Frederick OrinBartlett
 
 I <ilD
 
 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM
 
 ' I am to do the library. The servants are all busy." 
 'There is nothing like giving the servants a great deal of 
 work," he declared enthusiastically. 
 
 S M page 147
 
 THE 
 
 PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 BY 
 FREDERICK ORIN BARTLETT 
 
 Author of " The Seventh Noon," " The 
 Web of the Golden Spider" etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY 
 
 BOSTON 
 SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYBIGHT, 1910 
 
 Small, /fcagnarD Si Company 
 
 (raCOBPOKATBD) 
 
 Entered at Stationers Hall 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, IT. 8. A.
 
 TO 
 
 DAN 
 
 2134235
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS ... 13 
 
 II THE COURTESY OF THE ROAD .... 30 
 
 III DREAMS FOR THE OLD 39 
 
 IV QUESTIONS OF DIPLOMACY 51 
 
 V THREE FINGERED BILL 63 
 
 VI THE MYSTERY OF A VISION 74 
 
 VII THE CALL OF THE ROAD 83 
 
 VIII AN ESTIMABLE YOUNG MAN .... 94 
 
 IX A LULLABY 105 
 
 X ON TROUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 116 
 
 XI ON ADVENTURING 128 
 
 XII STRATEGY AND GEOGRAPHY 139 
 
 XIII A SURPRISE 151 
 
 XIV OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOR 163 
 
 XV PLAYING THE GAME 176 
 
 XVI JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 192 
 
 XVII THE ROAD COMPLICATES MATTERS . . 206 
 
 XVIII WHAT MAKES A PRODIGAL 219 
 
 XIX BARNES LEARNS A GREAT TRUTH . . 231 
 
 XX So DOES HIS MOTHER 242
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XXI AN OLD PRODIGAL COMES HOME . . 251 
 
 XXII THE BLIND SEE 262 
 
 XXIII A YOUNG PRODIGAL COMES HOME . . 276 
 
 XXIV MAN TO MAN 287 
 
 XXV THE PURPLE KIM 296 
 
 XXVI AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES .... 306 
 
 XXVII IN WHICH EVERYONE LEARNS SOME- 
 THING . ... 319
 
 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM
 
 THE 
 
 PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 BABNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 
 
 If Barnes had been asked to define the one thing 
 lacking in the scene before him, he would probably 
 have answered sentimentally, " A woman a young 
 and very fair woman," not that he had any definite 
 figure in mind, but simply because from an artist's 
 view point the picture, wonderful as it was, seemed 
 now like a marvelous setting without its jewel. 
 
 A light breeze from the West, heavy with sum- 
 mer incense, wafted through a golden-moted silence 
 and across a turquoise sky cotton-blossom clouds. 
 Dense, yet of gossamer fineness ; massive, yet light 
 as thistledown, they took their course placidly 
 without disturbing the perfect serenity of their 
 background. In their constant changing, they ap- 
 peared at times like Spanish galleons with every full- 
 bellied sail straining at its ropes. But they cut 
 no churning path; they left no oily wake. They
 
 14 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 only cast calm shadows which in their turn swept 
 majestically over the green valley below them. The 
 heavy-leaved trees, the fat grasses, the daisies and 
 roadside ferns found themselves first in the stark 
 sunlight, then in the quiet shade, then in the brazen 
 sun again. 
 
 If Barnes had not been in tune with it all, he 
 would have felt out of place here on the top of the 
 long hill up which he had just climbed by the 
 saffron road. As it was, he surveyed the scene with 
 an air of easy content. To a passer-by he might 
 have given the impression of being a large pro- 
 prietor. In his heavy walking-boots, his belted 
 trousers, his flannel shirt gathered in at the throat 
 with a light tie, his checked English cap, and his 
 walking-stick, he looked as though he might be 
 making a walking tour of his landed estates. He 
 had a comfortable air of princely sovereignty. His 
 even features, his tall erect frame, his gray-blue 
 eyes, and above all his thin, straight nose carried 
 out the illusion. He had an air more of Bavaria 
 than !NVw England. But his firm lips, surmounted 
 by a bristling blonde mustache, trimmed short and 
 in a straight line, together with his Saxon hair, 
 marked him of a hardier race. He might have been 
 a Dane, but his cheek bones were too high for that, 
 arid there was too much good humor written large
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 15 
 
 about the mouth. As a matter of fact he was from 
 New York state and his ancestors had fought under 
 Schuyler. His great grandfather was quoted as 
 having said, " I 'd rather be killed as a private 
 under Schuyler than live, a captain, under Gates." 
 A sentiment his father had paraphrased when he 
 raged at the walking delegate who tried to unionize 
 his shops, " I '11 go broke by myself before I '11 get 
 rich under you." From that day Barnes, Sr., had 
 moved from one apartment house to another in 
 lSTew York city in a steady crescendo of advancing 
 rentals until now he needed a secretary to look after 
 the tipping alone. And " The Acme Manufactur- 
 ing Co." was wrought in iron scrolls across the 
 oven doors of half the cook-stoves in the United 
 States. 
 
 This fact, however, had less to do with Barnes 
 to-day than the more romantic one that his father 
 in the days of beginnings, married his book-keeper, 
 a fine-souled English girl, niece of the late Lord 
 Dunnington. Her father, a younger son, came 
 to America to make his fortune, died soon after, 
 and left the girl penniless. To-day the one ro- 
 mantic spot left in Barnes, Sr., was his ambition to 
 accumulate a fortune so vast that it might overawe 
 his caddish English relatives. It was the mother 
 in Barnes, Jr., and not the father who now stood
 
 16 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 upon the top of the hills dreaming into the cotton- 
 blossom clouds. 
 
 His pose was misleading. Barnes was proprietor 
 of nothing but himself. That was much or little 
 as you happened to feel about it. To himself it 
 was enough to make him glad that he stood here 
 to-day even with only a trifle over ten round dol- 
 lars to his name. The position was of his own 
 choosing. He might have been secretary to the 
 Acme Manufacturing Co. had he wished, instead 
 of a painter of very good water-colors which as yet, 
 however, had not found so ready a market as the 
 cook-stoves. 
 
 The father put it bluntly when he declared, 
 " People must eat to live ; they can worry along 
 without pictures." Perhaps. But he could n't. 
 He could worry along better without cook-stoves, 
 as he was proving. 
 
 But when a gay shaded patch of blue seen 
 through the straggling cloud-mist made him think 
 of his mother's wet eyes as they were when in some- 
 thing of a temper he had quit the gorgeous apart- 
 ment house for good, it occurred to him that his 
 father might have been less irascible about the 
 matter. The man had some grounds for temper 
 to be sure. In college Barnes had devoted himself 
 to Fine Arts and similar subjects when the elder,
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 17 
 
 not recognizing the courses as expressed in the 
 University cipher code, had thought him working 
 assiduously at economics and other useful branches 
 of manufacturing. Then, too, instead of studying 
 the market conditions of Europe when abroad, he 
 had used the opportunity for living a bit in the 
 Latin quarter and visiting the galleries. He re- 
 ported home that so far as he could see, people 
 over there had to have pictures; they could worry 
 along without cook-stoves. But even so, he could n't 
 stand being browbeaten like an errant schoolboy, 
 and therefore when matters came to a crisis he 
 packed up his sketch-book and started on a jaunt 
 through the Catskills, where Rip Van Winkle had 
 found surcease before him. 
 
 Below him stretched acre after acre of farm 
 lands made rich by three generations of toilers. 
 Gray stone walls told bluntly what the task had 
 been. They gave the scene a history such as crum- 
 bling castle walls lend to English landscapes. The 
 farms swept down a valley cut by a lazy lowland 
 stream, which looked as though it might furnish 
 good trout fishing. He turned to the left and saw 
 through the birches bordering the road what he 
 had not before noticed a red brick house half 
 hidden behind a row of elms. Just above, a wagon 
 track led to it. He took a position where he could
 
 18 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 see the house more in detail. He caught a glimpse 
 of a white-pillared porch and a Dutch door, the 
 upper part swung open. The brass handle shone 
 brightly in the sunshine. To the left there was a 
 capacious barn with chickens scratching industri- 
 ously before the open door. From somewhere came 
 the coppery tinkle of homing cows. It looked like 
 a place where for the asking one could get milk and 
 honey and good rye bread. 
 
 The rural free delivery carrier jogged up the 
 hill and, stopping to drop some mail in a letter-box 
 out of sight behind the hedge, nodded a cheery 
 " Howdy " to Barnes and jogged on again. This 
 man in his officious Federal uniform destroyed 
 something of the sleepy atmosphere of the place. 
 " Here I am," he seemed to declare as boisterously 
 as the circular letters of the Acme Manufacturing 
 Co. " Here I am, dear sir or madame, and beg to 
 remain most respectfully yours, the United States 
 of America." 
 
 Barnes, who had opened his portfolio with an 
 idea of sketching the spot, closed it again, tying 
 it in one of those hard knots which invariably in 
 the end he had to cut. But he was checked by a 
 sound from the direction of the letter-box. At 
 first he thought it was a distant whip-poor-will. 
 It was low and had the same note of subdued pathos.
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 19 
 
 Then he concluded that it was a straggling brook 
 running with gentle sobbing among the ferns. But 
 the peculiar sound soon became more individual- 
 ized. It took on a human note; then a feminine. 
 Finally he awoke to the fact that it was nothing 
 else but the sobbing of a woman. He strode up 
 the grass-grown road to the hidden stretch beyond 
 the fringe of trees. There he found himself con- 
 fronting a young woman who was kneeling upon 
 the grass, bowed above an open letter in her lap. 
 
 She was not over twenty, but tall and lithe. Her 
 heavy hair, black and silken, lay coiled about her 
 head in heavy braids. She was dressed in white 
 with a collar of exquisite lace fastened at her throat 
 with a turquoise pendant. A great orange-colored 
 cat arched its back in apparent sympathy against 
 her skirt. The soft grass had muffled his approach 
 so that for a moment she was unaware that she was 
 not alone. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he apologized, hat in hand, 
 now not at all sure that he ought to be here. 
 
 She was upon her feet in an instant. She looked 
 as though about to run. The cat challenged him 
 with a little spit. 
 
 " I did n't know," he hastened to explain, " but 
 what you had met with an accident." 
 
 She looked whole enough. He surmised that
 
 20 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 the letter was the cause of her agitation. If so, 
 he certainly was intruding. Her black eyes, full, 
 Italian, swept by long lashes, seemed to tell him so. 
 
 " ISfo," she murmured, "it is nothing; just bad 
 news. It came so unexpectedly." 
 
 Her lips moved rythmically to the music of a 
 sweetly lyrical voice. Her teeth were as white as 
 those of the orange colored cat. She fitted marvel- 
 ously well into the scene above the valley. Conse- 
 quently he parried a little to prolong an interview 
 to which he knew he had no right. 
 
 "Luckily, bad news generally does come unex- 
 pectedly," he said. 
 
 She flashed a look at him as though to fathom 
 his intent. Then she glanced swiftly towards the 
 brick house and seemed instantly in her grief to 
 forget that he was there. 
 
 " It will kill him," she exclaimed below her 
 breath. 
 
 Still he hesitated, impressed by the weight of 
 her sorrow. 
 
 " If I may be of any service," he ventured, 
 " I 'm on my way to the next village. Any letter 
 or wire " 
 
 She looked up. 
 
 " No ! No ! Such news travels only too quickly," 
 she answered. Her brows contracted. She went
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 21 
 
 on more to herself than to him, " If I could only- 
 check it before it reaches him." 
 
 " He," mused Barnes, is at once the most per- 
 sonal and impersonal of pronouns. Next to " She " 
 it is the most pregnant with possibilities of all 
 human utterances. 
 
 He wondered, too, how it would be possible to 
 paint a black that had gold in it; an ivory that 
 had rose in it; a pure white that had blue in it. 
 It was not possible. And yet there they were in her 
 hair, her brow, and the setting of her pupils. The 
 tawny cat pressed close to her skirt. 
 
 " Then I fear," he said half in apology, half in 
 hope, as he prepared to leave, " that I can't help 
 you. And yet," he reflected aloud, " it seems as 
 though when ill fortune hits hard at anyone the 
 rest of the world ought to club in to help. There 
 ought to be a bad news insurance." 
 
 Her face brightened. But instantly it clouded 
 again as she turned half away. 
 
 " But instead of that," he went on, " the world 
 only raises barriers." 
 
 She recognized his implied offer of help. If her 
 instinct bade her turn from it, there was something 
 in his sturdy presence, above all in his frank eyes, 
 which made him seem to stand for just some such 
 kind-hearted insurance as he had whimsically sug-
 
 22 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 gested. It was possible that he from his impersonal 
 point of view might be able to see more clearly than 
 she just what in such a crisis as hers was wisest. 
 At any rate, she said, 
 
 " It 's about my brother. He won't come home." 
 
 Barnes suppressed a smile. He had been pre- 
 pared for sudden death. He shifted his eyes from 
 her to the brick house now growing more mellow 
 in the softening twilight. 
 
 " That is his home ? " he asked. 
 
 She nodded, watching him curiously. 
 
 " I should think a man ought to be eager to re- 
 turn to such a home as that," he said. 
 
 " He ran away," she explained with some em- 
 barrassment at expressing the more intimate de- 
 tails. " He is somewhere in Alaska." 
 
 Barnes acknowledged her confidence with a sym- 
 pathetic nod of his head. 
 
 " If he is in Alaska," he suggested, " it will be 
 only a matter of time." 
 
 " That is just the trouble," she exclaimed im- 
 pulsively. " That is the pity of it. It will be too 
 late!" 
 
 He saw that the boy himself was a mere episode 
 in some more poignant grief. He waited for her 
 to proceed. She said, 
 
 " I don't know why I should tell you this ex-
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 23 
 
 cept that it's a relief to tell anyone. Father is 
 up there waiting for him with not long to live. 
 If he hears this his heart " 
 
 Her fingers closed convulsively over the letter. 
 
 " That is tough," he murmured. " Your father 
 expected to see the boy himself to-day ? " 
 
 " !Not to see him, but to hear him, to feel him. 
 Father is blind." 
 
 " That 's still worse. The boy knows of his 
 trouble ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Then why won't he come ? " 
 
 " Because of a quarrel. He wrote this." 
 
 She handed the letter to Barnes with a quick 
 motion as though in sudden hope that he might be 
 able to gather from it something she herself had 
 missed. He glanced it through. It was a thought- 
 less letter. Its whole tone was one of boyish 
 bravado. Barnes flushed as he read it. 
 
 " What the boy seems to need," he commented, 
 " is a cowhiding." 
 
 " I 'm afraid he has fallen into bad com- 
 pany," she apologized for him, but none too 
 heartily. 
 
 He checked his own opinion. 
 
 t( Joe seems almost like a stranger to me," she 
 confided further. " He has been gone five years
 
 24 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 now. And the last few years he was at home, I 
 was away at school." 
 
 Barnes refrained from congratulating her. He 
 realized how really serious an affair she had upon 
 her hands. 
 
 " And you you must tell your father this 
 yourself ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " and it 's like being or- 
 dered to kill him." 
 
 She drew in a deep breath that was half a gasp. 
 
 Barnes thought a moment. 
 
 " The first thing I should do," he advised, " would 
 be to tear up the letter." 
 
 "You mean ?" 
 
 " I should never let him see that." 
 
 She hesitated a moment and then still half dazed 
 tore it into little bits. She tossed the fragments 
 to the ground. They were harried about the green- 
 sward by a light sunset breeze. The yellow cat 
 began to play with them. 
 
 "Now," he advised, "I shouldn't tell your 
 father anything." 
 
 " But he expected Joe to-day ! That would leave 
 him to wait." 
 
 " Is n't that better ? " he asked. 
 
 "Ah," she exclaimed, "the blind wait so hard. 
 There is nothing else for them."
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 25 
 
 " But they suffer hard, too. While waiting he 
 could at least hope." 
 
 She shook her head quickly. 
 
 " He would guess." 
 
 " A guess is never a certainty," he persisted. 
 
 " It would be certainty enough to break down 
 his poor heart. Dr. Merriweather said that Joe 
 alone could keep him with us another week." 
 
 Barnes glanced again at the brick house. It 
 scarcely seemed possible that so grim a crisis as 
 this could center there. The situation struck home. 
 In some way he felt the responsibility of this un- 
 known young man's action resting upon his own 
 shoulders. He, too, in a fit of anger had left a 
 father behind him. 
 
 At that moment Barnes was inspired by an idea 
 a preposterous idea to be sure, but the present 
 situation was preposterous and so was Barnes him- 
 self if his father was to be believed. Furthermore 
 most inspired ideas are preposterous. It depends 
 a good deal on how they turn out whether or not 
 that adjective clings to them forever. But this one 
 made even Barnes catch his breath. He had to look 
 again at the blue sky, at the gold in her hair, at 
 her eyes now misted like Loch Lomond at dawn. 
 
 " There is just one other course for us," he an- 
 nounced deliberately. " We might deceive him."
 
 26 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 She started back. 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " How many up there must know of this ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " There is only Aunt Philomela," she managed 
 to answer. 
 
 " The servants ? " 
 
 " They have heard of Joe but never seen him." 
 
 "The neighborhood?" 
 
 " We moved here after Joe left." 
 
 She answered his questions mechanically with 
 no suspicion as to what he was leading. 
 
 " The boy was young ? You say this was five 
 years ago ? " 
 
 "Yes. Yes." 
 
 " A lad changes a good deal in that time. Do I 
 resemble him even remotely ? " 
 
 "You?" 
 
 She studied him again as though for the first 
 time she had seen him. 
 
 " Joe," she faltered, " must be now about your 
 height." 
 
 " That 's enough. A grown man may change in 
 every way except in height." 
 
 "But " 
 
 " There is only a week or so. I am free. Why 
 couldn't I play the son? Why," he smiled at
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 27 
 
 the odd whirligig, "why couldn't I play the 
 prodigal ? " 
 
 She started back, her hands clasped to her breast, 
 her eyes grown big. 
 
 " How impossible ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " And humane," he suggested. 
 
 The word caught her attention. 
 
 " It would be almost that," she admitted re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 He waited. He did not care to press the point 
 by argument. It was merely a suggestion born of 
 the moment born of the acute necessity of doing 
 something at once. But she must decide for her- 
 self. He had done his best, and however it turned 
 this picture was worth remembering. 
 
 At first it did not seem to her even a possibility, 
 but once she recovered a little from the shock of 
 her surprise, once she had stripped it of its novelty, 
 and, gazing into his honest eyes, considered it 
 merely as an heroic measure for easing the sick, 
 blind man to his end, she found herself forgetting 
 everything else but the peace it might bring. She, 
 better than he, knew that it was possible. 
 
 " But," she exclaimed, " it is such a bit of 
 trickery." 
 
 " Nothing else," he assured her, " or diplomacy 
 if you wish to dignify it."
 
 28 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " If if we succeeded it would make his last 
 days very pleasant." 
 
 " I would do my best." 
 
 " But it is such an obligation " 
 
 " Let me represent the world at its finest. Let me 
 found the bad news insurance company." 
 
 " Surely you can't afford to sacrifice so much 
 time." 
 
 " I '11 paint a picture or two. I shall be more 
 than repaid." 
 
 " You 're an artist ! " she exclaimed as though 
 that might account for many hitherto inexplicable 
 matters. 
 
 " I 'm striving to deserve that title," he admitted. 
 
 Her head was awhirl with the quick sequence of 
 unexpected events. But in the midst of it she still 
 grasped at this hope. 
 
 " Would you," she gasped, " be good enough to 
 meet my aunt ? " 
 
 " It will be a pleasure." 
 
 " She is very quick tempered," she explained, 
 " so you need n't pay much attention to her." 
 
 " That is the distinct advantage of quick-tempered 
 relatives," he affirmed. 
 
 " You will come now ? " 
 
 " Yes," he agreed readily. " And it may be 
 helpful my name is Barnes."
 
 BARNES THE PREPOSTEROUS 29 
 
 She shot a swift half-frightened smile at him. 
 " And I am Miss Van Patten." 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 She led the way to the house, the yellow cat by v 
 her side.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE COUETESY OF THE ROAD 
 
 The little old lady sitting by tlie window in the 
 big living-room, as serene as Whistler's portrait of 
 his mother, may have had a temper but if so, thought 
 Barnes as he entered at the girl's heels, it was con- 
 cealed somewhere about her person other than in 
 her face. She was in black with a white cap sitting 
 as daintily light on her gray hair as the first flick of 
 enow on a silver fir. She was a tiny body with 
 shrewd black eyes and a firm thin mouth. Her 
 wrinkled cheeks still had color. She was busy with 
 a wisp of lace. 
 
 " Aunt Philomela, this is Mr. Barnes." 
 
 The girl spoke the sentence as though it were one 
 word. Aunt Philomela snapped up her head and 
 leveled her astonished black eyes upon a young 
 and decidedly good-looking stranger who was bow- 
 ing low. Then she shot them at the girl who had 
 turned towards him she had so abruptly introduced. 
 
 " I have been thrust so rather forcibly into the 
 honor of your acquaintance," murmured Barnes, 
 " in the hope that I may be of some service."
 
 THE COURTESY OF THE ROAD 31 
 
 As he observed the lightning flashes beginning 
 to cut the dark of her eyes, Barnes suspected that 
 she had already found in the hidden depths of 
 them, the missing temper. The formal courtliness 
 of his introductory speech baffled her for a moment, 
 but now she observed in a sharp staccato, 
 
 " Perhaps my niece will explain where she had 
 the honor of meeting Mr. Barnes." 
 
 " By the hedge," answered Barnes, assuming the 
 burden of the reply, " just by the letter-box." 
 
 " And she is indebted " 
 
 " To Chance and the courtesy of the road." 
 
 " And the service you propose ? " continued the 
 little old lady, clearly still bewildered. " A set of 
 books, perhaps ? " 
 
 It was evident that her wits were still keen. 
 
 " ISTo," answered Barnes, unruffled. He could 
 blame his portfolio for that accusation. " No, 
 though it 's a matter requiring equal tact if that is 
 
 The aunt, with a queenly nod of her white head 
 towards a chair, graciously gave him permission to 
 be seated, though the red in her cheeks was heighten- 
 ing ominously. Barnes surmising that she was 
 struggling hard not to sacrifice her present advan- 
 tageous position to a quick tongue, resolved to put 
 the matter bluntly while yet there was time.
 
 32 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Your niece has just received a letter from your 
 nephew. He writes that he will not come home." 
 
 " My niece confided this personal affair in you ? " 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 " Eleanor," she demanded, " is this true ? " 
 
 " That Joe refuses to come home ? It is brutally 
 true, Aunt." 
 
 The girl had turned her aunt's hasty slur neatly. 
 Barnes met her eyes with understanding. As in 
 Miss Van Patten's case, the grim fact was suffi- 
 cient to divert the aunt's attention from everything 
 else. 
 
 " He refuses to come back at such a time ? " she 
 repeated. " This is terrible ! " 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and then she 
 added, 
 
 " But this will break his heart ! " 
 
 She glanced excitedly from one to the other of 
 them. The girl crept to her side. 
 
 "It will. It will if he learns of it. But he 
 must n't" 
 
 " Must n't, Eleanor ? What other way is there ? " 
 
 " Mr. Barnes " began the girl. 
 
 The aunt glanced swiftly at the stranger again. 
 He met her eyes steadily with perhaps the slight- 
 est, the very slightest, gallant lowering of them in 
 respectful deference to her age.
 
 THE COURTESY OF THE ROAD 33 
 
 " I fail to see how a stranger may assist in so 
 personal a matter," she observed icily. 
 
 " If you will let me explain," said Barnes. " It 
 seems to me that no one but a stranger can help. 
 I 've ventured to suggest that I be allowed to ward 
 off the blow; that I be allowed to do this in the 
 only possible way now open by impersonating the 
 boy." 
 
 The girl straightened herself and waited. Barnes 
 put down his portfolio and accepted the chair which 
 had lately been offered him. Aunt Philomela sat 
 up as stiffly as though suddenly galvanized. 
 
 " You you actually seriously propose such 
 such base trickery ? " she stammered. 
 
 " With the most honest intentions in the world," 
 nodded Barnes. 
 
 " You are bold and impertinent, sir ! " 
 
 " Still with the best intentions in the world." 
 
 " That does not excuse such knavery," she pro- 
 tested. 
 
 The girl broke in, 
 
 " Aunt, if you '11 calm yourself and listen a mo- 
 ment. You are unkind to one who has made so 
 generous an offer " 
 
 " Bah," interrupted Aunt Philomela, " it is too 
 generous." 
 
 Barnes made no reply.
 
 84 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I must ask Mr. " 
 
 " Barnes," he supplied as she hesitated. 
 
 " To withdraw at once." 
 
 Barnes accepted the decision with equanimity. 
 He reached for his portfolio. But he was beginning 
 to like this little old lady. 
 
 The girl checked him with a spirit that was 
 authoritative. 
 
 " Would you be good enough to wait a moment," 
 she requested, " until until aunt goes upstairs 
 and tells father ? " 
 
 She turned to her aunt. 
 
 "Aunty," she went on, "you must tell father 
 that Joe refuses to come. You must tell him that 
 Joe is brutal about it. You may tell him that 
 there is no longer any need of his waiting." 
 
 Aunt Philomela quailed. 
 
 " Where is the letter ? " she demanded feebly. 
 
 " I tore it up. It was n't suitable for you to 
 read." 
 
 Barnes leaned forward towards the little form 
 which had settled back wearily into the chair. His 
 eyes were tender and sympathetic but there was 
 nothing obtrusive in his attitude. 
 
 11 Believe me," he said gently, " I am sorry for 
 you and would do what I can. If what I proposed 
 sounds absurd at first, you see that the only other
 
 THE COURTESY OF THE ROAD 35 
 
 alternative is cruel. If we can make the end come 
 peacefully and quietly, won't it justify us some- 
 what?" 
 
 " But why should you, a stranger " Aunt Phil- 
 omela began suspiciously. 
 
 " I don't blame you for your doubts," he answered. 
 " But at such moments as these, who are the stran- 
 gers ? I would help an old man who was bruised by 
 the roadside ; why not an old man who lies bruised 
 in his bed?" 
 
 " Who are you ? " she demanded. 
 
 Barnes smiled. 
 
 "Ask your cook. I 'm the son of the Acme Man- 
 ufacturing Co." 
 
 The aunt for a moment doubted his sanity. 
 
 " Also," he added, " I paint water-colors some 
 of them good, some of them indifferent, all of them 
 as well done as I know how to make them." 
 
 " And you came here ? " stammered Aunt Phil- 
 omela, still confused. 
 
 " To escape New York. Also for a bit of walking 
 trip to make sketches. For what else God knows. 
 Perhaps for this." 
 
 Aunt Philomela studied him shrewdly and in spite 
 of herself his mouth started a twinkle in her eyes. 
 
 " The whole idea," she declared, " is absurd." 
 
 " The whole situation," he returned, " is pitiful."
 
 36 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Oh," moaned Miss Van Patten, " it is. We have 
 no right to stop at anything which shall bring him 
 relief." 
 
 " We have no right to shirk our duty," returned 
 the aunt with conviction. 
 
 " Duty ? " queried the girl. " Is it our duty to let 
 father suffer ? " 
 
 " It is our duty to bear our own burdens and not 
 shift them upon strangers." 
 
 " I see no burden whatever in the undertaking," 
 corrected Barnes. 
 
 "Why don't you?" challenged the aunt. 
 
 That was a question. Why was he willing to leave 
 the pleasant freedom of the open road for a task 
 which could not be called in itself pleasurable ? 
 The question was even more involved than the shrewd 
 aunt suspected, when the fact was taken into account 
 that he was even willing to act the prodigal a 
 character for which he had a particular aversion. To 
 his mind the only decent way for the prodigal to 
 return was with the fatted calf over his own shoul- 
 ders. He must return triumphant, even if repen- 
 tant. Otherwise it behooved him to stay away in the 
 far country he had chosen and take his medicine like 
 a man. To be sure the present case justified itself, 
 but even so he did not altogether like the flavor of it. 
 Then why was this no burden ? It was clearly sim-
 
 THE COURTESY OF THE ROAD 37 
 
 ply a case of atmosphere. The house itself had some- 
 thing to do with it, the gold in the girl's hair had 
 something, so did the little old aunt herself with 
 the pink in her crinkly cheeks. He turned from the 
 aunt to the niece. Decidedly, he thought, she should 
 be painted on ivory. 
 
 " Why don't you ? " repeated the aunt, pressing 
 home her point. 
 
 He glanced out of the window. The West was 
 donning her jewels; pearl, opal, and amethyst. 
 
 " Because," he answered, " the day is very fair." 
 
 " We are indebted then to the sun ? " 
 
 He avoided the obvious pun and nodded. 
 
 " To the sun, the month, the time of day, and a 
 slight matter of temperament." 
 
 The girl lifted her eyes to his with a smile. The 
 aunt did not repeat again her salient question; in- 
 stead she frowned. 
 
 " I have my two eyes," she answered enigmatic- 
 ally. 
 
 " The world is your debtor," murmured Barnes, 
 chivalrously. 
 
 " Aunty, you ought to think of nothing but 
 father," broke in the girl. " He will soon wake up 
 in the dark with the old question on his lips." 
 
 There came to them even then the silvery tinkle 
 of a bell from upstairs.
 
 38 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Oh, dear," gasped Aunt Philomela. 
 
 Her niece stood squarely before her. 
 
 " There 's no more time for argument," she said. 
 " We must decide now at once. Either we must 
 accept Mr. Barnes' offer or you must go up to 
 father." 
 
 " Oh, dear," gasped Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " Are you going to him, Aunt ? " demanded the 
 girl. 
 
 " Oh, dear no," she trembled. " It quite puts 
 me out of breath to think of it. 
 
 "Then ?" 
 
 " Do you think it possible that he can be de- 
 ceived like this ? " she asked. 
 
 'Barnes arose. 
 
 " We can only try. It looks in our favor." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " Then ? " inquired Barnes, directly. 
 
 Go," she replied. " Go quickly." 
 
 Which, though ambiguous, decided the matter. 
 Barnes left the room, following the girl who, quite as 
 out of breath as her aunt, led the way.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 DREAMS OF THE OLD 
 
 They had no sooner reached the head of the stairs 
 than a second tinkle came rippling fairy-like the 
 length of the white-finished hall from a room at 
 the end facing the West. Miss Van Patten paused. 
 But the orange-colored cat preceded them and 
 stepped daintily over the sill. 
 
 " Shall we follow her Highness ? " whispered 
 Barnes. 
 
 The girl shrank back a little. 
 
 " If we fail ? " she gasped. 
 
 " Then," answered Barnes, " there '11 be nothing 
 left but to explain." 
 
 " Would he ever forgive us ? Would he ever 
 trust us again ? " 
 
 "That comes later," he reminded her. "We 
 have n't failed yet." 
 
 " So much depends upon you ! " 
 
 " Much more depends upon him. If his hunger 
 for the boy is great enough, he will forget every- 
 thing but the fact that he has at last something tan- 
 gible something to grasp."
 
 40 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Again her eyes grew big as she studied him with! 
 the feeling that not until this very moment had she 
 ever seen him before. Here in the intimacy of the 
 upper chambers the boldness of the act oppressed 
 her. Before, it had seemed only a theory, but now 
 it became an actuality. He himself felt it. It 
 would have taken little to have turned him back. 
 But at this moment the orange-colored cat returned 
 for them. Then the father called. Time was press- 
 ing. She took the lead but Barnes with a quicker 
 pace stepped ahead of her. 
 
 At the door, he paused. He saw a large room 
 bathed in the glow of the setting sun. In one cor- 
 ner stood a large four-posted bed. The white count- 
 erpane stood out like a snow-sheeted pool among 
 evergreens. Bolstered up with fat pillows he saw a 
 face that would have served for a model of a saint's. 
 He had but a second to study it and make his de- 
 cision, but that was time enough. It was a child's 
 face grown old. White-bearded though it was, it 
 was still a child's face. All the man-fret was 
 smoothed out of it, all the world marks rubbed 
 away. He seemed more like a son lying there than 
 a father. His eyes were closed and one thin arm 
 lay outside the clothes by his side. His face was 
 turned towards the door. The cat leaped upon the 
 counterpane and instantly the father raised his head.
 
 DREAMS OF THE OLD 41 
 
 " Eleanor ? " he called. 
 
 Barnes strode to his side as the cry escaped. 
 He placed a strong hand upon the thin arm. The 
 eyes though they remained closed seemed to strain 
 in that direction. The lips moved. 
 
 " My son ! " he trembled. 
 
 Barnes bowed his head. That was a cry to go to 
 a man's heart. He could not answer it. He felt 
 the gentle fingers play up his arm to his hair. He 
 felt them nutter over his forehead, his cheeks, his 
 chin. Then, kneeling, he waited for the second cry. 
 It came charged with such feeling as to bring a 
 strain to his throat. 
 
 "My son!" 
 
 There was no doubt in it. It was a wild, glad, 
 embracing sob. It was the utterance of an empty 
 heart suddenly filled. He was breathing rapidly 
 from the excitement, but he freed his other hand 
 and with the two clung almost fiercely to the boy's 
 arm. 
 
 " You 've come back," he whispered. 
 
 " Yes," answered Barnes, finding his voice, " I Ve 
 come back." 
 
 The voice for a second seemed to startle the old 
 man. His hold relaxed. The girl who had crept to 
 the other side of him raised her head with her eyes 
 fixed on Barnes, scarcely breathing. The old man's
 
 42 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 eyelids fluttered as though he were straining to 
 force them open. 
 
 " I 've come back," repeated Barnes. 
 
 " I can feel you, but your voice Oh, it 's 
 enough now that I can feel you ! I Ve often heard 
 your voice, lying here but but my hands were 
 always empty." 
 
 The girl breathed again. Barnes met her eyes. 
 He nodded encouragement. It was as he had 
 thought; the fact of a living tangible presence here 
 was enough to dispel all minor doubts. 
 
 " You 've been gone so long," faltered the father, 
 "I I had forgotten. I expected to see you as you 
 were when you left." 
 
 " I was a boy when I left," answered Barnes. 
 
 "Yes, yes, and I was not boy enough. You 
 you forgive, Joe ? " 
 
 " It is for you to forgive, father." 
 
 " Your voice has grown kinder. Eleanor you 
 are my eyes. Help me to see him as he is to-day. 
 He is taller?" 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 " He is tanned ? " 
 
 " Yes, Daddy." 
 
 " I can see him ! I can see him ! He has grown 
 handsome, my boy, eh ? " 
 
 She met Barnes' eyes steadily.
 
 DREAMS OF THE OLD 43 
 
 " Yes," site answered, "I think you could say that." 
 
 " Where is Philomela ? " he demanded suddenly. 
 " She should be here to see my boy." 
 
 " She is downstairs, Daddy. She she was a 
 bit overcome." 
 
 " What wonder ? This goes to one's head." 
 
 He lay back upon the pillows, his breath coming 
 brokenly. Barnes feared for him. 
 
 "I must not stay long, father," h'e ventured. 
 " You must rest a little. I '11 come up later." 
 
 He felt the sudden grip of Van Patten's fingers 
 upon his arm. 
 
 " There is so much for you to tell. I Ve lost five 
 years out of your life." 
 
 11 There are all the days to come." 
 
 " There must be many many to make up for 
 the days that have gone." 
 
 " I will try to bring back those days to you." 
 
 " You are glad to be home again, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes," Barnes answered truthfully. " You make 
 me glad to be here." 
 
 " There are so many things," he faltered. " But 
 your aunt must see you. She is not as strong as I 
 am. I I am afraid she is failing a little." 
 
 " You will rest now ? " 
 
 " Yes, I can rest now. Boy, you have brought me 
 home."
 
 44 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Barnes pressed the feeble hand and rose. 
 
 " Shall I send John to you ? " asked the daughter. 
 " Do you need anything ? " 
 
 " Nothing more," he answered, as he sank back 
 wearily among the pillows. He looked like a man 
 who had come to the end of a long journey. 
 
 Barnes started out. 
 
 " You '11 be downstairs ? You '11 be where I can 
 call you ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Barnes. 
 
 The girl stopped and kissed her father's thin lips. 
 He reached up his hand and smoothed her hair a mo- 
 ment. Then his arm fell and he seemed to sleep, 
 dropping off quickly as a child does. 
 
 Aunt Philomela had not moved. When the two 
 came in again, she glanced up swiftly. 
 
 "Well? "she asked eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," answered Barnes. " It is well." 
 
 " Then you were successful in your deception ? " 
 
 Miss Van Patten crossed to her aunt's side and 
 kissed her gray hair. She kept her face hidden 
 there for a moment. 
 
 "Aunt! Aunt!" she choked. "If you could 
 have seen ! " 
 
 Between anger, shame, and relief Aunt Phil- 
 omela's lips trembled. But she answered sharply, 
 
 " Thank the Lord I was saved from all active 
 participation."
 
 DREAMS OF THE OLD 45 
 
 " If you could have heard his glad cry ! " 
 
 " I should have been ashamed." 
 
 But in spite of her answer the corners of her 
 mouth grew less tense and the little patches of rose 
 upon her cheeks returned again. Barnes felt glad 
 of that. With her spirit up, she seemed less formi- 
 dable. 
 
 " He accepted you without suspicion ? " she in- 
 quired of Barnes as though she could not yet believe it. 
 
 " In such blind heart-hunger as his," he answered, 
 " there is little room for suspicion." 
 
 " Truly," she answered tartly, " my brother must 
 be quite blind." 
 
 As a relief from the tension of the last few min- 
 utes, Aunt Philomela's sharp tongue came as a relish 
 to Barnes. He had never in his life passed a more 
 uncomfortable quarter of an hour. 
 
 " There are worse things in the world than blind- 
 ness," he suggested. 
 
 Miss Van Patten raised her head. 
 
 " I was afraid almost afraid that father's eyes 
 would open and he would see again." 
 
 " Only a guilty conscience could inspire such a 
 fear," snapped Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " Don't you want to have him happy ? " chal- 
 lenged her niece. " He is sleeping now the first 
 time for two days."
 
 46 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " He is sleeping ? " 
 
 " We used to give him powders to make him 
 sleep and forget. Is n't this a better way ? " 
 
 " Sleeping powders, my dear, do not operate upon 
 the whole family!" 
 
 Barnes smiled. 
 
 "Am I so dull? "he asked. 
 
 " I was referring to their dream properties rather 
 than their soporific," Aunt Philomela answered with 
 some magnanimity and yet with suspicious point, too. 
 
 " There is a distinction between dreaming and 
 sleeping," he admitted. 
 
 "A clear distinction." 
 
 " It might mark all the difference between a poet 
 and a bore." 
 
 " There is little harm in bores," declared Aunt 
 [Philomela. 
 
 " You flatter me." 
 
 " You have drawn a wrong deduction." 
 
 " Then you flatter me still more. I had never 
 thought of myself as a poet. However, if you fear 
 the dreams an old man's dreams it is not too 
 late to withdraw." 
 
 "I should call it a great deal too late." 
 
 " No," he answered decidedly. " I '11 frame some 
 sort of an excuse for returning to Alaska to-morrow. 
 It may be a bit clumsy but I can make it answer."
 
 DREAMS OF THE OLD 47 
 
 " You 're an adept at that sort of thing." 
 
 " It is for you to decide what we shall do/' he 
 insisted. 
 
 The little old lady hesitated. She disliked very 
 much being cornered in such fashion. But Barnes 
 had caught the worry in the girl's eyes and realized 
 the necessity of having this settled at once. 
 
 " It is already decided," she fenced. 
 
 " Only as far as this. He has his dreams for to- 
 day. That is something. To-morrow is not de- 
 cided." 
 
 Miss Van Patten started. Barnes waited relent- 
 lessly. 
 
 "I I don't know," faltered Aunt Philomela. 
 
 Still he waited. Miss Van Patten started to in- 
 terpose but he checked her with a glance. The silence 
 grew oppressive. 
 
 " You have no right," squirmed Aunt Philo- 
 mela. 
 
 " Exactly," he interposed. " You alone have the 
 right." 
 
 " Then," she snapped. " I suppose we must." 
 
 " I think it 's the only way," he agreed quietly. 
 
 Miss Van Patten embraced her aunt excitedly. 
 
 " I knew you 'd approve," she cried. 
 
 " Upon complusion," interjected Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " No," warned Barnes, " I refuse to have it so."
 
 48 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Of circumstances," added the aunt quickly. 
 
 " Which prompt us to every act," threw in 
 Barnes. 
 
 " Wise and unwise," commented the aunt grimly. 
 
 Barnes allowed the matter to drop leaving Aunt 
 Philomela with the last word which she accepted in 
 an unmistakable spirit of victory. 
 
 The girl was all activity at once. 
 
 " We must show Mr. Barnes to Joe's room and 
 then supper will be ready," she exclaimed. 
 
 As she met her aunt's eyes she blushed with pretty 
 embarrassment but she immediately tripped out of 
 the room and soon returned with John. 
 
 "John," she ordered. "You will make Mr. 
 Joe's room ready at once. You will follow him ? " 
 she asked, turning to Barnes. 
 
 It was neatly done. With a bow to Aunt Philo- 
 mela, Barnes made his exit. 
 
 The room to which he was led had been prepared 
 for weeks. It faced the East. It was large and was 
 furnished with a huge black walnut bed, a cool mat- 
 ting of green, a great high-boy with brass handles, 
 and a bureau with drawers two feet deep. White 
 dimity curtains fluttered at the windows. But for 
 the moment John interested him more than the 
 homely furnishings. 
 
 John was as stoical as an English butler. He was
 
 DREAMS OF THE OLD 49 
 
 short, stout, and of that non-committal middle age 
 which ranges between twenty-five and forty. He met 
 one's eyes with a sort of timid stare and a suggestion 
 that he knew and he would tell. There was a nod- 
 ding mystery about him. He made Barnes feel like 
 searching the room to see what it was that the man 
 silently hinted might be concealed. John was a 
 piquer of curiosity a caballer with the unknown. 
 
 " John," suggested Barnes after the man had 
 thrown back the spread, shown him his bath, and 
 glanced about significantly for his baggage. " John, 
 I think you 'd better look under the bed." 
 
 John obeyed and stared so long into a dark cor- 
 ner there, that Barnes took a position on his knees 
 beside him. 
 
 " Did you see anything move ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Move ? Where, sir ? " John gasped. 
 
 " Over there. A sort of Thing." 
 
 "Good Lord, sir!" 
 
 " I may have been mistaken," Barnes ad- 
 mitted, " but perhaps we 'd better examine the 
 closets." 
 
 John crossed the room with some hesitation and 
 with many backward glances. He opened the closet 
 door the matter of a foot and peered in. Barnes 
 coughed. John darted back. 
 
 " Anything there, John ? "
 
 50 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " What what did you expect, sir ? " 
 
 "A sort of Thing." 
 
 " No, sir," answered John eagerly and with con- 
 viction, moving deeper into the room. " There 's 
 nothing of that sort there, sir." 
 
 " You see," explained Barnes. " I Ve just come 
 from the frozen North. There are many strange 
 things there very strange things." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You may go." 
 
