VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND'S BOOKS. 
 
 UNIFORM STYLE. PRICE $1.50 EACH. 
 "S/RS, ONLY SEVENTEEN." 
 MOSTLY MARJORIE DAY. 
 A BOSTON GIRL'S AMBITIONS. 
 BUT A PHILISTINE. 
 
 A WOMAN'S WORD, AND HOW SHE KEPT IT. 
 DARRYLL GAP; OR, WHETHER IT PAID. 
 ONLY GIRLS. 
 THAT QUEER GIRL 
 LENOX DARE. 
 
 NEW EDITIONS. PRICE $1.00 EACH. 
 THE MILLS OF TUXBURY. 
 THE HOLLANDS. 
 SIX IN ALL 
 THE DEER INGS OF MED BURY. 
 
 LEE AND SHEFARD, Publishers, 
 BOSTON.
 
 SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN! 
 
 BY 
 
 VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND 
 
 AUTHOR OF " MOSTLY MARJORIE DAY " " A BOSTON GIRL'S AMBITIONS " 
 
 "THE HOLLANDS" "THAT QUEER GIRL" 
 
 " ONLY GIRLS " ETC. 
 
 LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 
 
 10 MILK STREET 
 
 BOSTON
 
 COPYRIGHT, 18SM, BY LEE AND SHEPARD 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 ELECTBOTYPINO BY C. J. PETERS & Sou, BOSTON, U.S.A. 
 PRESSWOBK HY S. J. PAKKIIII.L & Co.
 
 To some Names, 
 
 Not written here; 
 But which mean to me 
 
 A world happier and dearer. 
 
 V. F. T. 
 
 2128524
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE FAMILY TREE; THE SAPLING BOUGHS . 1 
 
 II. SEVENTEEN AND NINETEEN 11 
 
 III. A ROAD, A RIDE, AND SOME RHYMES ... 21 
 
 IV. How THE HOUR STRUCK 35 
 
 V. A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 40 
 
 VI. A BREAKFAST DIALOGUE 54 
 
 VII. CAPITALIST AND SOPHOMORE 61 
 
 VIII. A MEETING ON THE MALL 66 
 
 IX. WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WAKE . . 71 
 
 X. GENTLEMAN OR SNOB WHICH ? .... 88 
 
 XI. CONCERNING DAKE CRAMLEY 94 
 
 XII. A COAT AND TROUSERS REVOLUTION . . . 100 
 
 XIII. KEYNOTES AND QUICKSANDS Ill 
 
 XIV. THE QUIET BEFORE THE STORM 117 
 
 XV. A JULY NIGHT'S CRISIS 123 
 
 XVI. THE QUIET AFTER THE STORM 130 
 
 XVII. A NORTH END DRAMA 136 
 
 XVIII. MRS. JEMIMA BRAY HAS A HEART .... 145 
 
 XIX. HER NAME WAS DAISY Ross 153 
 
 XX. RED BERRY ROADS AND AMOURY ROOST. . 161 
 
 XXI. AN OBJECT LESSON IN ALTRUISM .... 171 
 
 XXII. SOME YOUNG ROMANCE 176 
 
 XXIII. DEAR DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 183 
 
 v
 
 VI CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXIV. THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH 191 
 
 XXV. A FRESH PROBLEM 199 
 
 XXVI. A STORY AND A SEQUENCE 207 
 
 XXVII. FACTS WITH SUPPRESSIONS 211 
 
 XXVIII. A HARD-WRUNG CONSENT 217 
 
 XXIX. ONE THING AND ANOTHER 224 
 
 XXX. "A POOR LITTLE INNERCENT PAGAN" . . 231 
 
 XXXI. NOT HEAVEN, BUT KED KNOLLS 240 
 
 XXXII. AN EVENING 256 
 
 XXXIII. CHANGES AND FORECASTS 264 
 
 XXXIV. SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 268 
 
 XXXV. A CLIMAX 280 
 
 XXXVI. YOUNG LIFE LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE 294 
 
 XXXVII. WHERE WAS TOM ? 302 
 
 XXXVIII. AFTER THE TORNADO 310 
 
 XXXIX. FIBST AND LAST DOROTHY DRAYCOTT . . 317
 
 SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 THE FAMILY TREE ; THE SAPLING BOUGHS 
 
 " EVERYBODY," Dr. Edward Everett Hale says, 
 "cannot live by the road which leads to Lexington." 
 
 Dorothy Draycott did. 
 
 She was conscious of the fact too. It seemed to 
 her it was the best place to live on the planet ; 
 she had a secret feeling that she must have been 
 a different sort of girl if she had not been born 
 and nurtured on that old historic highway. 
 
 Sometimes she would wake in the early morning 
 from the sound sleep of young girlhood and perfect 
 health, and half imagine she heard the tramp of the 
 long British column shaking the ground like thunder 
 as it hurried past on its way to Concord ; she would 
 see the flashing of the bayonets, the gay banners 
 waving over all the scarlet bravery ; and she would 
 hear the beating of the drums, filling the air of that 
 bright, soft April morning more than a century ago. 
 
 Dorothy had a good many traditions and events of 
 1
 
 2 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 those days stored away in safe corners of her young 
 memory. The house where she had been born and 
 lived all her life occupied the site of an older home- 
 stead over whose threshold her great-grandfather 
 had passed to join the minute-men mustering, since 
 early dawn, to the call of the alarm-bells ; not dream- 
 ing those Massachusetts yeomen how from all 
 their village belfries was ringing out the reveille 
 of a new dawn of freedom to the world. 
 
 Dorothy could have pointed out to you in the 
 garret roof two old rafters, so worn and weather- 
 beaten that they formed a marked contrast to the 
 later timbers. One of these rafters held a bullet ; 
 the other bore marks of several. Both had been 
 taken from the house where the elder Draycott 
 generations had lived and died ; the family having 
 immigrated to this country in the decade which fol- 
 lowed the one whose greatest glory is the sailing of 
 the little bark Mayflower with its precious freight- 
 age of one hundred and two souls from the old 
 English seaport of Plymouth. 
 
 Among Dorothy's earliest memories was that of 
 an afternoon when her grandfather had taken her 
 up to this garret and showed her the old bullet- 
 pierced rafters. Then he took her on his knee and 
 related the story of the British march from Boston 
 to Concord, as he had learned it from his own 
 father, who had borne a conspicuous part in that 
 day's events.
 
 THE FAMILY THEE; THE SAPLING BOUGHS 3 
 
 The story had made a profound impression on 
 the eager, sensitive child, as she sat on her grand- 
 father's knee in the dim, dark-raftered garret, and 
 drank in every syllable, while his white, handsome 
 old head leaned down to her glossy young one. 
 What a long while ago it seemed ! She had hardly 
 reached her fourth birthday then ; and she had 
 passed her seventeenth now. Dorothy felt old when 
 she remembered that. 
 
 She was a slender, tallish girl whom I must leave 
 to speak mostly for herself in this little drama which 
 is to occupy only a few months of her life. 
 
 Many people called Dorothy Draycott pretty, but 
 there were those whose glance was most penetrative, 
 and whose feeling for words was finest, who rather 
 indignantly denied this people who insisted that 
 the girl was beautiful with that rare kind of beauty 
 which unfolds and ripens into a slow, far woman- 
 hood, and which is of such intrinsic quality that 
 it ends only with life. 
 
 Everybody admitted, however, that she had a beau- 
 tiful-shaped head, which carried fitly its mass of rich 
 young hair, its darkness all alive with flashing 
 bronze tints whenever the sun had a fair chance at 
 it ; her olive skin, too, was of fine texture, and had a 
 wholesome clearness. Her features were delicately 
 moulded, but not small these not belonging to 
 her ancestral type. Her mouth was large, and it 
 had its pouts and its grave lines, but smiled often ;
 
 4 "SIRS, ONLY "SEVENTEEN" 
 
 and when you saw the smile you forgot the red 
 of the lips, and the perfect teeth behind them. Her 
 e3 r es had the dark rich shade of ancient much- 
 polished mahogany ; but here, again, you did not 
 oftenest think of their color, because of something 
 which lay behind that, and was their life and glory. 
 
 Dorothy Draycott was an only daughter. She 
 had one brother a Harvard undergraduate two 
 years her senior, who was the pride, the delight, and 
 torment of his young sister's life. 
 
 As they were very clever young people, running 
 over with gay spirits and love of fun, they were 
 always matching their wits against each other 
 sometimes one and sometimes the other getting the 
 better in their verbal combats. 
 
 An only daughter, and her father and mother 
 would have said to themselves such a daughter ! 
 
 o 
 
 Dorothy had been much petted and indulged; but 
 her parents were too sensible to spoil her. There 
 was stuff in the making of this girl, too, as you will 
 find out, not easily spoiled. 
 
 Dorothy Draycott was, however, unspeakably for- 
 tunate in having such a father and mother. He was 
 a man in his prime a broker in Boston. He had 
 inherited those homestead acres which had so im- 
 mensely increased in value since the first Draycott 
 settled on them, before the middle of the seven- 
 teenth century. The rest of his fortune it was 
 by no means a conspicuous one Donald Draycott
 
 THE FAMILY TREE; THE SAPLING BOUGHS 5 
 
 had, by his own business shrewdness, amassed for 
 himself. He had the reputation of a man of sterling 
 character. Those who knew him best pronounced 
 him a rare, noble-souled fellow. He, like his son, 
 had gone to Harvard ; and his early predilections 
 for a scholar's life had survived all the wear and 
 tear of business, and saved him from making his 
 stocks and bonds the idols to which soul and body 
 must be sacrificed. 
 
 "Of course, I might have been a richer man, 
 Grace," he would sometimes say to his wife, "if I 
 had put my heart and soul into the money-grubbing; 
 but in case I had turned you out a millionaire there 
 would have been nothing left besides." 
 
 "I never pined for millionaires!" Mrs. Draycott 
 would reply gayly. It was her secret conviction that 
 she had won the greatest matrimonial prize in the 
 world not the mightiest intellect certainly but 
 the truest and manliest, the most tender and lov- 
 able of men. 
 
 As for his wife, no words could express Donald 
 Draycott's estimate of her. She had what her friends 
 called a singular loveliness of character. Her hus- 
 band believed all that was best in himself was owing 
 to her influence and companionship. Whenever he 
 hinted this, she repelled it as a great injustice to 
 himself. But he stoutly maintained his point, assert- 
 ing that the old Draycott breed had its vices, and 
 that another could not know, as their descendants
 
 6 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 did, the weaknesses and quicksands of his own 
 nature. 
 
 Grace Draycott had a great charm of personality. 
 She was a blonde, not above medium height, with 
 strong, delicate features, and eyes large, and of a sea- 
 gray tint and depth. But the best thing still re- 
 mains to be said of her face. Into its smile and 
 expression, even in repose, a beautiful soul had crept. 
 
 The daughter resembled her mother in various 
 ways so subtle, however, that they did not strike 
 one at first sight, for the Draycott type was pro- 
 nounced in Dorothy. 
 
 The house, seated on a terraced elevation, com- 
 manded a wide, picturesque scene, made up of wood- 
 lands and glints of river and neighboring towns and 
 villages, framed by the far hills on the horizon. 
 Nearer at hand the windows looked down on the 
 broad storied highway, and on the roofs of Arlington, 
 nestled cosily in the lap of its hills. 
 
 It was a wide, double house, this home of Doro- 
 thy's, built half a century before, solid, square, 
 spacious, arid much in the pattern of the late colonial 
 period. It was bisected by a wide hall, with sunny 
 ample rooms on either side. A broad slope of front 
 lawn was broken up with masses of shrubbery and 
 flower-beds, which held gay bloom from early May to 
 November frosts. At the back was an immense 
 garden, full of ancient fruit-trees, and flowering 
 thickets, and rows of bushes, with summer-houses and
 
 THE FAMILY THEE; THE SAPLING BOUGHS 7 
 
 rustic seats, and all sorts of attractive little nooks 
 and alleys. 
 
 The interior of the house was delightful. Its 
 tasteful furnishings, its books, pictures, bric-a-brac, 
 scattered everywhere, gave character and refinement 
 to the rooms, while a subtle, restful home atmosphere 
 pervaded the whole. 
 
 The English Draycott had named his American 
 estate Red Knolls. The family tradition, well 
 authenticated, ran that he had gone over the land 
 the first time in the early June, when some knolls in 
 the upper pastures were smothered in a mass of 
 wild-brier-rose bloom. The great red glow caught 
 his eyes on the instant. Before he purchased the 
 land he had decided on its name. The wide pastures 
 had been turned into waving grain-fields; but the 
 knolls still remained, and from their summits, one, 
 looking eastward, had in clear atmospheres glimpses 
 of gray-blue sea. Of all that glory of red bloom 
 only a few straggling briers now remained; but they 
 held up in the face of each June a handful of wild- 
 roses, bright and fragrant as any in those Junes of 
 two centuries ago. 
 
 At the time when this story opens, Dorothy had 
 been mistress of Red Knolls for several months, 
 while her brother called himself, with an air and 
 look of meek endurance which of course deceived 
 nobody, its "long-suffering and sorely henpecked 
 master."
 
 8 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Draycott were spending the winter 
 in Southern California. She had taken a severe 
 cold in the autumn ; amI T when her cough grew wear- 
 ing and obstinate, the doctor had insisted upon a 
 prompt change of climate. 
 
 Mr. Draycott had at 'this time business relations 
 on the Pacific coast which made his presence there 
 desirable. The two left soon after the holidays. 
 
 Their absence really involved a domestic revolu- 
 tion. The mother had consented to it after many 
 misgivings and at her husband's persistent entreaties. 
 
 The pivotal question was how to dispose of the 
 young people at this juncture. Their elders were 
 most reluctant to break the continuity of the de- 
 lightful home-life at Red Knolls. Tom was within 
 half an hour by electrics of his Alma Mater, 
 and Dorothy could, of course, keep on with her 
 studies. 
 
 It was decided that Red Knolls must, at all haz- 
 ards, be kept open, and the young people put on 
 their mettle. 
 
 A widow from the Vermont Hills, whose orchard 
 and dairy had long furnished Red Knolls with their 
 choicest products, was induced to leave her home 
 for the winter, and undertake the domestic super- 
 vision of the household. 
 
 She was a treasure in herself, this small, bright- 
 eyed, soft-stepping Vermont woman, with a heart as 
 tender as ever beat in a human bosom, and a practi-
 
 THE FAMILY TREE; THE SAPLING BOUGHS 9 
 
 cal faculty, a keen observation, and a quaint humor, 
 which showed a marked individuality. 
 
 Deep in her fifties, regarding- herself a part of her 
 pleasant home among the hills, the removal to Red 
 Knolls for the winter was an immense change in her 
 life. Nothing but her regard for the young people 
 could have induced her to make it. They had 
 walked into Mrs. Dayle's heart during the many 
 happy, rollicking weeks which they had passed in 
 their childhood, in the homely, delightful old farm- 
 stead. A man and a maid, each long-tried and 
 trustworthy, completed the winter household at Red 
 Knolls. 
 
 One evening to go a long way back ; for it must 
 have been less than a year after Dorothy sat on her 
 grandfather's knee, and heard the story of the Revo- 
 lution Mrs. Draycott, entering the child's room 
 before her early bedtime, suddenly paused. Doro- 
 thy had not caught the soft footfalls. She AVOS 
 standing by the window, the little brown restless 
 head thrown into sharp relief against the lace cur- 
 tains, while she murmured to herself in her clear, 
 childish soprano, 
 
 " Good-night, little girl, away up in the star ! 
 It's bigger than our earth, Tom says, for all it 
 looks like such a mite shining up there. Little 
 girl, away off so high and so far, I hope your 
 world is as nice and as dear as mine down here. 
 I just think and wonder about you every day. I
 
 10 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 hope you have a father and mother as good as 
 mine, and a big brother you love dearly, though 
 lie's got such a temper, and makes you awful mad 
 at times! I suppose boys who live in stars have 
 tempers; but if they don't, and your brother is best, 
 I wouldn't want to change, you know. 
 
 " It makes the way not seem so long between 
 us when I think the same God made you and me, 
 and takes care of us both. 
 
 "O little girl, you can't hear what I say; but 
 for all that I mean to come each night, when the 
 clouds are gone, and send you, away up in the 
 sky, my kiss and good-night ! " 
 
 That evening Mrs. Draycott related what she had 
 overheard to her husband. 
 
 " Of course I was inexpressibly touched and 
 charmed," she said. " But, O Donald, such an imagi- 
 nation is a perilous gift ! " and there were tears in 
 the young mother's beautiful eyes. 
 
 " That depends, Grace," said the husband in his 
 manly, reassuring voice. " I trust there is some grit 
 in that little makeup, that will show itself when the 
 test comes, and save imagination from running away 
 with her."
 
 SEVENTEEN AND NINETEEN 11 
 
 II 
 
 SEVENTEEN AND NINETEEN 
 
 " GIRLS and Greek go to the dogs ! " 
 
 With this ejaculation, rendered more emphatic by 
 the silence into which it exploded, Tom Draycott 
 sent his Sophocles spinning across the room. 
 
 Dorothy looked up startled from the drawing on 
 which she had been at work for the last half-hour, 
 only pausing occasionally to study intently her 
 brother's profile at the opposite side of the table. 
 Then she would resume her work with a little mis- 
 chievous smile hovering about the corners of her 
 mouth. Nothing had broken the stillness but the 
 ticking of the clock on the mantel, and the hum- 
 ming of the wood-fire on the hearth. 
 
 Tom had been buried in his Sophocles as Dorothy 
 had in her lessons. She was intending to enter 
 Smith College next fall, and went into Boston every 
 other day for two hours' recitations. On this occa- 
 sion, however, Tom's profile had proved so tempting 
 a study that she had at last pushed aside her books, 
 and stealthily, and with a merry glint in her eyes, 
 set herself to drawing it. 
 
 It was a March evening:. The wind was wander-
 
 12 "sms, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 ing like some restless, bewildered creature outside, 
 its low mutters sometimes rising into an angry 
 menace. 
 
 The library where the two were sitting was a 
 large room, oak-panelled, lined on one side with 
 low bookcases. The prevailing tone of the room was 
 gray, with reliefs of brighter color in table-scarfs, 
 cushions, and lounge-covers. In the corners were 
 two or three choice bronze groups, and a number of 
 line paintings and landscapes on the walls ; but any 
 inventory of furnishings in this apartment, as in that 
 of every other of the solid, ample, half-century man- 
 sion, must miss the home atmosphere which was its 
 real attraction. 
 
 " What is the racket now?" Dorothy asked, and 
 the next moment she was ashamed of herself. She 
 meant to keep her talk intact from Tom's Sophomore 
 slang, but she was always slipping into it. 
 
 Tom Draycott sprang with an impatient growl to 
 his feet, and ran his fingers through his hair. 
 
 " Racket, indeed ! " he retorted. " Here I am 
 drudging away at that confounded Greek, when I 
 ought to be at the play to-night. It is a capital thing, 
 Walters says. He wanted me to dine with him at 
 Parker's, and then go to the show. It was rough on 
 a fellow to give it up." 
 
 "But will you tell me what girls had to do with 
 the matter? I suppose, though, you mixed them up 
 witli it from mere force of habit."
 
 SEVENTEEN AND NINETEEN 13 
 
 " One girl had something to do with it with 
 a vengeance ! If she hadn't tried the injured-inno- 
 cence dodge and talked of her two evenings alone 
 the last week, and all that nuisance, I should have 
 cut Greek, run my chances at recitation, and gone 
 to the play." 
 
 In spite of his ungracious way of putting it, Doro- 
 thy perceived that her brother had made a sacrifice, 
 more or less, for her sake ; and with a sudden grateful 
 impulse she exclaimed : 
 
 " Tom, dear old fellow, you may growl, but you 
 have been awfully good. I will tell mamma when I 
 write." 
 
 Tom Draycott adored his mother, believed her the 
 most splendid woman in the world, but his young 
 man's conceit was rather nettled at her introduction 
 at this moment. 
 
 " So that is the way my goodness is to be in evi- 
 dence ! Tell his mamma how he stayed at home 
 with his sister, and was a good boy ; a model, in 
 short, for brothers, so long as time shall last. What 
 taffy, Dorothy ! " 
 
 " Well, then," arching her eyebrows significantly, 
 " if you are to be the model for all future brothers, 
 good angels protect the sisters ! " 
 
 Tom laughed good-naturedly this time. He was 
 standing with his back to the fire now, a stalwart- 
 built, broad-chested fellow of a decided blond type, 
 with no resemblance, on the surface, to his sister ;
 
 14 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 although the family likeness occasionally came out in 
 flashes and glimpses. 
 
 Tom's glance happened to fall on the drawing 
 which lay upon the table. 
 
 " What have you been doing there ? " he asked, 
 with a kind of languid curiosity, as he drew nearer to 
 the table. 
 
 " You mustn't look ! It isn't finished. For shame, 
 Tom ! You have no right to it." 
 
 Dorothy's remonstrant staccato burst out as her 
 brother picked up the sheet and coolly proceeded to 
 examine it. He recognized the drawing at a glance. 
 Dorothy had a dainty touch combined with a power 
 of bold, vigorous lines. Here was a likeness, unde- 
 niable, slightly caricatured, of himself. The nose 
 not an insignificant feature in Tom Draycott's facial 
 structure was unduly prominent, and so were 
 some locks of hair which stood up, bristly and pugna- 
 cious, on his forehead. 
 
 Tom whistled, half amused, half provoked, for a 
 minute, perhaps, as he inspected this drawing, which 
 was not complimentary to himself ; then he, with cool 
 deliberation, tore the paper into several slips and 
 tossed them into the flames. 
 
 " Tom, how dared you do that ? It is shameful ; 
 it was not yours," exclaimed Dorothy in high 
 dudgeon. 
 
 " And how dared you take such an unwarrantable 
 liberty with my countenance, and caricature it at
 
 SEVENTEEN AND NINETEEN 15 
 
 that ? How would you like it if I tried the same 
 game with you ? Here goes ! " 
 
 He made a dash for the pencils ; but Dorothy was 
 too quick for him, swept them up, and held them 
 close, box and all. 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed Tom triumphantly. " Noth- 
 ing convinces, in a case of this sort, like turning the 
 tables handsomely on another." 
 
 " But you are a fellow," said Dorothy with a 
 marked change of tone, " and of course wouldn't 
 mind. A girl might." 
 
 " You are immensely positive about what a fellow 
 would mind ! " . 
 
 Dorothy was silent for a few moments. Each of 
 these young people was wise enough to know when 
 the other had the best of the argument ; but many a 
 discussion, begun in pure love of mischief, ended in 
 something quite the opposite. 
 
 Dorothy gazed at her brother with silent intentness 
 for a minute or two. He knew her well enough to 
 be certain there was a thought behind the gaze, and 
 that he would hear it before long. He turned mean- 
 while, and stirred the red coals with the poker until 
 the sparks swarmed up the chimney like a flock of 
 scarlet bees. The thought burst out in the form of a 
 question, spoken with grave earnestness. 
 
 "Tom, do you really think you are handsome? " 
 
 " I never gave that important subject much reflec- 
 tion." He had on now what his sister called his
 
 16 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 "owlish expression," and he struck the forelog with 
 a force which sent a fresh scarlet flock swarming up 
 the wide chimney. 
 
 " Because you are not really ! " 
 
 The tone was so serious, with just a hint of 
 apology, that Tom could not take umbrage at this 
 frankness. He rose, however, turned and faced his 
 sister, and again the bright, penetrating, critical 
 gaze went over the strong, stalwart figure, taking 
 it in from head to foot, with all the details, the 
 color of the hair and eyes, the moulding of the face, 
 the yellowish down cropping out on the chin. 
 
 " May I ask if you have just^ arrived at that con- 
 viction? " he interrogated with the utmost gravity. 
 
 " Oh, no. I reached it more than a year ago." 
 
 " Indeed ! This begins to be interesting, at least 
 to the party most deeply concerned. Under what 
 circumstances did you form a conclusion so flattering 
 to myself ? " 
 
 " It was more than a year ago. Don't you remem- 
 ber that time when we came down from the moun- 
 tains, and drove over from Woodstock to the Profile ? 
 It was in September. We had seats on the top of 
 the stage." 
 
 " I remember perfectly." 
 
 "Of course everybody was wild to go outside. 
 There were several Harvard fellows amongst the 
 crowd, and we all had the jolliest time. I think 
 it must have been the others set me to thinking 
 about you contrasting you with them."
 
 SEVENTEEN AND NINETEEN 17 
 
 " Not to my advantage evidently." 
 
 " I said, ' I am goin g now to look at Tom critical!}', 
 just as though he were not my own brother, and I 
 saw him for the first time. There he sits before me, 
 Tom Draycott, a big, strong-limbed, straight- 
 shouldered fellow, a little overgrown,' that was more 
 than a year ago, you remember. 'Not a model of 
 grace, perhaps, but with a figure tall, robust, well- 
 formed, that any youth might be proud of. 
 
 " ' He has a large head, well-shaped, well set on 
 his shoulders ; but when you come to his thick hair 
 it is inclined to be coarse and bristly, and of a light 
 squash-yellow. His e}*ebrows and short thick lashes 
 are about the same tint ; and his eyes, though they 
 are bright and clear and full of fun at times, are of 
 a light, uncertain sort of gray. Indeed, there is 
 altogether too much neutral'tint about him. When 
 it comes to his features, not one of them follows the 
 curve of beauty. They are large, his nose espe- 
 cially ; and it isn't straight, either, and the whole 
 is cut on a rather rugged plan. His mouth is too 
 large, though I am forced to admit when he smiles 
 one does not think of that. If his skin isn't fine its 
 wholesome, ruddy hue more than atones for that. 
 His ears stand out too far, and are apt to be reddish, 
 and no drawing-master would ever take them for a 
 model. In short, that is a fair if not flattering pic- 
 ture of your brother, Dorothy Draycott, as he sits 
 there before you at this blessed moment ! '
 
 18 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 The young man, quiet as a mouse through all 
 this speech, broke now into a roar of laughter; lie 
 shook ; he shouted ; he doubled himself up, and then 
 stretched himself on the lounge and roared again. 
 It was mirth, pure, simple, infectious. In a few 
 moments Dorothy, who had been very serious 
 through the talk, joined in, and her girlish laugh 
 formed a silvery, rippling accompaniment to her 
 brother's bass. 
 
 At last Tom grew quiet, and spoke, 
 
 "And there you sat all the time in the midst of 
 that wonderful scenery which Starr King declares 
 the finest between the Atlantic coast and the Rocky 
 Mountains, while you contrasted the Draycott biped, 
 masculine, with the feminine variety. Oh the enor- 
 mous vanity of girls ! " 
 
 " I did nothing of the sort, Tom. I have half a 
 mind not to tell you, after that speech, what further 
 conclusion I did form regarding you." 
 
 " Oh, let's have the worst now ! My amour 
 propre can stand anything after this onslaught. 
 I take back all I said, Dollikins." 
 
 " I said to myself, ' Tlw^e other fellows may be 
 handsomer, but Tom is conspicuously, intrinsically 
 the gentleman among them. Anybody with a fine 
 sense must perceive that. It is in the lines of his 
 face, the carriage of his head, in, as papa would 
 say, " the molecules of his organism." ' 
 
 Tom rose from the lounge and made his best bow.
 
 SEVENTEEN AND NINETEEN 19 
 
 " I needed some emollient after all those dreadful 
 wounds to my vanity," he said dryly. But Dorothy 
 knew the words covered some real satisfaction, and 
 that her last speech had atoned for all which had 
 preceded it. 
 
 Then the bronze clock on the mantel struck the 
 half-hour. It was the time when Dorothy usually 
 went to her room ; her mother having exacted a 
 promise that she would keep early hours. 
 
 At this instant Mrs. Dayles put her face inside the 
 door to see that everything went well with her young 
 charges. Even to a stranger, the kind motherly face 
 under the gray hair, the small, neat, matronly figure, 
 would have been attractive. 
 
 Hidalgo, who had been asleep on the rug, woke up 
 now, stretched his huge length, and laid his big head 
 affectionately on his young master's knee. He was 
 an English mastiff, a splendid creature, and of enor- 
 mous size. 
 
 He had been shipped from Spain when a young 
 dog to Mr. Draycott, by a friend who was about to 
 make a trip around the world. The dog at once be- 
 came an immense favoritQ in the family ; he had the 
 intelligence, the deep loyalty, and all the fine char- 
 acteristics of the best of his breed. " What a superb 
 creature he is," remarked Donald Draycott to his 
 wife one day, soon after the dog's arrival, when there 
 had been some discussion about naming him. 
 
 " It seems," she answered, " as though he had
 
 20 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 lived long enough among those stately old Spanish 
 hidalgoes to carry their air of solemn dignity through 
 all his days." 
 
 Donald Draycott brought down his hand on his 
 wife's knee. " Grace," he said, " you have hit the 
 mark ! That name suits the patrician creature ex- 
 actly. Come here, sir ! " 
 
 The dog came, gazing at the man with his intent, 
 solemn eyes. " You are from this moment to have 
 one name to know and to answer to that only so 
 long as you live Hidalgo ! " 
 
 Tom and Dorothy clapped their hands, and the dog 
 soon answered to his name. 
 
 Tom Draycott heard the March wind booming out- 
 side. The sound stirred his young pulses like a 
 trumpet. He was always eager for a tramp, either 
 with or without companions. 
 
 " Come, Hidalgo, you and I will have a bout with 
 the winds ! " he said. 
 
 And nodding good-night to the young girl and the 
 elder woman, who were absorbed in some domestic 
 discussion, Tom Draycott went out with his dog into 
 the wild March night.
 
 A KOAD, A RIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 21 
 
 III 
 
 A ROAD, A RIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 
 
 YOUNG Draycott had stumbled one day, by the 
 purest accident, on what his sister regarded as the 
 most precious secret of her life. Even her mother 
 had no inkling of it. Tom had gone to Dorothy's 
 room to relate some amusing affair at lectures that 
 morning. There was no answer to his knock ; but 
 Tom was sure of her return in a short time, and 
 neither would have felt any scruples in entering the 
 other's room, and awaiting its occupant. 
 
 He threw himself down in a big bamboo easy-chair, 
 his favorite lounging place in his frequent visits to 
 his sister's room. Her davenport a dainty affair 
 in oak, with antique carving stood near at hand. 
 Tom's attention was caught by something on the 
 upper shelf of the davenport, which resembled an 
 oblong volume in a pinkish-gray silk binding, with 
 the prettiest light green vine, brightened by clusters 
 of berries, running around the edges. He at once 
 perceived Dorothy's light, firm touch in the painting. 
 
 Tom Draycott had the instincts of a gentleman. 
 He would never have used anything of his sister's 
 which she intended for no eyes but her own, although
 
 22 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 he would have been quite ready, in one of his teas- 
 ing moods, to make a pretence of doing it. But this 
 thing, lying there in full view in its pretty case, 
 roused his idle curiosity. It never crossed his mind 
 that Dorothy could have the faintest objection to his 
 examining it. He reached forward, took it up, found 
 it thick, rather heavy, and with a glance inside, rec- 
 ognized his sister's clear young girl's hand in the 
 closely written manuscript. 
 
 Before he had read a syllable she came into the 
 room, with her light, rapid step, her velvet cape loos- 
 ened from her shoulders, her little toque, with its 
 old-gold and crimson trimmings, atilt on her young 
 head. 
 
 She glanced at Tom ; the next instant she saw 
 what was in his hand. She darted forward with a 
 cry of anger and dismay to seize the book. But in 
 her wild haste she missed her aim. Tom sprang from 
 his chair, and swung the book triumphantly over his 
 head. 
 
 " Oh, how dared you do that ? It is my own. 
 Give it to me this moment," burst out Dorothy, her 
 voice quivering with excitement, her face aflame 
 with distress and anger. 
 
 " Not until you have told me what this is," replied 
 Tom coolly, his curiosity thoroughly aroused now ; 
 and then, he was barely nineteen it was hard to 
 miss a chance of teasing his sister. 
 
 Dorothy drew her slender figure to its full height.
 
 A ROAD, A RIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 23 
 
 The lightnings of her great brown eyes blazed into 
 Tom's. 
 
 " You are the meanest, most prying, most impudent 
 creature I ever conceived of ! I demand that you 
 give my property back to me." 
 
 Tom, getting angry himself, managed to hold his 
 temper in leash. 
 
 " Adjectives of that sort, accompanied by that tone, 
 are not apt to have the desired effect," he said in a 
 dry, aggravating voice, keeping the book at a safe 
 distance. 
 
 Dorothy looked at it with hungry eyes for a mo- 
 ment, then she broke out, "I would not have be- 
 lieved you could do so contemptible a thing, Tom 
 Draycott." 
 
 She quivered all over ; but there was some pain in 
 her voice, which struck Tom now, and put him on Ids 
 defence. 
 
 " I have done nothing to be ashamed of. I hap- 
 pened to find this thing whatever it is lying on 
 your davenport, and, naturally enough, took it up, 
 when you must bounce in and raise such a tempest 
 over it." 
 
 But Dorothy was not to be reasoned with, so long 
 as he held her treasure above his head in that defiant 
 way. If she could only have thrown her young girl's 
 strength against his, and in one passionate wrestle 
 have torn the thing from his hands ! But that 
 was hopeless. " It is mine. Give it to me ! " she
 
 24 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 repeated insistently. The hungry look in her eyes 
 made Tom relent a little. 
 
 "If you will tell me what this mysterious affair is, 
 I will give it up." 
 
 "What what do you Tcnoiv about it?" asked 
 Dorothy, not replying to his question, but with a 
 fresh blaze in her eyes. 
 
 " Know ! I know absolutely nothing, except the 
 confounded fuss that you have been making over it. 
 I tell you I haven't the remotest idea what is inside 
 of this. It may be Sanscrit." 
 
 Dorothy shot one eager, doubtful glance into his 
 face. In the sudden relief and reaction she sank into 
 a chair and burst into sobs. 
 
 Tom saw the matter was more serious than he had 
 imagined. He drew near his sister and exclaimed in 
 a half remonstrant, half annoyed tone, 
 
 " What a silly, unreasoning, explosive creature 
 you are, Dorothy ! Tell me what it is all about, and 
 I will give it back to you and welcome ! " 
 
 " It is my book my very own," she sobbed. 
 
 This obstinate persistence disgusted him for a mo- 
 ment; the next, it all cleared up in a flash. The 
 thing he held in his hand was Dorothy's in some in- 
 timate, sacred way which nothing else could possibly 
 be. This was the explanation of all her passionate 
 insistence. 
 
 "Dorothy," said Tom, in a changed tone, "you 
 have been writing a book ! "
 
 A ROAD, A RIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 25 
 
 She gave a little cry that was almost terror. Then 
 she turned on him. 
 
 " And you told me you had not read a line ! O 
 Tom Draycott!" 
 
 This time he had the advantage. "Do you sup- 
 pose, Dorothy, I would speak more than the abso- 
 lute truth?" his voice rang out resentfully. "I 
 could not tell the first syllable inside this cover if it 
 were to save my life." 
 
 He laid the book in her lap. 
 
 Dorothy seized and hugged it fast. 
 
 Tom's feeling toward his sister had undergone a 
 swift transition from the instant he had solved her 
 mystery. He had more sympathy with her feelings, 
 too, than she could have imagined. In his own room, 
 locked in an inner bureau-drawer, was a small port- 
 folio containing certain sonnets, lyrics, and verses, 
 which no human eye had ever seen. These were the 
 efflorescence of Tom Draycott's youthful muse. The 
 thought of any of his classmates getting hold of them 
 would have made him wince in every nerve. 
 
 But for all that he could not resist such an oppor- 
 tunity of having his jest. 
 
 " I had no idea I stood in such a presence," he 
 began with mock seriousness. " Long and green 
 may your laurels wave, Miss Dorothy Draycott, 
 authoress ! " 
 
 " There, I knew you would make fun of me ! " 
 she cried, her cheeks naming.
 
 26 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 "I promise, honor bright, never to do so again if 
 you will tell me the title." 
 
 "O Tom, don't ask me, please." 
 
 " Well, then, be good after all this big tantrum, 
 and read me the first page." 
 
 The young head went back and forth in speechless, 
 but very pronounced, negation. 
 
 The utmost concession Tom could extract from 
 his reluctant sister was that she had been more than 
 a year writing her book, and that not a soul knew of 
 its existence. 
 
 Tom, of course, kept his sister's secret inviolable ; 
 but it was not in young masculine human nature not 
 to have its fun out of the matter. He seized occa- 
 sions for gravely inquiring whether the book was of 
 the ideal or realistic school ; whether it was a study 
 of to-day, or of some remote period of human history ; 
 he was curious to know, too, whether the story were 
 a novel and a local study, and who were the dramatis 
 personce, and if these included any people whom they 
 knew. 
 
 But Dorothy was on her guard now, and quite 
 equal to keeping her own counsel, as well as answer- 
 ing all her brother's ironical compliments to woman 
 authors. 
 
 One day when Dorothy had a cold, and could not 
 go to her lessons, Tom, returning from Cambridge, 
 brought to his sister's room a mass of trailing arbutus, 
 every spray in loveliest flowering.
 
 A ROAD, A HIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 27 
 
 The sight of the little white and pink blossoms 
 those earliest of all the flowery train of the summer 
 gave Dorothy immense delight. With a joyous 
 cry she buried her face amongst the small posies 
 and drank in their fragrance. A little later she was 
 arranging them in a great Japanese bowl. 
 
 " O Tom," she exclaimed, " you are the dearest 
 fellow in the world to bring me these ! Ask me any- 
 thing and I will do it for you." 
 
 " Anything, and stick to it, Dollikins ? " queried 
 Tom, using the pet household name of her child- 
 hood; but there was a glint in his eyes which put 
 Dorothy on her guard. 
 
 " Of course I shall, Tom, to anything you have 
 a right to ask." 
 
 She came over now, and placed the bowl with its 
 mass of trailing green and bloom opposite to him on 
 the table. How pretty she looked in her house-jacket 
 of rose-pink ! Even Tom's accustomed eyes took 
 notice of that. 
 
 "And who is to decide about the right of the 
 question ? " he pursued, lifting his eyebrows. 
 
 " I must, in the last resort. That is only fair, you 
 know." 
 
 Tom saw nothing was to be gained by discussing 
 the matter. 
 
 " Well, then, here goes ! I ask you, Dorothy Dray- 
 cott, to read me the last chapter of your own book." 
 
 Dorothy's face fell. " O Tom, ask me anything" 
 but that ! "
 
 28 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " Well, the title, then, if it suit you better." 
 
 Dorothy was certain that Tom could never resist 
 quizzing her mercilessly if she placed such a weapon 
 in his hands ; she was in a mood to gratify him, but 
 the book the first child of her imagination was 
 very dear to its creator. The thought of anybody 
 criticising making sjport of it brought a recoil so 
 sharp that it was almost a pain. She could sooner 
 bear cruel blows on her tender flesh. 
 
 " Oh, I can't do that ! " she said in a rapid, almost 
 passionate tone. " If you should ever write a book, 
 Tom," catching his disgusted look, " you would 
 understand how I feel." 
 
 " How we seventeen-year-old authors do plume 
 ourselves on our superiority to common clay ! " re- 
 torted the disgruntled youth. " But I have had my 
 lesson. The next time I go foraging Cambridge- 
 town for trailing arbutus, in a March gale, it will be 
 for somebody a little more appreciative." 
 
 Tom started for the door. But his shaft had 
 struck home. Dorothy glanced at her flowers, and 
 her heart and will relented a little. 
 
 " Tom, don't go off in a pet ! " she exclaimed 
 appealingly, as the door swung open. 
 
 He paused on the threshold. " I have no more 
 time to waste with such a mulish little minx," he 
 said. 
 
 " O Tom, is that being a gentleman to call your 
 sister names ? "
 
 A ROAD, A HIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 29 
 
 " Of course not. You better let me go before I 
 commit a second offence." 
 
 " But I will forgive you, if you will come back, 
 and perhaps tell you something in connection with 
 the book," this last half to herself. " We sha'n't be 
 happy if we quarrel, Tom." 
 
 " Probably not. But you are so aggravating, 
 Dorothy, and I am not a saint." 
 
 He came back, however, and with a half-resigned, 
 half-grotesque gesture resumed his seat. 
 
 Dorothy did not speak for a minute or two. Then 
 she began in a slow, embarrassed fashion, but she 
 soon lost all that in the interest of her narrative. 
 
 " I am going to tell you, Tom, how the last of my 
 book came to me. I shall never forget that day if I 
 should live to be an old woman wrinkled and gray- 
 haired, you know. I had been almost a year writing 
 the thing. Of course, it had to be done when I could 
 get the time all to myself, so nobody would suspect. 
 And there were always so many things coming up to 
 interfere lessons, company, walks and drives, girls 
 
 oh, you can't imagine ! " 
 
 "Yes, I can," said Tom, quite mollified now; "and 
 I am ready to admit you were a clever little puss to 
 carry the thing through without anybody's getting 
 an inkling of it." 
 
 " But those last two chapters were the worst. I 
 came to a dead stop ; I hadn't the dimmest thought 
 
 not the ghost of an idea how the story was to
 
 30 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 end. I wished, many a time, it was at the bot- 
 tom of the sea, and made up my mind to burn it up, 
 and so have done \vith it; but the hour never quite 
 came for doing that. 
 
 " One day things seemed to have reached a climax. 
 I was just in despair. The only comfort was I had 
 the afternoon to myself. Papa and mamma had gone 
 to Brookline to a wedding, and you were off at some 
 big class-game. Everything was perfect for several 
 hours, and I sat down determined to write or die ! 
 I couldn't do either. I wondered if grand authors 
 ever went down in such collapses. I didn't envy 
 them their genius or their fame, if they had to pay 
 such a price for it. Then the worst of all was, the 
 book wouldn't let me alone. It haunted me every- 
 where. It seemed to stand right before me, like 
 some live, pleading tiling, saying, 'What are you 
 going to do with me ? You have brought me so far ; 
 you must take me to the end ! ' Oh, it was awful ! " 
 
 Dorothy paused a moment and shivered a little ; 
 but, once started, she found it an immense relief to 
 confide these experiences to a listener. 
 
 "At last it was late in the afternoon," she 
 resumed, " and I had torn up almost a quire of paper, 
 I got desperate, locked my davenport, made a vow 
 to myself never to touch the book again, flashed into 
 my riding-habit, and five minutes later was cantering 
 off on Sphinx. In a little while we were racing over 
 the old country roads. I never minded where we
 
 A ROAD, A EIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 31 
 
 went; I wished I could get away from everybody, 
 everything, and ride on forever. In a little while 
 the book ceased to worry me. I didn't care what 
 became of it. Then, in a flash, on some old country 
 road, with only an occasional sleepy farmhouse, the 
 whole thing came up to me. It was clear and 
 natural as daylight. I saw the characters, the 
 scenes, the grouping, and just how it was all .to 
 end. The wonder was, why I hadn't thought of it 
 before. 
 
 " Sphinx had her own way for the most part, that 
 afternoon, and chose her own roads and went like 
 the wind. We must have been off several hours, 
 when I woke up and stared around me. I was sure 
 we were miles from home, the daylight was fading 
 into dusk, and there were clouds heaps, amber and 
 pink I see them now in the western sky. 
 
 " You may believe, Tom Draycott, I wheeled 
 Sphinx sharply round, and started for home on a 
 gallop. I remember how glad I was that papa and 
 mamma would not return until late, else they would 
 have a scare over my absence ; but though I had lost 
 my way and was out alone in the growing dark, 
 miles from Red Knolls, I was just the happiest girl 
 in the world because my book had come to me. Of 
 course, we passed farmhouses, and occasionally some 
 wagon or a stranger on foot; but I shrank at that 
 hour from pulling up and inquiring the way, and at 
 last we turned into a road where there was a sign-
 
 82 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 board, and I made out we were about six miles from 
 home. 
 
 " After that, we tore along in the stillness and the 
 moonshine until we came to Belmont. I could make 
 a short cut by turning into the road which leads up 
 to Arlington Heights. I can see that long, rugged 
 stretch between the old pasture-slopes as we galloped 
 into it, the full moon overhead, the shadows black 
 against the silver lights, the wild-flowering bushes 
 on the roadside, and the brown old highway winding 
 and shouldering itself up the hill. It was a glorious 
 sight, and as solitary as though I were miles from a 
 human being or a habitation ; though a few rods off 
 would have brought Boston into full view with " 
 
 " Pretty place for a girl at that time of night ! " 
 growled Tom. " Suppose a tramp, or several of 
 them, had turned up on that lonely road." 
 
 " But they didn't, you horrid prosaic creature ! 
 Something did appear, however ! " an exultant smile 
 coming into her eyes. 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " A great secret. One nobody ever heard." 
 
 " Well, let me be the first fellow to have it then." 
 
 She gazed at him doubtfully. But her late confi- 
 dences made others easy. 
 
 " I shall trust your honor, Tom." 
 
 " That goes without saying." 
 
 " And you promise never, under any circumstances, 
 to make fun of this ? "
 
 A ROAD, A RIDE, AND SOME RHYMES 33 
 
 "I promise absolutely. But you are not such a 
 goose as to mind my chaffing? " 
 
 " I should care in this case." 
 
 " Well, you will never have a chance. Now about 
 what came to you that night. Was it bogie, dryad, 
 ghost, revisiting the faint glimpses of the moon ? " 
 
 "O Tom, how ridiculous you are!" her laugh 
 rang out a gay negative. " It was " 
 
 " Well, don't keep a fellow on the rack." 
 
 " It was only a few couplets which sang themselves 
 into my thoughts as we galloped along through the 
 lovely stillness the glorious moonlight. I don't 
 mean I haven't touched up some of the lines since, 
 but the ideas and the rhymes came to me then." 
 
 " I see. All the circumstances tended to kindle 
 the latent muse." 
 
 " Tom, you promised ! " 
 
 " I am not making fun not the slightest. I am 
 in dead earnest. Come Out with the poem." 
 
 " It is such a very little one," said Dorothy ; and a 
 flush crept up and deepened in the young olive 
 cheek. 
 
 After the first line or two, her voice steadied 
 itself : 
 
 " O goldenrod, how your tall ranks glowed 
 Like lanterns alight on the Belmont road ! 
 
 " O daisies, how dainty and dim and white, 
 Your disks gleamed out from the grass that night !
 
 34 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " While lovely ghost of the vanished day 
 The moon was climbing the skies' stairway. 
 
 " On pasture slope and on cedar steep 
 The winds from the sea had gone to sleep. 
 
 " Fine scents were alive in the summer air, 
 Cool dews were asparkle everywhere. 
 
 " While I rode to a glad refrain which run, 
 ' Oh, road to Belmont, my book is done ! ' ' 
 
 There was a little silence when the sweet, vibrant 
 voice ceased. Then Tom spoke. 
 
 "Very fair for a first try. I say, Dollikins, rest 
 of the book up to that ? " 
 
 " I don't know." A little shadow stole over the 
 glowing face. " I did my utmost at the time, but I 
 begin now to see faults. Perhaps I shall write it 
 all over again sometime." 
 
 " And you are bound to give a fellow no chance to 
 draw comparisons between your poetry and your 
 prose?" interrogated Tom tentatively. 
 
 At that instant they were summoned to lunch.
 
 HOW THE HOUR STRUCK 35 
 
 IV 
 
 HOW THE HOUR STRUCK 
 
 THE next morning before leaving his room, Tom 
 Draycott thrust his hand into the pocket of his trou- 
 sers. These had been hanging in his closet through 
 the extreme cold weather. He felt a bit of paper, 
 which, brought to light, proved to be a bank-bill. 
 Tom spread it out, whistling over some college tune. 
 
 " Just two dollars luckier in my exchequer than I 
 supposed ! I suppose now the sight of you would 
 elate some poor devil of a fellow, if he sprung on 
 you as I did ! " 
 
 Then, by some subtle law of association, a sermon 
 flashed up in Tom's memory to which he, with many 
 of his classmates, had listened a few days before. The 
 sermon had been specially addressed to those on the 
 threshold of young manhood, and was charged with 
 all the solemn earnestness, the intense sympathy, the 
 spiritual fervor, of the speaker whose own Harvard 
 youth so few decades before must have dwelt 
 vivid in his memory. With the force of a great per- 
 sonality, he asserted the power of righteousness, the 
 ideal of Christian manhood, the joy and inspiration 
 that come of a pure, generous, high-purposed life.
 
 36 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 
 
 As he glanced over that young, breathless audience, 
 his words rang out with passionate conviction and 
 eloquence. All the depth and tenderness of his 
 great nature were stirred, as he thought of those 
 young men, with their lives before them, and of the 
 awful tests waiting to try soul and flesh in a little 
 while. 
 
 Tom Draycott, like many of his classmates, carried 
 away from that hour some fresh inspirations of 
 thought and feeling ; some deepened sense of the 
 real values of life ; a conviction more or less earnest 
 that character was, after all, the supreme thing in the 
 world. 
 
 Though the feeling would lose its fine edge amid 
 the frictions of every-day life, it would be certain to 
 recur at critical moments. Tom Draycott careless, 
 high-spirited, fortunate youth found the scene, the 
 sermon, the preacher, starting up with curious vivid- 
 ness as he stared at the bill. 
 
 He stopped whistling; he said to himself with a 
 mixture of jest and seriousness, " Some other fellow 
 the first I come across, who, it strikes me, needs 
 you more than I do is going to have you! I'm 
 rather hard up just now, and every dollar tells ; but I 
 shall be as well off as I was before I discovered you." 
 
 He slipped the money into his waistcoat-pocket, 
 where he could come at it easily, and it passed from 
 his mind. 
 
 That day young Draycott happened to be in Bos-
 
 HOW THE HOUR STRUCK 37 
 
 ton, on some errand which had taken him and a 
 classmate into one of the crowded thoroughfares 
 north of School Street. 
 
 As they were hurrying along, Tom caught sight of 
 a youth, hardly as old as himself, but of a strong, 
 robust build, standing before a refectory window 
 where various sorts of appetizing food made a tempt- 
 ing display. 
 
 A glance over the figure, from the worn cap, the 
 threadbare coat and trousers, to the shabby shoes, 
 told its own story. The light had struck full on the 
 youth's profile, and Tom had caught something wist- 
 ful and hungry in its expression. 
 
 " Bet my head that poor fellow had no breakfast," 
 he said to himself; and it occurred to him that was a 
 state of affairs which his own experience hardly ad- 
 mitted of his imagining. Then his resolution of the 
 morning flashed across him. Here was his chance ! 
 If only his friend were a hundred miles off at that 
 particular instant ! 
 
