from some place up North." 
 
 " No," said Lochinvar heavily, " I wrote it right 
 here in this town. How's Miss Mary? "
 
 A STAR IN THE EAST 263 
 
 " Oh, haven't you heard? " Sophie sparkled. 
 " We've been frightfully anxious, but now Mother's 
 going to get well.'' 
 
 " I've heard as much," Chris replied in the voice 
 of a mourner. " Look here, Sophie," he added, his 
 tone sinking low, and one furtive glance cast back 
 over a shoulder, to see whether Thigpen pursued. 
 " Is it plumb downright true? Is Miss Mary as 
 well as you looks for? " 
 
 " Every bit as well," Sophie carolled. " You 
 never saw anything like it? She's improving each 
 moment she breathes. Oh, oh, Uncle Kiss I'm so 
 happy ! " 
 
 " Me me too ! " stammered Chris, with a 
 fatuous, downward extension of trembling lips. 
 
 " I'm just bu'sting with joy. But " and here 
 
 he offered as his lover's tribute a long box from 
 the florist's. 
 
 " How sweet of you ! Wait right here, while I 
 carry your flowers to Mother," Sophie encouraged. 
 " I'll soon bring you a message from her." 
 
 She flew in at the door, but Chris clutched her. 
 " Never mind," he gasped out. " It don't matter. 
 I won't wait. I don't want Miss Mary harried." 
 
 " Oh, she won't think it harrying," the daughter 
 laughed. 
 
 As the door slammed, Chris hesitated for a while, 
 then rushed for the steps, and had begun a quick 
 trot toward the gate, when Sophie's voice caught 
 him.
 
 264 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Uncle Kiss come on back I've your mes- 
 sage." 
 
 " You got me a message, you say? " he inquired 
 very feebly. " Air you sure she meant it for me, 
 and no other? " 
 
 " What a question ! Why, of course it's for you. 
 Mother said to tell Chris What's the matter? " 
 
 " No-no-thing," he stuttered. " I only tripped 
 over one foot. This here boot, it's too big for my 
 tootsie I'm a-hearing you now keep right on." 
 
 Sophie's eyes narrowed a trifle. " Do you want 
 it in her very own words? " 
 
 " I I reckon I do. Yes fire straight, I ain't 
 crawling." 
 
 " Well, Mother says the very first thing she will 
 do in the morning when the doctor lets her sit up 
 for an hour will be to answer your astonishing, dear 
 'and ridiculous letter." 
 
 The hearer stood still, for what seemed to them 
 both a long silence. 
 
 " You're dead sure she spoke them words what 
 named my poor letter ree-dic-u-lous? " Chris 
 finally asked. 
 
 "Yes, just that. Oh, I shouldn't have told you! 
 I'm sure she couldn't have meant it. But you know 
 Mother's weak yet, Uncle Chris," Sophie exclaimed 
 in contrition. 
 
 " Weak ! ' he cried with the note of a trumpet. 
 " What's the matter with us, little girl, is that 
 she's got all the sense ! "
 
 A STAR IN THE EAST 265 
 
 After this, to Sophie's utter amazement, the 
 radiant man jerked off his hat, tossed his shuck- 
 coloured hair to the breezes, and laughed as if he 
 were going stark mad. 
 
 " You you must try not to notice," he got out 
 on a short, sobbing breath. " When a great misery 
 
 hits you plumb in the middle Hold on there 
 
 just a minute " 
 
 The young matron paused, still puzzled, but 
 rather more scornful. 
 
 " Pur pur please, don't tell your maw that 
 I laughed," he besought, on a new suspiration. 
 
 " It is nothing I care to recall, for I tell you right 
 now, Uncle Chris," and she eyed him distastefully, 
 "you are either drunk or crazy." 
 
 With these words she sped up the walk and left 
 him. 
 
 Chris lived in a sort of dream until the letter 
 was put in his hand, and then, like a dog with a 
 bone he crept to his kennel to read it. 
 
 " You dear Chris let me tell you at once that my 
 answer is No the tenderest, lovingest ' no ' that ever 
 was spoken; but one that can never be changed. 
 
 It was kind and just like you to be so deeply wor- 
 ried because of my illness, and want ' to take care of 
 me ever.' But I don't need it now, because of a won- 
 derful something that has only just come into my life. 
 There are tieo wonderful somethings, to be truthful, 
 yet I can only tell of one in this letter. 
 
 My daughter Sophie is going to need me more
 
 266 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 than she has ever done. You will know what I mean 
 you who loved the white fox on the hillside, and 
 cared for the dumb mother-sheep. You see, I remember 
 all the things that you tell me. And when this sweet 
 winter is past, and Sophie has looked into the face 
 of her firstborn I want you to teach me about the 
 critters you love the processional pines, and the fight- 
 ing spiders too, though I count on my teacher to keep 
 them from stinging his pupil. And Chris, most of all, 
 I want to know about the Lycosa! If you only knew 
 what Miss Lizzy Lycosa was meaning to me at this 
 moment! But I don't think you ever will know. 
 
 In just about a week I think I'll be able to see you, 
 and won't we both laugh at this idea of yours, that you 
 ought to propose to and protect me? No, my dear 
 you must always remain what you are to me now at 
 this writing the best, the dearest, most loyal of friends 
 may God make me worthy of all you have given, 
 dear Chris, and will I know continue to give to your 
 humbled, yet happy old friend, 
 
 Your 
 
 ' Miss MARY.' " 
 
 Chris read it through twice without a pause. 
 Then he raised his bent head. " Lord ! " he groaned, 
 dragging out from its niche a dingy pocket hand- 
 kerchief. " The sense she is got the good sense ! 
 of course there never was a thought except in the* 
 cracked skull of 'Lonzo of Miss Mary and me 
 mincing round getting married. We is both better 
 off as we air and may God bless her ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 BLESSING 
 
 SO Chris's Miss Mary got well, and, along with 
 the fresh meed of vigour regained almost her 
 virginal beauty, and a new tranquil poise of 
 soul. 
 
 And why should she not this devoted and sorely- 
 tried being? In one golden day she had realized 
 Chris as all her own, and had strained to a long- 
 famished heart the clinging, enraptured form of a 
 newly found daughter. 
 
 Then, later the following summer, the firstborn 
 of the Trenhams opened heaven-blue eyes to the 
 world. 
 
 At first, neither parent attempted to hide a keen 
 disappointment that the little one was not a boy. 
 But to the grandmother, to Mary, the fact of its 
 sex was just one more deep cause for rejoicing. 
 
 " My blessing my blessing," she whispered, her 
 fond, humid eyes on the delicate face. " The others 
 may call you Mary Baring, and I'm glad it is so, 
 but for me your name will always be l Blessing.' " 
 
 In all matters of business, things were " coming 
 Karl's way " with a vengeance. The shot tower's 
 
 267
 
 268 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 trade boomed loudly, and was growing to such an 
 extent that fresh runnels of interest were leading 
 " up North " and " out West." It was now that the 
 young man began to make trips to that Mecca of all 
 financiers, New York City. 
 
 In the face of Karl's steady progress, he and 
 Sophie began to feel that the cottage, while all very 
 well for a young couple's start, was a rather poor 
 housing for what they had worked up to now. 
 
 " Yes, the time has come to build," the two 
 agreed, and one evening soon after, the husband 
 and wife set themselves to reckon up their assets, 
 the exact amount of cash and credit that might be 
 employed. 
 
 " Of course," Sophie observed, tapping with the 
 unsharpened end of her pencil a square white tooth, 
 " so much will depend, Daddy, upon the size and 
 location of the lot we get." 
 
 Karl gave a start. " I don't believe you've quite 
 taken in the fact that if things are worked right 
 if we just push together we could manage to put 
 up a house that would place us at once in the class 
 where you at least belong, and me partly that is, 
 of historic Virginians who still live on the land 
 granted to their forbears by kings. Do you get 
 me? " 
 
 Sophie's face lit up with the dawn of excite- 
 ment. " Not exactly, though it sounds rather 
 frightfully thrilling." 
 
 " There are ways without using much cash
 
 BLESSING 269 
 
 and while luck's running with me, is the time to 
 take risks. It's your right, my dear girl, to be 
 given a fine setting that suits you, and another 
 thing, too, we must think of Mary Baring may not 
 always be the one child. Oh, Sophie you darl- 
 ing! " he broke in to reach for her hand, " to blush 
 for your husband like that. No wonder I stay 
 crazy-mad over you, and get worse every day that 
 I live! But of course, precious love, you must see 
 for yourself that we've got to have sons to inherit 
 the fruits of our efforts.'' 
 
 " I see it," she murmured with adorable meek- 
 ness. " You mean, we should rebuild big Hallon- 
 quist Hall? " 
 
 "Exactly," he caught with a laugh from her 
 red lips, " and we won't wait until we are too 
 old to enjoy it! No, my sweetheart, that's not 
 Karl Trenham's way, not by a little ! We'll get the 
 goods now, while we're young a huge, showy 
 palace." 
 
 " All right," smiled his wife, " and I want to 
 hear about the finances how you think you can 
 possibly make it." 
 
 Karl's eyes fell away, but his voice remained 
 clear and convincing. 
 
 " First of all through my credit and that of the 
 shot tower business, and then next by a mort- 
 gage." 
 
 Sophie sat up very straight. " A mortgage ! On 
 what? "
 
 270 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " This whole property," he replied, with a 
 broad, sweeping gesture. " The Hallonquist lot 
 which is yours, and this cottage." 
 
 " Mother'll never consent." 
 
 " Yes, she will," Karl encouraged, " all she needs 
 is to be jollied along the right way. If it wasn't 
 so late," he remarked, with a glance at the clock 
 which was just going ten, " I'd go rouse her right 
 now and begin it." 
 
 " I won't let you, Karlie. Little Mary's been 
 droopy all day, and you know what that does to 
 Mother. No, it is nothing serious," Sophie added, 
 " only Mother is daffy over the baby." 
 
 The next day little Mary was still in a rather 
 high fever. 
 
 Doctor Stepp dropped in often, not so much that 
 the small invalid required his frequent visits, but 
 to assuage the anxiety of a woman he liked and 
 admired. Mary's devotion to Blessing as the 
 child was now generally called was one of the 
 smiles of Dunrobin. 
 
 That evening the weary and still anxious Mrs. 
 Hallonquist dragged herself in for supper. Her face 
 held the pallor and sharply cut lines that betokened 
 a famine of sleep. 
 
 Karl looked past the delicate profile to meet 
 the dark eyes of his wife, and, seeing a latent sug- 
 gestion of warning, immediately withdrew his 
 own. 
 
 " Look here, Mother," he began boldly.
 
 BLESSING 271 
 
 Mary turned a slow, answering gaze. " Yes, 
 Karl, I am listening." 
 
 " There's something important that Sophie and 
 I want to ask you a business affair, so to 
 speak " 
 
 " Oh, Karl, couldn't whatever it is wait till 
 morning? " the poor lady sighed. " I'm exhausted ; 
 and besides, I must get back to Blessing," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 " I'll run to her," interjected Sophie. " And will 
 promise to stay if she isn't asleep. Karl is really 
 anxious to get your opinion." 
 
 The husband and wife nodded sagely, the one 
 to the other. Already they worked like the pro- 
 verbial thumb and forefinger, on a hand shrewdly 
 extended toward whatever door might possibly open 
 to disclose approaching perferment. 
 
 The mother submitted, and let herself sink to 
 her favourite small rocking-chair. Both eyes were 
 smarting, and the white lids dropped heavily. 
 
 Karl began a rapid explanation of his plans. 
 Sophie, stealing in a few moments later, saw her 
 mother's brown head drooping with exhaustion. 
 
 The papers had all been prepared, and were 
 lying flat on the table as if pleading for signa- 
 ture, when the three heard the front door-knob 
 turn. 
 
 This time the man's frown was a scowl which 
 brought his thick blond brows together, then his 
 face cleared. " It's old Doc! " he exclaimed, hear-
 
 272 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 ing footsteps continue on their way down the hall 
 to the bedrooms. " He won't butt in here." 
 
 " It sounded to me like two pairs of feet," Sophie 
 remarked, but no one else appeared to notice the 
 fact. 
 