 John accepted his dismissal with alacrity. 
 
 " If there are to be mysteries here," commented 
 Barnes to himself. "We may as well have them 
 picturesque."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 QUESTIONS OF DIPLOMACY 
 
 At the round table covered with sun-bleached 
 napery and silver that caught the candle light until 
 it seemed ablaze, Aunt Philomela, with a diplomacy 
 equaled only by that of King Arthur, had so ar- 
 ranged the places that no one could tell who sat oppo- 
 site who. She herself presided at the quaint old sil- 
 ver tea urn, so that naturally marked the head of the 
 board. But Barnes and Miss Van Patten were 
 placed equi-distant from her on either side so that 
 they did not face one another. 
 
 On the table were damson preserves, a clear crim- 
 son as of molten rubies ; milk-white bread ; a bowl 
 of crisp salad fresh from the garden ; and a pitcher 
 of milk so heavy with cream that it poured the 
 lightest possible shade of coffee-color. 
 
 Aunt Philomela had freshened herself in a pur- 
 ple gown relieved by spider thread lace. Her niece 
 was in a gossamer white China silk sprinkled with 
 blue polka dots. In her black hair she wore a 
 tortoise-shell comb surmounted with old gold scroll 
 of the finest Venetian workmanship. It was just 
 the touch needed to bring out the Italian richness
 
 52 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 of her features. She might now have been pre- 
 siding at some old Patrician board with the chanties 
 of the gondoliers floating in at the open windows, 
 except for Aunt Philomela, stern as a Puritan con- 
 science and the damson preserves. On the whole 
 Barnes liked her better in her present setting. To 
 them all came the song of a whip-poor-will mourn- 
 ing to his mate beneath the purple sky in the 
 orchard just outside. 
 
 " How will you have your tea ? " asked Aunt Phil- 
 omela. 
 
 "With cream, Aunt Philomela, no sugar if you 
 
 Miss Van Patten held her breath. Aunt Phil- 
 omela sat fixed with the tongs poised over the square 
 sugar bowl. 
 
 " Such audacity ! " she choked. 
 
 " I was only speaking my line," he hastened to 
 explain. " The servants, you know." 
 
 " I think it quite necessary," put in the girl, has- 
 tily bringing up reinforcements at the sight of her 
 aunt's snapping eyes. 
 
 " It will take me some time to get used to it," 
 added Barnes. " You see I have n't the good for- 
 tune to have a real aunt." 
 
 " It is an unpardonable liberty," protested Aunt 
 Philomela, unreasonably.
 
 QUESTIONS OF DIPLOMACY 53 
 
 " And you must call me Joe," he hurried on, 
 " and I must address your niece as Eleanor." 
 
 Barnes himself was a little breathless after that. 
 He found himself studying the damson preserves. 
 Had he looked up he would have found them a good 
 match for Miss Van Patten's cheeks. 
 
 " I see no help for it," agreed the latter. 
 
 " Eleanor," trembled the aunt. 
 
 " Well, is there ? " she demanded. " How else 
 can he address me before the servants ? " 
 
 " He can at least refrain, when the servants are 
 not in the room." 
 
 She dropped two lumps of sugar into Barnes' 
 cup. 
 
 " If you please," murmured Barnes, " no sugar, 
 Aunt Philomela." 
 
 Aunt Philomela corrected her mistake by adding 
 another lump. Barnes accepted it with a murmur 
 of thanks. 
 
 " You see," he continued more at ease, " John 
 already has his suspicions." 
 
 " He has ? " exclaimed the aunt uneasily. " But 
 he has never seen Joe ! He has been with us only 
 since we came here." 
 
 " All I know," Barnes answered, " is that John 
 looked under the bed and in the closets before he 
 left me."
 
 54 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 The aunt did not disclose the fact that this was 
 one of John's nightly duties in the modest room she 
 occupied next to her niece's, but the latter's eyes 
 warmed into a smile. 
 
 " Perhaps that was mere force of habit," hinted 
 Miss Van Patten. 
 
 Aunt Philomela turned a warning glance upon 
 her niece her cheeks coloring daintily. 
 
 " It made me realize that I ought to know more 
 about myself," Barnes continued. 
 
 " You were precious little good," vouchsafed the 
 aunt. 
 
 " Must I act up to my reputation ? " he asked 
 solicitously. 
 
 Miss Van Patten put in kindly, 
 
 " I think you will have no difficulty in living up 
 to the Joe my father found to-day." 
 
 " I think it wise to idealize the boy as far as 
 possible," he said. 
 
 Miss Van Patten served him with salad and a 
 portion of the damson preserves. 
 
 " But there are certain details," he persisted. 
 
 " If you 're going to idealize Joe, you 'd better 
 leave out the details," advised Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " I referred more particularly to the historical 
 details," he answered. " There is for instance the 
 question of my age."
 
 QUESTIONS OF DIPLOMACY 55 
 
 " You will be twenty-three next October," Aunt 
 Philomela condescended to inform him. 
 
 " Thank you. Then I suppose I ought to know 
 the ages of my relatives." 
 
 " Which matches well with your other presump- 
 tions," answered the aunt with heat. 
 
 But here Miss Van Patten took the matter into 
 her own hands and sketched for him as delicately as 
 possible the brief career of this only son. She told 
 first a little something of the mother who had been 
 dead ten years now and of the blow this was to the 
 father. Mr. Van Patten had practically retired, 
 when this occurred, from the bank where he had for 
 so long been president. For a few years they lived 
 on in New York, with Aunt Philomela, her mother's 
 sister, filling the gap as best she could. Joe even as 
 a child had been hard to handle and when he grew 
 up became very willful. He did not like school and 
 so Mr. Van Patten, when the boy was sixteen, found 
 a position for him in the bank. But he was restless 
 there and did not stay long. He tried one thing after 
 another without success and finally when rebuked by 
 his father, left home altogether. During these years 
 she herself had been away at school and so had seen 
 little of her brother. After the boy left, her father 
 broke down and upon the advice of the doctors came 
 back here in the hills. They had been here now five
 
 56 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 years living very much to themselves. From time 
 to time they had heard from the boy in his wander- 
 ings, locating him a few months ago in Alaska. 
 
 It was an undramatic narrative and yet as it fell 
 from her lips Barnes listened with keen absorp- 
 tion. Or was it merely to the melody of her 
 voice ? After she had ceased, he found himself 
 still listening. 
 
 " May I serve you to more tea ? " interrupted 
 Aunt Philomela. 
 
 Barnes thoughtfully stirred the thick syrup in 
 his cup. 
 
 " I think not, thank you." he answered. 
 
 " So you see," added Miss Van Patten, " there 
 is not very much for you to learn." 
 
 " No," he smiled, " I 'm not so black as I was 
 painted. But there are still some other things I 
 must post myself on. I would like " 
 
 " I positively refuse to surrender my private 
 papers," objected Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " An atlas," Barnes finished. 
 
 " An atlas ! " gasped Aunt Philomela, taken by 
 surprise. 
 
 " An atlas. I must study my geography. The 
 most I know of Alaska at present is that it 's the 
 home of polar bears. Are you familiar with the 
 habits of polar bears, Aunt Philomela ? " 

 
 QUESTIONS OF DIPLOMACY 57 
 
 The girl smiled. That was what Barnes had 
 wished. 
 
 " Ko. I fear I can't assist you in that fabrica- 
 tion," Aunt Philomela answered curtly. 
 
 " There is a bear in the park," he informed her. 
 " I 'Ve often watched him. Upon that subject at 
 least I may speak with some authority. But there 
 are many other things in Alaska. Eskimos, for 
 instance. I 'm a little weak on Eskimos. In the 
 pictures they look much like the bears except that 
 they carry harpoons. There are also the details of 
 mining have you ever been interested in mines ? " 
 
 " Yes," scowled Aunt Philomela. " In a weak 
 moment Joe persuaded me by letter." 
 
 Clearly that was a delicate subject. He swerved 
 away from it. 
 
 " I must post myself on names. I recall only 
 Nome, White Horse, and Dawson. 
 
 The girl smiled again. 
 
 " That is a complication," she exclaimed. 
 '* Father is sure to question you. He is interested 
 in travel." 
 
 " I '11 do my best to instruct him." 
 
 " I don't think you 're justified in imposing upon 
 a helpless old man," declared Aunt Philomela, 
 severely. 
 
 " My dear aunt," returned Barnes, amiably, " all
 
 58 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 of us stay-at-homes are imposed upon by our travel- 
 ing brothers. I have a friend who has been to India 
 whom I have often confuted with the aid of an en- 
 cyclopedia. Unless I 'm mistaken, my stories will 
 compare favorably with any Joe himself might tell." 
 
 " They could n't be much more untruthful," the 
 aunt admitted, thinking of her mine. 
 
 " That gives me a pleasant margin." 
 
 " Of one fact I can assure you," she further vol- 
 unteered, "gold does not lie around the hills in 
 chunks at least not in the vicinity of ' The Lucky 
 Find.' " 
 
 " I '11 make a note of that." 
 
 " Which I hope will prove more valuable than my 
 nephew's notes." 
 
 John stole in at the door. 
 
 " He is calling for Mr. Van Patten, Miss Schuy- 
 ler." 
 
 Schuyler ? Barnes received a pleasant surprise at 
 the name. His ancestors had fought under Schuyler 
 and now fortune had decreed that he himself should 
 enter an engagement with one of that hero's descen- 
 dants. 
 
 Aunt Philomela glanced towards Barnes with 1 
 something like reliance. 
 
 " Very well, John," he answered, " I '11 be right 
 up."
 
 QUESTIONS OF DIPLOMACY 59 
 
 He turned to his hostess. 
 
 " May I hope that the ladies will not have retired 
 before I return ? " 
 
 " You may be assured of that fact," answered 
 Aunt Philomela with decision. 
 
 He had no sooner left the room than she con- 
 fronted her niece, 
 
 " Well ? " she demanded, indicating clearly that 
 she still held the girl accountable for the whole sit- 
 uation. 
 
 Miss Van Patten lowered her eyes. 
 
 " You make it very hard, " she murmured. 
 
 " I ? " snorted the aunt. " What have I to do with 
 it ? I wash my hands of the whole affair." 
 
 " You can't do that," she exclaimed, " after you 
 asked him to remain ! " 
 
 " I asked him to remain ? I ? WTien that great 
 tall man stood over me " 
 
 In her indignation she could go no further. 
 
 " Why he would n't hurt you. He would n't hurt 
 anything." 
 
 " What do you know about him ? " 
 
 "Can't you see ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the aunt, " I can see." 
 
 " One need only look at his eyes." 
 
 She stopped. Her aunt had a most embarrassing 
 way at times.
 
 60 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I suppose he means well enough," admitted the 
 aunt more kindly. 
 
 " How can he mean anything else ? What has he 
 to gain by giving his time to us ? " 
 
 " It is not easy to understand men especially 
 young men," affirmed Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " There is n't anything to understand, when one 
 is just kind." 
 
 " A great deal more sometimes than when one is 
 merely unkind." 
 
 Miss Van Patten met her aunt's eyes. 
 
 " Aunt," she declared, " if you could have seen 
 the joy in Daddy's face you would n't bother your- 
 self with suspicions. We have n't any right to con- 
 sider ourselves at all in this matter. We 've saved 
 father a great grief. Is n't that enough ? " 
 
 The aunt shook her head slowly. 
 
 " My dear," she answered, " you Ve been swept 
 on by your emotions. You don't realize the serious- 
 ness of what we Ve done. We Ve taken into the in- 
 timacy of our family a stranger a young stranger, 
 about whom we know nothing. Supposing any of 
 our relatives should swoop down on us from New 
 York? What would they say? What will our 
 friends about here say? What will Dr. Merri- 
 weather say ? " 
 
 The girl answered quietly,
 
 QUESTIONS OF DIPLOMACY 61 
 
 " What does all that matter when you think of 
 what we 've saved Daddy ? " 
 
 " Matter ? It would mean nothing short of a 
 scandal." 
 
 Miss Van Patten flushed. But she answered still 
 quietly, 
 
 " I think you 're mistaken, Aunty. But even that 
 what would that matter ? " 
 
 " Bah. You are n't out of your swaddling-clothes 
 as far as the world goes." 
 
 The girl crept closer to her aunt. She placed her 
 hand upon the thin shoulder. 
 
 " Aunty dear, if you found an old man bruised 
 by the road, would you hesitate? Do we need a 
 stranger to show us how just to be kind ? That is n't 
 the way you 've helped the poor with Dr. Merri- 
 weather." 
 
 Aunt Philomela looked steadily into the young 
 girl's face. 
 
 " My dear," she answered, " I 'm seventy-two and 
 you 're twenty-two." 
 
 " Must I wait until I am your age before I 'm 
 human ? " 
 
 " Perhaps before you learn that you are hu- 
 man." 
 
 Then the aunt asked an apparently irrelevant 
 question,
 
 62 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Is Carl coining over to practice with you to- 
 night ? " 
 
 Miss Van Patten turned away. 
 
 " I have n't been thinking of Carl." 
 
 " How are you going to introduce him to this 
 stranger ? " 
 
 Miss Van Patten did not answer. 
 
 " You see," observed Aunt Philomela as she rose 
 from the table, " there are more complications here 
 than you think of." 
 
 The two made their way into the sitting room. 
 The aunt took a chair near the window. Miss Van 
 Patten remained standing, looking out into the dark. 
 
 " I shall send a note to Carl telling him I 'm en- 
 gaged for this evening," she concluded. She gave 
 the letter to John and then returned. Aunt Phil- 
 omela remained staring at the door. It was a full 
 half hour before Barnes came down. 
 
 " Alaska," he announced, sinking into a chair in 
 the ark, " Alaska is said to be a cold country, but 
 at times it gets most uncomfortably hot there."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THEEE FINGEKED BII/L 
 
 Barnes noted that Miss Van Patten had a per- 
 sonality which asserted itself even in the dark. 
 Though he could see nothing of her more than an 
 outline, he was able to follow every expression. 
 This made it easier to understand how the blind 
 father gave himself up completely to that other 
 illusion. 
 
 " Will you ring for a light, Eleanor ? " requested 
 Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " The dark is very restful," hazarded Barnes. 
 
 He rather enjoyed the situation. It gave his 
 imagination freer play. 
 
 " The dark may keep us all in better counte- 
 nance," assented the aunt tartly. 
 
 " You left him happy ? He suspected nothing ? " 
 inquired Miss Van Patten, eagerly. 
 
 " I left him asleep," answered Barnes. 
 
 " Oh, that 's good. He has n't slept at night." 
 
 " He has worried a great deal ? " 
 
 "It's been enough to break one's heart to hear
 
 64 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 him call for Joe night after night in the 
 dark." 
 
 " If ever I meet the boy," observed Barnes with 
 impressive deliberateness, " I shall try to make him 
 live for himself the hour I 've just lived for him. 
 I listened to a saint, feeling like the Devil." 
 
 " I don't understand how Joe had the heart to 
 hurt him," choked the girl. 
 
 " He did n't have' the heart that 's the trouble," 
 answered Barnes. " No one in the world will ven- 
 ture so far to give us pain as our own." 
 
 Aunt Philomela stirred uneasily. 
 
 " For sheer mercilessness," added Barnes, " give 
 me a relative. It made me squirm to have to save 
 the boy from the shame he deserves." 
 
 " How can we ever thank you for this ! " ex- 
 claimed Miss Van Patten. 
 
 " By letting me stand face to face with the boy 
 sometime." 
 
 Aunt Philomela broke in. 
 
 " This act is not like Joe. He was never brutal. 
 I don't think he understood." 
 
 " 'No. He probably did n't understand. That 's 
 the brutal part of it. It 's the brutes who don't un- 
 derstand." 
 
 He spoke with some heat more than he in- 
 tended, but he was still fresh from that interview.
 
 THREE FINGERED BILL 65 
 
 The old man's grip was still on his arm; those 
 sightless eyes were still straining into his. He still 
 heard the irregular breathing and the panting ques- 
 tions childish questions, trivial questions made 
 great by the love back of them. And to these he 
 had been forced to give lying answers which would 
 never have been accepted save for this same great 
 love and trust. He needed now to be diverted from 
 the memory of it. Pfe was eager to stir up Aunt 
 Philomela to turn to the lighter side of it though 
 even the comedy of it was tragical. 
 
 " If we 're going to be consistent travelers, Aunt 
 Philomela," he began, " it will be necessary for me 
 to repeat my story to you." 
 
 " Is travelers the word ? " she snapped back. 
 
 " The more polite word at any rate," answered 
 Barnes. 
 
 " I believe in calling a spade a spade." 
 
 " But that is n't any reason for calling every- 
 thing a spade," he ventured to suggest, " What I 
 was forced to tell him did n't have sufficient truth 
 in it to make it a lie. It was pure fiction. I am 
 sorry I did n't have more time for preparation. My 
 effort was necessarily in the nature of an inspira- 
 tion. It was crude. It made me sorry that when 
 a boy I neglected physical geography." 
 
 Aunt Philomela groaned.
 
 66 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I 'm sure you did the best you could," declared 
 Miss Van Patten. " It was a very awkward posi- 
 tion for you." 
 
 " It was to say the least humiliating. He asked 
 a great many questions." 
 
 " Poor Daddy." 
 
 " He will probably ask still more of Aunt Phil- 
 omela," he remarked 
 
 "If he does ! " she exploded. 
 
 "If he does ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Why this is disgraceful ! We 're getting in 
 deeper and deeper." 
 
 "And he?" 
 
 Aunt Philomela did not answer. 
 
 "Well," Barnes finished, "we will hold him 
 high out of the water as long as we can. Shall I 
 repeat to you what I told him 2 " 
 
 " Yes, yes," broke in the girl, " our stories must 
 agree." 
 
 " The best I could do was to paint a picture," he 
 half apologized. 
 
 " Picture making is your profession, I believe ? " 
 questioned Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " Yes," he answered slowly. " But my public 
 has eyes. There are some advantages in painting 
 for the blind. But, for that matter, many suppos- 
 edly good eyes are blind."
 
 THREE FINGERED BILL 67 
 
 " And many supposedly weak ones are sound." 
 
 " Exactly. The soul is the vision. I remembered 
 the heading of the boy's letter ' The Last Chance ' 
 and so had a starting-point. Given, too, the mys- 
 tical white name l Alaska ' and what setting ought 
 we to furnish a penniless young man with more 
 spirit than heart ? It was only a guess but I chose 
 this: a green-blue sky, brittle, stinging; a pano- 
 rama of white undulating to a horizon shrouded in 
 virgin snow; in the middle distance a few slab 
 huts ; in the foreground a closer huddling of camps 
 with the gaudy sign of the l Nugget ' saloon conspic- 
 uous. In the single street, bearded men as ungainly 
 as bears in their heavy clothing, glancing with 
 fevered eyes now towards the ' Nugget,' now towards 
 the rugged banker mountains. Lean mongrels at- 
 tached to sleds, passing from time to time, but no 
 other animals; no birds, no felines, no wasted 
 brute life." 
 
 The Princess stole across the room and sprang 
 into the girl's lap. She passed her hand over the 
 silken hair. 
 
 " The notable other buildings," continued Barnes, 
 dreamily, " are the post-office, the bank, the as- 
 sayer's offices, all of which are distinguished by 
 their signs. In the bank the sheriff has diplomati- 
 cally taken up quarters. So much for the stage.
 
 68 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " In a shanty on the outskirts of the settlement, 
 sits Joe sits myself. I am in heavy trousers 
 tucked into cowhide boots and wear a bearskin 
 coat I am studying a batch of papers. They are 
 the giddily-printed stock certificates of ' The Lucky 
 Find.' " 
 
 " I know them/' nodded Aunt Philomela, now 
 quite lost in the narrative. 
 
 " I 'm indebted to you for that suggestion," an- 
 swered Barnes. " I pore over the papers for a 
 minute and then go to a corner where there's 
 a stout wooden chest marked ' Joe Van Patten, 
 His box/ I take out a package of letters from 
 home. I place them on the table and my eyes 
 grow moist." 
 
 " I never saw the boy blubber in my life," ob- 
 jected Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " You must n't interrupt," protested Miss Van 
 Patten. 
 
 " While I 'm thus sentimentalizing/' Barnes hur- 
 ried on, l ' enter three fingered Bill." 
 
 " Bah," interrupted the aunt again. 
 
 " The name is n't mine," he explained, " I stole it 
 from a magazine story. Besides, Bill was falsely so 
 called they neglected to count his thumb. Bill 
 is a rough dog with whiskers like an anarchist but 
 with a kindly heart beating beneath his faded pink
 
 THREE FINGERED BILL 69 
 
 sweater. This was a relic of the days when he 
 served as a rubber down at prize fights." 
 
 " A pleasant companion," snorted Aunt Phil- 
 omela. 
 
 " A useful one, at any rate. He greets me with a 
 cheery l Hello, pard, back in the home camp ? ' I 
 guiltily thrust the packet aside and we come down 
 to business on how most advantageously to use our 
 relatives in the matter of the gorgeous stock certi- 
 ficates." 
 
 " So Bill was responsible for that ! " exclaimed 
 the aunt. 
 
 " Responsible ? " 
 
 " For disposing of that worthless paper." 
 
 She checked herself quickly. 
 
 " I hope," she added, " that you did n't hint to 
 Mr. Van Patten what I inadvertently let drop 
 about ' The Lucky Find.' " 
 
 " I was very cautious about particularizing in 
 any matter capable of substantiation." 
 
 " I would n't for the world have him know. The 
 loss er the loss was slight." 
 
 Barnes felt his heart warm towards Aunt Philo- 
 mela, It would have warmed still more had he 
 known that this investment involved half her scant 
 property. 
 
 "I mentioned the fact that Bill with his wider
 
 70 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 experience held out very bright prospects for the 
 mine." 
 
 " It was thoughtful of you to lay it to Bill." 
 
 Mr. Van Patten instantly offered to assist me to 
 the limits of his means. 
 
 " If you dare allow him to invest " 
 
 " I have n't even any gilded certificates," he re- 
 minded her. 
 
 " Of course not. I forgot." 
 
 " This is merely a picture. As you see picture 
 making can be the most harmless of occupations. 
 We artists produce the effect, without the danger; 
 we present the rose, without the thorns ; we de- 
 velop our mines, without certificates. I assured 
 Mr. Van Patten that this was no time to invest." 
 
 " You did very well/' Aunt Philomela compli- 
 mented him. 
 
 " Thank you. Following this I went into the 
 details of the cold weather, but you know all 
 about that. I assured him that I was warm and 
 that I had plenty to eat." 
 
 " Daddy has n't been able to take food at all 
 without wondering if Joe were hungry." 
 
 " I was well supplied, I assure you. He wished 
 to know more about my friends and so T introduced 
 him to Sam Foss, a most likeable fellow; Ranston, 
 an old college friend of mine out there somewhere;
 
 THREE FINGERED BILL 71 
 
 and Bart Stanton, a Massachusetts Technology 
 graduate. So you see my friends averaged up 
 pretty well." 
 
 " They certainly were an improvement on one 
 fingered Bill." 
 
 " Three fingered Bill," he corrected, " you must 
 be careful of your details." 
 
 " I shall venture to repeat nothing," she asserted. 
 " And you think he believed all that nonsense ? " 
 
 " As an eager child believes." 
 
 " I suppose," she mused sadly, " he has become 
 a bit childlike." 
 
 " He was a child when listening," Barnes con- 
 tinued, " but when he talked to me it was the 
 father who talked. I 'm sorry the real child who 
 wrote the childish letter did n't hear what he said 
 to me." 
 
 He paused. Aunt Philomela waited expectantly 
 and so, too, did her niece. But he told them nothing 
 more. That which was not part of the dream 
 that which was sober reality, he had no heart to re- 
 peat. 
 
 " That concludes my report," he said as the si- 
 lence remained unbroken. 
 
 Again a silence. Then Miss Van Patten spoke. 
 
 " You Ve been most kind to us. It 's hard to 
 know how to thank you."
 
 72 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " It is n't necessary. I 've been well repaid 
 if that were essential." 
 
 Somewhere about the house an old clock chimed 
 nine. 
 
 Aunt Philomela rose. 
 
 " We retire early in the country," she said 
 wearily, " I '11 call John." 
 
 " Thank you. I trust your dreams will be pleas- 
 ant." 
 
 " They will be of Alaska. I feel it in my bones." 
 
 " They might be worse located on a summer 
 evening," he hazarded. 
 
 She swept like a royal dowager towards the door. 
 The girl followed but stopped a moment before 
 him. 
 
 " Thank you again," she murmured. " Good 
 night." 
 
 Then, with the Princess close behind her, she too 
 swept queen like from the room. 
 
 As with something of a sigh Barnes half turned, 
 he found John beside him as though he had come up 
 through a trap in the floor. 
 
 " Ah, you ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, sir," faltered John, wondering what else 
 his master's son had expected, " will you follow me, 
 sir?" 
 
 Lighting a candle, the man escorted him to the
 
 THREE FINGERED BILL 73 
 
 room where the dimity curtains were bulging in 
 from a brisk night breeze. As he placed the nicker- 
 ing light upon the dresser, Barnes inquired, 
 
 " You have n't seen " 
 
 " Good Lord, sir. No, sir." 
 
 " Very well, John. You may go." 
 
 He went, leaving Barnes to the fragrance of the 
 night. The dark of the orchard made him think 
 of her hair.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF A VISION 
 
 Barnes awoke in the morning to the reveille of 
 robins and thrushes. With chirp and whistle and 
 flute note, they sang him from his hearty sleep to 
 a still heartier realization of a new-born day. For 
 a moment, from the motherly lap of his broad bed, 
 he blinked at the dimity curtains and the age-ripened 
 hautboy. What strange caravanserai was this ? It 
 was always a pleasure to wake to the memory of the 
 long tramp of the preceding day to trace his 
 path from the brisk setting out of the previous morn- 
 ing to the final lagging steps at dusk. To-day he 
 traced his course as far as the letter-box and then 
 came to himself as though fresh from a plunge in a 
 mountain brook. But he had no time to think about 
 it before there was a timid knock at the door. 
 
 " Yes ? " called Barnes. 
 
 " Your warm water, sir ? " 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 John stepped over the threshold. His stride was 
 confident. He was bold enough in the daytime 
 whatever he might be at night.
 
 THE MYSTERY OF A VISION 75 
 
 " Miss Schuyler's compliments, sir, and we break- 
 fast at eight." 
 
 " What time is it now ? " 
 
 " Seven, sir." 
 
 " Very well. My compliments in return to Elea- 
 nor and I will be ready at eight." 
 
 John betrayed wonder. Barnes reviewed his 
 speech. Then he himself betrayed even more won- 
 der. 
 
 " Did you hear, John ? " he demanded sternly, 
 in a clumsy attempt to retrieve himself. " My com- 
 pliments to my aunt," he paused, " and I will be 
 ready at eight." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Barnes unconsciously looked about for his dress- 
 suit case. Then he remembered that he had checked 
 it to the next village, thinking at first to ride through. 
 He did not have so much as a razor. He glanced 
 at John's smooth shaven face, hesitated, and then 
 asked, 
 
 "John didn't I leave a razor behind mei 
 Seems to me I remember a black-handled one. If 
 you could find it " 
 
 Now John was in many respects an admirable 
 man in his calling. If he was positive no razor had 
 been left, he had at least a razor of his own. 
 
 " I will see if I can find it, sir," he said.
 
 76 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 He was back in five minutes with the entire out- 
 fit which he placed upon the dresser without a word. 
 Barnes was immensely pleased with his cleverness, 
 while John, who had been the really clever one, 
 remained impassive. Furthermore, being in high 
 good humor at the success of the ruse which had 
 saved him from the humiliation of borrowing from 
 the man, Barnes leaped from his bed so suddenly 
 that John jumped half way to the door. 
 
 " What 's the trouble ? " inquired Barnes. 
 
 " You came so suddenly, sir." 
 
 " Perhaps I was a bit abrupt The morning gets 
 into your blood." 
 
 " It 's the Arctic weather I presume, sir." 
 
 " Yes. Ah, yes, that is probably it." 
 
 He began to lather his face but John still delayed, 
 shuffling a bit nervously. 
 
 " You left ' The Lucky Find ' well, sir ? " he ven- 
 tured with an apologetic cough. It was as though 
 he spoke of a lady. It was as though he spoke of an 
 intimate friend in whom he took great interest. 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you," answered Barnes in 
 some surprise. 
 
 " I reads as how you brought twenty million in 
 gold out of the country last year, sir." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 " Oh, not you alone, sir, but all the mines to-
 
 THE MYSTERY OF A VISION 77 
 
 gether. I didn't know but what ' The Lucky Find ' 
 had a share in it, as the say in' goes." 
 
 Barnes caught his breath. Then he carefully 
 lathered one ear. It did n't need lathering any 
 more than his shoes. It was something of an auto- 
 matic movement. 
 
 " Let me see," he asked quietly, " how much stock 
 did you have ? " 
 
 " ISTot much, sir. I have n't saved as much as I 
 might. But when I saw the papers you sent on 
 to the mistress, I mailed what I had. It was only 
 a thousand, sir." 
 
 " Yes, I remember now. A thousand dollars." 
 
 Barnes turned back to the mirror. He wiped the 
 lather from his ear. 
 
 " Bring my trousers, John." 
 
 The man obeyed. 
 
 " Reach in the right hand side pocket." 
 
 John brought out two five-dollar bills. 
 
 " Put one of them back." 
 
 John obeyed and held the other one in his hand 
 uncertainly. 
 
 " That," said Barnes, " is our first annual divi- 
 dend. It should have been sent to you before." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I did n't hope for so much, 
 but " 
 
 " You may go," said Barnes, picking up his razor.
 
 78 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Barnes completed his dressing with dispatch. It 
 occurred to him that if he hurried he might pos- 
 sibly beat out Aunt Philomela, and so have a few 
 words with the girl before she came down. 
 
 As he stepped into the living room, Aunt Phil- 
 omela greeted him with a curt nod. 
 
 " I trust three fingered Bill did n't disturb your 
 dreams," he observed with polite interest. 
 
 The girl was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 " Bah. Something worse," snapped Aunt Phil- 
 omela as though she held him directly responsible 
 for it. " It was half a walrus." 
 
 " Perhaps that is the Thing John was looking 
 for," he suggested. 
 
 He turned towards the window in the hope that 
 he might discover Miss Van Patten in the flower- 
 gardens. They blossomed just beyond a medley 
 of sweet alyssum, mignonette, heliotrope, cosmos, 
 and marigolds. She was not there. 
 
 "To what do you refer by the Thing?" de- 
 manded Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " The Thing he looked for under the bed." 
 
 The color stole into her cheeks making them look 
 more than ever like cameos. 
 
 " In these days, with so many strangers on the 
 road, one cannot be too careful," she avowed. 
 
 " No," he admitted, " I understand that many
 
 THE MYSTERY OF A VISION 79 
 
 estimable persons even in New York make it a 
 habit to look under their beds." 
 
 At length Miss Van Patten came in. She was 
 in white again with a loose crimson tie at her 
 throat. She looked as though she might have been 
 in the garden after all growing there like the 
 other flowers for she had a freshnesss that only the 
 dew can give. She greeted him with a smile that 
 brightened the room like the sun. 
 
 " Daddy is in better spirits than I 've seen him 
 for a year," she exclaimed. " He asked for you as 
 soon as he woke up." 
 
 " Perhaps then I had better step up there for a 
 minute before breakfast." 
 
 " Would you ? He 's waiting so impatiently." 
 
 " I '11 go at once." 
 
 "He repeated to me what you told him. You 
 did n't teU us all." 
 
 She blushed prettily, timid at sharing with him a 
 secret in which her aunt for the moment was not 
 included. 
 
 " Most everything," he replied uneasily. 
 
 " You don't mind because he told me ? " 
 
 She feared that he might consider it in the light 
 of a confidence betrayed. 
 
 " No," he answered sincerely. 
 
 But lest she go further into the subject he turned
 
 80 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 abruptly and made his way again to the room of 
 shadows. 
 
 Aunt Philomela at once faced her niece. 
 
 " What is this great secret ? " she demanded some- 
 what piqued. 
 
 " I 'm not sure that I ought to tell you/' replied 
 the girl with a tinkling laugh which was like the 
 ripple of water over pebbles. 
 
 " Pardon my presumption," snapped the aunt 
 cuttingly, as she assumed her state dignity. 
 
 This consisted of standing so erect that she crink- 
 led, drawing her chin the slightest bit in, and fold- 
 ing her hands at the level of her waist. The girl 
 promptly stepped forward and kissed her. 
 
 " It was partly of you he spoke." 
 
 Aunt Philomela drew back with a more genuine 
 emotion. 
 
 " What an impertinence ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Daddy evidently asked him if he saw any change 
 in you." 
 
 "Of all " 
 
 " And Mr. Barnes told him he thought you had 
 grown younger." 
 
 " I shall thank William not to discuss me in the 
 future." 
 
 " Oh, but your ears would have burned if you 'd 
 heard the rest."
 
 THE MYSTERY OF A VISION 81 
 
 " What wonder ! To allow a stranger to discuss 
 such intimate matters is is almost indecent." 
 
 " Remember it was as Joe that Mr. Barnes spoke. 
 But," she added thoughtfully, " I 'm not sure Joe 
 himself would have spoken so beautifully." 
 
 " The bold, young fellow." 
 
 " The most wonderful thing of all," continued 
 the girl, her eyes growing wistful, " was the way he 
 talked to Daddy about mother. How was he able to 
 do that when he never knew her never saw her ? " 
 
 " Your mother," replied Aunt Philomela, soberly, 
 " would never forgive me if she knew I counte- 
 nanced such goings on." 
 
 " How was he able to do it ? " repeated Eleanor, 
 her thoughts spanning a decade. 
 
 Aunt Philomela scanned the girl's face anxiously, 
 lovingly. 
 
 " La, dear," she murmured. 
 
 " He spoke of her eyes describing them as 
 woodland pools at twilight. You remember moth- 
 er's eyes were just like that." 
 
 " Yes, dear. They were like that like your 
 eyes." 
 
 " He spoke of the tender sweetness of her face 
 of her black hair with the gold in it. You remember 
 the gold in mother's hair ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear. Your hair is much the same."
 
 82 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " He even described her skin. He said it was 
 like ivory with rose in it." 
 
 " Yes," answered Aunt Philomela, noting the rose 
 now in the ivory of her niece's cheeks. 
 
 " That sounded almost as though he were stand- 
 ing in front of mother, did n't it ? It is as though 
 he saw a vision ! " 
 
 Aunt Philomela pressed her lips firmly together. 
 When, a moment later Barnes himself came in, 
 she kept her eyes fixed upon her niece. 
 
 " Eleanor," she announced, " I shall ask Carl to 
 come over this morning."
 
 CHAPTEK VII 
 
 THE CALL OF THE KOAD 
 
 As soon as Mr. Van Patten dropped to sleep for 
 his morning nap, Barnes determined to suggest to 
 the girl a plan he had conceived during breakfast. 
 That it would impress Aunt Philomela as auda- 
 cious he had no doubt ; that it would meet with kind- 
 lier interest from Miss Van Patten, he dared hope. 
 With the decided improvement in the old gentle- 
 man's condition the spirit of the whole household 
 rose high. Not only had he slept well during the 
 night, but he had partaken of a fairly good break- 
 fast. 
 
 The morning hour had also been easier for Barnes. 
 Mr. Van Patten had clung to the young boy the 
 boy before he had become himself and was still 
 merely his father's boy. Barnes had scarcely more 
 to do than listen. Alaska had been forgotten. 
 
 The morning itself, too, gave courage. The sun, 
 now in supreme authority, held in the bondage of 
 shadows every unsightly thing and marshaled forth 
 to the front its legions of the beautiful. Every- 
 where it put youth in command; chief of all on the
 
 84 THE PRODIGAL FRO TEM 
 
 saffron road which ran before the brick house and 
 later connected with other roads which in turn 
 connected with still other roads until a path was 
 made clear across the continent. 
 
 The road summoned forth. It beckoned. The 
 wonder was, thought Barnes as from his window he 
 caught glimpses of it winding in and out among the 
 trees up the hill and so on, either way, until it ran 
 straight into an ocean the wonder was how these 
 young fellows hereabouts resisted its call. If a 
 man but followed it in its intricacies he would pass, 
 on the way, every palace and hovel in the land. 
 Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, a traveler 
 would come upon them every one. These tawny rib- 
 bons drained every spring of human life. They 
 demanded their toll of time from all the world. And 
 in the end, when the legs failed, all the world was 
 finally borne over this same road and lowered to one 
 side of it. The wonder was, then, that instead of a 
 few dreaming poets and a few lawless vagabonds 
 that all the young men in the world were not caught 
 by the spell of the highway and the pageant it 
 promised. 
 
 But what of the spell of the houses by the side of 
 the highway ? They cried halt to the young men. 
 Ah, there lay the explanation the road after all 
 was subservient to the houses by its side.
 
 THE CALL OF THE ROAD 85 
 
 But there were many houses by the side of the 
 road ; how did each house choose its own ? By the 
 eyes of the women who dwelt in the houses. Clearly 
 then, the houses themselves were subservient. 
 
 Were the eyes of the women then the final mas- 
 ters ? Here was a problem for a philosopher. He 
 knew only that he himself had been stopped, with 
 the road beckoning him on. 
 
 Miss Van Patten was busy for an hour with her 
 household tasks before she returned to where Barnes 
 had stationed himself at the foot of the Dutch door. 
 A snow-white apron made her look very business- 
 like. Aunt Philomela was for the moment care- 
 lessly absent. Here was Opportunity. 
 
 " I had in mind," he said, " going to the next 
 village for my suit-case. I checked it there think- 
 ing at first to ride through but the station below 
 here tempted me and I got off." 
 
 " I '11 send John for it," she replied, wondering 
 that she herself had not anticipated his need. The 
 reason was, though her modesty made her refrain 
 from offering the explanation, that she never asso- 
 ciated baggage with men folk. To her they were 
 always as untrammeled and unburdened as her 
 saddle horse Aladdin. 
 
 " But I looked forward to the walk," he said. 
 
 "Oh!"
 
 86 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I thought that perhaps you " 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed again. But this time it was 
 an entirely different sort of an " Oh." It was a shy, 
 fluttering monosyllable resembling a bird who, 
 flushed from its nest, flies but a little way. Her 
 eyes reflected a certain eagerness her quick glance 
 towards the door a certain timidity. Her cheeks 
 assumed a compromise. 
 
 " It would be just an easy turn, down and back, 
 would n't it ? The sun is calling." 
 
 Now Aladdin had been chafing three days in his 
 stall unheeded by his mistress, whinnying an an- 
 swer to the bugle call of this same sun as it sifted 
 in through the chinks. But the most satisfaction he 
 had found was in her whispered solace, " To-mor- 
 row, perhaps." Yet of all living things outside the 
 house, she loved him best. 
 
 " It would be very pleasant," she confessed. 
 
 "Then ?" 
 
 " I think I may go," she determined. 
 
 Which proved what ? It is very difficult to 
 prove anything at all but this at least would seem 
 to prove that Aunt Philomela was not as vigilant 
 as she might have been. She came in just as the 
 girl was adjusting her hat of brown Leghorn in 
 fact at the moment that Barnes was engrossed in 
 watching the bewitching operation of the tying of a
 
 THE CALL OF THE ROAD 87 
 
 pert bow of damson-colored ribbon beneath an ear 
 which looked of too delicate workmanship to be of 
 any actual use. But that it was seemed evident from 
 the fact that it detected Aunt Philomela's steps long 
 before his own of coarser fiber heard anything at all. 
 
 " It 's an art," declared Barnes to the little old 
 lady as she stood in the doorway, a living human 
 question mark. " It 's an art to be able to tie a bow- 
 knot. I Ve practiced twenty years and succeeded 
 only in developing an affair with dropping ends 
 which won't come untied." 
 
 Aunt Philomela did not display as much interest 
 as she might in this statement. She was one to go 
 to the heart of things. She was not to be decoyed 
 from the nub of a situation. Very well, then, he 
 decided, she should have it. 
 
 " Eleanor and I," he informed her, " thought of 
 taking to the road." He added immediately not so 
 bold as he had determined to be, 
 
 " I must get my bag." 
 
 " John is at your service," snapped Aunt Phil- 
 omela, instantly. 
 
 " But John is n't able to exercise for me ; John 
 is n't able to drink in the sun for me. There are 
 many things that John could n't do for me." 
 
 It was clear these considerations had little weight 
 with her.
 
 88 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Perhaps you '11 come along too ? " he ventured. 
 
 If it had been within the realm of possibility for 
 her to make her feeble limbs wag over those four 
 miles she would have taken him up just to foil 
 the childlike innocence with which he veiled his 
 sense of confident security. Even as it was, she 
 contrived to frighten him. 
 
 " I will order the carriage." 
 
 But here Miss Van Patten herself interposed. 
 
 " It 's too fine a day to drive," she declared 
 sensibly. " We '11 be back by the time father wakes. 
 Do you want anything at the village ? " 
 
 " I would n't for the world burden you," Aunt 
 Philomela answered, coldly. 
 
 Which, on the whole, thought Barnes, was a reply 
 unworthy of her. 
 
 So it happened that within less than twenty-four 
 hours, Barnes took up the trail again with, a 
 difference. In the first place he no longer carried 
 his portfolio. Moreover he did not miss it. And yet 
 he had not proceeded a hundred yards before he 
 passed material enough to fill it. He gave scarcely 
 a glance at the old patriarchs of apple-trees looking 
 like muscle-knotted dwarfs engaged in the absurd 
 task of supporting green apples no larger than 
 marbles ; at the sturdy pines whispering Norwegian 
 sagas, the lithe birches, and the shivering poplars.
 
 THE CALL OF THE ROAD 89 
 
 " Daddy and I have taken this road so many 
 times. He loves it," exclaimed Miss Van Patten. 
 
 " Of course he does ! " he nodded. 
 
 She turned her eyes towards him in some amaze- 
 ment at his assurance. 
 
 " You understand Daddy so well," she said. 
 
 " The big emotions," he declared thoughtfully, 
 " make us all of kin. Man-sorrows draw men 
 together as women-sorrows draw women together. 
 Sound us deep enough and all men are brothers, all 
 women sisters. Sound us still deeper and even sex 
 vanishes; we become just comrades." 
 
 "Aunt Philomela proves the rule? I wish she 
 were in better humor." 
 
 " I would n't for a fortune have her change," he 
 returned quickly. 
 
 " You don't mind her sharp tongue ? " 
 
 " It relieves me of a great responsibility." 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 " Aunt Philomela," he declared, " is attorney for 
 the world. There 's nothing like a stiff prosecution 
 to stiffen one's own defense if it 's a fair one." 
 
 " Oh, I see." 
 
 That was doubtful but she thought she saw, which 
 is quite as satisfactory. 
 
 " In a way your aunt's opposition is the old case 
 of Art versus Reality," he continued, " the Academy
 
 90 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 versus the Acme. But Lord forgive us, the con- 
 troversy is a purely scholastic one. If we only get 
 deep enough in our thoughts, as in our emotions, 
 we find ourselves again all one. Aunt Philomela 
 is n't so suspicious of me as she is of my portfolio." 
 