 The pair turned into Tremont Street. Then Tom 
 broke out. 
 
 " See here, Seward ! I must rush back on some 
 errand for an instant. Keep straight ahead, and I'll 
 be up with you in a jiffy," and he was gone before 
 his rather surprised classmate could utter a syllable. 
 
 The boy he was really one still had turned 
 away from the window, and was moving along the 
 sidewalk, when a, strong hand was laid on his shoul-
 
 38 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 der, and a pleasant, hearty voice, a little imperious, 
 was saying, 
 
 " Turn straight about, go inside, and get you a 
 square dinner, instead of staring at one through 
 the window. Here's the money to pay for it too ! " 
 
 Before the dazed youth could speak, could even 
 collect his wits, the money was in his rough hand. 
 
 He stared in dumb bewilderment into the } r oung 
 face, hardly above his own ; he saw the merry, kindly 
 eyes ; the next moment the speaker was hurrying 
 away. 
 
 For an instant the boy stood transfixed. Then 
 a swift change, a deep scarlet, struck through his 
 tanned cheeks ; he started for the stranger, ran 
 against and came near upsetting two or three peo- 
 ple on the crowded sidewalk ; he came up with 
 young Draycott, just as the latter was turning into 
 Tremont Street. 
 
 Tom, not altogether pleased, saw him at his 
 side, 
 
 " Well ? " he said hotly. 
 
 "What made you do that?" asked the yputh, his 
 eyes riveted on Tom's face. 
 
 " Perhaps you know about as well as I do. I saw 
 you standing there, looking in at the window, and 
 I had had my breakfast, and it struck me that you 
 might not have had yours. That's about the size 
 of it ! " 
 
 It was Tom's cue to treat the whole matter in
 
 HOW THE HOUR STRUCK 39 
 
 a light, off-hand way, much as a joke. The boy 
 understood. A new look came into his eyes. The 
 whole expression of his face changed. 
 
 " It was a devilish kind thing to do ! " 
 
 If the adjective was ambiguous the tone was not. 
 
 Tom's laugh was a pleasant thing to hear. 
 
 " I must rush. A fellow is waiting for me. Good 
 luck to you and your dinner ! " 
 
 Tom rejoined his puzzled classmate. The whole 
 incident had not occupied five minutes. But a 
 great deal for two lives was to hinge on those few 
 moments.
 
 40 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 
 
 ONE evening, two weeks later, Tom Draycott had 
 a long tramp by himself. 
 
 It was a night in early April. The year's white 
 slumber was broken at last. The wide air, the great 
 brown earth, were haunted by some prescience of 
 that mighty life-wave which would soon be throl>- 
 bing at the heart of things. A tingling restlessness, 
 a thirst for freedom and vast-stretching space in 
 which to disport themselves, was in all young blood 
 of human and brute creatures. The day, with its 
 sunny warmth, its languorous air, its deep, radiant 
 sunrise, belonged to the climate of late May, and 
 frosts and flurries of snow would be likely to follow 
 weather so out of season. 
 
 Tom Draycott's young blood had shared the rest- 
 lessness which was in the air. He had walked for 
 miles in the still, beautiful April night, with a full 
 moon regnant amongst her stars. All the trees and 
 shrubs were bare still ; but each twig and bough and 
 bole stood out sharply denned in the moonshine 
 which was flooding the land with a weird, solemn 
 splendor.
 
 A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 41 
 
 Tom had his tramp all to himself, not even his 
 shadow, Hidalgo, accompanying him. Dorothy, going 
 to spend the evening with her most intimate girl- 
 friend, who made a great pet of the animal, h.id 
 carried him off with her. 
 
 It was getting late in the evening when, about 
 two miles from home, young Draycott found him- 
 self on a road which, followed for a short distance, 
 would lead by rather sinuous and rugged wa} r s to 
 the foot of Arlington Heights. A fancy seized him 
 to see the city with its line of brilliant lights, and 
 its broken masses of roofs, its towers and spires, 
 from the crest of the hill. But it was probably 
 less with an eye to the picturesque than with an 
 instinctive desire for prolonged motion that the mus- 
 cular, vigorous youth continued his tramp. 
 
 Before he had gained the summit of the hill, 
 he remembered that he was in close proximity to 
 the road over which Dorothy had galloped on that 
 memorable night when she finished her book. By 
 the time he reached the crest he forgot all about 
 the glittering panorama of the city, and, passing a 
 few houses on his left, turned into a wide, sloping 
 highway. Tom Draycott was on the Belmont Road. 
 
 It stretched long and brown before him between 
 the rugged pastures and scant woodlands which 
 flanked it on either side. Plow silent the old road 
 was ! A hush, like a spell, lay upon it. Who 
 could imagine that the vast city, with its beating,
 
 42 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 hurrying, tides of life, was so close at hand ! 
 The shadows of birch-boughs, barberry clumps, and 
 tangled blackberry vines were pencilled in strong 
 relief against the moonlight. The gray old road- 
 sides would soon be wearing all their bravery of 
 summer wild-bloom. 
 
 There must have been such a moon as that over- 
 head, Tom thought, when his sister galloped Sphinx 
 over the road. He heard Dorothy's girlish voice 
 going over the rhymes again. He remembered 
 what scant praise he had awarded them. He might 
 have been more generous, he thought. 
 
 The spell of that April evening was upon him 
 its stillness, its beauty, its divineness. His thoughts 
 came and went in the radiant silence about him, 
 "the long, long thoughts of youth," reaching out 
 to far spacious horizons of hopes and dreams and 
 ambitions. A softer mood came over his spirit than 
 was common to his proud, dominant young man- 
 hood. Then the look of amazement and gratitude 
 which he had seen in that boy's eyes when they 
 had that odd meeting near the corner of Tremont 
 Street came up to him. Indeed, it had been coming 
 up for the last two weeks in the most unaccount- 
 able ways and seasons sometimes when he was 
 having a jolly bout with his classmates. 
 
 A little snowy wing of cloud swept across the 
 moon. Tom had reached a point now where the 
 road was intersected by another on his right. On 

 
 A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 43 
 
 the left a group of evergreens made a mass of black 
 shadow that looked rather grewsome in the night. 
 Tom knew that, despite the solemn stillness around 
 him, a turn in the road, only a short distance off, 
 would bring him into the vicinity of the outlying 
 farmhouses in Belmont. 
 
 Then it came upon him, so suddenly, so unex- 
 pectedly, that it seemed to leap from the air, but it 
 was dealt with such blind force that young Dray- 
 cott staggered and fairly lost his balance. 
 
 Something had sprung upon him, powerful, reso- 
 lute, hostile. It had leapt from the road on his right 
 so swiftly and silently that Tom had been taken 
 utterly unawares. 
 
 The blow had come from behind. The swift 
 instinct of self-defence flashed to brain and heart. 
 With a gasp and a growl of rage, Tom turned on his 
 assailant. He had a swift sense that he was con- 
 fronting a square-built, figure, somewhat under his 
 own height. Then he closed with it. 
 
 O 
 
 Tom Draycott was a strong, athletic fellow, and 
 his college gymnastics kept him in fine physical 
 condition. But he soon discovered, though he was 
 dealing with no trained athlete, that his assailant 
 had a muscular strength and a power of planting his 
 fists which would tax all his energies to defend him- 
 self. 
 
 It was no play now. On the still night air, un- 
 stirred by a ripple of wind, broke no sdhnd but the
 
 44 " SIES, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 swift blows and the struggling breaths. For a time 
 neither side gained any decided advantage. 
 
 Was he fighting with this ruffian for his life ? The 
 thought, flashing across Tom Draycott, made his 
 brain cool, his senses alert, in the midst of his rage 
 arid peril. 
 
 His last blow had told. He knew that by the 
 breathing of his foe. But the latter's turn came 
 soon. A heavy fist was planted in Tom's side. It 
 seemed as though his ribs were smashed ; he saw 
 stars ; then a faintness came over him ; he fell to the 
 ground. For a moment or two he was at the mercy 
 of his enemy. The moon swam out of the cloud. 
 The light shone full upon the two in the old pasture- 
 road. 
 
 Then there was a cry. It pierced through young 
 Draycott's momentary blankness. It was full of 
 unutterable surprise, horror, remorse. 
 
 Tom leaped to his feet, still shaken and dizzied, 
 every drop of blood in his body boiling with rage. 
 His deadly assailant was now shrinking and cower- 
 ing before him. Tom advanced on him with clenched 
 fist. 
 
 "You villanous young rascal," he roared, "you'll 
 find this attack will cost you dear before I get through 
 with you." 
 
 " I didn't know it was you. I didn't know," 
 pleaded the other in a tone of helpless despair. Tom 
 could have knocked him down with a feather.
 
 A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 45 
 
 " But / knew ! " retorted Tom, stinging and 
 bruised with the blows, and in anything but a mood 
 to be placated. " You meant to rob me. That was 
 your game, and the State's Prison is the place for 
 you." 
 
 There was no reply this time. Tom saw the figure 
 shrink and cower again. 
 
 The two stood still and stared at each other. Each, 
 too, must have been smarting from the other's blows; 
 but no bones had been broken, no serious harm done. 
 The whole struggle probably occupied less than 
 three minutes. 
 
 Tom's first impulse was to order the fellow to 
 march off with him ; he resolved not to lose sight of 
 him until he was in the hands of the police. Then 
 that pleading, despairing cry broke out again. This 
 time the words struck Tom through all his towering 
 rage. 
 
 " I didrit know it was you" 
 
 " What difference does that make ? You knew it 
 was somebody on the highway, and meant to rob 
 him. What a dastardly business that was, too, 
 sneaking up behind a man on a lonely road and 
 knocking him down ! " 
 
 The same silence the same cowering air. 
 
 Then the fact struck Tom that he had been com- 
 pletely in this fellow's power for an instant. He 
 might, after that last blow, have pommelled him sense- 
 less, robbed him, and left him lying in the moonlight
 
 46 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 on the solitary pasture-road. But for some mysteri- 
 ous reason he had fallen back like one smitten with 
 fear or remorse. What did those words so curi- 
 ously reiterated mean ? 
 
 " Come ! " exclaimed Tom, loud and wrathful. 
 " If such a scoundrel as you has anything to say for 
 himself say it ! " 
 
 " I've said all I can," in a dogged, hopeless tone. 
 " I didn't see you ; I didn't know it was you." 
 
 " You were not likely to know who I was, I im- 
 agine. But you meant to knock me down 'and rob 
 me!" 
 
 "Yes ; afore I see you." 
 
 " Then, you confounded rascal, you pretend to say 
 you know me ? " 
 
 " I know I see you once." 
 
 Tom told himself the fellow a highway robber 
 on his own confession was probably lying ; yet by 
 this time his curiosity was a good deal aroused. 
 
 " Where do you pretend you ever saw me ? " 
 
 "Don't you remember, sir? I'm the fellow you 
 gave the money to, week afore last, near Tremont 
 Street." 
 
 Tom stared at his whilom enemy a moment. Then 
 he recalled the face. In the bright moonshine he 
 could see the eyes which had been haunting him for 
 the last week. The discovery caused so strong a 
 revulsion in his feelings that he was provoked at 
 himself.
 
 A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 47 
 
 " Pretty way you've taken to show your gratitude 
 to a man for doing you a kindness ! " 
 
 There was no reply ; only Tom was more open 
 to the misery and despair in the young fellow's look 
 and manner. 
 
 " How long have you been up to this sort of 
 game? " his tone as severe as he could make it. 
 
 " It was the first time I ever tried it." 
 
 And again Tom told himself he did not believe the 
 fellow ; but all the same he partly did. 
 
 " What did you do it for ? " 
 
 "Because I was hungry, powerful hungry, " he 
 repeated. 
 
 This statement occasioned a still stronger revulsion 
 of feeling on young Draycott's part. He, however, 
 kept up a show of severity in tone and manner, and 
 took refuge in general principles. 
 
 " It was better to beg than take to your game. 
 There are plenty of people who would be willing to 
 give a hungry man a dinner." 
 
 " But if he asked at the back door he'd stand a 
 chance of bein' taken for a tramp, and put in the 
 lockup." 
 
 This succinct statement of the facts left Tom with- 
 out a reply. 
 
 After a little pause he recurred to another question. 
 
 " How long is it since you had a square meal ? " 
 
 " I had a slice o' bread and a glass of milk yester- 
 day, and a biscuit and some apples to-day."
 
 48 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " Is that all ? " Tom's tone was much mollified. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Young Draycott thought of his own six luxurious 
 meals during that time, and his sympathy got upper- 
 most now. 
 
 " What is your name ? " he asked in a moment. 
 
 " Dake Cramley." 
 
 It struck Tom that the first name might be the 
 survival of some polysyllabic one. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "haven't you any family, 
 any friends, who would help you over a rougli place ? " 
 
 " I ain't got no family livin', and no friends I'd 
 like to go on when I was hard up." 
 
 " You look like a strong, robust fellow, then, who 
 might get hold of some sort of work, if he tried for 
 it." 
 
 " I have tried for it lots o' times. But jest now 
 'tain't so easy to git. There's more hands than's 
 wanted. That's why they turned me off from the 
 Lowell Railroad where I had a job for awhile." 
 
 And again Tom found no answer. 
 
 "Well, come along," he said shortly, after a few 
 moments' deliberation. 
 
 The strangely assorted brace, who a few moments 
 before had been at each other's throats, turned and 
 walked together in silence over the road which 
 shouldered itself up to the Heights. They passed 
 the few scattered houses on the crest, and then de- 
 scended the slope of hill, until they turned at right
 
 A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 49 
 
 angles into the solitary highway which leads over to 
 Arlington. 
 
 Every little while Tom shot a questioning glance 
 at his companion. It struck him that the stalwart 
 fellow walked rather feebly, and that it was all he 
 could do to keep up with his own stride. That, how- 
 ever, was easily accounted for if he had not eaten a 
 solid meal for two days. 
 
 It would have been the easiest matter in the world 
 to give the fellow into the hands of the first police- 
 man they met. Tom believed he would not have 
 made the slightest resistance doubted, indeed, 
 whether he would greatly care. He had probably 
 expended his utmost strength in his short, desperate 
 assault, and the shock with which he had recognized 
 his antagonist had evidently upset him. 
 
 Tom began mentally to make excuses for his com- 
 panion, and then was exasperated with himself to 
 find that his anger had all evaporated. 
 
 He broke the silence at last in a tone which was 
 not intended to betray much softening of mood. 
 
 " According to your own statement, then, you 
 started off to-night intending to waylay the first man 
 you could find, knock him down, and rob him. Those 
 are the plain facts, as I understand them." 
 
 " I know it looks so," replied the boy, in a half- 
 sullen, half-indifferent manner, his gait slacking a 
 little, and his shoulders bent forward, as one's might 
 from sheer weakness.
 
 50 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Then of a sudden he stopped short, drew himself 
 up, faced Tom, and spoke out earnestly. 
 
 " But the way it looks, sir, ain't the truth for all 
 that. I'd no notion, no more than you, of rob- 
 bin' any man when I left the city this mornin'. It 
 was pleasant, and I wanted to be out in the sunshine 
 and fresh air. I had a kind o' feeling they'd make 
 me forgit what a hungry dog I was.. I walked on 
 and on, and had as good a time as a feller could who 
 hasn't had his breakfast and nothin' to eat the day 
 before at least not a meal for a robin. I couldn't 
 make up my mind to stop at some door, and say I 
 was hungry, and take my chances of being hustled off 
 to the lockup. But I was about used up when night 
 came, between the walkin' and a hollow and a knawiii' 
 inside. 
 
 " I'd got round to Belmont without much mindin' 
 where I went, and I made up my mind to go into 
 the woods there and bunk for the night, and next 
 mornin' run my chance, start for the first farm- 
 house, and ask for somethin' to eat. Folks might 
 think better of me in the daytime than seem' me 
 prowlin' round at night. 
 
 " Then you came along jest as I turned into the 
 road, lookin' so strong and powerful swell, and 
 whistlin' to yourself with that high and mighty 
 air, as though the world wasn't good enough for 
 you to tread on. It seemed as though you was 
 a-doin' it all jest to crow over nie. It fired me
 
 A C 11 IT 1C A L FIVE MINUTES 51 
 
 up mad to. see }'ou. I didn't stop to think. Afore 
 I knew what I was about I was on you. 
 
 " I didn't want to hit any body bad ; but I meant 
 to knock you down, and scare you into givin' me 
 some money, and gettin' a solid meal afore I slept. 
 But you was so game I had to hit out harder than I 
 meant. If I'd known 'twas you," falling back on 
 the old plea, " I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head ; 
 no sir-ee, I wouldn't, not if I'd starved. But 'tain't 
 reason you should put yourself in my place." 
 
 The last sentence, half to himself, was in a slightly 
 lowered key. 
 
 In a little while they were among the houses of 
 the bustling little town which lay sleeping among 
 its hills in the white moonlight. 
 
 Young Draycott was meanwhile doing the very 
 thing which Dake Cramley had pronounced impos- 
 sible, putting himself in the other's place. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " he was saying to himself, " I 
 might have done no better if I had been in his 
 cracked old shoes to-night, a homeless, penniless, 
 starving tramp ! It's horribly hard lines ! Curious, 
 this difference in human fates ! It doesn't seem fair 
 on the under dog ! " A twinge in his right arm, a 
 soreness under his ribs, did not overcome the. pity 
 which by this time had gained the mastery of all 
 other emotions. 
 
 The question which now faced young Draycott 
 was a perplexing one, doubly so, as its answer did 
 not admit of delay.
 
 52 " SHIS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " He had got this fellow on his hands ; what was 
 he to do with him ? " 
 
 A vague notion of carrying him off to Red Knolls, 
 giving him a supper, and a berth in the stable-loft, 
 had soon to be dismissed. In his father's absence he 
 could not assume the responsibility of exposing the 
 small household to any risks by bringing this stran- 
 ger into its proximity. 
 
 Several other plans presented themselves to be 
 rapidly disposed of. The last one, however, became 
 audible. 
 
 " Hold up a minute, you Dake Cramley, and hear 
 what I have to say ! 
 
 " I am going to prove to you just what a hopeless 
 jackass I am ; for in spite of the fact that you have 
 sprung on me, knocked me down, and half-pommelled 
 the life out*of me, I am going to try if something 
 can't be done for you ! Confound it all ! There 
 must be something worth saving in you ; for you 
 did remember I had once done you a favor. 
 
 "When the Boston train comes along it's almost 
 due now I want you to jump aboard. Here is a 
 car-fare and some change." Tom had emptied his 
 pocket, and he pressed ticket and coin into the 
 other's hand. 
 
 " The first thing you do, after you reach Boston, 
 put for a restaurant, and get a square meal. To- 
 morrow night no," checking himself, "there's that 
 class-business the night after I'll see you, and,
 
 A CRITICAL FIVE MINUTES 53 
 
 meanwhile, make it a point to try what can be done 
 for you. You are willing to work buckle down in 
 good earnest, you say?" 
 
 " Yes." It was a husky articulation, as though 
 speech did not come easily; but the eyes which 
 looked at Tom Draycott were the eyes which had 
 been haunting him, more or less, during the last 
 fortnight. 
 
 " Well, I will search round to get you a chance," 
 the voice much softened now. "Don't forget, night 
 after to-morrow. Be on hand any time after seven 
 o'clock. Wait until ten for me, if I don't appear 
 sooner, on the Common Park side plenty of 
 benches there. You know where it is ? " 
 
 " Should think I did," said Dake Cramley. 
 
 " There come the cars ! We'll have to hurry ! 
 Why, fellow, don't stagger so ! " putting out his 
 arm to steady the youth who appeared ready to drop 
 with weakness. 
 
 " Get a bowl of hot soup the first thing after your 
 fast. I'm going to see you on the train." 
 
 It was thundering into the station.
 
 54 "SIUS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 VI 
 
 A BREAKFAST DIALOGUE 
 
 " TOM DRAYCOTT, I do believe you are the worst 
 bear on the planet this morning." 
 
 Dorothy laid down her fork as she made this re- 
 mark, and looked with grave reproof at her brother. 
 
 They were at breakfast in the pleasant sun-flooded 
 dining-room, where the furnishings and appointments, 
 mostly in neutral tints, produced charming effects. 
 
 Some choice pictures, paintings and engravings, 
 were on the walls, while the table, with its silver and 
 delicate china, all combined to form an attractive 
 environment for the two young people who were 
 having their morning meal, under circumstances 
 which it seemed left nothing to desire. Indeed, one 
 might question whether a king's palace dining-room, 
 with all its spacious splendor, might not miss that 
 simple charm which invested like an atmosphere all 
 the Red Knolls interior, and which was owing to the 
 taste and the fine feeling for color of the absent 
 mistress. 
 
 Dorothy sat in her mother's place before the coffee- 
 urn. She wore a cloth dress of olive green, some 
 silk of an amber shade and soft gauzy texture at her
 
 A BREAKFAST DIALOGUE 55 
 
 white young throat. The sunlight made a shining 
 bronze in the dark thick mesh of hair on her fore- 
 head. She formed a centre of girlish bloom and 
 grace for that charming interior. 
 
 "It's safest to let bears alone," retorted Tom in a 
 gruff tone ; " if you don't, they're apt to growl and 
 show their teeth dangerously." 
 
 " I am quite aware of it, after my long experience 
 with that species of animal." 
 
 Dorothy's eyes sparkled defiantly, but there was a 
 tell-tale smile about the curves of her mouth. 
 
 " A girl never knows when to let a fellow alone," 
 Tom continued, helping himself to a fresh supply 
 of omelette. " You have been chatting about 
 that party ever since we sat down. It is such a 
 bore." 
 
 "It was anything but a bore, I can assure you, to 
 those who were present. We had a splendid time, 
 and so might you, Tom Draycott, if you had only 
 done the civil thing and gone with me. I thought 
 Gene vie ve looked disappointed when I came in 
 alone." 
 
 " You contrived to carry off Hidalgo with you. 
 He could certainly protect you as well as I." 
 
 Doro.thy raised her brown, straight brows. 
 
 "No doubt! At least, I should always prefer a 
 dog's protection to a bear's." 
 
 Ordinarily Tom would have laughed at this retort. 
 Despite his young masculine conceit, he was always
 
 56 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 aware, and usually ready to admit, when his young 
 sister's feminine wits got the better of his. 
 
 But this morning Tom Draycott was not in a good 
 humor. His muscles were stiff, and his bruises gave 
 him many sharp twinges, all of which lie felt like 
 visiting on the head of Dake Cramley. He won- 
 dered whether the fellow was not a thorough-going 
 scoundrel after all, and whether he had not proved 
 himself a sentimental crank last night. 
 
 " You are always ready to accuse me of incivility 
 toward some of your friends," he continued. " As 
 though I had nothing to do but train round after 
 every .chit of a girl you take a notion to gush 
 over." 
 
 " Chit of a girl ! Gush over ! " echoed Dorothy 
 in a raised key, bridling her pretty head. " I can 
 bear any names you may choose to call me ; but I do 
 beg you will speak with respect of the dearest girl 
 in the world, and my most intimate friend." 
 
 Tom had a young man's slight opinion of girl- 
 friendships, but he knew this was a point on which 
 his sister was sensitive. A quarrel would spoil the 
 breakfast hour. Tom's sense, or his conscience, came 
 to the rescue. 
 
 " Suppose we call a halt just here. We each have 
 a grievance. Yours is all about a party, and mine 
 is my dog." 
 
 " But you don't mean you really cared for Hidalgo, 
 Tom?" "
 
 A BREAKFAST DIALOGUE 57 
 
 " I mean I should have been glad to have him with 
 rne last night. A man likes his dog's company on a 
 lonely tramp." 
 
 At this point Tom was conscious of sundry dart- 
 ings and shootings on his left side. He hoped " the 
 other fellow had some of the same kind." 
 
 " Will you give me another cup of coffee a little 
 more cream, please ? " 
 
 As Dorothy handed back the cup, the small table 
 at which they took breakfast saving the necessity 
 of a maid, and affording greater freedom to the 
 conversation, the light struck Tom's face at a new 
 angle. 
 
 " Tom," exclaimed Dorothy in a startled tone, 
 " you have a black mark above your right eye. 
 Where did you get it ? " 
 
 " What nonsense ! " exclaimed Tom. " A girl is 
 always fancying she sees things." 
 
 " But it is no fancy this time. As though I 
 hadn't eyes! Something must have happened to you 
 last night, or you would not have been so so dis- 
 agreeable this morning." 
 
 Tom tried a laugh, but it was not all amusement, 
 and Dorothy's ears were as keen as her eyes. 
 
 She was silent a moment, watching her brother in- 
 tently, and recalling what he had said about wanting 
 Hidalgo last night. At last she asked very gravely, 
 " Tom, have you been fighting with anybody ? " 
 
 That clever little sister of his was certainly driving
 
 58 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 him into a corner ! Tom made an effort to bluff her 
 off. 
 
 " ' Let dogs delight to bark and bite, 
 For 'tis their nature to,' " 
 
 he murmured. 
 
 " O Tom ! you know that is not answering my 
 question." 
 
 " Will you please to answer mine ? ' By what sort 
 of authority do you set yourself up an inquisitor into 
 my actions ? " 
 
 " I see how it is ! " exclaimed Dorothy, not deign- 
 ing to notice this query. " You've had a quarrel 
 with some of those Sophomores ! How mamma 
 would feel ! " 
 
 " That's it ! " subjoined Tom. " He's a bad boy. 
 Threaten him with his mamma again ! " 
 
 But he was secretly delighted to perceive that his 
 sister was on the false trail now. 
 
 Then Dorothy's anxious look, and the real manli- 
 ness at bottom with Tom Draycott, made him say 
 suddenly in a changed tone, 
 
 " Have you no better opinion of me than questions 
 of this sort imply ? Must I tell you that your 
 mother's son has done nothing he would be ashamed 
 to have her know ? " 
 
 Dorothy's brow cleared. 
 
 "But something somebody," she continued in a 
 moment, " has been hurting you, Tom. That black 
 bruise never came of itself."
 
 A BREAKFAST DIALOGUE 59 
 
 " Please don't say any more about it." The tone 
 was half irritable, half entreating. " I suppose you 
 would not object to my using my fists when it came 
 to a matter of self-defence ? " 
 
 Dorothy's eyes flashed fiercely. 
 
 " I have always heard those Harvard Sophomores 
 at least a good many of them were no better 
 than whooping savages. Now I believe it. If they 
 dare to set on you, Tom, I hope you will pay them 
 back in their own coin. Wretches ! " 
 
 Tom was mentally revolving whether class-loyalty 
 demanded of him an assertion of Sophomore guiltless- 
 ness in the present case, when the entrance of the 
 maid with the morning mail created a happy diver- 
 sion. 
 
 But Dorothy, just before she left for her Boston 
 class that morning, turned back to the library and 
 said to her brother, half seriously, half archly, 
 
 " Tom, do you suppose you and I will ever evolve, 
 as papa says, into such saints that we shall stop teas- 
 ing each other?" 
 
 Tom raised his eyebrows, looked quizzically at his 
 sister, who made a charming picture standing there in 
 her light-colored cloth coat, and the toque of a dark 
 shade, its loops of crimson ribbon, crossed with a sil- 
 ver arrow, surmounting her dark-bright mesh of hair. 
 
 " That millennial period will dawn," he said, " when 
 a girl can be made to understand and make some 
 allowance for a fellow's mood."
 
 60 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 Dorothy was ready with her retort. Not all the 
 softness which had supervened on reading her 
 mother's letter could hold it back. 
 
 "And also when a fellow can be taught to have 
 some idea and make some allowance for a girl's 
 feelings!" 
 
 Tom Draycott, going to recitations that morning, 
 conscious of a black eye and a general stiffness and 
 soreness, was not in a particularly agreeable frame of 
 mind. 
 
 " I feel like a bruised, battered old hulk," he was 
 saying to himself. " Pretty mess I've got myself 
 into ! Better that bill had been at the bottom of the 
 sea than going into that precious rascal's paw. 
 
 " Of course, he is laughing in his shabby old sleeve 
 at the pretty game he played, and the way he kept 
 out of the policeman's hands. 
 
 " It's plain to the universe that any creature more 
 than one remove from a gibbering idiot wouldn't 
 have been taken in as easily as I was last night. 
 
 " That isn't the worst of it, either. I have given 
 my word to see the villain to-morrow night, and I'm 
 honor bound to try and give him a pull out of the 
 slums. Nice time I shall have of it, no doubt ! 
 
 " Ugh ! There goes my arm again. It makes a 
 fellow want to swear."
 
 CAPITALIST AND SOPHOMORE 61 
 
 . VII 
 
 CAPITALIST AND SOPHOMORE 
 
 THE next morning Tom Draycott might have been 
 seen entering the office of a large paper manufactur- 
 ing house on Devonshire Street. 
 
 It was still early business hours. The head of the 
 house the controlling brain of the vast paper-mills 
 in the western part of the State had just seated 
 himself at his desk. He was getting stout, and his 
 well-trimmed beard and hair were turning iron-gray. 
 He had a square, solid head, and the swift, shrewd 
 glance of one who was used to taking rapid measures 
 of men. You would have known in an instant that 
 here was a practical, well-balanced, successful man, 
 one who had looked the world squarely in the face, 
 and made his account with it. 
 
 " Tom, my boy, I'm heartily glad to see 3~ou." 
 
 The brightening of his face as he recognized young 
 Draycott gave it a pleasant expression. 
 
 The two shook hands, the younger seated himself 
 by the table. 
 
 " I'm lucky to strike you this morning, Mr. Mere- 
 dith," he said; "I rushed over early for that very 
 purpose."
 
 62 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " You are in the nick of time. Half an hour later, 
 I must be off to a bank-directors' meeting." 
 
 A few queries and replies about Red Knolls, and 
 the latest advices from the travellers, intervened ; and 
 with the first pause, Tom broke in hastily, 
 
 " My special errand at this time is to recall to you, 
 Mr. Meredith, some words you once said to me." 
 
 " Well, let's have them, Tom," pushing away the 
 papers on his desk, leaning back in his office-chair, and 
 confronting his young friend with an encouraging 
 smile. 
 
 "'If I can ever do you a favor, Tom, for your 
 father's sake, make no bones of coming to me at once. 
 I'll serve you to the best of my ability.' " 
 
 The head of the firm of Meredith, Max, & Co. had 
 been a schoolmate of Donald Draycott. The men, 
 unlike as they were in temperament, and in a large 
 range of ideas and standards, had always kept up the 
 old boy-liking for each other. 
 
 " Well, Tom, I'm ready to stand by my word to 
 your father's boy. - What can I do for you ? " 
 
 "Thank you lots. But the favor doesn't hap- 
 pen to be for myself this time. It is for a fello\v I 
 take an interest in." He found it a little awkward 
 to introduce such a protege. 
 
 "Oh, that is it? Some classmate in trouble, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing of that sort ! " Tom's disclaimer 
 was half-amused at seeing how wide the other was
 
 CAPITALIST AND SOPHOMORE 63 
 
 of the mark. " The fellow is about as low down as 
 you can find them, friendless, homeless, penniless, 
 and all the related adjectives. I want to give him a 
 lift, and do it in a hurry. I think there is stuff in 
 him worth saving ; but he will go to the dogs, sure 
 as gravitation, if somebody doesn't step in at this 
 crisis. I can give you no references as to char- 
 acter or ability. I could not honestly ask you to 
 place him in any position of trust or importance. 
 The truth is, I have happened to cross his path, and 
 learn something which makes me want to put him in 
 the way of getting his bread and shelter. I have 
 been turning the matter over in my mind for the last 
 twenty- four hours. I can find no solution to the 
 problem ; I have come to you to help me." 
 
 Richard Meredith was by nature and experience a 
 shrewd reader of people. He was satisfied Tom 
 knew something not altogether to his prot egg's 
 credit. 
 
 He mused a moment, fingering his watch-chain. 
 
 " A man, you say ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, a mere boy ; at least, I should hardly 
 think he could be eighteen a strong-built, muscular 
 young fellow, but in a bad case ; has had, I happen 
 to know, a sharp tussle with starvation." 
 
 " That is rough. You are your father's son, I see, 
 Tom." The elder man looked at the younger with 
 approving eyes. " But you know we can't run our 
 business on philanthropic lines. That may sound
 
 64 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 hard to you. It does to me when it comes to special 
 instances. I wish you could give me a little more 
 decided record of this fellow." 
 
 " I wish I could," a little uneasy, as the memory 
 of a recent moonlight scene rose sharply before him. 
 " It wouldn't be fair for me, however, to ask you to 
 assume any risks. I can only say what I would to 
 my father if he were sitting in your chair: 'I am 
 soriy for the boy. I believe there is some good in 
 him. Won't you give him a chance ? ' : 
 
 The man was certain his young friend held some- 
 thing back. Tom perceived this. He had a swift 
 impulse to make a clean breast of the w r hole affair 
 with Dake Cramley ; but a second thought a feel- 
 ing for the boy kept him silent. Mr. Meredith 
 waited a few moments and resumed, 
 
 " I heard yesterday they wanted some help down 
 at the warehouse in the packing-room, a strong, 
 active, handy sort of fellow, needed for that sort of 
 work." 
 
 " I think he would fill the bill so far," rejoined 
 Tom. 
 
 A few more queries and replies ensued. 
 
 The result of all was that Mr. Meredith said to 
 Tom,- 
 
 " Well, I will keep my word, Tom. Your protege 
 shall have a chance. Tell him to be here to-morrow 
 morning at nine o'clock, sharp. I will trust my own 
 judgment for the rest; and if it is fairly favorable,
 
 CAPITALIST AND SOPHOMORE 65 
 
 he shall be set at work in short order. I can't prom- 
 ise more than that ; and I am doing this, my boy, for 
 your sake and your father's." 
 
 " A thousand thanks." 
 
 Some people entered the office. Tom sprang to 
 his feet. A shooting pain under his ribs made him 
 hope that Dake Cramley would give him the slip 
 that night. 
 
 There was only time to get his friend's promise to 
 telephone the result of next morning's interview.
 
 66 "sms, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 VIII 
 
 A MEETING ON THE MALL 
 
 IT was a beautiful April evening when Tom Dray- 
 cott turned from Beacon Street into the Common. 
 The robins had already sung in the elm boughs over- 
 head. The earth-scents, strong and succulent, were 
 in the air. The dead, melancholy brown of the 
 grass was changing to a live, vivid green. In the 
 west some embers of sunset still lingered flakes of 
 dull red on a long stretch of molten gold. 
 
 Tom's questioning gaze flashed along the line of 
 seats which flanked one side of the mall, and which 
 were largely occupied at this hour by habitues of 
 the locality. As he came over the Harvard Bridge 
 that evening, he had again tried to feel that he should 
 felicitate himself if Dake Cramley did not turn up, 
 and so would be off his conscience forever. 
 
 But there was no doubt of the interest in that 
 interrogative glance as it flashed from one to 
 another of the sitters. Tom's young, healthy muscles 
 were rapidly regaining their elasticity, and their 
 milder twinges had softened his mood toward Dake 
 Cramley. 
 
 A figure sprang up from one of the benches, and
 
 A MEETING ON. THE MALL G7 
 
 came rapidly toward young Draycott. He recognized 
 the robust build, the shabby dress, in an instant. 
 
 As it drew nearer, too, he saw the glad light min- 
 gled with something like shame or remorse in the 
 eyes. 
 
 Young Draycott had forestalled a role of coolness 
 and dignity as the proper thing for his share in the 
 impending interview ; but he forgot all about that 
 now, and said in a frank, off-hand way, likely to re- 
 lieve any strain of the situation, 
 
 " Well, you're up to time, I see ! " 
 
 " Yes," responded Dake, awkwardly conscious. 
 " I've been sittin' here an hour ; I was bound not to 
 miss you." 
 
 " We must plunge right into business now, as I'm 
 in something of a hurry. We'll have a turn round 
 the Common." 
 
 The two young figures moved briskly off together 
 in the soft April dusk. Tom was about half a head 
 the taller hardly more than a year the senior. 
 Perhaps it was the shabby dress of the younger 
 which accented the contrast between them ; for while 
 Tom Draycott was a gentleman, and showed unmis- 
 takably the habits of his life in look .and bearing, 
 Dake Cramley carried his shoulders erect, and was by 
 no means a clown in person or gait. 
 
 The next few minutes Tom had the talk all to 
 himself. He related the morning's interview with 
 the head of the great paper manufacturing firm, 
 Meredith, Max, & Co.
 
 68 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " There's a chance," he continued, " you may get 
 a berth in their big warehouse down town. You are 
 to be at the office by nine o'clock, prompt, and see 
 what can be done about it. Of course, I can't prom- 
 ise anything ; but you will be in luck if you get a 
 foothold in that concern." Tom added the name of 
 the street, and the office-number. 
 
 Dake drank in this talk, silent, intent. When his 
 turn came to speak, he said gravely, 
 
 " I can go, of course I'll do that ; but when your 
 gentleman comes to see me, there'll be mighty small 
 chance of my gettin' a job." 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " 
 
 Tom stopped short, and confronted his companion. 
 
 "'Cause a feller without any trainin' can't step 
 right into a new place, any more than he can speak 
 a new language when he hears it for the first time." 
 
 Tom mentally admitted the force, on general prin- 
 ciples, of this comparison ; but he answered, 
 
 " Oh, well, in this case, lack of training won't stand 
 in your way. What they want is a smart, sturdy 
 fellow, who can handle things lively, and make him- 
 self useful in the packing-room." 
 
 Dake drew a long breath, his face brightened: 
 
 " I reckon I can handle as big a weight, and go into 
 the work as lively, as the next feller," he said. 
 
 " Well, go and try your luck to-morrow morning." 
 
 And this time Dake rejoined with more spirit, 
 
 " Yes ; I shall be there."
 
 A MEETING ON THE MALL 69 
 
 "And now," continued. Tom, with a gravity 
 becoming a judge charging the jury, "it all lies 
 with yourself. If you get a chance in that ware- 
 house, and go at the work with a will, and do the 
 square thing, you can make life another affair for 
 yourself. Is there stuff in you to do this, Dake 
 Cramley ? "' 
 
 Tom stopped short again, looked the boy in the 
 eyes, a real anxiety, touched with doubt, in his own. 
 
 Dake squared his jaw grimly. 
 
 " That remains for a fellow to prove," he said. 
 And it struck Tom there was more hope in such a 
 reply than in promises and adjectives galore. 
 
 " One thing more," he continued. " Nobody knows 
 a syllable about things which have passed between 
 us. You will enter on your new field with as clean 
 a record as anybody there." 
 
 A glance shot from Dake's eyes into young Dray- 
 cott's. 
 
 " You're mighty good ! I I wouldn't have be- 
 lieved there was anybody could be like that." 
 
 The words seemed to get a little tangled in the 
 throat ; but the glance had said more than they pos- 
 sibly could. 
 
 "There comes my car! I must get aboard for 
 Cambridge," exclaimed Tom, looking up Tremont 
 Street, into which they had turned. 
 
 The two shook hands and parted. 
 
 After Tom was seated in his car he wondered
 
 70 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 whether Dake had money enough to get him a supper 
 that night. 
 
 " The silver I gave him ought to have carried him 
 over two days," he mused. " Not at Young's or Par- 
 ker's, of course, but at some of the lunch-counters he 
 must be familiar with. Perhaps he needs a lesson in 
 economy. If that is the case, it won't hurt him to go 
 to bed without his supper.'' 
 
 But though Tom thought it rather manly to affect 
 this indifference, his heart was all the time pleading 
 for his late comrade. He would have felt easier could 
 he have been assured Dake Cramley would have a 
 square meal before he set out for the warehouse next 
 morning. 
 
 A message came from Meredith before Tom started 
 that morning for Cambridge. 
 
 " Fellow appeared on time. Evidently hard up. 
 Put him through a brief catechism. Looks as though 
 he might be capable. Not absolute about the morale. 
 Made up my mind to give him a chance. Sent him 
 down to the warehouse to prove his mettle." 
 
 Tom replaced the tube, saying to himself : 
 
 " Meredith's staccato goes to the point. He's done 
 the handsome thing. Bless his kind old heart. 
 Now, Dake Cramley, you must run the course, and 
 good luck to you ! "
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WAKE 71 
 
 IX 
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 
 
 DOROTHY DRAYCOTT had all a girl's interest and 
 curiosity about her brother's college life. It was a 
 point with her to have a bijb of crimson often in evi- 
 dence on ribbon or scarf, at waist or throat. Tom's 
 stories of his classmates, of the varied clubs, the soci- 
 eties, the football and rowing teams, and all the light 
 and shade of Sophomore-life, opened a new world to 
 her. She drank in with radiant eyes and breathless 
 peals of laughter Tom's reports of the frolics, contre- 
 temps, and adventures, which form so large a part of 
 undergraduate existence. 
 
 This was a theme on which so thorough-going and 
 loyal a Harvardian as Tom Draycott was sure to ex- 
 pand; and it was more agreeable than he would have 
 admitted, to have such an eager, interested auditor 
 whenever he sought her room with a batch of his 
 college stories. 
 
 Dorothy knew the names of most of his classmates; 
 and with his rapid, salient adjectives Tom outlined 
 the character of the young men with whom his life 
 was at this time in touch. No doubt these bold, 
 swift strokes had something of the incompleteness
 
 72 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 and injustice of epigram; but Tom's instinct often 
 went straight as an arrow to the mark. 
 
 Dorothy certainly never thought of questioning his 
 judgment in these matters, and accepted his verdict 
 as final, when he spoke of one classmate as a prig, 
 another as a cad, a rattler, or a crank ; but these 
 adjectives seemed neutral-tinted in comparison with 
 " sneak and coward," or " a nature coarse-grained 
 and poltroonish under a thin varnish of good 
 manners." 
 
 Those, however, who went to the wall under this 
 rapid, remorseless criticism were happily a very small 
 minority. For the majority of his classmates Tom 
 had only words of praise. The Sophomores of that 
 year, he assured his sister, were, as a whole, the jol- 
 liest, best-hearted, noblest lot of fellows on the 
 planet. He rang the changes now, with glowing 
 adjectives, for those pink-flushed little ears which 
 were eagerly drirlking in every word. One fellow 
 had "lots of sand," another was " the soul of honor," 
 a third was " a glorious comrade for a lark," a fourth 
 was " the grandest old Soph that ever drew breath 
 stuff that would march right up into the cannon's 
 mouth without flinching a hair." 
 
 A third presence, always eagerly welcomed, often 
 joined the young people at evening. Mrs. Dayles 
 had an unfailing sympathy with youthful ideas and 
 feelings, and she carried a cheer}'-, bracing atmos- 
 phere with her wherever she \ve?it. Her orthoepy
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 73 
 
 and grammar were sometimes old-fashioned ; but 
 these were so much a part of herself, and of the 
 wise, tender, quaint talk, that the most fastidious lis- 
 tener could have wanted nothing changed. The 
 young Draycotts still called her Nanty Dayles. 
 The homely name was to them full of dear, childish 
 associations. It had originated with Dorothy, when, 
 just over her fifth birthday, she went, with big eyes 
 in a face still pale from her long struggle with 
 whooping-cough, to the bracing air of the Belmont 
 farmstead. 
 
 There was a subtle appropriateness in Dorothy's 
 half playful, half affectionate title. It became natu- 
 ralized, even with the elders. 
 
 One evening Mrs. Dayles entered the library. The 
 quiet mother- face under its smooth gray hair, the 
 small upright figure in its gown of black silk plain 
 almost as a nun's made a quaint picture, suggestive 
 of old-fashioned home life and virtues. 
 
 Tom had just been relating some story to his sister, 
 full of rollicking Sophomore fun and adventures, and 
 rib-splitting contretemps. 
 
 " O Nanty Dayles ! " the girl exclaimed on catching 
 a glimpse of the figure at the threshold, " you must 
 get Tom to tell this story over again. It is 
 the funniest thing. I have almost died for laugh- 
 ing Hark!" in a changed tone. "What is that 
 noise?" 
 
 " It's thunder," responded Tom after a moment's
 
 74 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 attention. " Hurra ! That shows old Spring is 
 coining tip this way at last." 
 
 " Old ! " echoed Dorothy. " She is the youngest 
 thing in the world, and always will be." 
 
 " But for all that she is aeons older than Methusa- 
 leh," retorted Tom. 
 
 At that moment a swift shower of April rain 
 dashed at the window. Forked lightning flashed in 
 the sky. The thunder rattled overhead, and winds 
 broke like wild things from their lair, and filled the 
 air with fierce cries. 
 
 Then Dorothy cried out, "Tom, your story must 
 wait. When lightnings glare and winds howl like 
 that, one wants something on a different key." 
 
 " I cave ! " he answered* " Nanty Dayles, one of 
 your stories is worth lots of my nonsense. Let's 
 have it ! " 
 
 " What sort of a story do you want, children ? " 
 
 " Something about yourself ; at least, one where you 
 are the child actor in the drama," answered Dorothy. 
 
 " By all means," added Tom. " But I notice that 
 is the sort you usually fight shy of." 
 
 Mrs. Dayles seated herself in the great arm-chair 
 Tom had brought to her, and laughed her quiet, 
 amused laugh. Then she said, half to herself : 
 
 "That was an April day, too, with a thunder- 
 shower." 
 
 "Oh, it must be something delightfully apropos I " 
 cried Dorothy, supplying all ellipses.
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 75 
 
 " Go right ahead, Nanty," said Tom, stretching his 
 long limbs on the lounge. " Is it tragedy or 
 comedy? " 
 
 " You must decide for yourself, my dear boy." 
 
 This was the story which Mrs. Dayles told that 
 night, while her audience of two no longer" heard the 
 rattling of thunder, or the menacing cries of winds 
 outside. 
 
 "I was just eleven years old when it happened. 
 Most people said I was small for my age. My father 
 and mother had gone to New York for a fortnight's 
 visit, and left me with my aunt, Jerushy Thacher, 
 who lived in a village twenty miles away from my 
 home. She was my father's only sister, a widow, 
 with one son. Dan was a shy, big, clumsy, good- 
 hearted fellow, about five years older than I. 
 
 " It was my first visit from home. Aunt Jerushy 
 and Dan were doing their best to spoil me, praisin' 
 me to my face, and repeatin' my speeches in a way 
 that was likely to turn a little 'leven-year-old head. 
 
 " One afternoon my aunt went off with Dan to 
 the nearest town to do some shoppin'. It had been 
 one of the loveliest mornin's, and I'd been out hearin' 
 the robins sing, and watchin' the apple-blossoms 
 beginnin' to sprinkle the scraggy old boughs with 
 their white and pink snow. 
 
 " Before they started my aunt had told me they 
 should be gone until night, and talked of sending for 
 a neighbor's girl to keep me company. But I begged
 
 76 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 to be left alone. A story-book from New York had 
 come to me the night before. That would be com- 
 pany enough. Story-books, you know, weren't as 
 common in my days as they are in yours. 
 
 " I stood and watched the two drive down the road 
 in the sunshine, and afterwards I lay down on the 
 lounge and was soon buried in my book. I must 
 have read a good while. When I stopped at last it 
 had grown dark, and winds were lashin' the rose- 
 bushes outside, and by the time I got up the rain 
 was dashin' at the windows. All of a sudden there 
 was a blaze of lightnin' round the room, and the 
 thunder cracked overhead. 
 
 " I was old enough to know it was only an April 
 shower which had swept down suddenly ; but I had 
 a lonesome time all by myself, and I tried to shut my 
 eyes when the lightnin' glared, and my ears when 
 the thunder crashed. 
 
 " All of a sudden I heard a cry through the tem- 
 pest. My heart sprang into my throat. I knew it 
 was a voice of distress just outside the door. I 
 shivered and sat still. Then I heard it a second 
 time. I could bear it no longer. I sprang up, 
 rushed to the front door, and set it wide open. 
 
 " A boy a small, scared, shrinkin' creature 
 stood there, drenched with rain, sobbin' with fright. 
 I knew him with a glance. He was little Joe Morris, 
 a pale, yellow-haired child who lived a short distance 
 up the road. His aunt and uncle, well-meanin' folks,
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 77 
 
 as the world goes, had taken Joe to their home ; 
 but they had a brood of their own, and the neighbors 
 said the little orphan had a hard time of it. 
 
 " He was a pretty child, hardly six years old ; but 
 there was a kind of pitiful look in his dark, hazel 
 eyes which told its own story. They grudged Joe 
 his place under the home-roof ; he was not welcome 
 at its board. 
 
 "My aunt Jerushy, one of the kindest souls 
 alive, had done what she could to brighten his 
 hard lot. The little feet soon found their way to 
 her doorstep. Joe was always sure of a kind word, 
 and the big slice of pie or cake which lifts a child 
 into a seventh heaven for the time. 
 
 " ' O Joe ! ' I cried, pullin' him out of the rain, 
 4 how did you get here in this awful storm ? ' 
 
 " ' I was all alone,' he sobbed. ' They've gone 
 away and left me. I was scared when it grew so 
 dark, and the big lightnin' shone and tlie thunder 
 roared, and I ran off to Mis' Thacher's.' 
 
 44 1 can see him now, standin' there and sayin' this, 
 and lookin' so forlorn and helpless in his thin clothes, 
 which his small blue limbs had outgrown ! 
 
 "I had heard his story from my aunt, who had 
 been his mother's dearest friend in their girlhood. 
 
 " ' To think of Anna Hart's boy comin' to that ! ' 
 aunt Jerushy would say, with the tears in her eyes. 
 ' She had such a sweet face, and was such a bright, 
 merry girl. It did one good to see her. She threw
 
 78 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 herself away on Dick Morris. He had a tongue that 
 was likely to win any woman. I went to the 
 weddin' ; but for all the bride looked so fair and 
 happy, and her lover so strong and manly, I had 
 my own rnisgivin's. 
 
 " 'They went away, and in less than two years 
 rumors of trouble came back to Anna's old home. 
 After a long time she came too, with Joe. No word 
 of complaint ever passed her lips, but those who 
 looked in her face knew that a broken heart lay 
 under it. She died in a little while. Joe had no 
 kin left but his mother's only brother. He wasn't 
 like Anna, and had a family of his own. When it 
 came to the pinch, they took the boy in, but it went 
 ag'inst the grain.' 
 
 " All this I had learnt from my aunt's talk. I had 
 learnt somethin' else too. 
 