 " Now, Mother, brace up," Karl adjured. " This 
 document means that you are merely lending your 
 lands to your own loving children. The interest 
 will soon be paid back and we will all be living 
 like kings and queens in a palace think what a 
 fine thing it will be for Blessing, think of all " 
 
 " I have been trying to think," Mary's plaintive 
 tones answered. " But you talk so very loud and 
 fast, Karl, that I can't. The one word that stays 
 in my mind is that dreadful one mortgage/' 
 
 " Who says * mortgage '? " a gruff laughing voice 
 at the door now demanded. 
 
 " Oh, Chris ! " Mary breathed on a cadence f 
 deepest relief. " Do come and help me. These two 
 children want me to sign a long paper, and I'm 
 so dreadfully tired with nursing I don't understand 
 the first sentence. And besides," she said, rising, 
 " I've got to go in and see what the doctor thinks 
 now of my Blessing ! " 
 
 "You just toddle right on," the big man en- 
 couraged. " I've the whole night to linger in case 
 as you need me." 
 
 She sped toward the hall, Chris's fond look at- 
 tending. A moment later he moved one hand down 
 in the direction of the paper, but Trenham was
 
 BLESSING 273 
 
 before him. " It's a mortgage all right, Mr. Laird. 
 It's something that Sophie and I were anxious to 
 put over, and I know it would have worked out 
 safely. But I know, too, that the crimp was put 
 in when you came. You belong to the old genera- 
 tion whose one motto is ' caution.' This thing's 
 no good now, and had better be burned." 
 
 In dead silence he walked to the grate, and thrust 
 the long, crackling sheets down to the heart of the 
 fire, then, with shoulders squared in defiance, he 
 went from the room. 
 
 His wife made as if to follow. " A minute there, 
 Sophie, my girl," came Uncle Chris's check-rein. 
 " There's a-something I'm minded to tell you." 
 
 "And why should I listen?" she answered, her 
 stormy eyes full on his face. " You've defeated 
 our plans by your coming. You have won. What 
 else is there to say? " 
 
 " There is this much," the low voice persisted. 
 " That paper was hurtful to Miss Mary's interests. 
 Of that I'm plumb sure." 
 
 " I will not believe it," flashed Mrs. Trenham. 
 " Karl saw to the wording of it himself, and it was 
 as much to Mother's advantage as to mine." 
 
 " He told you that," Chris said gently. " Well, 
 your Karl is a powerful hustler. He's bound to 
 get rich in this world what's the thing both of 
 you yearns for but sometimes he makes the mis- 
 take of going so fast that he runs into himself from 
 behind and goes sprawling. That there mortgage,"
 
 274 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the speaker went on, noting a relaxing of Sophie's 
 stiff shoulders, " played for terribly high stakes. 
 You see, them devil devices are part of your Uncle 
 Chris's business. In fact though I don't want it 
 ever mentioned I plumb keep myself paupered a- 
 helping poor farmers and blacks to hold on to 
 theirs. 
 
 " Oh, I ain't forgot that your man is more know- 
 ing," Christopher cried, at an impatient twitch of 
 silk skirts. " Yet even with him, if just one little 
 cog should slip loose in his injine of finance the 
 whole crowd, you, Miss Mary an' Blessing all of 
 you would be nachally ruined." 
 
 Sophie's flaunting had ceased. The man knew 
 that his words had made an impression. 
 
 " The most I've been thinking," he now recom- 
 menced, " is that risks such as this they won't do 
 for an elderly lady. You young ones can crawl 
 out of gulleys and pitfalls, where Miss Mary would 
 slip on the sides. No, my girl, I'm purposed to 
 look out for Miss Mary and Blessing " 
 
 " My own child ! " Sophie cried with a short 
 angry laugh. 
 
 " Yes, she is yours, in a manner, but the whole 
 town says it, she's far more enlikened to Miss 
 Mary." 
 
 Sophie gave a resigned, humorous gesture. 
 
 " And being so purposed," Chris continued, quite 
 unruffled, " I have done what I think best for them, 
 and I'm likely to keep on doing so till I'm toted
 
 BLESSING 275 
 
 up on the slope of Old Painter's Bald in my coffin, 
 as I've made all pervisions by will." 
 
 Mary's daughter looked down upon him, her 
 glowing face gentled. Then from him she glanced 
 to the fire, where the last blackened fragments were 
 writhing, white ghosts of a screed. 
 
 " I know you mean well, Uncle Chris, and it may 
 
 be you are exactly right, but " she gave him 
 
 the smile of the old impetuous Sophie, and stretched 
 both hands to the grate " for me, there again has 
 dear Hallonquist Hall been burned to ashes."
 
 OHAPTEK XXXII 
 
 THE NEW YORKERS 
 
 FOB a few days Karl sulked ; but his mood did 
 not hold very long in the face of his wife's 
 merry banter. 
 
 " What's the ' dif ' Karlie dear? " she would ask, 
 her brown eyes shining lakes of concession. " After 
 all, we have time and to spare for our final great 
 stunt, as you call it the rebuilding of Hallonquist 
 Hall. 
 
 " For one thing," she continued, " it will save 
 you from carrying that dreadful load of interest. 
 For another, I'm going to beg a great treat for 
 myself, for your wife. It's a thing my heart's set 
 upon. Will you do it, my precious, for me? " 
 
 " For you, darling ! " he stammered. This love 
 of his beautiful wife came upon him at times in a 
 tempest. " Anything that I own anything ! You 
 may have my life blood if you want it." 
 
 " Well, I do," Sophie tenderly laughed. " But 
 not spilled and all messy. I want it in the very 
 place it is now pounding hard in your blessed old 
 veins. The thing I'm going to ask is that, on your 
 very next trip to New York, you will take me." 
 
 " You just bet your sweet life ! " cried the man, 
 
 276
 
 THE NEW YORKERS 277 
 
 and from that moment onward they were planning 
 like two happy children. 
 
 During the intervening months, they found 
 abundant excitement in having the carpenters 
 "tack on " an entirely unsuitable porte-cochere 
 near the dining-room windows, greatly darkening 
 that brave little apartment. Next a spindling 
 tower sprung up, crowned with bright red shingles, 
 and, to complete the changes, a parlour bay-window 
 was thrust out from the house with such violent 
 newness that it gave the effect of a volcanic up- 
 heaval within. 
 
 During the absence of the Trenhams in New 
 York, the cottage, though sadly defaced, once 
 again became a real home for Mrs. Hallonquist, 
 and for Chris the friendliest spot on the whole 
 friendly earth. 
 
 By this time Mary Baring the second had reached 
 that endearing point in her infant career when 
 not only could she run like a glimmer of light on a 
 stream, but the small tongue was never at rest. 
 Each new word or phrase was repeated, the tender 
 lips stripping the r's off like thorns, as a poet once 
 said of her baby. 
 
 The young travellers came back from New York 
 a bit unexpectedly. They had outstayed their 
 original date by a fortnight. 
 
 Sophie stepped from Dunrobin's one taxi with a 
 genuine Avenue air, and ran up the long lilac walk 
 to where her mother was weeding a violet bed near
 
 278 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the house. The toiler straightened up at the sound 
 of quick footsteps. 
 
 " Sophie you ! " she cried out, and her trowel 
 went to the gravel. " You gave me no hint to ex- 
 pect you! 
 
 " But, my dear! " she went on in amazed admira- 
 tion, the tribute forced from her at sight of her 
 daughter's surpassing beauty. " How pretty you 
 look how how queenly, in that splendid coat 
 and those wonderful furs! They bring out all of 
 your colouring. How proud of you Karl must have 
 been ! " 
 
 " Yes, he was," Sophie dimpled. " But such a 
 jealous old goose, bless his heart. He nearly went 
 wild if another man looked toward the end of the 
 room where I was sitting. All the same, he's a 
 darling! Aren't you glad, Mother dear, that you 
 finally gave your consent? " 
 
 Before Mary could answer this somewhat embar- 
 rassing question, her companion spared her the 
 trouble. 
 
 " It's all wrong," Sophie exclaimed, the bright 
 eyes lashing over the tawdry, amorphous facade 
 of the house. " The whole business is wrong," she 
 decreed in a tone of chagrin. " That tower and 
 awful cupola on top they are vicious and that 
 knock-kneed porte-cochere is a disgrace! Why, 
 oh why, didn't Karl take me North before we put 
 up those horrors? It would have saved us such 
 humiliating blunders ! "
 
 THE NEW YORKERS 279 
 
 Karl had followed his wife, both hands strained 
 to hold much handsome new luggage with con- 
 spicuous initialing in silver on the sides of each 
 piece. He, too, stared at the wretched building. 
 " Gee, it's fierce ! " he remarked, and moved for- 
 ward. 
 
 From the time of this first Northern visit, Mrs. 
 Hallonquist dated a series of notable changes in 
 her daughter. 
 
 Sophie acquired, as it were, a new poise, and 
 having attained it, began a deliberate hardening to 
 which soon a high polish was added. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the town, Mr. Trenham was known 
 to have made irritatingly frequent allusions to 
 " good old Wall Street, the place where Big Things 
 were put over." Upon the mind of Karl, as upon 
 myriads more of the men of his country, the ad- 
 jective " Big " was beginning to glow like the signs 
 above Broadway at night. 
 
 One subject in common, upon which husband and 
 wife loved to dwell, was the ever increasing in- 
 timacy between themselves and their foreign friend, 
 the Count Echstrom. 
 
 " Such manner ! Such charm. Such intense 
 savoire-faire! " Sophie cried, with her gaze on the 
 ceiling. 
 
 " I've been told," Karl solemnly proffered, " that 
 the court of Sweden couldn't get on without him." 
 
 Chris, ensconced in his big chair paying an eve- 
 ning call, indulged in a wink toward Miss Mary.
 
 280 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Then, that being the case," he drawled out, 
 " how's it happen they let the cock go, to come 
 strutting about amongst our barnyards? " 
 
 " He won't stop long," both young voices as- 
 sured him. 
 
 " The Count is here," explained Sophie, with 
 hauteur, " because dear King Gustave has sent him 
 to buy up some metals and things for his govern- 
 ment. Karlie first met him in the office of a big 
 copper broker, and a mutual friend told us that 
 not only is Count Echstrom one of the high aristo- 
 crats, but is distantly connected with the royal 
 family of his country." 
 
 " And with that of Germany, too," threw in Tren- 
 nam. " You remember, my dear," he continued 
 with a fond look toward his wife, " how at dinner 
 that last night at the Waldorf he let slip, without 
 seeming to know it, the fact of his kinship blood 
 kinship, Mother to the Kaiser himself, the great 
 German Emperor." 
 
 He paused, for response or exclamation upon the 
 part of his audience, but as nothing was heard, 
 Sophie took up the wondrous tale. 
 
 " The Count is so modest," she purred. " When 
 I taxed him with his exalted rank in Sweden, he 
 tried to deny it. But afterward, when he and I 
 were alone sitting on one of those splendid Oriental 
 ottomans " 
 
 " Yes, I knows the things well I've been there," 
 interjected Chris with unwelcome assurance. " I've
 
 THE NEW YORKERS 281 
 
 roosted on them benches myself. They lines the 
 two sides of that passage they calls Peacock Alley 
 though in fact it's more for the pea-hens. I've set 
 on the darn things in turn, just to try them, and 
 I'd just as lieve sit on a cow." 
 
 Sophie tossed her dark head, and abandoning the 
 struggle to impress her audience rose to say good- 
 night. At the door, with her hand on the lintel, 
 she paused to fling back across her shoulder, " You 
 may soon have a chance to see Count Echstrom, 
 Mother, for he has promised to visit us here in 
 Dunrobin."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE BUILDERS 
 
 THE number of Karl's trips both to the West 
 and the North increased. On few of the 
 latter did he go without taking his eager and 
 lovely young wife. 
 
 Apart from the external splendours of that great 
 American city, New York, which the humblest is 
 free to enjoy, the Trenhams were now in the way 
 of making acquaintances. And these new friends 
 were all of them in a class so gay, wealthy and 
 hospitable, that the still unsophisticated South- 
 erners might well be pardoned for accepting them 
 at their own merry valuation. 
 