 " She is n't really ferocious," she assured him. 
 ft And she does appreciate your kindness." 
 
 " That, at any rate, does n't matter." 
 
 " The change in father this morning is marvelous. 
 It made me know that we 're doing right however 
 strange it seems." 
 
 " Does it seem strange to you ? " 
 
 " It certainly is unusual." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it is and yet it is n't anything 
 more than the road led me to expect." 
 
 " That 's what it is to be a man," she smiled. 
 " Women are allowed to expect so little." 
 
 He was studying her mouth. It was so simply and 
 yet so rnarvelously drawn. He had decided it was 
 a child's mouth, but at this he glanced up quickly. 
 
 " And yet," he said, " women are the mothers of 
 expectancy." 
 
 She turned away her head without replying. She 
 was a bit shy of his loose generalizing. She brought 
 him back again to her father. She made vivid to 
 him the days of close comradeship she had passed 
 with the old gentleman during these last two years.
 
 THE CALL OF THE ROAD 91 
 
 After this lie led her out to tell him more of the 
 neighbors and of her life among them. He listened 
 for the names and made it a point to fix them in 
 his mind. Among them as she rambled on there 
 was one Carl Langdon, he noted, who stood out a 
 bit more than the others. Langdon it seemed, 
 played a violin and she herself was musical. He 
 refused to satisfy his curiosity by pressing any 
 further along this line than she of her own accord 
 led him. Yet, as it was, there were several little 
 things about Langdon which excited his interest. 
 
 Before they knew it, they reached the beginning 
 of the descent which led into the village of white 
 houses huddled at the foot of the surrounding hills, 
 like sheep pressing warm sides together against a 
 blizzard. At the glimpse of the steel path of the 
 railroad, Barnes impulsively turned away. 
 
 " Shall we go back ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," she answered absent-mindedly. 
 
 So they retraced their steps over the same road, 
 which yet seemed to him a new road. On the return 
 he found himself reciprocating her confidence by 
 telling something of his own life. It seemed an un- 
 interesting enough tale and yet he found her listen- 
 ing with apparent eagerness. In fact before he 
 knew it she had led him a great deal further than 
 he had intended to go. He had proposed covering
 
 92 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 only the blunt facts of his life such as their present 
 relations gave her a right to know, but before he 
 realized it he had gone into a great many more in- 
 timate details. 
 
 It was not until they were within sight of the 
 house, that he awoke to what her eyes had enticed 
 from him. Then he drew himself up short, a bit 
 startled by the phenomenon. He was usually reti- 
 cent about himself. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he apologized, " I must 
 have bored you." 
 
 " You have n't," she answered frankly. 
 
 " At any rate," he said, " I had no idea of going 
 into those matters," 
 
 She smiled again and this time he saw that her 
 mouth was after all not a child's mouth. 
 
 Aunt Philomela met them at the door, as though 
 she had been some time waiting for them. She fixed 
 her eyes upon the girl as though to discover at a 
 glance what this morning contained. Then she 
 turned to Barnes, raising her scant eyebrows a 
 trifle. 
 
 " You gave your bag to the marketman to bring 
 back?" she asked blandly. 
 
 Bag? Bag, to be sure. It was a blow straight 
 from the shoulder. It was another case of where he 
 had not carried out his original intentions.
 
 THE CALL OF THE ROAD 93 
 
 "I have decided," stammered Barnes, "that if 
 
 you will be so good, you may send John for it." 
 " And the other things you mentioned ? " 
 " I 've been able to attend to myself." 
 The girl was trying to edge by into the house. 
 
 Aunt Philomela stopped her. 
 
 " Carl is waiting in the sitting-room for you," 
 
 she announced. " He is anxious to meet your 
 
 brother."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AN ESTIMABLE YOUNG MAN 
 
 Barnes found himself shaking hands with a pleas- 
 ant looking young fellow of twenty-two or three who 
 had a thin, earnest face and curly brown hair. 
 
 " This is a surprise," exclaimed Langdon, " I 
 did n't know Miss Van Patten had a brother." 
 
 " I did come as a bit of surprise," admitted 
 Barnes, " but so did you for that matter." 
 
 "If* 
 
 Miss Van Patten was taking as long a time as 
 possible to remove her hat. Her cheeks were de- 
 cidedly scarlet. But she did not run as Barnes half 
 expected her to do. She returned and dropped into 
 a chair before the two men. 
 
 " This is as good as a story-book, Miss Van Pat- 
 ten," exclaimed Langdon. 
 
 " It 's better than a story-book," she laughed. 
 
 " When I received your note last night I thought 
 you must be ill or something. Miss Schuyler said 
 this morning that you had gone to walk." 
 
 " Yes," she murmured uneasily. 
 
 " We went after my baggage," explained Barnes.
 
 AN ESTIMABLE YOUNG MAN 95 
 
 " So Miss Schuyler said. She tells me you Ve 
 had lots of interesting experience in Alaska. I 
 tried to get her to repeat some of your adventures 
 but she told me I 'd have to wait until I saw you." 
 
 " So ? " grinned Barnes, " but she knows almost 
 as much about them now, as I do myself." 
 
 " Nothing like getting them first hand," said 
 Langdon. 
 
 He turned to Miss Van Patten. 
 
 " I was afraid we 'd have to give up our duets if 
 you had a guest. But we can go on with' them now 
 may n't we 2 Unless Mr. Van Patten needs 
 quiet." 
 
 "Oh, he 's much improved," the girl assured him. 
 
 Langdon entered into a rhapsody over some new 
 music which had just been sent him from New York. 
 Manifestly Barnes was not needed here. He made 
 his apologies. 
 
 " But I say," exclaimed Langdon as Barnes was 
 leaving, " I want to hear something about that 
 country." 
 
 " Whenever you wish," answered Barnes. 
 
 He retreated to the library and finding paper 
 there sat down to write home. He headed his letter 
 " Schuyler headquarters." 
 
 " Dear Mother," he began, " I saw your eyes yes- 
 terday in the straggling mist of some cotton-blossom
 
 96 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 clouds and they brought you very near to me. This 
 is a wonderful country. I know that enough of you 
 has survived the apartment houses and the Acme to 
 allow you to enjoy it if you were here. The haw- 
 thorn in your blood would respond to the glad sun- 
 shine and the unsmirched sky. And the quiet too 
 is such as you would like. You remember the walks 
 we used to take in the Park on clear mornings 
 when it seemed like a fairy island ? It is like that 
 here. I want to thank you right now for the times 
 you took me to the Zoo. I did n't think then that 
 the information I picked up would prove so valu- 
 able. I don't know what I should have done here 
 without my knowledge of polar bears. One of the 
 great delights of Art is that sooner or later every 
 tittle of information one picks up is used. Art 
 wastes nothing except time. 
 
 " My exercise has kept me in the best of condition. 
 This morning I made only four miles but before that 
 I have consistently covered fifteen. I think I shall 
 linger a little here. I 've found material for a big 
 picture. The subject is different from anything 
 you 've ever seen of mine. I think even father 
 might appreciate this. I 've about decided to at- 
 tempt it in oils ; a sort of study in black and gold 
 and damson preserves." He scratched out damson 
 preserves and substituted crimson. " I 'm uncer-
 
 AN ESTIMABLE YOUNG MAN 97 
 
 tain about the size of the canvas. Sometimes I 
 think it ought to be heroic, like the Santa Barbara 
 at Venice, and at other times I feel as though I can 
 convey the impression of its fineness only in a min- 
 iature. Then again I feel as though it ought to be 
 swept in with bold color strokes, and at other times 
 as though it ought to be just suggested in grays. 
 You see " 
 
 Someone came to the door. 
 
 "Pardon me," apologized Miss Van Patten, " I 
 did n't know you were here." 
 
 He rose instantly. 
 
 " Won't you come in for a moment ? " he pleaded. 
 " Has Mr. Langdon gone ? " 
 
 " He has returned for his music." 
 
 " Oh, I see." 
 
 " He plays very well." 
 
 " On the flute ? " 
 
 " The violin. He has studied abroad. He 's 
 here for the summer visiting Dr. Merri weather." 
 
 " And you you play ? " 
 
 " On the 'cello but only a very little. I 'm 
 afraid this this new complication is going to be 
 rather embarrassing. I don't like to tell Carl 
 untruths." 
 
 " You need n't. Leave that to me. Won't you 
 come in ? "
 
 98 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 She hesitated and then stepped in resolutely. She 
 settled comfortably into a big chair on the opposite 
 side of the library table. 
 
 " At first," she said, " I thought only of Daddy 
 and Aunt Philomela. But now that others are 
 brought in, it does n't seem quite right to them, does 
 it?" 
 
 "It seems inevitable and what is inevitable is 
 right" 
 
 She shook her head, 
 
 " I 'in afraid you 're mistaken. But at any rate 
 what is inevitable is inevitable. There seems noth- 
 ing to do now but make the best of it." 
 
 She appeared genuinely worried. He tried to 
 change the subject. 
 
 " I was writing home," he explained. 
 
 "Then," she declared, "I shouldn't disturb 
 you. When one is writing home one needs abso- 
 lute quiet." 
 
 He was still standing. She thought he had a very 
 soldier-like appearance. He really looked more 
 like a soldier than an artist as she had conceived 
 artists. Even his blond mustache had an aggres- 
 sive military air. It was trimmed so short and cut 
 so straight that it challenged the suggestion that it 
 was there merely for ornament. 
 
 He returned quickly to the first subject.
 
 AN ESTIMABLE YOUNG MAN 99 
 
 " I myself did not by chance have anything of 
 a musical education ? " he asked. 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Joe." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " No," she answered. " You refused to practice." 
 
 " It is just as well. Yet I remember the story of 
 a French prisoner who to save his life, learned to 
 play upon a trumpet in a single night." 
 
 " Luckily you won't need to do that but I think 
 you could." 
 
 " Luckily for Mr. Langdon. Otherwise we should 
 have a trio." 
 
 She had risen and was now nearing the door. 
 
 " Will you come in and listen to us ? " she asked. 
 
 He reflected a moment to keep her longer by the 
 door. 
 
 " No," he decided, " I think I '11 not, thank you." 
 
 " Carl seemed quite anxious to see more of you." 
 
 " I 'm afraid he will the best I can do." 
 
 " I must run up and see if father is awake," she 
 said and vanished. 
 
 With a sigh Barnes returned to his letter. 
 
 " I might paint her in an open doorway," he 
 wrote, " upon the point of leaving. She would be 
 half turned, posed in so light a fashion that the 
 onlooker would be half afraid she was about to van-
 
 100 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 ish from the canvas. She should appear startled as 
 though hearing the approach of " 
 
 He glanced up. Aunt Philomela stood in the 
 doorway. He rose again. She paused uncertainly. 
 
 " Won't you come in ? " he welcomed her bravely 
 though she looked suspiciously as though loaded 
 for bear. 
 
 " I thought Eleanor might be here," she observed, 
 as though she expected him to feel guilty. 
 
 "She left only a moment ago," he answered 
 frankly. 
 
 She appeared to be taking aim. 
 
 " I was writing home," he took her into his con- 
 fidence to ward off as long as possible whatever 
 might be coming. 
 
 " I thought artists had no homes." 
 
 " On the contrary they have more homes than any- 
 one else." 
 
 " I suppose that depends upon your definition of 
 a home," she suggested. 
 
 " Doubtless," he agreed. 
 
 " To my mind it is where one is brought up." 
 
 " Lord forbid," he gasped, thinking of the apart- 
 ment houses. 
 
 " And where one's own kith and kin are." 
 
 " Then if one got married " 
 
 " That is quite another matter," she snapped so
 
 AN ESTIMABLE YOUNG MAN 101 
 
 decisively as to forbid further argument along this 
 line. 
 
 But one must have a subject, thought Barnes, or 
 one could not tell what subject Chance might intro- 
 duce. Aunt Philomela had the self-conscious air of 
 one who has approached with a mission. 
 
 " I was writing home about a piece of work I 
 have in mind." 
 
 " Work ? " she asked with some scorn. 
 
 " A picture," he explained amiably, " there 's a 
 lot of work in one." 
 
 " I 'm afraid you '11 have little time for it here." 
 
 " On the contrary, the inspiration for it came from 
 here." 
 
 " I Ve seen inspiration for nothing but deceit. 
 I refused to tell him anything whatever about 
 Alaska." 
 
 " Mr. Langdon, you mean ? " 
 
 " Who else ? I was left here alone an hour with 
 him." 
 
 " It did make a bit of a complication, but it 's all 
 adjusted now. I suppose I '11 have to tell all over 
 again about three fingered Bill." 
 
 "This is disgraceful," she exploded, "I've a 
 good mind to confess the whole matter and have it 
 done with." 
 
 " But it would n't be done with even if you did
 
 102 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 that. Tt would be almost sure to reach Mr. Van 
 Patten's ears." 
 
 " It would be better if it did. It 's the first time 
 a Schuyler has not faced things squarely." 
 
 " Pardon me, but can't we just as well face the 
 present situation squarely? We are working to 
 save a father's mind isn't that a situation to 
 face squarely ? " 
 
 11 We 're forced into the position of deceiving him 
 and not only him but a most estimable young man." 
 
 " Ah, a most estimable young man! " 
 
 " I should die of shame if ever Carl discovered 
 our trickery." 
 
 " And your brother would die of grief if ever he 
 discovered it. But he won't." 
 
 He turned upon her a bit nettled. 
 
 " Aunt Philomela," he said, " now that we have 
 begun, we must play the game for all it's worth. 
 That is another thing the Schuylers have always 
 done, haven't they? You and I and the estimable 
 young man count for nothing in this. Do you think 
 I would play it for myself alone ? " 
 
 Aunt Philomela looked a bit chagrined. * 
 
 " No," she said, " I suppose I suppose we do 
 owe you a great debt." 
 
 " You owe me nothing. I 'm well repaid by my 
 inspirations and by a certain easing of my con-
 
 The soft grass had muffled his approach so that for a mo- 
 ment she was unaware that she was not alone. 
 
 See page 19
 
 AN ESTIMABLE YOUNG MAN 103 
 
 science in a little family affair of my own. But 
 even without those things I should still be repaid. 
 And even if I were not repaid at all, I 'd again 
 gladly undertake it. Only we must pull together, 
 Aunt Philomela, and we must stick it out to the 
 end." 
 
 " But," she trembled, " what is the end ? " 
 
 " God knows," he answered. 
 
 She was edging towards the door. 
 
 "I I spoke rather hastily," she half apolo- 
 gized. 
 
 " So did I." He smiled. " Often times we most 
 easily tell the truth that way." 
 
 She vanished. Barnes returned to his letter. 
 
 " So you see," he wrote, " I have my hands full. 
 I will write from time to time, but I 'm so uncer- 
 tain in my movements that I can give no address. 
 You may always know that I am busy and in good 
 spirits. 
 
 Your son, Dick." 
 
 The second letter was more easily accomplished. 
 
 "DEAR FATHER, I'm head over heels in work 
 
 and know that you are the same. I trust your work 
 
 is counting for as much as mine. Hoping this will 
 
 find you in your usual good health, I beg to remain, 
 
 Your prodigal son, 
 
 KlCHARD."
 
 104 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 As he scrawled the addresses, he heard the tuning 
 of instruments in the sitting-room. He hastily 
 sealed the envelopes and hurried out. The sun was 
 just setting. The old brick house looked very mel- 
 low. 
 
 He walked to the tin mail-box and dropped in his 
 letters.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A LULLABY 
 
 As it happened, it was this very night that Barnes 
 almost got a fair start upon his picture almost 
 found the inspiration to do it, as he expressed it, 
 in a sort of gasp. One can no more foretell in- 
 spiration than one can Opportunity. Both come 
 silently, unheralded, like angels and like angels stand 
 dimly but a moment at the elbow and then vanish. 
 
 Barnes was sitting with Mr. Van Patten in the 
 twilight. He had passed a pleasant and peaceful 
 hour with the old gentleman while the latter had 
 recalled a dozen little episodes of Joe's child- 
 hood. Barnes had nothing to do but remember. 
 Did Barnes remember that time he had been taken 
 down town and had his hair clipped ? Did Barnes 
 remember that time when they visited the circus 
 and saw the elephant which he had thought wrong 
 end to ? Did Barnes remember that glad day and 
 the other ? He remembered them every one with no 
 more effort than to review his own boyhood with his 
 own father. It struck him as curious how much 
 alike they were.
 
 106 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 So with smile and chuckle and warm pressure of 
 the hand, the father himself became a boy again and 
 rambled on over many a tale of his own youth which 
 in turn was again marvelously like that of Barnes' 
 own youth. The mellow light hallowed the old 
 man's white-bearded face; the homing birds twit- 
 tered sleepily without; the drowsy chirp of the 
 tree-toads and the warm chittering of the crickets 
 led him into a content like that of the valley of 
 shadows, though the sun still burned at the flam- 
 boyant horizon line. 
 
 From time to time the father napped only to 
 awake if Barnes stirred a muscle. Then he would 
 feel about until he found the boy's hand again and 
 settle back into a content born of utter trust. It 
 gave a sober turn to Barnes' thoughts. 
 
 It was at this point that Mr. Van Patten awoke 
 and called for Eleanor. 
 
 " Tell her I 'd like to have her play a little to me, 
 Joe." 
 
 Glad of the relief, still gladder of this opportun- 
 ity to bring her again upon the canvas, Barnes joy- 
 fully went below for her. The father had hit upon 
 just what was needed at this hour. Nothing but 
 music could harmonize the abrupt contrast of the 
 aggressive beauty outside and the somber spectacle 
 of this recumbent figure within. Never yet has there
 
 A LULLABY 107 
 
 been a sect so austere as to bar the sensuous strains 
 of music even when serenest in the confidence of 
 their prayers. Though they may modulate it to 
 a hymn, though they may deaden it to a dirge, 
 though they may refine it to a mere chant, still they 
 cling to some wordless cadence to wing their prayer- 
 ful words. Music was needed here though an almost 
 religious peace prevailed. 
 
 Barnes found the girl seated beside her aunt in the 
 sitting-room. If anyone could play to such an hour, 
 to such a mood, he thought as he entered the room, 
 it was she. She carried him back to some of the 
 big unexplained moments of his life. One Sunday 
 night in London he had come upon a group of Welsh- 
 men in Hyde Park who had gathered there to hold 
 in the big city's vastest cathedral the blue night 
 sky above the Marble Arch their homely services. 
 Stubborn, angular men-shadows they were, grouped 
 in close, with the burdened women-shadows hover- 
 ing upon the outskirts. Without accompaniment 
 of anything but their beating hearts, they lifted 
 their sturdy voices in rough chorus the gypsy 
 melodies going back to Druid times when so their 
 ancestors had stood half terrified by the unknown 
 power they invoked among the wiser trees. At 
 the sound of it, Barnes had felt himself a part of 
 all the centuries that had ever been and had risen to
 
 108 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 a dignity of emotion which he had never felt since 
 save at this moment he stood upon the threshold 
 here to summon her to make music for the man 
 above. 
 
 Wherein lay the connection ? He could not say, 
 save that it had something to do with her black hair ; 
 something with the vagueness of her outline in the 
 shadows; something with the solemnity of that 
 common human love which gropes for companion- 
 ship with that common higher love. Emotions, like 
 religions, gain something in power by remaining 
 part mystery. 
 
 " Your father," Barnes announced, " wishes you 
 to play for him." 
 
 She rose at once. 
 
 " Very well," she answered. 
 
 " And I may listen, too ? " he asked. 
 
 " If you wish," she replied without embarrass- 
 ment, " the things he likes are simple." 
 
 " The things I like are simple," he answered. 
 
 " Oh, dear," murmured Aunt Philomela, a note 
 of fear in her voice. " They say it 's a bad sign when 
 the sick call for music." 
 
 " I should say it was a good sign," said Barnes. 
 " It proves them to be at peace." 
 
 " But is n't that a bad sign ? " 
 
 " It depends upon your theory of life."
 
 A LULLABY 109 
 
 " It does n't seem normal, somehow," she an- 
 swered with a little sigh. 
 
 " Why, Aunty," exclaimed the girl, " what has 
 come over you ? You know Daddy often asks me 
 to play for him." 
 
 " But at this time of day ! It 's sort of creepy." 
 
 " You 've sat too long in the dark," the girl de- 
 clared, " I '11 have a candle brought unless you wish 
 to join us." 
 
 " Oh, dear no. I could n't stand it He always 
 insists upon the dark and it is quite too 
 funereal." 
 
 " You must n't get morhid, Aunty." 
 
 Miss Van Patten stooped and kissed the cameo 
 forehead and then rose and smoothed back the 
 silken gray hair a moment. 
 
 " It is n't that. It is " 
 
 Aunt Philomela did not finish. Whatever it was, 
 Barnes found himself feeling uncomfortable for a 
 moment. He knew that the old have certain senses 
 which mercifully are denied the young. 
 
 Miss Van Patten stepped into the next room and 
 returned with her 'cello. He reached to take it from 
 her but she smiled a refusal and bore it up the stairs 
 by her side as lightly as though it had no weight. 
 It was as though she would trust it in no other hands 
 but her own. This promised well.
 
 110 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Come over here near me, Joe," the father re- 
 quested as soon as they entered the room, " You 
 have n't heard her since she was a little girl. She 
 plays wonderfully." 
 
 So Barnes sat by the bedside while the daughter 
 took a position near the open window. It was now 
 quite dark. The twilight noises were hushed. One 
 could imagine oneself anywhere and Barnes chose 
 to go back to that still Spring night in Hyde Park 
 when he had looked up at the stars and heard, for 
 the first time, their music partly expressed. 
 
 There was no preliminary tuning to mar the first 
 perfect note she drew from the instrument. There 
 was scarcely a motion of the bow. It came deep- 
 chested as though summoned by the mere cares- 
 sing of the hand. She played first a serenade as 
 graceful and as full of color as the doves darting 
 about St. Marks; then a lighter Spanish air, and 
 then Rath's " Leonore,"" and then swung off into a 
 group of negro melodies which she herself had ar- 
 ranged. But neither to the older man nor to the 
 younger man did the theme itself much matter 
 it served only to wing their thoughts. The under- 
 lying baritone voice of the 'cello lent to Barnes' 
 imaginings eagle wings. He rode the winds with 
 a sure power that lifted him above the heads of the 
 huddled group of Welshmen above the greater
 
 A LULLABY 111 
 
 huddled group called London, even to that brighter 
 upper region where men and cities and nations count 
 in the prospect not so much as the unpeopled moun- 
 tains. There he beat the ether with his strong new- 
 fledged wings and soared into some vague halcyon 
 future. So he rose and fell and rose again among 
 the clouds with the gentle undulations of the 'cello 
 notes which swayed as rhythmically as heavy-leaved 
 tree limbs to a breeze. But never did he rise so 
 high that he was not conscious of the girl's figure 
 in the dark. Always she was there; always she 
 was the inspiration. He realized that it was from 
 some such height as this that he must paint her. 
 It seemed as though he could do it here now in 
 the dark. How would he do it ? He smiled at his 
 conceit. He would paint a canvas with such wizardry 
 that to all those whose hearts were not in tune with 
 it, it should appear to be only a rich purple back- 
 ground without figures. But to those who soared 
 in the upper ether it should, as they looked, take 
 form. First as their warm eyes rested upon it a 
 shadow should emerge and gently materialize into 
 the likeness of her. Then out of this her radiant 
 face should appear. Then her white arm holding 
 the bow, and then the scarcely perceptible outline 
 of the 'cello and finally her black hair with gold in 
 it. And if one were big enough of heart, one would
 
 112 THE PRODIGAL TIIO TEM 
 
 know that she was playing a barcarole and that an- 
 other was listening. 
 
 If only he had his paints if only he had his 
 paints ! One had only to hold one's breath and 
 
 As he straightened, the father stirred uneasily. 
 The girl had stopped and without speaking rested 
 her cheek against the strings. He had lost his mo- 
 ment. His hand was unsteady when the old man 
 found it. 
 
 " You are moved," murmured the father. " No 
 wonder." 
 
 " No," answered Barnes below his breath, " it 's 
 no wonder." 
 
 But now she took her bow again. She began a 
 Southern lullaby a lullaby with more of plain- 
 tive mother love in it than even the masters have 
 ever caught. This time she added her voice 
 just breathing the words so that it was scarcely 
 possible to tell whether it was she who was singing 
 or the untongued instrument itself. 
 
 "H'm H'm," she crooned, "H'm H'm. 
 
 When I was a little baby 
 I remember long ago 
 
 Daddy would sit all ebnin' 
 An' play de ole banjo 
 
 Mammy den would call me ( Honey ' 
 Take me upon her knee 
 
 An' foldin' me to her bosom 
 Would sing dis song to me."
 
 A LULLABY 113 
 
 As she began the chorus Barnes' own voice stole 
 in to join her, whereupon she improvised an alto 
 and left him to carry the air. 
 
 " Doan ye cry, ma honey 
 Doan ye weep no mo' 
 Mammy's gwine to hold her baby 
 All de udder black trash sleepin' on de flo' 
 Mammy only lubs her boy.'* 
 
 When they had finished and while the 'cello still 
 hummed on, she whispered, 
 
 " He 's asleep. That song always lulls him to 
 sleep." 
 
 She rose and beckoned him to follow. He turned 
 to the old man. He was breathing regularly. He 
 loosened his fingers and crept across the room, clos- 
 ing the door behind him. Miss Van Patten had 
 waited for him at the head of the stairs. 
 
 " I shall never forget this hour," he said. 
 
 " I played the things he enjoys." 
 
 " What did the songs themselves matter ? " he 
 burst out. 
 
 " You two must be much alike," she smiled. 
 
 " No. If he went where you took me, he would n't 
 be asleep." 
 
 She moved down the stairs. He checked her. 
 
 " I wish we could sit here a moment. It seems 
 wicked to go down into the light right off."
 
 114 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 She glanced up a bit startled. He could see her 
 eyes by the glow which came up from the sitting 
 room. 
 
 " We must go down right away," she an- 
 swered quickly. " Aunt Philomela is waiting for 
 us." 
 
 He dared not insist further. Before he reached 
 the bottom of the stairs he was sorry that he had 
 ventured that far. It was to the lady of his picture 
 he had spoken and she, this girl by his side, well she 
 was not the lady of his picture. 
 
 They found Aunt Philomela asleep by the candle. 
 Her hands were folded in her lap and her head was 
 bowed. 
 
 " You see," whispered Miss Van Patten. " The 
 music made her drowse too in spite of herself." 
 
 " What did you say ? " inquired Aunt Philomela 
 suddenly sitting up with the exaggerated look of 
 wide awakeness of one who endeavors thereby to 
 prove she has been wide awake all the time. 
 
 " I thought you were asleep," answered the girl, 
 stepping into the room. 
 
 " Asleep ? " she answered tartly, " with that thing 
 buzzing in one's ears." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," smiled Barnes. " The 
 'cello is the last thing in the world to inspire sleep 
 in the young."
 
 A LULLABY 115 
 
 " It makes the most melancholic of .sounds," she 
 
 " There I cannot agree with you," returned 
 Barnes. " It sings most optimistically to me." 
 
 "I prefer my music in the daytime," she affirmed. 
 
 " Perhaps your taste runs to duets," Barnes sug- 
 gested. 
 
 Miss Van Patten had placed her instrument in 
 the corner and was now returning. 
 
 " I think my niece plays very prettily with Carl," 
 agreed Aunt Philomela. 
 
 Barnes tried to reach the girl's eyes. He 
 could n't. He frowned. 
 
 " I heard them tuning up," he remarked. " They 
 seemed to do that very well." 
 
 Aunt Philomela arose with that decisiveness which 
 brooked no argument. It was disgracefully early 
 to retire and yet he knew she had that in mind. And 
 she would bear off the girl with her. 
 
 Which, with a curt good-night, she promptly did.
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 ON TBOUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 
 
 With what seemed to Barnes an inspired appetite, 
 Mr. Van Patten expressed a wish for brook trout. 
 
 " Eleanor knows the stream," he said. " And 
 perhaps you yourself would enjoy a little fishing." 
 
 " I 'd like nothing better," Barnes responded 
 heartily. " I '11 see if she will go this afternoon." 
 
 Accordingly he began a still hunt for her and sur- 
 prised her from ambush as she was passing through 
 the living room. 
 
 " Your father wishes us to go fishing," he in- 
 formed her bluntly lest she should disappear before 
 he had time to announce the glad news. 
 
 " Oh dear, I have so much to do," she exclaimed. 
 
 " Are the duets on again this morning ? " he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " No, it is n't that." 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 " Aunt Philomela is at her accounts. She be- 
 comes so confused when adding." 
 
 " I sympathize with her." 
 
 " In making up her column," she explained.
 
 TROUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 117 
 
 " Aunt insists upon putting down what each item is 
 for; then she tries to add the items as well as the 
 figures. Like adding parsnips and butter." 
 
 " They are very good when added in a frying- 
 pan," he averred. 
 
 " But you can't add them in a column. She only 
 does it towards the end." 
 
 " But your father's fish/' he reminded her. 
 
 " Perhaps you would go alone ? " 
 
 " I enjoy fishing," he answered with a sinking 
 heart, " but that would n't bring your father a fish. 
 I never have any luck. To-day we must be pot 
 hunters and work for results." 
 
 " Well, if Daddy wishes a trout he ought to have 
 one I suppose," she thought aloud. 
 
 " Undoubtedly," he declared. 
 
 " Then I '11 be ready in twenty minutes." 
 
 " May I dig the bait while you 're gone ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " The trout rise very well to flies," she informed 
 him. 
 
 For which he was glad. He was not prudishly 
 sensitive about such things but still he would not 
 enjoy watching her impale a worm. It was a wrig- 
 gling function that he himself did not particularly 
 relish, less from humanitarian than aesthetic scru-
 
 118 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 She returned dressed in a short khaki skirt of 
 hunting green, a wide-brimmed boy's straw hat and 
 with a wicker fish-basket slung over her shoulder. 
 Her feet were encased in high oiled boots. She 
 stepped to the closet and brought out two rod cases, 
 a book of flies, and two reels. 
 
 " Have you any choice of weight ? " she asked 
 holding out both rods. 
 
 " You 'd better give me the heavier one," he sug- 
 gested off hand. 
 
 The most of his fishing had been done from a 
 flat boat with a bamboo pole. Still he did not intend 
 to admit to her such unsportsmanlike conduct. He 
 knew nothing of fly fishing but he was determined 
 to observe her closely and follow her example in 
 every detail. When in college he had gone South 
 with some friends for a week of bird shooting and 
 had acquitted himself creditably by this method, 
 though he had never before held a gun. In the 
 same way, by his quickness and determination, he 
 had ridden fifteen miles the first time he was ever 
 upon a horse. 
 
 They left the house without seeing Aunt Philo- 
 mela, though as he went down the path Barnes felt 
 her eyes burning into his back. They crossed the 
 road and pushed through the fields to the meadow- 
 brook. They followed the banks for the matter of
 
 TROUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 119 
 
 half a mile before she finally stopped to put to- 
 gether the poles. 
 
 She glanced at the sky, at the water, and then 
 ran her pink finger tips over the gorgeous medley of 
 brightly-feathered flies. She selected one for her- 
 self and handed the book to him. 
 
 " I 'm trying a Silver Moth," she announced. 
 
 It took him longer to decide because there were 
 no more Silver Moths, but he finally drew out a 
 gay scarlet fly with a body of mottled brown. Its 
 coloring was as daintily bright as that of a butter- 
 fly. He went upon the simple theory that if he were 
 a trout it would be with some such fastidious temp- 
 tation that he himself would coquet. He adjusted 
 it slowly with one eye upon her. 
 
 She poised herself upon the edge of the bank with 
 her figure erect, alert, every fine line pulsating with 
 life. With a full, free arm movement she swung 
 the lithe pole back, then forward. X n e Silver Moth 
 circled her head, paused a moment ten yards be- 
 hind her, and then following the swishing line darted 
 straight out over the stream, swift as a homing bee 
 and kissed the water with scarcely a ripple. She 
 drew it back and this time sent it even farther. 
 Then once again, until the long line reached almost 
 to the opposite bank. 
 
 What a picture that would make! Diana with
 
 120 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 her hounds was not half the subject. What gentle 
 strength there was in every movement what 
 rhythm, and above the beautiful body, what a head. 
 The wonder of those features was that they lived 
 up to any part you wished to assume for them. A 
 short while ago they had consistently upheld the 
 traditions of Venice; still later they had blended 
 into dusk dreams ; now they expressed the elemental 
 beauty of the Indian. 
 
 As the Silver Moth rippled against the current, 
 she turned to see what he was about. She saw and 
 turned back again to the Silver Moth. 
 
 " What fly are you using ? " she inquired. 
 
 "A butterfly," he answered with an intake of 
 breath. 
 
 Then he roused himself and contrived to get the 
 bit of feather into the water, though he was glad 
 she did not observe the process. 
 
 He offered up a silent invocation: 
 
 " Oh, trout, king of all your fellows come to my 
 hook and I will hallow your death with prayers of 
 thanksgiving. Set me well before her eyes and 
 I vow never to disturb your finny kingdom again." 
 
 Had he only anticipated such an emergency as 
 this he would have given over the hours he had 
 wasted so idly in dreams all these years, to the per- 
 fecting himself in the art of casting a fly. There
 
 TROUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 121 
 
 were those days in London; he saw now that he 
 could have used the Thames to much better advan- 
 tage than in merely gazing at its dull fogs; there 
 was the Seine, and he had stood lazily upon its 
 banks for Hours content in watching the little barges 
 puff up and down. 
 
 He felt a ferocious tug at his line. Before he 
 recovered from his surprise a speckled red body 
 flung itself from the water and, striking it again in 
 a churning splash, cut an arrow-like course down 
 stream. He felt as though the line were knotted 
 about his heart. He knew well enough that now the 
 thing to do was to keep the line taut. 
 
 " At any cost," he muttered grimly. 
 
 " You Ve hooked him ! " he heard her voice. 
 
 That was not quite accurate; the trout had 
 hooked himself. But if there was any grace in 
 the strong will of a man he would keep him 
 hooked. 
 
 She withdrew her line to give him plenty of 
 room and to watch him. There are few things 
 a man cannot do if the right woman is watching him. 
 He fought the big trout back and forth, anticipa- 
 ting by instinct every sudden turn, every inshore 
 dart, every upstream flash. The line did not slacken 
 a quarter of an inch. Foot by foot he forced 
 the speckled beauty towards the bank. He was not
 
 122 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 even deceived when for a second the fish lay passive 
 a second and then darted towards the shelter of a 
 group of bowlders. He checked him within the 
 very shadow of this hiding-place. Then inch by 
 inch he reeled again, dragging him in relentlessly 
 towards his hand. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed. " We should have brought 
 the landing-net. But we don't often have use for 
 it in these waters." 
 
 He drew the line still closer towards his itching 
 fingers. He grasped it. He gave it a tug and in 
 another second had tossed upon the grass the largest 
 trout ever taken from Schuyler brook. 
 
 She clapped her hands in applause. 
 
 " He 's a beauty," she cried enthusiastically. 
 
 " Pretty fair," he confessed modestly. 
 
 " And you handled him so well ! " she praised. 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " And to think you captured him with a Scarlet 
 Beauty. I have never been able to get a rise with 
 that fly." 
 
 " On a bright day," he replied sagely, " and in 
 slow waters, they seem to work very well." 
 
 " Your judgment was sound," she admitted. 
 
 " It was the judgment of the gods." 
 
 " Then the gods are certainly with you." 
 
 " They are," he confessed brazenly.
 
 TROUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 123 
 
 " I think I shall change my fly," she determined. 
 " What should you advise 2 " 
 
 He picked out for her a pretty tasseled thing 
 which contained a touch of crimson such as was on 
 his. 
 
 "I'd try this," he counseled. "And I shall 
 stand by and see how it works." 
 
 " But you 're going to fish too ? " 
 
 " No. I 've discharged my filial duties. Your 
 father has his trout." 
 
 " Then we must get one for Aunt Philomela." 
 
 " I must refrain. I 'm under certain obliga- 
 tions." 
 
 u Obligations ? " she questioned. 
 
 " To my prize. To the king," he answered wav- 
 ing his hand airily towards the gasping fish. 
 
 Acting upon this, he, to her wonder, packed up 
 his rod, placed his trout in the basket, and took a 
 comfortable seat a little to the right of her. 
 
 Truly the gods were with him. Had they not 
 listened to his invocation? Otherwise he must 
 have stood upon the bank and given over his whole 
 thought to the matter of casting a bit of feather 
 upon the waters. He could have studied the sky 
 only as it was reflected in the stream, and only as 
 much of her as he could catch from the corner of 
 his eye. And always there would have been the
 
 124 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 danger of an entangling alliance between his hook 
 and her gown with the consequent embarrassment of 
 showing ill before her. He must have been born 
 under Pisces. 
 
 Again and again she cast her line for Aunt 
 Philomela without success. But what Aunt Phil- 
 omela lost, he gained. He won a new memory of 
 her at every strong-limbed movement. He prayed 
 for failure. Surely, he thought, that estimable 
 lady would cheerfully surrender the mere item 
 of a delectable morsel or two for such pictures as 
 these. 
 
 But Miss Van Patten herself did not relish the 
 position as much as she might. She was conscious 
 of being watched and this, unless a girl be vain, is 
 not pleasant no matter how delicately the watching 
 is done. So she slowly reeled in her line. 
 
 " Surely, you don't mean to deprive Aunt Phil- 
 omela of her fish ? " he hastened to protest. 
 
 " I think she would rather have me finish her ac- 
 counts," she affirmed. 
 
 " If we tried a few moments longer " 
 
 " I have noticed," she declared, continuing to 
 reel in her line, " that when at the beginning you 
 land a big fish, the little fishes cease to bite." 
 
 He felt guilty, as though he had been the means 
 of depriving her of her sport. As she left the bank
 
 TROUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 125 
 
 he took her pole and dismembered it for her, pro- 
 longing the task as long as possible. He wished 
 now that he had not caught his fish so soon. The 
 ideal way to fish with her, he thought, would be to 
 have a trout concealed in one's pocket and so with 
 no responsibility dabble with the fly until the op- 
 portune moment for going home arrived and then 
 deftly hook the fish upon the line and produce it. 
 The pity of life was that no sooner had one prettily 
 solved some problem by experience than the oppor- 
 tunity for using it was gone. It might well be that 
 Mr. Van Patten would never have again so con- 
 venient a taste for trout 
 
 Barnes was in hope that perhaps she might seat 
 herself, if he were long enough about this business of 
 packing up the rods, but she did n't. She watched 
 him with interest but with no other thought in mind 
 than returning to the house as soon as he was ready. 
 So with a little sigh, he finally tied the cloth 
 case at the top in a knot that no human being could 
 ever separate without the use of a knife. 
 
 " I never can untie that," she protested. 
 
 " All you have to do," he assured her with honest 
 conviction, " is to pull the loop string." 
 
 " Don't you know how to make a real bow-knot ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 "Isn't that a bow-knot?" '
 
 126 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " A bow-knot has two loops and comes untied," 
 she informed him. 
 
 " I thought the object of a knot was to remain 
 tied. Mine have at least that advantage." 
 
 " But you want them to untie sometime." 
 
 " You cut mine when you wish to undo them," 
 he explained. 
 
 " That is both wasteful and untidy. I will show 
 you." 
 
 Here was a lesson worth learning. He handed her 
 the rod. She pulled gingerly at the string but only 
 succeeded in fixing the knot more firmly than ever. 
 She removed a pin from her hat and began to pick. 
 It was a long process but it gave him time to ad- 
 mire the nimbleness of her fingers. The knot be- 
 came loosened only too soon. 
 
 " There," she exclaimed. " !N"ow you take it so 
 and you do like this." 
 
 It was tied in the snap of a finger. 
 
 " Then, when you pull one end of either string, 
 it becomes unfastened." 
 
 She demonstrated. He took the rod and tried 
 the same process clumsily. She came nearer and 
 guided his fingers. He caught the perfume of her 
 hair. It was like dying clover. He felt the elec- 
 tric thrill of her fingers. It only made him the 
 clumsier.
 
 TROUT FISHING AND BOW-KNOTS 127 
 
 She gave up in despair. 
 
 " You will never learn," she declared. 
 
 " I can always try." 
 
 " You must practice by yourself." 
 
 " I have done so for years." 
 
 " Then," she said, " you must never tie any but 
 your own things." 
 
 " Then," he reflected, " anything that I wish to 
 tie hard, I must first own." 
 
 But he did n't own the rod, so she tied that her- 
 self. As they rose to go Carl approached. 
 
 "Hello," he called, "fishing?" 
 
 " No," answered Barnes, " hunting."
 
 CHAPTEE XI 
 
 ON ADVENTUEING 
 
 Carl was asked to supper and Mr. Van Patten 
 insisted that the prize should be cooked for the 
 guest. The king trout was avenged for his fate. 
 Yet there could be no denying that he made a 
 pretty dish. Through the crackling skin, thin as 
 gold-leaf, the scarlet speckles still showed, so that, 
 garnished with parsley as he was, he looked as 
 content upon the platter as though he were still 
 nosing through water-cress in his native element 
 
 Carl was placed opposite Miss Van Patten, and 
 Barnes was thus left to face Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " I trust your accounts balanced," he ventured 
 to inquire of her. 
 
 " Within a peck of potatoes," answered Aunt 
 Philomela indifferently. 
 
 " That I should say was doing very well." 
 
 " For an artist, perhaps." 
 
 " Accounts are an awful bother," Carl chipped in. 
 
 " We waste so much time," said Barnes. " We 
 waste so much time in details. W T hen all is said 
 and done what is a peck of potatoes ? "
 
 ON ADVENTURING 129 
 
 "'Never cared for potatoes," vouchsafed CarL 
 
 " Where would our accounts be if we permitted 
 such slipshod methods as yours ? " Aunt Philomela 
 challenged Barnes. 
 
 " Lord, they 'd be always as they are," he re- 
 plied lightly. " I 've noticed that if you '11 allow 
 it, your creditors do all the figuring for you." 
 
 " For themselves rather," snapped Aunt Philo- 
 mela. 
 
 " It conies to the same in the end," he opined. 
 
 " Even so, it 's just as well to retard the process." 
 
 " The sooner they get it, the less they trouble 
 you." 
 
 " Then where would you be ? " she demanded. 
 
 " You 'd be in the hole," nodded Carl. 
 
 " Lord, you 'd be just where you were to start 
 with," Barnes affirmed grandly. " Creditors can't 
 disturb you. They can only get your money." 
 
 " That may be all very well for an artist," Aunt 
 Philomela answered darkly, as though at best 
 artists were but jail-birds. 
 
 Carl was devouring his portion of the trout with 
 evident relish. 
 
 " You 're a great fisherman, Joe," he compli- 
 mented. 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Barnes turned back to Aunt Philomela.
 
 130 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Artists are human," he declared, " perhaps 
 a little more human than other humans." 
 
 Miss Van Patten put in a word. 
 
 " I don't see why artists are always placed in a 
 class by themselves." 
 
