OF THE BLESSED 
 ISLES 
 
 IRVING-BACHELLER
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 PAUL TURNER, U.S.M.C.R. 
 
 KILLED IN ACTION, SAIPAN 
 
 JUNE, 1944
 
 Then, for a moment, silence and the ticking of the clocks. 
 
 See fiagf 2t>?
 
 SPECIAL LIMITED EDITION 
 gZ3><ay*jS>(&*&><52^^ 
 
 D ARREL 
 
 OF THE 
 BLESSED ISLES 
 
 B Y 
 
 IRVING BACHELLER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 JEBEN HOLDEN 
 &RI AND I 
 
 CANDLE-LIGHT, Etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 ARTHUR I. KELLER 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS : : NEW YORK 
 
 IP 
 
 I!
 
 ENTERED AT 
 
 STATIONERS' HALL 
 
 NortoooB 
 
 J. S. Cubing & Co. Berwick & Smith Co. 
 Norwood, Mtwe., U.8.A.
 
 . 
 
 \ 
 
 the Memory 
 of my Father 
 
 810862
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE author has tried to give some history 
 of that uphill road, traversing the rough back 
 country, through which men of power came 
 once into the main highways, dusty, timid, foot 
 sore, and curiously old-fashioned. Now is the 
 up grade eased by scholarships; young men 
 labour with the football instead of the buck-saw, 
 and wear high collars, and travel on a Pullman 
 car, and dally with slang and cigarettes in the 
 smoking-room. Altogether it is a new Re 
 public, and only those unborn shall know if it 
 be greater. 
 
 The man of learning and odd character and 
 humble life was quite familiar once, and not 
 only in Hillsborough. Often he was born out 
 of time, loving ideals of history and too severe 
 with realities around him. In Barrel it is 
 sought to portray a force held in fetters and 
 covered with obscurity, yet strong to make its
 
 PREFACE 
 
 way and widely felt. His troubles granted, 
 one may easily concede his character, and his 
 troubles are, mainly, no fanciful invention. 
 There is good warrant for them in the court 
 record of a certain case, together with the 
 inference of a great lawyer who lived a time 
 in its odd mystery. The author, it should be 
 added, has given success to a life that ended 
 in failure. He cares not if that success be 
 unusual should any one be moved to think it 
 within his reach. 
 
 A man of rugged virtues and good fame 
 once said : " The forces that have made me ? 
 Well, first my mother, second my poverty, 
 third Felix Holt. That masterful son of George 
 Eliot became an ideal of my youth, and uncon 
 sciously I began to live his life." 
 
 It is well that the boy in the book was nobler 
 than any who lived in Treby Magna. 
 
 As to " the men of the dark," they have long 
 afflicted a man living and well known to the 
 author of this tale, who now commits it to the 
 world hoping only that these poor children of 
 his brain may deserve kindness if not approval. 
 
 NEW YORK CITY, 
 March, 1903.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PRELUD 
 
 
 FAGS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 
 I. 
 
 The Story of the Little Red Sleigh . 
 
 13 
 
 II. 
 
 The Crystal City and the Traveller . 
 
 17 
 
 III. 
 
 The Clock Tinker . . ' > - 
 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Uphill Road . . * . 
 
 
 V. 
 
 At the Sign o 1 the Dial . . . 
 
 38 
 
 VI. 
 
 
 61 
 
 VII. 
 
 Barrel of the Blessed Isles . .- 
 
 7i 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Dust of Diamonds in the Hour-glass . 
 
 79 
 
 IX. 
 
 Drove and Drovers . . . , 
 
 . 91 
 
 X. 
 
 An Odd Meeting ... 
 
 . ICO 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Old Rag Doll . . . 
 
 . 105 
 
 XII. 
 
 The Santa Claus of Cedar Hill . 
 
 . 119 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A Christmas Adventure . . . 
 
 . 132 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A Day at the Linley Schoolhouse . 
 
 . 146 
 
 XV. 
 
 The Tinker at Linley School . x 
 
 . 160 
 
 XVI. 
 
 A Rustic Museum . . * ; 
 
 . 165 
 
 XVII. 
 
 An Event in the Rustic Museum 
 
 . 179 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A Day of Difficulties * . 
 
 . 187 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Amusement and Learning . 
 
 . 201 
 
 XX. 
 
 At the Theatre of the Woods . * 
 
 . 213
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXI. Robin's Inn . 
 
 XXII. Comedies of Field and Dooryard 
 
 XXIII. A New Problem . 
 
 XXIV. Beginning the Book of Trouble 
 
 XXV. The Spider Snares 
 
 XXVI. The Coming of the Cars 
 
 XXVII. The Rare and Costly Cup 
 
 XXVIII. Darrel at Robin's Inn . 
 
 XXIX. Again the Uphill Road 
 
 XXX. Evidence . ...;.. 
 
 XXXI. A Man Greater than his Trouble 
 
 XXXII. The Return of Thurst Tilly . 
 
 XXXIII. The White Guard . .. 
 
 XXXIV. More Evidence > ... ... 
 
 XXXV. At the Sign of the Golden Spool 
 
 XXXVI. The Law's Approval 
 
 XXXVII. The Return of Santa Claus .
 
 BARREL 
 
 OF THE 
 BLESSED ISLES
 
 BARREL OF THE 
 
 BLESSED ISLES 
 
 Prelude 
 
 YONDER up in the hills are men and women, 
 white-haired, who love to tell of that time 
 when the woods came to the door-step and 
 God's cattle fed on the growing corn. Where, 
 long ago, they sowed their youth and strength, 
 they see their sons reaping, but now, bent 
 with age, they have ceased to gather save in 
 the far fields of memory. Every day they 
 go down the long, well-trodden path and 
 come back with hearts full. They are as chil 
 dren plucking the meadows of June. Sit with 
 them awhile, and they will gather for you 
 the unfading flowers of joy and love good 
 sir ! the world is full of them. And should 
 they mention Trove or a certain clock tinker 
 that travelled from door to door in the olden 
 time, send your horse to the stable and God- 
 ii
 
 12 DARREL 
 
 speed them ! it is a long tale, and you may 
 listen far into the night. 
 
 " See the big pines there in the dale yon 
 der ? " some one will ask. " Well, Theron 
 Allen lived there, an' across the pond, that's 
 where the moss trail came out and where 
 you see the cow-path that's near the track 
 of the little red sleigh." 
 
 Then the tale and its odd procession 
 coming out of the far past.
 
 I 
 
 The Story of the Littk Red Sleigh 
 
 i 
 
 T was in 1835, about mid 
 winter, when Brier Dale was 
 a narrow clearing, and the 
 horizon well up in the sky and 
 to anywhere a day's journey. 
 Down by the shore of the pond, there, Allen 
 built his house. To-day, under thickets of tansy, 
 one may see the rotting logs, and there are 
 hollyhocks and catnip in the old garden. He 
 was from Middlebury, they say, and came west 
 he and his wife in '29. From the top of 
 the hill above Allen's, of a clear day, one could 
 look far across the tree-tops, over distant settle 
 ments that were as blue patches in the green 
 canopy of the forest, over hill and dale to 
 the smoky chasm of the St. Lawrence thirty 
 miles north. The Aliens had not a child ; 
 they settled with no thought of school or 
 '3
 
 H DARREL 
 
 neighbour. They brought a cow with them 
 and a big collie whose back had been scarred 
 by a lynx. He was good company and a brave 
 hunter, this dog; and one day it was Feb 
 ruary, four years after their coming, and the 
 snow lay deep he left the dale and not even 
 a track behind him. Far and wide they went 
 searching, but saw no sign of him. Near a 
 month later, one night, past twelve o'clock, 
 they heard his bark in the distance. Allen 
 rose and lit a candle and opened the door. 
 They could hear him plainer, and now, min 
 gled with his barking, a faint tinkle of bells. 
 
 It had begun to thaw, and a cold rain was 
 drumming on roof and window. 
 
 " He's crossing the pond," said Allen, as 
 he listened. " He's dragging some heavy 
 thing over the ice." 
 
 Soon he leaped in at the door, the little red 
 sleigh bouncing after him. The dog was in 
 shafts and harness. Over the sleigh was a 
 tiny cover of sail-cloth shaped like that of a 
 prairie schooner. Bouncing over the door-step 
 had waked its traveller, and there was a loud 
 voice of complaint in the little cavern of sail-
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 15 
 
 cloth. Peering in, they saw only the long 
 fur of a gray wolf. Beneath it a very small 
 boy lay struggling with straps that held him 
 down. Allen loosed them and took him out 
 of the sleigh, a ragged but handsome young 
 ster with red cheeks and blue eyes and light, 
 curly hair. He was near four years of age 
 then, but big and strong as any boy of five. 
 He stood rubbing his eyes a minute, and the 
 dog came over and licked his face, showing 
 fondness acquired they knew not where. Mrs. 
 Allen took the boy in her lap and petted him, 
 but he was afraid like a wild fawn that has 
 just been captured and broke away and took 
 refuge under the bed. A long time she sat 
 by her bedside with the candle, showing him 
 trinkets and trying to coax him out. He 
 ceased to cry when she held before him a 
 big, shiny locket of silver, and soon his little 
 hand came out to grasp it. Presently she 
 began to reach his confidence with sugar. 
 There was a moment of silence, then strange 
 words came out of his hiding-place. " Anah 
 jouhan " was all they could make of them, and 
 they remembered always that odd combination
 
 16 DARREL 
 
 of sounds. They gave him food, which he ate 
 with eager haste. Then a moment of silence 
 and an imperative call for more in some strange 
 tongue. When at last he came out of his 
 hiding-place, he fled from the woman. This 
 time he sought refuge between the knees of 
 Allen, where soon his fear gave way to curi 
 osity, and he began to feel her face and gown. 
 By and by he fell asleep. 
 
 They searched the sleigh and shook out the 
 robe and blanket, finding only a pair of warm 
 bricks. 
 
 A Frenchman worked for the Aliens that 
 winter, and the name, Trove, was of his inven 
 tion. 
 
 And so came Sidney Trove, his mind in 
 strange fetters, travelling out of the land of 
 mystery, in a winter night, to Brier Dale.
 
 II 
 
 The Crystal City and the Traveller 
 
 HE wind, veering, came bitter 
 cold ; the rain hardened to 
 hail; the clouds, changed to 
 brittle nets of frost, and shaken 
 to shreds by the rough wind, 
 fell hissing in a scatter of snow. Next 
 morning when Allen opened his door the 
 wind was gone, the sky clear. Brier Pond, 
 lately covered with clear ice, lay under a 
 blanket of snow. He hurried across the pond, 
 his dog following. Near the far shore was a 
 bare spot on the ice cut by one of the sleigh- 
 runners. Up in the woods, opposite, was the 
 Moss Trail. Sunlight fell on the hills above 
 him. He halted, looking up at the tree-tops. 
 Twig, branch, and trunk glowed with the fire of 
 diamonds through a lacy flecking of hoar frost. 
 Every tree had put on a jacket of ice and 
 '7
 
 i 8 DARREL 
 
 become as a fountain of prismatic hues. Here 
 and there a dead pine rose like a spire of 
 crystal ; domes of deep-coloured glass and 
 towers of jasper were as the landmarks of a 
 city. Allen climbed the shore, walking slowly. 
 He could see no track of sleigh or dog or any 
 living thing. A frosted, icy tangle of branches 
 arched the trail a gateway of this great, 
 crystal city of the woods. He entered, listening 
 as he walked. Branches of hazel and dogwood 
 were like jets of water breaking into clear, 
 halted drops and foamy spray above him. He 
 went on, looking up at this long sky-window of 
 the woods. In the deep silence he could hear 
 his heart beating. 
 
 " Sport," said he to the dog, " show me the 
 way ; " but th dog only wagged his tail. 
 
 Allen returned to the house. 
 
 " Wife," said he, " look at the woods yonder. 
 They are like the city of holy promise. ' Be 
 hold I will lay thy stones with fair colours and 
 thy foundations with sapphires, and I will make 
 thy windows of agate.' " 
 
 " Did you find the track of the little sleigh ? " 
 said she.
 
 " No," he answered, " nor will any man, foi 
 all paths are hidden." 
 
 " Theron may we keep the boy ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " I think it is the will of God," said Allen. 
 
 The boy grew and throve in mind and body. 
 For a time he prattled in a language none who 
 saw him were able to comprehend. But he 
 learned English quickly and soon forgot the 
 jargon of his babyhood. The shadows of 
 mystery that fell over his coming lengthened 
 far into his life and were deepened by others 
 that fell across them. Before he could have 
 told the story, all memory of whom he left or 
 whence he came had been swept away. It was 
 a house of riddles where Allen dwelt a rude 
 thing of logs and ladders and a low roof and 
 two rooms. Yet one ladder led high to glories 
 no pen may describe. The Aliens, with this 
 rude shelter, found delight in dreams of an eter 
 nal home whose splendour and luxury would 
 have made them miserable here below. What 
 a riddle was this ! And then, as to the boy Sid, 
 there was the riddle of his coming, and again 
 that of his character, which latter was, indeed,
 
 20 DARREL 
 
 not easy to solve. There were few books and 
 no learning in that home. For three winters 
 Trove tramped a trail to the schoolhouse two 
 miles away, and had no further schooling until 
 he was a big, blond boy of fifteen, with red 
 cheeks, and eyes large, blue, and discerning, and 
 hands hardened to the axe helve. He had then 
 discovered the beauty of the woods and begun 
 to study the wild folk that live in holes and 
 thickets. He had a fine face. You would have 
 called him handsome, but not they among 
 whom he lived. With them handsome was as 
 handsome did, and the face of a man, if it were 
 cleanly, was never a proper cause of blame or 
 compliment. But there was that in his soul, 
 which even now had waked the mother's wonder 
 and set forth a riddle none were able to solve.
 
 Ill 
 
 The Clock Tinker 
 
 HE harvesting was over in 
 Brier Dale. It was near din 
 ner-time, and Allen, Trove, and 
 the two hired men were trying 
 feats in the dooryard. Trove, 
 then a boy of fifteen, had outdone them all 
 at the jumping. A stranger came along, riding 
 a big mare with a young filly at her side. 
 He was a tall, spare man, past middle age, 
 with a red, smooth-shaven face and long, gray 
 hair that fell to his rolling collar. He turned in 
 at the gate. A little beyond it his mare halted 
 for a mouthful of grass. The stranger unslung 
 a strap that held a satchel to his side and hung 
 it on the pommel. 
 
 " Go and ask what we can do for him," Allen 
 whispered to the boy. 
 
 Trove went down the drive, looking up at him 
 curiously. 
 
 21
 
 22 DARREL 
 
 "What can I do for you ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Give me thy youth," said the stranger, 
 quickly, his gray eyes twinkling under silvered 
 brows. 
 
 The boy, now smiling, made no answer. 
 
 "No?" said the man, as he came on slowly. 
 " Well, then, were thy wit as good as thy legs 
 it would be o' some use to me." 
 
 The words were spoken with dignity in a 
 deep, kindly tone. They were also faintly 
 salted with Irish brogue. 
 
 He approached the men, all eyes fixed upon 
 him with a look of inquiry. 
 
 " Have ye ever seen a drunken sailor on a 
 mast ? " he inquired of Allen. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, sor," said the stranger, dismounting 
 slowly, " I am not that. Let me consider 
 have ye ever seen a cocoanut on a plum tree ? " 
 
 " I believe not," said Allen, laughing. 
 
 "Well, sor, that is more like me. 'Tis long 
 since I rode a horse, an' am out o' place in the 
 saddle." 
 
 He stood erect with dignity, a smile deepen 
 ing the many lines in his face.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 23 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ? " Allen asked. 
 
 " Ay cure me o* poverty have ye any 
 clocks to mend ? " 
 
 " Clocks ! Are you a tinker ? " said Allen. 
 
 " I am, sor, an' at thy service. Could beauty, 
 me lord, have better commerce than with hon 
 esty ? " 
 
 They all surveyed him with curiosity and 
 amusement as he tied the mare. 
 
 All had begun to laugh. His words came 
 rapidly on a quick undercurrent of good nature. 
 A clock sounded the stroke of midday. 
 
 " What, ho ! The clock," said he, looking 
 at his watch. " Thy time hath a lagging foot. 
 Marry, were I that slow, sor, I'd never get to 
 Heaven." 
 
 " Mother," said Allen, going to the door 
 step, "here is a tinker, and he says the clock 
 is slow." 
 
 " It seems to be out of order," said his wife, 
 coming to the step. 
 
 " Seems, madam, nay, it is," said the stranger. 
 " Did ye mind the stroke of it ? " 
 
 " No," said she. 
 
 " Marry, 'twas like the call of a dying man."
 
 24 DARREL 
 
 Allen thought a moment as he whittled. 
 
 "Had I such a stroke on me I'd I'd think 
 I was parralyzed," the stranger added. 
 
 " You'd better fix it then," said Allen. 
 
 " Thou art wise, good man," said the stranger. 
 " Mind the two hands on the clock an' keep 
 them to their pace or they'll beckon thee to 
 poverty." 
 
 The clock was brought to the door-step and 
 all gathered about him as he went to work. 
 
 " Ye know a power o' scripter," said one of 
 the hired men. 
 
 " Scripter," said the tinker, laughing. " I 
 do, sor, an' much of it according to the good 
 Saint William. Have ye never read Shake 
 speare ? " 
 
 None who sat before him knew anything of 
 the immortal bard. 
 
 " He writ a book 'bout Dan'l Boone an' the 
 Injuns," a hired man ventured. 
 
 " ' Angels an' ministers o' grace defend us ! ' ' 
 the tinker exclaimed. 
 
 Trove laughed. 
 
 " I'll give ye a riddle," said the tinker, turn 
 ing to him.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 25 
 
 " How is it the clock can keep a sober f ace ? " 
 
 " It has no ears," Trove answered. 
 
 " Right," said the old tinker, smiling. " Thou 
 art a knowing youth. Read Shakespeare, boy 
 a little of him three times a day for the 
 mind's sake. I've travelled far in lonely places 
 and needed no other company." 
 
 " Ever in India ? " Trove inquired. He had 
 been reading of that far land. 
 
 " I was, sor," the stranger continued, rubbing 
 a wheel. " I was five years in India, sor, an' 
 part o' the time fighting as hard as ever a man 
 could fight." 
 
 " Fighting ! " said Trove, much interested. 
 
 " I was, sor," he asserted, oiling a pinion of 
 the old clock. 
 
 "On which side?" 
 
 " Inside an' outside." 
 
 "With natives?" 
 
 " I did, sor ; three kinds o' them, fever, 
 fleas, an' the divvle." 
 
 " Give us some more Shakespeare," said the 
 boy, smiling. 
 
 The tinker rubbed his spectacles thought 
 fully, and, as he resumed his work, a sound-
 
 26 DARREL 
 
 ing flood of tragic utterance came out of him 
 the great soliloquies of Hamlet and Mac 
 beth and Richard III and Lear and Antony, 
 all said with spirit and appreciation. The job 
 finished, they bade him put up for dinner. 
 
 " A fine colt ! " said Allen, as they were on 
 their way to the stable. 
 
 " It is, sor," said the tinker, " a most excel 
 lent breed o' horses." 
 
 "Where from?" 
 
 "The grandsire from the desert of Arabia, 
 where Allah created the horse out o' the south 
 wind. See the slender flanks of the Barbary ? 
 See her eye ? " 
 
 He seemed to talk in that odd strain for the 
 mere joy of it, and there was in his voice the 
 God-given vanity of bird or poet. 
 
 He had caught the filly by her little plume 
 and stood patting her forehead. 
 
 " A wonderful thing, sor, is the horse's eye," 
 he continued. " A glance ! an' they know if 
 ye be kind or cruel. Sweet Phyllis ! Her eye 
 lids are as bows ; her lashes like the beard 
 o' the corn. Have ye ever heard the three 
 prayers o' the horse ? "
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 27 
 
 "No," said Allen. 
 
 "Well, three times a day, sor, he prays, so 
 they say, in the desert. In the morning he 
 thinks a prayer like this, ' O Allah ! make 
 me beloved o' me master.' At noon, 'Do 
 well by me master that he may do well by 
 me.' At even, ' O Allah ! grant, at last, I 
 may bear me master into Paradise.' 
 
 "An' the Arab, sor, he looks for a hard 
 ride an' many jumps in the last journey, an' 
 is kind to him all the days of his life, sor, so 
 he may be able to make it." 
 
 For a moment he led her up and down at a 
 quick trot, her dainty feet touching the earth 
 lightly as a fawn's. 
 
 "Thou'rt made for the hot leagues o' the 
 great sand sea," said he, patting her head. 
 " Ah ! thy neck shall be as the bowsprit ; thy 
 dust as the flying spray." 
 
 "In one thing you are like Isaiah," said 
 Allen, as he whittled. "The Lord God hath 
 given thee the tongue of the learned." 
 
 " An' if he grant me the power to speak a 
 word in season to him that is weary, I shall 
 be content," said the tinker.
 
 28 DARREL 
 
 Dinner over, they came out of doors. The 
 stranger stood rilling his pipe. Something in 
 his talk and manner had gone deep into the 
 soul of the boy, who now whispered a moment 
 with his father. 
 
 " Would you sell the filly ? " said Allen. " My 
 boy would like to own her." 
 
 " What, ho, the boy ! the beautiful boy ! An' 
 would ye love her, boy ? " the tinker asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," the boy answered quickly. 
 
 "An* put a ribbon in her forelock, an' a 
 coat o' silk on her back, an 1 , mind ye, a man 
 o' kindness in the saddle ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Then take thy horse, an' Allah grant thou 
 be successful on her as many times as there 
 be hairs in her skin." 
 
 " And the price ? " said Allen. 
 
 "Name it, an' I'll call thee just." 
 
 The business over, the tinker called to Trove, 
 who had led the filly to her stall, 
 
 " You, there, strike the tents. Bring me 
 the mare. This very day she may bear me 
 to forgiveness." 
 
 Trove brought the mare,
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 29 
 
 " Remember," said the old man, turning 
 as he rode away, " in the day o' the last judg 
 ment God '11 mind the look o' thy horse." 
 
 He rode on a few steps and halted, turning 
 in the saddle. 
 
 " Thou, too, Phyllis," he called. "God '11 mind 
 the look o' thy master; see that ye bring him 
 safe." 
 
 The little filly began to rear and call, the 
 mother to answer. For days she called and 
 trembled, with wet eyes, listening for the voice 
 that still answered, though out of hearing, far 
 over the hills. And Trove, too, was lonely, 
 and there was a kind of longing in his heart 
 for the music in that voice of the stranger.
 
 IV 
 
 The Uphill Road 
 
 F 
 
 & 
 
 OR Trove it was a day of sow- 
 ing. The strange old tinker 
 had filled his heart with a new 
 joy and a new desire. Next 
 morning he got a ride to Hills- 
 borough fourteen miles and came back, 
 reading, as he walked, a small, green book, its 
 thin pages covered thick with execrably fine 
 printing, its title "The Works of Shakespeare." 
 He read the book industriously and with 
 keen pleasure. Allen complained, shortly, that 
 Shakespeare and the filly had interfered with 
 the potatoes and the corn. 
 
 The filly ceased to take food and sickened for 
 a time after the dam left her. Trove lay in the 
 stall nights and gave her milk sweetened to her 
 liking. She grew strong and playful, and for 
 got her sorrow, and began to follow him like a 
 30
 
 DARREL 31 
 
 dog on his errands up and down the farm. 
 Trove went to school in the autumn " Select 
 school," it was called. A two-mile journey it 
 was, by trail, but a full three by the wagon 
 road. He learned only a poor lesson the first 
 day, for, on coming in sight of the schoolhouse, 
 he heard a rush of feet behind him and saw his 
 filly charging down the trail. He had to go 
 back with her and lose the day, a thought 
 dreadful to him, for now hope was high, and 
 school days few and precious. At first he was 
 angry. Then he sat among the ferns, covering 
 his face and sobbing with sore resentment. The 
 little filly stood over him and rubbed her silky 
 muzzle on his neck, and kicked up her heels in 
 play as he pushed her back. Next morning he 
 put her behind a fence, but she went over it 
 with the ease of a wild deer and came bound 
 ing after him. When, at last, she was shut in 
 the box-stall he could hear her calling, half a 
 mile away, and it made his heart sore. Soon 
 after, a moose treed him on the trail and held 
 him there for quite half a day. Later he had 
 to help thrash and was laid up with the 
 measles. Then came rain and flooded flats that
 
 32 DARREL 
 
 turned him off the trail. Years after he used 
 to say that work and weather, and sickness 
 and distance, and even the beasts of the field 
 and wood, resisted him in the way of learning. 
 
 He went to school at Hillsborough that 
 winter. His time, which Allen gave him in the 
 summer, had yielded some forty-five dollars. 
 He hired a room at thirty-five cents a week. 
 Mary Allen bought him a small stove and sent 
 to him, in the sleigh, dishes, a kettle, chair, bed, 
 pillow, and quilt, and a supply of candles. 
 
 She surveyed him proudly, as he was going 
 away that morning in December. 
 
 " Folks may call ye han'some," she said. 
 " They'd like to make fool of ye, but you go on 
 'bout yer business an' act as if ye didn't hear." 
 
 He had a figure awkward, as yet, but fast 
 shaping to comeliness. Long, light hair covered 
 the tops of his ears and fell to his collar. His 
 ruddy cheeks were a bit paler that morning ; 
 the curve in his lips a little drawn ; his blue 
 eyes had begun to fill and the dimple in his 
 chin to quiver, slightly, as he kissed her who 
 had been as a mother to him. But he went 
 away laughing.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 33 
 
 Many have seen the record in his diary of 
 those lank and busy days. The Saturday of his 
 first week at school he wrote as follows : 
 
 " Father brought me a small load of wood 
 and a sack of potatoes yesterday, so, after 
 this, I shall be able to live cheaper. My 
 expenses this week have been as follows : 
 
 Rent 35 cents. 
 
 Corn meal . . . . 14 " 
 
 Milk 20 
 
 Bread . . . . . 8 
 Beef bone . . . 5 " 
 
 Honey 5 " 
 
 Four potatoes, about . . i " 
 
 88 cents. 
 
 " Two boys who have a room on the same 
 floor got through the week for 75 cents 
 apiece, but they are both undersized and 
 don't eat as hearty. This week I was 
 tempted by the sight of honey and was fool 
 enough to buy a little which I didn't need. 
 I have some meal left and hope next 
 week to get through for 80 cents. I wish 
 I could have a decent necktie, but con 
 science doth make cowards of us all. I 
 have committed half the first act of ' Julius 
 Caesar.' "
 
 34 DARREL 
 
 And yet, with pudding and milk and beef 
 bone and four potatoes and " Julius Caesar " the 
 boy was cheerful. 
 
 " Don't like meat any more it's mostly poor 
 stuff anyway," he said to his father, who had 
 come to see him. 
 
 " Sorry I brought down a piece o' venison," 
 said Allen. 
 
 " Well, there's two kinds o' meat," said the 
 boy ; " what ye can have, that's good, an' what 
 ye can't have, that ain't worth havin'." 
 
 He got a job in the mill for every Saturday at 
 75 cents a day, and soon thereafter was able to 
 have a necktie and a pair of fine boots, and a 
 barber, now and then, to control the length of 
 his hair. 
 
 Trove burnt the candles freely and was able 
 but never brilliant in his work that year, owing, 
 as all who knew him agreed, to great modesty 
 and small confidence. He was a kindly, big- 
 hearted fellow, and had wit and a knowledge of 
 animals and of woodcraft that made him excel 
 lent company. That schoolboy diary has been 
 of great service to all with a wish to understand 
 him. On a faded loaf in the old book one may 
 read as follows :
 
 if the BLESSED ISLES 35 
 
 " I have received letters in the handwriting 
 of girls, unsigned. They think they are 
 in love with me and say foolish things. 
 I know what they're up to. They're the 
 kind my mother spoke of the kind that 
 set their traps for a fool, and when he's 
 caught they use him for a thing to laugh 
 at. They're not going to catch me. 
 " Expenses for seven days have been $1.14. 
 Clint McCormick spent 60 cents to take his 
 girl to a show and I had to help him 
 through the week. I told him he ought to 
 love Caesar less and Rome more." 
 
 Then follows the odd entry without which it 
 is doubtful if the history of Sidney Trove could 
 ever have been written. At least only a guess 
 would have been possible, where now is cer 
 tainty. And here is the entry : 
 
 " Since leaving home the men of the dark 
 have been very troublesome. They wake 
 me about every other night and sometimes 
 I wonder what they mean." 
 
 Now an odd thing had developed in the 
 mystery of the boy. Even before he could dis 
 tinguish between reality and its shadow that 
 we see in dreams, he used often to start up with
 
 36 DARREL 
 
 a loud cry of fear in the night. When a small 
 boy he used to explain it briefly by saying, " the 
 men in the dark." Later he used to say, "the 
 men outdoors in the dark." At ten years of 
 age he went off on a three days' journey with 
 the Aliens. They put up in a tavern that had 
 many rooms and stairways and large windows. 
 It was a while after his return of an evening, 
 before candle-light, when a gray curtain of dusk 
 had dimmed the windows, that he first told the 
 story, soon oft repeated and familiar, of " the 
 men in the dark" at least he went as far as 
 he knew. 
 
 " I dream," he was wont to say in after life, 
 " that I am listening in the still night alone I 
 am always alone. I hear a sound in the silence, 
 of what I cannot be sure. I discover then, or 
 seem to, that I stand in a dark room and trem 
 ble, with great fear, of what I do not know. 
 I walk along softly in bare feet I am so 
 fearful of making a noise. I am feeling, feeling, 
 my hands out in the dark. Presently they touch 
 a wall and I follow it and then I discover that I 
 am going downstairs. It is a long journey. At 
 last I am in a room where I can see windows,
 
 f the BLESSED ISLES 37 
 
 and, beyond, the dim light of the moon. Now I 
 seem to be wrapped in fearful silence. Stealth 
 ily I go near the door. Its upper half is glass, 
 and beyond it I can see the dark forms of men. 
 One is peering through with face upon the pane ; 
 I know the other is trying the lock, but I hear no 
 sound. I am in a silence like that of the grave. 
 I try to speak. My lips move, but, try as I may, 
 no sound comes out of them. A sharp terror 
 is pricking into me, and I flinch as if it were a 
 knife-blade. Well, sir, that is a thing I can 
 not understand. You know me I am not a 
 coward. If I were really in a like scene fear 
 would be the least of my emotions ; but in 
 the dream I tremble and am afraid. Slowly, 
 silently, the door opens, the men of the dark 
 enter, wall and windows begin to reel. I hear 
 a quick, loud cry, rending the silence and falling 
 into a roar like that of flooding waters. Then I 
 wake, and my dream is ended for that night." 
 Now men have had more thrilling and re 
 markable dreams, but that of the boy Trove 
 was as a link in a chain, lengthening with his 
 life, and ever binding him to some event far 
 beyond the reach cf his memory.
 
 V 
 
 At the Sign o' the Dial 
 
 was Sunday and a clear, 
 frosty morning of midwinter. 
 Trove had risen early and was 
 walking out on a long pike 
 that divided the village of 
 Hillsborough and cut the waste of snow, wind 
 ing over hills and dipping into valleys, from 
 Lake Champlain to Lake Ontario. The air 
 was cold but full of magic sun-fire. All things 
 were aglow the frosty roadway, the white 
 fields, the hoary forest, and the mind of the 
 beholder. Trove halted, looking off at the far 
 hills. Then he heard a step behind him and, 
 as he turned, saw a tall man approaching at 
 a quick pace. The latter had no overcoat. 
 A knit muffler covered his throat, and a satchel 
 hung from a strap on his shoulder. 
 
 " What ho, boy ! " said he, shivering. " ' I'll 
 38
 
 DARREL 39 
 
 follow thee a month, devise with thee where 
 thou shalt rest, that thou may'st hear of us, an' 
 we o' thee.' What o' thy people an' the filly ? " 
 
 " All well," said Trove, who was delighted to 
 see the clock tinker, of whom he had thought 
 often. " And what of you ? " 
 
 " Like an old clock, sor a weak spring an' 
 a bit slow. But, praise God ! I've yet a merry 
 gong in me. An* what think you, sor, I've 
 travelled sixty miles an' tinkered forty clocks 
 in the week gone." 
 
 " I think you yourself will need tinkering." 
 
 " Ah, but I thank the good God, here is me 
 home," the old man remarked wearily. 
 
 " I'm going to school here," said Trove, " and 
 hope I may see you often." 
 
 " Indeed, boy, we'll have many a blessed 
 hour," said the tinker. " Come to me shop ; 
 we'll talk, meditate, explore, an' I'll see what 
 o'clock it is in thy country." 
 
 They were now in the village, and, halfway 
 down its main thoroughfare, went up a street 
 of gloom and narrowness between dingy work 
 shops. At one of them, shaky, and gray with 
 the stain of years, they halted. The two lower
 
 40 BARREL 
 
 windows in front were dim with dirt and cob 
 webs. A board above them was the rude sign of 
 Sam Bassett, carpenter. On the side of the old 
 shop was a flight of sagging, rickety stairs. 
 At the height of a man's head an old brass 
 dial was nailed to the gray boards. Roughly 
 lettered in lampblack beneath it were the 
 words, " Clocks Mended." They climbed the 
 shaky stairs to a landing, supported by long 
 braces, and whereon was a broad door, with 
 latch and keyhole in its weathered timber. 
 
 " All bow at this door," said the old tinker, 
 as he put his long iron key in the lock. " It's 
 respect for their own heads, not for mine," he 
 continued, his hand on the eaves that overhung 
 below the level of the door-top. 
 
 They entered a loft, open to the peak and 
 shingles, with a window in each end. Clocks, 
 dials, pendulums, and tiny cog-wheels of wood 
 and brass were on a long bench by the street 
 window. Thereon, also, were a vice and tools. 
 The room was cleanly, with a crude homelike- 
 ness about it. Chromos and illustrated papers 
 had been pasted on the rough, board walls. 
 
 " On me life, it is cold," said the tinker, open-
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 41 
 
 ing a small stove and beginning to whittle 
 shavings. " ' Cold as a dead man's nose.' Be 
 seated, an' try try to be happy." 
 
 There was an old rocker and two small chairs 
 in the room. 
 
 " I do not feel the cold," said Trove, taking 
 one of them. 
 
 " Belike, good youth, thou hast the rose of 
 summer in thy cheeks," said the old man. 
 
 "And no need of an overcoat," the boy 
 answered, removing the one he wore and pass 
 ing it to the tinker. " I wish you to keep it, sir." 
 
 " Wherefore, boy ? 'Twould best serve me on 
 thy back." 
 
 " Please take it," said Trove. " I cannot bear 
 to think of you shivering in the cold. Take it, 
 and make me happy." 
 
 " Well, if it keep me warm, an' thee happy, it 
 will be a wonderful coat," said the old man, 
 wiping his gray eyes. 
 
 Then he rose and filled the stove with wood 
 and sat down, peering at Trove between the 
 upper rim of his spectacles and the feathery 
 arches of silvered hair upon his brows. 
 
 " Thy coat hath warmed me heart already
 
 42 DARREL 
 
 thanks to the good God ! " said he, fervently. 
 " Why so kind ? " 
 
 " If I am kind, it is because I must be," said 
 the boy. " Who were my father and mother, I 
 never knew. If I meet a man who is in need, 
 I say to myself, ' He may be my father or my 
 brother, I must be good to him ; ' and if it is 
 a woman, I cannot help thinking that, maybe, 
 she is my mother or my sister. So I should 
 have to be kind to all the people in the world if 
 I were to meet them." 
 
 " Noble suspicion ! by the faith o' me fathers ! " 
 .said the old man, thoughtfully, rubbing his long 
 nose. " An' have ye thought further in the 
 matter ? Have ye seen whither it goes ? " 
 
 " I fear not." 
 
 " Well, sor, under the ancient law, ye reap as 
 ye have sown, but more abundantly. I gave 
 me coat to one that needed it more, an' by the 
 goodness o' God I have reaped another an' two 
 friends. Hold to thy course, boy, thou shalt 
 have friends an' know their value. An' then 
 thou shalt say, ' I'll be kind to this man because 
 he may be a friend ; ' an' love shall increase 
 in thee, an' around thee, an' bring happiness.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 43 
 
 Ah, boy ! in the business o' the soi 1, men pay 
 thee better than they owe. Kindness shall 
 bring friendship, an' friendship shall bring love, 
 an' love shall bring happiness, an' that, sor, 
 that is the approval o' God. What speculation, 
 hath such profit ? Hast thou learned to think ? '* 
 
 " I hope I have," said the boy. 
 
 " Prithee think a thought for me. What is, 
 the first law o' life ? " 
 
 There was a moment of silence. 
 
 " Thy pardon, boy," said the venerable tinker, 
 filling a clay pipe and stretching himself on a 
 lounge. " Thou art not long out o' thy clouts. 
 It is, 'Thou shalt learn to think an' obey.' Con 
 sider how man and beast are bound by it. Very 
 well think thy way up. Hast thou any fear ? "' 
 
 The old man was feeling his gray hair,, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Only the fear o' God," said the boy, after a 
 moment of hesitation. 
 
 " Well, on me word, I am full sorry," said the 
 tinker. "Though mind ye, boy, fear is an 
 excellent good thing, an* has done a work in 
 the world. But, hear me, a man had two horses 
 the same age, size, shape, an' colour, an' one-
 
 44 DARREL 
 
 went for fear o' the whip, an* the other went as 
 well without a whip in the wagon. Now, tell 
 me, which was the better horse ? " 
 
 "The one that needed no whip." 
 
 " Very well ! " said the old man, with empha 
 sis. " A man had two sons, an' one obeyed him 
 for fear o' the whip, an' the other, because he 
 loved his father, an' could not bear to grieve 
 him. Tell me again, boy, which was the better 
 son ? " 
 
 " The one that loved him," said the boy. 
 
 "Very well! very well!" said the old man, 
 loudly. "A man had two neighbours, an' one 
 stole not his sheep for fear o' the law, an' the 
 other, sor, he stole them not, because he loved 
 his neighbour. Now which was the better 
 man ? " 
 
 "The man that loved him." 
 
 " Very well ! very well ! and again very well ! " 
 said the tinker, louder than before. "There 
 were two kings, an' one was feared, an' the 
 other, he was beloved ; which was the better 
 king?" 
 
 " The one that was beloved." 
 
 44 Very well ! and three times again very
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 45 
 
 well ! " said the old man, warmly. " An' the 
 good God is he not greater an' more to be loved 
 than all kings ? Fear, boy, that is the whip o' 
 destiny driving the dumb herd. To all that 
 fear I say 'tis well, have fear, but pray that love 
 may conquer it. To all that love I say, fear 
 only lest ye lose the great treasure. Love is 
 the best thing, an' with too much fear it sickens. 
 Always keep it with thee a little is a goodly 
 property an' its revenoo is happiness. There 
 fore, be happy, boy try ever to be happy." 
 
 There was a moment of silence broken by the 
 sound of a church bell. 
 
 " To thy prayers," said the clock tinker, ris 
 ing, "an' I'll to mine. Dine with me at five, 
 good youth, an' all me retinoo maids, warders, 
 grooms, attendants shall be at thy service." 
 
 " I'll be glad to come," said the boy, smiling 
 at his odd host. 
 
 " An' see thou hast hunger." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. ? " the boy hesitated. 
 
 "Barrel Roderick Darrel " said the old 
 man, "that's me name, sor, an' ye'll find me 
 here at the Sign o' the Dial." 
 
 A wind came shrieking over the hills, and
 
 46 DARREL 
 
 long before evening the little town lay dusky in 
 a scud of snow mist. The old stairs were quiv 
 ering in the storm as Trove climbed them. 
 
 " Welcome, good youth," said the clock tinker, 
 shaking the boy's hand as he came in. " Ho 
 there! me servitors. Let the feast be spread," 
 he called in a loud voice, stepping quickly to 
 the stove that held an upper deck of wood, 
 whereon were dishes. " Right Hand bring the 
 meat an' Left Hand the potatoes an' Quick 
 Foot give us thy help here." 
 
 He suited his action to the words, placing a 
 platter of ham and eggs in the centre of a sn.all 
 table and surrounding it with hot roast potatoes, 
 a pot of tea, new biscuit, and a plate of honey. 
 
 " Ho ! Wit an' Happiness, attend upon us 
 here," said he, making ready to sit down. 
 
 Then, as if he had forgotten something, he 
 hurried to the door and opened it. 
 
 " Care, thou skeleton, go hence, and thou, 
 Poverty, go also, and see thou return not before 
 cock-crow," said he, imperatively. 
 
 " You have many servants," said Trove. 
 
 " An' how may one have a castle without ser 
 vants ? Forsooth, boy, horses an' hounds, an'
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 47 
 
 lords an* ladies have to be attended to. But the 
 retinoo is that run down ye'd think me home a 
 hospital. Wit is a creeping dotard, and Happi 
 ness he is in poor health an' can barely drag 
 himself to me table, an' Hope is a tippler, an' 
 Right Hand is getting the palsy. Alack ! me 
 best servant left me a long time ago." 
 
 " And who was he ? " 
 
 " Youth ! lovely, beautiful Youth ! but let us 
 be happy. I would not have him back foolish, 
 inconstant Youth ! dreaming dreams an' see 
 ing visions. God love ye, boy! what is thy 
 dream?" 
 
 This rallying style of speech, in which the 
 clock tinker indulged so freely, afforded his 
 young friend no little amusement. His tongue 
 had long obeyed the lilt of classic diction; his 
 thought came easy in Elizabethan phrase. 
 The slight Celtic brogue served to enhance the 
 piquancy of his talk. Moreover he was really a 
 man of wit and imagination. 
 
 " Once," said the boy, after a little hesitation, 
 " I thought I should try to be a statesman, but 
 now I am sure I would rather write books." 
 
 " An' what kind o' books, pray ? "
 
 48 BARREL 
 
 " Tales." 
 
 " An' thy merchandise be truth, capital ! " ex 
 claimed the tinker. " Hast thou an ear for 
 tales?" 
 
 " I'm very fond of them." 
 
 " Marry, I'll tell thee a true tale, not for thy 
 ear only but for thy soul, an* some day, boy, 
 'twill give thee occupation for thy wits." 
 
 " I'd love to hear it," said the boy. 
 
 The pendulums were ever swinging like the 
 legs of a procession trooping through the loft, 
 some with quick steps, some with slow. Now 
 came a sound as of drums beating. It was 
 for the hour of eight, and when it stopped the 
 tinker began. 
 
 "Once upon a time," said he, as they rose 
 from the table and the old man went for his 
 pipe, " 'twas long ago, an' I had then the rose 
 o' youth upon me, a man was tempted o' the 
 devil an' stole money a large sum an' made 
 off with it. These hands o' mine used to serve 
 him those days, an' I remember he was a man 
 comely an' well set up, an', I think, he had hon 
 our an' a good heart in him." 
 
 The old man paused.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 49 
 
 " I should not think it possible," said Trove, 
 who was at the age of certainty in his opinions 
 and had long been trained to the uncompromis 
 ing thought of the Puritan. " A man who steals 
 can have no honour in him." 
 
 " Ho ! Charity," said the clock tinker, turn 
 ing as if to address one behind him. " Sweet 
 Charity ! attend upon this boy. Mayhap, sor," 
 he continued meekly. " God hath blessed me 
 with little knowledge o' what is possible. But 
 I speak of a time before guilt had sored him. 
 He was officer of a great bank let us say in 
 Boston. Some thought him rich, but he lived 
 high an' princely, an' I take it, sor, his income 
 was no greater than his needs. It was a proud 
 race he belonged to grand people they were, 
 all o' them with houses an' lands an' many 
 servants. His wife was dead, sor, an' he'd 
 one child a little lad o' two years, an' beauti 
 ful. One day the boy went out with his nurse, 
 an' where further nobody knew. He never 
 came back. Up an' down, over an' across they 
 looked for him, night an' day, but were no wiser. 
 A month went by an' not a sight or sign o' 
 trim, an' their hope failed. One day the father
 
 50 DARREL 
 
 he got a note, I remember reading it in the- 
 papers, sor, an' it was a call for ransom, 
 money one hundred thousand dollars." 
 
 " Kidnapped ! " Trove exclaimed with much 
 interest. 
 
 " He was, sor," the clock tinker resumed. 
 "The father he was up to his neck in trouble, 
 then, for he was unable to raise the money. He 
 had quarrelled with an older brother whose help 
 would have been sufficient. Well, God save us- 
 all ! 'twas the old story o' pride an' bitterness. 
 He sought no help o' him. A year an' a half 
 passes an' a gusty night o' midwinter the bank 
 burns. Books, papers, everything is destroyed. 
 Now the poor man has lost his occupation. A 
 week more an' his good name is gone ; a month, 
 an' he's homeless. A whisper goes down the 
 long path o' gossip. Was he a thief an' had he 
 burned the record of his crime ? The scene 
 changes, an' let me count the swift, relentless 
 years." 
 
 The old man paused a moment, looking up 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Well, say ten or mayhap a dozen passed - 
 or more or less it matters little. Boy an' man.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 51 
 
 where were they ? O the sad world, sor ! To 
 all that knew them they were as people buried 
 in their graves. Think o' this drowning in the 
 flood o' years the stately ships sunk an' rot 
 ting in oblivion ; some word of it, sor, may well 
 go into thy book." 
 
 The tinker paused a moment, lighting his 
 pipe, and after a puff or two went on with the 
 tale. 
 
 " It is a winter day in a great city there 
 are buildings an' crowds an' busy streets an' 
 sleet in the bitter wind. I am there, an' me 
 path is one o' many crossing each other like 
 well, sor, like lines on a slate, if thou were to 
 make ten thousand o' them an' both eyes shut. 
 I am walking slowly, an' lo ! there is the banker. 
 I meet him face to face an ill-clad, haggard, 
 cold, forgotten creature. I speak to him. 
 
 " ' The blessed Lord have mercy on thee,' I 
 said. 
 
 " ' For meeting thee ? ' said the poor man. 
 * What is thy name ? ' 
 
 " ' Roderick Barrel.' 
 
 " ' An' I,' said he, sadly, ' am one o' the 
 lost in hell. Art thou the devil ? '
 
 52 DARREL 
 
 " ' Nay, this hand o' mine hath opened thy 
 door an' blacked thy boots for thee often/ 
 said I. ' Dost thou not remember ? ' 
 
 " ' Dimly it was a long time ago,' he an 
 swered. 
 
 " We said more, sor, but that is no part o' the 
 story. Very well ! I went with him to his lodg 
 ings, a little cold room in a garret, an' there 
 alone with me he gave account of himself. He 
 had shovelled, an' dug, an' lifted, an' run errands 
 until his strength was low an* the weight of his 
 hand a burden. What hope for him what 
 way to earn a living ! 
 
 " ' Have courage, man,' I said to him. ' Thou 
 shalt learn to mend clocks. It's light an' de 
 cent work, an' one may live by it an' see much 
 o' the world.' 
 
 "There was an old clock, sor, in a heap o' 
 rubbish that lay in a corner. I took it apart, 
 and soon he saw the office of each wheel an' 
 pinion an" the infirmity that stopped them an' 
 the surgery to make them sound. I tarried 
 long in the great city, an' every evening we 
 were together in the little room. I bought him 
 a kit o' tools an' some brass, an' we would
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 53 
 
 shatter the clockworks an' build them up again 
 until he had skill, sor, to make or mend. 
 
 " ' Me good friend,' said he, one evening 
 after vre had been a long time at work, ' I wish 
 thou could'st teach me how to mend a broken 
 life. For God's sake, help me! I am fainting 
 under a great burden.' 
 
 " ' What can I do ? ' said I to him. 
 
 " Then, sor, he went over his story with me 
 from beginning to end. It was an impressive, 
 <a sacred confidence. Ah, boy, it would be dis 
 honour to tell thee his name, but his story, that 
 I may tell thee, changing the detail, so it may 
 never add a straw to his burden. I shall quote 
 him in substance only, an' follow the long habit 
 o' me own tongue. 
 
 " 'Well, ye remember how me son was taken,' 
 said he. ' I could not raise the ransom, try as I 
 would. Now, large sums were in me keeping 
 an' I fell. I remember that day. Ah! man, 
 the devil seemed to whisper to me. But, God 
 forgive ! it was for love that I fell. Little by 
 little I began to take the money I must have 
 an' cover its absence. I said to meself, some 
 time I'll pay it back that ancient sophistry
 
 54 BARREL 
 
 o' the devil. When me thieving had gone far, 
 an' near its goal, the bank burned. As God's 
 me witness I'd no hand in that. I weighed the 
 chances an* expected to go to prison well, 
 say for ten years, at least. I must suffer in 
 order to save the boy, an' was ready for the 
 sacrifice. Free again, I would help him to re 
 turn the money. That burning o' the records 
 shut off the prison, but opened the fire o' hell 
 upon me. Half a year had gone by, an' not a 
 word from the kidnappers. I took a note to the 
 place appointed, a hollow log in the woods, 
 a bit east of a certain bridge on the public high 
 way twenty miles out o' the city, but no- 
 answer, not a word, not a line up to this 
 moment. They must have relinquished hope 
 an' put the boy to death. 
 
 " ' In that old trunk there under the bed is a 
 dusty, moulding, cursed heap o' money done 
 up in brown paper an' tied with a string. It 
 is a hundred thousand dollars, an' the price o* 
 me soul.' 
 
 " ' An' thou in rags an' a garret,' said I. 
 
 " ' An' I in rags an' hell,' said he, sor, looking 
 down at himself.
 
 f the BLESSED ISLES 55 
 
 " He drew out the trunk an* showed me the 
 money, stacks of it, dirty, an' stinking o' damp 
 mould. 
 
 " ' There it is,' said he, ' every dollar I 
 stole is there. I brought it with me an' over 
 these hundreds o' miles I could hear the tongue 
 o' gossip. Every night as I lay down I could 
 hear the whispering of all the people I ever 
 knew. I could see them shake their heads. 
 Then came this locket o' gold.' 
 
 " A beautiful, shiny thing it was, an' he took 
 out of it a little strand o' white hair an' read 
 these words cut in the gleaming case : 
 
 " ' Here are silver an' gold, 
 
 The one for a day o' remembrance between thee an' 
 
 dishonour, 
 The other for a day o' plenty between thee an' want. 1 
 
 "It was an odd thought an' worth keeping, 
 an' often I have repeated the words. The 
 silvered hair, that was for remembrance ; an' 
 the gold he might sell and turn it into a day 
 o' plenty. 
 
 " ' In the locket was a letter,' said the poor 
 man. ' Here it is,' an' he held it in the light o' 
 the candle. 'See, it is signed "mother." '
 
 56 BARREL 
 
 " An' he read from the letter words o' sorrow 
 an* bitter shame, an' firm confidence in his 
 honour. 
 