 Invitations for various week-end visits, began to 
 tingle over the telephone in a certain private suite 
 of a smart hotel. After several glorious experiences 
 down on Long Island, out to Tuxedo, and up Green- 
 wich way, the Virginia couple became convinced 
 that the one thing needful for Dunrobin now af- 
 fectionately referred to as their dear little old- 
 fashioned home-town was the possession at the 
 earliest possible moment of a showy modern 
 Country Club.
 
 THE BUILDERS 283 
 
 The younger Whitlocks at once agreed to back 
 the worthy enterprise, and subscriptions to the 
 full amount were rapidly raised. Almost auto- 
 matically, Karl became chairman of the building 
 committee, and Sophie the lady in sole charge of 
 entertainments. 
 
 Naturally at least to the Trenhams the local 
 architect was brushed aside as non-existent, and a 
 " crackajack from the Avenue " (Karl's own words) 
 was imported through the kind offices of their now 
 ardent friend, Count Echstrom, and it was agreed 
 between Sophie and Karl that the New Yorker 
 should at the same time draw plans for the im- 
 mediate rebuilding of Hallonquist Hall. 
 
 Mary turned her face away when the wild-rose 
 vines and the honeysuckles were stripped off from 
 the piles of peacefully mouldering brick to make 
 way for the erection of a French Chateau. To her, 
 it was all of it a nightmare. She resented the 
 placing of a foreign imitation where the Hallon- 
 quist homestead had lifted walls of such simple 
 dignity. Yet how was she to prevent the desecra- 
 tion? 
 
 On the forenoon of a certain April day, to be 
 exact, the fifth of the month, 1916, Letitia Gaither, 
 a woman no longer young, but none the less 
 pleasant to look at, even attractive, because the 
 years of her life had spread a tranquil texture 
 over her fine, strong face, ran down her long hall 
 steps to the lower floor, a small hat thrust on any-
 
 284 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 how, and, as she ran, pulling at her second worn 
 glove. 
 
 She had scarcely reached the level of the en- 
 trance, when, from the service quarter of the house, 
 Aunt Ossie emerged tugging, in ludicrous simili- 
 tude, at her second glove, and throwing back 
 further orders to the kitchen, through a half -opened 
 door. 
 
 " Why, Auntie ! " Letty cried, stopped short at 
 the unusual vision. " I didn't know that you were 
 going out. I didn't know that you ever left the 
 house so early in the day." 
 
 "I don't. Not often," Ossie admitted. There 
 was a deep, suppressed excitement in her face. 
 " But this is something special. I am going, Niece 
 Letty, to the first real business meeting of my life." 
 
 " You mean to the Gaither shot tower? " 
 
 " How did you know? " 
 
 " I happened to overhear Father at the breakfast 
 table saying to Uncle Chris that the big annual 
 meeting was to be held: and there was something 
 else about Karl Trenham that I did not catch." 
 
 A grim reflection of a smile flickered on Ossie's 
 lips. " And unless I'm much mistaken," she said 
 with a sort of inner chuckle, " young Trenham is 
 going to find that there is something at this meeting 
 that's out of his power to catch. And where are you 
 off to, Letty? " 
 
 " Why, Sophie insists that I come out to her house 
 at once, and I know it's to pin me down to going to
 
 THE BUILDERS 285 
 
 that Country Club opening tomorrow afternoon. 
 But that I won't do," Letty concluded with de- 
 cision. 
 
 " Why go there at all, then to the Trenham's 
 house, I mean? " Ossie inquired, a trifle icily. 
 
 " Oh, I can spare half an hour, I suppose. And 
 Sophie is hard to refuse." 
 
 Mrs. Trenhain was in her bedroom. The ample 
 apartment was a perfume of flowers. 
 
 " Gracious, it's not your birthday ! " Letty cried 
 in amaze, as her eyes went from a huge glass vase 
 of abnormally stemmed " American Beauties " to a 
 veritable bed of moss-set lilies-of -the- valley ; and 
 onto the gold, crystal and silver strewn dresser, 
 where a dome of violets bloomed that might have 
 put to shame the largest of Dutch cabbages. 
 
 " No," Sophie laughed, diving into a box where 
 gleaming folds of satin showed through tissue wrap- 
 pings, " all this hilarity simply means that the 
 Country Club is to have its big housewarming to- 
 morrow evening, but you must sit down that is 
 if you can find a place, for I'm going to scold you." 
 
 The smiling Letitia finally cleared a seat among 
 the tumbled silks and laces on the bed, and turn- 
 ing to her mentor demanded, " Well ! " 
 
 " It isn't well, and you know it. It's very, very 
 ill. You are my best friend, and here I've been told 
 that you refuse to be present at my most dazzling 
 triumph, the Club reception." 
 
 Letty's smile lost its brightness. " I was afraid
 
 286 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 that was what you wanted, Sophie. I'd love to 
 run up here and see you all dressed before you start 
 are you to wear this white and silver? " 
 
 " Yes, with some touches of pale green georgette, 
 also embroidered. But we're not talking dress. I 
 want you at our party. Echstrom arrives tonight, 
 and -" 
 
 Letitia cut in. " That's one reason why I'm not 
 going. I can't be in the room with that dreadful 
 man, and not feel I'm shut up with a snake. No, 
 Sophie dearest, I know how delightful your party 
 will be, but my heart, my mind and soul, are 
 steeped in such different things. I've a great piece 
 of news but I hardly know whether you'll care to 
 hear it." 
 
 " Of course I'll care," countered Sophie. " You 
 are my best friend on earth." 
 
 Letty hesitated. The look on her pale uplifted 
 face was so unusual, it hinted so strongly of an 
 inner, newborn beauty, that her hostess went 
 toward the seated figure, and stood still. The 
 visitor remained motionless as if expecting her, 
 then all at once reached up and, lifting needle- 
 pricked ringless hands, took both of the other's 
 jewelled ones in an affectionate grasp. " Today 
 I have gained my heart's desire, Sophie. In two 
 more weeks I am to start for France." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " Sophie exclaimed, flinging away, ex- 
 actly as she used to do in the old schooldays. " I 
 thought it was something pleasant."
 
 THE BUILDERS 287 
 
 " No," Letty breathed, her grey eyes looking far. 
 " It isn't precisely pleasant but it is right from 
 God." 
 
 Mrs. Trenham felt a sob rise in her throat, and 
 needed to bite the full and crimson lips. She opened 
 them now for speaking, but, at the instant, Blessing 
 danced lightly into the room, followed by the 
 adored and never distant ' G'an'muddie.' 
 
 " Aunt Letty ! " the child cried out, running 
 straight into the arms of the visitor. Finally re- 
 leased from the embrace, Blessing moved around 
 a few paces, then all at once the bank of valley - 
 lilies caught her glance. She ran to it, burying 
 her small face in its waxen chimes. 
 
 " Oh, oh," they heard her whisper, " where did 
 you come from, angel-flowers? How did you climb 
 up the stairs? If I was only little not a gweat 
 big dirl, I'd cwawl wite in 'mongst you and wait 
 till the fwawies came." 
 
 All three pairs of adult eyes were turned toward 
 the unconscious Blessing when, suddenly, with a 
 rough nervous jerk, the bedroom door flew open and 
 Karl, crimson and half distraught, as it would 
 seem, ran toward his wife, then seeing the others, 
 came to a shivering stop.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 A CHAPTER IN NERVES 
 
 THE room cleared as swiftly and as silently as 
 a dissolving scene upon a " movie " film. 
 
 Karl, dazed and staring, appeared to be 
 unconscious of environment except in the moment 
 when little Blessing would have tiptoed past him. 
 He gazed hard at the child pushed back the fair 
 hair from his forehead in the gesture that is a 
 wordless prayer for clearer vision seemed all at 
 once to recognize her, then caught her up into his 
 arms, kissing the small, fragrant cheek voraciously. 
 
 Sophie went to the door with Letitia, and as the 
 latter whispered her final muted farewell, closed 
 the white panel softly. Blessing now demanded 
 exit, and when she too had gone, Sophie deliberately 
 turned the ornate key. 
 
 Her husband gave a low hoarse cry that, some- 
 how, conveyed his approbation of her deed, and 
 then, suddenly wavering on his feet, plunged face 
 down into the spread-out finery on the bed. Sophie 
 did not attempt to check him. She leaned above 
 the convulsed form, her whole attitude eloquent 
 with tenderness. 
 
 288
 
 A CHAPTER IN NERVES 289 
 
 " What is it, Daddy dear? " she questioned. 
 " What has gone wrong, my dearest? " 
 
 " That mountain-cat, that she-devil ! " Karl got 
 out. " She's been on my track ever since I jilted 
 Mildred. I believe she's got me now." 
 
 " Whom can you mean? Not dried-up old Miss 
 Ossie? " 
 
 " Venom don't dry, at least not the kind she 
 holds." 
 
 " But what How on earth can such a person 
 
 harm you? You, darling, who almost have this 
 little town in the hollow of your hand? Surely you 
 are mistaken." 
 
 " Do I look mistaken? " Karl snarled savagely, 
 as he sprung up to a sitting position, and positively 
 glared toward his wife. 
 
 She needed to put forth all her powers of self- 
 control. This dull, distorted face with its reddened 
 eyelids, was not that of her gay and carefree Karl. 
 
 " Come over here, my precious, worried boy," 
 she coaxed him. " Over to my chaise longue by the 
 window, where the sweet air is blowing in. It 
 smells of violets already, wild little sisters to those 
 splendid ones you sent." With these words she 
 nodded toward her dresser. 
 
 In speaking she pulled, half-playfully yet with 
 a certain strength, at the limp right arm which 
 dangled from the bed. 
 
 The man obeyed her clumsily. 
 
 Daring no more than a single rueful glance at
 
 290 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the priceless satin he had wallowed in, Sophie, still 
 smiling and cooing tender words, got him across 
 the room. 
 
 Once clasped in the soft resilience of the brocaded 
 chair, the man's strained nerves began gradually 
 to relax. 
 
 " She's done it," Karl repeated angrily. " She 
 and that tarheeled brother with his bugs " 
 
 Evidently this one thought, this new and ter- 
 rible resentment, filled the entire concave of his 
 firmament. 
 
 After the briefest self-communion, Sophie de- 
 cided it was best to win the whole story gradu- 
 ally. 
 
 She seated herself close to him, smoothing the 
 moist, hot forehead. " Now tell me all the trouble, 
 dear. Maybe I'll find a way to help. When did 
 you find it out? " 
 
 " Only just now," he answered. " When I got 
 there, to our annual stockholders' meeting, I saw 
 to my horror that at Cousin James's left elbow was 
 sitting that grinning old maid, ready to find me 
 out." 
 
 He paused for a renewed paroxysm of fury and 
 strong language, at which the other asked him 
 gently, " How did it happen that a woman and* 
 of all, Miss Ossie had any business there? " 
 
 " That's the whole point ! During my trips up 
 North, it seems that she and her brother, followed 
 by all the old female dead-losses of the town, rushed
 
 A CHAPTER IN NERVES 291 
 
 Cousin James, demanding stock in the tower 
 works." 
 
 " But, Karl," Sophie cried, amazed, " I'm sure 
 I heard you say that more stock had been put on 
 the market, and you were anxious to have it 
 sold." 
 
 " That's all right too," he conceded. " We needed 
 to increase our capital, but any man with one grain 
 of business sense, would have looked out for who 
 he sold the shares to." 
 
 His listener was puzzled, but knowing with whom 
 she had to deal, thought it best to remain silent, 
 retaining a childlike gaze. 
 
 " Of course the old demon had it up her sleeve," 
 Trenham now burst forth, proving his wife's judg- 
 ment correct. " Would you believe it, Sophie, that 
 aged hell-cat has studied up company laws, until, 
 by God, she could stand a grilling in the Supreme 
 Court of this country! What she's been up to all 
 along has been to change the tower works from 
 an unlimited concern into an I. N. C. corpora- 
 tion ! " 
 
 "But why? What for? Even a student like 
 Miss Ossie wouldn't do such a thing just for fun." 
 
 " For fun ! Great God, no, as you soon will see ! " 
 the other groaned. " Her purpose has been clear 
 enough. It's all to ruin me. I'm no longer the 
 autocratic boss of the concern, but a mere servant 
 whose every move must be passed upon by a board 
 of suspicious enemies."
 