 "Quite right," agreed Barnes. "The distinc- 
 tion is a purely arbitrary one. If there is any 
 class, it belongs to the others to the green-grocer 
 and his peck of potatoes." 
 
 " You 're an artist then ? " inquired Carl in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 Barnes himself was a bit surprised. 
 
 " All honest men are artists," he replied vaguely. 
 
 " And all honest men keep their accounts," stuck 
 in Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " If they have any to keep. I doubt if strictly 
 honest men have any." 
 
 " Are you a Socialist ? " inquired Carl. 
 
 " No. I keep an account with myself. If I 
 don't use figures, why I lie awake longer at night." 
 
 " And don't care whether you come out right or 
 not," snapped Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " Your true artist cares more than anyone else 
 in the world how he comes out," he answered 
 soberly. 
 
 "But the potatoes " 
 
 " The potatoes. When all is said and done what
 
 ON ADVENTURING 131 
 
 is a peck of potatoes? I am like Mr. Langdon, I 
 don't care for them." 
 
 " But you are n't like me about trout. You don't 
 seem to care for trout." 
 
 " I enjoy catching them at least. Perhaps I 'm 
 like my sister in that." 
 
 He turned to Miss Van Patten. 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I've been hopelessly 
 beaten in my own waters." 
 
 " I suppose you had plenty of sport in Alaska," 
 broke in Carl. 
 
 " In Alaska ? " answered Barnes absent mind- 
 edly. 
 
 " With four fingered William," Aunt Philomela 
 hastily reminded him. 
 
 " Oh, yes. Of course." 
 
 " Polar bear and such things ? " persisted 
 Carl. 
 
 " Exactly. Polar bear and such things." 
 
 There svas a long pause. Barnes stubbornly 
 refused to expound. Miss Van Patten came to the 
 rescue. She asked Carl about the new song he was 
 composing. That answered through the dessert, 
 but with the cheese and coffee Carl turned once 
 more upon Barnes. 
 
 " I suppose you had a rough time of it where you 
 came from. Nothing like this, was it ? "
 
 132 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Where I came from no." 
 
 " Snow everywhere I suppose. Nothing green ? " 
 
 " From the house where I lived, you could n't see 
 a sprig of green," Barnes answered truthfully. 
 
 " Jove, it must be a desolate country." 
 
 " Ghastly." 
 
 " And everyone grubbing for gold, eh ? " 
 
 " Every mother's son doing nothing else. Night 
 and day ; day and night. It 's all they think of 
 where I came from." 
 
 " Must be depressing." 
 
 "It 's killing." 
 
 Aunt Philomela was following every word breath- 
 lessly. The girl, too, held herself ready to rush into 
 the breach should there be need. 
 
 "You didn't like it then?" asked Carl. 
 
 "No. That's why I left." 
 
 " I suppose a lot of men don't get much out of it 
 even after putting up with all the hardships." 
 
 " Nothing. I know a man who has cleaned up 
 two million dollars without getting anything out of 
 it." 
 
 " Jove. A friend of yours ? " 
 
 " A sort of friend," answered Barnes. 
 
 He referred to his father. What had he got 
 out of it ? He was tied hand and foot in a ginger- 
 bread apartment house. His two million had
 
 ON ADVENTURING 133 
 
 never given him an hour like that by the trout- 
 brook. 
 
 " I suppose," suggested Carl, " it 's the spell that 
 makes them stand it a sort of mountain Lorelei." 
 
 Barnes started. 
 
 " That would n't make a bad theme for an 
 opera," mused Carl. 
 
 Barnes turned to him with renewed interest. 
 
 " Have you ever done anything in that line ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 A new light came into Langdon's face at the 
 question. 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 "You hope to?" 
 
 Langdon flushed boyishly. 
 
 " This summer has made me hope," he answered 
 quietly. 
 
 Aunt Philomela rose. Out of a full heart Barnes 
 silently thanked her. 
 
 " I suppose you two will practice to-night ? " she 
 asked her niece. 
 
 Barnes waited for the answer. Miss Van Patten 
 turned to Carl. 
 
 " I'd like to," he answered, " but I promised Dr. 
 Merri weather to play to him after supper." 
 
 Barnes no longer begrudged him the brook-trout. 
 When shortly after Carl took his departure Barnes
 
 134 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 felt actually glad that he had been the humble 
 means of furnishing him so good a supper. 
 
 " Let 's go out and see the after-glow," he sug- 
 gested as standing on the door step with Miss Van 
 Patten, he saw Carl turn the corner, by the letter- 
 box. 
 
 She was upon the point of hesitating when he led 
 the way in so determined a manner that after 
 throwing a shawl about her shoulders, she followed. 
 He trampled a trail through the knee-deep grass to 
 the summit in the rear of the house. Below them 
 lay a sweep of undulating hills unbroken to the 
 horizon line. 
 
 At the edge of the world a mass of clouds imper- 
 sonated the Alps towering to an impressive 
 height above the purple hills. Their whiteness was 
 tinted with pink and one of them burned with a 
 ghostly fire. Above these, in flat strips, lay ribbons 
 of old-rose and greenish-yellow, while still higher 
 the sky was a golden haze. For a moment they 
 stared in silence at the gorgeous picture. Then he 
 declared, 
 
 " That looks like Alaska." 
 
 " It 's hard for me to realize that you have n't 
 really been in Alaska," she said. " You make it all 
 so vivid." 
 
 " I 'm willing to let my proxy attend to the ac-
 
 ON ADVENTURING 135 
 
 tuality," he answered, " but I thank him for trans- 
 ferring his dreams to me." 
 
 " I'm afraid Joe never dreamed very beautifully. 
 The dreams are all your own." 
 
 " He must have dreamed some," he mused, " or 
 he would n't have undertaken the journey." 
 
 " He dreamed of gold, perhaps." 
 
 " Well, a dream is always a dream. There 's 
 some good in a man who will go adventuring even 
 for gold." 
 
 " But the object of the quest makes some differ- 
 ence," she insisted. 
 
 " Undoubtedly. Though not as much as you 
 would think. It 's the way a man handles the 
 obstacles to his quest that counts." 
 
 " Then for that matter a man might go adven- 
 turing in his own house," she suggested. 
 
 " Or along a country road." 
 
 " Because," she explained, " there are obstacles 
 everywhere." 
 
 " It would be a dull world without them. Your 
 greatest adventurer after all is a child. De Soto 
 never ran the gauntlet of half the thrilling haz- 
 ards that confront an infant in his toddling course 
 from the nursery to the garden-gate. And if the 
 gate is a-swing and he is successful in reaching 
 the saffron road, he has before him an open
 
 136 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 field that might well make Pizarro pause and 
 gasp." 
 
 " You almost tempt one to start upon a quest," 
 she laughed. 
 
 " You 've probably already started," he affirmed. 
 " Everyone starts as soon as he finds his feet." 
 
 " But the joy of it lies in the consciousness of it," 
 she suggested. 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 He was silent for a moment. Their eyes met at 
 a focus point in the fiery clouds at the edge of the 
 earth. 
 
 " Next to children, lovers are your true adven- 
 turers," he declared. 
 
 She offered no opinion upon this, but turned her 
 head a little to the right, away from him. The 
 sunset appeared in her cheeks. 
 
 "Your true lover," he went on, pursuing his 
 own fancy, " when footing the soft grass of a coun- 
 try lane is, in reality, blazing a trail through the 
 tangled everglades of Florida. He is in search 
 of the Fountain of Youth. He is on a voyage 
 of discovery as momentous as that of Colum- 
 bus for he, too, is after a new world. Your 
 lover, even at home, is ever challenging the 
 rugged heights of Alaska in search of hidden 
 gold."
 
 ON ADVENTURING 137 
 
 She kept her eyes fixed upon the burning West. 
 
 " And the dangers he faces ? " 
 
 " My soul, the dangers 1 " exclaimed Barnes. 
 " The dangers are innumerable and terrifying. If 
 he stumbles on so much as a phrase, he is plunged 
 into a chasm of despair a mile deep. On every 
 side he is confronted by icy glaciers of reserve that 
 half hide the stars in his firmament. If he swerve 
 one whit from the straight path, he is involved in 
 a tangle of misunderstandings. Hostile Indians 
 of the tribe Jaloux attack him at every point. If 
 he move too fast, he is torn to shreds by rebuking 
 thorns; if he go too slow, he perishes and no one 
 mourns. Fever and thirst and heart hunger are 
 his. In ambush lie shaggy bears of prejudices, 
 wild hyenas of relatives, and " 
 
 " Don't," she laughed uneasily, " you quite 
 frighten one." 
 
 " This falling in love is no small matter," he 
 avowed. 
 
 " You would not think then that so many men 
 would venture." 
 
 " You would not think that so many men would 
 go to sea in boats; you would not think that so 
 many men would go to wars; you would not think 
 that so many men would try to paint." 
 
 The sky was like a burnished gold floor; was
 
 138 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 like the yellow sand that lies below Indian waters. 
 The world looked marvelously serene to her. And 
 yet she felt as though the West were calling her. 
 It was as though a soft hand had suddenly been put 
 within hers and were tenderly drawing her towards 
 the sunset When she turned back to the house, 
 it was as though she were turning away from, some- 
 thing. The brick house looming before her in the 
 dusk gave less a promise of shelter than of restric- 
 tion. The walls which had always given her a 
 peaceful sense of security, now appeared more like 
 those of a retaining castle. It is an odd illusion 
 which can turn a fortress into a prison. It is 
 equaled only by that which turns a prison into a 
 fortress. 
 
 It is small wonder that it leaves a maiden 
 thoughtful. It is small wonder that so slight a 
 matter as the closing of an old Dutch door behind 
 her, is enough to bring her heart up into her throat.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 STEATEGY AND GEOGEAPHY 
 
 Barnes' position in the library was a strategic 
 one. It gave him an excuse for not venturing out 
 on so fair a morning, after his usual hour with Mr. 
 Van Patten; it saved him from the necessity of 
 lounging in the sitting room and so revealing too 
 obviously his object in remaining indoors; and it 
 afforded him a point of vantage to intercept Miss 
 Van Patten from time to time as she passed up 
 and down-stairs on her important housewifely mis- 
 sions. Incidentally it gave him time to muse and 
 still more incidentally to acquire a variety of sta- 
 tistics which he hoped to use this evening as defense 
 guns in the assault he anticipated from Dr. Merri- 
 weather on his none too impregnable position. For 
 Aunt Philomela had astounded them both by an- 
 nouncing that she had asked the doctor to dinner 
 that evening. So far, Barnes had been successful 
 in evading the man, for from all he had heard he 
 would find it no easy matter to hoodwink this big- 
 hearted country doctor. 
 
 He made his first sortie as Miss Van Patten
 
 140 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 passed the door on her way with orders to the cook. 
 She wore a small white apron as finely embroidered 
 as a muslin kerchief. In her hand she held a pad 
 and pencil. Any one could see with half a glance 
 that she had no time to waste. 
 
 " Oh, Eleanor," he exclaimed, rushing out. 
 
 At sound of her name she grew confused and 
 stopped as short as though an emergency brake had 
 been applied. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he stammered, not reali- 
 zing until then the impetuosity of his attack. " I 
 beg your pardon, but Alaska contains five hundred 
 and eighty-six thousand square miles." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 " I thought you ought to know." 
 
 " Perhaps I 'd better write it down." 
 
 She scribbled it on the top of her pad and later 
 amazed the cook by ordering five hundred and 
 eighty-six thousand pounds of roast. 
 
 " It 's a surprising fact, is n't it ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 It certainly had surprised her if that is what he 
 meant. 
 
 " I did n't know Alaska was so large," she ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 " Nor I. But it is. You can see it here on the 
 map." 
 
 He hurried back to the map and standing over
 
 STRATEGY AND GEOGRAPHY 141 
 
 it pointed melodramatically in such a way that one 
 could not help but examine unless one wished to 
 appear rude. 
 
 " It goes from here to here and here to here," he 
 explained as she came nearer. " It was bought from 
 Eussia for seven million, two hundred dollars. The 
 deal proved that the nation had become essentially 
 Yankee. I think some of my ancestors must have 
 been mixed up in it." 
 
 " Your father is a business man ? " 
 
 " The apotheosis of a business man. He reckons 
 his age in fiscal years. Business to his life is what 
 the cook-stove is to the kitchen ; it warms and feeds 
 him. Take it away and the world would contain 
 nothing but useless pots and kettles and a few raw 
 materials. The only concession he makes to Art is 
 to put a scroll upon the cook-stove door. It was 
 from that scroll that I received my own humble 
 inclination towards Art" 
 
 " I 'm afraid your father would think you wast- 
 ing your time here," she said anxiously. 
 
 " My father thinks I waste all my time," he as- 
 sured her. " But that is because he does n't know. 
 I rather think he would give me credit for doing a 
 little better than usual at present." 
 
 " I wish it were possible to return to him your 
 kindness to mv father."
 
 142 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 "Perhaps," he faltered, "the opportunity will 
 come." 
 
 " If it would," she cried eagerly. 
 
 " I '11 let you know if it does," he replied. 
 
 She raised her eyes to his. Then she lowered 
 them. For a fraction of a second she felt as she had 
 when the Dutch door closed upon her. 
 
 " I 'm beginning to marvel," he mused, " how 
 often the little incidents of life turn out to be the big 
 ones. Every decision we make is like drawing at 
 straws held in the hand of Fate. The ends are all 
 even and we can't tell until afterwards years 
 afterwards, perhaps whether we have drawn the 
 short straw or the long straw." 
 
 Without at all thinking what she was about, she 
 wrote upon her pad, " Long straw." 
 
 " And we draw," he concluded, " every minute 
 of our lives." 
 
 While her eyes were lowered upon the paper (she 
 was working a scroll about the sentence) he leaned 
 forward a little. Three days ago Fate had held out 
 to him two straws; one was the road to the next 
 village, the other was the road to this house. He 
 had drawn, he thought, the short one, but was it 
 so ? Was it so ? 
 
 " You make life seem such a breathless affair," 
 she was saying.
 
 STRATEGY AND GEOGRAPHY 143 
 
 " It is such a wonderful affair," he answered. 
 
 " It had always seemed to me here rather hum- 
 drum." 
 
 " And now ? " 
 
 "The sunsets," she faltered, "the sunsets are 
 such nesting-places of fancies." 
 
 " So is everywhere; so is this old library." 
 
 " But the kitchen," she put in quickly, " is a 
 place of stern realities. I must go at once." 
 
 No one could leave more abruptly when her 
 mind was upon it. Before he had gathered his wits 
 together she had gone. 
 
 " It is," he determined with a sigh, " the curse 
 of the cook-stove. The Acme has worked its spell 
 again." 
 
 With the map before him, he settled himself to 
 explore more in detail this new country which lay 
 immediately before him. In this the map itself 
 did not help him except to afford a convenient 
 resting-place for his elbows. 
 
 It was clear to him now that he had inadvertently 
 stumbled upon the center of the universe. It was 
 rather odd that geographers had neglected to point 
 out so significant a feature. To the north lay the 
 North, to the south lay the South, to the east the 
 East, to the west the West. Start in any direction, 
 continue in a straight line, and one would come
 
 144 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 back here. It was a demonstrable fact. He had 
 no doubt that even if one pursued a circuitous and 
 zigzag path, the result would be the same. One 
 could no more escape it than can the compass the 
 magnetic north. Had he himself not reached this 
 point over that devious winding course which started 
 at his cradle ? 
 
 He heard her footsteps and charged his guns with 
 another fact. 
 
 " Do you know," he announced as she approached 
 the library door on her way back upstairs, " do you 
 know that Alaska is approximately as large as all 
 the United States east of the Mississippi river, if 
 we subtract the areas of Alabama, Florida, Georgia, 
 Mississippi, North Carolina, and West Virginia ? " 
 
 " Really ? " she observed again. 
 
 " I suppose," he reflected, " that if you sub- 
 tracted some more, it would then be twice as large as 
 something else." 
 
 " I suppose they wish to make it look as large as 
 they can," she remarked. 
 
 " You can see it on the map," he urged. 
 
 He crossed the room to the atlas and she had 
 nothing to do again but follow. 
 
 " All that pink space," he announced as grandly 
 as though he owned it. 
 
 " How interesting," she murmured.
 
 STRATEGY AND GEOGRAPHY 145 
 
 " There are a great many facts in a geography," 
 he declared, " which are n't generally known." 
 
 " There are certainly a great many facts about 
 Alaska which even geographers don't know," she 
 laughed. 
 
 "Also about this place. Geographers are very 
 ignorant." 
 
 "You didn't expect to find Chester on the 
 map." 
 
 " But I did find it," he avowed. 
 
 "You did? May I see it?" 
 
 " Certainly. Take my place here." 
 
 She seated herself in his chair and leaned forward 
 expectantly. 
 
 " Now," he instructed, " rest your elbows on the 
 atlas and close your eyes." 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed in confusion at having 
 fallen into his trap. 
 
 " One understands geography a great deal better 
 with you in the room," he confessed. 
 
 " But I should n't be in the room," she cried. 
 " I was on my way to Aunt." 
 
 She rose at once, but this time he covered her 
 retreat. 
 
 " Have you written down what I just told you ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I don't think I shall write down any more," she
 
 146 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 answered, remembering the mistake she had made 
 to the cook. 
 
 She was almost as tall as he and yet he could 
 not see her eyes. 
 
 " Aunt is waiting for me," she explained. 
 
 " That is a safe statement to make at any time, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 " But this is very important ; I am to see about 
 the dusting." 
 
 " I don't believe you can find any dust in the house." 
 
 " But it is necessary to dust just the same." 
 
 " Just as one prays when there is n't anything 
 to pray about," he suggested. 
 
 " Or talks when there is n't anything to talk 
 about," she answered. 
 
 Whereupon he promptly stood aside and allowed 
 her to pass. 
 
 At the door she turned. 
 
 "I didn't mean that," she apologized. "I'd 
 stay if " 
 
 He moved towards her. She ran upstairs. 
 
 It seemed an eternity before she appeared again. 
 He hurried to the door. 
 
 " Alaska has a population of thirty-five thousand 
 white people," he announced. " There are a lot 
 of us up there." 
 
 She was armed with a feather duster.
 
 STRATEGY AND GEOGRAPHY 147 
 
 " I am to do the library," she made the much 
 more significant announcement. " The servants are 
 aU busy." 
 
 " There is nothing like giving the servants a 
 great deal of work," he declared enthusiastically. 
 
 " While I 'm doing this," she remarked, " you 
 may instruct me about Alaska." 
 
 She moved at once upon the book-case. Her 
 arms were guarded by sleeve-protectors of a pink 
 and white apple-blossom design. 
 
 " You mustn't think," he made a beginning, " that 
 gold is the only interest there. In the fiscal year of 
 1908 the merchandise shipments alone amounted to 
 roughly twenty-six million, eight hundred and sev- 
 enty-five thousand, three hundred and seventy-three 
 dollars." 
 
 " What is a fiscal year ? " she inquired. 
 
 " The sorriest of all years ; the twelve month 
 space between dollar marks. I don't remember that 
 I ever had one." 
 
 " I think Aunt Philomela must have them. I 
 forgot to tell you that her accounts came out right, 
 in the end." 
 
 " I had no doubt they would," he said. 
 
 He watched her a moment. 
 
 " I wonder just what the economic value of stir- 
 ring up dust is," he mused.
 
 148 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 She turned upon him. 
 
 " You don't want your library to look as though 
 you never used it, do you ? " 
 
 " One might use a library," he suggested, " with- 
 out ever disturbing the books." 
 
 "It is a convenient place to practice in," she 
 admitted. 
 
 " Oh. Are you to practice your duets to-day ? " 
 
 " I wrote Carl that I should be too busy. And he 
 wished to play me his new song." 
 
 " At first I should have said it was impossible for 
 him to write a song, but now I think I bee how 
 he does it." 
 
 " He has a great deal of talent" 
 
 " I liked the way his eyes lighted up at thought 
 of a possible opera," he admitted frankly. 
 
 " He says he can't think of you as a business 
 man," she laughed. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because," she faltered, "he saya you in- 
 spire him." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " But say that *s odd. I wonder how I in- 
 spire him ? " 
 
 " He says you make him see the tragedy of those 
 men up North. He says " she hesitated.
 
 STRATEGY AND GEOGRAPHY 149 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " He said he thought you must have had some big 
 tragedy in your own life." 
 
 " Of what nature ? " he inquired with interest. 
 
 " Some big disappointment." 
 
 She appeared confused. 
 
 " Of what nature ? " he persisted. 
 
 " Oh, I should n't have told you. I don't sup- 
 pose I ought." 
 
 He looked thoughtful. 
 
 " Some disappointment in love ? " he questioned. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 He drew a deep breath. 
 
 " Well," he said, " he 's wrong." 
 
 " Yes ? " she asked indifferently. 
 
 " Absolutely. It may be in store for me, but it 
 has n't come yet." 
 
 " We can't any of us tell what is in store for us," 
 she said quickly. 
 
 " No. It might be in store for him, too, might n't 
 it?" 
 
 "For Carl?" 
 
 "I hope not," he said soberly. "I think that 
 must be the biggest possible tragedy in anyone's 
 life." 
 
 " So it is n't very safe to go adventuring, is it ? " 
 she suggested.
 
 150 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Safe ? No. But it is n't much of a man who 
 won't for all that" 
 
 " I have finished my dusting," she announced, 
 suddenly moving towards the door. 
 
 " No," he protested. " You ought n't to neglect 
 those books in the corner." 
 
 " You said they did n't matter." 
 
 " I have changed my mind." 
 
 " Anyhow I can't waste any more time." 
 
 " Waste ? Waste 2 " he exclaimed. 
 
 But she had gone.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A SURPRISE 
 
 Promptly at seven the candles were lighted upon 
 the dinner-table where they burned in sacrificial 
 splendor in the midst of an offering fit for Ceres. 
 At seven one, Aunt Philomela swept in gowned in 
 purple silk, resplendent in the family jewels; at 
 seven five Miss Van Patten appeared and put the 
 family jewels to shame. She was in something as 
 light as mist It fell from her neck and hung like 
 spray about her ankles. At seven ten the doctor's 
 gig drove up and a hearty " Whoa " announced the 
 doctor himself like a bugle blast At seven fifteen, 
 the preliminary embarrassment of the introduction 
 was over and Barnes* back smarting under the 
 gruff greeting. At seven twenty the doctor re- 
 turned from a brief visit upstairs and John pro- 
 duced himself in the majesty of full regalia. 
 
 It was not until the soup was served that Barnes 
 found himself in a position to size up the genial 
 enemy. Among other reasons he was too elated over 
 the necessity that had forced Aunt Philomela to 
 seat him opposite her niece. Barnes saw a heavy
 
 152 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 man of sixty with a round tanned face, and hands 
 of remarkable beauty. They were tender hands 
 backed by arms that might have been those of a 
 Flemish warrior. In a dozen ways the bluff doctor 
 made him think of those who fought in Flan- 
 ders and secured immortality, not so much by their 
 deeds, strangely enough, as by the canvases of those 
 who depicted them. The burly physician might 
 have been the result of some subtle blending of the 
 poet artist and his warrior model ; of the brush and 
 the sword. Give him a rolling hat with a feather 
 in it, and he could take his place beside Porthos; 
 put a brush in his hand and he would have passed 
 for Rembrandt. At the sick bed of children the 
 women gave over, unquestioning, the joy of their 
 travail to those hands recognizing them as even 
 more tender than their own. 
 
 It took but a glance to see what he must mean to 
 the country-side. No ice-laden wind which ever 
 blew would be strong enough to stand between him 
 and a cry of pain or the moan of a fevered soul. It 
 was enough if he himself came ; it did not so much 
 matter whether he brought his vials or no. 
 
 Barnes found the situation more disconcerting 
 than he had anticipated. His self-confidence de- 
 serted him. He had no heart to play upon this 
 "big man's credulity. Rather would he take him
 
 A SURPRISE 153 
 
 into his confidence; rather would he speak fairly 
 to those blue eyes resting in their nest of wrinkles. 
 Here was a man used to seeing the unshrouded 
 souls of his fellows. He was doctor, priest, and 
 lawyer, and when these three get together in one 
 man there is a great dropping off of cloaking rags. 
 Such a man must see terrible things; at times 
 beautiful things. 
 
 " Boy," exclaimed the doctor, " you 've done 
 more for your father in three days than I Ve been 
 able to do in three months. You ought to have 
 come a year ago." 
 
 " If I 'd known what I now know I would have 
 come," answered Barnes. 
 
 Aunt Philomela glanced up sharply. But she 
 was not in her usual spirit. Her heart was in her 
 mouth. 
 
 " When a man gets old he clings to his own," 
 declared the doctor. " It is as natural as for 
 youth to reach for the new." 
 
 " At any age," opined Aunt Philomela, " there 
 is nothing like one's own flesh and blood." 
 
 " Not so," objected the doctor, " if my son 
 did n't stand by his sweetheart against me I 'd 
 disown him." 
 
 Barnes felt his heart wanning towards this 
 man at once.
 
 154 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " There 's Carl," pursued the doctor with a wink 
 at Eleanor, " he 's reaching out reaching out." 
 
 Barnes turned to his soup. 
 
 " That is different," answered Aunt Philomela. 
 
 The doctor swallowed his soup red hot 
 
 " Boy," he broke out, " you have heen where I 
 would go if I were thirty years younger. I 've 
 too many children here to look after or I might 
 go now. Tell me about the place." 
 
 Barnes glanced up. John had stepped into the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " You refer to Alaska ? " he asked quietly. 
 
 "Alaska," answered the doctor. 
 
 " I have never been there in my life," was 
 Barnes' astounding reply. 
 
 For a moment there was that stillness which 
 presages the hurricane; a hush of such intensity 
 that it seemed as though the inanimate objects 
 participated a silence so close as to be stifling. 
 Then Aunt Philomela dropped her spoon. The 
 girl started. The doctor's brows contracted. 
 Barnes sipped his soup. 
 
 "Perhaps I did not understand you," hazarded 
 Dr. Merriweather. 
 
 " I said I have never been in Alaska in my 
 life," Barnes repeated in as matter of fact a tone 
 as he might have commented on the weather.
 
 A SURPRISE 155 
 
 The doctor turned to Miss Schuyler. The latter 
 could not have pronounced her own name. 
 
 " Then," inquired the doctor, " am I to under- 
 stand that you 're an impostor ? " 
 
 "Nothing else," admitted Barnes, "but," he 
 added, anxiously glancing towards the buttery, 
 "you mustn't let the servants know." 
 
 " Perhaps you 're not even Mr. Van Patten's 
 son?" 
 
 " I am no relation whatever," confessed Barnes. 
 
 " Eleanor," gasped Aunt Philomela weakly. 
 
 The girl turned and smiled upon her. After 
 the first shock, she strangely enough was the only 
 composed one of the group. She was not only 
 composed but elated. 
 
 " Let me explain," begged Barnes, facing the 
 doctor squarely. "After all, it's a simple ruse; 
 the boy Joe would not come, and so to save Mr. 
 Van Patten from the shock of this news, I volun- 
 teered. The deceit has worked perfectly; he sus- 
 pects nothing, and is, as you saw, a happy man." 
 
 "Well," muttered the doctor, "so that ex- 
 plains it." 
 
 His face began to brighten and continued until 
 it had expanded into a broad grin. With this ex- 
 pression he again confronted Aunt Philomela, 
 whose cheeks had turned a fiery red.
 
 156 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 "Aunty Schuyler," he declared, "I didn't 
 think it was in you." 
 
 " I know that it it was contemptible, but I 
 I could n't help it," she faltered. 
 
 " Contemptible ! " he exploded. " It 's great ! " 
 
 He turned to Barnes and stretched out his big 
 arm across the table. 
 
 " Boy, your hand upon it ! " 
 
 Barnes seized the hand, and that firm grip, if 
 nothing else, made it seem all worth while. 
 
 "Aunt Philomela " began Barnes, still anx- 
 ious to absolve Miss Schuyler. 
 
 But the doctor interrupted him with a loud 
 laugh. He threw back his head and laughed as 
 he had not laughed in twenty years. 
 
 " She told me a yarn that was pretty hard to 
 swallow," he roared, " but, Lord, it was a good 
 one." 
 
 " Don't," she pleaded. 
 
 "She told me about Billy who had lost four 
 fingers, and " 
 
 " Le voila," interrupted Barnes, swinging upon 
 Aunt Philomela, " I warned you to be accurate." 
 
 Miss Van Patten reached under the table and 
 found Aunt Philomela's trembling hand. 
 
 " And you made it all up as you went along ? " 
 demanded the doctor, the tears starting in his eyes. 
 "You did it offhand?"
 
 A SURPRISE 157 
 
 " No," broke in Barnes. " Truly she must be 
 exonerated. She only repeated what I told her. 
 She was quite forced into it" 
 
 "Don't spoil it," pleaded the doctor, waving 
 him back. " Don't take her laurels ! I 've told 
 her often enough that the only thing she lacked 
 was imagination." 
 
 But at this moment John entered, and Barnes 
 raised a warning finger to his lips. 
 
 "Don't let John know. It might get upstairs." 
 
 " Mum 's the word," agreed the doctor, trying 
 hard to stifle his chuckles. 
 
 He whispered across the table, 
 
 "Aunty Schuyler after dinner more! 
 More!" 
 
 But Barnes saw that it was high time to check 
 the merriment. The little old lady looked to be 
 upon the point of leaving. She took the situation 
 far too seriously. So he deftly turned the 'doctor 
 away from the subject to a theme he had long since 
 discovered to be a vital one in the country, the 
 rights of automobiles on country roads. 
 
 " If I had my way," the doctor exploded, rising 
 to the bait at once, " I 'd fine 'em a hundred dol- 
 lars for going over four miles an hour." 
 
 " But in your profession you find them use- 
 ful ?" inquired Barnes, though he knew from the
 
 158 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 way the doctor had shouted " Whoa " as he en- 
 tered the yard that he was too loyal to his horse 
 to admit such slander. 
 
 "Bah! D'ye think I'd risk my patient's life 
 to say nothing of my own in one of the things? 
 When I start I want to be sure of getting there. 
 What d 'ye think I 'd have done last night at Mrs. 
 Van Dusen's with only a minute to spare ? " 
 
 Aunt Philomela glanced up with interest. 
 
 " A boy," he informed her. 
 
 Her eyes warmed. 
 
 Barnes drew him on further to tell of some of 
 the cases in the neighborhood in which Aunt Phil- 
 omela was interested. This turned out to be an 
 inexhaustible theme and revealed the fact that in 
 the work of relief organization Aunt Philomela 
 was the doctor's good right arm. The two of them 
 were evidently a self-appointed board of charities 
 for the village. Aunt Philomela lost herself in the 
 discussion, so that her spirits soon revived again. 
 In fact, with the weight of the secret off her mind, 
 she appeared even more vivacious than usual, which 
 left Barnes, although still obliged to listen atten- 
 tively with his eyes, free to follow his own thoughts. 
 And Miss Van Patten, though she apparently hung 
 upon every word that was spoken, was no less 
 free to pursue the trend of her own thoughts.
 
 A SURPRISE 159 
 
 And both were conscious that each was doing 
 this. 
 
 There are blessed limits as to how far this mat- 
 ter of chaperonage may be carried. Given two 
 people well in tune with one another and it is 
 doubtful if it amounts to very much. There are 
 instances of two who, at opposite ends of a crowded 
 church, have successfully found one another, and 
 in consequence heard but little of the sermon. 
 There are those who, in the midst of a vast crowd 
 with the band playing and people huzzaing, have 
 felt themselves as secluded as in a country lane. 
 
 It is certain that Barnes found himself convers- 
 ing quite freely with her who, leaning forward, 
 was giving such attention to her aunt. No words 
 were spoken, to be sure, for there was no need of 
 words. 
 
 " You appear more beautiful to-night than I Ve 
 ever seen you," he began boldly, if silently. 
 
 " What has that to do with the matter ? " she 
 answered without moving her lips. 
 
 Barnes for the moment felt venturesome. 
 
 " As an artist," was his reply, " it 's my duty 
 to take such details into account. Your eyes match 
 marvelously well with the candle-light." 
 
 " Your calling does n't give you the privilege of 
 being bold."
 
 160 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " So long as the boldness is born of truth. 
 Your hair, too, is as a thousand candles burning 
 in the night" 
 
 " You are thinking of my mother's hair." 
 
 "Because I see your hair as your father saw 
 your mother's hair when the two were young." 
 
 "Father was pleased by the tender way you 
 spoke to him of mother." 
 
 " My heart was dangerously tender as through 
 you I saw your mother." 
 
 " You think of danger ever ? " 
 
 " I fear at times, but I cannot tell whether it 
 is for myself or for you." 
 
 " What is there to fear for me ? " 
 
 " I wish you would answer that yourself." 
 
 " I cannot. You must answer all questions you 
 ask of me." 
 
 " Aye, and they must be answered before they 
 are asked. But I will ask one ; what makes 
 your cheeks so red just now ? " 
 
 " Because the blood mounts high in them." 
 
 " Whence comes the blood ? " 
 
 " From the heart, to be sure." 
 
 " The heart must be over eager. Why is that ? " 
 
 " That is a question for Dr. Merri weather." 
 
 11 He might know more about it than most 
 doctors. But when all is said and done what
 
 A SURPRISE 161 
 
 a pitiful little your surgeon knows about the 
 heart." 
 
 " What a pitiful little anyone knows," she 
 answered. 
 
 The hum of the doctor's talk went on. Barnes, 
 as he watched the girl, caught her gaze. 
 
 " I wonder what sort of a picture you are paint- 
 ing of me ? " he asked. " I see you dipping the 
 brush of your long lashes into the pigment of your 
 eyes." 
 
 " You may be sure that whatever it is, it is not 
 for exhibition." 
 
 " I should be half afraid to view it, if it 
 were." 
 
 " Doubtless you would criticise it. But it is 
 not half done." 
 
 " Sometimes one best catches the truth in a half- 
 finished work." 
 
 " Not as a maid paints." 
 
 " How does a maid paint ? " 
 
 " Backwards. She paints her picture and then 
 rubs out and out until sometimes she has nothing 
 left." 
 
 " And if the likeness is good at the start ? " 
 
 " Then it stands. But there are many mutilated 
 pictures in a maid's gallery." 
 
 "And how does mine progress?"
 
 162 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " So far as you may pierce the gallery windows 
 you may see." 
 
 " But your eyes are such loop-holes. One has 
 to be within to see well from them." 
 
 " You must win your own position." 
 
 " A soldier's privilege is mine ? " 
 
 " The soldier's privilege is every man's." 
 
 "Then, by my soul, I'll " 
 
 Aunt Philomela was rising from the table. How 
 was that ? He had no memory of the intermediate 
 courses. 
 
 " You agree, boy?" demanded Dr. Merriweather. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," faltered Barnes, " I agree 
 heartily."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOB 
 
 Before leaving, Dr. Merriweather found an op- 
 portunity to draw Barnes one side. 
 
 " Boy," he said, " I did n't realize until to-night 
 to how great an extent Mr. Van Patten's condition 
 is due to his mental state. He is already wonder- 
 fully improved." 
 
 " You mean you think there is now hope for 
 him?" 
 
 " I don't want to put it too strongly but 
 there 's a chance." 
 
 " You 've told the others ? " 
 
 " No. We '11 wait a while hef ore we do that. 
 But I wanted you to know and to thank you." 
 
 They were in the dark. The doctor struck a 
 match for his cigar. As the match nickered down, 
 he smiled a little. 
 
 " You '11 reap your reward for this somewhere," 
 he concluded. 
 
 After the doctor had gone and the three were 
 alone again, Aunt Philomela confronted Barnes.
 
 164 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Why did n't you tell me you were going to 
 confess the truth to Dr. Merriweather ? " 
 
 " Because I did n't know it myself until I saw 
 him." 
 
 " You placed me in a very embarrassing posi- 
 tion." 
 
 " I thought to rescue you from one," exclaimed 
 Barnes with concern. 
 
 " After I had repeated to him that mess of stuff 
 you told me ! " 
 
 " But my wish was to save you from further 
 committing yourself." 
 
 " You had no business getting me into the 
 pickle." 
 
 " It was quite by accident" 
 
 " That is always a young man's plea. I saw 
 these complications coming from the first. Deceit 
 never succeeds." 
 
 " On the contrary, this has succeeded perfectly," 
 Barnes protested. " I 'm quite sure the doctor 
 thinks none the worse of us." 
 
 " He '11 never believe another word I say," com- 
 plained Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " And will trust you in delicate matters as never 
 before," affirmed Barnes. 
 
 " To tell him was the only honorable thing to 
 do," broke in Miss Van Patten.
 
 OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOR 165 
 
 " Then why don't you tell Carl ? " Aunt Phil- 
 omela challenged. 
 
 And with this shot Aunt Philomela promptly 
 withdrew before the enemy could fire back, for- 
 getting, however, that she was deserting her most 
 important outpost in so doing. Barnes could 
 scarcely believe his good fortune as he saw her 
 skirts switch upstairs. 
 
 " Well," he sighed in relief, " that is over." 
 
 " Aunt really quite approves," breathed the girl. 
 
 " Of course she does," he agreed. 
 
 " But she is probably waiting for me," she 
 added. 
 
 " That gives me the strategical position," he de- 
 clared cheerfully. 
 
 " You should be in the army," she commented 
 with heightened color. 
 
 " What 's the use when you have given me the 
 soldier's privilege ? " 
 
 " I ? " she exclaimed in astonishment. 
 
 " At dinner," he reminded her. 
 
 " I don't remember," she murmured, trying hard 
 to recollect the conversation. 
 
 " When I spoke of the picture you are painting." 
 
 " You must have been talking to yourself," she 
 declared with sudden light. 
 
 " So you were, too ! " he challenged.
 
 168 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 She appeared startled. He realized that this was 
 a good guess. 
 
 " You said I looked more like a soldier than 
 an artist." he asserted, making a still wilder 
 guess. 
 
 She drew back a little now in genuine conster- 
 nation. 
 
 " Oh, you should n't read one's thoughts," she 
 protested. 
 
 She looked very tall and dark and beautiful. 
 
 " That is as far as I can go," he admitted 
 reluctantly. 
 
 " It is as far as you have any right to go," she 
 said hurriedly. 
 
 " You see I talked to you all the while the doc- 
 tor talked to Aunt Philomela." 
 
 "Really?" she asked. 
 
 The Princess stalked in and, glad of the relief, 
 she picked up the handsome cat. She herself 
 looked like a princess out of a story-book. 
 
 " You answered all my questions very evasively," 
 he complained. 
 
 " Perhaps they were not proper questions," she 
 suggested as she stroked the silken back of the 
 other princess. 
 
 " They were somewhat direct," he admitted. 
 
 " There are some things it is very much wiser
 
 OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOR 167 
 
 to keep to oneself," she affirmed, looking up sharply 
 at him. 
 
 Again he saw a resemblance between her eyes 
 and the night sky over the orchard. 
 
 " There are some things in which that matter 
 of so-called wisdom does not enter at all," he 
 returned. 
 
 " In that case caution should prompt us." 
 
 " Caution is but a lame dog yelping at the 
 heels of Wisdom. Shall I tell you what wo 
 discussed ? " 
 
 She hesitated. There was that about him to- 
 night which bewildered her. He was less a 
 stranger. Perhaps it was the drowsy night; per- 
 haps it was the fact that they stood here for the 
 first time alone, with the dark closing about them. 
 There seemed less to fear in him, more to fear in 
 herself. She answered: 
 
 " I think you had better not" 
 
 " Well," he submitted reluctantly, " perhaps my 
 conversation was in the nature of a confidential 
 communication to myself. Yet it is almost impos- 
 sible for me to believe you did not actually 
 share it" 
 
 It was still more difficult for her to resist the 
 invitation to share it now. The candle sputtering 
 on its last quarter ate its course voraciously as
 
 168 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 though in haste to blend this room with the rest 
 of the dark. 
 
 " There seems so much we cannot share with 
 others," she ventured. 
 
 " I never felt it as I do this moment," he re- 
 plied. " I think it must be a wonderful experi- 
 ence to lead another through our own peculiar 
 treasure-house of memories. Out of the past we 
 gather so many things alone ; beautiful things, so 
 precious and fine that we hide them deep within 
 ourselves lest the light of merely curious eyes 
 should fade them. Perhaps some of us have partly 
 shared them with the world, in pictures or in 
 verse or in songs, but at best these are but 
 feeble copies. We have n't done much but sug- 
 gest their form and color or the tune to which 
 they are set. But some day along comes one to 
 share them. Then we go back to the Thames, the 
 Seine, and over the saffron road to the Schuyler 
 brook and take that other with us through all the 
 long galleries. So we know for the first time why 
 we have stored them all so carefully." 
 
 Barnes paused. His eyes had grown distant. Her 
 eyes had come nearer. The cat purred contentedly. 
 
 " If I were to make a definition of happiness," 
 he concluded, " it would be this ; the privilege of 
 sharing utterly."
 
 OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOP 169 
 
 She knew. She had her own treasures her 
 own gallery. But it had never occurred to her 
 that any other should ever see them. These pic- 
 tures were to be kept tight locked forever. They 
 were to be reviewed even by her only when alone in 
 the dark with the rest of the world tight asleep 
 around her. And now he had made her feel that 
 after all her greatest joy might come in showing 
 them to another. She looked up to find his eyes 
 upon her. They were so brilliant and yet so gentle 
 that they made her fear lest even now they might 
 pierce too deep. 
 
 " We may share most things," she hastened to 
 speak, " but always there will be something left for 
 ourselves alone, won't there ? " 
 
 " Most always," he admitted. 
 
 They had remained standing. She leaned back 
 now against the door frame. 
 
 " Won't you sit down ? " he pleaded. 
 
 " No ! Oh, no ! " she objected quickly. 
 
 But he brought a chair and with a smile placed 
 it near the door, as though to assure her of an easy 
 line of retreat. She passed it, and crossing the 
 room sat near the window. 
 
 " When making definitions," he continued, seat- 
 ing himself near the other window, " we have for 
 once an opportunity to speak without equivocation.
 
 170 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 In reality, things go no further than l most always.' 
 We seldom attain the absolute. But," he added, 
 lowering his voice a little, " I believe that it 's 
 possible in that one thing which I denned as 
 1 sharing utterly.' I believe that once we may live 
 up to our definition. I believe it is within us all 
 to share once utterly and without quibbling." 
 
 " It does n't seem possible," she answered weakly. 
 
 " No. But it is." 
 
 " I should think it would be quite confusing." 
 
 " I should think it would be quite dizzily 
 clarifying." 
 
 " Is n't that the same mental condition ? " she 
 laughed timidly. 
 
 " The difference is the difference in the effect 
 produced by champagne and the effect produced by 
 mountain air," he stated. 
 
 " I suppose some such freedom is what we all 
 strive for," she said quickly, with broad general- 
 ization. 
 
 " There is but little striving in it," he affirmed. 
 " It is the one time when the mountain comes to 
 Mahomet." 
 
 " But even then Mahomet must climb the moun- 
 tain," she suggested. 
 
 " He soars to the top, winged," he answered. 
 