 "One day a handsome carriage, with a smart pair of 
 sorrel horses, went by while my aunt was at the 
 window. 
 
 " ' There goes Wallace Keith,' she said. ' How 
 spick and span we are now ! Fifteen years ago, when 
 lie went out West, he had barely money to pay his 
 fare. And he's come back a rich man, and can hold 
 his head high amongst those who once looked down 
 on him. He was Anna Hart's cousin, and would 
 have liked to be somethin' more.' 
 
 " ' Did you know him ? ' Dan asked. 
 
 " ' A little, when he used to come to see Anna. He
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WAKE 79 
 
 married after he went West ; but his wife died in a 
 few years, and for all his big fortune, he hasn't chick 
 or child in the world. I should like to put a flea in 
 that man's ear.' 
 
 " ' Why, mother, what do you mean ? ' Dan ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " ' I mean, Dan, if I knew him better I should like 
 to tell him about little Joe. If that rich man would 
 only adopt him, now ! But such things don't hap- 
 pen, only in the story books ! ' 
 
 " I brought Joe into the house, took off his wet 
 jacket, pinned a shawl about him, for the little frame 
 was shiverin', and I comforted him with apples and 
 cakes. 
 
 " ' It's so nice here ! ' lie said, lookin' around the 
 room wistfully. 'I wish I could live here always.' 
 
 " My heart ached for him as he said that. Then 
 my aunt's talk flashed into my mind. I remembered 
 I had seen the handsome carriage and the sorrel 
 horses go by just after aunt Jerushy and Dan went 
 away. 
 
 " Then somethin' spoke out loud and sudden, 
 though I couldn't tell where it came from. * 
 
 "But I knew all the same what it meant. 
 
 " ' Why don't you do it, Nabby Ware ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, I never could ! ' I said to myself, shrinkin' 
 all over. ' I shouldn't dare. He's such a big, strong 
 man, and I'm only a 'leven-year-old girl ! ' 
 
 " ' But there's little Joe ! ' the voice said. It kept
 
 80 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 sayin' that, and I kept sayin' to myself, 'I never 
 could, I never could, if it was to save my life ! ' 
 
 " But suddenly I glanced up the road, and saw the 
 sorrel span comin' at a smart pace, the big horses 
 archin' their necks and tossin' their manes. I don't 
 know to this day how I did it. It was all over in a 
 flash. I seized Joe, bundled him up in my aunt's 
 red shawl, and ran with him down to the gate. The 
 horses were passin' at the moment, but I shouted 
 with all my might, 
 
 " ' Oh, won't you please to stop here, sir ? ' 
 
 "The man, all alone on the front seat, pulled the 
 reins up. He stared at me as though I must be an 
 elf sprung right out of the ground. 
 
 " ' Well, what is it you want ? ' he asked rather 
 sharply. He was a large, good-lookin' man, with a 
 thick, brown-grayish beard, and eyes that looked as 
 though they could read anybody through and 
 through. 
 
 " By this time I was out in the road. I pulled Joe 
 forward ; I said the words which came first, and all 
 the time, it seemed somebody else who was speaking. 
 
 " ' It's little Joe Morris. His father and mother's 
 dead, and they don't treat him kind at his uncle's, 
 where he lives. I thought I thought ' - - 1 couldn't 
 get out another word. 
 
 " The man kept staring on, first at me, then at Joe. 
 
 " ' Well, let us know what you did think,' he 
 said, in a little more encouragin' tone.
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 81 
 
 " ' Oh, sir, they say you're such a rich man, and can 
 do anything you want ! I thought may be if you 
 could see Joe and know about him, you'd be sorry, 
 and take him to be your boy, and live with you.' 
 
 " ' Well, upon my word, you are a cool young 
 woman ! ' he said, in another tone this time, and he 
 laughed a curious little laugh. 
 
 " ' No ! ' I said; ' I'm not cool at all, and I'm scairet 
 a' most out of my senses ; but it was Joe's only 
 chance, you see ! ' 
 
 " ' Well, I'm not goin' to eat -you up. This is 
 bigger fun than chasm' bear,' he said to himself. 
 ' Who may you be, little girl ? ' 
 
 "I'm Nabby Ware, 'leven years old, and I live at 
 Cherry Forks, and my father has gone to New York 
 with my mother, and I'm visitin' my aunt, Jerushy 
 Thacher.' 
 
 " ' Is Joe, here, any relation of yours?' 
 
 " ' Oh, no, sir ; but he lives down the road, and I 
 know all about him.' 
 
 " ' Anybody tell you to speak to me like this ? ' 
 
 " ' Nobody did.' After that I went on to tell him 
 how my aunt had gone away with Dan, and left me 
 alone, and how Joe came a-cryin' in the rain.' 
 
 " ' This beats anything hollow in the way of simple, 
 downright pluck I ever heard of ! ' he said to himself, 
 and then he laughed loud again. ' You've got an 
 honest little face too. But how did you come to 
 know any thing about me ? '
 
 82 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENIEEN" 
 
 " ' I heard my aunt Jerushy talk about you. She 
 said you knew Joe's mother that she was your 
 cousin.' 
 
 "'She did, eh?' A change came into his face 
 and voice then. ' What was her name ? ' 
 
 " 4 It was Anna Hart.' 
 
 " ' Great heavens ! Anna Hart's boy ! ' He leaned 
 over now, and stared a long while at Joe, who was 
 standin' still all the time, as a little statue, his yellow 
 curls shinin' above the red shawl. 
 
 " ' Yes ; there is no doubt, you are your mother's 
 boy, with those eyes,' he muttered at last. 
 
 " I was so shaken and excited that I spoke out 
 whatever thoughts came uppermost. 
 
 " ' Aunt Jerushy said you would have liked to be 
 somethin' more than Anna Hart's cousin ; but I 
 don't know what she meant. Perhaps you do.' 
 
 " 4 Yes, / do ! ' He gazed at me with a queer, 
 amused look in his eyes, and he asked, in a minute, 
 4 Little girl, what first started you to do this thing, 
 anyhow ? ' 
 
 " ' It all came to me in a flash when Joe and I were 
 together in the house. I said ever so many times I 
 couldn't do it ; but when I saw your horses comin' up 
 the road, somethin' told me to try, and I jest took 
 Joe and started. I thought if you could see him, 
 and I could tell you, you'd be sorry for him, and God 
 could do the rest if he was a mind to. Oh, yes ! I 
 did think of one thing more.'
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 83 
 
 " ' What was that ? ' 
 
 " ' That when you come to see your cousin again, 
 you might like to say to her, " I was kind to Joe." ' 
 " He didn't say anything for a minute then. 
 " Afterward he took us both into the carriage, and 
 
 O 7 
 
 we had a long drive off on the quiet, country roads. 
 I was bareheaded, and Joe was bundled up in his 
 shawl, but we didn't mind. The sun had come out 
 again, and all the young green was ashinin' and 
 twinklm' in the rain. 
 
 " Soon after we started, the thing I had just done 
 came up before me. It seemed like something awful 
 unheard of that it would cling to me all my life ! 
 I broke out into a loud, helpless sobbing. I couldn't 
 have held it back to save my life. I never had cried 
 so long and so hard before. 
 
 " The big, brown-bearded man was very kind. He 
 drew his arm around me, and told me there was noth- 
 in' to cry about. I had been the bravest little girl 
 he ever heard of. 
 
 "When I grew calm at last, he asked a great many 
 questions, all about Joe and myself. I can't remem- 
 ber them now. 
 
 " But I do remember how the man, Wallace Keith, 
 at last turned to Joe, who was on the back seat, and 
 said to him, 
 
 " ' Well, Joe, I fancy I can make things a little pleas- 
 anter for you than they are at present. What do you 
 say ? Are you ready to go off with me and try it ? '
 
 84 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " Joe had been sliy and afraid of the big stranger ; 
 but when he spoke in that tone, and smiled in a 
 way that lit up his square, brown face, Joe, after a 
 moment's pause, clambered over to him on the front 
 seat. 
 
 " ' I should like to go with you,' he piped up ; and 
 he put his thin little hand in the man's big one, and 
 laid the round yellow head on the big shoulder. Joe 
 was a pretty child. I can see it all now." 
 
 The tears were in Mrs. Dayle's eyes. 
 
 " Oh, don't stop yet ! " broke in Dorothy. " There 
 must be more to tell." 
 
 " Not very much, my dear. 
 
 " The man said he must leave town the next 
 day. He made me promise not to mention a syllable 
 to anybody of what had occurred until my father 
 returned. 
 
 " ' I can trust you, Nabby,' he said ; and then he 
 bent down and kissed me. 
 
 " He brought me home, and he and Joe drove 
 away together. I never saw either again." 
 
 "But you heard something?" said Dorothy in. 
 sistently. 
 
 " Yes ; there was a long interview between Wallace 
 Keith and Joe's uncle that night. What passed 
 between them was never known ; but it was believed 
 there had been high words and angry reproaches for 
 the scant kindness the dead sister's child had met 
 with at his uncle's hands.
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 85 
 
 " The two men were not likely to love each other. 
 People said Anna Hart would have married her 
 cousin, had it not been for her brother's interference. 
 
 " But the uncle consented to relinquish all claim 
 to Joe. The next day he went away with his new 
 friend. 
 
 " After a while there came letters from California 
 to my father and me. Joe had gone there early in 
 the fifties with Wallace Keith, who had adopted him. 
 
 " The two were devoted to each other. It seemed 
 as though the man could not praise and thank me 
 enough for what I had done that day. 
 
 "Joe grew up to manhood, and when the war 
 broke out he led a regiment to the battlefield. He 
 died there at the head of his men. 
 
 " His adopted father, they said, was never quite the 
 same man after the news came. He was often heard 
 to say he wanted to see once more the little girl who 
 brought him Joe. At last he set out for the East. 
 On the way he stopped to visit a minin'-camp. He 
 caught a fever there, and never reached his journey's 
 end. He was an old man by that time." 
 
 " Was he a rich one ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Oh, yes. But he left no will. The money all 
 went to distant relatives." 
 
 " You should have had a big slice of it." 
 
 " It wasn't for money I seized Joe that afternoon, 
 and hurried down to the gate with him, and shouted 
 to the man to stop. I never felt any hankerin' for
 
 86 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Wallace Keith's riches. I've always felt I had more 
 than I deserved of this world's goods; and it was 
 enough for me to know that he and Joe had all those 
 happy years together." 
 
 "It beats anything in the way of juvenile pluck I 
 ever heard of ! " exclaimed Tom. " A little slip of a 
 girl ! It was grand ! It was immense the way you 
 faced that old fellow with Joe." 
 
 " It never seemed quite as though / did it, Tom. 
 Something carried me out of myself." 
 
 "I shall always be glad to know such a splendid 
 deed took place once in the world ! " subjoined Dor- 
 othy. " It makes me feel so small. I have never 
 done anything like that, though I am an old thing of 
 seventeen ! " 
 
 She drew a long, remorseful sigh. 
 
 Mrs. Dayles looked at her with a half tender, half 
 amused expression. 
 
 " The chances for helpin' people are always corn- 
 in' up, my dear. One never gets too old for them." 
 
 She did not tell the girl, as most women would, 
 that she was very young. She knew Dorothy felt 
 older at that moment, under her scant handful of 
 birthdays, than she probably would when they had 
 grown to seventy. Then she would know what a 
 brief affair life was. 
 
 " Look here ! " called Tom, who had taken himself 
 to the window. " You can't afford to lose such a 
 piece of sky-scenery as this."
 
 WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE NABBY WARE 87 
 
 The others crossed to the window, and saw in the 
 upper sky two long reaches of shining gray cloud, 
 edged with black. Between these was a wide gulf of 
 sapphire sky in which shone the solemn, immutable 
 stars.
 
 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 X 
 
 GENTLEMAN OR SNOB WHICH ? 
 
 DURING these days, what with lectures, clubs, 
 foot-ball games, the opening of the rowing season, 
 private theatricals, and all sorts of social and college 
 matters which devour the time and absorb the soul 
 of tljje Harvard Sophomore, Tom did not not find 
 a half-hour to spare for Dake Cramley. He thought 
 of him often had the best intentions of running 
 over to the warehouse of Meredith, Max, & Co., to 
 see how he liked the place, and was getting on with 
 the new work. It must be an enormous change for 
 him, Tom reflected. He had, however, only a faint 
 idea of all which the novel environment, the rigid 
 hours, the long days of toil, must mean to Dake 
 Cramley, with the roving, vagrant habits which had 
 become second nature, and with the young hot blood 
 of youth in his veins certain to rebel, and clamor for 
 the old freedom and vagabondage. 
 
 One morning Tom Draycott, rushing to board a 
 Harvard electric on Tremont Street, ran against 
 Mr. Meredith. After the first greeting Tom began 
 eagerly, 
 
 " I suppose you received my note of thanks for
 
 GENTLEMAN OH SNOB WHICH? 89 
 
 giving young Cramley a berth in your warehouse. 
 How is he getting on? I hope he faces the music 
 pluckily. There is a case where I feel a huge 
 responsibility." 
 
 " I got your note, Tom. Very fair report from the 
 warehouse. Fellow, thus far, goes into the work like 
 one who doesn't mean to shirk." 
 
 Tom's face showed his gratification. " Glad to 
 hear so good an account. He must congratulate 
 himself on such good luck." 
 
 " I'm not so sure of that, Tom," with the shrewd, 
 quiet smile which spoke volumes for his large experi- 
 ence with all sorts and conditions of men. 
 
 " I should suppose there could be but one question 
 in his case," added Tom, with the positiveness of 
 youth and inexperience. 
 
 " It would seem so on the surface. But I have 
 found the fellows who come up from the slums don't 
 take kindly to the regular hours and steady work. 
 It's natural they should kick at first. Many of them 
 do always and clear out at last, going back to the 
 old free, vagabond life, even if it does mean rags, 
 hardship, and hunger." 
 
 " I suppose there is something in all that." 
 
 Tom's remark was partly in deference to tire 
 other's opinion ; still there were certain corpuscles in 
 his own fiery young blood which made him conscious 
 at that moment of a flash of fellow-feeling with the 
 vagabond.
 
 90 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 Then the two lifted their hats and went their 
 different w&y s. 
 
 Three days after this conversation Tom Draycott 
 and Dake Craraley had a meeting which neither of 
 them will ever forget. 
 
 Tom was on -Beacon Street early in the afternoon 
 with one of his classmates. The two tall, athletic 
 young Sophomores, in their well-fitting summer suits, 
 came rapidly on with the swinging stride and the 
 air of those who feel that the world belongs to them. 
 They were full of loud talk and frequent bursts of 
 laughter; they were discussing the new crews and 
 the base-ball teams, and relating with infinite gusto 
 some of the club jests, and certain tricks which their 
 class had recently played on the Freshmen. 
 
 Tom's gaze suddenly caught a figure approaching 
 which had a familiar look. The next instant he rec- 
 ognized Dake Cramley the stalwart build, the dark 
 head, the coat so shabby as to just escape raggedness. 
 Tom saw that Dake had recognized him by the little 
 involuntary start and slight slackening of his gait. 
 All the differences in their lot, all the gulf between 
 their happy, careless, prosperous youth, their cul- 
 ture, refinement, leisure, and this other youth of 
 poverty, hardship, ignorance, toil, seemed cruelly 
 accented. 
 
 Tom was conscious of a wish that Dake Cramley 
 had not turned up at this precise juncture. Then all 
 that was generous and manly in his nature rose to 
 rebuke the cowardly wish.
 
 GENTLEMAN OR SNOB WHICH? 91 
 
 "You will be the meanest sneak, the most con- 
 temptible snob, who walks this planet, if you don't 
 stand to your guns now, Thomas Draycott ! " 
 
 He said it with a little more fervor, perhaps, be- 
 cause young Fallowes was inclined to be fastidious in 
 his tastes and associations. A few more years, a lit- 
 tle rougher handling of the world, would correct 
 all that. But Tom was himself too young to know 
 this. 
 
 Meantime, the crucial moment had come. Dake 
 had drawn near. 
 
 Tom sprang forward. " Hullo, Dake ! " his voice 
 rang out heartily. " Glad to see you once more. 
 How does the work go?" 
 
 Young Fallowes had halted too. His quiet, well- 
 bred glance went over the whole exterior the big 
 figure, the tanned face, the threadbare clothes. 
 
 Dake's face brightened as he shook hands with 
 young Draycott. But he was shy in the presence of 
 that " swell " classmate. Moreover, he was decidedly 
 conscious of the difference between their coats and 
 his own. 
 
 " Work goes on all right," he managed to get out. 
 
 " Of course, I knew it must be a good deal of a 
 grind at first," Tom said sympathetically. Then a 
 sudden, defiant impulse, which quite dominated any 
 sense of humor in the situation, came over him. He 
 turned to young Fallowes, and said with a little un- 
 necessary empressment,
 
 92 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " Allow me to present my friend, Mr. Dake Cram- 
 ley, to you, Mr. Philip Fallowes." 
 
 The young man whom his classmates pronounced 
 " a bit dudish, though a thoroughly good fellow," was 
 equal to tha situation ; he lifted his hat in his most 
 pronounced fashion ; he made his most elegant bow. 
 
 " Happy to meet you, Mr. Dake Cramley," he said. 
 
 Dake responded with a quick nod and a rather 
 curt, 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Fallowes." 
 
 Then he turned and looked at Tom, with some- 
 thing in his eyes which no word or deed had ever 
 kindled in them before. 
 
 But Fallowes did not catch the glance. 
 
 Tom had a few more words to add half apolo- 
 getic about the breathless pace at which he had 
 been kept going during these last days, and of his 
 intention to see Dake before the week was out. 
 
 There was a brief silence after the two resumed 
 their walk. Then Fallowes said, half serious, half 
 jesting, 
 
 " Where did you get hold of such a pal, Draycott ? 
 He strikes me as a good deal of a bummer ! " 
 
 Tom stopped short. There was a steely glitter in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " See here, Fallowes," he said, " I called that fellow 
 my friend, and, by Jove, I'll stand by it too ! If you 
 are going to make game of him, we'll have a trial of 
 fists when we get over the bridge."
 
 GENTLEMAN OR SNOB WHICH? 93 
 
 Fallowes broke into a laugh. " So you want to 
 prove your principles by giving me a high-and-mighty 
 drubbing, do you? I don't ache for it. Besides I'm 
 not such a fool as to go in on such infinitely small 
 provocation not much ! Can't you take a joke, 
 Draycott ? " 
 
 Tom laughed too, but with the feeling that Fal- 
 lowes had rather got the better of him. 
 
 When the car was crossing the bridge, however, 
 Fallowes turned to his classmate and said earnestly, 
 
 " You are a good fellow, Draycott. I like the kind 
 that nails his colors to the mast and stands by them. 
 There's my hand on it."
 
 94 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 XI 
 
 CONCERNING DAKE CRAMLEY. 
 
 THE day but one following- the brief encounter on 
 Beacon Street, Tom Drayeott presented himself at 
 the office of Meredith, Max, & Co. 
 
 Tom had chosen the early morning again for his 
 visit. The senior partner, recently arrived, nodded 
 to his young friend, disposed of two or three callers 
 as soon as possible, saying, as he shook hands with 
 young Drayeott, 
 
 "What is in the wind this time, Tom? Anything 
 about your protSge f " 
 
 "Yes; with a vengeance!" going straight to the 
 point, which was sure to count with a man of Mere- 
 dith's business methods. " My special errand here 
 this morning is to inform you that I am bound to see 
 Duke Cramley indued in a decent suit of clothes. 
 Of course, I could settle the matter in short order by 
 sending him some of my own ; but that is not the 
 best way to keep up his self-respect. You agree with 
 me there? " 
 
 " Entirely, my sapient young friend ! " with an 
 amused twinkle in his eyes, which, a moment later, 
 was reflected in Tom's.
 
 CONCERNING DAKE CRAMLEY 95 
 
 " The fact is," he continued gravely a moment later, 
 " I saw him down town day before yesterday, and I 
 never want to see him again in that shabby old tog- 
 gery. The poor fellow was evidently ashamed of it. 
 I tried to put myself in his place. It wasn't pleasant." 
 
 " Probably not. But nothing serves so well as 
 bringing a case of this sort home to ourselves. What 
 is the outcome with you ? " 
 
 " That Cramley is going to have a bran new suit, 
 all-fired quick, and that I shall pay for it, only I 
 want you to help me out with details." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Give him a little higher wages. Of course my 
 young man isn't to suspect my hand in the matter, 
 but I will stand the racket." 
 
 The elder man gave an amused whistle. 
 
 " That is a novel way for the house of Meredith, 
 Max, & Co. to conduct business." 
 
 Tom flushed a little. " No doubt ; but it seemed 
 the only feasible plan I could hit on." 
 
 " It strikes me I can suggest a better one. The 
 reports from the warehouse are so favorable as to the 
 vim with which the fellow puts himself into the work, 
 that I had about decided to raise his wages a trifle. 
 " I can do this by sending him to a wholesale house, 
 with a note which will secure him a suit in a trice, at 
 a discount. I will settle the bill, and retain the extra 
 wages until all is paid up. We have tried that plan 
 more than once with our workmen. It has served
 
 90 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 well, and it has the advantage of being all above- 
 board. Your young man will pay for his clothes 
 instead of believing he is doing so." 
 
 "I see. Your project is the best. Thank you 
 heartily, Mr. Meredith." 
 
 During this talk several people had come in, wait- 
 ing their chance for an audience. Tom became con- 
 scious of their vicinity for the first time. 
 
 As he rose to leave, the elder added, " I will see 
 the young man to-day about the matter." 
 
 " I shall always regard this as a personal favor," 
 the younger replied. 
 
 As Richard Meredith turned toward the small 
 crowd awaiting him, he said to himself, 
 
 " Donald Draycott is a lucky fellow to have a boy 
 like that!" 
 
 On the evening of that day the young Draycotts 
 sat together on the deep circular porch at the west 
 side of the house. It was the first time they had 
 done this since the autumn ; but last year seemed now 
 a long way off to the young people, as they looked at 
 it across the white winter months. 
 
 The crocuses and hyacinths were abloom on the 
 terraces. The trees were beginning to open out their 
 vast screens the delicate reds of budding maples, 
 the faint, misty emerald of elms and birches. 
 
 The great springtide was rapidly advancing north-, 
 ward. In a little while the vast rejoicing flood of 
 bursting: leaves and blossoms would overflow all the
 
 CONCERNING DAKE CUAMLEY 97 
 
 silence and bareness. One might almost hear a pres- 
 cient whisper in the air of that April night. The 
 summer was coining ! 
 
 " O Tom, what a delicious night it is ! " exclaimed 
 Dorothy, with little elastic springs of the slender, 
 girlish body, as .she sat in the piazza-rocker. " How 
 beautiful and solemn the stars look ! There go the 
 frogs again ! One wants to live in such a world 
 forever." 
 
 Tom was stroking Hidalgo's head as the superb 
 creature waited at his side. He thought of Dake 
 Cramley at that moment. 
 
 " One might like to live forever, if one belonged 
 to the fortunate minority," he replied. " But even 
 then one must grow old sometime ; and with youth 
 and health and friends gone, it might get awfully 
 humdrum at last." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Dorothy. To her youth's radiant 
 horizons, to her bounding pulses, growing old seemed 
 just then a very remote thing. " But whom do you 
 mean by 'fortunate people,' Tom?' 
 
 " Well, such people as you and I, Dollikins, with 
 all the prizes fallen to our share home and love 
 and ease, and the money to make things run smoothly. 
 Out in the rough of things, the toilers and moilers 
 must find the world a very different sort of place, I 
 fancy." 
 
 Dorothy thought of her little kindergarteners in 
 Boston. She had a class at which she, with some
 
 98 "sms, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 other young girls, took her turn twice a week. She 
 tried to do her best with the small untrained crea- 
 tures; but she had no idea how much, or in what 
 ways, they were doing for her. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose we are what you call us, Tom," 
 she assented. " I suppose, too, we don't realize our 
 own good fortune. We get used to it, as we do to 
 the air or the sunshine." 
 
 Then, in a kind of subconscious way, she felt it was 
 not just like her careless, teasing brother to talk in 
 this fashion. She had no suspicion that he too was 
 having some lessons in these days not set down 
 in the Harvard curriculum. 
 
 The April was in Dorothy's blood, in her 
 thoughts, to-night. She was not in a mood to 
 dwell long on any serious subject. 
 
 " Tom," she broke out suddenly, after a little si- 
 lence. " Who was that young fellow with you this 
 afternoon when you bowed to me, as I was going 
 down North Avenue in the car?" 
 
 " That was Phil Fallowes." 
 
 " He struck me as very nice looking." 
 
 " The Sophs think he is slightly dudish. But 
 there's manly stuff at bottom. When it comes to 
 looks of course a girl thinks of that first he can 
 hold his own with any fellow in the class. We had a 
 long tramp in the woods to-day. Capital fellow for a 
 lark ! He can pull a good oar, too, and make a sandy 
 fieht at foot-ball. But he doesn't flunk at recitations."
 
 CONCERNING DAKE CHAMLEY 99 
 
 " I was going over with your classmates the other 
 day, one by one, as you had described them to me." 
 
 " Big lot. Hope you had a good time of it ! " 
 
 "I'm not sure about that. But it struck me I 
 should like Phil Fallowes, as you call him, better 
 than any of your Sophs." 
 
 Tom hummed some snatch of a college song medi- 
 tatively. 
 
 " I don't believe you have missed the mark far this 
 time."
 
 100 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 XII 
 
 A COAT AND TROUSERS REVOLUTION 
 
 Two or three evenings later, Tom Draycott turned 
 at twilight from Beacon Street into the Common, 
 shooting a swift glance down the line of figures 
 which occupied the benches on one side of the mall. 
 
 Tom had rushed into the warehouse the day before, 
 but Cramley happened to be out at the time. He 
 found on his return that his friend had left a line 
 with one of the men, appointing an interview for the 
 following evening. 
 
 Tom noticed a figure spring from one of the 
 benches and approach him. He did not recognize 
 the stranger until he was close at hand. 
 
 Dake Cramley was indued in a simple, perfectly- 
 fitting, brand-new summer suit of darkish gray, sur- 
 mounted by a fresh cap. His necktie, linen, and 
 boots were new also, Dake having managed to secure 
 these by the exercise of rigidest economy for the 
 last month. But the transformation was immense. 
 Tom could hardly believe his eyes. Dake was fully 
 alive to the change. It struck Tom that the new 
 clothes had imparted an air of self-respect, as though 
 their wearer had a feeling that he belonged now to
 
 A COAT AND TROUSERS REVOLUTION 101 
 
 the respectable, well-dressed classes, and had shed 
 something more than his old garments when he cast 
 them aside. 
 
 " Why, man alive, I didn't know you ! " exclaimed 
 Tom, surveying his friend from head to foot. "How 
 bully we look in our new toggery ! " 
 
 Dake laughed in a hearty, boyish way which Tom 
 had never heard him do before ; but he was a good 
 deal embarrassed. Words always came slowly with 
 the youth until he once got fairly started, and forgot 
 himself. 
 
 " Let's have a walk," exclaimed Tom, who always 
 took the initiative, " and have all the ins and outs of 
 this coat and trousers revolution." 
 
 The pair started off together, and with the swing 
 and stride of young, healthy muscles held their way 
 along Beacon Street. 
 
 A few tactful questions drew out all the details. 
 Dake's tongue once loosened, there was no lack of 
 words. Tom .learned that Meredith, when he ap- 
 peared at the warehouse a few days before, had sent 
 for "that new boy," and when he presented himself 
 had said some encouraging words and proposed to 
 make a slight advance in his salary, on a plan which 
 he sometimes adopted with his employees. 
 
 " It was a maxim with him," the head and mana- 
 ging brains of the great house stated, " that a man 
 who did his best deserved a new suit of clothes with 
 no unnecessary delay." Then Duke, listening in
 
 102 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 dumb, awkward amazement, learned by what means 
 he was to secure the much-coveted new suit that 
 very day. 
 
 The rest was settled with the business man's exec- 
 utive promptness. Furnished with a line to the 
 great clothing-house, Dake had no difficulty in secur- 
 ing all he wanted. 
 
 "Well, I am satisfied there is more in fresh, well- 
 fitting broadcloth than I ever imagined," was Tom's 
 first comment, when Dake ceased. " Why, Cramley, 
 it has made another fellow of you." 
 
 There was a twinkle of amusement, with a good 
 deal of some complex feeling, in Dake's eyes. 
 
 " I know it's made me feel like one," he said. 
 
 The two had to-night the longest walk they had 
 yet taken together. Probably neither could tell to- 
 day just how it came about, but on this occasion 
 Tom drew out of his companion some further ac- 
 count of his childhood. 
 
 Dake's father had been a sailor so young Dray- 
 cott learned who had died at sea, before his son 
 could remember him. Things had gone from bad to 
 worse with the widow, until at last she turned to 
 whiskey as her one solace in poverty and hardship. 
 When she was herself she was tearful and remorse- 
 ful, seeking to atone by kindness for past neglect or 
 worse things. But as time went on the bondage of 
 habit grew stronger, until soul and body were utterly 
 demoralized. A besotted condition alternated with
 
 A COAT AND TROUSERS REVOLUTION 103 
 
 a frenzied one in almost regular sequence. It 
 was a wonder the boy managed to pull through 
 those early years of squalor, starvation, and cruel 
 beatings. 
 
 Kind people sometimes visited the mother and son 
 in their attic, and showed an interest in the boy. In 
 one of his mother's sober moments she had been 
 persuaded to send her son to a child's kindergarten 
 in the neighborhood. Afterwards he took his turn 
 in the public schools, where he learned to read and 
 write, and something of arithmetic and geography. 
 Then his mother found one sort or another of em- 
 ployment for her small boy, and squandered his 
 scant wages on her drams. 
 
 When he was a little past thirteen, she had a fall 
 in one of her sprees, and took to her bed. She never 
 rose from it. 
 
 Her death was probably a blessing to Dake. He 
 was alone in the world now, a mere child, to fight 
 his way unaided, by dint of his young wits and 
 muscles. It was greatly to his credit that he had 
 come up from the misery and vice of such a child- 
 hood and boyhood as clean and wholesome as he 
 seemed in mind and body no taint in his blood, 
 no smirch in his talk. 
 
 This struck Tom, who made a tentative inq'uiry or 
 two in that direction. 
 
 " I wonder, Dake, how you kept clear of of all 
 the worst things."
 
 104 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " I didn't ketch on there much," replied Date, 
 with a little involuntary movement of disgust. " Of 
 course I've been in plenty of rows, but I liked to run 
 wild too well to risk the lockup. When it came to 
 drink, I'd seen too much of that, you know. I did 
 try it, once or twice, with some cronies ; but it made 
 me horribly sick, and I swore off, as I did after I'd 
 had my second plug of tobaccer. Maybe it was my 
 tramps I was al'ays hankerin' for, that saved me from 
 gamblin' and wuss." 
 
 "It's been awfully rough on you, Dake," said 
 Tom, with a fresh access of sympathy and respect for 
 his companion. " While you were talking I was 
 wondering whether I should have come out as clean 
 from all that muck and mire. But you've got a 
 chance to make something of your life now thank 
 God for that ! " 
 
 The street-lamp shone full on Dake's face. A 
 hard, bitter, resentful look crossed it. 
 
 " Oh, as for God, I don't take any stock in him 
 no, siree ! I'm mighty doubtful whether there is one. 
 Anyhow, he ain't been inclined to do the fair thing 
 by me." 
 
 There was a little silence. Sceptical talk from 
 the standpoint of youth and inexperience was nothing 
 novel to Tom Draycott, but anything of precisely 
 this sort had never come in his way: he was sure 
 that wrong words would be worse than none. His 
 rejoinder at last had little of his young absoluteness.
 
 A COAT AND TROUSERS REVOLUTION 105 
 
 "No doubt in your case I should feel like you, 
 Dake, but there is something more to be said on 
 this matter." 
 
 " It's natural you should think that way, Mr. Dray- 
 cott. I might, too, if I stood in your shoes." 
 
 " Oh, confound that mister ! From this moment 
 it's to be tabooed between you and me. Do you 
 understand, and will you obey, Dake Cramley ? " 
 
 " There's no other way for me, you know, Dray- 
 cott ! " replied Dake, with a shy, pleased kind of 
 laugh. 
 
 " Well, then, that's settled. Now, to return to 
 our talk. It doesn't seem the square thing on your 
 side, I admit. I've been a lazy, luxurious rascal, 
 with all the prizes for my share, while you've faced 
 the hard knocks and the rough weather. There it is 
 in a nutshell. I don't pretend to fathom it; I can't 
 explain any more than you what it means. But 
 there's just one plank to cling to when all the rest 
 goes to wreck. If there is a God you must be his 
 child as much as I am, and of course he must care 
 for you too." 
 
 " Mighty curi's way he's taken of showin' it," 
 interpolated Dake, in a tone balanced between scepti- 
 cism and indignation. Tom had never heard any- 
 thing like that from him before. 
 
 " It does look so. We can't shirk facts. But you 
 want to be rock-sure before you lay this big heap of 
 trouble at God's door ! "
 
 106 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " And where else is a fellow to lay it ? " with a 
 kind of passionate fierceness. 
 
 " That might take hours to answer ; but it strikes 
 me a good many people and circumstances have had 
 a hand in your hard lines. Isn't it just conceivable 
 that God may have meant well by you from the 
 beginning means it still ? Can't we give him the 
 benefit of a doubt?" 
 
 The words came to Tom Draycott almost as though 
 another were speaking through him. He had not 
 started with any notion of getting up a religious 
 argument; indeed, his own ideas and opinions on 
 these and related matters were in a state of more or 
 less confusion and chaos at this time. But he was 
 very sorry for Dake, and his heart more than his 
 brain had been in these questions, which seemed so 
 simple and true as they came up to him. 
 
 But the words struck to live, quivering fibres in the 
 soul of his companion. All Dake's past, all his 
 childhood's suffering and wretchedness, all the old 
 inarticulate sense of some mighty Power in things, 
 in the universe, hostile, malevolent, vindictive, which 
 haunts the imagination and hardens the heart of 
 the wronged and helpless, rose up now in the soul 
 of Dake Cramley. He stood still, his jaw was set, 
 his eyes had a fierce gleam. 
 
 " No ! " The negative rang out charged with 
 passionate feeling. " You can't show me a peg to 
 hang a doubt on. If everything's been ag'inst me,
 
 A COAT AND TROUSERS REVOLUTION 107 
 
 why didn't God make it different ? Why didn't he 
 give me a chance as he has you? " 
 
 Challenged in this way, by a soul stung and 
 goaded by its long sense of wrong and injustice, 
 young Draycott's powers of argument failed him; 
 but his heart was very much alive, and that forced 
 his reply. 
 
 " My dear fellow, no man, only God himself, could 
 answer that question, and he will take his own time 
 and way to do it." 
 
 " And until he does that in a way likely to convince 
 me, the best thing I can do for him is to believe that 
 he's nothin', nor nowhere. So far as he's concerned 
 it's all a big sham, anyhow." 
 
 The tones, half scoffing, half sneering, suited the 
 words. The mouth, where the fresh-sprouting beard 
 was beginning to show darkly, wore a hard, bitter 
 expression. The boy snapped his fingers scornfully 
 in the air. 
 
 "I suppose we might go on arguing until the 
 crack of doom, and it would do no good," subjoined 
 Tom, feeling rather helpless and defeated. In a 
 moment, however, he continued with a fresh access 
 of energy and decision : 
 
 " But as for God's letting you go to the dogs and 
 not caring, and making a pampered favorite of me 
 I don't believe it. I tell you Dake Cramley, in 
 face of all your facts, I won't believe it. That 
 part is all rot. I might be a selfish dog enough to
 
 108 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 make the most of my own share ; but what could I 
 think of a God who calls himself Father, and cares 
 for only a part of his children ? " 
 
 In the wavering street-light, it seemed to Tom 
 that Dake's face softened a little. 
 
 " Besides, he did try to start you \vell, or you 
 wouldn't -have come up the solid, vigorous, healthy 
 fellow who stands in your boots to-night. I know 
 things got into a bad tangle for you early ; but the 
 world, at any rate, is a good place. You must own 
 that, when you remember how often you've got out of 
 the slums which God didn't make, and had a jolly 
 day in the woods which he did.'''' 
 
 Dake laughed here a short, amused laugh, which 
 showed the lessened tension of his feelings. 
 
 " I won't deny the jolly days, but it never struck 
 me God had any hand in them." 
 
 " There again, don't you see, you may not have 
 been quite fair to him. Then, I think this is a 
 glorious old night, with the stars up there in the 
 sky. I'm enjoying it for my part hugely." 
 
 " Oh, I ketch on there, Draycott ! " responded Dake 
 fervently. " It is a good night, the best, take it all 
 together, I ever had in my life, and I owe it to you." 
 
 " Well, then, are you sure hang it all, Dake I 
 am not much, and anyhow, a fellow doesn't want to 
 put it in words ; but you know what I mean?" 
 
 Dake turned eyes alive with loyal devotion on Tom 
 Draycott.
 
 A COAT AND TROUSERS REVOLUTION 109 
 
 " If I thought God had anything to do with bring- 
 ing you in my way, I'd think lots of him all the rest 
 of my life ! " 
 
 Tom tried to turn it off lightly. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you set all that store by 
 me ? " speaking the thing which came uppermost. 
 
 But the tide which swelled now in Dake's soul 
 bore down all his shyness, all his life-long habit of 
 self -repression. 
 
 " Draycott," he said, his voice not quite steady, 
 " you've been the best thing that ever came to me in 
 this world, better than anything I ever dreamed of. 
 You talk about God if he'd been as good to me as 
 you have, there's nothin' in the world he could want 
 me to be or do for him, that I wouldn't 4$ tand up all- 
 fired quick and say, ' Here's your man ! ' : 
 
 Tom Draycott looked at the youth swinging along 
 by his side, and he had a curious, half awesome feel- 
 ing that, in some faint shadowy way, he had come 
 nearer to representing God's love and pity to Dake 
 Cramley than anything else in the world he, 
 Tom Draycott ! 
 
 By this time it had grown quite late. The two 
 had walked far out on Beacon Street, and when they 
 turned at last and retraced their steps, they only 
 broke the silence occasionally with some ordinary 
 remark. 
 
 Sometimes a policeman glanced at the two, but 
 there was nothing now in Dake's dress or appear-
 
 110 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 ance which set the other to wondering how the pair 
 could be chums. 
 
 As they drew near the bridge, Tom saw the Har- 
 vard car. They wrung each other's hands and parted. 
 But Dake stood motionless, watching the car bearing 
 away the only friend he had on earth, until it had 
 quite disappeared. 
 
 There was only a handful of people inside. Tom 
 shot a glance over them, and was relieved to find 
 they did not include any of his classmates. He was 
 in no mood for the usual Sophomore talk and hilar- 
 ity. He threw himself into a corner, and he said to 
 himself : 
 
 " You are the most colossal hypocrite on this 
 planet, Tom Draycott! Talking religion to that 
 poor fellow, in a way which would have done credit 
 to some cut-and-dried old Puritan ! What would 
 Dorothy think! What a stupendous joke it would 
 all be to your classmates ! Are you the most arrant 
 humbug in the world, and has it cropped out to- 
 night for the first time ? " 
 
 But though young Draycott was thoroughly honest 
 when he berated himself in this fashion, he could not 
 feel a twinge of remorse. In his deepest conscious- 
 ness, he knew that he had felt every word which he 
 had spoken to Dake Cramley.
 
 KEYNOTES AND QUICKSANDS 111 
 
 XIII 
 
 KEYNOTES AND QUICKSANDS 
 
 THE weeks wore on. The skies of the New Eng- 
 land May deepened into sapphire, and the fresh ver- 
 dure, a great emerald sea, swept over the land. 
 The violets unclosed their blue, prayerful eyes in the 
 woods; the dandelions' yellow bravery began to glit- 
 ter in the grass by the roadsides ; the clean, sweet 
 scent of the lilacs, the rich honeyed breath of the 
 syringas, mingled in the air. 
 
 The year seemed to take up all things, even 
 human hearts, into its youth and gayety. The 
 earth decked all its brown bareness with flower-bro- 
 caded tapestries to greet the advancing June. 
 
 During these days Tom Draycott and Dake Cram- 
 ley met occasionally. As the Sophomore year drew 
 to its close, the former's time was consumed by all 
 sorts of college matters. Between digging for ex- 
 aminations, foot-ball games, rowing matches, bicycle 
 races, and the thousand things which fire the Sopho- 
 more heart and absorb the Sophomore mind, Tom 
 found it difficult to command an hour for himself 
 merely, out of the twenty-four. He insisted to the 
 house-audience, composed of Dorothy and Mrs.
 
 112 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 Dayles, that no beast of burden was driven and 
 goaded as he was, and that, with his breathless days 
 and nights, the flesh was actually dropping from his 
 bones. 
 
 He managed in this way to elicit considerable sym- 
 pathy, although the highly-colored rhetoric was, of 
 course, received with due grains of allowance. 
 
 But the demands on young Draycott's time were 
 not, at this period, confined to the college. The 
 young people in the vicinity of Red Knolls organ- 
 ized all sorts of spring gatherings and merrymakings. 
 Tableaus, lawn parties, private theatricals, informal 
 festivals, followed each other in graceful and pictur- 
 esque sequence, 
 
 Tom was a favorite with women and girls. He 
 was considered a great card at all these junketings. 
 Some robust morale, perhaps, saved his head from 
 being turned by the flatteries. He had beside, at 
 this particular phase of adolescence, a tolerant, good- 
 natured indifference to all youthful femininity. 
 Dorothy, who was held responsible for her brother's 
 presence on these occasions, found her task no sine- 
 cure. Of course, she confided her vexations to Mrs. 
 Dayles, when the pair were alone together. 
 
 " Girls without brothers have no idea what sisters 
 with them have to undergo ! I shiver inwardly 
 whenever I see Tom Draycott's name on a fresh card 
 of invitation. I know perfectly what that means 
 for me. He is sure to protest, and vow off-hand he
 
 KEYNOTES AND QUICKSANDS 113 
 
 won't stir an inch ; and then such a time as I have, 
 coaxing and reasoning, and stroking his fur the right 
 way, and holding my tongue and my temper, until at 
 last he goes off with a kind of grunt which I take for 
 a promise, and act on it before he can revoke any- 
 thing!" 
 
 " But you know, my dear," said the soft elder 
 voice, " he is at his wits' end just at this time, and 
 we must make allowance." 
 
 " Of course we must, Nanty Dayles." 
 
 Dorothy waltzed across the room, her eyes spark- 
 ling with fun and laughter, and gave the elder 
 woman a hearty, girlish hug. " As though I envied 
 the girls who hadn't brothers, or didn't know that 
 Tom was the most aggravating, mulish, dearest, best- 
 hearted fellow in the world ! " 
 
 During this time of high pressure and multiform 
 interests, young Draycott did not forget Dake Cram- 
 ley. Tom had a feeling perhaps only half analyzed 
 that he held to that youth a relation which he did 
 not to any other creature in the universe. 
 
 Tom was perfectly aware, too, he was the only per- 
 son whom Dake really loved absolutely believed 
 in. He had seen that in his eyes which made him 
 certain that Dake would, on occasion, lay down his 
 life for him. Such a consciousness cannot fail to 
 touch a generous nature, and you must have discov- 
 ered before this time much that was generous and 
 noble in Tom Draycott's make-up. He felt largely
 
 114 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 responsible for Dake's happiness for his future; 
 and there was mingled with the feeling a certain un- 
 conscious sense of gratitude for the other's worshipful 
 affection. The thought of the immense contrast be- 
 tween his real self and Dake's estimate of him had a 
 wholesome influence on the natural conceit and arro- 
 gance of youth. Indeed, Tom Draycott was at his 
 best -when he thought of Dake Cramley, or was with 
 him. 
 
 So, despite the pace which he held at this time, the 
 young man managed occasionally to " sandwich in an 
 hour for a run over the Charles and a walk with Dake 
 Cramley." 
 
 Tom was struck, as their acquaintance grew, by 
 the flashes of mother-wit, by the odd humor and the 
 shrewd observations on men and events, which he 
 found in the boy so late emerged from the slums. 
 Plainly, he had been worth saving. 
 
 Tom made inquiries about his friend's lodgings, 
 and learned that these were satisfactory. Meredith 
 had given him a line to the landlady, which had se- 
 cured his admission to her table, and a small one- 
 windowed attic under the roof; but Dake's previous 
 habits had not inclined him to be critical, and a 
 prince might have envied his slumber on the small 
 cot. 
 
 Then, Dake Cramley had something of the freshness 
 and interest of a new " find " to the Harvard under- 
 graduate. What a fight that young fellow had made
 
 KEYNOTES AND QUICKSANDS 115 
 
 to get his bit of standing-room in the world no big, 
 warm-sheltered, soft-lined place, such as had fallen to 
 the share of Tom Draycott and his companions ! 
 
 Dake had been a newsbo}^ ; he had belonged to the 
 snow-brigade ; he had worked on the coal-wharves 
 and on the railroad. All these varied occupations 
 had toughened his muscles and sharpened his wits, 
 and given him some shrewd insight into human na- 
 ture ; indeed, he unconsciously modified some of 
 young Draycott's opinions which, with his nineteen 
 years, he had regarded fixed as the poles. 
 
 There was no obsequiousness about Dake. This 
 fact often struck Tom. The boy was as direct and 
 simple with his friend as though they stood on the 
 same social and mental plane. 
 
 Of course, there was much to criticise in his vernac- 
 ular ; but Tom was never revolted by a vulgar word 
 or idea. Whatever Dake had seen or heard in his 
 old life, no syllable ever crossed his lips which could 
 not have been repeated in the presence of Tom's 
 mother or sister. He sometimes reflected that he 
 could not have said as much for all his classmates. 
 
 Had you met the two stalwart youths in some long 
 golden twilight, striding along the Common or the 
 sidewalk, absorbed in talk, their loud, hearty laughs 
 ringing occasionally on the air, you might have 
 thought them the merriest of chums this strangely 
 assorted pair the one straight from the halls of his 
 Alma Mater, and a home atmosphere of highest refine-
 
 116 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 ment and culture, with the habits and traditions of 
 his ancestry in the very texture of his being ; while 
 his companion had been " bankrupted from his birth," 
 and nurtured amid the vice and misery of the North 
 End slums. 
 
 As to what Dake Cramley thought of Tom Dray- 
 cott but I shall leave him to speak for himself a 
 little later.
 
 THE QUIET BEFORE THE STORM 117 
 
 XIV 
 
 THE QUIET BEFORE THE STORM 
 
 THE year swept on triumphantly into June. Amid 
 the dazzling sunlight, the fragrant air, the lavish 
 bloom, of the northern summer, the days drew toward 
 the solstice. 
 
 At this time a long gap 'occurred between the 
 meetings of the young Sophomore and the ware- 
 house hand. This was inevitable. Tom was " over 
 head and ears," as he described the rush of things 
 about him, in the closing days of his Sophomore 
 year. 
 
 But Tom was now quite at ease about his proteje 
 believed that he had "secured a fine berth for him, 
 that all his future would be the smoothest kind of 
 sailing, and that lie would come out a grand fellow, 
 despite early drawbacks." 
 
 Tom's nineteen years had, of course, afforded him 
 little experience of human nature, beyond his own 
 more or less related type. He was soon to have a 
 new lesson, and a severe one ; he was to find himself 
 brought to bay by the mighty forces of heredity, 
 environment, and habit. 
 
 One day toward noon, Tom, after a rush into Bos-
 
 118 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 ton on some errand, found himself in the vicinity of 
 the warehouse of Meredith, Max, & Co. He made a 
 dash for it. 
 
 Chagrined to learn Dake was out, he seized the 
 opportunity to make some inquiries of a head work- 
 man regarding his friend. 
 
 " He's a good feller enough," said the man, star- 
 ing at Tom curiously from under his bushy, dusty 
 eyebrows, " al'ays on hand at stroke of the hour 
 goes into the work with reg'lar vim." 
 
 This report was all which could be desired, and 
 yet Tom had a feeling that the tone or manner did 
 not quite emphasize the words. He looked at the 
 rugged, honest face before him. Was the man hold- 
 ing something back ? 
 
 " That's all right so far as the work goes," said 
 Tom frankly. " But I set great store by that fellow, 
 and I should like to hear well a little more all- 
 round praise of him." 
 
 The workman adjusted the paper turban on his 
 temples. His look grew slightly more confidential. 
 "Nothin' to lay a finger on," he replied. " But he 
 seems rather an odd fish when all's said. Ready to 
 do a good turn when it comes in his way ; but keeps 
 a close mouth, and not forrard at makin' friends. 
 Seems rather gruff of late, and goes at the work as 
 though he was fightin' for his life. The way he 
 handles a heavy load has made me afear'd, sometimes, 
 he'd hurt himself."
 
 THE QTJIKT BEFORE THE STORM 119 
 
 " And that's all ? " interrogated Tom, a good deal 
 relieved. 
 
 " That's all, sir. Not a thing against him, you see, 
 only don't inarch jest in line with the others." 
 
 Tom made up his mind that Dake did not find it 
 all halcyon at the warehouse. He reflected that he 
 had been at the grind two months, with no let up. 
 
 On the spur of the moment he resolved to see 
 Dake the following evening, though that involved his 
 sacrificing a concert at Sanders Theatre. 
 
 He whipped out his pad, scribbled a few lines to 
 Dake, appointing a meeting for the next night. 
 
 In the late summer dusk, Tom Draycott turned 
 into the Common. He glanced at the west. Vast 
 heaps of bronze-colored clouds lay there, their edges 
 glowing with vivid pink and fiery gold. 
 
 The young figure in its gray suit, familiar now, 
 rose from a bench near the entrance and approached. 
 
 " Hullo, Dake ! Awfully glad to see you. Couldn't 
 screw out a minute for you all this time. Hard lines 
 for a fellow just now at Harvard." 
 
 It was pleasant to hear the old hearty tones. 
 Dake's eyes had not worn so bright a look for a 
 week. 
 
 They turned together out of the Common. If Tom 
 found the interval long since their last meeting, he 
 little suspected what slow-wearing aeons it had 
 seemed to his comrade. 
 
 As they drew under a street-lamp, Tom bent a
 
 120 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN'' 
 
 sharp, interrogative glance at his companion. It 
 struck him Dake had grown rather thin, and that lie 
 had a wearied, half-sullen look ; but the light glanced 
 and was gone, and Tom was not certain. 
 