 292 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Sophie shook her head. " I fear," she challenged 
 sweetly, " that somebody will have to explain." 
 
 Trenham regarded her indulgently, and, with an 
 arm flung out, drew her against his shoulder. 
 
 "Well, it's like this, my pet. All of the big 
 deals that Echstrom and I have been putting over 
 for a year past have pivoted, more or less, on the 
 credit of the company. In times like these when 
 every sort of barn is being turned into a munition 
 factory our shot tower is a veritable diamond 
 mine." 
 
 " I see," she nestled. " And I have gathered a 
 nice bunch of the diamonds. Go on." 
 
 " So long as the company was unlimited, with me 
 as director, sole manager and boss-at-large, 
 Echstrom and I found a convenient way of help- 
 ing ourselves by using its credit freely." 
 
 " But how has poor Miss Ossie's coming in al- 
 tered things? " 
 
 " You don't see yet? Bet you I do," the man 
 said, rising again and holding her away. " She put 
 in all those shares, of widows and orphans, and 
 withered virgins like herself, and came to this im- 
 portant meeting with the sole determination to 
 kick me out of the saddle." 
 
 " I know I'm awfully stupid. Kiss me, dear." 
 
 He could not resist the red lips held so near, and 
 their pressure steadied him. " Of course you don't 
 understand, my precious, and there's no reason you 
 should. But what it means to me, and the ruin it
 
 A CHAPTER IN NERVES 293 
 
 threatens, is that I no longer have the power to 
 put up the whole tower works as a stake." 
 
 To this his wife said nothing, only kissed him 
 again. 
 
 " Echstrom is due tonight," Karl muttered as if 
 to himself. " If I were sure he wouldn't tear up 
 the road about it " 
 
 " Now don't you worry about what Echstrom 
 thinks," Sophie cried gaily. " I can twist him 
 around my little finger any day. I tell you what 
 we'll do after luncheon we'll drive once more to 
 the Club to see that the last thing is in order for the 
 party then we will keep on driving, come home 
 to the kind of dinner you like best, and go to bed 
 early so you can rest up for tomorrow's stress." 
 
 " Me, go to bed with that German wolf coming! " 
 Trenham exclaimed harshly. " No, I've my orders 
 to meet him at the train." 
 
 After a meal which he barely tasted, filling all 
 needs with cocktails and black coffee, Karl sent for 
 Fischer the perfect new chauffeur obtained from 
 New York through the kind aid of Count Echstrom 
 and drove to his office, sending the car back for 
 his wife's use. 
 
 Alone she went to the Club, for Blessing was still 
 at the Red Cross rooms with her loved Aunt Letty, 
 and Mary refused to go with her daughter. 
 
 The very effective decorations were in place, and 
 tomorrow, for the great reception young girls would 
 be at hand. Sophie had planned their costumes to
 
 294 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 the last fluttering ribbon, and intended to use them 
 as one might flowers in the general decorative 
 scheme. 
 
 Her own house was unusually deserted when 
 Mrs. Trenham returned home, and longing for 
 human speech she sought out Tempey. 
 
 Just as she set her slender slippered feet on the 
 linoleum of the kitchen floor, the pendent clock that 
 hung over the stout table where Tempey's famous 
 beaten biscuit were pounded out struck a sharp 
 nasal " five." 
 
 The mistress started. Somehow, the stroke 
 which should have been familiar, sounded queer. 
 " Look here, Mrs. K. G. Trenham," she said to 
 herself, " you too can't indulge in nerves. Karl has 
 the market cornered." 
 
 Tempey, seated by the table, with a pan of early 
 peas, glanced up and smiled to see her nursling. 
 
 "Mammy, Mammy, I'm worried," said Sophie, 
 as she drew up a straight-backed chair, and set her 
 elbows on the spotless board. 
 
 Mammy emitted a bursting sound not unlike that 
 of a porpoise. 
 
 " Gowanaway f 'um here wid dat talk of worryin'. 
 Ain't no young lady on dis yearth what's got mo' 
 good things dan you." 
 
 " It's true," Sophie agreed, " and I do appreciate 
 the splendid things I have. But where's the fun 
 of it, if my husband is going to break down under 
 the strain of giving them to me? "
 
 f A CHAPTER IN NERVES 295 
 
 Tempey's face sobered. Here was something real, 
 
 " Even Karl's fine health can't stand such ter- 
 rible ill-treatment," his wife went on lugubriously. 
 " Coffee, cigarettes, cocktails and highballs all day 
 long with precious little food and after that more 
 coffee. Oh, I have seen him stealing in here to 
 you, and you oughtn't to let him have it so strong, 
 Mammy. It's up to you and me to have it stopped." 
 
 Mammy's embarrassment merged for the moment 
 to a deep concern. 
 
 " Yas, my baby-lam', I knows it, but how is we 
 two po' weaker vessels to make min-folks behave 
 dey selves? We like to r'ar about an' say * You mus' 
 do dis,' an' * You got to do dat,' but all de time 
 we feels de mins [men] is got dey splay -foots right 
 on us 'oomen's neck. De Lawd Hisself is fixed de 
 world up dat way, an' what kin we po' an' perishin' 
 bodies do 'ginst de Lawd? " This time her sigh 
 was of such volume that a green mass of pea-hulls 
 scurried to the floor. 
 
 " I knows what you is suffrin', Mammy knows," 
 she soothed, wagging her turbaned head. " I goes 
 th'oo it all wid Grief. Is you an idee I kin make 
 dat nigger take one draw de less fum dat stinkin' 
 pipe o' hissen? No Lawd, I can't not onless I has 
 a poker or a broomstick in my hands an', mo' dan 
 dis, each time my back is turnt, dar is Grief dreen- 
 in' of de coffee-pot. An', dat isn't all." 
 
 Her tone was so significant, so pleading to be 
 questioned, that Sophie, smothering a smile, asked
 
 296 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 with affected gravity, " What worse could any man 
 do?" 
 
 Mammy looked all about, even to peering far 
 beneath the table as though her spouse could be 
 Mding there, then, after one more glance over 
 the ceiling, confessed. 
 
 " He's ;ee-lous, old Grief is. He's dat ongodly 
 jee-lous, dat I ain't dasn't raise a prayer in my own 
 black church when de Reverind Drake is presid- 
 ia'/ 
 
 " I had my own suspicions that Uncle Grief 
 wasn't any too fond of Drake, but isn't the Rever- 
 end Pig to be sent off to a far distant puddle I 
 beg your pardon, to another church?" inquired 
 Sophie. 
 
 " Yes." Tempey drooped. " He's goin'. Dat 
 sancterfied young Christian man is druv out by 
 de mins he's preached to. De sisters, dey likes 
 him, but de brederin' dey says he's a heap wus 
 dan Solermun when hit comes to wives. 
 
 " But speakin' o' devils," she broke off, staring 
 intently toward the door where a shuffling sound 
 was heard, " Dar he is now. Whar you bin all 
 dese hours? " she demanded, as Grief's white woolly 
 head peered cautiously within. 
 
 Mrs. Trenham had risen, but paused to hear 
 Grief's defence. 
 
 " Whar I done bin, you ax me? Howdy, Miss 
 Sophie," he thrust in with a scrape and a bow.
 
 A CHAPTER IN NERVES 297 
 
 " Proud for to see you thrivin'. Whar I done bin, 
 you sister in de Lawd? " he glared at his wife. 
 
 " Dat's what I 'quested," Tempey slowly re- 
 turned, reaching meanwhile a stealthy hand toward 
 her biscuit roller. " Whar you done bin dis long? " 
 
 Before replying, Grief, with nonchalant assur- 
 ance, drew his three-legged stool near the stove and 
 shamelessly extracted his old pipe. 
 
 " Me an' de yodder brederin', we is met in de 
 scrub-pine grove beside de house of Gawd, fer to 
 'cuss out ways an' means fer a welcome farewell 
 party we's aimin' to give Pig Drake next Monday 
 when he leaves.'' 
 
 Even Sophie could realize that Grief's chuckle 
 accompanying these words was uncanny and de- 
 risive. 
 
 " We sistern', we'll take keer of de farewell 
 banket," Tempey bluffed. "We is pledged two 
 dozen chickens " 
 
 " All dat we wants is dey fedders," Grief piped 
 up shrilly. 
 
 " An' we's gwinter have a bonfiah." 
 
 " So's we!" shrieked a demoniac Grief. " Wid 
 a sugar-bilin' pot on de top of hit, all filt wid bub- 
 blin' tar " 
 
 Tempey surrendered. 
 
 " Now, in de name of Jesus, you devils ain't 
 gwinter tar an' fedder dat sainted man " 
 
 " 'Pens on de sisters an' dey own cavortin's when
 
 298 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 de partin' time comes," remarked Grief sagely. 
 " But de ingrediments will be on de spot." 
 
 Sophie withdrew. Tempey arose, but there was 
 no pride in her bearing. 
 
 " Grief, honey-lam'," she simpered. " Don't you 
 want yo' ol' lady to bile you a nice big pot of 
 coffee, spankin' fresh? "
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 APRIL THE SIXTH, 1916 
 
 A two o'clock the next morning, in what 
 seemed to Sophie the dead of a black, startled 
 night, she woke, frightened, to hear a man's 
 footsteps blundering about in her unlighted room. 
 
 " Karl, Karl ? " she asked sharply, " is that 
 you? " 
 
 " Yesh, my love," he said thickly, with a half- 
 drunken laugh. "Were you shp-shpec-ting any 
 one else? " 
 
 Catching back a low cry of disgust, Sophie sprang 
 from the bed and snapped on the nearest electric 
 light. 
 
 Her husband looked foolishly toward her. 
 
 " Don't be mad with your hubby, dear girl," 
 he began, pawing his way across to her side. 
 " Had to stay up with Echstrom, you know. Had 
 to jolly him 'long. He's a sport, Echstrom is. 
 Says he don't care a tinker's damn 'bout the old 
 shot tower. We're dealin' with world-wide affairs, 
 Ech. an' me. Our wires are laid, and in 'bout three 
 days more, so Ech. says, if that fool of a college don 
 up at the White House don't get smarty, and spoil 
 
 299
 
 300 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 our game, we'll pull off a deal will make Wall 
 Street envious. 
 
 " Those were Echstrom's words, and he beat me 
 on the back like a real American. He's a shport, 
 Echstrom is, a sure-'nough, dead-game shport. We 
 were talkin' of you, too, my darling. Eccy 
 said " 
 
 " At least spare me the Count's personal opinion 
 of me," Sophie cried in a voice that stopped all 
 further disclosures. 
 
 The Country Club reception was to start 
 promptly at three in the afternoon. At an earlier 
 hour, members of the several committees met for 
 a luncheon party. Karl, at one end of the beauti- 
 fully appointed table, had Mrs. James Garfield 
 Whitlock on his right, while at the other end 
 Sophie, resplendent in a Paris frock and hat, and 
 wearing a corsage-bouquet of violets and orchids, 
 had as her guest of honour the affable Count 
 Echstrom. 
 
 Never had the accomplished foreigner appeared 
 to greater advantage, charming every one, men and 
 women alike, by his sunny friendliness and his 
 astounding knowledge of international affairs. 
 
 Gaily protesting that to drink champagne so 
 early in the day was a crime, a solecism, Karl, 
 urged on by Echstrom's whispers, continued order- 
 ing the heady wine. 
 
 That point of hectic pleasure had been reached 
 where the foolish laughter was loud, and the stories
 
 APRIL THE SIXTH, 1916 301 
 
 told were of an increasingly doubtful character, 
 when a grinning waiter at Karl's ear murmured, 
 " Long-distance, Mister Karl. Hit's 'way fum 
 Washington, an' seys dey wants Mister Count 
 Extra." 
 
 Echstrom sprang up. " With all excuses pos- 
 sible," he bowed, letting his eyes brush amorously 
 each fair one in turn, lingering last of all upon 
 Sophie. 
 
 A few moments later the same waiter tiptoed in. 
 " De Count he axes you to jine him, Mister 
 Karl." 
 
 The two men remained away so long that Sophie 
 began to fidget. Through the strained silence, 
 those at the table could hear the starting of an 
 automobile. 
 