 The candle began to give warning. The un-
 
 OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOR 171 
 
 snuffed wick leaned over drunkenly and unfairly 
 ate down its sides. But a candle may not be criti- 
 cised, however unjust its acts. Barnes saw that 
 it was too late to correct its knavish course though 
 the evening was still young; in two minutes it 
 would unceremoniously snuff out the girl's eyes. 
 It gave fair warning. 
 
 Miss Van Patten arose. He had nothing to do 
 but to arise also. 
 
 "I shall emulate Mahomet," he declared. "I 
 shall soar to the top of the stairs, winged." 
 
 She answered only, 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 But the simple words set his pulse to beating 
 faster. There was in them something of the 'cello 
 note. 
 
 He bowed as she passed before him. She hur- 
 ried on to Aunt Philomela, and he crossed to the 
 candle and blew it out. He found that after all 
 the dark did not make so much difference. 
 
 Barnes made his way to the little Dutch door, 
 opened it and stepped out into the night. As he 
 did so a man who was retreating down the path 
 turned and came back. It was Langdon. 
 
 " Hello ! " he called. " I had hoped to catch you, 
 but when I saw the light go out, I thought you 
 must have retired."
 
 172 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " You wished to see me ? " Barnes asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 " You, Joe," answered Langdon nervously. 
 " You don't mind if I call you Joe ? " 
 
 " Not at all," answered Barnes, indifferently. 
 
 But the name instantly destroyed some beautiful 
 dreams he had come out there to dream. 
 
 He sat down on the stone step but Langdon 
 remained standing. 
 
 " I thought," Langdon began, " that as long as 
 Mr. Van Patten is so ill and you 're the man of 
 the family now, I ought to come to you." 
 
 " Yes," answered Barnes in surprise. 
 
 Langdon faltered on. 
 
 " Since I 've been down here this summer my 
 music has meant more to me than it ever did be- 
 fore. I 've been able to express things through it." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " Your sister sort of makes a man understand," 
 he ventured. 
 
 Barnes drew a deep breath. 
 
 " What are you driving at ? " he demanded. 
 
 " I 'm trying to tell you," answered Langdon, 
 earnestly, " but I want you to understand me 
 first. I know how business men feel about music." 
 
 " Business men ? " 
 
 " They think music and such things are for
 
 OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOR 173 
 
 women, don't they ? They think Art does n't test 
 you like gold hunting." 
 
 " I suppose some do." 
 
 "Well, it doesn't like gold hunting. It 
 does n't make you muscular. But for two years 
 now I Ve stood in front of a mirror and drawn 
 a bow across a fiddle for eight hours, then stopped 
 an hour, and done it again. It isn't easy to do 
 that all alone. It takes a sort of brawn, does n't 
 it?" 
 
 " I should think it might," agreed Barnes. 
 
 " It 's been nothing but work up to now," Lang- 
 don ran on. " I Ve just been learning to play. 
 I could n't see what it was leading to until this 
 summer." 
 
 " And now ? " inquired Barnes. 
 
 " Now I Ve found out. Eleanor has made me 
 see." 
 
 Barnes ran his hand over his brow. 
 
 " Joe, she 's made me hope for big things ; she 's 
 filled my soul full of big songs. Don't you under- 
 stand now ? " 
 
 " You mean you love her ? " 
 
 Langdon came nearer and held out his hand. 
 
 " Yes," he answered. 
 
 Barnes took his hand. The purple of the night 
 sky turned to leaden gray.
 
 174 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Have you told her ? " he asked. 
 
 " No. I I thought I ought to tell you first. 
 You know what a wonderful creature she is." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "So so I thought you ought to know some- 
 thing about the man who wants to ask for her 
 hand." 
 
 " That 's very decent of you. But I have n't 
 anything to say about it." 
 
 " She thinks a great deal of you," said Langdon. 
 
 Barnes did not answer. 
 
 " I don't think she 'd marry anyone you did n't 
 approve of," Langdon laughed nervously. " I 
 never heard a sister admire her brother as she does 
 you." 
 
 " Don't ! " gasped Barnes. 
 
 "Don't?" 
 
 " You you ought n't to repeat those things." 
 
 " I 'd almost be glad to be just her brother if 
 she talked that way about me." 
 
 There was a long pause. Then Langdon re- 
 sumed, 
 
 " Have I your permission to ask her ? " 
 
 " My permission ? " 
 
 " If you 'd rather, I '11 wait." 
 
 Barnes took a long breath. Then he grasped 
 Langdon's hand again.
 
 OUTSIDE THE DUTCH DOOR 175 
 
 "No," lie said earnestly, "I. don't think I'd 
 wait very long." 
 
 " Thank you. And I may tell her I have your 
 consent?" 
 
 Barnes smiled grimly. 
 
 " If you wish." 
 
 Langdon gripped his hand once more. Barnes 
 turned abruptly. 
 
 " You '11 excuse me 3 I 'm going in now. Good- 
 night." 
 
 Barnes closed the little Dutch door behind him. 
 And instead of soaring, winged, to the top of the 
 stairs, he plodded up as though he were carrying 
 a great weight upon his shoulders.
 
 CHAPTEK XV 
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 
 
 Barnes had said to Aunt Philomela when she 
 demurred at certain things running counter to her 
 own convictions, " Now that we have begun this 
 game, we must play it for all it 's worth. We must 
 stick it out to the end." 
 
 Lying there in his room on the little white bed, 
 Barnes repeated that again to himself. It meant 
 just one thing; that in all fairness, he must now 
 play the brother in this household as well as the 
 prodigal. He had been admitted within these sacred 
 precincts not as a friend, but as an actor. Honor 
 demanded that he must not presume further than 
 this. That was as clear as a June morning. To 
 take advantage of his position for any personal con- 
 sideration would be to turn traitor to the old gentle- 
 man, to Aunt Philomela, to the girl herself. 
 
 Well and good. There was no sense in arguing 
 further along this line. As a gentleman it did not 
 behoove him to discuss it even with himself. Look- 
 ing then at Langdon's suit impersonally, as a brother, 
 how must he consider it ? Dr. Merriweather was a
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 177 
 
 sufficient voucher for the man's social standing. 
 What of the man himself ? lie had seen enough of 
 him to realize that he was clean-limbed, clean- 
 hearted. He had also had a glimpse into the man's 
 soul and had found there a brother artist. 
 
 Barnes sprang from the bed and taking a chair 
 by the open window inhaled the perfumed night 
 breeze. He was tempted hard to throw this whole 
 matter from his mind, but he gripped himself. 
 Langdon had said, " She has filled my soul with 
 song." 
 
 And his own soul this same woman had filled with 
 pictures. He saw down the whole long gallery. 
 There were the pictures by the Thames, by the 
 Seine, by the saffron road, and by the Schuyler 
 brook. They waited but the touch of her fingers 
 upon his arm to spring into reality for all the world 
 to admire. Barnes was breathing rapidly. He 
 checked himself. 
 
 There, too, in another heart were the songs. They 
 waited but the brush of her lips to be sung. It 
 came hard to acknowledge that. His ancestors, 
 facing English guns, never did a harder thing. 
 
 Looking at the matter frankly then, as an artist 
 as well as a brother, there was no ground upon 
 which he could contest Langdon's right to sue for 
 this girl's hand. There remained only his own
 
 178 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 man right to fight for his life. But he could not 
 avail himself of this except by deserting this old 
 gentleman except by coming upon the field frankly 
 as an enemy. His thoughts continually went back 
 to the army code; he was here, as it were, upon 
 parole. To abuse that position would be as cow- 
 ardly a thing as to fire upon a flag of truce. 
 
 It took Barnes four feverish hours to thresh out 
 these manifest truths, but when it was over he found 
 himself in a state of curious self-possession. He 
 had never felt calmer in his life. But somehow this 
 room was not big enough for him; he felt the 
 need of getting out where there was nothing over- 
 head between him and the stars, where to the right 
 and left he should be bounded only by the East 
 and the West. He had not undressed, so he stole 
 out of the room, down the stairs and out by the little 
 Dutch door. It was odd how important a part, first 
 and last, this inanimate object had played in his 
 life. It was this which had first attracted him to 
 the house; it was through this that he had led her 
 when they had gone to the hill top together; hard 
 by this that Langdon had made his confession; 
 and now it furnished him a temporary means of 
 escape from his prison. 
 
 Barnes made his way to the top of the hill. The 
 air was cool, the sky was deep, and below him, but
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 179 
 
 the ghost of itself, lay the saffron road. He studied 
 it with grim interest. It was no longer a glad high- 
 way through the King's dominions and it no longer 
 led on, but away. Even the big atlas in the library 
 had proven that in whatever direction he might 
 journey, it must always be away. 
 
 There was only one path now which offered him 
 even a destination and that was back to his mother. 
 If it had been possible he would have pushed on in 
 the dark along this ghost road until he reached her. 
 He would like to sit in the park with her and talk 
 over things. He strode a half dozen steps down the 
 hill. Then he came back. When the old gentleman 
 now sleeping so peacefully awoke, he would ask for 
 his son. The thin hands would fumble about for 
 another hand and they must find what they sought. 
 
 Barnes threw himself down fiat and elbows on 
 the ground rested his chin in his hands. Below 
 him in shadow lay all that vast unexplored country 
 upon which only yesterday he had gazed with her by 
 his side. To-night it was boundless limitless. 
 Where before it had seemed like a virgin woodland, 
 sun-lighted, it now seemed as somber as a Dore 
 forest. It would be a grim affair adventuring 
 through this land alone. The pictures a man would 
 bring back with him Ah, they would be pictures 
 of Hell.
 
 180 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 The dawn came softly, tenderly, and like evil be- 
 fore a good woman, the shadows stole away. The 
 dawn came just as Eleanor might come into a room 
 at dusk and light the candles. In the ivory East 
 appeared the red that was in her cheeks ; in the 
 black, lowhanging clouds, appeared the gold that was 
 in the black of her hair. A fierce desire for his 
 paints seized him. ISTo one had ever pictured the 
 dawn because no one before had ever divined its 
 secret. The dawn was Eleanor. 
 
 He heard footsteps behind and glancing around 
 saw Langdon. The latter paused, started, and then 
 came on again. His face was alight and he looked 
 like one inspired. 
 
 " Joe," he said half in awe, " to put that into 
 music, you would have to put Eleanor into music. 
 Then then what a symphony you would have ! " 
 
 Barnes sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Good God, man," lie cried, " what brought you 
 to this spot ? " 
 
 " Don't you hear it ? " persisted Langdon. " The 
 world all dark and cavernous like those days in 
 Paris; then her voice calling far in the dis- 
 tance; then a low morning song, like a morning 
 prayer; then her voice coming nearer until, in a 
 wild medley of song, her presence breaks upon the 
 world and the world awakes as a soul awakes."
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 181 
 
 Standing very erect, his head back, Langdon faced 
 the East 
 
 And Barnes facing Langdon saw his picture fade 
 fade until some demon in him made him feel 
 for a moment that it would be right for him to 
 battle with this man in defense of his own. How 
 simple it would be if here on this hill-top in the 
 early morning the two might grapple until one was 
 left supreme. Langdon turned and caught a flash 
 in the eyes of this other which drove the music 
 from his soul. 
 
 " What 's the matter ? " he exclaimed. " You look 
 feverish." 
 
 Barnes did not answer for a moment He very 
 deliberately sat down. He felt ashamed of this 
 primeval instinct. If in the days to follow he 
 could n't show any better control over himself than 
 this, he had better find it out now. 
 
 " Sit down, Langdon," he said. " What got you 
 up so early ? " 
 
 " The dawn," answered Langdon. 
 
 As he seated himself, he took one swift look at 
 Barnes' face, but he soon forgot whatever it was he 
 had observed a second ago. He had more vital 
 things in mind than the passing mood of a 
 prodigal. 
 
 " I could n't sleep," he explained. " Somehow
 
 182 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 the fact of having spoken to you made all the 
 things I Ve been merely dreaming all this while 
 seem intensely real." 
 
 " I would n't let them be too real until I had 
 spoken to her." 
 
 " I know," Langdon answered quickly, " I don't 
 wish to presume. But a man isn't responsible for 
 his unbidden thoughts, is he ? " 
 
 " Who is ? " asked Barnes. 
 
 " No one. No one on earth." 
 
 " But every man has to stand for himself the 
 consequences of his thinking." 
 
 " I 'm willing to do that. But well, I don't 
 suppose you realize how big a part a woman plays 
 in work of my sort." 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 " She 'a the very life of it." 
 
 " The very life," repeated Barnes. 
 
 " In business, it 's every man for himself ; but 
 in music you Ve got to have someone to sing to, 
 someone to play for." 
 
 " What about the masters ? " 
 
 " Oh, when a man 's a genius, it 's different. But 
 when you 're just human well, that 's all I am 
 and I 'm glad of it. I don't care for lonely gran- 
 deur, Joe. I only want to climb as high as I can go 
 with Eleanor."
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 183 
 
 " Good Lord," exploded Barnes, " can a man go 
 any higher than that ? " 
 
 " I can't at any rate," answered Langdon, simply. 
 
 Barnes studied him a moment. Then he said 
 more quietly, " And you 're sure you can go as far 
 as that ? You 're sure you can go as high as she 
 can take you, Langdon ? " 
 
 "A man can't tell, Joe," answered Langdon, 
 sincerely, " but at times like this morning I 
 feel as though there were no heights I couldn't 
 reach. She seems to put the whole world into song. 
 I find myself trying to set to music everything she 
 looks at. It 's wonderful. It 's it 's almost ter- 
 rifying. Why, when you were telling her about 
 Alaska I watched her eyes and almost caught a 
 symphony there." 
 
 Barnes moved uneasily. 
 
 " What is it ? " demanded Langdon. " It seems as 
 though you ought to understand." 
 
 " Why should I understand ? " 
 
 "Your eyes," answered Langdon. 
 
 He leaned closer and for a second stared into 
 them. Then he rose and stood in front of Barnes. 
 
 " Why there 's a symphony in them," he ex- 
 claimed. " A great, big tragic theme of some 
 sort!" 
 
 Barnes smiled grimly.
 
 184 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " If I were an artist," he said, " I 'd paint you 
 as you stand there saying that, Langdon. There 's 
 a big triumphant picture in you of some sort ! " 
 
 Barnes made his feet and for a moment the men 
 stood side by side looking down upon the green valley 
 which was slowly coming to life there below them. 
 What a song it was; what a picture it was! The 
 blazing sun was big enough to make both of it. For 
 a second Barnes caught a flash of some hidden mean- 
 ing in this thought. Then his face hardened ; even 
 the sun could not do both through one man alone. 
 
 Barnes turned abruptly. 
 
 " I '11 see you after breakfast, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Langdon, " I '11 come over 
 early." 
 
 Barnes hesitated. This hill-top now seemed like 
 a strategic point. To go meant leaving Langdon in 
 possession. But this was only a concrete example 
 of the whole problem which he had worked out ear- 
 lier in the night. If he had entered this household 
 upon the same plane upon which Langdon had en- 
 tered it, then he would have a right to remain on 
 the hill-top and fight for his pictures and all those 
 meant. But he had n't. That was the point. When 
 he left Aunt Philomela that first night and went up- 
 stairs, he had given a silent pledge of honor. To 
 some men this might seem a nice point, open at
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 185 
 
 least to argument But Barnes all his life had lived 
 by nice points. That was his glory as an artist. 
 Without another word, he trudged back down the 
 hill 
 
 The house was still asleep. It looked like a very 
 young girl asleep. It took the morning light drow- 
 sily and peacefully. Beneath the windows, the 
 flowers fresh from their dew bath met the eye of the 
 sky proudly and unashamed. It was impossible for 
 Barnes, in the face of these things, to brood. He 
 could n't as yet endure the confines of his room, but 
 he strode off down the damp road with good spirit. 
 Then he turned off to the right and crossed the fields 
 to the brook. Here in a clump of alders he undressed 
 and threw himself into the stinging cold waters. 
 As he bobbed up pink with every vein responding, 
 he shook the water from his eyes and struck across 
 to the other bank. So for ten minutes he swam in 
 and out over the clean sands and water-cress like 
 the king trout himself. And when he came out it 
 was with his brain clear and his heart beating 
 sturdily. 
 
 Barnes found Mr. Van Patten awake and waiting 
 for him when he came back to the house. The old 
 gentleman measured time by the twittering of the 
 birds in the morning, and their sleepy chirp at 
 night. His voice was stronger and the grip of his
 
 186 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 hand on Barnes' arm firmer. But more than this 
 Barnes noticed that which at first frightened him 
 an awakening in the aged face, a new expression 
 about the eyes in place of the blank, fixed stare. 
 
 " Are the curtains raised ? " demanded Mr. Van 
 Patten. 
 
 " Yes," answered Barnes, " as high as usual." 
 
 " Put them way up," insisted Mr. Van Patten. 
 " I want aU the light there is." 
 
 Barnes snapped them to the top. The room be- 
 came flooded with the morning sunshine. When he 
 turned, the old gentleman was upon his elbow strain- 
 ing towards them. 
 
 " What is it ? " Barnes asked in some alarm. 
 
 Mr. Van Patten fell back again with almost a 
 smile about his lips. 
 
 " Nothing," he answered. " Sit over here by my 
 side." 
 
 Barnes took his usual position between the win- 
 dows and the bed. Mr. Van Patten turned to face 
 him. 
 
 " Joe," he began, " I lost five years of you out 
 of my life and I Ve been wondering just how far 
 I 'm to blame for it" 
 
 " But that 's all over with now," suggested 
 Barnes. 
 
 " As far as I 'm concerned. But there 's you
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 187 
 
 I don't want you to suffer what I suffered. I want 
 you to learn." 
 
 " As a son, I 've learned," answered Barnes. 
 
 " But not as a father, Joe. I suppose some day 
 you '11 marry." 
 
 "Marry?" 
 
 " And have a son of your own." 
 
 " It it does n't sound probable just at present," 
 answered Barnes. 
 
 " Well, you will, my boy. And the best I can 
 pray for you is that you '11 find another woman like 
 your mother." 
 
 There was just one woman like that mother to 
 whom the old gentleman referred. Barnes caught 
 his breath at thought of it. 
 
 " I suppose there is another," murmured Mr. Van 
 Patten. " For someone, Eleanor is going to be just 
 such another." 
 
 "Yes," said Barnes. "I think she's that one 
 other." 
 
 Mr. Van Patten moved uneasily. 
 
 " It 's easier to think of your marrying than of 
 Eleanor marrying," he said. "But I suppose she 
 will. Have you seen much of Carl ? " 
 
 Barnes jumped at the question. 
 
 " Why, yes," he answered, " I Ve I Ve seen 
 a good deal of him lately."
 
 188 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I 'm glad of that, Joe. Eleanor has been thrown 
 in with him nearly every day this summer. What 
 sort of a man does he appear to a man ? " 
 
 " But you 've talked with him yourself, have n't 
 you?" 
 
 " IsTot much. I have n't felt like seeing anyone. 
 Aunt Philomela likes him. Do you ? " 
 
 It was a direct question. Barnes answered it 
 directly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He is clean and sincere ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 11 Eleanor says he has a very great gift in music." 
 
 " I 'm no judge of that, but I believe he 's honest 
 as an artist." 
 
 " Well. Well. The girl must choose for herself. 
 I 've thought the intimacy was growing." 
 
 " I think it is." 
 
 " He would make her happy ? " 
 
 " If she loves him, I have no doubt of it." 
 
 " But she must be sure of her love. I trust you, 
 Joe, to make that point clear to her." 
 
 " I think you may trust her for that." 
 
 " She will act up to her conviction but she is 
 young younger than her years. And I without 
 my eyes I can't be much of a father." He 
 reached for Barnes' hand.
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 189 
 
 " You must be son and father and brother all in 
 one, Joe." 
 
 " I '11 do my best," answered Barnes. 
 
 " I know you will, boy. I know you will. 
 You 've grown wonderfully in these last five years. 
 But I think you would have grown just the same 
 if you had not gone away. The fault was mine. I 
 did n't stay young enough for you." 
 
 " You seem very young to me now." 
 
 " Ah, yes. I 've grown young. That is the secret 
 I 've worked out in the dark ; as the son grows old, 
 the father must grow young." 
 
 The Princess stalked into the room and jumped 
 upon the bed. The father reached out to stroke her 
 back and faced the door for Eleanor. She entered 
 with the blush of the morning in her cheeks. She 
 nodded with a smile at Barnes and then with a little 
 laugh pressed her lips against her father's fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Dad," she exclaimed, " you look so much bet- 
 ter. You look so much better every morning." 
 
 " I '11 soon be out of bed now," he answered with 
 conviction. 
 
 Then he did the same thing which had startled 
 Barnes upon his entrance he rose to his elbow 
 and strained his eyes towards the girl as though he 
 had suddenly become endowed with his sight again.
 
 190 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Miss Van Patten glanced up swiftly at Barnes, as 
 though for an explanation. The latter could only 
 stare back. 
 
 " What 's the trouble, Daddy ? " she stammered. 
 
 His face was not troubled but he did not look 
 as he looked yesterday. 
 
 " Nothing, child, nothing. Dr. Merriweather is 
 coming to-day ? " 
 
 "Shall I send for him?" 
 
 " No, but if Carl comes over Carl is coming 
 to-day?" 
 
 " I don't know," she answered. 
 
 " He told me that he was coming this morning," 
 put in Barnes. 
 
 " Then when he comes, tell him to ask the doctor 
 to drop over this evening." 
 
 " Very well, Daddy." 
 
 Mr. Van Patten smiled. 
 
 " Joe says he finds Carl a fine fellow." 
 
 The girl glanced up swiftly at Barnes. He met 
 her eyes fairly. Then he nodded. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " I think he is." 
 
 " But Daddy," she exclaimed, and her cheeks 
 grew a deeper crimson as she spoke, " you have 
 seen him. You know." 
 
 " The young are better judges of the young, than 
 the old are," he answered.
 
 PLAYING THE GAME 191 
 
 And reaching for her hand, he patted it tenderly. 
 
 " Carl has often said he wished to see more of 
 you, Daddy. Perhaps now that you 're stronger " 
 
 " Joe must see for me," answered Mr. Van Pat- 
 ten. " I leave Carl to him for the present." 
 
 Barnes arose. 
 
 " Father," he said, " I will come up again 
 after Carl arrives." 
 
 Whereupon he retired. To all intents and pur- 
 poses it was a retreat.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 
 
 Aunt Philomela was waiting breakfast in no very 
 good humor. On the previous evening, she had sat 
 up for an hour listening to the unintelligible hum of 
 her niece's voice without being able to catch a word 
 of what she said. And when Miss Van Patten had 
 finally stolen into the room, Aunt Philomela had 
 found little relief in her questioning. The re- 
 mainder of the night she had made a martyr of her- 
 self. She dreamed that Eleanor had run away with 
 a ne'er do well artist, deserting her poor old aunt 
 and her sick father. Then, in her dream, Mr. Van 
 Patten had died, thereby leaving her a lonely, 
 heart-broken old woman finding what solace she 
 might in consecrating her life to the poor of the 
 village. And that, after all, was a poor sort of con- 
 solation. 
 
 So when Aunt Philomela came down she was in 
 no mood to be trifled with. Yet it was just this in- 
 opportune moment that John chose to explode a 
 bomb-shell at her feet.
 
 JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 193 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ma'am," he stammered, " but 
 I wishes to give my notice." 
 
 "You what?" she cried. 
 
 " I wishes to give my notice," he repeated with 
 more self-assertiveness than she had ever suspected 
 was in the man. 
 
 Aunt Philomela plumped herself down in a chair 
 and folded her hands in her lap. 
 
 " Well," she gasped, " I never heard of such a 
 thing in all my life." 
 
 John automatically adjusted his tie and ran his 
 hand over his chin. He had been particularly care- 
 ful in his toilet this morning. 
 
 " And what pray may be your reason ? " she de- 
 manded. 
 
 " It 'a nothin' as you might say," he answered un- 
 easily, " that you can put your hands on, ma'am." 
 
 " Don't you get enough to eat ? " 
 
 " Lord, yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Are n't you well enough paid ? " 
 
 " I would n't take no more, ma'am." 
 
 " Have you secured another position ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am," he hastened to assure her as though 
 freeing himself from the charge of treason. 
 
 " You have a nice, clean place to sleep ? " 
 
 " A man could ask for nothing better, ma'am." 
 
 If anything it was too clean and nice.
 
 194 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Then what in the world is the matter with 
 you ? " she exclaimed, the mystery deepening. 
 
 John cleared his throat. This was a difficult 
 matter to express. There have been plenty of better 
 men in a like position men with well-defined 
 notions of what they wished to say but when the 
 time came with no words to say them. 
 
 " Perhaps," he suggested, " if I says I has n't 
 slept for three nights that will be enough." 
 
 " Then all you need is a tonic," she affirmed, 
 brightening. "I'll get the bottle " 
 
 She had half risen when he checked her. He 
 remembered with decided unpleasantness the taste 
 of that dark liquid which she kept for the occasional 
 indispositions of her staff. 
 
 " ISTo 'm. It is n't anything that medicine can 
 fairly reach, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." 
 
 " Then if it is n't your blood, it 's your nerves," 
 she declared. 
 
 " Nerves comes nearer it," he admitted. 
 
 " Perhaps you need a vacation," she hazarded, 
 though the prospect of being left without John was 
 unthinkable. 
 
 " I had thought of going off somewhere," he 
 confessed. 
 
 There was something in the way he said it 
 something in the way he glanced swiftly upward
 
 JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 195 
 
 towards Mr. Barnes' room that gave her a clew. 
 She sat bolt upright. 
 
 " You don't mean to tell me you 've got your fool 
 head turned about Alaska, do you ? " 
 
 John nodded weakly. 
 
 " It was the Artcic that set me goin'." 
 
 She sprang to her feet. 
 
 " Why, you you 'd freeze to death there," she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Lord, ma'am, I was n't thinking of going there," 
 he hastened to assure her. 
 
 " Then what " she stammered, all at sea again. 
 
 " I wants to get away from the Artcic," he ex- 
 plained. " I wants to get as far away as I can." 
 
 " Well, you can't get any farther away than this 
 without running into the ocean." 
 
 John tiptoed nearer. He spoke in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 " He brought it with him," he explained. 
 
 He turned his eyes towards the stairs again. 
 
 " What did he bring ? " 
 
 " It," answered John. " The Thing under the 
 bed." 
 
 " He did ? Why, he was never within a thousand 
 miles of " 
 
 She checked herself just in time. John's eyes 
 had begun to open wide. She was in a position
 
 196 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 more embarrassing than any which had yet grown 
 out of this course of deceit. If there were any one 
 thing more vital than cleanliness which she had im- 
 pressed upon her servants, it was truthfulness. She 
 had held it before their eyes as a clear translucent 
 crystal. And now was she to be forced to violate 
 it herself ? Was she to be thrust into the position of 
 being untruthful to her own butler ? Her weak 
 limbs shook beneath her at her helplessness. Her 
 cheeks turned scarlet 
 
 " You don't know, ma'am," commented John. 
 
 She did n't know ! She would have given a year 
 of her life if she did n't know. If only she herself 
 were so deluded that she might innocently repeat 
 those outrageous yarns, she could at least preserve 
 her self respect. But no, she must sit dumb, ex- 
 pressing a silent lie. 
 
 " There 'a Things," whispered John, " that you 
 does n't even suspect." 
 
 At this she roused herself. She scented a new 
 danger. Perhaps John was eavesdropping last 
 night. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she demanded, with some 
 show of her old spirit. 
 
 " In the closet. Under the bed," he answered 
 
 " Are you crazy ? " 
 
 The surprise occasioned by this unexpected state-
 
 JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 197 
 
 merit bewildered her still more. .Surprise had fol- 
 lowed surprise, until now she could make neither 
 head nor tail out of John's fears. 
 
 " He says as how it has to do with gold," con- 
 tinued John. 
 
 "So it was he who told you about this ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Have you ever seen it ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am. That 's the trouble. I don't mind 
 anything I can lay my hands on." 
 
 He drew himself to his full height. 
 
 " Then," choked Aunt Philomela, in helpless 
 wrath, " why don't you face it like a man ? " 
 
 " If it did n't come from the Artcic, ma'am." 
 
 " Well, it did n't," she declared. 
 
 " Then you knows about it ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered coldly, " I know all about 
 it" 
 
 " Perhaps you 've seen it ? " 
 
 " I don't need to see it, to know all about it." 
 
 John looked skeptical. 
 
 " People always thinks things is n't so until he 
 sees them himself," he observed sadly. 
 
 " That is a frightfully ungrammatical sentence," 
 she commented. 
 
 " It does n't take grammar to see them," he ven- 
 tured with some truth.
 
 198 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Bah ! " she snorted. 
 
 Then of a sudden she came to herself. 
 
 " I can tell you what you 're going to do," she 
 stormed, stepping towards him. " You 're going 
 back to your work and think no more about these 
 fool things. You leave them to me. I '11 attend 
 to them. You understand ? Go back to your work 
 and do no more talking about leaving or I '11 dis- 
 charge you quicker than you can say Jack Rob- 
 inson. You need n't worry about any more Things 
 or Its. I '11 attend to those, too." 
 
 John had been slowly pressed back. His spirit 
 had quite gone at the first sentence. He was not 
 a timid man, but it took more than human cour- 
 age to stand before Aunt Philomela in such a 
 mood. He would thank his stars if he could only 
 get safely into the buttery again. She paused a 
 moment, and John threw himself against the 
 swinging door and disappeared. Aunt Philomela 
 turned around. 
 
 It was this auspicious moment that Barnes chose 
 for entering. Aunt Philomela swung upon him 
 before he had time even to say good-morning. 
 
 " Do you think it 's honorable to scare a poor 
 old butler half to death ? " she demanded. 
 
 He glanced around as though he expected to see 
 the corpse of the poor butler lying upon the floor.
 
 JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 190 
 
 " Why, no," he agreed. 
 
 " Then why did you do it? " 
 
 " I ? " he stammered. " Why, it 's the poor old 
 butler who has been trying to frighten me." 
 
 " I 'd be thankful if he had succeeded," she 
 snapped. 
 
 " He is a mystic that man," declared Barnes. 
 " He is a seer of things in the dark." 
 
 " And who put the foolish notions into his 
 head ? " she insisted unflinchingly. 
 
 " Who ? I should like to know as well as you. 
 Who taught him to walk on tiptoe ? Who taught 
 him to appear as though through a trap-door ? 
 Who taught him to look suddenly about as though 
 in league with the unknown ? Who " he de- 
 manded darkly, " taught him to look under beds ? " 
 
 Aunt Philomela caught her breath at this last 
 query. 
 
 " At least," she returned weakly, " I never made 
 him believe he saw anything under there." 
 
 " Nor I," he hastened to explain. " That is 
 what bothered us both ; we could n't find anything." 
 
 " Perhaps," she observed sarcastically. " Per- 
 haps you wish to enter a complaint against John." 
 
 At this moment John himself entered with the 
 coffee. 
 
 " John," announced Barnes, " I beg to report
 
 200 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 that the Thing is gone. Pouf ! " he snapped his 
 fingers. " All gone." 
 
 " You really thinks so ? " stammered John. 
 
 " I '11 give you a dollar for every time you find 
 him after this," agreed Barnes. 
 
 " Lord, sir, I would n't find him for a hundred." 
 
 " Then we '11 let him go. As a matter of fact 
 it got too hot for him around here. He 's used to 
 a colder climate." 
 
 " That 's good, sir. I hope you sleeps better at 
 night for it." 
 
 " Hoping you will the same, I beg to remain," 
 he concluded, quoting from the personal circular 
 letter of the Acme. 
 
 John went out with a brisker step than he had 
 shown for a number of days, and in at the other 
 door, with an even brisker step, came Eleanor. 
 
 It would be difficult to imagine a fairer harbin- 
 ger of peace than she, and yet it required all her 
 best efforts to dissipate the cloud which hung over 
 the breakfast table that morning. Barnes, who was 
 always ready to assist at such an undertaking, was 
 strangely silent, while Aunt Philomela refused to 
 enthuse even over the marked change for the better 
 in her brother's condition. Everyone was glad 
 when the meal was finished. When they rose, Carl 
 had not yet appeared. Barnes braced himself to
 
 JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 201 
 
 the task ahead. As Miss Van Patten stood un- 
 certain just what to do next, he suggested that she 
 come with him into the flower-garden for a breath 
 of the morning air. She appeared a bit startled but 
 acquiesced, and so they made their way out doors. 
 
 Just how far it was his right to go, just how 
 far it was his duty as a brother to go, Barnes did 
 not know, but that he must say something in view 
 of what was coming he had no doubt. She was 
 bending over her flowers plucking off dead leaves 
 when he began. 
 
 " Eleanor," he said, " your father seemed to be 
 very much interested in Carl this morning." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " Very much interested," he repeated. 
 
 She gave him no encouragement He looked 
 about anxiously. 
 
 " He and I both agreed that Carl is a fine fel- 
 low," he observed. She raised her head at this. 
 She looked at him without embarrassment. 
 
 " Carl is an artist," she said. " You and Carl 
 ought to have much in common." 
 
 " Much in common ? " he exclaimed. " We hare. 
 We have too much in common." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " 
 
 Her question was as direct and unsuspicious as 
 a child's.
 
 202 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " We agree on so very many things that well r 
 you know it's sometimes more comfortable to- 
 disagree." 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 " With Aunt Philomela, for instance. We get 
 on much better by disagreeing than we should if 
 we looked at things in just the same way." 
 
 " But at bottom, you know, you and Aunt Phil- 
 omela really agree. She wouldn't quarrel with 
 you if she did n't agree with you." 
 
 " ISTo ? " he asked with interest. " What would 
 she do?" 
 
 " She would be very polite with you," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 " That would be terrible." 
 
 "At least, it would be uninteresting. She is 
 polite to the Reverend John Powers." 
 
 " I have n't met him yet." 
 
 " Not yet. But you can never tell when you 
 may meet him." 
 
 She bent over her flowers again. Barnes tried 
 to collect his thoughts. He hadn't got very far 
 with that beginning. 
 
 " The thing that impressed both your father and 
 me about Carl " he began. 
 
 She lifted her head once more. 
 
 " Yes ? " she inquired sweetly.
 
 JOHN GIVES^HIS NOTICE 03 
 
 If he could only paint her as she stood now 
 as though she were growing in the garden! So 
 few women really get up until after lunch, but 
 she she, like the poppies, awoke with the kiss 
 of the sun into her full beauty. There was no 
 trace of the night about her. All her dreams were 
 tucked away in the long gallery with her pictures. 
 Yesterday was one with ten thousand yesterdays 
 and she was as though new born for this day alone. 
 This was especially true of her eyes. As the planets 
 bear no trace of the eternal cycles through which 
 they have ranged, but come each night new created, 
 so her eyes were almost abstract in their freshness. 
 
 " I suppose," she said, to break the silence, 
 " I suppose I ought to take Aladdin out to-day. 
 He's been shut up in his stall for a week now." 
 
 Yesterday he would have protested. Now he 
 basely betrayed his trust. 
 
 " If you are going to ride, you ought to ride this 
 morning, ought n't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " I think I ought to go 
 at once." 
 
 He felt a bit uncomfortable, but if Carl didn't 
 know enough to take quick advantage of his op- 
 portunity that was his own fault. Surely his duty 
 as a brother did not go so far as to manage Carl's 
 wooing. She started towards the stable.
 
 204 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I will go just as I am," she determined. 
 " And I will help you saddle the horse," he 
 said. 
 
 Aladdin heard her coming before her feet had 
 touched the barn floor and greeted her with a glad 
 whinny. He cropped at her fingers as she untied 
 the halter rope. Sam, the man of all work, came 
 up, but she would have none of his help. She led 
 out the strong-limbed animal and in a jiffy ad- 
 justed his bridle. The most that Barnes found 
 to do was to throw the saddle over his back, and 
 even then she insisted upon fastening the girths 
 herself. Barnes kept his eye down the road and 
 became as impatient as Aladdin himself for the 
 start. 
 
 Sam held out his hand and her foot scarcely 
 touched it as she vaulted lightly into the saddle. 
 And then how like a queen she looked ! Her long 
 skirt made her seem even more like one of those 
 for whom King Arthur's knights fought. 
 
 She spoke a word to Aladdin, waved her hand, 
 and in all too brief a space was out of sight. 
 
 Barnes went back to the house. Near the Dutch 
 door he met Carl. 
 
 " Eleanor," explained Barnes, " has just gal- 
 loped off." 
 
 He took an immense amount of satisfaction in
 
 JOHN GIVES HIS NOTICE 205 
 
 conveying this slight bit of news. But the next 
 second his enthusiasm vanished. 
 
 " Is that so ? " answered Langdon. " Why, then, 
 I guess I '11 go down the road and meet her as she 
 comes back."
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE EOAD COMPLICATES MATTERS 
 
 With the breeze singing past her ears, Eleanor 
 continued down the very road along which she had 
 walked with Mr. Barnes when she had gone with 
 him to the station for his bag. She smiled. She 
 was quite sure that had she been with Carl she 
 would not have forgotten her mission. But of 
 course that was quite easy of explanation; Carl 
 was, comparatively speaking, an old friend now. 
 With old friends one did n't forget one's errands. 
 
 As she galloped along she seemed to hear Barnes 
 talking to her again. She recalled all that he had 
 told her of his life, of his college days, of his jour- 
 ney abroad, of his family at home, and the mo- 
 tive which had prompted him to undertake his 
 vagabond trip through these hills. She had taken 
 it as a pretty compliment that he told her these 
 things especially after his confession that he had 
 not intended to do so. She smiled again. She 
 could smile safely here alone on Aladdin's back. 
 And there is nothing so worth smiling at as the
 
 ROAD COMPLICATES MATTERS 207 
 
 "woman power which makes a man do something 
 against his will. 
 
 She passed the apple-trees, the pines, and was 
 well into the maple-grove before she slackened her 
 pace. Aladdin was in fine fettle and resented the 
 pull of the bit which slowed him down into a walk. 
 He tossed his head and jerked up his forelegs as 
 though doing a quadrille. But now her thoughts 
 had come back to this morning and to the curious 
 emphasis which both men were placing upon Carl. 
 Somehow Carl did not seem a man who should 
 be emphasized. He came as a pleasant part of 
 a summer day, and though at times when they 
 had been playing together he had been able to 
 sweep her on into a more rarefied atmosphere, he 
 always brought her back again when he put down 
 his bow. The thing she had liked about him was 
 that he had always been so unobtrusive and yet 
 by this very method he had made for himself a 
 place in her life. If Carl should go she would 
 miss him. She would be almost homesick for him. 
 He was ever gentle, ever thoughtful, ever ready in 
 his quiet way to fill an hour that without him 
 would be tedious. Then at intervals came, too, 
 those rare moments when he suggested to her a 
 new life when he led her to the hill-top. In 
 a word, Carl had taken her as he found her, had
 
 208 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 blended himself with her, until now he was as 
 important to her in a way as Aunt Philomela, the 
 old brick house, or Aladdin and the Princess. 
 
 She had never quarreled with Carl. She could 
 not imagine such a thing. It would be as sense- 
 less as quarreling with herself. He understood her 
 perfectly and she understood him perfectly and 
 each had too much respect for the other ever to 
 force an issue. Before a clash came either he 
 would surrender a point or she would surrender 
 a point, and so they would go on together harmoni- 
 ously. She could always affect a compromise with 
 Carl. With a little glow of satisfaction she real- 
 ized that she could trust herself to him with this 
 sure knowledge. If love meant peace, then she 
 and Carl were lovers. 
 
 With a little gasp of surprise she realized this 
 was just what her father had hinted at; with a 
 burning of the cheeks and a tightening of her throat 
 she realized that this was what Barnes had tried 
 to tell her. With her father she accepted his con- 
 cern with nothing more than maidenly confusion 
 at having it for the first time put so starkly; but 
 with Barnes she felt a touch of resentment 
 
 From the first moment she had met Barnes he 
 had a way, in spite of all his well meaning, of 
 making her uncomfortable. He had forced her
 
 ROAD COMPLICATES MATTERS 09 
 
 into a position which, however she might defend 
 it to Aunt Philomela, which, however much it justi- 
 fied itself, certainly had not been conducive to 
 peace in her own mind. Had she met Carl for 
 the first time by the letter-box that day, he would 
 never have suggested such a disturbing adventure 
 as this upon which Barnes had embarked her. 
 Carl would have realized her position perfectly, 
 would have sympathized with her fully, and would 
 have helped her to do that which out of her own 
 conscience she would have known must be done. 
 In the end he might have taken his violin and 
 brought her solace for the inevitable consequences. 
 
 Again, in all the days she had known Carl he 
 had never urged her to run counter to any wish 
 of Aunt Philomela's. He would never have per- 
 suaded her to walk to the station with him after 
 his bag, and certainly would never have forgotten 
 the bag after starting. He would never have made 
 her go fishing; he would never have put her into 
 an embarrassing position before the cook or in the 
 library; he would never have made her so un- 
 comfortable as she was this minute sitting upon 
 Aladdin. 
 
 She touched her horse's neck and he broke again 
 into a gallop. Within sight of the station, she 
 turned and rode back again for fully two miles
 
 210 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 without stopping. When she did stop it was at 
 sight of Carl swinging down a level stretch of road 
 a full mile distant. Then, upon the spur of the 
 moment, she turned once more and galloped back 
 towards the station. But once well hidden by a 
 turn in the road, she drew up the horse and con- 
 tinued at a walk. 
 
 This unusual act was not so much inspired by 
 Carl as by Barnes. Her cheeks grew scarlet but 
 she faced the fact squarely. She wished to think 
 a bit more about this man who had strode so soldier- 
 like into her life even though it made her 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 Carl had spoken of some great tragedy which 
 he had seen in Barnes' eyes. She herself had not 
 seen it until this morning, when for a second as 
 he had stood with her by her father's bedside she 
 seemed to feel it; and again later, when at break- 
 fast, he had flashed a look at her which suggested 
 a pain which with difficulty he held in control. 
 Yet, when she had repeated Carl's words to him, 
 he had denied the tragedy, and he was a man to tell 
 the truth. Perhaps he himself did not yet recog- 
 nize it. Perhaps it was as yet something which 
 he refused to admit even to himself. The thought 
 roused in her a queer little motherly concern. He 
 was doing so much for her that it seemed as
 
 ROAD COMPLICATES MATTERS 211 
 
 though there must be something she could do in 
 return. 
 
 She laughed at herself. He was not a man to 
 need any such slight help as she might be able to 
 give him. A man who talked so sturdily of ad- 
 venturing a man who faced the purple rim of 
 the sky with no other emotion than eagerness to be 
 over it did not need her, who only drew back 
 from it in awe. 
 
 She had looked at a hundred sunsets with Carl. 
 He had helped her to see the beauties in them, had 
 made her feel the song in them, had brought home 
 to her a sense of peace in them. But he had 
 never left her wondering; he had never sent her 
 back through the little Dutch door half in fear. 
 