 " Things jolly as ever at the warehouse ? " he asked 
 tentatively. 
 
 " Nothin' to find fault with," replied Dake in his 
 most staccato style. 
 
 " This sort of weather must be rough on you down 
 there." 
 
 " Hot as blazes to-day ; but I don't mind," sub- 
 joined Dake. 
 
 " It hasn't been cool at Cambridge. Mercury got 
 into the nineties. I say, they ought to let up on you 
 fellows through the dog-days." 
 
 " That's what they're goin' to do." 
 
 Dake's voice did not indicate that the prospect 
 afforded him much pleasure. 
 
 Neither of the young men was up to his usual 
 plane of talk. Each was conscious of this in the 
 other; and each attributed it to the influences of the 
 night, which were singularly close and depressing. 
 
 Young Draycott was fatigued with the strain of 
 the last weeks, and in no mood for personal inquisi- 
 tion ; while Dake, with an occasional effort to keep 
 up his share in the conversation, was mostly mono- 
 syllabic. 
 
 At last Tom did break out with a good deal of 
 verve.
 
 THE QUIET BEFORE THE STORM 121 
 
 " I see how it is, old boy. You are having too 
 hard a grind just now ; you ought to let up steam a 
 little. One of these days you must get an afternoon 
 off, and well have a tramp in Middlesex Fells. 
 Won't that be jolly ?" 
 
 "Powerful," responded Dake, and all the old grate- 
 ful devotion was in the glance which he shot up at 
 Tom Draycott. 
 
 It went, as it always did, to some secret place, 
 quick and warm, in the other's heart. 
 
 " You see, Dake, I sha'n't let you slide not an 
 inch," he continued earnestly, " though at this par- 
 ticular crisis I have about as much freedom as a 
 hard-driven dray-horse. But I sha'n't go at this gait 
 much longer, and then you and I will have our 
 turn." 
 
 The two had walked to the Harvard Bridge. 
 Tom's hour was up. His car came along. He 
 boarded it, shouting back to Dake, " Keep a brave 
 heart, old fellow ! if any trouble turns up, I'll see 
 you through." 
 
 With the kind, cheer}'-, confident voice ringing in 
 his ears and heart, Dake Cramley stood still and 
 watched the moving car-light until it grew dim and 
 disappeared. Afterward he turned and gazed at the 
 steel-gray waters of -the Charles as they tumbled past 
 him under the stars ; he set his jaw hard, and there 
 was a fierce gleam in his eyes. The water seemed 
 to fascinate him.
 
 122 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 At last, and with a sudden start, and hard-drawn 
 breaths, like one who wakes from a nightmare, he 
 turned and walked swiftly away as though from- some 
 fear that pursued and haunted him. But life was 
 quick and bounding in every vein of Dake Cramley's 
 body. The temptation was over for that time.
 
 A JULY NIGHT'S CRISIS 123 
 
 XV 
 
 A JULY NIGHT'S CRISIS 
 
 THE summer solstice had passed. 
 
 Class Day, with all its gay scenes, its crowds and 
 excitements, its reunions and partings, was over now. 
 The old college buildings, which had echoed so late 
 to the loud mirth and the ringing tread of young 
 manhood in its heyday of life and joy, were left to 
 silence and sunshine for the rest of the dog-days. 
 The only sounds now were the summer winds dream- 
 ing among the ancient elm boughs ; the fairest sights 
 now were the long, pensive elm shadows stretching 
 themselves on the sward over which joyous groups, 
 made up of gallant youths, and girlhood in its loveli- 
 est blossoming, had so recently loitered. 
 
 Tom Draycott had passed through the dreaded 
 " exams " with credit to himself, and was now a 
 Junior a fact which afforded an opportunity for 
 endless quizzing on the part of his sister. 
 
 It was sometime in early July before he saw Dake 
 Cramley again. After several days of fiery, prostrat- 
 ing heat, which had scorched the air and parched the 
 land, the east wind blew agaiiij and the city, which 
 had wilted under the sultry days and nights, lay
 
 124 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 cooled and rejoicing in the sweet breath from the 
 sea. 
 
 All Boston which had not rushed to the shore or 
 the mountains was out that night drinking in the 
 grateful breeze. 
 
 After the first greeting on the mall, young Dray- 
 cott had a prescient instinct that all was not well 
 with his friend. The people crowding the sidewalks 
 would interfere with conversation. Tom proposed 
 they should turn into the Public Garden, where, after 
 a brief search, they found a bench to themselves. 
 
 As they crossed a shaft of light, Tom had darted a 
 penetrating glance at his companion's face. There 
 was no doubt now that it had grown thin, and some- 
 thing had gone out of it, out of the boy's gait and 
 tone too. 
 
 " Well," Tom began in the old familiar way, as 
 soon as they were seated, " things gone smoothly all 
 this time when I couldn't get round to you? " 
 
 " Nothin's happened, special," said Dake with a 
 glum air ; and he stared down at his boots. 
 
 "We've had torrid weather enough to take the 
 heart out of anything. I hope they haven't kept you 
 at the grind through it." 
 
 " No ; they let us up a good deal. But I didn't 
 mind ; I'd as lief keep at the work." 
 
 " That's plucky, Dake." Then, after a few mo- 
 ments' pause, Tom turned suddenly, and laid his 
 hand on the other's knee. "Something's the mat- 
 ter," he said. " Make a clean breast of it."
 
 A JULY NIGHT'S CRISIS 125 
 
 Dake turned and faced his companion silently for 
 a few moments. In the shadows, Tom could not see 
 what the eyes said ; but he waited rather breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 At last the words came, few, but straight to the 
 point. 
 
 " Yes ; something has happened. I've got to clear 
 out, Draycott ! " 
 
 " Clear out ! " 
 
 " I've got to leave the work ! " 
 
 " What have you been doing, Dake ? " 
 
 It was natural, considering the past, that Tom's 
 suspicions should point in one direction. Dake saw 
 what this question meant. He did not resent it. 
 Indeed, he seemed incapable of resenting anything 
 to-night. 
 
 "No," he said; "it's nothing of that sort. I've 
 got a clean record at the warehouse. They'll tell 
 you so." 
 
 He spoke now with an energy and earnestness 
 which forced conviction on his hearer. 
 
 " Anybody been setting on you ? ' ' 
 
 " No ; I've no complaint to make. They've al'ays 
 treated me on the square." 
 
 " Ajid nobody wants you to go? " 
 
 "No reason in the world to think so." 
 
 " And do you mean to tell me, Dake Cramley, that, 
 for no cause whatever, you intend to turn your back 
 on such a berth cut the chance of your life-time?"
 
 126 " SIES, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " I knew you couldn't understand, Draycott," the 
 old hopeless tone and manner reasserting themselves, 
 the eyes once more on his boots. " But I've got to 
 go. I should have done that weeks ago, as soon as 
 the clothes was fairly paid up for, but I've kept on 
 jest to see you once more, so that you'd remember I 
 didn't go off like a sneak, without telling you." 
 
 " What are you going for, Dake ? " touched, in 
 spite of his waxing anger, by this last remark. 
 
 " I'm goin' because I can't help it," the voice broke 
 out now, hoarse and a-quiver with passion. " I can't 
 stand it any longer. That steady grind, day after 
 day, week after week, and no change, is more than I 
 can bear. It seems as though I should go mad under 
 it, and kill myself, or'somebody else. My blood gets 
 ragin'. I've got to clear out ! " he repeated with a 
 dogged air, his voice thick with suppressed passion. 
 "I tell you I've got to clear out! " 
 
 " And where do you propose to go ? " 
 
 " I shall set out for the woods. I shall prowl round 
 and round 'em, and no man my master. I know now 
 how Avild things feel. Of course you can't under- 
 stand. You was brought up diff'rent. But it's in 
 my blood and bones. I thought I could stand the 
 pull ; I tried to honest, I did. But I found it was 
 too much for me." 
 
 " And so," Tom rejoined in a hard, unsympathetic 
 voice, " you propose to run off now from the best luck 
 that ever came to a fellow in your shoes ; you pro-
 
 A JULY NIGHT'S CRISIS 127 
 
 pose to turn your back on every friend you've got, 
 on your one chance to mount the ladder, to make 
 an honest man of yourself ; and you intend to do all 
 this in order to scour the woods, to turn tramp and 
 vagabond again, to be homeless and starved and 
 ragged, in short, to go back to the devil you came 
 from ! " 
 
 " I knew it would look like that to you," Dake re- 
 plied in a sullen, despairing tone. "P'rhaps I'd 
 better cleared out and not told you." 
 
 All Tom's faith in Dake Cramley went to pieces, 
 or seemed to, on the instant. The shock was so sud- 
 den, the disappointment so bitter, that speech did 
 not have way at first only thoughts that stung and 
 rankled. 
 
 " What a head and crown of idiots he had proved 
 himself he, posing for a philanthropist, and imagin- 
 ing he could smooth down this cub of the slums 
 this creature with his wild beast instincts clamoring 
 to roam the woods and the jungles into a civilized, 
 respectable human being ! A fellow who had done 
 his best to knock him down and rob him on the high- 
 way too ! " Tom felt he himself deserved to be set 
 in the stocks. 
 
 Then speech had its turn. It was not long. The 
 voice had a ring of hard, scornful irony ; the words 
 came from a white heat of passion. 
 
 " As it appears, you are deliberately bound to go 
 to the dogs, I suppose nobody can help you. Per-
 
 128 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 haps the sooner you take yourself out of decent peo- 
 ple's way the better. But you may be sure, Dake 
 Cramley, I have had my lesson. The next time I 
 keep a fellow out of the lockup and raise him from 
 the slums, and he succeeds in playing your game on 
 me, I shall be older than I am now that is all ! " 
 
 While he spoke he had risen. Dake rose also. 
 
 " I ain't anything to say for myself, Draycott," 
 he began in a slow, husky voice, which gradually 
 cleared and deepened with intense feeling. " It 
 wouldn't do any good, but, though I am bound to go 
 to the dogs, as you say, I shall al'ays know you 
 wanted to save me; you did your best for me; you 
 was the one real friend I had in the world ! " 
 
 He had moved a little while he spoke, and the light 
 struck his face. One, seeing the look in his eyes 
 as lie bent them on Tom, might have thought of a 
 spirit turning away from the threshold of heaven into 
 the outer darkness. 
 
 Then lie too turned and walked rapidly away. 
 Tom Draycott stood still. He had heard the words ; 
 he had seen the look. Both had gone straight as an 
 arrow to all that was generous and noble in his 
 young, fiery nature. The reaction of feeling was 
 swift, immense. A great rush of pity swept away 
 the wrath which had worked in heart and brain. 
 His last words to Dake came up now, and seemed to 
 fill the air with their stern, pitiless ultimatum. 
 Could he let the boy go away forever with that look
 
 129 
 
 in his eyes ? It would haunt him through all his 
 future ! 
 
 He must find him at once. Moments were pre- 
 cious now. If he lost sight of him to-night, he might 
 never see him again. 
 
 Tom rushed out of the Public Garden.
 
 130 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 XVI 
 
 THE QUIET AFTER THE STORM 
 
 YOTJNG Draycott dashed along the sidewalk at a 
 speed which came near upsetting some of the saun- 
 tering crowd. He did riot pause to apologize ; he 
 was ready to face armies now for a glimpse of that 
 half-boyish figure with the strong, erect shoulders 
 and the rapid gait. Tom held himself steadily along 
 Tremont Street, glancing up the thoroughfares at 
 right angles. He was not at all certain he was on 
 the right track ; he had no definite knowledge of 
 Pake's lodgings. It was quite conceivable, Tom 
 reflected, that, wretched and desperate, he might at 
 once set out for the country. 
 
 Tom had kept on for half a mile, when he caught 
 a glimpse some distance off of the figure he was 
 seeking. The crowds masked it the next moment, 
 but Tom dashed over the curbstone and rushed 
 toward it. 
 
 Dake was forging ahead from mere force of habit 
 toward his boarding-place. Whatever plans he had 
 formed, he was plunged in too deep wretchedness to 
 attempt carrying them out that night. 
 
 A sudden imperative touch was on his shoulder. 
 He started, and saw Tom Draycott.
 
 THE QUIET AFTER THE STORM 131 
 
 " Come back, Dake ! " said the kindly, resolute 
 voice, which had been for months the sweetest sound 
 in the world to the other's ears. " I've had a hard 
 race for you." 
 
 Dake faced about without a word, but the next 
 instant he staggered. Tom noticed that, and slipped 
 his arm in the other's. They went back to their old 
 rendezvous in the Public Garden. 
 
 All young Draycott's will was in arms now that 
 strong, defiant will of youth, which believes that no 
 obstacle can daunt it, no hostility vanquish it, no fate 
 compel it. 
 
 The two stood still under the elms. The lights at 
 their feet were enmeshed with shadows. The winds 
 drowsed in the branches overhead. 
 
 Tom's feeling burst into eager speech. 
 
 " You mustn't mind what I said just now, Dake. 
 I was horribly disappointed and angry, and it all had 
 to come out at one blast." 
 
 "I didn't mind," rejoined Dake earnestly. "I've 
 been sayin' harder things of myself for weeks past." 
 
 " Well," continued Tom in his impetuous fashion, 
 " the thing now is to find our way out of these 
 woods. I sha'n't give you up, Dake Cramley. 
 That fact is fixed as the eternal hills. I am going to 
 keep a grip on you like grim death ! " 
 
 There was a momentary glimmer of amusement in 
 Dake's eyes. Something like a smile unbent the 
 hard lines of his mouth.
 
 132 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " You are the best fellow in the world, Draycott. 
 But you see, at the last pinch, it all comes down to 
 myself. Nobody can do it for me." 
 
 " That is the sensible thing to say, only I wish 
 you would put a little more vim into it." 
 
 They had dropped on the bench now, and the 
 leaves overhead danced in the rising breeze, and 
 the shadows and the lights flickered at their feet. 
 
 Dake turned and looked at his companion silently. 
 Then all the pent-up struggle and misery of the last 
 weeks broke into a swelling flood of passionate 
 speech. 
 
 " I have tried, Draycott. God if there is one 
 knows I am telling you the truth. When I first felt 
 it comin' on, I braced up and swore I'd stick to the 
 work if I died for it. Day after day when it grew 
 wuss, I held on, until it seemed I should go mad, and 
 I wished I could throw myself into the river and 
 make an end of it. The only thing that kept me at 
 the treadmill so long, was thinkin' of you. I said I'd 
 be the biggest scoundrel that ever went unhung, if I 
 run off after all the pains you'd taken for me. Why, 
 the meanest cur you ever flung a bone to wouldn't 
 have done that ! Do you think I didn't remember ? " 
 His voice trembled, his features worked. " Do you 
 think I didn't know when you met me that day on 
 the street, and I wanted to sink into the earth for 
 shame of my old duds, and you stopped and shook 
 hands so hearty as though I'd been a spick and span
 
 THE QUIET AFTER THE STORM 133 
 
 dandy, and you called me your friend to that big 
 swell standin' by, and stariu', and wonderin' what it 
 all meant ? It wasn't because I didn't cuss myself 
 every time for thinkin' of clearin' out; but you can't 
 tell what it is to a fellow who's been used all his life 
 to loafin' and trampin' until it's got into his bones 
 and blood, to be shut up between brick walls, day 
 after day. He gits to loathe the work, to feel he 
 must quit it or die. You don't know; you're used 
 to reg'lar habits and hours. All that's in your blood 
 too, but mine's of another strain. It's what you call 
 heredity. I heard a man give a talk on it once, and 
 I came away at the end sayin', ' The poor fellers 
 that train in my company aint got much of a chance 
 anyhow.' ' 
 
 " Oh, hang your heredity ! " exploded Tom, who 
 was reading a new chapter in human nature, and 
 gaining some fresh insight into all his companion had 
 suffered, and of course a livelier sympathy with it. 
 " I see it was all a huge mistake," he continued in a 
 softer tone, " to set you at the grindstone day after 
 day. It was too sudden a change from all your old 
 habits and ways. It was only natural you should 
 kick. But, for all that," his voice deepened and 
 grew tense, " I shall not give you up not much ! " 
 
 " Why do you care, Draycott ? I ain't wuth it. 
 You better let me slide." 
 
 " I haven't analyzed the feeling, but it comes down 
 to this I am going to save you ! Do you under- 
 stand?"
 
 134 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 He rose now, and stood silent a moment or two, 
 looking down on Dake Cramley. Tom's face was 
 white, his jaw was set. A mighty force, a great 
 pity, inspired his will, and expanded his stalwart 
 frame. 
 
 "No, sir," came the low-keyed, dominant voice. 
 " I won't lose you, Dake Cramley, if I have to fight 
 every devil in Inferno to save you ! " 
 
 Half an hour later, young Draycott was saying in 
 the most quiet, reasonable tone, 
 
 " I see where a good deal of the trouble hinges. 
 You need some change some fresh interest to take 
 you out of this groove. You've nobody to care 
 for, but one feather-brained fellow who can only 
 snatch an occasional hour at night to see you. If 
 you could only catch on to somebody who would stir 
 you up every day, and give you something to think 
 about, you wouldn't have slumped so." 
 
 " P'rhaps ; I don't know," commented Dake hope- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Well, it's plain to me as daylight. But I can't 
 decide on the spur of the moment. Then, I've got to 
 be off for a week in the country with my sister. 
 We start to-morrow. It's unlucky it's come just at 
 this time, but I can't cut things. Can you promise, 
 word and honor now, to stick to the warehouse 
 until I return ? If you can't, by Jove, I'll knock 
 you down senseless, and have you locked up for the
 
 THE QUIET AFTER THE STORM 135 
 
 next week in a private room where nobody will find 
 you ! I know a fellow who will see me through it 
 too ! " thinking of Steve, the trusty factotum at Red 
 Knolls. " You see, Dake, Fin in life-and-dcath 
 earnest about this matter ! '' 
 
 " I see you are, Draycott," setting his jaws hard, 
 and looking square in Tom's eyes. " I'll promise 
 you. It seems easy enough to do that now, after our 
 talk. But if the old madness for the fields and the 
 woods and the jolly freedom and the devil-may-care 
 life comes back I'll fight it out." 
 
 " Ah, Dake, can I trust you ? Can you trust your- 
 self ?" almost groaned Tom, laying his hand on the 
 other's knee. 
 
 The youth placed his big palm on Tom's hand. 
 
 " I'll stay if it kills me," he said solemnly. 
 
 They moved together to the entrance. On the 
 sidewalk the crowds were getting thin. The night 
 was growing late. They grasped each other's hands, 
 looked again in each other's eyes, and parted with- 
 out a word one for his small close room under the 
 attic roof, the other for his spacious, handsomely 
 appointed chamber at Red Knolls. 
 
 But that had happened, which, if the two lived to 
 be old men, would make one July night dwell for- 
 ever in their memories.
 
 136 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 XVII 
 
 A NORTH END DRAMA 
 
 THE fever that was like a consuming fire in pulse 
 and brain, the hunger, like the fierce clamoring in- 
 stinct of the chained wild beast, for the woods and 
 the wide spaces, and the old sweet life of roaming 
 freedom, were coming back again. Dake Cramley 
 knew the signs. For three days, under the potent 
 spell of one memory, he had kept the tumult at bay. 
 
 That evening, his supper finished, he went out for 
 a walk. The dusk was slowly gathering in the 
 summer air. The light wind which had cooled the 
 day had gone down with the sunset. 
 
 Dake unconsciously took his way to the North 
 End. He had of late kept clear of his former haunts, 
 but in his gloom and restlessness old habits asserted 
 themselves. He moved rapidly along through the 
 narrow streets, the unsavory smells, the gathering 
 groups of unkempt men and women. Some of these 
 stared curiously at the youth ; for his dress, even his 
 gait and air, suggested a respectability not indige- 
 nous to that locality. By this time the lights were 
 beginning to flare through the dingy windows and 
 open doors of the saloons. Loud, coarse voices in
 
 A NORTH END DRAMA 137 
 
 talk alternated with shouts of ribald jest and mirth. 
 The narrow, untidy thoroughfare was lined with 
 huddled, decaying houses and tumble-down rooker- 
 ies. He passed groups men and women with 
 bold, leering glances or dull, besotted faces. The 
 general disorder, the squalor, the stifling, noisome 
 scents, above all, the humanity, soiled, debased, vi- 
 cious, showed that Dake Cramley had strayed into one 
 of the lowest quarters of the North End. Absorbed 
 in his thoughts, he had not been conscious where his 
 steps were tending ; and when he awoke to his envi- 
 ronment, not an unfamiliar one in his boyhood, 
 all his finer instincts revolted. He turned sharply on 
 his heel. He was not really alarmed ; he had a good 
 deal of reliance, when it came to the pinch, on his 
 own muscles ; but he preferred to avoid any chance 
 of bringing these into play ; and he was quite sure 
 the locality was not one in which respectable people 
 were inclined to venture after dusk. He had gone 
 only a few paces when he stopped sharply. A cry 
 had arrested him a child's cry, wild with pain and 
 terror. The next moment a tiny figure staggered 
 blindly out of the narrow, cluttered alley on his right. 
 The small white face, the big, strained eyes, with the 
 fright and horror in them, must have moved any 
 heart which held one lingering fibre of human pity. 
 
 A long red gash, from which the blood made a 
 slow, trickling stream, curved dangerously near the 
 temple. The hair, a heap of soft, shining gold, hung
 
 138 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 about the peaked face. Had Dake been more famil- 
 iar with the canvases of the old masters, he would 
 have thought of saints and aureoles. 
 
 He had barely time to take in the small figure as 
 the child, in her wild effort to escape, drew near with- 
 out perceiving him, when another form emerged from 
 the alley. 
 
 It was that of a heavy-built, stumbling man, with a 
 big, blotched, drink-sodden face, a coarse, ragged 
 beard, and an ugly gleam at that moment in his 
 bloodshot eyes. He carried a small cowhide in one 
 hand, and he was growling and swearing to himself 
 as he glanced stupidly, but with some malicious in- 
 tent, around him. Then, catching sight of the girl, 
 he reeled toward her with loud curses and uplifted 
 whip. 
 
 Swift as lightning Dake sprang forward, grasped 
 the child in one arm, and then turned and confronted 
 the man, with a rage in his veins which gave him the 
 strength of ten. 
 
 The bloodshot eyes stared in wrathful amazement 
 at this new appearance on the scene. It was a force 
 with which the man had not counted, and it required 
 some moments for his fuddled wits to adjust them- 
 selves to the new situation. But the early, ugly phase 
 of intoxication was uppermost ; and he balanced him- 
 self on rather unsteady feet and shouted hoarsely, 
 
 " What business you with that brat, I say ? Let 
 her down in a trice, or she won't be the only one 
 that'll git a big wolloppin'."
 
 A NORTH END DRAMA 189 
 
 A volley of oaths followed this threat. 
 
 It was time to act now. Dake gathered the little 
 palpitating creature close with one strong arm, and 
 drew up with clenched hand and blazing eyes to the 
 enemy. 
 
 " Strike her one blow, you brute," he said in a 
 low, determined voice, "and I'll smash your face 
 into such shape that you'll never be able to get it 
 right again." 
 
 It was the talk of the slums, but it was in a good 
 cause this time. 
 
 With that fiery gaze, with that big, clenched hand 
 under his eyes, the coward at bottom of the brute 
 was a good deal startled. He tried to bluff it out 
 however. He swore, and swung the cowhide threat- 
 eningly, while Dake kept him at bay with one powerful 
 arm, the frightened, sobbing creature held meanwhile, 
 as in a vice, by the other. 
 
 By this time a small, curious crowd of men and 
 women had congregated. No words were needed. 
 The scene before their eyes explained itself. There 
 were fathers and mothers in that frowsy, unsavory 
 group. Dake's youth, and the child in his arms with 
 the cruel, disfiguring gash, formed an object lesson 
 which appealed to primeval sympathies, and carried 
 the crowd in his favor. 
 
 By slaps on his shoulder, by trenchant speeches, 
 too often interlarded with oaths, by the women's 
 pitying ejaculations, as they gazed on the gashed fore-
 
 140 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 head, the crowd expressed its unanimous sentiments. 
 Threatening looks and menacing gestures were freely 
 lavished on the cause of this excitement. These 
 people were in a mood likely to become dangerous. 
 
 " Ride his old carcass on a rail ! " suggested one. 
 
 " Treat it to a thick coat of tar and feathers ! " re- 
 joined another. 
 
 " His own child too ! " This last interjection 
 came from one of the women. 
 
 The pointed threats began at last to have some 
 effect on their object. 
 
 " That's good ! " he chuckled hoarsely. Then, 
 clutching his ragged beard with a hiccoughy laugh, 
 he went on. 
 
 "I've no more property in the brat than you have. 
 She ain't no more kin to me than the rest of ye ; and 
 what right has she to sit up there under my roof, and 
 eat my bread, and stare at me with her big, solemn 
 eyes, as if she was the day of judgment ! Blast her ! " 
 
 " Hear the old tough ! " yelled a hoarse voice from 
 the crowd. " Boys, if you'll give the signal, I'll head 
 the rush on him." 
 
 At this critical moment there was a diversion. A 
 woman, wiry, angular, sallow, hurried breathless out 
 of the alley. Everything about her bore marks of 
 poverty, toil, and discouragement ; still, she was in 
 every respect superior to her husband, who gazed at 
 her now with an ugly look in his eyes, but a con- 
 sciousness of the crowd's temper kept him silent.
 
 A NORTH END DRAMA 141 
 
 The woman took in Dake and the figure he held with 
 one rapid, frightened glance. At sight of the bleed- 
 ing face she gave a shocked cry. Then she turned 
 on her husband. 
 
 " You've done it now ! " she exclaimed in a high, 
 excited voice. " Didn't I tell you, if you must beat 
 either of us, I'd rather it 'ud be me than Daise? " 
 " He wouldn't 'a' done it, if he'd been in his 
 senses." The woman turned to Dake now with 
 that instinct of defence for the male biped which no 
 amount of brutality or outrage on his part can uproot 
 in the Englishwoman of the lower classes. "It 
 al'ays do madden him to see her about when lie's on 
 a spree. I try to keep her out o' his sight such 
 times, but I stepped out o' doors to-night afore he 
 came in." 
 
 She lifted a corner of her apron to her eyes ; she 
 made, on the whole, an impression in her favor. 
 
 " Is it true what lie says that she don't belong 
 to you ? " queried Dake, eager to satisfy himself on 
 so vital a point. 
 
 " Yes ; she's been with us most a year now, but 
 she ain't one of our own kith." 
 
 She appealed to some of the crowd, who, with a 
 chorus of affirmatives, confirmed this statement. 
 
 " Whose child is she, then ? " continued Dake, turn- 
 ing from one to the other with the air of a judge. 
 
 " Lord knows whether she's got kith or kin in the 
 world, /don't."
 
 142 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " How did you come by her ? " 
 
 " A woman who took care of her mother afore she 
 died, and said she was a lady, come to live near us. 
 The woman had a fall and died sudden. I was with 
 her at the last. She begged me to look out for 
 Daise." 
 
 The group, enlarging by fresh aggregations to its 
 outer circle, had listened silently to this colloquy. 
 Now a voice from the midst chuckled, 
 
 " Yes ; and a mighty fat plum it turned out for 
 you, for you grabbed all the woman left behind as 
 soon as she was buried." 
 
 There was a chorus of guffaws, and more than one 
 voice shouted : " That's so ! " 
 
 " I've never sought to rob the child," replied the 
 woman, with a rising flush on her sallow cheek. 
 " I've al'ays tried to be good to Daise," she added 
 appealingly. 
 
 " Yes ; you've scanted your own flesh for that 
 brat ! " broke in her husband, who was rapidly sub- 
 siding now into a maudlin, grumbling state. 
 
 The little golden head lay pillowed against Dake's 
 shoulder ; the little frightened heart throbbed against 
 his own. All his brain, quickened by his feel- 
 ing, was alert now. He made up his mind on the 
 instant. 
 
 "I'm going to carry this child off from your 
 drunken brute of a husband. She's none of yours, 
 you say ; and as you can't keep her from bein' mauled 
 in this fashion, I'll find somebody who can."
 
 A NOKTH END DRAMA 143 
 
 Dake squared his young shoulders, and looked very 
 brave and strong as he said this. He carried the 
 crowd with him. It cheered him lustily ; and amid 
 oaths intended to be plaudits, more than one voice 
 shouted, 
 
 " You're a brick, younker." 
 
 " It's a good riddance to the brat ! You're welcome 
 to her," growled the man, whose cruelty was the 
 occasion of this tumult, as he roused himself once 
 more from the growing stupor of debauch. 
 
 Threatening gestures on all sides cowed him in an 
 instant. One menacing speech voiced the general 
 feeling : 
 
 " Shut up there, or you'll get a drubbin' for the 
 one you give the kid, which will lay you up for a 
 week." 
 
 Dake started off now with his burden. The crowd 
 made way for him. He had no distinct purpose 
 where he was to go, what he was to do with the 
 small creature, still heaving with sobs in his strong 
 arms, and who had no other shelter in the wide 
 world. He kept on with long, brisk strides, with a 
 blind instinct to reach a more decent locality. 
 
 The scene on which he little dreamed so much was 
 to hang for himself, had not probably occupied half 
 an hour. In less than a quarter of that time Dake 
 had struck into the long thoroughfare which, some 
 distance off, made a junction with Hanover Street. 
 When he gained the corner he paused for a few
 
 144 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 moments to decide on his next step. He looked 
 down with unutterable pity on the little shining 
 head. What was he to do with it? 
 
 This was the supreme question which faced the 
 youth in the deepening dusk of that July night. 
 Some talk which he had caught the day before at the 
 warehouse, of a " Society for the Prevention of 
 Cruelty to Children," came up in his memory now. 
 Should he ask a policeman the way to it, and give 
 the child into the care of strangers ? Perhaps they 
 would send her back after awhile to the misery from 
 which he had just rescued her. That thought made 
 him hesitate. At this crucial moment the softest 
 little arm stole about his neck. 
 
 The thought of his boarding-house suddenly re- 
 curred to Dake. It had afforded him scant shelter 
 and sufficient food in the way of home, but hardly 
 more than that. The venture was a rather desperate 
 one. Dake remembered that his landlady had taken 
 pains to speak to him several times of late. Perhaps 
 she had more heart than he had given her credit for. 
 
 Dake Cramley faced about suddenly, and started 
 for his boarding-house.
 
 MRS. JEMIMA BRAY HAS A HEART 145 
 
 XVIII 
 
 MRS. JEMIMA BRAY HAS A HEART 
 
 IT was a large, old-fashioned, three-storied, dingy 
 brick dwelling, within easy walking distance of the 
 northern railroad stations. The house had greatly 
 declined from its ancient smartness, and was in the 
 heart of a crowded, more or less noisy, localit}^. Most 
 of its former neighbors had made way for warehouses 
 and business blocks, and the building itself must 
 have had a sense of impending doom in every timber 
 and joist. 
 
 The house had a high, much-worn flight of stone 
 steps ; the facade was dingy, and a good deal defaced 
 by time ; and the green window-blinds had probably 
 received their last coat of paint. 
 
 Under this roof, which, despite its shabbiness, still 
 retained some air of better days, Mrs. Jemima Bray 
 was keeping up an unequal fight with the world. 
 She, too, had to solve the first problem of existence 
 the keeping of soul and body together, so hard for 
 friendless, untrained women. She was a childless 
 widow, on the vanishing side of fifty , and misfortune, 
 anxiety, and the struggle for a livelihood made her 
 look older than she was.
 
 146 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 The locality was in her favor; and, despite vari- 
 ous drawbacks, her house was usually tolerably well 
 filled with patrons small clerks and workpeople 
 whose salaries did not admit of high priced lodgings. 
 Mrs. Bray had the old, hard task of making both ends 
 meet, with the house-rent a terrible incubus 
 haunting her days and nights. 
 
 On this particular evening Mrs. Bray was sitting 
 in the small, rather stuffy room back of the parlor, 
 which she reserved for herself. She was a faded- 
 complexioned, sharp-featured woman. Her hair was 
 turning gray and getting scant. All the smooth 
 curves of youth had grown to sharp angles. The 
 eyes, once bright with hope and merriment, were 
 faded and tired now. 
 
 There was a sudden, peremptory knock at the 
 door. Mrs. Bray dropped the sewing on which, with 
 an occasional long-drawn sigh, she had been intent 
 for the last hour. Before she could speak the door 
 was flung open, and Dake Cram ley entered with a 
 small figure in his arms. The first thing which met 
 the woman's startled glance was the cloud of golden 
 hair; the next she saw the small white face, 
 with the cruel red welt and the stains of blood. 
 Mrs. Bray was on her feet in an instant with a cry of 
 dismay. 
 
 Dake spoke at once. In a few short sentences he 
 explained the situation. As Mrs. Bray listened, 
 shocked and breathless, the whole scene was before
 
 MRS. JEMIMA BRAY HAS A HEART 147 
 
 her the child staggering out of the North End 
 alley, the drunken brute pursuing her with uplifted 
 cowhide, the part Dake had taken in the rescue, 
 the gathering crowd, the angry threats, the appear- 
 ance of the wife on the scene. 
 
 " I couldn't leave her there. I had nowhere to take 
 her. There was nothin' to do but bring her here, 
 Mrs. Bray," he concluded, half apologetic, half 
 appealing. 
 
 " Of course there wasn't. My poor little lamb- 
 kin ! " All the mother-heart coining to the surface 
 at that pitiful sight. 
 
 The child, still quivering with nervous terror, 
 stared up in the strange, kindly face bending over 
 her. What eyes she had too ! They were of a deep 
 violet shade, and so big that they seemed half of her 
 small face. 
 
 Mrs. Bray bustled out of the room without another 
 word. All her woman's instinct of helpfulness and 
 sympathy was alert now. Dake sat down with the 
 child in his arms. His anxiety about her reception 
 had been put to rest with Mrs. Bray's first cry. In a 
 few moments she returned, bringing a bowl of warm 
 water and soft towels. 
 
 " I can do it better if you set her on my lap," she 
 said to Dake. 
 
 Then a child's voice wailed through the room. 
 
 " Don't let her take me away from you ! " The 
 little fingers clutched Duke's sleeve.
 
 148 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 
 
 They quieted her with soothing words, and settled 
 it between them that Dake should hold her while 
 Mrs. Bray bathed the torn, inflamed flesh. 
 
 " You're the puttiest little midget I ever did set 
 eyes on," she exclaimed, as she lightly bathed the 
 long welt on cheek and forehead. " That man ought 
 to be hanged on the first tree who could hurt such a 
 white little innercent as you be ! It's wuss than 
 murder ! My what eyes you've got ! They make 
 me think of the violets in the holler back of our old 
 orchard. I used to trudge there for 'em every May, 
 when I wasn't bigger'n you. There, now, don't it 
 all feel better?" 
 
 " Yes," sighed the child , and a softer expression 
 stole into the scared eyes. 
 
 " You look peaked and famished, as though you'd 
 
 had scant pickin's," continued Mrs. Bray, with 
 
 % her pitying gaze on the small face. " What you 
 
 need now is somethin' to eat ; and you shall have it, 
 
 too, afore you're many minutes older." 
 
 She hurried away once more, all her practical 
 energies enlisted in the service of her pity. 
 
 The shining head nestled back in Dake's arms. 
 The child had kept quiet during the bathing process, 
 only wincing occasionally when the water or the 
 careful touch hurt the sensitive flesh. 
 
 She lifted her head suddenly with a wild start. 
 The old terror was in her eyes. 
 
 " Will he come back ? Will he find the way ? " 
 she cried. *
 
 MRS. JEMIMA BRAY HAS A HEART 149 
 
 " Oh, no ! he can't ever find us. If he did don't 
 you see I'm here ! " 
 
 She gazed at Dake with a look of ineffable trust, 
 and then put up her bit of hand, and stroked his 
 cheek softly. 
 
 Mrs. Bray was back again in a short time. She 
 brought a tray containing the best her pantry af- 
 forded. There was a big mug of milk, and slices of 
 chicken, and a small glass of currant jelly the sort 
 of things to tempt the appetite and please the eyes 
 of a hungry child. 
 
 They all had a hand in that meal. Mrs. Bray held 
 the mug to the small lips till the milk was drained 
 to the bottom, and Dake cut the chicken into dainty 
 mouthfuls. 
 
 At last the child drew a long sigh of repletion, 
 and looked up in Mrs. Bray's face. 
 
 " It tasted so good ! " she said. 
 
 A pleased smile smoothed out all the wrinkles in 
 the faded face. 
 
 " You feel better now, don't you ? " she asked 
 tenderly. 
 
 " Oh, ever so much ! " 
 
 A moment later she was gazing with wide, grave 
 eyes about the room with its faded carpets and dingy 
 furniture ; but she had come straight from the North 
 End, and it was fair in her eyes as a palace-chamber. 
 
 " Do you and he live here ? " she asked, nodding 
 at Dake.
 
 150 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " Just you all alone ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! There are plenty of people in the house- 
 But what makes you ask that ? " 
 
 *' I'd rather it would be just you two." 
 
 " Well, my dear, nobody here shall give you a mite 
 of trouble." 
 
 A little while after this talk, the lashes, long, 
 thick, and of silky-brown, began to droop over th 
 violet eyes. The terrible scene through which she 
 had passed, the peace and comfort which enwrapped 
 her now like an atmosphere, were having their 
 effect on soul and body. 
 
 Mrs. Bray brought a pillow, and spread a blanket 
 on her faded chintz-covered lounge. 
 
 " It's just the nicest place to sleep," in that caress- 
 ing tone which one uses to an infant. " You shall 
 lie down here and have a long nap." 
 
 There was a swift start ; the hunted look leaped 
 again into the eyes ; the little face buried itself on 
 Dake's shoulder. 
 
 " Don't take me away from him ! " she cried. 
 
 It required their combined efforts to soothe and 
 persuade her. At last she was coaxed into consent- 
 ing that he should place her on the lounge if he 
 would promise to stay close by her. 
 
 She put her little hand in his large one and would 
 not let go, even when the lids dropped again and she 
 drowsed into broken slumbers, with nervous starts
 
 MRS. JEMIMA BRAY HAS A HEART 151 
 
 and moans which went to the heart of those who 
 watched her. But at last nature triumphed, and she 
 sank into the sweet, profound slumber of childhood. 
 
 Then Dake softly laid the little hand under the 
 blanket. 
 
 After that he and his landlady had a long talk. 
 He related every incident of the drama at North End 
 to his eager and ejaculatory auditor. 
 
 The last two hours had effected a surprising change 
 in their mutual relations. Dake's first appearance 
 under Mrs. Bray's roof had not been calculated to im- 
 press her in his favor. She had her own standards 
 for the respectability of her table ; and Dake's gen- 
 eral shabbiness though he was not absolutely 
 ragged fell below those. A line from the house of 
 Meredith, Max, & Co., which had furnished her with 
 frequent lodgers, alone secured his admission. 
 
 Dake's quiet behavior and his improved exterior 
 had, however, its influence with the landlady and her 
 household. To-night a common sympathy and inter- 
 est had broken down any last barriers betwixt the 
 two. 
 
 Dake showed himself now in a new light to Mrs. 
 Bray one that did equal honor to his heart, courage, 
 and judgment. When he related how he had paused 
 at the corner of Hanover Street, in doubt what to do 
 with the little waif he had just rescued, Mrs. Bray 
 laid her hand on his arm in the most friendly manner. 
 
 " You did just the right thing to bring her here,
 
 152 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Mr. Cramley," she said. " So long as I have a roof 
 over my head that little angel's welcome to a shelter 
 under it." 
 
 Her voice broke, her eyes were dim, as she and 
 Dake glanced at the little face which lay so still, 
 swathed in that cloud of shining, tumbled hair.
 
 HER NAME WAS DAISY ROSS 153 
 
 XIX 
 
 HER NAME WAS DAISY ROSS 
 
 THE next evening Dake hurried eagerly home. 
 He had had a busy day at the warehouse, and had not 
 been able to return at noon for his dinner. 
 
 In the morning, before starting for the warehouse, 
 he had a brief talk with Mrs. Bray. She reported 
 the child still asleep. She had waked two or three 
 times in the night with a wild cry, but Mrs. Bray had 
 soon succeeded in quieting her. Dake went off satis- 
 fied that his little waif was in good hands. 
 
 All that day, amid the toil and heat, Dake felt the 
 touch of those small fingers on his cheek ; a touch 
 that went down into his heart, and made a new light- 
 ness and softness there. 
 
 The first thing he heard that night, after entering 
 Mrs. Bray's room, was a cry a child's high-keyed 
 cry of surprise and joy. The next instant a small 
 figure darted across the room, and a little pair of 
 hands reached up eagerly to him. 
 
 Dake bent down and lifted the small figure in his 
 arms. A pair of eyes, with the harebells' purple in 
 their depths, gazed at him with such radiant delight 
 as, in all his hard, rough life, had never before shone 
 on Dake Grander.
 
 154 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 As he gazed on the child he was surprised at the 
 change which had taken place in her appearance. 
 Mrs. Bray had not been idle that morning. She had 
 found a small frock, a pretty blue and white barred 
 lawn, all ready to put on and going for a song, be- 
 cause it was getting late in the season. Then she 
 had bought the tiniest pair of black slippers, and 
 some further details of child wardrobe. After a thor- 
 ough bath and hair-combing the new dress was made 
 to supplant the soiled calico and ripped shoes, which 
 were all the child had brought from her old life. 
 
 The hair, soft as gold floss, fell rippling upon the 
 shoulders, which peeped, milk-white flesh, out of the 
 bit of waist yoke. A long slip of court-plaster cov- 
 ered the wound on her forehead, but it would prob- 
 ably heal in a few days. 
 
 "I've waited and waited so long," she said in her 
 soft, lisping soprano. "It seemed as though you 
 never would come ! " 
 
 " Did it ? Then you wanted to see me ? " 
 
 " Oh, awful much ! I thought you would unner- 
 stand." 
 
 " Well, I wanted to see you too, but I had lots of 
 work to do, and that kept me away." 
 
 " Will it keep you every day ? " 
 
 " Not so long, I guess. You've had a good time, 
 haven't you?" 
 
 She drew a long breath. " Oh, yes, the beaut'- 
 fullest time in the world."
 
 HER NAME WAS DAISY ROSS 155 
 
 " I knew I should leave you in good hands. I said 
 that to-day when I thought about you." 
 
 " Did you? Well, Mis' Bray's been as nice as 
 ever was ! She brought me berries from the market 
 this mornin' and such things to eat ! Don't you see 
 my new frock too ? " smoothing down the skirt folds 
 with a little womanly touch. "And my new 
 shoes ? " She held up one slippered foot. 
 
 "Yes ; you look as putty as a fresh rose." 
 
 This was all as novel an experience, and as de- 
 lightful, to the big fellow as it was to the child. 
 
 The infantile prattle went on about all the events 
 of this wonderful day how she had seen the prettiest 
 black-and-white kitty scurrying along the top of the 
 fence, and the sparrows pecking at crumbs in the 
 back yard, and how Mis' Bray had promised when she 
 got a little better, she should go out there, and sit 
 under the big pear-tree, where the robins had built a 
 nest, and which, though it was such an old tree, held 
 a heap of pears ripening on the top boughs. 
 
 At last there came a pause in the bright prattle. 
 The child looked curiously at Dake from under her 
 long lashes. She drew a deep breath. 
 
 " I've told you 'most everything about me now," 
 she said. " I want to hear somethin' about you." 
 
 " Well, there ain't much to tell. What do you 
 want to know?" 
 
 "What your name is." 
 
 " It's Dake Dake Cramley."
 
 156 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " Dake ! That's such a short, easy name. I shall 
 call you Dakie. Mayn't I ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, if you like it. Nobody ever called me 
 that before." 
 
 " Then, you see, it will be just my own name for 
 you." 
 
 Mrs. Bray now appeared on the scene. She looked 
 at the pair with a smile which gave a new expression 
 to her face. 
 
 " Such a time," she said, " a-talkin' and talkin' 
 about you and wonderin' when you'd come. Well, 
 we've spruced up consid'able, haven't we ? " 
 
 She sank down upon the lounge with the tired air 
 which was partly fatigue, partly second nature with 
 her. 
 
 " I've showed him my new frock and shoes," piped 
 up the infant. Then she added, " He says his name's 
 Dake, but he's goin' to be Dakie for me." 
 
 " And what are you goin' to be to him ? " queried 
 Mrs. Bray, to whom this day had brought more real 
 satisfaction than any she had experienced for years. 
 
 " He hasn't told me. Daise is all the name I've 
 got now." 
 
 " I don't believe that," responded the woman, with 
 a little solemn, positive shake of her head. " Nobody 
 need tell me the folks who had the -right to name 
 you in the beginnin' didn't give you somethin' better 
 than that. Try and think now ! Didn't you ever 
 hear somethin' longer ? "
 
 HER NAME WAS DAISY ROSS 157 
 
 The child stared a few moments in a puzzled way 
 at the woman. Then suddenly a change came over 
 her face ; she slipped from Dake's knee ; she seemed to 
 be gazing at something in the air. Then she stretched 
 out her hands and cried in a voice which quivered 
 with childish joy and eagerness, 
 
 " Mamma ! Mamma ! " 
 
 The two watched her breathlessly. It was no 
 dream. They both instinctively felt that. Some 
 scene, some event, far in the border-land of infantile 
 memory, had, at Mrs. Bray's suggestion, started to 
 life. 
 
 " She is calling she is trying to tell me," the 
 eager voice went on, the gaze fixed on the air ; 
 " Daise Daisy there is something else Daisy 
 Ross that is what she is sayin' ; and she sits there 
 a smilin' and a reachin' out her arms to me. O 
 mamma, mamma ! " She burst into passionate sob- 
 bing. 
 
 " You shall be our little Daisy Ross al'ays," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Bray as soon as she could speak ; and 
 she bent over the child and held her with a real 
 mother-yearning to her heart. Then she placed her 
 in Dake's arms, recognizing his prior right. 
 
 In a little while the sobs ceased, though the small 
 body still quivered with excitement. 
 
 " It is my truly name," she whispered. " Shall I 
 be your Daisy Daisy Ross? " 
 
 "Yes, always. It is the puttiest name in the
 
 158 " SIBS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 world ; " and then, for the first time, he bent down 
 and kissed the shining hair. 
 
 Then he started, stared about him, and blushed 
 like a girl. Caresses, given or received, were some- 
 thing so entirely out of his experience ! But Mrs. 
 Bray had been summoned from the room before this 
 happened. 
 
 That night, after Daisy was fast asleep, her two 
 friends had a long talk. Dake opened it by propos- 
 ing that Daisy should remain with Mrs. Bray. She 
 acquiesced as a matter of course. 
 
 Then he suggested making some compensation, 
 however slight, for her board. He had been revolv- 
 ing this matter in his mind all day. The advance in 
 his salary had, of course, been continued after the 
 tailor's bill had been settled. Dake offered this 
 amount, with some trepidation for its slightness, to 
 Mrs. Bray. 
 
 The woman had to count her sixpences carefully ; 
 but, in the present case, her heart would have its 
 way. She insisted that all such a mite as Daisy 
 could eat would not make an appreciable difference. 
 She could sleep on the comfortable old lounge, and 
 all other matters would take care of themselves. 
 
 But Dake persisted in bearing some share of the 
 expenses ; and seeing he would be better satisfied by 
 this arrangement, Mrs. Bray consented. 
 
 There was another matter which required longer 
 discussion. The two felt it important to gain pos-
 
 HER NAME WAS DAISY ROSS 159 
 
 session of any facts in Daisy's history which were 
 now obtainable, but no step could be taken in that 
 direction which involved any renewal of her relations 
 with the North End. 
 
 On this point Dake and his landlady agreed abso- 
 lutely. Both believed the few statements he had 
 gleaned from the woman and the crowd at the time 
 of the child's rescue. Dake had reasons for not 
 wishing to enter those precincts again, but they were 
 more for Daisy's sake than his own. It might possi- 
 bly expose her to some peril, if the people from 
 whom he had rescued her, or any of the crowd who 
 had witnessed the scene, discovered where she was, 
 and had a notion some capital might be made out of 
 the knowledge. 
 
 It suddenly struck Dake that a policeman of the 
 right sort would be the person best qualified to 
 extract any possible information of Daisy's antece- 
 dents from the man and woman into whose hands she 
 had fallen. 
 
 Dake had some acquaintance among the police 
 force. He had once saved a member from a broken 
 head in a street row where the boy found himself by 
 accident. The man had never forgotten the service. 
 Dake could depend on him for a good turn if it lay 
 in his power. 
 
 Mrs. Bray, when Dake mentioned the policeman, 
 heartily approved of securing his services. It was 
 her suggestion that he should be brought to the
 
 160 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 house, and have an interview with Daisy. She 
 believed the sight of the child, with the marks of 
 that cruel blow, would be an object lesson more effec- 
 tive than any words. 
 
 Mrs. Bray's heart was thoroughly enlisted now ; 
 but the whole affair had also the charm and mystery 
 of romance to her feminine imagination and curi- 
 osity.
 
 RED BERRY ROADS AND AMOUUY ROOST 161 
 
 XX 
 
 RED BERRY ROADS AND AMOURY ROOST 
 
 TOM and Dorothy Draycott were having a week at 
 Red Berry Roads in southern New Hampshire. You 
 will not find the place on the map. All I can say is, 
 if you once get there, anywhere from May to Novem- 
 ber, you will never want to go away. 
 
 John Amoury was a distant relative of Mrs. Dray- 
 cott; but the close, affectionate intimacy between 
 the two families had its roots in something deeper 
 than any ties of kindred. 
 
 The Amourys had no children, and the young 
 Draycotts were very dear to them. It was a tra- 
 dition in both households that Tom and Dorothy 
 should spend some part of the summer at the country 
 home in New Hampshire. 
 
 " On this spot," John Amoury used to say, sitting 
 in a corner of his piazza, "I must see the June in 
 and the October out. I can't afford to scant either 
 end of the show! " When he said this to his wife, 
 it was with that smile, half playful, half tender, with 
 which he was apt to regard her. He had one of those 
 delightful personalities which drew all sorts of 
 people to him a generous-built, large-featured,
 
 162 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 blond-haired and bearded man, not handsome, but 
 with a face which would have been likely to strike 
 you among a hundred, and, if you had come to know 
 it, would have a power and a charm for the rest of 
 your days. 
 
 He was a business man, successful on the Stock Ex- 
 change ; but, like his closest friend, Donald Draycott, 
 he might have been more so, had material possessions 
 been the aim and end of his existence. 
 