 " ' It ground me to the very dust,' he went on. 
 ' I put the money in that bundle, every dollar. 
 I could not return it, an' so confirm the disgrace 
 o' her an' all the rest. I could not use it, for 
 if I lived in comfort they would ask all o' 
 them whence came his money? For their 
 sake I must walk in poverty all me days. An' 
 I went to work at heavy toil, sor, as became a 
 poor man. As God's me judge I felt a pride 
 in rags an' the horny hand.' " 
 
 The tinker paused a moment in which all 
 the pendulums seemed to quicken pace, tick 
 lapping upon tick, as if trying to get ahead 
 of each other. 
 
 "Think of it, boy," Barrel continued. "A 
 pride in rags an' poverty. Bring that into thy 
 book an' let thy best thinking bear upon it. 
 Show us how patch an' tatter were for the poor 
 man as badges of honour an' success. 
 
 " ' I thought to burn the money,' me host 
 went on. ' But no, that would have robbed me 
 o' one great possibility that o' restoring it
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 57 
 
 Some time, when they were dead, maybe, an' I 
 could suffer alone, or when some lucky chance 
 might come to me, I would restore the money. 
 But I could not find the owners of it. Day 
 an' night these slow an' heavy years it has 
 been here, cursing an' accusing me. 
 
 " ' I lie here o' nights thinking. In that heap 
 o' money I seem to hear the sighs an' sobs o' 
 the poor people that toiled to earn it. I feel 
 their sweat upon me, an' God ! this heart o r 
 mine is crowded to bursting with the despair 
 o' hundreds. An', betimes, I hear the cry o r 
 murder in the cursed heap as if there were 
 some had blood upon it. An' then I dream- 
 it has caught fire beneath me an' I am burn 
 ing raw in the flame.' " 
 
 The tinker paused again, crossing the room 
 and watching the swing of a pendulum. 
 
 " Boy, boy," said he, returning to his chair, 
 "think o' that complaining, immovable heap 
 lying there like the blood of a murder. An' 
 thy reader must feel the toil an' sweat an' 
 misery an' despair that is in a great sum, an! 
 how it all presses on the heart o' him that 
 gets it wrongfully.
 
 58 DARREL 
 
 " ' Well, sor,' the poor fellow continued, ' now 
 an' then I met those had known me, an* reports 
 o' me poverty went home. An' those dear to 
 me sent money, the sight o' which filled me with 
 a mighty sickness, an* I sent it back to them. 
 Long ago, thank God ! they ceased to think me 
 a thief, but only crazy. Tell me, man, what 
 shall I do with the money ? There be those 
 living I have to consider, an' those dead, an* 
 those unborn.' 
 
 " * Hide it,' said I, ' an' go to thy work an* 
 God give thee counsel.' " 
 
 Man and boy rose from the table and drew 
 up to the little stove. 
 
 " Now, boy," said the clock tinker, leaning 
 toward him with knitted brows, "consider this 
 poor thief who suffered so for his friends. 
 Think o' these good words, ' Greater love hath 
 no man than this, that he lay down his life 
 for his friends.' If thou should'st ever write of 
 it, thy problem will be to reckon the good an' 
 <evil, an' give each a careful estimate an' him 
 jhis proper rank ! " 
 
 " What a sad tale ! " said the boy, thought- 
 ifully. " It's terrible to think he may be my 
 father,"
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 59 
 
 "I'd have no worry o' that, sor," said the 
 clock tinker. "There be ten thousand ay, 
 more who know not their fathers. An!, 
 moreover, 'twas long, long ago." 
 
 " Please tell me when was the boy taken/* 
 said Trove. 
 
 " Time, or name, or place, I cannot tell thee, 
 lest I betray him," said the old man. " Neither 
 is necessary to thy tale. Keep it with thee 
 a while ; thou art young yet an' close inshore. 
 Wait until ye sound the further deep. Then, 
 sor, write, if God give thee power, and think 
 chiefly o' them in peril an' about to dash their 
 feet upon the stones." 
 
 For a moment the clocks' ticking was like 
 the voice of many ripples washing the shore 
 of the Infinite. A new life had begun for 
 Trove, and they were cutting it into seconds. 
 He looked up at them and rose quickly and 
 stood a moment, his thumb on the door-latch. 
 Outside they could hear the rush and scatter 
 of the snow. 
 
 "Poor youth!" said the old man. "Thou 
 hast no coat take mine. Take it, I say. It 
 will give thee comfort an' me happiness."
 
 60 DARREL 
 
 He would hear no refusal, and again the 
 coat changed owners, giving happiness to the 
 old and comfort to the new. 
 
 Then Trove went down the rickety stairs 
 and away in the darkness.
 
 VI 
 
 A Certain Rich Man .; 
 
 I LEY BROOKE had a tongue 
 for gossip, an ear for evil re 
 port, an eye for rascals. Every 
 day new suspicions took root 
 in him, while others grew and 
 came to great size and were as hard to con* 
 ceal as pumpkins. He had meanness enough 
 to equip all he knew, and gave it with a lavish 
 tongue. In his opinion Hillsborough came 
 within one of having as many rascals in it as 
 there were people. He had tried to bring 
 them severally to justice by vain appeals to 
 the law, having sued for every cause in the 
 books, but chiefly for trespass and damages, 
 real and exemplary. He was a money-lender, 
 shaving notes or taking them for larger sums 
 than he lent, with chattel mortgages for secu 
 rity. Foreclosure and sale were a perennial 
 61
 
 62 DARREL 
 
 source of profit to him. He was tall and well 
 past middle age, with a short, gray beard, a 
 look of severity, a stoop in his shoulders, and 
 a third wife whom nobody, within the know 
 ledge of the townfolk, had ever seen. If he 
 liad no other to gossip with, he provided imag 
 inary company and talked to his own ears. He 
 thought himself a most powerful and agile man, 
 boasting often that he still kept the vigour of 
 liis youth. On his errands in the village he 
 often broke into an awkward gallop, like a 
 child at play. When he slackened pace it was 
 to shake his head solemnly, as if something 
 had reminded him of the wickedness of the 
 world. 
 
 " If I dared tell all I knew," he would whis 
 per suggestively, and then proceed to tell much 
 more than he could possibly have known. Any 
 one of many may have started his tongue, but 
 the shortcomings of one Ezekiel Swackhammer 
 were for him an ever present help and provoca 
 tion. H there were nothing new to talk about, 
 there was always Swackhammer. Poor Swack 
 hammer had done everything he ought not to 
 fcave done. The good God himself was the
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 63 
 
 only being that had the approval of old Riley 
 Brooke. It was curious that turning of his 
 tongue from the slander of men to the praise of 
 God. And of the goodness of the Almighty he 
 was quite as sure as of the badness of men. 
 Assurance of his own salvation had come to 
 him one day when he was shearing sheep, and 
 when, as he related often, finding himself on his 
 knees to shear, he remained to pray. Sundays 
 and every Wednesday evening he wore a stove 
 pipe hat and a long frock coat of antique and 
 rusty aspect. On his way to church with hos 
 pitality even for the like of him, thank God ! 
 he walked slowly with head bent until, remem 
 bering his great agility and strength, he began 
 to run, giving a varied exhibition of skips and 
 jumps terminating in a sort of gallop. Once in 
 the sacred house he looked to right and left 
 accusingly, and aloft with encouraging applause. 
 His God was one of wrath, vengeance, and de 
 struction ; his hell the destination of his enemies. 
 They who resented the screw of his avarice, and 
 pulled their thumbs away ; they who treated 
 him with contempt, and whose faults, compared 
 to his own, were as a mound to a mountain
 
 64 DARREL ; 
 
 they were all to burn with everlasting fire, while 
 he, on account of that happy thought the day 
 of the sheep-shearing, was to sit forever with 
 the angels in heaven. 
 
 " Ye're going t' heaven, I hear," said Barrel, 
 who had repaired a clock for him, and heard 
 complaint of his small fee. 
 
 " I am," was the spirited reply. 
 
 " God speed ye ! " said the tinker, as he went 
 away. 
 
 In such disfavour was the poor man, that all 
 would have been glad to have him go anywhere, 
 so he left Hillsborough. 
 
 One day in the Christmas holidays, a boy 
 came to the door of Riley Brooke, with a buck 
 saw on his arm. 
 
 " I'm looking for work," said the boy, " and 
 I'd be glad of the chance to saw your wood." 
 
 " How much a cord ? " was the loud inquiry. 
 
 " Forty cents." 
 
 " Too much," said Brooke. " How much a 
 day ? " 
 
 " Six shillings." 
 
 " Too much," said the old man, snappishly. 
 ** I used to git six dollars a month, when I was
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 65 
 
 your age, an' rise at four o'clock in the mornin' 
 an' work till bedtime. You boys now-days are 
 a lazy good-fer-nothin' lot What's yer name ? " 
 
 " Sidney Trove." 
 
 " Don't want ye." 
 
 " Well, mister," said the boy, who was much 
 in need of money, " I'll saw your wood for any 
 thing you've a mind to give me." 
 
 "I'll give ye fifty cents a day," said the old 
 man. 
 
 Trove hesitated. The sum was barely half 
 what he could earn, but he had given his prom 
 ise, and fell to. Riley Brooke spent half the 
 day watching and urging him to faster work. 
 More than once the boy was near quitting, but 
 kept his good nature and a strong pace. When, 
 at last, Brooke went away, Trove heard a sly 
 movement of the blinds, and knew that other 
 eyes were on the watch. He spent three days 
 at the job laming, wearisome days, after so 
 long an absence from heavy toil. 
 
 "Wai, I suppose ye want money," Brooke 
 snapped, as the boy came to the door. " How 
 much ? " 
 
 " One dollar and a half."
 
 66 DARREL 
 
 " Too much, too much ; I won't pay it." 
 " That was the sum agreed upon." 
 " Don't care, ye hain't earned no dollar 'n a 
 half. Here, take that an* clear out ; " having 
 said which, Brooke tossed some money at the 
 boy and slammed the door in his face. Trove 
 counted the money it was a dollar and a 
 quarter. He was sorely tempted to open the 
 door and fling it back at him, but wisely kept 
 his patience and walked away. It was the day 
 before Christmas. Trove had planned to walk 
 home that evening, but a storm had come, drift 
 ing the snow deep, and he had to forego the 
 visit. After supper he went to the Sign of the 
 Dial. The tinker was at home in his odd 
 little shop and gave him a hearty welcome. 
 Trove sat by the fire, and told of the sawing for 
 Riley Brooke. 
 
 " God rest him ! " said the tinker, thoughtfully 
 puffing his pipe. " What would happen, think 
 ye, if a man like him were let into heaven ? " 
 " I cannot imagine," said the boy. 
 " Well, for one thing," said the tinker, " he'd 
 begin to look for chattels, an' I do fear me 
 there'd soon be many without harps."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 67 
 
 " What is one to do with a man like that ? " 
 Trove inquired. 
 
 " Only this," said the tinker ; " put him in thy 
 book. He'll make good history. But, sor, 
 for company he's damnably poor." 
 
 " It's a new way to use men," said Trove. 
 
 " Nay, an old way a very old way. Often 
 God makes an example o' rare malevolence an' 
 seems to say, ' Look, despise, and be anything 
 but this.' Like Judas and Herod he is an 
 excellent figure in a book. Put him in thine, 
 boy." 
 
 " And credit him with full payment ? " the 
 boy asked. 
 
 "Long ago, praise God, there was a great 
 teacher," said the old man. " It is a day to 
 think of Him. Return good for evil those 
 were His words. We've never tried it, an' I'd 
 like to see how it may work. The trial would 
 be amusing if it bore no better fruit." 
 
 " What do you propose ? " 
 
 " Well, say we take him a gift with our best 
 wishes," said the tinker. 
 
 " If I can afford it," the boy replied. 
 
 The tinker answered quickly : " Oh, I've
 
 6 DARREL 
 
 always a little for a Christmas, an' I'll buy the 
 gifts. Ah, boy, let's away for the gifts. We'll 
 we'll punish him with kindness." 
 
 They went together and bought a pair of mit 
 tens and a warm muffler for Riley Brooke and 
 walked to his door with them and rapped upon 
 it. Brooke came to the door with a candle. 
 
 " What d'ye want ? " he demanded. 
 
 " To wish you Merry Christmas and present 
 you gifts," said Trove. 
 
 The old man raised his candle, surveying 
 them with surprise and curiosity. 
 
 " What gifts ? " he inquired in a milder tone. 
 
 "Well," said the boy, "we've brought you 
 mittens and a muffler." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Yer consciences have smote ye," 
 said Brooke. "Glory to God "who brings the 
 sinner to repentance ! " 
 
 ** And fills the bitter cup o' the ungrateful," 
 said the tinker. And they went away. 
 
 " I'd like to bring one other gift," said Bar 
 rel. 
 
 " What's that ? " 
 
 " God forgive me ! A rope to hang him. But 
 mind thee, boy, we are trying the law o' the
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 69 
 
 great teacher, and let us see if we can learn to 
 love this man." 
 
 "Love Riley Brooke?" said Trove, doubt 
 fully. 
 
 " A great achievement, I grant thee," said the 
 tinker. " For if we can love him, we shall be 
 able to love anybody. Let us try and see what 
 comes of it." 
 
 A man was waiting for Barrel at the foot of 
 the old stairs a tall man, poorly dressed, 
 whom Trove had not seen before, and whom, 
 now, he was not able to see clearly in the dark 
 ness. 
 
 " The mare is ready," said Barrel. " 'Tis a 
 dark night." 
 
 He to whom the tinker had spoken made no 
 answer. 
 
 "Good night," said the tinker, turning. "A 
 Merry Christmas to thee, boy, an' peace an' 
 plenty." 
 
 " I have peace, and you have given me plenty 
 to think about," said Trove. 
 
 On his way home the boy thought of the 
 stranger at the stairs, wondering if he were the 
 other tinker of whom Barrel had told him. At ,
 
 70 DARREL 
 
 his lodging he found a new pair of boots with 
 only the Christmas greeting on a card. 
 
 "Well," said Trove, already merrier than 
 most of far better fortune, "he must have 
 been somebody that knew my needs."
 
 VII 
 
 Darrel of the Blessed Isles 
 
 r 
 
 
 HE clock tinker was off in 
 the snow paths every other 
 week. In more than a hun 
 dred homes, scattered far along 
 road lines of the great valley, 
 he set the pace of the pendulums. Every 
 winter the mare was rented for easy driving 
 and Darrel made his journeys afoot. Twice 
 a day Trove passed the little shop, and if 
 there were a chalk mark on the dial, he 
 bounded upstairs to greet his friend. Some 
 times he brought another boy into the rare 
 atmosphere of the clock shop one, mayhap, 
 who needed some counsel of the wise old. 
 man. 
 
 Spring had come again. Every day sowers 
 walked the hills and valleys around Hillsbor- 
 ough, their hands swinging with a godlike 
 7
 
 72 DARREL 
 
 gesture that summoned the dead to rise; 
 everywhere was the odour of broken field or 
 garden. Night had come again, after a day 
 of magic sunlight, and soon after eight o'clock 
 Trove was at the door of the tinker with a 
 schoolmate. 
 
 " How are you ? " said Trove, as Barrel 
 opened the door. 
 
 " Better for the sight o' you," said the old 
 man, promptly. " Enter Sidney Trove and an 
 other young gentleman." 
 
 The boys took the two chairs offered them 
 in silence. 
 
 " Kind sor," the tinker added, turning to 
 Trove, " thou hast thy cue ; give us the 
 lines." 
 
 " Pardon me," said the boy. " Mr. Barrel, 
 my friend Richard Kent." 
 
 " Of the Academy ? " said Barrel, as he held 
 to the hand of Kent. 
 
 " Of the Academy," said Trove. 
 
 "An', I make no doubt, o' good hope," the 
 tinker added. " Let me stop one o' the 
 clocks so I may not forget the hour o' meet 
 ing a new friend."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 73 
 
 Barrel crossed the room and stopped a 
 pendulum. 
 
 " He would like to join this night-school of 
 ours," Trove answered. 
 
 " Would he ? " said the tinker. " Well, it is 
 one o' hard lessons. When ye come t' mul 
 tiply love by experience, an' subtract vanity 
 an' add peace, an' square the remainder, an' 
 then divide by the number o' days in thy life 
 it is a pretty problem, an' the result may 
 be much or little, an' ye reach it " 
 
 He paused a moment, thoughtfully puffing 
 the smoke. 
 
 " Not in this term o' school," he added 
 impressively. 
 
 All were silent a little time. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " Trove inquired 
 presently. 
 
 " Home," said the old man. 
 
 There was a puzzled look on Trove's face. 
 
 " Home ? " he repeated with a voice of 
 inquiry. 
 
 " I have, sor," the clock tinker went on. 
 " This poor shelter is not me home it's 
 only for a night now an' then. I've a grand
 
 74 DARREL 
 
 house an' many servants an' a garden, sor, 
 where there be flowers lovely flowers an' 
 sunlight an' noble music. Believe me, boy, 
 'tis enough to make one think o' heaven." 
 
 " I did not know of it," said Trove. 
 
 " Know ye not there is a country in easy 
 reach of us, with fair fields an' proud cities 
 an' many people an' all delights, boy, all 
 delights ? There I hope thou shalt found a 
 city thyself an' build it well so nothing shall 
 overthrow it fire, nor flood, nor the slow 
 siege o' years." 
 
 " Where ? " Trove inquired eagerly. 
 
 "In the Blessed Isles, boy, in the Blessed 
 Isles. Imagine the infinite sea o' time that is 
 behind us. Stand high an' look back over its 
 dead level. King an' empire an' all their 
 striving multitudes are sunk in the mighty 
 deep. But thou shalt see rising out of it the 
 Blessed Isles of imagination. Green forever 
 green are they and scattered far into the 
 dim distance. Look ! there is the city o' 
 Shakespeare Norman towers and battlements 
 and Gothic arches looming above the sea. Go 
 there an' look at the people as they come an*
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 75 
 
 go. Mingle with them an' find good company 
 merry-hearted folk a-plenty, an' God knows 
 I love the merry-hearted ! Talk with them, 
 an' they will teach thee wisdom. Hard by is 
 the Isle o' Milton, an' beyond are many it 
 would take thee years to visit them. Ah, sor, 
 half me time I live in the Blessed Isles. 
 What is thy affliction, boy ? " 
 
 He turned to Kent a boy whose hard luck 
 was proverbial, and whose left arm was in a 
 sling. 
 
 " Broke it wrestling," said the boy. 
 
 "Kent has bad luck," said Trove. "Last 
 year he broke his leg." 
 
 " Obey the law, or thou shalt break the bone 
 o* thy neck," said Barrel, quickly. 
 
 " I do obey the law," said Kent. 
 
 "Ay the written law," said the clock 
 tinker, " an' small credit to thee. But the law 
 o' thine own discovery, the law that is for 
 thyself an' no other, hast thou ne'er thought 
 of it ? Ill luck is the penalty o' law-breaking. 
 Therefore study the law that is for thyself. 
 Already I have discovered one for thee, an' it 
 is, ' I have not limberness enough in me bones,
 
 76 DARREL 
 
 so I must put them in no unnecessary peril.' 
 Listen, I'll read thee me own code." 
 
 The clock tinker rose and got his Shakespeare, 
 ragged from long use, and read from a fly-leaf, 
 his code of private law, to wit : 
 
 " Walk at least four miles a day. 
 
 " Eat no pork and be at peace with thy liver. 
 
 " Measure thy words and cure a habit of 
 exaggeration. 
 
 " Thine eyes are faulty therefore, going up 
 or down, look well to thy steps. 
 
 " Beware of ardent spirits, for the curse that 
 is in thy blood. It will turn thy heart to 
 stone. 
 
 " In giving, remember Barrel. 
 
 " Bandy no words with any man. 
 
 " Play at no game of chance. 
 
 " Think o' these things an' forget thyself. 
 
 " Now there is the law that is for me alone," 
 Barrel continued, looking up at the boys. 
 " Others may eat pork or taste the red cup, 
 or dally with hazards an' suffer no great harm 
 not I. Good youths, remember, ill luck is 
 for him only that is ignorant, neglectful, or 
 defiant o' private law."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 77 
 
 "But suppose your house fall upon you," 
 Trove suggested. 
 
 " I speak not o' common perils," said the 
 tinker. " But enough let's up with the sail. 
 Heave ho ! an' away for the Blessed Isles. 
 Which shall it be ? the embattled isle o' Homer, 
 or the peaceful one o' Christ, or the firm isles 
 o' the old Attic time, or that nearer ghostly 
 isle o' Coleridge ? " 
 
 He turned to a rude shelf, whereon were 
 books, near a score, some worn to rags. 
 
 " What if it be yon fair Isle o' Milton ? " }ie 
 inquired, lifting an old volume. 
 
 " Let's to the Isle o' Milton," Trove answered. 
 
 " Well, go to one o' the clocks there, an' set 
 it back," said the tinker. 
 
 " How much ? " Trove inquired with a puzzled 
 look. 
 
 "Well, a matter o' two hundred years," said 
 Barrel, who was now turning the leaves. " List 
 ye, boy, we're up to the shore an' hard by the city 
 gates. How sweet the air o' this enchanted isle ! 
 
 " ' And west winds with musky wing 
 Down the cedarn alleys fling 
 Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 1 "
 
 78 DARREL 
 
 He quoted thoughtfully, turning the leaves. 
 Then he read the shorter poems, a score of 
 them, his voice sounding the noble music of 
 the lines. It was revelation for those raw 
 youths and led them high. They forgot the 
 passing of the hours and till near midnight 
 were as those gone to a strange country. And 
 they long remembered that night with Barrel 
 of the Blessed Isles.
 
 VIII 
 
 Dust of Diamonds in the Hour-glass 
 
 T 
 
 HE axe of Theron Allen had 
 opened the doors of the wilder 
 ness. One by one the great 
 trees fell thundering and were 
 devoured by fire. Now sheep 
 and cattle were grazing on the bare hills. 
 Around the house he left a thicket of fir trees 
 that howled ever as the wind blew, as if " be 
 cause the mighty were spoiled." Neighbours 
 had come near; every summer great rugs of 
 grain, vari-hued, lay over hill and dale. 
 
 Allen had prospered, and begun to speculate 
 in cattle. Every year late in April he went 
 to Canada for a drove and sent them south 
 a great caravan that filled the road for half a 
 mile or more, tramping wearily under a cloud 
 of dust. He sold a few here and there, as the 
 drove went on a far journey, often, to the sale 
 of the last lot. 
 
 79
 
 8o DARREL 
 
 The drove came along one morning about 
 the middle of May, 1847. Trove met them 
 at the four corners on Caraway Pike. Then 
 about sixteen years of age, he made his first 
 long journey into the world with Allen's drove. 
 He had his time that summer and fifty cents for 
 driving. It was an odd business, and for the 
 boy full of new things. 
 
 A man went ahead in a buckboard wagon 
 that bore provisions. One worked in the mid 
 dle and two behind. Trove was at the heels of 
 the first section. It was easy work after the 
 cattle got used to the road and a bit leg weary. 
 They stopped them for water at the creeks and 
 rivers ; slowed them down to browse or graze 
 awhile at noontime ; and when the sun was low, 
 if they were yet in a land of fences, he of the 
 horse and wagon hurried on to get pasturage 
 for the night. 
 
 That first day some of the leaders had begun 
 to wander and make trouble. For that reason 
 Trove was walking beside the buckboard in 
 front of the drove. 
 
 " We'll stop to-night on Cedar Hill," said the 
 boss, about mid-afternoon. "Martha Vaughn
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 81 
 
 has got the best pasture and the prettiest girl 
 in this part o' the country. If you don't fall in 
 love with that girl, you ought t' be licked." 
 
 Now Trove had no very high opinion of girls. 
 Up there in Brier Dale he had seen little of 
 them. At the red schoolhouse, even, they 
 were few and far from his ideal. And they 
 were a foolish lot there in Hillsborough, it 
 seemed to him all save two or three who were, 
 he owned, very sweet and beautiful ; but he had 
 seen how they tempted other boys to extrava 
 gance, and was content with a sly glance at 
 them now and then. 
 
 "I don't ever expect to fall in love," said 
 Trove, confidently. 
 
 " Wai, love is a thing that always takes ye by 
 surprise," the other answered. " Mrs. Vaughn 
 is a widow, an' we generally stop there the first 
 day out. She's a poor woman, an' it gives her a 
 lift." 
 
 They came shortly to the little weather- 
 stained house of the widow. As they ap 
 proached, a girl, with arms bare to the elbow, 
 stood looking at them, her hand shading her 
 eyes.
 
 82 DARREL 
 
 " Co' boss ! Co' boss ! Co' boss ! " she was 
 calling, in a sweet, girlish treble. 
 
 Trove came up to the gate, and presently her 
 big, dark eyes were looking into his own. That 
 very moment he trembled before them as a reed 
 shaken by the wind. Long after then, he said 
 that something in her voice had first appealed to 
 him. Her soft eyes were, indeed, of those that 
 quicken the hearts of men. It is doubtful if 
 there were, in all the world, a lovelier thing 
 than that wild flower of girlhood up there in 
 the hills. She was no dream of romance, dear 
 reader. In one of .the public buildings of a 
 certain capital her portrait has been hanging 
 these forty years, and wins, from all who pass it, 
 the homage of a long look. But Trove said, 
 often, that she was never quite so lovely as that 
 day she stood calling the cows her shapely, 
 brown face aglow with the light of youth, her 
 dark hair curling on either side as it fell to her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Good day," said he, a little embarrassed. 
 
 " Good day," said she, coolly, turning toward 
 the house. 
 
 Trove was now in the midst of the cattle.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 83 
 
 Suddenly a dog rushed upon them, and they 
 took fright. For a moment the boy was in 
 danger of being trampled, but leaped quickly to 
 the backs of the cows and rode to safety. After 
 supper the men sat talking in the stable door, 
 beyond which, on the hay, they were to sleep 
 that night. But Trove stood a long time with 
 the girl, whose name was Polly, at the little 
 gate of the widow. 
 
 They seemed to meet there by accident. For 
 a moment they were afraid of each other. 
 After a little hesitation Polly picked a sprig 
 of lilac. He could see a tremble in her hand 
 as she gave it to him, and he felt his own 
 blushes. 
 
 " Couldn't you say something ? " she whis 
 pered with a smile. 
 
 "I I've been trying to think of something," 
 he stammered. 
 
 " Anything would do," said the girl, laughing, 
 as she retreated a step or two and stood with an 
 elbow leaning on the board fence. She had on 
 her best gown. 
 
 It was a curious interview, the words of small 
 account, the silences full of that power which
 
 84 DARREL 
 
 has been the very light of the world. If there 
 were only some way of reporting what followed 
 the petty words, swift arrows of the eye, 
 lips trembling with the peril of unuttered 
 thought, faces lighting with sweet discovery or 
 darkening with doubt, well, the author would 
 have better confidence. 
 
 Their glances met the boy hesitated. 
 
 "I don't think you look quite as lovely in 
 that dress," he ventured. 
 
 A shadow of disappointment came into her 
 face, and she turned away. The boy was em 
 barrassed. He had taken a misstep. She turned 
 impatiently and gave him a glance from head to 
 foot. 
 
 " But you're lovely enough now," he ventured 
 again. 
 
 There was a quick movement of her lips, a 
 flicker of contempt in her eyes. It seemed an 
 age before she answered him. 
 
 " Flatterer ! " said she, presently, looking 
 down and jabbing the fence top with a pin. " I 
 suppose you think I'm very homely." 
 
 " I always mean what I say." 
 
 " Then you'd better be careful you might
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 85 
 
 spoil me." She smiled faintly, turning her face 
 away. 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " Don't you know," said she, seriously, " that 
 when a girl thinks she's beautiful she's spoiled?" 
 
 Their blushes had begun to fade ; their words 
 to come easier. 
 
 " Guess I'm spoilt, too," said the boy, looking 
 away thoughtfully. " I don't know what to say 
 but sometime, maybe, you will know me bet 
 ter and believe me." He spoke with some 
 dignity. 
 
 " I know who you are," the girl answered, 
 coming nearer and looking into his eyes. 
 " You're the boy that came out of the woods in 
 a little red sleigh." 
 
 " How did you know?" Trove inquired; for 
 he was not aware that any outside his own 
 home knew it. 
 
 " A man told us that came with the cattle last 
 year. And he said you must belong to very 
 grand folks." 
 
 "And how did he know that? " 
 
 " By your looks." 
 
 " By my looks ? "
 
 86 BARREL 
 
 " Yes, I I suppose he thought you didn't 
 look like other boys around here." She was 
 now plying the pin very attentively. 
 
 " I must be a very curious-looking boy." 
 
 " Oh, not very," said she, looking at him 
 thoughtfully. "I I well I shall not tell 
 you what I think." She spoke decisively. 
 
 She had begun to blush again. 
 
 Their eyes met, and they both looked away, 
 smiling. Then a moment of silence. 
 
 " Don't you like brown ? " She was now 
 looking down at her dress, with a little show of 
 trouble in her eyes. 
 
 " I liked the brown of your arms," he 
 answered. 
 
 The pin stopped; there was a puzzled look 
 in her face. 
 
 " I'm afraid it's a very homely dress, anyway," 
 said she, looking down upon it, as she moved 
 her foot impatiently. 
 
 Her mother came out of doors. " Polly," said 
 she, "you'd better go over to the post-office." 
 
 " May I go with her ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 " Ask Polly," said the widow Vaughn, laughing. 
 
 " May I ? " he asked.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 87 
 
 Polly turned away smiling. " If you care to," 
 said she, in a low voice. 
 
 " You must hurry and not be after dark," 
 said the widow. 
 
 They went away, but only the moments hur 
 ried. They that read here, though their heads 
 be gray and their hearts heavy, will understand ; 
 for they will remember some little space of 
 time, with seconds flashing as they went, like 
 dust of diamonds in the hour-glass. 
 
 " Don't you remember how you came in the 
 little red sleigh ? " she asked presently. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I think it's very grand," said she. " It's so 
 much like a story." 
 
 " Do you read stories ? " 
 
 "All I can get. I've been reading 'Grey- 
 tower.' " 
 
 " I read it last winter," said the boy. " What 
 did you like best in it ? " 
 
 " I'm ashamed to tell you," said she, with a 
 quick glance at him. 
 
 " Please tell me." 
 
 "Oh, the love scenes, of course," said she, 
 looking down with a sigh, and a little hesitation.
 
 88 DARREL 
 
 "He was a fine lover." 
 
 " I've something in my eye," said she, stop 
 ping. 
 
 " Perhaps I can get it," said he ; "let me try." 
 
 " I'm afraid you'll hurt me," said she, looking 
 up with a smile. 
 
 " I'll be careful." 
 
 He lifted her face a little, his fingers beneath 
 her pretty chin. Then, taking her long, dark 
 lashes between thumb and finger, he opened the 
 lids. 
 
 " You are hurting," said she, soberly ; and 
 now the lashes were trying to pull free. 
 
 " I can see it," said he. 
 
 " It must be a bear you look so frightened." 
 
 " It's nothing to be afraid of," said the boy. 
 
 "Well, your hands tremble," said she, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 " There," he answered, removing a speck of 
 dust with his handkerchief. 
 
 " It is gone now, thank you," said Polly, 
 winking. 
 
 She stood close to him, and as she spoke her 
 lips trembled. He could delay no longer with 
 a subject knocking at the gate of speech.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 89 
 
 " Do you believe in love at first sight ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 She turned, looking up at him seriously. Her 
 lips parted in a smile that showed her white 
 teeth. Then her glance fell. " I shall not tell 
 you that," said she, in a half whisper. 
 
 " I hope we shall meet again," he said. 
 
 "Do you?" said she, glancing up at him 
 shyly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, if I were you and wanted to see a 
 girl, I'd I'd come and see her." 
 
 " What if you didn't know whether she was 
 willing or not ? " he asked. 
 
 " I'd take my chances," said she, soberly. 
 
 There were pauses in which their souls went 
 far beyond their words and seemed to embrace 
 each other fondly with arms of the spirit invisi 
 ble and resistless. And whatever was to come, 
 in that hour the great priest of Love in the 
 white robe of innocence had made them one. 
 The air about them was full of strange delight. 
 They were in deep dusk as they neared the 
 house. For one moment of long-remembered 
 joy she let him put his arm about her waist, but
 
 90 DARREL 
 
 when he kissed her cheek she drew herself 
 away. 
 
 They walked a little time in silence. 
 
 " I am no flirt," she whispered presently. 
 Neither spoke for a moment. 
 
 Then she seemed to feel and pity his emotion. 
 Something slowed the feet of both. 
 
 "There," she whispered; "you may kiss my 
 hand if you care to." 
 
 He kissed the pretty hand that was offered 
 to him, and her whisper seemed to ring in the 
 dusky silence like the dying rhythm of a bell.
 
 Drove and Drovers 
 
 LITTLE after daybreak they 
 went on with the cows. For 
 half a mile or more until the 
 little house had sunk below the 
 hill crest Trove was looking 
 backward. Now and ever after he was to think 
 and tarry also in the road of life and look 
 behind him for the golden towers of memory. 
 The drovers saw a change in Trove and flung at 
 him with their stock of rusty, ancestral witti 
 cisms. But Thurst Tilly had a way of saying 
 and doing quite his own. 
 
 " Never see any one knocked so flat as you 
 was," said he. "Ye didn't know enough t' 
 keep ahead o' the cattle. I declare I thought 
 they'd trample ye 'fore ye could git yer eye 
 unsot" 
 
 Trove made no answer. 
 91
 
 92 DARREL 
 
 "That air gal had a mighty power in her 
 eye," Thurst went on. "When I see her 
 totin' you off las' night I says t' the boys, says 
 I, ' Sid is goin' t' git stepped on. He ain't 
 never goin' t' be the same boy ag'in.' " 
 
 The boy held his peace, and for days neither 
 ridicule nor excitement save only for the time 
 they lasted were able to bring him out of his 
 dream. 
 
 That night they came to wild country, where 
 men and cattle lay down to rest by the road 
 way a thing Trove enjoyed. In the wagon 
 were bread and butter and boiled eggs and tea 
 and doughnuts and cake and dried herring. 
 The men built fires and made tea and ate 
 their suppers, and sang, as the night fell, 
 those olden ballads of the frontier " Barbara 
 Allen," " Bonaparte's Dream," or the " Drover's 
 Daughter." 
 
 For days they were driving in the wild coun 
 try. At Bedtime each wound himself in a 
 blanket and lay down to rest, beneath a rude 
 iean-to if it were raining, but mostly under 
 the stars. On this journey Trove got his habit 
 of sleeping out-of-doors in fair weather. After
 
 9f the BLESSED ISLES 93 
 
 it, save in midwinter, walls seemed to weary 
 and roofs to smother him. The drove began 
 to low at daybreak, and soon they were all 
 cropping the grass or browsing in the briers. 
 Then the milking, and breakfast over a camp 
 fire, and soon after sunrise they were all tramp 
 ing in the road again. 
 
 It was a pleasant journey the waysides 
 glowing with the blue of violets, the green of 
 tender grass, the thick-sown, starry gold of 
 dandelions. Wild fowl crossed the sky in 
 wedge and battalion, their videttes out, their 
 lines now firm, now wheeling in a long curve 
 to take the path of the wind. Every thicket 
 was a fount of song that fell to silence when 
 darkness came and the low chant of the 
 marshes. 
 
 When, they came into settled country below 
 the big woods they began selling. At length 
 the drove was reduced to one section ; Trove 
 following with the helper named Thurston 
 Tilly, familiarly known as " Thurst" 
 
 He was a tall, heavy, good-natured man, 
 distinguished for fat, happiness, and singular 
 aptitudes. He had lifted a barrel of salt by
 
 94 DARREL 
 
 * 
 
 the chimes and put it on a wagon ; once he 
 had eaten two mince pies at a meal; again 
 he had put his heel six inches above his 
 head on a barn door, and, any time, he could 
 wiggle one ear or both or whistle on his 
 thumb. At every lodging place he had left 
 a feeling of dread and relief as well as a 
 perennial topic of conversation. At every inn 
 he added something to his stock of fat and 
 happiness. Then, often, he seemed to be over 
 loaded with the latter and would sit and shake 
 his head and roar with laughter, now and then 
 giving out a wild yell. He had a story of 
 which no one had ever heard the finish. He 
 began it often, but, somehow, never got to the 
 end. He always clung to the lapel of his 
 hearer's coat as if in fear of losing him, and 
 never tried his tale more than once on the same 
 ears. Having got his inspiration, he went in 
 quest of his hearer, and having hitched him, 
 as it were, by laying hold of his elbow or coat 
 collar, began the tale. It was like pouring 
 molasses on a level place it moved slowly 
 and spread and got nowhere in particular. At 
 first his manner was slow, dignified, and con-
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 95 
 
 fidential, changing to fit his emotion. He 
 whispered, he shouted, he laughed, he looked 
 sorrowful, he nudged the stranger in his ab 
 domen, he glared upon him, eye close to 
 eye, he shook him by the shoulder, and slowly 
 wore him out. Some endured long and were 
 patient, but soon or late all began to back and 
 pull, and finally broke away, and seeing the 
 hand of the narrator reach for them, dodged 
 quickly and, being pursued, ran. Often this 
 odd chase took them around trees and stumps 
 and buildings, the stranger escaping, frequently, 
 through some friendly door which he could 
 lock or hold fast. Then Thurst, knocking 
 loudly, gave out a wild yell or two, peered in 
 at the nearest window, and came at last to 
 his chair, sorrowful and much out of breath, 
 his tale unfinished. There was in the man a 
 saving element of good nature, and no one ever 
 got angry with him. At each new attempt he 
 showed a grimmer determination to finish, but 
 even there, in a land of strong and patient 
 men, not one, they used to say, had ever the 
 endurance to sustain him to the end of Tilly's 
 tale.
 
 96 BARREL 
 
 It was not easy to dispose of cattle in the 
 southern counties that year, but they found a 
 better market as they bore west, and were across 
 the border of Ohio when the last of the drove 
 were sold. That done, Trove and Thurst Tilly 
 took the main road to Cleveland, whence they 
 were to return home by steamboat. 
 
 It led them into woods and by stumpy 
 fields and pine-odoured hamlets. The first day 
 of their walk was rainy, and they went up a 
 toteway into thick timber and built a fire and 
 kept dry and warm until the rain ceased. That 
 evening they fell in with emigrants on their 
 way to the far west. 
 
 The latter were camped on the edge of a 
 wood, near the roadway, and cooking supper as 
 the two came along. Being far from a town, 
 Trove and Tilly were glad to accept the hospi 
 tality of the travellers. 
 
 They had come to the great highway of travel 
 from east to west. Every day it was cut by 
 wagons of the mover overloaded with Lares and 
 Penates, with old and young, enduring hardships 
 and the loss of home and old acquaintance for 
 hope of better fortune.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 97 
 
 A man and wife and three boys were the party, 
 travelling with two wagons. They were bound 
 for Iowa and, being heavy loaded, were having 
 a hard time. All sat on a heap of boughs in 
 the firelight after supper. 
 
 " It's a long, long road to Iowa, father," said 
 the woman. 
 
 " It'll soon be over," said he, with a tone of 
 encouragement. 
 
 " I've been thinking all day of the lilacs and 
 the old house," said she. 
 
 They looked in silence at the fire a moment. 
 
 " We're a bit homesick," said the man, turn 
 ing to Trove, " an' no wonder. It's been hard 
 travelling, an' we've broke down every few miles. 
 But we'll have better luck the rest o' the jour 
 ney." 
 
 Evidently his cheerful courage had been all 
 that kept them going. 
 
 " Lost all we had in the great fire of '35," said 
 he, thoughtfully. " I went to bed a rich man, 
 but when I rose in the morning I had not enough 
 to pay a week's board. Everything had been 
 swept away." 
 
 " A merchant ? " Trove inquired.
 
 98 BARREL 
 
 "A partner in the great Star Mill on East 
 River," said the man. " I could have got a for 
 tune for my share at least a hundred thousand 
 dollars and I had worked hard for it." 
 
 " And were you not able to succeed again ? " 
 
 " No," said the traveller, sadly, shaking his 
 head. " If some time you have to lose all you 
 possess, God grant you still have youth and a 
 strong arm. I tried that is all I tried." 
 
 The boy looked up at him, his heart touched. 
 The man was near sixty years of age ; his face 
 had deep lines in it ; his voice the dull ring of 
 loss, and failure, and small hope. The woman 
 covered her face and began to sob. 
 
 " There, mother," said the man, touching her 
 head ; " we'd better forget. I'll never speak 
 of that again never. We're going to seek our 
 fortune. Away in the great west we'll seek our 
 fortune." 
 
 His effort to be cheerful was perhaps the rich 
 est colour of that odd scene there in the still 
 woods and the firelight. 
 
 "We're going to take a farm in the most 
 beautiful country in the world. It's easy to 
 make money there."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 99 
 
 " If you've no objection I'd like to go with 
 you," said Thurst Tilly. "I'm a good farmer." 
 
 " Can you drive a team ? " said the man. 
 
 "Drove horses all my life," said Thurst; 
 whereupon they made a bargain. 
 
 Trove and Tilly went away to the brook for 
 water while the travellers went to bed in their 
 big, covered wagon. Trove lay down with his, 
 blanket on the boughs, reading over the indeli 
 ble record of that day. And he said, often, as 
 he thought of it, years after, that the saddest 
 thing in all the world is a man of broken 
 courage.
 
 An Odd Meeting 
 
 r 
 
 HEY were up betimes in the 
 morning, and Trove ate hastily 
 from his own store and bade 
 them all good-by and made off, 
 for he had yet a long road to 
 travel. 
 
 That day Trove fell in with a great, awk 
 ward country boy, slouching along the road 
 on his way to Cleveland. He was an odd 
 figure, with thick hair of the shade of tow 
 that burst out from under a slouch hat and 
 muffled his neck behind; his coat was thread 
 bare and a bit too large ; his trousers of satinet 
 fell loosely far enough to break joints with 
 each bootleg; the dusty cowhide gave his feet 
 a lonely and arid look. He carried a bundle 
 tied to a stick that lay on his left shoulder. 
 They met near a corner, nodded, and walked 
 100
 
 DARREL 1 01 
 
 on a while together in silence. For a little 
 time they surveyed each other curiously. 
 Then each began to quicken the pace. 
 
 " Maybe you think you can walk the fast 
 est," said he of the long hair. 
 
 They were going a hot pace, their free 
 arms flying. Trove bent to his work stub 
 bornly. They both began to tire and slow 
 up. The big boy looked across at the other 
 and laughed loudly. 
 
 "Wouldn't give up if ye broke a leg, would 
 ye ? " said he. 
 
 " Not if I could swing it," said Trove. 
 
 "Coin' t' Cleveland?" 
 
 " Yes ; are you ? " 
 
 "Yes. I'm goin' t' be a sailor," said the 
 strange boy. 
 
 " Goin' off on the ocean ? " Trove inquired 
 with deep interest. 
 
 "Yes; 'round the world, maybe. Then I'll 
 come back an' go t' school if I don't git 
 wrecked like Robi'son Crusoe." 
 
 " My stars ! " said Trove, with a look of awe. 
 
 " Like t' go ? " the other inquired. 
 
 "Guess I would!"
 
 102 DARREL 
 
 "Better stay f home; it's a bard life." 
 This with an air of parental wisdom. 
 
 "I've read ' Robi'son Crusoe,'" said Trove, 
 as if it were some excuse. 
 
 " So 've I ; an* Grimshaw's ' Napoleon,' an* 
 Weems's 'Life o' Marion,' an' 'The Pirates' 
 Book,' an' the Bible." 
 
 "I've got half through the Bible," said 
 Trove. 
 
 "Who slew Absolum?" the other inquired 
 doubtfully. 
 
 Trove remembered the circumstances, but 
 couldn't recall the name. 
 
 They sat down to rest and eat luncheon. 
 
 "You going to be a statesman?" Trove in 
 quired. 
 
 "No; once I thought I'd try f go t' Con 
 gress, but I guess I'd rather go t* sea. What 
 you goin' t' be?" 
 
 "I shall try to be an author," said Trove. 
 
 "Why, H I was you, I'd go into politics," 
 said .the other. " Ye might be President some 
 day, no telling. Do ye know how t' chop er 
 hoe er swing a scythe?" 
 
 "Yes."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 103 
 
 "Wai, then, if ye don't ever git t* be Presi 
 dent, ye won't have t' starve. I saw an author 
 one day." 
 
 "You did?" 
 
 " He was an awful-lookin' cuss," said the 
 other, with a nod of affirmation. 
 
 The strange boy took another bite of bread 
 and butter. 
 
 "Wrote dime novels an' drank whisky an' 
 wore a bearskin vest," he added presently. 
 "Do you know the Declaration of Indepen 
 dence?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I do," said the strange boy, and gave it 
 word for word. 
 
 They chatted and tried tricks and spent a 
 happy hour there by the roadside. It was an 
 hour of pure democracy neither knew even 
 the name of the other so far. 
 
 They got to Cleveland late hi the afternoon. 
 
 "Now keep yer hand on yer wallet," said 
 the strange boy, as they were coming into the 
 city. "I've got three dollars an' seventy-five 
 cents hi mine, an' I don't propose t' have it 
 took away from me."
 
 104 BARREL 
 
 Trove went to a tavern, the other to stay 
 with friends. Near noon next day both boys 
 met on the wharf, where Trove was to board 
 a steamboat. 
 
 " Got a job ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 " No," said the other, with a look of dejec 
 tion. " I tried, an' they cursed an' damned 
 me awful. I got away as quick as I could. 
 Dunno but I'll have t' go back an' try t' be 
 a statesman er something o' that kind. Guess 
 it's easier than goin' t' sea. Give me yer 
 name an' address, an' maybe I'll write ye a 
 letter." 
 
 Trove complied. 
 
 "Please give me yours," said he. 
 
 "It's James Abram Garfield, Orange, O.," 
 said the other. 
 
 Then they spoke a long good-by.
 
 The Old Rag Doll 
 
 HE second week of September 
 Trove went down the hills 
 again to school, with food and 
 furniture beside him in the 
 great wagon. He had not been 
 happy since he got home. Word of that even 
 ing with the pretty " Vaughn girl " had come to 
 the ears of Allen. 
 
 "You're too young for that, boy," said he, 
 the day Trove came. " You must promise me 
 one thing that you'll keep away from her 
 until you are eighteen." 
 
 In every conviction Allen was like the hills 
 about him there were small changes on the 
 surface, but underneath they were ever the 
 same rock-boned, firm, unmoving hills. 
 
 "But I'm in love with her," said the boy, 
 with dignity. "It is more than I can bear. 
 105
 
 106 DARREL 
 
 I tell you, sir, that I regard the young lady 
 with with deep affection." He had often a 
 dignity of phrase and manner beyond his years. 
 
 "Then it will last," said Allen. "You're 
 only a boy, and for a while I know what is best 
 for you." 
 
 Trove had to promise, and, as that keen edge 
 of his feeling wore away, doubted no more the 
 wisdom of his father. He wrote Polly a letter, 
 quaint with boyish chivalry and frankness 
 one of a package that has lain these many 
 years in old ribbons and the scent of lavender. 
 
 He went to the Sign of the Dial as soon as he 
 got to Hillsborough that day. Barrel was at 
 home, and a happy time it was, wherein each 
 gave account of the summer. A stranger sat 
 working at the small bench. Barrel gave him 
 no heed, chatting as if they were quite alone. 
 
 "And what is the news in Hillsborough?" 
 said Trove, his part of the story finished. 
 
 " Have ye not heard ? " said Barrel, in a 
 whisper. " Parson Hammond hath swapped 
 horses." 
 
 Trove began to laugh. 
 
 "Nay, that is not all," said the tinker, his
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 107 
 
 pipe in hand. " Deacon Swackhammer hath 
 smitten the head o' Brooke. Oh, sor, 'twas a 
 comedy. Brooke gave him an ill-sounding 
 word. Swackhammer removed his coat an' 
 flung it down. ' Deacon, lie there,' said he. 
 Then each began, as it were, to bruise the head 
 o f the serpent. Brooke poor man ! he got 
 the worst of it. An' sad to tell ! his wife died 
 the very next day." 
 
 " Of what ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 "Marry, I do not know; it may have been 
 joy," said the tinker, lighting his pipe. " Ah, 
 sor, Brooke is tough. He smites the helping 
 hand an' sickens the heart o' kindness. I offered 
 him help an' sympathy, an' he made it all bitter 
 with suspicion o' me. I turned away, an' said I 
 to meself , ' Darrel, thy head is soft a babe 
 could brain thee with a lady's fan.' " 
 
 Darrel puffed his pipe in silence a little time. 
 
 " Every one hates Brooke," said Trove. 
 
 " Once," said Darrel, presently, " a young 
 painter met a small animal with a striped back, 
 in the woods. They exchanged compliments an' 
 suddenly the painter ran, shaking his head. As 
 he came near his own people, they all began
 
 io8 DARREL 
 
 to flee before him. He followed them for days, 
 an' every animal in the woods ran as he came 
 near. By an' by he stopped to rest. Then 
 he looked down at himself an' spat, sneeringly. 
 When, after weeks o' travel, he was at length 
 admitted to the company of his kind, they sat 
 in judgment on him. 
 
 " 'Tell us,' said one, 'what evil hath befallen 
 thee ? ' 
 
 " ' Alas ! ' said the poor cat, ' I met a little 
 creature with a striped back.' 
 
 " ' A little creature ! an' thee so put about ? ' 
 said another, with great contempt. 
 
 " ' Ay ; but he hath a mighty talent,' said the 
 sad painter. ' Let him but stand before thee, an* 
 he hath spoiled the earth, an' its people, an' thou 
 would'st even flee from thyself. But in fleeing 
 thou shalt think thyself on the way to hell.' " 
 
 For a moment Barrel shook with silent laugh 
 ter. Then he rose and put his pipe on the 
 shelf. 
 
 "Well, I'd another chance to try the good 
 law on him," said Barrel, presently. " In July he 
 fell sick o' fever, an' I delayed me trip to nurse 
 him. At length, when he was nearly well, an*
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 109 
 
 I had come to his home one evening, the widow 
 Glover met me at his door. 
 
 " ' If ye expect money fer comin' here, ye 
 better go on 'bout yer business,' Brooke shouted 
 from the bedroom. ' I don't need ye any more, 
 an' I'll send ye a bushel o' potatoes by 'n by. 
 Good day.' 
 
 " Not a word o' thanks ! " the tinker ex 
 claimed. " Wrath o' God ! I fear there is but 
 one thing would soften him." 
 