 She caught herself with a start. She had drifted 
 unconsciously into a comparison of these two men. 
 To say the least, this was presumptuous of her. 
 She turned Aladdin once more and gave him the 
 bit. He sprang as though at a hurdle and cut his 
 feet into the hard road. She sat upon his back 
 with her thoughts so far away that she was scarcely 
 conscious of riding. So she took the first turn in 
 the road more carelessly than usual. She had just 
 time to swerve one side from an automobile which 
 rounded the corner. She lost her balance, re- 
 gained it, and, still unsteady in her seat, knew that
 
 212 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 for the first time in his life Aladdin had lost his 
 head. 
 
 She was not frightened, but the unexpectedness 
 of the emergency took all the strength from her. 
 When she pulled at the bit she found her arms 
 as weak as a child's. She tried to speak, but 
 found her tongue dumb. As she swayed in the 
 saddle she saw Carl. He was watching her ap- 
 proach unable to make out whether it was a wild 
 ride or a runaway. Then she fell sideways, and 
 her foot caught in the stirrup. She had a vague 
 memory of Carl's white face as he stood in the 
 middle of the road ; remembered seeing him spring, 
 and then the dark closed in upon her. 
 
 When again she came to herself, she was lying by 
 the road side and Carl was bending over her. Her 
 face was wet and he was moistening her lips with 
 a damp handkerchief. She could n't understand 
 why he should be doing this. He was covered with 
 dust, his coat was torn, and his hand was trembling. 
 
 "Carl," she said, " what what in the 
 world have you been doing ? " 
 
 " Eleanor," he trembled. 
 
 She tried to raise herself to her elbow but the 
 effort hurt her. As she fell back again she remem- 
 bered distinctly the vision of Carl standing in the 
 middle of the road and springing for the bit.
 
 ROAD COMPLICATES MATTERS 213 
 
 Then she recalled the whole incident. She looked 
 anxiously at the dusty figure still bending over 
 her. 
 
 " You are hurt ? " she asked quietly. 
 
 " My arm," he answered. 
 
 She noticed that his left arm hung limply by his 
 side. She tried again to sit up but her bruised 
 back forced her down again. She closed her eyes. 
 Through the dizzy turmoil in her brain one fact 
 thrust itself forward with acute clearness ; Carl had 
 saved her life. But for him, Aladdin might have 
 dragged her half a mile. The truth came as some- 
 thing of a surprise. When she had seen him 
 standing there, it had not occurred to her that 
 he would do this. She had only feared lest he 
 should be trampled down. Instead, he had stood 
 his ground. She was proud of him. It would be 
 a pleasure to tell Barnes of this. 
 
 " If you 're more comfortable," he said, " I'll go 
 back to the house and " 
 
 " Where is Aladdin ? " 
 
 " After I got you clear, he ran on." 
 
 " He '11 return to the house," she said, " I guess 
 that's all the word they '11 need." 
 
 Carl rose to his feet 
 
 " I'd better make sure." 
 
 He was unsteady. She was quick to perceive it.
 
 214 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Sit down here by me, Carl," she said, " they 
 they will come for us." He obeyed her. She 
 noticed that his left arm hung like an empty 
 sleeve. 
 
 " You were very brave, Carl," she said. 
 
 The color returned to his cheeks. He looked 
 down at her with an expression that was quite boy- 
 ish in its frank delight. 
 
 " Any man would be brave for you," he said 
 simply. 
 
 She wondered at this. It gave her a new 
 sense of power and yet she did not smile as she 
 had when she learned that Barnes had told her 
 things he had not intended to tell her. Nor did 
 the power seem so great, though both incidents 
 opened her eyes to a new personality within her. 
 And both gave her sense of responsibility which, 
 while nursing the pride which all responsibility 
 gives, brought its burden too. In mounting the 
 throne which was her birthright, she was forced to 
 assume the duties of a ruler. A queen must take 
 a sterner oath of allegiance than the humblest of 
 her subjects. 
 
 From the direction of the house, she heard the 
 clattering hoof beats of a racing horse. 
 
 " He is coming," she said. 
 
 "Dr. Merriweather ? "
 
 ROAD COMPLICATES MATTERS 215 
 
 "No," she answered, "I don't think it's Dr. 
 Merri weather." 
 
 Carl stepped into the road. In a cloud of dust 
 a horse and buggy was approaching at a mad gal- 
 lop. 
 
 "It's Joe!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Eleanor smoothed back the hair from her brow 
 and forced herself to sit up. If a moment be- 
 fore her face had lacked color it did not now. 
 With Carl she watched the nearing carriage with 
 an interest that almost made her forget her 
 pain. 
 
 Barnes drew up the horse with a suddenness 
 that brought it to its hind legs. Before it had 
 fairly stopped he had leaped out, run across the 
 road, and knelt by her side. 
 
 " Thank God ! " he exclaimed, as he met her 
 smile. " You 're not badly hurt ? " 
 
 "No, but Carl " 
 
 He turned as though for the first time conscious 
 that the other was here. 
 
 " He has hurt his arm," she said. " I guess he 
 saved my life." 
 
 " But you are all whole ? You are n't cut or 
 broken " 
 
 " Only just bruised," she answered, " but Carl 
 I'm afraid he's broken his arm."
 
 216 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Carl had come nearer. Barnes rose and grasped 
 his sound hand. 
 
 " You Ve earned the thanks of us all, old man/'' 
 he said. 
 
 Carl flushed. 
 
 " It was nothing. We we Ve got to get her 
 back to the house." 
 
 " I 've sent for the doctor," said Barnes. " When 
 I saw Aladdin come back riderless I knew there 
 was trouble." 
 
 He returned to the girl. 
 
 " Think you can make your feet ? " 
 
 "I I '11 try." 
 
 He placed his arm about her waist and she stood 
 up. But she could not rest her weight upon her 
 left ankle. 
 
 " Put your arm around my neck," he com- 
 manded. 
 
 She obeyed. 
 
 He placed one arm below her and lifting her 
 clear of the ground bore her to the carriage. Then 
 with her right foot upon the step she easily clam- 
 bered in. 
 
 " Now you, Carl." 
 
 The latter took his place by Eleanor's side. 
 Barnes swung the horse about, touched him with 
 the whip and they galloped back. He sat between
 
 ROAD COMPLICATES MATTERS 217 
 
 the two and did not speak again until they reached 
 the house. Then once more he took her in his 
 arms and carried her into the house. He carried 
 her upstairs, though she protested at this, and 
 lowered her upon her little white bed. 
 
 Aunt Philomela neither shrieked nor fainted. 
 In a business-like way she ordered Barnes from the 
 room and proceeded to disrobe the girl. 
 
 By the time Barnes was downstairs again Dr. 
 Merriweather had arrived. He admitted later that 
 it was the only time in his life that his horse had 
 not gone fast enough for him. He went up the 
 stairs two at a time. 
 
 Barnes found Carl, grown a bit faint, in the 
 living-room. He got cold water for him and then 
 very gently removed his coat and slit his sleeve to 
 the shoulder. 
 
 " We '11 be ready for the doctor when he comes 
 down," he said. " Sure you 're sound everywhere 
 else?" 
 
 "Yes. But Eleanor I'm afraid she's hurt 
 worse than she seemed." 
 
 '" She 's in the best of hands now. And Carl 
 it was bully of you." 
 
 " Why there was n't anything else to do ! " 
 
 " No. But we don't all do the only thing." 
 
 " I guess anyone would with her."
 
 218 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " With her ? " exclaimed Barnes. " Well, I don't 
 know but what you 're right. Perhaps we all would 
 with her." 
 
 He led him to a sofa and made him lie down. 
 
 From above came the imperious tinkle of the 
 silver bell. 
 
 " There he goes ! " exclaimed Barnes. " I won- 
 dered how long it would take him to smell out this." 
 
 He hurried upstairs where he found the old 
 gentleman upon his elbow, his eyes turned towards 
 Eleanor's room.
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII 
 
 WHAT MAKES A PRODIGAL 
 
 Dr. Merriweather reported that Miss Van Patten 
 had escaped with nothing worse than bruises and a 
 wrenched ankle. 
 
 "But by the Lord, Harry!" he exploded, "it 
 was nothing short of a miracle." 
 
 " A miracle ? " questioned Barnes. " What 
 about Carl's part in it ? " 
 
 The doctor paused a moment. Then he smiled. 
 
 " Carl was the miracle," he answered. 
 
 Langdon himself did not get off so easily; his 
 arm was broken below the elbow and the danger did 
 not so much lie in the break as in the stiffness 
 which might result. The doctor did not realize as 
 fully as Barnes what the sheer nimbleness of those 
 fingers of the left hand meant to Carl. Like a 
 good many country physicians, he was greater as 
 a medical man than as a surgeon. He rather took 
 this aftermath of a fracture for granted. Conse- 
 quently he was a bit surprised at Barnes' concern 
 in the matter. 
 
 " We '11 have his arm out of a sling in six
 
 220 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 weeks," declared the doctor. " May be a bit stiff, 
 but " 
 
 "Good heavens!" exploded Barnes. "You'd 
 better amputate it and be done with it." 
 
 " What the devil do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean that if you take his fiddle away from 
 him, you take away his soul." 
 
 "His soul?" 
 
 " Exactly. He could n't sing without his fiddle 
 any more than I could paint without my hands. 
 What 's a soul without a song ? And he he has 
 some big ones to sing during these next few 
 
 " Steady. Steady. Don't let that imagination 
 of yours run away with you." 
 
 Barnes studied the big-framed, big-faced man a 
 second and continued more soberly. 
 
 " What you call imagination are the grim facts 
 of life for him and for me, doctor. His fiddle 
 is n't a detail of his life it 's life itself for him. 
 Cripple his arm and you cripple his soul. You 've 
 got to fight as hard for those fingers as you would 
 for his life." 
 
 If Dr. Merriweather was at first only annoyed 
 by what he took to be mere extravagance of speech, 
 there was something now in the tense face of Barnes 
 which made him pause and think.
 
 WHAT MAKES A PRODIGAL 221 
 
 " Carl did n't say anything to me about that," he 
 observed. 
 
 " No," answered Barnes, " because he did n't 
 wish it to get upstairs." 
 
 " To Eleanor ? " 
 
 " To Eleanor," answered Barnes. 
 
 Dr. Merriweather held out his hand. 
 
 " Boy," he said quietly, " now I understand the 
 miracle. You 're a better physician in this house- 
 hold than I." 
 
 " No. But when you live here day after day 
 there are certain things you 're forced to see." 
 
 " I wonder if you 've diagnosed anything pecu- 
 liar about Mr. Van Patten lately." 
 
 Barnes moved uneasily. 
 
 " He seems better, that 's all." 
 
 " Anything queer about his eyes ? " 
 
 " I 've noticed that every time anyone comes into 
 the room he strains towards him as though trying 
 to see." 
 
 " Just so. Has it occurred to you that perhaps 
 he does see ? " 
 
 "That he can actually can see?" 
 
 The doctor nodded. 
 
 " Why no ! " exclaimed Barnes. " Why that 
 does n't seem possible ! " 
 
 " If he continues to pull himself together at this
 
 222 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 rate, it 's coining. All I 'm wondering about is if 
 he is n't even now playing possum." 
 
 " Why should he do that ? " 
 
 " I 'm not saying that he is, mind you. But it 
 would n't surprise me if some day he surprised the 
 rest of you." 
 
 " But look here this is serious. If once he 
 sees me " 
 
 " Even then he might not recognize you. He 
 is n't as alert mentally as he used to be ; his new 
 joy in life would force back every doubt ; your ac- 
 ceptance here by Aunt Philomela and Eleanor " 
 
 " But Good Heavens that would mean a terrible 
 crash in prospect. I can't stay on here forever." 
 
 " It 's too much for me, my boy," the doctor 
 answered soberly. 
 
 "But if he can see now, why doesn't he say 
 so?" 
 
 " These old men get strange whims. Perhaps 
 he 's waiting to make sure of his sight so as not to 
 disappoint the others by raising their hope. Or it 
 may be just an old man's joke." 
 
 Barnes smiled. It was something of an ironical 
 smile. 
 
 " If one had the right point of view," he re- 
 marked, " there are several things a man might 
 think a good joke here."
 
 WHAT MAKES A PRODIGAL 223 
 
 "And you," answered the doctor with a good- 
 natured grin, " are that man, I should say." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Thank God it 's your type of man who 's 
 playing this game," concluded the doctor. 
 
 It was three days before Barnes was allowed to 
 see Miss Van Patten. On the whole they were 
 three of the most uncomfortable days he ever 
 passed. The father demanded more and more of 
 his time and succeeded, whether deliberately or not, 
 in a pretty form of torture. He pressed him 
 harder in his questioning both about Alaska and 
 about Carl and never withdrew from his face those 
 closed eyes which still seemed at times to flicker 
 as though opened the tiniest crack. But that may 
 have been pure imagination. There are holy 
 images which if one gazes long enough upon them 
 appear to move their eyes. 
 
 Between his visits to the father Barnes made at 
 least one daily pilgrimage to Dr. Merri weather's for 
 a short talk with Carl. Here again he submitted 
 to another kind of torture. Barnes understood 
 Langdon as no one else on earth understood him, 
 and this invited from the latter the frankest kind 
 of confidence. He listened and he suffered. 
 
 Back in the house again, he must needs repeat 
 to Aunt Philomela the greater part of his talk with 
 Langdon.
 
 224 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " The dear boy! " she once exclaimed, " Eleanor 
 is under very great obligations to him." 
 
 " Very great," answered Barnes. " He saved 
 her life." 
 
 " I hope he '11 soon be able to come over." 
 
 " So do I," Barnes answered honestly. 
 
 " He and Eleanor have always got on so well 
 together. In all the time they have known one 
 another they have never quarreled." 
 
 " That is very well behaved of them." 
 
 " So you see " she concluded significantly. 
 
 " Yes," he assured her hastily, " I see. 
 
 During those three days, then, Barnes played 
 his part like a good actor fulfilled his duty like 
 a good soldier, but he lived in dreary isolation. 
 Aunt Philomela saw no change in him. If she had, 
 it would have been some satisfaction to her. As it 
 was they dined in solemn tete-a-tete and disagreed 
 upon every topic proposed for conversation 
 except Carl. If anything, Barnes' meek acquies- 
 cence on this subject irritated her more than an 
 aggressive attitude on his part would have done. 
 It was altogether too noticeable not to excite her 
 suspicion. But for once she kept her counsel and 
 waited. 
 
 It was on the fourth morning that, as she was 
 rising from the breakfast table, she announced,
 
 WHAT MAKES A PRODIGAL 225 
 
 " My niece wished me to tell you that she will 
 see you for a few minutes this morning if you care 
 to come up," 
 
 Barnes caught his breath. 
 
 " And you waited all this time before you told 
 me ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 Aunt Philomela raised her eyebrows. 
 
 " She is hardly ready at this moment to see you," 
 she observed haughtily. 
 
 " I know but " 
 
 Barnes did not finish. What he was going to say 
 was that by delaying the news she had deprived 
 him by just so much of anticipation. On second 
 thought he realized that this would probably not 
 make her feel so badly as it did him. 
 
 " Very well, Aunt Philomela," he returned with 
 dignity, "kindly convey my compliments to your 
 niece and tell her I shall be pleased to pay my 
 respects at any time she may suggest." 
 
 " Which means I suppose that you '11 come up 
 at about eleven." 
 
 "At about eleven," he agreed. 
 
 It took the tall clock in the library almost a day 
 to compass the arc between eight and eleven but it 
 was finally accomplished. Before the clock had 
 ceased striking Barnes was on his way upstairs. 
 He was met at the door by Aunt Philomela who
 
 226 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 escorted him to her sitting-room where Eleanor lay 
 upon a couch looking not one whit worse for her 
 adventure. The color in her cheeks was even deeper 
 if anything; her eyes full and lustrous, if a bit 
 startled; and her hand-clasp firm. 
 
 " It seems silly to lie here," she smiled, " but 
 between Aunt Philomela and Dr. Merriweather, 
 what can one do ? " 
 
 " Nothing," he agreed. " One might as well be 
 in the hands of Fate." 
 
 He took a chair at the head of the couch and 
 Aunt Philomela picking up a bit of lace upon 
 which she was at work sat by the window and 
 proceeded still further to symbolize Fate. 
 
 " It 's been very dull in Alaska these last three 
 days," he observed. 
 
 "In Alaska?" 
 
 " Downstairs is Alaska," he explained. 
 
 " But Aunty says that between father and Carl, 
 you 've been very busy." 
 
 " I 've had a great many things to think about," 
 he admitted. " One of them concerns your father." 
 
 "Daddy?" 
 
 Aunt Philomela glanced up from her knitting. 
 
 " Yes," he nodded, " it may be necessary for 
 me to make my excuses and leave before very 
 long."
 
 WHAT MAKES A PRODIGAL 227 
 
 " What do you mean ? " demanded Aunt Philo- 
 mela. 
 
 " I mean that Mr. Van Patten is getting very 
 much better. I mean that he may see more than 
 we think he sees." 
 
 " His eyesight is returning ? " exclaimed the girl, 
 " Oh, that is too good to be true." 
 
 " His eyesight," gasped Aunt Philomela flushing 
 red, " you mean you mean he may yet detect 
 us in this fraud ? " 
 
 " For all I know he may already have done so," 
 answered Barnes. 
 
 The girl rose to her elbow. Aunt Philomela 
 looked upon the point of jumping from the win- 
 dow. " I Ve noticed," stammered the latter, " that 
 he has made me very uncomfortable these last few 
 days." 
 
 " That may be only your conscience," suggested 
 Barnes. " But I I have no conscience and yet 
 he has made me very uncomfortable." 
 
 " Dr. Merriweather knows this ? " asked the girl. 
 
 " He has suspected it. He left it for me to tell 
 you." 
 
 " Why, it would be like getting Dad home from 
 a foreign land," cried the girl. 
 
 " He would be almost like another prodigal," 
 smiled Barnes.
 
 228 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Only," she objected, " father has not wasted 
 his substance in riotous living." 
 
 " That is n't what makes the prodigal," answered 
 Barnes. " The prodigal need n't be really prodi- 
 gal. It 's the journey away from home into the far 
 country that makes the prodigal." 
 
 "You take great liberty with the Scriptures," 
 snapped Aunt Philomela more to relieve her feel- 
 ings than anything else. 
 
 " Like every artist," answered Barnes unruffled, 
 " I have learned the Bible almost by heart. Do 
 you remember what the father exclaimed when he 
 saw his son ? " 
 
 Aunt Philomela pretended to resume her knit- 
 ting. 
 
 " Perhaps you can quote it," suggested Barnes. 
 
 " Perhaps you will," put in the girl to save her 
 aunt's feelings. 
 
 " He said," resumed Barnes, slowly. " He said, 
 ' This my son was dead, and is alive again ; he was 
 lost, and he is found/ Nothing about riotous liv- 
 ing. The boy had gone away and came back again. 
 That was all that counted. That is all that will 
 count when Mr. Van Patten comes back from the 
 darkness to you." 
 
 So in his own life, he thought, his father was as 
 much the prodigal as he, the son, was. But he said 
 nothing of this.
 
 WHAT MAKES A PRODIGAL 229 
 
 If it should be true ! " stammered the girl 
 again. 
 
 She lost sight of all the complications this 
 involved lost sight of all the other complications 
 which had worried her before Barnes came upstairs 
 with this news. 
 
 " Aunty," she determined, " I must go in at once 
 and see him." 
 
 But Barnes motioned her to lie down again. 
 
 "Not yet," he advised, "let's determine first 
 what is best to be done. Aunt Philomela what 
 do you say ? " 
 
 Aunt Philomela frowned. 
 
 " I say it 's all a pretty pickle," she answered. 
 
 " What do you say ? " asked Eleanor. 
 
 " This," answered Barnes. " First of all, I must 
 leave before he recognizes me. Secondly, we must 
 get his real son back to him as soon as possible. 
 
 " Yes," agreed the girl. " But will Joe come ? " 
 ' " I shall send him a wire every day until he does 
 come," said Barnes. 
 
 " And when he does come, what will Carl say ? " 
 demanded Aunt Philomela. 
 
 Barnes smiled. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered. " I fear he will 
 be somewhat embarrassed." 
 
 Miss Van Patten looked troubled. Here was
 
 230 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 another uncomfortable situation to add to the long 
 list of which Barnes was either the direct or indi- 
 rect cause. She looked at him with what he inter- 
 preted as an appeal. 
 
 " Perhaps that is n't a very important matter any- 
 way," he suggested. 
 
 " Important," snapped Aunt Philomela, " I should 
 call it very important." 
 
 "How?" inquired Barnes. 
 
 " Because my niece and Mr. Langdon are 
 engaged," she exploded.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 BARNES LEARNS A GREAT TRUTH 
 
 If Barnes had tried to paint Eleanor as she looked 
 that moment, he certainly would have had to dip 
 his brush in damson preserves. She turned upon 
 her aunt with a little cry. 
 
 " Aunty, you know, for father's sake, we de- 
 cided it was best not to say anything." 
 
 " It 's high time," she stormed back, " that some 
 of us spoke out." 
 
 Barnes leaned forward. He extended his hand 
 to the girl. 
 
 " I congratulate Carl," he said. 
 
 She took his hand weakly and he rose. He 
 stared about the room a second as though uncer- 
 tain just what to do or say next. Aunt Philomela, 
 who had assumed a very rigid pose, relaxed at the 
 sight. 
 
 "I I thought you suspected as much any- 
 way," she said. 
 
 " Why, yes I did. Mr. Van Patten spoke of 
 it Carl spoke of it." 
 
 The girl glanced up quickly.
 
 232 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Carl said he had secured your consent," she 
 observed coolly. 
 
 "As a brother I advised him as best I could," 
 he answered. " But when when did he see 
 you?" 
 
 " He came over this morning against the doc- 
 tor's advice," put in Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " Well," concluded Barnes, a bit inanely, " I 
 must be going." 
 
 Upon the words he started for the door. 
 
 " You still think that it it is best for you to 
 leave father?" 
 
 " I 'm quite sure of that now," he answered. 
 
 Barnes was not one to put off acting upon a 
 resolution. He went down the hall at once, and 
 finding Mr. Van Patten awake put the matter to 
 him as gently as possible. 
 
 " Father," he said, " I must go away for a little 
 while perhaps for a week or two." 
 
 " Away ? " gasped the old man. " Again ? " 
 
 There was genuine emotion in the old man's 
 cry. It was a father's cry and it created in Barnes 
 an overwhelming desire for his own. In some- 
 thing of a vision he seemed to see the old proprie- 
 tor of the Acme echoing this need for his son. 
 The little comedy had turned serious. From act- 
 ing the prodigal he found himself feeling the prodi-
 
 BARNES LEARNS A GREAT TRUTH 233 
 
 gal. He wanted to get back home not as rep- 
 resented by the Waldemere, but- as embodied in the 
 flesh and blood of those whose name he bore. So 
 it happened that the more this aged gentleman upon 
 the bed expressed the need for a son, the more 
 he stirred in Barnes the need of a father. Barnes 
 turned away his head from the searching blind 
 eyes. 
 
 " Only for a little while." 
 
 " A little while ? My son, I 'm living now by 
 only little whiles." 
 
 " You 're getting stronger every day," said 
 Barnes. " I want to see you sitting up when I 
 come back." 
 
 The old gentleman shook his head. 
 
 " I don't know. I don't know," he answered. 
 
 " Listen," said Barnes, earnestly. " Life is 
 beginning new, in more ways than one, for all 
 of us here. Your happiest days are coming. If 
 you'll hold tight till I get back, I'll prove 
 it." 
 
 " I '11 try," he answered submissively. 
 
 " You must do more than that. You must fight. 
 Will you promise ? " 
 
 " Yes, boy, yes." 
 
 " I '11 write to you every day. I 'm only going 
 as far as New York."
 
 234 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " All right, Joe. Then perhaps you had bet- 
 ter start right off." 
 
 " Two weeks; perhaps less. Good-by." 
 
 The old man took his hand. Barnes bent over 
 him and kissed his forehead. Then he went out 
 of the room and back to Eleanor. Here again he 
 saw no reason for delay. In reply to his knock she 
 bade him come in. She was sitting alone in the 
 same position as when he had left her. 
 
 " I 've told your father," he said without pre- 
 amble, " and now I 've come to say good-by to 
 you." 
 
 "You've told Daddy already?"' 
 
 " Yes. He bore it very well." 
 
 " You 're so hasty," she stammered. " You take 
 away one's breath." 
 
 " Some things are best done hastily," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 " But this why, Aunt Philomela is quite 
 broken up at the idea of your leaving. She she 
 has had to lie down." 
 
 " Then I '11 not disturb her. 
 
 " But you must. She would never forgive 
 you." 
 
 She looked as though about to call, but he 
 checked her. 
 
 " I must tell you first my plan. If it 's pos-
 
 BARNES LEARNS A GREAT TRUTH 235 
 
 sible to get a wire through to the boy, I shall do 
 it. If, in the meanwhile, you yourself hear any- 
 thing from him, you must let me know at once. 
 I '11 leave my address." He took a card from his 
 pocket and handed it to her. 
 
 " You are so very kind," she murmured, with a 
 break in her voice. 
 
 " I shall write your father every day," he went 
 on, " so perhaps he will not ask many questions." 
 
 " I will read the letters to him myself," she 
 said. 
 
 He caught his breath. It was a commonplace 
 enough remark but he grasped at it like a 
 compliment. 
 
 " Thank you," he answered simply. 
 
 Certainly that in itself was a commonplace 
 enough reply, and yet it turned her cheeks scarlet. 
 
 When he spoke again it was very deliberately, 
 as though the words really had some profound 
 meaning. 
 
 " If I 'm able to get hold of Joe," he said, " I 
 myself shall come back with him." 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, " that would be so 
 helpful." 
 
 " It is my one hope," he answered. 
 
 Then, because there was so much more that he 
 wanted to say; then, because there was so much
 
 236 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 he mustn't say, lie turned his eyes towards Aunt 
 Philomela's room. The girl obeyed his unex- 
 pressed desire in some haste. 
 
 "Aunty," she called. 
 
 She came in, a bit frightened. Certainly in ap- 
 pearance she bore out the girl's statement. All the 
 fight seemed to have gone from her. She was an 
 Aunt Philomela he had never seen before. She 
 was scarcely more than a sweet, lovable old lady 
 who looked very dependent. She came forward 
 uncertainly. 
 
 " You 're going ? " she exclaimed, in as much 
 astonishment as though this were the first she had 
 heard of it. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " I must start at once. I 'm going to walk to 
 Chester to catch the noon train." 
 
 "I I '11 send John with you," she stammered. 
 
 He smiled at the recollection this suggested. 
 
 "Thanks," he answered, "but I still prefer to 
 walk. I shall not forget this time." 
 
 Miss Van Patten glanced at him with a queer 
 little smile about her mouth. 
 
 " Why what are we going to do ? " asked Aunt 
 Philomela turning to her niece. 
 
 " We must do the best we can," answered Miss 
 Van Patten.
 
 BARNES LEARNS A GREAT TRUTH 237 
 
 " But I don't know, I 'm sure. It will leave us 
 quite alone." 
 
 " There is Carl," suggested Barnes. 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Aunt Philomela, " I for- 
 got. There is Carl." 
 
 " If I find Joe I may come back for a few days," 
 explained Barnes. 
 
 " You '11 come back for a visit anyway, won't 
 you ? " asked Aunt Philomela, brightening. 
 
 " If I find Joe," answered Barnes. 
 
 Here again the girl caught an almost formidable 
 note. 
 
 The little old lady moved uneasily. 
 
 " I must thank you for all you 've done," she 
 faltered, almost as though this were an apology. 
 
 " Please don't thank me," he insisted. 
 
 At this opportune moment John entered with a 
 cup of broth for Miss Van Patten. 
 
 " John," requested Barnes, as the man put down 
 the cup and was upon the point of leaving, " will 
 you be good enough to pack my bag ? " 
 
 John looked surprised. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he answered. 
 
 He paused, coughed, and then blurted out, 
 
 " Could I have a moment with you, sir, before 
 you leave ? " 
 
 It was Barnes' turn to look surprised.
 
 238 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Why yes," he agreed. 
 
 Barnes turned again to Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " You have lost some of your color," he said 
 unexpectedly. " Would you mind if I gave you 
 some good advice ? " 
 
 She looked bewildered but she shook her head. 
 
 " It 's just this," he continued, " don't worry 
 over your accounts." 
 
 " No," she answered. 
 
 She spoke so mildly that the girl smiled. 
 
 " For," he went on didactically, " there 's noth- 
 ing so bad for the nerves as modern business 
 methods." 
 
 The little old lady glanced up to see if he were 
 smiling. He was not. He never was when she 
 suspected him of it 
 
 " I 'm afraid I '11 never get them straightened 
 out again," she sighed. 
 
 " So much the better for you," he assured her. 
 " What you really ought to do, Aunt Philomela, is 
 to take up gambling." 
 
 "What?" she demanded sharply. 
 
 He nodded blandly. 
 
 " If I ever have the opportunity I '11 teach you 
 draw poker." 
 
 " The least anyone can do at my age is to re- 
 frain from acquiring bad habits," she answered.
 
 BARNES LEARNS A GREAT TRUTH 239 
 
 " On the contrary, your age is the only safe age 
 in which to indulge in them," he argued. " Noth- 
 ing keeps one so young as the element of un- 
 certainty. That is why I recommend gambling. 
 But you can gamble a little, even with your ac- 
 counts; you can let them run so that you will 
 never quite know where you stand. Some such 
 excitement would brace you up wonderfully." 
 
 " Bah ! " she observed, with something of her 
 old-time scorn. 
 
 " You made a good beginning," he suggested, 
 " when you bought into ' The Lucky Find.' Min- 
 ing stocks are always a good gamble." 
 
 "'The Lucky Find' wasn't even a good 
 gamble," she declared. 
 
 John entered with the dress-suit case. Barnes 
 extended his hand to the little old lady. He was 
 a believer in abrupt departures. He disliked the 
 inclined plane of inanities usually accompanying 
 a farewell. 
 
 " Au revoir, Aunt Philomela," he said simply. 
 
 The little old lady took his hand. Her fingers 
 were trembling. 
 
 " You you have been very kind," she faltered. 
 
 " Good-by, Eleanor." 
 
 " Good-by," she said. 
 
 He turned, and John followed him to the Dutch 
 door.
 
 240 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I thought," began John, " I 'd just like to ask 
 you once more about ' The Lucky Find.' You are 
 still interested in it, sir ? " 
 
 " Extremely." 
 
 " Would you advise me to hold the stock, sir ? " 
 
 " I 'd advise you to hold it for two weeks," an- 
 swered Barnes. 
 
 " Very weU, sir. Thank you, sir." 
 
 " I think there '11 be at least one more divi- 
 dend," he assured him. 
 
 " That 's very good, sir. Good luck to you, 
 sir." 
 
 " Thank you" Barnes answered earnestly. " I 
 need everyone to wish me Good Luck." 
 
 He hurried down the path and turned into the 
 road. It had drunk of the sun so long that it 
 was more saffron than ever. And yet what a 
 groveling creature it was ! It licked the feet of 
 the houses by its side. What, after all, were the 
 houses? Mere shelters for men. What of these 
 men with their strong legs and the arrogant pose 
 of their heads ? The eyes of the women bade them 
 stay and they stayed; bade them go, and they 
 went. Neither the road nor the houses nor the 
 strong-rayed sun could countermand that order. 
 Men went to wars, they went to sea, they pushed 
 through forests, they dared the icy mountains of
 
 BARNES LEARNS A GREAT TRUTH 241 
 
 the North for what ? Gold ? Bah ! Where did 
 the gold go, murmured the women who remained 
 behind smiling to themselves ? For fame ? Who 
 gave them fame questioned the deep eyes of the 
 women ? For selfish pleasure ? Wherein lay the 
 pleasure until it shone in the eyes of these same 
 women? The road, then, was no worse than the 
 men, and both were a convenience for the women 
 who lived in the houses. 
 
 That was all. Barnes saw it clearly enough now.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 SO DOES HIS MOTHER 
 
 Mrs. Horatio G. Barnes was sitting in lonely 
 grandeur in the drawing-room of her suite at the 
 Waldemere listlessly watching the scant life which 
 crawled along the hot macadamized road below her. 
 She was a tall woman with a serious face which on 
 the whole was really beautiful. Her wistful gray 
 eyes were set between rather high cheek bones and 
 above a nose and mouth wonderfully well formed 
 if a trifle masculine. The warm glow of her fine 
 skin and her abundant white hair relieved them of 
 prominence. She was tastefully dressed in black 
 and wore no jewels save a single large stone guarded 
 by her wedding ring. 
 
 The high semi-formal room in which she sat 
 seemed no part of her. She looked as though she had 
 stepped in here as into the waiting-room of one of the 
 more pretentious hotels. In spite of the luxurious- 
 ness and the fairly good taste which she had forced 
 upon her surroundings, she rose superior to them. 
 They were too new to match the centuries which
 
 SO DOES HIS MOTHER 243 
 
 still lingered in her eyes ; they were too obvious to 
 match the quiet reserve of her own manner. 
 
 She lifted her eyes from the brass-trimmed tour- 
 ing car which slid by on the street below and raised 
 them to the stark blue sky above. The strong fam- 
 ily resemblance to her son was then obvious. Her 
 eyes were the same which Barnes had raised to the 
 cotton-blossom clouds. In them there was the same 
 yearning for expression. But the mouth was differ- 
 ent; there was no trace here of that shrewd humor 
 which characterized Richard's; nothing but the set 
 capacity for infinite endurance. It was the mouth of 
 a warrior mother. But as the sky gave her imagi- 
 nings the freedom to roam a world common to her 
 son, her lips grew tender. 
 
 She wondered what the boy might be doing at that 
 moment. Perhaps he was sitting by the roadside 
 sketching; perhaps admiring the work of other 
 sketchers in that gallery of which he had spoken in 
 one letter. She wondered if the money she sent 
 him, had safely reached him. It might be as well 
 to send him more if she did n't hear from him by to- 
 morrow. She might even make a flying trip down 
 there to see what he was about. But there was 
 Horatio. She realized that her husband's sole pleas- 
 ure at the end of those hot days lay in finding her 
 waiting for him here. He had not seemed as well
 
 244 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 as usual during this last week. Though he never 
 spoke of it, she suspected that he was missing the 
 boy. At night he tossed uneasily and once she had 
 heard him murmur "Richard" in his troubled 
 dreams. 
 
 It was too bad that in spite of his disappointment 
 at losing an heir to his business throne, that he 
 could not understand. Not all men were created 
 with the same ambitions. He himself had left 
 the farm in which his father had taken such pride. 
 If then her boy wished to paint pictures 
 
 She started as she felt a pair of arms about her 
 neck. Looking around she found a brown face next 
 to hers. 
 
 " Dick," she cried breathless. 
 
 " Home again, mother," he assured her. 
 
 " Home," she exclaimed. " I have n't heard you 
 say home for years, Dick." 
 
 "Where's Dad?" 
 
 " At the office," she answered sadly. " He has 
 missed you, Dick." 
 
 " I Ve come back like a prodigal," he an- 
 swered, kissing her, " but I 'm not repentant. I 'in 
 going to have a talk with Dad to-night." 
 
 She looked a bit frightened. 
 
 " But first," he .said, " a talk with you. Put on 
 your mildest bonnet and we '11 take a walk in the 
 park."
 
 SO DOES HIS MOTHER 245 
 
 Without delay she obeyed and stepped with him 
 into the elevator. It was with some pride that she 
 passed through the office by the side of her tall son ; 
 it was with a renewed vision of life that she walked 
 with him along the hot street and over the familiar 
 course they had footed together so many times. She 
 noticed with further pride that several passers-by 
 glanced twice at them. She did not realize that this 
 might have been prompted somewhat by her son's 
 costume which, in contrast to her own modish dress 
 and that of the other pedestrians, was strikingly 
 picturesque. He still wore his dusty walking-boots, 
 his flannel shirt and loose tie. With his brown skin 
 and erect bearing he looked like a soldier home on 
 a furlough from active service. 
 
 In twenty minutes they reached the park which 
 was associated more intimately with his life than 
 any other spot in New York. For it was here that 
 she used to bring him as a child, as a schoolboy, 
 and finally whenever he came home from college. 
 It was here that the first discussions took place on 
 Art versus the Acme ; it was here that she threshed 
 out her own conflict of duty to her son and duty to 
 her husband. Until now she had felt that she had 
 failed miserably in attempting to harmonize the 
 hawthorn in her blood with the pine in her hus- 
 band's. But to-day there was that in her son's
 
 246 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 bearing which, seemed to give her fresh hope. So 
 they came to their favorite seat and sat down. 
 
 " Mother," he began abruptly, " I 've learned a 
 great deal in this last week." 
 
 " You hinted about your big picture. You have 
 it nearly done ? " 
 
 " I have n't begun it yet on canvas," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 " It sounded very attractive as you described it," 
 she encouraged. 
 
 " It 's a wonderful subject," he exclaimed. 
 " But it 's much easier to paint a landscape 
 than " 
 
 He paused. She finished for him, 
 
 " A woman ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "A young woman?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She was silent for a moment. Then, without 
 looking at him, she rested her hand upon his arm. 
 
 " Tell me about her, Dick." 
 
 " I had thought of using a big canvas and " 
 
 " Tell me about her, Dick." 
 
 "You think " 
 
 " That my boy will never be content with a mere 
 picture of her," she interrupted. 
 
 " Mother, you 're a wizard," he declared.
 
 SO DOES HIS MOTHER 247 
 
 " Not I," she answered almost a bit sadly. " It 
 is she who is now the wizard." 
 
 " It is her eyes/' he exclaimed. " Her eyes, her 
 nose, her mouth, her chin, her hair her soul." 
 
 She gently patted his arm still without looking 
 at him. Her own eyes had grown wistful as though 
 in fixing her gaze upon the sunshine which sprin- 
 kled through the leaf-shadows she was bidding 
 something good-by. 
 
 " Tell me from the first day, Dick," she mur- 
 mured. 
 
 So he began with the sobbing by the letter-box 
 and took her hour by hour through the events of 
 the succeeding days, trying hard to make her see 
 as vividly as possible every detail of them. But 
 when he had concluded, she had clearly in her 
 mind but one picture that of a young woman 
 painted in a bewildering combination of black and 
 gold and damson preserves. And this woman met 
 her eyes with something of a challenge. She con- 
 tinued to pat her son's arm silently and very 
 gently. 
 
 " So there she stands," he ran on, " and every 
 path in this old park seems to lead to her." 
 
 He did not notice the quick flash in his mother's 
 eyes, followed by a deepened look of patient resig- 
 nation. He did not know that he was hurting her.
 
 248 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 He did not know that he was making this park a 
 foreign place to her. 
 
 He lowered his voice. 
 
 " And back there too is Langdon. Mother, do 
 you think I was a fool to leave him ? " 
 
 " I don't see what else you could do." 
 
 " Only that a man has a right to fight for his 
 own giving and taking no quarter." 
 
 " But she is n't your own, Dick." 
 
 " No," he admitted, " that 's true. And yet 
 she 's already so big a part of me " 
 
 "Don't worry, boy." 
 
 " There 's one other thing I wanted to see you 
 about. I ought to settle down now into some sort 
 of definite work. I might get some sort of a teach- 
 ing position, I suppose." 
 
 " No," she answered quickly. " There 's no need 
 of that." 
 
 " Well, there 's always the Acme." 
 
 " Nor the Acme either," she said decidedly. 
 
 " But here I am twenty-five years old " 
 
 " Dick," she interrupted with some concern, " I 
 don't want to see you change. She would not wish 
 to see you change. You '11 paint good pictures 
 some day. Promise me you '11 not say anything to 
 your father about coming into his business. Prom- 
 ise that to me and to her."
 
 SO DOES HIS MOTHER 249 
 
 " Why are you so serious about it ? " he asked. 
 
 " It is a serious matter. Will you promise ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " The world is changing for you, Dick," she hur- 
 ried on, " and the thing to do now is to hold fast to 
 your true self. Don't let the world change you" 
 
 He was soon off again on another panegyric. 
 She listened with her face grown tender but with 
 that same far away look in her eyes. So they sat 
 until the evening shadows began to creep in and 
 she bethought herself of her husband. 
 
 " Be good to him, Dick," she pleaded. " He has 
 missed you. I think he 's changed some in this 
 last week. I heard him say once that he might go 
 back to the old farm for a visit." 
 
 " Great," exclaimed Barnes. " If we can keep 
 that idea in his head, we '11 make a man of him 
 yet." 
 
 "Dick!" 
 
 "Well, that's what he ought to do go back 
 there and stay. He ought to live a while now." 
 
 As they were returning, she said, for the first 
 time able to disentangle from his narrative a strand 
 other than that of the girl herself, 
 
 " I 'm glad, Dick, that you had an opportunity 
 to ease the other father. It was a deed worthy of 
 you."
 
 250 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Ah, if you could see him ! " 
 
 " And yet I think even if blind I should have 
 known my own," she mused. 
 
 " You mothers know more than anyone else in 
 the world," he replied, taking her arm, 
 
 " I 'm glad you did it, Dick," she said again. 
 " It may in some way have had its effect upon your 
 own father." 
 
 " You 're getting mystical." 
 
 " No," she protested, " but I 've never seen him 
 so concerned with matters outside the Acme. 
 lie 's quite changed." 
 
 " ShaU I tell him about this ? " 
 
 " No. Let me tell him," she said gently. 
 
 She looked up at him proudly. After all, he 
 was hers. If anyone chose to care a great deal 
 about him, why, that other was only caring for her 
 boy. Even if he cared a great deal about someone 
 else, it was still her boy who was caring. 
 
 They reached the Waldemere. 
 
 " Mr. Barnes has been inquiring for you," an- 
 nounced the clerk. 
 
 " I have been to walk with my son," she informed 
 him.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 AN OLD PRODIGAL COMES HOME 
 
 Mrs. Barnes retired that night with uneasy fore- 
 boding, leaving father and son together. As she 
 went out, she patted her son's shoulder and stoop- 
 ing pressed her lips against his light hair. 
 
 Horatio Barnes watched her until the curtains 
 closed behind her, and then faced his son deter- 
 minedly. He was taller than the latter and heavier. 
 His smooth-shaven face was pale and clouded. A 
 physician would have noted many little danger 
 signals. His expression was that of a man who 
 has summoned all his reserve strength to some 
 grim crisis. Barnes was surprised at the change 
 which had taken place even in the short time he 
 had been away. Aggressiveness had degenerated 
 into petulance ; self-confidence into bull-headedness. 
 Yet below all this he saw an outcropping of senti- 
 ment which surprised him. 
 
 " Well," demanded the father, lighting a black 
 cigar, " what do you propose to do now ? " 
 
 " Paint," answered Barnes, " harder than ever."
 
 252 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 The father scowled. 
 
 " Have n't you had enough of that yet ? " 
 
 Before the mother, the two had avoided this 
 subject. 
 
 " No/' Barnes answered, " I 'm just awaking to 
 the possibilities in Art." 
 
 The father chewed his cigar a moment. 
 
 " Boy," he said finally, " this business here is 
 getting too big for me alone. I can't hold on much 
 longer." 
 