 There was so much to love about the man ! He, 
 too, loved so many things, books, scenery, art, and 
 people of varied qualities and temperaments, with 
 that generous, many-roomed heart of his. Then his 
 wife despite his decided personality, people could 
 not talk long about John Amoury without coining to 
 his wife was one of the loveliest of women. 
 
 She was a rather small, delicate-featured, graceful- 
 moulded brunette. The glory of her face was her 
 eyes, with their soft, dark brilliancy. They would 
 have made the homeliest face beautiful ; but Mrs. 
 Amoury's had fine details of cheek and chin and 
 forehead. 
 
 Amouiy Roost at Red Berry Roads was the sort of 
 home, and a good deal more, you would have expected 
 of such people. It was a house of large, solid, gener- 
 ous build, with deep piazzas and some picturesque 
 window balconies. The color, a soft brownish-gray, 
 was relieved against darker trimmings. The house 
 fronted a spacious lawn, broken by winding paths
 
 EED BERRY ROADS AND AMOURY ROOST 163 
 
 and blossoming thickets, and here and there a mound 
 gay with flowers. 
 
 The interior of this wide-hailed, large-roomed 
 house corresponded with the outside. The quiet tone 
 of the furnishings rested sense and soul alike. 
 
 The owner characteristically called the home which 
 he had built in the heart of a large, ancient hill-and- 
 dale farmstead, Amoury Roost. All around it, roads, 
 green, fragrant, shadowy, wound and twisted, climbed 
 and dipped, in the most picturesque fashion, affording 
 delightful surprises in the way of landscapes near 
 and remote. 
 
 The name of the land had been one of Mrs. Am- 
 oury's happy inspirations. These old, vine-tangled 
 roadsides were gay with multiform red tints from the 
 year's first blossoming to its fading. Wild straw- 
 berries, raspberries, ripening cherries, checkerberries, 
 partridge-berries, bunch-berries, barberries, the clus- 
 ters of mountain ash, each had their turn, each shot 
 a more or less vivid crimson, scarlet, vermilion, 
 among the varied greenery. 
 
 This had struck the mistress of Amoury Roost 
 when she drove the first time over the newly pur- 
 chased land. 
 
 "They should be rightfully called Red Berry 
 Roads," she said to her husband one day when they 
 were out together. 
 
 " And they shall be, Evelyn," he answered. 
 
 Mrs. Draycott used playfully to tell her cousin,
 
 164 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 John Amoury, that the only " woman of whom she 
 ever felt one throb of jealousy was his own wife! 
 
 Evelyn Amoury, in her turn, archly confided to 
 Donald Draycott that she could not feel quite at ease 
 if the woman of whom John was so fond were any 
 other than Grace Draycott! 
 
 As a matter of course the young people were hav- 
 ing the most delightful time possible. Their visit 
 happened this year to coincide with that of some 
 other guests of a different status. 
 
 " They had no children of their own," John Am- 
 oury said, " therefore they must piece it out as they 
 best could with other people's." 
 
 So every year they came for their Children's Week 
 to Red Berry Roads " tow-headed lads and romping 
 lasses," as John Amoury called them a round 
 dozen, the boys lodged in some comfortable rooms 
 partitioned off in the stable-loft, where the coachman 
 affirmed that he " slept with one eye open lest the 
 rascally younkers should play some devil's trick with 
 the animals ! " 
 
 The girls they came like the bo} r s, from the city 
 alleys and slums were relegated to the attic, where 
 the small, sunny rooms seemed to them like palace- 
 chambers, and where they could see the nickering of 
 leaf-shadows, while the robins from nests in the 
 boughs sang them wide awake in the midsummer 
 mornings. 
 
 Then the long happy day was before them, when
 
 RED BERRY ROADS AND AMOURY ROOST 1G5 
 
 they could roam at their own sweet will through 
 green meadows and clover-scented lanes, and dim, 
 soft-whispering pine-woods, to return at night a tired, 
 merry, ravenous crowd, to sate their appetites at a 
 board heaped with appetizing abundance. 
 
 These singular guests afforded infinite amusement 
 and fresh interest to the young Draycotts, who were 
 eager to lend a hand in their entertainment. " The 
 dozen," as they were comprehensively designated at 
 Amoury Roost, were largely left to themselves to 
 take their happiness in their own way, amid the vast, 
 green rooms whose doors the summer swung wide to 
 them. 
 
 The third morning after her arrival, Dorothy 
 found herself with some unusual leisure on her 
 hands. Tom had gone to drive with his host. Mrs. 
 Amoury was engaged with some household matters. 
 
 Dorothy had watched the dozen set off, wild with 
 glee, for a picnic in the woods. The perfect morning, 
 with its gold and azure, its dews still sparkling 
 among the greenery, kept her out in the grounds. 
 As she sauntered among the winding paths she 
 caught sight, over the low stone wall, of Griff, who 
 had just led Caliph out to water. 
 
 Caliph was Mr. Amoury's favorite horse, a large, 
 splendid-built, thoroughbred roan. 
 
 Caliph knew Dorothy almost as well as he did his 
 master. The fiery creature was docile to the touch 
 of that little palm which had regaled him with sugar
 
 166 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 and apples when he was a colt, and the giver a slip 
 of a girl. 
 
 Those old, happy times rose vivid in Dorothy's 
 memory. If she and Caliph could only start off now 
 on one of their gallops together ! She would choose 
 the quiet roads she knew so well, where there 
 was small chance of meeting anybody unless it might* 
 be some school children or farm-hand. In a flash 
 Dorothy had mounted the coping of the low stone 
 wall. She shouted at the top of her voice. The 
 man turned sharply about, and trotted up to her. 
 
 " Griff," she began breathlessly, " I am just wild 
 to mount Caliph and have one of our old scampers 
 over the roads. I sha'n't be gone over an hour 
 or two. You and I," patting the* animal's nose, 
 " are old friends, aren't we, Caliph? Now, Griff, be 
 spry, please, and saddle him in a hurry, and bring 
 him here and see what a mount I'll make from this 
 stone-wall ! " 
 
 Griffin was a Welshman with a short, stout figure, 
 and a square, smooth-shaven, honest face. 
 
 His small eyes twinkled and his big mouth twisted 
 and smiled, as he gazed at the young girl, who only 
 yesterday it seemed, had pattered about the stable 
 with him. 
 
 " Caliph's in fine trim," he said in his slow way, 
 " and the mornin' was made for a smart canter. I'll 
 saddle him and have him back in short order, Miss 
 Dorothy."
 
 RED BEttRY ROADS AND AMOUR Y ROOST 167 
 
 She waited on the stone coping, her slender young 
 figure drawn against the greenery of the thickets. 
 She wore a shade hat, the wide brim caught up at 
 one side, and some light, pearl-tinted stuff twisted 
 about the crown. Her blouse was a pretty, simple 
 affair in so faint a shade of yellow that it had almost 
 the effect of cream-white. She wore a plain black 
 silk skirt longer than those she usually chose for a 
 walk. She did not have to wait long, perched on 
 that low coping between blue sky and green earth. 
 Griff soon appeared leading Caliph ; and Dorothy, 
 placing her hand on the man's shoulder, sprang 
 lightly into the saddle. 
 
 " That was handsomely done, Miss Dorothy," com- 
 mented Griff, putting the reins in her hand, and 
 touching his cap. 
 
 " Thank you, Griff." 
 
 The world seemed to Dorothy Draycott a very 
 happy place as she rode away into the summer 
 morning. 
 
 Griff stood and watched the light, erect figure, 
 the high-stepping roan, with a look of pleasure soft- 
 ening his rugged features. 
 
 "If she ain't a picter, a sittin' on that big creetur,' 
 to make a man's heart go pit-a-pat under his ribs, 
 then I'll be shot ! " he murmured to himself. 
 
 An hour later Dorothy drew rein on a lonely road 
 which wound through a small stretch of thick pine 
 woods. She had been racing Caliph over the old
 
 168 "sms, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 country highways in a fashion that would have made 
 people stare, thinking she was risking her neck on 
 that big, fiery beast. But she had not met a solitary 
 person when she entered the cool shadows, the odor- 
 ous scent of the pines. 
 
 Dorothy drew a long breath, removed her hat, and 
 half her hair, loosened by the rapid motion, tumbled 
 to her waist. The sunshine, striking through green 
 rafters overhead, touched the hair with rich, coppery 
 gleams, which made a glory about the young, joyous 
 face. 
 
 Dorothy's eyes glanced large and bright into the 
 cool dusk of the woods. Then she dropped the reins, 
 patted Caliph's glossy, damp neck, and said in her 
 clear-cadenced young voice, 
 
 "You have done splendidly, Caliph. It was just 
 grand the way you tore over those old roads with 
 not a soul to see ! That was the best of all. You 
 ought to go home wearing a wreath for the morning's 
 race ; but if you don't, we shall have our secret all the 
 same, and return in triumph." 
 
 She deftly gathered up the fallen hair and fastened 
 it with her large shell-pin, glanced with her radiant 
 eyes and swift-motioned head all about the w r ood, re- 
 placed her hat, resumed her reins, and cantered off. 
 She had been there five minutes perhaps. 
 
 Somebody had seen her of all things ! in that 
 silent, shadowy, odorous stretch of pines. 
 
 A young man, stretched full length a short dis-
 
 BED BERRY ROADS AND AMOURY ROOST 169 
 
 tance from the road, had been suddenly roused from! 
 his nap by the thud of horses' feet. He had not 
 stirred when Caliph and his rider burst in sight. 
 They passed close to him ; but he was hidden in the 
 shade of the boles, while the sunshine, sifting through 
 the pine boughs, made a soft illumination about the 
 group. It lent a glory to Dorothy's head ; and the 
 whole effect, against the green dusk, was that of 
 some vision of unearthly loveliness. 
 
 The stranger whom Dorothy had startled from his 
 greenwood slumbers was stopping at a summer hos- 
 telry three miles away. He had arrived only the 
 night before ; he was awaiting some friends who were 
 to join him on their return from the White Moun- 
 tains. At breakfast he had learned there were brook- 
 trout in the hill streams, and had started out with 
 fishing-rod and basket. On his way back to the 
 hostelry, after several hours and tolerable success 
 among the streams, he had struck across some lots 
 which brought him out on the road, close to the 
 pines. The shade and coolness were irresistible after 
 his exercise. He dropped his trout basket on the 
 pine needles, stretched himself at full length, and 
 listened to the winds dreaming among the boughs. 
 At last he fell asleep. 
 
 All the circumstances of Dorothy's appearance 
 tended to enhance its romance and mystery to a 
 young, sensitive imagination. 
 
 The fragrant silence of the old pine woods, the
 
 170 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 brown needles flecked with sunshine, the handsome, 
 thoroughbred roan, and then, the crown and glory of 
 all, the tall, graceful girl herself, in that simple, un- 
 conventional guise, with the beautiful head, the great 
 radiant eyes, and that dark, gold-burnished hair all 
 deepened the spell, the poetry, the witchery, of those 
 five minutes, so unlike any other five minutes of his 
 life. 
 
 "Had she stepped," he asked himself, "out of poem 
 or rare old picture, or was she the vision of a dream 
 which had lingered and lit up with its radiance that 
 wonderland betwixt sleeping and waking ? " 
 
 At all events, the sight had so fascinated his ima- 
 gination that it seemed to him he was ready to turn 
 knight-errant, and go wandering around the world for 
 another glimpse of the vision. You must remember 
 he was very young, and might live to smile at all 
 this ; but if he were the right sort of man, reverent 
 and tender for the dreams and ideals of his youth, the 
 smile would never become a sneer. 
 
 At last he rose, took up his fishing-tackle and set 
 out for the hostelry. In certain moods the muse was 
 kindly to him. As he sauntered along the midsum- 
 mer roads some couplets sang themselves into the 
 sweet tumult of heart and brain. When he reached 
 his room he wrote down the rhymes.
 
 AN OBJECT LESSON IN ALTRUISM 171 
 
 XXI 
 
 AN OBJECT LESSON IN ALTRUISM 
 
 u State Viator!" 
 
 The young man who heard those words came to a 
 dead stop and stared about him. He had been walk- 
 ing rapidly along the green old highway through the 
 wild-bloom scented summer dusk. 
 
 The words, syllabled distinct and rather peremp- 
 tory on the stillness, seemed to fill all the air about 
 him. At last he spoke in a raised, decided key. 
 
 " I don't know whether you are man or ghost, but 
 the voice is the voice of my old classmate, Tom 
 Draycott ! " 
 
 There was a rustle behind the laburnums, and the 
 individual last named vaulted over the stone wall. 
 
 An explosive greeting followed. The young mas- 
 culines did not, as girls would have done, lavish em- 
 braces on each other, but they shouted, laughed, and 
 wrung hands until it seemed each right arm must 
 ache from its shoulder blade. Then they squared off, 
 doubled their fists, and made feints of deadly assault. 
 In short, though they were tall, sinewy young fel- 
 lows, both evinced by their present actions they had 
 not left their boyhood far behind them.
 
 172 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 After this ebullition of youth and high spirits had 
 its way, Tom laid his hand on the other's shoulder. 
 
 "This is the hugest surprise of vacation!" he ex- 
 claimed. " Did you spring full armed from the 
 ground ? " 
 
 " Not quite ! I have been staying at the hotel 
 over at Cedar Rocks, waiting the arrival of some 
 friends from the North who are to join me there. 
 And now, if you value your life a pin's fee, explain 
 promptly how you yourself came to be in this place, 
 and turn up in this most unexpected fashion ?" 
 
 Tom subjoined a rapid statement of the circum- 
 stances which had brought him and his sister to Red 
 Berry Roads soon after Class Day. 
 
 " What a Paradise it is ! " commented Tom's friend, 
 gazing around him at the grand sweep of lawn, and 
 getting through some tall larches a glimpse of the 
 Amoury Roost chimneys. 
 
 " It is all that ! I am prodigiously glad you 
 turned up, old boy." 
 
 Tom linked his arm in his companion's, and they 
 proceeded up the road, absorbed in their talk. 
 
 Tom was not long in making up his mind that he 
 would present his friend at Amoury Roost. But when 
 he at last proposed this, the other, sensitive about in- 
 truding, demurred a good deal. Tom's insistence, 
 however, carried the point. He had a secret inten- 
 tion that his friend should remain over night ; but all 
 that he could leave to the Amourys.
 
 AN OBJECT LESSON IN ALTRUISM 173 
 
 Half an hour after the introduction had taken 
 place, and host and hostess had insisted on Tom's 
 friend remaining to dinner, in a way which set his 
 acquiescence in the light of a personal favor to them- 
 selves, Mrs. Amoury, meeting her husband in the 
 hall, said to him, " Did you notice, John ? " 
 
 " Notice what, Evelyn ? " There was a humorous 
 twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " Of course you know what I mean. The stunned 
 look of that young man when Dorothy entered, and 
 Tom presented his friend. Had she glided a risen 
 ghost upon the scene, he could not have been more 
 utterly dazed. Of course he recovered himself and 
 went through his part, de rigueur ; but for a quarter 
 of a minute he was the most amazed creature in the 
 universe." 
 
 Amoury laughed his manly, hearty laugh. 
 
 " You might have knocked down my young man 
 with a feather for an instant or two. But I had 
 some sympathy for him. I remember when I saw 
 you, my dear, for the first time, I was all struck of a 
 heap. A man doesn't forget that kind of experi- 
 ence." 
 
 " It was twenty years ago. You and I are such old 
 lovers, John ! " 
 
 She said it with a kind of amused tenderness. 
 Something of all the gladness of those twenty years 
 was in the wife's voice. 
 
 " Are we really ? " His eyes and his tone, as he
 
 174 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 regarded the sweet-faced woman, seemed to deny her 
 words. " You don't look a day older to me, Evelyn, 
 than you did at that time. Perhaps you would to 
 other men." 
 
 Mrs. Amoury lifted her delicate eyebrows. 
 
 "Probably! But it is unimportant, if true." 
 Then, with a sudden change of tone she asked, 
 " Do you think Tom noticed? " 
 
 " I presume not. He is used to Dorothy ; lie 
 couldn't imagine her having so startling an effect on 
 another fellow." 
 
 "But Dorothy, bless the child!" continued 
 Mrs. Amoury, "behaved perfectly. She had no idea 
 of the sensation she had made. That was owing, I 
 think, to her own surprise. Nothing could have 
 been simpler, nothing better calculated to relieve the 
 strain of the situation, than the way in which she 
 said : " I feel as though we must be already ac- 
 quainted, I have heard Tom speak of you so often." 
 
 " Yes ; that was prettily done. He seems a fine 
 fellow too. But what do you imagine Donald and 
 Grace would have thought, Evelyn ? " 
 
 " That is another question." Mrs. Amoury's tone 
 and look grew grave. " This thing had a curious 
 effect on me, as though the child had suddenly 
 sprung into a woman.. Yet she is only seventeen, 
 John." 
 
 At this instant there was a burst of vociferous 
 children's voices outside with shrieks and yells of 
 laughter.
 
 AN OBJECT LESSON IN ALTRUISM 175 
 
 "There they come!" exclaimed John Amouiy, 
 " tow-headed boys and tomboy girls ! They have 
 been to see the cows milked. They wouldn't forego 
 that fun to-night after all their day's rollicking. I 
 trust the rations are sufficient to feed a small army, 
 Evelyn." 
 
 " I am sure that the supplies must be equal to any 
 possible demand. And then one likes to think how 
 that ravenous little crew will sleep to-night." 
 
 " And we shall likewise, I imagine ! " and he 
 laughed. 
 
 "Yes; I know, John. Of course one can't help 
 others, without taking more or less trouble one's self. 
 But I never feel quite so content when I lie down at 
 night under our summer-roof, as I do when I remem- 
 ber those half dozen young Arabs snoring in the 
 stable-loft, and the other half dozen curled up after 
 their day's racing and screeching, asleep in the attics. 
 Despite all drawbacks, I think our Children's Week 
 is the happiest of all our summer weeks at Red 
 Berry Roads." 
 
 John Amoury lifted his eyebrows. "It's lucky 
 for the kids you feel like that! " lie said.
 
 176 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 XXII 
 
 SOME YOUNG ROMANCE 
 
 MEANWHILE, in the drawing-room at Amoury 
 Roost, three young people were having a happy time 
 with a difference. 
 
 Of course you have discovered, my reader, the 
 identity of the young man whom Dorothy had sur- 
 prised in the pine woods with Tom's classmate, Philip 
 Fallowes. 
 
 In the course of his life, which had not yet reached 
 its twentieth birthday, he had never experienced so 
 stupendous a surprise as when Dorothy Draycott 
 walked into the room. A moment later he dis- 
 covered that the lady of the pines and the poem was 
 young Draycott's sister. 
 
 Young Fallowes soon regained his self-control, 
 and w.as equal to his part in the talk which ensued. 
 It was fortunate for Dorothy that her absolute 
 ignorance placed her perfectly at her ease. The 
 conversation soon waxed gay on all sides. Merry 
 peals of laughter filled the drawing-room. Young 
 Fallowes, who could not at once divest himself of the 
 feeling with which he had regarded Dorothy as some- 
 thing remote and sacred, thought it would be a
 
 SOME YOUNG ROMANCE 177 
 
 relief to box Tom's ears for the familiar way in which 
 he joked and quizzed his sister, as though she were 
 some ordinary mortal ; but he soon discovered that 
 young woman could hold her own at repartee and 
 often put Tom on his mettle. 
 
 In a little while Mr. and Mrs. Amoury joined the 
 group. The talk naturally turned on the great event 
 of the day the children's picnic. This had taken 
 place in a deep, romantic ravine, whose rocky walls 
 were hung with wild shrubs, saplings, and tangled 
 vines. At the foot a shallow stream kept up a 
 happy, murmurous ditty, as its soft, cool, feet slipped 
 and twinkled over the stones, the mosses, and the 
 ferns. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Amoury, as well as their young 
 guests, had joined the picnic ; and the children from 
 the stifling streets and alleys had gone wild as un- 
 broken colts with the freedom and frolic of the hour. 
 All sorts of things had happened at this picnic, some 
 quaint, others pathetic to more experienced minds, 
 and others ineffably ludicrous. These were all 
 lived over again in the drawing-room, or at the din- 
 ner which followed after the dozen had their supper, 
 and had gone to bed to dream of a blissful to-morrow. 
 
 When dinner was over they all repaired to the 
 drawing-room. Mr. Amoury had to excuse himself 
 for the business man's inevitable letters which must 
 be ready for the morning mail. The others went 
 out on the veranda, and walked in the moonlight in 
 which the midsummer evening lay transfigured.
 
 178 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Tom walked with Mrs. Araouiy, and Philip Fal- 
 lowes with Dorothy. The girl wore a white dress 
 that night. There was some soft lace at her throat 
 and sleeves. 
 
 Next to his mother, Tom admired Mrs. Amoury 
 more than any woman in the world. She had a 
 quality of good comradeship, which in a woman is so 
 attractive to a very young man. When he talked 
 about his college life she entered into it with unfail- 
 ing interest and sympathy, and was never tired of 
 hearing about club-affairs, foot-ball games, and rowing 
 matches. Tom was but dimly aware how often, amid 
 the bright talk and laughter, she touched the deeper 
 chords and awakened the finer responses of his 
 nature. 
 
 He soon plunged into Harvard affairs, which made 
 his world now, and entertained Mrs. Amoury with 
 various events of Class Day that interested and 
 amused her. Tom did -not perceive how a wistful 
 glance stole occasionally to his sister. How tall and 
 fair the girl looked as she moved along by her com- 
 panion's side, her white dress gleaming in the moon- 
 light! Mrs. Amoury had known Dorothy from her 
 infancy. To-night she seemed suddenly to have shot 
 up into womanhood. 
 
 Mrs. Amoury could not at once reconcile her 
 thoughts to this transition. She wondered if it had 
 struck Tom ; she threw out a tentative remark. 
 
 " Dorothy is springing up into a woman ; she is 
 going to be a beautiful one, Tom."
 
 SOME YOUNG ROMANCE 179 
 
 " I suppose likely. She is her mother's daughter, 
 you know. But when it comes to the beauty, I con- 
 fess I hadn't thought much about that." 
 
 " ' Hadn't thought much about that ! ' " Mrs. 
 
 o 
 
 Amoury mentally echoed his remark. " Nor you 
 haven't thought your classmate a fine fellow, I 
 confess is thoroughly enamoured, though it is all 
 going on before your eyes ! What fatuous creatures 
 you youngsters are, and you fancy you carry the 
 world before you ! " 
 
 But the sweet woman was wise and held her 
 tongue. 
 
 Meanwhile the pair in advance were having their 
 talk too. 
 
 We have seen how young Fallowes's first sight of 
 Dorothy, with all the romantic setting of the hour 
 and place, had entranced his imagination, and given 
 her an ideal sacredness and remoteness in his thought. 
 It took a little while for him to adjust his ideas and 
 feelings to the change. But he began to think that 
 this fair, blooming girl by his side was better than 
 the lady of his poem, whose face was to shine upon 
 him, afar and lonely, in the exalted moments and 
 great crises of his life. 
 
 Dorothy Draycott had reached that borderland 
 where girlhood and womanhood meet. The quality 
 of one or the other was in all her thought and feel- 
 ing, her mood and speech. She was something alto- 
 gether fresh and charming to the young man, and he
 
 180 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 listened to what she said as a worshipper long ago 
 might have listened to the sibyl's oracles. 
 
 It had been easy and natural in-doors to talk of the 
 events of the hour, to wax merry over the speeches, 
 the ideas, and the manners of the wild little crowd 
 let loose in the woods that day ; but out here under 
 the inviolate stars, in that white, radiant stillness, the 
 talk, light and gay as youth and gladness at first, 
 took a graver key. 
 
 " Was there ever such a wonderful night as this, 
 do you think, Mr. Fallowes ? " said Dorothy, looking 
 up suddenly in his face after a little pause, in which 
 her gaze and her thoughts had gone away from her 
 companion into the shining about her. 
 
 He smiled down from his taller height on the girl, 
 tall and slender too, who had spoken to him out of 
 her frank impulse much as a child might have done. 
 
 " I am inclined to doubt it, Miss Draycott," he 
 answered. "It seems as though this must be nature's 
 masterpiece in the way of nights not to be equalled 
 by all which have gone before or may come after." 
 
 " Oh, I see ! You are quizzing me, Mr. Fallowes," 
 with that sudden accession of dignity which was 
 only half conscious, and to which her blossoming 
 years lent a peculiar charm. " Of course you must 
 have wonderful nights out there in Colorado among 
 your Rocky Mountains. I hear they make all our 
 landscapes on this coast seem small and cramped. 
 I should think living amongst such grand scenery 
 must make the people grander and nobler too ! "
 
 SOME YOUNG ROMANCE 181 
 
 "I am not at all sure of that, Miss Draycott. You 
 know what Carlyle says about people's only seeing 
 what they bring eyes for? " 
 
 " Oh, yes; I have heard papa quote that often. It 
 must be true, too. Take Mr. and Mrs. Amoury, for 
 instance. It would make no difference where they 
 lived, they would be just the same." 
 
 " I am sure of that," answered young Fallowes 
 enthusiastically. " What a generous, noble thing 
 they are doing now! It is almost unexampled 
 opening their home to such a crowd of young savages, 
 and devoting their time and thought to them, day 
 after day. It is splendid ! " 
 
 " It makes other people feel small, though," con- 
 tinued Dorothy, as probably she would not, had the 
 mystical moonshine about her been the matter-of-fact 
 daylight. " I often said to myself, when we were hav- 
 ing our frolic in the woods, ' Dorothy Draycott, what 
 have you ever done to make people happier or better 
 with all your seventeen years ? You may think you 
 never had a chance; but, if one came, some great 
 moment, some grand test, are you the least sure you 
 would meet the call bravely, promptly ? ' ' 
 
 " I should think the best answer to that question 
 was the fact one first thought to ask it," answered 
 young Fallowes. 
 
 At that moment Mrs. Amoury came up. The lady 
 proposed they should see a new picture just hung in 
 the drawing-room alcove.
 
 182 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Perhaps she thought it rather dangerous to be 
 romancing out there in the moonlight. 
 
 At any rate, she kissed Dorothy that night with a 
 peculiar tenderness before they separated. 
 
 " My dear, I have been thinking of your mother," 
 she said.
 
 DEAR DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 183 
 
 XXIII 
 
 DEAR DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 
 
 PHILIP FALLOWES, who had made a very favorable 
 impression on his host and hostess, yielded to their 
 solicitations, and passed the night at Amoury Roost. 
 In the morning he and Draycott vaulted into the 
 saddles for a ride, the latter promising to show his 
 companion " some glorious samples of New England 
 landscape, if they weren't cut out on the vast lines of 
 his Western scenery." 
 
 As they were starting off, a telegram was brought 
 to young Fallowes. It was forwarded from the 
 hotel ; his friends would arrive on the following 
 day. 
 
 The dozen set out that morning for a wild, rocky 
 pasture a favorite resort of theirs two miles 
 away. Mrs. Amoury and Dorothy watched their 
 departure from the side piazza. The loud mirth with 
 which the childish crowd overflowed, the shouts, 
 the rollicking glee, struck responsive chords in 
 Dorothy's nature. After they had disappeared, she 
 suddenly proposed to join the youngsters. Mrs. 
 Amoury demurred a little. There was the distance, 
 and not a horse that morning in the stalls. Dorothy
 
 184 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 made light of the walk, snatched her shade-hat and 
 gloves, and started off. 
 
 She overtook the dozen a quarter of a mile, per- 
 haps, from the pasture. They were clamorous over 
 an aggregation to their numbers, in the shape of a 
 small urchin of two years, big-freckled, blunt-nosed, 
 with a mat of sunburned, straw-colored hair, and 
 short fat legs which made his locomotion an irregular 
 and painful effort. 
 
 He had been discovered seated on a side-road in a 
 wheelbarrow before a small story-and-a-half farm- 
 house ; and the dozen, with yells of delight, had 
 pounced upon the wheelbarrow and its occupant, and 
 bore off the double prize. The father, a tall, round- 
 shouldered man with a thick, hay-colored beard, had 
 come to the fence, and evidently enjoyed the sport as 
 he saw the child borne away, crowing with delight, 
 while one and another eagerly took turns at the 
 wheelbarrow. 
 
 Dorothy, as we have seen, came upon the group 
 a little while before the rendezvous was reached. 
 She was by this time a favorite with the boys and 
 girls, and her appearance was greeted with riotous 
 hullos, and frequent somersaults. 
 
 They entered the upland pasture, a wide, pictur- 
 esque spot with green hollows and hillocks, gay with 
 the midsummer's wildflowering. Mosses made soft, 
 cushioned places at the feet of gray boulders, up 
 whose lichened sides the children scampered like
 
 DEAR DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 185 
 
 squirrels. Indeed, the whole breezy, sunny upland 
 seemed one of nature's vast playrooms, opened wide 
 and furnished for precisely the sort of small, un- 
 tamed humanity which now uproariously took pos- 
 session of it. The wild nature, the children's mirth, 
 the freedom and frolic of the hour, infected Dorothy. 
 At seventeen a girl is not always a woman. Her 
 childhood is certain to assert itself in multiform ways 
 and surprises. Dorothy entered heart and soul into 
 the spirit of the scene. She laughed and raced and 
 shouted with the others. The nascent womanhood 
 had abdicated for the moment. Yet all this time 
 the fair, tall, slender girl was a softening, refining 
 influence on that noisy crew of juveniles. 
 
 A huge pine bole lay prone in one corner of the 
 pasture. Not far away was a long, smooth plank. 
 The children were not slow in utilizing this discov- 
 ery. The board was balanced on the bole, and with 
 howls and shrieks of delight the teetering followed. 
 Dorothy took her turn at the plank. How delightful 
 the motion was ! It made her think of the time when 
 she and Tom used to play they were gypsies. For 
 the hour she was the little girl she remembered. 
 
 " I tell you this is all high jinks ! " said one of the 
 b'oys in a hoarse whisper to his companion. 
 
 " What a brick she is ! " rejoined another. 
 
 Dorothy caught both speeches. She caught some- 
 thing else a moment later. It was a shriek of terror 
 from two or three children in front of her. The next
 
 186 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 instant a thunder of hoofs broke upon her ear. She 
 glanced up the road ; she saw a horse, a huge, gray 
 creature, with broken harness clinging to his flanks, 
 tearing along the highway. 
 
 It was an appalling sight! That blind, brute force 
 suddenly let loose was certain to bear down and 
 trample out the life of anything which came in its 
 way. Dorothy shuddered, and with some curious 
 instinct her gaze turned to the road in front of the 
 pasture. The horse was making for that. Then she 
 saw! 
 
 In the middle of the sandy highway squatted the 
 urchin who had made a triumphal progress in his 
 wheelbarrow that morning. While the teetering 
 was going on he had managed to roll his little dump- 
 ling shaped body down the pasture-bank, and crawl 
 unobserved into the road. 
 
 Several hooks which fastened his gingham apron 
 behind had given way, and his little, round, plump, 
 patient back was fully exposed to the scorching sun ; 
 but he remained totally oblivious of his blistering cu- 
 ticle, as he did of the danger that was sweeping upon 
 him ; he sat there tossing handfuls of hot sand, and 
 crowing to himself in a seventh heaven of childish 
 bliss. 
 
 In one flashing instant every detail of the scene 
 was burned into Dorothy's consciousness. With one 
 agonized cry she leaped from the board ; she rushed 
 to the bank ; she darted into the road. The children
 
 DEAR DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 187 
 
 stood still with open mouths and riveted eyes. The 
 great, swift-plunging bulk was close at hand now. 
 She leaned forward ; she grasped the boy and swept 
 him back. Then the shadow fell upon both fell 
 and passed by! The horse came so close that his 
 great flank grazed the child's dangling foot, while the 
 hot breath poured into both faces, and drops of white 
 spume flecked the round bullet head. It was all over 
 in a breath. 
 
 Dorothy staggered to the bank with her burden. 
 Strained and excited, she hugged the child devour- 
 ingly one moment, and shook him until he was dizzy 
 the next. This treatment, added to the appearance 
 of the horse, which had come and passed like some 
 horrible nightmare, scared the infant out of its wits ; 
 he tried to wriggle out of Dorothy's arms, but she 
 held him with an iron clutch ; he opened his mouth, 
 and yelled at the top of his lungs. 
 
 A few moments before two young horsemen had 
 spurred their animals up a slight hillock. They 
 drew their reins to breathe their horses, and look 
 over the landscape. The young men had been hav- 
 ing a glorious canter of several hours amongst the 
 lovely scenery of the region. Their talk had been 
 full of the experiences of two years of college life. 
 This would have afforded the pair an unfailing topic 
 for the summer vacation. One ludicrous incident 
 after another had been lived over with infinite jest 
 and roars of laughter. At last there was a little
 
 188 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 pause. When one of the young men spoke again it 
 was in a graver mood. 
 
 " To think you and I, Fall owes, are actually 
 Juniors ! It makes one feel venerable." 
 
 " Yes. It's surprising what a long stride that 
 seems to a Harvard man from the Sophs he has just 
 left behind." 
 
 " I know. It makes a fellow pull a sober face to 
 remember he's half through his college course. We 
 shall be old grads in two years ! " 
 
 "It seems incredible, Draycott. I say, we've no 
 time to waste now. We must pluck up energy and 
 stick to the grind, and let the nonsense slide." 
 
 " That is true, Fallowes. Dear old Alma Mater ! 
 She has a right to expect her sons will honor her. 
 We shall be glad when it is all over and we get our 
 degrees, that we didn't shirk the work, and held to the 
 manly side of things. It will be an awful pull, 
 though, sometimes ! " 
 
 There was a flash in the other's dark eyes. " But 
 we won't flinch, Draycott, because of the pull. 
 There's my hand on it ! " 
 
 That clasping of hands meant something almost in 
 the nature of a solemn compact. The two young, 
 happy, fortunate classmates knew the temptations 
 and allurements of college life and the moral energy 
 and definite purpose they would need to close their 
 ears and brace their souls when the sirens sang 
 sweetly.
 
 DEAR DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 189 
 
 The hillock on which the young men had paused 
 commanded a wide area of country, which included 
 the rocky pasture and the children at play there. 
 
 After the brief pause which followed their late 
 conversation, Tom Draycott exclaimed suddenly to 
 his companion, 
 
 " Do you see that tall girl teetering on that log in 
 the pasture on the right ? She seems in for a bang-up 
 good time with that small crowd about her. She 
 looks a good deal like Dorothy." He riveted his sharp 
 eyes upon the figure. " Fallowes, it z* Dorothy ! " 
 
 The young men burst into a roar of laughter. It 
 subsided suddenly. They saw the girl leap from the 
 plank, and dart across the pasture. Then she dis- 
 appeared down the bank. The riders could not 
 perceive from their point of view the child squatting 
 in the road ; but they did see the commotion in the 
 pasture, the small crowd rushing forward, the inter- 
 est evidently riveted on one spot. Then they caught 
 sight of the frightened, plunging beast. They turned 
 white as sheets ; they spurred their horses down the 
 hillock. Each felt in a flash that his utmost speed 
 could be of no avail. Whatever peril Dorothy had 
 faced, it must have come and "passed before they 
 could reach her. When they gained a point which 
 commanded a long perspective of bare, hot, sandy 
 road, young Draycott turned his head. 
 
 " Fallowes," he said in a sharp voice, " I can't 
 look ! For God's sake, tell me if anything has hap- 
 pened to her."
 
 190 " SIHS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " She stands in the middle of the road. There's a 
 child in her arms. O Draycott, what splendid 
 nerve ! She must have sfone to save him." 
 
 O 
 
 While he spoke they could hear the hoofs thunder- 
 ing 011 the lower fork of the road into which the 
 maddened beast had turned. 
 
 Dorothy, sitting by the roadside with the silent, 
 awed group clustered about her, suddenly heard a 
 shout. They all turned and saw the riders a little 
 distance off. 
 
 The young men removed their hats, and made the 
 welkin ring with their shouts. This _ ebullition was 
 a relief to their excited feelings. 
 
 A moment later the pair rode up. Tom was off 
 his horse in a moment. Fallowes, though he had a 
 strong impulse to follow, remained in the saddle 
 with a feeling that his closer presence might be an 
 intrusion. 
 
 "What have you been doing, Dorothy? " asked 
 her brother in a tone half of reproach, half of com- 
 plex emotions. 
 
 She sat in the road, white and shaken. 
 
 " I couldn't help it, Tom," she said in an excited, 
 appealing voice. She pointed to the child. " I was 
 all there was to save him. Oh, don't scold me now!" 
 Her lips trembled. 
 
 Tom strode over to his friend. " Ride back like 
 Jehu, Fallowes, and send Griff on with the carriage. 
 We must get her away from this."
 
 THE OAYS OF THY YOUTH 191 
 
 XXIV 
 
 THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH 
 
 THREE hours later, Dorothy sat at the lunch-table. 
 Of course the Amourys had learned the events of the 
 morning from the young men. 
 
 Dorothy had been persuaded to lie down as soon 
 as she reached her chamber. She had a long crying- 
 fit, while Mrs. Amoury hovered over her with sooth- 
 ing words and caresses. At last she sank into a 
 sound sleep the best possible restorative for her 
 shaken nerves. 
 
 "You all look at me as though I had done some 
 grand thing," she burst out at the table in passionate 
 disclaimer. " It was nothing of the kind. I don't 
 deserve the least praise. I never once thought of 
 the danger or of what I was doing. If I had, or had 
 glanced at the horse, ^ couldn't have moved a step. 
 But there was the child, and I only thought of him, 
 and that he must be saved; so I rushed out and 
 grabbed him. That is all there is of it ! " 
 
 " Well, my dear," replied John Amoury, who was 
 sitting next his young guest, " we have made a mis- 
 take ; I will revoke all orders for the garlands with 
 which we intended to crown you." Then he went
 
 192 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 on to relieve the strain of the situation by setting 
 the events in a practical, everyday light. " It ap- 
 pears that some men were blasting for a well. The 
 owner of the horse left him, with incredible stupidity, 
 as he was always restive at strange noises, in close 
 proximity to the explosions. The man had, for his 
 pains, a smashed carriage, and a valuable horse more 
 or less spoiled." 
 
 That night young Fallowes and Dorothy sat to- 
 gether on a corner of the piazza. 
 
 "It is his last night. We must give them this 
 much grace," Mrs. Amoury said to her husband. 
 She had a woman's secret sympathy with a little 
 young romance. 
 
 It seemed as though all nature had gone to sleep. 
 Not a breath of wind stirred in bough or grass ; not a 
 star shone through the veil of soft, gleaming gray 
 which had been drawn over the sky. The moon 
 rode like a golden bark, dim and remote on far gray 
 seas. 
 
 Dorothy wore to-night a dress of some soft, light 
 wool in a delicate rose shade. Young Fallowes 
 thought he should always remember her in that 
 dress ; but he had thought precisely the same thing 
 when she walked with him the night before in her 
 white gown. 
 
 " I envy you very much, Mr. Fallowes," she said in 
 her impulsive way. "In two or three days more you 
 will see your Rocky Mountains. How that thought 
 must interest you ! "
 
 THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH 193 
 
 At that particular moment the most interesting 
 point of space young Fallowes could conceive of was 
 the one occupied by a beautiful, dark-haired, girlish 
 head. His reply, however, went wide of the mark. 
 
 " You talk of- envying me, Miss Draycott. I have 
 found the best of reasons for envying your brother 
 ever since I came here." 
 
 " For what, I wonder." 
 
 " Because he has a sister do let me add such 
 a sister ! " 
 
 Dorothy lifted her eyebrows, her laugh rippled 
 gayly on the air. 
 
 " I am not certain Tom would regard that so much 
 a cause for envy as you seem to imagine. It -is 
 dreadful the way we tease and aggravate each 
 other sometimes ! " 
 
 " I should think the teasing and all that sort of 
 thing must be delightfully enjoyable." 
 
 Dorothy thought Mr. Fallowes had a way of say- 
 ing very nice things. She was a girl ; of course she 
 enjoyed them. 
 
 A little later tire talk took a somewhat graver 
 key. 
 
 " Do you remember what you said last night when 
 we were walking together, Miss Draycott ? " 
 
 " Not in the least. Something very sensible, I 
 hope." 
 
 " That you wondered how you should meet the 
 challenge of some perilous moment, some great, sud- 
 den demand."
 
 194 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I remember now." 
 
 " I thought of your remark this morning, and how 
 you had answered your own doubt." 
 
 " Oh, but that was not a real answer, Mr. Fallowes. 
 I acted simply on a blind impulse." 
 
 " People's impulses must have some root in their 
 characters. How every sound bone in that little 
 cub's body must be thanking you to-night ! " 
 
 " I did snatch him away at the critical moment ; 
 I do like to remember that." 
 
 Through the gray darkness her eyes smiled radiant 
 upon him. 
 
 The place, the time, encouraged her to pursue the 
 subject in a way, which, again, the daylight might, 
 perhaps, not have permitted. 
 
 " But the really grand acts, Mr. Fallowes, must be 
 those which are done after one has thought about 
 them looked at them in every light, and knows 
 just what is to be given up before one begins." 
 
 " Won't you give me an illustration, please ? " 
 
 " Well, there are the University Settlements, you 
 know. What young, lovely, refined women go into 
 those, and live among the slums, and work among 
 the poor and friendless ! Then, there are those other 
 girls, of a different kind, I know " - she paused 
 suddenly as though with a second thought. 
 
 " Oh, do go on, please ! " 
 
 " I know you will laugh at me at least in your 
 thought."
 
 THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH 195 
 
 " I promise, on my honor, Miss Draycott." 
 
 " Who go into the Salvation Arnry. Of course I 
 never could do that, even if the choice lay wholly with 
 me I am not good enough. I could never bring 
 myself to wear those bonnets, or tramp the streets to 
 the beat of a drum ; but I can honor the goodness 
 that lives for others, that never thinks or cares for 
 one's self." And again her brown eyes flashed radi- 
 ant through the dim, moonlit gray. 
 
 Philip thought of the poem lying in his drawer. 
 The girl walking beside him was, after all, more and 
 better than the lady of his dreams. An impulse 
 almost overmastered him to tell her of that scene in 
 the pine woods ; but something in the girl herself, 
 in her transparent ingenuousness, restrained him. He 
 did, however, approach perilously near the subject he 
 had mentally taboed when he said half an hour later, 
 and after the conversation had taken a lighter tone : 
 
 " I am beginning to like your New England better 
 than my own vast, incomplete West. I find it really 
 hard, at the last moment, to tear myself away." 
 
 " But you will be coming back in a little while, 
 Mr. Fallowes. How glad, too, Tom will be to see 
 you!" 
 
 " I should like to know Tom's sister will be a little 
 glad also." 
 
 Dorothy thought this another of his nice speeches. 
 She replied graciously, 
 
 " Of course I shall be, Mr. Fallowes, if I am at
 
 196 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 home. But that will be only in vacations and holi- 
 days now, for the most part. It is settled I am to go 
 to Smith College for the next three years." 
 
 This was not altogether gratifying news to young 
 Fallowes. Before he could reply, however, Dorothy 
 continued, with a little matronly air which would not 
 have misbecome his grandmother, 
 
 " But I am heartily glad you and Tom care so 
 much for each other. Of course, you will understand, 
 Mr. Fallowes, I must be anxious about his associates 
 at Harvard." 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Draycott." 
 
 His tone was deference itself. 
 
 "And I have heard things," continued Dorothy 
 confidentially, "which satisfy me that some of his 
 classmates are not all they should be." 
 
 " No doubt that is true, Miss Draycott. We can 
 onl}'- hope time may improve them." 
 
 Despite the gravity of his manner, he smothered a 
 laugh, and he was saying to himself, 
 
 " What a bewitching little goose she is ! " and for 
 a moment the tall girl seemed to him the child which 
 one side of her certainly was. 
 
 At this point Tom, who had been detained by Mrs. 
 Amoury, came out and joined them. 
 
 An hour later the young men drove over to Cedar 
 Rocks. The time was consumed in making plans, for 
 the next college year. As they wrung each other's 
 hands at parting, Fallowes said,
 
 THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH 107 
 
 " Take care of that young sister of yours, Draycott. 
 She is a girl in a million ! " 
 
 " The best girl in the world ! I shall look out for 
 Dollikins," answered Tom jauntily. He fancied his 
 friend was alluding to the affair of the morning. 
 
 He found Dorothy with Mrs. Amoury, to whom 
 she had been confiding that she thought "young Fal- 
 lowes the most splendid fellow in the world ; and she 
 was delighted that he and Tom," this with the little 
 matronly air sure to set the latter's teeth on edge, 
 " were so chummy." 
 
 Mrs. Amoury knew girls. The frank praise, the 
 high-colored adjectives, satisfied her that Dorothy's 
 young heart was quite safe. 
 
 The next day the children returned to the city. 
 The parting always proved a painful experience to 
 Mrs. Amoury. The small people could not have 
 been under her roof, their comfort and happiness 
 in a large sense uppermost in her thoughts and care, 
 without awakening her warm interest and sympathy. 
 Beneath the surface of awkward manners, unpolished 
 speech, and untrained minds, she found the eager 
 soul, the nascent conscience, the half-wakened heart, 
 which made her always alive to their common 
 humanity. 
 
 " I feel, now the time has come for them to go, we 
 have no right to send them off," she said to her hus- 
 band, half jestingly, half in earnest. " It appears a 
 good deal like giving them a taste of heaven and
 
 198 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 then shutting- them out. It seems as though they 
 must have a sense of injustice rankling in their dumb, 
 resentful little souls, as if they must be asking, 
 ' What right have you to stay here in the midst of all 
 this beauty and ease and luxury, and send us back 
 to the old life, the dark alleys, the noisome slums ? ' 
 The contrasts hurt me." 
 
 "Of course they do, or you wouldn't be the woman 
 you are, my Evelyn. But despite all these things, 
 it will be a happy, noisy little crowd of savages I 
 shall convoy to the station this morning. I sha'n't be 
 able to feel, when I look at them, that any such 
 thought is astir in the brain of one of those youn- 
 kers. At all events, I am absolutely sure they will 
 carry away every mother's son and daughter 
 some new experience, some fresh health and happi- 
 ness, and all be prodigiously glad they came. What 
 a rousing cheer I should get if I put the question to 
 them on the way down ! " 
 
 Mrs. Amoury's eyes brightened. 
 
 " There is something in that, John. Then, it is a 
 comfort to know each boy will go away with a brand- 
 new suit on his b.ack, and each girl with a pretty hat 
 and gown." 
 
 " Yes ; and a bigger comfort is that you and I, my 
 dear, don't have to run God's world ! " 
 
 He started for the wagon into which the dozen 
 were already piling for their drive to the station.
 
 A FRESH PROBLEM 199 
 
 XXV 
 
 A FRESH PROBLEM 
 
 Two days after the children left, the young Dray- 
 cotts returned home. 
 
 The next morning Tom ran into the warehouse, 
 learned Cramley was out, and left a line he had 
 scribbled' which appointed a meeting for that same 
 evening. 
 
 During the week at Red Berry Roads, Dake had 
 been very much in Tom's thoughts. The atmos- 
 phere of the place was calculated to stimulate altru- 
 istic sentiments ; but more than this, Tom's heart 
 was the largest factor in his interest. He was con- 
 scious of this fact, and sometimes half irritated 
 over it. He wished that he could, for the time at 
 least, put Dake Cramley's affairs out of his mind. 
 But they were coining up to perplex him at all 
 inconvenient seasons. He found the problem, too, 
 which he had set himself to solve, more difficult than 
 he had imagined. Yet there it was, insistent, im- 
 placable. All sorts of projects for Dake's future 
 presented themselves in one shape or another, to be 
 dismissed with inward scorn after a little reflection, 
 as lacking in the first element of common sense.
 
 200 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 One day it occurred to Tom that Red Berry Roads 
 was just the sort of place for Dake at this time. He 
 remembered, too, that with all the boy's repugnance 
 to the close confinement, the ordered life, the monoto- 
 nous toil of the warehouse, there had been no hanker- 
 ing after the old ways, the low neighborhood, the 
 rude companionships, of the past. Every thing he 
 had so wildly hankered for had been pure and sweet 
 and wholesome. 
 
 The idea of Dake's coming to Red Berry Roads 
 had no sooner presented itself to young Draycott, 
 than in furtherance of his plan he sought an inter- 
 view with Griffith, learned from him "there was a 
 family in the neighborhood who might be prevailed 
 on to take a fellow in, if he were of the right sort, 
 didn't put on airs, and would be contented with 
 plain, wholesome farmer's fare, and be off most of 
 his time in the woods and fields." 
 
 Tom actually went to the farm, a pleasant, or- 
 chard-shaded place on a side road about two miles 
 from the Amourys, and had an interview with the 
 wife. The quiet, gabled-roofed old home the 
 kindly, simple-mannered, elderly woman made a 
 favorable impression on the young man. Of course 
 everything must, in the last resort, depend on the 
 way the thing would strike Dake ; but Tom had little 
 doubt of his decision. 
 
 If this last plan failed, Tom resolved to throw all 
 scruples to the winds, and take John Amoury into
 
 A FRESH PROBLEM 201 
 
 his confidence. The same reasons which had pre- 
 vented his mentioning Dake Cramley at Red Knolls 
 had been potent with him at Amoury Roost. 
 
 The well-known figure sprang up from the line of 
 benches and came toward young Draycott as he 
 turned once more into the mall. The young men 
 greeted each other in the old hearty fashion, and 
 then instinctively faced about for the sidewalk. Tom 
 bent a rapid, penetrating glance on Dake. They 
 resumed their old stride. Then Tom spoke. 
 
 " Dake, how have things been going with you ? " 
 
 "They've been goin' putty lively." 
 
 Dake was struggling now with one of those sudden 
 
 oo o 
 
 accesses of shyness with which Tom was so familiar. 
 
 " You don't look as though it had been such a pull 
 as as I feared you would find it." 
 
 " No ; at least some of it wasn't." 
 
 It had been a sultry day again. Little vagrant 
 winds which fluttered the leaves were grateful in the 
 deepening dusk. 
 
 After a little while Tom spoke again, with a de- 
 cided, }*et interrogative tone. 
 
 " Dake, something has happened ? " 
 
 "Yes, Draycott, there has." 
 
 " Don't you want me to know ? " 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 " Well, then, what's the use of hanging fire, old 
 fellow ? " 
 
 "It's a good deal of a story."
 