 " Why, there goes our car down the hill," cried 
 Mrs. Trenham, staring through the nearby window. 
 " But surely," she added, her rosy face paling, 
 " Karl wouldn't go like that without a word to 
 me ! " 
 
 " No, Karl wouldn't, like that," said an un- 
 natural voice. Turning, she saw him coming slowly 
 across the polished heart-pine floor. 
 
 " Well, Wilson's done it ! " he proclaimed, sink- 
 ing down weakly to his former place. " The jig 
 is up. We're in it ! " 
 
 " Not in the war tell us quickly, Trenham ! " 
 Whitlock cried. 
 
 " War was declared at two o'clock today."
 
 302 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " Thank God ! " and across the demolished table 
 Whitlock's wife's eyes said as fervently, " Thank 
 God!" 
 
 " But where is Echstrom why did he have to 
 go? " Sophie demanded. 
 
 " He had to wire to Washington at once. He 
 wouldn't trust this new booth to get the message 
 straight. Oh, it's awful simply awful ! " 
 
 The little company quickly broke up, the lunch- 
 eon guests escaping with other things to think of. 
 Karl and Sophie, however, in their part of host 
 and hostess, were compelled to remain and see the 
 reception through. 
 
 Trenham most obviously avoided a tete-a-tte 
 with his anxious wife. She, tied by fate to the 
 head of the Dunrobin " receiving line " as a martyr 
 to her wheel, needed to bow, to smile and greet 
 each newcomer with a pleasant word while, from 
 the corner of a shrinking eye, she noted her husband 
 piloting every fresh group of men-guests to that 
 secluded spot where lurked the bar. 
 
 A little after five o'clock Sophie saw him pawing 
 at a negro waiter, and teetering back and forth 
 upon his heels. Feeling it impossible to endure 
 the strain for another instant, Mrs. Trenham broke 
 from the line and overtook him before he could 
 escape. 
 
 " Karlie dear Karl," she whispered, grasping 
 his arm, " you are not well, and I am at the limit. 
 Order the car, for I must get home."
 
 APRIL THE SIXTH, 1916 303 
 
 " Order the car, you say," echoed the other, grin- 
 ning foolishly. " Echstrom has skipped, taking 
 our fine German chauffeur with him. Our oar 
 stranded at station. Nobody drive it. Order our 
 car." 
 
 He was rapidly falling into that most betraying 
 sign of hiccups. Sophie put one arm around him 
 and led him outside. 
 
 It was nearly dark. She could see, through the 
 purple grape-bloom of the valley, small yellow 
 points of light which betokened the city. Hurry- 
 ing up to the nearest silhouette of a standing auto- 
 mobile, she spoke to its chauffeur. 
 
 " I am Mrs. Karl Trenham, and my husband is 
 very ill. I want you to drive us home, as our car 
 has failed to meet us. I'll make it worth your 
 while," she added, seeing the mulatto hesitate. 
 " Whose automobile is this? " 
 
 When the negro had told the name, Sophie com- 
 manded. " Help Mr. Trenham in, don't let him 
 get back to the club-rooms while I run and get 
 permission from your employer." 
 
 Throughout that dreadful night Karl Trenham 
 lay in the dull, bestial torpor of drunken oblivion. 
 
 His heavy slumber held until high noon next day. 
 At luncheon he was still in a stupor. While Sophie, 
 her mother and Blessing were at the table, a second 
 telegraph message arrived. 
 
 " I will keep this one, too," Sophie nodded toward 
 Mrs. Hallonquist. "And hide them both until
 
 304 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 Karlie has had his bath, and has eaten some solid 
 food. He's nearly dead, my poor darling." 
 
 Scarcely had she spoken, when Karl's voice a 
 harsh burlesquing of his usual pleasant one came 
 to their ears. " Sophie I say oh, Sophie ! Wasn't 
 that wire for me? " 
 
 She ran upstairs with the two telegrams, and 
 then strove to dissuade him from opening them. 
 
 " Wait till you've had your refreshing bath dear 
 Daddy. Wait and have luncheon first." 
 
 He motioned her words aside as though they 
 had been a swarm of buzzing insects, flung himself 
 to the end of the chaise longue, tearing at the en- 
 velopes in his hands. 
 
 " The scoundrel ! The damned skunk ! The quit- 
 ter ! " he groaned out, and crumpled the evil tidings 
 into rustling balls of paper. 
 
 When Sophie, thoroughly alarmed by his appear- 
 ance, asked him a question, he sprang up like a 
 creature prodded by a spear, and threw himself 
 about the room, making such wild, unmeaning ges- 
 ticulations, that his wife's one concern was to 
 palliate and soothe him. 
 
 " The one thing, dearest," the tormented man 
 assured her later on, " that might help to keep me 
 from going stark, raving mad would be to take a 
 long drive with you only the two of us out to 
 the edge of some world where there isn't any 
 war." 
 
 " I'll go with you there, and further," Sophie
 
 APRIL THE SIXTH, 1916 305 
 
 comforted him. " You are my world my life 
 my everything. But, Karlie, we must have some 
 common-sense. The car is still at the station, and 
 neither of us know how to manage that new 
 machine." 
 
 " What if we don't ! " cried Trenham recklessly. 
 " At least I'm competent to start and stop the 
 thing. Fischer the damned Bosch spy unbended 
 to the point of letting me know that much. How 
 'bout it, dearest, are you game? " 
 
 An hour later the huge car spun along delight- 
 fully responsive. Sophie beside her husband, 
 beautiful in her costly furs, with his great bunch of 
 violets pinned above her heart, had never been 
 more endearing. 
 
 " God, but I'm glad we came ! " the man ex- 
 claimed impulsively, " and the old hearse is as easy 
 to run as any flivver." For the first time that day 
 he tried to produce a smile. 
 
 Sophie's soft, glowing cheek was pressed for an 
 instant to his shoulder. " Things will come all 
 right yet, my Karlie. What can fate do to us, so 
 long as we have each other? " 
 
 Unconsciously to both, and yet, as later it would 
 seem by a route inevitable, they were purring along 
 the road to a distant hill, whereon, at the very sum- 
 mit, there lay a squarish corn-patch held back from 
 the thoroughfare by an old zigzag fence. 
 
 " How quiet and clean the world seems up here," 
 sighed Trenham, as they reached the first corner
 
 306 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 of the opening. In speaking he began to cut off 
 the feed of gasoline to the merest trickle. 
 
 " I'll tell you what let's do," he cried out like 
 a boy. " Let's stop the car, get out, and walk away 
 from the sight of it, and try to forget we're old 
 and married and " 
 
 " Successful," interjected Sophie, to which the 
 young man answered by a groan. 
 
 Catching one another's hands, they slowly made 
 their way to that very spot, in an angle of the 
 gaunt, horizontal bars, where Karl first held his 
 schoolgirl sweetheart in his arms. 
 
 There was something of solemn import in the 
 hushed hour apart, a touch as of a sacrament. 
 Perhaps, in her swift coming, Fate whispered to 
 them a hint that this was their last sweet com- 
 munion on earth together. 
 
 Once seated, side by side, with backs to the 
 old rail fence, Karl slipped down forward by a few 
 inches in order that his bare, blond head might 
 rest on the fur of Sophie's shoulder. 
 
 " Sophie my darling," he smiled a challenge to 
 her bending face. " I know that I love you more 
 than any woman has ever loved a man." 
 
 Sophie's lips quivered. " I know it, my precious, 
 my dearest. I feel it all the time, and there are 
 moments this is one of them when it frightens 
 me." 
 
 " You mean you mean the risks I run? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, the risks. The awful nervous pitch
 
 APRIL THE SIXTH, 1916 337 
 
 to which you are keyed this very minute. Life isn't 
 worth the living at such a price." 
 
 " No no it isn't" the husband answered. " And 
 if I can just get out of this snare alive, I'm going 
 to cut off the pressure. You just see if I don't. 
 Right now I'm caught. Sophie, I'm caught, like 
 a rabbit in a nigger's trap. And the sly coon that 
 set it was that smooth German devil Echstrom. 
 You don't guess yet what he's done to us." 
 
 " No, Karl, I don't. I'm waiting to hear it now." 
 
 Trenham sat erect. The old tingle of excite- 
 ment came to his eager voice. " You knew, of 
 course, that what we set out to do was to sell at 
 enormous prices, and to send by whole shiploads, 
 metals and munitions to the German Govern- 
 ment?" 
 
 " I wasn't sure about the munitions," Sophie said 
 slowly. 
 
 " Well, they were there all right. We ran huge 
 risks naturally, because we had to lie and fool 
 Washington and sign some queer declarations. 
 But everything was the richest velvet. Our biggest 
 cargo was ready to sail, and if only that damned 
 proclamation of war had been delayed " 
 
 Sophie leaned over and pressed her lips to his 
 quivering mouth. 
 
 " Sophie, my precious wife," Karl cried at the 
 end of a long pause, and swinging round to her. 
 " Sophie, what could you stand with me? How 
 much of poverty maybe disgrace? "
 
 308 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 There was no faltering in the brilliant smile she 
 gave him. " Haven't I told you within the hour 
 that you are the one man I ever loved, or ever 
 will love through all eternity? " 
 
 " Suppose," he now whispered, looking furtively 
 about, as if for lurking listeners, " that it comes to 
 mean the penitentiary? " 
 
 He shuddered at the dreadful syllables, but 
 Sophie's head went up. 
 
 " What would you do then, Sophie? What would 
 you do? " he gulped. 
 
 " This is what I'd do," she answered valiantly. 
 " I'd leave Mother and Blessing in the cottage here, 
 and I'd rent a shanty in sight of your cell window. 
 I think I'd take in washing, and as I scrubbed and 
 dried, and hung things on the line, we'd make up 
 a code of signals and talk whenever the watchers 
 or whatever the beasts are called had their 
 backs turned to us. There I would work and wait 
 until my dear lover came to me free again." 
 
 " By God ! and I know you mean it ! " choked the 
 man. " Sophie, my beloved ! My darling ! " 
 
 " Then turn to your wife once more," she coaxed 
 him, in exquisite allurement. " Let me see both 
 those eyes that I love so well, heaped and running 
 over with bright, blue laughter that's right! 
 Now you can kiss me once more only once for 
 we must start for home." 
 
 Laughing and wrangling like two happy children, 
 they reached the automobile.
 
 APRIL THE SIXTH, 1916 309 
 
 " Now, Karlie, you must be careful ! " Sophie 
 chided him with a hint of apprehension in her 
 lovely voice. " Remember this car is unfamiliar." 
 
 " Pah ! it's a flivver, a regular old cow," Trenham 
 defied her. " Watch me skini down this curve." 
 
 The next thing Sophie knew was the crash and 
 dreadful clatter of shattered glass. Her head 
 jerked forward, struck at one temple the steering- 
 wheel. 
 
 When she recovered consciousness, and had 
 dragged herself from the wreck of what had once 
 been a limousine, she saw Karl lying face down and 
 motionless, clear out in the road. 
 
 She staggered toward him, caught the body in 
 her arms, and again went out from all knowledge 
 of a living world.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 HOW TRENHAM PAID HIS DEBTS 
 
 OPHIE! My little girl. Poor stricken 
 lambkin what you are, poor Sophie! 
 Couldn't you make out for to cry a mite, 
 here on your Uncle Chris? " 
 
 As the body he held kept its rigid unresponsive- 
 ness, the compassionate voice went on. 
 
 " Tears holds a power of healing when you shed 
 them right. I know, for I've had to shed them. 
 Darling, just strive to cry." 
 
 " I don't think that I can," at last she answered, 
 in a thin prim fashion, like a child who recites an 
 uncomprehended verse at school. " Something is 
 wrong with me a something queer." 
 
 " What sort of a queer thing, darling? Can't you 
 tell Uncle Chris? " 
 
 She stared up into his face with her first hint of 
 partial recognition, and, beckoning him to follow, 
 tiptoed across the room. There, on a raised, black 
 square, shrouded in cloth and heaped about with 
 flowers, in white content, her dead young husband 
 lay. 
 