 " And what is that ? " 
 
 "A club," said Barrel. "But God forgive 
 me ! I must put away anger. Soon it went 
 about that Brooke was to marry the widow. 
 All were delighted, for each party would be in 
 the nature of a punishment. God's justice ! 
 they did deserve each other." 
 
 Barrel shook with happiness, and relighted 
 his pipe. 
 
 " Mayhap ye've seen the dear lady," Barrel 
 went on. " She is large, bony, quarrelsome 
 a weaver of some fifty years neither amiable 
 nor fair to look upon. Every one knows her 
 a survivor o' two husbands an' many a battle 
 ' high
 
 no DARREL 
 
 " ' Is it a case o' foreclosure, Brooke ? ' says I 
 to him one day in the road. 
 
 " ' No, sor,' he snaps out ; ' I had a little mort 
 gage on her furniture, but I'm going t' marry 
 her for a helpmeet. She is a great worker an' 
 neat an' savin'.' 
 
 "'An' headstrong,' says I. 'Ye must have 
 patience with her.' 
 
 " ' I can manage her,' said Brooke. ' The 
 first morning after we are married I always say 
 to my wife, " Here's the breeches ; now if ye 
 want 'em, take 'em, an' I'll put on the dress." ' 
 
 " He looked wise, then, as if 'twere a great 
 argument. 
 
 " ' Always ? ' says I. ' God bless thee, 'tis an 
 odd habit.' 
 
 " Well, the boast o' Brooke went from one to 
 another an' at last to the widow's ear. They 
 say a look o' firmness an' resolution came 
 into her face, an' late in August they were 
 married of an evening at the home o' Brooke. 
 Well, about then, I had been having trouble." 
 
 " Trouble ? " said Trove. 
 
 " It was another's trouble that of a client 
 o' mine, a poor woman out in the country.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES in 
 
 Brooke had a mortgage on her cattle, an' she 
 could not pay, an' I undertook to help her. 
 I had some money due me, but was unable to 
 put me hand on it. That day before the 
 wedding I went to the old sinner. 
 
 " ' Brooke, I came to see about the Martha 
 Vaughn mortgage,' says I." 
 
 " Martha Vaughn ! " said Trove, turning 
 quickly. 
 
 " Yes, one o' God's people," said the tinker. 
 " Ye may have seen her ? " 
 
 " I have seen her," said Trove. 
 
 "'At ten o'clock to-morrow I shall foreclose,' 
 says Brooke, waving his fist. 
 
 " ' Give her a little time till the day after 
 to-morrow, man, it is not much to ask,' says I. 
 
 " ' Not an hour,' says he ; an' I came away." 
 
 Barrel rose and put on his glasses and 
 brought a newspaper and gave it to the boy. 
 
 " Read that," said he, his finger on the story, 
 " an' see what came of it." 
 
 The article was entitled " A Rag Doll The 
 Story of a Money-lender whose Name, let us 
 say, is Brown." 
 
 After some account of the marriage and
 
 H2 DARREL 
 
 of bride and groom, the story went on as 
 follows : 
 
 " At midnight the charivari was heard 
 a noisy beating of pans and pots in the door- 
 yard of the unhappy groom, who flung 
 sticks of wood from the window, and who 
 finally dispersed the crowd with an old shot 
 gun. Bright and early next day came the 
 milkman a veteran of the war of 1812 
 who, agreeably with his custom, sounded 
 the call of boots and saddles on his battered 
 bugle at Brown's door. But none came to 
 open it. The noon hour passed with no 
 sign of life in the old house. 
 
 " ' Suthin' hes happened over there,' said 
 his nearest neighbour, peering out of the 
 window. ' Mebbe they've fit an' disabled 
 each other.' 
 
 " ' You'd better go an' rap on the door/ 
 said his wife. 
 
 " He started, halting at his gate and look 
 ing over at the house of mystery. While 
 he stood there, the door of the money 
 lender opened a little, and a head came out 
 beckoning for help. He hurried to the 
 door, that swung open as he came near it. 
 
 "'Heavens!' said he. 'What is the 
 matter ? '
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 113 
 
 " Brown stood behind the door, in a gown 
 of figured calico, his feet bare, his shock of 
 gray hair dishevelled. The gown was a 
 poor fit, stopping just below the knees. 
 
 " ' That woman ! ' he gasped, sinking into 
 a chair and making an angry gesture with 
 his fist. ' That woman has got every pair 
 o' breeches in the house.' 
 
 " His wife appeared in the rusty, familiar 
 garments of the money-lender. 
 
 " ' He tried to humble me this morning,' 
 said she, ' an' I humbled him. He began 
 to order me around, an' I told him I 
 wouldn't hev it. " Then," says he, " you 
 better put on the breeches an' I'll put on 
 the dress." "Very well," says I, and 
 grabbed the breeches, an' give him the 
 dress. I know ye, Brown ; ye' 11 never 
 abuse me.' 
 
 " ' I'll get a divorce I'll have the law on 
 ye,' said the old man, angrily, as he walked 
 the floor in his gown of calico. 
 
 " ' Go on,' said she. ' Go to the lawyer 
 now.' 
 
 " ' Will ye git me a pair o' breeches ? ' 
 
 " ' No ; I took yer offer, an' ye can't have 
 'em 'til ye've done the work that goes with 
 the dress. Come, now, I want my dinner.' 
 
 " ' I can't find a stitch in the house,' said
 
 H4 DARREL 
 
 he, turning to his neighbour. ' I wish ye'd 
 bring me some clothes.' 
 
 "The caller made no reply, but came 
 away smiling, and told of Brown's dilemma. 
 
 " ' It's good for him,' said the neighbour's 
 wife. ' Don't ye take him any clothes. 
 He's bullied three wives to death, an' now 
 I'm glad he's got a wife that can bully him.' 
 
 " Brown waited long, but no help arrived. 
 The wife was firm and he very hungry. 
 She called him ' wife ' a title not calcu 
 lated to soothe a man of his agility and 
 vigour. He galloped across the room at her, 
 yelling as he brandished a poker. She 
 quickly took it away and drove him into a 
 corner. He had taken up the poker and 
 now seemed likely to perish by it. Then, 
 going to the stove with this odd weapon, 
 she stuck its end in the fire, and Brown had 
 no sooner flung a wash-basin across the 
 room at her head than she ran after him 
 with the hot poker. Then, calling for help, 
 he ran around the stove and out of doors 
 like a wild man, his dress of calico and his 
 long hair flying in the breeze. Pedestrians 
 halted, men and women came out of their 
 homes. The bare feet of the money-lender 
 were flying with great energy. 
 
 " ' She's druv him crazy,' a man shouted.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 115 
 
 " ' An' knocked the socks off him,' said 
 another. 
 
 " * Must have been try in' t' make him into 
 a rag doll,' was the comment of a third. 
 
 " ' Brown, if yer goin' t' be a womern,' said 
 one, as they surrounded him, ' ye'd ought 
 to put on a longer dress. Yer enough t' 
 scare a hoss.' 
 
 " Brown was inarticulate with anger. 
 
 " A number of men judging him insane, 
 seized and returned him to his punishment. 
 They heard the unhappy story with loud 
 laughter. 
 
 " ' You'd better give up an' go to the 
 kitchen, Brown,' said one of them; and 
 there are those who maintain that he got 
 the dinner before he got the trousers." 
 
 " Well, God be praised ! " said Barrel, when 
 Trove had finished reading the story ; " Brooke 
 was unable to foreclose that day, an' the next 
 was Sunday, an' bright an' early on Monday 
 morning I paid the debt." 
 
 "Mrs. Vaughn has a daughter," said Trove, 
 blushing. 
 
 " Ay ; an' s*ie hath a pretty redness in her 
 lip," said Barrel, quickly, " an' a merry flash in 
 her eye. Thoa hast yet far to go, boy. Look
 
 n6 DARREL 
 
 not upon her now, or she will trip thee. By 
 an' by, boy, by an' by." 
 
 There was an odd trait in Barrel. In familiar 
 talk he often made use of "ye" a shortened 
 you in speaking to those of old acquaintance. 
 But when there was man or topic to rouse him 
 into higher dignity it was more often " thee " or 
 " thou " with him. Trove made no answer and 
 shortly went away. 
 
 In certain court records one may read of the 
 celebrated suit for divorce which enlivened the 
 winter of that year in the north country. It 
 is enough to quote the ringing words of one 
 Colonel Jenkins, who addressed the judge as 
 f oUows : 
 
 " Picture to yourself, sir, this venerable man, 
 waking from his dream of happiness to be 
 robbed of his trousers the very insignia of his 
 manhood. Picture him, sir, sitting in calico and 
 despair, mingled with hunger and humiliation. 
 Think of him being addressed as 'wife.' Being 
 called ' wife,' sir, by this woman he had taken 
 to his heart and home. That, your Honour, 
 was ingratitude sharper than a serpent's tooth. 
 Picture him driven from his fireside hi skirts,
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 117 
 
 the very drapery of humiliation, skirts, your 
 Honour, that came barely to the knees and left 
 his nether limbs exposed to the autumnal breeze 
 and the ridicule of the unthinking. Sir, it is for 
 you to say how far the widow may go in her 
 oppression. If such conduct is permitted, in 
 God's name, who is safe ? " 
 
 " May it please your Honour," said the oppos 
 ing lawyer, " having looked upon these pictures 
 of the learned counsel, it is for you to judge 
 whether you ever saw any that gave you greater 
 joy. They are above all art, your Honour. In 
 the galleries of memory there are none like 
 them none so charming, so delightful. If I 
 were to die to-morrow, sir, I should thank God 
 that my last hour came not until I had seen 
 these pictures of Colonel Jenkins ; and it may 
 be sir, that my happiness would even delay the 
 hand of death. My only regret is that mine is 
 the great misfortune of having failed to wit 
 ness the event they portray. Sir, you have a 
 great responsibility, for you have to judge 
 whether human law may interfere with the work 
 ing of divine justice. It was the decree of fate, 
 your Honour, following his own word and action,
 
 n8 DARREL 
 
 that this man should become as a rag doll in the 
 hands of a termagant. I submit to you that 
 Provklence, in the memory of the living, has 
 done no better job." 
 
 A tumult of applause stopped him, and he sat 
 down. 
 
 Brooke was defeated^ promptly, and known 
 ever after as "The Old Rag Doll."
 
 XII 
 
 The Santa Claus of Cedar Hill 
 
 C 
 
 8 
 
 HRISTMAS Eve had come and 
 the year of 1850. For two 
 weeks snow had rushed over 
 the creaking gable of the forest 
 above Martha Vaughn's, to pile 
 in drifts or go hissing down the long hillside. 
 A freezing blast had driven it to the roots of the 
 stubble and sown it deep and rolled it into 
 ridges and whirled it into heaps and mounds, 
 or flung it far in long waves that seemed to 
 plunge, as if part of a white sea, and break over 
 fence and roof and chimney in their downrush. 
 Candle and firelight filtered through frosty 
 panes and glowed, dimly, under dark fathoms 
 of the snow sheet now flying full of voices. 
 Mrs. Vaughn opened her door a moment to 
 peer out. A great horned owl flashed across 
 the light beam with a snap and rustle of wings 
 119
 
 120 DARREL 
 
 and a cry "oo-oo-oo," lonely, like that, as if it 
 were the spirit of darkness and the cold wind. 
 Mrs. Vaughn started, turning quickly and clos 
 ing the door. 
 
 "Ugh! what a sound," said Polly. "It 
 reminds me of a ghost story." 
 
 "Well," said the widow, "that thing belongs 
 to the only family o' real ghosts in the world." 
 
 " What was it ? " said a small boy. There 
 were Polly and three children about the fire 
 place. 
 
 "An air cat," said she, shivering, her back to 
 the fire. " They go 'round at night in a great 
 sheet o' feathers an' rustle it, an' I declare they 
 do cry lonesome. Got terrible claws, too ! " 
 
 " Ever hurt folks ? " one of the boys inquired. 
 
 " No ; but they're just like some kinds o' 
 people ye want to let 'em alone. Any one 
 that'll shake hands with an owl would be fool 
 enough to eat fish-hooks. They're not made for 
 friendship those owls." 
 
 " What are they made for ? " another voice 
 inquired. 
 
 " Just to kill," said she, patting a boy's head 
 tenderly. " They're Death flying round at
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 121 
 
 night the angel o' Death for rats an' rabbits 
 an' birds an' other little creatures. Once, 
 oh, many years ago, it seemed so everything 
 was made to kill. Men were like beasts o' 
 prey, most of 'em ; an' they're not all gone yet. 
 Went around day an' night killing. I declare 
 they must have had claws. Then came the 
 Prince o' Peace." 
 
 " What did he do to 'em, mother ? " said 
 Paul a boy of seven. 
 
 "Well, he began to cut their claws for one 
 thing," said the mother. "Taught 'em to love 
 an' not to kill. Shall I read you the story 
 how he came in a manger?" 
 
 " B'lieve I'd rather hear about Injuns," said 
 the boy. 
 
 " We shall hear about them too," the mother 
 added. " They're like folks o' the olden time. 
 They make a terrible fuss; but they've got to 
 hold still an' have their claws cut." 
 
 Presently she sat down by a table, where 
 there were candles, and began reading aloud 
 from a county paper. She read anecdotes of 
 men, remarkable for their success and piety, and 
 an account of Indian fighting, interrupted, as a
 
 122 BARREL 
 
 red man lifted his tomahawk to slay, by the 
 rattle of an arrow on the buttery door. 
 
 It was off the cross-gun of young Paul. He 
 had seen everything in the story and had taken 
 aim at the said Indian just in the nick of time. 
 
 She read, also, the old sweet story of the com 
 ing of the Christ Child. 
 
 " Some say it was a night like this," said she, 
 as the story ended. 
 
 Paul had listened, his thin, sober face 
 glowing. 
 
 " I'll bet Santa Claus was good to him," said 
 he. " Brought him sleds an' candy an' nuts 
 an' raisins an' new boots an' everything." 
 
 " Why do you think so ? " asked his mother, 
 who was now reading intently. 
 
 " 'Cos he was a good boy. He wouldn't cry if 
 he had to fill the wood box ; would he, mother ? " 
 
 That query held a hidden rebuke for his 
 brother Tom. 
 
 " I do not know, but I do not think he was 
 ever saucy or spoke a bad word." 
 
 "Huh!" said Tom, reflectively; "then I 
 guess he never had no mustard plaster put on 
 him."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 123 
 
 The widow bade him hush. 
 
 " Er never had nuthin' done to him, neither," 
 the boy continued, rocking vigorously hi his little 
 chair. 
 
 " Mustn't speak so of Christ," the mother added. 
 
 " Wai," said Paul, rising, " I guess I'll hang 
 up my stockin's." 
 
 " One'll do, Paul," said his sister Polly, with a 
 knowing air. 
 
 " No, 'twon't," the boy insisted. " They ain't 
 half 's big as yours. I'm goin' t' try it, any 
 way, an' see what he'll do to 'em." 
 
 He drew off his stockings and pinned them 
 carefully to the braces on the back of a chair. 
 
 "Well, my son," said Mrs. Vaughn, looking 
 over the top of her paper, " it's bad weather ; 
 Santa Claus may not be able to get here." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he can," said the boy, confidently, 
 but with a little quiver of alarm in his voice. 
 " I'm sure he'll come. He has a team of rein 
 deers. ' An' the deeper the snow the faster 
 they go.'" 
 
 Soon the others bared their feet and hung their 
 stockings on four chairs in a row beside the first. 
 
 Then they all got on the bed hi the corner
 
 124 DARREL 
 
 and pulled a quilt over them to wait for Santa 
 Claus. The mother went on with her reading 
 as they chattered. 
 
 Sleep hushed them presently. But for the 
 crackling of the fire, and the push and whistle 
 of the wind, that room had become as a peace 
 ful, silent cave under the storm. 
 
 The widow rose stealthily and opened a 
 bureau drawer. The row of limp stockings 
 began to look cheerful and animated. Little 
 packages fell to their toes, and the shortest 
 began to reach for the floor. But while they 
 were fat in the foot they were still very lean 
 in the leg. 
 
 Her apron empty, Mrs. Vaughn took her 
 knitting to the fire, and before she began to 
 ply the needles, looked thoughtfully at her 
 hands. They had been soft and shapely before 
 the days of toil. A frail but comely woman 
 she was, with pale face, and dark eyes, and hair 
 prematurely white. 
 
 She had come west a girl of nineteen 
 with her young husband, full of high hopes. 
 That was twenty-one years ago, and the new 
 land had poorly kept its promise.
 
 rf the BLESSED ISLES 125 
 
 And the children "How many have you ? " 
 a caller had once inquired. " Listen," said she, 
 " hear 'em, an' you'd say there were fifteen, but 
 count 'em an' they're only four." 
 
 The low, weathered house and sixty acres 
 were mortgaged. Even the wilderness had not 
 wholly signed off its claim. Every year it ex 
 acted tribute, the foxes taking a share of her 
 poultry, and the wild deer feeding on her grain. 
 
 A little beggar of a dog, that now lay in the 
 firelight, had offered himself one day, with 
 cheerful confidence, and been accepted. Small, 
 affectionate, cowardly, irresponsible, and yellow, 
 he was in the nature of a luxury, as the widow 
 had once said. He had a slim nose, no longer 
 than a man's thumb, and ever busy. He was 
 a most prudent animal, and the first day 
 found a small opening in the foundation of the 
 barn through which he betook himself always 
 at any sign of danger. He soon buried his 
 bones there, and was ready for a siege if, per 
 chance, it came. One blow or even a harsh 
 word sent him to his refuge in hot haste. He 
 had learned early that the ways of hired men 
 were full of violence and peril. Hospitality
 
 126 DARREL 
 
 and affection had won his confidence but never 
 deprived him of his caution. 
 
 Presently there came a heavy step and a quick 
 pull at the latch-string. An odd figure entered 
 in a swirl of snow a real Santa Claus, the 
 mystery and blessing of Cedar Hill. For five 
 years, every Christmas Eve, in good or bad 
 weather, he had come to four little houses on 
 the Hill, where, indeed, his coming had been as 
 a Godsend. Whence he came and who he might 
 be none had been able to guess. He never 
 spoke in his official capacity, and no citizen of 
 Faraway had such a beard or figure as this 
 man. Now his fur coat, his beard, and eye 
 brows were hoary with snow and frost. Icicles 
 kung from his mustache around the short clay 
 pipe of tradition. He lowered a great sack and 
 brushed the snow off it. He had borne it high 
 on his back, with a strap at each shoulder. 
 
 The sack was now about half full of things. 
 He took out three big bundles and laid them on 
 the table. They were evidently for the widow 
 herself, who quickly stepped to the bedside. 
 
 " Come, children," she whispered, rousing 
 them ; " here is Santa Claus."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 127 
 
 They scrambled down, rubbing their eyes. 
 Polly took the hands of the two small boys and 
 led them near him. Paul drew his hand away 
 and stood spellbound, eyes and mouth open. 
 He watched every motion of the good Saint, 
 who had come to that chair that held the little 
 stockings. Santa Glaus put a pair of boots on 
 it. They were copper-toed, with gorgeous front 
 pieces of red morocco at the top of the leg. 
 Then, as if he had some relish of a joke, he 
 took them up, looked them over thoughtfully, 
 and put them in the sack again, whereupon 
 the boy Paul burst into tears. Old Santa 
 Claus, shaking with silent laughter, replaced 
 them in the chair quickly. 
 
 As if to lighten the boy's heart he opened a 
 box and took out a mouth-organ. He held it so 
 the light sparkled on its shiny side. Then he 
 put his pipe in his pocket and began to dance 
 and play lively music. Step and tune quick 
 ened. The bulky figure was flying up and 
 down above a great clatter of big boots, his 
 head wagging to keep time. The oldest chil 
 dren were laughing, and the boy Paul, he began 
 to smile in the midst of a great sob that shook
 
 128 DARREL 
 
 him to the toes. The player stopped suddenly, 
 stuffed the instrument in a stocking, and went 
 on with his work. Presently he uncovered a 
 stick of candy long as a man's arm. There 
 were spiral stripes of red from end to end of it. 
 He used it for a fiddle-bow, whistling with 
 terrific energy and sawing the air. Then he 
 put shawls and tippets and boots and various 
 little packages on the other chairs. 
 
 At last he drew out of the sack a sheet of 
 pasteboard, with string attached, and hung it on 
 the wall. It bore the simple message, rudely 
 lettered in black, as follows : 
 
 " Mery Crismus. And Children i have the 
 honnor to remane, Yours Respec'fully 
 
 SANDY CLAUS." 
 
 His work done, he swung the pack to his 
 shoulders and made off as they all broke the 
 silence with a hearty "Thank you, Santa 
 Claus ! " 
 
 They listened a moment, as he went away 
 with a loud and merry laugh sounding above 
 the roar of the wind. It was the voice of a big 
 and gentle heart, but gave no other clew. In
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 129 
 
 a moment cries of delight, and a rustle of 
 wrappings, filled the room. As on wings of the 
 bitter wind, joy and good fortune had come to 
 them, and, in that little house, had drifted deep 
 as the snow without. 
 
 The children went to their beds with slow feet 
 and quick pulses. Paul begged for the sacred 
 privilege of wearing his new boots to bed, but 
 compromised on having them beside his pillow. 
 The boys went to sleep at last, with all their 
 treasures heaped about them. Tom shortly 
 rolled upon the little jumping-jack, that broke 
 away and butted him in the face with a loud 
 squawk. It roused the boy, who promptly set up 
 a defence in which the stuffed hen lost her tail- 
 feathers and the jumping-jack was violently put 
 out of bed. When the mother came to see 
 what had happened, order had been restored 
 the boys were both sleeping. 
 
 It was an odd little room under bare shingles 
 above stairs. Great chests, filled with relics of 
 another time and country, sat against the walls. 
 Here and there a bunch of herbs or a few ears 
 of corn, their husks braided, hung on the bare 
 rafters. The aroma of the summer fields of
 
 130 DARREL 
 
 peppermint, catnip, and lobelia haunted it. 
 Chimney and stovepipe tempered the cold. A 
 crack in the gable end let in a sift of snow that 
 had been heaping up a lonely little drift on the 
 bare floor. The widow covered the boys ten 
 derly and took their treasures off the bed, all 
 save the little wooden monkey, which, as if 
 frightened by the mel6e, had hidden far under 
 the clothes. She went below stairs to the fire, 
 which every cold day was well fed until after 
 midnight, and began to enjoy the sight of her 
 own gifts. They were a haunch of venison, a 
 sack of flour, a shawl, and mittens. A small 
 package had fallen to the floor. It was neatly 
 bound with wrappings of blue paper. Under 
 the last layer was a little box, the words " For 
 Polly " on its cover. It held a locket of wrought 
 gold that outshone the light of the candles. 
 She touched a spring, and the case opened. In 
 side was a lock of hair, white as her own. There 
 were three lines cut in the glowing metal, and 
 she read them over and over again : 
 
 * Here are silver and gold, 
 
 The one for a day of remembrance between thee and dis 
 honour, 
 The other for a day of plenty between thee and want."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 131 
 
 She went to her bed, presently, where the giri 
 lay sleeping, and, lifting dark masses of her 
 hair, kissed a ruddy cheek. Then the widow 
 stood a moment, wiping her eyes.
 
 XIII 
 
 A Christmas Adventure 
 
 L 
 
 ONG before daylight one could 
 hear the slowing of the wind. 
 Its caravan now reaching east 
 ward to mid-ocean was nearly 
 passed. Scattered gusts hurried 
 on like weary and belated followers. Then, 
 suddenly, came a silence in which one might 
 have heard the dust of their feet falling, their 
 shouts receding in the far woodland. The 
 sun rose in a clear sky above the patched and 
 ragged canopy of the woods a weary multi 
 tude now resting in the still air. 
 
 The children were up looking for tracks of 
 reindeer and breaking paths in the snow. Sun 
 light glimmered in far-flung jewels of the Frost 
 King. They lay deep, clinking as the foot 
 sank in them. At the Vaughn home it was an 
 eventful day. Santa Claus well, he is the 
 great Captain that leads us to the farther gate 
 132
 
 DARREL 133 
 
 of childhood and surrenders the golden key. 
 Many ways are beyond the gate, some steep 
 and thorny; and some who pass it turn back 
 with bleeding feet and wet eyes, but the gate 
 opens not again for any that have passed. 
 Tom had got the key and begun to try it. 
 Santa Claus had winked at him with a snaring 
 eye, like that of his aunt when she had sugar 
 in her pocket, and Tom thought it very foolish. 
 The boy had even felt of his greatcoat and 
 got a good look at his boots and trousers. 
 Moreover, when he put his pipe away, Torn 
 saw him take a chew of tobacco an abhor 
 rent thing if he were to believe his mother. 
 
 " Mother," said he, " I never knew Santa 
 Claus chewed tobacco." 
 
 "Well, mebbe he was Santa Claus's hired 
 man," said she. 
 
 "Might 'a' had the toothache," Paul sug 
 gested, for Lew Allen, who worked for them 
 in the summer time, had an habitual toothache, 
 relieved many times a day by chewing tobacco. 
 
 Tom sat looking into the fire a moment. 
 
 Then he spoke of a matter Paul and he had 
 discussed secretly.
 
 DARREL 
 
 " Joe Bellus he tol' me Santa Claus was only 
 somebody rigged up t' fool folks, an' hadn't 
 no reindeers at all." 
 
 The mother turned away, her wits groping 
 for an answer. 
 
 "Hadn't ought 'a' told mother, Tom," said 
 Paul, with a little quiver of reproach and pity. 
 "'Tain't so, anyway we know 'tain't so." 
 
 He was looking into his mother's face. 
 
 "Tain't so," Paul repeated with unshaken 
 confidence. 
 
 " Mus'n't believe all ye hear," said the widow, 
 who now turned to the doubting Thomas. 
 
 And that very moment Tom was come to the 
 last gate of childhood, whereon are the black and 
 necessary words, " Mus'n't believe all ye hear." 
 
 The boys in their new boots were on the 
 track of a painter. They treed him, presently, 
 at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 " How'll we kill him ? " one of them inquired. 
 
 "Just walk around the tree once," said the 
 mother, " an' you'll scare him to death. Why 
 don't ye grease your boots ? " 
 
 " 'Fraid it'll take the screak out of 'em," said 
 Paul, looking down thoughtfully at his own pair.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 135 
 
 "Well," said she, "you'll have me treed if 
 you keep on. No hunter would have boots like 
 that. A loud foot makes a still gun." 
 
 That was her unfailing method of control 
 the appeal to intelligence. Polly sat singing, 
 thoughtfully, the locket in her hand. She had 
 kissed the sacred thing and hung it by a ribbon 
 to her neck and bathed her eyes in the golden 
 light of it and begun to feel the subtle pathos in 
 its odd message. She was thinking of the hand 
 some boy who came along that far May-day 
 with the drove, and who lately had returned to 
 be her teacher at Linley School. Now, he had 
 so much dignity and learning, she liked him 
 not half so well and felt he had no longer any 
 care for her. She blushed to think how she had 
 wept over his letter and kissed it every day foi 
 weeks. Her dream was interrupted, presently, 
 by the call of her brother Tom. Having cut the 
 frost on a window-pane, he stood peering out 
 A man was approaching in the near field. His 
 figure showed to the boot-top, mounting 'hills 
 of snow, and sank out of sight in the deep 
 hollows. It looked as if he were walking 
 on a rough sea. In a moment he came strid-
 
 136 DARREL 
 
 mg over the dooryard fence on a pair of snow- 
 shoes. 
 
 " It's Mr. Trove, the teacher," said Polly, who 
 quickly began to shake her curls. 
 
 As the door swung open all greeted the young 
 man. Loosening his snow-shoes, he flung them 
 on the step and came in, a foxtail dangling 
 from his fur cap. 
 
 He shook hands with Polly and her mother, 
 and lifted Paul to the ceiling. " Hello, young 
 man ! " said he. " If one is four, how many are 
 two?" 
 
 " If you're speaking of new boots," said the 
 widow, " one is at least fifteen." 
 
 The school teacher made no reply, but stood a 
 moment looking down at the boy. 
 
 " It's a cold day," said Polly. 
 
 " I like it," said the teacher, lifting his broad 
 shoulders and smiting them with his hands. 
 "God has been house cleaning. The dome of 
 the sky is all swept and dusted. There isn't a 
 cobweb anywhere. Santa Claus come ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the younger children, who made 
 a rush for their gifts and laid them on chairs 
 before him.
 
 .of the BLESSED ISLES 137 
 
 " Grand old chap ! " said he, staring thought 
 fully at the fl? .nel cat in his hands. " Any idea 
 who it is ? " 
 
 " Can't make out," said Mrs. Vaughn ; " very 
 singular man." 
 
 " Generous, too," the teacher added. " That's 
 the best cat I ever saw, Tom. If I had my way, 
 the cats would all be made of flannel. Miss 
 Polly, what did you get ? " 
 
 "This," said Polly, handing him the locket. 
 
 " Beautiful ! " said he, turning it in his hand. 
 " Anything inside ?" 
 
 Polly showed him how to open it. He sat a 
 moment or more looking at the graven gold. 
 
 " Strange ! " said he, presently, surveying the 
 wrought cases. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughn was now at his elbow. 
 
 " Strange ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Well, long ago," said he, " I heard of one 
 like it. Some time it may solve the mystery of 
 your Santa Claus." 
 
 An ear of the teacher had begun to swell and 
 redden. 
 
 " Should have pulled my cap down," said he, 
 as the widow spoke of it. " Frost-bitten years
 
 138 DARREL 
 
 ago, and if I'm out long in the cold, I begin to 
 feel it." 
 
 "Must be very painful," said Polly, as in 
 deed it was. 
 
 "No," said he, with a little squint as he 
 touched the aching member. " It's good I 
 rather like it. I wouldn't take anything for 
 that ear. It it " He hesitated, as if try 
 ing to recall the advantages of a chilled ear. 
 "Well, I shouldn't know I had any ears if it 
 weren't for that one. Come, Paul, put on 
 your cap an' mittens. We'll take a sack and 
 get some green boughs for your mother." 
 
 He put on snow-shoes, wrapped the boy 
 snugly in a shawl, and, seating him on a snow- 
 boat, made off, hauling it with a rope over 
 white banks and hollows toward the big tim 
 ber. The dog, Bony, came along with them, 
 wallowing to his ears and barking merrily. 
 Since morning the sun had begun to warm 
 the air, and a light breeze had risen. The 
 boy sat bracing on a rope fastened before and 
 looped around him. As they went along he 
 was oversown with sparkling crystals. They 
 made his cheeks tingle, and almost took his
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 139 
 
 breath as he went plunging into steep hollows. 
 Often he tipped over and sank in the white 
 deep. Then Trove hauled him out, brushed 
 him a little, and set him back on the boat 
 again. Snow lay deep and level in the woods 
 a big, white carpet, seamed with tiny tracks 
 and figured with light and shadow. Trove 
 stopped a moment, looking up at the forest 
 roof. They could hear a baying of hounds in 
 the far valley. Down the dingle near them 
 a dead leaf was drumming on a bough a 
 clock of the wood telling the flight of seconds. 
 Above, they could hear the low creak of brace 
 and rafter and great waves of the upper deep 
 sweeping over and breaking with a loud wash 
 on reefs of evergreen. The little people of 
 this odd winter land had begun to make roads 
 from tree to tree and from thicket to thicket. 
 A partridge had broken out of her cave, and 
 they followed the track of her snow-shoes 
 down the side-hill to a little brook. Under 
 its ice roof they could hear the tinkling water. 
 Above them the brook fell from a rock shelf, 
 narrow and high as a man's head. The fall was 
 muted to a low murmur under its vault of ice.
 
 140 BARREL 
 
 " Come, Paul," said Trove, as he lifted the 
 small boy; "here's a castle of King Frost 
 There are thousands in his family, and he's 
 many castles. Building new ones every day 
 somewhere. Goes north in the spring, and when 
 he moves out they begin to rot and tumble." 
 
 He cleared a space for the boy to stand 
 upon. Then he brushed away the snow blan 
 ket flung loosely over the vault of ice. A 
 wonderful bit of masonry stood exposed. Near 
 its centre were two columns, large and rugose, 
 each tapering to a capital and cornice. Be 
 tween them was a deep lattice of crystal. 
 Some bars were clear, some yellow as amber, 
 and all were powdered over with snow, ivory- 
 white. Under its upper part they could see 
 a grille of frostwork, close-wrought, glisten 
 ing, and white. It was the inner gate of the 
 castle, and each ray of light, before entering, 
 had to pay a toll of its warmth. On either side 
 was a rough wall of ice, with here and there 
 a barred window. The snow cleared away, 
 they could hear the song of falling water. 
 The teacher put his ear to the ice wall. Then 
 he called the boy.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 141 
 
 "Listen," said he; "it's the castle bell." 
 Indeed, the whole structure rang like a bell, 
 if one put his ear down to hear it. 
 
 " See ! " said he, presently, stirring a heap 
 of tiny crystals in his palm. " Here are the 
 bricks he builds with, and the water of the 
 brook is his mortar." 
 
 Near the bank was an opening partly cov 
 ered with snow. It led to a cavern behind 
 the ice curtain under the rock floor of the 
 brook above. 
 
 The teacher took off his snow-shoes. In a 
 moment they had crawled through and were 
 crouching on a frosty bed of pebbles. A 
 warm glow lit the long curtain of ice. Beams 
 f sunlight fell through windows oddly mul- 
 lioned with icicles and filtered in at the lat 
 tice of crystal. They jewelled the grille of 
 frostwork and flung a sprinkle of gold on the 
 falling water. The breath of the waterfall, 
 rising out of bubbles, filled its castle with the 
 very wine of life. The narrow hall rang with 
 its music. 
 
 " See the splendour of a king's home," said 
 the teacher, his eyes brimming.
 
 142 DARREL 
 
 The boy, young as he was, had seen and 
 felt the beauty and mystery of the place, and 
 never forgot it. 
 
 "See how it sifts the sunlight to take the 
 warmth out of it," the teacher continued. 
 "Warmth is poison to the King, and every 
 ray of light is twisted and turned upside down 
 to see if he has any in his pocket." 
 
 They could now hear a loud baying on the 
 hill above. 
 
 As they turned to listen, a young fox leaped 
 in at the hole and, as he saw them, checked a 
 foot in the air. He was panting, his tongue 
 out, and blood was dripping from his long fur 
 at the shoulder. He turned, stilling his breath 
 a little as the hounds came near. Then he 
 trembled, a pitiful sight, for he was near 
 spent and between two perils. 
 
 "Come poor fellow!" said the teacher, 
 stroking him gently. 
 
 The fox ran aside, shaking with fear, his foot 
 lifted appealingly. With a quick movement 
 the teacher caught him by the nape of his neck 
 and thrust him into the sack. The leader now 
 had his nose in the hole.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 143 
 
 " Back there ! " Trove shouted, kicking at 
 him. 
 
 In a moment he had rolled a heavy stone 
 to the hole and made it too small for the hounds 
 to enter. Half a dozen of them were now 
 baying outside. 
 
 " We'll give him air," said the teacher, as he 
 cut a hole in the sack and tied it. " Don't 
 know how we'll get him out of here alive. 
 They'd be all over me like a pack of wolves." 
 
 He stood a moment thinking. Bony had 
 wriggled away from Paul and begun to bark 
 loudly. 
 
 " I've an idea," said the teacher, as he cut 
 the foxtail from his cap. Then he rubbed it 
 in the blood and spittle of the fox and tied it 
 to the stub tail of Bony. The dog's four feet 
 were scented in the same manner. The smell of 
 them irked him sorely. His hair rose, and his 
 head fell with a sense of injury. He made a 
 rush at his new tail and was rudely stopped. 
 
 " He's fresh, and they'll not be able to catch 
 him," said the young man, as Paul protested. 
 "Wouldn't hurt anything but the tail if they 
 did."
 
 144 DARREL 
 
 Then breaking the ice curtain, as far from 
 the hole as possible, he gave Bony a spank, 
 and flung him out on the snow above with a 
 loud "go home." The pack saw him and 
 scrambled up the bank in full cry. He had 
 turned for a glance at his new tail, but seeing; 
 the pack rush at him started up the hillside with. 
 a yelp of fear and the energy of a wildcat. 
 When the two came out of the cavern they 
 saw him leaping like a rabbit in the snow, his 
 hair on end, his brush flying, and the hounds 
 in full pursuit. 
 
 " My stars ! See that dog run," said the 
 teacher, laughing, as he put on his snow-shoes. 
 " He don't intend to be caught with such a 
 tail and smell on him." 
 
 He put the sack over his shoulder. 
 
 " All aboard, Paul," said he ; " now we can go 
 home in peace." 
 
 Coming down out of the woods, they saw a 
 pack of hounds digging at one side of the 
 stable. Bony had gone to his refuge under the 
 barn floor. 
 
 As he entered, one of them had evidently 
 caught hold of his new tail, and the pack had
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 145- 
 
 torn it in shreds. Two hunters came along: 
 shortly, and, after a talk with the teacher, 
 took their dogs away. But for three days 
 Bony came not forth and was seen no more of 
 men, save only when he crept to the hole for a 
 lap of water and to seize a doughnut from the 
 hand of Paul, whereupon he retired promptly. 
 
 "He ain't going to take any chances," said 
 the widow, laughing. 
 
 When at last he came forth, it was with a, 
 soft step and new resolutions. And a while 
 later, when Trove heard Barrel say that caution 
 was the only friend of weakness, he understood 
 him perfectly. 
 
 " Not every brush has a fox on it," said the 
 widow, and the words went from lip to lip until 1 
 they were a maxim of those country-folk. 
 
 And Trove was to think of it when he him 
 self was like the poor dog that wore a fox's taiL
 
 XIV 
 
 A Day at the Linley Schoolhouse 
 
 REMARKABLE figure was 
 young Sidney Trove, the new 
 teacher in District No. i. He 
 was nearing nineteen years of 
 age that winter. 
 " I like that," he said to the trustee, who had 
 been telling him of the unruly boys great, 
 hulking fellows that made trouble every winter 
 term. "Trouble it's a grand thing! but 
 I'm not selfish, and if I find any, I'll agree to 
 divide it with the boys. I don't know but I'll 
 be generous and let them have the most of it. 
 If they put me out of the schoolhouse, I'll have 
 learned something." 
 
 The trustee looked at the six feet and two 
 inches of bone and muscle that sat lounging 
 in a chair looked from end to end of it. 
 " What's that ? " he inquired, smiling. 
 146
 
 DARREL 147 
 
 " That I've no business there," said young 
 Mr. Trove. 
 
 " I guess you'll dew," said the trustee. 
 " Make 'em toe the line ; that's all I got t' 
 say." 
 
 "And all I've got to do is my best I 
 don't promise any more," the other answered 
 modestly, as he rose to leave. 
 
 Linley School was at the four corners in 
 Pleasant Valley, a low, frame structure, small 
 and weathered gray. Windows, with no shade, 
 or shutter, were set, two on a side, in perfect 
 apposition. A passing traveller could see 
 through them to the rocky pasture beyond. 
 Who came there for knowledge, though a fool, 
 was dubbed a " scholar." It was a word sharply 
 etched in the dialect of that region. If one 
 were to say skollur-r-r, he might come near it. 
 Every winter morning the scholar entered a 
 little vestibule which was part of the wood 
 shed. He passed an ash barrel and the odour 
 of drying wood, hung cap and coat on a peg in 
 the closet, lifted the latch of a pine door, and 
 came into the schoolroom. If before nine, it 
 would be noisy with shout and laughter, the
 
 148 DARREL 
 
 buzz of tongues, the tread of running feet. Big 
 girls, in neat aprons, would be gossiping at the 
 stove hearth ; small boys would be chasing 
 each other up and down aisles and leaping the 
 whittled desks of pine ; little girls, in checked 
 flannel, or homespun, would be circling in a 
 song play; big boys would be trying feats of 
 strength that ended in loud laughter. So it 
 was, the first morning of that winter term in 
 1850. A tall youth stood by the window. 
 Suddenly ke gave a loud "sh h h!" 
 Running feet fell silently and halted ; words 
 begun with a shout ended in a whisper. A boy 
 making caricatures at the blackboard dropped 
 his chalk, that now fell noisily. A whisper, 
 heavy with awe and expectation, flew hissing 
 from lip to lip " The teacher ! " There came 
 a tramping in the vestibule, the door-latch 
 jumped with a loud rattle, and in came Sidney 
 Trove. All eyes were turned upon him. A 
 look of rectitude, dovelike and too good to be 
 true, came over many faces. 
 
 " Good morning ! " said the young man, re 
 moving his cap, coat, and overshoes. Some 
 nodded, dumb with timidity. Only a few little
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 149 
 
 ones had the bravery to speak up, as they gave 
 back the words in a tone that would have fitted 
 a golden text. He came to the roaring stove 
 and stood a moment, warming his hands. A 
 group of the big boys were in a corner whisper 
 ing. Two were sturdy and quite six feet tall, 
 the Beach boys. 
 
 " Big as a bull moose," one whispered. 
 
 "An' stouter," said another. 
 
 The teacher took a pencil from his pocket 
 and tapped the desk. 
 
 " Please take your seats," said he. 
 
 All obeyed. Then he went around with the 
 roll and took their names, of which there were 
 thirty-four. 
 
 " I believe I know your name," said Trove,, 
 smiling, as he came to Polly Vaughn. 
 
 " I believe you do," said she, glancing up at 
 him, with half a smile and a little move in her 
 lips that seemed to ask, " How could you forget 
 me ? " 
 
 Then the teacher, knowing the peril of her 
 eyes, became very dignified as he glanced over 
 the books she had brought to school. He 
 knew it was going to be a hard day. For a
 
 150 DARREL 
 
 little, he wondered if he had not been foolish, 
 after all, in trying a job so difficult and so 
 perilous. If he should be thrown out of school, 
 he felt sure it would ruin him he could never 
 look Polly in the face again. As he turned to 
 begin the work of teaching, it seemed to him a 
 case of do or die, and he felt the strength of an 
 ox in his heavy muscles. 
 
 The big boys had settled themselves in 'a 
 back corner side by side a situation too 
 favourable for mischief . He asked them to take 
 other seats. They complied sullenly and with 
 hesitation. He looked over books, organized 
 the school in classes, and started one of them 
 on its way. It was the primer class, including 
 a half dozen very small boys and girls. They 
 shouted each word in the reading lesson, 
 laboured in silence with another, and gave voice 
 again with unabated energy. In their pursuit 
 of learning they bayed like hounds. Their 
 work began upon this ancient and informing 
 legend, written to indicate the shout and skip of 
 the youthful student : 
 
 The sun is up and it is day 
 day ? day.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 151 
 
 " You're afraid," the teacher began after a 
 little. " Come up here close to me." 
 
 They came to his chair and stood about him. 
 Some were confident, others hung back sus 
 picious and untamed. 
 
 " We're going to be friends," said he, in a low, 
 gentle voice. He took from his pocket a lot of 
 cards and gave one to each. 
 
 "Here's a story," he continued. "See I 
 put it in plain print for you with pen and ink. 
 It's all about a bear and a boy, and is in ten 
 parts. Here's the first chapter. Take it home 
 with you to-night " 
 
 He stopped suddenly. He had turned in his 
 chair and could see none of the boys. He did 
 not move, but slowly took off a pair of glasses 
 he had been wearing. 
 
 " Joe Beach," said he, coolly, " come out here 
 on the floor." 
 
 There was a moment of dead silence. That 
 big youth the terror of Linley School was 
 now red and dumb with amazement. His 
 deviltry had begun, but how had the teacher 
 seen it with his back turned ? 
 
 "I'll think it over," said the boy, sullenly.
 
 152 DARREL 
 
 The teacher laid down his book, calmly, 
 walked to the seat of the young rebel, took 
 him by the collar and the back of the neck, 
 tore him out of the place where his hands and 
 feet were clinging like the roots of a tree, 
 dragged him roughly to the aisle and over the 
 floor space, taking part of the seat along, and 
 stood him to the wall with a bang that shook 
 the windows. There was no halting it was 
 all over in half a minute. 
 
 " You'll please remain there," said he, coolly, 
 " until I tell you to sit down." 
 
 He. turned his back on the bully, walked 
 .slowly to his chair, and opened his book again. 
 
 "Take it home with you to-night," said he, 
 continuing his talk to the primer class. " Spell 
 it over, so you won't have to stop long between 
 words. All who read it well to-morrow will 
 get another chapter." 
 
 They began to study at home. Wonder 
 grew, and pleasure came with labour as the tale 
 went on. 
 
 He dismissed the primer readers, calling the 
 first class in geography. As they took their 
 places he repaired the broken seat, a part of
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 153 
 
 which had been torn off the nails. The fallen 
 rebel stood leaning, his back to the school. He 
 had expected help, but the reserve force had 
 failed him. 
 
 " Joe Beach you may take your seat," said 
 the teacher, in a kind of parenthetical tone. 
 
 "Geography starts at home," he continued, 
 beginning the recitation. " Who can tell me 
 where is the Linley schoolhouse ? " 
 
 A dozen hands went up. 
 
 " You tell," said he to one. 
 
 " It's here," was the answer. 
 
 " Where's here ? " 
 
 A boy looked thoughtful. 
 
 " Nex' t' Joe Linley's cow-pastur'," he ven 
 tured presently. 
 
 "Will you tell us?" the teacher asked, look 
 ing at a bright-eyed girl. 
 
 " In Faraway, New York," said she, glibly. 
 
 " Tom Linley, I'll take that," said the teacher, 
 in a lazy tone. He was looking down at his 
 book. Where he sat, facing the class, he could 
 see none of the boys without turning. But 
 he had not turned. To the wonder of all, up 
 he spoke as Tom Linley was handing a slip
 
 154 DARREL 
 
 of paper to Joe Beach. There was a little 
 pause. The young man hesitated, rose, and 
 walked nervously down the aisle. 
 
 "Thank you," said the teacher, as he took 
 the message and flung it on the fire, unread. 
 " Faraway, New York ; " he continued on his way 
 to the blackboard as if nothing had happened. 
 
 He drew a circle, indicating the four points of 
 the compass on it. Then he mapped the town 
 of Faraway and others, east, west, north, and 
 south of it. So he made a map of the county 
 and bade them copy it. Around the county in 
 succeeding lessons he built a map of the state. 
 Others in the middle group were added, the 
 structure growing, day by day, until they had 
 mapped the hemisphere. 
 
 At the Linley schoolhouse something had 
 happened. Cunning no sooner showed its head 
 than it was bruised like a serpent, brawny 
 muscles had been easily outdone, boldness had 
 grown timid, conceit had begun to ebb. A 
 serious look had settled upon all faces. Every 
 scholar had learned one thing, learned it well 
 and quickly it was to be no playroom. 
 
 There was a recess of one hour at noon. All
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 155 
 
 went for their dinner pails and sat quietly, eat 
 ing bread and butter followed by doughnuts, 
 apples, and pie. 
 
 The young men had walked to the road. 
 Nothing had been said. They drew near each 
 other. Tom Linley looked up at Joe Beach. 
 In his face one might have seen a cloud of sym 
 pathy that had its silver lining of amusement. 
 
 " Powerful ? " Tom inquired, soberly. 
 
 " What ? " said Joe. 
 
 " Powerful ? " Tom repeated. 
 
 " Powerful ! Jiminy crimps ! " said Joe, sig 
 nificantly. 
 
 "Why didn't ye kick him ? " 
 
 "Kick him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Kick **/" 
 
 " Kick himr 
 
 " Huh ! dunno," said Joe, with a look of sad 
 ness turning into contempt. 
 
 " Scairt ? " the other inquired. 
 
 "Scairt? Na a w," said Joe, scornfully. 
 
 " What was ye, then ? " 
 
 " Parr'lyzed seems so." 
 
 There was an outbreak of laughter.
 
 156 DARREL 
 
 "You was goin' t' help," said Joe, addressing 
 Tom Linley. 
 
 A moment of silence followed. 
 
 " You was goin' t' help," the fallen bully 
 repeated, with large emphasis on the pronoun. 
 
 " Help ? " Tom inquired, sparring for wind as 
 it were. 
 
 " Yes, help." 
 
 "You was licked 'fore I had time." 
 
 "Didn't dast that's what's the matter 
 didn't dast," said big Joe, with a tone of irrep 
 arable injury. 
 
 " Wouldn't 'a' been nigh ye fer a millyun dol 
 lars," said Tom, soberly. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " 'Twant safe ; that's why." 
 
 " 'Fraid o' him ! ye coward ! " 
 
 " No ; 'f raid o' you." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " 'Cos if one o' yer feet had hit a feller when ye 
 jome up ag'in that wall," Tom answered slowly, 
 '' theie wouldn't 'a' been nuthin' left uv him." 
 
 All laughed loudly. 
 
 Then there was another silence. Joe broke 
 it after a moment of deep thought.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 157 
 
 " Like t' know how he seen me," said he. 
 
 " 'Tis cur'us," said another. 
 
 " Guess he's one o' them preformers like they 
 have at the circus " was the opinion of Sam 
 Beach. " See one take a pig out o' his hat las' 
 summer." 
 
 " 'Tain't fair V square," said Tom Linley ; 
 "not jest eggzac'ly." 
 
 " Gosh ! B'lieve I'll run away," said Joe, after 
 a pause. " Ain' no fun here for me." 
 
 " Better not," said Archer Town ; " not if ye 
 know when yer well off." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 "Wai, he'd see ye wherever ye was an' do 
 suthin' to ye," said Archer. " Prob'ly he's 
 heard all we been sayin' here." 
 
 "Wai, I ain't said nuthin' I'm 'shamed of," 
 said Sam Beach, thoughtfully. 
 
 A bell rang, and all hurried to the school- 
 house. The afternoon was uneventful. Those 
 rough-edged, brawny fellows had become seri 
 ous. Hope had died in their breasts, and 
 now they looked as if they had come to its 
 funeral. They began to examine their books as 
 ne looks at a bitter draught before drinking it.
 
 158 DARREL 
 
 In every subject the teacher took a new way 
 not likely to be hard upon tender feet. For each 
 lesson he had a method of his own. He angled 
 for the interest of the class and caught it. 
 With some a term of school had been as a long 
 sickness, lengthened by the medicine of books 
 and the surgery of the beech rod. They had 
 resented it with ingenious deviltry. The con 
 fusion of the teacher and some incidental fun 
 were its only compensations. The young man 
 gave his best thought to the correction of this 
 mental attitude. Four o'clock came at last 
 the work of the day was over. Weary with its 
 tension all sat waiting the teacher's word. For 
 a little he stood facing them. 
 
 " Tom Linley and Joe Beach," said he, in a 
 low voice, " will you wait a moment after the 
 others have gone ? School's dismissed." 
 