 202 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 Dake looked rather helplessly at his companion. 
 
 Tom came to his aid. 
 
 " Is it about yourself, or somebody else ? " 
 
 " It's more about a girl than anybody else." 
 
 " A girl ! " Tom stood still, and looked Dake in 
 the eyes. 
 
 " Yes ; she's jest a kid. Don't look as though she 
 could be more than four years old." 
 
 " Oil ! " said Tom, and they resumed their walk. 
 " Where did you come across her ? " 
 
 This question proved the entering wedge. 
 
 Dake began with the old misery which came back 
 two or three days after Tom went away. lie painted 
 it with a few terse sentences ; and then he went on to 
 relate how he had strayed off one night, so deep in 
 his own wretchedness that he did not mind where he 
 was going. When he discovered that he was among 
 his old haunts at the North End, he turned about 
 sharply. 
 
 " Of course you did," Tom commented decidedly. 
 
 Dake, fairly started now, did not notice the inter- 
 ruption. In a little while the young men's rapid 
 stride had slowed. Tom was drinking in every syl- 
 lable which fell from Dake's lips. He related in 
 short, graphic sentences the scene at the corner 
 "of the North End alley. The two figures hunted 
 child blear-eyed pursuer stood sharp-drawn, one 
 against the other, in his swift verbal picture. 
 
 Tom saw ; his young blood was fired.
 
 A FRESH PROBLEM 203 
 
 " I wish I had been there, Dake ; I'd have gone 
 in with you to give that old hulks a cudgelling ! " 
 
 " It was lucky the crowd was on my side to a man 
 and woman," continued Dake. 
 
 After this, he had all the talking to himself. The 
 drama took less time in the relating than it does to 
 write it here ; but it included everything the hur- 
 rying away from the threatening crowd, with the 
 little quivering waif in his arms, the supreme ques- 
 tion what to do with her, the pause and rapid de- 
 cision at the corner of Hanover Street, and the scene, 
 a little later, in the small back-room of his boarding- 
 house. 
 
 " And where is she now ? " questioned Tom eagerly. 
 
 " She's at the house still. She won't be anywhere 
 else soon, I reckon." 
 
 Once started on this subject, Dake did not know 
 when to stop. He related the manner in which 
 they learned the child's name was Daisy Ross, and 
 his voice grew husky in the recital; he dilated on 
 the child's appearance, on her big eyes with just that 
 wild-gentian-blue he had found sometimes among the 
 marshes when he was tramping the autumn woods, 
 on the shining gold of the hair, on the little head that 
 was always astir like a robin's. He said the welt on 
 the forehead had almost disappeared, and would leave 
 no scar. 
 
 He told him Daisy would sit on his knee with her 
 sweet, quaint prattle, and how, " every night, she was
 
 204 " SIKS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 at the door or window watching for him, and then 
 what a time there would be, clapping of hands and 
 peals of laughter, and such merry little romps as 
 they had together ! " 
 
 While they talked, the young men had gone with 
 their rapid strides far out on Beacon Street, and at 
 last found themselves in Brookline, near the reservoir. 
 The lights of the great city shining through the sum- 
 mer night seemed a long way off. 
 
 When they turned to retrace their steps, a little 
 silence fell. Tom was at his wit's end for a reply. 
 This new interest of Dake's was utterly foreign to 
 anything in his own experience, to anything he had 
 imagined for his protey. He wanted to say the 
 right thing ; but it was impossible for him to conceive 
 how " a little four-year-old kid could get such a 
 power over a big, strapping fellow like Dake 
 Cramley." 
 
 There was no questioning, however, the change in 
 his whole aspect. The dogged, hopeless look had 
 disappeared. A new life, courage, energy, formed 
 his tones and bearing. Tom feared so slight an in- 
 fluence would not be likely to endure. Still, it was 
 something for the present, and he praised Dake 
 with honest heartiness for the brave part he had 
 played in rescuing the child from " that drunken old 
 scoundrel." 
 
 And Dake flushed a little, as he always did under 
 Draycott's praises.
 
 A FEES II PROBLEM 205 
 
 Tom's first impulse was to offer to do something for 
 the child ; but a second thought made him resolve to 
 leave that for another time. Just now Dake should 
 have all the satisfaction of caring for his protegee. If 
 doing this kept all his energies on the qui vive, it 
 might prove his salvation. 
 
 " I haven't forgotten you, Dake, while I was away," 
 he said at last, turning the conversation. 
 
 " If you had, it would have been the first time, 
 Draycott." 
 
 " But I have been doing something as well as 
 thinking." 
 
 Tom went on to relate his success in finding quar- 
 ters for Dake at the farmhouse. " The country is a 
 paradise ; and you can have your swing round its hills 
 and meadows, fields and woods, and all you have been 
 hankering after. I'll see Meredith to-morrow, and try 
 for a fortnight's vacation. What do you say to it? " 
 
 " Say to it ? I'd have gone through fire and water 
 to get there a little while ago. It's awful good of 
 you, Draycott, but " he drew a sigh that was 
 almost a groan. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " There's Daisy, you know ! If I should go off 
 and leave her now, she'd break her heart, and I 
 should think of her standin' at the window at night, 
 and watchin' for me." 
 
 " The thing must have gone deep with the fel- 
 low ! ' ' Tom thought, but he only rejoined,
 
 206 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 "Have your own way about it, Dake. You can 
 take your vacation earlier or later, as you choose, I 
 fancy. When the time comes, I'm always ready to 
 serve you with Meredith." 
 
 They parted at the Harvard Bridge, promising to 
 see each other the following week. 
 
 As Tom took his seat in the car his complex feel- 
 ing found expression in a muttered, 
 
 " Of course I am enormously glad, but I am also 
 tremendously obfuscated ! "
 
 A STORY AND A SEQUENCE 207 
 
 XXVI 
 
 A STORY AND A SEQUENCE 
 
 DURING the next three weeks nothing eventful 
 occurred in the relations of the two young men. 
 Whenever they met, Tom was struck with the change 
 in Dake's appearance. It seemed to pervade his 
 whole being, as though some new force had been 
 breathed into him. The old half defiant, half devil- 
 may-care manner had vanished. He was cheerful, 
 animated, responsive. He had gained a new poise, 
 self-mastery, and interest in life, though he probably 
 was not aware of the quality and depth of these 
 changes in himself. Had you met the pair on some 
 of their walks, and heard their young hearty laughter 
 over each other's talk and jokes, you would have 
 thought them as happy a brace as Boston held, while 
 she panted through her dog-days. 
 
 There was one subject which was always certain to 
 touch the quick with Dake Cramley. It was con- 
 stantly recurring in his talk, it was evidently upper- 
 most in his thoughts and interest; and this was the 
 child he had rescued from the immigrants of the 
 North End alley. There was a new light in his eyes, 
 a change in his tone, whenever he mentioned her
 
 208 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 name. He repeated her quaint, bright speeches : he 
 dwelt on the simple, charming ways which made her 
 such a surprise and delight to the household ; he 
 never wearied of picturing her to Tom the pretty, 
 restless, yellow-gold head, the big, star-like eyes, the 
 rosy, smiling mouth ; but he always stopped short, 
 declaring there was no use in trying to describe 
 Daisy. One must see her to know what she was. 
 
 Young Draycott was a good deal mystified ; amused, 
 too, .after a fashion. For some reason, not quite 
 clear to himself, he never attempted to quiz Dake on 
 the matter. Whatever the small siren's charm 
 might be, it evidently did not exist for him alone. 
 
 Dake confided to his friend the policeman's efforts 
 to learn something of the child's history. As Mrs. 
 Bray suggested, the man had seen her before setting 
 out on his investigations. He had held her on his 
 knee while she smiled and prattled to him, and he 
 went straight from the influence of that interview to 
 the North End alley. 
 
 A stern inquisition followed. Little additional 
 knowledge, however, beyond the confirmation of Daisy 
 Ross's name was elicited by all the questioning. 
 
 The English family, recently arrived in this coun- 
 try, were living in more respectable quarters, the 
 man had evidently dragged the household from bad 
 to worse, when Daisy was first brought to them for 
 a few hours' care by an elderly woman who was stay- 
 ing near them, and with whom they had formed a
 
 A STORY AND A SEQUENCE 209 
 
 slight acquaintance. She was an American who had 
 recently come to Boston with the child. Daisy, she 
 said, was a double orphan, her mother, a young 
 widow, having died only a few weeks before. She 
 had promised the dead lady, whose maid and nurse 
 she had been, to carry the child to Mrs. Ross's birth- 
 place in the West, where some distant relatives, her 
 own and her husband's, were still living. A sudden 
 illness had detained the woman a fortnight in Boston, 
 where she was a stranger. She was now so far 
 recovered that she hoped to resume her journey the 
 following week. 
 
 The day succeeding this talk, the house in which 
 the maid and child were staying was burned to the 
 ground. At the risk of her own life, the woman had 
 rescued her charge, and some of her mistress's belong- 
 ings ; but the effort and exposure brought on a fresh 
 attack of pneumonia, of which she died after a brief 
 illness, during much of which she. was unconscious. 
 
 The English woman had been kind to Mrs. Ross's 
 maid during her last illness ; and the child, full of 
 infantile grief and amazement, had been left to the 
 stranger's care, with what remained of her mother's 
 valuables. These had disappeared in the family's 
 frequent changes of abode each one marking a 
 lower descent until it reached the North End alley 
 and in the pressing need of money. 
 
 The dead woman had not mentioned the place 
 from which she came or the one to which she was
 
 210 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 bound. In any case it was doubtful whether the 
 English family, to whom American geography must 
 have been as unintelligible as to savages, would have 
 remembered. 
 
 "The officer was satisfied that this meagre informa- 
 tion covered all the facts at present attainable of the 
 child's history. The man, who, with his wife, had 
 undergone this searching examination, was now tol- 
 erably sober, and thoroughly cowed by the appear- 
 ance of the policeman on the scene. He attempted 
 some bungling apology for his treatment of Daisy. 
 
 " It was the whiskey which got into his head and 
 made him give her that cut with the cowhide. It 
 was only one blow afore she was out of the house, 
 smarter'n lightnin'. His wife blast the woman ! 
 was to blame for al'ays coddlin' Daise as though she 
 was somethin' finer than their own flesh and blood, 
 and it made him mad when he was in liquor. A 
 man liked to feel he was master in his own house." 
 
 The policeman closed his interview with some 
 warnings so very much to the point that they proba- 
 bly caused his hearer to diminish the number of his 
 drams, and modify for a time his abuse of his family. 
 
 In this way the tragedy of Daisy Ross's life at the 
 North End came to a close. Beyond these scant 
 facts, with many a hiatus and with no data of local- 
 ity to furnish a clew for further investigation, her 
 family history remained as much of a mystery as 
 though she had come down from the moon.
 
 FACTS WITH SUPPRESSIONS 211 
 
 XXVII 
 
 FACTS WITH SUPPRESSIONS 
 
 TOM DRAYCOTT became conscious of an increasing 
 desire to see his friend's infantile protgyge. A 
 formal call at Mrs. Bray's would not, he felt instinc- 
 tively, furnish just the opportunity he wanted. 
 
 For the first time he began to think seriously of 
 letting Dorothy, as well as Mrs. Dayles, into the 
 secret of Dake's existence. His reasons for never 
 alluding to him had been chiefly on his friend's ac- 
 count ; though, as we have seen, Tom's dislike of fig- 
 uring in the role of benefactor had much to do with 
 his silence. 
 
 But he saw now that his desire to meet Daisy 
 Ross at least in the way most satisfactory to him- 
 self could not be carried out without some femi- 
 nine concurrence. 
 
 Tom made up his mind to speak. He would tell 
 the story in his own way, suppressing whatever was 
 to Dake's disadvantage. 
 
 The- time came most unexpectedly. One sultry 
 afternoon, Tom, idling about the house, thrust his 
 head into Dorothy's room. Mrs. Dayles happened 
 to be there. Little puffs of wind came through open
 
 212 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 windows from the far-away sea. Tom dropped into 
 his favorite easy-chair. 
 
 " I believe this is the coolest place in the house," 
 he said. " What a demure looking brace you are ! " 
 
 " We shall be something less harmless than demure, 
 now you have appeared on the scene ! " replied Doro- 
 thy mischievously. 
 
 But Tom did not take up her challenge. It sud- 
 denly struck him that this was a particularly favora- 
 ble juncture for introducing the topic which he had 
 been for some time revolving in his mind. 
 
 He leaned his head luxuriously against the cush- 
 ioned chair, and began in a leisurely, interrogative 
 tone. 
 
 " You have never either of you heard me speak of 
 Dake Cramley, I believe ? " 
 
 " No." Dorothy's negative was decided. " Who 
 is he ? One of your Harvard fellows ? " 
 
 "Not much! But in short, his name means 
 there's a story behind it." 
 
 " Ah, Tom, do tell it ! We want to hear it don't 
 we, Nanty Dayles ? " 
 
 The kind, tranquil face turned toward him. 
 
 " Of course we do. Tom's stories always have a 
 ring to them." 
 
 " I've known the fellow some time, at least, since 
 early last spring." Here Tom, with a few rapid 
 touches, described Dake's personnel and then contin- 
 ued, " I met him first on the streets. Something in
 
 FACTS WITH SUPPRESSIONS 213 
 
 his appearance struck me, and, in short, I turned 
 about and spoke to him I " 
 
 " Why, how very funny ! What did you say to 
 him ? " inquired Dorothy, with a girl's liking for 
 details. 
 
 " I can't stop to think up all that now, and please 
 let me take my own way of telling there's a good 
 girl ! I think I made the fellow believe I was his 
 friend. His surprise and gratitude were the kind 
 one does not meet with every day. 
 
 "Afterward, in one of my tramps, I met him 
 again. It was a glorious moonlit night, on the Bel- 
 mont road. The fellow was all alone ; I suspected he 
 was in trouble succeeded in getting at the bottom 
 facts at last. He was out of work, hadn't anywhere 
 to go, and was in a hard case generally. We walked 
 down to the station together. Then, not to make a 
 long story here, I managed in a short time to find 
 a berth for the boy in Meredith's warehouse. You 
 know his old friendship for the pater. I struck that 
 chord, happily, as the event proved. Dake has been 
 there ever since, and, from all accounts, has done 
 himself credit." 
 
 Tom drew a breath of relief here. He had gone 
 gingerly over this part of his narrative ; he had suc- 
 ceeded in interesting his audience ; he struck ahead 
 boldly now ; he related with some detail his evening 
 walks with Dake Cramley, and dwelt upon the sound 
 sense, the native shrewdness, and the innate good
 
 214 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 quality which was always cropping out in his talk. 
 He painted sympathetically the restlessness and re- 
 coil amid the changed conditions of Dake's life at 
 the warehouse. When the scene at the North End 
 came up, Tom had dramatic material at his command. 
 Such a story could not fail to touch the deepest, ten- 
 derest instincts of the girl and woman who drank in 
 every word, silent, intent, breathless. When that 
 was done, Tom Draycott had gained his point. Dake 
 Cramley had taken the guise of a hero, if one 
 somewhat in the rough, to both Dorothy and Mrs. 
 Dayles. 
 
 Tom dwelt at some length on the change which 
 had come over Dake since that night. 
 
 " Of course I can't conceive of all that. How a 
 little kid of four years has managed to get that big 
 fellow in her toils, and keep him steady at the tread- 
 mill when he was so fierce to cut the whole thing, 
 staggers me! If she can exert such a spell now, 
 what will she be a dozen or fifteen years later? 
 Nanty Dayles, won't you solve the riddle?" 
 
 " I think," she said, with her soft, quiet smile, " the 
 boy must love her very much." 
 
 " Oh, there's no doubt about that," said Tom 
 jauntily. 
 
 " She must be a remarkable child anyhow. I wish 
 I could see her," broke in Dorothy. 
 
 This was Tom's chance. " I confess to a sneaking 
 wish to get a squint at her myself. Can't we con-
 
 FACTS WITH SUPPRESSIONS 215 
 
 trive to get this magic-working midget out to Red 
 Knolls ? " 
 
 "Of course we can. Ask Dake what an odd 
 name ! to bring her out some day." 
 
 " But that wouldn't work. The fellow is shy and 
 not used to our ways. It would all end in his being 
 out of his element, dumb and miserable." 
 
 " I see, Tom. Nanty Dayles, we are in a dilemma. 
 Come to our rescue ! " 
 
 The elder woman reflected a moment. " If you 
 could go yourself, my dear, and bring the child out, 
 the young man might come for her in the evening. 
 That would not be so formal, and he would be likely 
 to feel less bashful among strangers." 
 
 Tom swung himself up. 
 
 " That is a capital suggestion. Just hits the nail 
 on the head! Why didn't I think of it myself? 
 Dake may fight shy at first, but I shall bring him 
 round." 
 
 " I will drive in some day next week and bring 
 the child out," continued Dorothy, rising to the 
 occasion. " You must arrange all the details, Tom." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " And all this has been going on, and you have 
 never breathed a syllable about it ! " commented 
 Dorothy, regarding her brother with pleased, curious 
 eyes. Both she and Mrs. Dayles had perceived he 
 kept in the background, so far as was possible, 
 whatever part he had played in Dake Cramley's
 
 216 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 improved fortunes. "I think it was awful good 
 
 in you." 
 
 " What was ? " 
 
 " All the things you have done for him." 
 
 "Oh, bother my goodness ! ".said Tom Draycott.
 
 A HARD-WRUNG CONSENT 217 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 A HARD- WRUNG CONSENT 
 
 AT the next meeting of the young men, Dake had 
 at the beginning the talk mostly to himself. This 
 was unusual. He had not the facile gift of speech 
 which inheritance and careful training made second 
 nature to Tom Draycott. The latter hud his own 
 purpose in leading the talk to-night to the subjects 
 on which Dake was sure to expand. Tom laughed 
 heartily at some of his mimicries of the child. It 
 struck him for the first time that Dake had the mak- 
 ing of an actor in him. 
 
 At last he seized the occasion. 
 
 " I am tired of hearing all these things at second- 
 hand, Dake. You are a grim old Bluebeard to keep 
 your small prodigy shut up like a prisoner in a fort- 
 ress. Why won't you give another fellow some 
 chance to see and hear her?" 
 
 " Nothing would please me better than that, Dray- 
 cott," rejoined Dake heartily. 
 
 " But how are you going to bring it about? " 
 
 Dake reflected gravely a moment. 
 
 " Could you come round to the house ? Or I 
 might bring Daisy out for a walk some evening ;
 
 218 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 only it would be rather late for her by the time you 
 got over." 
 
 " Decidedly ; and what chance would there be, in 
 such a touch-and-go affair, of getting at the real 
 Daisy ? That is the thing I am after now." 
 
 " Of course I have only to know what will suit 
 you, Draycott, and I am ready to carry it out," added 
 Dake earnestly. 
 
 They had turned a few moments before into the 
 Public Garden ; they dropped down on a bench, 
 removed their caps, and drank in great breaths of 
 sweet evening air. The wind in the elms was like 
 a dream of winds. 
 
 Tom was not long in unfolding the plan which he 
 and Dorothy had arranged between them. Dake lis- 
 tened, motionless with attention. Tom did his best 
 to anticipate all reluctances and objections which he 
 divined on his companion's part, and to treat what 
 he well knew must be an unprecedented event in 
 Dake's experience, as a very commonplace affair. 
 
 " I have told my sister about Daisy, and she is just 
 wild to see her. She will drive around to Mrs. 
 Bray's and bring her over in the pony-carriage. 
 That will give the child, too, a nice drive, and her 
 first sight of Cambridge and Arlington. We are to 
 have this affair, you see, all by ourselves, and give 
 Daisy a good time, with no stiffness or ceremony of 
 any kind. Nobody will be there but Nanty Dayles, 
 who is the kindest, most motherly soul in the world.
 
 A HAED-WUUNG CONSENT 219 
 
 111 the evening you can come for Daisy, and I shall 
 be there, of course, and we will walk down to the 
 station, while my sister and Daisy will drive over. 
 That is my plan, all cut and dried. Can you find 
 a flaw in it? " 
 
 "Not one, Draycott. Daisy would be jest wild to 
 go. But don't you see?" Tom felt the recoil in 
 every atom of the robust frame. "I ain't used to 
 such things. They're out of my line. I shouldn't 
 know how to act when the pinch came." 
 
 " Dake Cramley, I always thought you were a 
 sensible fellow ! " 
 
 "But you never could 'a' thought I was a cock-o'- 
 the-walk like that big set you belong to." 
 
 " Well, if that is your reason, all I have to say is 
 you are quite too much a cock-o'-the-walk to suit me 
 just now." 
 
 "But I never was in such a swell house as yours. 
 It's one thing to be out here under the trees and the 
 stars with you, and another to be a visitor under 
 your roof. I ain't got the manners to carry me 
 through that part." 
 
 "When I insist that /want you to come that it 
 will be a pleasure to see you at my house, won't 
 those reasons have some weight with you? ' 
 
 " I might go up to the cannon's mouth for you, 
 Draycott, but don't you see ? this is different." 
 
 The dialogue of affirmatives and negatives went 
 on for a quarter of an hour, perhaps. Tom car-
 
 220 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 ried, one by one, Dake's defences. His weapons 
 consisted mostly of grave arguments, alternated with 
 earnest persuasions and some good-natured ridicule. 
 At last he overbore all Dake's shyness and reluc- 
 tance, and won a perfunctory promise that he would 
 appear at Red Knolls. But even Tom had no 
 adequate conception of how he shrank from the 
 ordeal. 
 
 As for Daisy, Dake had no fears. One does not 
 question how an angel will carry itself in the pres- 
 ence-chamber of kings. After all details of the 
 visit had been duly arranged, Tom said, as they rose 
 to leave, 
 
 " Well, Dake, I shall see you next time under my 
 own roof-tree. That will be a new experience to 
 both of us." 
 
 The kindliest-intentioned speech sometimes goes 
 wide of its mark. There was a flash of conscious- 
 ness in Dake's face. Tom saw his mistake, and 
 hastened to add : 
 
 " I hope it may prove a pleasant one to you, Dake. 
 As for myself, I have no doubt on the matter." 
 
 Dake's mouth twitched. " I ain't any right to 
 cross your threshold, Draycott !" his voice sharp with 
 the pain that was alive and throbbing under it. "It 
 all looks so different to me now from what it did 
 then ; and it looks wuss since I've come to know 
 Daisy, and seen how she believes in me." 
 
 " What do you mean, Dake ? " asked Tom ; but 
 even while he spoke he understood. He knew that
 
 A HARD-WRUNG CONSENT 221 
 
 Dake's thoughts had gone back to their earliest ac- 
 quaintance to a night on the Belmont Road. 
 
 There was a little silence ; then Dake spoke, his 
 voice half smothered in agitation. 
 
 " I mean tilings that have been done things that 
 you and I know and that can't be undone." 
 
 The words, the tone, the look, which accompanied 
 them, stirred all that was generous in young Dray- 
 cott's nature. 
 
 "Dake, I didn't take you for such a fool!" he 
 burst out. " You are not troubling yourself over 
 that old affair ? " 
 
 " How can I help it, Draycott ? " Dake clinched 
 his hands together, then wrung them apart as one 
 might in physical agony. " It is al'ays comin' up to 
 me when you are doin' me some new kindness, and 
 it hurts it hurts ! " The monosyllables were a 
 low, wailing cry. 
 
 Tom's heart was thrilled with unutterable pity. 
 To think of the poor fellow's carrying about with 
 him such a pain, such a memory ! 
 
 " Sit down here, Dake," his voice sharp with deter- 
 mination. " We must have this thing out now and 
 forever ! " 
 
 They resumed their seats. The street lights shot 
 long, glittering lances among the shadows that wa- 
 vered whenever the winds, soft-fingered, touched the 
 boughs overhead. 
 
 Tom laid his hand on Dake's shoulder.
 
 222 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 " I had forgotten all about that," he said in a quiet 
 tone, with a great kindliness all through it. "Even 
 had I remembered, I should have said to myself, 'If 
 I had been in his case I should probably have done 
 as he did, or worse.' ' 
 
 Dake shook his head mournfully. 
 
 "Ah, but you're saying all that to comfort me. 
 It can't undo things, Draycott things that make 
 me feel I ain't fit to enter your house and look your 
 people in the face." 
 
 " It seems to me I am the sole party to decide that 
 matter. As to what I just said, about my doing 
 what you did in your case well, if they were the 
 last words I should ever speak, they would not be 
 more absolutely true." 
 
 Dake turned now and looked Tom in the eyes. 
 The remorse and the misery were still in his 
 own, but some new hope was struggling through 
 them. 
 
 "Now, Dake," continued Tom, "I am going to 
 give you a chance to do something for me, some- 
 thing that will send me off to-night, if you consent, 
 a happier man." 
 
 Dake sat more erect. "You know, Draycott, 
 there's nothing you can ask I ain't ready to do;" 
 
 " Then you are to promise me sacred word and 
 honor, you understand that you will never think 
 of what has passed, and which is to me, and always 
 will be, as though it had never happened."
 
 A HARD-WRUNG CONSENT 223 
 
 "Ah, but it did, it did, Draycott!" The anguish 
 leaped again into his voice. 
 
 Tom felt as if the pain were in his own heart. 
 
 " Dake, that is not doing what I asked." 
 
 There was a little silence. Then Dake laid his 
 hand on Tom's knees and Tom laid his own palm on 
 the rougher hand, and listened. 
 
 In a moment the words struggled up low and 
 hoarse, 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 A few minutes later young Draycott was hurrying 
 along the sidewalk whistling some Harvard tune and 
 saying to himself, 
 
 " Poor fellow ! What tortures he must have suf- 
 fered ! And I had forgiven and forgotten it all so 
 long ago." 
 
 Then suddenly, and in a way he had never done 
 before, Tom Draycott thought of God's forgiveness. 
 Was it in that way he forgave, only infinitely better, 
 infinitely more ! 
 
 Tom stopped whistling. A mist of tears flashed 
 in his eyes.
 
 224 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 XXIX 
 
 ONE THING AND ANOTHER 
 
 THE midsummer days were going, happy as days 
 could go, over one little golden head under the roof- 
 tree of Mrs. Jemima Bray. Daisy Ross had become 
 the pet and darling of that miscellaneous household. 
 She was a very incarnation of the sweetness, the 
 freshness, the nameless charm, of childhood. She 
 was alive in every fibre of her small organism, full 
 of eager interest in the novel scenes about her, 
 overflowing with pretty, quaint prattle, and keeping 
 the long table, at which she sat in her high-chair 
 between Dake and Mrs. Bray, attent and amused 
 with her talk. Everybody petted her, repeated her 
 bright questions, her sage comments, her amusing 
 speeches. And with this one interest and pleasure 
 in common, the natural result followed, the people 
 grew more friendly with each other. 
 
 As for Daisy herself, the dingy old house which 
 had opened its arms so wide and taken her to its 
 heart was just a heaven to her. There was no hap- 
 pier child the live-long day in the palace nurseries of 
 the world than was- Daisy Ross in Mrs. Bray's dingy 
 little sitting-room. She unfolded like a flower trans-
 
 ONE THING AND ANOTHER 225 
 
 planted to a kindlier soil in this new atmosphere of 
 love and care which surrounded her. The peaked 
 face rounded its curves ; the pale cheeks gathered a 
 soft wild-rose bloom, and the lips between which the 
 small white teeth glanced bewitchingly were red as 
 carnations. 
 
 A child lives mostly in the present. All that past 
 which Daisy had so suddenly and absolutely left be- 
 hind her became, for the most part, like some hideous 
 nightmare from which one awakens into the wide, 
 sweet, reassuring daylight. Each hour was crowded 
 with fresh, delightful surprises and interests to the 
 eager, curious child. The little plot of ground at 
 the back of the house, with its straggling currant- 
 bushes, its narrow flower-bed in a sunny corner, of 
 sweet-williams, pinks, and yellow marigolds, and its 
 one pear-tree, shorn of much of its ancient glory, was 
 a source of never-failing delight to the child. It had 
 never, in its pride of far-spreading boughs and snows 
 of bloom, sheltered a fairer thing than that little 
 golden head which in its old age came to sit in its 
 lessening shadow. 
 
 That summer the robins had built a nest amonsr 
 
 o 
 
 the topmost boughs. Daisy would murmur to the 
 birds in her soft, cooing voice, 
 
 " O robins, away up there in the leaves, if you 
 would only just come down here and light on my 
 hand, and let me smooth your brown wings so softly ! 
 Then, in a minute, I'd let you fly back to your nest
 
 226 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 hung up in the boughs, and I'd sit here a-listeiiin' 
 while you sung to me. But you won't come, though 
 I should call to you all day; you don't know me, and 
 you fear I might be one of the bad folks who wouldn't 
 let the little birds go again." 
 
 Daisy was extremely fond of Mrs. Bray, who cod- 
 dled and doted on her; but the deepest loyalty of 
 her child heart was reserved for Dake Cramley. He 
 had been her Angel of deliverance. One hour and one 
 scene were burned into her childish memory and im- 
 agination. She saw him always as he had looked at 
 the moment when he had grasped her in his strong 
 arms, and she stared up in the midst of her sobbing 
 terror and pain to the kind, pitying eyes bent on 
 her, before they turned in a blaze of fury on her tor- 
 mentor. It was he who had brought her away from 
 the old misery, arid set her amid all the brightness 
 and joy of her present life. Nobody could take his 
 place; nobody be equal to him. She could not, of 
 course, have put it in words ; but none the less one 
 scene and one hour had, to her eyes, set an aureole 
 about his head. 
 
 Dake's return at night formed for Daisy the crown- 
 ing event of the day. When the time drew near 
 she would plant herself at the window, and such a 
 shouting and clapping of hands as would ensue when 
 she first caught sight of him ! 
 
 Sometimes this programme would be changed. She 
 would be standing motionless, breathless, with spark-
 
 ONE THING AND ANOTHER 227 
 
 ling eyes and strained ears, behind the door, listening 
 for the quick, well-known footfall. 
 
 When Dake entered he would carry out the joke, 
 staring about him, and saying to himself, grave and 
 puzzled, " What can have become' of Daisy?" 
 
 Then she would spring from her hiding-place with 
 screams of laughter, to be snatched up, and shaken, 
 and mounted on his shoulder, and marched through 
 the hall, while the sounds of the frolic would reach 
 Mrs. Bray's ears, and make the worn, tired face break 
 into a pleased smile. 
 
 But the happiest time, after all, though it was a 
 quieter one, followed the supper hour, when the two 
 would be together in Mrs. Bray's sitting-room, and 
 Daisy, drawing up close to Dake's side, would relate 
 all the events of the day. What a bright, varied 
 chapter the childish imagination, the lisping, prattling 
 tongue, made of it ! So many things had happened ! 
 And all set in such glowing atmospheres of childish 
 wonder, freshness, and delight. One day the man at 
 the market had given her the loveliest pink rose, and 
 said she was like that ; another time somebody else 
 had patted her curls and put a big orange in her 
 palm so big it took both hands to hold it. And 
 then the sights she had seen on the way home ; and 
 the things in the shop-windows when she and Mrs. 
 Bray stopped to look at them ! 
 
 And Dake, drinking in all this talk, and breaking 
 into a loud laugh occasionally over some sage remark
 
 228 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 or some charming ignorance, found the whole as new 
 and delightful an experience as it was to Daisy. 
 
 Sometimes they had walks in the dusk on wide 
 streets, or around the Common ; and Dake would over- 
 hear people say, 
 
 " Did you see that beautiful child ? " 
 
 " What wonderful eyes she has ! " 
 
 At such times he was more pleased and proud than 
 he could possibly have been at any compliment to 
 himself. If Daisy overheard, she did not mind any 
 more than the bobolinks, pouring out their hearts in 
 song, mind when somebody praises their singing. 
 
 As for Dake himself, a great change had come 
 over that }-outh. People the world seemed dif- 
 ferent. This was the case in a marked degree at Mrs. 
 Bray's. It was too much to expect that she would 
 maintain inviolable secrecy regarding the drama which 
 had taken place at the North End. The part Dake 
 had played could not fail to reach primeval instincts in 
 human hearts. The young man, looked upon at first 
 as rather an alien, found himself suddenly trans- 
 formed to a hero in the regard of the household. 
 Daisy's estimate of him, manifested in a thousand 
 pretty, touching ways, was to some degree reflected 
 in the minds of the others. Dake's fellow-boarders 
 made friendly overtures, listened with interest when 
 he spoke, and showed their kindly feeling in various 
 forms. All this was as pleasant as it was novel an 
 experience to Dake Cramley. His better self un-
 
 ONE THING AND ANOTHER 229 
 
 folded in this atmosphere of approval. He had 
 things to say ; and he said them in a pleasant, hearty 
 way which had its effect. They began to talk of his 
 good looks, his kindly smile, his pleasant eyes. 
 Some of the boarders who had griefs or wrongs came 
 to him with their troubles, and found him interested 
 and sympathetic, as he would not have been if he had 
 known less of hard lines himself. 
 
 There was a great change in the youth's whole 
 aspect. Tom Draycott's influence had, of course, 
 much to do with this. That Harvard youth was 
 Dake's model and ideal. He never consciously 
 sought to imitate his friend ; but he could not love 
 and admire another so thoroughly without involun- 
 tarily falling more or less into his manners, his pro- 
 nunciation, his forms of expression. Dake's mental 
 faculties were above the average, and he was still 
 young enough to be susceptible of improvement to 
 almost any degree. 
 
 But, even when one is young, habits have a great 
 power of asserting themselves. It was not in human 
 nature that the old restlessness and hunger should 
 not come back again, the longing for the old sweet, 
 wandering freedom when he called no man master. 
 That strain would probably be in Dake Cramley's 
 blood while he lived. Perhaps it was some inherit- 
 ance from rough, sea-faring forbears, or roaming gyp- 
 sies. No amount of careful training would be likely 
 to eradicate an impulse which had its legitimate 
 rights.
 
 230 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 But there was Daisy ! His thoughts always came 
 back to her; his heart always conquered at the last. 
 The picture rose before him of the small, eager face 
 watching at the window, the little golden head bent 
 to listen behind the door for his footsteps ; he saw 
 the doubt and wistfulness begin to creep over the 
 happy face ; he saw the quivering lips, the shadow 
 gathering in the bright eyes ; he knew perfectly well 
 it would dog his steps and draw him back at night 
 wherever he went. 
 
 He drew a long breath, and shook his head in a 
 hopeless way. 
 
 " I couldn't leave Daisy. It would break her 
 heart ! " he replied to something that hungered and 
 clamored inside of him. 
 
 It was little more than a baby's soft hand ; but it 
 had a power to hold him mightier than steel cables.
 
 A POOL1 LITTLE 1NNERCENT PAGAN" 231 
 
 XXX 
 
 DAISY Ross seldom alluded to her past life, and 
 Mrs. Bray and Dake Cramley had agreed between 
 themselves to avoid the subject. 
 
 One day, however, it came up. Mrs. Bray and 
 the child were alone together. Daisy was absorbed in 
 her new tea-set some coarse bits of painted pottery 
 which one of .the boarders had brought her, and 
 which, in the child's eyes, were precious and beauti- 
 ful as rarest porcelain. 
 
 As Mrs. Bray watched the child with pleased eyes 
 a new thought struck her. 
 
 " Land o' Goshen ! " she exclaimed. " I forgot all 
 about that ; I must be gettin' no better than an idol- 
 worshippin' heathen, with all these boarders. We'll 
 begin this very night ! " 
 
 " What shall we begin ? " asked Daisy, looking up 
 from her toy cups and saucers. 
 
 " To say, Now I lay me,' child." 
 
 " I don't know what* that is." 
 
 "It's a nice little verse a prayer which good 
 little children al'ays say to God every night. He's a 
 long way off, but all the same he can hear."
 
 232 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Daisy started and shuddered. 
 
 " I don't want to say anything to kirn ! " she cried 
 sharply. 
 
 Mrs. Bray was bewildered, shocked. 
 
 " Do you know what you are sayin', Daisy ? Do 
 you know who God is? " 
 
 " He's something big and awful," answered the 
 child, forgetting her toys and on the point of break- 
 ing down into a sob. "That bad man called on him 
 every time he was drunk. He'd shout his name and 
 curse everybody. I don't want to say anything to 
 
 With sudden terror, as the old scenes came back, 
 she ran to Mrs. Bray and hid her face in the woman's 
 lap. She drew Daisy into her arms, and soothed her 
 with tender words and caresses. All the while she 
 was saying to herself, 
 
 " This is the very last hour you shall be a poor 
 little innercent pagan ! " 
 
 As soon as the child was quieted, Mrs. Bray set 
 about her missionary work. She devoted the after- 
 noon to it. It was all as novel, as startling, as awe- 
 inspiring to the imaginative child as the story of 
 God and his heaven must be to the young South 
 Sea Islander when he leaves his fetish to hear about 
 them for the first time. 
 
 Mrs. Bray's talk of course took a tinge, more or 
 less, from her own personality. Her theology was 
 partly composed of the creed of her childhood, of
 
 "A POOR LITTLE INNERCENT PAGAN" 233 
 
 Bible verses which lingered in her memory, and of 
 pious hymns and songs. No doubt many good people 
 would have found curious contradictions, and much to 
 criticise and supplement in this talk ; but the story 
 she told that afternoon in the stuffy old sitting-room 
 to the sweet, eager child was the one which is the 
 life and hope of Christendom. Daisy's swift child's 
 imagination, her warm heart, her native intuitions, 
 seized upon that central truth, alike for the small and 
 the great, the wise and the ignorant, the great Power, 
 the greater Love, at the heart of the universe. It 
 was all very realistic to the child. She broke in with 
 innumerable questions, some of which made Mrs. 
 Bray laugh, and some made her cry, and others 
 sorely perplexed her to answer. 
 
 Daisy's notions regarding the geography of heaven 
 were very much mixed. She gathered at last a 
 vague idea that it was somehow " pieced on " to 
 the end of this world. She had not any clear idea 
 of what death meant. Mrs. Bray's talk did not in- 
 clude that subject. She could not herself remember 
 a time when she did not know " everybody must 
 die," and probably took for granted that that knowl- 
 edge, as Dogberry thought of reading and writing, 
 " comes by nature." 
 
 " And heaven is such a grand, beautiful place," 
 repeated Daisy, her child's imagination dwelling on 
 this salient point. " Is it such a very long way to 
 get there ? "
 
 234 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " Oh, no, my dear not when the time comes to 
 
 "But how do we go ? " 
 
 There was a little pause. The memory of one of 
 her child-hymns came to Mrs. Bray opportunely. 
 
 " We go over the River Jordan." 
 
 " What is a river ? " 
 
 " It is water a great wide stretch of water. 
 Everybody has to go to heaven that way." 
 
 Daisy's eyes grew dark and startled. She clung 
 closer to Mrs. Bray. 
 
 " But I should be afraid ! I should be drowndid ! " 
 
 " Oh, no, Daisy. God would look out for that. 
 He would send his own beautiful angel to carry you 
 over. The water wouldn't hurt you." 
 
 She sat still, pondering a little while, the ra- 
 diance growing in the great eyes. Then she asked 
 softly, 
 
 " And you say my own mamma has gone to that 
 beautiful heaven ? " 
 
 " Of course she has ; and she's a-waitin' for you, my 
 blessed darlin'. All good folks go straight there 
 when they die." 
 
 "And she will know me, you think ? You see, I'm 
 so much bigger now ! " Then, before Mrs. Bray 
 could reply, she continued, " But I could ask some 
 angel where she was ; and when he told me, I could 
 go straight to her and say, 'I'm Daisy!' That 
 would be enough."
 
 I 
 
 "A POOR LITTLE INNE11CENT PAGAN " 235 
 
 A while afterward she asked gravely, " You say 
 the good folks go to h6aven, Miss Bray ; where do 
 the bad ones go ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bray always felt she was inspired to reply, 
 which she did after a brief pause, speaking very 
 solemnly, 
 
 " Daisy, you know what the bad people are the 
 people who don't believe in God, or care to please 
 him. You know what kind of a place they make 
 here. Would they want to go to God do you 
 think?" 
 
 The child thought of the North End. She drew 
 one of her long, wavering breaths. 
 
 "No, they wouldn't," she said. 
 
 That evening when she and Dake were alone to- 
 gether, she broke out on the subject of which her 
 heart and thoughts were full. 
 
 " O Dakie, I've been learning all about it! " 
 
 " About what ? " 
 
 " About God, who is so great and good, and who is 
 our Father, and who lives in his big, beaut'f ul heaven, 
 and who will take us all there all the good folks, 
 I mean to stay and be happy for always and always. 
 My own papa and mamma are there, and you and I 
 will go and see them some time. But why didn't 
 you tell me, Dakie? " 
 
 As he heard the question, as he looked at the 
 child, something in Dake Cramley's soul was stirred 
 into a longing to be all the child believed him. He
 
 236 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 felt for the moment like a secret impostor in that 
 small presence. If she could know the real Dake, 
 would she, amazed and horrified, turn and flee from 
 him forever? Scenes of his past life, things he 
 had done without a question of right or wrong con- 
 cerning them, came up now. Memories stabbed 
 him; his conscience was quickened: he was acquiring 
 new ethical standards, new processes of thought and 
 motive powers, and he did not realize that this was 
 partly due to the influence of the child who abso- 
 lutely believed in and trusted him. 
 
 He felt to-night as though a great gulf lay between 
 them. Yet he would not consciously, by word or 
 act, have soiled that transparent childish innocence, 
 any more than her dead mother would have done. 
 
 But her big, questioning eyes were on his face. 
 
 u I I thought I'd leave Mrs. Bray to tell you 
 about that," speaking the thing which came first. 
 
 " But why, Dakie," she lisped very earnestly, 
 " when you and I are goin' there some time, you 
 know? Of course you would wait for me until I 
 corned, as I should for you if I got there first." 
 
 " Of course you'll get there all right, Daisy," de- 
 vouring her with his eyes. " As for me, that's 
 another question ! " 
 
 She sat still in her small rocking-chair by his side, 
 regarding him with some wonder and concern in her 
 upraised eyes. Something in his tone or manner 
 struck and confused her childish instincts. She
 
 "A POOH LITTLE INNERCENT PAGAN" 237 
 
 could not have put her feelings into words, but she 
 had a vague intuition that something was troubling 
 him. 
 
 She sprang up impulsively, and crossed her arms 
 on his knee, which was one of her pretty attitudes. 
 
 " Dakie, I know just how it will be. Shall I tell 
 you ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " patting her head. These caressing 
 movements had grown very natural to him, though 
 at first he had been shy and awkward at attempting 
 them. " I want to hear, Daisy." 
 
 " Well, it will be just this way. When the time 
 comes you'll walk up and stand at the gate, and the 
 angel that keeps it will hear and call out loud, 
 
 " ' Who's there ? ' 
 
 " And you'll tell him your name. And then the 
 great shinin' gate will go back with a loud b-a-n-g, 
 and the beaut'f ul angel with the great white wings 
 will say, 
 
 " ' Oh, I know who you be ! Come right in, 
 Dakie!'" 
 
 Two or three days after this conversation Daisy 
 was taken suddenly ill. When Dake returned at 
 night there was no small golden head at the window, 
 no rush of little feet, with laughing shouts, in the 
 hall. 
 
 A thousand fears started like dark spectres in his 
 thoughts. He hurried to Mrs. Bray's room, where
 
 238 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 it was a relief to find Daisy, though she lay like a 
 storm-swept flower on the lounge. The wild rose 
 had paled in her cheeks. When she heard Dake's 
 footstep she roused herself a little, smiled faintly, 
 and tried to speak ; but the words died amid panting 
 breaths and a little sharp moan of pain. Then the 
 long, shining lashes closed heavily over her eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Bray was bending over the child, anxious, 
 and somewhat alarmed. She had noticed that Daisy 
 was not well that morning, and the child had 
 drooped during the day and grown feverish. The 
 woman had been hurrying back and forth, applying 
 the remedies with which her experience} of childish 
 ailments made her familiar. 
 
 But Dake, who had very little knowledge of ill- 
 ness, was torn with fears at sight of his prostrate 
 darling. He followed his hostess into another room. 
 His face was blanched; he tried to speak, but the 
 words died in a husky sound in his throat. 
 
 " Don't be so upset, my dear young man," said 
 Mrs. Bray, laying her hand on his shoulder. "It all 
 comes of them pesky plums ! They wasn't ripe, and 
 I ought to have stood out ag'in her eatin' 'em. 
 What with candies and rich cakes and fruit of one 
 sort and another the boarders are al'ays bringin' that 
 child, it's a wonder her little stomach wasn't upset 
 before this. Of course folks mean well, and I've 
 done my best to warn 'em, but it did as much good 
 as talkin' to the winds. When she gets well I shall 
 put my foot down I "
 
 " A POOR LITTLE INNERCENT PAGAN " 239 
 
 Dake, somewhat reassured, returned to Daisy; but 
 the sight of the little white face under that curtain 
 of golden hair sent a fresh chill to his heart. The 
 thought that Daisy might die flashed over him. It 
 seemed like blotting the sun out of heaven. The 
 terror that clutched at his heart leaped out in an 
 anguished cry, 
 
 " O God, leave me Daisy ! Only leave me Daisy ! " 
 
 It was his first prayer. 
 
 Mrs. Bray's diagnosis proved correct, and her 
 remedies effectual. 
 
 The next morning Daisy was better, and her whole 
 system rebounded with the elasticity of a healthy 
 child. But the absence of that little bright presence 
 from the table had made a deep impression. Mrs. 
 Bray seized the occasion to paint in strong terms the 
 danger to which Daisy had been exposed ; she im- 
 plored her household not to tempt the little palate, 
 and risk the child's life.
 
 240 "SIUS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 XXXI 
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 
 
 EAELY one afternoon a small basket-carriage with 
 a yellow awning and the daintiest little thorough- 
 bred dark-coated mare were drawn up before Mrs. 
 Bray's front door. In the parlor, awaiting the host- 
 ess, a young lady had been seated for several minutes. 
 This was Dorothy Draycott. 
 
 She glanced about the parlor, her young eyes tak- 
 ing in the whole, the old-fashioned, faded ingrain 
 carpet of sprawling crimson figures on a background 
 of dark green ; the chairs and sofa upholstered in 
 hair-cloth of the fashion of half a century ago ; the 
 high carved mantel-piece, ornamented witli a good 
 deal of ware in china figures and high-colored vases. 
 Dorothy was conscious, despite the open windows, of 
 various culinary odors in the air. These seemed a 
 part of the place as much as the large red figures 
 of the carpet, or the stags' heads on the wall paper. 
 
 The door opened, and a thin, tallish woman with a 
 sallow, plaintive kind of face, and a rather company 
 smile which puckered all the lines about her mouth, 
 entered the room. 
 
 Dorothy rose at once. The tired, worn elderly
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 241 
 
 woman, whose life had long been a struggle with 
 hard fortunes, and whose years were now getting 
 deeper among their autumnal frosts, and the young 
 girl whose life had been nested in a refined and 
 elegant home, and amid all wise and tender family 
 loves, and whose years were in the dew and blossom- 
 ing of their Maytime, looked curiously at each 
 other. 
 
 "Mrs. Bray, I believe?" said Dorothy. The soft 
 young voice was pleasant to hear. " I am Miss 
 Draycott." 
 
 Mrs. Bray made her best bow, and expressed her- 
 self as very happy to meet Miss Draycott. She had 
 donned her black silk gown, which had seen a good 
 many years' service, in honor of the occasion. 
 
 Dorothy stated her errand briefly. She had called 
 for Daisy Ross. No doubt Mrs. Bray understood 
 how the matter had all been arranged between her 
 brother Tom and Mr. Cramley. 
 
 Mrs. Bray acquiesced. Daisy was all ready to 
 go, she said, and had Liardly talked of anything 
 else for the last two days. 
 
 After exchanging a few more sentences, Mrs. Bray, 
 excusing herself, left the room. In a few moments 
 she returned, leading by the hand what struck 
 Dorothy as the loveliest child she had ever seen. 
 
 The household, its feminine portion at least, had 
 been aroused to a deep interest in this projected visit 
 of Daisy to Red Knolls. Her dress for the occasion
 
 242 " sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 had been a matter of grave conference between the 
 landlady and some of her boarders. The ultimate 
 was a child's white frock of barred muslin, with a 
 girdle of light sky-blue ribbon. A pretty straw hat 
 was scarfed and looped with the same shade. A pair 
 of new morocco slippers completed the whole. 
 
 Daisy stood still a few moments gazing at the 
 stranger with -delighted, wide-eyed surprise. She 
 had the fearlessness and trust of perfect childish 
 innocence ; and when Dorothy leaned forward with 
 outstretched hands, she came over to her at once, 
 and asked, while her eager breath panted through the 
 words, 
 
 " Have you come for me to go with you to Red 
 Knolls? " 
 
 Dorothy bent down, and the two sweet mouths 
 kissed each other. 
 
 " Yes, I have come, Daisy. The carriage is at 
 the door ; and, as Mrs. Bray kindly tells me you are 
 ready, we will start at once." 
 
 Mrs. Bray was a proud and pleased woman as she 
 watched that afternoon from her front door the 
 small carriage with the. little shiny coated thorough- 
 bred roll away. When it had disappeared she 
 turned in-doors with a feeling, which was perhaps 
 stronger because she did not stop to analyze it, that 
 her life had been brightened and lifted to a plane of 
 higher consequence by this visit. Some crumbs from 
 the richer, fairer board had fallen to her own share.
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 243 
 
 Dorothy struck off soon into the wider, statelier 
 thoroughfares. Daisy sat very still by her side, 
 drinking in with wondering eyes the novel scenes 
 about her. Dorothy smiled down occasionally ; but 
 her attention was a good deal engaged at this point 
 by Sphinx, and there was very little talk on either 
 side. 
 
 When they reached the Harvard Bridge, Daisy 
 suddenly caught sight of the river, blue and spark- 
 ling under the summer skies. 
 
 She gave a swift start ; she drew closer to Dorothy. 
 A great wonder, a possible fear, was in her face. 
 
 "What is that? " she asked in an awed tone. 
 
 "That is the river, Daisy, ; the great, beautiful 
 river. Don't you know ? " 
 
 " And are we going over it? " 
 
 " Yes ; but there is nothing in the world to be 
 afraid of. I shall take care of you." 
 