 " Come close still closer," she whispered, her 
 
 310
 
 HOW TRENHAM PAID HIS DEBTS 311 
 
 vacant, glittering eyes beating about as if fearing 
 an eavesdropper. 
 
 " The matter is just this/' she explained, lifting 
 one finger and its thumb, and poising them above 
 the helpless face. " If cnly I dared to pull up one 
 frozen eyelid, and then if that blue eye laughed 
 I'm .sure I could cry!" she triumphed, and 
 with the final words began a low, ghoulish 
 chuckle. 
 
 At the crafty, peering look that went with the 
 motions of her uplifted hand, the blood in Chris's 
 veins seemed to stand still. 
 
 " Sophie, you you musn't, child. It's awful ! " 
 he got out, and forced himself to catch at her wrist. 
 
 At the firm touch, reason burned back through 
 her clouded brain. She stared at her upraised 
 fingers, as if in wonder at their predatory poise, 
 then down again at her husband. 
 
 " Karl dear," she smiled. " My Karlie." 
 
 Chris held his breath. 
 
 " Karl dear, it is Sophie. It's your wife. Won't 
 you open your eyes? I can't stand this nightmare 
 much longer. Kiss me. Oh, make me wake up 
 quickly. Karlie, my precious lover, I tell you I 
 can't stand it ! " 
 
 Through the grim silence of the room, Chris's low 
 prayer sobbed : " Hurry and help her, God Al- 
 mighty!" 
 
 Sophie turned to him with a sullen, resentful 
 flash in her sunken eyes. " I didn't ask God. I
 
 312 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 was speaking to my husband. Karl oh, Karl 
 Daddy listen to me, Karl " 
 
 She leaned down and clutched at a shoulder that 
 felt marble to her touch, and, at the awful truth, 
 with a scream that almost rent poor Chris's heart 
 in twain, she fell forward, limp and senseless. 
 
 Christopher caught her before she reached the 
 dead body. " Thankee thankee thankee," his 
 lips chattered as, with his tragic burden, he went 
 in search of Mary. 
 
 To the intense relief of those who had in charge 
 the last arid offices that man can give his fellow, 
 good Dr. Stepp felt justified in giving the frenzied 
 widow such sedatives that, through the final scenes, 
 Sophie remained apart and unknowing. 
 
 About ten days after the " Trenham accident " 
 as, on the lips of casual speech, it had already be- 
 come, early one Sunday afternoon, the Gaither 
 family, with the two elder Thigpens and their 
 children, filed from the dinner table, into the sun- 
 lit " drawing-room," as Miss Laird insisted that it 
 should be called. 
 
 When seated, all eyes were turned to James 
 Gaither, who, instantly self-conscious, cleared a dry 
 throat and launched a withered smile. 
 
 Letty, perched on his chair-arm, patted his thin- 
 ning hair. 
 
 " Make it brief, Daniel Webster," she teased, 
 " for I've a date to keep."
 
 HOW TRENBAM PAID HIS DEBTS 313 
 
 " Not with Sophie? " Mildred cried in breathless 
 interest. 
 
 " Yes, Sophie, thank God. She has sent for me 
 at last." 
 
 " I am so glad ! I am so very thankful," Mildred 
 declared. " The way that poor creature has in- 
 sisted -upon locking her doors, refusing to see even 
 Miss Mary but then," and the voice dropped to a 
 pitying cadence, " who could blame her? She loved 
 her husband. I think she loved him almost as 
 much as I do mine, and to see him killed before her 
 eyes, and to sit there for hours holding that 
 mangled form 'Lonzo," she faltered, springing to 
 her feet, and hurrying until she gained his clasp. 
 " 'Lonzo, put little Ossie down and take me for 
 I'm afraid I'm going to cry." 
 
 Various suppressed sniffles, and furtive dabs with 
 stealthily abstracted handkerchiefs, attested to the 
 fact that Mildred was not alone in her sympathy. 
 
 Mr. Gaither cleared his throat once more. 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " he exclaimed. " Well, 
 some things are difficult to understand. God cer- 
 tainly moves in a mysterious way. Sophie's hus- 
 band my late junior partner got from this life 
 in time, but only just in time, to save himself from 
 sad entanglements and I'm sorry to say it, from 
 a hideous disgrace. The truth is, Trenham died in- 
 volved in a hundred wild-cat schemes and ven- 
 tures."
 
 314 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " But didn't the man put over a lot of them? " 
 Thigpen inquired. 
 
 " He did indeed, and except that he became the 
 tool of that scoundrel Echstrom who, as we all 
 know now, was a spy and fully accredited agent 
 of the German Government Karl might have con- 
 tinued to be a brilliantly successful if adventurous 
 
 financier. But as it is " the speaker paused, 
 
 with a sorrowful shake of his head. 
 
 " Echstrom has skipped for Mexico, leaving his 
 dupe to pay all penalties. The tower works credit 
 has, so I find, been used as the basis of many nefari- 
 ous deals " 
 
 " But you haven't lost, Father dear, not you 
 personally? " the gentle Mildred interrupted. " I 
 couldn't bear it if your name had been dragged into 
 anything dishonourable." 
 
 " No, I stand clear," James replied in a voice that 
 thrilled with a hint of what he was next to say. 
 " But I escaped through no wisdom or foresight of 
 my own. 
 
 " There is the one who saved me who saved 
 us all ! " and he pointed dramatically at the quiver- 
 ing Miss Ossie, who, on the shining surface of her 
 oaken chair, seemed about to pass into epilepsy. 
 
 " Now, Brother James," she stammered, grow- 
 ing a streaky red, " you mustn't. Be silent, James, 
 at once. I I only did what seemed to me my 
 duty." 
 
 " Not only me and mine," Gaither hurried for-
 
 HOW TRENHAM PAID HIS DEBTS 315 
 
 ward, while poor Ossie's nervousness grew into 
 virtual despair, " but bedridden old Mrs. Battle ; 
 dear Auntie Baring, with her savings of fifty years' 
 labour; brave little Sally Finger and a score of 
 others, have been not only saved from ruin, but 
 made comfortable for life through the genius of 
 that great woman there ! Had I my way,' ' crowed 
 James, rising to heights of oratory, " this town 
 would have a statue raised to its finest citizen, and 
 on the pedestal what name should appear but hers 
 Miss Ossie Laird, whom I am proud to call friend 
 and sister! " 
 
 " Oh, James ! " the victim moaned, " oh, all you 
 dear kind you-uns. I I thank you every one 
 stop that fool grinning in your corner, Bud, else 
 I'll step over there and ruin ye! " 
 
 " Three cheers for our Aunt Ossie ! " 'Lonzo 
 called out, pride and affection in the look turned 
 upon Miss Laird's martyred visage. 
 
 " And what about Miss Mary? " Chris demanded 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I thought you had heard, Chris," said Gaither 
 sadly. " Mary and poor Sophie are completely 
 bankrupt. The very stones in that just-started 
 house on the Hallonquist Hall foundations will 
 probably be dug up by their creditors. Nothing 
 can touch Mary's cottage, thank the Lord, but as 
 for money," he spread both hands eloquently 
 " there is none." 
 
 "Damn him," boomed Chris, "for the low-lived
 
 316 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 thief he is," and 'Lonzo echoed the growl with 
 smothered profanity. 
 
 James drew himself erect with a gesture full of 
 dignity. 
 
 " Let him and all his errors lie in eternal peace. 
 He who dies, pays all debts."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE BACHELOR IN THE NET 
 
 "y^XH, Sophie Sophie, my dearest!" Letty 
 t f cried from the threshold of her friend's 
 chamber door. Gladness and tears were 
 gleaming in her voice like tangled silver wires. 
 
 She sped across the stagnant, shadowed room to 
 the chaise Tongue, on which she had discerned the 
 outlines of an ink-black, slender shape. 
 
 Her thrilled and thrilling tones gained no re- 
 sponse. Letty needed to stare hard upon the silent 
 figure, in order to counteract the strange impres- 
 sion that the place was empty but for her living 
 self. 
 
 Sophie lay on her back. The pillows, crowded 
 downward underneath her shoulders, threw the 
 white throat into a swan-like arch, while her head, 
 with its unkempt hair, hung a trifle backwards. 
 
 Over her upraised face she had laid a bent, bared 
 arm which, thus emerging from the black wrapper, 
 looked pathetically fragile. 
 
 " My poor dear my darling ! " Letitia exclaimed 
 anew, and, flinging her hat aside to the dim-lit floor, 
 gathered her friend to a loving, aching heart. 
 
 " If only I could help you oh, my dear ! " A' 
 
 317
 
 318 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 short pause followed, then Letty said hastily, and 
 very much aloud, " I can too and will! " 
 
 Sophie took down the shielding arm and put 
 her hand on the visitor's shoulder. Her wan face 
 showed a hint of amazement at her friend's in- 
 tensity. 
 
 " I rather thought you'd be a little sorry. You 
 never spoke ill of Karl. What are they saying of 
 him, Letty? " she suddenly demanded, sitting bolt 
 upright. 
 
 The answering grey eyes were calm. " They said 
 the whole town is saying that with his loss, 
 there went the most brilliant young business man 
 Dunrobin had ever known." 
 
 " I supposed that," Sophie twitched. " But about 
 Echstrom about those Government schemes? " 
 
 " They say, of course, that falling in with that 
 German swindler and spy was a bad thing for 
 Karl." 
 
 " Don't they blame him, though? Don't they 
 cry traitor of my dear love? Don't old Miss Ossie 
 chuckle triumphantly? " 
 
 " Sophie, be calm, my darling. Lie there quite 
 still, and I will tell you what Father has just said 
 of him. We'd all been talking about the business, 
 for through Aunt Ossie's foresight the shot tower 
 credit has been saved when Daddy said to us 
 solemnly " 
 
 " Well well, don't dawdle. Can't you see I'm 
 waiting? "
 
 THE BACHELOR IN THE NET 319 
 
 " He who dies, pays all debts," and Letty's voice 
 was like the springtime. 
 
 " Ah," Sophie murmured, and fell back to the 
 couch, screening her face anew. 
 
 Letitia sprang to her feet. " Wait just a mo- 
 ment," she whispered between the sobs. " I want 
 to run downstairs for a minute; please don't let 
 anybody take my place." 
 
 After twenty minutes the visitor returned, car- 
 rying a charming tray with a service for two, some 
 sandwiches, and, at one end of the embroidered 
 cloth, a bunch of mingled violets and lilies-of-the- 
 valley. 
 
 After tea, the widow set grave dark eyes upon 
 her visitor, and demanded abruptly, " When are 
 you going to start? You know over there? " 
 
 "In less than two weeks now. Why do you ask 
 in that dramatic manner? " 
 
 " Because," said Sophie clearly " because I am 
 going too." 
 
 A white light flashed across Letitia Gaither's 
 face. 
 
 " Nurses must have some training, dear," she 
 deprecated. " And it takes months to get it, even 
 in the hurried curriculum of these dreadful 
 days." 
 
 " I don't expect to nurse," the other cried. " I'm 
 ready to be a slave, a charwoman. I must get away. 
 I'm willing to do anything! " 
 
 " Even to scrubbing floors? " Letty's grey eyes,
 
 320 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 for all their lambent tenderness, were growing 
 rather keen. 
 
 " What better scrub-brush could one have than 
 a broken heart? Why, I could scrape up grease 
 spots with it. Can't you help me to get 
 across? " 
 
 "Well, as it happens," Letty replied demurely, 
 " within this past week I have started up a pretty 
 hot line of argument directed to our headquarters 
 in New York City, saying that I must simply must 
 have a good reliable assistant when I sail." 
 
 " Letty, you thought of me, you blessed angel, 
 even before I spoke ! " 
 
 " Never mind kissing me, or throttling the life 
 out with those white arms. What you must do 
 at once remember I'm boss is to fling on a coat, 
 and come with me out to the fresh air ; I can't take 
 a sick assistant to France. Let's go to the woods, 
 where we can talk the whole thing over without 
 danger of meeting a single soul." 
 
 Again Sophie demurred, and again Letitia was 
 triumphant. 
 
 Before poor Sophie knew it, she was keeping 
 step, and in the way of childhood's strolling, her 
 arms about her comrade's waist. 
 