 There was a rush of feet and a rattle of 
 dinner pails. All were eager to get home with 
 the story of that day save the two it had 
 brought to shame. They sat quietly as the 
 others went away. A deep silence fell in that 
 little room. Of a sudden it had become a 
 lonely place.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 159 
 
 The teacher damped the fire and put on his 
 overshoes. 
 
 " Boys," said he, drawing a big silver watch, 
 " hear that watch ticking. It tells the flight of 
 seconds. You are eighteen, did you say ? 
 They turn boys into oxen here in this country; 
 just a thing of bone and muscle, living to sweat 
 and lift and groan. Maybe I can save you, but 
 there's not a minute to lose. With you it all 
 depends on this term of school. When it's done 
 you'll either be ox or driver. Play checkers ? " 
 
 Tom nodded. 
 
 " I'll come over some evening, and we'll have 
 a game. Good night ! "
 
 XV 
 
 The Tinker at Linley School 
 
 E 
 
 8 VERY seat was filled at the 
 Linley School next morning. 
 The tinker had come to see 
 Trove and sat behind the big 
 desk as work began. 
 "There are two kinds of people," said the 
 teacher, after all were seated "those that 
 command those that obey. No man is fit 
 to command until he has learned to obey he 
 will not know how. The one great thing life 
 has to teach you is obey. There was a 
 young bear once that was bound to go his own 
 way. The old bear told him it wouldn't do 
 to jump over a precipice, but, somehow, he 
 couldn't believe it and jumped. 'Twas the last 
 thing he ever did. It's often so with the 
 young. Their own way is apt to be rather 
 steep and to end suddenly. There are laws 
 1 60
 
 DARREL 161 
 
 everywhere, we couldn't live without them, 
 laws of nature, God, and man. Until we learn 
 the law and how to obey it, we must go care 
 fully and take the advice of older heads. We 
 couldn't run a school without laws in it laws 
 that I must obey as well as you. I must 
 teach, and you must learn. The two first 
 laws of the school are teach and learn you 
 must help me to obey mine ; I must help you 
 to obey yours. And we'll have as much fun 
 as possible, but we must obey." 
 
 Then Trove invited Barrel to address the 
 school. 
 
 " Dear children," the tinker began with a 
 smile, " I mind ye're all looking me in the 
 face, an' I do greatly fear ye. I fear I may 
 say something ye will remember, an' again I 
 fear I may not. For when I speak to the 
 young ah ! then it seems to me God listens. 
 I heard the teacher speaking o' the law of 
 obedience. Which o' ye can tell me who is 
 the great master the one ye must never dis 
 obey?" 
 
 "Yer father," said one of the boys. 
 
 " Nay, me bright lad, one o' these days ye
 
 1 62 BARREL 
 
 may lose father an' mother an' teacher an' 
 friend. Let me tell a story, an' then, mayhap, 
 ye'll know the great master. Once upon a 
 time there was a young cub who thought his 
 life a burden because he had to mind his 
 mother. By an' by a bullet killed her, an' he 
 was left alone. He wandered away, not know 
 ing what to do, and came near the land o' 
 men. Soon he met an old bear. 
 
 " ' Foolish cub ! Why go ye to the land o' 
 men ? ' said the old bear. ' Thy legs are not 
 as long as me tail. Go home an' obey thy 
 mother.' 
 
 "'But I've none to obey,' said the young 
 bear ; an' before he could turn, a ball came 
 whizzing over a dingle an' ripped into his ham. 
 The old bear had scented danger an' was already 
 out o' the way. The cub made off limping, an' 
 none too quickly. They followed him all day, 
 an' when night came he was the most weary 
 an' bedraggled bear in the woods. But he 
 stopped the blood an' went away on a dry track 
 in the morning. He came to a patch o' huckle 
 berries that day and began to help himself. 
 Then quick an' hard he got a cuff on the head
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 163 
 
 that tore off an ear and knocked him into the 
 bushes. When he rose there stood the old bear. 
 
 '"Ah, me young cub,' said he, 'ye'll have a 
 master now.' 
 
 " ' An' no more need o* him/ said the young 
 bear, shaking his bloody head. 
 
 " ' Nay, ye will prosper,' said the old bear. 
 * There are two ways o' learning, by hearsay 
 an* by knocks. Much ye may learn by knocks, 
 but they are painful. There be two things 
 every one has to learn, respect for himself ; 
 respect for others. Ye'll know, hereafter, in 
 the land o' men a bear has to keep his nose up 
 an' his ears open because men hurt. Ye'll 
 know better, also, than to feed on the ground of 
 another bear because he hurts. Now, were I 
 a cub an' had none to obey, I'd obey meself. 
 Ye know what's right, do it ; ye know what's 
 wrong, do it not.' 
 
 " ' One thing is sure,' said the young bear, as 
 he limped away ; * if I live, there'll not be a bear 
 in the woods that'll take any better care of him 
 self.' 
 
 "Now the old bear knew what he was talk 
 ing about. He was, I maintain, a wise an' re-
 
 164 BARREL 
 
 tnarkable bear. We learn to obey others, so 
 that by an' by we may know how to obey our 
 selves. The great master of each man is him 
 self. By words or by knocks ye will learn what 
 is right, and ye must do it. Dear children, ye 
 must soon be yer own masters. There be many 
 cruel folk in the world, but ye have only one to 
 fear yerself. Ah! ye shall find him a hard 
 man, for, if he be much offended, he will make 
 ye drink o' the cup o' fire. Learn to obey yer- 
 selves, an' God help ye." 
 
 Thereafter, many began to look into their 
 own hearts for that fearful master, and some 
 discovered him.
 
 XVI 
 
 A Rustic Museum 
 
 H HAT first week Sidney Trove 
 went to board at the home of 
 "the two old maids," a stone 
 house on Jericho Road, with a 
 front door rusting on idle hinges 
 and blinds ever drawn. It was a hundred feet 
 or more from the highway, and in summer 
 there were flowers along the path from its little 
 gate and vines climbing to the upper windows. 
 In winter its garden was buried deep under the 
 snow. One family the Vaughns came once 
 in awhile to see "the two old maids." Few 
 others ever saw them save from afar. A dress 
 maker came once a year and made gowns for 
 them, that were carefully hung in closets but 
 never worn. To many of their neighbours they 
 were as dead as if they had been long in their 
 graves. Tales of their economy, of their odd 
 165
 
 i66 DARREL 
 
 habits, of their past, went over hill and dale 
 to far places. They had never boarded the 
 teacher and were put in a panic when the 
 trustee came to speak of it. 
 
 " He's a grand young man," said he; "good 
 company and you'll enjoy it." 
 
 They looked soberly at each other. Accord 
 ing to tradition, one was fifty-four the other 
 fifty-five years of age. An exclamation broke 
 from the lips of one. It sounded like the letter 
 y whispered quickly. 
 
 " Y ! " the other answered. 
 
 " It might make a match," said Mr. Blount, 
 the trustee, smiling. 
 
 " Y! Samuel Blount! " said the younger one, 
 coming near and smiting him playfully on the 
 elbow. " You stop ! " 
 
 Miss Letitia began laughing silently. They 
 never laughed aloud. 
 
 " If he didn't murder us," said Miss S'mantha, 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Nonsense," said the trustee ; " I'll answer 
 for him." 
 
 "Can't tell what men '11 do," she persisted 
 weakly. " When I was in Albany with Alma
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 167 
 
 Haskins, a man came 'long an' tried t" pass the 
 time o' day with us. We jes' looked t'other 
 way an' didn't preten' t' hear him. It's awful 
 t' think what might 'a' happened." 
 
 She wiped invisible tears with an embroid 
 ered handkerchief. The dear lady had spent a 
 good part of her life thinking of that narrow 
 escape. 
 
 " If he wa'n't too partic'lar," said Miss 
 Letitia, who had been laughing at this maiden 
 fear of her sister. 
 
 "If he would mind his business, we we 
 might take him for one week," said Miss S'man- 
 tha. She glanced inquiringly at her sister. 
 
 Letitia and S'mantha Tower, "the two old 
 maids," had but one near relative Ezra Tower, 
 a brother of the same neighbourhood. 
 
 There were two kinds of people in Faraway, 
 those that Ezra Tower spoke to and those he 
 didn't. The latter were of the majority. As a 
 forswearer of communication he was unrivalled. 
 His imagination was a very slaughter-house, in 
 which all who crossed him were slain. If they 
 were passing, he looked the other way and never 
 even saw them again. Since the probate of his
 
 1 68 DARREL 
 
 father's will both sisters were of the number 
 never spoken to. He was a thin, tall, sullen, 
 dry, and dusty man. Dressed for church of a 
 Sunday, he looked as if he had been stored a 
 year in some neglected cellar. His broadcloth 
 had a dingy aspect, his hair and beard and eye 
 brows the hue of a cobweb. He had a voice 
 slow and rusty, a look arid and unfruitful. 
 Indeed, it seemed as if the fires of hate and envy 
 had burned him out. 
 
 The two old maids, feeling the disgrace of it 
 and fearing more, ceased to visit their neigh 
 bours or even to pass their own gate. Poor Miss 
 S'mantha fell into the deadly mire of hypo 
 chondria. She often thought herself very ill 
 and sent abroad for every medicine advertised 
 in the county paper. She had ever a faint look 
 and a thin, sickly voice. She had the man-fear, 
 a deep distrust of men, never ceasing to 
 be on her guard. In girlhood, she had been to 
 Albany. Its splendour and the reckless conduct 
 of one Alma Haskins, companion of her travels, 
 had been ever since a day-long, perennial topic 
 of her conversation. Miss Letitia was more 
 amiable. She had a playful, cheery heart in
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 169 
 
 her, a mincing and precise manner, and a sweet 
 voice. What with the cleaning, dusting, and 
 preserving, they were ever busy. A fly, driven 
 hither and thither, fell of exhaustion if not dis 
 abled with a broom. They were two weeks get 
 ting ready for the teacher. When, at last, he 
 came that afternoon, supper was ready and 
 they were nearly worn out. 
 
 " Here he is ! " one whispered suddenly from 
 a window. Then, with a last poke at her hair, 
 Miss Letitia admitted the teacher. They spoke 
 their greeting in a half whisper and stood near, 
 waiting timidly for his coat and cap. 
 
 " No, thank you," said he, taking them to a 
 nail. " I can do my own hanging, as the man 
 said when he committed suicide." 
 
 Miss S'mantha looked suspicious and walked 
 to the other side of the stove. Impressed by 
 the silence of the room, much exaggerated by 
 the ticking of the clock, Sidney Trove sat a 
 moment looking around him. Daylight had 
 begun to grow dim. The table, with its cover 
 of white linen, was a thing to give one joy. A 
 ruby tower of jelly, a snowy summit of frosted 
 cake, a red pond of preserved berries, a mound
 
 170 DARREL 
 
 of chicken pie, and a corduroy marsh of mince, 
 steaming volcanoes of new biscuit, and a great 
 heap of apple fritters, lay in a setting of blue 
 china. They stood a moment by the stove, 
 the two sisters, both trembling in this unusual 
 publicity. Miss Letitia had her hand upon the 
 teapot. 
 
 " Our tea is ready," said she, presently, ad 
 vancing to the table. She spoke in a low, 
 gentle tone. 
 
 " This is grand ! " said he, sitting down with 
 them. " I tell you, we'll have fun before I 
 leave here." 
 
 They looked up at him and then at each 
 other, Letitia laughing silently, S'mantha sus 
 picious. For many years fun had been a thing 
 far from their thought. 
 
 " Play checkers ? " he inquired. 
 
 "Afraid we couldn't," said Miss Letitia, 
 answering for both. 
 
 "Old Sledge?" 
 
 She shook her head, smiling. 
 
 " I don't wish to lead you into reckless 
 ness," the teacher remarked, "but I'm sure 
 you wouldn't mind being happy."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 171 
 
 Miss S'mantha had a startled look. 
 
 "In in a proper way," he added. " Let's 
 be joyful. Perhaps we could play ' I spy.' " 
 
 " Y ! " they both exclaimed, laughing silently, 
 
 " Never ate chicken pie like that," he added 
 in all sincerity. " If I were a poet, I'd indite 
 an ode 'written after eating some of the ex 
 cellent chicken pie of the Misses Tower.' 
 I'm going to have some like it on my farm." 
 
 In reaching to help himself he touched the 
 teapot, withdrawing his hand quickly. 
 
 " Burn ye ? " said Miss S'mantha. 
 
 " Yes ; but I like it ! " said he, a bit embar 
 rassed. " I often go and and put my hand on 
 a hot teapot if I'm having too much fun." 
 
 They looked up at him, puzzled. 
 
 " Ever slide down hill ? " he inquired, look 
 ing from one to the other, after a bit of silence. 
 
 " Oh, not since we were little ! " said Miss 
 Letitia, holding her biscuit daintily, after taking 
 a bite none too big for a bird to manage. 
 
 " Good fun ! " said he. " Whisk you back to 
 childhood in a jiffy. Folks ought to slide 
 down hill more'n they do. It isn't a good 
 idea to be always climbing."
 
 172 DARREL 
 
 "'Fraid we couldn't stan' it," said Miss 
 S'mantha, tentatively. Under all her man-fear 
 and suspicion lay a furtive recklessness. 
 
 " Y, no ! " the other whispered, laughing 
 silently. 
 
 The pervading silence of that house came 
 flooding in between sentences. For a moment 
 Trove could hear only the gurgle of pouring 
 tea and the faint rattle of china softly handled. 
 When he felt as if the silence were drowning 
 him, he began again : 
 
 " Life is nothing but a school. I'm a teacher, 
 and I deal in rules. If you want to kill misery, 
 load your gun with pleasure." 
 
 " Do you know of anything for indiges 
 tion ? " said Miss S'mantha, charging her 
 sickly voice with a firmness calculated to dis 
 courage any undue familiarity. 
 
 " Just the thing a sure cure ! " said he, 
 emphatically. 
 
 " Come high ? " she inquired. 
 
 " No, it's cheap and plenty." 
 
 " Where do you send ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said he ; " you will have to go 
 after it"
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 173 
 
 "What is it called?" 
 
 "Fun," said the teacher, quickly; "and the 
 place to find it is out of doors. It grows every 
 where on my farm. I'd rather have a pair of 
 skates than all the medicine this side of 
 China." 
 
 She set down her teacup and looked up at 
 him. She was beginning to think him a fairly 
 safe and well-behaved man, although she would 
 have been more comfortable if he had been 
 shut in a cage. 
 
 " If I had a pair o' skates," said she, faintly, 
 with a look of inquiry at her sister, " I dunno 
 but I'd try 'em." 
 
 Miss Letitia began to laugh silently. 
 
 " I'd begin with overshoes," said the teacher. 
 " A pair of overshoes and a walk on the crust 
 every morning before breakfast; increase the 
 dose gradually." 
 
 The two old maids were now more at ease 
 with their guest. His kindly manner and 
 plentiful good spirits had begun to warm and 
 cheer them. Miss S'mantha even cherished a 
 secret resolve to slide if the chance came. 
 
 After tea Sidney Trove, against their protest,
 
 174 DARREL 
 
 began to help with the dishes. Miss S'mantha 
 prudently managed to keep the stove between 
 him and her. A fire and candles were burning 
 in the parlour. He asked permission, however, 
 to stay where he could talk with them. Tunk 
 Hosely, the man of all work, came in for his 
 supper. He was an odd character. Some, with 
 a finger on their foreheads, confided the opinion 
 that he was " a little off." All agreed he was 
 no fool in a tone that left it open to argu 
 ment. He had a small figure and a big squint. 
 His perpetual squint and bristly, short beard 
 were a great injustice to him. They gave him 
 a look severer than he deserved. A limp and 
 leaning shoulder complete the inventory of 
 external traits. Having eaten, he set a candle 
 in the old barn lantern. 
 
 " Wai, mister," said he, when all was ready, 
 "come out an' look at my hoss." 
 
 The teacher went with him out under a sky 
 bright with stars to the chill and gloomy 
 stable. 
 
 " Look at me," said Tunk, holding up the lan 
 tern as he turned about. " Gosh all fish-hooks ! 
 I'm a wreck."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 175 
 
 "What's the matter?" Sidney Trove inquired. 
 
 "All sunk in right here," Tunk answered 
 impressively, his hand to his chest. 
 
 " How did it happen ? " 
 
 " Kicked by a hoss ; that's how it happened," 
 was the significant answer. "Lord! I'm all 
 shucked over t' one side can't ye see it ? " 
 
 " A list t' sta'b'rd that's what they call it, I 
 believe," said the teacher. 
 
 " See how I limp," Tunk went on, striding to 
 show his pace. " Ain't it awful ! " 
 
 " How did that happen ? " 
 
 " Sprung my ex ! " he answered, turning 
 quickly with a significant look. " Thrown from 
 a sulky in a hoss race an' sprung my ex. Lord ! 
 can't ye see it ? " 
 
 The teacher nodded, not knowing quite how 
 to take him. 
 
 " Had my knee unsot, too," he went on, lifting 
 his knee as he turned the light upon it " Jes' 
 put yer finger there," said he, indicating a slight 
 protuberance. " Lord ! it's big as a bog spavin." 
 
 He had planned to provoke a query, and it 
 came. 
 
 " How did you get it ? "
 
 176 DARREL 
 
 " Kicked ag'in," said Tunk, sadly. " Heav 
 ens ! I've had my share o' bangin'. Can't 
 conquer a skittish hoss without suff erin' some 
 not allwus. Now, here's a hoss," he added, as 
 they walked to a stall. " He ain't much t' look 
 at, but " 
 
 He paused a moment as he neared the horse 
 a white and ancient palfrey. He stood thought 
 fully on " cocked ankles," every leg in a band 
 age, tail and mane braided. 
 
 " Get ap, Prince," Tunk shouted, as he gave 
 him a slap. Prince moved aside, betraying evi 
 dence of age and infirmity. 
 
 "But " Tunk repeated with emphasis. 
 
 " Ugly ? " the teacher queried. 
 
 " Ugly ! " said Tunk, as if the word were all 
 too feeble for the fact in hand. " Reg'lar hell 
 on wheels! that's what he is. Look out! 
 don't git too nigh him. He ain't no conscience 
 that hoss ain't." 
 
 " Is he fast ? " 
 
 " Greased lightnin' ! " said Tunk, shaking his 
 head. " Won twenty-seven races." 
 
 "You're a good deal of a horseman, I take 
 it," said the teacher.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 177 
 
 " Wai, some," said he, expectorating thought 
 fully. " But I don't have no chance here. 
 What d'ye 'spect of a man livin' with them or 
 maids ? " 
 
 He seemed to have more contempt than his- 
 words would carry. 
 
 "Every night they lock me upstairs," he 
 continued with a look of injury ; " they ain't fit 
 fer nobody t' live with. Ain't got no hoss but 
 that dummed ol' plug." 
 
 He had forgotten his enthusiasm of the pre 
 ceding moment. His intellect was a museum 
 of freaks. Therein, Vanity was the prodigious- 
 fat man, Memory the dwarf, and Veracity the 
 living skeleton. When Vanity rose to show 
 himself, the others left the stage. 
 
 Tunk's face had become suddenly thoughtful 
 and morose. In truth, he was an arrant and 
 amusing humbug. It has been said that chil 
 dren are all given to lying in some degree, but 
 seeing the folly of it in good time, if, indeed, 
 they are not convinced of its wickedness, train 
 tongue and feeling into the way of truth. The 
 respect for truth that is the beginning of wis 
 dom had not come to Tunk. He continued to
 
 178 DARREL 
 
 lie with the cheerful inconsistency of a child. 
 The hero of his youth had been a certain 
 driver of trotting horses, who had a limp and a 
 leaning shoulder. In Tunk, the limp and the 
 leaning shoulder were an attainment that had 
 come of no sudden wrench. Such is the power 
 of example, he admired, then imitated, and at 
 last acquired them. One cannot help thinking 
 what graces of character and person a like 
 persistency would have brought to him. But 
 Tunk had equipped himself with horsey hero 
 ism, adorning it to his own fancy. He had 
 never been kicked, he had never driven a race 
 or been hurled from a sulky at full speed. 
 Prince, that ancient palfrey, was the most harm 
 less of all creatures, and would long since have 
 been put out of misery but for the tender con 
 sideration of his owners. And Tunk well, 
 they used to say of him, that if he had been 
 truthful, he couldn't have been alive. 
 
 " Sometime," Trove thought, " his folly may 
 bring confusion upon wise heads."
 
 XVII 
 
 An Event in the Rustic Museum 
 
 IDNEY TROVE sat talking a 
 while with Miss Letitia. Miss 
 S'mantha, unable longer to bear 
 the unusual strain of danger 
 and publicity, went away to 
 bed soon after supper. Tunk Hosely came in 
 with a candle about nine. 
 
 " Wai, mister," said he, " you ready t' go t* 
 bed?" 
 
 " I am," said Trove, and followed him to the 
 cold hospitality of the spare room, a place of 
 peril but beautifully clean. There was a, neat 
 rag carpet on the floor, immaculate tidies on the 
 bureau and wash table, and a spotless quilt of 
 patchwork on the bed. But, like the dungeon 
 of mediaeval times, it was a place for sighs and 
 reflection, not for rest. Half an inch of frost 
 on every window-pane glistened in the dim 
 light of the candle. 
 
 179
 
 i8o BARREL 
 
 "As soon as they unlock my door, I'll come 
 an' let ye out in the mornin'," Tunk whispered. 
 
 " Are they going to lock me in ? " 
 
 "Wouldn't wonder," said Tunk, soberly. 
 " What can ye 'spect from a couple o' dummed 
 ol' maids like them ? " 
 
 There was a note of long suffering in his 
 half-whispered tone. 
 
 " Good night, mister," said he, with a look of 
 dejection. " Orter have a nightcap, er ye'll 
 git hoar-frost on yer hair." 
 
 Trove was all a-shiver in the time it took him 
 to undress, and his breath came out of him in 
 spreading shafts of steam. Sheets of flannel 
 and not less than half a dozen quilts and com 
 fortables made a cover, under which the heat 
 of his own blood warmed his body. He be 
 came uncomfortably aware of the presence of 
 his head and face, however. He could hear 
 stealthy movements beyond the door, and knew 
 they were barricading it with furniture. Long 
 before daylight a hurried removal of the barri 
 cade awoke him. Then he heard a rap at the 
 door, and the excited voice of Tunk. 
 
 " Say, mister ! come here quick," it called.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 181, 
 
 Sidney Trove leaped out of bed and into his 
 trousers. He hurried through the dark parlour, 
 feeling his way around a clump of chairs and 
 stumbling over a sofa. The two old maids were 
 at the kitchen door, both dressed, one holding 
 a lighted candle. Tunk Hosely stood by the 
 door, buttoning suspenders with one hand and 
 holding a musket in the other. They were 
 shivering and pale. The room was now cold. 
 
 " Hear that ! " Tunk whispered, turning to 
 the teacher. 
 
 They all listened, hearing a low, weird cry 
 outside the door. 
 
 " Soun's t' me like a raccoon," Miss S'mantha 
 whispered thoughtfully. 
 
 "Or a lamb," said Miss Letitia. 
 
 " Er a painter," Tunk ventured, his ear turn 
 ing to catch the sound. 
 
 " Let's open the door," said Sidney Trove, 
 advancing. 
 
 " Not me," said Tunk, firmly, raising his gun. 
 
 Trove had not time to act before they heard 
 a cry for help on the doorstep. It was the- 
 voice of a young girl. He opened the door, 
 and there stood Mary Leblanc a scholar of
 
 1 82 DARREL 
 
 Linley School and the daughter of a poor 
 Frenchman. She came in lugging a baby 
 wrapped in a big shawl, and both crying. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Tower," said she; "pa has come 
 out o' the woods drunk an' has threatened to 
 kill the baby. Ma wants to know if you'll 
 keep it here to-night." 
 
 The two old maids wrung their hands with 
 astonishment and only said " y ! " 
 
 " Of course we'll keep it," said Trove, as he 
 took the baby. 
 
 " I must hurry back," said the girl, now 
 turning with a look of relief. 
 
 Tunk shied off and began to build a fire; 
 Miss S'mantha sat down weeping, the girl ran 
 away in the darkness, and Trove put the baby 
 in Miss Letitia's arms. 
 
 " I'll run over to Leblanc's cabin," said he, 
 getting his cap and coat. "They're having 
 trouble over there." 
 
 He left them and hurried off on his way to 
 the little cabin. 
 
 Loud cries of the baby rang in that abode of 
 silence. It began to kick and squirm with 
 determined energy. Poor Miss Letitia had the
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 183 
 
 very look of panic in her face. She clung to 
 the fierce little creature, not knowing what to 
 do. Miss S'mantha lay back in a fit of hys 
 terics. Tunk advanced bravely, with brows 
 knit, and stood looking down at the baby. 
 
 " Lord ! this is awful ! " said he. Then a 
 thought struck him. " I'll git some milk," he 
 shouted, running into the buttery. 
 
 The baby thrust the cup away, and it fell 
 noisily, the milk streaming over a new rag 
 carpet. 
 
 " It's sick ; I'm sure it's sick," said Miss 
 Letitia, her voice trembling. " S'm"antha, can't 
 you do something ? " 
 
 Miss S'mantha calmed herself a little and 
 drew near. 
 
 " Jes' like a wil'cat," said Tunk, thoughtfully. 
 " Powerful, too," he added, with an effort to 
 control one of the kicking legs. 
 
 " What shall we do ? " said Miss Letitia. 
 
 " My sister had a baby once," said Tunk, 
 approaching it doubtfully but with a studious 
 look. 
 
 He made a few passes with his hand in front 
 of the baby's face. Then he gave it a little
 
 1 84 DARREL 
 
 poke in the ribs, tentatively. The effect was 
 like adding insult to injury. 
 
 "If 'twas mine," said Tunk, "which I'm 
 glad it ain't I'd rub a little o' that hoss lini 
 ment on his stummick." 
 
 The two old maids took the baby into their 
 bedroom. It was an hour later when Trove 
 came back. Tunk sat alone by the kitchen fire. 
 There was yet a loud wail in the bedroom. 
 
 " What's the news ? " said Tunk, who met 
 him at the door. 
 
 " Drunk, that's all," said Trove. " I took 
 this bottle, sling-shot, and bar of iron away 
 from him. The woman thought I had better 
 bring them with me and put them out of his 
 way." 
 
 He laid them on the floor in a corner. 
 
 "I got him into bed," he continued, " and then 
 hid the axe and came away. I guess they're 
 all right now. When I left he had begun to 
 snore." 
 
 " Wai, we ain't all right," said Tunk, point 
 ing to the room. " If you can conquer that 
 thing, you'll do well. Poor Miss Teeshy ! " he 
 added, shaking his head.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 185 
 
 "What's the matter with her?" Trove in 
 quired. 
 
 " Kicked in the stummick 'til she dunno where 
 she is," said Tunk, gloomily. 
 
 He pulled off his boots. 
 
 " If she don't go lame t'morrer, I'll miss my 
 guess," he added. " She looks a good deal like 
 Deacon Raskins after he had milked the brindle 
 cow." 
 
 He leaned back, one foot upon the stove- 
 hearthv Shrill cries rang in the old house. 
 
 " 'Druther 'twould hev been a painter," said 
 Tunk, sighing. 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " More used to 'em," said Tunk, sadly. 
 
 They listened a while longer without speaking. 
 
 " Ye can't drive it, ner coax it, ner scare it 
 away, ner do nuthin' to it," said Tunk, pres 
 ently. 
 
 He rose and picked up the things Trove had 
 brought with him. " I'll take these to the barn," 
 said he; "they'd have a fit if they was t' see 
 'em. What be they?" 
 
 " I do not know what they are," said 
 Trove.
 
 1 86 DARREL 
 
 " Wai ! " said Tunk. " They're queer folks 
 them Frenchmen. This looks like an iron 
 bar broke in two in the middle." 
 
 He got his lantern, picked up the bottle, the 
 sling-shot, and the iron, and went away to the 
 barn. 
 
 Trove went to the bedroom door and 
 rapped, and was admitted. He went to work 
 with the baby, and soon, to his joy, it lay asleep 
 on the bed. Then he left the room on tiptoe, 
 and a bit weary. 
 
 " A very full day ! " he said to himself. 
 " Teacher, counsellor, martyr, constable, nurse 
 I wonder what next ! " 
 
 And as he went to his room, he heard Miss 
 S'mantha say to her sister, "I'm thankful it's 
 not a boy, anyway."
 
 XVIII 
 
 A Day of Difficulties 
 
 LL were in their seats and the 
 teacher had called a class. 
 Carlt Homer came in. 
 
 "You're ten minutes late," 
 said the teacher. 
 " I have fifteen cows to milk," the boy 
 answered. 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 " 'Bout a mile from here, on the Beach 
 Plains." 
 
 "What time do you begin milking?" 
 "'Bout seven o'clock." 
 
 "I'll go to-morrow morning and help you," 
 said the teacher. "We must be on time 
 that's a necessary law of the school." 
 
 At a quarter before seven in the morn 
 ing, Sidney Trove presented himself at the 
 187
 
 1 88 DARREL 
 
 Homers'. He had come to help with the milk 
 ing, but found there were only five cows to 
 milk. 
 
 "Too bad your father lost so many cows 
 all in a day," said he. " It's a great pity. Did 
 you lose anything ? " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Have you felt to see ? " 
 
 The boy put his hand in his pocket. 
 
 "Not there it's an inside pocket, way in 
 side o' you. It's where you keep your honour 
 and pride." 
 
 "Wai," said the boy, his tears starting, " I'm 
 'fraid I have." 
 
 "Enough said good morning," the teacher 
 answered as he went away. 
 
 One morning a few days later the teacher 
 opened his school with more remarks. 
 
 " The other day," said he, " I spoke of a 
 thing it was very necessary for us to learn. 
 What was it ? " 
 
 "To obey," said a youngster. 
 
 "Obey what?" the teacher inquired. 
 
 " Law," somebody ventured. 
 
 " Correct ; we're studying law every one
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 189 
 
 %J 7 
 
 of us the laws of grammar, of arithmetic, of 
 reading, and so on. We are learning to obey 
 them. Now I am going to ask you what is the 
 greatest law in the world ? " 
 
 There was a moment of silence. Then the 
 teacher wrote these words in large letters on 
 the blackboard : " Thou shalt not lie." 
 
 " There is the law of laws," said the teacher, 
 solemnly. " Better never have been born than 
 not learn to obey it. If you always tell the 
 truth, you needn't worry about any other law. 
 Words are like money some are genuine, 
 some are counterfeit. If a man had a bag of 
 counterfeit money and kept passing it, in a 
 little while nobody would take his money. I 
 knew a man who said he killed four bears at 
 one shot. There's some that see too much 
 when they're looking over their own gun-bar 
 rels. Don't be one of that kind. Don't ever 
 kill too many bears at a shot." 
 
 After that, in the Linley district, a man who 
 lied was said to be killing too many bears at 
 a shot. 
 
 Good thoughts spread with slow but sure con 
 tagion. There were some who understood the
 
 190 BARREL 
 
 / 
 
 teacher. His words went home and far with 
 them, even to their graves, and how much far 
 ther who can say ? They went over the hills, 
 indeed, to other neighbourhoods, and here they 
 are, still travelling, and going now, it may be, 
 to the remotest corners of the earth. The big 
 boys talked about this matter of lying and de 
 clared the teacher was right. 
 
 "There's Tunk Hosely," said Sam Price. 
 " Nobody'd take his word for nuthin'." 
 
 " 'Less he was t' say he was a fool out an' 
 out," another boy suggested. 
 
 " Dunno as I'd b'lieve him then," said Sam. 
 " Fer I'd begin t' think he knew suthin'." 
 
 A little girl came in, crying, one day. 
 
 " What is the trouble ? " said the teacher, 
 tenderly, as he leaned over and put his arm 
 around her. 
 
 " My father is sick," said the child, sob 
 bing. 
 
 " Very sick ? " the teacher inquired. 
 
 For a moment she could not answer, but 
 stood shaken with sobs. 
 
 "The doctor says he can't live," said she, 
 brokenly.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 191 
 
 A solemn stillness fell in the little school 
 room. The teacher lifted the child and held 
 her close to his broad breast a moment. 
 
 "Be brave, little girl," said he, patting her 
 head gently. "Doctors don't always know. 
 He may be better to-morrow." 
 
 He took the child to her seat, and sat be 
 side her and whispered a moment, his mouth 
 close to her ear. And what he said, none 
 knew, save the girl herself, who ceased to cry 
 in a moment but never ceased to remember 
 it. 
 
 A long time he sat, with his arm around her, 
 questioning the classes. He seemed to have 
 taken his place between her and the dark 
 shadow. 
 
 Joe Beach had been making poor headway 
 in arithmetic. 
 
 "I'll come over this evening, and we'll see 
 what's the trouble. It's all very easy," the 
 teacher said. 
 
 He worked three hours with the young man 
 that evening, and filled him with high ambition 
 after hauling him out of his difficulty. 
 
 But of all difficulties the teacher had to deal
 
 192 DARREL 
 
 with, Polly Vaughn was the greatest. She was 
 nearly perfect in all her studies, but a little 
 mischievous and very dear to him. " Pretty ; " 
 that is one thing all said of her there in Far 
 away, and they said also with a bitter twang 
 that she loved to lie abed and read novels. 
 To Sidney Trove the word " pretty" was inade 
 quate. As to lying abed and reading novels, 
 he was free to say that he believed in it. 
 
 "We get very indignant about slavery in 
 the south," he used to say; "but how about 
 slavery on the northern farms ? I know peo 
 ple who rise at cock-crow and strain their 
 sinews in heavy toil the livelong day, and 
 spend the Sabbath trembling in the lonely 
 shadow of the Valley of Death. I know a 
 man who whipped his boy till he bled because 
 he ran away to go fishing. It's all slavery, 
 pure and simple." 
 
 " In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat 
 bread till thou return unto the ground," said 
 Ezra Tower. 
 
 " If God said it, he made slaves of us all," 
 said young Trove. "When I look around 
 here and see people wasted to the bone with
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 193 
 
 sweat and toil, too weary often to eat the bread 
 they have earned, when I see their children 
 dying of consumption from excess of labour 
 and pork fat, I forget the slaves of man and 
 think only of these wretched slaves of God." 
 
 But Polly was not of them the teacher pitied. 
 She was a bit discontented ; but surely she was 
 cheerful and well fed. God gave her beauty, 
 and the widow saw it, and put her own strength 
 between the curse and the child. Folly had 
 her task every day, but Polly had her way, also, 
 in too many things, and became a bit selfish, 
 as might have been expected. But there was 
 something very sweet and fine about Polly. 
 They were plain clothes she wore, but no 
 body save herself and mother gave them any 
 thought. Who, seeing her big, laughing eyes, 
 her finely modelled face, with cheeks pink aad 
 dimpled, her shapely, white teeth, her mass 
 of dark hair, crowning a form tall and straight 
 as an arrow, could see anything but the merry- 
 hearted Polly? 
 
 "Miss Vaughn, you will please remain a 
 few moments after school," said tke teacher 
 one day near four o'clock. Twice ske had been
 
 i 9 4 BARREL 
 
 caught whispering that day, with the young 
 girl who sat behind her. Trove had looked 
 down, stroking his little mustache thoughtfully, 
 and made no remark. The girl had gone to 
 work, then, her cheeks red with embarrassment. 
 
 " I wish you'd do me a favour, Miss Polly," 
 said the teacher, when they were alone. 
 
 She blushed deeply, and sat looking down 
 as she fussed with her handkerchief. She was 
 a bit frightened by the serious air of that big 
 young man. 
 
 " It isn't much," he went on. " I'd like you 
 to help me teach a little. To-morrow morning 
 I shall make a map on the blackboard, and 
 while I am doing it I'd like you to conduct 
 the school. When you have finished with the 
 primer class I'll be ready to take hold again." 
 
 She had a puzzled look. 
 
 " I thought you were going to punish me," 
 she answered, smiling. 
 
 "For what?" he inquired. 
 
 "Whispering," said she. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! But you have read Walter Scott, 
 and you know ladies are to be honoured, not 
 punished. I shouldn't know how to do such
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 195 
 
 a thing. When you've become a teacher you'll 
 see I'm right about whispering. May I walk 
 home with you ? " 
 
 Polly had then a very serious look. She 
 turned away, biting her lip, in a brief struggle 
 for self-mastery. 
 
 " If you care to," she whispered. 
 
 They walked away in silence. 
 
 " Do you dance ? " she inquired presently. 
 
 " No, save attendance on your pleasure," 
 said he. " Will you teach me ? " 
 
 " Is there anything I can teach you ? " She 
 looked up at him playfully. 
 
 "Wisdom," said he, quickly, "and how to 
 preserve blueberries, and make biscuit like those 
 you gave us when I came to tea. As to danc 
 ing, well I fear ' I am not shaped for sportive 
 tricks.' " 
 
 " If you'll stay this evening," said she, " we'll 
 have some more of my blueberries and bis 
 cuit, and then, if you care to, we'll try danc 
 ing." 
 
 " You'll give me a lesson ? " he asked eagerly. 
 
 " If you'd care to have me." 
 
 " Agreed ; but first let us have the blueberries
 
 196 BARREL 
 
 and biscuit," said he, heartily, as they entered 
 the door. " Hello, Mrs. Vaughn, I came over 
 to help you eat supper. I have it all planned. 
 Paul is to set the table, I'm to peel the potatoes 
 and fry the pork, Polly is to make the biscuit 
 and gravy and put the kettle on. You are to 
 sit by and look pleasant." 
 
 " I insist on making the tea," said Mrs. 
 Vaughn, with amusement. 
 
 " Shall we let her make the tea ? " he asked, 
 looking thoughtfully at Polly. 
 
 " Perhaps we'd better," said she, laughing. 
 
 "All right; we'll let her make the tea we 
 don't have to drink it." 
 
 "You," said the widow, "are like Governor 
 Wright, who said to Mrs. Perkins, 'Madam, I 
 will praise your tea, but hang me if I'll drink 
 it.' " 
 
 " I'm going to teach the primer class in the 
 morning," said Polly, as she filled the tea-kettle. 
 
 " Look out, young man," said Mrs. Vaughn, 
 turning to the teacher. " In a short time she'll 
 be thinking she can teach you." 
 
 " I get my first lesson to-night," said the 
 young man. " She's to teach me dancing."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 197 
 
 "And you've no fear for your soul?" 
 
 " I've more fear for my body," said he, glanc 
 ing down upon his long figure. " I've never 
 lifted my feet save for the purpose of transpor 
 tation. I'd like to learn how to dance because 
 Deacon Tower thinks it wicked and I've learned 
 that happiness and sin mean the same thing in 
 his vocabulary." 
 
 " I fear you're a downward and backsliding 
 youth," said the widow. 
 
 " You know what Ezra Tower said of Eben- 
 ezer Fisher, that he was 'one o' them mush- 
 heads that didn't believe in hell ' ? Are you one 
 o' that kind ? " Proclaimers of liberal thought 
 were at work there in the north. 
 
 " Since I met Deacon Tower I'm sure it's 
 useful and necessary. He's got to have some 
 place for his enemies. If it were not for hell, 
 the deacon would be miserable here and, maybe, 
 happy hereafter." 
 
 * It's a great hope and comfort to him," said 
 the widow, smiling. 
 
 " Well, God save us all ! " said Trove, who had 
 now a liking for both the phrase and philosophy 
 of Darrel. They had taken chairs at the table.
 
 I9 8 DARREL 
 
 " Tom," Said he, " we'll pause a moment, while 
 you give us the fourth rule of syntax." 
 
 " Correct," said he, heartily, as the last word 
 was spoken. " Now let us be happy." 
 
 "Paul," said the teacher, as he finished eating, 
 "what is the greatest of all laws ? " 
 
 " Thou shalt not lie," said the boy, promptly. 
 
 " Correct," said Trove ; " and in the full 
 knowledge of the law, I declare that no better 
 blueberries and biscuit ever passed my lips." 
 
 Supper over, Polly disappeared, and young 
 Mr. Trove helped with the dishes. Soon Polly 
 came back, glowing in her best gown and 
 slippers. 
 
 " Why, of all things ! What a foolish child ! " 
 said her mother. For answer Polly waltzed up 
 and down the room, singing gayly. 
 
 She stopped before the glass and began to 
 fuss with her ribbons. The teacher went to her 
 side. 
 
 " May I have the honour, Miss Vaughn," said 
 he, bowing politely. " Is that the way to do ? " 
 
 " You might say, ' Will you be my pardner,' ' 
 said she, mimicking the broad dialect of the 
 region.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 199 
 
 "I'll sacrifice my dignity, but not my lan 
 guage," said he. " Let us dance and be merry, 
 for to-morrow we teach." 
 
 " If you'll watch my feet, you'll see how I do 
 it," said she ; and lifting her skirt above her 
 dainty ankles, glided across the floor on tiptoe, 
 as lightly as a fawn at play. But Sidney Trove 
 was not a graceful creature. The muscles on 
 his lithe form, developed in the school of work 
 or in feats of strength at which he had met no 
 equal, were untrained in all graceful trickery. 
 He loved dancing and music and everything 
 that increased the beauty and delight of life, 
 but they filled him with a deep regret of his 
 ignorance. 
 
 "Hard work," said he, breathing heavily, 
 " and I don't believe I'm having as much fun 
 as you are." 
 
 The small company of spectators had been 
 laughing with amusement. 
 
 " Reminds me of a story," said the teacher, 
 
 " ' What are all the animals crying about ? ' said 
 
 one elephant to another. ' Why, don't you know ? 
 
 it's about the reindeer,' said the other eler 
 
 phant ; ' he's dead. Never saw anything so sacj
 
 200 DARREL 
 
 in my life. He skipped so, and made a noise 
 like that, and then he died.' The elephant 
 j-umped up and down, trying the light skip of 
 the reindeer and gave a great roar for the 
 bleat of the dying animal. 'What,' said the 
 first elephant, 'did he skip so, and cry that 
 way ? ' And he tried it. ' No, not that way 
 but this way,' said the other; and he went 
 through it again. By this time every animal 
 in the show had begun to roar with laughter. 
 ' What on earth are you doing ? ' said the 
 rhinoceros. 'It's the way the reindeer died,' 
 said one of the elephants. 
 
 " ' Never saw anything so funny,' said the 
 rhinoceros ; ' if the poor thing died that way, it's 
 a pity he couldn't repeat the act.' 
 
 "'This is terrible,' said the zebra, straining 
 at his halter. 'The reindeer is dead, and the 
 elephants have gone crazy.' " 
 
 " Sidney Trove," said the teacher, as he was 
 walking away that evening, " you'll have to 
 look out for yourself. You're a teacher and 
 you ought to be a man you must be a man 
 pr I'll have nothing more to do with you."
 
 XIX 
 
 ^Amusement and Learning 
 
 if 
 
 7 
 
 HERE was much doing that 
 winter in the Linley district. 
 They were a month getting 
 ready for the school "exhibi 
 tion." Every home in the val 
 ley and up Cedar Hill rang with loud declama 
 tions. The impassioned utterances of James 
 Otis, Daniel Webster, and Patrick Henry were 
 heard in house, and field, and stable. Every 
 evening women were busy making costumes for 
 a play, while the young rehearsed their parts. 
 Polly Vaughn, editor of a paper to be read 
 that evening, searched the countryside for liter 
 ary talent. She found a young married woman, 
 who had spent a year in the State Normal School, 
 and who put her learning at the service of Polly, 
 in a composition treating the subject of intem 
 perance. Miss Betsey Leech sent in what she 
 201
 
 202 BARREL 
 
 called "a piece" entitled "Home." Polly, her 
 self, wrote an editorial on " Our Teacher," and 
 there was hemming and hawing when she read 
 it, declaring they all had learned much, even to 
 love him. Her mother helped her with the 
 alphabetical rhymes, each a couplet of senti 
 mental history, as, for example : 
 
 " A is for Alson, a jolly young man, 
 He'll marry Miss Betsey, they say, if he can." 
 
 They trimmed the little schoolhouse with 
 evergreen and erected a small stage, where the 
 teacher's desk had been. Sheets were hung, 
 for curtains, on a ten-foot rod. 
 
 A while after dark one could hear a sound of 
 sleigh-bells in the distance. Away on drifted 
 pike and crossroad the bells began to fling 
 their music. It seemed to come in rippling 
 streams of sound through the still air, each 
 with its own voice. In half an hour countless 
 echoes filled the space between them, and all 
 were as one chorus, wherein, as it came near, 
 one could distinguish song and laughter. 
 
 Young people from afar came in cutters and 
 by the sleigh load ; those who lived near, afoot
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 203 
 
 with lanterns. They were a merry company, 
 crowding the schoolhouse, laughing and whis 
 pering as they waited for the first exhibit. 
 Trove called them to order and made a few 
 remarks. 
 
 "Remember," said he, "this is not our exhi 
 bition. It is only a sort of preparation for one 
 we have planned. In about twenty years the 
 Linley School is to give an exhibition worth 
 seeing. It will be, I believe, an exhibition of 
 happiness, ability, and success on the great 
 stage of the world. Then I hope to have on 
 the programme speeches in Congress, in the 
 pulpit, and at the bar. You shall see in that 
 play, if I mistake not, homes full of love and 
 honour, men and women of fair fame. It may 
 be you shall see, then, some whose names are 
 known and honoured of all men." 
 
 Each performer quaked with fear, and both 
 sympathy and approval were in the applause. 
 Miss Polly Vaughn was a rare picture of rustic 
 beauty, her cheeks as red as her ribbons, her 
 voice low and sweet. Trove came out in the 
 audience for a look at her as she read. Ring 
 ing salvos of laughter greeted the play and
 
 204 DARREL 
 
 stirred the sleigh-bells on the startled horses 
 beyond the door. The programme over, some 
 body called for Squire Town, a local pettifog 
 ger, who flung his soul and body into every 
 cause. He often sored his knuckles on the 
 court table and racked his frame with the vio 
 lence of his rhetoric. He had a stock of im 
 passioned remarks ready for all occasions. 
 
 He rose, walked to the centre of the stage, 
 looked sternly at the people, and addressed 
 them as " Fellow Citizens." He belaboured the 
 small table; he rose on tiptoe and fell upon 
 his heels ; often he seemed to fling his words 
 with a rapid jerk of his right arm as one hurls 
 a pebble. It was all in praise of his " young 
 friend," the teacher, and the high talent of 
 Linley School. 
 
 The exhibition ended with this rare exhibit 
 of eloquence. Trove announced the organiza 
 tion of a singing-school for Monday evening 
 of the next week, and then suppressed emo 
 tion burst into noise. The Linley school- 
 house had become as a fount of merry sound 
 in the still night; then the loud chorus of the 
 bells, diminishing as they went away, and
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 205 
 
 breaking into streams of music and dying 
 faint in the far woodland. 
 
 One Nelson Cartright a jack of all 
 trades they called him was the singing-mas 
 ter. He was noted far and wide for song and 
 penmanship. Every year his intricate flour 
 ishes in black and white were on exhibition 
 at the county fair. 
 
 "Wai, sir," men used to say uioughtfully, 
 "ye wouldn't think he knew beans. Why, 
 he's got a fist bigger'n a ham. But I tell ye, 
 let him take a pen, sir, and he'll draw a deer 
 so nat'ral, sir, ye'd swear he could jump over 
 a six-rail fence. Why, it is wonderful ! " 
 
 Every winter he taught the arts of song and 
 penmanship in the four districts from Jericho to 
 Cedar Hill. He sang a roaring bass and beat 
 the time with dignity and precision. For weeks 
 he drilled the class on a bit of lyric melody, of 
 which a passage is here given : 
 
 " One, two, three, ready, sing," he would 
 say, his ruler cutting the air, and all began : 
 
 u Listen to the bird, and the maid, and the humblebee, 
 
 Tra, la la la la, tra, la la la la, 
 Joyfully we'll sing the gladsome melody, 
 Tra, la, la, la, la."
 
 206 DARREL 
 
 The singing-school added little to the know 
 ledge or the cheerfulness of that neighbour 
 hood. It came to an end the last day of the 
 winter term. As usual, Trove went home with 
 Polly. It was a cold night, and as the crowd 
 left them at the corners he put his arm around 
 her. 
 
 " School is over," said she, with a sigh, '* and 
 I'm sorry." 
 
 " For me ? " he inquired. 
 
 " For myself," she answered, looking down 
 at the snowy path. 
 
 There came a little silence crowded with 
 happy thoughts. 
 
 " At first, I thought you very dreadful," she 
 went on, looking up at him with a smile. He 
 could see her sweet face in the moonlight and 
 was tempted to kiss it. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You were so terrible," she answered. " Poor 
 Joe Beach ! It seemed as if he would go 
 through the wall." 
 
 " Well, something had to happen to him," 
 said the teacher. 
 
 " He likes you now, and every one likes you
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 207 
 
 here. I wish we could have you always for a 
 teacher." 
 
 " I'd be willing to be your teacher, always, 
 if I could only teach you what you have 
 taught me." 
 
 " Oh, dancing," said she, merrily ; " that is 
 nothing. I'll give you all the lessons you 
 like." 
 
 " No, I shall not let you teach me that again," 
 said he. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because your pretty feet trample on me." 
 
 Then came another silence. 
 
 " Don't you enjoy it ? " she asked, looking off 
 at the stars. 
 
 " Too much," said he. " First, I must teach 
 you something if I can." 
 
 He was ready for a query, if it came, but she 
 put him off. 
 
 " I intend to be a grand lady," said she, " and, 
 if you do not learn, you'll never be able to 
 dance with me." 
 
 " There'll be others to dance with you," said 
 he. " I have so much else to do." 
 
 "Oh, you're always thinking about algebra
 
 208 DARREL 
 
 and arithmetic and those dreadful things," said 
 she. 
 
 " No, I'm thinking now of something very 
 different" 
 
 "Grammar, I suppose," said she, looking 
 down. 
 
 *"' Do you remember the conjugations ? " 
 
 " Try me," said she. 
 
 " Give me the first person singular, passive 
 voice, present tense, of the verb to love." 
 
 " I am loved," was her answer, as she looked 
 away. 
 
 "And don't you know I love you," said 
 he, quickly. 
 
 "That is the active voice," said she, turning 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Polly," said he, " I love you as I could love 
 no other hi the world." 
 
 He drew her close, and she looked up at him 
 very soberly. 
 
 " You love me ? " she said in a half whisper. 
 
 "With all my heart," he answered " I hope 
 you will love me sometime." 
 
 Their Hps came together. 
 
 " I do not ask you, now, to say that you love
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 209 
 
 me," said the young man. " You are young and 
 do not know your own heart." 
 
 She rose on tiptoe and fondly touched his 
 cheek with her fingers. 
 
 " But I do love you," she whispered. 
 