 Dorothy's words, with the tone and smile, seemed 
 to reassure the child. She drew a long breath, and 
 gazed in silent wonder at the sparkling waves. Oc- 
 casionally she turned and stared curiously at Doro- 
 thy with a half-awesome look in her radiant eyes. 
 The young girl always smiled back. She wondered 
 a little what was going 011 in that small brain ; she 
 tried to put herself in Daisy's place, seeing that water 
 for the first time. 
 
 When they had crossed the bridge Dorothy turned 
 to her charge, saying,
 
 244 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " There was no danger, you see, Daisy." 
 
 "No; I wasn't afraid," she answered; and again 
 she looked at Dorothy with her bright, curious gtize. 
 
 They drove up North Avenue, and out on the pleas- 
 ant Arlington high way. It was a perfect midsum- 
 mer afternoon. Light winds from the sea breathed 
 their coolness through the air. Familiar as the whole 
 scene was to Dorothy Draycott, it seemed to have 
 been touched with some new poetic charm and ideal- 
 ity. Every year has its days of this sort. They are 
 only a little handful at best ; but they belong to a 
 higher mood than ordinary days, and seem to stand, 
 like divine messengers, beautiful and glorified, be- 
 tween all the storms which have been and all which 
 are to come. Wearied hearts are quickened, and 
 dulled imaginations are exalted. New vistas unfold 
 themselves in these finer atmospheres, and the soul 
 has glimpses of the nobler meanings ahd the real 
 grandeur of human life. 
 
 As they drove along through the lavish greenery, 
 through the shade and shine, and all the summer 
 bloom whose flood-tide was drowning the land, Dor- 
 othy's young heart sang within her. Was this only 
 an everyday afternoon ? she asked herself. Did this 
 ineffable charm and loveliness exist only in her own 
 eyes? She wondered how it seemed to the small 
 creature at her side, whose big eyes were devouring 
 it all, and to whom it must be almost as novel as the 
 landscape of another planet. But she sat silent, ab-
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 245 
 
 sorbed, and Dorothy left the beauty to tell its message 
 in its own way to the child's heart, as blunter sym- . 
 pathies or a coarser imagination would not have done. 
 
 At last they reached Red Knolls, and swept around 
 the great terraces and the ample driveway to the 
 front. 
 
 And Daisy, ushered by its girl-mistress, entered 
 the house. 
 
 For the next two hours the pair went about from 
 large room to room, up stairs and down, of the 
 spacious home. The furnishings, the decorations, 
 the whole effect, were of course a new, almost over- 
 powering spectacle to Daisy Ross. Occasionally she 
 asked a question. Her eyes did the rest. It seemed 
 to Dorothy that they grew into great, radiant inter- 
 jection points. 
 
 At length they came down-stairs, and stood together 
 in the wide hall, and again Daisy looked at her young 
 hostess with that singular unfathomable gaze. What 
 did it mean ? Dorothy began to wish the child would 
 find her tongue. 
 
 A sudden movement puzzled her. Daisy had 
 slipped behind her back. In a moment the small 
 head reappeared again. 
 
 " Do you take them off sometimes ? " she inquired 
 softly, eagerly. 
 
 " Take off what, Daisy ? " 
 
 " I mean your wings." 
 
 " But I have no wings, Daisy."
 
 246 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " I thought all angels had wings," in a rather dis- 
 appointed tone. 
 
 " I believe they have, Daisy." 
 
 Then Dorothy began to get a glimpse into the 
 heart of things. She drew Daisy to her. 
 
 " O child ! what made you think that ? " 
 
 She was a young girl, moved to swift mirth by all 
 things absurd or incongruous ; but she could not 
 laugh now. 
 
 " Ain't you one ? " inquired Daisy, gravely staring 
 at Dorothy. 
 
 " Oh, no no not in the least ! " 
 
 "I thought you was when I see the River Jordan. 
 Miss Bray told me the angels would carry me safe 
 over to heaven." 
 
 The mystery of the long silence, the bright, awed 
 wonder in the eyes, blue as summer seas in cloudless 
 noondays, was all getting very clear to Dorothy now. 
 
 "But, my little Daisy, that was not the River 
 Jordan at all ; it was the Charles River." 
 
 " Nobody ever telled me there was another river ; 
 but it must lead to heaven too," she added confi- 
 dently. 
 
 " What makes you so sure, Daisy ? " 
 
 " Because it's all so beaut'ful here. I don't b'lieve 
 heaven can be beaut'fuller ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is a great, great deal ! " 
 
 This dialogue had been punctuated with frequent 
 hugs and caresses on the part of Dorothy. She
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 247 
 
 lifted the child on her lap now, and after a brief 
 process of reasoning, such as she found adapted to 
 her little kindergartners, Daisy was convinced that 
 Miss Draycott was not the angel, nor Red Knolls the 
 heaven, nor Charles River the Jordan she had fan- 
 cied them. She listened, grave and eager, twisting 
 her little fingers together while Dorothy talked. It 
 was evident that she gave up her idea reluctantly ; 
 but she was soon solaced with the thought that if 
 heaven was not at hand, all this beauty was still left. 
 She confessed to Dorothy she had been on the look- 
 out for the great walls and the big shining gates, and 
 wondered they did not appear. She also avowed her 
 intention of telling the angel who kept guard there 
 her name, with a request that he would give her a 
 home just like the one at Red Knolls. She inquired 
 with some anxiety of Dorothy whether she thought 
 he would be likely to do this ? 
 
 " Oh, you adorable little darling ! " exclaimed 
 Dorothy. " I think you will have whatever you 
 want." 
 
 She hugged Daisy again. After this there was 
 no more silence. Daisy's prattle had all the fresh- 
 ness and charm of her childhood. She gave Dorothy 
 numerous glimpses into her life at Mrs. Bray's. It 
 barely covered a month, and yet it seemed to fill all 
 the child's horizon. 
 
 One figure was always in the foreground of this 
 talk. It was that of Dake Cramley. Daisy drew
 
 248 " sms, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 rapid, vivid pictures of tlieir lives together, of his 
 coming home at night, of the fun and frolic that 
 ensued, and of their evening walks on the Common. 
 
 As Dorothy listened, she lelt a greater curiosity 
 than ever to see the youth. 
 
 At last Hidalgo came in. Dorothy knew that this 
 meant he was on the watch for his young master's 
 return. She felt a good deal of curiosity regarding 
 Tom's first interview with Daisy. It would be a fine 
 test of the small creature's fascinations. Tom was 
 no admirer of children in the aggregate ; he regarded 
 them as " insufferable, clamorous little nuisances, 
 sure to get in the way and make their wants voluble 
 at the wrong time." 
 
 That huge-limbed, solemn-faced Hidalgo fascinated 
 Daisy at once. He stretched his long length on the 
 floor and looked at the novel specimen of femi- 
 nine humanity before him with solemn, unwinking 
 gravity. 
 
 At last Daisy was persuaded to go over and stroke 
 his head. She did this very tentatively at first. 
 Hidalgo, usually reserved with strangers, submitted 
 to her advances without the ghost of a growl. In a 
 little while she was pinching his ears and patting his 
 spine. Of all the wonderful objects she had seen at 
 Red Knolls, Hidalgo was the most interesting. Dor- 
 othy, called a short time from the room, left the pair 
 alone together on the happiest terms with each other. 
 
 " Hidalgo, you've got a long, grand name. And
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 249 
 
 you are the awfallest big dog I ever see, and I like 
 you truly. Can you hear what I say now ? " she 
 asked, one little arm stretched as far as it would 
 reach about his neck. 
 
 At that instant a tall, blond, sinewy-framed young 
 man entered the room. He glanced at the group, 
 made a formal bow to the child, went over to the 
 lounge, and seated himself with the air of one who 
 felt perfectly at home. Hidalgo rose at once and 
 carried his long length over to him. 
 
 Daisy rose too, and returned to her low chair. 
 The young man and the child looked at each other in 
 absolute silence, she with the solemn, steady, probing 
 gaze of childhood, and he with a face empty of every 
 expression as was possible to an intelligent human 
 being. In this way the two stared at each other for 
 more than a minute. He, meanwhile, under the 
 gargoyle-like visage he had drawn on, was mentally 
 saying, 
 
 " What a stunning pair of eyes ! " 
 
 Then a sudden change, a flash of intelligence, 
 came over the child's face. 
 
 " Oh, I know who you be ! " she exclaimed. " You 
 are Mr. Tom Draycott. Dakie told me about you; 
 he says you are the goodest man in the world." 
 
 " Whew ! that is a staggering compliment to hurl 
 at a fellow's head." 
 
 " But Dakie says so," persisted Daisy, rather in- 
 dignantly, as though his word had been impugned ;
 
 250 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 and then another season of solemn stare followed on 
 both sides. 
 
 Of course Tom had identified the small stranger 
 at a glance. At last the prolonged stare was trans- 
 formed into a smile. Tom Draycott's had a singular 
 attraction of its own. In a few moments Daisy 
 slipped off her chair, ran across the room, and lifted 
 up her face to him. The whole action was simply 
 bewitching. Tom bent his head and kissed her 
 heartily. Then he lifted the little figure and seated 
 it by his side. 
 
 " So you are Daisy Ross," he said, regarding with 
 pleased, curious eyes the lovely, rosy incarnation of 
 childhood before him ; " Dake's Daisy?" 
 
 " Yes ; I am his more than anybody's.' She 
 nestled back on the deep lounge until her feet rested 
 on its edge. The little polished black slippers 
 caught her attention. She gazed at them admir- 
 ingly, her head bent a little on one side. Then she 
 turned to Tom. 
 
 " They was new to-day," she said. " Don't you 
 think they're nice ? " 
 
 "Very; and I think the little white feet inside 
 those slippers must be very nice too." 
 
 " Oh, I never thought about them ! " 
 
 "How did you get here,' Daisy?" asked Tom, for 
 the purpose of drawing her out. 
 
 " I corned in a beaut'ful carriage, and the loveliest 
 lady brought me. I didn't know there could be any
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 251 
 
 place like this. I thought it was " she stopped, 
 gazing at him intently with her great eyes, which now 
 were the shade of the gentians that grow in lonely, 
 moist places. 
 
 " What did you think it was?" 
 
 " I don't believe I can tell you." 
 
 "But why not?" 
 
 " I don't know just. Maybe it's 'cause I haven't 
 seen you very long." 
 
 " But I hope we can be the best of friends, so you 
 can tell me anything." 
 
 " P Yaps I can ; but it takes a little while, you 
 know." 
 
 When Dorothy returned a little later she found the 
 two in the full tide of the most amusing talk. Daisy 
 sat beside Tom, with the fearlessness of absolute in- 
 nocence, her bright, quaint rejoinders to his questions 
 going straight to the point. 
 
 " Do you two live here ? " she asked after a little 
 while, gazing from one to the other. 
 
 " Yes," said Dorothy. 
 
 " Always ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 " Is she your wife ? " she asked, turning to Tom. 
 
 This was a challenge it was not in young human 
 nature to resist. He drew his most solemn face. 
 
 "No, thank the fates, she is not my wife. As it 
 is, I can barely hold my own in some feeble, inade- 
 quate fashion ; but I shudder to think of the forlorn,
 
 252 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 submissive, henpecked creature I should be reduced 
 to if she were more than my sister." 
 
 This chaffing bewildered Daisy. She stared from 
 one to the other. 
 
 "Which is nicest, wife or sister?" she interro- 
 gated gravely. 
 
 " If you should ask me that question, say fifteen 
 years later, I should tell you ' wife,' by all means ; 
 but I should be such a venerable creature by that 
 time that you would doubtless give me the mitten." 
 
 " I don't wear mittens ; I wear gloves," with a 
 pretty assumption of infantile dignity. " But if you 
 should want a mitten, and I had one, I'd give it to 
 you. What could you do with it, though ? " 
 
 She placed her- little hand by the side of his 
 big, muscular one, brown with rowing and ball 
 games, and then she looked up archly in his face and 
 laughed. 
 
 All this talk was accented by nameless childish 
 movements and gestures, by lisps and little indrawn 
 breaths, and inflected verbs which followed their own 
 law of analogy, and by articulation which stammered 
 and failed sometimes among the trisyllables. 
 
 " Well," said Tom after a little more of this chaff- 
 ing, " if you are not the most bewitching mite of fem- 
 inine humanity that ever came within my experience ! 
 I shudder for my sex, thinking what you will be 
 say less than two decades from this time." 
 
 Daisy evidently did not appreciate this compliment.
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 253 
 
 " I shall be just the same," she said, " only bigger 
 ever so much bigger." 
 
 "Ex act ly! Pre cise ly!" drawled Tom. 
 'Be just what you are this moment, only 'bigger 
 ever so much bigger,' and all mankind will be at 
 your feet." 
 
 " I shouldn't want 'em there," with a little dis- 
 gusted movement of her head. " I should say, ' Oh, 
 don't ! Do get up, please.' " 
 
 She was growing bewildered and annoyed. Doro- 
 thy, who had been greatly amused by this dialogue, 
 felt it was time to interfere. 
 
 "You will have her crying if you go on in this 
 teasing way," she said to Tom sub voce. 
 
 Daisy slipped off the lounge, resumed her chair by 
 Dorothy's side, turned to Tom, and said with a disap- 
 proving air and tone, 
 
 " I don't unnerstand your kind of talk." 
 
 " Why, my little Daisy, I wouldn't tease you for 
 the world-! Doesn't Dakie joke you and make fun 
 sometimes ? " 
 
 "Ye '6s ; but I unnerstand his talk, and I don't 
 your kind." 
 
 " Well, you can understand this. I'm very sorry. 
 Won't you forgive me this time ? " 
 
 Tom's smile accented his words. After a moment or 
 two Daisy rose, went over and lifted her face to give 
 him a kiss, which was returned in double measure. 
 
 "O Tom Draycott, " thought Dorothy, "how
 
 254 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 often I have heard you insist that kissing babies and 
 small fry in general was the most horrible nuisance 
 to which a man could be subjected ! " 
 
 A little later, when Dorothy was again obliged to 
 leave them, Tom, in order to cement their late recon- 
 ciliation, took Daisy out in the grounds. He escorted 
 the delighted child among the winding paths and the 
 terraces, the flower-beds and the ancient fruit-trees. 
 The cherries had all gone by this time, but the early 
 apples were getting mellow ; and when she looked at 
 them wistfully among the leaves, Tom promised to 
 send her a nice basket of the fruit in a few days. 
 Then there was the crowning glory of all, the swing 
 on the high terrace under the elm-tree. Tom placed 
 her carefully in the seat, and then with his strong 
 arms sent the little figure sweeping off amid raptur- 
 ous shrieks until it brushed the lower elm boughs. 
 
 What a half-hour that was among the grounds of 
 Red Knolls! Many a fair young girl would have 
 envied Daisy her gallant escort. 
 
 She sat erect at the table that night, and was a 
 perfect little lady. With some instinct of propriety, 
 this child, so late from the North End tenement, 
 and with only memories which reached dimmer than 
 dreams beyond it, carried herself with a simple, 
 transparent ease in the new atmosphere, amid the 
 gracious surroundings, which left nothing to criticise. 
 She was like some perfect wild-flower which bursts, 
 a glory of bloom, upon the summer highway ; while
 
 NOT HEAVEN, BUT RED KNOLLS 255 
 
 those wfto watched her loveliness seemed almost to 
 hear nature saying, 
 
 "Can. all your rich soils and hothouse culture 
 equal my wilding ? " 
 
 She sat in a high chair by Dorothy, and for a 
 while was quite silent, absorbed in the novel scene 
 and service about her. At last she spoke with a 
 half -conscious apology, 
 
 "Miss Bray said I must put on my comp'ny man- 
 ners when I got here, and I told her I would, only 
 I hadn't any of that kind." 
 
 To those who listened, this remark seemed to have 
 a quality of inborn fineness which no high breeding 
 could have surpassed.
 
 256 "si us, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 XXXII 
 
 AN EVENING 
 
 IT was getting dark outside. They were in the 
 sitting-room, the young Draycotts and Daisy, 
 when the child suddenly sprang to her feet; her 
 quick ears had caught a familiar voice in the hall. 
 
 " Why, that's Dakie ! " she exclaimed joyfully ; 
 and as the door opened to admit the new-comer, she 
 bounded across the room, and turned to the others 
 with a face which said plainly, 
 
 " Lo ! the conquering hero comes ! " 
 
 There he stood, big, shy, blushing, in doubt what 
 to do with his hands and feet. 
 
 It was a terrible moment for Dake Cramley. This 
 elegant home, this refined atmosphere, the whole ex- 
 istence which they suggested, were something utterly 
 alien to his experience. He wished the earth would 
 open and swallow him up. 
 
 Tom came forward at once. 
 
 " Dake, old fellow," in the long familiar tones, 
 " I am heartily glad to see you. Let me present 
 you, Mr. Dake Cramley, to my sister, Miss Dorothy 
 Draycott."
 
 AN EVENING 257 
 
 Dake managed to bow to the tall, graceful girl 
 who was gazing at him with her large, curious eyes ; 
 he tried to speak her name, but his tongue clove to 
 the roof of his mouth. 
 
 Dorothy's heart and instinct were, however, equal 
 to the occasion. 
 
 " I feel already acquainted with you, Mr. Dake," 
 the clear young accents broke from smiling lips. " I 
 have heard so much of } r ou from my brother, and 
 Daisy has been sounding your praises all the after- 
 noon." 
 
 The child burst out now eagerly, 
 
 " O Dakie, I thought this was heaven, and Miss 
 Draycott the angel, until I found she hadn't any 
 wings ! " 
 
 " She doesn't need any ! " replied Dake. It was 
 the first gallant speech he had ever made to a 
 woman. 
 
 Tom, who was in full sympathy with Dake's em- 
 barrassment, and strongly desirous his protege should 
 make a favorable impression, said to himself, 
 
 " Well done, Dake ! None of your drawing-room 
 fellows could have carried it off better than that." 
 
 After this Dake gradually grew more at his ease, 
 and, as he forgot himself, was able to take his part 
 in the talk with young Draycott. 
 
 The feeling between the two struck Dorothy with 
 surprise. They seemed to her like old chums. She 
 watched Dake with much curiosity. She made up
 
 258 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 her mind that he was really good-looking quite 
 picturesque with his dark skin, his black hair and 
 eyes. His smile was pleasant, and broke up the 
 gravity of his face ; and his laugh, when Tom or 
 Daisy said something to bring it out, had a hearty, 
 boyish ring. 
 
 As for Daisy, she almost surpassed herself to-night. 
 A good deal excited by the events of the day, and 
 the atmosphere of loving admiration about her, which 
 she unconsciously felt, she was, if possible, more 
 quaint and bewitching than in the afternoon. 
 
 Nobody who saw them together could doubt Dake's 
 feeling for the child. He was so proud of her ! 
 When she said anything particularly bright or amus- 
 ing he would often turn to Dorothy, and a glance of 
 pleased intelligence would pass between the two. 
 He and his young hostess soon learned they had some 
 common ground on which they could meet. Daisy 
 Ross was, after all, a chief harmonizing factor in that 
 evening's pleasure. 
 
 "Tom has told me, Mr. Dake," said Dorothy, at 
 once tactful and cordial, "a great deal about your 
 evening strolls together in Boston. I shall imagine 
 now when he disappears without word or sign as soon 
 as dinner is over, that he has gone after you." 
 
 " I hope it will always be true, Miss Draycott." 
 
 Then Dake turned and looked at Tom. Dorothy 
 never forgot that look. It was full of unutterable 
 admiration, gratitude, devotion.
 
 AN EVENING 259 
 
 To think of that teasing, careless, hare-brained, fun- 
 loving Tom being the object of such a look as that ! 
 It set him in a new light before his sister. 
 
 Tom must have seen the look ; but then it was 
 more of an old story to him. 
 
 At this point Mrs. Dayles entered the room. Daisy 
 had seen her at dinner; and, amid all the novel 
 sights, the kind, motherly face under its gray hair 
 had attracted the child. Tom presented his friend 
 to Mrs. Dayles, and soon afterward proposed to carry 
 off Dake to his own " den " for a little while. 
 
 The child gazed at the woman a few moments with 
 her bright, intent gaze, and then springing up she 
 darted over to her. 
 
 " I am glad you have come again," she said ear- 
 nestly. " Do you live here always ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! My home is a long way off, Daisy ; but 
 I have come here to stay with these young people 
 while their father and mother are away." 
 
 " Yes ; I unnerstand now." Daisy drew a long, 
 meditative breath. 
 
 " Is your home like this ? " she asked a moment 
 later. 
 
 " No, my child ; it is not nearly so grand or beau- 
 tiful as this." 
 
 Here Dorothy interposed. "But, Daisy, it is the 
 dearest, most delightful old home in the world. If 
 you once get there you will never want to leave it. 
 Tom and I know all about it. We have had such
 
 260 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 happy times there ever since we were bits of chil- 
 dren." 
 
 " Oh, do tell me all about it, Nanty Dayles ! " im- 
 plored Daisy, speaking for the first time the name 
 her quick ears had caught at the table. 
 
 Mrs. Dayles took the child on her lap. For the 
 next hour Daisy drank in stories of the old Vermont 
 farmstead, amid its orchards and meadows and fra- 
 grant pine woods. Her interest and curiosity were 
 boundless. Dorothy added her own childish remi- 
 niscences of happy frolicsome days in the fair 
 Northern farm-country. Daisy broke in with breath- 
 less questions, her dancing eyes going from one to 
 the other. 
 
 " Are squirrels as big as bears ? " she inquired 
 after Mrs. Dayles had endeavored to describe them. 
 Daisy had seen a black bear once at the North End. 
 A man was leading him through the alley by a big 
 chain. 
 
 "Oh, no, my dear! They are hardly larger than a 
 big-sized kitten. Such a pretty sight as it is to see 
 them darting up the trees, and whisking their bushy 
 tails, and eating their chestnuts ! " 
 
 " How I wish I could see them ! " with another of 
 her long-drawn breaths. 
 
 "And why can't you?" responded Mrs. Dayles, 
 drawing the child to her heart. " If you will come 
 to me, I will take the best care in the Avorld of you, 
 my darling ! "
 
 AN EVENING 261 
 
 " And then and then " there was a moment's 
 pause. " But oh, if Dakie could come too! " 
 
 " Yes ; Dakie shall come too." Mrs. Dayles 
 promptly affirmed. 
 
 After a while the young men, having had their talk 
 out, appeared. 
 
 Daisy leaped from Mrs. Dayles's lap, bounded 
 toward Dake, her words breaking out in an eager 
 torrent, the sentences fairly tumbling against each 
 other, 
 
 " O Dakie ! you don't know what a wonderful 
 place it is ; and you and I are to go there, I mean 
 where Nanty Dayles lives, and see the colts scam- 
 perin' over the fields, and the cows come home at 
 night through the lanes, and the squirrels run up 
 the trees, and hear the birds sing all day ! We are 
 to go you and I Nanty Dayles says so." 
 
 Then Tom spoke. " That is the head and crown of 
 plans ! You shall take Daisy along with you, Dake, 
 and have your vacation there. You will find it just 
 a paradise. Perhaps Dollikins and I will run up and 
 join you for a day or two, if we can cut college and 
 kindergarten for that space of time. What do you 
 say to it all, Nanty Dayles ? " 
 
 " The more the merrier," she anwsered, smiling on 
 her big boy. 
 
 Then the maid appeared with cream and fruit, and 
 the talk waxed gay on all sides. 
 
 "Of course," said Tom, "with the fun glinting hi
 
 262 "sms, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 his eyes, " my nose is fatally out of joint now you 
 have arrived, Dake ; but if a certain small person 
 multiplied her birthdays by four, you and I would be 
 deadly rivals." 
 
 Daisy stopped eating her cake and berries. She 
 stared at the speaker perplexed for a minute or two ; 
 then she slipped off her chair, set her saucer and plate 
 on the table, ran over to Tom, inspected one side of 
 his face anxiously, then leaned over and did the same 
 with the other side. Nobody spoke ; everybody 
 watched her. 
 
 She lifted her head suddenly, and exclaimed in a 
 tone of joyful assurance, " Why, your nose is on 
 all right!" 
 
 It seemed as though the shouts and peals of laugh- 
 ter must shake the solid old house. 
 
 Daisy looked surprised and rather hurt. " I 
 thought you said something ailed your nose," she 
 explained. 
 
 Tom took her on his knee. 
 
 "I want to tell you a secret nobody else must 
 know. May I ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, you may," looking pleased and important. 
 
 " I think you are just the sweetest, dearest little 
 Daisy in the world." 
 
 At last the carriage was at the door. Outside the 
 world lay drowned in the summer moonshine. It 
 had been arranged that Dorothy and Daisy should 
 drive to the station, where Tom and Dake would 
 join them in time for the Boston train.
 
 AN EVENING 263 
 
 Mrs. Dayles seized her chance now. She and Duke 
 had exchanged only a few words and an occasional 
 interested glance that evening. She came to him 
 now, and said in her gentle, sincere voice, 
 
 " I shall expect you will come, Mr. Dake, and 
 bring that dear little Daisy with you, and stay as 
 long as you can." 
 
 She gave him her hand; she looked at him with 
 her bright, kind eyes. " My dear young man, you 
 will excuse aji old woman for saying so, but you look 
 to me as though some mothering would do you good. 
 Won't you come and let me try it?" 
 
 Were there such mothers as this in the world ? A 
 memory of his own rose before Dake. If she had 
 been like this woman, what a difference it would 
 have made to him ! 
 
 His lips twitched. The words would not come. 
 But all he felt was in his eyes, and Mrs. Dayles read 
 it. 
 
 Then Tom called him. 
 
 There was a hoarse, struggling " Yes, I will come." 
 
 He grasped the kindly hand and left her.
 
 264 "SIES, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 CHANGES AND FORECASTS 
 
 THE young people and Mrs. Dayles sat together 
 one evening in the library. The day had been full 
 of surprises. Advices had come frorft California. 
 Affairs there had gone so prosperously that Mr. 
 and Mrs. Draycott hoped to reach home early in 
 September. 
 
 By this time the midsummer was waning, and 
 those who watched closely could detect a slight 
 lengthening of the evenings. Tidings had also been 
 received from Vermont. One of those unlooked-for 
 crises in domestic affairs had occurred which made 
 Mrs. Dayles's presence of great importance at this 
 juncture. It had been decided that she should return 
 home for a fortnight. A serving-woman, capable and 
 trusty, had meanwhile been secured. 
 
 Dorothy had been rather aghast at the idea of Mrs. 
 Dayles going away. She was quite aware, though 
 she was titular mistress of Red Knolls, Mrs. Dayles 
 supplied the real managing force. There was to be 
 no more pretty masquerading now. She must take 
 the household reins into young, unused hands. Tom 
 insisted half earnestly, half jocosely, that the house 
 would soon be tumbling abaut their ears.
 
 CHANGES AND FORECASTS 265 
 
 The return of the parents, an event so definitely 
 arranged now, so near at hand, so joyful an antici- 
 pation, still lent a tinge of seriousness to the talk, 
 as is apt to be the case when a long, eventful expe- 
 rience is about to close. 
 
 " It was an immense experiment, setting such a 
 pair as you and I, Tom, at the head of Red Knolls. 
 Papa and mamma felt it so too ; but they regarded it 
 as a choice of evils. It seems as though I had grown 
 years older since they went away." 
 
 "No doubt your family cares and responsibilities 
 have worn you to the shadow I see before me ; while 
 my own burdens in the same line, added to my un- 
 ceasing anxieties on your account, have reduced me 
 to the wreck you behold ! " 
 
 Tom rose and stood with mock seriousness before 
 his sister, his sinewy frame drawn to its full height. 
 
 Dorothy's merry glance went over the big fellow. 
 
 " Your burdens ! your anxieties ! " she repeated. 
 " As though they had weighed a feather with such a 
 careless, obstinate, hare-brained creature as you ! " 
 
 " I might make a crushing retort, but desist from 
 sheer amiability of nature. Aunty Dayles, we are 
 pluming ourselves on our good behavior, and talk- 
 ing as though we had carried Red Knolls on our 
 shoulders, while you sit here without a word, and 
 are perfectly conscious you have been all these 
 months smoothing the rough edges, pouring oil on 
 the raging seas. When the time comes to dispense
 
 266 SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 favors and honors, we ought to lay all ours at your 
 feet." 
 
 Dorothy turned now and smiled gratefully on the 
 little woman, who smiled back in turn. 
 
 " I should have no use for favors and honors, Tom, 
 if I deserved them." 
 
 " I suppose," Dorothy continued, " that rough 
 edges and raging seas are Tom's metaphors for sharp 
 tongues and hot tempers. But the perils are mostly 
 passed now. I think, considering what we are, we 
 have borne the test remarkably well. You and I 
 haven't quarrelled, have we, Tom, on an average 
 oftener than once a day?" 
 
 "I should say not." 
 
 " And of course, after all these months, there is 
 no fear but we shall hold out three or four weeks 
 longer." 
 
 At this point they burst into the laughter of gay 
 young hearts ; but Mrs. Dayles said to herself, 
 
 " O my dear boy and girl, don't feel too certain ! 
 So much can happen in three or four weeks ! " 
 
 In a little while the talk had turned on the guests 
 of two evenings ago. Each of the three had some 
 cherished plan regarding them. 
 
 " Daisy must go to the kindergarten next winter," 
 said Dorothy. " What a new world it will unfold to 
 that bright, eager little brain ! " 
 
 " As for Dake," subjoined Tom, " I have made up 
 my mind he shall attend an evening-school, and have
 
 CHANGES AND FORECASTS 267 
 
 various other chances to improve himself. It is an 
 outrage that such a fellow as he should be handi- 
 capped all his life for want of an education. What 
 I can't do in this matter the pater must." 
 
 " I have been thinking," added Dorothy, " papa 
 and mamma might adopt Daisy, if we suggested it ,- 
 only we couldn't take her away from Dake." 
 
 " No ; that is not to be thought of," commented 
 Tom decidedly. 
 
 At this point Mrs. Dayles declared her intention 
 of having the two visit her in the early autumn. 
 
 " Dake shall have his vacation with me," she said. 
 " Daisy will be as happy about the old place as the 
 day is long." 
 
 Just before they parted for the night Dorothy Avent 
 to her brother, laid her hand on his shoulder, and 
 said, 
 
 -' O Tom, you and I are to be all alone together ! 
 Wt will be good to each other." 
 
 " Yes, Dollikins, dear old girl, we will ! " He 
 tweaked the little ear half affectionately, half play- 
 fully. 
 
 What a happy evening that had been ! They 
 remembered it afterward.
 
 2G8 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 
 
 AUNT GLENN had come ! It was only the second 
 day after Mrs. Dayles had left. 
 
 The lady's advent took everybotty by surprise. 
 She was Donald Draycott's only sister, and a couple 
 of years his senior. 
 
 Glennis Draycott Grayling was a strikingly hand- 
 some woman. She carried her slender figure per- 
 haps a little too tall with perfect grace. She was 
 a blonde ; her complexion still retained the fairness 
 of its youth, her blue eyes much of their young 
 brightness of color. Her features had an almost 
 faultless regularity, and the light frosts which had 
 fallen among her yellow hair harmonized with her 
 whole presence. 
 
 This visit had been a sudden impulse on her part. 
 She was in the habit of acting on one. She did not, 
 however, often come to Red Knolls. When she did, 
 it was rather perfunctorily, for a brief holiday visit, 
 or on some formal occasion when she felt it incum- 
 bent on her to emphasize the family relationship. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling's Kome was in Western New York. 
 Her husband, many years her senior, was absorbed in
 
 SOME PAINFUL SUliPlUSES 269 
 
 his business aims and interests, where he had made 
 a conspicuous success. They had no children to 
 brighten either their elegant city or country homes ; 
 but there was little of the maternal quality in Glen- 
 nis Grayling's make-up. She had vast social am- 
 bitions, and her husband's wealth enabled her to 
 gratify these to the top of her bent. She had a 
 knack of off-hand, brilliant, witty speech, at which 
 people laughed, but were more or less afraid of her; 
 for the smart speeches could sting. 
 
 Glennis Draycott had lost her mother when she 
 was herself barely thirteen. From that time the 
 girl had no strong, restraining influence around her 
 young life. She grew up proud, brilliant, self-willed. 
 Her father doted on his handsome daughter, was 
 more or less blind to her faults, and indulged her 
 caprices. A man of his quality was sure, sooner 
 or later, to see his mistake and deplore it when it 
 could not be undone. His son Donald was unlike 
 his sister in person and character ; but he was an 
 affectionate, lovable fellow, and Glennis cared more 
 for him than she did for anything else in the world. 
 Accustomed by force of will or adroit management to 
 have her own way, she had no doubt she could shape 
 his destiny. Not long after her marriage, she set 
 her heart on Donald's wedding a handsome girl, a 
 wealthy heiress, a friend of her own. 
 
 But Grace Dabney had spoiled all that. It was 
 the cruelest disappointment of Mrs. Grayling's life.
 
 270 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 She had to bear it silently too. Donald was the only 
 person in the world whom she feared ; and she knew 
 the absolute hopelessness of attempting to oppose 
 him where his affections were involved. 
 
 But this was not all. The two women were so ut- 
 terly unlike in their characters and standards, that 
 they could have few sympathies in common. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling proved her adroitness by the fact 
 that during all these years neither her brother nor his 
 wife suspected her aversion to their marriage. When 
 they met, Glennis treated her sister-in-law with un- 
 failing cordiality ; and the latter tried to disguise 
 from herself the traits in Mrs. Grayling which her 
 keen woman's intuition could not fail to penetrate. 
 
 When the brother and sister were alone together 
 Mrs. Grayling forced herself to listen smilingly to 
 Donald's adoring praise of his wife. But the talk 
 galled. She cherished a resentful feeling that he 
 must always be drawing contrasts between his wife 
 and his sister. 
 
 Time did not soften her sense of having been 
 checkmated. Grace Dabney was, to her sister-in-law, 
 a living reminder of the one great defeat, the cruel- 
 est disappointment, of her life. An added offence 
 was Mrs. Draycott herself the woman she was in 
 person and character so abundantly justifying her 
 husband's choice. The perfect sympathy of married 
 life which she witnessed at Red Knolls seemed to 
 Mrs. Grayling a tacit reproach for something she
 
 SOME PAINFUL SUUPKISES 271 
 
 missed in her own prosperous and what she regarded 
 as humdrum existence. 
 
 A woman of this type would be likely to cherish 
 a secret grudge against life as something which had 
 disappointed and disenchanted her. 
 
 Dorothy was aghast at her aunt's advent. The 
 prospect of being hostess to this elegant woman was 
 very formidable to the young girl, and the absence 
 of Mrs. Dayles at this juncture was particularly un- 
 fortunate. 
 
 Still, Aunt Glenn was her father's sister. Doro- 
 thy felt it incumbent on herself to represent her 
 mother, and to do the honors of Red Knolls hand- 
 somely. 
 
 In reality, the girl had very vague notions of her 
 aunt. She had not seen her for more than two years, 
 and associated her with family dinners and formal 
 occasions, with the ceremonious, decorative side of 
 life in general. 
 
 It is doubtful whether Mrs. Grayling had any 
 clearly denned purpose in this sudden descent upon 
 Red Knolls during the absence of its master and mis- 
 tress. She was restless of late years, and subject to 
 frequent whims and impulses, which abundant leisure 
 enabled her to gratify. She probably formulated no 
 distinct plan of making anybody unhappy ; but she 
 brought with her a good many secret grudges and 
 resentments, and a perfect opportunity was now 
 afforded her for indulging them.
 
 272 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 For two or three days things went on with hardly 
 a jar. Aunt Glenn was gracious and amusing. The 
 servants rose to the occasion. Dorothy felt she was 
 doing herself credit. 
 
 Tom had, at first, been anything but hilarious over 
 his aunt's arrival. He could, however, sympathize 
 only partially with his sister's feeling of domestic 
 responsibility. 
 
 " If my lady puts on airs, don't give them a 
 thought," he said, trying to reassure his sister in his 
 good-natured, masculine fashion. " What inspired 
 her to jump on us at this crisis in full armor 
 maid and mammoth trunks I can't conceive ; but 
 here she is, and we must make the best of it. 
 Then, if she isn't satisfied, she can fold her tents 
 and quietly steal away." 
 
 But Aunt Glenn soon succeeded in making herself 
 agreeable to her nephew. She could do this always 
 to men of all degrees, when she thought it worth her 
 while. She amused and stimulated them with her 
 piquant talk, her keen observations, her sparkling 
 repartee, and lively witticisms. She liked men, too, 
 better than she did her own sex. Then she had 
 always regarded Tom as a Draycott. This, with her, 
 was a strong point in his favor. 
 
 Dorothy, Mrs. Grayling had decided, was a Dab- 
 ney " her mother all over ! " 
 
 The girl unconsciously aggravated this offence by 
 talking much of Mrs. Draycott. She was always
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 273 
 
 quoting her mother's opinions and sayings, in a way 
 that implied there could be no appeal from these. 
 This secretly irritated her aunt. She could, of 
 course, resent nothing at the moment, but she would 
 bide her time. 
 
 Dorothy began to feel embarrassed, uncomfortable, 
 at first in a vague, confused, sub-conscious way. 
 
 " I am sure she does not laugh at Tom's speeches 
 in that fashion," she said to herself, half hurt, half 
 indignant. " It is only at something I have said or 
 done." 
 
 Then there were jests light, playful, flashing 
 things aimed at Dorothy ; but they were often 
 barbed with a sting. 
 
 At times, and these were often, when Aunt Glenn 
 beamed graciously on her niece, Dorothy would 
 believe she had done her injustice, and would feel 
 ashamed and remorseful ; but these suspicions were 
 sure to return, and before long they had gained the 
 force of convictions. 
 
 Dorothy did not confide these to Tom. For one 
 reason or another, they were not much alone together 
 at this time. When he was in the house, Aunt 
 Glenn made rather a point of monopolizing her 
 nephew. It was an easy task for the woman of the 
 world to adapt herself to him, to listen admiringly 
 to his talk, to flatter him in a thousand subtle ways. 
 In a little while the haughty, brilliant woman had 
 woven her spells about the youth spells which
 
 274 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 had proven powerful to men of more than twice 
 nineteen. 
 
 Worst of all, it began to seem to Dorothy that 
 Tom was, in some subtle way, changed toward her- 
 self. Her own Tom ! At first Dorothy tried to 
 resist this thought indignantly. The change was 
 of the sort on which one could not lay a finger. It 
 was subtle ; it was impalpable ; it was in the air. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling had her own way of making her 
 niece feel uncomfortable. With a few jesting words 
 and a low ironical laugh she would set something 
 Dorothy had said or done in a ludicrous or ridicu- 
 lous light. 
 
 She was not wise, of course, this girl of seven- 
 teen, and constantly played into the elder woman's 
 hands. It never entered her mind that her greatest 
 offence was being her mother's daughter. 
 
 As time went on Dorothy was forced to see more 
 and more the effect of Mrs. Grayling's presence and 
 influence on her nephew. He began to affect smart 
 speeches, to be critical, witty, fastidious, and in 
 various ways to assume more or less the air of a man 
 of the world. This was wholly foreign to his frank, 
 off-hand, impetuous nature. 
 
 One evening when Mrs. Grayling and her nephew 
 were playing at backgammon, Dorothy, sitting near 
 them, was rather shocked at one of Tom's remarks, 
 in the temper of a good many others which he had 
 made of late.
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 275 
 
 " How could you speak like that, Tom ? You know 
 mamma would not approve of it," she burst out. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling seized her chance. She laughed her 
 amused, satirical laugh. 
 
 " My dear Dorothy, that is the way, of course, to 
 keep him in the strait and narrow path. Threaten 
 him with his mother's displeasure every time ! " 
 
 Tom flushed, and turned angrily on his sister, 
 
 " I do wish you would stop harping on that string ! 
 It would do for a small boy, but it gets to be insuf- 
 ferable when a fellow has grown up." 
 
 Aunt Glenn also took occasion, when the mood 
 prompted, to let other people perceive she regarded 
 her niece still in the light of an immature girl, whose 
 ideas and opinions to be indulged of course were 
 really entitled to slight consideration. She managed 
 in subtle ways to* convey this impression to the ser- 
 vants and to guests. Dorothy, installed mistress of 
 the house, was naturally sensitive for her dignity. 
 She was hurt, indignant, helpless. 
 
 Sometimes, too, Mrs. Grayling related amusing 
 stories of slips of girls who took on airs and as- 
 sumed womanly dignities and responsibilities when 
 they ought still to be quietly sheltered under the 
 maternal wing. 
 
 The stories were told in a dramatic way, which 
 made people laugh. Of course Dorothy laughed too. 
 She could not assume anything was pointed at her- 
 self. Aunt Glenn would have stared, innocent and
 
 276 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 amazed, at the suggestion. But all the same her 
 stories rankled. 
 
 Her aunt's speeches, too, often pained the girl's 
 conscience. Mi's. Grayling held up the failings, 
 weaknesses, misfortunes, of people whom she knew 
 in remorseless lights. Anything of this sort was 
 alien to the family atmosphere, to the influences and 
 examples amid which Dorothy had been reared. 
 What would her mother think ? As for the daughter, 
 she could only sit still ; but the young face showed 
 plainly its pain and discomfort, which only provoked 
 Mrs. Grayling to further efforts on the same lines. 
 " I have seen Grace Dabney look just like that ! " 
 she said to herself ; and the haughty woman, who 
 loved power and was used to exercising it, remem- 
 bered how she had been forced to close her lips and 
 be on her guard in the presence of Donald's wife. 
 
 Things grew worse and worse with Dorothy. She 
 was getting positively unhappy. Yet the strong, in- 
 born forces of her nature rallied to meet this new 
 ordeal. It would be a lasting disgrace to have a 
 quarrel with Aunt Glenn, her guest, her father's 
 sister, a woman whose years almost trebled her own. 
 Besides, Dorothy had an instinct that she would cer- 
 tainly be worsted if it came to a collision between 
 the two. Sometimes it seemed to the girl that Mrs. 
 Grayling was bent on provoking her into an explo- 
 sion of passion; then, again, her mood would change 
 to something so soft and gracious that Dorothy
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 277 
 
 would wonder whether she had not been unjust to 
 her aunt. 
 
 "I shall be glad when she goes," the girl often 
 said to herself, with some pain in her young face 
 which no one had ever surprised there before. " To 
 think she is papa's sister, and he is fond of her ! He 
 often talks of the days when they were boy and girl 
 together, here at Red Knolls ; and she was devoted to 
 him after grandma died. He always ends, though, 
 with something like this, ' Glenn and I were as un- 
 like in character and temperament as though we had 
 no drop of kindred blood in our veins, and the 
 years are not making us less so.' If he were here, 
 she would not dare treat me in this way. But 
 now," her lips quivered, " there is nobody to help 
 me." 
 
 For a spirit of blindness seemed to have fallen on 
 Tom Draycott. It was a part of Mrs. Grayling's 
 rdle to make herself agreeable and charming to her 
 nephew ; and she thoroughly succeeded. 
 
 One day Dorothy entered the sitting-room with a 
 new hat which had just been sent from the milliner's.. 
 It was a pretty thing, of fine, light straw, the trim- 
 mings a cluster of moss rosebuds blended with some 
 loops and knots of gay-colored ribbons. Tom and 
 his aunt were there together ; he had been laughing 
 heartily over some of her stories. 
 
 That morning he had said to his sister, " Aunt 
 Glenn is a wonderfully clever creature, and keeps a
 
 278 " SHIS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 fellow alive and amused. We must do our best to 
 have her stay on at Red Knolls." 
 
 Dorothy wore her new hat. It was very becoming 
 to the glowing young face it surmounted. 
 
 " Isn't it a beauty ? " She addressed the two with 
 girlish eagerness. " I wore it down just to have you 
 admire it." 
 
 A couple of hours before, Dorothy had uncon- 
 sciously made some remark at lunch which nettled 
 her aunt. This was her chance for reprisal. 
 
 " Dear me, what a gorgeous affair it is ! " she ex- 
 claimed after a moment's inspection. " Your milli- 
 ner must have stolen a clipping from some rainbow." 
 
 Mrs. Grayling's taste was exquisite. Her soft 
 blues and lavenders were perfectly adapted to her 
 blond fairness. There was never a false note of 
 color in her gowns. 
 
 This gave her dictum weight, and relegated the 
 hat to hopeless garishness in the eyes of her nephew. 
 
 " Dorothy, why will you make such a popinjay of 
 yourself?" he exclaimed in an irritated tone. "I 
 hope you will have too good taste to show yourself 
 on the street with such a varicolored topknot." 
 
 Dorothy had a young girl's sensitiveness to ridi- 
 cule. All her pleasure in her new hat was spoiled. 
 
 "I think you might have manners enough, Tom 
 Draycott, not to call names ! You certainly never 
 learned that habit from your mother ! " 
 
 She turned and left the room.
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 279 
 
 " Poor Dorothy ! " Mrs. Grayling's tone was half 
 sympathetic, half amused. " Of course she is only 
 a child still ; and I think, Tom, my dear, you were 
 rather hard on her. But that holding up mamma to 
 you on all occasions, as thqugh you were still under 
 nursery discipline, is vastly amusing, when one sees 
 just what a big, broad-shouldered fellow you are." 
 
 Dorothy, returning to her room, tossed her hat on 
 the table, and flung herself on the lounge. 
 
 " It is all Tier doings," she said in angry mono- 
 logue. " Tom would have liked my hat if she had 
 not spoiled it with that light, subtle sneer. Oh, what 
 shall I do? I cannot bear it much longer. Even 
 Tom is not the same to me. He does not know it, 
 and it is all owing to her influence. O Aunt Glenn, 
 I shall get to hating you! " 
 
 She buried her face in the lounge cushion and 
 sobbed passionately. 
 
 Two days afterward another jar occurred between, 
 the young people. It happened at dinner, and, of 
 course, in Mrs. Grayling's presence. Whenever 
 Tom's critical, captious mood cropped out toward 
 his sister, she laid the trouble at his aunt's door. 
 The girl herself was getting into a self-conscious, 
 morbid mood amid the perplexities and trials which 
 beset her. 
 
 But to-night all that had slipped away. Some 
 slight misadventure on the street had awakened all 
 her girlish sense of the ridiculous. A woman had
 
 280 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 run against and nearly upset her on the street. As 
 the recollection flashed over Dorothy, and the man- 
 ner in which each had recovered her balance, she 
 related the scene as a girl would, with picturesque 
 detail, with ripples of laughter, and eyes flashing 
 with merriment. She described the stranger with 
 whom she had collided as " a rather adipose, rather 
 bedizened person, who looked as though she might 
 on slight occasion become belligerent." 
 
 In ordinary moods Tom would have listened and 
 laughed too, and probably have helped his sister on 
 with the fun. 
 
 " How you do spread your adjectives ! " he ex- 
 claimed, now seizing a chance to make a smart re- 
 joinder before Mrs. Grayling. " Look out, Dorothy, 
 or you will be a prim, polysyllabic old maid one of 
 these days." 
 
 Aunt Glenn laughed the low, ironical laugh which 
 always grated on her niece's nerves. 
 
 " Oh, that is delicious, Tom ! " she cried. " Why 
 don't you add pious ? The three p's will then make 
 your alliteration perfect." 
 
 Dorothy's eyes flashed. " I think a Sophomore 
 who has a weakness for airing his Greek and mythol- 
 ogy should not take upon himself to criticise me." 
 
 The shaft struck through a vulnerable point in 
 Tom's armor. The blood rushed angrily to his 
 cheeks. Mrs. Grayling noticed it, and mentally 
 commented,
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 281 
 
 " It is nuts to me when Grace Dabney's boy and 
 girl have a tiff, and show they are made of common 
 stuff, despite their paragon of a mother ! " 
 
 But Dorothy's feeling of triumph was short lived. 
 It was all she could do to keep back the tears from 
 her eyes. It seemed as though that dinner would 
 never end. Aunt Glenn beamed on Tom, and he 
 laughed noisily at her repartees, and had a feeling of 
 angry estrangement toward his sister. 
 
 Yet you and I know, reader, for all this exhibition 
 of temper and youthful conceit, what stuff Tom 
 Draycott had behind them. Mrs. Grayling might 
 play upon his young weakness and vanities ; she 
 could but sound the lowest note not the top of 
 his compass. 
 
 There was something in the air of Red Knolls 
 which might lead to an explosion. Mrs. Grayling 
 would, of course, have laughed at this idea. She had 
 a sense of triumph in these days which at times 
 amounted to vindictive exultation. 
 
 It is only just, however, to say she would have re- 
 pelled the idea to her own soul that she could ever 
 desire any harm to Donald's children. 
 
 But she was dealing with young, sensitive, high- 
 strung natures, and might reckon without her host. 
 
 One afternoon Mrs. Grayling and her niece were 
 in the drawing-room receiving some calls. The 
 former was in one of her brilliant moods. They had 
 been discussing some mutual acquaintances who had 
 gone to live in her vicinity.
 
 282 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " Their grandeur is quite dazzling," she said in a 
 half-scornful, half-derisive tone. " They have man- 
 aged to worm themselves into our foest set. But 
 they are parvenues for all that, and it crops out oc- 
 casionally. That is not, however, perhaps the worst. 
 It strikes me there was some scandal or crime asso- 
 ciated with certain members of the family. Didn't 
 one of the brothers make a sudden flight across seas, 
 or was it to Canada ? " 
 
 A laugh in which a fine ear could have detected 
 something conscious and perfunctory, ran around the 
 circle. The lady sitting next to Dorothy, a pretty, 
 elaborately dressed brunette, stirred uneasily and 
 flushed ; Dorothy's olive skin was scarlet. 
 
 At this instant Hidalgo appeared at the door. He 
 did not often affect the drawing-room, but his appear- 
 ance struck Dorothy now in the light of a providen- 
 tial interposition. 
 
 " Come in, you huge quadruped," she cried, seizing 
 the chance to effect a happy diversion, "and show 
 your splendid self to the ladies ! " 
 
 The guests had barely made their adieus when 
 Dorothy broke out, - 
 
 "O Aunt Glenn! what have you said? But of 
 course you could not know." 
 
 '.' Know what, Dorothy? " Mrs. Grayling repeated 
 with either real or simulated surprise. 
 
 " I mean what you said about parvenues and the 
 brother's running away. Mrs. Leydell's brother did 
 the same thing."
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 283 
 
 " Oh, I understand now ! But I knew perfectly, 
 child. I intended my small aft-row should hit the 
 mark." 
 