 Talk and discussion had scarcely paused for the 
 space of a single breath, and Sophie was reiterating 
 in a discouraged voice, " If only there was some- 
 body to live in the cottage with Mother and Bless- 
 ing ! " when, at a sudden deflection of the winding
 
 THE BACHELOR IN THE NET 321 
 
 road they saw, a hundred yards ahead, the large 
 stooped figure of a solitary man. 
 
 His head was canted forward, and his hands, 
 clasped behind him, made a huge, pink knob in the 
 middle of his back. 
 
 His slow progress, and the contemplative pose, 
 alike betokened meditation. 
 
 Letty covertly nudged her companion, then, with 
 a mischievous gleam in her pleasant eyes, re- 
 marked, in the same hushed manner, " But of 
 course, Sophie, he Uncle Chris and no other 
 is the answer to your problem as to who should live 
 in the cottage." 
 
 The solemn, manly pace kept to the middle of the 
 thoroughfare, displaying even at a distance, and 
 viewed from the unkind vantage of the rear, a 
 dogged pertinacity. 
 
 Then, all at once, amid the old year's grasses at 
 the roadside, their brown pathos standing knee- 
 deep in the fresh, green tide of spring, a something 
 flew, or twinkled. 
 
 As quickly, the safe mid-course was abandoned, 
 and, down on his knees, on the red and spongy 
 loam, went the big naturalist. 
 
 The two girls hurried up to view the capture as, 
 many years ago, they had often done. The little 
 adventure deepened the impression of a return to 
 childhood, and swept away some of the shadows 
 of the recent tragedy. 
 
 It did not seem humanly possible that Chris
 
 322 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 could have heard them coming, their footsteps were 
 so light and the damp earth so muffling, yet, at 
 ten yards away, a frantic hand held furtively aside 
 from view of the object hunted, made gestures 
 commanding them not to advance another inch. 
 
 From various baggy pockets, the man drew out, 
 first a crumpled paper bag, next a tissue insect- 
 net, and third, a collapsible microscope. His whole 
 body was poised and quivering. A sudden lunge, 
 a handful of mingled earth and broken grasses, and 
 then, the triumphant cry, " I got him by jumpin* 
 Jupiter, I lit!" 
 
 " Now, can we come? " shrilled Letty, like a 
 child. 
 
 " You can," cried her uncle in joyous gaiety. 
 " I've just run down a specimen of the rarest of 
 all bugs the Theridon lu Shucks ! " he laughed 
 out, " the smaller the critter, the bigger the name." 
 
 " Well, it's a big piece of luck to meet you here, 
 Uncle Chris," Letty observed, after the excitement 
 caused by the capture had begun to ebb. " Sophie 
 and I came out to discuss a plan of great im- 
 portance to her future." 
 
 Her quiet words recalled Chris to himself or 
 rather, to the young widow's presence. 
 
 He smiled down with the sweetness of a mother. 
 " It's good to see you out in God's air, my dear. 
 Now what have you two been planning for my little 
 Sophie's future? " 
 
 " She wants to go abroad to France to do a
 
 THE BACHELOR IN THE NET 323 
 
 lot of hard work as my assistant. You remember, 
 Uncle, that I am going? " Letty said, with a little 
 moue. 
 
 " Now you is being sassy," Chris averred. " Yes, 
 I'd remembered that, if I'd found a whole race of 
 Theridons climbing a single tree, instead of catch- 
 ing a .solitary bachelor here in my net." 
 
 The two young women exchanged amused 
 glances. 
 
 " There's just one difficulty left in the way of 
 Sophie's going that of her mother and dear little 
 Blessing living there by themselves with only 
 those cranky servants. We must make arrange- 
 ments for them. Can you suggest a settlement? " 
 
 Chris's lips fell apart, his round eyes grew still 
 rounder. " Blessing Miss Mary," he got out. A 
 convulsive twitching of his entire broad counte- 
 nance heralded a flood of eager speech. 
 
 " It's the finest idea ever, Sophie, and I'm 
 prouder of my niece Letty than any speech can say. 
 But, all the same you girls are young and mighty 
 handsome. No it won't never do to have you 
 a-gallivanting all over France and it stuck full 
 of soldiers without Uncle Chris to look after you. 
 Nobody shan't call me a shirk. So fix it up, girls. 
 Fix it up. I'll send my bugs and beetles even my 
 pans of larvae what's hatching in their mud to 
 the Smithsonian in Washington. They'll be power- 
 ful glad to keep the treasures of a man what's 
 giving life itself to his country."
 
 324 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 " What on earth do you think you're talking 
 about? " Letty's voice, clear, unflinching, and as 
 cold as a bucket full of water, came in his face. 
 " And what could a person like you do over there? " 
 she added. 
 
 " I'm plumb dead certain sure I could do some- 
 thing," came forth in a dying wail. 
 
 " Yes, there is a splendid something you can 
 do," Letty announced relentlessly. " If you are 
 not too selfish." 
 
 " Oh, come now, Letty," Sophie threw in com- 
 passionately, " Uncle Kiss couldn't be selfish if 
 he tried." 
 
 "Oh, couldn't he? Look at him!" 
 
 This speech, or rather the perspicacity that 
 barbed it, struck poor Achilles in his vulnerable 
 point. 
 
 Deep down in his inner soul, he recognized the 
 death rattle of his cherished bachelorhood. 
 
 Suddenly Chris wheeled about in a passion. 
 
 " And did you think you two sassy young 
 varmints that ever for a minute I had any other 
 idea than caring for Miss Mary? My Godamidey! 
 just for to dream you'd think I wasn't nearly dead 
 to have her take me! Let's turn around, all three 
 of us. Let's go right straight to Miss Mary, and 
 have it all clinched and done. 
 
 " N-n-no," he replied, to Letty's natural ques- 
 tion, as to whether it would not be more appro-
 
 THE BACHELOR IN THE NET 325 
 
 priate for an eager lover to make such a quest 
 alone. 
 
 " I I always is a wee bit scared before Miss 
 Mary. She can see so deep down into your vitals, 
 don't you know. I believe that I'd rather a little 
 rather have you girls' backing, so to speak." 
 
 All the way to the cottage the big 1 man was as 
 silent as a walking tree, only at times, when he 
 thought the girls were not looking, he would lift 
 the net in which a solitary insect stared up at 
 him with dumb, protuberant eyes.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE ACORN IN ITS CUP 
 
 THE result, as might have been foreseen, of 
 this amatory expedition was that the two 
 girls did most of the courting for the tongue- 
 tied Chris. 
 
 At length a sort of partial consent was wrung 
 from Mary, though not until after a full hour of 
 pleading, during which the alleged extremes of 
 temperature supposedly endured by a Damascus 
 blade in process of being tempered were, when com- 
 pared to the agonies, the fluctuant hopes and 
 fears of the shivering lover, as so many spring- 
 time zephyrs, blowing, now warm, now cool. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I reckon so. At least I will promise 
 to think over it ! " cried Mrs. Hallonquist in virtual 
 desperation after an hour of argument. " I will 
 agree to anything if only all of you will go! " 
 
 Next day Chris appeared at the Hallonquist cot- 
 tage as usual, and at the usual hour, which was 
 about a quarter after five. 
 
 Mary ran out to her front porch as she heard 
 him coming. The visitor achieved a gallant and 
 fairly responsive smile, but in his soul he felt 
 the welcome as something premature. 
 
 " Good-evening, dear old Chris," she greeted 
 
 326
 
 THE ACORN IN ITS CUP 327 
 
 him, without even offering her hand. " Come right 
 on into my little dining-room. I lighted the fire 
 as I saw you start up the walk." 
 
 She hurried in, and at the doorsill threw him 
 a glance that hinted of girlish fun. " All of last 
 night," she began to speak with a certain breath- 
 lessness, and with such deep intensity that she 
 forgot to ask him to take a seat, " I've thought and 
 thought what silly old geese we were, Chris, letting 
 those girls embarrass us yesterday. I grow indig- 
 nant when I think of their trying to force us into 
 this marriage, and I, for one rebel. I do not 
 intend submitting." The fair head tossed in speak- 
 ing, like a modest flower assailed by a sudden 
 wind. 
 
 Chris stared. " You you ain't not in a man- 
 ner not by any chance backing out on the trail? " 
 he stammered. 
 
 " Yes, in a manner, that's what I've already 
 done." 
 
 Chris stared the harder. His face, of comely 
 red, slowly became the tint of an unripe melon. 
 " May I sit down, Miss Mary? " he begged. 
 
 " Why, of course ! " the other cried, in hospitable 
 compunction. " How thoughtless how very rude 
 I've been ! You sit there and I will draw my little 
 rocker up near to the fire." 
 
 Chris crossed the room to the old leather chair 
 and after a few adjusting squeaks and boundings 
 of the well- worn springs in it, the occupant huddled,
 
 328 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 drew himself together like a hibernating bear. 
 
 The old familiar dining-room had never looked 
 more attractive more like its real self. In the 
 west window where the lingering day an over- 
 clouded one held a dull gleam, like pewter, stood 
 a flat dish of daffodils. The fire in the grate was 
 as golden, but its flame-petals far more free. 
 
 Impelled by his companion's protracted, stir- 
 less quiet, Chris slowly turned about. He found 
 that the gentle eyes were fixed on him, and their 
 light shone through a wavering glaze of tears. On 
 meeting her old friend's look, Mary gave out a 
 cry and a little gesture which spoke denial of her 
 tender mood. " I was just thinking to myself," she 
 said, " that the big brown leather chair seemed 
 strangely a part of you. Even when it is empty 
 when I sit here by myself I play that you are 
 in it. The brown sheath fits, Chris, and you fit 
 it, as an acorn fits its cup." 
 
 Chris did not know just why, but at this speech 
 his eyes felt a sudden blurring. He loved to have 
 Miss Mary call him an acorn, but found no words 
 in which to tell her so. 
 
 After a second silence he ventured a sheepish 
 glance. This time the fair head, with its silvering 
 temples, was meekly drooped, and as he looked 
 the great wet crystal of a falling tear flashed in the 
 firelight. 
 
 " Lord, now she air going to cry on me ! " the 
 poor man groaned within.
 
 THE ACOKN IN ITS CUP 329 
 
 " Don't cry, now p-1-e-a-s-e don't you cry now, 
 Miss Mary," he nervously began. " There ain't 
 nothing at all to cry for whatsome-ever, now, Miss 
 Mary, for I've promised the girls as how I would 
 take care of you and Blessing. You air never to 
 be lonesome any more, not whilst I lives and has 
 my being I've given my word to it ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried the other, springing to her feet. 
 " I do not want your word. Now keep right still 
 and listen to what I tell you, for I think you are 
 going to get a very big surprise." During the next 
 few moments, while the impassioned, unfamiliar 
 voice rang out, the cowering and utterly dumb- 
 foundered Chris was to experience what seemed 
 to him the crumbling of his walls of Jericho. 
 
 " I have told you already how I have tossed 
 awake all night, thinking and praying, with a heart 
 on fire. It would have been easier to meekly ac- 
 cept the arrangements you and the others made 
 for me. But somehow last night the meekness 
 all went from me, and to my great astonishment I 
 find that there is a w T oman left beneath. It is this 
 woman now that says to you, I scorn your pity and 
 protection, nor will I condescend to be merely cared 
 for by you or any man alive." 
 
 Here was Chris's freedom sudden, absolute. 
 " But listen, Miss Mary, let me speak," he now pro- 
 tested in a shaking voice. 
 
 " Yes, you shall speak, dear friend," said Mary,
 
 330 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD. 
 
 very tall and white as she loomed above him, " but 
 you can make no difference in the stand I take." 
 
 She turned as if to leave him, at which, with a 
 single bound, he gained his feet. 
 
 " You've taken the whole thing wrong," he 
 panted. " It ain't that I'm pitying and protecting 
 you, I'm willing now to be wed." 
 
 " That then must be the parting of our ways," 
 Mary said simply, " for I am not willing." 
 
 " But wait there now listen, Miss Mary," he 
 cried with a clutch on a slender ebon sleeve. " My 
 poor head's going around, like a hive when the 
 wood-smoke's starting. Give me a minute for to 
 hook myself back to place. You cain't go off and 
 leave me in this franzy. Think of our years of 
 love." 
 