 " I thank God you have told me, but I shall 
 ask you for no promise. A year from now, 
 then, dear, I shall ask you to promise that you 
 will be my wife sometime." 
 
 " Oh, let me promise now," she whispered. 
 
 " Promise only that you will love me if you 
 see none you love better." 
 
 They were slowly nearing the door. Sud 
 denly she stopped, looking up at him. 
 
 " Are you sure you love me ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," he whispered. 
 
 "Sure?" 
 
 "As sure as I am that I live." 
 
 " And will love me always ? " 
 
 "Always," he answered. 
 
 She drew his head down a little and put 
 her lips to his ear. "Then I shall love you 
 always," she whispered. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughn was waiting for them at the 
 fireside. They sat talking a while.
 
 210 DARREL 
 
 " You go off to bed, Polly," said the teacher, 
 presently. " I've something to say, and you're 
 not to hear it." 
 
 " I'll listen," said she, laughing. 
 
 " Then we'll whisper," Trove answered. 
 
 "That isn't fair," said she, with a look of 
 injury, as she held the candle. " Besides, you 
 don't allow it yourself." 
 
 " Polly ought to go away to school," said he, 
 after Polly had gone above stairs. "She's a 
 bright girl." 
 
 "And I so poor I'm always wondering 
 what'll happen to-morrow," said Mrs. Vaughn. 
 "The farm has a mortgage, and it's more 
 than I can do to pay the interest. Some day 
 I'll have to give it up." 
 
 " Perhaps I can help you," said the young 
 man, feeling the fur on his cap. 
 
 There was an awkward silence. 
 
 " Fact is," said the young man, a bit em 
 barrassed, "fact is, I love Polly." 
 
 In the silence that followed Trove could 
 hear the tick of his watch. 
 
 " Have ye spoken to her ? " said the widow, 
 with a serious look.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 211 
 
 " I've told her frankly to-night that I love 
 her," said he. " I couldn't help it, she was so 
 sweet and beautiful." 
 
 "If you couldn't help it, I don't see how I 
 could," said she. " But Polly's only a child. 
 She's a big girl, I know, but she's only 
 eighteen." 
 
 " I haven't asked her for any promise. It 
 wouldn't be fair. She must have a chance to 
 meet other young men, but, sometime, I hope 
 she will be my wife." 
 
 " Poor children ! " said Mrs. Vaughn, " you 
 don't either of you know what you're doing." 
 
 He rose to go. 
 
 " I was a little premature," he added, " but 
 you mustn't blame me. Put yourself in my 
 place. If you were a young man and loved 
 a girl as sweet as Polly and were walking 
 home with her on a moonlit night " 
 
 " I presume there'd be more or less love- 
 making," said the widow. "She is a pretty 
 thing and has the way of a woman. We 
 were speaking of you the other day, and she 
 said to me : ' He is ungrateful. You can teach 
 the primer class for him, and be so good that
 
 212 DARREL 
 
 you feel perfectly miserable, and give him les 
 sons in dancing, and put on your best clothes, 
 and make biscuit for him, and then, perhaps, 
 he'll go out and talk with the hired man.' 
 'Polly,' said I, 'you're getting to be very 
 foolish.' 'Well, it comes so easy,' said she. 
 'It's my one talent.'"
 
 XX 
 
 At the Theatre of the Woods 
 
 EXT day Trove went home. 
 He took with him many a 
 souvenir of his first term, in 
 cluding a scarf that Polly had 
 knit for him, and the curious 
 things he took from the Frenchman Leblanc, 
 and which he retained partly because they 
 were curious and partly because Mrs. Leblanc 
 had been anxious to get rid of them. He soon 
 rejoined his class at Hillsborough, having kept 
 abreast of it in history and mathematics by 
 work after school and over the week's end. 
 He was content to fall behind in the classics, 
 for they were easy, and in them his arrears 
 gave him no terror. Walking for exercise, he 
 laid the plan of his tale and had written some 
 bits of verse. Of an evening he went often 
 to the Sign of the Dial, and there read his 
 213
 
 214 DARREL 
 
 lines and got friendly but severe criticism. 
 He came into the shop one evening, his 
 "Horace" under his arm. 
 
 " * Maecenas, atavis, edite regibus? " Trove 
 chanted, pausing to recall the lines. 
 
 The tinker turned quickly. " ' O et presidium 
 et dulce decus meum,' " he quoted, never stop 
 ping until he had finished the ode. 
 
 " Is there anything you do not know ? " 
 Trove inquired. 
 
 " Much," said the tinker, " including the 
 depth o' me own folly. A man that displays 
 knowledge hath need o' more." 
 
 Indeed, Trove rarely came for a talk with 
 Darrel when he failed to discover something 
 new in him a further reach of thought and 
 sympathy or some unsuspected treasure of 
 knowledge. The tinker loved a laugh and 
 would often search his memory for some 
 phrase of bard or philosopher apt enough to 
 provoke it. Of his great store of knowledge 
 he made no vainer use. 
 
 Trove had been overworking; and about 
 the middle of June they went for a week in the 
 woods together. They walked to Allen's the
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 215 
 
 first day, and, after a brief visit there, went off 
 in the deep woods, camping on a pond in thick- 
 timbered hills. Coming to the lilied shore, they 
 sat down a while to rest. A hawk was sailing 
 high above the still water. Crows began to 
 call in the tree-tops. An eagle sat on a dead 
 pine at the water's edge and seemed to be 
 peering down at his own shadow. Two deer 
 stood in a marsh on the farther shore, looking 
 over at them. Near by were the bones of some 
 animal, and the fresh footprints of a painter. 
 Sounds echoed far in the hush of the unbroken 
 wilderness. 
 
 " See, boy," said Barrel, with a little gesture 
 of his right hand, " the theatre o' the woods ! 
 See the sloping hills, tree above tree, like wind 
 ing galleries. Here is a coliseum old, past 
 reckoning. Why, boy, long before men saw 
 the Seven Hills it was old. Yet see how new 
 it is how fresh its colour, how strong its tim 
 bers ! See the many seats, each with a good 
 view, an' the multitude o' the people, yet most 
 o' them are hidden. Ten thousand eyes are 
 looking down upon us. Tragedies and come 
 dies o' the forest are enacted here. Many a.
 
 216 DARREL 
 
 thrilling scene has held the stage the spent 
 deer swimming for his life, the painter stalking 
 his prey or leaping on it." 
 
 "Tis a cruel part," said Trove. "He is the 
 murderer of the play. I cannot understand 
 why there are so many villains in its cast. 
 Both the cat and the serpent baffle me." 
 
 "Marry, boy, the world is a great school 
 an' this little drama o' the good God is part 
 of it," said Barrel. " An' the play hath a great 
 moral thou shalt learn to use thy brain or die. 
 Now, there be many perils in this land o' the 
 woods so many that all its people must learn 
 to think or perish by them. A pretty bit o' 
 wisdom it is, sor. It keeps the great van 
 moving ever moving, in the long way to 
 perfection. Now, among animals, a growing 
 brain works the legs of its owner, sending them 
 far on diverse errands until they are strong. 
 Mind thee, boy, perfection o' brain and body is 
 the aim o' Nature. The cat's paw an' the ser 
 pent's coil are but the penalties o' weakness an' 
 folly. The world is for the strong. Therefore, 
 God keep thee so, or there be serpents will enter 
 thy blood an' devour thee millions o' them."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 217 
 
 " And what is the meaning of this law ?" 
 " That the weak shall not live to perpetuate 
 their kind," said Barrel. " Every year there is a 
 tournament o' the sparrows. Which deserves the 
 fair that is the question to be settled. Full 
 tilt they come together, striking with lance and 
 wing. Knight strives with knight, lady with 
 lady, and the weak die. Lest thou forget, I'll 
 tell thee a tale, boy, wherein is the great plan. 
 The queen bee strongest of all her people 
 is about to marry. 1 A clear morning she comes 
 out o' the palace gate her attendants follow 
 ing. The multitude of her suitors throng the 
 vestibule; the air, now still an' sweet, rings 
 with the sound o' fairy timbrels. Of a sudden 
 she rises into the blue sky, an' her suitors follow. 
 Her swift wings cleave the air straight as a 
 plummet falls. Only the strong may keep in 
 sight o' her; bear that in mind, boy. Her 
 suitors begin to fall wearied. Higher an' still 
 higher the good queen wings her way. By an' 
 by, of all that began the journey, there is but 
 
 1 In behalf of Barrel, the author makes acknowledgment of 
 his indebtedness to M. Maurice Maeterlinck for an account of 
 the queen's flight in his interesting " Life of the Bee."
 
 218 DARREL 
 
 one left with her, an' he the strongest of her 
 people. An' they are wed, boy, up in the sun 
 lit deep o' heaven. So the seed o' life is chosen, 
 me fine lad." 
 
 They sat a little time in silence, looking at 
 the shores of the pond. 
 
 "Have ye never felt the love passion?" said 
 Barrel. 
 
 "Well, there's a girl of the name of Polly," 
 Trove answered. 
 
 " Ah, Polly ! she o' the red lip an' the dark 
 eye," said Barrel, smiling. " She's one of a 
 thousand." He clapped his hand upon his 
 knee, merrily, and sang a sentimental couplet 
 from an old Irish ballad. 
 
 " Have ye won her affection, boy ? " he added, 
 his hand on the boy's arm. 
 
 " I think I have." 
 
 "God love thee! I'm glad to hear it," said 
 the old man. " She is a living wonder, boy, a 
 living wonder, an' had I thy youth I'd give thee 
 worry." 
 
 " Since her mother cannot afford to do it, 
 I wish to send her away to school," said 
 Trove.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 219 
 
 " Tut, tut, boy ; thou hast barely enough for 
 thy own schooling." 
 
 " I've eighty-two dollars in my pocket," said 
 Trove, proudly. " I do not need it. The job 
 in the mill that will feed me and pay my 
 room rent, and my clothes will do me for another 
 year." 
 
 " On me word, boy ; I like it in thee," said 
 Barrel; "but surely she would not take thy 
 money." 
 
 " I could not offer it to her, but you might go 
 there, and perhaps she would take it from you." 
 
 "Capital!" the tinker exclaimed. "I'll see 
 if I can serve thee. Marry, good youth, I'll 
 even give away thy money an' take credit for 
 thy benevolence. Teacher, philanthropist, lover 
 I believe thou'rt ready to write." 
 
 "The plan of my first novel is complete," 
 said Trove. " That poor thief, he shall be 
 my chief character, the man of whom you 
 told me." 
 
 " Poor man ! God make thee kind to him," 
 said the tinker. "An' thou'rt willing, I'll hear 
 o* him to-night. When the firelight flickers, 
 that is the time, boy, for tales."
 
 220 DARREL 
 
 They built a rude lean-to, covered with bark, 
 and bedded with fragrant boughs. Both lay in 
 the firelight, Barrel smoking his pipe, as the 
 night fell. 
 
 " Now for thy tale," said the tinker. 
 
 The tale was Trove's own solution of his life 
 mystery, shrewdly come to, after a long and 
 careful survey of the known facts. And now, 
 shortly, time was to put the seal of truth upon 
 it, and daze him with astonishment, and fill him 
 with regret of his cunning. It should be known 
 that he had never told Barrel or any one of his 
 coming in the little red sleigh. 
 
 He lay thinking for a time after the tinker 
 spoke. Then he began : 
 
 "Well, the time is 1835, the place a 
 New England city on the sea. Chapter 
 I : A young woman is walking along a 
 street, with a child sleeping in her arms. 
 She is dark-skinned, a Syrian. It is 
 growing dusk ; the street is deserted, save 
 by her and two sailors, who are approach 
 ing her. They, too, are Syrians. One 
 seems to strike her, it is mere pretence, 
 however, and she falls. The other seizes 
 the child, who, having been drugged, is
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 221 
 
 still asleep. A wagon is waiting near. 
 They drive away hurriedly, their captive 
 under a blanket. The kidnappers make 
 for the woods in New Hampshire. Offi 
 cers of the law drive them far. They aban 
 don their horse, tramping westward over 
 trails in the wilderness, bearing the boy in 
 a sack of sail-cloth, open at the top. They 
 had guns and killed their food as they 
 travelled. Snow came deep ; by and by 
 game was scarce and they had grown weary 
 of bearing the boy on their backs. One 
 waited in the woods with the little lad 
 while the other went away to some town or 
 city for provisions. He came back, hauling 
 them in a little sleigh. It was much like 
 those made for the delight of the small boy 
 in every land of snow. It had a box 
 painted red and two bobs and a little dash 
 board. They used it for the transportation 
 of boy and impedimenta. In the deep 
 wilderness beyond the Adirondacks they 
 found a cave in one of the rock ledges. 
 They were twenty miles from any post-office 
 but shortly discovered one. Letters in 
 cipher were soon passing between them 
 and their confederates. They learned there 
 was no prospect of getting the ransom. 
 He they had thought rich was not able
 
 222 DARREL 
 
 to raise the money they required or any 
 large sum. Two years went by, and they 
 abandoned hope. What should they da 
 with the boy ? One advised murder, but 
 the other defended him. It was unneces 
 sary, he maintained, to kill a mere baby, 
 who knew not a word of English, and 
 would forget all in a month. And murder 
 would only increase their peril. Now eight 
 miles from their cave was the cabin of a 
 settler. They passed within a mile of it on 
 their way out and in. They had often met 
 the dog of the settler roving after small 
 game a shepherd, trustful, affectionate, 
 and ever ready to make friends. One day 
 they captured the dog and took him to 
 their cave. They could not safely be seen 
 with the boy, so they planned to let the 
 dog go home with him in the little red 
 sleigh. Now the settler's cabin was like 
 that of my father, on the shore of a pond. 
 It was round, as a cup's rim, and a mile or 
 so in diameter. Opposite the cabin a trail 
 came to the water's edge, skirting the pond, 
 save in cold weather, when it crossed the 
 ice. They waited for a night when their 
 tracks would soon disappear. Then, having 
 made a cover of the sail-cloth sack in which 
 they had brought the boy, and stretched it
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 223 
 
 on withes, and made it fast to the sleigh 
 box, they put the sleeping boy in the sleigh, 
 with hot stones wrapped in paper, and a 
 robe of fur, to keep him warm, hitched the 
 dog to it, and came over hill and trail, to 
 the little pond, a while after midnight. 
 Here they buckled a ring of bells on the 
 dog's neck and released him. He made 
 for his home on the clear ice ; the bells and 
 his bark sounding as he ran. They at the 
 cabin heard him coming and opened their 
 door to dog and traveller. So came my 
 hero in a little red sleigh, and was adopted 
 by the settler and his wife, and reared by 
 them with generous affection. Well, he 
 goes to school and learns rapidly, and 
 comes to manhood. It's a pretty story 
 that of his life in the big woods. But now 
 for the love tale. He meets a young lady 
 sweet, tender, graceful, charming." 
 
 " A moment," said Barrel, raising his hand. 
 " Prithee, boy, ring down the curtain for a brief 
 parley. Thou say'st they were Syrians they 
 that stole the lad. Now, tell me, hast thou 
 reason for that ? " 
 
 "Ample," said Trove. "When they took him 
 out of the sleigh the first words he spoke were
 
 224 DARREL 
 
 'Anah jouhan.' He used them many times, 
 and while he forgot they remembered them. 
 Now ' Anah jouhan ' is a phrase of the Syrian 
 tongue, meaning ' I am hungry.' ' 
 
 "Very well!" said the old man, with em 
 phasis, "and sailors that is a just inference. 
 It was a big port, and far people came on the 
 four winds. Very well ! Now, for the young 
 lady. An' away with thy book unless I love 
 her." 
 
 "She is from life a simple-hearted girl, 
 frank and beautiful and " Trove hesitated, 
 looking into the dying fire. 
 
 " Noble, boy, make sure o' that, an' nobler, 
 too, than girls are apt to be. If Emulation 
 would measure height with her, see that it 
 stand upon tiptoes." 
 
 " So I have planned. The young man 
 loves her. She is in every thought and 
 purpose. She has become as the rock on 
 which his hope is founded. Now he loves 
 honour, too, and all things of good report. 
 He has been reared a Puritan. By chance, 
 one day, it comes to him that his father 
 was a thief."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 225 
 
 The boy paused. For a moment they heard 
 only the voices of the night. 
 
 "He dreaded to tell her," Trove con 
 tinued; "yet he could not ask her to be 
 his wife without telling. Then the question, 
 Had he a right to tell ? for his father had 
 not suffered the penalty of the law and,, 
 mind you, men thought him honest." 
 
 "'Tis just," said Barrel; "but tell me, how 
 came he to know his father was a thief ? " 
 
 " That I am thinking of, and before I answer, 
 is there more you can tell me of him or his 
 people ? " 
 
 Barrel rose ; and lighting a torch of pine, 
 stuck it in the ground. Then he opened his 
 leathern pocket-book and took out a number 
 of cuttings, much worn, and apparently from 
 old newspapers. He put on his glasses and 
 began to examine the cuttings. 
 
 " The other day," said he, " I found an account 
 of his mother's death. I had forgotten, but her 
 death was an odd tragedy." 
 
 And the tinker began reading, slowly, as 
 follows :
 
 226 DARREL 
 
 " ' She an' her mother a lady deaf an' 
 feeble were alone, saving the servants in 
 a remote corner o' the house. A sound 
 woke her in the still night. She lay a while 
 listening. Was it her husband returning 
 without his key ? She rose, feeling her way 
 in the dark and trembling with the fear of 
 a nervous woman. Descending stairs, she 
 came into a room o' many windows. The 
 shades were up, an' there was dim moon 
 light in the room. A door, with panels o' 
 thick glass, led to the garden walk. Beyond 
 it were the dark forms of men. One was 
 peering in, his face at a panel, another 
 kneeling at the lock. Suddenly the door 
 ppened ; the lady fell fainting with a loud 
 cry. Next day the kidnapped boy was 
 born.' " 
 
 Barrel stopped reading, put the clipping into 
 his pocket-book, and smothered the torch. 
 
 " It seems the woman died the same day," 
 said he. 
 
 " And was my mother," the words came in a 
 broken voice. 
 
 Half a moment of silence followed them. 
 Then Barrel rose slowly, and a tremulous, deep 
 sigh came from the lips of Trove.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 227 
 
 " Thy mother, boy ! " Barrel whispered. 
 
 The fire had burnt low, and the great shadow 
 of the night lay dark upon them. Trove got 
 to his feet and came to the side of Barrel. 
 
 " Tell me, for God's sake, man, tell me where 
 is my father," said he. 
 
 " Hush, boy ! Listen. Hear the wind in the 
 trees ? " said Barrel. 
 
 There was a breath of silence broken by the 
 hoot of an owl and the stir of high branches. 
 " Ye might as well ask o' the wind or the wild 
 owl," Barrel said. " I cannot tell thee. Be calm,, 
 boy, and say how thou hast come to know." 
 
 Again they sat down together, and presently 
 Trove told him of those silent men who had 
 ever haunted the dark and ghostly house of 
 his inheritance. 
 
 " 'Tis thy mother's terror, an' thy father's 
 house, I make no doubt," said Barrel, pres 
 ently, in a deep voice. " But, boy, I cannot tell 
 any man where is thy father; not even thee, nor 
 his name, nor the least thing, tending to point 
 him out, until until I am released o' me vow. 
 Be content ; if I can find the man, ere long, 
 thou shalt have word o' him."
 
 228 DARREL 
 
 Trove leaned against the breast of Barrel, 
 shaking with emotion. His tale had come to 
 an odd and fateful climax. 
 
 The old man stroked his head tenderly. 
 
 " Ah, boy," said he, " I know thy heart. I 
 shall make haste I promise thee, I shall make 
 haste. But, if the good God should bring thy 
 father to thee, an' thy head to shame an' sor 
 row for his sin, forgive him, in the name o' 
 Christ, forgive him. Ay, boy, thou must 
 forgive all that trespass against thee." 
 
 " If I ever see him, he shall know I am not 
 ungrateful," said the young man. 
 
 A while past twelve o'clock, those two, lying 
 there in the firelight, thinking, rose like those 
 startled in sleep. A mighty voice came booming 
 over the still water and echoed far and wide. 
 Slowly its words fell and rang in the great, 
 silent temple of the woods : 
 
 " ' Though I speak with the tongues of 
 men and of angels, and have not charity, I 
 am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling 
 cymbal. 
 
 " ' And though I have the gift of proph 
 ecy, and understand all mysteries, and all
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 229 
 
 knowledge; and though I have all faith, 
 so that I could remove mountains, and 
 have not charity, I am nothing. 
 
 " ' And though I bestow all my goods 
 to feed the poor, and though I give my 
 body to be burned, and have not charity, it 
 profiteth me nothing. 
 
 " ' Charity suffereth long, and is kind ; 
 charity envieth not ; charity vaunteth not 
 itself ; is not puffed up, 
 
 " ' Doth not behave itself unseemly, seek- 
 eth not her own, is not easily provoked, 
 thinketh no evil ; 
 
 " ' Beareth all things, believeth all things, 
 hopeth all things, endureth all things. 
 
 " ' Charity never faileth : but whether 
 there be prophecies, they shall fail ; 
 whether there be tongues, they shall 
 cease; whether there be knowledge, it 
 shall vanish away.' " 
 
 As the last words died away in the far wood 
 land, Trove and Barrel turned, wiping their 
 eyes in silence. That flood of inspiration had 
 filled them. Big thoughts had come drifting, 
 down with its current. They listened a while, 
 but heard only the faint crackle of the fire. 
 
 " Strange ! " said Trove, presently.
 
 230 DARREL 
 
 " Passing strange, and like a beautiful song," 
 said Barrel. 
 
 " It may be some insane fanatic." 
 
 * 
 
 " Maybe, but he hath the voice of an angel," 
 said the old man. 
 
 They passed a sleepless night and were up 
 early, packing to leave the woods. Barrel was 
 to go in quest of the boy's father. Within a 
 week he felt sure he should be able to find him. 
 
 They skirted the pond, crossing a long ridge 
 on its farther shore. At a spring of cool water 
 in a deep ravine they halted to drink and rest. 
 Suddenly they heard a sound of men approach 
 ing; and when the latter had come near, a 
 voice, deep, vibrant, and. musical as a harp- 
 string, in these lines of Hamlet: 
 
 < Why right ; you are T the right ; 
 
 And so without more circumstance at all, 
 
 I hold it fit that we shake hands and part ; 
 
 You as your business and desire shall point you ; 
 
 For every man has business and desire 
 
 Such as it is ; and for mine own part 
 
 Look you, I'll go pray.' " 
 
 Then said Barrel, loudly : 
 * ' These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. 1 w
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 231 
 
 Two men, a guide in advance, came along the 
 trail one, a most impressive figure, tall, erect, 
 and strong; its every move expressing grace 
 and power. 
 
 Again the deep music of his voice, saying : 
 " ' I'm sorry they offend you heartily ; yes, faith, heartily.' " 
 
 And Barrel rejoined, his own rich tone touch 
 ing the note of melancholy in the other : 
 " ' There's no offence, my lord.' " 
 
 "What Horatio is this?" the stranger in 
 quired, offering his hand. " A player ? " 
 
 "Ay, as are all men an' women," said Bar 
 rel, quickly. " But I, sor, have only a poor 
 part. Had I thy lines an' makeup, I'd win 
 applause." 
 
 The newcomers sat down, the man who had 
 spoken removing his hat Curly locks of dark 
 haur, with now a sprinkle of silver in them, 
 fell upon his brows. He had large brown eyes, 
 a mouth firm and well modelled, a nose slightly 
 aquiline, and wore a small, dark imperial a 
 mere tuft under his lip. 
 
 " Well, Colonel, you have paid me a graceful 
 compliment," said he.
 
 DARREL 
 
 "Nay, man, do not mistake me rank," said 
 Darrel. 
 
 " Indeed what is it ? " 
 
 " Friend," he answered, quickly. " In good 
 company there's no higher rank. But if 
 ye think me unworthy, I'll be content with 
 'Mister.'" 
 
 "My friend, forgive me," said the stranger, 
 approaching DarreL " Murder and envy and 
 revenge and all evil are in my part, but no 
 impertinence." 
 
 " I know thy rank, sor. Thou art a gentle 
 man," said DarreL "I've seen thee * every 
 inch a king." 1 
 
 Darrel spoke to the second period in that 
 passage of Lear, the majesty and despair of 
 the old king hi voice and gesture. The words 
 were afire with. feeling as they came off his 
 tongue, and all looked at him with surprise. 
 
 "Ah, you have seen me play it," said the 
 stranger. " There's no other Lear that declares 
 himself with that gesture." 
 
 "It is Edwin Forrest," said Darrel, as the 
 stranger offered his hand. 
 
 "The same, and at your service," the great
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 233 
 
 actor replied. "And may I ask who are 
 you?" 
 
 " Roderick Barrel, son of a wheelwright on 
 the river Bann, once a fellow of infinite jest, 
 believe me, but now, alas ! like the skull o' 
 Yorick in the churchyard." 
 
 " The churchyard ! " said Forrest, thought 
 fully. "That to me is the saddest of all 
 scenes. When it's over and I leave the stage, 
 it is to carry with me an awe-inspiring thought 
 of the end which is coming to all." 
 
 He crumbled a lump of clay in his palm. 
 
 " Dust ! " he whispered, scattering it in the ah-. 
 
 " Think ye the dust is dead ? Nay, man ; 
 a mighty power is in it," said Barrel. " Let us 
 imagine thee dead an* turned to clay. Leave 
 the clay to its own law, sor, an' it begins to 
 cleanse an' purge itself. Its aim is purity, an' 
 it never wearies. Could I live long enough, an' 
 it were under me eye, I'd see the clay bleach 
 ing white with a wonderful purity. Then, 
 slowly, it would begin to come clear, an* by 
 an' by it would be clearer an' lovelier than a 
 drop o' dew at sunrise. Lo and behold ! the 
 clay has become a sapphire. So, sor, in the
 
 234 DARREL 
 
 waters o' time God washes the great world. 
 In every grain o' dust the law is written, an' I 
 may read the destiny o' the nobler part in the 
 fate o* the meaner. 
 
 " ' Imperious Forrest, dead an' turned to day, 
 Might stop a hole to keep despair away. 11 * 
 
 " Delightful and happy man ! I must know 
 you better," said the great tragedian. "May 
 I ask, sir, what is your calling?" 
 
 " I, sor, am a tinker o' clocks." 
 
 " A tinker of clocks ! " said the other, looking 
 at him thoughtfully. " I should think it poorly 
 suited to your talents." 
 
 "Not so. I've only a talent for happiness 
 an' good company." 
 
 " And you find good company here ? " 
 
 "Yes; bards, prophets, an' honest men. 
 They're everywhere." 
 
 " Tell me," said Forrest, " were you not some 
 time a player ? " 
 
 " Player of many parts, but all in God's drama 
 fool, servant of a rich man, cobbler, clock 
 tinker, all in the coat of a poor man. Me health 
 failed me, sor, an' I took to wandering in the
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 235 
 
 open air. Ten years ago in the city of New 
 York me wife died, since when I have been 
 tinkering here in the edges o' the woodland, 
 where I have found health an' friendship an' 
 good cheer. Faith, sor, that is all one needs, 
 save the company o' the poets. 
 
 " ' I pray an' sing an' tell old tales an' laugh 
 At gilded butterflies, an' hear poor rogues 
 Talk o' court news.' w 
 
 Trove had missed not a word nor even a turn 
 of the eye in all that scene. After years of 
 acquaintance with the tinker he had not yet 
 ventured a question as to his life history. The 
 difference of age and a certain masterly reserve 
 in the old gentleman had seemed to discourage 
 it. A prying tongue hi a mere youth would 
 have met unpleasant obstacles with Barrel. 
 Never until that day had he spoken freely of 
 his past in the presence of the young man. 
 
 " I must see you again," said the tragedian, 
 rising. " Of those parts I try to play, which do 
 you most like ? " 
 
 "St Paul," said Barrel, quickly. "Last 
 night, sor, hi this great theatre we heard the
 
 236 DARREL 
 
 voice o' the prophet. Ah, sor, it was like a 
 trumpet on the walls of eternity. I commend 
 to thee the part o' St. Paul. Next to that of 
 all thy parts, Lear." 
 
 " Lear?" said Forrest, rising. " I am to play 
 it this autumn. Come, then, to New York. 
 Give me your address, and I'll send for you." 
 
 " Sor," said Barrel, thoughtfully, " I can give 
 thee much o' me love but little o' me time. 
 Nay, there'd be trouble among the clocks. I'd 
 be ashamed to look them in the face. Nay, 
 I thank thee, but I must mind the clocks." 
 
 The great player smiled with amusement. 
 
 " Then," said he, " I shall have to come and 
 see you play your part. Till then, sir, God 
 give you happiness." 
 
 " Once upon a time," said Barrel, as he held 
 the hand of the player, "a weary traveller 
 came to the gate o' Heaven, seeking entrance. 
 
 '"What hast thou in thy heart?' said the 
 good St. Peter. 
 
 "'The record o' great suffering an' many 
 prayers,' said the poor man. ' I pray thee 
 now, give me the happiness o' Heaven.' 
 
 " ' Good man, we have none to spare,' said
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 237 
 
 the keeper. ' Heaven hath no happiness but 
 that men bring. It is a gift to God and comes 
 not from Him. Would ye take o' that we have 
 an' bring nothing? Nay, go back to thy toil 
 an' fill thy heart with happiness, an' bring it to 
 me overflowing. Then shalt thou know the 
 joy o" paradise. Remember, God giveth coun-" 
 sel, but not happiness.' " 
 
 "If I only had your wisdom," said Forrest, 
 as they parted. 
 
 "Ye'd have need o' more," the tinker an 
 swered. 
 
 Trove and Barrel walked to the clearing 
 above Faraway. At a corner on the high 
 hills, where northward they could see smoke 
 and spire of distant villages, each took his 
 way, one leading to Hillsborough, the other 
 to Allen's. 
 
 " Good-by ; an' when I return I hope to hear 
 the rest o' thy tale," said Barrel, as they parted. 
 
 " Only God is wise enough to finish it," said 
 the young man. 
 
 " ' Well, God help us ; 'tis a world to see,' " 
 Barrel quoted, waving his hand. " If thy heart 
 oppress thee. steer for the Blessed Isles."
 
 XXI 
 
 Robiris Inn 
 
 H BIG maple sheltered the house 
 of the widow Vaughn. After 
 the noon hour of a summer day 
 its tide of shadow began flowing 
 fathoms deep over house and 
 garden to the near field, where finally it joined 
 the great flood of night. The maple was in 
 deed a robin's inn at some crossing of the invisi 
 ble roads of the air. Its green dome towered 
 high above and fell to the gable end of the little 
 house. Its deep and leafy thatch hid every 
 timber of its frame save the rough column. Its 
 trunk was the main beam, each limb a corridor, 
 each tier of limbs a floor, and branch rose above 
 branch like steps in a stairway. Up and down 
 the high dome of the maple were a thousand 
 balconies overlooking the meadow. 
 238
 
 DARREL 239 
 
 From its highest tier of a summer morning 
 the notes of the bobolink came rushing off his 
 lyre, and farther down the golden robin sounded 
 his piccolo. But, chiefly, it was the home and 
 refuge of the familiar red-breasted robin. The 
 inn had its ancient customs. Each young bird, 
 leaving his cradle, climbed his own stairway till 
 he came out upon a balcony and got a first timid 
 look at field and sky. There he might try his 
 wings and keep in the world he knew by using 
 bill and claw on the lower tiers. 
 
 At dawn the great hall of the maple rang with 
 music, for every lodger paid his score with song. 
 Therein it was ever cool, and clean, and shady, 
 though the sun were hot. Its every nook and 
 cranny was often swept and dusted by the 
 wind. Its branches leading up and outward to 
 the green wall were as innumerable stairways. 
 Each separate home was out on rocking beams, 
 with its own flicker of sky light overhead. For 
 a time at dusk there was a continual flutter of 
 weary wings at the lower entrance, a good night 
 twitter, and a sound of tiny feet climbing the 
 stairways in that gloomy hall. At last, there 
 was a moment of gossip and then silence on
 
 240 DARREL 
 
 every flogr. There seemed to be a night-watch 
 in the lower hall, and if any green young bird 
 were late and noisy going up to his home, he 
 got a shaking and probably lost a few feathers 
 from the nape of his neck. Long before day 
 break those hungry, half-clad little people of 
 the nests began to worry and crowd their moth 
 ers. At first, the old birds tried to quiet them 
 with caressing movements, and had, at last, to 
 hold their places with bill and claw. As light 
 came an old cock peered about him, stretched 
 his wings, climbed a stairway, and blew his 
 trumpet on the outer wall. The robin's day 
 had begun. 
 
 Mid-autumn, when its people shivered and 
 found fault and talked of moving, the maple 
 tried to please them with new and brighter col 
 ours gold, with the warmth of summer in its 
 look; scarlet, suggesting love and the June roses. 
 Soon it stood bare and deserted. Then what 
 was there in the creak-and-whisper chorus of 
 the old tree for one listening in the night ? 
 Belike it might be many things, according to 
 the ear, but was it not often something to make 
 one think of that solemn message : " Man that
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 241 
 
 is born of a woman is of few days and full of 
 trouble " ? They who lived in that small house 
 under the tree knew little of all that passed in 
 the big world. Trumpet blasts of fame, thunder 
 of rise and downfall, came faintly to them. 
 There the delights of art and luxury were un 
 known. Yet those simple folk were acquainted 
 with pleasure and even with thrilling and im 
 pressive incidents. Field and garden teemed 
 with eventful life and hard by was the great 
 city of the woods.
 
 XXII 
 
 Comedies of Field and Dooryard 
 
 r 
 
 i 
 
 ROVE was three days in Brier 
 Dale after he came out of the 
 woods. The filly was now a 
 sleek and shapely animal, past 
 23U three years of age. He began 
 at once breaking her to the saddle, and, that 
 done, mounting, he started for Robin's Inn. 
 He carried a game rooster in a sack for the boy 
 Tom. All came out with a word of welcome ; 
 ven the small dog grew noisy with delight. 
 Tunk Hosely, who had come to work for Mrs. 
 Vaughn, took the mare and led her away, his 
 shoulder leaning with an added sense of horse 
 manship. Polly began to hurry dinner, fussing 
 with the table, and changing the position of 
 every dish, until it seemed as if she would never 
 be quite satisfied. Covered with the sacred old 
 china and table-linen of her grandmother, it had, 
 242
 
 BARREL 243 
 
 when Polly was done with it, a very smart, 
 appearance indeed. Then she called the boys 
 and bade them wash their hands and faces and 
 whispered a warning to each, while her mother 
 announced that dinner was ready. 
 
 " Paul, what's an adjective ? " said the teacher,, 
 as they sat down. 
 
 " A word applied to a noun to qualify or 
 limit its meaning," the boy answered glibly. 
 
 " Right ! And what adjective would you 
 apply to this table ? " 
 
 The boy thought a moment. 
 
 " Grand ! " said he, tentatively. 
 
 " Correct ! I'm going to have just such a 
 dinner every day on my farm." 
 
 " Then you'll have to have Polly too," said 
 Tom, innocently. 
 
 "Well, you can spare her." 
 
 " No, sir," the boy answered. " You ain't 
 good to her ; she cries every time you go away." 
 
 There was an awkward silence and the widow 
 began to laugh and Polly and Trove to blush 
 deeply. 
 
 " Maybe she whispered, an' he give her a 
 talkin' to," said Paul.
 
 244 BARREL 
 
 " Have you heard about Ezra Tower ? " said 
 Mrs. Vaughn, shaking her head at the boys and 
 changing the topic with shrewd diplomacy. 
 
 " Much ; but nothing new," said Trove. 
 
 " Well, he swears he'll never cross the Fadden 
 bridge or speak to anybody in Pleasant Valley." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " The taxes. He don't believe in improve 
 ments, and when he tried to make a speech in 
 town-meeting they all jeered him. There ain't 
 any one good enough for him to speak to now 
 but himself an' an' his Creator." 
 
 In the midst of dinner, they heard an outcry 
 in the yard. Tom's game-cock had challenged 
 the old rooster, and the two were leaping and 
 striking with foot and wing. Before help came 
 the old rooster was badly cut in the neck and 
 breast. Tunk rescued him, and brought him 
 to the woodshed, where Trove sewed up his 
 wounds. He had scarcely finished when there 
 came a louder outcry among the fowls. Look 
 ing out they saw a gobbler striding slowly up 
 the path and leading the game-cock with a firm 
 hold on the back of his neck. The whole flock 
 of fowls were following. The rooster held back
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 245 
 
 and came on with long but unequal strides. 
 Never halting, the turkey led him into the full 
 publicity of the open yard. Now the cock was 
 lifted so his feet came only to the top of the 
 grass ; now his head was bent low, and his feet 
 fell heavily. Through it all the gobbler bore 
 himself with dignity and firmness. There was 
 no show of wrath or unnecessary violence. He 
 swung the cock around near the foot of the 
 maple tree and walked him back and then 
 returned with him. Half his journey the poor 
 cock was reaching for the grass and was then 
 lowered quickly, so he had to walk with bent 
 knees. Again and again the gobbler walked up 
 and down with him before the assembled flock. 
 Hens and geese cackled loudly and clapped their 
 wings. Applause and derision rose high each 
 time the poor cock swung around, reaching for 
 the grass. But the gobbler continued his even 
 stride, deliberately, and as it seemed, thought 
 fully, applying correction to the quarrelsome 
 bird. Walking the grass tips had begun to tire 
 those reaching legs. The cock soon straddled 
 along with a serious eye and an open mouth. 
 But the gobbler gave him no rest. When, at
 
 246 BARREL 
 
 length, he released his hold, the game-cock lay 
 weary and wild-eyed, with no more fight in him 
 than a bunch of rags. Soon he rose and ran 
 away and hid himself in the stable. The culprit 
 fowl was then tried, convicted, and sentenced to 
 the block. 
 
 " It's the fate of all fighters that have only a 
 selfish cause," said the teacher. He was sitting 
 on the grass, Polly, and Tom, and Paul, beside 
 him. 
 
 " Look here," said he, suddenly. " I'll show 
 you another fight." 
 
 All gathered about him. Down among the 
 grass roots an ant stood facing a big, hairy 
 spider. The ant backed away, presently, and 
 made a little detour, the spider turning quickly 
 and edging toward him. The ant stood motion 
 less, the spider on tiptoe, with daggers drawn. 
 The big, hairy spider leaped like a lion to its 
 prey. They could see her striking with the 
 fatal knives, her great body quivering with 
 fierce energy. The little ant was hidden beneath 
 it. Some uttered a cry of pity, and Paul was 
 for taking sides. 
 
 " Wait a moment," said the teacher, restrain-
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 247 
 
 ing his hand. The spider had begun to trem 
 ble in a curious manner. 
 
 " Look now," said Trove, with some excite 
 ment. 
 
 Her legs had begun to let go and were 
 straightening stiff on both sides of her. In 
 a moment she tilted sideways and lay still. 
 They saw a twinkle of black legs and the 
 ant making off in the stubble. They picked up 
 the spider's body; it was now only an empty 
 shell. Her big stomach had been torn away and 
 lay in little strips and chunks, down at the roots 
 of the stubble. 
 
 "It's the end of a bit of history," said the 
 teacher, as he tore away the curved blades of 
 the spider and put them in Polly's palm. 
 
 " Let's see where the ant goes." 
 
 He got down upon his hands and knees and 
 watched the little black tiger, now hurrying 
 for his lair. In a moment he was joined by 
 others, and presently they came into a smooth 
 little avenue under the grass. It took them 
 into the edge of the meadow, around a stalk 
 of mullen, where there were a number of 
 webs.
 
 248 DARREL 
 
 " There's where she lived this hairy old 
 woman," said the teacher, "up there in that 
 tower. See her snares in the grass four of 
 them ? " 
 
 He rapped on the stalk of mullen with a 
 stick, peering into the dusty little cavern of 
 silk near the top of it. 
 
 " Sure enough ! Here is where she lived ; 
 for the house is empty, and there's living prey 
 in the snares." 
 
 "What a weird old thing!" said Polly. 
 " Can you tell us more about her ? " 
 
 "Well, every summer," said Trove, "a great 
 city grows up in the field. There are shady 
 streets in it, no wider than a cricket's back, 
 and millions living in nest and tower and 
 cave and cavern. Among its people are toil 
 ers and idlers, laws and lawbreakers, thieves 
 and highwaymen, grand folk and plain folk. 
 Here is the home of the greatest criminal in 
 the city of the field. See! it is between two 
 leaves, one serving as roof, the other as floor 
 and portico. Here is a long cable that comes 
 out of her sitting room and slopes away to 
 the big snare below. Look at her sheets of
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 249 
 
 silk in the grass. It's like a washing that's 
 been hung out to dry. From each a slender 
 cord of silk runs to the main cable. Even a 
 fly's kick or a stroke of his tiny wing must 
 have gone up the tower and shaken the floor 
 of the old lady, maybe, with a sort of thun 
 der. Then she ran out and down the cable 
 to rush upon her helpless prey. She was an 
 arrant highwayman, this old lady, a crea 
 ture of craft and violence. She was no sooner 
 married than she slew her husband a timid 
 thing smaller than she and ate him at one 
 meal. You know the ants are a busy people. 
 This road was probably a thoroughfare for 
 their freight, eggs and cattle and wild rice. 
 I'll warrant she used to lie and wait for them ; 
 and woe to the little traveller if she caught 
 him unawares, for she could nip him in two 
 with a single thrust of her knives. Then she 
 would seize the egg he bore and make off 
 with it. Now the ants are cunning. They 
 found her downstairs and cut her off from 
 her home and drove her away into the grass 
 jungle. I've no doubt she faced a score of 
 them, but, being a swift climber, with lots of
 
 25 
 
 DARREL 
 
 rope in her pocket, was able to get away. 
 The soldier ants began to beat the jungle. 
 They separated, content to meet her singly, 
 knowing she would refuse to fight if con 
 fronted by more than one. And you know 
 what happened to her." 
 
 All that afternoon they spent in the city of 
 the field. The life of the birds in the great 
 maple interested them most of all. In the 
 evening he played checkers with Polly and 
 told her of school life in the village of Hills- 
 borough the work and play of the students. 
 
 " Oh ! I do wish I could go," said she, 
 presently, with a deep sigh. 
 
 He thought of the eighty-two dollars in his 
 pocket and longed to tell her all that he was 
 planning for her sake. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughn went above stairs with the chil 
 dren. 
 
 Then Trove took Polly's hand. They looked 
 deeply into each other's eyes a moment, both 
 smiling. 
 
 "It's your move," said she, smiling as her 
 glance fell. 
 
 He moved all the checkers.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 251 
 
 There came a breath of silence, and a great 
 surge of happiness that washed every checker 
 off the board, and left the two with flushed 
 faces. Then, as Mrs. Vaughn was coming 
 downstairs, the checkers began to rattle into 
 position. 
 
 " I won," said he, as the door opened. 
 
 " But he didn't play fair," said Polly. 
 
 "Children, I'm afraid you're playing more 
 love than checkers," said the widow. " You're 
 both too young to think of marriage." 
 
 Those two looked thoughtfully at the checker 
 board, Polly's chin resting on her hand. She 
 had begun to smile. 
 
 " I'm sure Mr. Trove has no such thought 
 in his head," said she, still looking at the 
 board. 
 
 " You're mother is right ; we're both very 
 young," said Trove. 
 
 " I believe you're afraid of her," said Polly, 
 looking up at him with a smile. 
 
 " I'm only thinking of your welfare," said 
 Mrs. Vaughn, gently. " Young love should be 
 stored away, and if it keeps, why, then it's all 
 right."
 
 252 DARREL 
 
 " Like preserves ! " said Polly, soberly, as if 
 she were not able to see the point. 
 
 Against the protest of Polly and her mother. 
 Trove went to sleep in the sugar shanty, a 
 quarter of a mile or so back in the woods. On 
 his first trip with the drove he had developed 
 fondness for sleeping out of doors. The shanty 
 was a rude structure of logs, with an open front. 
 Tunk went ahead, bearing a pine torch, while 
 Trove followed, the blanket over his shoulder. 
 They built a roaring fire in front of the shanty 
 and sat down to talk. 
 
 " How have you been ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 " Like t' killed me there at the ol' maids'." 
 
 " Were they rough with you ? " 
 
 " No," said Tunk, gloomily. 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 " Hoss." 
 
 " Kicked ? " was Trove's query. 
 
 " Lord ! I should think so. Feel there." 
 
 Trove felt the same old protuberance on 
 Tunk's leg. 
 
 " Swatted me right in the knee-pan. Put 
 both feet on my chest, too. Lord ! I'd be 
 coughin' up blood all the while if I wa'n't care 
 ful."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 253 
 
 " And why did you leave ? " 
 
 "Served me a mean trick," said Tunk, frown 
 ing. " Letishey went away t' the village t' have 
 a tooth drawed, an' t'other one locked me up all 
 day in the garret chamber. Toward night I 
 crawled out o' the window an' clim' down the 
 lightnin' rod. An' she screamed for help an' 
 run t' the neighbours. Scairt me half t' death. 
 Heavens ! I didn't know what I'd done ! " 
 
 " Did you come down fast ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 " Purty middlin' fast." 
 
 "Well, a man never ought to travel on a 
 lightning rod." 
 
 Tunk sat in sober silence a moment, as if he 
 thought it no proper time for levity. 
 
 " I made up my mind," said he, with an 
 injured look, "it wa'n't goin' t' do my character 
 no good t' live there with them ol' maids." 
 
 There was a bitter contempt in his voice 
 when he said "ol' maids." 
 
 " I'd kind o' like t' draw the ribbons over 
 that mare o' yourn, mister," said Tunk, pres 
 ently. 
 
 " Do you think you could manage her ? " 
 
 " What ! " said Tunk, in a voice of both
 
 254 DARREL 
 
 query and exclamation. " Huh ! Don't I look 
 as if I'd been used t' bosses. There ain't a 
 bone in my body that ain't been kicked some 
 on 'em two or three times. Don't ye notice 
 how I walk ? Heavens, man ! I hed my ex 
 sprung 'fore I was fifteen ! " 
 
 Tunk referred often and proudly to this 
 early springing of his "ex," by which he 
 meant probably that horse violence had bent 
 him askew. 
 
 "Well, you shall have a chance to drive 
 her," said Trove, spreading his blanket. "But 
 if I'd gone through what you have, I'd keep 
 out of danger." 
 
 " I like it," said Tunk, with emphasis. " I 
 couldn't live without it. Danger is a good 
 deal like chawin' terbaccer dum nasty 'til 
 ye git used to it. Fer me it's suthin' like 
 strawberry short-cake and allwus was. An' 
 nerve, man, why jes' look a' there." 
 
 He held out a hand to show its steadiness. 
 
 "Very good," Trove remarked. 
 
 " Good ? Why, it's jest as stiddy as a hitchin' 
 post, an' purty nigh as stout. Feel there," 
 said Tunk, swelling his biceps.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 255 
 
 "You must be very strong," said Trove, as 
 he felt the rigid arm. 
 
 "A man has t' be in the hoss business, er 
 he ain't nowheres. If they get wicked, ye've 
 got t* put the power to 'em." 
 
 Tunk had only one horse to care for at 
 the widow's, but he was always in "the hoss 
 business." 
 
 Then Tunk lit his torch and went away. 
 Trove lay down, pulled his blanket about him, 
 and went to sleep.
 
 XXIII 
 
 A New Problem 
 
 HEN Trove woke in the morn 
 ing, a package covered with 
 white paper lay on the blanket 
 near his hand. He rose and 
 picked it up, and saw his own 
 name in a strange handwriting on the wrap 
 per. He turned it, looking curiously at seal 
 and superscription. Tearing it open, he found 
 to his great surprise a brief note and a roll 
 of money. " Herein is a gift for Mr. Sidney 
 Trove," said the note. "The gift is from a 
 friend unknown, who prays God that wisdom 
 may go with it, so it prove a blessing to both." 
 Trove counted the money carefully. There 
 were $3000 in bank bills. He sat a moment, 
 thinking; then he rose, and began searching 
 for tracks around the shanty. He found none, 
 however, in the dead leaves which he could 
 distinguish from those of Tunk and himself. 
 256
 
 DARREL 257 
 
 "It must be from my father," said he, a 
 thought that troubled him deeply, for it seemed 
 to bring ill news that his father would never 
 make himself known. 
 
 "He must have seen me last night," Trove 
 went on. " He must even have been near me 
 so near he could have touched me with his 
 hand. If I had only wakened ! " 
 
 He put the money in his pocket and made 
 ready to go. He would leave at once in quest 
 of Barrel and take counsel of him. It was 
 early, and he could see the first light of the 
 sun, high in the tall towers of hemlock. The 
 forest rang with bird songs. He went to 
 the brook near by, and drank of its clear, cold 
 water, and bathed in it. Then he walked 
 slowly to Robin's Inn, where Mrs. Vaughn 
 had begun building a fire. She observed the 
 troubled look in his face, but said nothing of 
 it then. Trove greeted her and went to the 
 stable to feed his mare. As he neared the 
 door he heard a loud " Whoa." He entered 
 softly, and the big barn, that joined the stable, 
 began to ring with noise. He heard Tunk 
 shouting " Whoa, whoa, whoa ! " at the top of
 
 2$$ DARREL 
 
 his voice. Peering through, he could see the 
 able horseman leaning back upon a pair of 
 reins tied to a beam in front of him. His cry 
 and attitude were like those of a jockey driv 
 ing a hard race. He saw Trove, and began 
 to slow up. 
 
 "You are a brave man there's no doubt of 
 it," said the teacher. 
 
 " What makes ye think so ? " Tunk inquired 
 soberly, but with a glowing eye. 
 
 " If you were not brave, you'd scare yourself 
 to death, yelling that way." 
 
 " It isn't possible, or Tunk would have per 
 ished long ago," said the widow, who had come 
 to feed her chickens. 
 
 " It's enough to raise the neighbours," Trove 
 added. 
 
 "There ain't any near neighbours but them 
 over 'n the buryin'-ground, and they must be a 
 little uneasy," said the widow. 
 
 " Used t' drive so much in races," said Tunk, 
 ** got t' be kind of a habit with me seems so. 
 Ain't eggzac'ly happy less I have holt o' the 
 fibbons every day or two. Ye know I used t' 
 irive ol' crazy Jane. She pulled like Satan.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 259 
 
 All ye had t' do was t' lean back an' let 'er 
 sail." 
 
 " But why do you shout that way ? " 
 
 " Scares the other bosses," Tunk answered, 
 dropping the reins and tossing his whip aside. 
 " It's a shame I have t' fool my time away up 
 here on a farm." 
 