 Then the tongue which, in certain of her moods, 
 loved to sting and lash, went on, 
 
 "I never particularly fancied the Leydells ; and 
 when people's heads get slightly turned by their 
 prosperity, I do enjoy taking them down." 
 
 " But it was nothing the sister could help, Aunt 
 Glenn," pleaded Dorothy, too shocked to be indig- 
 nant. " You surely could not want to pain her by 
 reminding her of a family misfortune ! " 
 
 Mrs. Grayling flushed slightly under her blond 
 skin ; but she determined to carry things with a high 
 hand. She laughed her little hard, scornful laugh. 
 
 "I don't pretend to any saintliness, Dorothy, my 
 dear. You must have found that out already. I 
 had my chance ; I seized it. It has done no harm, 
 and reminded some people that after all their airs 
 they live in glass houses." 
 
 Dorothy sat silent, gazing at her aunt. Something 
 grew in the gaze which could not have been pleasant 
 for the proud woman. 
 
 Then the tumult of young, passionate indignation 
 flashed from heart to lip, 
 
 " It was cruel ! It was shameful ! O Aunt Glenn, 
 you must be a wicked woman ! " 
 
 Mrs. Grayling grew very white. She turned on 
 her niece eyes which burned like live coals.
 
 284 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " How dare you speak to me like that ? You are 
 just like your mother ! " 
 
 The last sentence was hissed out. The feeling 
 which had rankled so long in Glennis Grayling's 
 heart was in her face, in her voice. 
 
 Then, with a flashing sense that she had lost her 
 self-control, she rose and left the room. 
 
 Dorothy had seen the look in her aunt's eyes. It 
 started a train of thought which fairly dazed her. 
 
 " She looked, she spoke, as though she hated 
 mamma ! What would Tom have thought if he had 
 seen her ? " 
 
 Half an hour later, when her young passion had 
 subsided, Dorothy was saying to herself, 
 
 " She is my aunt, my guest, so much older than I ; 
 I owe her an apology for my words. I must bend 
 my pride to it. The sooner it is over, too, the 
 better." 
 
 She went straight to Mrs. Grayling's room. 
 
 " Aunt Glenn, I have come to ask you to excuse 
 me. I should not have spoken as I did just now." 
 
 Mrs. Grayling was too acute not to perceive the 
 limits of her niece's apology. Dorothy would not 
 wrong her conscience by saying her words were not 
 true. 
 
 Her aunt was, however, inclined to receive the 
 apology in apparent good faith. Her reflections dur- 
 ing the last half-hour had not been quite reassuring. 
 They would have been less so had she been fully
 
 SOME PAINFUL SURPRISES 285 
 
 conscious of the tone and look which had accented 
 her remark about Dorothy's mother. 
 
 When Aunt Glenn attempted to do anything it 
 would not be by halves. 
 
 " O Dorothy dear ! " she said in a cordial, half- 
 playful tone, " you did not suppose I thought of that 
 a second time ! What you said was all my fault 
 too. But you look so pretty, child, so much like 
 your mother, as I said, when you are a little excked, 
 that I can't resist the temptation of seeing you so 
 occasionally. Of course that is all very shocking, I 
 know ; but, really, I don't enjoy hurting people's 
 feelings, and when I say very cruel things, you 
 must believe I don't half mean them." 
 
 " I shall always try to believe that, Aunt Glenn," 
 Dorothy replied, greatly relieved by the gracious 
 manner, and half inclined to think what she had 
 heard was true.
 
 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 XXXV 
 
 A CLIMAX 
 
 DURING the next two days nothing occurred to 
 break the household calm. Perhaps it might have 
 had to one acquainted with all the characters con- 
 cerned a little the nature of an armed truce. 
 
 Aunt Glenn and Dorothy were on their guard. 
 Tom was absent a good deal on some short yachting 
 sails ; and his sister, hurt at his lack of comprehen- 
 sion and sympathy at this time, kept her troubles to 
 herself. 
 
 Aunt Glenn had not forgotten nor forgiven. That 
 was not easy to her proud, exacting nature. She did 
 not allow her feeling to appear ; but the scene in the 
 drawing-room the shocked look in Dorothy's face 
 the words she had spoken frequently came up 
 to Mrs. Grayling, and chafed her imperious spirit. 
 
 The relations between Tom Draycott and his sister 
 underwent at this crisis a more prolonged and serious 
 strain than had ever occurred in their lives. Neither 
 of the young people was clearly conscious of this ; 
 neither was on guard. If at a juncture when there 
 were some irritation and sensitiveness on both sides, 
 any fresh cause of offence should bring matters to a
 
 A CLIMAX 287 
 
 head, Mrs. Grayling would know how to make her 
 account in it. 
 
 One afternoon when Dorothy had gone to a tennis- 
 party in the neighborhood, Tom appeared at the 
 stable-door, and ordered Steve to saddle old Iron- 
 sides in a hurry. 
 
 The young man was greatly annoyed to learn that 
 the horse had sprained his ankle that morning, and it 
 would not be safe to use him for two or three days. 
 
 Tom fumed about the stalls. He glanced several 
 times at Sphinx, freshly groomed and in perfect con- 
 dition, eager for drive or mount. 
 
 " She has not been out to-day, has she, Steve ? " he 
 asked the good-natured, broad-faced young English- 
 man who combined his stable duties with various 
 indoor service at Red Knolls. 
 
 " No, Mr. Tom, and she's achin' for a smart gallop. 
 She'd make double-quick time on the road this after- 
 noon." 
 
 Tom stood still at the stall and surveyed the beau- 
 tiful creature, with her small head, her rich dark 
 satiny hide, her bright glancing eyes. He was en- 
 gaged to ride that afternoon with one of his class- 
 mates. They would probably go to Concord. The 
 meeting-place had been appointed. Moments were 
 precious. Tom debated with himself a short time. 
 
 He knew perfectly that Sphinx was Dorothy's most 
 precious possession. It was tacitly understood that 
 nobody was to take her out without her young mis-
 
 288 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 tress's permission. The treatment of that young 
 mare was always a very sensitive point with his 
 sister. 
 
 " Miss Dorothy is out, I think you said, Steve ? " 
 Tom asked again. 
 
 " Yes ; she went out half an hour ago, sir." 
 
 " And she left no orders about the horse when she 
 left?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Tom ; though she will be likely to have 
 a drive later in the afternoon." 
 
 Tom's 4 e bate ultimated. " Well, as old Ironsides 
 is knocked up, and my sister is away, there seems 
 nothing to be done but take the risks myself. I'll 
 treat the little beast carefully. Put her into the sad- 
 dle lively, Steve ! " 
 
 More than two hours later Tom rode into the 
 stable. Those two hours had been the hardest of 
 Sphinx's life. The little thoroughbred which had 
 pranced gayly off with arching crest, every fibre in 
 her perfect body a-quiver with joyous life, came now 
 with drooping crest, her flanks lathered with foam, 
 her mouth dripping spume. 
 
 Tom shouted eagerly for Steve. In a moment the 
 man appeared at the stable-door, giving a grunt of 
 dismay at sight of Sphinx's plight. 
 
 " Yes, I know, Steve!" Tom answered the crest- 
 fallen look as he bounded from the mare's back. 
 " Be spry now ; get to work, and rub her down with 
 a vengeance ! "
 
 A CLIMAX 289 
 
 " But what have you been doin to her, Master 
 Tom?" with an indignant note in his voice as he 
 removed the saddle and patted the lathered coat. 
 
 " Oh, I put her at her paces harder than I intended. 
 Reynolds proposed a race, and I went in for it. We 
 and the beasts got our blood up ; I didn't realize how 
 far we were going or how hot the day was. That is 
 all there is of it. You don't imagine I have done any 
 mischief, do you?" 
 
 " I hope not, sir. But I wouldn't advise you to try 
 it again ; " and he shook his head. " This sort of 
 work never does a horse of her breed any good." 
 
 It would have been a relief if Steve could have 
 sworn at his young master. 
 
 " Dorothy would be awfully cut up if she were to 
 catch Sphinx in this plight," continued Tom, with 
 real concern for his sister. " Good heavens ! what 
 a storm there would be ! Do your best, Steve, with 
 the mare, and don't lose an instant." 
 
 But the man had already set to work with a will. 
 
 Tom hurried to the house iu order to intercept his 
 sister if she should return, and to manage " b}^ hook 
 or by crook to keep her from the stable for the next 
 hour." 
 
 He had disappeared only a short time when his 
 sister turned at the back of the grounds into a lane 
 which afforded a short cut to the stable. She paused 
 to gather some ripening apples from a low branch 
 which bent over the wall. These were intended for
 
 290 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Sphinx. She would tell Steve to have her at the 
 door in a quarter of an hour. 
 
 In less than that time Dorothy burst into the sit- 
 ting-room where Tom had stretched himself on the 
 lounge, and was listening for her footsteps on the 
 front piazza, not suspecting she would approach 
 the house from the back side. When he saw the 
 white face, the blazing eyes, he was certain she had 
 anticipated him. 
 
 "Tom Draycott," she cried, her voice tremulous 
 Avith passion, " you have killed my horse ! " 
 
 Her manner, her words, put him at once on angry 
 defence. He rose rather leisurely from the sofa. 
 
 " Don't make a fool of yourself ! " he retorted. 
 " I haven't done her any harm." 
 
 " How dare you look me in the face and say that? 
 To sneak into the stable when I was away, and take 
 my horse, and race her for hours this hot afternoon ! 
 I have just come from the stable ; I have seen 
 Sphinx ; I made Steve tell me all. It was dishonor- 
 able ; it was contemptible ; it was cowardly ! " Her 
 voice gathered fresh passion at every sentence ; but it 
 came near breaking into a sob as she went on. " My 
 beautiful Sphinx ! You have ruined her! " 
 
 Tom had grown white. Such adjectives had never 
 been hurled at the high-spirited youth. They stung 
 sharper because, unjust and exaggerated as they 
 were, Dorothy certainly had great provocation. 
 
 But Tom had not been in a mood of late to make
 
 A CLIMAX 291 
 
 allowances for his sister. He tossed and caught hid 
 book in a way that was designedly aggravating be- 
 fore he spoke. 
 
 " As you are in such a rage you must have your 
 temper out, I suppose. Turning yourself into a vi- 
 rago and calling names may do you good and me 
 no special harm ; but I don't crave such scenes, and 
 I don't choose to explain or justify myself while you 
 are in this tantrum." 
 
 "I am not surprised you take refuge in lofty' airs 
 and grand talk, as you can have no possible excuse 
 for what you have done. Oh, I wish papa were 
 here ! But I can defend myself, Tom Draycott." 
 
 " So I perceive," sneered Tom. All the time he 
 was conscious he had been to blame less in taking 
 Sphinx out than in racing her so mercilessly. 
 
 Dorothy was getting exhausted betwixt her grief 
 over Sphinx and her anger at Tom. She struggled 
 for self-mastery, for some last words which might 
 leave her at least mistress of the situation. 
 
 " I have no more to say now, except that Sphinx 
 belongs solely to me ; and, if she should recover from 
 your cruel treatment, you are never, under any cir- 
 cumstances, to take her from the stall again." 
 
 " You may be sure I shall never wish to do it," 
 retorted Tom. 
 
 At that instant the portieres at one end of the 
 apartment moved softly apart, and Mrs. Grayling 
 stood between them, a charming picture ; her blond
 
 292 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 hair and complexion in admirable relief against her 
 lavender gown of some fine summer fabric. 
 
 " My dear children," she exclaimed, in her most 
 gracious manner, " but isn't this getting to be pain- 
 fully near a family quarrel ? " 
 
 Dorothy felt a sick thrill go through her strained 
 nerves. That graceful, smiling presence seemed 
 baleful to her. 
 
 Tom, disgusted and mortified, holding Dorothy 
 largely responsible in the case, replied with flushed 
 face and angry tone, - 
 
 " It is what I should call a decided family row, and 
 no credit, certainly, to either of the parties engaged 
 in it." 
 
 " Dorothy, my dear," said the light, jesting voice, 
 " you make me think of Petruchio's Kate, with those 
 flushed cheeks and those blazing eyes. I must con- 
 fess it looks dangerously like eavesdropping on my 
 part; but I only entered the alcove a few moments 
 ago, and took for granted the talk, with such a model 
 brother and sister, you know, was merely a play at 
 quarrelling. When I found it was something serious, 
 and could get my breath, I resolved to interfere." 
 
 " I have nothing to say for myself, Aunt Glenn ; 
 and Tom is equal, certainly, to giving you his ver- 
 sion of the matter," replied Dorothy, and she left 
 the room with considerable dignity. 
 
 But it all collapsed the moment she reached her 
 chamber. She walked back and forth, wringing her
 
 A CLIMAX 293 
 
 hands, her soul in a tumult of anger, mortification, 
 remorse. 
 
 " Oh, what have I said ! And Aunt Glenn heard 
 it all, and enjoyed it too. I saw it in her eyes. And 
 my poor Sphinx is ruined, and Tom and I have quar- 
 relled irretrievably. He could forgive anything but 
 my calling him a coward. Such a proud fellow 
 never forgets that. I wonder if I am the wickedest 
 girl in the world, as I certainly am the unhappiest ? " 
 
 The tumult of heart and brain broke down soon in 
 a storm of sobs. 
 
 Tom Draycott, in a decidedly unpleasant frame of 
 mind, was left with his aunt, who graciously took a 
 seat by his side. 
 
 " I am immensely mortified, Aunt Glenn, that you 
 should have been annoyed by an affair of this sort," 
 he began. 
 
 " O my dear boy, don't give the matter a second 
 thought," she interrupted lightly. " It will never 
 weigh a feather with me. Of course Dorothy car- 
 ries a high hand with us all ; but then, what can 
 you expect of seventeen, especially when it is so 
 fascinatingly pretty? I imagine, too, you were not 
 absolutely blameless about Sphinx. I know what 
 high-headed young fellows like you are when they 
 get astride a handsome little beast. Of course you 
 raced her remorselessly. Come, now ! Clear up your 
 forehead, and let's have a game of backgammon 
 before supper."
 
 294 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 YOUNG LIFE LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE 
 
 DURING their afternoon ride young Draycott and 
 his friend, Joe Reynolds, had agreed to have a row 
 down the harbor the following day. 
 
 Reynolds was a jolly, good-hearted fellow, ruddy 
 complexioned, sandy haired, with a glimmer of fun 
 in his honest light-gray eyes. He was a muscular, 
 strong-built youth, used to handling an oar or reefing 
 a sail. He was a kind of amphibious creature, and 
 his passion for all sorts of light sailing-craft had 
 interfered with his college work. He and Tom 
 Draycott had a class-liking for each other ; and as 
 Reynolds's summer home was on the South Shore, 
 only a few miles from the city, the }*oung men, 
 though hardly intimates at Harvard, were more or 
 less together during the vacation. 
 
 The harbor that summer afternoon was a scene of 
 gay, varied, picturesque life, with its graceful yachts 
 and pretty sailboats gleaming and dancing over the 
 waves like huge snow-winged sea-birds. Then the 
 vast crowd of larger shipping lying at the wharves 
 or moving over the waters, and the big gray hulks 
 of the steamers, gave variety, interest, and color to 
 the whole picture.
 
 YOUNG LIFE LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE 295 
 
 The t\vo young men stood on the pier, and gazed 
 a few minutes on the animated scene before they 
 leaped into the rowboat. Their hearts beat high 
 with the pride and strength of young manhood. 
 They seized their oars, swung them about their 
 heads, and, in merry travesty of their short row, 
 shouted together, " From City Point to Squan- 
 tum ! " 
 
 Then they buried their blades in the water, and 
 the light shell bounded away like a live thing to 
 their stroke. 
 
 As the young men started off in such gay trim, an 
 old seaman, with his shaggy jacket, and tarpaulin 
 a-tilt on his iron-gray hair, shouted out to them, 
 
 " You better keep a sharp lookout on that cloud in 
 the west, young men, or you'll be caught in a stiff 
 gale before sunset." 
 
 The rowers glanced at the long, dark thunderous- 
 looking reef which lay along the western horizon. 
 But all around them the sunlight glittered bravely 
 on blue, tumbling waves and snowy sails and slender 
 masthead. 
 
 They nodded gayly to the sailor's warning. 
 
 " That old tar wants to send us off with a croak," 
 remarked Reynolds airily. 
 
 "Or show off his nautical prescience," laughed 
 Tom. 
 
 " Them young blades are in high feather now," 
 muttered the sailor ; "but they'll have a black squall
 
 296 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 on 'em if they don't put in shore afore they're an 
 hour older." 
 
 He cocked one eye aloft again, shook his head, 
 and shambled off the float. 
 
 The young men bent to their rowing. Tom had 
 the reputation of a fine Harvard oar in the class 
 rows, and Reynolds was as much at home with all 
 small sea-craft as he was in his own chamber. The 
 little boat careened over the waves. The rack of 
 cloud, of a singular greenish-black color, spread its 
 wings toward the zenith. The classmates, absorbed 
 in their oars and the delicious motion, had no thought 
 for the swift-rising cloud. The darkness gloomed 
 around them suddenly. The winds sprang up like 
 furies that had broken their leash, and went raging 
 over the waves. Fierce lightnings broke, and thun- 
 ders roared. All the light shipping put in speedily 
 to shore. The young men, alive to their peril now, 
 strained every nerve to get under shelter. 
 
 A little later Reynolds lifted his voice over 
 shrieking winds and plunging waves and volleying 
 thunders, 
 
 " Draycott, we are caught in a tornado, and we're 
 out in Boston Harbor ! " 
 
 "You're right, Reynolds! " Tom shouted back. 
 " We will stick to the oars as long as we can hold 
 them." 
 
 They had no strength to waste in words. Great 
 livid waves opened their huge jaws to swallow that
 
 YOUNG LIFE LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE 297 
 
 light craft and the lives she carried. Winds roared 
 and lashed the air. Hail rattled like grape-shot into 
 the boat. The blackness grew denser ; then all that 
 wild welter would leap out sharp in the fierce light- 
 nings, and the thunder would shake the world. 
 
 The boat went driving and stumbling on in the 
 teeth of the gale. Their utmost efforts barely served 
 thus far to keep her from capsizing. But how puny 
 these were ! How long could she hold out in such a 
 tempest ? 
 
 Tom Draycott was looking death in the face, and 
 he knew it. It had come so suddenly ! Less than 
 an hour ago it had seemed that the strong young 
 life throbbing in his pulses could never falter or 
 wane ; and now he wondered vaguely whether, 
 if he looked in the mirror, he should see an old 
 man. 
 
 But for the most part young Draycott's thoughts 
 were sharp and vivid. He knew there was every 
 likelihood he should die in a few minutes, going 
 down as others had gone, young and strong as he, 
 
 he had read about them, in those hungry, clam- 
 oring waves. 
 
 And what a glorious thing life looked to him now 
 
 now that it was slipping away forever ! Why had 
 he not prized it more ? How every commonplace 
 moment seemed to him charged with gifts and mean- 
 ings and blessedness ! The fair endless procession of 
 days and nights, the majestic march of the seasons,
 
 298 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 the far, arching sky, and near, green, earth, how 
 ineffably beautiful and divine all these grew to him 
 now ! As he looked back, he seemed to himself 
 moving dull and vacuous, as a beast might, amid all 
 the splendor and glory which the past had caught 
 as it was vanishing. 
 
 Yet he had meant to leave his mark on the world, 
 to do some brave service for his day and generation. 
 And to die like this, in the very dawn of manhood, 
 with all its high hopes, purposes, aspirations, unful- 
 filled ! 
 
 An instant later his thoughts leaped to Red Knolls. 
 Everything was swallowed up in that. Oh, the dear 
 old home ! The threshold he would never cross 
 again ! The familiar roof he would see no more be- 
 hind the elms ! 
 
 When it came to his mother, Tom's thoughts 
 turned away ; they could not face that breaking heart. 
 The bitterness of death had come now. 
 
 There was his father, too, whose strong, tender 
 manhood would gird itself for the sake of others, but 
 who would go mourning to the grave for his drowned 
 boy. And Dorothy ! All the old happy days of 
 their childhood, the frolics, the foolish quarrels, the 
 makings-up, crowded back on his memory. 
 
 And every careless word, every angry temper, 
 especially the things which had happened in these 
 last days, came up to reproach him mightily. He 
 took all the blame to himself ; he had been cruel to
 
 YOUNG LIFE LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE 299 
 
 that young 1 sister. She would remember when the 
 knowledge had come, when the shadow whicli would 
 never lift had fallen upon Red Knolls. If he could 
 only put his arm about her for one last minute, and 
 say, 
 
 " Don't think about it, Dollikins ! It was all my 
 fault ! " 
 
 His cheek was wet now with something besides 
 the salt dashing of the spray. 
 
 And amid these dearest home-loves, others came 
 to him. There were his classmates. How cut up 
 the fellows would be when they knew ! There were 
 hearts, too, who would carry a silent, empty room all 
 their days for his sake, Nanty Dayles, and John 
 Amoury and his wife. 
 
 Dake Cramley came up too. What a stunning 
 blow it would be to that poor fellow ! It comforted 
 Tom to think he and Daisy would not go unfriended. 
 For his own sake the two would always be dear to 
 the father and mother and Dorothy. 
 
 There were other thoughts, too, which went out 
 into the great Unknown that was drawing so close. 
 When all that could die was lying silent and motion- 
 less, on what mysterious life, what new plane of 
 existence, would the indestructible Self have entered ? 
 Would there be some great, overpowering surprise, 
 or would the new day rise slowly, peacefully, like the 
 dawns of this world? Would he forget everything 
 else in the wonder of the change ? Would the old
 
 300 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 memories ever come back ? Or would they be swal- 
 lowed up in a great blank like that which veils the 
 beginnings of all human lives? The swift-flashing 
 questions which rose in his thoughts were the ques- 
 tions which reach the deepest soundings of human 
 souls. Tom Draycott tried to trust his future with 
 the infinite Love and Care which had been about him 
 all his life, which he felt now were around all human 
 lives. 
 
 All this time the boat had been plunging before 
 the gale, shuddering down into great abysses of seas, 
 then shouldered by some towering wave, on the crest 
 of which she rocked and quivered. Oar and rudder 
 were useless now. There was nothing to do but 
 cling to the boat and wait. 
 
 Suddenly Tom heard a voice above the clamor, 
 
 " Draycott, I don't think she can stand it much 
 longer." 
 
 "I'm afraid not, Reynolds; but when it comes 
 we'll go down together." 
 
 " I'd like to take your hand once more and hear 
 you say good-by." 
 
 They reached amid the blackness and the howling 
 for each other's hands. 
 
 "Good-by, Reynolds! Say a prayer for me, as I 
 shall for you." 
 
 The boat slipped, quivering, shuddering, into the 
 wide green trough of sea. But a little later she 
 rode on another crest of wave.
 
 YOUNG LIFE LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE 301 
 
 The blackness seemed to lighten by a shade. 
 
 After a little a voice which young Draycott never 
 expected to hear again, shouted, 
 
 " I think we are off Savin Hill, and we are driv- 
 ing straight on shore." 
 
 The tornado, after the nature of tornadoes, must 
 be brief.
 
 302 " SIRS, ONLY, SEVENTEEN " 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 WHERE WAS TOM? 
 
 DOROTHY DRAYCOTT had had the most restless, 
 unhappy day of her life. 
 
 The first thing she did after breakfast was to visit 
 the stable, where she found matters decidedly im- 
 proved. Steve thought Sphinx would, with rest and 
 proper care, come out all right, though another such 
 race would be her undoing. 
 
 Dorothy lavished caresses and sugar on Sphinx for 
 a half-hour before she returned to the house. But 
 all her satisfaction over the mare could not stifle a 
 feeling that something was wrong at the heart of 
 things. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling had gone to the city that morning, 
 and Tom had left soon after breakfast. Neither at 
 that meal nor at dinner the night before, at which 
 Dorothy had forced herself to be present, had there 
 been any allusion to the affairs of the afternoon. 
 
 Aunt Glenn had, with her usual adroitness, re- 
 lieved the tension between the young people by her 
 agreeable talk at table. As Dorothy's anxiety about 
 Sphinx was largely dissipated, she could reflect 
 more calmly on what had occurred the previous
 
 WHEKE WAS TOM? 303 
 
 day. Some of her speeches reproached her con- 
 science. " Of course she had been greatly aggra- 
 vated, but she had gone too far. Some time she 
 would admit this to Tom, when Aunt Glenn had 
 gone and they were alone together." 
 
 Dorothy tried to drown her thoughts in some 
 songs at the piano, in her drawings, in a walk out- 
 doors, in a romp with Hidalgo ; but nothing quite 
 served. The world can sometimes seem stale, flat, 
 and unprofitable even to seventeen. 
 
 Aunt Glenn returned in the early afternoon, and, 
 tired by the heat, had her lunch served in her 
 room. 
 
 The tornado which burst upon Boston Harbor 
 spread its black wings inland, and darkened over 
 Red Knolls. The tempest broke there with swift 
 lightning-bolts, volleys of thunder, and fierce winds 
 that scourged the trees and shrubbery, and sent 
 
 O \J ' 
 
 clouds of hailstones rattling against the windows. 
 
 Dorothy was a brave girl, but she never remem- 
 bered a tempest like this. She was all alone too, 
 pacing her room, her nerves shrinking at each red 
 glare of lightning, each deafening crash of thunder. 
 She shrank from going to Aunt Glenn, even in her 
 fright and solitude ; and it did not become the 
 mistress of Red Knolls to resort to her servants for 
 the courage she ought rather to inspire. 
 
 So Dorothy's young brain reasoned as she tried to 
 brace herself against her fears. All at once a low,
 
 804 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 wailing cry broke from her lips. She stood still as 
 though one of those fiery lightning-bolts had struck 
 her. 
 
 " Was Tom out in Boston Harbor ? Had the tor- 
 nado caught him? " 
 
 Mrs. Grayling had just finished her late lunch. 
 She had drawn her chair away from the window. 
 Though her nerves were constitutionally strong, she 
 was beginning to be appalled by the fury of the tem- 
 pest. 
 
 There was a quick knock at the door ; and, before 
 she could answer, her niece entered. In the semi- 
 darkness Mrs. Grayling saw the white face, the scared 
 eyes. 
 
 " Aunt Glenn, what does this mean? " cried Doro- 
 thy breathlessly. 
 
 "It means nothing less than a tornado, child. 
 Will you sit down ? " 
 
 "No, thank you, I can't," speaking in rapid, ex- 
 cited tones. She had drawn near the lady, and stood 
 still. " Aunt Glenn, do you remember what Tom 
 said at breakfast about going down the harbor? " 
 
 " Yes, I remember." 
 
 " But if lie should be caught out in this storm " 
 she did not complete the sentence. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling looked startled. " Tom ! Oh, I 
 hope not! " she exclaimed sharply. 
 
 " He would be drowned, Aunt Glenn ! " 
 
 The words were low, but Mrs. Grayling heard
 
 WHERE WAS TOM? 305 
 
 them. At that instant some other words leaped into 
 her memory. She heard the same young voice, stern 
 with shocked surprise, calling her a " wicked woman." 
 The speech, the tones, had, as we have seen, rankled 
 in her memory ever since. They hardened her now. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling did not in her heart believe Tom 
 was in peril. She took it for granted that if he had 
 started out in the boat he would have sufficient warn- 
 ing of the approaching storm to put in shore. 
 
 But this visit to Red Knolls had, for various rea- 
 sons, aroused all the bitterest feelings and memories 
 of a nature not devoid of generous impulses and as- 
 pects. Dorothy's question her evident alarm had 
 given Mrs. Grayling her chance. She thought only 
 of that. 
 
 "I can hardly see what would save him if he should 
 be out in the harbor in such a tempest. But I am 
 going to be sensible and believe he is not," she replied 
 quietly. 
 
 " But he is very rash ; he would be likely to 
 start if the storm were not on him. O Aunt Glenn ! " 
 the rapid voice full of agonized pleading, " how could 
 we let him go ? " 
 
 " Yes," returned Mrs. Grayling in her softest tones 
 
 tones which Dorothy's nerves had learned to shiver 
 
 at, " it would, we must confess, have been wiser to 
 
 face any possible storm of reproach than a tornado ! " 
 
 " What do you mean, Aunt Glenn ? " 
 
 " Oh, you must know, Dorothy ! He told me last
 
 306 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 night that he should not vex you again by riding 
 Sphinx. He had made up his mind for a run out in 
 the harb6r to-day." 
 
 Dorothy shuddered through every fibre of her be- 
 ing. The darkness had deepened. Her aunt could 
 not see the look on her face. The next words were 
 words of life or death to Dorothy Draycott. 
 
 "But he said at least I understood him at 
 breakfast, that he and Reynolds had arranged yester- 
 day for a row down the harbor." 
 
 " Did he ? Then I must have been mistaken. I 
 gathered it was an afterthought on his part." 
 
 Aunt Glenn made herself believe she was telling 
 the truth. 
 
 " Aunt Glenn, do you mean to say I am Tom's 
 murderer ? " 
 
 Mrs. Grayling moved uneasily. She had gone far 
 enough. 
 
 " Nonsense, child ! Don't go into hysterics. Of 
 course I meant nothing of that sort. I have quite 
 too much respect for Tom Draycott's wits to believe 
 he would start out in a row-boat in a tornado. Ugh ! 
 This wind will bring the house about our ears ! " 
 
 Dorothy turned and left the room without a 
 word. 
 
 Aunt Glenn half rose to follow her niece. Then 
 a blaze of lightning dazzled her eyes. She sat down 
 amid the deafening thunder, and for the next ten or 
 fifteen minutes was really too frightened to leave the
 
 WHERE WAS TOM? 307 
 
 room. She concluded Dorothy would go straight to 
 the servants, who would probably reassure her about 
 Tom. She had herself no serious fears regarding 
 her nephew's safety. " As for his sister, it would 
 only do that saucy little minx good to have a 
 scare/' 
 
 As the storm abated, followed by a cooler temper- 
 ature, Mrs. Grayling grew drowsy. She threw her- 
 self on the bed, and was soon fast asleep. 
 
 Dorothy went straight to her room. She huddled 
 herself down on a corner of the lounge. She scarcely 
 heeded the raging of the storm. Those fierce light- 
 nings, those splitting thunders, though they were the 
 crack of doom, mattered little now. Her brain, her 
 heart, were full of one thought, 'one image, and that 
 was Tom. If he should never come back again, if 
 she had sent him, her big, splendid brother, to his 
 death, what was left to care for? She sat still, the 
 white tall girl ; she did not faint nor shriek, because 
 to do this was not in the Draycott blood ; but she 
 stared with great tearless eyes into the darkness. 
 The future stretched before her long, solitary, hope- 
 less. What would the days be without Tom ? Would 
 she hear his ringing step, his loud, joyous laugh, his 
 eager call, no more, no more ? 
 
 She thought of her father and mother's return ; 
 she and Tom had so often -talked together of that 
 moment. They had arranged to stand side by side 
 in the front door as the carriage came up the drive.
 
 308 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 Dorothy had a dreadful vision of herself standing in 
 the wide doorway all alone she who had murdered 
 Tom ! She might not speak the words, but when 
 they looked in her eyes they would know. 
 
 For Dorothy, with the long-repressed tension of 
 these days, with her irritated nerves and her excited 
 imagination, was now in a dangerously morbid con- 
 dition. The words she had spoken rose and filled 
 all the air like reproachful voices. She put her 
 fingers in her ears, but she heard still above all those 
 crashing thunders. She would hear all her life! 
 And Tom, in that row-boat out in the harbor, might 
 be going down at that very moment! And those 
 words had caused his death ! Aunt Glenn would 
 always think so ; ancf she, Dorothy Draycott, would 
 she not know it? 
 
 Once, in the midst of the storm, there was a knock 
 at the door. It was opened softly, and a maid looked 
 into the room. She was searching for her young 
 mistress, herself terrified by the storm. In her ex- 
 citement Dorothy neither saw nor heard. The maid 
 did not perceive through the dimness the figure on 
 a cortter of the sofa. She took for granted that 
 Dorothy had gone to her aunt. 
 
 The tornado passed away as tornadoes do, sweep- 
 ing their black, low-trailing skirts from the summer 
 sky. The wide air grew 'calm and sweet as though 
 no winds had ever charged in wild fury through it ; 
 the storm-beaten earth shone once more, glad with 
 leafage and bloom, in the sunshine.
 
 WHEttE WAS TOM? 309 
 
 But the girl still sat motionless on the lounge, with. 
 bright, dry eyes staring out of the white face. She 
 did not know that the storm had passed, that the sun 
 was shining all around her. 
 
 Where was Tom ?
 
 310 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 AFTER THE TORNADO 
 
 " DOROTHY, Dorothy ! " 
 
 The voice rang loud, eager, imperative, through 
 the house. 
 
 A moment later a door swung back, a pair of light 
 feet glanced along the hall and down the staircase, 
 and Dorothy Draycott stood before her brother. 
 
 He held her to his heart. The words he tried to 
 speak died in his throat. 
 
 Dorothy spoke first. He would hardly have recog- 
 nized that low, awesome, strained voice. 
 
 " Are you sure it is you, Tom ? " 
 
 He looked in her white, drawn face, in her dry, 
 staring eyes. What had happened to her? 
 
 All he had gone through during the last hours had 
 been a terrible strain on soul and body. The winds 
 had driven the boat straight on Savin Beach, and the 
 young men were blown into the surf close to the 
 shore. After a little while they staggered to their 
 feet, and managed to drag themselves, drenched, diz- 
 zied, exhausted, to Reynolds's summer home, where 
 the household was appalled at the appearance of the 
 youths and their late peril, not having dreamed they 
 were out in the storm.
 
 AFTER THE TORNADO 311 
 
 Every attention and sympathy was, of course, lav- 
 ished on the pair. Tom was, however, so consumed 
 by a desire to reach Red Knolls, that nothing short 
 of an exertion of physical force could have induced 
 him to remain over night. After three hours' rest 
 and refreshment he was driven to the station. 
 
 The brother and sister stared at each other with a 
 kind of solemn curiosity and tenderness, as though a 
 grave lay between them. By this time Tom began 
 to perceive vaguely that something was the matter 
 with Dorothy. Hardly able to stand himself, he, by 
 sheer force of will, seized her in his arms, carried her 
 up the stairs, and placed her on the bed. He put 
 down his cheek to hers without a word. 
 
 " You are sure it is you, Tom ? You have come 
 back to me alive ? " 
 
 He lifted his head at the low, scared voice, and 
 gazed at her with growing anxiety. 
 
 " Of course I have come back ! The same bump- 
 tious, cantankerous old rascal you have known all 
 your life. Who else should I be ? " 
 
 She did not smile ; she drew a long, moaning sigh. 
 
 " It seems so long since I saw you. Was it only 
 this morning you went away? " 
 
 " Only this morning." 
 
 But though he stoutly affirmed this, he could 
 hardly believe it. 
 
 " But," speaking in a low, scared tone, half to 
 herself, " I thought I had murdered you, and papa
 
 312 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 and mamma would come home and have to know, 
 and that nothing would ever be the same again." 
 
 " Murdered me ! " repeated Tom, thoroughly puz- 
 zled and alarmed by this time ; " I'm not so easily 
 killed as you seem to imagine. Here I stand, no 
 ghost revisiting the glimpses of the moon, but a 
 hundred and fifty pounds of solid bone and muscle 
 at your service. But what an insane idea it all is ! 
 What put it into your head, Dollikins ? " 
 
 " It was Aunt Glenn. I know what she thought." 
 
 A few minutes later Tom knocked at Mrs. Gray- 
 ling's door. She had just risen from her nap. 
 
 She greeted her nephew effusively. " I am so glad 
 to see you, Tom ! What a frightful storm it has 
 been ! Then I had a good deal of a scare about you, 
 lest you might be caught in the gale. My dear boy, 
 I am glad to see you safe and sound." 
 
 She looked at him with real fondness. He had 
 never seemed to her quite so much like his father as 
 at that moment. 
 
 " Thank you, Aunt Glenn. I was out in the gale. 
 It seemed a miracle that I lived through it. But 
 that story will wait. Aunt Glenn, what is the matter 
 with Dorothy ? " 
 
 " Nothing, I hope." 
 
 " But there is something serious, I fear." 
 
 His manner, more than his words, startled Mrs. 
 Grayling. 
 
 "Won't you be more explicit, Tom, dear?"
 
 AFTER THE TORNADO 313 
 
 "She is talking and moaning in the most curious 
 way. It is all so unlike her ! There is a strange 
 look in her eyes too. She keeps insisting she 
 thought she had murdered me, and says you thought 
 so too. What does it all mean ? " 
 
 A flash of consciousness came and went in Mrs. 
 Grayling's eyes. Tom caught it. 
 
 "Aunt Glenn," he asked almost sternly, "what 
 have you been saying to Dorothy ? " 
 
 She began to feel alarmed now. But with her 
 usual tact she tried to disguise this. She briefly 
 related Dorothy's visit to her room in the storm. 
 
 " I was a good deal frightened myself, Tom, and I 
 may have said something which alarmed her, or 
 which she misinterpreted. One has always to be 
 on guard in dealing with these sensitive natures. 
 Of course I am awfully sorry; but I will see her 
 at once, and set it all right." 
 
 Tom eagerly assented. The two went together to 
 Dorothy's room. 
 
 As she caught sight of her aunt at the door 
 the girl gave a low, shuddering cry. 
 
 " Oh, do go away please to go away, Aunt 
 Glenn ! " she moaned. " I did not mean to kill 
 Tom." 
 
 The sight of her face, the wild eyes, the terrified 
 gestures, thoroughly disconcerted Mrs. Grayling. 
 She paused a moment, and then, trying to gather 
 herself together, was advancing to the bedside,
 
 314 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 when Tom, who had seen his sister's look and heard 
 her cry, interfered. 
 
 "Aunt Glenn, excuse me, but don't you see? 
 You can do her no good now." 
 
 He meant to be courteous ; but he spoke with some 
 air of authority, and he looked like his father's son. 
 
 Aunt Glenn without a word turned and went. 
 
 She regained her own room in a most uncomfort- 
 able frame of mind. She was too acute not to per- 
 ceive all which lay behind her niece's horror of her 
 presence. Her late conduct rose to her now in vivid 
 lights. She had allowed the jealousies and grudges 
 of years to slip their leash, and they had carried her 
 headlong arid triumphant their own evil way. 
 
 Mrs. Grayling winced internally as she recalled 
 some of her speeches. She felt a sudden access of 
 pity for her niece. What would her father have 
 said if he had seen his child's look, heard her recoil- 
 ing cry, at sight of his sister's presence? It was 
 Donald's child, and not Grace Dabney's, she thought 
 of now. 
 
 A little later the doctor came. He was an old 
 family friend, and of course Dorothy was a pet with 
 him. He looked gravely at the bright young girl 
 who lay there white and helpless, moaning occasion- 
 ally to herself, or starting up suddenly, and staring 
 with frightened eyes about the room. 
 
 He saw at once that the girl had undergone some 
 powerful shock which had prostrated her physically
 
 AFTER THE TORNADO 315 
 
 and mentally. He suspected that behind this, and 
 more or less causing it, lay some prolonged nervous 
 tension. 
 
 Tom, listening to the doctor, when the two were 
 alone together, writhed inwardly ; for a sudden 
 light smote his memory. Many an irritable mood, 
 many an unkind speech, with a general manner of 
 indifference and aloofness, of which he had been only 
 half conscious at the time, rose before him now. 
 
 " What sort of a devil had got into him ? " he 
 wondered. 
 
 " You think, doctor, she will come out of this in a 
 little while ? " he asked greedily. 
 
 " I hope yes, I think so. Her youth and her 
 fine constitution are immense factors in her favor." 
 
 " But if things go wrong? " 
 
 "Then you insist upon having the possible worst? " 
 
 " Yes." The pale young fellow braced himself. 
 
 "She will have brain-fever, or what you would 
 dread, perhaps, more than that." 
 
 When Tom joined his aunt again, he repeated the 
 doctor's alternative. She was greatly startled and 
 distressed. She tried to express her sympathy, and 
 was profuse in offers of service ; but her tactful 
 speech somehow failed her. Even to herself there 
 seemed some false ring in all she said. Tom's face 
 more than his words showed his anxiety. He never 
 once alluded to his experience in the harbor.
 
 310 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 " I am simply de trap here ! " Mrs. Grayling said 
 to herself when she returned to her room, feeling 
 more humiliated than she had ever done in her life. 
 
 Her memory did not spare her as she paced the 
 floor. She would have given anything she possessed 
 to recall some of her speeches. She knew that Dor- 
 othy was the very apple of her father's eye. How 
 could she ever look him in the face, if what the 
 doctor had hinted as a possibility should come to 
 pass ? She wrung her hands, shuddering away from 
 that thought. 
 
 The following day Mrs. Grayling received a tele- 
 gram from home which made her immediate return 
 indispensable. Her husband was seriously ill. 
 
 Tom accompanied his aunt to the station. It 
 seemed to her he had grown ten years older. She 
 had not the courage to ask to see her niece. 
 
 Tom's reflections that morning had not been of a 
 nature to soften his feelings toward his aunt; but he 
 did pity her at the parting, which was still a great 
 relief to him.
 
 FIRST AND LAST DOIIOTHY DRAYCOTT 317 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 FIRST AND LAST DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 
 
 FIVE days had passed. They had been anxious 
 days at Red Knolls. A chill, a foreboding, haunted 
 the air. 
 
 She who had been the life and joy of the house- 
 hold lay silent, nerveless, prostrated. She never 
 complained. To all their questionings she answered 
 that she suffered no pain ; but all the high tides of 
 young abounding life were at ebb now. Nothing 
 had power to rouse or interest her. She was only 
 uneasy if Tom were long out of sight. When he 
 returned she clutched his coat-sleeve and devoured 
 him with those big, pathetic, tearless eyes. 
 
 Tom Draycott was devotion itself during these 
 days. He cudgelled his brains for stories to tell his 
 sister stories rife with the fun, spirit, daring, of 
 undergraduate life and gayety. These would once 
 have sent her off into paroxysms of laughter. Now 
 they barely elicited the ghost of a smile. Then he 
 would devise some other method for arresting the 
 current of thoughts which he knew with a pang 
 which smote to his inmost being was all setting 
 in one direction, toward one memory.
 
 318 "SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 He often carried Dorothy out on the chamber bal- 
 cony, and placed her on the cushions among the 
 summer boughs and flowers and birds ; but it was 
 not merely a metaphor now when the whole house- 
 hold declared that " within the last days the flesh 
 was dropping from Master Tom's bones." 
 
 "I am so tired I can't talk," Dorothy would say 
 in a half-appealing, half-apologetic tone. " You 
 won't be gone long, Tom? " 
 
 " Of course I sha'n't ! I have made up my mind 
 to try the role of Prince of Bores. I intend to make 
 a success of it too. I have such a good chance to 
 begin just now, with you. You will be wishing I 
 were at the antipodes before long, Dollikins-! " 
 
 It was his cue to keep up through all this dark, 
 anxious time the old talk, the habit of jest and 
 chaffing. 
 
 The doctor came every day, brought his kindly 
 face, his air of bustling, cheery life, to the bedside ; 
 but he looked grave when he went away. 
 
 To Tom's anxious questioning he answered, 
 
 " Medicine is beyond her case. We must leave na- 
 ture to come to the fore. Something may bring her 
 out of it all in a hurry, and it may take months. 
 She has had an awful shock, and soul and body can't 
 react at once." 
 
 By this time the doctor had learned from Tom 
 about his narrow escape in the tornado, and the long 
 afternoon of terror which had nearly upset his sis- 
 ter's reason.
 
 FIRST AND LAST DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 319 
 
 During these clays Tom Draycott was gaining 
 some self-knowledge, very salt and bitter and good. 
 
 While he laid a large share of the responsibility 
 for his sister's condition at Aunt Glenn's door, Tom 
 Draycott did not spare himself. 
 
 Dorothy had not once alluded to her aunt. But 
 Tom had seen the look of ineffable relief on the girl's 
 face when she learned of Mre. Grayling's departure. 
 No words could have been so effective. 
 
 Memory flashed now her powerful search-light over 
 the last three weeks. Tom Draycott saw himself 
 the weaknesses, faults, quicksands, of his nature, as 
 he had never seen them before. He recalled with 
 a tin-ill of self-loathing the power which Mrs. Gray- 
 ling had gained over him. How flaccid he had been 
 under her spell ! How she had flattered his self- 
 conceit, and amused him by her sarcasms ! How 
 he had tried to show off before her, and affected 
 smart speeches and detracting witticisms ! Faugh ! 
 Tom remembered how lie had cherished high ideals, 
 and fancied himself, on the whole, a fine, manly fel- 
 low. He had set himself up as a model for Dake 
 Cramley. Why, that boy, with his drunken mother, 
 and his birth and bringing-up of the slums, was 
 worth a dozen of him ! 
 
 But what filled Tom Draycott with boundless sur- 
 prise, shook his young confidence in himself to the 
 roots of his being, was to perceive that a disturbing 
 alienating influence, an intriguing woman, who, with
 
 320 "sins, ONLY SEVENTEEN" 
 
 all her attractions, must have had some small spite 
 to gratify, had come between him and Dorothy, his 
 own sister, with whom he had grown up, whose 
 every thought and feeling he had shared from the 
 time when she pattered by his side in the grass at 
 Red Knolls and they made sand-pies together. 
 
 "I shall carry my self-disgust through life," said 
 the poor fellow. " A troglodyte would have seen 
 farther ! A brute would have behaved better than I 
 did toDollikins!" 
 
 At the end of five days Mrs. Dayles, tearing her- 
 self away in response to Tom's telegram, appeared. 
 When Dorothy caught sight of the small familiar 
 figure in the doorway, she lifted her head from the 
 pillow, and stretched out her arms. 
 
 " O my darling, what have they been doing to 
 you?" exclaimed Mrs. Dayles, as she saw the 
 changed white face. 
 
 " If you had been here it would never have hap- 
 pened," whispered the girl as she clung to her 
 friend. 
 
 Then Mrs. Dayles might have exclaimed, " Oh my 
 prophetic soul Aunt Glenn!" She had been un- 
 easy ever since she learned of Mrs. Grayling's advent 
 at Red Knolls. The quiet, simple woman meeting 
 the proud, brilliant one a few times had fathomed 
 the real character under all the brilliance and gra- 
 ciousness. 
 
 That night Tom and Mrs. Dayles sat alone to-
 
 FIRST AND LAST DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 321 
 
 getlier after dinner. It was very warm, and the 
 lights in the room burned dim. 
 
 " Do tell me all about it, Tom ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dayles had said the words in precisely that 
 tone many a time when he was a rollicking, careless 
 boy, and had got into some trouble with his fun or 
 his mischief. 
 
 Tom felt like that boy once more. He drew a 
 low seat in front of her. He began to speak of 
 Mrs. Grayling's visit. But the brief sentences and 
 the forced reserves confirmed his hearer's worst sus- 
 picions. 
 
 Tom Draycott could not forget he was speaking of 
 his father's sister, even when he admitted that her 
 visit to Red Knolls had signally failed to bring hap- 
 piness to anybody. Dorothy had suffered the most. 
 It was largely his fault; no doubt Aunt Glenn had 
 just fascinated him. 
 
 ' She would almost any man, if she really set out 
 to charm him," interposed Mrs. Dayles, with a little 
 note of indignation in her voice. 
 
 " Poor Dollikins ! " continued Tom. " She had a 
 hard time between us. I treated her shamefully 
 sometimes." 
 
 " O Tom ! " 
 
 " Yes, it's true. I don't deserve your pity. It 
 isn't pleasant for a fellow to look back and see he has 
 made a cad of himself." 
 
 A few minutes later the talk had changed. There
 
 322 " SIRS, ONLY SEVENTEEN " 
 
 were no more interjections from his hearer, who 
 shuddered as she listened. Tom was relating for 
 the first time his experience in the harbor. He told 
 it in short, salient sentences, each one of which was 
 instinct with the feeling and peril of the time. 
 While he talked, Tom Draycott was living it all 
 over again. The storm was thundering about him ; 
 the livid, hungry waves were yawning for him ; he 
 was looking death in the face once more. 
 
 When he had finished he laid his head in Mrs. 
 Dayles's lap. She heard two or three sharp sobs. 
 
 " My poor boy ! " 
 
 It was all she could say amid her tears. 
 
 Just before they began talking a light figure had 
 entered the alcove and flung itself on the lounge. 
 The maid, supposing Dorothy still slept, had gone 
 into the next room, leaving the door ajar. The girl 
 awoke and grew restless in the silence and solitude. 
 In a little while she rose, and for the first time since 
 her illness stole down the stairs, and threw herself 
 on a lounge in the alcove. 
 
 In a few moments Tom and Mrs. Dayles entered 
 the larger adjoining room. The portieres were drawn 
 apart. Dorothy, motionless on her lounge, could 
 hear every syllable which Tom said to Mrs. Dayles. 
 At last the girl rose and glided away, softly as 
 a spirit. 
 
 But Dorothy Draycott did not return to her room 
 that night as she had left it. There was a glow of
 
 FIRST AND LAST DOROTHY DRAYCOTT 323 
 
 amazement, gratitude, joy, in her face. Her eyes 
 were radiant ; her lips trembled. Then there swept 
 over all a great healing, blessed storm of tears. 
 
 When Tom went up to his sister's room that night, 
 she drew his head down to hers and whispered, 
 
 " Tom, I was lying in the alcove while you were 
 talking to Nanty Dayles. I heard all you said ! " 
 
 Tom lifted his head as though he had been shot. 
 The doctor had charged him to shield Dorothy from 
 the least excitement. Neither had alluded to the 
 storm since the night of his return. Dorothy was 
 not sure he had been out in it ; but a few awful hours 
 had burned themselves into her memory, had haunted 
 her imagination, and paralyzed soul and body. 
 
 She drew Tom's head down quickly ; she devoured 
 his face with her sweet, warm kisses. 
 
 " Don't be troubled for me, dear," she said in her 
 old tones. "All the misery has gone. I can't be 
 unhappy now I know how you were given back to 
 me to all of us out of that awful storm, those 
 hungry waves. I shall be glad and thanking God 
 every day so long as I live. I'm tired now ; I want 
 to go to sleep. To-morrow you will find the old 
 Dorothy has come back to you." 
 
 But when he looked in her glowing, tear-stained 
 face, in her radiant eyes, on her tremulous lips, he 
 knew the old Dorothy had already come back to 
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 P 1 
 
 igagi 
 
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