 " Then chuck it," advised Barnes. 
 
 For another minute the father silently chewed his 
 cigar. He kept control of himself because to do 
 so meant just one chance of keeping control of this 
 business. 
 
 " The Acme," he resumed with an effort, " needs 
 Youth. It needs someone who can put in twenty 
 hours a day and not come to the office the next 
 morning with a twitching face." 
 
 " What it needs, then," suggested Barnes, " is 
 a man of cast-iron with a scroll on his forehead." 
 
 " It 's a big business," went on the father with 
 unexpected calmness. " It 's a business to be proud 
 of. It 's a business that a young man would take 
 over with forty years already put into it." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " exclaimed Barnes, " is n't that 
 enough of good red years to feed into cook-stoves ? "
 
 AN OLD PRODIGAL COMES HOME 253 
 
 Barnes, Sr., rose to his feet. He paced the 
 room once or twice. He looked like a man fighting 
 off bankruptcy. Barnes pitied him pitied him 
 from the bottom of his heart. But that was no 
 reason why he should help him to his doom. 
 
 " God ! " exclaimed the father, taking a stand 
 directly in front of the boy, " I wonder how you 
 ever happened to be a son of mine ! " 
 
 " I am a son of yours," answered Barnes, coolly, 
 " but I am no son of the Acme's. Sit down, father. 
 Don't tear yourself to pieces. Let me make a 
 proposition of my own." 
 
 He placed his hands upon his father's shoulders. 
 
 " Dad," he said soberly, " I want you to take up 
 Art." 
 
 Barnes, Sr., met his son's eyes a moment in 
 astonished stupefication. Then he sank weakly into 
 his chair. Which left Barnes standing with the 
 appearance of occupying the superior position. 
 
 " Dad," he ran on, " I 'm serious. This damned 
 business of the Acme must be stopped. You Ve 
 sat in your office down there until you 're baked as 
 dry as though you had been sitting in one of your 
 own ovens. It 's burning the soul out of you. 
 I Ve seen these last few days just how small at 
 best a cook-stove is." 
 
 The older man made no reply, but his lips began
 
 254 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 to twitch. Barnes seated himself before those 
 twitching lips and resumed. 
 
 " I Ve been down where people live. Dad, I 've 
 been back on a farm just such another farm as 
 gave you the strength to be alive to-day in spite of 
 the way you 've misused your strength. I 've been 
 back where trees count for something and where 
 the blue sky is a big item of return for the day's 
 work. I 've been back where you still see the sun 
 in the daytime and the stars at night. I Ve been 
 with an old man who expected to have to leave 
 those things who would then have given every 
 cent he had to stay another day in the midst of it. 
 If you had strewn cook-stoves end to end across 
 the continent, he would not have swapped five 
 breaths of night air for the whole of them." 
 
 The old man scowled up at him as though won- 
 dering if he had lost his reason. 
 
 " I ought to have taken you along on that walk 
 with me," ran on Barnes, reminiscently. " It would 
 have shown you what life can mean. You ought 
 to have stood on the hill with me and watched the 
 cotton-blossom clouds. It would have helped you 
 understand that look in mother's eyes which puz- 
 zles you every time you boast of another hundred 
 thousand. You think you are rich and powerful. 
 But listen to this; you haven't money enough in
 
 AN OLD PRODIGAL COMES HOME 255 
 
 all your banks to buy one minute of that single 
 week of me. You think I 've been idle, but 
 let me give you an inventory: five minutes on a 
 hill-top value five thousand dollars; ten min- 
 utes by a letter box value ten thousand dollars; 
 a half hour with Aunt Philomela value thirty 
 thousand dollars ; an hour by a trout stream 
 value one hundred thousand dollars; an hour in 
 the library, value " 
 
 " Bah, you 're a fool ! " broke in Barnes, Sr. 
 
 " I '11 submit to any jury who 's the greater 
 fool you or I," answered Barnes, calmly. 
 
 " D' ye think you can live on such dream money 
 as that ? " demanded the father. 
 
 " Better than you are living on what you have," 
 declared his son. 
 
 He paused a minute and then added soberly. 
 
 " My capital would buy for mother what you 
 have n't been able to buy with yours. It would n't 
 leave her in June staring out of a window at a 
 macadamized road." 
 
 " What 's that ? " demanded the father, straight- 
 ening up. 
 
 " It would n't leave her to sit alone and wonder 
 when you 're going to drop with apoplexy," he went 
 on calmly. 
 
 He was almost brutal, and he knew it. It seemed
 
 256 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 the only way. To drive a new fact into that steel- 
 chilled brain one had to use a sledge hammer. And 
 Barnes realized that it was now or never. 
 
 " You you think your mother is not happy ? " 
 
 " Dad," answered Barnes, " figure it out for 
 yourself. Mother came from a green land a land 
 where even the fences are made of hawthorn; 
 where even in the heart of London the sheep still 
 nibble the grass; where acres of green grass are 
 within walking distance of the Bank of England. 
 The love of open spaces is in her blood. Yet 
 you 've taken her and shut her up here in this 
 damned cage, and here you leave her all day long, 
 only to come home at night with your face twitch- 
 ing. She isn't doing any grumbling. She isn't 
 that kind. I 've never heard a word of complaint 
 out of her. But I 've eyes that are n't covered up 
 with sheet iron. When I saw her to-day I felt like 
 helping her escape as though she were in prison." 
 
 "Lord, boy!" 
 
 " What are you giving her ? " demanded Barnes, 
 pressing home his point. " Only this," he an- 
 swered, waving his hand about the apartments. 
 " And yet she 's kept your books for you and stood 
 by you for forty years. You remember your own 
 boyhood. I Ve heard you tell about those fair days 
 back on the farm. Why don't you give her a bit
 
 AN OLD PRODIGAL COMES HOME 257 
 
 of that to remember ? Why don't you chuck a few 
 flowers and a ray of sunshine into her life ? I 've 
 given her more than you have, myself ; I 've taken 
 her out in the park. Why don't you take her back 
 to the best days of your life ? It 's time you had 
 a honeymoon. It 's time you lifted her face to the 
 dew. It 's time you let the sun beat down upon her 
 a while." 
 
 The father had dropped his cigar. He fixed his 
 worried eyes upon his son. He looked as though 
 he were stunned. Barnes lowered his voice. 
 
 " I want you to see this, Dad," he went on. " I 
 want you to see it for her sake and your sake. I 
 don't think we have grown very far apart you 
 and I. If I 'm not the son of your brain, I 'm the 
 son of your heart. I 've been sitting by the side of 
 an old man and he made me see that." 
 
 The father met his boy's eyes. 
 
 " It hurt to have you go, Dick," he said. 
 
 " It was an act of Providence," declared the 
 latter. " If I had n't, we might have gone on this 
 way until it was too late to do anything." 
 
 "To do anything?" 
 
 " Too late for you to take up Art." 
 
 The father glanced up with the old evil spirit 
 again in his eyes. 
 
 " Don't go back to that," he pleaded.
 
 258 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Why not ? That 's what you Ve got to do. And 
 after all, you 're an artist in your own way. Look 
 at the scroll on the Acme doors! Look at your 
 stand against the Union ! That was a stroke of art. 
 Art is nothing but independence. Art is nothing 
 but being yourself expressing yourself. You 've 
 done that consistently whenever you 've really been 
 yourself. You did n't stop to consider how much 
 you were going to lose in shekels when you told the 
 crowd you 'd go busted by yourself rather than make 
 a fortune under them." 
 
 Horatio Barnes smiled grimly. 
 
 " No one but a true artist could have done that/' 
 insisted the son. " Any other would have reckoned 
 the cost and swallowed the pill." 
 
 " But I beat 'em," chuckled the father. 
 
 " Art beats every time," declared Barnes. " It 's 
 the one thing a man may pin his faith to. But 
 that was n't your biggest piece of work as an artist. 
 You transcended that. You really proved yourself 
 when you married mother. It was then that you 
 were true to your highest standard, because then you 
 were truest to yourself. You could have married 
 a fortune had you chosen and saved yourself twenty 
 years of hard work. You could have married old 
 Arbuckle's daughter and placed the Acme where it is 
 to-day two decades ago. Are you sorry you did n't ? "
 
 AN OLD PRODIGAL COMES HOME 259 
 
 " Sorry ! " exploded the father. " Your mother, 
 sir, is worth more to me than all the money in the 
 Bank of England." 
 
 " Of course she is. That 's bully of you, Dad. 
 And you 've lived up to that. You 've fought for 
 Art in fighting for her against Lord Dunnington 
 and all his caddish tribe. Like any good artist, 
 you 'd sacrifice every round dollar to make her stand 
 well before them. That is n't business, it 's Art. 
 It 's living up to your ideal against all the world." 
 
 " But," protested the father, " that is n't paint- 
 ing pictures." 
 
 " Lord forgive your blindness, Dad," Barnes ex- 
 claimed. " Painting pictures is only one little way 
 of expressing yourself. A man may be a great 
 artist without ever having held a brush. A man 
 may be a great artist in song, in verse, in prose, 
 in life, even in business. But in business you 
 mustn't forget that back of it lies life. That's 
 where you slipped up. You forgot that you 're 
 here to live to give life to Mother, your master- 
 piece. To be sure, I Ve chosen to paint pictures. 
 That seemed to me the only way in which I could 
 live up to my best. But that does n't make me any 
 better or worse than you. The whole game is to 
 get broad and big through whatever you do." 
 
 " Then why should n't I stick to business ? "
 
 260 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Because you are n't getting big ; because you 've 
 gone stale. You need a change." 
 
 Barnes, Sr., shifted in his chair. He reached 
 for his cigar-box. That was a good sign. 
 
 "I I don't know but what you 're right, Dick," 
 he admitted. 
 
 " I 'in sure of it, Dad." 
 
 " I 've thought lately that it it would n't be 
 bad to take your mother back to the old place." 
 
 " Do it ! Do it ! " exclaimed Barnes. " Make up 
 your mind to-night Decide before you go to bed." 
 
 " That means giving up opening a London 
 office," 
 
 " You 've too many offices already. Cut 'em 
 down. Tell mother you 're thinking of taking a 
 rest, and you '11 see her grow ten years younger." 
 
 "You think that she " 
 
 But the question was answered by the mother her- 
 self who stole through the door in her dressing-gown. 
 Her cheeks were pale with worry. In negligee she 
 appeared so much older and tired that Barnes was 
 startled. He crossed to her side, placed an arm 
 about her waist, and led her to his chair. 
 
 " What is it, mother ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nothing. Only it 's very late. What have 
 you two been talking about ? " 
 
 " Ask Dad," he replied.
 
 AN OLD PRODIGAL COMES HOME 261 
 
 She turned her worried eyes upon her husband. 
 The latter too saw for the first time the years in 
 his wife's face. He quailed. 
 
 " Horatio," she cried, " what 's the matter ? Are 
 you ill?" 
 
 He roused himself. 
 
 " Wife," he said, rising to his feet. " Wife." 
 
 He placed an arm about her. He threw back his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Wife," he announced with emphasis, " I 'm go- 
 ing to take up Art ! "
 
 CHAPTEK XXH 
 
 THE BLIND SEE 
 
 Barnes was awakened the next morning by a 
 gentle tap at his door. He thought it was John. 
 But, in answer to his response, his mother entered. 
 She looked as fresh as a girl of twenty. Her face 
 was radiant. She crossed swiftly to his bedside. 
 
 " Oh, Dicky boy," she cried joyously, " there 'a 
 been a miracle ! The prodigal father has come back 
 home." 
 
 " Miracle ? " questioned Barnes, patting her hand. 
 " What about my part in it ? " 
 
 " Why, you," exclaimed the mother, " you 're the 
 miracle." 
 
 Barnes smiled. It was just so Dr. Merri weather 
 had answered him when he had put a similar ques- 
 tion about Carl. He was learning something about 
 how miracles are performed. It seemed as though 
 if you loved mightily it was possible to accomplish 
 most anything. And yet, in the supreme undertak- 
 ing of his life, where he had loved most, he had 
 lost. All night long he had wondered about this. 
 
 At this moment Horatio Barnes himself strided
 
 THE BLIND SEE 263 
 
 in, dressed in a bath-robe and slippers that would n't 
 stay on. 
 
 " Morning, Dick," he shouted, " I 'm going to 
 keep a herd of Jerseys. In the old days Mitchell 
 used to beat us all hollow on stock, but I '11 have 
 some this time that will make his eyes stick out. 
 I hope there are a few Mitchells left to watch me 
 carry off the blue ribbons. Suppose they still hold 
 the County Fair 3 " 
 
 " Have n't a doubt of it," answered Barnes, 
 enthusiastically, " but I 'm afraid we won't be able 
 to get in for it this Fall." 
 
 " Won't ? " snorted the father. " How much time 
 
 f 
 do you want ? I '11 have a herd within a week or 
 
 know the reason why." 
 
 " Steady, steady," his son cautioned. " Remem- 
 ber there are tenants on the old farm at present." 
 
 " I '11 move 'em out bag and baggage within a 
 month. I '11 do it if it costs twenty thousand dol- 
 lars." 
 
 " Whew," whistled Barnes, " but when you do 
 make up your mind " 
 
 " I don't wait," answered the senior. " There 's 
 another thing I want settled right off. I 'm going 
 to start a close corporation for the promotion of 
 Art. I '11 appoint myself president of the company 
 and make you vice-president, treasurer, secretary,
 
 264 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 and general manager on a salary of five thousand a 
 year." 
 
 "You what?" 
 
 " Our offices will be on the farm. I '11 touch up 
 the fences, while you attend to the sunsets." 
 
 "This is a joke?" 
 
 " Not by a good deal," snorted Barnes, Sr. " If 
 you 're in for that sort of thing, I 'm going for 
 once to put it on a paying basis. If you '11 paint 
 your mother as she looks this minute, I '11 pay you 
 ten thousand cash for the job." 
 
 Barnes turned towards her. 
 
 " I don't believe I can do it," he answered, " but 
 I '11 try." 
 
 " Then it 's a bargain ? " 
 
 " A bargain," answered Barnes, gripping his 
 father's hand. 
 
 That morning Barnes sent off a second telegram 
 to Joe. It read, 
 
 " This is a case of life or death. Come home." 
 
 Then he sat down to write a letter to the other 
 father and through the father to Her. She had said 
 that she would read these letters herself. Her 
 hands would hold the paper; her eyes would scan 
 the script; her lips would utter the words. If 
 the waiting father were able to do nothing more, 
 Barnes thanked him for this priceless privilege of
 
 "Do you remember," he asked gently, "what I told you 
 about the true adventurers ? " 
 
 See page 328
 
 THE BLIND SEE 265 
 
 thus indirectly furnishing him the means for talk- 
 ing a bit each day with Her. 
 
 The letters were necessarily vague and rambling. 
 Barnes spoke mysteriously of business, of men seen 
 itnd others to be seen, of the necessity of waiting here 
 for word from one who he hoped in the end would 
 relieve him of all his mining ventures. 
 
 " I await a reply, which should reach me any day 
 now," he wrote. " When it arrives, I '11 come back. 
 Give my love to Aunt Philomela and to Eleanor." 
 
 It was two days later that he received an answer 
 in Eleanor's own handwriting. At sight of the en- 
 velope he felt for a moment as though all his wildest 
 dreams had come true as though he were to find 
 within all that he hungered to hear from her. But 
 it turned out to be nothing but a quiet gossipy letter 
 about Aunt Philomela and of course chiefly about 
 her father. He was improving daily, and Dr. 
 Merriweather was now quite sure he was to recover 
 his sight. He spent all his waking hours in talking 
 of his boy. 
 
 " Oh," she concluded, " Joe must come home now. 
 Not even you could save Daddy from the blow which 
 would follow should the boy refuse. I am waiting 
 every minute for a telegram from him. With a heart 
 full of gratitude to you, I remain, sincerely yours, 
 Eleanor Van Patten."
 
 266 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 That day Barnes sat in the park from lunch to 
 sunset with his mother. Both he and she agreed 
 that the only significant feature of the letter was 
 that it contained no mention of Carl. 
 
 So a restless week passed, the most important 
 incident of which, outside his daily letter from 
 Eleanor, was the fact that Barnes, Sr., received an 
 offer for the Acme and in his usual impetuous fash- 
 ion closed with it in twenty-four hours. He came 
 home that momentous day at three instead of five, 
 and save for the time when Barnes, Sr., received 
 her promise to be his wife, he never received a finer 
 reward than that which greeted his announcement 
 to her of this decision. 
 
 " And so, you old prodigal," choked Barnes, as 
 he grasped his father's hand, " you 've come home, 
 too." 
 
 " Prodigal ? " stammered his father, though with 
 tears in his eyes. 
 
 " Think of all the years you 've wasted in riot- 
 ous earning," exclaimed the son. " You can thank 
 old Van Patten for your conversion. You two men 
 have got to meet. He wasted five years in riotous 
 pride. But he 's come home, too, now. We 're all 
 home except Joe, and well, I 'm back in the old 
 home any way." 
 
 " What do you mean, sonny ? "
 
 THE BLIND SEE 267 
 
 " Nothing. I 'm going to get Joe back now if I 
 have to go to Alaska for him, that 's all." 
 
 It was no easy matter to keep Barnes, Sr., in 
 New York during the following week, but for that 
 matter it was no easy matter for Barnes himself to 
 stay. But he couldn't leave until he had settled 
 this other affair, and his father refused even to visit 
 the old farm without him. In the meanwhile, too, 
 Mr. Van Patten became insistent. He had been 
 able to see his daughter and sister for the first time 
 in three years, and now was eager almost to the 
 point of petulance to see his son. He could not 
 understand why the boy couldn't come down for 
 a day at least. It was becoming more and more 
 difficult to quiet him. The girl showed plainly 
 enough in her letters the distress under which they 
 all labored. Matters were fast reaching a crisis. 
 
 It was at this point that he received the wire from 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " Joe on way home. Don't know when he will 
 get here. You 'd better come back if you can." 
 
 Come back ? Nothing else counted. He found 
 his mother in her dressing-room kneeling before a 
 trunk filled with old letters. 
 
 " Mother," he whispered, " I take the next train 
 for Chester." 
 
 She looked up with moist eyes.
 
 268 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Give her my love," she said. 
 
 " But mother " 
 
 " No matter how it turns out, Dick. My boy 
 loves her, so I love her too." 
 
 " Tell Dad," choked Barnes, " I have n't time to 
 see him." 
 
 Barnes hoarded the train with all the excitement 
 of a boy making his first journey. He took a seat 
 in the smoking-car, filled his pipe, and adjusting 
 his knees comfortably against the wooden card-table 
 before him, settled down to deep reflection. A man 
 with an obtrusive arrangement of a large dress-suit 
 case and much rattling of newspapers took the seat 
 facing him. He would meet her, Barnes dreamed, 
 in the sitting-room. She would wear her China silk 
 with the polka dots in it. It would be at about sun- 
 set time, so that the gold in her hair would be more 
 than ever in evidence as it always was when the 
 sun took it slantwise. The ivory forehead would 
 be flushed with the lightest crimson ; her lips would 
 be like damson preserves; and she would hold 
 herself like a Venetian noblewoman. 
 
 His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of 
 the stranger. 
 
 " The lies which are circulated about Alaska," 
 declared the latter with spirit, " would fill a book." 
 
 Barnes glanced up at the man with some interest.
 
 THE BLIND SEE 269 
 
 He saw a young fellow with a decent if somewhat 
 brazen face. His wide felt hat was set at a rakish 
 angle and his clothes were a trifle over emphasized. 
 The fellow was evidently referring to something he 
 had read in the New York paper which he held in 
 his big hand. 
 
 " They ought to jail men who slander a country 
 like that," he further declared. 
 
 " What 's the trouble ? " inquired Barnes. 
 
 " Trouble ? Why, the man who wrote this 
 couldn't have been within a thousand miles of 
 Alaska. The stuff is libel nothing else. You 'd 
 think from this that the place was up near the 
 North Pole somewhere ; you 'd think all we had to 
 eat was icicles ; you 'd think we lived in huts and 
 wore a couple of feet of fur the year round. You 'd 
 think we were all a gang of wild Indians who 
 would n't know a street car by sight." 
 
 " Well," observed Barnes, straightening up, " I 
 suppose you do lack many of the modern conven- 
 iences." 
 
 " Not by a good deal," answered the stranger 
 with heat. " We 've got everything a red-blooded 
 man needs." 
 
 " You hail from Alaska yourself ? " inquired 
 Barnes with growing interest. 
 
 " You bet I do."
 
 270 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Ever happen to hear of a town called ' The 
 Last Chance ' ? " 
 
 " Heard of it ? Why, I live there." 
 
 " Then," faltered Barnes, " did you ever happen 
 to hear of one Van Patten ? " 
 
 He held his breath for the answer. 
 
 " Hear of it ? Why, that 's my name ! " 
 
 "Not Joe Van Patten?" 
 
 " Joe Van Patten." 
 
 Barnes pressed down the ashes in his pipe. He 
 relighted the tobacco with deliberate carefulness. 
 
 " You seem to know me," broke in the young 
 man uneasily, " but I 'm hanged if I remember 
 you." 
 
 " No. My name is Barnes. I met your family 
 a while ago." 
 
 " Is that a fact ? " exclaimed Van Patten. 
 
 The information seemed to check rather than pro- 
 mote loquaciousness on the part of the young man. 
 He settled back uneasily in his seat and drummed 
 nervously on the table. Barnes discerned now a 
 certain family resemblance which would have been 
 more pronounced had the man been in more con- 
 ventional Eastern garb. There was nothing in his 
 face to indicate viciousness at worst nothing but 
 stubbornness and selfishness. 
 
 " I understand you 're interested in mining ? "
 
 THE BLIND SEE 271 
 
 began Barnes, in the hope of getting him to talk 
 again. 
 
 " Up to my neck." 
 
 "You left 'The Lucky Find' well?" he in- 
 quired much as John had inquired of him. 
 
 " You mean to say they have n't heard back here 
 of the strike ? " 
 
 " Strike ? " 
 
 " ' The Lucky Find/ " announced Van Patten, 
 " is to-day the best paying mine within a hundred 
 miles of ' The Last Chance.' " 
 
 Barnes nodded. After all, when analyzed, that 
 was not necessarily a very rash statement. 
 
 " Why, look here," exclaimed Van Patten, " take 
 a peek at this." 
 
 And before Barnes' astonished gaze Van Patten 
 spread out one of the identical gorgeous certificates 
 which he himself had described to Aunt Philomela. 
 There it was within touch the very thing he had 
 seen the man draw out when sitting in the hut by 
 the side of three-fingered Bill. He was glad to 
 have one thing at least substantiated. It was 
 swirled over with a bewildering design of engraved 
 spirals. Across its face the name of the mine was 
 dashed in a flourishing script that reminded him of 
 the exhibition writing of an old-time teacher of 
 penmanship. Each certificate proclaimed that it
 
 272 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 represented one hundred shares of stock in ' The 
 Lucky Find ' par value one hundred dollars. 
 Barnes held the crinkling papers in his hand a 
 moment as though suspecting still that this was only 
 some particularly vivid piece of dreaming. 
 
 " Just had these made in New York," explained 
 Van Patten. 
 
 " They are very pretty," commented Barnes. 
 
 " And growing prettier every day," answered Van 
 Patten. " That stock is at a premium. A month 
 ago we struck it rich real gold this time." 
 
 The man spoke as though he, at least, believed 
 it. 
 
 " That ought to be good news for the stockhold- 
 ers," said Barnes, thinking of John. 
 
 " It will put every mother's son of 'em where 
 they need do no more worrying," declared Van 
 Patten proudly. 
 
 He sank back comfortably into his seat as though 
 this statement settled satisfactorily most of the big 
 affairs of the universe. 
 
 If what the boy said was true, Barnes was very 
 glad for those back in the mellow brick house. It 
 would simplify Aunt Philomela's accounts and make 
 John's gray hairs less pathetic. 
 
 " You came East to place your stock on the mar- 
 ket ? " inquired Barnes with fresh suspicion.
 
 THE BLIND SEE 273 
 
 " I Ve come back to make good," answered Van 
 Patten. " I 've come back to pay some of my 
 debts." 
 
 " That ought to make you a welcome visitor." 
 
 " I don't know," faltered Van Patten with what 
 appeared to be more or less genuine emotion. " I 
 can't say that I Ve used my folks very well." 
 
 " How long since you 've been home ? " asked 
 Barnes. 
 
 " Ebt for years." 
 
 " Years ? " 
 
 " Dad and I had a bit of a scrap, and I cut." 
 
 " Heard from him lately ? " 
 
 " A month or so ago I got a letter. He was sick 
 and wanted me to come home, but I was strapped 
 and I couldn't. It was just before we made the 
 strike. I wouldn't tell him I was busted. When 
 you quit home with your dander up, you want to 
 make good before you come back, don't you ? " 
 
 " It saves your pride," admitted Barnes. 
 
 He met Van Patten's eyes with frank friendli- 
 ness. He found himself beginning to sympathize 
 in a way with the man. 
 
 " I suppose Dad thought I did n't use him very 
 well," ran on Van Patten, " but that can't be helped 
 now. I '11 square things with him when I see him." 
 
 Barnes waited.
 
 274 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Say," exclaimed Van Patten with enthusiasm, 
 " I 'm going to give the Dad the time of his life 
 in these next few years. I 'm going to show him 
 something of this country. He 's been too busy to 
 travel, but I 'm going to make him go back to Alaska 
 with me. Why, do you know we 've got a country 
 up there as large as all the United States east of 
 the Mississippi river if you take out Alabama, Flor- 
 ida, Georgia, Mississippi, North Carolina, and West 
 Virginia ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Barnes, mildly. " I knew that" 
 
 " Why, there 's over half a million square miles 
 up there." 
 
 " To be exact, five hundred and eighty-six miles." 
 
 Van Patten leaned forward. 
 
 " Say, stranger," he exclaimed, " do you come 
 from there ? " 
 
 " In a way." 
 
 " Where 's your claim ? " 
 
 "I well, you see I have n't located it yet." 
 
 " How long you been down ? " 
 
 " Not long." 
 
 " Give us your hand." 
 
 Barnes extended his hand. 
 
 " I wish we were traveling farther the same 
 way," declared Van Patten. 
 
 The train was even then drawing close to the little
 
 THE BLIND SEE 275 
 
 station huddled in among the houses. Van Patten 
 began to gather up his traps. 
 
 " I get off here," explained Van Patten. 
 
 Barnes, too, rose. 
 
 " So do I," he announced.
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII 
 
 A YOUNG PRODIGAL COMES HOME 
 
 Once upon the platform, Van Patten looked 
 around with the query, 
 
 " Which way you going ? " 
 
 " Up your way," answered Barnes, nodding in 
 the direction of the brick house. " Won't you 
 walk a bit with me ? " 
 
 " I don't know but what I will," answered the 
 other. " I have n't anything but a dress-suit case, 
 and I feel like stretching my legs." 
 
 Barnes led the way, and the other fell into step 
 at his side. The road was going in the right direc- 
 tion now. It was as though every dusty fern, every 
 whispering birch, every stalwart pine pointed to- 
 wards the brick house. And Eleanor herself seemed 
 very close to him. It was as though she were keep- 
 ing pace the other side of him. How the old world 
 sang of her! The sun was dropping towards the 
 horizon line, seeking, as he knew, her black hair. 
 An oriole, high in an elm, was caroling her name. 
 The lazy locusts were rattling like gray-haired crones 
 over their tea of her.
 
 A YOUNG PRODIGAL COMES HOME 277 
 
 He felt his attitude towards Van Patten chang- 
 ing. The keen sentences which he had framed by 
 the bedside of the sick father lost their edge with 
 every foot he neared her. All the passion and bit- 
 terness went from them. There still remained the 
 fact of the thoughtless wording of the letter, but he 
 seemed to be less and less the man to play the judge 
 upon it. This man by his side was not he whom he 
 had pictured by the letter-box. Yet he kept repeat- 
 ing to himself that the son had not come back at a 
 sick man's call; that he had left his father to his 
 loneliness. There still remained the duty, which 
 surely fell upon him rather than her, of telling this 
 man what had happened. He braced himself to 
 this task. 
 
 " Lord," exclaimed Van Patten after they had 
 proceeded the matter of a hundred rods in silence, 
 " father will be surprised. Eleanor wrote that his 
 eyes had gone back on him. It 's hard luck to be 
 blind at such a time of year, is n't it ? " 
 
 " I think there 's also a bit of a surprise waiting 
 for you," said Barnes. 
 
 The boy stopped in his tracks. 
 
 " A surprise ? " he repeated anxiously. " You 
 don't mean to tell me that father that any- 
 thing" 
 
 " He has partially recovered his sight," put in
 
 278 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Barnes, glad to relieve the look in the young man's 
 eyes. 
 
 Van Patten dropped his suit-case. He took out a 
 handkerchief and ran it over his forehead. 
 
 " Gad ! " he exclaimed. " You frightened me. 
 But that why, that 's the best news ever. That 's 
 something like." 
 
 " There 's still another surprise," began Barnes. 
 "I perhaps we 'd better sit down here by the 
 side of the road a minute. There are two or three 
 things you ought to know before you see your 
 father." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " Nothing serious," Barnes reassured him, " but 
 what I 've got to tell you may strike you as a bit 
 queer. I have n't got used to it yet myself." 
 
 Barnes sat down beneath a big pine and Van 
 Patten, watching him uneasily, took a place beside 
 him. 
 
 " You see," began Barnes, " when your letter 
 came a month ago, affairs at the house were in a bad 
 way." 
 
 " Guess I was a bit hasty in that letter," stam- 
 mered Van Patten. 
 
 " Under the circumstances, you were," agreed 
 Barnes. " Your father was in bad shape sort of 
 pining away for you."
 
 A YOUNG PRODIGAL COMES HOME 279 
 
 "For me? I didn't think he cared that 
 much." 
 
 " He cared a great deal," said Barnes. " So, for 
 that reason, we did n't show him your letter." 
 
 " You did n't ? " exclaimed Van Patten eagerly. 
 
 " We tore it up." 
 
 Van Patten gave a sigh of relief, but the next 
 second he looked curiously at this stranger who evi- 
 dently had played so important a part in his per- 
 sonal affairs. 
 
 " Excuse me," he said finally, " but just where 
 did you come in ? " 
 
 " At the arrival of the letter," answered Barnes. 
 " I happened to be passing." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " The letter-box." 
 
 "But I don't see " 
 
 " Your sister received the letter. She was crying 
 over it when I came along. She was afraid if she 
 read it to your father it would kill him." 
 
 " Gee ! I did n't know it was that bad. I was 
 busted and sore and but I did n't mean to make 
 it that bad." 
 
 " Sometimes letters sound worse than we intend 
 when we write them." 
 
 " But you ? " persisted Van Patten. 
 
 " I was a stranger, but when I heard your sister
 
 280 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 crying, I stopped. She was very much excited, and 
 on the spur of the moment she confided in me. I 
 advised her to tear up the letter." 
 
 " Thank God for that ! " exclaimed the boy, " but 
 I don't see yet where you came in." 
 
 " Then we talked over how we could prevent your 
 father from knowing you didn't intend to come 
 home. You see if he had learned that he would 
 have just dropped his head back on the pillow and 
 died." 
 
 " And I thought he never wanted to lay eyes on 
 me again! " 
 
 " He grew young while he was sick," explained 
 Barnes. " He came back home while he was sick, 
 and he wanted you again." 
 
 " But how did you manage it ? How " 
 
 " I played the prodigal," explained Barnes, 
 simply. " I took your part." 
 
 " You made him believe you were me ? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 "And he did believe it?" 
 
 " He was blind and very anxious. So he be- 
 lieved." 
 
 For a moment Van Patten stared at Barnes in 
 silence. Then he stammered, 
 
 " Stranger, I reckon I owe you more than Dad 
 does."
 
 A YOUNG PRODIGAL COMES HOME 281 
 
 " Neither of you owes me anything," answered 
 Barnes. 
 
 " We '11 settle that later," said Van Patten, ear- 
 nestly. "But Dad didn't he call your bluff 
 at all?" 
 
 " No. I left when his sight began to improve." 
 
 " How 'd you work that 8 " 
 
 " I told him I had to go to New York on busi- 
 ness. From New York I wired you, and here 
 you are." 
 
 " I never got your wires," answered Van Patten, 
 " but, thank God, here I am." 
 
 " You '11 have to back me up in what I told him 
 about Alaska," smiled Barnes. 
 
 " Lord," gasped Van Patten, " you did go the 
 limit. But trust me to play out the game." 
 
 Barnes stared dreamily across the road. 
 
 " I suppose," he hesitated, " I ought to go along 
 with you for a day or two." 
 
 " I '11 need you," said the boy, reaching for his 
 hand. 
 
 " But your father must n't meet me. It won't 
 do to allow him to make comparisons. Once he 
 sees you with his own eyes, he '11 put aside all 
 doubts. The others will have to know, of course, 
 but we can keep them quiet." 
 
 " The others ? " questioned Van Patten.
 
 282 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Carl, for one," answered Barnes. " Your sister, 
 I understand, is engaged." 
 
 " Sis engaged ? " 
 
 Van Patten made his feet. 
 
 " I guess," he said, " it 's time I got home right 
 away." 
 
 The two started again and on the rest of the short 
 walk Barnes devoted himself more to details. As 
 well as he was ahle, Barnes sketched rapidly the 
 minor events of those two weeks and repeated once 
 more stories he had made up for the father. Van 
 Patten listened intently, but he groaned at mention 
 of three-fingered Bill and the description of the hut. 
 
 " Gad ! " he exclaimed, " it 's a crime to back up 
 such yarns as those, but I suppose you did the best 
 you could." 
 
 " The best I could," answered Barnes, soberly. 
 
 " And it 's my fault anyway," put in the boy 
 quickly. " I 'm not long on religion, but if con- 
 version means anything, I guess it means just the 
 changed way I feel now about father and home. 
 I Ve got you to thank for that." 
 
 " I converted myself in the process," smiled 
 Barnes, " which is more than some preachers do." 
 
 He passed the place by the road where he had 
 found the girl lying bruised on the grass, and from 
 this point on, his lips were set. But when he came
 
 A YOUNG PRODIGAL COMES HOME 283 
 
 in sight once more of the little brick house, his jaws 
 relaxed a trifle. It looked as warm and peaceful 
 and sunshiny as it had the first day he saw it. He 
 led the way to the little Dutch door, and lifted the 
 brass knocker. It sent an echo through the house 
 which was answered by John. The latter looked both 
 startled and pleased. 
 
 " Is Eleanor able to come downstairs ? " inquired 
 Barnes. 
 
 " Yes, sir. She said she was expectin' you." 
 
 " Then you '11 ask her to step into the sitting- 
 room ? " 
 
 Van Patten followed his leader uneasily, and 
 paced the room almost as though fearing this inter- 
 view. But when his sister appeared he had reached 
 her side in a jiffy. 
 
 " Sis," he cried, " I 'm back back home! " 
 
 She hesitated the fraction of a second, her eyes 
 upon Barnes. The latter bowed without speaking. 
 
 " Joe," she murmured doubtfully. 
 
 But the boy seized her in his arms almost fiercely. 
 
 " You are n't afraid of me, little sister ? " he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Joe, Joe," she trembled, and lifted her lips to 
 his. 
 
 From upstairs came the fairy tinkle of a silver 
 bell. Barnes started. The girl looked wildly about.
 
 284 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " That 's Dad," she exclaimed. 
 
 Barnes stepped forward. 
 
 " Your father sees quite clearly now ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, yes," she gasped. " What what are we 
 going to do ? " 
 
 " Joe must go to him," insisted Barnes. " Send 
 Aunt Philomela down to me." 
 
 Joe himself looked frightened. He hesitated. 
 
 " Tell your father," suggested Barnes, " that 
 you Ve had word ' The Lucky Find ' is on its feet. 
 He '11 be so glad for you that he '11 forget every- 
 thing else." 
 
 " But if he suspects ? " gasped Joe. 
 
 " If worst comes to worst," said Barnes, " send 
 for me. We '11 have to tell him then." 
 
 Joe turned towards the door. Barnes placed his 
 hand upon the young man's shoulder. 
 
 " Keep your nerve," he warned, " and play the 
 game hard. That 's what we 've all been doing 
 here even Aunt Philomela." 
 
 Eleanor escorted her brother to the old man's 
 room and without waiting came down immediately 
 with her aunt. Both women were quite breathless. 
 They stood close together as though half expecting 
 to hear a scream. Barnes crossed at once to Aunt 
 Philomela and took her frail hand.
 
 A YOUNG PRODIGAL COMES HOME 285 
 
 " Buck up," he advised. " The boy wiU carry it 
 through." 
 
 " Oh," she answered, " I 'm so glad that you are 
 here!" 
 
 " Thank you," answered Barnes. " Had n't you 
 both better be seated ? " 
 
 Aunt Philomela obeyed humbly and took a chair 
 near the window. Eleanor remained standing by 
 her side. 
 
 Barnes thought the girl looked paler than when 
 he had left. She seemed less sure of herself. The 
 strain of the last few weeks had told upon her. He 
 felt a strange lightness of the head as he noticed 
 these things. The phrases he had formulated to 
 say on the way down here all vanished and in their 
 place came a dozen swift sentences which he had no 
 right to utter. Consequently, he was dumb and the 
 silence became embarrassing. Aunt Philomela broke 
 the tension a little by exclaiming, 
 
 " I would n't live through this last week again 
 for a hundred million dollars." 
 
 " ISTor I," answered Barnes, briefly. 
 
 Aunt Philomela glanced up quickly. 
 
 " How does Joe look ? " she demanded. 
 
 " Not at all as I feared," stammered the girl. 
 
 "Blood tells," nodded Aunt Philomela with a 
 trace of her old spirit.
 
 286 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 The two women listened. Barnes himself half 
 expected to hear at any second the warning tinkle of 
 the silver bell. He roused himself. 
 
 " How is Carl's arm? " he inquired. 
 
 Both women started. It was Aunt Philomela 
 who replied, 
 
 " It is getting along very well, I believe." 
 
 Miss Van Patten caught her breath and looked 
 away. Barnes noticed it. He sought her eyes with 
 a question. She flushed scarlet. Upon the moment 
 he determined to see Carl as soon as he could leave. 
 
 Like three discussing a grave crisis in a sick room, 
 they talked on in strained, jerky little sentences until 
 Joe came down again. At the boy's entrance, Aunt 
 Philomela arose. It was clear at a glance that Van 
 Patten was unnerved, but it was also clear that he 
 had succeeded. He came direct to Aunt Philomela 
 with his hand extended. 
 
 " Well, Joe ? " she stammered. 
 
 " Aunt," he answered unsteadily, " I 've paid big 
 for all my cussedness." 
 
 The little old lady took his hand and patted his 
 shoulder. He turned to Barnes. 
 
 " And, ye gods," he added solemnly, " Alaska has 
 paid big, too ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIY 
 
 MAN TO MAN 
 
 As Barnes hurried through the little Dutch door 
 on his way to see Langdon, he felt like an exchanged 
 prisoner going to rejoin his colors. He was con- 
 scious of one big emotion that of freedom. How- 
 ever slight the chances, so long as a man may fight, 
 victory is at least within his grasp. Yet Barnes 
 was neither confident nor even sanguine. His 
 thoughts did not go so far as to speculate upon the 
 result. It was enough that he need no longer re- 
 main passive. 
 
 His plan was simple. He would tell Langdon the 
 whole story and claim the rights of which he had 
 been deprived. He would claim the privilege of 
 ignoring the engagement which had not yet been 
 publicly announced, which had not as yet even 
 been announced to her father, so far as it might 
 restrict him in any honorable approach to the girl. 
 He would make Langdon see that he did not do this 
 presumptuously, but simply on the ground that he 
 was entitled to fight for his pictures as Langdon 
 fought for his symphonies. Eleanor would, of
 
 288 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 course, remain in ignorance of the agreement. She 
 was unrestrained by any code and so could then 
 choose, if at all, as her heart dictated. 
 
 Barnes found Langdon dressed and sitting in the 
 sun before the house with his arm in a sling. He 
 had lost both weight and color. He greeted Barnes 
 with what seemed like a genuine welcome. 
 
 " I guess we 're all glad to see you back, Joe," he 
 said earnestly. " They 've been devilish uneasy up 
 at the other house without you." 
 
 " I don't wonder," answered Barnes. " Some 
 devilish queer things have been happening up there 
 during these last few weeks." 
 
 Carl glanced up quickly. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he demanded. 
 
 Barnes sat down on the turf a little way from 
 Langdon and stared at the saffron road. The 
 tawny ribbon seemed such an integral part of all 
 the strange occurrences of this last month that he 
 turned to it now, as to a comrade, for help in ex- 
 plaining. 
 
 " In some ways," he began, " because you 're an 
 artist it makes it easier to tell you; but in other 
 ways that fact makes it harder." 
 
 Langdon leaned forward anxiously. 
 
 " What 's the trouble ? " he demanded. " Is any- 
 thing wrong up there ? "
 
 MAN TO MAN 289 
 
 " I don't know about that," answered Barnes, 
 " but something is wrong right here."' 
 
 " With you, Joe ? " 
 
 " With you and me," answered Barnes. 
 
 Langdon paused for a moment, and then, through 
 half-closed lips, he groaned, " Yes, something is 
 wrong with me. But how did you know ? " 
 
 Barnes lifted his eyes and studied the strained 
 white face of the other. It was his turn to be sur- 
 prised. He glanced at the bandaged arm. 
 
 Langdon shook his head. 
 
 " Xo," he answered, " it is n't that." 
 
 "Then " 
 
 " It 's your sister, Joe," explained Langdon. 
 " There 's something about her I don't understand. 
 She has n't been herself since you left." 
 
 Barnes interrupted him. 
 
 " Don't tell me any more," he commanded. 
 
 " I 've been waiting for this chance to talk it over 
 with you, Joe." 
 
 " I have n't any right to listen," Barnes hurried 
 on. " But I have something to say to you that 
 that may help you out. Only I don't know just how 
 to begin. I want you to understand, in the first 
 place, that we 've all been as square as we knew how 
 that what has happened has been, in a way, in- 
 evitable."
 
 290 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Langdon sat as fixed as a marble statue. Barnes 
 turned his eyes back to the saffron road. 
 
 " You see," he began, " it all came about by 
 chance. I was walking along this road when I found 
 her by the letter-box, crying." 
 
 " Found who ? " demanded Langdon. 
 
 " Eleanor. She had just received a letter from 
 her brother, saying he would n't come home." 
 
 Langdon looked dazed. 
 
 " From her brother ? " 
 
 " From Joe. You see I 'm not her brother at all." 
 
 Langdon rose slowly from his chair. Barnes too 
 rose. He forgot for the moment his own rights in 
 this matter. He felt as though he were confessing 
 to an imposition. It occurred to him that this was 
 just the way that Aunt Philomela must have first 
 looked upon the plan. 
 
 " Then who the devil are you ? " demanded Lang- 
 don, agressively. 
 
 " ]STo relation to the family at all," answered 
 Barnes. " To you just a fellow artist." 
 