 He went to work at the chores, frowning with 
 discontent Trove watered and fed his mare 
 and went in to breakfast. An hour later, he 
 bade them all good-by, and set out for Allen's. 
 A new fear began to weigh upon him as he 
 travelled. Was this a part of that evil sum, 
 and had his father begun now to scatter what 
 he had never any right to touch ? Whoever 
 brought him that big roll of money had robbed 
 him of his peace. Even his ribs, against which 
 it chafed as he rode along, began to feel sore. 
 Home at last, he put up the mare and went to 
 tell his mother that he must be off for Hills- 
 borough. 
 
 " My son," said she, her arms about his neck, 
 " our eyes are growing dim and for a long time 
 have seen little of you." 
 
 " And I feel the loss," Trove answered. " I
 
 260 DARREL 
 
 have things to do there, and shall return to 
 night." 
 
 " You look troubled," was her answer. " Poor 
 boy ! I pray God to keep you unspotted of the 
 world." She was ever fearing unhappy news 
 of the mystery that something evil would 
 come out of it. 
 
 As Trove rode away he took account of all he 
 owed those good people who had been mother 
 and father to him. What a pleasure it would 
 give him to lay that goodly sum in the lap of his 
 mother and bid her spend it with no thought of 
 economy. 
 
 The mare knew him as one may know a 
 brother. There was in her manner some subtle 
 understanding of his mood. Her master saw it 
 in the poise of her head, in the shift of her ears, 
 and in her tender way of feeling for his hand. 
 She, too, was looking right and left in the fields. 
 There were the scenes of a boyhood, newly 
 but forever gone. " That's where you overtook 
 me on the way to school," said he to Phyllis, for 
 so the tinker had named her. 
 
 She drew at the rein, starting playfully as she 
 heard his voice, and shaking his hand as if to
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 261 
 
 say, " Oh, master, give me the rein. I will bear 
 you swiftly to happiness." 
 
 Trove looked down at her proudly, patting 
 the silken arch of her neck. If, as Barrel had 
 once told him, God took note of the look of one's 
 horses, she was fit for the last journey. Arriv 
 ing at Hiilsborough, he tied her in the sheds and 
 tpok his way to the Sign of the Dial. Barrel 
 was working at his little bench. He turned 
 wearily, his face paler than Trove had ever seen 
 it, his eyes deeper under their fringe of silvered 
 hair. 
 
 "An' God be praised, the boy!" said he, 
 rising quickly. " Canst thou make a jest, boy, 
 a merry jest ? " 
 
 " Not until you have told me what's the 
 matter." 
 
 " Illness an' the food o' bitter fancy," said 
 the tinker, with a sad face. 
 
 " Bitter fancy ? " 
 
 " Yes ; an' o' thee, boy. Had I gathered care 
 in the broad fields all me life an' heaped it on 
 thy back, I could not have done worse by thee." 
 
 Barrel put his hand upon the boy's shoulder, 
 surveying him from head to foot.
 
 262 BARREL 
 
 " But, many," he added, " 'tis a mighty thigh 
 an' a broad back." 
 
 " Have you seen my father ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, and Trove 
 began to change colour. 
 
 " And what did he say ? " 
 
 " That he will bear his burden alone." 
 
 Then, for a moment, silence and the ticking 
 of the clocks. 
 
 " And I shall never know my father ? " said 
 Trove, presently, his lips trembling. "God, 
 air! I insist upon it. I have a right to his 
 name and to his shame also." The young man 
 sank upon a chair, covering his face. 
 
 " Nay, boy, it is not wise," said Barrel, ten 
 derly. " Take thought of it thou'rt young. 
 The time is near when thy father can make 
 restitution, ay, an* acknowledge his sin before 
 the world. All very near to him, saving thy 
 self, are dead. Now, whatever comes, it can 
 do thee no harm." 
 
 " But I care not for disgrace ; and often you 
 have told me that I should live and speak the 
 truth, even though it burn me to the bone."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 263 
 
 " So have I, boy, so have I ; but suppose it 
 bum others to the bone. It will burn thy wife, 
 an* thy children, an' thy children's children, 
 and them that have reared thee, an' it would 
 burn thy father most of all." 
 
 Trove was utterly silenced. His father was 
 bent on keeping his own disgrace. 
 
 " Mind thee, boy, the law o' truth is great, but 
 the law o' love is greater. A lie for the sake o' 
 love think o' that a long time, think until thy 
 heart is worn with all fondness an' thy soul is 
 ready for its God, then judge it." 
 
 " But when he makes confession I shall 
 know, and go to him, and stand by his side," 
 the young man remarked. 
 
 " Nay, boy, rid thy mind o' that. If ye were 
 to hear of his crime, ye'd never know it was thy 
 father's." 
 
 " It is a bitter sorrow, but I shall make the 
 best of it," said Trove. 
 
 " Ay, make the best of it. Thou'rt now m 
 the deep sea, an' God guide thee." 
 
 " But I ask your help will you read that ? ** 
 said Trove, handing him the mysterious note 
 that came with the roll of money.
 
 264 BARREL 
 
 "An* how much came with it?" said Barrel, 
 as he read the fines. 
 
 "Three thousand dollars. Here they are; 
 I do not know what to do with them." 
 
 " Tis a large sum, an* maybe from thy 
 father/' said Darrel, looking down at the money. 
 " Possibly, quite possibly it is from thy father." 
 
 "And what shall I do with the money ? It is 
 cursed ; I can make no use of it" 
 
 " Ah, boy, of one thing be sure ; it is not the 
 stolen money. For many years thy father hath 
 been a frugal man saving, ever saving the 
 poor fruit of his toil Nay, boy, if it come o' 
 thy father, have no fear o' that. For a time put 
 thy money in the bank." 
 
 "Then my father lives near me where I 
 may be meeting him every day of my life ? " 
 
 " No," said Darrel, shaking his head. Then 
 lifting his finger and looking into the eyes of 
 Trove, he spoke slowly and with deep feeling. 
 "Now that ye know his will I warn ye, boy, 
 seek him no more. Were ye to meet him now 
 an' know him for thy father an' yet refuse to 
 let him pass, I'd think thee a monster o' selfish 
 truefcy."
 
 XXIV 
 
 Beginning tJie Book of Trouble 
 
 HE rickety stairway seemed 
 to creak with surprise at the 
 slowness of his feet as Trove 
 descended. It was circus day, 
 and there were few hi the street. 
 Neither looking to right nor left he hurried to 
 the bank of Hillsborough and left his money. 
 Then, mounting his mare, he turned to the 
 wooded hills and went away at a swift gallop. 
 When the village lay far behind them and the 
 sun was low, he drew rein to let the mare 
 breathe, and turned, looking down the long 
 stairway of the hills. In the south great green 
 waves of timber land rose into the sun-glow as 
 they swept over hill and mountain. Presently 
 he could hear a galloping horse and a faint 
 halloo down the valley, out of which he had just 
 come. He stopped, listening, and soon a man 
 265
 
 266 DARREL 
 
 and horse, the latter nearly spent with fast 
 travel, came up the pike. 
 
 " Well, by Heaven ! You gave me a hard 
 chase," said the man. 
 
 " Do you wish to see me ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 "Yes my name is Spinnel. I am con 
 nected with the bank of Hillsborough. Your 
 name is Trove Sidney Trove ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "You deposited three thousand dollars to 
 day?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " Well, I've come to see you and ask a few 
 questions. I've no authority, and you can do as 
 you like about answering." 
 
 The man pulled up near Trove and took a 
 note-book and pencil out of his pocket. 
 
 " First, how came you by that money ? " said 
 he, with some show of excitement in his 
 manner. 
 
 " That is my business," said Trove, coolly. 
 
 "There's more or less truth hi that," said the 
 other. " But I'll explain. Night before last the 
 bank in Milldam was robbed, and the clerk who 
 slept there badly hurt. Now, I've no doubt
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 267 
 
 you're all right, but here's a curious fact 
 the sum taken was about three thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 Trove began to change colour. He dis 
 mounted, looking up at the stranger and hold 
 ing both horses by the bit. 
 
 "And they think me a thief ? " he demanded. 
 
 " No," was the quick reply. " They've no 
 doubt you can explain everything." 
 
 " I'll tell you all I know about the money,' 
 said Trove. " But come, let's keep the horses 
 warm." 
 
 They led them and, walking slowly, Trove 
 told of his night in the sugar-bush. Something 
 in the manner of Spinnel slowed his feet and 
 words. The story was finished. They stopped, 
 tur ing face to face. 
 
 It's grossly improbable," Trove suggested 
 t! ughtfully. 
 
 " Well, it ain't the kind o' thing that bappem 
 every day or two," said the other. " II you're 
 innocent, you won't mind my looking you over 
 a little to see if you have wounds or weapons. 
 Understand, I've no authority, but if you wish, 
 I'll do it."
 
 268 DARREL 
 
 " Glad to have you. Here's a hunting-knife, 
 and a flint, and some bird shot," Trove answered, 
 as he began to empty his pockets. . 
 
 Spinnel examined the hunting-knife and looked 
 carefully at each pocket. 
 
 " Would you mind taking off your coat ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 The young man removed his coat, uncover 
 ing a small spatter of blood on a shut-sleeve. 
 
 " There's no use going any farther with this," 
 said the young man, impatiently. "Come on 
 home with me, and I'll go back with you in 
 the morning and prove my innocence." 
 
 The two mounted their horses and rode a 
 long way in silence. 
 
 " It is possible," said Trove, presently, " that 
 the robber was a man that knew me and, being 
 close pressed, planned to divert suspicion." 
 
 Save that of the stranger, there was no sleep 
 at the little house in Brier Dale that night. 
 But, oddly, for Mary and Theron Allen it be 
 came a night of dear and lasting memories of 
 their son. He sat long with them under the 
 pine trees, and for the first time they saw and 
 felt his strength and were as children before it.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 269 
 
 "It's all a school," said he, calmly. "An 1 
 I'm just beginning to study the Book of Trouble. 
 It's full of rather tough problems, but I'm not 
 going to flunk or fail in it"
 
 XXV 
 
 The Spider Snares 
 
 ROVE and Spinnel were in 
 Hillsborough soon after sunrise 
 the morning of that memorable 
 day. The young man rapped 
 loudly on the broad .door at the 
 Sign of the Dial, bat within aH was sflent. The 
 day before Darnel had spoken of going off to 
 the river towns, and must have started. A 
 lonely feermg came into die boy's heart as he 
 turned away. He went promptly to the house 
 of the district attorney and told all he knew of 
 the money that he had put in the bank. He 
 recounted all that took place the afternoon of 
 IBB stay at Robin's Tim the battles of the 
 cocks, and the spider, and how the wounded 
 fowl had probably sprinkled his sleeve with 
 blood. In half an hour, news of the young man's 
 trouble had gone to every house in the village. 
 Soon a score of hiy schoolmates and htf the 
 xjo
 
 DARREL 271 
 
 faculty were at his side there in the room 
 of the justice. Theron Allen arrived at nine 
 o'clock, although at that hour two responsible 
 men had already given a bail-bond. After din 
 ner, Trove, a constable, and the attorney rode 
 to Robin's Tnn. The news had arrived before 
 them, but only the two boys and Tunk were at 
 home. The latter stood in front of the stable, 
 looking earnestly up the road. 
 
 " Hello," said he, gazing curiously at horse and 
 men as they came up to the door. He seemed to 
 be eyeing the attorney with hopeful anticipation. 
 
 "Tunk," said Trove, cheerfully, "you have 
 a mournful eye.** 
 
 Tank advanced slowly, still gazing, both 
 hands deep in his trousers pockets. 
 
 " Ez Tower just went by," said he, with sup 
 pressed feeling. "Said you was arrested fer 
 murder." 
 
 " I presume yon woe surprised." 
 
 "Wai," said he, " Ez ain't said a word before 
 in six months." 
 
 Tunk opened the horse's mouth and stood 
 a moment, peering thoughtfully at his teeth. 
 
 " Kind of unexpected to be spoke to by Ez
 
 272 DARREL 
 
 Tower," he added, turning his eyes upon them 
 with the same curious look. 
 
 The interrogation of Tunk and the two boys 
 began immediately. The story of the fowl 
 corroborated, the sugar-bush became an object 
 of investigation. Milldam was ten miles away, 
 and it was quite possible for the young man to 
 have ridden there and back between the hour 
 when Tunk left him and that of sunrise when 
 he met Mrs. Vaughn at her door. Trove and 
 Tunk Hosely went with the officers down a 
 lane to the pasture and thence into the wood 
 by a path they followed that night to and from 
 the shanty. They discovered nothing new, 
 save one remarkable circumstance that baffled 
 Trove and renewed the waning suspicion of 
 the men of the law. On almost a straight 
 line from bush to barn were tracks of a man 
 that showed plainly where they came out of the 
 grass upon the garden soil. Now, the strange 
 part of it lay in this fact : the boots of Sidney 
 Trove exactly fitted the tracks. They followed 
 the footprints carefully into the meadow-grass 
 and up to the stalk of mullen. Near the top 
 of it was the abandoned home of the spider
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 273 
 
 and arouad it were the four snares Trove had 
 observed, now full of prey. 
 
 " Do not disturb the grass here," said Trove, 
 " and I will prove to you that the tracks were 
 made before the night in question. Do you 
 see the four webs ? " 
 
 " Yes/' said the attorney. 
 
 "The tracks go under them," said Trove, 
 "and must, therefore, have been made before 
 the webs. I will prove to you that the webs- 
 were spun before two o'clock of the day before 
 yesterday. At that hour I saw the spinner die. 
 See, her lair is deserted." 
 
 He broke the stalk of mullen and the cables 
 of spider silk that led away from it, and all in 
 spected the empty lair. Then he told of that 
 deadly battle in the grass. 
 
 " But these webs might have been the work 
 of another spider," said the attorney. 
 
 "It matters not," Trove insisted, "for the 
 webs were spun at least twelve hours before 
 the crime. One of them contains the body of 
 a red butterfly with starred wings. We cut the 
 wings that day, and Miss Vaughn put them in 
 a book she was reading."
 
 274 BARREL 
 
 Paul brought the wings, which exactly fitted 
 the tiny torso of the butterfly. They could 
 discern the footprints, one of which had broken 
 the ant's road, while another was completely 
 covered by the butterfly snare. 
 
 " Those tracks were made before the webs 
 that is evident," said the attorney. " Do you 
 know who made the tracks ? " 
 
 " I do not," was the answer of the young man. 
 
 Trove remained at Robin's Inn that night, 
 and after the men had gone he recalled a cir 
 cumstance that was like a flash of lightning in 
 the dark of his great mystery. 
 
 Once at the Sign of the Dial his friend, the 
 tinker, had shown him a pair of new boots. 
 He remembered they were of the same size 
 and shape as those he wore. 
 
 "We could wear the same boots," he had 
 remarked to Darrel. 
 
 "Had I to do such penance I should be 
 damned," the tinker had answered. " Look, 
 boy, mine are the larger by far. There's a 
 man coming to see me at the Christmas time 
 a man o' busy feet. That pah" in your hands 
 I bought for him."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 275 
 
 " Day before yesterday," said Tunk, that 
 evening, " I was up in the sugar-bush after 
 ft. bit o' hickory, an' I see a man there, an' I 
 didn't have no idee who 'twas. He was tall 
 and had white hair an' whiskers an' a short 
 blue coat. When I first see him he was settin' 
 on a log, but 'fore I come nigh he got up an' 
 made off." 
 
 Although meagre, the description was suffi 
 cient. Trove had no longer any doubt of this 
 that the stranger he had seen at Barrel's 
 had been hiding in the bush that day whose 
 events were now so important. 
 
 Whoever had brought the money, he must 
 have known much of the plans and habits of 
 the young man, and, the night before Trove's 
 arrival at Robin's Inn, he came, probably, to 
 the sugar woods, where he spent the next day 
 in hiding. 
 
 The young man was deeply troubled. Polly 
 and her mother sat well into the night with 
 him, hearing the story of his life, which he told 
 in full, saving only the sin of his father. Of 
 that he had neither the right nor the heart to 
 tell.
 
 2/6 
 
 DARREL 
 
 "God only knows what is the next chapter," 
 said he, at last. " It may rob me of all that I 
 love in this world." 
 
 " But not of me," said Polly, whispering in 
 his ear. 
 
 " I wish I were sure of that," he answered.
 
 XXVI 
 
 The Coming of the Cars 
 
 HAT year was one of much 
 reckoning there in the land 
 of the hills. A year it was 
 of historic change and popu 
 lar excitement. To begin with, 
 a certain rich man bought a heavy cannon, 
 which had roared at the British on the fron 
 tier in 1812, and gave it to the town of 
 Hillsborough. It was no sooner dumped on 
 the edge of the little park than it became a 
 target of criticism. The people were to be 
 taxed for the expense of mounting it "Taxed 
 fer a thing we ain't no more need of than 
 a bear has need of a hair-brush," said one citi 
 zen. Those Yankees came of men who helped 
 to fling the tea into Boston harbour, and had 
 some hereditary fear of taxes. 
 
 Hunters and trappers were much impressed 
 277
 
 278 DARREL 
 
 by it. They felt it over, peering curiously into 
 the muzzle, with one eye closed. 
 
 " Ye couldn't kill nuthin' with it," said one of 
 them. 
 
 " If I was to pick it up an' hit ye over the 
 head with it, I guess ye wouldn't think so," said 
 another. 
 
 Familiarity bred contempt, and by and by 
 they began to shoot at it from the tavern steps. 
 
 The gun lay rejected and much in the way 
 until its buyer came to his own rescue and 
 agreed to pay for the mounting. Then came 
 another and more famous controversy as to 
 which way they should " p'int " the gun. Some 
 favoured one direction, some another, and at 
 last, by way of compliment, they " p'inted " it 
 squarely at the house of the giver on the farther 
 side of the park. And it was loaded to the 
 muzzle with envy and ingratitude. 
 
 The arrest of Sidney Trove, also, had filled 
 the town with exciting rumours, and gossip of 
 him seemed to travel on the four winds much 
 of it as unkind as it was unfounded. 
 
 Then came surveyors, and promoters of the 
 railroad, and a plan of aiding it by bonding the
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 279 
 
 towns it traversed. In the beginning horror 
 and distrust were in many bosoms. If the devil 
 and some of his angels had come, he might, 
 indeed, for a time, have made more converts 
 and less excitement 
 
 " It's a delusion an' a snare," said old Colonel 
 Barclay in a speech. "Who wants t' whiz 
 through the ah* like a bullet? God never in 
 tended men to go slidin* over the earth that 
 way. It ain't nat'ral ner it ain't common sense. 
 Some say it would bring more folks into this 
 country. I say we can supply all the folks 
 that's nec'sary. I've got fourteen in my own 
 family. S'pose ye lived on a tremendous side- 
 hill that reached clear to New York City, so ye 
 could git on a sled an' scoot off like a streak o' 
 lightnin'. Do ye think ye'd be any happier? 
 Do ye think ye'd chop any more wood er raise 
 a bigger crop o' potatoes ? S'pose ye could 
 scoot yer crops right down t' Albany in a day. 
 That would be all right if ye was the only man 
 that was scootin', but if there was anything t' 
 be made by it, there'd be more than a million 
 sleds on the way, an' ye couldn't sell yer stuff 
 for so much as ye git here. Some day ye'd
 
 DARREL 
 
 ceme home and ask where's Ma an' Mary, and 
 then Sam would say, ' Why, Mary's slid down 
 t' New York, and the last I see o' Ma she was 
 scootin' for Rochester.' " 
 
 Here, the record says, Colonel Barclay was 
 interrupted by laughter and a voice. 
 
 " Wai, if there was a railroad, they could scoot 
 back ag'in," said the voice. 
 
 "Yes," the Colonel rejoined, "but mebbe 
 after they'd been there a while ye'd wish they 
 couldn't. Wai, you git your own supper, an' 
 then Sam says, says he, ' I guess I'll scoot over 
 t 1 Watertown and see my gal fer a few minutes.' 
 An' ye sit by the fire a while, rockin' the twins, 
 an' by and by yer wife comes back. An' ye 
 say, ' Ma, why don't ye stay t' home ? ' ' Wai,' 
 says she, ' it is so splendid, and there's so much 
 goin' on.' An' Mary, she begins t' talk as if 
 she'd bit her tongue, an' step stylish, an' hold up 
 her dress like that, jest as though she was steppin' 
 over a hot griddle. Purty soon it's dizzle-dazzle 
 an' flippity-floppity an' splendiferous and sew- 
 perb, an' the first thing ye know ye ain't knee- 
 high to a grasshopper. Sam he comes back an' 
 tells Ed all about the latest devilment. You
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 281 
 
 hear of it ; then, mebbe, ye begin to limber up 
 an' think ye'll try it yerself . An' some morning 
 ye' 11 wake up an' find yer moral character has 
 scooted. You fellers that go t' meetin' here 
 an' talk about resistin' temptation if you ever 
 git t' goin' it down there in New York City, 
 temptation '11 have to resist you. My friends, 
 ye don't want to make it too easy fer everybody 
 to go somewhere else. If ye do, by an' by there 
 won't be nobody left here but them that's too 
 old t' scoot er a few sickly young folks who 
 don't care fer the sinful attractions o' this 
 world." 
 
 Who shall say that old Colonel Barclay had 
 not the tongue of a prophet ? 
 
 " An' how about the cost ? " he added in con 
 clusion. " Fellow-citizens, ye'll have to pay five 
 cents a mile fer yer scootin', an' a tax, a tax, 
 fellow-citizens, to help pay the cost o' the rail 
 road. If there's anybody here that don't feel as 
 if he'd been taxed enough, he ought t' be taxed 
 fer his folly." 
 
 The dread of "scooting" grew for a time, 
 but wise men were able to overcome it.
 
 282 DARREL 
 
 In 1850, the iron way had come through the 
 wilderness and begun to rend the northern 
 hills. Some were filled with awe, learning 
 for the first time that in the moving of moun 
 tains giant-powder was more efficient than 
 faith. Soon it had passed Hillsborough and 
 was finished. Everybody came to see the cars 
 that day of the first train. The track was 
 lined with people at every village; many with 
 children upon arms and shoulders. They 
 waited long, and when the iron horse came 
 roaring out of the distance, women fell back 
 and men rolled their quids and looked eagerly 
 up the track. It came on with screaming 
 whistle and noisy brakes and roaring wheels. 
 Children began to cry with fear and men to yell 
 with excitement. Dogs were barking wildly, 
 and two horses ran away, dragging with them 
 part of a picket-fence. A brown shoat came 
 bounding over the ties and broke through the 
 wall of people, carrying many off their feet 
 and creating panic and profanity. The train 
 stopped, its engine hissing. A brakeman of 
 flashy attire, with fine leather showing to the 
 knees, strolled off and up the platform on high
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 283 
 
 heels, haughty as a prince. Confusion began 
 to abate. 
 
 "Hear it pant," said one, looking at the 
 engine. 
 
 " Seems so it had the heaves," another re 
 marked thoughtfully. 
 
 " Goes like the wind," said a passenger, who 
 had just alighted. "Jerked us ten mile in 
 less 'n twenty minutes." 
 
 " Folks '11 have to be made o' cast iron to 
 ride on them air cars," said another. " I'd 
 ruther set on the tail of a threshin'-machine. 
 It gave a slew on the turn up yender, an' I 
 thought 'twas goin' right over Bowman's 
 barn. It flung me up ag'in the side o' the 
 car, an' I see stars fer a minute. 'What's 
 happened,' says I to another chap. ' Oh, we're 
 all right,' says he. ' Be we ? ' says I, an' then 
 I see I'd lost a tooth an' broke my glasses. 
 4 That ain't nuthin',' says he, ' I had my foot 
 braced over ag'in that other seat, an' somebody 
 fell back on my leg, an' I guess the knee is 
 out o' j'int. But I'm alive, an' I ain't got no 
 fault to find. If I ever git off this shebang, 
 I'm goin' out in the woods somewhere an' set
 
 284 DARREL 
 
 down an' see what kind o' shape I'm in. I 
 guess I'm purty nigh sp'ilt, an' it cost me fifty 
 cents t' do it.' 
 
 "'An' all yer common sense, tew,' says I." 
 
 A number got aboard, and the train started. 
 Rip Enslow was on the rear platform, his 
 faithful hound galloping gayly behind the 
 train. Some one had tied him to the brake rod. 
 Nearly a score of dogs followed, barking merrily. 
 Rip's hound came back soon, his tongue low, 
 his tail between his legs. A number called to 
 him, but he seemed to know his own mind per 
 fectly, and made for the stream and lay down 
 in the middle of it, lapping the shallow water, 
 and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon. 
 
 A crowd of hunters watched him. 
 
 " Looks so he'd been ketched by a bear," 
 said one. 
 
 In half an hour Rip returned also, a shoulder 
 3ut of joint, a lump on his forehead, a big 
 rent in his trousers. He was one of those 
 men of whom others gather wisdom, for, after 
 that, everybody in the land of the hills knew 
 better than to jump off the cars or tie his 
 hound to the rear platform.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 285 
 
 And dogs came to know, after a little while, 
 that the roaring dragon was really afraid of 
 them and would run like a very coward if it 
 saw a dog coming across the fields. Every 
 small cur that lived in sight of it lay in the 
 tall grass, and when he saw the dragon com 
 ing, chased him off the farm of his master. 
 
 Among those who got off the train at Hills- 
 borough that day was a big, handsome youth 
 of some twenty years. In all the crowd there 
 were none had ever seen him before. Dressed 
 in the height of fashion, he was a figure so 
 extraordinary that all eyes observed him as he 
 made his way to the tavern. Trove and Polly 
 and Mrs. Vaughn were in that curious throng 
 on the platform, where a depot was being built. 
 
 " My ! What a splendid-looking fellow," 
 said Polly, as the stranger passed. 
 
 Trove had a swift pang of jealousy that 
 moment. Turning, he saw Riley Brooke now 
 known as the " Old Rag Doll " standing 
 near them in a group of villagers 
 
 " I tell you, he's a thief," the boy heard him 
 saying, and the words seemed to blister as they 
 fell ; and ever after, when he thought of thei?.
 
 286 DARREL 
 
 a great sternness lay like a shadow on his 
 brow. 
 
 " I must go," said he, calmly turning to 
 Polly. " Let me help you into the wagon." 
 
 When they were gone, he stood a moment 
 thinking. He felt as if he were friendless and 
 alone. 
 
 " You're a giant to day," said a friend, passing 
 him; but Trove made no answer. Roused 
 incomprehensibly, his heavy muscles had be 
 come tense, and he had an odd consciousness 
 of their power. The people were scattering, 
 and he walked slowly down the street. The 
 sun was low, but he thought not of home or 
 where he should spend the night. It was now 
 the third day after his arrest. Since noon he 
 had been looking for Barrel, but the tinker's 
 door had been locked for days, according to the 
 carpenter who was at work below. For an 
 hour Trove walked, passing up and down before 
 that familiar stairway, in the hope of seeing his 
 friend. Daylight was dim when the tinker 
 stopped by the stairs and began to feel for his 
 key. The young man was quickly at the side 
 of Barrel.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 287 
 
 " God be praised ! " said the latter ; " here is 
 the old Dial an' the strong an* noble Trove. I 
 heard o' thy trouble, boy, far off on the post- 
 road, an' I have made haste to come to thee."
 
 XXVII 
 
 The Rare and Costly Cup 
 
 r 
 
 ROVE had been reciting the 
 history of his trouble and had 
 finished with bitter words. 
 
 " Shame on thee, boy," said 
 the tinker, as Trove sat be 
 fore him with tears of anger in his eyes. 
 " Watch yonder pendulum and say not a word 
 until it has ticked forty times. For what are 
 thy learning an' thy mighty thews if they do 
 not bear thee up in time o' trouble ? Now is 
 thy trial come before the Judge of all. Up 
 with thy head, boy, an' be acquitted ' weak 
 ness an' fear an' evil passion." 
 
 "We deserve better of him," said Trove, 
 speaking of Riley Brooke. "When all others 
 hated him, we were kind to the old sinner, and 
 it has done him no good." 
 
 "Ah, but has it done thee good? There's 
 288
 
 DARREL 289 
 
 the question," said Barrel, his hand upon the 
 boy's arm. 
 
 " I believe it has," said Trove, with a look 
 of surprise. 
 
 " It was thee I thought of, boy ; I had never 
 much thought o' him." 
 
 That moment Trove saw farther into the 
 depth of Barrel's heart than ever before. It 
 startled him. Surely, here was a man that 
 passed all understanding. 
 
 Barrel crossed to his bench and began to 
 wind the clocks. 
 
 " Ho, Clocks ! " said he, thoughtfully. " Know 
 ye the cars have come ? Now must we look 
 well to the long hand o' the clock. The old, 
 slow-footed hour is dead, an' now, boy, the min 
 ute is our king." 
 
 He came shortly and sat beside the young 
 man. 
 
 " Put away thy unhappiness," said he, gently, 
 patting the boy's hand. " No harm shall come 
 to thee 'tis only a passing cloud." 
 
 "You're right, and I'm not going to be a 
 fool," said Trove. " It has all brought me one 
 item of good fortune."
 
 290 DARREL 
 
 " An' that is ? " 
 
 " I have discovered who is my father." 
 
 "An' know ye where he is now ? " the tinker 
 inquired. 
 
 " No ; but I know it is he to whom you gave 
 the boots at Christmas time." 
 
 " Hush, boy," said Barrel, in a whisper, his 
 hand raised. 
 
 He crossed to the bench, returning quickly 
 and drawing his chair in front of the young 
 man. 
 
 " Once upon a time," he whispered, sitting 
 down and touching the palm of his open hand 
 with the index finger of the other, "a youth 
 held in his hand a cup, rare an' costly, an' it 
 was full o' happiness, an' he was tempted to 
 drink. ' Ho, there, me youth,' said one who 
 saw him, 'that is the happiness of another.' 
 But he tasted the cup, an' it was bitter, an' he 
 let it fall, an' the other lost his great possession. 
 Now that bitter taste was ever on the tongue o" 
 the youth, so that his own cup had always the 
 flavour o' woe." 
 
 The tinker paused a moment, looking sternly 
 into the face of the young man.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 291 
 
 "I adjure thee, boy, touch not the cup of 
 another's happiness, or it may imbitter thy 
 tongue. But if thou be foolish an' take it up, 
 mind ye do not drop it." 
 
 " I shall be careful I shall neither taste nor 
 drop it," said Trove. 
 
 " God bless thee, boy ! thou'rt come to a 
 great law who drains the cup of another's 
 happiness shall find it bitter, but who drains the 
 cup of another's bitterness shall find it sweet." 
 
 A silence followed, in which Trove sat looking 
 at the old man whose words were like those of 
 a prophet. " I have no longer any right to seek 
 my father," he thought. " And, though I meet 
 him face to face, I must let him go his way." 
 
 Suddenly there came a rap at the door, and 
 when Barrel opened it, they saw only a letter 
 hanging to the latch. It contained these words, 
 but no signature : 
 
 "There'll be a bonfire arid some fun to-night 
 at twelve, in the middle of Cook's field. Messrs. 
 Trove and Barrel are invited." 
 
 " Curious," said Barrel. " It has the look o' 
 mischief." 
 
 " Oh, it's only the boys and a bit of skylark-
 
 292 DARREL 
 
 ing," said Trove. " Let's go and see what's 
 up it's near the time." 
 
 The streets were dark and silent as they left 
 the shop. They went up a street beyond the 
 village limits and looked off in Cook's field but 
 saw no light there. While they stood looking a 
 flame rose and spread. Soon they could see 
 figures in the light, and, climbing the fence, 
 they hastened across an open pasture. Coming 
 near they saw a score of men with masks upon 
 their faces. 
 
 "Give him the tar and feathers," said a 
 strange voice. 
 
 " Not if he will confess an' seek forgiveness," 
 another answered. 
 
 " Down to your knees, man, an' make no out 
 cry, an' see you repeat the words carefully, 
 as I speak them, or you go home in tar and 
 feathers." 
 
 They could hear the sound of a scuffle, and, 
 shortly, the phrases of a prayer spoken by one 
 voice and repeated by another. 
 
 They were far back in the gloom, but could 
 hear each word of that which follows : " O God, 
 forgive me I am a liar and a hypocrite I
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 29$ 
 
 have the tongue of scandal and deceit I have 
 robbed the poor I have defamed the good 
 and, Lord, I am sick with the rottenness of 
 my own heart. And hereafter I will cheat no 
 more and speak no evil of any one Amen." 
 
 " Now, go to your home, Riley Brooke," said 
 the voice, " an' hereafter mind your tongue, or 
 you shall ride a rail in tar and feathers." 
 
 They could see the crowd scatter, and some 
 passed near them, running away in the dark 
 ness. 
 
 " Stoop there an' say not a word," the tinker 
 whispered, crouching in the grass. 
 
 When all were out of hearing, they started for 
 the little shop. 
 
 "Hereafter," said Darrel, as they walked 
 along, " God send he be more careful with the 
 happiness of other men. I do assure thee, boy r 
 it is bitter, bitter, bitter."
 
 XXVIII 
 
 Darrel at Robin s Inn 
 
 i 
 
 ROVE had much to help him, 
 youth, a cheerful temperament, 
 a counsellor of unfailing wis 
 dom. Long after they were 
 gone he recalled the sadness 
 and worry of those days with satisfaction, for, 
 thereafter, the shock of trouble was never 
 able to surprise and overthrow him. 
 
 After due examination he had been kept 
 in bail to wait the action of the grand jury, 
 soon to meet. Now there were none thought 
 him guilty save one or two afflicted with 
 the evil tongue. It seemed to him a dead issue 
 and gave him no worry. One thing, however, 
 preyed upon his peace, the knowledge that 
 his father was a thief. A conviction was ever 
 boring in upon him that he had no right to 
 love Polly. A base injustice it would be, he 
 294
 
 DARREL 295 
 
 thought, to marry her without telling what he 
 had no right to tell. But he was ever hop 
 ing for some word of his father news that 
 might set him free. He had planned to visit 
 Polly, and on a certain day Barrel was to 
 meet him at Robin's Inn. The young man 
 waited, in some doubt of his duty, and that 
 day came one of the late summer when 
 he and Barrel went afoot to the Inn, crossing 
 hill and valley, as the crow flies, stopping 
 here and there at isles of shadow in a hot 
 amber sea of light. They sat long to hear the 
 droning in the stubble and let their thought 
 drift slowly as the ship becalmed. 
 
 "Some days," said Barrel, "the soul in me 
 is like a toy skiff, tossing in the ripples of a 
 duck pond an' mayhap stranding on a reed 
 or lily. An' then," he added, with kindling 
 eye and voice, " she is a great ship, her sails 
 league long an' high, her masthead raking the 
 stars, her hull in the infinite sea." 
 
 "Well," said Trove, sighing, "I'm still in 
 the ripples of the duck pond." 
 
 "An' see they do not swamp thee," said 
 Barrel, with a smile that seemed to say, " Poor
 
 296 BARREL 
 
 weakling, your trouble is only as the ripples 
 of a tiny pool." They went on slowly, over 
 green pastures, halting at a brook in the woods. 
 There, again, they rested in a cool shade of 
 pines, Darrel lighting his pipe. 
 
 " I envy thee, boy," said the tinker, " enter 
 ing on thy life-work in this great land a 
 country blest o' God. To thee all high things 
 are possible. Where I was born, let a poor 
 lad have great hope in him, an' all ay, all 
 even those he loved, rose up to cry him 
 down. Here in this land all cheer an' bid 
 him God-speed. An' here is to be the great 
 theatre o' the world's action. Many of high 
 hope in the broad earth shall come, an' here 
 they shall do their work. An' its spirit shall 
 spread like the rising waters, ay, it shall 
 flood the world, boy, it shall flood the world." 
 
 Trove made no reply, but he thought much 
 and deeply of what the tinker said. They lay 
 back a while on the needle carpet, thinking. 
 They could hear the murmur of the brook 
 and a woodpecker drumming on a dead tree. 
 
 " Me head is busy as yon woodpecker's," 
 Darrel went on. "It's the soul fire in this
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 297 
 
 great, free garden o' God it's America. 
 Have ye felt it, boy ? " 
 
 "Yes; it is in your eyes and on your 
 tongue," said Trove. 
 
 " Ah boy ! 'tis only God's oxygen. Think 
 o' the poor fools withering on cracker barrels 
 in Hillsborough an' wearing away 'the lag 
 end o' their lewdness.' I have no patience 
 with the like o' them. I'd rather be a butcher's 
 clerk an' carry with me the redolence o' ham." 
 
 In Hillsborough, where all spoke of him as 
 an odd man of great learning, there were none, 
 saving Trove and two or three others, that 
 knew the tinker well, for he took no part in 
 the roaring gossip of shop and store. 
 
 " Hath it ever occurred to thee," said Bar 
 rel, as they walked along, "that a fool is 
 blind to his folly, a wise man to his wisdom ? " 
 
 When they were through the edge of the 
 wilderness and came out on Cedar Hill, and 
 saw, below them, the great, round shadow of 
 Robin's Inn, they began to hasten their steps. 
 They could see Polly reading a book under 
 the big tree. 
 
 "What ho! the little queen," said Barrel,
 
 298 DARREL 
 
 as they came near. " Now, put upon her brow 
 ' an odorous chaplei o' sweet summer buds.' " 
 
 She came to meet them in a pretty pink 
 dress and slippers and white stockings. 
 
 "Fair lady, I bring thee flowers," said Bar 
 rel, handing her a bouquet. "They are from 
 the great garden o' the fields." 
 
 " And I bring a crown," said Trove, as he 
 kissed her and put a wreath of clover and 
 wild roses on her brow. 
 
 " I thought something dreadful had hap 
 pened," said Polly, with tears in her eyes. 
 " For three days I've been dressed up wait- 
 ing." 
 
 " An' a grand dress it is," said Barrel, sur 
 veying her pretty figure. 
 
 " I've nearly worn it out waiting," said she, 
 looking down, her voice trembling. 
 
 "Tut, tut, girl 'tis a lovely dress," the 
 tinker insisted. 
 
 " It is one my mother wore when she was a 
 girl," said Polly, proudly. " It was made over." 
 
 " O oh ! God love thee, child ! " said the 
 tinker, in a tone of great admiration. " 'Tis 
 beautiful."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 299 
 
 " And you came through the woods ? " said 
 Polly. 
 
 "Through wood and field," was Trove's 
 answer. 
 
 " I wonder you knew the way." 
 
 " The little god o' love he shot his arrows, 
 an' we followed them as the hunter follows the 
 bee," said Barrel. 
 
 " It was nice of you to bring the flowers," 
 said Polly. "They are beautiful." 
 
 " But not like those in thy cheeks, dear child. 
 Where is the good mother ? " said Barrel. 
 
 " She and the boys are gone a-berrying, and 
 I have been making jelly. We're going to have 
 a party to-night for your birthday." 
 
 " ' An' rise up before the hoary head an' 
 honour the face o' the old man,' " said Barrel, 
 thoughtfully. " But, child, honour is not for 
 them that tinker clocks." 
 
 " ' Honour and fame from no condition rise,' " 
 said Polly, who sat in a chair, knitting. 
 
 " True, dear girl ! Thy lips are sweeter than 
 the poet's thought." 
 
 "You'll turn my head;" the girl was laugh- 
 ing as she spoke.
 
 300 DARREL 
 
 "An it turn to me, I shall be happy," said 
 the tinker, smiling, and then he began to feel 
 the buttons on his waistcoat. " Loves me, loves 
 me not, loves me, loves me not " 
 
 " She loves you," said Polly, with a smile. 
 
 "She loves me, hear that, boy," said the 
 tinker. " Ah, were she not bespoke ! Well, 
 God be praised, I'm happy," he added, filling 
 his pipe. 
 
 "And seventy," said Polly. 
 
 "Ay, three score an' ten small an' close 
 together, now, as I look off at them, like a 
 flock o' pigeons in the sky." 
 
 " What do you think ? " said Polly, as she 
 dropped her knitting. "The two old maids 
 are coming to-night." 
 
 " The two old maids ! " said Barrel ; " 'tis a 
 sign an' a wonder." 
 
 "Oh, a great change has come over them," 
 Polly went on. " It's all the work o' the 
 teacher. You know he really coaxed them 
 into sliding with him last winter." 
 
 "I heard of it the gay Philander!" said 
 Darrel, laughing merrily. " Ah ! he's a won 
 der with the maidens ! "
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 301 
 
 " I know it," said Polly, with a sigh. 
 
 Trove was idly brushing the mat of grass 
 with a walking-stick. He loved fun, but he 
 had no conceit for this kind of banter. 
 
 " It was one of my best accomplishments," 
 said he, blushing. " I taught them that there 
 was really a world outside their house and that 
 men were not all as lions, seeking whom they 
 might devour." 
 
 Soon the widow and her boys came, their 
 pails full of berries. 
 
 " We cannot shake hands with you," said Mrs. 
 Vaughn, her ringers red with the berry stain. 
 
 " Blood o' the old earth ! " said Barrel. 
 " How fares the clock ? " 
 
 "It's too slow, Polly says." 
 
 " Ah, time lags when love is on the way," 
 Barrel answered. 
 
 " Foolish child ! A little while ago she was 
 a baby, an' now she is in love." 
 
 " Ah, let the girl love," said Barrel, patting 
 the red cheek of Polly, "an' bless God she 
 loves a worthy lad." 
 
 "You'd better fix the clock," said Polly, 
 smiling. " It is too fast, now."
 
 302 DARREL 
 
 "So is the beat o' thy heart," Barrel an 
 swered, a merry look in his eyes, " an' the clock 
 is keeping pace." 
 
 Trove got up, with a laugh, and went away, 
 the boys following. 
 
 
 
 " I'm worried about him," the widow whis 
 pered. " For a long time he hasn't been 
 himself." 
 
 " It's the trouble poor lad ! 'Twill soon 
 be over," said Barrel, hopefully. 
 
 There were now tears in the eyes of Polly. 
 
 " I do not think he loves me any more," said 
 she, her lips trembling. 
 
 " Speak not so, dear child ; indeed he loves 
 thee." 
 
 " I have done everything to please him," said 
 Polly, in broken words, her face covered with 
 her handkerchief. 
 
 " I wondered what was the matter with you, 
 Polly," said her mother, tenderly. 
 
 " Bear, dear child ! " said the tinker, rising and 
 patting her head. "The chaplet on thy brow 
 an' thee weeping ! fairest flower of all ! " 
 
 " I have wished that I was dead ; " the words 
 came in a little moan between sobs.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 303 
 
 " Because Love hath led thee to the great 
 river o' tears ? Nay, child, 'tis a winding river 
 an' crosses all the roads." 
 
 He had taken her handkerchief, and with a 
 tender touch was drying her eyes. 
 
 " Now I can see thee smiling, an' thy lashes, 
 child they are like the spray o' the fern tip 
 when the dew is on it." 
 
 Polly rose and went away into the house. 
 Barrel wiped his eyes, and the widow sat, her 
 chin upon her hand, looking down sadly and 
 thoughtfully. Barrel was first to speak. 
 
 " Bid it ever occur to ye, Martha Vaughn, 
 this child o' thine is near a woman but has seen 
 nothing o' the world ? " 
 
 " I think of that often," said she, the mother's 
 feeling in her voice. 
 
 "Well, if I understand him, it's a point of 
 honour with the boy not to pledge her to mar 
 riage until she has seen more o' life an' made 
 sure of her own heart. Now, consider this : let 
 her go to the school at Hillsborough, an' I'll 
 pay the cost." 
 
 The widow looked up at him without speaking. 
 
 " I'm an old man near the end o' the journey,
 
 304 DARREL 
 
 an' ye've known me many years," Barrel went 
 on. "There's nothing can be said against it 
 Nay; I'll have no thanks. Would ye thank 
 the money itself, the bits o' paper? No; nor 
 Roderick Barrel, who, in this business, is no 
 more worthy o' gratitude. Hush ! who comes ? " 
 
 It was Polly herself in a short, red skirt, her 
 arms bare to the elbows. She began to busy 
 herself about the house. 
 
 " Too bad you took off that pretty dress, 
 Polly," said Trove, when he returned. 
 
 She came near and whispered to him. 
 
 "This," said she, looking down sadly, "is 
 like the one I wore when you first came." 
 
 " Well, first I thought of your arms," said he, 
 " they were so lovely ! Then of your eyes and 
 face and gown, but now I think only of the 
 one thing, Polly." 
 
 The girl was happy, now, and went on with 
 the work, singing, while Trove lent a hand. 
 
 A score of people came up the hill from 
 Pleasant Valley that night. Tunk went after 
 the old maids and came with them in the chaise 
 at supper time. There were two wagon-loads 
 of young people, and, before dusk, men and
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 305 
 
 their wives came sauntering up the roadway 
 and in at the little gate. 
 
 Two or three of the older men wore suits of 
 black broadcloth, the stock and rolling collar 
 relics of " old decency " back in Vermont or 
 Massachusetts or Connecticut. Most were in 
 rough homespun over white shirts with no cuffs- 
 or collar. All gathered about Barrel, who sat 
 smoking outside the door. He rose and greeted 
 each one of the women with a bow and a com 
 pliment. The tinker was a man of unfailing 
 courtesy, and one thing in him was extremely 
 odd, even there in that land of pure democ 
 racy, he treated a scrub-woman with the same 
 politeness he would have accorded the finest 
 lady. But he was in no sense a flatterer ; none 
 that saw him often were long in ignorance of 
 that. His rebuke was even quicker than his 
 compliment, as many had reason to know. And 
 there was another curious thing about Barrel, 
 these people and many more loved him, gather 
 ing about his chair as he tinkered, hearing with 
 delight the lore and wisdom of his tongue, but y 
 after all, there were none that knew him now any 
 better than the first day he came. A certain
 
 306 DARREL 
 
 wall of dignity was ever between him and 
 them. 
 
 Half an hour before dark, the yard was 
 thronged with people. They listened with 
 smiles or a faint ripple of merry f eeling as he 
 greeted each. 
 
 " Good evening, Mrs. Beach," he would say. 
 " Ah ! the snow is falling on thy head. An' 
 the sunlight upon thine, dear girl," he added, 
 taking the hand of the woman's daughter. 
 
 "An' here's Mr. Tilly back from the far 
 west," he continued. " How fare ye, sor ? " 
 
 " I'm well, but a little too fat," said Thurston 
 Tilly. 
 
 " Well, sor, unless it make thy heart heavy, 
 be content. 
 
 " Good evening, Mrs. Hooper, that is a cun 
 ning hand with the pies. 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Rood, may the mouse never leave 
 thy meal bag with a tear in his eye. 
 
 " Not a gray hair in thy head, Miss Tower, 
 nor even a gray thought. 
 
 " An' here's Mrs. Barbour 'twill make me 
 sweat to carry me pride now. How goes the 
 battle?"
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 307 
 
 " The Lord has given me sore affliction," 
 said she. 
 
 " Nay, dear woman," said the tinker in that 
 tone so kindly and resistless, " do not think the 
 Lord is hitting thee over the ears. It is the 
 law o' life. 
 
 " Good evening, Elder, what is the difference 
 between thy work an' mine ? " 
 
 " I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 " Ah, thine is the dial of eternity mine that 
 o' time." And so he greeted all and sat down, 
 filling his pipe. 
 
 " Now, Weston, out with the merry fiddle," 
 said he, " an' see it give us happy thoughts." 
 
 A few small boys were gathered about him, 
 and the tinker began to hum an Irish reel, fin 
 gers and forearm flying as he played an imagi 
 nary fiddle. But, even now, his dignity had not 
 left him. The dance began. All were in the 
 little house or at the two doors, peering in, save 
 Barrel, who sat with his pipe, and Thurston 
 Tilly, who was telling hifn tales of the far 
 west. In the lull of sound that followed the 
 first figure, Trove came to look out upon them. 
 A big, golden moon had risen above the woods,
 
 308 BARREL 
 
 and the light and music and merry voices had 
 started a sleepy twitter up in the dome of Rob 
 in's Inn. 
 
 " Do you see that scar ? " he heard Tilly say 
 ing. 
 
 " I do, sor." 
 
 " Well, a man shot me there." 
 
 " An' what for ? " the tinker inquired. 
 
 " I was telling him a story. It cured me. 
 Do you carry a gun ? " 
 
 " I do not, sor." 
 
 " Wai, then, I'll tell you about the man I work 
 for." 
 
 
 
 Tunk, who had been outside the door in his 
 best clothes, but who, since he put them on, 
 had looked as if he doubted the integrity of his 
 suspenders and would not come in the house, 
 began to laugh loudly. 
 
 " That man Tunk can see the comedy in all 
 but himself," was Trove's thought, as he re 
 turned with a smile of amusement. 
 
 Soon Trove and Polly came out and stood 
 a while by the lilac bush, at the gate. 
 
 "You worry me, Sidney Trove," said she, 
 looking off at the moonlit fields.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 309 
 
 Then came a silence full of secret things, like 
 the silences of their first meeting, there by the 
 same gate, long ago. This one, however, had a 
 vibration that seemed to sting them. 
 
 " I am sorry," said he, with a sigh. 
 
 Another silence in which the heart of the 
 girl was feeling for the secret in his. 
 
 "You are so sad, so different," she whispered, 
 
 Polly waited full half a minute for his 
 answer. Then she touched her eyes with 
 her handkerchief, turned impatiently, and went 
 halfway to the door. Barrel caught her hand, 
 drawing her near him. 
 
 " Give me thy hand, boy," said he to Trove r 
 now on his way to the door. 
 
 He stood with his arms around the two. 
 
 " Every shadow hath the wings o' light,'* 
 he whispered. " Listen." 
 
 The house rang with laughter and the music 
 of Money Musk. 
 
 " 'Tis the golden bell of happiness," said he, 
 presently. " Go an' ring it. Nay first a kiss.' r 
 
 He drew them close together, and they kissed 
 each other's lips, and with smiling faces went in 
 to join the dance.
 
 XXIX 
 
 Again the Uphill Road 
 
 GAIN the middle of Septem 
 ber and the beginning of the 
 fall term. Trove had gone to 
 his old lodgings at Hillsbor- 
 ough, and Polly was boarding 
 in the village, for she, too, was now in the uphill 
 road to higher learning. None, save Barrel, 
 knew the secret of the young man, that he 
 was paying her board and tuition. The thought 
 of it made him most happy; but now, seeing 
 her every day had given him a keener sense 
 of that which had come between them. He 
 sat much in his room and had little heart for 
 study. It was a cosey room now. His land 
 lady had hung rude pictures on the wall and 
 given him a rag carpet. On the table were 
 pieces of clear quartz and tourmaline and, 
 
 about each window-frame, odd nests of bird 
 310 

 
 DARREL 311 
 
 or insect souvenirs of wood-life and his 
 travel with the drove. There, too, on the 
 table were mementos of that first day of his 
 teaching, the mirror spectacles with which 
 he had seen at once every corner of the school 
 room, the sling-shot and bar of iron he had 
 taken from the woodsman, Leblanc. 
 