 " Yes, I am thinking of all those years of friend- 
 ship," that strange, most reasonable of women said, 
 with a quiet smile ; " and because of the precious 
 years, I am still going to ask you to serve me." 
 
 " What's it? " he breathed, a great relief making 
 his tense face gentler. " Anything in this world 
 that you can ask." 
 
 " Then, Chris," she told him, meanwhile gently 
 removing the big shaking hand that clutched her 
 arm, " I am going to beg you to stop for at least 
 six months coming here at all." 
 
 " Stop coming here! " he echoed, not quite be- 
 lieving. " Stop seeing you and Blessing every 
 day?
 
 THE ACORN IN ITS CUP 331 
 
 " Yes, Chris. Just that for otherwise, I don't 
 think I can bear it. ' To care for me ' ! " she mur- 
 mured, with the first break in her voice. " It 
 sounds like a public institution." 
 
 " But listen, Miss Mary. You must have com- 
 mon-sense. How will you get along without a 
 a helper? Brother James says that Trenham is 
 made you poor." 
 
 " How I shall manage to get along need not con- 
 cern or trouble you, dear Chris. Some way will 
 open for us. Go now, my friend. Go quickly, for 
 I am drained of strength." 
 
 She sank down into the small rocker, while Chris, 
 with a great sob, flung himself to his knees. 
 
 " Sit ye down there, Miss Mary. Sit ye, dear. 
 You don't really mean as you would drive poor 
 Chris away from this little fireside forever. Say 
 you were joking about my being driven off ! " 
 
 He stared imploringly up to her small, white 
 face. Her head was thrown back, the frail lids 
 closed on a shining rim of tears and the patient 
 mouth compressed heroically. 
 
 " Oh, God," said Chris, as if in reverent awe, 
 as the full meaning of her rejection came to him 
 " never to see you more for months and months 
 of grieving. Never to sit there in my old armchair, 
 with Blessing in my arms, and you a-smiling like 
 an angel, from this little nook. Never to have a 
 gleam of the best of all things, loving. Say it 
 ain't true, Miss Mary, say it ain't. Won't you wake
 
 332 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 up and tell me that I am asleep and dreaming 
 dreadful horse-dreams, nightmares, I mean. My 
 Godamidey, Mary, I just can't stand it nohow." 
 
 Mary's drenched violets that stood her now for 
 eyes opened upon him. " Oh, Chris, my Chris," 
 she faltered, shrinking still farther off, " don't make 
 this last mistake, dear. Don't think a broken 
 habit, or a great wave of pitying tenderness can 
 ever take the place of that deeper and holier thing 
 of " 
 
 She could not speak the culminating word, but 
 he felt her shiver like a twanged and muted harp. 
 
 " Love," he said for her. " That is the word I 
 need. What am I made of, darling, but the long, 
 patient years of loving you? What do I care for 
 insects, or writing, or fame, or anything else be- 
 side, if you air taken from me? I see it now for 
 the first time sunrise-clear. There ain't been an- 
 other woman, not even another thought, though 
 once you know," he nodded shyly " Lizzy 
 Lycosa." 
 
 " Chris Chris," she sobbed in an abandonment 
 of joy. " Yes, it is true, you need me oh, Chris 
 and I need you." 
 
 He bent the rough head before her. From out 
 the past there came the vision of a young lad's 
 agony out on a not-far-distant hill. He caught 
 her two hands in his and looked straight into her 
 eyes. " I can't do withouten ye, Mary. I can't do 
 withouten ye, nohow."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 A WEDDING JOURNEY 
 
 ATER the expected cable from France an- 
 nounced the safe arrival of Sophie and Letty 
 " over there," Mrs. Hallonquist consented to 
 name her wedding day. 
 
 In the same old Rectory wing, with the spring 
 breeze blowing the freshly starched curtains 
 straight out into the flower-scented room, Mary, as 
 slender as she was those many years before, dressed 
 in white muslin, and bearing what might seem the 
 identical wild-flower " bokay," stood on the same 
 worn spot of the same worn carpet, surrounded 
 by a gathering of relatives and friends, and was 
 pronounced the wife of Christopher Laird. 
 
 Uncle Grief, never doubting that he was the 
 best -man, stood shoulder to shoulder with the less 
 complacent and more critical Mrs. Grief, and kept 
 his snowy gloves well to the fore, being inordi- 
 nately proud of them! 
 
 Blessing, a vision of diaphanous white skirts, of 
 ruffles and pastel colouring, her golden curls topped 
 by the hugest and most alluring of white bows, 
 turned swelling tears to laughter by the quaint 
 remark, " Isn't my Grandma just too beautiful ! 
 
 333
 
 334 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 I'm goin' to wait until I am a grandma ever to 
 get married." 
 
 At length it was all over. There was to be no 
 distant wedding trip. The married pair had de- 
 cided to drive quietly back to their cottage home. 
 For a few days Blessing was to stop with the Thig- 
 pen children, under " Aunt Milly's " tender and 
 efficient care. 
 
 For the short drive Chris had scorned 'Lonzo's 
 suggestion of an automobile, and, in its place, in- 
 sisted upon using the aged Uncle Daddy and his 
 station hack. 
 
 The bridal pair got in, not without certain hand- 
 fuls of thrown rice, and one enormous bow, tied 
 by the junior Ossie, to the back of the battered 
 vehicle, and having started, joggled along on the 
 old dirt street in what would have been silence, but 
 for the laboured groans and squeaks of ancient 
 rusty springs. 
 
 Chris was abstracted, labouring, as it seemed, 
 with some inward problem which could not be 
 shared. His wife, smiling happily, was content to 
 wait, until the overburdened heart could ease itself. 
 As yet these two, predestined, and strongly suited, 
 had scarcely dared the touch of lovers' hands. 
 
 The old hack jogged along, sagging preposter- 
 ously on the side where the bridegroom fidgeted. 
 
 Nearing the Gaither home his agitation rather 
 than call it turbulence increased so noticeably,
 
 A WEDDING JOURNEY 335 
 
 that Mary leaned closer, murmuring, " What is the 
 matter, dear? " 
 
 Chris turned a hunted face. " I knew you'd help 
 me out, bless you, Miss Mary. I knew you'd 
 help me out, being the kind and thoughtful lady 
 that you air. I'm sure, now, you won't get mad if 
 I ask .you to let me stop for a half a minute here 
 at my own front gate. There is something I've just 
 remembered as I'd forgotten, something that can't 
 be left to bide on there, lonesome and by itself, 
 without running the risk of being completely 
 ruined." 
 
 The bride flushed imperceptibly. So this some 
 larvae, or some hatching cocoon had been the 
 cause of all this agitation. 
 
 " Of course, Chris, if you wish it. And please 
 don't think that you must speak to me, or or 
 ask about the things you want to do. You are your 
 own free master, and mine too," she whispered 
 tenderly, but Chris did not seem to hear. 
 
 " Thankee, Miss Mary. Thankee a whole lot," 
 he cried out fervently. " I couldn't have slept a 
 wink the whole night through had I been forced 
 to leave that important experiment in danger of 
 being chilled." 
 
 " What sort of experiment is it? Do you mind 
 telling, dear? " 
 
 " N-n-no," answered Chris, peering out through 
 the darkness to see if the Gaither gate was yet in. 
 sight. " Not if you care to hear it. There are eggs
 
 336 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 eggs in warm mud that has to stay near to the 
 bed where you're sleeping, not to get cooled too 
 much, or the whole thing goes bad. Here we are 
 now, whoa! Daddy " 
 
 He sprang out through the wheels before they 
 had really stopped, and Mary could hear him chas- 
 ing along the bricked front walk and up the steep 
 kitchen steps as though a mad bull were pursuing. 
 
 Mary sat on in darkness, pierced by the one red 
 eye of a smelling old hack oil lamp. Even the tact- 
 ful and usually loquacious Uncle Daddy found not 
 a word to say. Mrs. Christopher Laird was think- 
 ing, and not without some resentment, what a figure 
 of fun she would appear to the casual passerby 
 a bride, just married, alone in an ancient hack at 
 ten o'clock at night. 
 
 The moments trailed like velvet, slow and soft. 
 Surely he must be coming back to her very, very 
 soon. As time crawled on, Mary began to know 
 queer qualms and visions as to the possibility of 
 this great child-man she loved, following the time- 
 worn furrows of long habit, actually going to rest 
 as usual, now that his old familiar room was at- 
 tained, entirely forgetting her, or the fact that 
 she was married. Chris was quite capable of such 
 a fantastic lapse. 
 
 With an inward catch of the breath, and hands 
 pressing to a fluttering, thankful heart, she now 
 heard him lumbering toward her. She could barely 
 make out his dim form through the night. He
 
 A WEDDING JOURNEY 337 
 
 seemed to be carrying something; and staggered 
 from side to side, as under a careful weight. When 
 at the side of the carriage, she leaned over and 
 saw that the object was the largest, rustiest dish- 
 pan ever known. 
 
 " Oh, Chris ! Your wed-dmg gloves ! " she cried 
 impulsively, and then bit her lips in annoyance 
 that she had been betrayed into the motherly ad- 
 monition. 
 
 Chris looked up to her face with a disarming 
 smile. " I declare to Goodness but I plumb for- 
 got I was wearing wedding gloves. I'm sorry. I'll 
 buy you a new pair for me the first thing to-morrow 
 morning. Here is the mud I spoke of. The eggs 
 are hid within." He beamed down on the surface 
 of the semiputrid mud adoringly. 
 
 For about ten seconds the new-made wife had 
 a sharp decisive struggle, from which she soon 
 emerged with the smile of love and understanding 
 which was a banner raised to the ramparts of 
 certain lifelong happiness for both. 
 
 "Put them in here, my darling," she said ten- 
 derly, moving her feet aside to make room for the 
 horror. " I'm going to help you hatch them with- 
 out fail. Are they so very rare? " 
 
 " The rarest there is," said Chris. " They come 
 from Southern Europe. A big man there, Profes- 
 sor Frenchy something, sent them to me to see if 
 we could start the species here. They'll fight some
 
 338 CHRISTOPHER LAIRD 
 
 insect pests already thriving, what the farmers 
 could do without." 
 
 " Oh, Chris, that's simply won-der-f ul ! " a voice 
 of silver cried. " I'll be so proud to help you bring 
 them out. It will be my triumph too, won't it, 
 dearest? " 
 
 Chris turned to her slowly. " Ye-s-s ! " he slowly 
 said. 
 
 Her sweet face was toward him, lifted a little 
 like an eager child's. The wonder is that the love 
 upon it did not gleam out in a sort of spiritual 
 phosphorescence. 
 
 . The dark cloak had fallen backward from a 
 throat like milk, showing her wedding whiteness. 
 The scent of roses and fragile, mangled ferns rose 
 from her crushed bouquet. 
 
 Chris gave a sort of sob as he caught the slight 
 form to him. " Shucks Lord ! " she heard his 
 dear lips say, "what do I care for bug-eggs or 
 professors, or whether the farmers grow a single 
 row of corn, when I got you, at last, for my 
 wedded wife, when I is got Miss Mary for my 
 own." 
 
 And though it sounds incredible for a long, 
 long quivering moment after this the patent 
 leathern pump on Chris's right foot went deep into 
 the dishpan and its hatchery. 
 
 THE END
 
 , ' _ 
 
 1919 
 
 A 000 059 002 6 
 
 CHRISTOPHER 
 LAIRD 
 
 By SIDNEY McCALL 
 
 Author of "Truth Dexter" 
 
 ' ' The Breath of the Gods, ' ' 
 
 "Ariadne oj Allan Water", 
 
 etc. 
 
 Christopher is a child of 
 nature. In his early life he 
 roams through his loved 
 Carolina mountains, absorb- 
 ing the life of the beasts and 
 insects. Later he and his 
 family move to a neighbor- 
 ing city and there he learns to 
 love but that is the story. 
 Christopher is a unique 
 character - - lovable to a 
 degree, lazy perhaps, but 
 full of enthusiasms, never 
 losing his boyishness and 
 unspoiled charm as the years 
 pass. His adventures and 
 romance make a story which 
 will leave the reader with a 
 keen feeling of cheer and 
 optimism and satisfaction.