 Langdon turned his eyes towards the brick house. 
 He repeated almost automatically, 
 
 " No relation at all. Just a fellow artist." 
 
 " And Joe himself," ran on Barnes, " is up there 
 now. He came back to-day." 
 
 Langdon tottered. Barnes seized his arm. 
 
 " Sit down, old man," he urged.
 
 MAN TO MAN 291 
 
 But Langdon shook himself free and stepping back 
 a pace stared like a man at bay. The attitude helped 
 Barnes to justify himself again. They stood now 
 man to man. 
 
 " Langdon," said Barnes, quietly, " the position 
 was easier for you than it was for me. I was forced 
 to listen " 
 
 " You might have saved me from confiding in 
 you," broke in Langdon through half-closed lips. 
 
 " Saved you ? " answered Barnes. " Don't you 
 think I would have saved myself that, if it had 
 been possible ? " 
 
 " It must have seemed like a good joke to you," 
 said Langdon. 
 
 Barnes caught his breath. 
 
 " No," he answered slowly, " it was n't much of a 
 joke." 
 
 He hesitated and then went on, 
 
 " Perhaps when I 'm done, you can see just how 
 much of a joke it was." 
 
 Langdon stepped forward. 
 
 " You don't mean " 
 
 Barnes nodded. 
 
 " Exactly," he answered. " I mean that all the 
 time I have felt the same towards Eleanor that you 
 do. I mean that I have been fighting for my pictures 
 just as you have been fighting for your symphonies.
 
 292 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 The difference is that until Joe came back I 
 have had to fight myself, too. I have had to stand 
 back helpless and look on." 
 
 " And now ? " demanded Langdon. 
 
 Barnes took a long breath. He met Langdon's 
 hot eyes steadily. 
 
 " And now," he said, " I 've come to claim my 
 rights." 
 
 " What are they ? " inquired Langdon. 
 
 " The privilege of making my love known to her 
 the privilege of winning her if I can. The privi- 
 lege," he added slowly, " of putting that sunrise we 
 looked at together into colors as you would put it 
 into music." 
 
 For a moment Langdon stared at him in silence. 
 Then he groped for his chair. He sat leaning for- 
 ward with his forehead in his hand. When he finally 
 looked up, his face was set. 
 
 " Yes," he agreed. " I think you have that right." 
 
 " That and nothing more," replied Barnes. " I 
 don't want you to think that Eleanor herself has 
 has given me any encouragement in this." 
 
 " Not even since you've come back ? " 
 
 " I 've not had time to exchange a half dozen 
 words with her since then." 
 
 Langdon relapsed into silence and Barnes hurried 
 on. He was very anxious to make himself clearly
 
 MAN TO MAN 293 
 
 understood. He did n't want Langdon to think he 
 was taking an unfair advantage. 
 
 " Langdon," he said, " I 'm afraid I 'm not chival- 
 rous enough to wish you success. It 's too serious 
 a business for both of us. But I can say frankly 
 that I want the girl to choose for her own happiness. 
 And I don't see a pennyworth of difference between 
 us. We are both artists; we are both honest; we 
 have both, I should say, about the same amount of 
 talent whatever that may count ; we offer her about 
 the same things. We 'd both buckle down to make 
 her happy for all there is in us." 
 
 " I don't think women choose for those things," 
 answered Langdon, dully. 
 
 " Nor I neither," agreed Barnes. " I don't know 
 how they choose. Perhaps they don't choose at all. 
 We hold out the straws and they draw. All is I want 
 to put my straw in with yours, Langdon. I want a 
 chance because of all it means to me and my pic- 
 tures." 
 
 Langdon rose wearily. 
 
 " There is n't much use discussing it," he said. 
 " You 're right devilish right" 
 
 Barnes hesitated about offering his hand. 
 
 " We can't go ahead exactly as friends," he 
 faltered, " but we need n't be enemies, need 
 we?"
 
 294 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " No," answered Langdon. " But I don't think 
 anything we ourselves may do consciously will play 
 a very important part in the affair." 
 
 " Nor I either. So here 's my hand to a fellow 
 artist anyway." 
 
 Langdon took it. 
 
 " I '11 see you off and on during the next few 
 weeks I suppose," said Barnes, " but there 's no need 
 of ever bringing this up again." 
 
 Langdon straightened himself. 
 
 " I did n't get your name," he observed with some- 
 thing of a smile. 
 
 " Barnes." 
 
 " Mr. Barnes, I ought to tell you that whatever 
 formal engagement existed between Miss Van Pat- 
 ten and myself has already been canceled." 
 
 " Good Lord," exploded Barnes. " You mean " 
 
 " That we found we had been over hasty. That is 
 all. There has been no misunderstanding." 
 
 " But you " 
 
 " I still mean to make her my wife if she concludes 
 it is for her happiness. This new development may 
 help her to decide." 
 
 " Why that 's great," exclaimed Barnes. " Then 
 we 're both back on our mark." 
 
 " Yes," answered Langdon, grimly. " And I 'm 
 going in now to telephone her."
 
 MAN TO MAN 295 
 
 " And I," concluded Barnes. " I guess I '11 go 
 back to the house." 
 
 " Good-day, Barnes." 
 
 " Good-day, Langdon," answered Barnes. 
 
 And turning abruptly Barnes swung off down the 
 road at as fast a pace as he could make.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE PURPLE EIM 
 
 Langdon had mentioned thus casually a turn in 
 the affairs of Eleanor which to the girl herself 
 marked a crisis. It is no small matter when one 
 awakes to the realization that one does not under- 
 stand oneself. And this is especially true when 
 one's life hitherto has been as simple as the rule of 
 three. Suddenly to discover that one is complex 
 to face in a flash the mystifying X in life's equa- 
 tions is to grow from a girl to a woman in a 
 minute. 
 
 That eventful morning a week ago when Carl 
 had appeared to her pale-faced and looking like a 
 wounded soldier and had made his sharp, fervent 
 plea, she had answered out of a full heart and as 
 to an old friend^ " Yes." It came as a simple 
 almost inevitable climax. It did not seem a mo- 
 mentous decision; it had involved no great flutter- 
 ing of the heart. When she conveyed the news to 
 Aunt Philomela, the latter had for a moment looked 
 surprised, then thoughtful, and finally had solemnly
 
 THE PURPLE RIM 297 
 
 patted her hand with the remark, " Well, my dear, 
 you will be safe with him at any rate." 
 
 For an hour after this she had lain prone upon 
 the sofa pondering her aunt's observation. Yes, she 
 would feel safe. Already she felt safe. She felt 
 again, as she did as a little girl, that she was living 
 in a cup bounded by the horizon line. "What lay be- 
 yond did not concern her. There would be no ad- 
 venturing over that purple rim. Should they ever 
 venture forth, Carl would precede her like a courier 
 and at every station have things ready for her com- 
 fort. Her life would move forward as steadily, as 
 calmly as it now did. 
 
 It was at this point that Barnes had come in with 
 the news of his intended departure. He had broken 
 in upon her lazy reflections with his usual discon- 
 certing impetuosity. And as usual, too, he had 
 seemed to dash from over the horizon line. He had 
 
 p 
 
 made her feel less as though this boundary were a 
 protection. He had a way of swooping down from 
 unexpected angles which was discomforting to one 
 whose habit was to watch only the main thorough- 
 fare. When Aunt Philomela in a moment of fret- 
 fulness had sputtered out before him the news of 
 her engagement it had come to her distinctly as 
 more of a surprise than when Carl himself had pro- 
 posed. It was as though it were for the first time
 
 298 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 announced to herself. It gave her a new sense of 
 responsibility which left her feeling by no means so 
 secure as before Barnes' entrance. 
 
 Then before she had time to think, Barnes had 
 gone. Aunt Philomela drew her chair nearer and 
 stroked her hair. 
 
 " He 's a queer boy," she murmured, " and some- 
 how I 'm going to miss him." 
 
 " He 's been very generous to us, Aunty," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 Aunt Philomela sighed. 
 
 " But he is utterly irresponsible," she hedged. 
 
 Both women had a great deal with which to oc- 
 cupy themselves during the next few days but they 
 moved always with a sense of insecurity. Carl came 
 over often but there was not much he could do. In 
 all little things he was thoughtful and he gave them 
 both a great deal of good advice about not worrying 
 and not overtaxing their strength. 
 
 So a week passed and Eleanor did not sleep well 
 at night. Yet for the life of her she could not tell 
 why. She had evil dreams about being stifled, about 
 being tied hand and foot awaiting some awful doom. 
 Once she called out so loudly in her sleep as to rouse 
 Aunt Philomela. The latter crept in timidly with 
 a frightened question on her lips, 
 
 " What is it, dearie ? "
 
 THE PURPLE RIM 299 
 
 The girl reached out for her aunt's hand. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she groaned, " there seemed 
 to be something " 
 
 "A Thing? " interrupted Aunt Philomela. 
 
 "An uncanny thing." 
 
 Aunt Philomela recovered her spirit. 
 
 " You don't mean to tell me that Mr. Barnes " 
 
 " Barnes ? " interrupted the girl as though the 
 name offered some vague explanation. 
 
 " Has he been filling your head full of that non- 
 sense as he did John's ? " 
 
 The girl smiled. The room seemed instantly as 
 full of fresh air as though a window had been 
 opened. 
 
 " No," she answered, " it is n't that. Get back 
 into bed, Aunty, or you '11 catch cold." 
 
 Aunt Philomela reluctantly obeyed and the girl 
 fell into a deep sleep which remained uninterrupted 
 until dawn. Then she crept to the window. It 
 seemed more like a sunset than a sunrise she was 
 watching. 
 
 For the next day or two she used Carl abominably. 
 It was impossible for her to see him. Yet he was 
 very patient very sweet. He wrote her quiet, 
 tender little notes and spent most of his time down- 
 stairs with Aunt Philomela. The latter came up 
 one evening with her face set.
 
 300 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Eleanor," she snapped, " what I need is to get 
 good and vexed once more." 
 
 " What do you. mean, Aunty ? " 
 
 " I mean I almost ordered Mary to spill some hot 
 tea on Carl." 
 
 " You what ? " 
 
 " I did," she continued uncompromisingly. 
 
 " If Mr. Barnes " 
 
 " I wish to goodness he 'd drop in for an hour this 
 very evening." 
 
 Eleanor looked up brightly, 
 
 " It might clear the air," she suggested. 
 
 Aunt Philomela was thoughtful a moment. Then 
 she observed, " I think in the morning you had bet- 
 ter see Carl." 
 
 So the next morning she had received Carl. He 
 was very solicitous as to what had caused her relapse 
 and she, acting upon a sudden inspiration, tried to 
 admit him into the secret of her thoughts. 
 
 " Carl," she said frankly, " I don't know what 
 has come over me. Honestly I don't. But ever 
 since our our engagement I 've felt stifled. It 
 may be just hysteria. But I Ve felt all hemmed in." 
 
 He took her hand. 
 
 " I think I know what it is," he said tenderly. 
 "You feel as though you had been made a pris- 
 oner?"
 
 THE PURPLE RIM SOI 
 
 " Is it that ? " she questioned eagerly. 
 
 " Yes. That is it," he decided. ". Living here so 
 much by yourself these last few years you 've been 
 very free. But I don't want to feel that now I bind 
 you in anyway." 
 
 " You don't. That 's what I can't understand." 
 She frowned and then went on, " Why I 'm just as 
 "free as ever I was. I can move about as I wish; 
 I can do what I choose. There 's nothing I wish to 
 do that I can't do. I guess I 'm just silly." 
 
 Carl shook his head. 
 
 " When we 're gripped with an idea like yours, 
 it is n't silly no matter how inexplicable it is." 
 
 " You know how I feel ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " you feel caged." 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " it 's that." 
 
 It was wonderful how fully he understood her. 
 She felt even now when talking with him as though 
 talking to herself. 
 
 " And you know how to cure me ? " she asked 
 with a little laugh. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " How ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " By leaving the cage door open," he answered 
 quickly. She caught her breath. 
 
 "You mean ?" 
 
 " There is no need of our being formally engaged.
 
 302 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 'We can go on just as we have until we decide to get 
 married " 
 
 She drew back a little. He put in quickly, " We 
 need n't even consider that now. We '11 be just 
 friends until the whole matter solves itself." 
 
 " And it will solve itself ? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 " Yes," he replied unhesitatingly. 
 
 She drew a deep breath. The cage door was even 
 now open. 
 
 " Carl," she whispered honestly, " already I feel 
 less afraid." 
 
 Thus what had appeared to her a very serious 
 problem was settled in five minutes. And it left her 
 not one whit more comfortable. As she thought of 
 it during the day, the very fact of Carl's acqui- 
 escence piqued her. If the matter had been settled 
 after a hearty quarrel she would have felt twice as 
 free. As it was she was under obligations to his good 
 nature if nothing else. 
 
 It was at this point that Carl began to lose weight ; 
 it was at this point that Eleanor began to realize 
 that in some way Carl had for once misunderstood 
 her. The discontent which oppressed her was by no 
 means based upon such girlish hysteria as they had 
 both supposed. But once at this conclusion she was 
 no better able to analyze her condition than before. 
 Her fretful nights began again and once again she
 
 THE PURPLE RIM 303 
 
 found herself straining towards something bigger 
 and more intangible than had ever before come into 
 her life. She still felt herself caged and this time it 
 was by nothing less distant than the purple rim 
 itself. 
 
 She did not discuss this with Carl. She did not 
 mention it even to Aunt Philomela. Alone with 
 herself in the dark she struggled to find meaning in 
 it and as she struggled she discovered herself a 
 wilder more irrational being than she had ever im- 
 agined existed. 
 
 For one thing her thoughts went back again and 
 again to the saffron road. Until now this path had 
 been significant only as furnishing a means of ap- 
 proach to the house or a convenient way of access to 
 the green-grocer at the next village. But during the 
 long nights which followed, it called to her in a 
 more venturesome spirit. She saw it stretching 
 mile upon mile beyond Chester, saw it winding 
 through the valleys and up the hills and across 
 mountain ranges to the sea. It did not stop even 
 here. A big boat came down to meet her and car- 
 ried her across the ocean where she again picked up 
 the trail. She felt one with De Soto and Champlain ; 
 one with all those who press on through strange 
 countries in their adventuring. And as she moved 
 on she was upon wings and was unafraid.
 
 304 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 Yet Barnes Yes, it was Barnes who had shown 
 her the way had pointed out the dangers. 
 
 " My soul," he had exclaimed, " the dangers are 
 innumerable and terrifying." 
 
 But now as she thought of them, she laughed back 
 at him. He had spoken of chasms and glaciers and 
 tangles and thorns and Indians. Well, what of 
 them ? She joyed at thought of pitting her strength 
 of limb against them. She thrilled at prospect of 
 scrambling over them and straight on. To what? 
 It did not matter. She was in a state of prime- 
 val rebellion. She yearned to get beyond these 
 flower-bordered paths, beyond these sheltered walls. 
 Carl had left the cage open but in the meanwhile, 
 even while beating her wings against the bars, she 
 had found some new power. The cage door was open 
 and she had no desire to hop back again among the 
 flowers where before she had been content. She had 
 seen the purple of the sky through the wires and 
 now she hungered to soar. 
 
 Still it was all very vague. It was like a dream 
 from which we awake with a distinct emotion of 
 abstract horror or joy without being able to recall 
 the details which cause the mood. 
 
 If, at times, Barnes intruded himself into the 
 sacred mystery of these thoughts she then instantly 
 regained control of herself. They were of too in-
 
 THE PURPLE RIM 305 
 
 timate stuff to share. He made her self-conscious. 
 He made her uncomfortable. 
 
 Yet at other times she thought of him a great 
 deal. She wondered about that tragedy in his eyes 
 which Carl had pointed out to her. She had noticed 
 it particularly the day Barnes had left. If ever 
 a man's eyes expressed a secret woe, his did then. 
 He had seen a great deal of the world and it would 
 be small wonder if during that time he had met 
 someone someone 
 
 She found it difficult to be more concrete. There 
 were a great many different kinds of women and 
 it would be very hard to visualize her whom such 
 a man might choose. She might be tall or slight or 
 dark or brunette or she doubted if her appearance 
 would matter very much to such a man. She might 
 be gay or shy, learned or untutored, rich or poor. 
 She doubted if any of those things would matter 
 much to such a man. 
 
 It was impossible to conceive just what would 
 matter but she was quite sure that whatever did, 
 would matter a great deal. Love would be with him 
 a big emotion and if it went wrong, it would be a big 
 tragedy. Carl had seen it and she herself had caught 
 traces of it in the letters he had written to her father. 
 This week, with its problems, left her strangely 
 eager for his return.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES 
 
 Though. Mr. Van Patten improved steadily dur- 
 ing the week after Barnes' return, the old gentle- 
 man did not venture from his room. Joe remained 
 daily by his side from morning until bedtime, with 
 a view to establishing himself so firmly in his 
 father's mind that if ever it became necessary to 
 introduce Barnes in his proper person it would 
 not be possible for the father to make comparisons. 
 The possibility of such a contingency was really 
 slight. The original deception had been practiced 
 upon Mr. Van Patten's touch and hearing, and 
 whatever discrepancies of evidence based on these 
 might bob up would have little weight against what 
 the father was now able to see for himself. As 
 for contradictions in the narrative, the father's 
 memory was weak and Barnes had appealed al- 
 most wholly to his emotions. It was really not 
 until now that Mr. Van Patten had been able to 
 fix his attention at all upon details. 
 
 Yet it was thought advisable not to let him know 
 that a guest was in the house. This was no very
 
 AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES 307 
 
 difficult matter and involved nothing but a certain 
 amount of caution. Aunt Philomela, who had 
 quite recovered her spirits, disapproved of it on 
 general principles but admitted the wisdom of the 
 course. 
 
 " I don't expect to see the end of this until I 'm 
 in my grave," she avowed. 
 
 " Nor I," admitted Barnes. 
 
 "And I shall consider myself very lucky if I 
 do then." 
 
 " And I " Barnes paused. " Well, after all," 
 he went on, "that depends upon how it all turns 
 out." 
 
 Aunt Philomela looked at him curiously. She 
 had looked at him curiously a great many times 
 this last week. Barnes drew from his pocket a 
 handful of loose matches. He began to arrange 
 them with their heads in one direction. 
 
 " I have an embarrassment of riches," he ob- 
 served. 
 
 " I 'm not sure that I like that new game you 
 taught me," snapped Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " It helps one to forget the duets," suggested 
 Barnes. 
 
 "You won most of those matches when you 
 did n't have anything at all in your hand," com- 
 mented Aunt Philomela.
 
 308 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " There is little skill in winning when you hold 
 a Royal Straight Flush." 
 
 " I held four aces and even then you won." 
 
 " Because you did n't have the courage of your 
 convictions," explained Barnes. " I had only a 
 pair of deuces that time." 
 
 Aunt Philomela's eyes snapped dangerously. 
 
 " Then," she asserted, " I consider your gains de- 
 cidedly ill gotten." 
 
 " If you had only called me." 
 
 " After you shoved forward a whole handful of 
 matches as though you held all the cards in the 
 pack?" 
 
 " That is the game. All is fair in love and " 
 
 " Love ! " snapped Aunt Philomela in disgust. 
 
 But she was interrupted in further comment by 
 the entrance of Eleanor. She had often been in- 
 terrupted in further comment this last week by the 
 entrance of Eleanor. 
 
 The girl had regained her color at a wonderful 
 rate these last few days. This may have been due 
 to the rapid recovery her father was making, or 
 it may have been due to the return of her brother 
 and the good news he brought of ' The Lucky Find,' 
 or it may have been due to Carl, who was notice- 
 ably assiduous in his attentions. Barnes spent a 
 great deal of time trying to make out which it
 
 AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES 309 
 
 was. Last night she had played duets with Carl 
 until ten o'clock, while Barnes and Aunt Philomela 
 sat at cards in the next room. 
 
 " Are you at liberty this morning ? " inquired 
 Barnes of Miss Van Patten. 
 
 " I don't know what Aunty has planned for me," 
 she said dutifully. 
 
 " As though what I planned for anyone mat- 
 tered," exploded Aunt Philomela. 
 
 " I 'm sure," murmured Barnes, " that so far 
 we have all of us followed your plans to the 
 letter." 
 
 "So far?" 
 
 " From the beginning," nodded Barnes. " From 
 the moment you sent me upstairs to see Mr. Van 
 Patten." 
 
 " I ? I sent you upstairs ? I ? m responsible for 
 this whole affair ? " 
 
 " But for your orders I should have gone on 
 again along the saffron road." 
 
 "Well, of all the " 
 
 But Eleanor effectively stifled her aunt's right- 
 eous indignation by putting her arms about the thin 
 shoulders. 
 
 " There, Aunty, dear," she wheedled, " don't 
 mind him. Now, I '11 do anything you say. Do 
 you wish me to help you with your accounts ? "
 
 310 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Or," put in Barnes, " do you wish us to catch 
 you a fish ? " 
 
 Aunt Philomela rose to her feet and swept 
 grandly towards the door. 
 
 " A fish by all means," she answered. 
 
 At the door she paused and added: 
 
 " I have no doubt that Mr. Barnes will find it 
 unnecessary to use even so much as a hook in his 
 fishing." 
 
 She hurried out leaving the girl staring in 
 amazement at Barnes. 
 
 " At cards last night," explained Barnes, " I 
 won fifty-three sulphur matches from your Aunt 
 mostly by bluffing." 
 
 " Oh," she murmured in relief, " that explains 
 it." 
 
 " You '11 come with me ? " 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " The sun is almost too bright for fishing," she 
 faltered. 
 
 " The sun is not too bright to go down by the 
 brook," he asserted. 
 
 " But if we go, we shall have to fish," she ex- 
 claimed instantly. 
 
 "Very well," he agreed. "We will fish even 
 if we catch nothing." 
 
 She went to the closet and brought out her big
 
 AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES 311 
 
 hat, the fishing-poles, the book of flies, the basket, 
 and, this time, the landing-net. At sight of it he 
 drew a deep breath. It recalled to him his oath 
 to the king trout. He must keep true to that 
 no matter what complications it brought about. 
 
 And she, as she gathered the things together, 
 grew uneasy. That, however, was nothing unusual. 
 She could not recall a minute in his presence when 
 she had ever felt anything else. One never knew 
 what he was going to say next or what odd turn 
 he would give the simplest platitudes of conversa- 
 tion. She felt much safer when Aunt Philomela 
 was near except that even then he would generally 
 contrive some argument that ended by involving 
 them all. No she could not honestly say that she 
 was any the happier for having Aunt Philomela 
 at hand. She could not say honestly that she did 
 not now look forward to a morning with Barnes 
 by the side of Schuyler brook. She anticipated it 
 with a degree of pleasure that in itself was dis- 
 comforting. She did not trust herself as she did 
 three weeks ago. 
 
 In the meanwhile she had put on her hat and 
 again succeeded in tying beneath her chin a most 
 wonderful bow-knot. 
 
 " I have n't learned yet how to do that," com- 
 mented Barnes.
 
 312 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Do what ? " she inquired, not recalling the for- 
 mer incident. 
 
 " Tie a bow-knot that will come untied when 
 you wish." 
 
 " Have you practiced ? " 
 
 "No," he admitted. 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 " I must still limit myself to tying such things 
 as are my own." 
 
 " That is wisest," she agreed. 
 
 And without giving him time to base any em- 
 barrassing argument upon this, she led the way out 
 of the little Dutch door. Here the Princess joined 
 them. The big yellow cat had taken a fancy to 
 Barnes of late and was to be seen quite as often 
 in his company as in that of his mistress. 
 
 The girl forced a brisk path through the field- 
 grass in as matter of fact a way as though in reality 
 a fish for Aunt Philomela was the only thing in the 
 world that concerned her. Lag as he might it did 
 little good, and in no time they had reached the 
 brook. 
 
 It was quite obvious to Barnes that the stream 
 took no interest whatever in the affairs of the 
 brick house from which it derived its name. Its 
 business was solely with water-cress, white peb- 
 bles, and golden sand. It was whimpling on its
 
 AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES 313 
 
 placid course just as unconcernedly as it did three 
 weeks before. If Barnes expected any encourage- 
 ment here for the deep matters he had in hand he 
 was disappointed. 
 
 Eleanor proceeded at once to put her pole to- 
 gether and Barnes reluctantly followed. She 
 paused as he handed her the fly-book. 
 
 " You had such good luck before " she sug- 
 
 " That," he answered, " was an especial occa- 
 sion." 
 
 She selected a Silver Moth. As she turned away 
 from him he replaced the fly-book in the basket, 
 picked out a tiny bit of lead, and, fastening it to 
 the end of his line, whipped it at once into the 
 water. She glanced over her shoulder, surprised 
 at the speed he had made, but she was too late to 
 detect his choice. In another second her own fly 
 was in the water and Barnes breathed more easily. 
 Then he turned his attention to a more important 
 matter. 
 
 " Eleanor," he began. 
 
 She looked up quickly. The name came to her 
 fraught with new significance. 
 
 "Yes?" she answered. 
 
 " I think I have outlived my usefulness as a 
 prodigal."
 
 314 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " The affair kas solved itself in so simple a 
 fashion that I had almost forgotten that part of 
 it," she answered. 
 
 He looked up from his line. She was turned a 
 little away. When she was standing there alone 
 with him the matter seemed simple enough to be 
 sure. It had from the beginning until Carl came 
 in. The problem now was to find out just what 
 had become of Carl. 
 
 " As far as your father is concerned it seems to 
 have straightened out," he admitted. 
 
 " And as far as Joe is concerned," she added. 
 
 "And Aunt Philomela," he nodded. 
 
 "Yes," she agreed hastily. 
 
 He drew his line from the water and whipped 
 it afresh across the stream. 
 
 " Which leaves," he concluded, " you and Carl 
 and myself." 
 
 She dropped her fly below a clump of alders. 
 
 " Are you using a Silver Moth again ? " she 
 inquired. 
 
 " No," he confessed. 
 
 She followed the bobbing end of his line a 
 second. He allowed it to sink below the water. 
 
 " I can't make out what you have chosen," she 
 persisted, squinting her eyes. 
 
 " It 's a secret," he affirmed mysteriously.
 
 AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES 315 
 
 " Oh, pardon me," she apologized, with some 
 pique. 
 
 " Willingly," he murmured politely. 
 
 She seemed disposed to allow both subjects to drop 
 but he with discomforting insistence reaffirmed, 
 
 " Which leaves you and Carl snd myself." 
 
 " But you had a talk with Carl 2 " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And though he seems hurt, it is straightened 
 out as well as it can be, is n't it ? " 
 
 " It is n't straightened out at all," he answered. 
 
 She turned uncomfortably so that she faced him. 
 He met her eyes. She lowered hers. Then she 
 smiled. It was her only protection. 
 
 " You '11 never catch a fish with your line in 
 the bushes," she declared. 
 
 The current had swept the bit of lead down 
 stream into a clump of grass. He deliberately 
 began to reel in his line. 
 
 " I don't believe I '11 catch a fish anyway," he 
 decided. "I'll watch you." 
 
 " Oh, but that 's what you did before," she 
 protested. 
 
 " And enjoyed it immensely," he admitted. 
 
 " It 's shirking your duties." 
 
 As his line left the water she studied him in 
 surprise.
 
 316 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Why, you did n't have on any hook at all," 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 It was impossible to deny the fact in face of 
 the evidence. Without answering he detached the 
 sinker and continued to reel in his line. She al- 
 lowed the Silver Moth to drift into the bushes. 
 He called her attention to this and she grew very 
 red in the face. 
 
 It was quite clear to her now that he had en- 
 ticed her down here upon a pretext. She grew 
 embarrassed out of all proportion to any import 
 she saw in the ruse. She would have been glad 
 if Aunt Philomela had come along. 
 
 " There is you and Carl and myself," he re- 
 peated, as though this were a sort of apology for 
 his act. 
 
 She hastily reeled in her own line. The Princess 
 watched her anxiously. 
 
 " Well ? " she faltered. 
 
 Barnes took a step towards her. At that mo- 
 ment he heard the approach of someone from be- 
 hind. He looked about 
 
 "Why," he exclaimed, "here's Carl now!" 
 
 She almost dropped her pole. 
 
 " We 're fishing," Barnes hastened to explain, in 
 the hope of warding off the commonplace query 
 which he thought he detected upon Carl's lips.
 
 AUNT PHILOMELA GAMBLES 317 
 
 But the remark the latter made was anything but 
 commonplace. 
 
 " I hurried down here to say good-by to you," 
 he explained. 
 
 He uttered the words with an effort. They 
 seemed no part of him. The process was purely 
 mechanical. 
 
 " Good-by ? " exclaimed the girl. 
 
 " I take the noon train," he announced. " From 
 New York I sail to-morrow for Munich." 
 
 " But I don't understand ! " cried the girl. 
 
 Carl turned from her to Barnes. 
 
 " Do you ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Yes," answered Barnes. 
 
 " Then that is enough." 
 
 Barnes took a step forward and seized the boy's 
 hand. 
 
 " I 'd fight it out if I were you," he said below 
 his breath. 
 
 " I '11 fight it out in Munich," he answered 
 grimly. 
 
 " Then God help you and the songs." 
 
 Carl pressed the strong man's hand that held 
 his. 
 
 " There 's no need of praying for you," he 
 answered. 
 
 Eleanor stepped forward in a daze.
 
 318 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " But Carl " she faltered. 
 
 He seized her hand, gripped it for a second, and 
 without a word started away. 
 
 "Carl," she caUed after him, "wait! We're 
 going back to the house with you."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 IN" WHICH EVERYONE LEARNS SOMETHING 
 
 Twice now Eleanor had seen in a man's eyes 
 the dumb pain of an unuttered tragedy, once 
 when Barnes had gone back to New York; again 
 this afternoon, when Carl had bade her good-by 
 and been driven off down the saffron road. In 
 the first case she had played no part, though the 
 ache of it still haunted her; in the second it was 
 clear that she was the direct cause. And yet as 
 she stood by the sitting-room window after supper 
 and retraced this last summer, she saw nothing 
 that she could have managed differently. Inci- 
 dent had followed incident with apparent inevi- 
 tability. Of course she should have been surer of 
 herself before giving Carl such encouragement, but 
 under the circumstances of the moment she had 
 acted with what wisdom she then had. The unrest, 
 the doubts developing into certainty, had followed 
 later. 
 
 But argue as she might, she was left with the 
 feeling that she had been pitifully weak and was 
 decidedly unworthy of the love which had been
 
 320 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 offered her. She needed someone in whom to con- 
 fide someone to help her straighten out this 
 tangle. Joe could not help, nor Aunt Philomela, 
 nor even her father. She thought of just one man 
 who might understand, and that one man was in 
 the next room talking with her aunt Even as 
 she thought of him the one man entered and came 
 across to her side. Whereupon she murmured an 
 excuse and started to leave. But Barnes checked 
 her. 
 
 " Don't go," he pleaded. " You 're worried." 
 
 He had touched her arm just the fraction of a 
 second. She looked towards the door, startled. She 
 felt very uncomfortable now that she was alone 
 with the one man. Instead of clarifying matters, 
 he seemed to complicate them. 
 
 " You take Carl's departure much to heart ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Because I feel very much at fault," she replied. 
 
 She was looking out the window across the rows 
 of bright flowers, across the green fields, to the 
 horizon line. To Barnes she appeared like a paint- 
 ing by Rossetti. With her head uplifted, her eyes 
 half closed, as though in weary confusion, she 
 looked like the Beata Beatrix. 
 
 " Because Carl loves you ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 She caught her breath. It sounded such a crude,
 
 EVERYONE LEARNS SOMETHING 321 
 
 barbaric fact when, he expressed it. She looked 
 for some escape. She prayed that he might leave 
 her alone. He stood before her as though barring 
 her way. 
 
 "No! No! "she exclaimed. " He is mistaken." 
 
 " I do not think he is mistaken/' he answered 
 quietly. 
 
 He seemed bent upon depriving her of the one 
 shred of hope to which she had been clinging. He 
 made her feel even guiltier than before. 
 
 "Mr. Barnes," she pleaded, "let's not talk of 
 it any more." 
 
 " It 's the only way to settle things," he an- 
 swered gently. " There 's no use of hiding our 
 heads in the sand." 
 
 " But Carl has gone. It 's all settled." 
 
 "No," he answered deliberately. "It's still 
 very much mixed up for all of us. We can't help 
 Carl very much except by admitting the truth, and 
 that is that he loves you. He would have made 
 beautiful songs for you if you had loved him." 
 
 " It 's cruel of you to make me feel so guilty," 
 she protested. 
 
 " You misunderstand," he said gently. " His 
 love was independent of anything you did con- 
 sciously. You would have had to be other than 
 yourself to have prevented that."
 
 322 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " I should have known myself better." 
 
 " We can't correct the past with what we learn, 
 but the Future there is where our wisdom 
 counts." 
 
 "What will that count for Carl?" she ex- 
 claimed, with a queer little cry. 
 
 He thought a moment. Then he shook his head. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered. " I was think- 
 ing only of you." 
 
 " But I I don't matter." 
 
 " One thing matters very much for you," he 
 said. 
 
 " And that ? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " That you are now sure of yourself ; that you 
 are sure you do not really love him." 
 
 She started, but she did not reply. The stark 
 sunlight which had been pounding hotly at the 
 earth all day was now fading. The birds were 
 getting sleepy. 
 
 It was at about this time of day that Barnes had 
 first met her. Then she had been only a strikingly 
 beautiful picture, and now what a deal more 
 she was to him now ! Until this moment his love 
 for her had seemed so big that it had been almost 
 impersonal. Circumstances had forced him to re- 
 gard it so. It had been almost like some of the 
 big fine dreams he had dreamed about his Art.
 
 EVERYONE LEARNS SOMETHING 323 
 
 "Now, in a second, with that question, he felt her 
 for the first time as a warm, palpitating, human 
 being. As an artist he had admired her first, 
 then as a mere man, then as a lover; but now, 
 as he waited for her reply, it was as Richard 
 Barnes that he loved her. For the first time he 
 had to wrestle hard with himself for control. He 
 hungered to feel her in his arms, to brush with 
 his lips the scarlet in her cheeks, which was as 
 rose upon ivory. He yearned to mingle kisses 
 with the black of her hair, which had gold in it. 
 He gathered himself together and repeated his 
 question, 
 
 " You are sure of that ? " he demanded. 
 
 There must have been some new quality to his 
 voice, because she shrank back from him. 
 
 " I 'm not sure of anything," she stammered. 
 
 The one man frightened her. The one man now 
 drove all thought of Carl out of her bewildered 
 brain. The one man was in himself a yet keener 
 problem than any she had so far had to face. 
 
 " Eleanor," he insisted, " that is one thing you 
 must search your soul to answer." 
 
 " But why must I answer now ? " she parried. 
 
 " Because," he said quietly " because if you 
 love him I must wire him to-night on my way to 
 Chester."
 
 324 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " You you are going, too ? " 
 
 The words fell from her lips unconsciously. 
 
 " If you wish me to bring back Carl," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 "But I don't," she exclaimed. "It wouldn't 
 do any good to bring him back." 
 
 She felt his hand upon her arm for the second 
 time. 
 
 " You are sure of that ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Yes. Yes. That is the pity of it." 
 
 " The pity of it," he answered soberly. Then 
 again, " The pity of it." 
 
 " Don't you see," she hurried on, surer of her 
 ground now, " I ought to love him. There is 
 every reason why I should love him. And yet I 
 don't. I can't." 
 
 She uttered the words as though it were a con- 
 fession from which she expected Barnes to with- 
 draw in horror. Leaning forward he searched her 
 eyes as though once for all to penetrate the hidden 
 gallery of her heart. She closed her eyes, fright- 
 ened by his earnestness. 
 
 "You are sure of that?" he asked again. 
 
 She nodded guiltily. 
 
 " It 's a pitiful thing to say," she murmured, 
 " but it 's true." 
 
 She held her breath to see what he would answer
 
 EVERYONE LEARNS SOMETHING 325 
 
 to that. For what seemed to her an eternity he 
 did n't say anything. When he 4id speak she was 
 almost tempted into hysterical laughter. But she 
 managed to control herself. 
 
 "Why, then," he said, "let's go up on the 
 hill back of the house." 
 
 She glanced into his blue eyes. When he led 
 the way she followed. They went out by the little 
 Dutch door and he closed it behind them. It was 
 as though he closed a thousand doors behind her. 
 
 She stepped into the path, and it seemed to 
 stretch in an endless vista beyond the top of the 
 hill. She thought of De Soto and La Salle and 
 Champlain, and knew how they must have felt as 
 they turned their backs upon their home friends. 
 And yet, so far as anything had been said, this 
 was a simple venture to the top of a hill to view 
 a sunset. All about her lay the nooks and crannies 
 with which she had been so long familiar. She 
 glanced back at the house. It had receded many 
 miles. She was alone. That was what frightened 
 her. The years before counted for nothing her 
 old friends counted for nothing. She felt like one 
 daring for the first time into deep water without 
 a supporting arm. And there was no shore back 
 of her. She must go forward across the golden 
 green waves, which sang in unreckoned miles,
 
 326 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 leagues in front of her. She was alone. She had 
 now only her own heart to guide her. All the 
 tender souls who had ever stood about her might 
 be eager, but they could give no answer to the 
 questions which beset her suddenly on this simple 
 venture to the top of a hill. Her mother, per- 
 haps but in the end even her mother must have 
 been left behind. 
 
 Through the old garden they went, and the 
 flowers smiled back at her. She plucked a half- 
 folded poppy and grasped its stem as a child 
 clings to a skirt. She stopped a moment to play 
 with the others, but he said, 
 
 " Come." 
 
 So she went on again up the winding path which 
 she had trod no later than yesterday. The hill 
 loomed before her like one of those purple-capped 
 piles she had seen in the sunset clouds. The sun 
 caught her hair slantwise and brought out the gold 
 in it. 
 
 " Are you tired ? " he asked, as she lagged a 
 little. 
 
 " No. Oh, no," she answered breathlessly. 
 
 She hurried to his side. There was nothing else 
 to do. The path was blocked behind but it was 
 wonderfully clear in front. Not so much as a 
 cobweb barred her progress.
 
 EVERYONE LEARNS SOMETHING 327 
 
 Upon the hill-top they found great banners of 
 purple and gold waving before their eyes against 
 a background of blue and green. Below them the 
 verdure of the rolling fields and maple clumps 
 were also tinted with gold. The air was soft, and 
 yet it sparkled as though fine gold were being 
 sifted down from above. A wonderful world, and 
 they two stood alone in it. Populous cities sub- 
 siding their turmoil; men and women going about 
 the ordinary routine of their lives; ships putting 
 to sea and men being carried to hospitals all 
 those things there might be for others outside the 
 circumference of their eyes, but to them mere phan- 
 tasies, pleasant and unpleasant. They stood alone 
 here and the fact of grappling kingdoms and great 
 deeds elsewhere were but the tawdriest distant 
 incidents. 
 
 Before their eyes the colors strutted the skies 
 like vain peacocks showing their plumage. But 
 always, whether the dye was of crimson or green 
 or purple or the lightest shade of old rose, the gold 
 shone through it to quicken. It was as though the 
 theme were gold. It came as a prelude. It ran 
 triumphant through every movement, and in the 
 end it controlled the tinted postlude which soft- 
 ened imperceptibly into the golden blue of the 
 finale.
 
 328 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 With this her thoughts grew more restful. She 
 no longer felt afraid though still she stood alone. 
 He was speaking. 
 
 " Do you remember," he asked gently, " what I 
 told you about the true adventurers ? " 
 
 "About the little children?" she answered 
 nodding. 
 
 " And about the lovers ? " he added. 
 
 " Yes," she was forced to admit. 
 
 He had spoken of the dangers in a way that 
 had frightened her. Looking down upon this same 
 scene he had pointed them all out to her. And 
 yet now it was difficult to grasp them. 
 
 " When two go adventuring hand in hand the 
 dangers are halved," he said. 
 
 It was as though he had answered her unspoken 
 thought. 
 
 " Then," he added, " they are halved again and 
 then halved once more until they are all gone." 
 
 Her eyes had grown distant. Her breath was 
 coming in little gasps. The true explanation of 
 these last weeks came in upon her now. Twice 
 she had seen in a man's eyes the dumb pain of an 
 unuttered tragedy, but now she remembered only 
 the first time, when the one man had left her 
 to go back to New York. In sudden fear she 
 turned to see if any trace of the pain were still
 
 EVERYONE LEARNS SOMETHING S29 
 
 there. She found herself looking into blue eyes 
 which were as quick with fine gold as the sky 
 itself. They made her dizzy. She tottered. Then 
 she felt herself in the grasp of strong arms. 
 
 " Into the West," he murmured, " straight into 
 the West, my own." 
 
 Her head dropped to his shoulder. She was 
 trembling, and once again he heard the plaintive 
 little sound he had heard by the letter-box. In 
 amazement he tried to lift her head, but with a 
 sob she only burrowed it deeper. So he kissed her 
 hair and patted her very gently and waited. 
 
 Whether it was one minute later or one year 
 later that Barnes heard her voice he could not have 
 told. He was way off beyond the horizon line 
 when he caught her broken statement. 
 
 " I sha' n't lift my head until until it 'a 
 dark." 
 
 The statement did not seem to disturb him. He 
 kissed her hair. 
 
 " I 'm very stupid," she gasped. 
 
 He kissed her hair again. 
 
 " And very weak," she murmured. 
 
 He kissed her hair once more. 
 
 " And and altogether unworthy of you." 
 
 Whereupon he took her head in his hands and 
 held it back. Her eyes were tight closed.
 
 330 THE PRODIGAL PRO TEM 
 
 " Eleanor," he called. 
 
 "No! No! No!" she pleaded. 
 
 He brought his lips to hers. For a second she 
 allowed it so. Then she opened her eyes wide 
 very, very wide. 
 
 " Dear you," he breathed. " We have started 
 on the Great Adventure." 
 
 Then, for the first time, she saw a man's face 
 glorified. 
 
 " Come," he said, " we must go back to Aunt 
 Philomela." 
 
 Her heart fell and all the way down the hill 
 she clung to his arm. Every now and then he 
 stopped and looked deep into her eyes. He made 
 her very uncomfortable ; deliriously uncomfortable. 
 
 Aunt Philomela was waiting for them in the 
 sitting-room. When they entered she glanced up 
 as sharply as she had the day Barnes had first made 
 his entrance. The girl drew back and waited for 
 Barnes to speak. He said nothing. She was sure 
 her face was red and that her hair was in disorder. 
 
 " Well ? " demanded Aunt Philomela. 
 
 With a quick little run the girl threw herself 
 on her knees by her aunt's side and buried her 
 face in her lap. Barnes waited. Aunt Philomela's 
 black eyes grew dangerous. 
 
 " Well ? " she demanded again.
 
 EVERYONE LEARNS SOMETHING 331 
 
 " Oh, Aunty," cried the girl, " can't can't you 
 see?" 
 
 For a moment Aunt Philomela stared at Barnes. 
 Then she stooped and kissed the girl's head. 
 
 " Yes," she answered slowly, " I see. I saw 
 long ago." 
 
 THE END
 
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