 One evening of his first week at Hillsborough 
 that term, Barrel came to sit with him a while. 
 
 " An' what are these ? " said the tinker, at 
 length, his hand upon the shot and iron. 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Dear boy," said Barrel, " they're from the 
 kit of a burglar, an' how came they here ? " 
 
 "I took them from Louis Leblanc," said 
 the young man, who then told of his adven 
 ture that night. 
 
 " Louis Leblanc ! " exclaimed Barrel. " The 
 scamp an' his family have cleared out." 
 
 The tinker turned quickly, his hand upon 
 the wrist of the young man. 
 
 " These things are not for thee to have," 
 he whispered. " Had ye no thought o' the 
 danger ? " 
 
 Trove began to change colour.
 
 3 i2 DARREL 
 
 " I can prove how I came by them," he 
 stammered. 
 
 " What is thy proof ? " Darrel whispered 
 again. 
 
 " There are Leblanc's wife and daughter." 
 
 " Ah, where are they ? There be many 
 'would like to know." 
 
 The young man thought a moment. 
 
 "Well,Tunk Hosely, there at Mrs. Vaughn's." 
 
 "Tunk Hosely!" exclaimed the tinker, with 
 a look that seemed to say, " God save the 
 mark! An' would they believe him, think?" 
 
 Trove began to look troubled as Darrel left 
 him. 
 
 " I'll go and drop them in the river," said 
 Trove to himself. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock and the street dark 
 .and deserted as he left his room. 
 
 " It is a cowardly thing to do," the young 
 man thought as he walked slowly, but he could 
 devise no better way to get rid of them. 
 
 In the middle of the big, open bridge, he 
 stopped to listen. Hearing only the sound of 
 the falls below, Trove took the odd tools from 
 under his coat and flung them over the rau\.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 313 
 
 He turned then, walking slowly off the bridge 
 and up the main street of Hillsborough. At 
 a corner he stopped to listen. His ear had 
 caught the sound of steps far behind him. 
 He could hear it no longer, and went his way, 
 with a troubled feeling that robbed him of 
 rest that night. In a day or two it wore off, 
 and soon he was hold of the bit, as he was 
 wont to say, and racing for the lead in his 
 work. He often walked to school with Polly 
 and went to church with her every Sunday 
 night. There had been not a word of love 
 between them, however, since they came to the 
 village, until one evening she said : 
 
 " I am very unhappy, and I wish I were 
 home." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 She was not able to answer for a moment. 
 
 " I know I am unworthy of you," she 
 whispered. 
 
 His lungs shook him with a deep and trem 
 ulous inspiration. For a little he could not 
 answer. 
 
 "That is why you do not love me?" she 
 whispered again.
 
 314 DARREL 
 
 " I do love you," he said with a strong effort 
 to control himself, "but I am not worthy to 
 touch the hem of your garment." 
 
 " Tell me why, Sidney ? " 
 
 " Some day I do not know when I will 
 tell you all. And if you can love me after that, 
 we shall both be happy." 
 
 " Tell me now," she urged. 
 
 " I cannot," said he, " but if you only trust 
 me, Polly, you shall know. If you will not 
 trust me " 
 
 He paused, looking down at the snow path. 
 
 " Good night ! " he added presently. 
 
 They kissed and parted, each going to the 
 company of bitter tears. 
 
 As of old, Trove had many a friend, school 
 fellows who came of an evening, now and then, 
 for his help in some knotty problem. All saw 
 a change in him. He had not the enthusiasm 
 and good cheer of former days, and some ceased 
 to visit him. Moreover they were free to say 
 that Trove was getting a big head. For one 
 thing, he had become rather careless about his 
 clothes, a new trait in him, for he had the 
 gift of pride and the knack of neatness.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 315 
 
 A new student sought his acquaintance the 
 very first week of the term, that rather fop 
 pish young man who got off the cars at Hills- 
 borough the day of their first coming. He was 
 from Buffalo, and, although twenty-two years of 
 age, was preparing to enter college. His tales 
 of the big city and his frank good-fellowship 
 made him a welcome guest. Soon he was 
 known to all as " Dick " his name being 
 Richard Roberts. It was not long before Dick 
 knew everybody and everybody knew Dick, 
 including Polly, and thought him a fine fellow. 
 Soon Trove came to know that when he was 
 detained a little after school Dick went home 
 with Polly. That gave him no concern, how 
 ever, until Dick ceased to visit him, and he saw 
 a change in the girl. 
 
 One day, two letters came for Trove. They 
 were in girlish penmanship and bore no signa 
 ture, but stung him to the quick. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake get a new hat," said one. 
 
 "You are too handsome to neglect your 
 clothes," said the other. 
 
 As he read them, his cheeks were burning 
 with his shame. He went for his hat and
 
 316 DARREL 
 
 looked it over carefully. It was faded, and 
 there was a little rent in the crown. His boots 
 were tapped and mended, his trousers thread 
 bare at the knee, and there were two patches on 
 his coat. 
 
 " I hadn't thought of it," said he, with a sigh. 
 Then he went for a talk with Barrel. 
 
 " Did you ever see a more shabby-looking 
 creature ? " he inquired, as Barrel came to meet 
 him. " I am so ashamed of myself I'd like to 
 go lie in your wood box while I talk to you." 
 
 " ' What hempen homespun have we swagger 
 ing here ? '" Barrel quoted in a rallying voice. 
 
 " I'll tell you," Trove began. 
 
 " Nay, first a roundel," said the tinker, as he 
 began to shuffle his feet to the measure of an 
 old fairy song. 
 
 " If one were on his way to the gallows, you 
 would make him laugh," said Trove, smiling. 
 
 " An I could, so would I," said the old man. 
 " A smile, boy, hath in it ' some relish o' salva 
 tion.' Now, tell me, what is thy trouble ? " 
 
 " I'm going to leave school," said Trove. 
 
 " An' wherefore ? " 
 
 " I'm sick of this pinching poverty. Look at
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 317 
 
 my clothes ; I thought I could make them do, 
 but I can't." 
 
 He put the two notes in Barrel's hand. The 
 tinker wiped his spectacles and then read them 
 both. 
 
 " Tut, tut, boy ! " said he, presently, with a 
 very grave look. " Have ye forgotten the 
 tatters that were as a badge of honour an' suc 
 cess ? Weeks ago I planned to find thee better 
 garments, but, on me word, I had no heart for 
 it. Nay, these old ones had become dear to 
 me. I was proud o' them ay, boy, proud o' 
 them. When I saw the first patch on thy coat, 
 said I, 'It is the little ensign o' generosity.' 
 Then came another, an', said I, ' That is for hon 
 our an' true love,' an' these bare threads there 
 is no loom can weave the like o' them. Nay, 
 boy," Barrel added, lifting an arm of the young 
 man and kissing one of the patches, "be not 
 ashamed o' these they're beautiful, ay, beauti 
 ful. They stand for the dollars ye gave Polly." 
 
 Trove turned away, wiping his eyes. 
 
 He looked down at his coat and trousers and 
 began to wonder if he were, indeed, worthy to 
 wear them.
 
 3i 8 DARREL 
 
 "I'm not good enough for them," said he, 
 " but you've put new heart in me, and I shall 
 not give up. I'll wear them as long as I can 
 make them do, and girls can say what they 
 please." 
 
 " The magpies ! " said Barrel. " When they 
 have a thought for every word they utter, Lord ! 
 there'll be then a second Sabbath in the week." 
 
 Next evening Tro^e went to see Polly. 
 
 As he was leaving, she held his hand in both 
 of hers and looked down, blushing deeply, as if 
 there were something she would say, had she 
 only the courage. 
 
 " What is it, Polly ? " said he. 
 
 " Will you will you let me buy you a new 
 hat ? " said she, soberly, and hesitating much 
 between words. 
 
 He thought a moment, biting his lip. 
 
 " I'd rather you wouldn't, Polly," said he, look 
 ing down at the faded hat. " I know it's shabby, 
 but, after all, I'm fond o' the old thing. I love 
 good clothes, but I can't afford them now." 
 
 Then he bade her good night and came away.
 
 XXX 
 
 Evidence 
 
 T was court week, and the grand 
 jury was in session. There 
 were many people in the streets 
 of the shire town. They moved 
 with a slow foot, some giving 
 their animation to squints of curiosity and 
 shouts of recognition, some to profanity and 
 plug tobacco. Squire Day and Colonel Judson 
 were to argue the famous maple-sugar case, 
 and many causes of local celebrity were on 
 the calendar. 
 
 There were men with the watchful eye of 
 the hunter, ever looking for surprises. They 
 moved with caution, for here, indeed, were 
 sights and perils greater than those of the 
 timber land. Here were houses, merchants, 
 lawyers, horse-jockeys, whiskey, women. They 
 knew the thickets and all the wild creatures 
 319
 
 320 DARREL 
 
 that lived in them, but these things of the 
 village were new and strange. They came 
 out of the stores and, after expectorating, 
 stood a moment with their hands in their 
 pockets, took a long look to the right and 
 a long look to the left and threw a glance 
 into the sky, and then examined the imme 
 diate foreground. If satisfied, they began to 
 move slowly one way or the other and, meet 
 ing hunters presently, would ask : 
 
 " Here fer yer bounties ? " 
 
 " Here fer my bounties," another would say.. 
 Then they both took a long look around them, 
 
 " Wish't I was back t' the shanty." 
 
 " So do I." 
 
 " Scares me." 
 
 "Too many houses an' too many women 
 folks." 
 
 " An' if ye wan' t' git a meal o' vittles, 
 it costs ye three mushrats." 
 
 Night and morning the tavern offices were 
 full of smart-looking men, lawyers from every 
 village in the county, who, having dropped the 
 bitter scorn of the court room, now sat gos 
 siping in a cloud of tobacco smoke, rent with
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 321 
 
 thunder-peals of laughter and lightning flashes 
 of wit. Teams of farmer folk filled the sheds 
 and were tied to hitching-posts, up and down 
 the main thoroughfare of the village. Every 
 day rough-clad, brawny men led their little 
 sons to the courthouse. 
 
 " Do ye see that man with the spectacles 
 and the bald head?" they had been wont 
 to whisper, when seated in the court room, 
 " that air man twistin' his hair, that's Silas 
 Wright; an' that tall man that jes' sot down? 
 that's John L. Russell. Now I want ye t* 
 listen, careful. Mebbe ye'll be a lawyer, 
 sometime, yerself, as big as any of 'em." 
 
 The third day of that week it was about 
 the middle of the afternoon a score of men, 
 gossiping in the lower hall of the court build 
 ing, were hushed suddenly. A young man 
 came hurrying down the back stairs with a 
 look of excitement. 
 
 " What's up ? " said one. 
 
 " Sidney Trove is indicted," was the answer 
 of the young man. 
 
 He ran out of doors and down the street. 
 People began crowding out of the court room.
 
 322 BARREL 
 
 Information, surprise, and conjecture a kind 
 of flood pouring out of a broken dam rushed 
 up and down the forty streets of the village. 
 Soon, as of old, many were afloat and some 
 few were drowning in it. For a little, busy 
 hands fell limp and feet grew slow and tongues 
 halted. A group of school-girls on their way 
 home were suddenly overtaken by the onrush- 
 ing tide. They came close together and whis 
 pered. Then a little cry of despair, and one 
 of them fell and was borne into a near house. 
 A young man ran up the stairway at the 
 Sign of the Dial and rapped loudly at Barrel's 
 door. Trove and the tinker were inside. 
 
 "Old fellow," said the newcomer, his hand 
 upon Trove's arm, " they've voted to indict 
 you, and I've seen all the witnesses." 
 
 Trove had a book in his hand. He rose 
 calmly and flung it on the table. 
 
 " It's an outrage," said he, with a sigh. 
 
 " Nay, an honour," said Barrel, quickly. 
 " Hold up thy head, boy. The laurel shall 
 take the place o' the frown." 
 
 He turned to the bearer of these evil tidings. 
 
 " Have ye more knowledge o' the matter ? "
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 323 
 
 " Yes, all day I have been getting hold of 
 their evidence," said the newcomer, a law 
 student, who was now facing his friend Trove. 
 "In the first place, it was a man of blue 
 eyes and about your build who broke into 
 the bank at Milldam. It is the sworn state 
 ment of the clerk, who has now recovered. 
 He does not go so far as to say you are the 
 man, but does say it was a man like you that 
 assaulted him. It appears the robber had his 
 face covered with a red bandanna handkerchief 
 in which square holes were cut so he could see 
 through. The clerk remembers it was covered 
 with a little white figure that of a log cabin. 
 Such a handkerchief was sold years ago in the 
 campaign of Harrison, but has gone out of use. 
 Not a store in the county has had them since 
 '45. The clerk fired upon him with a pistol, 
 and thinks he wounded him in the left fore 
 arm. In their fight the robber struck him 
 with a sling-shot, and he fell, and remembers 
 nothing more until he came to in the dark 
 alone. The skin was cut in little squares, 
 where the shot struck him, and that is one 
 of the strong points against you."
 
 324 DARREL 
 
 " Against me ? " said Trove. 
 
 "Yes that and another. It seems the 
 robber left behind him one end of a bar of 
 iron. The other end of the same bar and a 
 sling-shot the very one that probably felled 
 the clerk have been found." 
 
 The speaker rose and walked half across 
 the room and back, looking down thought 
 fully. 
 
 " I tell ye what, old fellow," said he, sitting 
 down again, " it is mighty strange. If I didn't 
 know you well, I'd think you guilty. Here 
 comes a detective who says under oath that 
 one night he saw you come out of your 
 lodgings, about eleven o'clock, and walk to 
 the middle of the bridge and throw some 
 thing into the water. Next morning bar and 
 shot were found. As nearly as he could make 
 out they lay directly under the place where you 
 halted." 
 
 Barrel sat looking thoughtfully at the speaker. 
 
 " A detective ? " said Trove, rising erect, a 
 stern look upon him. 
 
 "Yes Dick Roberts." 
 
 " Roberts, a detective ! " said Trove, in a
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 325 
 
 whisper. Then he turned to Barrel, adding, 
 " I shall have to find the Frenchman." 
 
 " Louis Leblanc ? " the young man asked. 
 
 " Louis Leblanc," Trove answered with sur 
 prise. 
 
 " He has been found," said the other. 
 
 "Then I shall be able to prove my point 
 He came to his home drunk one night and 
 began to bully his family. I was boarding 
 with the Misses Tower and went over and 
 took the shot and iron from his hands and 
 got him into bed. The woman begged me to 
 bring them away." 
 
 " He declares that he never saw the shot or 
 the iron." 
 
 Barrel rose and drew his chair a bit nearer. 
 
 "Very well, but there's the wife," said he, 
 quickly. 
 
 "She will swear, too, that she never saw 
 them." 
 
 "And how about the daughter?" Trove 
 inquired. 
 
 " Run away and nowhere to be found," was 
 the answer of the other young man. " I've 
 told you bad news enough, but there's more,
 
 326 DARREL 
 
 and you ought to know it all. Louis Leblanc 
 is in Quebec, and he says that a clock tinker 
 lent him money with which to leave the States." 
 
 "It was I, an' God bring him to repentance 
 the poor beggar ! " said Barrel. " He agreed 
 to repay me within a fortnight an' was in sore 
 distress, but he ran away, an' I got no word o' 
 him." 
 
 "Well, the inference is, that you, being a 
 friend of the accused, were trying to help 
 him." 
 
 "I'm caught in a web," said Trove, leaning 
 forward, his head upon his hands, "and Le- 
 blanc's wife is the spider. How about the 
 money ? Have they been able to identify it ? " 
 
 " In part, yes ; there's one bill that puzzles 
 them. It's that of an old bank in New York 
 City that failed years ago and went out of 
 business." 
 
 Then a moment of silence and that sound of 
 the clocks like footsteps of a passing caravan, 
 some slow and heavy, some quick, as if impa 
 tient to be gone. 
 
 " Ye speeding seconds ! " said Barrel, as he 
 crossed to the bench. " Still thy noisy feet."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 327 
 
 Then he walked up and down, thinking. 
 
 The friend of Sidney Trove put on his hat 
 and stood by the door. 
 
 "Don't forget," said he, "you have many 
 friends, or I should not be able to tell you 
 these things. Keep them to yourself and go 
 to work. Of course you will be able to prove 
 your innocence." 
 
 " I thank you with all my heart," said Trove. 
 
 " Ay, 'twas friendly," the old man remarked, 
 taking the boy's hand. 
 
 " I have to put my trust in Tunk the poor 
 liar ! " said Trove, when they were alone. 
 
 "No," Barrel answered quickly. "Were ye 
 drowning, ye might as well lay hold of a straw. 
 Trust in thy honour; it is enough." 
 
 " Let's go and see Polly," said the young 
 man. 
 
 " Ay, she o' the sweet heart," said the tinker ; 
 " we'll go at once." 
 
 They left the shop, and on every street they 
 travelled there were groups of men gossiping.. 
 Some nodded, others turned away, as the twa 
 passed. Dick Roberts met them at the door of 
 the house where Polly boarded.
 
 328 BARREL 
 
 "I wish to see Miss Vaughn," said Trove, 
 coolly. 
 
 " She is ill," said Roberts. 
 
 " Could I not see her for a moment ? " Trove 
 inquired. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Is she very sick ? " 
 
 "Very." 
 
 Barrel came close to Roberts. He looked 
 sternly at the young man. 
 
 "Boy," said he, with great dignity, his long 
 forefinger raised, " within a day ye shall be 
 clothed with shame." 
 
 " They were strange words," Trove thought, 
 as they walked away in silence ; and when they 
 had come to the little shop it was growing dusk. 
 
 " What have I done to bring this upon me 
 and my friends ? " said Trove, sinking into a 
 chair. 
 
 " It is what I have done," said Barrel ; " an' 
 now I take the mantle o' thy shame. Rise, 
 boy, an' hold up thy head." 
 
 The old man stood erect by the side of the 
 young man. 
 
 " See, I am as tall an' broad as thou art."
 
 f the BLESSED ISLES 329 
 
 He went to an old chest and got a cap and 
 drew it down upon his head, pushing his gray 
 hair under it. Then he took from his pocket 
 a red bandanna handkerchief, figured with a 
 cabin, tying it over his face. He turned, 
 looking at Trove through two square holes in 
 the handkerchief. 
 
 " Behold the robber ! " said he. 
 
 " You know who is the robber ? " Trove in 
 quired. 
 
 Darrel raised the handkerchief and flung it 
 back upon his head. 
 
 " 'Tis Roderick Darrel," said he, his hand 
 now on the shoulder of the young man. 
 
 For a moment both stood looking into each 
 other's eyes. 
 
 " What joke is this, my friend ? " Trove whis 
 pered. 
 
 " I speak not lightly, boy. If where ye 
 thought were honour an' good faith, there be 
 only guilt an' shame, can ye believe in good 
 ness?" 
 
 For his answer there were silence and the 
 ticking of the clocks. 
 
 " Surely ye can an' will," said the old man,
 
 330 DARREL 
 
 "for there is the goodness o' thy own heart. 
 Ah, boy, though I have it not, remember that 
 I loved honour an' have sought to fill thee with 
 it. This night I go where ye cannot follow." 
 
 The tinker turned, halting a pendulum. 
 
 Trove groaned as he spoke, " O man, tell 
 me, quickly, what do you mean ? " 
 
 " That God hath laid his hand upon me," said 
 Barrel, sternly. " I cannot see thee suffer, boy, 
 when I am the guilty one. O Redeemer o' the 
 world ! haste me, haste me now to punishment." 
 
 The young man staggered, like one dazed by 
 the shock of a blow, stepped backward, and 
 partly fell on a lounge against the wall. Dar- 
 rel came and bent over him. Trove sat leaning, 
 his hand on the lounge, staring up at the tinker, 
 his eyes dreadful and amazed. 
 
 " You, you will confess and go to prison ! " 
 he whispered. 
 
 " Fair soul ! " said the old man, stroking the 
 boy's head, "think not o' me. Where I go 
 there be flowers lovely flowers ! an' music, 
 an the bards an' prophets. Though I go to 
 punishment, still am I in the Blessed Isles." 
 
 " You are doing it to save me," Trove whis-
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 331 
 
 pered, taking the hand of the old man. " I'll 
 not permit it. I'll go to prison first." 
 
 " Am I so great a fool, think ye, as to claim 
 an evil that is not mine ? An' would ye keep 
 in me the burning o' remorse when I seek to 
 quench it ? I warn thee, meddle not with the 
 business o' me soul. That is between the great 
 God an' me." 
 
 Barrel stood to his full height, the red hand 
 kerchief covering his head and falling on his 
 back. He began with a tone of contempt that 
 changed quickly into one of sharp command. 
 There was a little silence and then a quick rap. 
 
 " Come in," Barrel shouted, as he let the 
 handkerchief fall upon his face again. 
 
 The district attorney, a constable, and the 
 bank clerk, who had been injured the night of 
 the robbery, came in. 
 
 " He is not guilty," said Trove, rising quickly. 
 
 " I command ye, boy, be silent," said Barrel 
 sternly. 
 
 " Have ye ever seen that hand ? " he added, ap 
 preaching the clerk, and pointing at a red mark 
 as large as a dime on the back of his left hand. 
 
 "Yes," the clerk answered with surprise,
 
 332 DARREL 
 
 looking from hand to handkerchief. Then, 
 turning to the lawyer, he added, "This is the 
 man." 
 
 "Now," Barrel continued, rolling up his 
 sleeve, "I'll show where thy bullet struck me 
 in the left arm. See, there it seared the flesh ! " 
 
 They saw a scar, quite an inch long, midway 
 from hand to elbow. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you are guilty of 
 this crime ? " the attorney asked. 
 
 " I am guilty and ready for punishment," 
 Darrel answered. "Now, discharge the boy." 
 
 "To-morrow," said the attorney. "That is 
 for the court to do." 
 
 Darrel went to Trove, who now sat weeping, 
 his face upon his hands. 
 
 " Oh the great river o' tears ! " said Darrel, 
 touching the boy's head. " Beyond it are the 
 green shores of happiness, an' I have crossed, 
 an' soon shalt thou. Stop, boy, it ill becomes 
 thee. There is a dear, dear child whose heart 
 is breaking. Go an' comfort her." 
 
 Trove sat as if he had not heard. The tinker 
 went to his table and hurriedly wrote a line or 
 two, folding and directing it.
 
 " Go quickly, boy, an' tell her, an' then take 
 this to Riley Brooke for me." 
 
 The young man struggled a moment for self- 
 mastery, rose with a sigh and a stern look, and 
 put on his hat. 
 
 " It is about bail? " said he, in a whisper. 
 
 " Yes," Barrel answered. 
 
 Trove hurried away. A woman met him at 
 the door, within which Polly boarded. 
 
 " Is she better ? " Trove asked. 
 
 " Yes ; but has asked me to say that she 
 does not wish to see you." 
 
 Trove stood a moment, his tongue halting 
 between anger and surprise. He turned with 
 out a word, walking away, a bitter feeling in his 
 heart. 
 
 Brooke greeted him with unexpected hearti 
 ness. He was going to bed when the young 
 man rapped upon his door. 
 
 Brooke opened the letter and read the words 
 aloud : " Thanks, I shall not need thy help." 
 
 " What ! " Trove exclaimed. 
 
 " He says he shall not need the help I offered 
 him," Brooke answered. 
 
 " Good night ! " said Trove, who, turning,
 
 334 DARREL 
 
 left the house and hurried away. Lights were 
 out everywhere in the village now. The 
 windows were dark at the Sign of the DiaL 
 He hurried up the old stairs and rapped loudly, 
 but none came to admit him. He called and 
 listened ; within there were only silence and 
 that old, familiar sound of the seconds trooping 
 by, some with short and some with long steps. 
 He knew that soon they were to grow faint and 
 weary and pass no more that way. He ran to 
 the foot of the stairs and stood a moment hesitat 
 ing. Then he walked slowly to the county jail 
 and looked up at the dark and silent building. 
 For a little time he leaned upon a fence, there 
 in the still night, shaken with sobs. Then he 
 began walking up and down by the jail yard. 
 He had not slept an hour in weeks and was 
 weary, but he could not bear to come away and 
 walked slower as the night wore on, hearing 
 only the tread of his own feet He knew not 
 where to go and was drifting up and down, like 
 a derelict in the sea. By and by people began 
 to pass him, weary crowds, and they were 
 pointing at the patches on his coat, and beneath 
 them he could feel a kind of burning, but the
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 335 
 
 crowd was dumb. He tried to say, " I am not 
 to blame," but his heart smote him when it was . 
 half said. Then, suddenly, many people were 
 beside him, and far ahead on a steep hill, in dim, 
 gray light, he could see Barrel toiling upward. 
 And sometimes the tinker turned, beckoning him 
 to follow. And Trove ran, but the way was 
 long between them. And the tinker called to 
 him : " Who drains the cup of another's bitter 
 ness shall find it sweet." Quickly he was alone, 
 groping for his path in black darkness and pres 
 ently coming down a stairway into the moonlit 
 chamber of his inheritance. Then the men of 
 the dark and a feeling of faintness and great 
 surprise and a broad, blue field all about him and 
 woods in the distance, and above the growing 
 light of dawn. His bones were aching with 
 illness and overwork, his feet sore. " I have 
 been asleep," he said, rubbing his eyes, "and 
 all night I have been walking." 
 
 He was in the middle of a broad field. He 
 went on slowly and soon fell of weakness and 
 lay for a time with his eyes closed. He could 
 hear the dull thunder of approaching hoofs; 
 then he felt a silky muzzle touching his cheek
 
 336 DARREL 
 
 and the tickle of a horse's mane. He looked 
 up at the animal, feeling her face and neck. 
 " You feel like Phyllis, but you are not Phyllis 
 you are all white," said the young man, as 
 he patted her muzzle. He could hear other 
 horses coming, and quickly she, that was bend 
 ing over him, reared with an open mouth and 
 drove them away. She returned again, her 
 long mane falling on his face. " Don't step on 
 me," he entreated. " ' Remember in the day o* 
 judgment God'll mind the look o' yer master.' "" 
 He took hold of those long, soft threads, and 
 the horse lifted him gently to his feet, and 
 they walked, his arm about her neck, his face in 
 the ravelled silk of her mane. " I don't know 
 whose horse you are, even, or where you are 
 taking me," he said. They went down a long 
 lane and came at length to a bar-way, and 
 Trove crawled through. 
 
 He saw near him a great white house one 
 he had never seen before and a beautiful lady 
 in the doorway. He turned toward her, and it 
 seemed a long journey to the door, although he 
 knew it was only a few paces. He fell heavily 
 on the steps, and the woman gave a little cry of
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 337 
 
 alarm. She came quickly and bent over him. 
 His clothes were torn, his face pale and hag 
 gard, his eyes closed. 
 
 " I am sick," he whispered faintly. 
 
 " Theron ! Theron ! come here ! Sidney is 
 sick," he heard her calling. 
 
 " Is it you, mother ? " the boy whispered, 
 feeling her face. " I thought it was a great, 
 white mansion here, and that you that you 
 were an angel."
 
 XXXI 
 
 A Man Greater than his Trouble 
 
 F 
 
 OR a month the young man 
 lay burning with fever, his 
 brain boiled in hot blood until 
 things hideous and terrible were 
 swarming out of it, as if it were 
 being baned of dragons. Two months had 
 passed before he was able to leave his bed. 
 He remembered only the glow of an Indian 
 summer morning on wood and field, but when he 
 rose they were all white with snow. For weeks 
 he had listened to the howl of the fir trees and 
 had seen the frost gathering on his window, 
 but knew not how swiftly the days had gone, 
 so that when he looked out of doors and saw 
 the midwinter he was filled with astonish 
 ment. 
 
 " I must go," said he. 
 338
 
 DARREL 339 
 
 " Not yet, my boy," said Mary Allen. " You 
 are not strong enough." 
 
 " Barrel has taken my trouble on him, and 
 I must go." 
 
 " I have heard you say it often since you 
 fell on the doorstep," said she, stroking his 
 hand. " There is a letter from him ; " and she 
 brought the letter and put it in his hands. 
 Trove opened it eagerly and read as follows : 
 
 " DEAR SIDNEY : It is Sunday night and 
 all day I have been walking in the Blessed 
 Isles. And one was the Blessed Isle of 
 remembrance where I met thee and we 
 talked of all good things. If I knew it 
 were well with thee I should be quite 
 happy, boy, quite happy. I was a bit 
 weary of travel and all the roads had 
 grown long. I miss the tick of the clocks, 
 but my work is easy and I have excellent 
 good friends. I send thee my key. Please 
 deliver the red, tall clock to Betsy Hale, 
 who lives on the road to Waterbury Hill, 
 and kindly take that cheerful youngster 
 from Connecticut the one with the wal 
 nut case and a brass pendulum to Mrs. 
 Henry Watson. You remember that ill- 
 tempered Dutch thing, with a loud gong
 
 340 DARREL 
 
 and a white dial, please take that to Harry 
 Warner. I put some work on them all 
 but there's no charge. The other clocks 
 belong to me. Do with them as thou 
 wilt and with all that is mine. The rent 
 is paid to April. Then kindly surrender 
 the key. Now can ye do all this for 
 a man suffering the just punishment of 
 many sins ? I ask it for old friendship 
 and to increase the charity I saw growing 
 in thy heart long ago. At last I have 
 word of thy father. He died a peaceful, 
 happy death, having restored the wealth 
 that cursed him to its owner. For his 
 sake an' thine I am glad to know it. 
 Now between thee and the dear Polly 
 there is no shadow. Tell her everything. 
 May the good God bless and keep thee; 
 but the long road of Happiness, that ye 
 must seek and find. 
 
 "Yours truly, 
 " R. BARREL of the Blessed Isles." 
 
 Trove read the letter many times, and, as 
 he grew strong, he began to think with clear 
 ness and deliberation of his last night in Hills-' 
 borough. Barrel was the greatest problem of 
 all. Pondering he saw, or thought he saw,
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 341 
 
 the bottom of it. Events were coming, how 
 ever, that robbed him utterly of his conceit 
 and all the hope it gave him. The sad lines 
 about his father kept him ever in some doubt. 
 A week more, and he was in the cutter one 
 morning, behind Phyllis, on his way to Robin's 
 Inn. As he drew up at the old, familiar gate 
 the boys ran out to meet him. Somehow they 
 were not the same boys they were a bit 
 more sober and timid. Tunk came with a 
 "Glad to see ye, mister," and took the mare, 
 The widow stood in the doorway, smiling sadly. 
 
 " How is Polly ? " said Trove. 
 
 For a moment there was no answer. He 
 walked slowly to the steps, knowing well that 
 some new blow was about to fall upon him. 
 
 " She is better, but has been very sick," said 
 the widow. 
 
 Trove sat down without speaking and threw 
 his coat open. 
 
 " You, too, have been very sick," said Mrs. 
 Vaughn. 
 
 " Yes, very," said he. 
 
 " I heard of it and went to your heme one 
 day, but you didn't know me."
 
 342 DARREL 
 
 " Tell me, where is Polly ? " 
 
 " In school, and I am much worried." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Well, she's pretty, and the young men will 
 not let her alone. There's one determined she 
 shall marry him." 
 
 " Is she engaged ? " 
 
 " No, but but, sir, I think she is nearly 
 heartbroken." 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Trove. " Not that she 
 may choose another, but that she lost faith 
 in me." 
 
 " Poor child ! Long ago she thought you 
 had ceased to love her," said the widow, her 
 voice trembling. 
 
 " I loved her as I can never love again," 
 said he, his elbow resting on a table, his 
 head leaning on his hand. He spoke calmly. 
 
 " Don't let it kill you, boy," said she. 
 
 " No," he answered. " A man must be 
 greater than his trouble ; I have work to do, and 
 I shall not give up. May I go and see Polly ? " 
 
 "Not now," said the widow, "give her time 
 to find her own way. If you deserve her love 
 it will return to you."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 343 
 
 " I fear that you, too, have lost faith in me," 
 said Trove. 
 
 " No," she answered, " but surely Barrel is 
 not the guilty one. It's all such a mystery." 
 
 "Mrs. Vaughn, do not suffer yourself to think 
 evil of me or of Barrel. If I do lose your 
 daughter, I hope I may not lose your good 
 opinion." The young man spoke earnestly and 
 his eyes were wet. 
 
 "I shall not think evil of you," said the woman. 
 
 Trove stood a moment, his hand upon the latch. 
 
 " If there's anything I can do for you or for 
 Polly," said he, " I should like to know it. 
 Let's hope for the best. Some day you must let 
 me come and " he hesitated, his voice failing 
 him for a moment, "and play a game of check 
 ers," he added. 
 
 Paul stood looking up at him sadly, his face 
 troubled. 
 
 " It's an evil day when the heart of a child 
 is heavy," said Trove, bending over the boy. 
 "What is the first law, Paul?" 
 
 "Thou shalt learn to obey," said the boy, 
 quickly. 
 
 "And who is the great master?"
 
 344 DARREL 
 
 " Yourself." 
 
 " Right, boy ! Let's command our hearts to 
 be happy." 
 
 The great, bare maple was harping dolefully 
 in the wind. Trove went for the mare, and 
 Tunk rode down the hill with him in the cutter. 
 
 "Things here ain't what they used t' be," 
 said Tunk. 
 
 " No ? " 
 
 "Widder, she takes on awful. Great 
 changes ! " 
 
 There was a moment of silence. 
 
 " I ain't the same dum fool I used t' be," 
 Tunk added presently. 
 
 "What's happened to you?" 
 
 "Well, they tol' me what you said about 
 lyin'. Ye know a man in the hoss business 
 is apt t' git a leetle careless, but I ain't no 
 such dum fool as I used t' be. Have you 
 heard that Teesey Tower was married ? " 
 
 "The old maid?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; the ol' maid, to Deacon Raskins, 
 an' he lives with 'em, an' now they're jes like 
 other folks. Never was so surprised since I 
 was first kicked by a hoss."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 345 
 
 Tunic's conscience revived suddenly and 
 seemed to put its hand over his mouth. 
 
 "Joe Beach is goin' to be a doctor," Tunk 
 went on presently. 
 
 "I advised him to study medicine," Trove 
 answered. 
 
 " He's gone off t' school at Milldam an' is 
 workin' like a beaver. He was purty ram 
 bunctious 'til you broke him to lead." 
 
 They rode then to the foot of the hill in 
 silence. 
 
 " Seems so everything was changed," Tunk 
 added as he left the cutter. " Ez Tower has 
 crossed the Fadden bridge. Team run away 
 an' snaked him over. They say he don't speak 
 to his bosses now." 
 
 Trove went on thoughtfully. Some of Tunk 
 Hosely's talk had been as bread for his 
 hunger, as a harvest, indeed, giving both seed 
 and sustenance. More clearly than ever he 
 saw before him the great field of life where 
 was work and the joy of doing it. For a 
 time he would be a teacher, but first there 
 were other things to do.
 
 XXXII 
 
 The Return of Thurst Tilly 
 
 T 
 
 ROVE sat in council with 
 Mary and Theron Allen. He 
 was now in debt to the doc 
 tor ; he needed money, also, 
 for clothing and boots and an 
 enterprise all had been discussing. 
 
 " I'll give you three hundred dollars for the 
 mare," said Allen. 
 
 Trove sat in thoughtful silence, and, pres 
 ently, Allen went out of doors. The woman 
 got her savings and brought them to her son. 
 " There is twenty-three dollars, an' it may 
 help you," she whispered. 
 
 "No, mother; I can't take it," said the 
 young man. " I owe you more now than I 
 can ever pay. I shall have to sell the mare. 
 It's a great trial to me, but but I suppose 
 honour is better than horses." 
 346
 
 DARREL 347 
 
 " Well, I've a surprise for you," said she, 
 bringing a roll of cloth from the bedroom. 
 "Those two old maids spun the wool, and I 
 wove it, and, see, it's all been fulled." 
 
 "You're as good as gold, mother, and so 
 are they. It's grand to wear in the country, 
 but I'm going away and ought to have an 
 extra good suit. I'd like to look as fine as 
 any of the village boys, and they don't wear 
 homespun. But I'll have plenty of use for it." 
 
 Next day he walked to Jericho Mills and 
 paid the doctor. He went on to Milldam, 
 buying there a handsome new outfit of cloth 
 ing. Then he called to see the President of 
 the bank that one which had set the dogs 
 of the law on him. 
 
 "You know I put three thousand dollars in 
 the bank of Hillsborough," said Trove, when 
 he sat facing the official. " I took the money 
 there, believing it to be mine. If, however, it 
 is yours, I wish to turn it over to you." 
 
 "It is not our money," said the President. 
 " That bundle was sent here, and we investi 
 gated every bill a great task, for there were 
 some three hundred of them. Many are old
 
 348 DARREL 
 
 bills and two the issue of banks gone out of 
 business. It's all a very curious problem. They 
 would not have received this money, but they 
 knew of the robbery and suspected you at once. 
 Now we believe absolutely in your honour." 
 
 "I shall put that beyond all question," said 
 Trove, rising. 
 
 He took the cars to Hillsborough. There 
 he went to the Sign of the Dial and built a 
 fire in its old stove. The clocks were now 
 hushed. He found those Barrel had written 
 of and delivered them. Returning, he began 
 to wind the cherished clocks of the tinker 
 old ones he had gathered here and there in 
 his wandering and to start their pendulums. 
 One of them a tall clock in the corner with 
 a calendar-dial had this legend on the inner 
 side of its door : 
 
 " Halted in memory of a good man, 
 Its hands pointing to the moment of his death, 
 Its voice hushed in his honour." 
 
 Trove shut the door of the old clock and 
 hurried to the public attorney's office, where he 
 got the address of Leblanc. He met many 
 who shook his hand warmly and gave him a
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 349 
 
 pleasant word. He was in great fear of meet 
 ing Polly, and thought of what he should do 
 and say if he came face to face with her. 
 Among others he met the school principal. 
 
 " Coming back to work ? " the latter inquired. 
 
 " No, sir ; I've got to earn money." 
 
 " We need another teacher, and I'll recom 
 mend you." 
 
 " I'm much obliged, but I couldn't come be 
 fore the fall term," said Trove. 
 
 " I'll try to keep the place for you," said his 
 friend, as they parted. 
 
 Trove came slowly down the street, thinking 
 how happy he could be now, if Barrel were 
 free and Polly had only trusted him. Near the 
 Sign of the Dial he met Thurston Tilly. 
 
 " Back again ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 " Back again. Boss gi'n up farminV 
 
 " Did he make his fortune ? " 
 
 " No, he had one give to him." 
 
 " Come and tell me about it." 
 
 Tilly followed Trove up the old stairway 
 into the little shop. 
 
 "Beg yer pardon," said Thurst, turning, as 
 they sat down, " are you armed ? "
 
 350 DARREL 
 
 "No," said Trove, smiling. 
 
 " A man shot me once when I wan't doin' 
 nothin' but tryin' t' tell a story, an' I don't take 
 no chances. Do you remember my boss tellin' 
 that night in the woods how he lost his money 
 in the fire o' '35 ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Wai, I guess it had suthin' t' do with that. 
 One day the boss an' me was out in the door- 
 yard, an' a stranger come along. ' You're John 
 Thompson,' says he to the boss ; ' An' you're so 
 an' so,' says the boss. I don't eggzac'ly re 
 member the name he give." Tilly stopped to 
 think. 
 
 " Can you describe him ? " Trove inquired. 
 
 " He was a big man with white whiskers an' 
 hair, an' he wore light breeches an' a short, blue 
 coat." 
 
 "Again the friend of Darrel," Trove thought. 
 
 " Did you tell the tinker about your boss the 
 night we were all at Robin's Inn last sum 
 mer ? " 
 
 " I told him the whole story, an' he pumped 
 me dry. I'd answer him, an' he'd holler ' Very 
 well,' an' shoot another question at me."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 351 
 
 " Well, Thurst, go on with your story." 
 
 "Couldn't tell ye jest what happened. They 
 went off int' the house. Nex' day the boss 
 tol' me he wa'n't no longer a poor man an' was 
 goin' t' sell his farm an' leave for Californy. 
 In a tavern near where we lived the stranger 
 died sudden that night, an' the funeral was at 
 our house, an' he was buried there in lowy." 
 
 Trove walked to the bench and stood a mo 
 ment looking out of a window. 
 
 " Strange ! " said he, returning presently 
 with tearful eyes. " Do you remember the 
 date?" 
 
 " 'Twas a Friday, 'bout the middle o' Sep 
 tember." 
 
 Trove turned, looking up at the brazen dial 
 of the tall clock. It indicated four-thirty in the 
 morning of September igth. 
 
 " Were there any with him when he died ? " 
 
 " Yes, the tavern keeper it was some kind 
 of a stroke they told me." 
 
 " And your boss did he go to California ? " 
 Trove asked. 
 
 "He sold the farm an' went to Californy. 
 I worked there a while, but the boss an' me
 
 352 DARREL 
 
 couldn't agree, an* so I pulled up an' trotted fer 
 home." 
 
 " To what part of California did Thompson 
 go?" 
 
 " Hadn't no idee where he would stick his 
 stakes. He was goin' in t' the gold business." 
 
 Trove sat busy with his own thoughts while 
 Thurston Tilly, warming to new confidence, 
 boiled over with enthusiasm for the far west. 
 A school friend of the boy came, by and by, 
 whereupon Tilly whistled on his thumb and 
 hurried away. 
 
 " Did you know," said the newcomer, when 
 Trove and he were alone, " that Roberts the 
 man who tried to send you up is a young 
 lawyer and is going to settle here ? He and 
 Polly are engaged." 
 
 " Engaged ! " 
 
 "So he gave me to understand." 
 
 "Well, if she loves him and he's a good 
 fellow, I've no right to complain," Trove 
 answered. 
 
 " I don't believe that he's a good fellow," said 
 the other. 
 
 " Why do you say that ? "
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 353 
 
 "Well, a detective is is " 
 
 " A necessary evil ? " Trove suggested. 
 
 "Just that," said the other. "He must pre 
 tend to be what he isn't and well, a gentleman 
 is not apt to sell himself for that purpose. 
 Now he's trying to convince people that you 
 knew as much about the crime as Barrel. In 
 my opinion he isn't honest. Good looks and 
 fine raiment are all there is to that fellow 
 take my word for it." 
 
 " You're inclined to judge him harshly," said 
 Trove. " But I'm worried, for I fear he's un 
 worthy of her and and I must leave town 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Shall you go to see her ? " 
 
 " No ; not until I know more about him. I 
 have friends here and they will give her good 
 counsel. Soon they'll know what kind of a 
 man he is, and, if necessary, they'll warn her. 
 I'm beset with trouble, but, thank God, I know 
 which way to turn."
 
 XXXIII 
 
 The White Guard 
 
 ww-^^HMBMr.^.^... T'*-\rT~ nr 
 
 KSg"gfr&<i>&^lgg| EXT morning Trove was on 
 71 T & kis wa Y to Quebec a long, 
 / V/ hard journey in the winter 
 time, those days. Leblanc had 
 moved again, so they told 
 him in Quebec, this time to Plattsburg of Clin 
 ton County, New York. There, however, Trove 
 was unable to find the Frenchman. A week 
 of patient inquiry, then, leaving promises of 
 reward for information, he came away. He 
 had yet another object of his travels the 
 prison at Dannemora and came there of a 
 Sunday morning late in February. Its towers 
 were bathed in sunlight; its shadows lay dark 
 and far upon the snow. Peace and light and 
 silence had fallen out of the sky upon that 
 little city of regret, as if to hush and illumine 
 its tumult of dark passions. He shivered in 
 354
 
 DARREL 355 
 
 the gloom of its shadow as he went up a drive 
 way and rang a bell. The warden received 
 him kindly. 
 
 "I wish to see Roderick Barrel, he is my 
 friend," said Trove, as he gave the warden a 
 letter. 
 
 " Come with me," said the official, presently. 
 " He is talking to the men." 
 
 They passed through gloomy corridors to the 
 chapel door. Trove halted to compose himself, 
 for now he could hear the voice of Barrel. 
 
 " Let me stand here a while I cannot go in 
 now," he whispered. 
 
 The words of the old man were vibrant with 
 colour and dramatic force. 
 
 " Night ! " he was saying, " the guard 
 passes ; the lights are out ; ye lie thinking. 
 Hark ! a bell ! 'Tis in the golden city o' 
 remembrance. Ye hear it calling. Haste 
 away, men, haste away. Ah, look ! flow 
 ers by the roadside ! an' sunlight, an', just 
 ahead, spires o' the city, an' beneath them 
 oh ! what is there beneath them ye go 
 so many times to see ? 
 
 " Who is this ? 
 
 " Here is a man beside ye.
 
 356 DARREL 
 
 " ' Halt ! ' he says, an cuts ye with a 
 sword. 
 
 " Now the bell is tolling the sky over 
 cast. The spires fall, the flowers wither. 
 Ye turn to look at the man. He is a giant. 
 See the face of him now. It makes ye 
 tremble. He is the White Guard an' he 
 brings ye back. Ah, then, mayhap ye rise 
 in the dark, as I have heard ye, an' shake 
 the iron doors. But ye cannot escape him 
 though ye could fly on the wind. Know 
 ye the White Guard ? Dear man ! his 
 name is thy name ; he is thyself ; day an' 
 night he sits in the watch tower o' thy 
 soul; he has all charge o' thee. Make a 
 friend o' him, men, make a friend o' him. 
 Any evening send for me, an' mayhap 
 they'll let me come an' tell thee how." 
 
 He paused. Trove could hear the tread of 
 guards in the chapel. They seemed to enter the 
 magnetic field of the speaker and quickly halted. 
 
 " Mind the White Guard ! Save him ye 
 have none to fear, 
 
 " Once, at night, I saw a man smiling in 
 his sleep. 'Twas over there in the hospi 
 tal. The day long he had been sick with 
 remorse, an' I had given him, betimes, a
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 357 
 
 word o' comfort as well as the medicine. 
 Now when I looked the frown had left his 
 brow. Oh, 'twas a goodly sight to see ! 
 He smiled an' murmured o' the days gone. 
 The man o' guilt lay dead the child of 
 innocence was living. An' he woke, an' 
 again the shadow fell upon him, an' he 
 wept. 
 
 " ' I have been wandering in the land 
 o' love,' he said. 
 
 " ' Get thee back, man, get thee back,' 
 said I to him. 
 
 " ' Alas ! how can I ? ' said he ; ' for 'tis 
 only Sleep that opens the door.' 
 
 " ' Nay, Sleep doth lift the garment o' 
 thy bitterness, but only for an hour,' said 
 I. ' Love, Love shall lift it from thee 
 forever.' An' now, I thank the good God, 
 the smile o' that brief hour is ever on his 
 face. Ye know him well, men. Were 1 
 to bid him stand before ye, there's many 
 here would wish to kiss his hand. Even 
 here in the frowning shadow o' these 
 walls he has come into a land o' love, an* 
 when he returns to his people ye shall 
 weep, men, ye shall weep, an' they shall 
 rejoice. O the land o' love ! it hath a 
 strong gate. An' the White Guard, he 
 hath the key.
 
 358 BARREL 
 
 " Remember, men, ye cannot reap unless 
 ye sow. If any would reap the corn, he 
 must plant the corn. 
 
 "Have ye stood of a bright summer 
 day to watch the little people o' the 
 field ? those millions that throng the 
 grass an' fly in the sunlight bird an' 
 bee an' ant an' bug an' butterfly ? 'Tis 
 a land flowing with milk an' honey 
 but hear me, good men, not one o' them 
 may take as much as would fill the mouth 
 of a cricket unless he pays the price. 
 
 "One day I saw an ant trying to rob a 
 thistle-blow. Now the law o' the field 
 is that none shall have honey who can 
 not sow for the flower. While a bee 
 probes he gathers the seed-dust in his 
 hairy jacket, an' away he flies, sowing 
 it far an' wide. Now, an ant is in no 
 wise able to serve a thistle-blow, but he 
 is ever trying to rob her house. Know 
 ing her danger, she has put around it 
 a wonderful barricade. Down at the root 
 her stem has a thicket o' fuzz an' hair. 
 I watched the little thief, an' he was a 
 long time passing through it. Then he 
 came on a barrier o' horny-edged leaves. 
 Underneath they were covered with thick, 
 webby hairs an' he sank over his head in
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 359 
 
 them an' toiled long ; an' lo ! when he had 
 passed them there was yet another row 
 o' leaves curving so as to weary an' 
 bewilder him, an' thick set with thorns. 
 Slowly he climbed, coming ever to some 
 dread obstruction. By an' by he stood 
 looking up at the green, round wall o' 
 the palace. Above him were its treas 
 ure an' its purple dome. He started 
 upward an' fell suddenly into a moat, 
 full o' sticky gum, an' there perished. 
 Men, 'tis the law o' God : unless ye sow 
 the seed that bears it, ye shall not have the 
 honey o' forgiveness. An' remember the 
 seed o' forgiveness is forgiveness. If 
 any have been hard upon thee, bearing 
 false witness an' robbing thee o' thy free 
 dom an' thy good name, go not hence 
 until ye forgive. 
 
 "Ah, then the White Guard shall no 
 longer sit in the tower." 
 
 The voice had stopped. There was a mo 
 ment of deep silence. Some power, greater, 
 far greater, than his words, had gone out of 
 the man. Those many who sat before him 
 and they standing there by the door had felt 
 it and were deeply moved. There was a quick
 
 360 BARREL 
 
 stir in the audience a stir of hands and hand 
 kerchiefs. Trove entered; the chaplain was 
 now reading a hymn. Barrel sat behind him 
 on a raised platform, the silken spray upon 
 his brows, long and white as snow, his face 
 thoughtful and serious. The reading over, he 
 came and sat among the men, singing as they 
 sang. The benediction, a stir of feet, and the 
 prisoners began to press about him, some kiss 
 ing his hands. He gave each a kindly greeting. 
 It was like the night of the party on Cedar 
 Hill. A moment more, and the crowd was 
 filing away, some looking back curiously at 
 Trove, who stood, his arms about the old 
 man. 
 
 " Courage, boy ! " the latter was saying ; " I 
 know it cuts thee like a sword, an' would to 
 God I could have spared thee even this. Look ! 
 in yon high window I can see the sunlight, an', 
 believe me, there is not a creature it shines 
 upon so happy as I. God love thee, boy, God 
 love thee ! " 
 
 He put his cheek upon that of the boy and 
 stroked his hair gently. Then a little time of 
 silence, and the storm had passed.
 
 rf the BLESSED ISLES 361 
 
 " A fine, fine lad ye are," said Barrel, looking 
 proudly at the young man, who stood now quite 
 composed. " Let me take thy hand. Ay, 'tis 
 a mighty arm ye have, an' some day, some day 
 it will shake the towers." 
 
 " You will both dine with me in my quarters 
 at one," said the warden, presently. 
 
 Trove turned with a look of surprise. 
 
 " Thank ye, sor ; an' mind ye make room for 
 Wit an' Happiness," said the tinker. 
 
 "Bring them along they're always wel 
 come at my table," the warden answered with 
 a laugh. 
 
 " Know ye not they're in prison, now, for keep 
 ing bad company ? " said Barrel, as he turned. 
 " At one, boy," he added, shaking the boy's 
 hand. " Ah, then, good cheer an' many a 
 merry jest." 
 
 Barrel left the room, waving his hand. 
 Trove and the warden made their way to the 
 prison office. 
 
 " A wonderful man ! " said the latter, as they 
 went. "We love and respect him and give 
 him all the liberty we can. For a long time 
 he has been nursing in the hospital, and when
 
 362 DARREL 
 
 I see that he is overworking I bring him to my 
 office and set him at easy jobs." 
 
 Barrel came presently, and they went to 
 dinner. The tinker bowed politely to the 
 warden's wife and led her to the table. 
 
 " Good friends," said he, as they were sitting 
 down, "there is an hour that is short o 1 
 minutes an' yet holds a week o' pleasure who 
 can tell me which hour it is ? " 
 
 " I never guessed a riddle," said the woman. 
 
 " Marry, dear madam, 'tis the hour o' thy 
 hospitality," said the old man. 
 
 " When you are in it," she answered with 
 good humour. 
 
 " Fellow-travellers on the road to heaven," 
 said Barrel, raising his glass, " St. Peter is 
 fond of a smiling face." 
 
 " And when you see him you'll make a 
 jest," were the words of the warden. 
 
 " For I believe he is a lover o' good com 
 pany," said Barrel. 
 
 The warden's wife remarked, then, that she 
 had enjoyed his talk in the chapel. 
 
 " I'm a new form o' punishment," said Barrel, 
 soberly.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 363 
 
 " But they all enjoy it," she answered. 
 
 " I'm not so rough as the ministers. They 
 use fire an' the fume o' sulphur." 
 
 "And the men go to sleep." 
 
 "Ay, the cruel master makes a thick hide," 
 said Barrel, quickly. "So Nature puts her 
 hand between the whip an' the horse, an' .sleep 
 between cruelty an' the congregation." 
 
 " Nature is kind," was the remark of the 
 warden. 
 
 "An* shows the intent o' the Almighty," said 
 Barrel. " There are two words. In them are 
 all the sermons." 
 
 " And what are they ? " the woman asked. 
 
 " Fear," Barrel answered thoughtfully; "that 
 is one o' them." He paused to sip his tea. 
 
 " And the other is ? " 
 
 "Love." 
 
 There was half a moment of silence. 
 
 " Here's Life to Love an' Beath to Fear," 
 the tinker added, draining his cup. "Ay, 
 madam, fill again 'tis memorable tea." 
 
 The woman refilled his cup. 
 
 " Many a time I've sat at meat an' thought, 
 O that mine enemy could taste thy tea !
 
 364 DARREL 
 
 But this, dear lady, this beverage is for a 
 friend." 
 
 So the dinner went on, others talking only 
 to encourage the tongue of Darrel. Trove, well 
 as he knew the old man, had been surprised 
 by his fortitude. Far from being broken, the 
 spirit in him was happy, masterful, triumphant. 
 He had work to do and was earning that high 
 reward of happiness to him the best thing 
 under heaven. The dinner over, all rose, and 
 Darrel bowed politely to the warden's wife. 
 Then he quoted : 
 
 " ' Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore, 
 So do our minutes hasten to their end.' 
 
 " Dear madam, they do hasten but to come 
 as well as to go. Thanks an' au revoir." 
 
 Darrel and Trove went away with the warden, 
 who bade them sit a while in his office. Tinker 
 and young man were there talking until the 
 day was gone. The warden sat apart, reading. 
 Now and again they whispered earnestly, as if 
 they were not agreed, Darrel shaking his fore 
 finger and his head. Trove came away as the 
 dark fell, a sad and thoughtful look upon him.
 
 XXXIV 
 
 More Evidence 
 
 ROVE went to the inn at Dan- 
 nemora that evening he left 
 Barrel and there found a letter. 
 It said that Leblanc was living 
 near St. Albans. Posted in 
 Plattsburg and signed " Henry Hope," the letter 
 gave no hint of bad faith, and with all haste he 
 went to the place it named. He was there a 
 fortnight, seeking the Frenchman, but getting 
 no word of him, and then came a new letter 
 from the man Hope. It said now that Leblanc 
 had moved on to Middlebury. Trove went there, 
 spent the last of his money, and sat one day in 
 the tavern office, considering what to do ; for 
 now, after weeks of wandering, he was, it seemed, 
 no nearer the man he sought. He had soon 
 reached a thought of some value : this in 
 formation of the unknown correspondent was, 
 at least, unreliable, and he would give it no 
 365
 
 366 DARREL 
 
 further heed. What should he do ? On that 
 point he was not long undecided, for while he 
 was thinking of it a boy came and said : 
 "There's a lady waiting to see you in the 
 parlour, sir." 
 
 He went immediately to the parlour above 
 stairs, and there sat Polly in her best gown 
 "the sweetest-looking creature," he was wont 
 to say, "this side of Paradise." Polly rose, and 
 his amazement checked his feet a moment. 
 Then he advanced quickly and would have 
 kissed her, but she turned her face away and 
 stood looking down. They were in a silence 
 full of history. Twice she tried to speak, but 
 an odd stillness followed the first word, giving 
 possibly the more adequate expression to her 
 thoughts. 
 
 "How came you here?" he whispered pres 
 ently. 
 
 "I I have been trying to find you," said 
 she, at length. 
 
 He turned, looking from end to end of the 
 large room ; they were quite alone. 
 
 "Polly," he whispered, "I believe you do 
 love me."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 367 
 
 For a little time she made no answer. 
 
 " No," she whispered, shaking her head ; 
 " that is, I I do not think I love you." 
 
 " Then why have you come to find me ? " 
 
 " Because because you did not come to 
 find me," she answered, glancing down at the 
 toe of her pretty shoe. 
 
 She turned impatiently and stood by an open 
 window. She was looking out upon a white 
 orchard. Odours of spring flower and apple 
 blossom were in the soft wings of the wind. 
 Somehow they mingled with her feeling and 
 were always in her memory of that hour. Her 
 arm moved slowly and a 'kerchief went to her 
 eyes. Then, a little tremor in the plume upon 
 her hat. Trove went to her side. 
 
 " Dear Polly ! " he said, as he took her hand 
 in his. Gently she pulled it away. 
 
 "I I cannot speak to you now," she whis 
 pered. 
 
 Then a long silence. The low music of a 
 million tiny wings came floating in at the win 
 dow. It seemed, somehow, like a voice of the 
 past, with minutes, like the bees, hymning indis- - 
 tinguishably. Polly and Trove were thinking
 
 368 DARREL 
 
 of the same things. " I can doubt him no 
 more," she thought, "and I know I know 
 that he loves me." They could hear the flutter 
 of bird wings beyond the window and in the 
 stillness they got some understanding of each 
 other. She turned suddenly, and went to where 
 he stood. 
 
 " Sidney," she said, " I am sorry I am sorry 
 if I have hurt you." 
 
 She lifted one of his hands and pressed her 
 red cheek upon it fondly. In a moment he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Long ago I knew that you were doubting 
 me, but I couldn't help it," he said. 
 
 "It was that that horrible secret," she 
 whispered. 
 
 "I had no right to your love," said he, 
 "until" he hesitated for a little, "until I 
 could tell you the truth." 
 
 " You loved somebody else ? " she whispered, 
 turning to him. " Didn't you, now ? Tell me." 
 
 "No," said he, calmly. "The fact is the 
 fact is I had learned that my father was a 
 thief." 
 
 "Your father!" she answered. "Do you
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 369 
 
 think I care what your father did? Your 
 honour and your love were enough for me." 
 
 "I did not know," he whispered, "and I 
 should have made my way to you, but " he 
 paused again. 
 
 " But what ? " she demanded, impatiently. 
 
 "Well, it was only fair you should have a 
 chance to meet others, and I thought you were 
 in love with Roberts." 
 
 " Roberts ! He would have been glad of my 
 love, I can tell you that." She looked up at 
 him. "I have endured much for you, Sidney 
 Trove, and I cannot keep my secret any longer. 
 He says that Barrel is now in prison for your 
 crime." 
 
 "And you believe him?" Trove whispered. 
 
 " Not that," she answered quickly, " but you 
 know I loved the dear old man ; I cannot think 
 him guilty any more than I could think it of 
 you. But there's a deep mystery in it all. It 
 has made me wretched. Every one thinks you 
 know more than you have told about it." 
 
 "A beautiful mystery ! " the young man whis 
 pered. "He thought I should be convicted 
 who wouldn't ? I think he loved me, so that he
 
 370 DARREL 
 
 took the shame and the suffering and the prison 
 to save me." 
 
 " He would have died for you," she answered ; 
 " but, Sidney, it was dreadful to let them take 
 him away. Couldn't you have done some 
 thing?" 
 
 " Something, dear Polly ! and I with a foot in 
 the grave ? " 
 
 " Where did you go that night ? " 
 
 " I do not know ; but in the morning I found 
 myself in our great pasture and was ill. Some 
 instinct led me home, and, as usual, I had gone 
 across lots." Then he told the story of that 
 day and night and the illness that followed. 
 
 "I, too, was ill," said Polly, "and I thought 
 you were cruel not to come to me. When I 
 began to go out of doors they told me you 
 were low with fever. Then I got ready to go 
 to you, and that very day I saw you pass the 
 door. I thought surely you would come to see 
 me, but but you went away." 
 
 Polly's lips were trembling, and she covered 
 her eyes a moment with her handkerchief. 
 
 "I feared to be unwelcome," said he. 
 
 "You and every one, except my mother,
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 371 
 
 was determined that I should marry Roberts," 
 Polly went on. "He has been urgent, but 
 you, Sidney, you wouldn't have me. You 
 have done everything you could to help him. 
 Now I've found you, and I'm going to tell 
 you all, and you've got to listen to me. He 
 has proof, he says, that you are guilty of an 
 other crime, and and he says you are now 
 a fugitive trying to escape arrest." 
 
 A little silence followed, in which Trove was 
 thinking of the Hope letters and of Roberts' 
 claim that he was engaged to Polly. 
 
 "You have been wrapped in mysteries long 
 enough. I shall not let you go until you ex 
 plain," she continued. 
 
 "There's no mystery about this," said Trove, 
 calmly. "Roberts is a rascal, and that's the 
 reason I'm here." 
 
 She turned quickly with a look of surprise. 
 
 " I mean it. He knows I am guilty of no 
 crime, but he does know that I am looking 
 for Louis Leblanc, and he has fooled me with 
 lying letters to keep me out of the way and 
 win you with his guile." 
 
 A serious look came into the eyes of Polly.
 
 372 DARREL 
 
 "You are looking for Louis Leblanc," she 
 whispered. 
 
 " Yes ; it is the first move in a plan to free 
 Darrel, for I am sure that Leblanc committed 
 the crime. I shall know soon after I meet him." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 "If he should have a certain mark on the 
 back of his left hand and were to satisfy me 
 in two other details, I'd give my life to one pur 
 pose, that of making him confess. God help 
 me! I cannot find the man. But I shall not 
 give up ; I shall go and see the Governor." 
 
 Turning her face away and looking out of the 
 window, she felt for his hand. Then she pressed 
 it fondly. That was the giving of all sacred 
 things forever, and he knew it. He was the 
 same Sidney Trove, but never until that day 
 had she seen the full height of his noble man 
 hood, ever holding above its own the happiness 
 of them it loved. Suddenly her heart was full 
 with thinking of the power and beauty of it. 
 
 "I do love you, Polly," said Trove, at length. 
 " I've answered your queries, all of them, 
 and now it's my turn. If we were at Robin's Inn, 
 I should put my arms about you, and I should
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 373 
 
 not let you go until until you had promised 
 to be my wife." 
 
 "And I should not promise for at least an 
 hour," said she, smiling, as she turned, her dark 
 eyes full of their new discovery. " Let us go 
 home." 
 
 "I'm going to be imperative," said he, "and 
 you must answer before I will let you go " 
 
 "Dear Sidney," said she, "let's wait until 
 we reach home. It's too bad to spoil it here. 
 But " she whispered, looking about the room, 
 "you may kiss me once now." 
 
 "It's like a tale in Harpers" said he, pres 
 ently. "It's 'to be continued,' always, at the 
 most exciting passage." 
 
 " I shall take the cars at one o'clock," said 
 she, smiling. " But I shall not allow you to go 
 with me. You know the weird sisters." 
 
 "It would be impossible," said Trove. "I 
 must get work somewhere ; my money is gone." 
 
 " Money ! " said she, opening her purse. " I'm 
 a Lady Bountiful. Think of it I've two 
 hundred dollars here. Didn't you know Riley 
 Brooke cancelled the mortgage? Mother had 
 saved this money for a payment."
 
 374 DARREL 
 
 " Cancelled the mortgage ! " said Trove. 
 
 "Yes, the dear old tinker repaired him, and 
 now he's a new man. I'll give you a job, 
 Sidney." 
 
 "What to do?" 
 
 "Go and see the Governor, and then and 
 then you are to report to me at Robin's Inn. 
 Mind you, there's to be no delay, and I'll pay 
 you let's see, I'll pay you a hundred dollars." 
 
 Trove began to laugh, and thought of this 
 odd fulfilling of the ancient promises. 
 
 "I shall stay to-night with a cousin at Bur 
 lington. Oh, there's one more thing you're 
 to get a new suit of clothes at Albany, and, 
 remember, it must be very grand." 
 
 It was near train time, and they left the inn. 
 
 " I'm going to tell you everything," said she, 
 as they were on their way to the depot. " The 
 day after to-morrow I am to see that dreadful 
 Roberts. I'm longing to give him his answer." 
 
 Not an hour before then Roberts had passed 
 them on his way to Boston.
 
 XXXV 
 
 At the Sign of the Golden Spool* 
 
 I 
 
 T was early May and a bright 
 morning in Hillsborough. 
 There were lines of stores 
 and houses on either side of 
 the main thoroughfare from 
 the river to Moosehead Inn, a long, low, 
 white building that faced the public square. 
 Hunters coming off its veranda and gazing 
 down the street, as if sighting over gun-barrels 
 at the bridge, were wont to reckon the distance 
 " nigh on to forty rod." There were " Boston 
 Stores" and "Great Emporiums" and shops, 
 modest as they were small, in that forty rods 
 of Hillsborough. Midway was a little white 
 building, its eaves within reach of one's hand, 
 its gable on the line of the sidewalk over- 
 
 1 The author desires to say that this chapter relates to no 
 shop now in existence. 
 
 375
 
 376 DARREL 
 
 hanging which, from a crane above the door, 
 -was a big, golden spool. In its two windows 
 were lace and ribbons and ladies' hats and 
 spools of thread, and blue shades drawn high 
 from seven o'clock in the morning until dark. 
 It was the little shop of Ruth Tole a house 
 of Fate on the way from happening to history. 
 There secrets, travel-worn, were nourished 
 a while and sent on their way; reputations 
 were made over and often trimmed with ex 
 cellent taste and discrimination. The wicked 
 might prosper for a time, but by and by the 
 fates were at work on them, there in the little 
 shop, and then every one smiled as the sinner 
 passed, with the decoration of his rank upon 
 him. And the sinner smiled also, seeing not 
 the badge on his own back but only that on the 
 back of his brother, and was highly pleased, 
 for, if he had sin deeper than his brother's he 
 had some discretion. Relentless and not over- 
 just were they of this weird sisterhood. To 
 them the needle's eye was, indeed, the win 
 dow of the world or its narrow gate through 
 which all their knowledge had come to them. 
 Those of Hillsborough did their work as if
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 377 
 
 with a sense of its great solemnity. There was 
 a flavour of awe in their nods and whispers, and 
 they seemed to know they were touching im 
 mortal souls. But now and then they put on 
 the masque of comedy. 
 
 Ruth Tole was behind the counter, sorting 
 threads. She was a maiden of middle life and 
 severe countenance, of few and decisive words. 
 The door of tb^ little shop was ajar, and near 
 it a woman sat knitting. She had a position 
 favourable for eye and ear. She could see all 
 who passed, on either side of the way, and not 
 a word or move in the shop escaped her. In 
 the sisterhood she bore the familiar name of 
 Lize. She had been talking about that old 
 case of Riley Brooke and the Widow Glover. 
 
 " Looks to me," said she, thoughtfully, as 
 she tickled her scalp with a knitting-needle, 
 "that she took the kinks out o' him. He's a 
 good deal more respectable." 
 
 "Like a panther with his teeth pulled," 
 said a woman who stood by the counter, buy 
 ing a spool of thread. " Ain't you heard how 
 they made up?" 
 
 " Land sakes, no ! " said the sister T.ira,
 
 378 DARREL 
 
 hurriedly finishing a stitch and then halting 
 her fingers to pun the yarn. 
 
 The shopkeeper began rolling ribbons with 
 a look of indifference. She never took part 
 in the gossip and, although she loved to hear 
 it, had, mostly, the air of one without ears. 
 
 "Well, that old tinker gave 'em both a good 
 talking to," said the customer. " He brings 
 'em face to face, and he says to him, says he, 
 'In the day o* the judgment God 11 mind the 
 look o* your wife,' and then he says the same 
 to her." 
 
 " Singular man ! " said the comely sister Lize, 
 who now resumed her knitting. 
 
 " He never robbed that bank, either, any 
 more f n I did." 
 
 "Men ain't apt to claim a sin that don't 
 belong to 'em that's my opinion." 
 
 " He did it to shield another." 
 
 "Sidney Trove?" was the half-whispered 
 query of the sister Lize. 
 
 " Trove, no ! " said the other, quickly. " It 
 was that old man with a gray beard who 
 never spoke to anybody an' used to visit the 
 tinker."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 379 
 
 She was interrupted by a newcomer a 
 stout woman of middle age who fluttered in, 
 breathing heavily, under a look of pallor and 
 agitation. 
 
 " Sh-h-h ! " said she, lifting a large hand. 
 She sank upon a chair, fanning herself. She 
 said nothing for a little, as if to give the Re 
 cording Angel a chance to dip her pen. The 
 customer, who was now counting a box of 
 beads, turned quickly, and she that was called 
 Lize dropped her knitting. 
 
 " What is it, Bet, for mercy's sake ? " said the 
 latter. 
 
 " Have you heard the news ? " said she that 
 was called BeL 
 
 " Land sakes, no ! " said both the others. 
 
 Then followed a moment of suspense, during 
 which the newcomer sat biting her under lip, 
 a merry smile in her face. She was like a 
 child dallying with a red plum. 
 
 " You're too provoking ! " said the sister 
 Lize, impatiently. " Why do you keep us 
 hanging by the eyebrows ? " She pulled 
 her yarn with some violence, and the ball 
 dropped to the floor, rolling half across it
 
 380 DARREL 
 
 " Sh-h-h ! " said the dear sister Bet again. 
 Another woman had stopped by the door. 
 Then a scornful whisper from the sister Lize. 
 
 " It's that horrible Kate Tredder. Mercy ! 
 is she coming in ? " 
 
 She came in. Long since she had ceased 
 to enjoy credit or confidence at the little shop. 
 
 " Nice day," said she. 
 
 The sister Lize moved impatiently and picked 
 up her work. This untimely entrance had left 
 her " hanging by the eyebrows " and red 
 with anxiety. She gave the newcomer a 
 sweeping glance, sighed and said, " Yes." The 
 sister Bet grew serious and began tapping the 
 floor with her toe. 
 
 " I've been clear 'round the square," said 
 Mrs. Tredder, "an' I guess I'll sit a while. I 
 ain't done a thing to-day, an' I don't b'lieve I'll 
 try 'til after dinner. Miss Tole, you may give 
 me another yard o' that red silk ribbon." 
 
 She sat by the counter, and Miss Tole sniffed 
 a little and began to measure the ribbon. She 
 was deeply if secretly offended by this intrusion. 
 
 " What's the news ? " said the newcomer, 
 turning to the sister Bet.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 381 
 
 " Oh, nothing ! " said the other, wearily. 
 
 "Ain't you heard about that woman up at 
 the Moosehead ? " 
 
 " Heard all I care to," said the sister Bet, 
 with jealous feeling. Here was another red 
 plum off the same tree. 
 
 " What about her ? " said the sister Lize, 
 now reaching on tiptoe, as it were. The sister 
 Bet rose impatiently and made for the door. 
 
 " Going ? " said she that was called Lize, a 
 note of alarm in her voice. 
 
 " Yes ; do you think I've nothing else to do 
 but sit here and gossip," said sister Bet, dis 
 appearing suddenly, her face red. 
 
 The newcomer sat in a thoughtful attitude, 
 her elbow on the counter. 
 
 " Well ? " said the sister Lize. 
 
 " You all treat me so funny here I guess I'll 
 go," said Mrs. Tredder, who now got up, her 
 face darkening, and hurried away. They of 
 the plums had both vanished. 
 
 "Wretch!" said the sister Lize, hotly; "I 
 could have choked her." She squirmed a little, 
 moving her chair roughly. 
 
 " She's forever sticking her nose into other 

 
 382 BARREL 
 
 people's business," were the words of the cus 
 tomer who was counting beads. She seemed 
 to be near the point of tears. 
 
 " Maybe that's why it's so red," the other 
 answered with unspeakable contempt. " I'm so 
 mad I can hardly sit still." 
 
 She wound her yarn close and stuck her 
 needle into the ball. 
 
 " Thank goodness ! " said she, suddenly ; 
 "here comes Serene." 
 
 The sister Serene Davis, a frail, fair lady, 
 entered. 
 
 " Well," said the latter, " I suppose you've 
 heard " she paused to get her breath. 
 
 " What ? " said the sister Lize, in a whisper, 
 approaching the new arrival. 
 
 " My heart is all in a flutter don't hurry 
 me." 
 
 The sister Lize went to the door and closed 
 it. Then she turned quickly, facing the other 
 woman. 
 
 "Serene Davis," she began solemnly, "you'll 
 never leave this room alive until you tell us." 
 
 "Can't you let a body enjoy herself a 
 minute ? "
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 383 
 
 " Tell me," she insisted, threatening with a 
 needle. 
 
 Ruth Tole regarded them with a look of 
 firmness which seemed to say, "Stab her if 
 she doesn't tell." 
 
 "Well," said the sister Serene, "you know 
 that stylish young widow that came a while 
 ago to the Moosehead the one that wore the 
 splendid black silk the night o' the ball ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " She was a detective," this in a whisper. 
 
 "What ! " said the other two, awesomely. 
 
 "A detective." 
 
 Then a quick movement of chairs and a 
 pulling of yarn. Ruth dropped a spool of 
 thread which rattled, as it fell, and rolled a 
 space and lay neglected. 
 
 The sister Serene was now laughing. 
 
 " It's ridiculous ! " she remarked. 
 
 " Go on," said the others, and one of them 
 added, " Land sakes ! don't stop now." 
 
 " Well, she got sick the other day and sent 
 for a lawyer, an' who do you suppose it was ? " 
 
 " I dunno," said Ruth Tole. The words had 
 broken away from her, and she covered her
 
 384 DARREL 
 
 mouth, quickly, and began to look out of the 
 window. The speaker had begun to laugh 
 again. 
 
 " Twas Dick Roberts," she went on. " He 
 went over to the tavern ; she lay there in bed 
 and had a nurse in the room with her a 
 woman she got in Ogdensburg. She tells the 
 young lawyer she wants him to make her will. 
 Then she describes her property and he puts 
 it down. There was a palace in Wales and a 
 castle on the Rhine and pearls and diamonds 
 and fifty thousand pounds in a foreign bank, 
 and I don't know what all. Well, ye know, 
 she was pert and handsome, and he began to 
 take notice." 
 
 The sisters looked from one to another and 
 gave up to gleeful smiles, but Ruth was, if 
 anything, a bit firmer than before. 
 
 " Next day he brought her some flowers, 
 and she began to get better. Then he took 
 her out to ride. One night about ten o'clock 
 the nurse comes into the room sudden like, and 
 finds him on his knees before the widow, 
 kissing her dress an' talking all kinds o' non 
 sense."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 385 
 
 " Here ! stop a minute," said the sister Lize, 
 who had now dropped her knitting and begun 
 to fan herself. " You take my breath away." 
 The details were too important for hasty con 
 sideration. 
 
 " Makin' love ? " said she with the beads, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "I should think likely," said the other, 
 whereupon the three began to laugh again. 
 Their merriment over, through smiles they 
 gave each other looks of dreamy reflection. 
 
 " Now go on," said the sister Lize, leaning 
 forward, her chin upon her hands. 
 
 "There he knelt, kissing her dress," the 
 narrator continued. 
 
 "Why didn't he kiss her face?" 
 
 " Because she wouldn't let him, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the others, nodding their heads, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "When the nurse came," the sister Serene 
 continued, "the widow went to a desk and 
 wrote a letter and brought it to Dick. Then 
 says the widow, says she : ' You take this to 
 my uncle in Boston. If you can make him 
 give his consent, I'd be glad to see you again.'
 
 386 DARREL 
 
 " Dick, he rushed off that very evening an' 
 took the cars at Madrid. What do you sup 
 pose the letter said ? " 
 
 The sister Serene began to shake with 
 laughter. 
 
 " What ? " was the eager demand of the two 
 sisters. 
 
 "Well, the widow told the nurse and she 
 told Mary Jones and Mary told me. The let 
 ter was kind o' short and about like this : 
 
 "'Pardon me for introducing a scamp 
 by the name of Roberts. He's engaged 
 to a very sweet young lady and has the 
 impudence to make love to me. I wish 
 to get him out of this town for a while, 
 and can't think of any better way. Don't 
 use him too roughly. He was a detective 
 once himself.' 
 
 "Well, in a couple of days the widow got 
 a telegraph message from her uncle, an' what 
 do you suppose it said ? " 
 
 The sister Serene covered her face and be 
 gan to quiver. The other two were leaning 
 toward her, smiling, their mouths open. 
 
 "What was it?" said the sister Lize.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 387 
 
 " ' Kicked him downstairs,' " the narrator 
 quoted. 
 
 " Y ! " the two whispered. 
 
 " Good enough for him." It was the verdict 
 of the little shopkeeper, sharply spoken, as she 
 went on with her work. 
 
 "So I say," this from the other three, who 
 were now quite serious. 
 
 " He'd better not come back here," said the 
 sister Lize. 
 
 " He never will, probably." 
 
 " Who employed the widow ? " 
 
 " Nobody knows," said the sister Serene. 
 " Before she left town she had a check cashed, 
 an' it come from Riley Brooke. Some think 
 Martha Vaughn herself knows all about it. 
 Sh-h-h ! there goes Sidney Trove." 
 
 " Ain't he splendid looking ? " said she with 
 the beads. 
 
 Ruth Tole had opened the door, and they 
 were now observing the street and those who 
 were passing in it. 
 
 "One of these days there'll be some tall 
 love-making up there at the Widow Vaughn's," 
 said she that was called Lize.
 
 388 DARREL 
 
 " Like to be behind the door " this from 
 her with the beads. 
 
 " I wouldn't," said the sister Serene. 
 
 " No, you wouldn't ! " 
 
 " I'd rather be up next to the young man." 
 A merry laugh, and then a sigh from the sister 
 Lize, who looked a bit dreamy and began to 
 tickle her head with a knitting-needle. 
 
 " What are you sighing for ? " said she with 
 the beads. 
 
 " Oh, well," said the other, yawning, "it makes 
 me think o' the time when I was a girl." 
 
 "Look! there's Jeanne Brulet," it was a 
 quick whisper. 
 
 They gathered close and began to shake 
 their heads and frown. Now, indeed, they 
 were as the Fates of old. 
 
 " Look at her clothes," another whispered. 
 
 "They're better than I can wear. I'd like 
 to know where she gets the money." 
 
 Then a look from one to the other a look 
 of fateful import, soon to travel far, and loose 
 a hundred tongues. That moment the bowl 
 was broken, but the weird sisters knew not 
 the truth.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 389 
 
 She that was called Lize put up her knit 
 ting and rose from her chair. 
 
 "There's work waiting for me at home," 
 said she. 
 
 " Quilting ? " 
 
 "No; I'm working on a shroud."
 
 XXXVI 
 
 The Laws Approval 
 
 ROVE had come to Hills- 
 
 ri borough that very hour he 
 jj) passed the Golden Spool. In 
 ^ him a touch of dignity had 
 sobered the careless eye of 
 youth. He was, indeed, a comely young man, 
 his attire fashionable, his form erect. Soon 
 he was on the familiar road to Robin's Inn. 
 There was now a sprinkle of yellow in the 
 green valley; wings of azure and of gray in 
 the sunlight ; a scatter of song in the si 
 lence. High on distant hills, here and there, 
 was a little bank of snow. These few dusty 
 rags were all that remained of the great 
 robe of winter. Men were sowing and plant 
 ing. In the air was an odour of the harrowed 
 earth, and up in the hills a shout of greeting 
 came out of field or garden as Trove went by. 
 390
 
 DARREL 391 
 
 It was a walk to remember, and when he had 
 come near the far side of Pleasant Valley he 
 could see Polly waving her hand to him at 
 the edge of the maple grove. 
 
 "Supper is waiting," said she, merrily, as 
 she came to meet him. "There's blueberries, 
 and biscuit, and lots of nice things." 
 
 "I'm hungry," said he; "but first, dear, let 
 us enjoy love and kisses." 
 
 Then by the lonely road he held her close 
 to him, and each could feel the heart-beat of 
 the other; and for quite a moment speech 
 would have been most idle and inadequate. 
 
 " Now the promise, Polly," said he soon. 
 " I go not another step until I have your 
 promise to be my wife." 
 
 " You do not think I'd let one treat me 
 that way unless I expected to marry him, 
 do you ? " said Polly, as she fussed with a rib 
 bon bow, her face red with blushes. " You've 
 mussed me all up." 
 
 " I'm to be a teacher in the big school, and 
 if you were willing, we could be married soon." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " said she, sighing, and looking 
 up at him with a smile; "I'm too happy to
 
 392 BARREL 
 
 think." Then followed another moment of 
 silence, in which the little god, if he were 
 near them, must have smiled. 
 
 " Won't you name the day now ? " he insisted. 
 
 "Oh, let's keep that for the next chap 
 ter ! " said she. " Don't you know supper is 
 waiting ? " 
 
 "It's all like those tales 'to be continued 
 in our next,' " he answered with a laugh. 
 
 Then they walked slowly up the long hill, 
 arm in arm. 
 
 " How very grand you look ! " said she, 
 proudly. " Did you see the Governor ? " 
 
 "Yes, but he can do nothing now. It's 
 the only cloud in the sky." 
 
 "Dear old man!" said Polly. "We'll find 
 a way to help him." 
 
 " But he wouldn't thank us for help there's 
 the truth of it," said Trove, quickly. "He's 
 happy and content. Here is a letter that came 
 to-day. ' Dear Sidney,' he writes. ' Think of 
 all I have said to thee, an', if ye remember well, 
 boy, it will bear thee up. Were I, indeed, as 
 ye believe, drinking the cup o' bitterness for 
 thy sake, know ye not the law will make it
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 393 
 
 sweet for me? After all I have said to thee, 
 are ye not prepared? Is my work wasted; 
 is the seed fallen upon the rocks ? And if ye 
 hold to thy view, consider would ye rob the 
 dark world o' the light o' sacrifice? " Nay," ye 
 will answer. Then I say : " If ye would give 
 me peace, go to thy work, boy, and cease to 
 waste thyself with worry and foolish wan 
 dering." ' 
 
 " Somehow it puts me to shame," said Trove, 
 as he put the letter in his pocket. " I'm so far 
 beneath him. I shall obey and go to work and 
 pray for the speedy coming of God's justice." 
 
 " It's the only thing to do," said she. " Sid 
 ney, I hope now I have a right to ask if you 
 know who is your father ? " 
 
 " I believe him to be dead." 
 
 " Dead ! " there was a note of surprise in 
 the word. 
 
 " I know not even his name." 
 
 "It is all very strange," said Polly. In a 
 moment she added, " I hope you will forgive 
 my mother if she seemed to doubt you." 
 
 " I forgive all," said the young man. " I 
 know it was hard to believe me innocent."
 
 394 DARREL 
 
 " And impossible to believe you guilty. She 
 was only waiting for more light." 
 
 The widow and her two boys came out to 
 meet them. 
 
 " Mother, behold this big man ! He is to 
 be my husband." The girl looked up at him 
 proudly. 
 
 " And my son ? " said Mrs. Vaughn, with a 
 smile, as she kissed him. " You've lost no 
 time." 
 
 " Oh ! I didn't intend to give up so soon," 
 said Polly, " but but the supper would have 
 been ruined." 
 
 " It's now on the table," said Mrs. Vaughn. 
 
 " I've news for you," said Polly, as they were 
 sitting down. " Tunk has reformed." 
 
 " He must have been busy," said Trove, 
 " and he's ruined his epitaph." 
 
 " His epitaph ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that one Barrel wrote for him : ' Here 
 lies Tunk. O Grave ! where is thy victory ? ' ' 
 
 " Tunk has one merit : he never deceived 
 any one but himself," said the widow. 
 
 " Horses have run away with him," Trove 
 continued. " His character is like a broken
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 395 
 
 buggy; and his imagination that's the un 
 broken colt. Every day, for a long time, the 
 colt has run away with the wagon, tipping it 
 over and dragging it in the ditch, until every 
 bolt is loose, and every spoke rattling, and 
 every wheel awry. I do hope he's repaired 
 his 'ex.'" 
 
 " He walks better and complains less," the 
 widow answered. 
 
 " Often he stands very straight and walks like 
 you," said Polly, laughing. 
 
 " He thinks you are the only great man," so 
 spoke the widow. 
 
 " Gone from one illusion to another," said 
 Trove. " It's a lesson ; every one should go 
 softly. Tom, will you now describe the melan 
 choly feat of Theophilus Thistleton ? " 
 
 The fable was quickly repeated. 
 
 "That Mr. Thistleton was a foolish fellow, 
 and there's many like him," said Trove. " He 
 had better have been thrusting blueberries into 
 his mouth. I declare ! " he added, sitting back 
 with a look of surprise, " I'm happy again." 
 
 "And we are going to keep you so," Polly 
 answered with decision.
 
 396 DARREL 
 
 "Barrel would tell me that I am at last 
 in harmony with a great law which, until 
 now, I have been defying. It is true ; I 
 have thought too much of my own desires." 
 
 " I do not understand you," said Polly. 
 " Now, we heard of the shot and iron how 
 you came by them and how, one night, you 
 threw them into the river at Hillsborough. 
 That led, perhaps, to most of your trouble. 
 I'd like to know what moral law you were 
 breaking when you flung them into the river ? " 
 
 " A great law," Trove answered ; " but one 
 hard to phrase." 
 
 " Suppose you try." 
 
 "The innocent shall have no fear," said he. 
 " Until then I had kept the commandment." 
 
 There was a little time of silence. 
 
 " If you watch a coward, you'll see a most 
 unhappy creature." It was Trove who spoke. 
 " Darrel said once, ' A coward is the prey of 
 all evil and the mark of thunderbolts.' " 
 
 " I'll not admit you're a coward," were the 
 words of Polly. 
 
 "Well," said he, rising, "I had fear of only 
 one thing, that I should lose your love."
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 397 
 
 Reaching home next day, Trove found that 
 Allen had sold Phyllis. The mare had been 
 shipped away. 
 
 " She brought a thousand dollars," said his 
 foster father, "and I'll divide the profit with 
 you." 
 
 The young man was now able to pay his 
 debt to Polly, but for the first time he had a 
 sense of guilt. 
 
 Trove bought another filly a proud-step 
 ping great-granddaughter of old Justin Morgan. 
 
 A rough-furred, awkward creature, of the size 
 of a small dog, fled before him, as he entered 
 the house in Brier Dale, and sought refuge under 
 a table. It was a young painter which Allen 
 had captured back in the deep woods, after 
 killing its dam. Soon it rushed across the 
 floor, chasing a ball of yarn, but quickly got 
 under cover. Before the end of that day 
 Trove and the new pet were done with all 
 distrust of each other. The big cat grew in 
 size and playful confidence. Often it stalked 
 the young man with still foot and lashing tail, 
 leaping stealthily over chairs and, betimes, 
 landing upon Trove's back.
 
 398 DARREL 
 
 It was a June day, and Trove was at Robin's 
 Inn. A little before noon Polly and he and the 
 two boys started for Brier Dale. They waded 
 the flowering meadows in Pleasant Valley, 
 crossed a great pasture, and came under the 
 forest roof. Their feet were muffled in new 
 ferns. Their trail wavered up the side of a 
 steep ridge, and slanted off in long loops to the 
 farther valley. There it crossed a brook and, 
 for a mile or more, followed the mossy banks. 
 On a ledge, mottled with rock velvet, by a 
 waterfall, they sat down to rest, and Polly 
 opened the dinner basket. Somehow the water- 
 song and the minted breath of the fall and the 
 scent of the moss and the wild violet seemed to 
 flavour their meal. Tom had brought a small 
 gun with him, and, soon after they resumed 
 their walk, saw some partridges and fired upon 
 them. All the birds flew save a hen that stood 
 clucking with spread wings. Coming close, 
 they could see her eyes blinking in drops of 
 blood. Trove put his hand upon her, but she 
 only bent her head a little and spread her wings 
 the wider. 
 
 " Tom," said he, " look at this little preacher
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 399 
 
 of the woods. Do you know what she's say- 
 ing?" 
 
 " No," said the boy, soberly. 
 
 " Well, she's saying : ' Look at me and see 
 what you've done. Hereafter, O boy ! think 
 before you pull the trigger.' It's a pity, but we 
 must finish the job." 
 
 As they came out upon Brier Road the boys 
 found a nest of hornets. It hung on a bough 
 above the roadway. Soon Paul had flung a 
 stone that broke the nest open. Hornets began 
 to buzz around them, and all ran for refuge to 
 a thicket of young firs. In a moment they could 
 hear a horse coming at a slow trot. Trove 
 peered through the bushes. He could see Ezra 
 Tower that man of scornful piety on a white 
 horse. Trove shouted a warning, but with no 
 effect. Suddenly Tower broke his long silence, 
 and the horse began to run. The little party 
 made a detour, and came again to the road. 
 
 " He did speak to the hornets," said Polly. 
 
 " Swore, too," said Paul. 
 
 " Nature has her own way with folly ; you 
 can't hold your tongue when she speaks to 
 you," Trove answered.
 
 400 DARREL 
 
 Near sunset, they came into Brier Dale. 
 Tunk was to be there at supper time, and drive 
 home with Polly and her brothers. The widow 
 had told him not to come by the Brier Road ; it 
 would take him past Rickard's Inn, where he 
 loved to tarry and display horsemanship. 
 
 Mary Allen met them at the door. 
 
 " Mother, here is my fu';ure wife," said Trove, 
 proudly. 
 
 Then ruddy lips of youth touched the faded 
 cheek of the good woman. 
 
 "We shall be married in September," said 
 Trove, tossing his hat in the air. "We're 
 going to have a grand time, and mind you, 
 mother, no more hard work for you. Where is 
 Tige ? " Tige was the young painter. 
 
 " I don't know," said Mary Allen. " He's up 
 in a tree somewhere, maybe. Come in, all of 
 you; supper's ready." 
 
 While they were eating, Trove heard a sound 
 of wheels, and went to the door. Tunk had ar 
 rived. He had a lump, the size of an apple, on 
 his forehead ; another on his chin. As Trove 
 approached him, he spat over a front wheel, and 
 sat looking down sadly.
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 401 
 
 " Tunk, what's the matter ? " 
 
 " Kicked," said he, with growing sadness. 
 
 "A horse ? " Trove inquired, with sympathy. 
 
 Tunk thought a moment. 
 
 " Couldn't say what 'twas," he answered pres 
 ently. 
 
 " I fear," said Trove, smiling, " that you came 
 by the Brier Road." 
 
 Suddenly there was a quick stir of boughs 
 and a flash of tawny fur above them. Then the 
 young painter landed full on the back of Tunk- 
 hannock Hosely. There was a wild yell; the 
 horse leaped and ran, breaking through a fence 
 and wrecking the wagon ; the painter spat, and 
 made for the woods, and was seen no more of 
 men. Tunk had picked up an axe, and climbed 
 a ladder that stood leaning to the roof. Trove 
 and Allen caught the frightened horse. 
 
 " Now," said the former, " let's try and cap 
 ture Tunk." 
 
 " He's taken to the roof," said Allen. 
 
 " Where's that air painter ? " Tunk shouted, 
 as they came near. 
 
 " Gone to the woods." 
 
 " Heavens ! " said Tunk, gloomily. " I'm all
 
 402 DARREL 
 
 tore up; there ain't nothin' left o' me boot* 
 full o' blood. I tell ye this country's a leetle 
 too wild fer me." 
 
 He came down the ladder slowly, and sat om 
 the step and drew off his boots. There was no 
 blood in them. Trove helped him remove his 
 coat; all, save his imagination, was unharmed. 
 
 "Wai," said he, thoughtfully, "that's what 
 ye git fer doin' suthin' ye hadn't ought to. I 
 ain't goin* t' take no more chances."
 
 XXXVII 
 
 The Return of Santa Claus 
 
 T is a Christmas night. Since 
 supper-time two men have sat 
 before a big fireplace in which 
 are burning logs. One, a white- 
 haired veteran, has been telling 
 of the old days and their people of Barrel 
 and the Blessed Isles, of Trove and Polly. 
 Suddenly he stops to listen. 
 
 " Bid ye hear the cock crow ? " he continues. 
 " By the beard of my father, I'd forgotten you 
 and myself and everything but the story. 
 It's near morning, and I've a weary tongue. 
 Another log and one more pipe. Then, sir, 
 then I'll let you go. I'm near the end. 
 
 " Let me see it's a winter day in New 
 
 York City, after four years. The streets are 
 
 crowded. Here are men and women, but I 
 
 see only the horses, you know, sir, how I 
 
 403
 
 404 BARREL 
 
 love them. They go by with heavy truck and 
 cab, steaming, straining, slipping in the deep 
 snow. You hear the song of lashes, the 
 whack of whips, and, now and then, the shout 
 of some bedevilled voice. Horses fall, and 
 struggle, and lie helpless, and their drivers 
 well, if I were to watch them long, I should 
 be in danger of madness and hell-fire. Well, 
 here is a big stable. A tall man has halted 
 by its open door, and addresses the manager. 
 " * I learn that you have a bay mare with 
 starred face and a white stocking.' It is 
 Trove who speaks. 
 
 " ' Yes ; there she is, coming yonder.' 
 "The mare is a rack of bones, limping, 
 weary, sore. But see her foot lift! You 
 can't kill the pride of the Barbary. She 
 falters ; her driver lashes her over the head. 
 Trove is running toward her. He climbs a 
 front wheel, and down comes the driver. In 
 a minute Trove has her by the bit. He calls 
 her by name Phyllis ! The slim ears begin 
 to move. She nickers. God, sir ! she is trying 
 to see him. One eye is bleeding, the other 
 blind. His arms go round her neck, and
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 405 
 
 he hides his face in her mane. That mare 
 you ride she is the granddaughter of Phyllis. 
 I'd as soon think of selling my wife. Really, 
 sir, Barrel was right. God '11 mind the look 
 of your horses." 
 
 So spake the old man sitting there in the 
 firelight. There was a little pause. He did 
 love a horse that old man of the hills. 
 
 "Trove went home with the mare," he con 
 tinued. " She recovered the sight of one eye, 
 and had a box-stall and the brook pasture you 
 know, that one by the beech grove. He got 
 home the day before Christmas. Polly met him 
 at the depot a charming lady, sir, and a child 
 of three was with her, a little girl, dark eyes 
 and flaxen, curly hair. You remember Beryl? 
 eyes like her mother's. 
 
 " I was there at the depot that day. Well, 
 it looked as if they were still in their honey 
 moon. 
 
 " ' Dear little wife ! ' said Trove, as he kissed 
 Polly. Then he took the child in his arms, and 
 I went to dinner with them. They lived half a 
 mile or so out of Hillsborough.
 
 406 DARREL 
 
 " ' Hello ! ' said Trove, as we entered. ' Here's 
 a merry Christmas ! ' 
 
 " Polly had trimmed the house. There against 
 the wall was a tapering fir-tree, hung with tinsel 
 and popcorn. All around the room were green 
 branches of holly and hemlock. 
 
 " ' I'm glad you found Phyllis,' said she. 
 
 " ' Poor Phyllis ! ' he answered. ' They broke 
 her down with hard work, and then sold her. 
 She'll be here to-morrow.' 
 
 " ' You saw Barrel on the way ? ' 
 
 '"Yes, and he is the same miracle of hap 
 piness. I think he will soon be free. Leblanc 
 is there in prison convicted of a crime in 
 Whitehall. Happy days are coming, sweet 
 heart.' And then -well, I do like to see it 
 the fondness of young people. 
 
 " Night came, dark and stormy, with snow in 
 the west wind. There by the Christmas tree, 
 all bright with candles, they were sitting Polly, 
 Trove, and the little child. They were talking 
 of old times. They heard a rap at the door. 
 Trove flung it open. He spoke a word of sur 
 prise. There was the old Santa Claus of Cedar 
 Hill upon my word, sir the very one. He
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 407 
 
 entered, shaking his greatcoat, his beard full of 
 snow. He let down his sack there by the lighted 
 tree. He beckoned to the little one. 
 
 " ' Go and see him it is old Santa Claus,' 
 said Polly, her voice trembling as she led the 
 child. 
 
 "Then, quickly, she took the hand of her 
 husband. She stood close to him and whis 
 pered : 
 
 " ' He is your father.' 
 
 " She saw that here was the same mysterious 
 man who, years before, had brought the locket. 
 
 " A moment they stood with hearts full, look 
 ing at Santa Claus and the child. That little 
 one had her arms about a knee, and, dumb with 
 great wonder, gazed up at him. There was a 
 timid appeal in her sweet face. 
 
 " The man did not move ; he was looking down 
 at the child. In a moment she began to prattle 
 and tug at him. They saw his knees bend a 
 bit. Ah, sir, it seemed as if the baby were 
 pulling him down. He staggered as he pushed 
 the child away. Flames leaped above crackling 
 logs in the fireplace. Outside a bitter wind was 
 wailing in the dark. Santa Claus leaned upon
 
 4o8 BARREL 
 
 the wall a moment, his lips moving. The lone 
 liness and longing of years bore down upon 
 him. It was more than he could bear. 
 
 " ' I must go,' he whispered. 
 
 "Trove and Polly came toward him. Sud 
 denly they heard a little cry a kind of a wail 
 ing 'Oh-o-o,' like that you hear in the chimney. 
 Then, sir, down he went in his tracks a quiv 
 ering heap, and lay there at the foot of the 
 tree. Polly and Trove were bending over him. 
 Cap and wig had fallen from his head. He was 
 an old man. 
 
 " ' Are you my father ? ' Trove whispered, 
 touching the long white hair. 'If so, speak to 
 me. Let me see your face.' 
 
 "Slowly slowly, the old man rose, Trove 
 helping him, and put on his cap. Then, sir, he 
 took a step and stood straight as a king. He 
 waved them away with his hand. 
 
 " ' Nay, boy, remember,' he whispered. 
 'Ye were to let him pass.' And then he 
 started for the door. 
 
 " Trove went before him and stood against it. 
 
 " ' You are my father,' said he. ' May I not 
 claim my own?'
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 409 
 
 " ' Yes y- yes,' said the old man, his lips 
 trembling. 
 
 "'When?' 
 
 "'When the trumpet sounds an' ye both stand 
 with all the quick an' the dead. Away ! ' 
 
 " Those fair young people knelt beside him, 
 clinging to his hands. 
 
 '"We love you,' said they. 'We cannot let 
 you go.' 
 
 " The old man stood a moment, looking down 
 at them. Then said he: 
 
 "'A thief died upon the cross and was buried, 
 and his soul has come to Paradise. Now shame 
 is dead and only love is living.' 
 
 " He flung off his cap and beard. He was 
 Barrel of the Blessed Isles. And their home 
 was his until he died. But as to the father of 
 Sidney they always spoke of him, sir, as one 
 dead, albeit Barrel was he. Often I heard the 
 tinker say that every one of yesterday is dead 
 and only those of to-day are living, and that, 
 for all, to-morrow should be Paradise. Now 
 you may go." 
 
 But the other tarried, thoughtfully puffing his 
 pipe.
 
 410 DARREL 
 
 " I thought the father was dead." ft 
 " 'Twas only the living death," said the old 
 man, now lighting a lantern. " You know that 
 grave in a poem of Sidney Trove : 
 
 'It has neither sod nor stone; 
 It has neither dust nor bone.'" 
 
 "And the other man of mystery who was 
 he?" 
 
 " Some child of misfortune. He was be 
 friended by the tinker and did errands for 
 him." 
 
 " He took the money to Trove that night the 
 latter slept in the woods ? " 
 
 " And, for Barrel, returned to Thompson his 
 own with usury. Thompson was the chief 
 creditor." 
 
 "With usury?" 
 
 " Yes ; for years the money lay under the bed 
 of Barrel. By and by he put it in a savings 
 bank all but a few dollars." 
 
 " And why did he wait so long, before return 
 ing it ? " 
 
 " He tried to be rid of the money, but was 
 unable to find Thompson. And Trove, he lived
 
 of the BLESSED ISLES 411 
 
 to repay every creditor. Ah, sir, he was a man 
 of a thousand." 
 
 "That story of Barrel's in the little shop I 
 see it was fact in a setting of fiction." 
 
 "That's all it pretended to be," said the old 
 man of the hills. 
 
 " And how came Barrel by that handkerchief 
 the burglar wore the night of the robbery ? " 
 
 " He found it one day by the side of the road 
 near Milldam. Even then he was planning the 
 sacrifice of himself and, suspecting who was the 
 guilty one, he began to study him. That red 
 mark on his left hand was one result of it." 
 
 "One more query," said the other. He was 
 now mounted. " I know Barrel went to prison 
 for the sake of the boy, but who set him 
 free ? " 
 
 " His own character. Leblanc came to love 
 him like the other prisoners and, sir, he 
 confessed the robbery. I declare ! it's day 
 light now, and here I am with the lantern. 
 Good-by, and Merry Christmas ! " 
 
 The other rode away, slowly, looking back at 
 the dim glow of the lantern, which now, indeed, 
 was like a symbol of the past.
 
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